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Chapter Text

   Klaus’s robe was itchy. It chafed in a place a robe should not be but was anyways, and it itched all over. He knew he was keeping Violet up with his constant shifting, trying to get comfortable. He knew this because after a few moments she rolled over and asked him what was wrong.

   “My robe itches,” he replied, tossing. She sighed and rolled her eyes. 

   “Take it off, dummy,”

   Klaus looked at her as if she’d just said she was from Mars.

   “Don’t look at me like that! It’s just us in here. You can put it back on before breakfast tomorrow.” And with that, she rolled over, and he did end up taking it off.

   He dreamed that night that he was in a train station, in his old sweater, the one he loved so much. He was seated on a bench, and there was an odd case seated on the floor by his feet. When he stood and crossed to the directory, someone stopped him. 

   “You want the next one, friend,” he said and continued on his way. At that exact moment, a train pulled into the station. Klaus strode back to pick up the case, though he wasn’t entirely sure why; it didn’t belong to him. The only explanation he had was the thought that there might be something important inside. He boarded and poked about to find an empty compartment, which wasn’t hard, considering every compartment seemed to be open.

   He picked one with green upholstery and set his bag carefully on the rack above his head. Someone in a red suit opened the door to offer him something -- then everything went blurry. 

   He almost woke up, on the island, if not for the train jerking into another station, and he didn’t even stop to question how odd that was. He also didn’t question why he got off, when there was no real station at their stop in sight. Still, he set off in search of something.

   He found, hours later, something quite odd indeed: a cottage, made of stone and shingles, just sitting in the middle of a clearing. He must have been miles from the train tracks, but only now did he begin to tire, and that cottage looked so inviting. Maybe, if he stepped inside for a moment, he could put his feet up and keep going. 

   Seconds after he took exactly three steps towards the cottage, he was flipped onto his face and knocked out cold. 

   Klaus awoke in a cold sweat in his cot on the island, though why was a mystery: he hadn’t been having a nightmare or anything. He simply lay there for a while, thinking about what had just happened, when nature decided it was a good time to call.
  Except he couldn’t move. 

   Klaus sighed, through his nose so as not to wake his sisters. This was going to be a long night, wasn’t it?

   He wouldn’t ever learn one way or another, because at that exact moment, he fell asleep.

   Klaus awoke in his dream to a familiar face: someone he thought he had lost a long while previously.

   “Duncan,” he croaked. He tried to smile up at him, only to find everything hurt. “What… what happened?”

   “You tell me, clumsy,” said Duncan, and Klaus could swear his voice was deeper. “ You --” Duncan poked the tip of his nose for emphasis-- “are the one I found flat on his face in the grass of my backyard.” He sat back on his haunches. 

   Klaus tried to laugh at him, but it came out sounding like he was dying. Duncan’s eyebrows creased in the middle in concern, and Klaus had the sudden, inexplicable, unexplainable urge to kiss him there. He filed that away to contemplate when he was doing something on the island later.

   “Anyways,” he said instead, “how are you? I haven’t seen you since… you know.” He waved his hand, not feeling the need to go on, because he could see that Duncan did know. 

   “I…” Duncan scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how I’m doing. I know how Isadora is, though! She’s loving it up here,” He fell silent for a moment. “I miss you,”

   Klaus felt an ache deep in his stomach as the words fell. “I miss you, too,” and the two were quiet for a moment, thinking. Klaus felt an odd sense of nostalgia in the moment, until Duncan’s words pierced his mind:

   “But…” 

   “But?”

   “But somehow, we’re dreaming together.” He looked up at Klaus, who had gathered enough strength to lean on his elbows. “Somehow, Klaus, you’ve become a Dreamwalker.”

Chapter Text

   Life on the island was not boring-- at least, not at first. But Klaus had always, up until now, had some kind of variation in his life, some kind of marker to prevent the days from bleeding together; but now, he felt unmoored, like he did right after that horrible banker came with equally horrible news.

   That did not mean he had any shortage of things to think about.

   For instance, the fact that he had not been able to reach Duncan since that night two weeks ago. The fact that he woke up and could not move for a solid five minutes. He’d cried that morning. 

   He found himself looking through the day’s debris with Ishmael with something aching in his stomach, and not just that he had somehow become Ishmael’s favorite islander. No, it was something his thinking about Duncan had put there. 

   He found himself thinking about Duncan now.

   He thought about how much he missed him, how much he hoped he was safe up there. How much he wished he were here now, what he would say about life on the island. He’d make a comment about how much the days blend together, much like their shared time at Prufrock. He wouldn’t drink the cordial and he’d joke and laugh and splash in the water with the Baudelaires and, and, and--

   Klaus’s hands stilled on the contraption he was fiddling with. He couldn’t focus on this right now. He needed a nap, he needed to find Duncan.

   “Ishmael?”

   “How many times have I told you, Klaus? Call me Ish.” Ishmael did not look up from whatever was in his lap.

   “Ish.” It felt strange in his mouth. “May I go?”

   “Where are you going, Klaus?” Ishmael’s eyes were on him now, and Klaus knew there was a bit more than curiosity behind his curious look. 

   “Just to mine and my sisters’ tent.” Klaus began to fiddle with his fingers. “I’m not feeling well, and I’d like to lie down for a while,” he added, knowing that Ishmael would not allow a nap for a nap’s sake.

   Ishmael turned back to whatever he had in his lap. “Alright. I won’t force you, but it would really be better if you stayed here,”

   Well, if Ishmael wasn’t forcing him, he wasn’t about to do it, so Klaus walked out of the tent and into the sun. 

   Klaus was overjoyed to wake on the couch of the cottage. Even Duncan’s apparent absence did not dull his spirits, so he decided to explore. 

   The cottage itself was quite small, only consisting of one combination room and a small bathroom. It was modestly furnished and decorated, in what Klaus could only presume was Duncan’s preferred style: lots of light, greens, and plants. 

   He loved it.

   He was foraging through Duncan’s books on the far wall from the couch when the door in the kitchen opened to reveal a dirt-covered Duncan. He was sweaty and smiling and something about him made Klaus’s stomach flutter. He paused in his tracks when he saw Klaus.

   “You made it back!” he cried, moving to throw his arms around Klaus but pausing and clearing his throat when he realized how dirty he was. “I mean, uh, it’s nice to see you,” and Klaus chuckled.

   “I missed you,” he offered, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

   “I missed you, too,” he replied and Klaus was forced to take note of how Duncan couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. His giddiness was quickly replaced with concern.

   “Are you okay?” he asked, and Duncan’s head shot up like a rocket. He smiled nervously and began to fidget with the hem of his sweater. 

   “I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat again. “I’m just going to take a shower and change and then…” He made a small gesture with his hand. “And then we can talk.” Klaus nodded.

   Thirty minutes and several nervous offers of food and tea later, Klaus and Duncan sat in the two armchairs opposite each other, the latter looking significantly cleaner and the former completely and totally convinced he was going insane. 

   “So, you’re telling me that… I can see into other people’s dreams?” This was the third time he’s asked something to this effect, and he could tell Duncan was growing weary of his questions, though he nodded anyway. 

   “Not just that, but manipulate them, to some extent,” he said, tugging at his collar. “For instance, we can mani--”

   “We?”

   “ Yes, Klaus, we. ” he said, making a little noise at the back of his throat. “We can manipulate this dream, especially, because it is mine.”

   Klaus couldn’t stop himself from muttering a small: “that explains why it’s so beautiful,” and he knew Duncan heard him by the way a pink flush crept high onto his cheekbones. “I think I understand now, at least to some extent,” he said louder. “I can manipulate other people’s dreams, and so can you. I stumbled into--” he gestured around him, from the bookshelves to the bed-- “here on accident from one of my own dreams. Whenever I fall asleep in my real world, if I think about coming here (well, now, at least, thanks to you)--” Duncan’s blush grew-- “I will awake here. If I fall asleep here, I will go back to my normal life.” he finished and could not help pulling a face at the last point. “Did I miss anything, O Wise Duncan?” Duncan shook his head. “Good.”

   Duncan picked at the crumbs of a (exceptionally delicious) pastry he had made for Klaus.

   “You should go,” he said finally.

   “Pardon?”

   “You said you were napping during the day, right?” Nod. “Then you should go. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your normal sleep cycle,”

   “Whatever you say, Duncan,” he said and rose from his chair and crossed to the bed, amid Duncan’s protests. “What?”

   “It’s just-- that’s my bed,” Unfortunately, Klaus was already climbing in, and the only thing he could offer before he fell asleep was a shrug. Duncan sighed. “Sleep tight, astra, ” he said, grabbed one of his books from the shelf, and began to read.

Chapter Text

   Duncan Quagmire loved his home and everything in it, and quite a few things outside of it.

   However, saying he loved everything inside his home meant he loved Klaus Baudelaire, too, which was not an  inaccurate statement in and of itself, but Duncan liked to think love was something when they shared the feeling. 

   There was no other word in his vocabulary to describe how he felt, though. So, he loved Klaus. 

   He cursed himself for it. He knew it wasn’t fated: he had seen it for himself, what could happen when this sort of bond formed. But just because he knew something bad would happen couldn’t stop him from feeling this way. 

   Duncan sighed. He had to tell Klaus, as soon as possible, so he could get it out of his system. His head buzzed with all sorts of unpleasant thoughts as he rose to make more of those pastries for when Klaus woke up, among them being But what if he doesn’t wake up for a while again? He shook his head as if to clear them away. He couldn’t let himself fall down that slope. 

   He would fill the pastries with honey this time, fresh from the beehive around the corner, sweet and smooth, just like Klaus. He smiled softly over at the boy-shaped lump curled up under his bed sheets as he tied his apron around his waist. 

   Klaus had gotten taller since Duncan last saw him. His voice had deepened, his jaw and cheekbones sharpened. He was becoming a man, and Duncan was not far behind. He was going to be a very handsome man, that was of no doubt; whether or not he was doomed to forever watch or to see the progress himself, up close, was still up in the air. 

   He found himself trying to imagine what Klaus would look like. He’d be tall, that was for sure, and he’d have that soft-looking curly hair and his glasses, but what would happen? Would he fill out, would he put on muscle, would he, would he? 

   By the time he was done with the pastries, Klaus still had not woken. Granted, it hadn’t been long, and Klaus could have been napping in the morning for all he knew, but still. He was growing worried. 

   As he finished his thought and had crossed to Klaus’s side, he stirred, as if Duncan’s thought had awoken him. Those big brown eyes opened and looked right into Duncan’s green ones and Duncan swore he was staring into his soul. He flushed when he realized how close they were and pulled away quickly.

   Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he swore there was a glimmer of disappointment in Klaus’s eyes. 

   “I, uh, I made those pastries you liked,” he said and began to fidget with his hands. Klaus smiled warmly up at Duncan and made to get out of the bed before pausing. 

   “I, uh, can’t feel my legs,” he chuckled nervously. “Sorry,”

   “That’s alright! That’s normal, actually. It’ll fade soon,” Tell him, his mind said. Tell him, get it over with . “Hey Klaus?”

   A hum in response as he slowly climbed off the bed. “I need to tell you something,” and Klaus’s breath caught audibly. “I…”

   And they were falling into an endless blackness before Duncan could finish his sentence.

   Duncan landed with a whumph in pitch black. His first instinct was to call out for Klaus, and eventually he found an answer.

   “Here! Here, Duncan, I’m here!”

   “Where is ‘here’?” he called back.

   “Just-- follow my voice!” he cried. Then, inexplicably, Klaus began to sing. He sang in what Duncan eventually recognized as Yiddish, though he couldn’t make out any of the words well enough to understand what the song was about.

   After what Duncan considered to be too long, he tripped over something and landed, extremely conveniently, directly in Klaus’s lap. He sat up as quickly as he could, pulling himself out of Klaus’s lap, grateful that the other boy couldn’t see the blush spreading hot over his face. 

   “Duncan? That’s you, right? No strange creature of the night has dropped itself into my lap?”

   “It’s me,” he replied, and Klaus let out a sigh of relief. 

   “Thank God,” he said, then, quieter, “Could you… understand what I was singing?”

   “I knew it was Yiddish, but nothing beyond that. Your voice is… warped, somehow.” and it was true. Klaus’s voice sounded like it was recorded and played through a broken record player.

   “Yours is, too,” he said and pulled Duncan back into his lap. He held Duncan close to his chest, close enough to feel his breath on the shell of his ear. 

   Duncan could not stop himself from burying his face in Klaus’s neck. He laid his head on Klaus’s shoulder, relishing their position. This was what he’d always wanted: to be held by Klaus, close, like they were lovers. He let out a little noise of surprise when Klaus’s hand started rubbing his back in slow circles, and Duncan realized he must have been hyperventilating. 

   He wrapped his arms around Klaus’s waist and began to rub his back as well. 

   “What was it that you wanted to tell me before we fell?” Klaus whispered, right in his ear. It forced him to take a long, slow breath to calm himself. 

   “I…” He pulled his face out of Klaus’s neck and leaned their foreheads together. “I love you, Klaus Baudelaire,” and he pushed their lips together. 

   There was a moment where Klaus didn’t move and Duncan had a second of panic that something was wrong. Luckily for Duncan’s blood pressure, it seemed he was only caught off guard, because then he was kissing back, and for a while Duncan could forget that they were sitting at the bottom of an apparently featureless pit with no clue as to their destinies. 

   Duncan had to pull back for air after what felt like too much and too little time simultaneously. Klaus tried to chase his face for more kisses, but Duncan held him back via his cheeks. It surprised him how soft Klaus’s skin was. 

   “I have to breathe,” he said with a breathy chuckle. 

   “I love you, too,” was all Klaus said before he moved to press kisses to Duncan’s cheeks. 

   “Hey,” and Duncan pulled Klaus’s forehead to his. “I love you, and I love that you love me, too, but we have to find a way out of here,”

   “Oh, I already figured that out.”

   “Really?”

   “No.”

   “Oh.”

   There was a moment of silence as they both sat, Duncan half in Klaus’s lap and the latter with his head in the crook of the former’s neck. “How are we going to get out of this one?”

   Silence, then Klaus snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!”

   “What is it?”

   “We fall asleep.” Klaus said simply.

   “What if we wake up back here?” Duncan asked nervously. He didn’t like this place, wherever they were; he didn’t know anything about it, so how was he expected to protect Klaus from whatever darkness monster popped out at them?

   Klaus’s hand shot straight to Duncan’s hair, petting it and using it to pull him into his chest. Klaus held him close, closer than he had before they kissed, cooing softly into his hair.

   “I suppose there’s only one way to find out, right?”

Chapter Text

   "I suppose there's only one way to find out, right?"

   Duncan sighed. “Right.”

   He had to admit, it was a smart idea. He didn’t expect any less from the smartest man he knew. 

   So, reluctantly, Duncan climbed down from Klaus’s lap and laid on whatever was below them. It was pitch black wherever they were, so theoretically, it shouldn’t be as hard as it was to fall asleep. But oh, boy, was it difficult. 

   More difficult than that was the fact that Klaus had chosen to lay with his back pressed up against Duncan’s, so he had to fight the urge to roll over and spoon him. 

   Wait, why was he fighting that? There was nothing in his way: he’d told Klaus about his feelings, and they’d kissed, so why was he trying to not do something lovers do? So, logically, Duncan rolled over and wrapped his arms, as best he could, anyways, around Klaus. 

   Or, rather, that’s what he tried to do.

   It seemed that at the exact moment Duncan had the thought to be the big spoon, so did Klaus. The two ended up rolling into each other and bonking their heads. They were both laughing their heads off as they  tried to get situated, and Duncan realized just how deep Klaus’s voice was getting. 

   Eventually, Duncan ended up being the little spoon, and Klaus ended up with his nose pressed into a little dip in Duncan’s spine. 

   It was bliss, in Duncan’s opinion. However, at that moment, he had just drifted asleep, and you could not have asked him if your life depended on it.

   Back on the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home, Duncan could not sleep. He was the little spoon here, too, with Isadora’s nose pressed into the divot in his spine instead of his lover’s. Quigley lay with his face near Duncan’s chest and he was tempted to flick him on the top of his head, just to be mean.

   Duncan was, thankfully for his siblings, not that kind of brother. 

   When he rose to exit the sleeping basket, he did so with the utmost care and precision. He and Klaus had never really agreed on how long to stay awake, but he was going to look at the stars for a while and think about Klaus where he didn’t have to worry about Isadora seeing his thoughts or anything. 

   He loved the stars. He thought they were perfect. It was an obsession of his for a while, before he took up journalism. He still loved to pour over maps of the stars, and he hoped he and Quigley could do that again someday, when they actually had maps to pour over. Klaus looked like what he imagined stars would look like if they were human, all soft lines and dips and divots. He loved Klaus like he loved the stars.

   “ Astra,” he’d called Klaus, back before he confessed. Star in Latin. He knew Klaus would find that adorable and probably adopt it for him, too, and they’d never call each other by their real names again, only the names of their favorite stars and hopefully, one day, husband .

   “Duncan?” asked a sleepy voice from the kitchen basket. Hector. “What are you doing up?”

   “Can’t sleep,” he whispered in return. 

   Hector gave a knowing hum and sat down next to him. Duncan laid his head on the edge of the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home and closed his eyes. “You know what always helped me when I couldn’t sleep as a child?”

   Duncan hummed sleepily.

   “Hot chocolate.” he said and rose to make some.

   Duncan would never taste Hector’s hot chocolate because by the time he brought it out, Duncan was out cold.

   Duncan awoke to the chirping of birds and Klaus’s soft, even breathing. It seemed that Klaus’s idea worked: he knew they were laying in the king-sized bed in the cottage even without opening his eyes. He also knew Klaus was almost awake, so he rolled over to face him. 

   Klaus was beautiful, especially when he was calm, and how much calmer could you get than asleep? His eyes fluttered, then opened, and Duncan was treated to a front-row seat to just how beautiful eyes can be. They were more gold than brown up close, especially where they caught the light, and he smiled. 

   “Good morning, astra, ” said Duncan.

   “Seems my plan worked,” Klaus said sleepily and Duncan had to stop a small noise from falling out of his mouth. 

   “Yep,” 

   “You feelin’ okay?” 

   “Yeah, why?” Klaus shrugged as well as he could in bed.

   “You’re looking a little pale, and your nose is red,” Klaus booped his nose in emphasis, eliciting a small giggle from his partner. “I just worry, love,” 

   “And I appreciate that, but I’m fine,” He reached over to brush a cowlick behind Klaus’s ear, and the tips of his ears flushed with the action.

   It was a sweet moment, and both would be happy to bask in this feeling forever, but they knew there was something to be talked about. 

   “We should talk,” whispered Klaus as Duncan played with the hair behind his ear. 

   “About what?”

   “...You know. The kiss and confession. I…” Klaus nuzzled into his partner’s hand. “I don’t know how to feel.”

   “You told me you loved me,” Duncan said helpfully. “That doesn’t count for anything?”

   Klaus chuckled, low and in his chest. “I know that part,” he said after a moment. “I guess… I never imagined that you could feel the same? I don’t know how to feel about the whole… ‘lovers’ thing. If I had to hazard a guess, though, I’d say positive,” he added, looking to Duncan for his response. 

   He didn’t have an answer for Klaus, much to his dismay; he really loved Klaus, and he voiced this.

   “I’ve never really thought about it in any other way,” he said. “I understand if that’s not something you want, but I’ll always be here if you change your mind.”

   Klaus thought for a moment. He furrowed his brow when he thought, and his nose, in all its aquiline glory, scrunched up in the cutest way and Duncan could swear he was about to die. “I like the idea,” he said finally, making Duncan jump. “Sorry. But I like the idea of…” He wrapped his arms around Duncan's waist and pressed a small, sweet kiss to his forehead. "Of this. Being like this with you. Pet names and inviting our siblings to Shabbat at our house and being able to say, ‘He's mine,’ you know?”

  Duncan did know, because this conversation was something straight out of his wildest dreams. “I'd love that,” he whispered as Klaus pressed a kiss to his brow. “I love you, ”

   “I love you, too,”

   There was a long moment of sweet silence between the lovers, where the only noise was their breath mingling. Duncan smiled at just how wonderful this felt, and to know that he’d have this for a long time to come made it just that much better.

   “So…” Klaus cleared his throat. “I have, like, a genuine question.”

   “Shoot.” 

   “Is there… Any way to tell time here? Because I have no idea what time it is where I am and I don’t want to be waking up at noon one day and three A.M. the next,”

   “I completely understand. I bet--” He tried to get up from the bed but Klaus just tightened his grip with a whispered: “not yet”, eliciting a soft smile from Duncan-- “I bet I could come up with something, whenever we decide to get out of bed,”

   “Not yet,” Klaus repeated, a little louder this time. Duncan’s smile grew as he settled back into his lover’s arms.

   “Okay,” he whispered, “not yet.”

   They fell asleep like that, curled up together, and Duncan felt like he might die if this became a habit of theirs.

Chapter Text

   Klaus awoke at a surprisingly normal time for his statement to Duncan. The sun was filtering nicely through the open tent, and for a moment he didn't know if he had even woken up in the right place.

   Ishmael’s face poking through the flap confirmed it, though, and he had to work to suppress a groan upon the sight. 

   “Good morning!” Ishmael said brightly. “You have overslept and as such, you will need to come with me.” it sounded more ominous than it was, but still, he might want to ask Violet to invent some sort of alarm clock for him. 

   Klaus trudged out into the sand and sun, and suddenly the nice light wasn’t so nice. Klaus had never been drunk, but he imagined this was what having a hangover felt like.

   Ishmael led him through the tents, greeting various islanders as he went, before they came to the beach and Klaus could look over the clear ocean and something that looked very vaguely familiar. 

   Klaus jumped. “Snake!” he cried.

   Ishmael looked at him strangely. “That snake has been there since early this morning. It has only been docile for your sisters.” Siblings , Klaus corrected silently. “I wanted to see if it would react to you.”

   “Apparently not,” he said irritably as the Incredibly Deadly Viper wound its way up his leg. An idea popped into his head as it squeezed around his torso. “Actually, did my sisters tell you what this snake is called?”

   “No, they didn't. What is the snake called?”

   “The Incredibly Deadly Viper,” he said simply, relishing the horrified look that came over Ishmael's face. He stood there for a while, smiling as Ishmael struggled with the Viper, who was slowly curling on top of his head. It nipped affectionately at his ear, clearly playing along, and though there was quite obviously there was no danger to either of them, Ishmael seemed to become more panicked by the second. 

   “What's going on? Ish, what’s wrong?”

   “Why didn’t you tell me this snake is called the Incredibly Deadly Viper, Violet? And, obviously, nothing is wrong. This snake, the Incredibly Deadly Viper, has just bitten your brother and is going to kill him!” Ishmael obviously thought he was being convincingly hysterical, and if you put a gun to Klaus’s head, he would not tell you otherwise. At that moment, it seemed that Ishmael was actually concerned for his life.

   The Baudelaire siblings knew otherwise. Klaus knew something, and Ishmael knew he knew something, and he was desperate to keep him alive to learn whatever Klaus had to teach him. Preferably, Klaus suspected, secrets about things on the mainland. 

   “Ish, that snake is harmless,” Violet said calmly, and Klaus cursed her silently. “It’s a misnomer.”

   “Pablo!” said Sunny, which probably meant, “It wouldn't hurt Klaus,”

   Ishmael looked too relieved to not be suspicious. “Well, in that case,” he said, extracting himself from the clutches of the Viper, “I’ll leave you be, you precious… creature,” and he backed away from the Baudelaires and the Viper.

   “Well, that was odd,” Violet said slowly after a short silence. “Why did you tell Ishmael the Viper was dangerous?”

   “I thought it would be funny to watch him squirm,” he said, pulling the Viper gently from around his neck. 

   “I think it’s a little sad that I agree with you,” Klaus laughed. 

   “I disagree,”

   “It was very funny,” she said, giggling. Suddenly, she became very serious. “Do you think… Isadora would have thought it was funny?”

   “Why do you ask?”

   “I’ve just been thinking about her a lot, lately. All of the Quagmires, really, but especially her,” and Klaus could only nod. He’d been doing the same. Duncan was on his mind more than anything he’d ever encountered, including Count Olaf. 

   “Me, too,” he said quietly. 

   “Is that why you’ve been so distant? If you want Isadora, you… you can have her.” Violet had a variety of sad looks for various things, like begging and guilt-tripping, but this was the first time, in his thirteen long years of life, that Klaus had ever seen his sibling truly, utterly, completely sad.

   “No, no! It’s not that,” he said quickly. “You’ve, uh, you’ve got the wrong sibling,” He smiled nervously, hoping that Violet wouldn’t delve into details. He didn’t want to try to explain the dreamwalking and their whole relationship right then, especially since he didn’t know how to word it in a way that wouldn’t make him sound utterly insane.

   She smiled knowingly. “Duncan?”

   “How did you know?”

   “Intuition, mixed with a healthy amount of mind-reading,” 

   Klaus laughed. “You can do that?”

   “I’m your older sister, of course I can! Boys leave their minds wide open, ” she said mystically, “and I can see all of your secrets, ”

   The Baudelaires erupted into giggles, drawing the attention of some islanders walking past, and fell to the ground together, just like they used to with their father on rainy days after too much hot cocoa. Sunny, of course, was too young to remember times like that, but giggled and played happily in the sand nonetheless.

   The rest of the day passed in a happy haze for the siblings, but unfortunately, it was not fated to last.

   Klaus sat in one of the oversized armchairs in the library of the cottage. He was holding, in his lap, a book of Latin phrases, skimming through happily. It was raining outside the cottage, and Duncan was still sleeping peacefully in the big bed in the corner. 

   Once or twice, Klaus considered joining him, but then he would either find a phrase that spurred him to keep going or Duncan would fling an arm out that surely would have hit Klaus had he been laying beside him. He was content to sit in the chair and wait for his lover to wake. 

   The only problem was, he didn’t. 

   The entire time Klaus spent reading that book, Duncan tossed and turned in their bed. Klaus knew how dangerous it could be to try and wake him, so he waited, growing more worried by the second.

   Thankfully, he woke eventually, and Klaus could listen to him spin a tale of a lightning storm on board the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home that kept him awake there.

   “I was worried about you,” he said when Duncan was finished and he had folded his partner into his arms. “I thought something was wrong, like you were sick, or something, and all I could do about it was sit and watch,”

   “I'm thankful that you worry,” came Duncan’s reply, muffled where his face was pressed into Klaus’s sweater. “And I'm thankful you didn’t try to wake me up. I would have fainted and might have died,” Klaus knew this, and told him so; he was just happy that Duncan was here now and they had each other for a little while before Klaus had to wake up.

   “I think,” said Klaus, when they were standing side by side in the kitchen making latkes, “that it’s a bit ironic that we can only see each other in this dream,”

   “Why do you think it’s ironic, Klaus?” 

   “Because,” and he wrapped his arms around Duncan’s waist, eliciting a small noise of surprise from him, “this feels like a dream. Being here, being able to do this--” he pressed a small kiss to Duncan's neck-- “making latkes together, all of this, it… it doesn’t feel real,”

   Duncan spun around to face him and place his hands on Klaus's cheeks. “Are you saying that you think I’m leading you on? That I’m enchanting you in some way?”

   “No! No… I don’t know.”

   “You can tell me anything, love, you know? Anything. If you… don’t want me, please,” and he pressed his face into the crook of Klaus's neck, “I need you to tell me, like, now. Please. I love you.”

   “I love you too! It was meant to be a compliment, love. This has been wonderful,”

   “’Has been’?”

   “Is.” Klaus wrapped his arms tighter around Duncan, pulling him closer to his chest, to his heart, as if he could press Duncan straight into himself until they were one, until nothing stood between them. “I love you, so, so much, Duncan,”

   “I love you, too,” he replied, voice muffled by Klaus’s sweater, though the latter never heard, because at that moment, he passed out into blackness. 

   Klaus felt like he was floating. He couldn’t see anything, except himself, in clothes he didn’t recognise: a white cloth chiton he could only recognise from his mythology books, and a sash of navy blue silk.

   He tried and failed several times to call out for Duncan, but his voice didn’t work properly, and eventually, he stopped trying, hoping that somewhere nearby, Duncan was doing the same, trying to find him.

   He simply lay in the air for a while, listening to the soft tinkle of bells slowly grow in volume, until he realized that it was not quite bells, but a voice, calling his name. 

   “Hello?” he called into the blackness, and the voice fell silent for a moment. He tried to call Duncan’s name again, but found his voice only worked when he wasn’t doing that, for whatever reason. “Hello? Who’s there?” he tried again.

   “Hello, Klaus Baudelaire,” the voice said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

   “What?”

   “I’ve been waiting for you,” the voice repeated, and now it was taking on a different tone, one eerily similar to someone he was intimately close with.

   “Duncan? This isn’t funny, love, please, let’s go back. I didn’t mean to upset you!” He was crying now, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. 

   “But you did, Klaus,” said Duncan’s voice, sounding out of tune and not quite like him anymore. “You hurt my feelings. I only wanted to make a place where we could be alone together and we could dream together. But…” Duncan sighed. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you? Just like you ruined your chances of saving me all those times you tried.” Klaus was borderline sobbing now. “That’s it, love, let it all out. You deserve this, you know. You deserve to cry just like you made me cry for so long!” His voice was distorted, blown out of proportion; he sounded demonic, and Klaus knew he was seeing just how dangerous their power could really get. 

   “You…” Klaus sniffled. “You don’t really feel that way, do you?”

   “Of course I do,” said Duncan simply. 

   “Then show yourself! Come out and say all of this… this shit to my face, you coward!” Klaus screamed and immediately fell back into body-shaking sobs. “You won’t. I know you won’t. I know you don’t mean this.”

   “As you wish, astra ,” and Duncan’s voice curled menacingly around the pet name. Klaus felt himself lowered gently onto his feet on something solid but pitch black. “But know this: you will regret calling me a coward. You will regret opening yourself up to me !”

   The last word felt like a cue, and it probably was, because Duncan, dressed in something similar to Klaus’s own clothing, emerged from a previously unseen fold in the black walls around them, a menacing smile on his face. Under normal circumstances, Klaus loved it when Duncan smiled: it felt so kind, like his partner was bathing him in some sort of love potion; but now, his face blurred by tears and twisted so horribly, it felt like his worst nightmare. This was his worst nightmare.

   “Hello, precious ,” Duncan placed a hand on his chin and twisted his head roughly to the side to kiss up his neck, which only made Klaus cry harder. “Welcome to the true place I made for you.”

   “There’s nothing here,” said Klaus in between wracking sobs. 

   “Exactly,” said Duncan, biting his earlobe harshly. Klaus cried out in surprise and pain. “You don’t deserve anything. In fact, you deserve less than nothing for the pain you caused me.”

   “I…” Klaus whimpered, and he swallowed hard. “You said you loved me.”

   “I had to lure you in somehow, didn’t I?” Duncan pulled away from his ear and began to circle Klaus. “I knew you wouldn’t come willingly, unless I somehow made it inviting for you, unless I served you in some way. That’s how you see me, right? Lesser? So I made you a home. A place you could be happy, a place I could manipulate you to my will until you would follow me anywhere, even to your inescapable doom.” Duncan barked out a laugh, and Klaus let out one more broken whine. “And you did, didn’t you? And now I have you in exactly the place I want you: asleep and alone, where not even your crafty sisters will be able to help you.”

   Duncan stopped his pacing and stood stock still, looking Klaus dead in the eyes. “No one is going to be able to hear you scream.”

Chapter Text

   Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Now, Klaus realized as Duncan tugged on leather restraints, was a wonderful time to be figuring that out, but better late than never, he supposed. He would say something, but part of his sash had been  shoved roughly into his mouth to stop his sobbing, like he could’ve continued anyway: his eyes burned, though he felt empty. He had nothing left. 

   He wanted to believe that this wasn’t Duncan, that the real one would swoop in at any moment and save him, but he never did, and eventually, Klaus gave up hoping. As he screamed under his former lover’s touch, devoid of love, as he sobbed over the loss of something he didn’t know he would ever lose, Klaus lost himself, and eventually, he stopped screaming, he stopped bawling, and something inside him broke into something he was unsure he would ever be able to fix. 

   An unknown amount of time later, Duncan seemed satisfied for the moment. His devices whirred to a stop and his hands left Klaus’s now bare and bruised beyond recognition body and he left Klaus alone and tied up with a sneered, “I’ll be back later, and you’d better scream for me when I am.” He left Klaus to cry quietly over his various wounds and to sleep for a while.

   Klaus awoke, unharmed, on the island to Violet’s concerned face. 

   “Are you okay, Klaus?” she said, placing her hand gently on Klaus cheek, pulling back slowly when he flinched. “You were screaming in your sleep.” Klaus nodded.

   “I’m fine,” he said, and found that he was not as unharmed as he thought. His throat was raw from all the presumed screaming he did in this body from the happenings with Duncan. The thought of Duncan’s sweet face alongside this new, twisted, demonic one made him start to cry again and he knew this would become something they would just have to put up with.

   “What’s wrong?”

   “I…” Klaus swallowed, wincing at the burn in his throat. “I had a nightmare,” he said, and unfortunately it was only a white lie. “Nothing to worry about, you know, everyone has them.” He knew he said something wrong when Violet shook her head.

   “You were screaming so loud , Klaus. The foragers this morning had to gag Count Olaf because he wouldn’t stop yelling at you to shut up. It sounded like you were dying, and then when you wouldn’t wake up, I…” Violet shook slightly with the effort of keeping tears in. “I was scared that that was what was happening. I was scared you were dying, Klaus,” and Klaus had to hold in a comment of: that’s certainly what it felt like, so he didn’t upset his sister. 

   “I dreamed I was in our house, with Mom, when it… when she… you know.” he lied. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He didn’t think he’d be able to say it out loud. “Being burned alive hurts, Vi.” They were both crying now, both from the memory and the thought of what happened to their parents that night. “Mom looked so sad, she kept yelling at me to leave, but I didn’t want to. Then she did, and I felt so alone , dying all by myself. Eventually I just let the fire kill me. I knew Mom wasn’t coming back, and my burns were going to be too much, so what did I have to lose?” Klaus sobbed into his pillow. “I didn’t think about you and Sunny, and I’m sorry.”

   “It’s okay, Klaus,” came Violet’s answer, along with her delicate hand on his back rubbing back and forth, just like Duncan’s did when he confessed, just like Duncan’s did when they were laying together , and Klaus had to hold back more tears. “It was just a dream. You’re okay now. I admit Mom isn’t, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” I wish it was just a dream , thought Klaus, and I wish I could tell you the truth .

   They stayed like that the whole day, until Violet left to bring them both dinner and find Sunny, and someone on the other side shook him awake.

   Duncan was waiting for him on the other side with a whip in his hand. He was cracking it against the obsidian floor in front of Klaus’s face menacingly. 

   “Did you tell anyone about this during your little nap, pet?” said Duncan, voice low and evil.

   “They’d think I was insane,” he said quietly, not trusting his vocal cords to do much more than that. “Violet said I was screaming in my sleep, though. I lied about what happened here. Claimed I was in my house with my mother when it burned down.” Klaus’s throat tightened in tandem with the wicked grin spreading across his former lover’s face. 

   “Good,” purred Duncan, and cracked the whip again, though not on the floor this time: it landed across Klaus’s back with a sickening sound. Klaus bit his tongue to keep from crying out, tasting copper in return. 

   The problem with Klaus’s (quote-unquote) “little nap” was that it gave him hope that he would not wake up naked tied to a table with a maniac only a few feet away; that instead he would wake up to the smell of Duncan’s delicious pastries, laying in his large bed, with the knowledge that Duncan would never do anything to hurt him. His fantastical wishes that the Duncan he knew would be with him any minute had burrowed into his brain again made it difficult to keep from crying his eyes out over the lashes that somehow just kept coming, until Klaus was sure he would have scars even when he woke up in his real body. More than once he found himself crying out Duncan’s name, and then he would stop and press and hand gently to Klaus’s back, and the latter thought that maybe he was done, but then the former would dig his fingers into the long cuts that now littered Klaus’s back, he’d cry out again, and the cycle would repeat until the only thing Klaus could do was sob and watch his tears hit the floor with soft plops , until he had no more tears and he just laid there dry-sobbing.

   Hours later, he felt a very odd sensation indeed: gentle hands on his hips when he knew Duncan’s hands were on the whip behind him. The hands were cradling him, and they travelled all over him softly, caressing him like a lover would in the middle of the night. It rekindled something deep in his chest, and his heart fluttered just like it did when Duncan held him the first few moments they were together. He missed the Duncan he used to have and he wished he had never told him about his ironic realization. 

   The hands stopped on his cheeks and something else came to him: a pair of phantom lips on his, and Klaus nearly started crying again, though with what tears he did not know. He knew it couldn’t be Violet because she only ever kissed him on the cheek, and even then, they were a bit too old for that. 

   Someone cared for him. Someone out there wanted him to know they were there, that he wasn’t alone. 

   Finally, the whip stopped on his back and Klaus heard his former lover stomp around to his face. Klaus did not see him because he had screwed his eyes shut to focus on the sensation of the phantom hands, which were now resting on the small of his back. Whoever it was had to have their hands coated in his blood, because even he could feel it running down his otherwise numb back and thighs. 

   “I’ll be back later, pet,” he heard Duncan say, and one of his blood-soaked hands came to rest on his chin, tilting it up presumably to meet him. “Get some rest.” and his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. The hand left his chin, and the phantom ones his back, and he saw Duncan’s newsie boots stride out of the room before he closed his eyes. 

   Sleep did not come to him as easily as the previous night, though he caught glimpses of Violet and the island’s doctor in a corner of his tent, speaking in hushed tones. Both looked grief-stricken and it hurt that Klaus could not reassure his sister this time around. 

   The other side was infinitely better now that Duncan was gone and the hands were back, caressing a spot before lips would kiss it gently. At one point, he even thought he felt them whisper something against the skin right above his heart, something that felt eerily like I love you . He would have taken the hands and kissed them back in gratitude if he could have. 

   Hours later, he heard Duncan’s newsie boots walk back in, though the pattern was different. He walked like he didn’t want to be discovered, and he stopped abruptly much further away than usual. Some long-buried part of him registered that this could not be Duncan: the behavior of this person was too different.

   That long-buried part of him was wrong, apparently, because when he pulled himself up on arms shaky from disuse after someone released his bonds, it was his former lover’s face staring back at him, albeit much more like he remembered: soft and kind. Klaus would have tried to get away from him if he had the strength, but he didn’t, so all he did was stare right back. 

   Duncan’s eyes travelled down his body, growing wider with horror as they came down his mutilated torso, and he blushed when he realized Klaus was completely naked. Eventually, they came back up to his face, sage green eyes meeting deep umber, and in an instant Klaus knew that all of his wishes had come true. 

   “What…” he said finally, and swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

   Klaus winced. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that last one,” he said, wincing at the dryness in his throat. 

   “Why?” and Duncan, the real Duncan, strode over to place his hands gently on Klaus, anywhere that wasn’t stained wine red with blood or bruises. He kissed gently on Klaus’s face as he waited for an answer. 

   “Because…” and it was Klaus’s turn to swallow. “You did.”

   “ What ?” he said, backing away from his lover slightly. “But I’ve been at the cottage, waiting for you to wake up. I just figured out how to get here just now,” Tears began to fill Duncan’s eyes at the accusation. “I could never do something like this to you, Klaus, you know that,”

   “I do,” whispered Klaus, resting his head on top of Duncan’s. “I know now that it wasn’t you. But it was someone who looked an awful lot like you. Sounded like you, too, and he knew all about us, and our life at the cottage, and I was so scared it was actually you, that you actually felt like he said,” He was so grateful that Duncan was here now, saving him, and he tacked that on the end of his statement. His throat hurt like hellfire, but he kept talking because he knew Duncan would want to hear him speak. 

   Duncan took a deep breath. “Do you think you can walk?” he asked, looking up at Klaus, who could only nod in return. “Okay. Let’s go,” and he pulled Klaus, painfully, towards the place he had entered.

   They emerged in the cottage, and Klaus immediately fell to the ground and kissed the floor. He rested his forehead against it for a moment and he saw Duncan bend down beside him, concern clear on his face.

   “I’m alright,” he said in response. “I just missed this place. I missed you .”

   “I missed you too, but that’s not what I’m worried about,” said his lover, and gently he pulled Klaus to his feet. They walked over to the bed together, Duncan giggling as Klaus gave his best impression of the “bedroom eyes” he had seen people on television make at their partners. It was nice to see Duncan smile like this again, and he made it known. 

   “Look, there, on the bed,” said Duncan, suddenly serious, and for good reason: Klaus was laying on the bed, looking halfway to death, and suddenly he knew that was what his face looked like on this body, too. 

   “What do we do?”

   “I’m not sure,” said Duncan, shifting foot to foot. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He tugged gently on the hem of his sweater, and suddenly Klaus felt incredibly bare. He was ashamed to make Duncan feel anxiety like this.

   “I could try going to sleep,” he offered. “That usually seems to help,” and he felt strange when Duncan only nodded and strode over to the dresser to find him some pajamas. “Hey,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around Duncan and kissing the top of his head. “What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?”

   “I don’t know,” whispered Duncan, voice breaking slightly. He sniffled, and suddenly it felt strange to be holding him like this. “I just…”

   “Shh,” shushed Klaus. “I’m here for whatever you need, love. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,”

   Duncan spun around suddenly, buried his face in Klaus’s bare chest, and began to cry. Klaus winced slightly as his hands wrapped around his torso and dug into the still-fresh lash marks on his back. 

   “I-I just…” he stuttered between sobs that shook his whole body. “You probably hate me, don’t you? Even though it wasn’t me who hurt you, you still thought it was me. You thought I hated you. You have every right to hate me,” He paused to have a small sniffling fit. “You-- you know you don’t have to do this, right? Pretend to still love me because I’m some mess who acts like he can’t live without you? Go on,” He sniffled and pulled his arms away from Klaus, though the latter held fast. “Tell me you hate me. Get it over with. You can-- you can have this place. I’ll go somewhere far away, and you’ll never have to see me again, and I’ll get over it. I won’t hate you for it. I can’t hate you for anything.”

   Klaus didn’t say anything. He simply stood there in shock as Duncan waited for him to lie, to make him leave. He wrapped his arms tighter around his whimpering partner after a while and whispered a small, “I could never hate you, Duncan,” into his hair as he pressed kisses everywhere he could reach comfortably. “I love you,” he said, over and over, after every single kiss he gave to his lover, to the boy who deserved this kind of treatment the least out of everyone in the world, to his other half. 

   A soft hissing sound filled the spaces his voice didn’t, and when he turned to see what it was, he was greeted with the lovely vision of his own body dissolving into dust before his eyes; the body on the bed, of course. The body he occupied was still intact and holding on to Duncan for dear life. And naked. Very, very naked. 

   Finally, he could take it no more. He needed water, something to make his throat stop burning like it had been dipped in hellfire and brimstone. 

   “Duncan, my sweet, sweet lover,” he said into said boy’s hair, “I need water, love, so I need to let you go for a moment,” Duncan hummed something that sounded like dissonance into his chest as he unfurled his arms and stretched, arms flying over his head and nearly scraping the ceiling. Duncan’s little hands held fast to Klaus’s waist, though he let the latter peel them off of himself. 

   “Hang on,” said his voice, slightly scratched from his crying. He strode over to the kitchen, Klaus at his heels, and pulled a chair out from the table. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the seat, and Klaus was not inclined to disagree, wincing as the back of the chair dug into his wounds. “No,” and Duncan’s hands were on him, pulling him up and turning him around so that he sat with his chest to the back of the chair. “I need to clean and bandage your back,” he explained when he saw his lover’s confused look from his new place by the water jug, pouring Klaus a glass of water. “Now, look at me.” he said, glass in hand, and Klaus did. “You need to drink this slowly . Promise me you will,” 

   “I promise,” said Klaus, and only then did his partner hand him the glass of sweet, cold water. It felt like heaven to Klaus’s dry, cracked throat and spinning head, so much so that he didn’t even notice his lover’s absence until his cold hands were gently massaging his shoulders. He let a small whine escape his throat and leaned back into the touch, such a welcome change from the false Duncan’s torture. 

   “This is going to sting a lot,” came the real Duncan’s soft voice before he laid a wet cloth over Klaus’s left shoulder blade. “But I need--” he pressed down and Klaus hissed in pain-- “to clean these before they get infected,” 

   “What--” he hissed again as Duncan moved the cloth over his upper back with a whispered sorry, astra -- “what about my chest?”

   “What about it?”

   “It’s covered in bruises,” and he cried out in pain as Duncan dug his fingernails into one of the cuts. 

   “Sorry,” he said, and kissed an unharmed spot just above it. “Splinter. Bruises will heal by themselves. Plus, I have to wrap the bandages around your whole torso, so they’ll be covered, if you’re truly worried about it.” He sniffled.

   “You okay?”

   “Yeah, just leftover mucus,”

   Klaus laughed. “That’s gross!”

   “Would you rather me get boogers all over your back? How’s that cup of water coming, love?”

   “I am drinking it slowly, as Your Highness has ordered,” he said and took another sip. “Also, please don’t get your mucus on my back. I love you, but not quite that much, sweetness,” 

   “I won’t, because I love you, too,” He pulled the cloth off of Klaus’s back and began to gently place thick pads of soft gause all over his wounds. The domesticity of the whole scene (minus Klaus’s nakedness) amazed him: the two of them simply sitting together in the kitchen, spending time together in a comfortable silence.

   “You know I could never hate you for what Fake You did? You’re a separate person from whoever he was,”

   “I know, Klaus. Can we not talk about it? At least for now?”

   “Okay,” and they were silent once more, until Duncan was done wrapping the bandages. 

   “Alright! Now, young man, it is pants time for you,” Duncan rose from his seat and started over to the dresser. 

   “I’m not that much younger than you!” he called after Duncan’s retreating back, to which the other laughed. “Only a year!”

   “And three months,” he added as he threw a pair of slacks and a sweater at Klaus’s face. “Put those on, please,”

   “What about underwear?” Klaus asked as he pulled the sweater over his head, eliciting a sarcasm-heavy sigh from his partner. 

   “Yes, Your Majesty,”

   “Please, sugar drop?” Duncan smiled as he strode back to his lover with a pair of underwear. 

   “I like that one,” he said, holding Klaus’s head still by his cheeks so he could press a kiss to his hairline. “Can I use it?”

   “Mmmmmmno,” he yawned, stretching surreptitiously within reach of real kisses. “This one’s for me, sugar drop,”

   Duncan hummed. “You sound tired, love. Let’s get you to bed, hmm?” Klaus could only nod in response, caught in the throes of another yawn. “Yes,” and he pulled him to his feet and they laid down together on the big, soft bed in the corner. Klaus felt strange, having not removed his glasses because he didn’t have them on in the first place, but the feeling was quickly replaced by adoration for the boy on the other side of the bed, fussing about with his bandages and pressing soft kisses to his cheeks.

   “‘M comfy, Dun,” he said, pausing for another yawn, “you don't hafta worry ‘bout me for a while, love,” and he promptly fell asleep.

   Klaus woke to something cold poking him quite urgently in the chest. When he opened his eyes properly, he had a moment of panic when he realized that he was not in his tent . He was in the island’s doctor’s tent, surrounded by odd machines that even Violet couldn’t work out. 

   Speaking of Violet, she was seated, asleep, in the corner of the tent. She looked exhausted. 

   “Vi,” said Klaus quietly, pleased that his throat was no longer dry. “Violet, wake up, please,” and thankfully, she did.

   “Klaus?” Her voice was thick with her exhaustion and her eyes looked ever so slightly unfocused. “That you?”

   “Mhm,” 

   “You’re awake,” she said, smiling. “We were really worried about you,” 

   “What happened? Why am I here?”

   “Well,” said Violet, “that’s the complicated part. Last night, you were screaming again--” Klaus winced-- “and all of a sudden your robe starts turning red. I pulled it off of you to find these big cuts on your back, just appearing out of nowhere, and your chest had all these bruises, so I called the doctor, and he brought you in here.” She paused to take a shaking breath and Klaus could tell she was trying to hold in tears. “They stopped after a while, and eventually all the blood, it just went away. The doctor wants to keep you here to observe you,”

   Klaus was silent for a while. The only plausible explanation was the truth, obviously, but the truth made him sound insane. Would Violet believe him if he told her what actually happened? Or would he be shunned, sent somewhere she’d never have to look at her crazy brother again, and eventually, she’d sail away from this island and leave him behind. 

   “Klaus? Are you okay?”

   “Yeah, yeah,” He was nervous, and he knew Violet could see that. 

   "No, you aren't," she stated matter-of-factly, crossing the tent to crouch next to the cot. “Something’s up. You aren’t telling me something.”

   “Cause you’ll think I’m insane,” he muttered. 

   “What?”

   “Nothing,” 

   “Hammahamah insane,” she said. “That’s what I heard,”

   “I said, ‘Because you’ll think I’m insane,’”

   Violet sighed heavily. “Why is that?”

   “Cause the truth is crazy, Vi. You’ll never believe me,” 

   “I'll try to act like I don't believe you,” she said, voice flat and sarcastic.

   “I need you to understand that this is hard for me to get out,” He tried to sit up and found that he couldn’t. “I am genuinely going to sound insane, Violet, so I need you to be serious with me.” He took a deep breath. “In my dreams, I’ve been meeting with Duncan. He said that we were both technically conscious during the dream and-- stop laughing! This is hard for me!” Violet had started to giggle, shaking as she tried to hold it in.

   “Okay, okay, I’ll-- I’ll stop,” She took several deep breaths to compose herself and nodded at him to continue. 

   “Anyways, where was I before that incredibly rude interruption ?” He looked pointedly at his sister in mock annoyance. 

   “You were talking about Duncan,” she offered. 

   “Yes. He said we could meet like that every night and talked about magic and stuff. I thought he was crazy at the time, but then he turned my glasses into turtles and back again and I believed him after that.” He took a moment to reminisce on the moment. “He cast some weird spell on me so that I’d always come back to that spot instead of wandering through other dreams and a bunch of other weird stuff happened after that that’s kind of irrelevant.” In truth, Klaus just didn't want to tell his sister about his true relationship with Duncan right then. It felt like some kind of nice secret between the two of them, and for some reason, Klaus thought it may have enhanced his feelings, knowing that they had something that no one could ever impede on.

   “One day, a couple of days ago, something happened while we were working together (don’t ask me what happened, I have no clue) and I fell into this pit. My clothes changed and I couldn’t see anything except myself and all of a sudden, this disembodied voice started talking to me. A lot of stuff happened, it really hurt my feelings, and then Duncan came out of the blackness. He looked really, really scary.” The memory of the torture, the pain, and not just the physical pain, was making him tear up again. “He--” He gulped. “He did some really bad stuff and I was so scared. That’s where… that’s where the bruises and the cuts came from. They must have bled through my consciousness into this body. I hate having to make you watch that. I’m sorry,” He was hiccuping out sobs now, and Violet was crying, too. 

   “Is more stuff going to happen? Are we going to have to find a way to help?”

   “I don’t know. I do know, though, that if I get more cuts, someone is going to die, and it’s not going to be me,” He tried to be confident, to put on a brave face, but it was hard with how shaky he was and wow, was the world always this bright? “I’m safe now, though. The real Duncan found me,” he added simply, and he hoped that was true. His experiences with Count Olaf had taught him that nowhere was safe, only safer, but he hoped the dream world, with Duncan, would be truly safe. 

   “I love you, Violet,” he said, and it was true.

   “I love you, too, Klaus,”

   “Go get some rest, you look half dead,” Violet laughed. 

   “So do you, magic man,” and there was a comfortable silence between them before each, in their own time, drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Text

  Life aboard the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home was incredibly difficult, especially when the only people you could spend time around were your incredibly nosy siblings. Duncan spent most of his time lately constructing a small hidey-hole in the bottom of the library basket just so he could have somewhere cozy to go. Being surrounded by all of those books reminded him of Klaus, and that made the space seem that much more comfortable. He was sitting with one of those books in the sleeping basket now.

   He loved his siblings and all that, but they couldn’t seem to learn the meaning of personal space, especially now that he had a big secret. Duncan was on his last nerve.

   “What’s going on in here, little brother?”

   “We were born at the same time, for the last time, Quigley,” he sighed, already tired of his brother’s antics.

   “Listen, Duncan, can I come in there? I need to talk to you,” and instantly Duncan knew his brother was being serious. It was hard for Quigley to let go of the playfully aloof nature he had somehow had since birth, but when he did, it was for something very important.

   “Yeah, sure,” he replied, patting the bedroll beside him. Quigley was uncharacteristically nervous: he had seen his brother fidget before, he had autism for god’s sake, but nothing like this. He was picking at his hands, something that only happened when he was good and truly anxious. “Twig?”

   “Yeah?”

   “Are you okay?”

   “Yeah! I just… wanted to play Serious Questions,”

   “That’s your least favorite game,”

   “I know. Anyway, serious question: what would you say if I said I didn’t want to be your brother anymore?”

   Duncan balked. “What the fuck , Quigley?” He lowered his voice so that Hector would not hear him swear.

   “Not like that! Oh my God, not like that,” Quigley took a deep breath. “Like, I wanted to just be your sibling. Like, being called your ‘brother’ makes me uncomfortable,”

   Duncan breathed out a sigh of relief. “I would ask you if you were okay with questions about what that entails,” he said, and Quigley looked more relieved than a human should physically be able to be relieved. 

   “Okay, good, because that was not a hypothetical situation. It’s what’s actually happening right now.”

   “Okay,”

   “I will answer any questions you may have,” he said quickly.

   “Great! First one: pronouns now?”

   “They,” they said.

   “Next: can I use them around Isadora and-slash-or Hector? Them being the pronouns,”

   “Isadora yes, Hector no,”

   “Last: is that all I need to know about this situation?”

   “Yes,” his sibling breathed, obviously happy to have a safe space. “Okay, another one: what are you hiding?” Quigley had regained that mischievous smirk and glint in their eyes; it made Duncan gulp.

   “I have no clue what you mean,” he said, voice small and completely betraying him. 

   “Yes, you do. You have a secret ,” whispered Quigley, eliciting a groan from Duncan. This was the problem with being a magical identical triplet. “I won’t tell anyone: Pinkie swear,”

   “Yes, you will! Anyways, I’m not comfortable telling you,” Duncan had always been the most timid sibling out of the three of them, the one that inherited both their father’s anxiety disorder and autism, the “scaredy-cat”. Upon hearing the last sentence, Quigley let up and changed the subject, and their brother was incredibly grateful. He wasn’t ready to tell his siblings about Klaus just yet. Klaus had been right, that day they made latkes: their relationship did feel like a dream. Being as anxious as he was, Duncan was just waiting for someone to come and pop their bubble.  

   Hector’s voice, hours later, permeated the sleeping basket for dinner, and after that: a haze, until Duncan fell asleep. He wouldn’t miss any time he could be spending with Klaus for the world.

   Duncan awoke before Klaus did, as usual, and he was treated to a particularly beautiful sight this time. 

   Klaus’s lips were slightly parted, his brow furrowed; he looked deep in thought. It was one of the cutest things Duncan had ever seen, and to know that he would wake up to this every day for probably the rest of his life sent a spark of butterflies to his stomach. There was about five inches or so of space between the two lovers, but to him, it was an unbearable amount of space. 

   So, he did what any other rational person would do: cuddled up to his chest, swaddled as it was by bandages. Or he would have if Klaus hadn’t let out a small cry of pain and stirred as soon as Duncan put a hand on his pec. His big brown eyes opened in confusion and hurt, though he relaxed when he saw it was just his lover. A soft smile overtook his face, and he reached over to caress Duncan’s face with a whisper: “Hey,” deeper in timbre than usual. 

   "I'm sorry for waking you,"

   "'S fine, love. I don't mind," and God, the way Klaus was looking at him with those gorgeous gingerbread eyes was enough to make his head go fuzzy. He seemed to glow in the golden light streaming in from the window behind him; he looked like a fallen angel and Duncan felt incredibly lucky to be in his position. "You okay?"

   "Hmm?"

   "I asked if you were okay," he said, running his thumb over Duncan's cheekbone. "You're kind of quiet this morning,"

   "I'm fine," he yawned, "just madly in love with you,"

   A blush came over Klaus's cheeks at his admittance, and he stuttered for a moment. "I must admit I'm whipped for you, too," and something in his mocha brown eyes flashed. The butterflies in Duncan's stomach fluttered.

   "How are you feeling?"
  "Like, my back and stuff?" Duncan nodded. "Great, actually,"

   "That's good!" He paused for a thought. "I need you to sit on the edge of the bed," 

   "Why?"

   "I need to have a look at how your cuts are healing." Klaus shrugged and moved to do as his partner asked. There was a lot of wincing and more than a few small yelps before he finally got where he needed to be, but they managed. 

   Slowly, Duncan peeled the bandages, already starting to soak through with blood, off of Klaus's back. Next was the gause, and finally he had a good look at it.

   "Okay, I can work with this," he muttered, and Klaus made a small noise of distress. "What's wrong?" he said a bit louder.

   "Is that a bad thing? Give it to me straight, Doc," 

   "No offense, but I don't think I can give anything to you straight," and Klaus laughed; an ethereal sound. The butterflies in Duncan's stomach gave a rather large lurch at the noise. "I can't really tell if it's a bad thing," he said, picking lightly at one of the many calluses on his hands. "You aren't showing any signs of infection, which means I did my job correctly, but you're also covered in blood."

   "I'm lucky you aren't queasy, eh?" 

   "Yeah, you are," he said and pressed a small kiss to the base of his neck. "But it's kind of a bad thing that you're covered in blood, because it means your blood cells aren't clotting correctly,"

   "Oh, I knew that, I've had that since I was born," he said, apparently unbothered. "It's a medical condition, my mother had it. Never stopped her from climbing trees with Violet, though! I tend to be a bit more careful than she was," 

   "Mmm," hummed Duncan; he was trying to picture what his mother must have looked like. "Well, it's still a problem, but it means you just can't move around as much and I have to wrap you tighter,"

   "That's fine," 

   "I'm going to have to change these dressings, too," He clambered off the bed. "You're about to bleed through them." He came around to Klaus's front and tilted his head up to meet those seraphic copper eyes. "I love you," he said softly, relishing the look Klaus gave him: one of complete and utter devotion and love.

   "I love you, too,"

   Klaus watched Duncan's retreating back and wondered what in the world he did to deserve this. It was almost like the universe had decided that you know, maybe we'll give those two something permanent. He knew it may have just been the rose-colored glasses, but he really thought Duncan was the one .

   When his lover returned, before he could climb onto the bed behind him, Klaus tugged lightly on the sleeve of his shirt. 

   "Kiss?" he whispered, eliciting an affectionate smile and a giggle from the other. He pressed a kiss to his temple, to which Klaus whined: "A real kiss, please,"

   He smiled wider and leaned in to push their lips together. It was short and sweet, shorter than Klaus wanted, but they had more pressing issues at the moment. "Are you satisfied, Your Majesty?"

   "For now," he said, releasing his sleeve. "I expect more later, though," He couldn't see Duncan, but he imagined he rolled his eyes.

   "You are incredibly lucky I love you," he said flatly and began to lay gause across his back. 

   "You're not going to clean them?" 

   "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "I don't need to. Besides, if you want to clean your back, please, be my guest, but you aren't infected and these bandages are sterile, so I don't see any need,"

   "If I die of a horrible infection, I'm blaming you," he said.

   "If you don't stop complaining, I'm not going to give you those kisses you demanded," and that was too far, so Klaus shut his mouth. The rest of the bandage replacing process was spent in an easy silence. 

   When Klaus was swaddled in cloth to his partner's liking, Duncan climbed back around onto Klaus's lap. He placed his hands gently on the latter's cheeks, pulling him in for a longer kiss. Being kissed by Duncan felt like heaven, even more so when he tilted his head ever so slightly. Klaus pushed forward, ignoring Duncan's noise of surprise, opening his mouth slightly. Some other kind of noise escaped Duncan's throat when Klaus decided to follow an impulse and slip his tongue into the former's mouth. 

   Duncan wrapped his arms around Klaus's neck, opening his mouth wider to allow Klaus more access. That little burst of dopamine didn't last long, though, because Klaus's air was about to run out; the sight he was treated to when he pulled away, though, was more than anything he could have asked for. 

   Duncan's lips were swollen slightly and flushed pink. An equally pink flush dusted over his nose and ears, making him look sunkissed and beautiful. His pear green eyes were fuzzy around the edges, which gave him a slightly dazed look, and knowing what they had just done, he probably was. He had to work to look up at Klaus, but when he made it there, he looked like perfection.

   "You're beautiful," he said, moving in to press kisses to his face and jawline, where he could feel peach fuzz beginning to turn to stubble. "I love you so much,"

   "I love you more," came Duncan's breathless reply. "Am I up to your standards, astra? " and he flinched when Klaus whispered his reply right into his ear. 

   "My darling," he murmured, "you set the standards," Duncan sighed happily, clearly pleased with his answer, and he allowed Klaus to kiss down his neck before he stopped him. 

   "Is there something wrong, sugar drop?"

   "I-it's just… we're young, you know? I want to wait, if that's alright with you,"

   "I will wait until the end of time if that's what you want, Duncan," and he meant it. He had two hands and knew how to use them. He pressed one last kiss to the spot his jaw met his ear and one more to his lips. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," Duncan buried his face in the crook of his partner's neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. Slowly, Klaus began to rub circles into the former's back, eliciting a small noise of delight from him. His breathing evened after a little while and eventually, Klaus realized he was asleep. He carefully shifted him until he was laying in a normal sleeping position and Klaus was on his side next to him, and he stared at his angelic face until he felt his eyelids get heavy and he fell asleep, too.

   Klaus awoke in the cottage in a cold sweat. He didn't even know it was possible to fall asleep there and not wake up in his real body, but he'd had a nightmare, somehow. He also didn't know it was possible for it to be night at the cottage, but he supposed that maybe that changed with Duncan: it was night when he was sleeping and day when he wasn't. 

   Klaus knew he wasn't getting back to sleep, so he got out of bed slowly and padded to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. While the water was boiling, he strode back and sat next to Duncan on the bed.

   He looked decidedly less peaceful than he did when he first fell asleep. Maybe, Klaus reasoned, something was up on the Mobile Home. His face was scrunched up in a concerned look, and every once in a while, he would make a noise of distress. It hurt Klaus to see him like this, but there was nothing he could do.

   In the back of his mind, he registered that it had begun to rain, very softly and slowly picking up in intensity. He wished he could wake Duncan; he knew how much his lover liked the rain. Maybe he was making the rain. 

   The tea kettle whistled insistently in the background and he rose reluctantly to tend to it. He went through all the motions of making the tea, instinctively making a cup for Duncan even though he probably would not wake for hours. 

   Klaus was careful with his movements not because he was afraid of hurting his back further, but because the cottage felt menacing in some odd way, not unlike how the obsidian pit did and--

   And he could not allow himself to fall down that hole. Whoever it was that hurt him would not dare do it with Duncan so nearby, even if he was sleeping, right?

   Right?

   The moments up until the first incident of the night passed in relative peace, with Klaus reading silently in the armchair and Duncan sleeping semi-peacefully in the bed. The first incident happened after Duncan had been whimpering incessantly for a while and Klaus was beginning to be worried. The former woke with a start a few minutes later, gasping and clutching at the sheets where Klaus normally slept. His eyes filled with tears when he realized his lover was not in bed with him, but a quick glance around what he could see of the cottage reassured him.

   The moments after were spent with a shaking Duncan wrapped up tightly in his arms and a lot of forehead kisses and soft "I love you"s.

   The sky began to lighten behind the almost-black clouds as the events unfolded and, remembering the rain, directed his attention to it. It made a shaky smile come to his lover's face, slowly strengthening as he made it rain harder, simply for his own amusement. Lightning flashed across the sky as Klaus tried to explain his nightmare.

   Duncan's face darkened. "I was afraid that might happen."

   "What? Afraid what would happen? Duncan," He grabbed Duncan by his cheeks. "What's happening to me?"

   "It's nothing we can't fix," he said quickly, fidgeting with his hands. "It's fixable with a little magic. But you won't be able to get back here temporarily."

   "And how long is 'temporarily'?" Klaus asked nervously; he was not looking forward to not seeing Duncan. "Also, what is happening, in layman's terms?"

   "'Temporarily' is about two weeks." Duncan took a deep breath and used the pause to brush a cowlick out of Klaus's eyes. "What's happening, in the simplest terms possible, is that you love me a bit too much."

   "What are you saying, that we should take a break?"

   "No! No, no, not at all, love," 

   "I think I need a bit more information,"
  "I think so, too, luckily. Your consciousness has become too attached to, or too dependent on, whichever you prefer, this place and by extension, me," he said, voice trailing off after the end. It was obvious that he was unenthusiastic about the idea.

   "Is that a bad thing?"

   "Objectively? Probably. Do I think it's a real, actual problem? No."

   "So, my consciousness, me, if you will," Duncan nodded, "thinks that this--" He gestured down at his body-- "is the body I need to be in, like, all the time because my brain likes you,"

   "That's right,"

   "But it isn't, because this is not the body I need to be in. I need to be in my other body, with Violet,"

   "Yep," Duncan nodded, and there was an uneasy silence for a moment while Klaus processed what was actually going on. "Klaus?"

   "Hmm?" 

   "I need to cast that spell,"

   "Mmm," he hummed, pulling Duncan in for a hug, "Or, you know, we could just cuddle,"

   "Or, you know, you could just be stuck here until your real body dies of starvation and-slash-or dehydration,"

   "Oh," 

   "Yeah," 

   "Can we cuddle for a little while, though? I'm not going to see you for two weeks , sugar drop. I need to fill my quota,"

   "Okay," and they did. Duncan buried his face in the crook of his partner's neck and Klaus laid his head over the former's. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," He kissed the side of his head, just above his ear. "I'm going to miss you a lot,"

   "Me, too," Duncan did his best to kiss his shoulder. "It's going to be really lonely here without you,"

   "I'll be here, won't I? My body, at least, and I think I can feel it when you kiss me,"

   "Just because you're here doesn't mean it's not going to be lonely,"

   "Mmm," and the only sound for a very long time was the soft patter of the rain outside and their breathing, slowly falling into an easy tandem. It was bliss, and to know that he would not have anything like this for a very long time made him sad. "Please kiss me when I'm gone,"

   "Only if you think of me, every day,"

   "I already do that, sugar drop," 

   "Then it will be exceptionally easy to hold up your end of the deal," Duncan sat up and moved to get off the bed, before Klaus grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a long, sweet kiss. "Hello,"

   "Hey," Duncan's emerald eyes shone as he smiled sweetly. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," 

   "You can cast that spell now," 

   "That's what I was about to do, before you kissed me,"

   "Are you complaining?"

   "Absolutely," He grinned. "No, love, I'm not complaining," Klaus let go of his sleeve and he hopped gracefully off of the bed. He came back a few moments later with what Klaus could only presume were the supplies he needed to complete the spell. “This won’t take long, love, so close your eyes,”

   “I love you, sugar drop. You know that, right?” He closed his eyes and allowed Duncan to apply some goopy stuff to his face. The things he did for his Duncan. 

   “Of course I know that, astra , you’ve only said it about five times in as many minutes,” he said softly and Klaus could almost hear him smiling. “I love you, too, so much, Klaus,”

   “I love you more,” was the only thing that could escape his mouth before everything turned to black, and a very familiar voice spoke just two words in a tone that sent shivers down Klaus’s spine.

   “Hello, darling,” sneered Duncan, bloody whip in hand.

Chapter Text

    “Hello, darling,” sneered Duncan, bloody whip in hand.

   Klaus felt his chest tighten at the words. He knew now that this wasn’t the real Duncan, but that didn’t make the sight of him stop the memories from souring, even the ones he had just made not minutes before.

   “I let you escape last time, love, and I’ll admit,” he chuckled darkly, “it took me a while to figure out how you did it. I got it eventually, though, and,” he gestured around him “here you are.” Klaus dropped to the floor and attempted to rectify his unmoving legs by scooting on his butt across the obsidian.

   “You’re not real! You-- you’re not real, you aren’t, you can’t be you--” He was cut off abruptly by a hand on his chin, holding him in place.

   “Oh, precious,” he purred, but there was no affection behind the words. “I assure you, I am completely real,”

   “You--” he tried to wrench himself free, but the hand held fast-- “you aren’t the real Duncan! He-- he’d never do the shit you did to me! Stop, stop, please,” and Klaus was sobbing. “Let me go, I-- I’ve never done anything to you, please, please, please--” He hiccuped out tears, barely hearing the soft shushing coming from the boy in front of him, now on one knee. 

   “You wound  me,” he said simply. “Maybe you’re right and I’m not your little lover,” and his voice was turning to a familiar wheezy snarl, and he was growing, taller and taller until he towered over Klaus in his true form. “Maybe,” said Count Olaf, “it’s easier to use him to get to you, you little faggot.”

   At least last time, there had been the easy familiarity that came with being with a lover, former or no. At least last time, he could hear the soft plod of newsie boots on the obsidian floor and know that somewhere, there was someone who had at least cared about him in the past.

   At least last time, he wasn’t chained, naked, to a wooden board in front of a pedophile. 

   Technically speaking, he was, but he didn’t know it. He knew it now, of course, but in Klaus’s logician opinion, not knowing was a lot better than knowing. He was blindfolded this time around, unable to see his old enemy traipsing about in front of him, occasionally laying a hand on his thigh, or his hip, or, once and horrifyingly, his dick. The blindfold was soaked through with his tears, though it was drying slightly now that he was dehydrated and couldn’t cry anymore. He felt like an animal at market, just waiting to be slaughtered, and that was probably the intention eventually: to kill him, so the little smart aleck would be out of the way of his schemes. 

   “You look wonderful when you’re tied up, little Baudelaire,” came that wheezy whisper and Klaus shivered with it and its implications. “Maybe I shall gag you, too, so you can’t call for help this time around.” Klaus sobbed dry, only letting out a little whimper. He’d run out of pleas earlier, instead simply accepting his fate, and thankfully (or not) it was obvious: death. His head fell onto his chest, making Olaf tsk in annoyance and stride over to grip his chin roughly to force it back up. 

   “Please,” he whispered, voice rough. 

   Count Olaf smirked and everything after that was a haze. 

   Klaus awoke hours later covered in some sticky substance, manacles cutting into his wrists, still disgustingly naked. His throat was unbelievably dry; he wished he could call for Duncan to help him, but they weren’t bonded for the time being. 

   Involuntarily, he screwed up his eyes with false tears at the thought of his lover. For all he knew, Klaus was in dreamland right now, peaceful, not tied up by some maniac with an anger problem. He tried to picture him in the cottage, and his brain supplied him with wonderful images: Duncan in the chair Klaus usually sat in, drinking tea, Duncan sitting at the table working on some new growth potion for his garden, Duncan unbothered by whatever was happening to Klaus. 

   He felt the phantom touch of his lover on his cheek and the soft press of his lips on Klaus’s. It seemed he was making good on his end of the deal, just as Klaus was making good on his. He was thankful for Count Olaf’s supposed absence, because he could focus on Duncan’s wandering hands instead of his. 

   They felt comforting, soft and, if touches could be colors, sage and emerald, like his eyes. Olaf's hands were carmine and scarlet, bruising and rough. He closed his eyes as Duncan kissed his cheeks, nose, and forehead, hands resting gently on his chest, then moving up to hold his. 

   He gripped his hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive; an idea popped into his head. Carefully, so as to not mess up, he squeezed his hand in a silent plea: help me in morse code. He released his hand, exhausted from just that simple act, and fell asleep.

   He dreamed he was back in the cottage, and knowing the nature of his own subconscious, he may well have been. He could see Duncan, curled up in his chair with a book of morse code. He looked frustrated, obviously unable to remember what he had said, so he decided to do him a favor and help out. 

   Carefully, to make sure he could, he lifted one of the candles on the windowsill. Duncan followed it with his eyes once he noticed it, astonished, and Klaus realized that his lover couldn't see him, but he could see the candle floating in midair. 

   An odd idea struck him. Into the kitchen he went, placing the candle gently back into its spot, and Duncan followed him. He still looked awestruck, and he still held the book of morse code in his hand; his pine eyes shone in the low light in the room. 

   He wet his hand first, hoping that would help, unscrewed the top of the jar of flour, and thrust his hand inside. Duncan merely looked horrified now, obviously wondering what the hell Klaus was doing. Slowly, he extracted his hand, now coated in flour, and waved at Duncan, who smiled and waved back. 

   "Klaus? Is that you?" He answered via a thumbs up, causing Duncan's smile to widen. He took his non-flour-coated hand and laid it gently on Duncan's cheek, pleased with his lean into the touch and quiet giggle. He laid his smaller hand on top of Klaus's, moving it to his mouth to kiss it gently. "This is weird,"

   "Why?" Klaus asked, unable to help himself, and somehow, Duncan heard him. "You can hear me?" His lover nodded, still smiling. 

   "It kind of sounds like you're yelling at me from really far away, but it'll do,"

   "Good, that means I can wash this off," and he did. "But you can't see me, right?"

   "Nope," he said, leaning on the counter. "It's weird because I cast a spell, Klaus, you shouldn't be able to be here,"

   "I think I'm dreaming," and he stumbled a little trying to explain what he meant. "I fell asleep, like I usually do, but I don't think I'm fully here , which is why you can't see me,"

   "You can see me, right?" He nodded and Duncan hummed. "That's really weird. Anyway," and Klaus chuckled a little at his quick dismissal, "what were you trying to say?"

   Klaus stuttered, then fell silent. How could he explain that the spell didn't work? How was he supposed to say to his lover , of all people, that he just got raped by a man that couldn't have been less than fifty, a man who had been chasing him, haunting him, for the better part of a year?

   "You alright, love?" He tried to put his hand on Klaus's invisible arm, missing a few times before he landed on his elbow. "There you are,"

   "Here I am," and he laid his hand back on Duncan's cheek. "I'm just thinking, love,"

   "You better not be thinking of lying to me, Klaus,"

   "No! Not at all," he said quickly, "just how to word it."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well," he said slowly, trying to breathe: the thought of what Count Olaf would do when he woke up was horrifying. "I found out who… you know." He guided Duncan's hand to his back. 

   "Who? How did you find out?"

   "Those are two very complicated questions with equally complicated answers." 

   "Does that mean you can't answer them?"

   "No, they're just going to be… hard. Please don't blame me or yourself for any of this." He took a deep breath and pulled his lover into his chest. "Who it is… it's Count Olaf." and he paused as Duncan took a sharp breath in. "And as for how I found out…"

   "Did he tell you?"

   "No. Can I finish, please?"

   "Sorry," he said, falling silent. Klaus let his hand trail up to Duncan's hair, running his finger through it and making his lover melt into his chest with a happy sigh.

   "My body is tied up for him right now." Duncan's head shot up in horror. 

   "Did he hurt you? Are you alright? Do you think I can get to you?"

   "Yes, no, and maybe. He'll have taken precautions against the last one, but you're crafty. I'm sure you'll find a way," Because if you don't, I'll die .

   "Do you want to talk about it?" Klaus buried his face in Duncan's hair, humming a soft I don't know . "Then let's talk about it, love,"

   "I said I don't know,"

   "If the answer to that isn't an outright no, then we should." Duncan grabbed one of Klaus's hands and tried to pull him over to the bed, but Klaus held fast, mainly because he was fast asleep.

   "What did you dream of, little Baudelaire?"

   "My mother," he lied.

   "'My mother'," Olaf said mockingly, and Klaus flinched. "I hope she was dying," 

   "We were making challah together," he whispered. "Like we used to,"

   "That's boring," said Olaf, ripping the blindfold from Klaus's eyes. He screwed them shut immediately, not wanting to see whatever was out there. "Ohh, open your eyes, little Baudelaire," he cooed. "I think you'll like what I have for you," 

   Slowly, he opened one eye, not sure what he was looking at without his glasses. "I can't see it without my glasses,"

   "It's not an it, brat," he spat. "It's a he ," and finally Klaus realized what it was with a wracking shot of horror.

   Duncan lay in the same position as himself, struggling wildly.

   "Do you like it, little Baudelaire? It's a gift, just for you,"

   Duncan was blindfolded, but he paused at the passing mention of Klaus's name. He whined, trying to shake the blindfold off, but it held fast. 

   "Let him go!" he yelled as loud as he could, which sadly wasn't very loud. Count Olaf merely laughed, pressing into Duncan's already bruised chest with some metal instrument, making him cry out in pain. "Let him go," 

   Duncan's noises of distress took on a shape vaguely resembling Klaus's name. Count Olaf's smirk widened and he looked right at Klaus. "No, I don't think I will," he snarled, and pressed harder into Duncan's chest. Klaus could see darker patches appearing on his blindfold, presumably where he was crying. Then Count Olaf removed his metal instrument from Duncan, leaving the other panting. "Actually," and he strode over to Klaus, "I asked you a question, little Baudelaire. Do you like your present?"

   "Klaus! Klaus, help, please, help me, I'm sorry, please," his partner sobbed. "Please,"

   "I…" Klaus gulped.

   "If you don't, we should get rid of it,"

   "I do! Thank you. It's the best gift I could have asked for." He swallowed hard, hoping he hadn't just doomed himself, Duncan, or both. "Thank you."

   "You're welcome, little Baudelaire," Count Olaf grinned and reached up to Klaus's manacles. "You know, I think you deserve to play with your new gift." Klaus knew that if he could see Duncan's pretty juniper eyes, they'd be wide with panic with those words. "I'm going to undo these now, and you aren't going to let your little boyfriend go when I do, do you understand?" Klaus nodded. "Alright." and he unlocked the cold metal caging Klaus, both his wrists and ankles, and stepped back. 

   Klaus took a shaky step in Duncan's direction. Olaf put a rough hand on his upper arm, wrenching him back to face him. Without a word, he handed Klaus his glasses, who took them and put them on silently. 

   "Now, pet, I need to go, but--" He held out his hand and an enormous bug flew into his outstretched palm-- "this will keep a good eye on you two. Be good, little Baudelaire," and he strode from the obsidian room, disappearing behind the folds of black that framed, right now, Klaus's whole world. 

   "Duncan! Duncan, precious, are you okay?" Klaus stumbled over to his bound lover. There was a step at the base which he used to pull himself up to face level, where he could get a better look at exactly how brutally he would have to murder Count Olaf. 

   Duncan's chest was covered in bruises: there was more purple flesh than there was lovely olive skin. He couldn't see down his legs from his position, but he was sure there was more bruising there. Klaus's own legs were coated in violet.

   "Take off the blindfold, please, I need to see you," he whispered. "He never said you couldn't do that,"

   Klaus reached up for the knot keeping the blindfold in place and got one hand on it before the bug came buzzing at his face and did not stop attacking until he released his hold on Duncan's bond. He sighed. "You'll have to stick with your imagination, love, this bug won't let me," he said and kissed the end of Duncan's nose. His lover whimpered and it made Klaus's heart ache. "I wish there was more I could do but there's no telling what Olaf will do to me. To either of us." He kissed his lips this time. "And I won't put you in any more danger than you're already in, love, I can't."

   "I understand," he whispered back. "I'd do the same in your position." 

   "What happened?"

   "You passed out (you're really heavy, by the way) and Olaf showed up in the cottage, and he grabbed me. He was saying something about a gift, just like earlier, when he said I was a gift to you. He left your invisible persona there, I don't think he knew, and he brought me here and tied me up and…" He tried his best to gesture around him. "Here we are." Klaus sighed. 

   "Is there any magic you know that could take care of that bug?"

   "What bug?" 

   "That thing Olaf said would keep an eye on us," he said, glancing nervously over to the bug. "It's this big red bug and I want to know if you can take care of it,"

   "If I could see it, yes," he said bitterly; if Klaus could see his forest green eyes, he knew they'd be sending him a passive-aggressive look. 

   "Let me try again," and this time, he went for the part over his nose, pulling up sharply to reveal his face. The bug, for whatever reason, did not seem to either notice or care. Duncan opened one fern green eye, then the other, and blinked a few times at their surroundings, then looked a few inches down to Klaus's face and smiled, as much as he could given their situation. Klaus smiled back, pleased to see his lover again.

   "Kiss me?" said Duncan hopefully. Klaus's smile widened as he leaned in to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. "A real kiss, weirdo," he giggled. 

   "That is a real kiss," 

   "You didn't hear me saying that when you said that last, did you?"

   "No," he said and pressed their lips together. It was a longer kiss than he'd given him earlier, but he didn't want to step over any lines, especially with that blood red bug beginning to take notice of the blindfold on the floor. He didn't know how Olaf could see what they'd done via the bug, but he didn't want to give him anything good. 

   Duncan hummed happily when he pulled away. His cadmium green eyes opened, filled with something that when his own eyes met them, Klaus's heart skipped a beat.

   "I love you," Klaus murmured, loud enough for Duncan to hear but hopefully not enough for the bug and Count Olaf. 

   "I love you, too," came Duncan's soft reply. Klaus laid his head on his shoulder, sighing deeply and closing his eyes for a moment. The familiar weight of his lover's head lowered onto his and for a moment, Klaus could forget that they were in a dream torture dungeon created by a medically insane pedophile. 

   “Can you see that bug?”

   “Unfortunately,” he muttered, and Klaus lifted his head just in time to see his lover's eyes flash an AK green. “And before you ask, yes, I can do something about it now.” Klaus breathed a small sigh and lifted himself onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to Duncan’s temple as he stared at the rufous bug like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind; knowing the nature of Duncan’s unruly (and incredibly beautiful) magic, that may very well have been what he was trying to do. 

   “Mmm,” hummed Klaus, laying his head back on Duncan’s shoulder. Bruised though his love was, he ran fingertips lightly along his collarbones, eliciting soft sighs of pleasure from said love. It was easier than normal to wrap arms around him, his arms being tied over his head; he pressed small kisses to what little he could reach of his shoulder and neck without moving his head. “Have I ever taken any time to tell you how beautiful I think you are?”

   “You can do it in a moment, love, this bug won’t fucking die ,” he said, though seconds later he heard the soft hiss of flame and little cries of pain, undoubtedly from the bug. He saw Duncan’s cheeks move upwards in a triumphant smile, and he gave a small smile himself. “Okay. You think I’m pretty, I need an ego boost, let’s do a little trade-off, eh?”

   An idea popped into Klaus’s head and he grinned. “Trade-off: with a twist,”

   A sultry “Oh?” fell from Duncan’s lips, then a whine, as Klaus stepped off the platform and began to look around for something taller to stand on. The idea was granted to him (via his very own Greek god of a lover) to check behind the ebony velvet curtains wreathing the room. He looked back nervously at Duncan, not wanting to leave him alone for too much time. A sweet look and a rattling of his chains spurred him to them. He grabbed one and, taking a deep breath, yanked it aside to reveal--

   “I thought I told you to be good, little Baudelaire,”

Chapter Text

"I thought I told you to be good, little Baudelaire,"

   Black slowly faded into a soft gray behind Klaus's eyes, then a reddish-orange, as he realized there was light in front of him. Slowly, to not blind himself, he opened both eyes and gasped.

   Still chained to the other board, Duncan was glowing slightly. He was asleep, eyes fluttering wildy beneath his eyelids, but he looked close to waking and, sure enough, he opened his big basil eyes and threw his head around wildly. His glow only got stronger when he woke fully, skin tinting with the magic. Klaus thought he looked beautiful, and tried to get off of his platform to tell him in closer proximity.

   He found that he was chained and could not stop a small whine of disappointment, drawing Duncan's attention, who stopped thrashing to look at his lover. 

   "You're glowing," Klaus rasped, causing Duncan to look down at his chest.

   "I am," he said, voice notably not as destroyed as Klaus's. "Is it bothering you?" His glow dissipated slightly in anticipation for his answer. 

   "You can control it?" Klaus marvelled at Duncan's nod. "No, it isn't bothering me," he whispered, hoping Duncan could hear him. "That's really pretty,"

   "Thank you," Duncan murmured. "It's a really simple form of magic, but you can really hurt yourself if you do it wrong or for too long. I know my limits, though," His eyes fluttered shut. "Where's Olaf?"

   "'M not sure," he said, shifting his hands. Something clicked when he shifted his right hand just so, and with a bit of wiggling, he was able to get it free. "Hey, baby, wiggle your right hand around a bit." Duncan obliged, gasping slightly when he pulled his hand free. He pulled it to his face, looking it over a few times, back and palm, before copying his lover's motions to free his other hand.

   "Wow," he said quietly. "You're so smart, Klaus," and a confusing mixture of love, embarrassment, and pride flowed through his veins. "Wait, what about our feet?" he asked, gasping and reaching out for Klaus as the other fell flat on his face after attempting to free his feet. The chains, however, snapped instantly, brittle from the cold that the two lovers had gotten used to. Klaus was now standing shakily with two manacles still around his ankles. 

   "Here, love, let me help you, 'cause that hurt," he said, and stumbled over to his lover. He fiddled with Duncan's restraints, finally clicking them free and grabbing Duncan's hand to help him down. He let loose a surprised noise as he came tumbling down, but Klaus was there to catch him, and their faces ended up a few inches from each other. Duncan's sage eyes came to meet Klaus's and there was what probably was a fatal moment of hesitation. 

   Fatal, because a long, sharp knife came to bury itself in Klaus's shoulder. 

   The first thing Klaus saw when he woke up was the wet canvas of a tent on the island. His left shoulder was bandaged and drops of water spilled onto his face and the cot. He groaned in frustration and, as if on cue, the island's doctor rushed in. 

   "You're awake!" he cried, immediately turning and stepping outside. That was bizarre, thought Klaus, then remembered: here, he'd been asleep for two, three days. Violet came running inside, immediately hugging him as well as she could while he was still laying down. 

   "You're okay," she whispered, and Klaus felt his heart break; somewhere, Duncan was sobbing over his dead body. "You're okay,"

   "As well as I can be," he said, doing his best to keep his voice from breaking. "Listen, I am incredibly hungry. Is there anything to eat?"

   "Just the things the islanders prepare,"

   "That'll work," he said, and Violet and the doctor dashed from the tent. When they returned with food, he downed it as fast as he could without throwing up. Violet's long fingers were carding through his hair the whole time and once, he had to turn around to make sure it was just her and not his grief-stricken lover; the thought of Duncan sent a pang of hurt through him and he lost his appetite. 

   "What's wrong?"

   "I'm not as hungry as I was. Thank you for the food," he said to the doctor, who nodded and left the tent at Violet's request.

   "What happened?"

   "It's complicated." was all he could answer with. Duncan's crying because somewhere, in an obsidian room lined with black velvet, I'm dead. I've died and I'll never see him again. At his last thought, something in this body died, and he fell silent against Violet's barrage of questions, which she soon gave up. I'll never see Duncan again.

   "Come outside," she said finally, and he let her pull him from the cot and outside the tent. She draped a piece of cloth over his bandages to protect them from the soft rain. 

    Soft rain fell outside the cottage, spattering the windows-- like Klaus's blood , Duncan thought, then shook his head as if to clear it. He couldn't afford to think about him, about what Count Olaf did to him, right in front of Duncan's face. He had been leaning in to kiss him, his brain supplied, and suddenly he had blood everywhere. 

   Duncan shivered, not from cold --it was summer-- but from the memory of his lover's death. Was this how Klaus had felt the first time Olaf took him, when he was disguised, and all Klaus knew was that Duncan didn't love him anymore? Was this longing, this depression, this utter and complete loneliness something he should have expected?

   He glanced over at the dark tombstone outside and felt a lone tear trickle down his cheek, then another, and suddenly he was crying. He would never see Klaus again. Something in him, with that realization, snapped and Duncan wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to put it back together again. 

   He decided to make a cup of tea to calm his nerves. It was difficult to do, for whatever reason, boiling water and inserting the bag, and he had the sudden thought that this was something Klaus always did. He hadn't made himself tea since Klaus arrived, since he was reminded of just how far gone he was. 

   He placed the cup of tea sharply down on the table, disgusted by its sudden bitterness. Tears made their way down his face again, and he didn't bother to brush them away. He took in a shaky breath and made a promise to himself: he would never feel anything like what he had felt for Klaus ever again. This was too painful.

    What about Klaus? some part of him thought. If you ever see Klaus again, you'd feel like this for him, wouldn't you?

   Of course not , the rest of him said. I can't lose him again. I can't go through this again.

   Klaus lay awake in the cot in the doctor's tent, concentrating as hard as he could. There were dried tear tracks running down his face, and this was his last attempt. If he couldn't get to the cottage this time, he'd give up. He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. 

   When he opened them, he was not staring at the wet canvas of a tent. He was staring at the outside of a familiar cottage in the rain. He could see, through one of the numerous windows, Duncan making tea. He looked beautiful in his sweater and slacks; an image of perfection, a masterpiece, hey, someone call the Louvre: he's found someone to replace the Mona Lisa. 

   He walked slowly to the window, stepping over something on the ground after he nearly tripped on it, and placed a hand on it. He was not surprised by its ghostly complexion; he had expected that if he made it back, he would be something paranormal. 

   From this closer angle, he could see that Duncan was crying silently. Klaus felt tears fall from his eyes in sympathy, in empathy. He knew what this was like. 

   His hand fell through the window, and he realized he could step through it. He did, careful to not disturb anything on the windowsill, and strode towards Duncan. He placed a translucent hand on Duncan's shoulder, disappointed that he seemed to not notice. 

   "Klaus, if you can hear me," he said softly, startling the boy he was addressing, "I love you. I always will. Please never forget that," and he fell silent for a long time. 

   "I love you, too," he whispered, voice sounding like the rustling of the wind outside. "I won't forget, Duncan, I promise," he said a bit louder, but the wind just blew harder, drowning out his words. He knew he'd never be heard at this rate, so he placed both of his hands on Duncan's cheeks, turned his head to face his own, and planted a kiss on his lips. Duncan kissed back after a moment of surprise, evidently deciding that it was Klaus kissing him, and felt about for Klaus's shoulders. 

   Klaus pulled away and kissed the tip of his nose, then both of his cheeks, then his forehead, pausing to mouth a small "I love you," against the skin there before kissing him again and releasing him.

   Duncan whined and held fast to Klaus's upper arms. One of his hands trailed up Klaus's neck, making him shiver, until it got to his cheek and he was pulled down and they were kissing again. Something in the back of Klaus's mind nagged at him, but once he put his hands on Duncan's waist it shut its mouth. He used his leverage to pull him closer, and when Duncan pulled away he let one of his hands trail up to his hair, using it to pull him into his chest. 

   Duncan sighed happily, pressing himself into the warm body holding him and closing his big moss green eyes. Klaus looked down at his lover and gave an identical happy sigh, swaying slightly where he stood. Sun filtered through the windows, interrupting the rain and making Duncan's brown hair glow golden and made him look like a fallen angel. 

   Klaus pressed a kiss to the crown of Duncan's head, rubbing circles into his back. Duncan melted, resting his whole weight on Klaus and causing the other to stumble backwards.

   "I'm sorry," he said quietly, letting up. Klaus, in response, simply took his lover's hand and led him to the couch, pulling him onto his lap and resuming his petting of the other. "Klaus? That's you, right?" and Klaus didn't know how to answer. "Here, tap my back. Once for yes, twice for no." Klaus tapped his lover's back lightly once, eliciting a soft sigh from him. "Good."

   Klaus knew this was a one time thing. With his luck, he'd never make it back here, and Duncan would be left to mourn alone, with the knowledge that Klaus was alone, too. He also knew that he had to get out of here before he got too far in to leave, ever. 

   But he couldn't just leave Duncan behind. He was too in love to leave him alone. 

   "I love you, Duncan," he whispered, and the wind didn't whistle behind it. "You mean the world to me. I need you in my life and I don't know what I'm going to do without you," 

   "I don't know what I'm going to do, either," said Duncan, muffled by Klaus's ghostly sweater. It startled his lover, who didn't know he could hear him. "I need you here, Klaus, you matter so much. I couldn't even make tea by myself. I'm a wreck."

   "You're my wreck, love," he said, carding his hand through his hair. "And I'm yours."

   "You are," he said, lifting his head and focusing his indian green eyes to Klaus's. They widened as they took in his face like he'd never seen him before. "You're here," he breathed, "you're really here, you--" he buried his face in Klaus's chest-- "I love you,"

   "I love you, too,"

   "I feel stupid now,"

   Klaus furrowed his brow. "You're one of the smartest people I know," 

   "Before you showed up, I made a promise to myself. I promised that I'd never love anyone the way I loved you because the heartbreak was too much."

   "But I'm here, precious, so you don't have to do that,"

   "I didn't know that at the time." Klaus chuckled. "Don't laugh! I'm serious. My heart was shattered, Klaus. Is shattered. I didn't even know if I would survive next week."

   "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. "I love you. I love you so, so much, Duncan. I'm here. I won't let go for a while."

   "But you have to let go eventually," he whispered. 

   "I do, but that's okay, love. We'll see each other again." 

   "When? How long will I have to wait here to see your face again?"

   "You could cast a spell," he offered. 

   "I need a physical body for that," he said. He was starting to cry, and Klaus's instinct was to brush his tears away, to shush him and kiss him until he couldn't breathe, until they both couldn't breathe. Why was he resisting it? He pulled Duncan up by his hair, eliciting a small whimper from him, and pressed their lips together. Immediately, Duncan wrapped his arms around Klaus's shoulders, tears still streaming down his face, and when he pulled away, he brushed them aside.

   "I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

   "I love you, too. I just…" He sighed deeply. "I don't know what I can take, when it comes to this. I'm so used to your presence that I can't make tea , for God's sake, without you, much less live ." 

   "The only problem is, if we stay here, together…"

   "We die." Duncan nodded. "I wish we wouldn't. I wish this was our lives, that we could just stay here forever. That I could stay here in your arms, where everything is okay."

   Klaus smiled down at him. "Everything's okay, when I'm holding you?" 

   Duncan nodded. "Not even that, too! When your hands are on me, in some part, when I can just see you, everything's better. It was better in that pit, with Count Olaf, because you were there."

   "You looked good tied up, baby," Klaus says teasingly, and the two erupt into giggles. 

   "Did I really?" and he laughs harder when Klaus nods.

   "You did! Not in that context, though. If it was me that'd tied you up, well…" He smirked. "I don't know what I would've done." Duncan's olive eyes flared. "With your consent, obviously," he added quickly. "I'd never do anything you wouldn't be okay with."

   "Mmm," hummed Duncan. "You could do anything to me. I wouldn't mind. Not now, of course," He brushed a cowlick out of Klaus's face and Klaus blushed with the tenderness of the gesture. "We're young."

   "I love you," he said, placing his hand on Duncan's cheek and began to caress his cheekbone with his thumb. 

   "I love you, too, Astra ," and Duncan laid his head on Klaus's chest. There was a comfortable silence for a long time, in which the two lovers simply held each other and occasionally kissed. 

   Duncan's breath evened out after a while, and Klaus eventually realized that he was asleep. Carefully, as to not disturb his lover, he shifted them both so Klaus could stand and carry him to the bed, lay him down, and lay down beside him. It began to rain outside again, and the sky darkened, and eventually the culmination of many things led Klaus to fall asleep himself, though not before whispering one last "I love you," into Duncan's hair.

Chapter Text

   It was the middle of the night on the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home and Duncan couldn't sleep. He could, actually, but he knew that if he did, he wouldn't wake up to Klaus's face, ghost or no. It filled him with something cold and unpleasant to think that he was gone. 

   Isadora was curled next to him, back to his chest; Quigley was snoring quietly on the other side of the basket; Hector was nowhere to be found. Duncan felt alone. Completely and utterly alone. There was nothing left for him, but he had to hold on. His siblings wouldn't survive without him, then the Baudelaires, and he couldn't have their deaths on his conscience. He loved his siblings, and he knew what it was like to know that they were no longer three parts of the same whole. He wasn't about to put them through that for real this time because of his own selfishness.

   He wondered what Klaus would think, though it was slightly useless, considering he might never know. At the thought of his lover, he felt a pang of something through his heart; tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, knowing that they may never meet Klaus's gorgeous carob ones ever again. 

   Duncan lay there for a very long time, afraid of going to sleep and waking up in the cottage to an empty bed, to Klaus gone for what may be forever. Eventually, sunlight streamed through the cracks in the wicker weaving, and his siblings began to stir from the throes of sleep. Quigley woke first, rubbing their eyes and blinking slowly down at their brother. 

   "Morning," they slurred, voice deep. "You okay, Dun?"

   "As well as I can be," he said, slightly surprised at how similar they sounded. Sure, they were identical, but Quigley was a little more muscular, presumably from his time with VFD. 

   Isadora was next, accidentally elbowing Duncan in the stomach. She slurred a sleepy apology and shifted around so he could get up, then promptly fell back asleep. Hector's face popped into the basket, announcing a breakfast Duncan wasn't hungry for. Quigley looked nervously down at Duncan, sensing that something was with Duncan; the latter curled in on himself.

   "I'm going to stay with Duncan for a while, if that's okay," they said. "He's not feeling great." Duncan sensed that Quigley knew about his depression, and he groaned his assent. 

   "Alright. Izzy, let's give the boys some privacy, eh?" he said, pulling Isadora out of the basket and winking at the Quagmires. Duncan, from where his head was resting next to his stomach, rolled his eyes. When the others were gone, Hector going into detail about what he prepared and Isadora still trying to wake up properly, Quigley gently rolled their brother over and laid down next to him. 

   "You wanna talk about something?" they said softly. Duncan's throat tightened with the sincerity of the question and he had to pinch himself to stop from crying. He nodded slowly, and a stray tear rolled down his cheek. "You say whatever you need to say, Dun. Only tell me what you're comfortable with. I won't pry."

   "I need to start from the beginning," he said shakily. "Promise you won't judge or anything?"

   "Pinkie," they said simply, and Duncan knew it was safe to continue.

   "You know a couple days ago when you told me your secret and tried to get me to tell you mine?" Quigley nodded. "I have a crush on Klaus Baudelaire," and his sibling grinned like they'd just won the lottery. "This'll be easier for me if you don't interrupt," he said, in response to their open mouth, as if to say something, and they shut it. 

   "A few weeks ago, he stumbled on my little dreamworld thing that I made. You remember that?" Quigley nodded. "Good. He came in and we spent a few days together, a bunch of really irrelevant stuff happened, I confessed--" Quigley mouthed 'good job'-- "and we started a little relationship. It was great until he got kidnapped and…" Duncan paused for a breath. "He came back different after that. He didn't act any different towards me --it was someone who had shapeshifted into me that kidnapped him, by the way-- but I could tell there was something left over from that experience. He'd flinch when I'd say something mean, for example. He stayed for a while longer before it happened again; only this time, the person took me, too." Quigley took in a sharp breath. 

   "Are you alright?"

   "I said no interruptions, right? I am okay, though. He didn't hurt me."

   "Who was the person, for reference?"

   "Count Olaf," he said. "Now, can I continue?" Quigley nodded. "Good.

   "We tried to escape multiple times. It was the last time that it happened: Olaf got so mad that we were going to make it out that he--" tears were streaming down Duncan's cheeks at the memory-- "he killed Klaus." Duncan couldn't go on, not with that; Quigley pulled him into a hug, pressing his face into their neck. Their hand flew to his back and began to rub soft circles into it-- just like Klaus did. I never realized how similar they are. 

    Duncan was sitting in the large armchair by the window in the cottage, listening to the water boil for tea and reading one of his books. Klaus was bustling about in the kitchen, making tea for himself and his lover. Duncan could see his broad, sweater-covered back, and sighed happily at the domesticity of it all. When it was done, he strode over to Duncan, and as he placed the teacup on the side table next to Duncan, he pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead. Duncan looked up from his book to see Klaus's face hovering near his own; he was smiling. 

   "I love you, Duncan," he said quietly. "I love you so much."

   "I love you more, Klaus," he replied, shifting so that there was enough room on the chair for the two of them to sit side by side. "Sit."

   "Yes, Your Majesty," he said teasingly, though he sat in the chair and wrapped his arms around Duncan's waist. He kissed the back of his neck, right at his hairline, and it made Duncan shiver. "Something wrong?"

   "That feels nice," he hummed, picking up the tea and sipping it. 

   "When I kiss you there?"

   "When you kiss me anywhere, but there in particular." Klaus chuckled and placed another kiss there, then dipped his head to kiss his shoulder. He kissed up his neck, making Duncan shiver again and sigh in delight, then pressed a litany of kisses to all the places on his face he could reach: his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose, if he stretched, his temple. Duncan hummed happily,closing his book.

   "Do you like your tea, precious?"

   Duncan took another sip. "It's perfect. Thank you, astra ,"

   "Anything for you, my darling," he said, then kissed his neck again. "Anything at all,"

   "I love you,"

   "I love you, too,"

   Duncan wished, more than anything in the world, that he could kiss Klaus. He wished he could feel the soft press of his lover's lips on his, to be able to press back and, with one simple action, to show him just how he felt, just how in love he was.

   His mind flitted back to the first time they made out. The easy way Klaus's hands had held him, how it felt to have someone else's tongue in your mouth, how Klaus's glasses felt pressed into his face. Eventually, the thoughts turned another direction: what would have happened if he had let Klaus kiss him more, if he had let the two of them take that next step. 

   Klaus would have been gentle. He would have taken good care of his lover, his hands holding him carefully, as if he were made of porcelain. He can imagine the kisses to his bare chest, to his stomach, to the inside of his thighs. 

   How far would he have gone? Could he have lost his virginity to this Greek god, if only he had let him keep going? 

   Duncan knew he couldn't dwell on the past. At that moment, he hadn't been ready, and that was okay. It was okay to not want that, especially at his age. 

   It was midnight on the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home, and Duncan was outside in the chill, staring at the stars, afraid to sleep. That was the only part he hadn't told Quigley about, though he was sure they understood or would understand. The stars looked like Klaus, and if he tried hard enough, he could see a pattern in them that reminded him of his lover's face. 

   Klaus looked like the stars, with his big mocha eyes that sparkled and his beautiful olive skin and aquiline nose and lanky frame. He looked like something out of a painting, even though even the old masters couldn't capture his beauty. If he concentrated, he could see Klaus next to him now, glowing slightly and oh god, Klaus is projecting.

   "Hey," he whispered, still in awe.

   Klaus waved at him and Duncan took his hand, navy blue and glowing slightly. "I can hear you, love, you're not a ghost or anything,"

   "Oh, thank God," he breathed in that gorgeous timbre. "What's happening?"

   "You're projecting. Basically, you've sent your spirit, or part of it, somewhere that isn't your body. Are you sleeping right now?" Klaus nodded. "That's probably why,"

   "You mean I'm out of my body right now? Will I be able to get back?"
  "Of course! This is complex magic, but it isn't dangerous. As long as your body stays in the same place, you'll be able to return."

   "That's great! And we can…" Klaus reached for Duncan's cheek. "I can touch you." his eyes, though no longer cedar toned, still held that seraphic light, like he was an angel fallen to earth all for Duncan. They stared at him like he was the only thing left in the world, the only thing that he would ever need. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," he whispered, careful of his siblings. He had heard one of them shift about earlier, and he wasn't about to reveal that this was happening to a pair of nosy siblings. "Do you mind keeping your voice down? My siblings can hear you if you speak too loud," 

   "Of course, sugar drop," he said easily, leaning in to press a kiss to Duncan's forehead. "Wait, does this mean I can project anywhere?"

   "As long as you've seen it, yes."

   "So the only reason I can be here is because I've seen this place before." Klaus shifted to be closer to his lover. 

   "It may also have been my magic, calling you to me. I was thinking about you," he said sheepishly, blushing. "We're bonded, so our magic is connected. If I wanted you here badly enough, and you wanted to be here badly enough, and you were asleep, you would be called to me, which is probably what happened. It could also be vice versa,"

   "If you were asleep, and I wanted you with me badly enough, yada yada, I could call you to me, and this would happen, just with me awake, and you…" He gestured to himself. "Blue and glowing."

   "I would be some shade of green, but yes, essentially." Duncan shivered.

   "Cold, sugar drop?" and he smiled sweetly down at him when he nodded. "Come here."

   Klaus wrapped Duncan in his arms, smiling as the latter snuggled into the former's chest and sighed happily. It was a wonderfully strange feeling, being held by someone who wasn't really there, someone who was warm and cold at the same time. 

   "Klaus?"

   "Hmm?"

   "I love you,"

   "I love you, too, precious,"

   "If, tomorrow, we try to do this the opposite way, would you like that?"
  "Would I like that, he says," Klaus scoffed. "I'd love it, sugar drop. Would it be dangerous, though? You've never seen the place I am now, so would it be difficult? I don't want to be the reason you hurt yourself." Klaus pulled Duncan up to kiss the crown of his head. Duncan had to think for a moment. 

   "I'm not sure. The only way we can truly know is if we try it. I'm excited to see you, and Violet, and Sunny! and the place you three live now. You've come to my house, it's only fair to invite me to yours."

   "I would ask if you wanted to meet my parents, but they're… you know. Not around anymore."

   "I would do the same. You would have loved my father," he murmured, eyes fluttering shut to better remember. "He loved to read. Anything he could get his hands on. He read our textbooks cover to cover once we started school,"

   "This is a heavy question, and I don't expect an answer right now, but," he said, and Duncan looked up at him. His jaw looked stunning from this angle. "Would you ever want to adopt children? Since we can't have any of our own,"

   "I wish we could," he said, chuckling, "they'd be stunning. The culmination of thousands of years of beautiful people, in however many we have,"

   "I'd want Jewish ones, like us," Klaus said dreamily, shifting the two of them so they sat back against the edge of the Self-Sustaining Hot-Air Mobile Home. "Orphans."

   "The answer to your question is yes, Klaus,"

   "In the future," and he took notice of how sleepy Duncan sounded and how he only hummed his assent instead of actually answering. "I love you,"

   "Love you, too," Duncan slurred.

   "Alright. I'm going to pick you up and move you somewhere warmer now,"

   "'S a hole in the library basket. Not like a hole in the bottom, like a hidey hole. Made it to have privacy. Put me in there?"

   "Sure, darling, just tell me how," and Klaus shifted them again so he could pick up his lover, bridal style, and deposit him where he wished. 

   "Mmkay. Go to the basket with all the books, take the book called 'Luna: A Comprehensive Guide to the Moon' and move it. There's a spell underneath, just put my hand on top of the shine and it'll let you in." Klaus followed his lover's slurred directions, moving the book and taking his hand to unlock the secret space. Gently, he lowered Duncan into the hiding space and replaced the book on top of the pile, over his sleeping head, but not before pressing a kiss to the crown of his head and whispering a soft "I love you," into his hair.

   For once in a long time, Duncan dreamed. He dreamed he was in a large Victorian house, in the kitchen, braiding challah and occasionally checking on the roast in the oven. The front door opened and slammed, making him jump, but strong arms around his waist moments later and a soft kiss to his shoulder relaxed his tensed muscles. 

   "That looks delicious, sugar drop," said Klaus, and now Duncan could see a glint of gold on his hand: a wedding band. 

   "Thank you," he murmured, leaning back into the warm body behind him. "I spent a lot of time on it,"

   "Then it will be even more wonderful. Is Margo home yet?"

   "I'm not sure. If she is, I didn't hear her come in,"

   "How 'bout Theo?"

   "He is," said Duncan, finally satisfied with the challah. "I picked him up. He asked me to, said some kids were bullying him on the bus,"

   Klaus hummed. "We should go to the school about that,"

   "We should," Duncan agreed, "will you let me put this in? I promise you can hold me when I'm done," and Klaus released him, then grabbed him by the hips. Duncan let out a squeak that trailed off into a sigh as Klaus pressed his hips to Duncan's own. "Is there something in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" he said, voice low and sultry, as he straightened and pressed his hips back into his husband's, eliciting a happy groan from the other.

   "Nothing in my pockets, baby," he said, turning them out. "Just thoughts of how good those pants look on you," and Duncan giggled, wrapping his arms around Klaus's broad shoulders and pressing their lips together. The kiss grew heated quickly, as hands began to explore: Duncan let a noise out when one of Klaus's hands trailed down and gripped his ass that was immediately swallowed by Klaus. 

   "Wow, dads, this is exactly what I wanted to see when I walked into the kitchen," said someone, deadpan,  from the doorway. Quickly, Duncan pulled away, disentangling himself from Klaus's long arms and clearing his throat.

   "Sorry, Margo," said Klaus, voice slightly strangled.

   "'S fine," she said, manoeuvring around the various items in the kitchen to sit down at the table. A little boy followed behind, and she swatted him lightly. 

   "Don't hit your brother, Margo," and Duncan saw her stick her tongue out at his husband. "And don't stick your tongue out at me, young lady," 

   Duncan had to grip the counter as the room began to sway. 

   "Duncan? Duncan, love, are you alright?" Klaus caught him when he collapsed, and then the world went black.

   "Duncan?" called a feminine voice from somewhere. Isadora. Duncan's arms felt heavy, his eyes felt heavy, and when he tried to respond to his sister, he found he couldn't move his mouth. 

   He found his strength eventually, enough to call out for his siblings. He pushed up on the books over his head. Out they went, tumbling down into the main part of the Mobile Home and some, sadly, off of the edge. Unfortunately, he was still trapped. Someone noticed, though, and a few minutes later Quigley's smiling face poked through. 

   "There you are," they murmured, then turned and said louder, "he's here!" and Isadora's face joined his sibling's. She looked relieved, and stuck a hand in to help him out; he did his best to do it himself, but found himself leaning heavily on both of his siblings even after he was out of the hole and standing upright.

   "You alright, Dunc?" said Isadora, eyebrows nearly meeting in the middle. He smiled deliriously at her, caught on some sort of unexplainable high.

   "My brain feels like candy!" he sang, and both of his siblings laughed. "Wait, should I be worried?"

   "Maybe," 

   "Oh, well!" He chuckled and nearly fell flat on his face when Quigley tried to sit him down. "Didn't get much sleep last night. Maybe that's it,"

   "Yeah, you weren't in the basket. Why were you in the books, by the way?"

   "'S quiet in there. You won't bother me." They managed to sit him down in one of the chairs in the dining basket, though it was an effort to keep him that way. "I had a… funky dream."

   "So did I, Dunc, and I'm not going loopy," said Quigley. 

   "No," he said, trying to focus on one thing. "You don't understand. I--" he pointed to his chest-- "haven't dreamed in years ,"

   "That'll do it," said Isadora, bringing a glass of water. "This happened to Dad, remember? He had a weird dream and for the rest of the day he was all loopy,"

   Duncan considered, or tried to: his brain still felt fluffy, like the clouds around them. Eventually, he came upon his stash of  memories of the dream magic book he read before his parents died. If he concentrated, he could see the page he needed in his mind's eye.

   "From what I remember, which right now is not much," he slurred, "this is what happens when a dreamwalker steps out of their world for too long. It shouldn't last more than a day, less if I sleep and get back to my world," and he slumped against the back of the chair, grinning dazedly. 

   "Do you remember what causes it?"

   "Mmm," he hummed, racking his brain. "Emotional turmoil, such as a big breakup or something tragic."

   "That makes sense," said Quigley, who then let out a booming burp. "Excuse me,"

   "Nice," said Duncan, closing his eyes. "It shouldn't happen again, but even if it does, it's not really anything to worry about. Just a little magical trauma response,"

   "Alright,"

   "So!" said Duncan. "Sleepy time,"

   "But it's almost lunchtime," said a new voice: Hector. "Are you alright?"

   "'M not feeling good,"

   "Ah." Hector placed a large plate of tamales on the table. "Sleepy time for the sick boy, then."

   "Mhm," and he yelped as Isadora grabbed him by the armpit and dragged him to the sleeping basket. He waved to Quigley and Hector as he went, though only the former waved back.

   Isadora practically threw him down on the memory foam mattresses. "What's wrong, Isa?"

   "Nothing. Get some sleep." She left him alone in the basket. He didn't dare mention that he was afraid of going back to the cottage, but that would only make the problem worse; he had to go back. He had to face it. 

   He could put some flowers on Klaus's grave, he reasoned. Lilies, or white roses, or something. He drifted off thinking about it, falling into an easy sleep.

   Thankfully, he woke up in the cottage. The green, sun-speckled walls were less inviting now, but he had no choice. 

   Seeing Klaus's ghostly form laying on the other side of the bed eased his nerves a little. At least he was still here, and waking up, apparently. His face scrunched and his eyes opened, revealing that beautiful shade of syrup he had been deprived of the previous night. He looked surprised to see Duncan awake, but that expression was quickly replaced by a tender smile. 

   "Morning," he said, voice deep and gorgeous, like melted chocolate. "You alright? You're looking at me funny,"

   "I'm fine," he murmured, crawling back into bed beside his lover, who chuckled and wrapped him in his arms. "Infinitely better now that you're here," and Klaus buried his face into his hair and pressed a kiss there.

   "Good," he said. "Shouldn't it be the middle of the day for you?"

   "Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Something weird happened after you left, last night,"

   "Mmm," hummed Klaus, closing his eyes. "I'm all ears, doll, if that's what's happening here,"

   "Not really," he said, "I just need to be here for a while."

   "Mind if I keep you company?"

   "Please," he breathed, then caught himself. That wasn't what Klaus meant… probably. "I-I mean, sure. That's alright." Klaus chuckled, big auburn eyes opening to look at his lover. 

   "What do you want to do? How long do you have to be here?"

   "I'm not sure, and as long as I can stay asleep, which with you, could be forever."

   "Do you have anything in mind? To do, I mean," and Duncan only barely caught himself from saying you could do me . Instead he shook his head. Just because he was horny doesn't mean he has to subject Klaus to said horniness. "That's a shame,"

   "Do you have anything in mind?" Klaus shrugged.

   "You're the boss," he said, and the implications made Duncan gulp. There was something hidden in his russet eyes, something that challenged Duncan to say what he was thinking. 

   "Maybe we could just stay here and cuddle?" he said sheepishly. Klaus was looking at him like he wanted to eat him, a look that made Duncan incredibly nervous. He knew Klaus would never intentionally hurt him, but the idea of being completely at his mercy was slightly terrifying, if not incredibly appealing. 

   "That sounds nice, sugar drop," he said. Duncan wriggled around until there was no space between them, until he had to crane his neck to look into Klaus's angelic cedar eyes. He pressed his face into the apex of the other's collarbone, and though he could see straight through him, he felt so solid against him. One of Klaus's hands trailed up to his hair, petting it slowly and playing gently with the curls at the base of his neck. The other stayed where it was, rubbing soft circles into the small of his back.

   Duncan felt like he was in heaven. His eyes fluttered shut and he placed a single kiss to Klaus's chest, then another, then another, until Klaus let a happy sigh escape his throat, and Duncan could feel it against his face. Klaus said something, and Duncan could feel it in his chest; it must have been important, though, because his hands stilled, but he chuckled when Duncan let out a soft whine. 

   "I asked if you had anything else in mind or if this was all you wanted to do. Either way I'll oblige, love,"

   "Mmm," hummed Duncan as he thought. "Kiss me? On the lips?" and he giggled when Klaus pulled him up to eye level. Whatever Duncan had seen in his eyes earlier was gone now, expression one of love. His big caramel eyes blinked slowly at him, like a cat, though they fluttered shut as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. 

   Kissing Klaus was, in Duncan's opinion, more proof that he was a fallen angel. As they shared kiss after kiss, it became clear that he was not, in fact, from Earth; he had to have been there when the world was created. There was no way he was human. 

   Eventually the kisses turned longer, more loving; at one point, Duncan tilted his head to let Klaus's tongue into his mouth. They shifted so that Klaus was on top of him, pinning him to the bed; Klaus kissed down his neck, and this time, Duncan didn't stop him, even as cold hands pushed under his shirt. In fact, he sat up to remove it, before laying back down and allowing Klaus to marvel at him. 

   He let a noise he would probably regret later escape as Klaus began a soft assault on his upper chest and collarbone. He was nervous, but not nervous enough to stop, not yet, so he let Klaus slowly move down his body, pressing kisses the whole way, until he paused of his own volition at the waist of his pants. 

   Duncan had to work to focus his eyes on Klaus, propping himself up on his elbows. His lover's impatient fingers were already tracing the waistband, occasionally dipping below, though it was obvious he was asking for something. 

   "May I?" he said eventually, and Duncan needed a moment to think. Did he really want to do this, to go all the way? Klaus was not helping, with his soft kisses to his hip bones and the way his penny-toned eyes were looking at him. "We can go as far as you're comfortable with, Duncan. Just let me know how much is too much."

   "I…" He took a breath of confidence. "I'm not ready for the whole shebang yet. But yeah, you can take those off," and Klaus smiled at him; smiled , not smirked or grinned. His fingers immediately went for the button of his pants, pulling them down his thighs slowly. the world devolved into a haze of kisses and white, and the last thing Duncan remembered was having his mind blown.

   Duncan lay, blissed out of his mind, on the bed in the cottage. If he shifted just right, he could see Klaus's broad, bare back moving about in the kitchen, and it sent something through his veins. He was making tea and slicing apples, and the domesticity sent Duncan reeling into the past, to the first time Klaus made tea for the two of them. Clair de Lune played softly from a record player Duncan didn't know he had, and it was infinitely more special because the record came from Klaus's hands. The tea he was bringing was made by him, too, and Duncan propped himself up on the pillows behind him in order to drink it and not choke. 

   "I love you," he said as Klaus set the teacup on the bedside table. 

   "I love you, too," he replied, climbing into bed and laying on Duncan's lap. From his angle, Duncan had an immaculate view of the raised scars that littered his back, and suddenly he wasn't hungry for the apples anymore, the memory overwhelming him. "Are you alright?" and he could swear his lover was psychic.

   "Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks for today," he whispered, instead of all the things swirling about in his head. 

   "Anytime, precious," he murmured against his thigh, "anytime."

   "Sleep now?"

   "Mhm," he said, pecan eyes fluttering shut and breath evening out. Duncan carefully shifted them both --God, Klaus was heavy, even as a ghost-- until he was satisfied with their positioning, and buried his face in Klaus's bare chest, falling asleep not long after.

Chapter Text

   There wasn't much to do on the island, particularly if you were bed bound. Occasionally, Violet would bring him a waterlogged book that she'd found while scavenging on the sandbar, but he read those from cover to cover faster than they could wash up.

   Today, though, she brought him an almost pristine copy of War and Peace , which he was certain would take him a while, especially since the copy was in French. Klaus had been studying French at school before his parents died, but this was advanced. Violet said one of the other islanders had found a French-English dictionary, but Ishmael had deemed it unnecessary, and it was taken to the other side of the island.

   "I'm going to try and find it tonight," she added. "Then you can read the book and learn some French." She looked pleased when he nodded and smiled up at her. 

   "That sounds good, Vi," he said, then had a thought. "Have you or anyone else seen the Mobile Home flying above us, or near us, or something?"

   "No, not yet," she said, then smirked. "Eager to see your boyfriend again?"

   "I saw him last night," he said dreamily. "It was wonderful to see him again." Memories of Duncan's beautiful pine green eyes filled his mind's eye: staring at him, narrowed in concentration, and one fleeting image of them crossed and rolled back in pleasure. 

   Violet's smirk widened.

   "Hey!" he said, "don't pretend that you aren't the same way about Isadora." and with that, he wiped the smirk off of her face. 

   "I'll let you know if anyone sees anything, Your Majesty," she said mockingly, bowing and shuffling backwards out of the tent.

   Klaus sighed, unbelievably alone. He couldn't read the copy of War and Peace , and he couldn't sleep: he tried before Violet entered. So, of course, Klaus's thoughts turned to Duncan. His eyes were the first thing that came into his head, seraphic olive and sage that complimented him wonderfully. He'd never known anyone else with such beautiful eyes. 

   Unconsciously, his mind turned to the events of the day prior. Duncan looked so alluring, spread out and wanting him; the feeling of what Klaus could do to him, take him apart and put him back together like some magnificent puzzle fit for gods, the sounds he made when Klaus--

   Klaus's thoughts were very rudely interrupted by Sunny crawling on top of him and gently biting his hand. "Vemb!" she cried, and Klaus chuckled, presenting her with one of his hands. She bit the tip of his middle finger, harsher than she had before, and shouted "Vemb!" again.

   "What is it, Sunny?" and she merely repeated herself. "I can't get up, Sunny, the doctor says I can't exert my arm too much,"

   "Walking around would be fine," said the aforementioned doctor, appearing suddenly at the mouth of the tent. "Just don't pick up anything," and someone outside of the tent called him away. Klaus shrugged and Sunny crawled off of him, allowing him to swing his legs over the side and stand up shakily. 

   Slowly, he managed to exit the tent, blinking in the sun. It took him a moment to register that Sunny wanted him to look at something in the water: something that made Klaus's blood run cold.

   It only took a few moments of hesitation before Klaus was running to the shore, resisting the urge to dive, though it would get him there faster. He waded to the mass of verdant balloons as quickly as he could. He knew a knot of islanders, including his sisters, were watching him, but he didn't care: he had to know if Duncan was hurt. 

   The tangle of rapidly deflating balloons was discouraging, as was the large pile of books slowly soaking through with seawater; Klaus had to resist the urge to find a way to get them back to shore. Violet could invent something for that later. 

   The faint sound of someone coughing drew him to the triplets, sitting huddled together underneath a basket. The sight of Duncan's face was comforting, and judging by his rapid expression change, Duncan felt the same. 

   "What happened to Hector?" he asked, and was met with silence, all three triplets' green eyes wide, making them look like deranged owls. "Come on," he said, grabbing Quigley's arm. His siblings followed, clearly eager to stick together. "Let's get you all back to the island. Okay?" and all three nodded in tandem, eyes still as big as saucers. 

   Carefully, he led them to the few islanders that had managed to get out to the sandbar, eager to help. "There's someone still in there," he told them, "a man, Hispanic. We need to find him; he's these children's guardian." It felt strange to call the Quagmires children, considering they were older than him, and he could tell they felt the same: Quigley's eyes narrowed slightly. The islanders nodded, used to digging people out of ruined boats, and set to work. 

   Immediately, instinctively, Klaus wrapped his arms around Duncan, who hugged back with enthusiasm. Isadora and Quigley simply looked on, until Violet came bounding up and enveloped Isadora. Klaus didn't see much more, having buried his face in Duncan's soaked brunette hair, whispering soft nothings into his skin. Duncan relaxed against him, and when he released him, he looked much less like an owl on cocaine, and Klaus could actually see the elegant emerald that ringed his pupils. 

   "Avo!" shrieked Sunny, who had somehow teleported to them, and Violet released Isadora to translate. 

   "What my sister means is, 'Are you three alright?', and frankly, I'd like to know, too," she said, picking Sunny up and resting her on her hip. Klaus nodded his assent.

   "We're fine," said Duncan, staring at the island. "Just a little shaken, right?" and his siblings nodded in agreement. "This is where you live now?" he said to Klaus.

   "It's not as amazing as it looks," he replied, and it was true. Ishmael made living on a gorgeous tropical island feel like living in hell. "There's not much to eat, and there's no fresh water,"

   "What the fuck do you drink then?" said Quigley, then to Violet and Sunny, "sorry for my language."

   "We swear like sailors," she said dismissively. "We drink coconut cordial. Not willingly, mind you, but we do,"

   "That's an opiate," said Duncan quietly. 

   "Pardon?"

   "An opiate?" Klaus was confused for a split second, then a number of pieces began to fall into place. "Oh. Oh, God."

   "Klaus? What's wrong?"

   "I will, uh, call you back later," he said, glancing at the knot of islanders carrying Hector, who looked like he was trying to protest, but couldn't find the strength; he relaxed quite a bit when he saw the Quagmires. "By which I mean we need to be somewhere a little more private,"

   "We should get you three to the island," said Violet. "We need to get you somewhere stable. The tide is going to come in any minute. You all still have your commonplace books, right?" The Quagmires nodded. "You have them on you?" Another collective nod, and Duncan patted his pocket to be sure.

   "Hello!" said an islander, approaching the Quagmires. "What are your names? I'll take them, Baudelaires," she said, taking Isadora's and Duncan's hands. 

   "I'm Isadora, and that's my sibling Quigley, and my brother Duncan," Isadora went with the woman willingly, but Duncan held fast to his spot by Klaus, an impressive feat in wet shoes and on wet sand. 

   "Are you alright, dear?" the woman asked, though Duncan didn't answer. He shifted slightly closer to Klaus, whose heart swelled. "Suit yourself. How about you?" she said to Quigley, who also stood his ground. She sighed heavily. "Baudelaires, will you bring these two to Ish's tent?" Violet nodded. "Thank you, Viola,"

   "Close," she muttered after the woman had left, taking a very chatty Isadora with her. 

   "That's just how Izzy deals with stuff like this. She'd talk to anything that moved and a lot of things that didn't after our parents kicked the bucket," said Duncan quietly. "Who's this Ish person?"

   "The self-appointed leader of the community. His real name is Ishmael. He's not great."

   "We have to take you to him so you can be fed propaganda-- I mean, welcomed into the community," said Klaus, eliciting a chuckle from the others. 

   "What is propaganda?" asked Quigley.

   "False information," answered Klaus.

   "Wrong!" cried Quigley. "It's when an English person gets a good look at something," and Klaus had to admit, that was a good joke; he hoped his wheezing laugh was enough to get the message across. 

   Duncan smiled, a small, soft thing that managed to reach his eyes and still not overtake his face. Klaus nearly melted right then and there, but he knew there were people watching them, and they needed to get to Ishamel's tent at around the same time as Isadora and the woman, or Ishmael would be angry. 

   "Why don't we go meet this Ishmael person?" said Quigley, saving Klaus the effort. "Duncan?" The boy in question nodded slowly.

   Violet, holding Sunny, led the way down the sandbar, the Quagmire boys following her, and Klaus at the rear. When they reached the shore, they took a sharp turn to avoid the islanders, instead heading into the brush. They managed to reach Ishmael's tent before Isadora and the island woman, heading inside after they caught up. 

   "What do we have here?" said Ishmael when they entered. "Children,"

   "These are the Quagmires, Ish," said Violet; they'd elected her to do all the talking. "They washed up here earlier today,"

   "Well, get them some robes and cordial. They're welcome here, if they've got something to contribute." Ishmael smiled down at them. Isadora smiled back, but she was the only one who did, Quigley electing to stare at his clay-covered feet and Duncan simply looking at the ground. 

   "They do," said Violet quickly. "They are excited to begin their lives here, right, Quagmires?" All three murmured some form of assent. "We'll get going now. Come on," and the six of them walked out of the tent. 

   "I don't like him," Quigley announced when they were out of earshot of the inhabitants of the tent. "He's odd."

   "You're odd, Quigley," said Isadora, poking him in the arm. "But I agree." The two turned to their silent brother. "Duncan? Are you alright?"

   "Mhm," he said. Klaus could tell that he was lying, a strange contrast from his siblings, who shrugged it off. 

   "Are you really alright, sugar drop?" said Klaus, pulling him behind the others. Duncan eyed them nervously before he answered. 

   "I don't like it here. It feels wrong to be here," and he wrapped his arms around himself. "This place has secrets."

   "I got that feeling when I first got here, too. But--" He glanced at their siblings, who were far enough away, by his standards, then pressed a kiss to his hairline-- "we're together. And that's all I can ask for." Duncan smiled up at him, the same smile he'd given to Quigley's propaganda joke. Klaus did melt, this time, and pressed chaste kisses to his nose, mouth, and cheeks, taking the last into his hands. Duncan giggled softly. 

   "Thank you," he said. "For existing."

   "You're welcome. Thank you for having feelings for me,"

   "You're welcome. We should catch up to our siblings now,"

   Klaus hummed in dissent. "But I don't want to," he moaned, draping himself dramatically over the nearest tree trunk. "I want to stay here with you. " Duncan giggled.

   "I'm going to go catch up with them. If you want to be here all alone, be my guest," and Klaus hurried to catch up with his lover. "That's what I thought."

   "You're in a better mood," he said. 

   "You made that happen. Think about that, Klaus." Duncan looked up at him. "You have the power to change someone's entire mood."

   "That's a good thing?"

   " Yes ," he said, shaking his head, but he was smiling. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," and he wished he could say more, wished he could tell Duncan just how much he meant to him, but their siblings were within earshot, and he couldn't risk that. 

   "Where are we going, exactly?" asked Isadora.

   "Somewhere I needed to go anyways," replied Violet, and the brush cleared to reveal a clearing covered in things. There was a propeller for a plane, a shopping cart, a sled, an armchair that looked suspiciously like the one in the cottage, what must have been hundreds of books, and other various junk items. Violet grabbed a blue and red book from the pile closest to them and began to thumb through it, before tossing it to Klaus. "There's your dictionary," she said. "Anyways. This way," and everyone followed her back through the brush and to the main tent.

   To say Klaus was eager for the day to be done so he could have some time alone with Duncan would be an understatement. Klaus was this close to inventing a fucking time machine so he could have his moment with Duncan. He needed it, more than he needed fresh water at this point.

   So when the opportunity to lead Duncan away from the tents, into the brush, arose, Klaus leaped on it. They found a clearing and sat down on the grass, and Duncan took a deep breath. Fireflies flickered around them in the cool evening; it was incredibly romantic, in Klaus's opinion. It was just light enough to see Duncan's divine sage green eyes, but dark enough that they would just look like shadows to anyone who stumbled upon them.

   The evening only got better from there: it wasn't long before Duncan was half in his lap, holding on to his shoulders like he was the only thing keeping him on this earth, and his lips tasted, somehow, like honey and sweet bread. He let Klaus slip his robe off his shoulders and kiss down his neck, letting a soft sigh loose at the feeling. 

   "That's enough," he said eventually, when Klaus tried to slip his hands up the front of his robe. "A: I don't want to get intimate in a forest , for God's sake, and B: what if someone hears us?" and Klaus couldn't help but agree. "Kisses are fine, though. In fact, you are implored to kiss me. It is a requirement . Kiss me. Right now."

   Klaus did. How could he resist something like that? Being demanded to kiss his lover? He broke after a few minutes, torn between needing sleep and needing Duncan.

   "You do realize you can have both, right?" asked Duncan, making him jump. "Sorry. That happens sometimes, I can just hear them,"

   "My thoughts?" He balked when Duncan nodded. "Oh, well. It's not like I have anything to hide from you," and Duncan laughed, a musical sound. "C'mon. You can sleep with me tonight," he said, pulling him to his feet. 

   There was a long silence as they traipsed back to the Baudelaire's tent, something Duncan broke when they were just out of earshot of the tents. "Tonight has been great," he said, smiling. 

   "It's about to get better, precious." Klaus smirked down at his lover, not bothering to hide the desire in his eyes, like Duncan could see them. It was only now that Klaus realized that Duncan's basil eyes were glowing slightly. "Your eyes are glowing,"

   "Are they? I'm sorry, I don't really have control over that," he said, scratching the back of his neck; Klaus felt the odd need to soothe him, to tell him that they were pretty, so he did. What did he have to lose?

   A lot, apparently, judging by what happened next.

Chapter Text

   The worst thing Klaus could imagine in this kind of situation was very, very, bad. Luckily, his worst-case-scenario did not happen, at least not tonight. 

   But this… this was up there.

   Klaus couldn't remember much about the situation except Duncan's face of complete and utter horror and his own disgust at the reappearance of something that had almost killed Sunny.

   In his disgusting hand, Count Olaf clutched a seaweed-covered old-fashioned diving helmet, front window obscured by the Medusoid Mycelium. 

   "How did you--"

   "Never ask that question, little Baudelaire. Never ask any question that begins with 'how'." Count Olaf wheezed. Klaus slid his hand to the small of Duncan's back, hoping to provide some semblance of a comforting figure. "I have my secrets, just as you and your little boyfriend have yours. If you don't want me to reveal something, you'll let me do what I need to do. That Ishmael guy needs to go."

   Klaus was torn between agreeing and pulling Duncan away to leave or put up a fight. The decision was made for him, when Duncan, looking directly into Olaf's eyes, grabbed Klaus's hand and pulled them away towards the tents, leaving Olaf to his devices.

   "What are you doing? He's going to kill us all!" 

   "This may be a massive surprise to you, Klaus Baudelaire, but you are my priority. It may sound horrible, but part of me doesn't give a shit about everyone else. As long as you're okay, I'm okay."

   "What about Violet? Your siblings? The innocent people of the island don't deserve to die!"

   "They don't matter!" Duncan shouted. "They don't-- I don't-- you--" He sighed heavily-- "you matter. I'd give up the world for you."

   "That would be a lot sweeter if you hadn't just told me my siblings deserve to die,"

   "I never said that. I said you're my priority. Sure, it'd be sad if they died, but I'd break if you were gone,"

   "Then maybe you should break," Klaus muttered. "Maybe you should know what it's like to hear the love of your life say that your family doesn't matter." 

   " I never said that ," 

   "You might as well have! I'm sorry, Duncan. My family is all I have left." Klaus could feel his heart breaking, could feel a lump in his throat threatening to spill over.

   "You have me,"

   "No, I don't. How am I supposed to trust someone, to love someone, who-- who does things like this? Why? Because you're selfish? Because you don't want anyone to know? Our families are going to die , Duncan. They are going to suffer , and why? Because you want me all to yourself, because you think we shouldn't be public?" Klaus was crying now, and so was Duncan. "You've doomed us all. I can't-- I can't love someone who willingly allows the death of others." He started towards the tents.

   "Wait! Klaus, wait, please. Don't--" But Klaus couldn't hear him. He'd made up his mind.

   "I'll give you one chance, Duncan." he said. "Come with me at dawn to stop Count Olaf, and I'll consider forgiving you." He knew it was cruel, to lord forgiveness, kindness, over his head, something Olaf would do, but he had no other choice. He knew Duncan would leap at the opportunity, not wanting to go one moment without Klaus's affection, and he was right. Almost immediately, his lover agreed. 

   Klaus would, obviously, forgive him. He'd said some harsh things, but he knew Duncan would come running back no matter what, desperate, needy; the things he'd said, they were all true. He was fed up with Duncan's secrecy, his odd need to hide behind people bigger than him. 

   Arms wrapped around him from behind when he reached his tent and he registered that Duncan was crying; something in him, at that moment, broke. All the guilt came flooding at him, and he turned to hug his lover back. 

   "I-I'm sorry," Duncan sobbed into his chest. "I'll do anything, Klaus, astra , please, anything, just tell me, how can I make it up to you?" Klaus had to think for a moment, still sorting through his feelings.

   "I'm not ignoring you, precious, I'm thinking," he said after a pause. "You can apologise to my siblings. You can explain to them what you said, why, and you can apologise for telling me you wanted them to die. And don't try to deny it either! You might not have said it outright, but it was there. Just because I'm your priority doesn't mean you are mine. It doesn't mean that I'm willing to watch my family suffer for you."

   "I understand." He sniffled a bit. "I'm getting snot all over you,"

   "I don't care." 

   "Do I still need to come with you? Is that still a thing?" Duncan looked terrified at the prospect.

   "Scared? I'd think you'd be eager to hurt him." Klaus chuckled. "I'm not being mean, love. Just observing."

   "I am! But he's scary. I know what he's capable of and I'm scared." Klaus, annoyingly, found himself irritated at the way Duncan was acting. He was older now, he needed to not… be like this. He knew it was logical for him to be scared: he'd killed Klaus in front of him, for God's sake. But Duncan was acting like a child.

   "That's alright," he said, shoving his irritation deep, deep down. "It's alright to be scared, especially of him. Let's get to bed, alright?" and with Duncan's nod, he pulled them into the tent and down onto the lone cot. It was a tight squeeze, but they'd have more space when they got to the cottage. 

   They fell asleep comfortably, Duncan's head resting on top of Klaus's heart.

   Klaus woke first in the cottage, followed by Duncan's big cadmium green eyes blinking open. He looked wonderful in the golden light streaming through the windows, making his eyes glow with a magical, angelic light. Sadly, they actually had to get up and do things: Duncan wanted to plant flowers over the gravestone Klaus didn't even know he had, and they had to water the houseplants. 

   Something primal in Klaus refused to let him let Duncan wander out of his sight even for a moment. He'd wrap his arms around his waist, whisper soft "i love you"s into his hair, kiss his forehead, or his cheek, or his nose, whenever he was in reach. 

   Duncan accepted the affection as he always did, with a small giggle and a return kiss, though after a while Klaus could tell he was getting suspicious.

   "I want to apologise," he said eventually, when Duncan confronted him; they were in the kitchen, making pastries. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, earlier tonight. Just because I was angry doesn't mean I get to make you cry. I'm so sorry, precious."

   "I forgive you," he said easily. "I understand. I was acting like a child earlier."

   "Would you be mad if I agreed?"

   "No," he said, reaching over him. "Flour, please."

   "You were. It was strange, I think," he said, passing the jar of flour. Duncan sprinkled a bit on the counter, then gestured for him to continue. "You were acting in a way I don't think I've ever seen you act before. It was a little irritating, to be honest," and Duncan nodded. "That may have been a byproduct of my previous emotions or my tiredness, though, I don't know."

   "Either way, I'm sorry. It's partly my fault, too. Our siblings matter to me, and it was wrong to imply that they deserve bad things. They don't deserve to die."

   "Neither do we, though," he said, taking the half of dough Duncan passed him. "I understand that I mean a lot to you, but does secrecy mean more? Do you not want to be out like that?"

   "Not really," said Duncan. "This feels like something I want to keep to ourselves for a while, until we're in a safer place, preferably in a castle with a moat filled with crocodiles." Klaus chuckled. 

   "That sounds nice," he said, resting his cheek on the top of Duncan's head. "I'd like a big library," 

   "So would I." He kneaded aggressively at the dough before him. "You know, the other night, I had a dream for the first time in years,"

   "About what? Was it a good dream? Was I there?"

   "You were there, actually. We had a house together, and kids! Two. One boy, one girl. It was wonderful."

   "Good," Klaus said. "It's always nice to see you smile," Duncan smiled at that, leaning into Klaus's hand on the small of his back. "Your smile is wonderful." 

   "I like it when you smile, too," he said, turning to look at him with those alluring emerald eyes. "It reaches those pretty chocolate brown eyes of yours, and they crinkle, and you just look so pretty ." He leaned to rest his head on Klaus's shoulder. "I never knew a boy could be pretty until I met you. I thought it was only girls,"

   "Mmm," Klaus hummed. "You're pretty, too," he offered softly. "The human eye can see more shades of green than any other color, and I think, somehow, you manage to have all of them in your eyes. Your skin is so soft, and your hair is so nice--" he allows a hand to trail up and stroke his hair and Duncan let out a soft, happy sigh-- "I love you, so much,"

   "I love you so much, too," he whispered. "I've loved you for a really long time, Klaus. You made Prufrock so much better,"

   "Even though I got you kidnapped and locked in a cage, then a fish statue, then a fountain?"

   "Through all that, you were the only thing on my mind," he said, dough lying forgotten on the counter. "Well, not the only thing, but one of the only things."

   "I've loved you for a really long time, too, though it took me a bit longer to realize it," 

   "Mmm," hummed Duncan, closing his eyes. "You're warm," he said.

   "Yeah?" Duncan nodded. "Do you want to cuddle?" Another nod. 

   "Let me get this dough in the icebox, then we can." Klaus released him reluctantly and made for the armchair, removing his apron and draping it over one of the dining chairs. He sat there for a while, watching Duncan's little form scurry about the kitchen, and thought. 

   He thought about Duncan, and how wonderful it would be to grow old with him. To have him in his arms, maybe even as they died, to lay with him forever. 

   Eventually, Duncan ended up curled up in his lap with a book he had been meaning to finish, occasionally leaning up into Klaus's hand carding through his hair, or caressing his cheek, or trailing down his spine and making him shiver. His head fell onto Klaus's chest, where he could listen to the steady beat of Klaus's heart. 

   "I love you," he murmured. When Klaus answered, he smiled; he could probably feel the vibrations.

   "I love you, too," he said. "Is that nice?" he added, intentionally making his voice deeper so it would vibrate more in his chest. Duncan nodded, shifting to press a kiss right over his heart. 

   "Feels funny," he said simply. "Good funny, though. I like it,"

   "Good," he said. It felt strange to speak in such a low register: natural and unnatural at the same time. Duncan giggled softly, melting into Klaus. "I love you, sugar drop,"

   "I love you, too, astra ," Duncan's eyes fluttered shut and soon, he was asleep. Klaus chuckled quietly, shifting about to pick him up and carry him the short distance to the bed; Duncan, however, jerked awake, looked down, and screeched. "Oh, God, are you alright?"

   "I--" he swallowed heavily-- "I'm fine. I just didn't expect you to pick me up." He looked down at Klaus's ghostly arms supporting him. "You're stronger than you look,"

   "I'm sorry, precious, I didn't mean to upset you," Slowly, he lowered him onto the comforter, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

   "It's alright. I'm fine. I'll be better before we're married," and he smiled up at Klaus, a soft thing that made Klaus melt. 

   "I love you," he said and pressed another kiss to his forehead, then to his hairline. 

   "Love you, too," murmured Duncan, reaching up for Klaus's neck and pulling him down into a real kiss. When it was over, they rested their foreheads together, Duncan's eyes crossing in an effort to look at his lover's face. He hummed happily. 

   "Do you want to lie down?" 

   "Mhm." He scooted backwards up the bed, laying down on Klaus's side. The latter strode up and laid down on top of him, not moving until the former attempted to pry himself from underneath him. They were both laughing as they settled down, crawling under the sheets and cuddling up together. 

   "I love you more than anything in the world," he said softly.

   "And I love you more than that," came his lover's soft reply before they drifted off in tandem.

pov chance plebes

   Duncan awoke to the sound of soft rain on fabric. It was more pleasant than it probably should have been, considering their circumstances, but something about the combination of that rain and Klaus's soft, even breathing that made his morning better. 

   There was something on his mind, though: the coconut cordial. It was an opiate, after all, and Ishmael being "all-knowing", he had to be aware of that, and if he wasn't, there was another reason the islanders only drank the cordial. 

   Someone on this island, and Duncan had reason to suspect Ishmael, wanted these people docile and they wanted them to stay that way.

   Klaus woke later, after Duncan had been mulling it over in his head for a while. His pretty gingerbread eyes blinked a few times, then focused on Duncan, already out of bed and pacing. 

   "What's wrong, love?" he asked, voice like honey and chocolate. 

   "Nothing," he replied absently. "Just thinking,"

   "Mmm," he hummed. "About what?"

   "Ishmael, and this whole cordial situation,"

   "Here I was, thinking you were going to say me," he said grumpily, sitting up. "'I'm thinking about you, Klaus, and how wonderful you are,'"

   "I wish I could," he said, looking at Klaus and his tawny eyes. "But we have bigger problems."

   "Like what?"

   "Someone, and I have reason to believe Ishmael--" 

   "Has no one, Mr. Quagmire," said a new voice from the mouth of the tent, "told you that I prefer Ish?" The man in question, wheeled in by a loyal islander, meandered into the tent. "Because I do. Ish makes me seem more approachable, no?" 

   "Yes, it does. I'm sorry, Ish," No, it doesn't. It makes you seem like a psychopath.  

   "Mr. Baudelaire," said Ishmael in mock surprise. "You look much better,"

   "Thank you, Ish," he said, and Duncan could tell he was lying through his teeth. "I feel better. The doctor still says I shouldn't exert myself too much, though," he added. Klaus had this tic when he lied --he bit the inside of his cheek-- and it was becoming evident now. Drops of rain began to spill on the occupants, dousing Klaus and making him scowl. Ishmael seemed unbothered.

   "This is wonderful rain we're having, don't you think? So nice for the trees." Both boys hummed their assent and shared a look.

   "I love the rain as much as the next person," Klaus eventually said, "but I can't go outside. My bandage can't get wet," and Ishmael made a blatantly phony face of sympathy. It seemed he was taking acting lessons from Count Olaf. Klaus's eyes darkened slightly, only visible to someone who spent hours looking at them; Duncan, for instance. 

   "Well, that's a shame," Ishmael shrugged. "You'll miss your meals, since no one can bring them to you, but I'm sure you'll have a grand time with Mr. Quagmire, eh?" He elbowed Duncan and smiled slyly, and he couldn't help but wonder if Olaf had told people anyways. "I must get going. Have a nice day, boys!" and he motioned to the islander to wheel him out. 

   "Well, that was odd," said Klaus after a long pause. "You were saying something, before he walked in?"

   "Right. I have reason to suspect, even more so now, that Ishmael is drugging the islanders for some reason. The motive is the fuzzy part, but there's something hidden here."

   "How? There's no seasoning on the foods, and-- Oh. The cordial." Klaus looked slightly horrified. "But Sunny drinks that! If you're right, and I have limited doubts that you are, then he's drugging a baby . Sunny hasn't done anything wrong!"

   "But the three of you have secrets. You have connections in the outside world, such as--" he gestured to himself-- "and whatever VFD members you came into contact with. You figured that out, right? Quigley says they met you in the VFD headquarters." Klaus nodded. He remembered that; seeing Quigley's face and thinking holy shit, Duncan's okay , and the hours after that spent trying not to drown in his own sorrow. 

   "But why would that matter to Ishmael? Why would he want that information?"

   "Maybe he doesn't," Duncan mused, resuming his pacing. "Maybe it's the opposite: he doesn't want you to have the information, so he drugs you to make you docile and pliant, then forgetful, then finally you're his slave. He doesn't need the information; in fact, he's happier without it, and he thinks that everyone else will be, too, so he makes his own colony where no one knows anything except what they're told. It's horrible, but it's probably reality."

   "That is horrible," he said, watching Duncan with his walnut eyes. "I can't imagine being like that. Brainwashed. Dependent on someone else for everything , even information about myself. I know I'm semi-dependent on you, but that's different. We give and take, there's a system. This…" He sighed. "This is just take."

   "Yeah." Duncan came to sit next to him on the cot, and Klaus took his hand and kissed the knuckles. "With relationships, in my opinion, there should always be a balance. If I only ever did the dishes, for example, when we're older, I would expect something in return, like… oh, I don't know, you make the tea when we get home, or something. Voila, balance. I give you something, you give me something, we're happy. But some people, like Ishmael, think they deserve things without something in return, like a gift, but forever. In this case, I think it's servitude. He thinks he's entitled to your service."

   "I don't know who we're talking about, but they sound shitty," said Quigley, coming in and plopping themself down on the floor of the tent; Klaus dropped Duncan's hand as fast as he could. Isadora and Violet, the latter carrying Sunny, simply nodded, and the youngest Baudelaire shrieked, "Arpa!"

   "Sunny agrees," said Violet, taking the place beside Klaus on the cot. "Who is it?"

   "Ishmael," Klaus said with contempt. "We think he's drugging the islanders so they don't want to leave, or organize a mutiny, or something."

   "How?" said Isadora. She had some white flowers braided into her dark hair. 

   "Cordial," the lovers said in tandem, then just Duncan: "Cordial is an opiate, a drug. It makes you calmer."

   "The word cordial," murmured Klaus, "also means 'kind' or 'diplomatic'. It's typically used to describe nobility or people like that that are good diplomats."

   "That makes sense," said Violet, handing Sunny to her brother, who took her while Violet tied up her hair. "So, what can we do?"

   "Klaus can't do very much," Isadora pointed out. "His bandage shouldn't get wet. I read a lot about first aid after Quigley sprained his ankle," she added, elbowing her sibling. "Their, sorry,"

   "'S alright," they said dismissively. "But she's right. He's welcome to plan, but there's not much he can do on these rainy days. It's almost like Ishmael wants us to be down a player,"

   Duncan could tell Klaus was really not liking his bandage right now. There was a barely concealed pained expression on his face that was coupled with him reaching behind himself to grip Duncan's hand out of sight of their siblings. 

   "I wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I will help plan, but I'm sad to not be of much use,"

   "Not physically, no. But your brain's going to be a lot of help. You and your siblings know Ishmael better than we do, and Violet says you worked with him a lot more than she did." Quigley reached up and patted Klaus on the knee, and the latter smiled at them. "What makes the clock tick, Mr. Baudelaire?"

   "Defiance," Klaus said. "He hates people standing up to him. If we want information, of any kind, we have to not do that. We have to be so sweet, he'll mistake us for cookies," and the others laughed. 

   "We also could do a lot of exploring," offered Isadora. "I bet there's so much hidden among all that stuff on the other side of the island. We could split up, Quigley and Duncan buttering up to Ishmael and Violet and I sifting through all that junk,"

   "Sunny will stay here with Klaus," said Violet. "I'm not comfortable involving her in something like this, especially since Count Olaf escaped last night." Almost unnoticeably, Klaus flinched at the villain's name. Duncan, pressed up to his lover as he was in an effort to not sit on their pillow, felt it though; behind their backs, he shifted his hand to hold Klaus's, who relaxed almost immediately, except his hand, which held onto Duncan's like it was an anchor. 

   "I'll entertain Sunny as best I can," he said, ruffling his sister's hair. "I think I'm going to work more on my book, mostly.”

   “I found a copy of War and Peace in French in one of the wrecks earlier this week,” Violet explained to a confused set of Quagmires. “He doesn’t know French.” Duncan had to stifle a giggle. Something resembling a cough came out instead, and he covered it up with that, though Klaus squeezed his hand a bit tighter. 

   “Well, why don’t we go? We know what we’re doing. We’ll meet up back here after dinner?” Quigley said, and everyone nodded, though Klaus asked that they respect his privacy: if it was raining still, they would meet in his tent, but if it wasn’t, they would meet in a clearing; a pointed look at Duncan told him which one. “We’re off!”

   “I’ll bring you lunch, and dinner, okay?” Duncan whispered as he left the tent in the soft rain. Klaus smiled and nodded. “See you later,” he mouthed, then stepped fully into the drizzle. 

   Buttering up to Ishmael was easy; keeping his mind on his tasks and off of Klaus was hard. Every time, in some way, managed to come back to Klaus: that mahogany bookshelf was the exact same shade as his eyes, or hey, he’d like that book, or, once, a washed-out old painting of one of his ancestors, actually: a Theodore Baudelaire. The two bore a striking resemblance, so much so that Duncan took one look at it and had to pick it up again.

   Having Quigley there helped. It was easier when they were talking, when they were cracking jokes at each other, but the silences were bad. Duncan knew it was partly his fault, so at one point he simply said, “Hey, Quigley?”

   “Hmm?” came their hummed reply. 

   “Teach me about maps.”

   Quigley lit up. “I’m going to talk a lot,” they said. “Is that alright?”

   “Quigley, that is the entire reason I asked. I need a distraction.” The biggest smile Duncan had ever seen on his sibling overtook their face. “Go ham,”

   “Okay! To understand the whole map thing, you have to understand the basic parts. You know what those are, right?” Duncan nodded. “Good.” Quigley proceeded to spend the rest of the day going on and on about his maps, and though Duncan tuned his voice out eventually, he was grateful for the white noise, and told his sibling as such.

   “It grounds me,” he explained later. “I’m sorry that I was only half-listening, but I knew it would benefit the both of us, me with the white noise and you infodumping.”

   “I understand. One day I’ll ask you to infodump your stars, or journalism, or something, to pay you back. It was nice, telling someone I care about all about the things I like.” Duncan smiled at his sibling. The soaked canvas of Klaus’s tent came into view, though now covered by a bright orange tarp, tilted to allow the rain to flow off.

   “Hey!” said Violet when the two walked in. “The tarp’s something we found, we thought it would help keep Klaus dry," The boy in question smiled at his lover. Duncan smiled back as he sat on the cot next to him; behind their backs, they linked hands.

   "The color isn't my favorite, but I won't complain," said Klaus. 

   "Oof!" shrieked Sunny from her brother's lap. She was chewing on a piece of what looked like slobber-coated driftwood, next to an enormous book on the other side of Klaus. "Boon," 

   "What my sister means," said Klaus, "is that we had a good day,"

   "We did, too! Quite productive. We didn't find any secret hideouts or anything, but we did find evidence of your idea that Ishmael wants the islanders to remain ignorant. Books of science that directly contradict what Violet told me Ishmael said," said Isadora, and Violet nodded her assent. "There's something going on here,"

   "Yes, there is," murmured Duncan. "We got sent to sort through all the stuff that the islanders gave up, and there was some really concerning stuff in there. I found a portrait of Theodore Baudelaire? Are you related?"

   "Our grandfather," said Violet softly, and there was a moment of sorrowful silence. "He's been dead for a while. There was a portrait of him in our house. I wonder if it's the same one,"

   "We can check tomorrow," said Isadora, nudging her gently. They shared a soft smile, and Duncan wondered distantly if something had happened between them. He was happy he and Klaus had some time alone to develop; he couldn't imagine trying to figure out their relationship on an island filled with ignorant people. 

   He was grateful for their friends, too; his siblings and Klaus's. He knew they would understand them if he decided to tell, but something stopped him from letting the secret out. He loved Klaus, and it would be wonderful to be open about their relationship, to kiss in public and not worry about anything. It would be wonderful to buy a house together, and raise a family, but there were bigger fish to fry at this point in time. 

   He slipped a thread into Klaus's head and whispered " I love you ," and he jumped. 

   "Are you alright?" asked Violet.

   "Yeah, I'm fine, sorry,"

   "Okay," and she returned to her conversation with Quigley. 

   " Sorry, Klaus," he whispered. " Just think about something. I can see inside your head ,"

   " That's scary, " he thought, " what if I was thinking of cheating? I won't, though. You don't deserve that. "

   " I love you, "

   " I love you, too ," and with that, Duncan pulled out of his mind. Klaus squeezed his hand, behind their backs, and Duncan squeezed back; something else wrapped around his leg, though, and he shrieked.

   "Snake!" he cried, trying to shake it off; it held fast. "Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff--"

   "Relax, Duncan," laughed Violet, "it's harmless. It won't hurt you,"

   His screams dissipated to hyperventilating and Violet rolled her eyes, reached over, and unwound the snake from his ankle. Isadora hastily scooted towards Quigley when she returned, terrified expression on her face. 

   "Ink!" cried Sunny from Klaus's lap. Violet handed the snake to her sister, who bit it gently; the snake wound its way around Sunny, squeezing lightly. "Friend!"

   "Friend?" said Quigley, pulling Isadora in front of themself as a shield. "That thing's going to kill her!"

   "No, it's not," said Klaus, ruffling Sunny's hair. "It's perfectly safe. No one is going to die,"

   "Despite its misnomer name," added Violet. "The Incredibly Deadly Viper," and Quigley whimpered. 

   Duncan, throughout this, was relatively calm; if Klaus didn't think it was anything to worry about, neither did he. In fact, when Klaus handed Sunny over to Duncan, and therefore the snake, he tickled the thing on its snout, and it flicked its tongue playfully. 

   The six, and the Viper, had a grand old time before the dinner bell sounded. All of their stomachs growled in tandem. Each gave their own nervous smile, and Violet extracted Sunny from the clutches of the Viper, as the others rushed out.

   Duncan excused himself for a moment to say goodbye to Klaus. In reality, he wanted to stay behind to taste Klaus's tongue before dinner, and his lover delivered. Klaus tasted, somehow, of sweet water and honey, and Duncan wasn't about to question it. 

   "I love you," he murmured against the skin of Klaus's neck as he rested his head there. "I'll sneak you something. I'm not about to let you go hungry just because you can't go out in the rain,"

   "I love you, too, and thank you," Klaus whispered, breath warm and soft on Duncan's ear. Strong arms wrapped around his waist. "I love you so much,"

   "I love you more," and Klaus pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head. "I have to go, Klaus,"

   "Okay," he said. "One last kiss?" Duncan chuckled, though pressed a short, chaste kiss to his lips anyway. Klaus released him and, reluctantly, Duncan waved goodbye and started to eat dinner.

   Duncan made sure it was raining at the cottage, though he knew it didn't need it, but he needed an excuse to stay inside with Klaus. He took care in the way he made the rain fall: straight down, so they could open the windows and light candles. He loved this kind of weather, and it was wonderful to spend time alone with his lover.

   Duncan sipped a cup of tea quietly as Klaus browsed his book collection. He chose a book of Latin, eventually, settling down on the couch, looking up at Duncan when he whined. 

   "I made this rain all for you, Klaus, so we could cuddle , and now you won't ," he said, pulling a face.

   "I won't cuddle with you if you're acting like a child," he said simply. "When you decide that you are fifteen, I will open my arms for you."

   "That's not fair,"

   "Of course it is, sugar drop," he sighed. "A fair trade,"

   "Alright," he said. He glared at Klaus from his armchair, his lover not taking any notice; it was simple enough to slither from his chair and wiggle his way in between Klaus's chest and the book. "Hi,"

   "Hello," he said, not looking up from his book. "Do you need something?"

   "You," he murmured. "Just you. All of you." Klaus smiled down at him, big caramel eyes crinkling at the corners.

   "I love you," he whispered. "All of you. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I do. The amount I love you is greater than all the stars in the sky,"

   "But that's billions," Duncan whispered back. "You love me more than that?"

   "That's what I said, isn't it?" Klaus, finally, looked down at Duncan, and the latter could see in his umber eyes that he was telling the truth. "You know, I read a book once about the science of love. It was incredibly homophobic, but it had interesting views on the concept of love as a whole. 

   "In the section about homosexuality, it described the concept as 'a temptation of man of the worst kind: the kind to abandon his wife and family and live a life of unfufillment and secrecy'. But then I read another book, one specifically written to counteract the views of that one.

   "It described homosexuality as a wonderful thing, like a dream, but that the dream could not become reality or the world would crumble. I think that one was right, in a way. You made my world crumble when I met you. But now, I have something better." His carob eyes twinkled. "I have a dream."

   "You know, for a moment there, I thought you were insulting me,"

   "No! No, no, love, I'm not insulting you," Klaus's book was lying forgotten on the floor now, abandoned in favor of something better: his lover. "I'm expressing my love. I love you,"

   "I love you, too," murmured Duncan, shifting himself to bury his face in the crook of his partner's neck. "I love you and your gorgeous eyes, and your hair, and everything about you. I need you,"

   "I need you, too." One of Klaus's hands began to play with the curls at the base of Duncan's neck, a feeling that could not be replicated: it tickled slightly, but in the best way possible. He gave a small tug and Duncan let out a soft noise. "That feels nice, sugar drop?"

   "Mhm," hummed Duncan, leaning into the touch. He had to arch his back to do it, pressing his hips into Klaus's. 

   "I love you, Duncan Quagmire,"

   "I love you, too, Klaus Baudelaire," he said. He wriggled a little when Klaus tickled on his neck. "Klaus," he whined, eliciting a soft chuckle from his partner; "Stop being mean," and he pulled himself up to look Klaus in those big russet eyes. 

   "I'm not being mean," he said softly. "I could never be mean to you,"

   "Well, obviously, you can," said Duncan, squirming. "Stop!"

   "Alright," and finally, Klaus stopped. Duncan let himself fall onto Klaus's chest, eliciting a soft oof from the other. "I love you," he said, slightly strangled from the weight on top of him; Duncan, face firmly planted in the soft fabric of Klaus's jumper, could not answer. 

   They fell asleep there, or Duncan thought they did; either way, it didn't matter. He was curled up with the lover boy of the century, a soft smile on his face, no longer alone in his adventures in life.

   It was bliss.

Chapter Text

   Klaus awoke to an ache in his back. Duncan wasn't in bed, but that was normal; he usually woke before him. 

   Traces of something green lingered around the tent, signs that Duncan had been there not long before. When he reached out for a wisp, it curled around his fingers, almost friendly. Klaus smiled at it, turning his hand around and around as it moved, almost like it was alive, which it almost was, from what Duncan had told him: it was a part of Duncan, and he was alive, so the wisps were alive. 

   "Hello," he whispered, and the other wisps in the tent began to coalesce. They contorted and formed an image of Duncan's face, smiling at him. 

   "Hey," it said, though his voice sounded far away. "Sorry I'm not there, Ishmael called me away,"

   "This is live? It's not something you left for me?" Duncan nodded. 

   "Live," he said simply. "Say hi, Quigs,"

   "Hi, Klaus!" and the wisps shifted a bit to form Quigley's face. "Duncan says he loves you,"

   "Shut the fuck up!" screeched his partner from somewhere to Quigley's left. "I do, though," and the image shifted back into Duncan's face, though it didn't really matter. Quigley just had a couple of scars on his lip, and that was really the only difference. 

   "Love you, too, sweetheart," called Klaus. "This is weird,"

   "Yeah, I'm sorry," chuckled Duncan, "this was all I could think of, at the moment."

   "It's alright," he said. "Anything to see you,"

   "Aww," cooed Quigley. "That's so sweet ,"and then " Ow !" presumably as Duncan performed an act of violence. "That's a hate crime!"

   "Sure it is," Duncan rolled his eyes, then focused them on Klaus again. The wisps changed color slightly, and Klaus realized they matched Duncan's eyes. "Okay. I'm alive, I'm not in Olaf's clutches, please don't freak, I love you!" he said and waved goodbye. Klaus waved back and the wisps dissipated, then dissolved. 

   "I love you, too," Klaus whispered to himself, then fell asleep. 

   The clearing Duncan and Quigley were sitting in was coated in junk of all kinds, though Klaus's hands passed right through it. His hand was blue, he noted, and he realized he was probably shifting.

   Duncan felt solid, though, when he placed his hand gently on his partner's back, and he jumped. Quigley eyed him as he approached, but didn't say anything, choosing to instead focus on something rusting away in his lap. Klaus found a spot next to Duncan to sit, finding his body passed through the junk anyways, and he ran a hand over Duncan's back. The boy in question didn't seem to notice, instead electing to find him there when he turned to pick up another item.

   Slowly, Duncan's eyes traveled up his body, until they got to his face, at which point he smiled; Klaus smiled back sweetly, and Quigley let out a low whistle. 

   "Wow, Duncan, bedroom eyes much?" Duncan glared at him. "I'm just saying. You're looking at him like he's the only man left in the world, and you're ready to get frisky."

   "Quigley Quagmire, I'm actually going to commit a hate crime if you don't shut your fat mouth." Klaus laughed, Quigley put his hands up in surrender, and Duncan turned back to him. Klaus thought Duncan looked beautiful in this light, what with the sun streaming ever so slightly through the palmetto leaves. He didn't know what Quigley was talking about. He'd seen Duncan's bedroom eyes, and they didn't look anything like that; these, so soft and olive toned, were the eyes he gave Klaus when he wanted to say he loved him. 

   "It's alright, precious. I don't mind."

   "It's not that, he's just being annoying," Duncan said grumpily, glaring one more time at his brother. "You're shifting, you know that?"

   "I do," he said simply. "Fell asleep after the wisps went away,"

   "Ah," and Duncan turned back to his work. Klaus rested his head on Duncan's shoulder and Quigley winked at him. Klaus ignored him. Duncan's head fell onto Klaus's, a soft gesture. Klaus allowed his hand to rest on Duncan's thigh, and his lover didn't brush it away like he thought he would; in fact, one of his own hands rested on top of Klaus's. 

   "I should go," murmured Klaus after a while. "Hard being--" He yawned-- "being asleep this long."

   "We're not too far from you! Here, I'll draw you a map," said Quigley. He produced a piece of paper from the depths of his robe --Klaus didn't want to think about where he may have got it from-- and a pencil and began to scribble on it. "Ishamel made us leave our notebooks in our tents," he explained. Klaus remembered, now, seeing Duncan's forest green notebook in the corner of their tent, on top of the stack of robes. "Here," he said, reaching to hand Klaus the paper.

   "You'll need to deliver that to yourself," said Duncan as he studied it. "Otherwise it'll just stay here,"

   "Okay," murmured Klaus. He pressed a kiss to Duncan's proffered lips, short and chaste; his partner flipped Quigley off when he made a retching noise. "See you in a bit, love,"

   "See you." Klaus rose and, following the map through the forest to the tents, attempted to figure out how to get back inside his body. He supposed he could just wake himself up, though that could be difficult: he prided himself on being an abnormally heavy sleeper, even after the years of Count Olaf. 

   It ended up being exceptionally easy to rouse himself and, for a moment, he could see from both his body and his spirit; it was concerning. His vision righted itself quickly, though.

   The map lay on the floor in the place he had been standing, still folded like he'd been holding it. It was stained with some blue goo; he'd have to ask Duncan about that. He picked it up, unfolded it, and followed it through the forest. 

   Duncan's and Quigley's voices echoed from the clearing, louder and clearer as he got closer. Duncan's sweet, clear laugh made Klaus smile as he approached.

   He placed a hand on Duncan's back, making him jump; he whispered a soft "Sorry, love," and he relaxed. 

   Klaus couldn't sit where he had when he wasn't solid, instead exiled to the edges of the clearing until Duncan could clear a space next to him. It was nice to watch Duncan work, and he knew his presence was at least somewhat comforting: your sibling is nice to have by your side, sure, but a lover was better, especially in Klaus's experience. 

   It was wonderful to spend time with just Duncan and his sibling --something the sibling in question had informed him of after an accidental misgendering, prompting a flurry of apologies-- and when Duncan managed to clear the space and Klaus could be physical, everything was elevated. Klaus felt like he was in heaven, amongst the angels.

   He wondered, later, as he and Duncan lay side by side on the beach, just them and the stars, what kind of story mothers would tell their children about them one day. He wished, for a long time, that he and Duncan could be immortalized in the stars Duncan loved so much, that they could become a constellation lovers would whisper about on blankets at midnight. 

   Would their story have a beautiful ending, would they be as magnificent as the heroes of old, or would they be obscure, worshipped in reverent silence by the scholars and the poets, the writers and the dreamers, something survived in the dead of night by the candles flickering in the warm summer breeze?

   Their mistakes, Klaus reasoned, made them human. Their beauties, their idiosyncrasies, made them divine. Klaus felt that he loved with something more than himself when it came to Duncan. He loved not just Duncan's face, or his personality, but his entire being, his spirit, and everything in the middle. In Klaus's eyes, Duncan was perfect, something that he did not deserve.

   Did they deserve a happy ending? Did Klaus deserve to come home to his lover and know that finally, finally, they were safe? Did Duncan deserve to know that there was someone always there for him? The only question Klaus could answer, at that moment, was the final one, and the answer was yes, whether it was him or whether it was whoever Duncan ended up loving when they were older, or whoever he married. The only thing Klaus could do was hope that it was him Duncan came home to, his last name, his ring. Klaus would marry him with nothing in their possession and nothing to gain, if that was what happened. 

   "You alright? You've been kind of quiet," came Duncan's soft, musical, elegant whisper from somewhere to his left. 

   "I'm alright," he whispered back, "just thinking about us,"

   "Us? Is everything okay?"

   "Of course it is, love," and he hoped Duncan could hear the truth in his voice. "I'm thinking about our future. Who will we be? Will we make a difference? Will we be remembered beyond our families?"

   "We will. We will, Klaus. People will know us, and they'll remember us, and one day, we'll be a great story,"

   "We will," he repeated softly. "I love you so much, Duncan, you have no idea,"

   "I do have an idea," he said, "because I love you more,"

   "I don't think that's possible, precious,"

   "I am magic,"

   "So am I,"

   They stayed there until Duncan fell asleep and Klaus had to carry him back to the tent. His shoulder ached, but it was alright, because it was Duncan. He would do anything for him, and all Duncan had to do was ask. 

   Klaus stayed up a bit later, mind going too fast to sleep; he reached for Duncan's commonplace book, still resting in the corner. He wondered what secrets Duncan had to tell, so much so that his curiosity overcame his uneasiness.

   Duncan's handwriting was small and neat, like a typewriter's font. The page he flipped open was recent, the day they crashed on the island. 

   He loved Duncan even more as he flipped through the pages, finding one eventually dated from their days at Prufrock. Here, he could see the beginnings of how Duncan felt, all spread out on the page. Everything from charts of pros and cons to dot graphs of how many times a day Carmelita would make fun of him to, once, a detailed drawing of Klaus, complete with labels and small drawings of his half of the spyglass. He wondered, distantly, if Isadora still had their half. The drawings were beautiful, a product of love and attention. He paused on one page covered in poetry.

   Klaus wasn’t about to be mean to Duncan, but he was very obviously not the poet of the family. Half-finished poems littered the page, prose written about the different shades of brown, soft notes written into the margins in Duncan’s typical journalist way: what rhymes with carob?, build on this, ask Klaus what he likes , to name a few. 

   The sun was rising in the distance by the time Klaus found it in him to put the commonplace book down and crawl into bed next to Duncan, who stirred slightly but did not wake. Klaus pulled him in close to his chest and fell asleep.

   Duncan was up and active when Klaus finally roused himself in the cottage. His green and grey striped jumper puttered around outside, pruning and whispering sweet nothings to his plants. Klaus knew he would be inside soon: he always started with the plants furthest away, then moved in until he was inside. 

   Klaus couldn’t hear his partner’s voice, though he wished desperately that he could. He knew he had to be patient, and could not tear Duncan from his plants, no matter how much he needed to kiss him. Klaus climbed out of bed, eyes not once leaving Duncan, and he walked to the window just as Duncan was moving to that window box. Fingertips lightly grazed the glass separating them, as if he could reach through it. 

   It surprised him how solid he was becoming, as if he were coming back to life. Duncan straightened, though still looking down at his precious plants, and he jumped when he noticed Klaus, then smiled and clutched his heart as if to say, you scared me.

    I’m sorry, Klaus mouthed; he gestured for Duncan to come inside. His lover’s smile widened as he obliged, and when he stepped into Klaus’s space, it became evident just how much he cared for his garden. 

   Duncan’s face was covered in dirt, though his castleton eyes still shone wonderfully. Klaus was not someone that minded much dirt, though, so he placed his hands on Duncan’s cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss anyways. Duncan giggled, placing his hands on Klaus’s neck to pull him back for more, though Klaus would never, could never, complain. He loved Duncan’s kisses. His lips were always so soft, his hands gentle and kisses sweet. 

   Klaus, after a while, rested his forehead against Duncan’s. “I love you,” he mumbled. “Love you so much. Love kissing you, love you, love you, I love all of you,”

   “I love all of you, too,” murmured Duncan, eyes big, soft, and basil toned. They were half-crossed to look at Klaus properly, and he had a short flashback to when they were properly crossed, rolled back, mouth wide open and wanting, hair splayed on the pillow like Medusa’s snakes, and goodness, was it always so hot in here?

   Phantom hands tugged on Klaus’s hair as the memory flooded him. He could almost hear Duncan’s cries for more, oh God, Klaus --

   “Hey,” said the boy in question, fingers snapping in front of Klaus’s face. “Are you alright? I’ve been calling your name,”

   “Yeah,” he said faintly, swallowing hard. “I’m fine.” Duncan’s eyes flicked down to the crotch of Klaus’s pants, then back up to his face. “Listen, I don’t know what-- oh. Oh, my,”

   It was hard to say anything other than that for a while, though when the two finally managed to stumble back to bed and fall asleep, the sun was high in the sky on the island.

   Klaus was sitting in the junk clearing with all three Quagmire triplets, laughing at something Duncan had said. He'd been trying and failing to get his lover alone all day, and he'd accepted his fate at this point. 

   That being said, the afternoon was nice. Duncan was nice. Spending time with Duncan, whether they were alone together or with their siblings, was nice. He loved Duncan, whether he could tell him or not. 

   Klaus's shoulder ached, though. His bandage had come off that morning, by order of the doctor, but he wasn't cleared to continue work just yet; technically, he was supposed to be back in his tent, but he wouldn't miss time with Duncan for the world.

   When he looked around at the three triplets, he could see the ways in which they were different: Duncan was definitely the quietest of the bunch, soft-spoken and sweet. Isadora was, unusually for a poet, louder and better at masking her feelings. Quigley came last, and if Duncan didn't exist (Klaus shuddered at the thought) Quigley would definitely be his favorite. Maybe, in another world where they were simply twins, Klaus and Quigley would be the ones head over heels for each other. 

   A world without Duncan, though, would be sad and lonely. It was hard for Klaus to imagine: a life without someone so elegant, so wonderful, so sweet to fill the crevices of his mind. It was all Klaus could do to not stare at Duncan, to not give him those "bedroom eyes" Quigley had mentioned the previous day. 

   It was difficult, though. Duncan looked wonderful in the setting sun, bathed in oranges so different from his usual greens. He almost glowed golden, olive skin and dark hair tinting like Klaus had just put on sunglasses. His mind drifted back to the thoughts he'd had the night before. 

   Duncan deserved a happy ending, that much was certain. But did he? Did Klaus deserve to be the one to give him that happy ending? He concluded, as the four of them traipsed to dinner, that it didn't matter. If Duncan wanted him to be the one to provide that for him, then he would. If Duncan decided that Klaus wasn't the one for him, he'd allow him to have whoever he wanted; he deserved that much. 

   "I love you," he whispered into Duncan's ear as soon as he got the chance. Duncan, unable to answer, simply smiled at him as a response, and it was all he needed. 

   "I went through your commonplace book," Klaus said casually, sitting on the bed and watching Duncan putter about the cottage. He froze at his admission, slowly turning to face his lover on the bed. 

   "You… what?" and immediately Klaus knew he'd done something wrong. Duncan's normally bright emerald eyes were dark and intimidating. "Klaus, that's mine . Please don't do that,"

   "I'm sorry. I just…" He sighed. "I'm sorry."

   "It'd be fine if you'd asked. I don't mind you going through my things, I have nothing to hide from you, but please ask. I love you," and he strode over to plant a kiss on Klaus's cheek. 

   "I love you, too. I'll ask next time." Duncan smiled.

   "Thank you." He walked back to attend to a browning plant. 

   "Your drawings were pretty," he said absently. "I liked the poems, too. They were sweet."

   "And now you know why I leave the poetry to Isadora," Duncan chuckled. "But thank you." Klaus could see a light blush high on his cheekbones and knew that Duncan forgave him; he wondered distantly whether Duncan was ever really mad at him or not.

   Klaus knew what his answer would be if Duncan ever found and went through his commonplace book: 'I love you, I have nothing to hide. Do whatever you like.' He could never be mad at Duncan. It was probably physically impossible. He loved Duncan more than life itself and his biggest wish was for Duncan to know just how much he meant to him. 

   "Hey, Duncan?" he asked, rising and striding to the bookshelves. He received a hum in response. "Do you like Sherlock Holmes?"

   "Yeah," Duncan said, a bit strained from his crouched position. "He's over by Flavia," 

   "Thank you," but Klaus's attention wasn't on Sherlock. It was on the boy crouched and poking at a houseplant, the boy of his dreams , almost literally. Quite literally. What did he do to deserve Duncan?

   "I've no clue, love. Be born?" said Duncan, making Klaus jump. "Sorry. Your thoughts are loud."

   "That's alright. I have absotively posilutely nothing to hide from you," he promised. Duncan giggled, blush creeping down his face and onto his nose. "I mean it! You can sneak inside my head whenever you like and you will find nothing I would need to hide, sugar drop. I love you, precious. So much," 

   "I love you, too. You have no idea what you do to me," 

   "You're blushing, so I have some idea," he said, and Duncan's blush only grew. His gorgeous cadmium eyes turned from the plant to his partner, flicking up and down before settling on his face. "I love you. You're so pretty,"

   "I love you, too. And you're prettier than I am." Klaus clicked his tongue and moved to sit on the floor beside Duncan.

   "I don't think that's physically possible, sugar drop." Up close, Klaus could see all the color swirling around Duncan's eyes and the pink blush threatening to spread down his neck. He looked like a masterpiece, made by the old masters and brought to life by some classical god of art. He was so lucky. "I'm so lucky to have you,"

   "Lucky boy," giggled Duncan, and everything went black.

   Klaus awoke on the island to Duncan having a freakout in the corner and Violet standing tall above him like the Grim Reaper. His brain supplied several incredibly unhelpful facts he'd read about the origins of the Reaper, and it took a little bit to convince that part of him to be quiet so he could comfort Duncan. 

   He couldn't move. Duncan's spell must have worn off, he thought. He could speak, he found, and he called Duncan over softly.

   "I'll give you two some privacy," whispered Violet. "Call me again if you need anything." Duncan, tears streaming down his face, nodded silently.

   "What's wrong, precious?" murmured Klaus as his lover knelt beside his head. He could move his neck now, so he craned it to look Duncan in his misty sage eyes. 

   "I did something to you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you,"

   "I know, love. There was no way for you to have known. You didn't do anything wrong," Klaus soothed. "It's alright. It's all alright, Duncan, I'm alright,"

   "But what if I had hurt you?" Duncan sniffled. "I couldn't live with that. I promised." New tears fell down his face and something in Klaus's chest tightened. 

   "You didn't, and that's the difference," he cooed. "You didn't do anything wrong. I love you," 

   "I love you, too," Duncan managed a weak smile and Klaus could only smile back. "I'm sorry,"

   "It's alright, sugar drop. There's nothing to be sorry for," 

   "I'm still sorry," He wiped his eyes. "What caused it, so I can avoid it in future?"

   "Words," said Klaus. "Remember what I told you about Lucky Smells Lumbermill?" Duncan nodded. "The words 'lucky boy'--" and saying them himself nearly made him black out-- "are the 'on' words for the hypnotism. There was no way you could've known, though. Everything's okay," and Klaus offered a sweet smile. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt,"

   "You're okay," repeated Duncan, and Klaus nodded as much as he could. He could feel his arms now and lifted one to place the hand gently but awkwardly on Duncan's cheek. "Did the spell wear off?"

   Klaus nodded again. 

   "I can redo it when we get back to the cottage," he said, climbing in beside Klaus. His eyes never left his lover, following the smaller boy up and over until he was settled comfortably next to him. "Good night,"

   "Good night, precious," and Klaus closed his eyes to a wonderful thing.

   "Duncan?" 

   "Hmm?"

   "What is this?" Duncan was applying some sort of goop to his nose and forehead, something he swore did not happen the last time he did this. "It feels weird. Did you do this last time?"

   "No, I didn't, but you're all crusty. Your energy, I mean, not your face. Your face is fine."

   "My… energy," Duncan nodded. "Is crusty." 

   "Yep!" Duncan ceased his goop application for the moment. "You see, there's this thing you have inside your head, like…" he thought for a second. "The source for all the magic you perform without the help of spells, like shifting and-- Ooh! I should teach you soul stuff," he said. "Anyways, yours is all crusty. I need to clean it. And no, there is no other way to do this and no, you can't do this yourself. Well, I mean, you could, but it'd be weird." Duncan shrugged and placed his hands gently on Klaus's chest, right over his heart. 'This is going to feel weird, like someone's poking your brains,"

   Duncan, unfortunately, was not wrong: it did feel like he had reached inside his head and begun to fiddle with his own brain. "How do you know when someone's energy is all crusty?" asked Klaus, ever the scholar; in truth, he was trying to distract himself.

   "Well, there's a couple different ways. There's the one I did, which is the simplest one: all you have to do is stick a little fragment in their brain and it'll…" he sighed. "Not beep, exactly, but it'll notify you. That's permanent, too: that fragment'll stay there until they die, you die, or both." Duncan's hands moved and the sensation ended. "Then there's the complicated way, but that's not quite right, because this is the way for beginners. You place your hands on their chest, like I did, every once in a while, and you poke around a bit. You can kind of tell when they're getting crusty, but the way I did it is much more reliable, if more advanced magic."

   "You know, I love you, but there are times when you can be really, really strange,"

   "Thank you!" he said brightly. "That's part of being a magician,"

   "Are you finished? Am I de-crustified?" Duncan laughed his bright, sweet, melodic laugh. 

   "Yes, yes, love, you are. Let me get a washcloth and I'll take all this goop off," and he did. The goop, Klaus saw, was a piss yellow, though Duncan kissed his face sweetly when he was done, so it couldn't have been dangerous. Not that Duncan would ever put anything dangerous on his face. He trusted Duncan more than that. 

   "You're perfect, love, I love you," he said between kisses. Duncan paused when he finished, magnificent moss eyes staring into his own brown ones. "I love you, I love you, I love you ," he repeated.

   "I love you, too, times however many times you said it," Klaus snorted. 

   "Four," he said. "I love you times four,"

    "I love you times forty," and Klaus was alright letting Duncan win this little game. "That's not accurate. I love you a lot more than forty."

   "I love you a lot more than forty, too," murmured Klaus. "I'll love you for infinity,"

   "Me, too," whispered Duncan. "For all time,"

   "Always." Klaus was laying flat on his back on the bed with a flick of Duncan's wrist, which placed Duncan on top of him, head resting heavy on Klaus's chest. "I wonder if your energy's crusty," he said, eliciting a giggle from his lover. 

   "I'll teach you how to check," he replied, rising. "One second." Klaus watched him retreat to the kitchen for a moment, first tacking a note to their noteboard, then, presumably, making more goop. 

   "I need you to move," he called above the din of pans in the kitchen. "I need to lay there." Klaus obliged, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Duncan's sweater of the day --orange and red striped-- moved about the kitchen, and occasionally he turned to pick up something behind him and locked eyes with Klaus. Every time he did, he would smile a soft, seraphic smile at him, which Klaus could only return. 

   Eventually, he returned to the bed with a bowl of goop and several popsicle sticks. 

   "So," he said, handing Klaus the bowl and sticks, then laying on the bed. "I'm going to walk you through this, not because I don't trust you (which I do, by the way) but because this is your first time. This is a very important bit of magic, especially for someone with a lifelong magician partner--" Klaus could not help but notice the 'lifelong' part-- "and it's very important that you listen to me and pay attention the whole time. I know you like the way my facial features are arranged, but I need you to put that aside for a moment."

   "I'll do my best," he promised. 

   "Good. First step: spread goop. It goes across my nose, up to about half my eye, then all across my forehead, in a relatively thick layer. If you have some left over, that's alright." Klaus, with one of the popsicle sticks, followed Duncan's instructions. It was therapeutic for him, making this perfect. "Next, when you're done, straddle my hips and place your hands on my chest, thumbs above my heart."

   "Is, um," Klaus swallowed. "Is the straddling part strictly necessary?"

   "Incredibly, Klaus," he said flatly. "Now straddle me,"

   "Okay," and he did, gulping at the implications. "Okay, thumbs over your heart." He tried to replicate the way he thought Duncan's hands were placed on his chest when he had done the same. "Wait, I don't remember you straddling me,"

   "Irrelevant, Klaus. I'm more experienced than you. I can do this with less contact," but there was playfulness in Duncan's tone. "You need physical contact for this, as much as possible,"

   "Should I remove your shirt, then?"

   It was Duncan's turn to blush under fire. "If you'd like," he said coolly.

   "I would like," he said, slipping his hands under Duncan's sweater and onto his warm stomach. He slid them up his body, eliciting a shiver from his partner; they stilled in the same position they'd had through his sweater. "You know, you're beautiful, especially when you're shivering under me." 

   "Your hands are cold ," he moaned. "What else am I supposed to do?”

   “Not sure, precious, but that’s not what I’m saying,” Klaus chuckled softly. “What next?”

   “Okay. Now what you do is kind of, like… poke around. Not literally, though, with your magic. Please don’t poke me,”

   “Okay. I’ve had my fun.” Klaus sent a bit of magic into Duncan’s chest, marveling at the way his hands and Duncan’s chest glowed ever so slightly with his navy blue. He watched it travel up Duncan’s throat (loving the way his head tilted back in what Klaus was bound to assume was ecstasy) and settle somewhere near his nasal cavity. 

   “Do you feel anything?”

   “Like gunk? Am I supposed to feel gunk?”

   “If you feel gunk, I’ll tell you how to proceed. If you don’t, we’re done.” Klaus felt around as much as he could, but there was nothing that felt gunky to him. “It’ll feel squishy,” Duncan said helpfully.

   “No squish,” Klaus said simply, carefully removing his hands. “All good, love,”

   “Good,” murmured Duncan. “I love you,”

   “I love you, too,” he replied. “Let’s get this goop off of you, yeah?” Duncan nodded. “Sleepy?”

   “Sleepy,” he mumbled. “Quickly, please. Wanna cuddle,”

   “Okay,” said Klaus softly. A washcloth appeared in his hand, a product of a bleary smiling Duncan; carefully, he wiped the goop from his lover’s face. It felt intimate, to take care of each other like this, something an elderly couple would do. Klaus hoped he’d be doing this when they were older, when they were safe. 

   Klaus knew there was a chance they’d never be safe, only safer. Olaf would be after them until he died, or they died, or he got their fortune, or a combination of the three. He hoped, desperately, that his last moments with Duncan were spent somewhere they loved, somewhere they could love each other peacefully. 

   He crawled into bed beside Duncan, who had rolled onto his side; he pulled his lover into his chest and wrapped his arms around him, letting one hand trail up to his hair to stroke it and the other to rub circles into his lover’s back. The other let out a soft sigh of happiness, burying his face into the crook of Klaus’s neck.

   “I love you,” he whispered against the skin there. Klaus shivered at the feeling.

   “I love you, too, sugar drop. Sleep well,”

Chapter Text

   “Did you know,” said Quigley, “that I can play the trumpet?” They held up a horribly bent brass instrument. 

   “Yeah?” said Klaus, perched on an old chair they’d found. Duncan could see his copper eyes flash bright. “Play us something, then.”

   “Yeah, Quig! Let’s hear you make something of that,” Duncan chuckled. 

   “Can he actually play?” whispered Klaus as Quigley fiddled with the valves. 

   “French horn, technically,” he whispered back. “But it’s the same principle. He was learning trumpet before the fire,”

   “That looks enough like a French horn,” and silently, Duncan giggled.

   Quigley prepped his face and blew into the trumpet. It honked a note, something none of them were expecting: all burst into loud, snorting laughter. Klaus was beautiful when he laughed. 

   “Well,” they said. “At least it did something! I was expecting to blow until I was red in the face, but hey!”

   “Can--” Klaus paused to let the last of his giggles out. “Can you play any instruments, Duncan?”

   “Clarinet,” he replied. “Flute, piccolo, and I once managed a note on a tuba,”

   “You’ve also stuck your face in a tuba,” and the two triplets laughed at the memory. 

   “Stuck my face in the bell and asked my friend to play a note, nearly got my face blown off,” he explained to a confused Klaus, who then smiled, caramel eyes bright and happy. Duncan thought he looked like a painting.

   “I’m glad you didn’t,” said Klaus. “I like you much better with a face,”

   “ I like me better with a face,” he said. 

   "That's… I hope so!" Quigley laughed. "Having a face is nice."

   "Duncan's face is nice," Klaus said absently. Duncan felt his face grow hot. 

   "Your face is nice, too," he said sheepily and Quigley made a long, loud farting noise with the trumpet. "Shut the fuck up, stinky brass!" 

   "No!" shouted Quigley, making a series of horrific noises on the trumpet. 

   "Stop! Stop, please," Klaus's voice, somehow, rang out over the din. "Quigley, stop!" Duncan glanced over to his lover to find he was clutching his head, covering his ears; instantly, Duncan knew what was going on. He shoved his hand into the bell of the trumpet as a mute, and when the sound suddenly stopped, Quigley looked to see what was wrong.

   "Oh, goodness, are you okay? I'm sorry," Quigley had the decency to look humbled. 

   "I'm fine," Klaus said softly. "Can we keep it down for a while, though?" Both Quagmires nodded. 

   "You're sure you're alright?" Duncan whispered as they made their way to Ishmael's tent. Klaus nodded, glancing at Quigley in front of them. 

   "I need you alone at some point this evening," he whispered back.

   "Just tell me when, and I'll try to get away," Duncan smiled at Klaus, and he smiled back: a soft thing, fit for an angel. "And we always have time tonight,"

   "I love you," he mouthed. 

   "I love you, too," and Duncan swept the canvas of Ishmael's tent aside. He followed his sibling and his lover through into the main room, standing beside them to hear Ishmael.

   "I called you in here, boys, to inform you of an issue I have with your work ethic or…" He pulled a face. "Lack thereof."

   "We get through our quota, Ish, I don't see a problem," said Quigley. 

   "Ah, but that is the beauty of this community, Mr. Quagmire--" Duncan saw Quigley flinch at the honorific out of the corner of his eye-- "it is not just me that feels this way. I had several complaints of, and I quote, 'a loud noise like someone was dying' coming from the forest." Ishmael steepled his hands. "Please keep the noise down. Other people live on this island."

   "We apologise, Ish. We're sorry," said Duncan, shooting Quigley a pointed look. "It won't happen again, right Quigley ?" With the last words, he gritted his teeth. Quigley had the decency to look shamed.

   "Yes." 

   "Mr. Baudelaire? Anything to say?"

   "No, Ish." Klaus's voice was small, scared. Duncan knew there was something going on in his head, something that was stopping him from being here , fully. 

   "You boys may go," he said, shooing them with his hand. "I'd better not hear anything else about you three,"

   "You won't," and they stepped out of the tent into the cool night air. Quigley waved goodbye to them almost immediately, leaving them alone to their devices. 

   Duncan offered a soft smile to Klaus, who shakily returned it.
  "Are you alright?" Duncan, ever cautious, gave their surroundings a once-over to make sure nothing was there, and when he was satisfied, he placed his hands gently on his partner's cheeks. "Honestly, Klaus. I'm worried."

   "I need you alone," murmured Klaus. "Need you."

   "Let's go, then," he said, letting his hands fall down Klaus's arms to grip his hands. "C'mon." Klaus came willingly, allowing Duncan to tug him to their tent; when Duncan led him to the cot, he sat and looked up at Duncan. His big russet eyes were slightly unfocused, though he put in effort to focus on Duncan."What's wrong, astra ?" 

   "Long day. Loud. Too much," he mumbled. "Need cuddles."

   "That I can provide," he said softly. Klaus gave a small smile, opening his arms to let Duncan in. 

   He pressed himself into his lover, drawing shapes on his chest with the tip of his finger, sighing lightly as Klaus's hand traced almost identical circles into his back. 

   "Thank you," he murmured. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," Duncan said, voice slightly muffled from Klaus's robe. "I can shut Quigley up. Cast a silence spell, if you want,"

   "Would you? Actually, no. Just quiet er ." Klaus leaned to press a kiss to the crown of Duncan's head. "Can you do that?"

   "Later," Duncan mumbled. He thought about it for a moment: did he have a spell for that? He knew how to make Quigley silent, but to just lower his volume? Maybe if he distilled the spell… "I'll try my best,"

   "That's all I can ask for, love," and Duncan moved to press his face into the crook of Klaus's neck. "Love you,"

   "Love you, too." He closed his eyes and hummed softly. "Love you so much,"

   "I love you more."

   Duncan fell asleep like that, curled up in Klaus's lap, and if Klaus moved to fall asleep himself, Duncan didn't know.

   The record player spun Clair de Lune softly as rain pattered outside. Duncan puttered about the kitchen, hyper aware of Klaus's syrup eyes following his back. Occasionally, a flash of lightning would be followed by a deafening clap of thunder and occasionally, Duncan was struck with the urge to curl up in Klaus's lap. 

   He loved thunderstorms, but trying to focus on anything except making hot cocoa or tea and curling up with your partner or a book or both was incredibly difficult, especially since this was something he had to do: trimming back an unruly spider plant before it took over his house. 

   Duncan jumped as soft, strong hands covered his own and took the shears from him. 

   "Help, precious?" Duncan nodded. "Here. Let me. It'll go faster if we work together, then I'll make some tea and we can cuddle, yeah?" Duncan nodded again, more enthusiastically, and Klaus chuckled behind him. "Alright. Tell me where to cut," and Duncan, with a soft voice, guided his lover through caring for the plant. 

   "We're all done," he said eventually, and they were; he jumped, though, at a particularly loud thunderclap. 

   "Go get comfy, sugar drop, I'll only be a minute or two,"

   Duncan set off for the oversized armchair, sitting and waiting patiently for Klaus. Inevitably, his thoughts wandered. Today's topic: dear God, was Klaus's voice getting deeper? It was undeniably attractive. There was a soft stubble forming on his jaw and upper lip, not enough to be bothersome, but he'd have to learn to shave soon or there would be some issues. Now, though, it was sweet. He liked it.

   Duncan accepted the steaming mug of tea from his lover with a barely audible “thank you,” and shifted to make room for him on the armchair. Klaus sat down, pulling Duncan into his chest; from his position, he could hear Klaus's heartbeat. He knew, if Klaus spoke, he'd be able to feel the vibrations. 

   There was no doubt, at this moment, in Duncan's mind, that he loved Klaus, wholly and completely. He knew it might just be the rose-colored glasses, but he had a nagging feeling that even when those faded, Klaus wouldn't change, that he would just be the same as always. As Duncan sipped his tea and accepted soft kisses, he felt safer than he had in a long time, curled up with his lover.

   He knew they weren't safe. He knew that they might never be safe. Duncan didn't care, though. He was safe now, in Klaus's arms, in the cottage that he'd made for the two of them. 

   The tea Klaus had made was just how he liked it, and he smiled at the newfound knowledge that Klaus knew how he liked his tea . He closed his eyes and hummed softly. Clair de Lune spun out and Duncan, reluctantly, set his teacup down on the side table and moved to put something else on. 

   "Here," said Klaus, almost inaudible to Duncan's ears, but there nonetheless; when he turned to face him, Klaus was holding a record case. "Play this one next?"

   "Okay," he answered, taking the case and removing the record. There was a name he didn't recognise on it, but he put the record in anyway and set the needle to the first song. A song rolled out from the speaker, something he'd never heard before, but Klaus obviously had: he had closed his umber eyes and was humming along. "I've never heard this before," he said softly.

   "Really?" Klaus said, planting a kiss on his forehead as Duncan crawled back into his arms. "I'm not really surprised, Mom said she got it as a gift from a friend."

   "That doesn't mean anything," said Duncan, cheek pressed against Klaus's collarbone. 

   "The friend was supposedly really strange. I never met him. His name was… Nightingale? Yeah, Luke Nightingale," Klaus frowned.

   "Mmm," hummed Duncan, closing his eyes. "I love you," 

   "I love you, too," said Klaus. He sang along softly to the chorus, and Duncan could feel his voice deep in his chest, and by the end of the album, he was singing along, too.

   "Ink!" shrieked Sunny from her position on her sister's lap. Indeed, the Incredibly Deadly Viper was slithering into the tent, apparently attracted by the congregation of children. Isadora was still wary of it, but Quigley allowed it to curl around his arm. 

   "Now that we're all present and accounted for," Violet said, smiling, "let's share a bit of what we've found. Boys and Quigley, why don't you go first?" 

   Duncan opened his mouth, but Quigley got there first: "We found a trumpet!"

   "We know that part, dork," said Isadora, shifting away from the Viper, "tell us about the other stuff. Did you find anything interesting, besides the trumpet ?"

   "Not that I remember, no," they said. 

   "Duncan? Klaus? Anything?" Both, unfortunately, were forced to either shake their heads or lie, and the latter was not an option. Violet sighed heavily.

   "What about you and Izzy?" sneered Quigley. "What did you smart girls find?" Violet looked hurt, slightly; Duncan knew, from what Klaus had told him, that if Violet looked hurt, she was hurt . She showed less emotion than the average person, so if she looked like she was something, then she was, times five. 

   "We found a lot of things, actually, Quiggleforth, " said Isadora, shooting them a pointed look; they could only respond with a whispered "that's not my name and you know it,". 

   "Like what?" said Klaus. 

   "Like a log," said Violet, looking relieved that someone had changed the conversation. "Not a piece of wood, Quigley, a book of things. We found names and dates and records of all sorts of things. And, get this," She paused for the drama, " our parents were here ."

Chapter Text

   "Our parents? You're positive?" Duncan balked.

   "That depends. Are your parents' names Logan and Bronwyn Quagmire?" Violet looked proud of herself, Klaus's eyebrows had disappeared into his hair, Quigley looked shocked, and Isadora simply looked smug. Duncan nodded. "Good, because that means Isadora's not insane,"

   "Were…" Klaus swallowed. "Were our parents here, too? Could they have known each other?" Violet nodded. 

   "They were here at the same time, too! Here, I wrote it down," Isadora handed her pitch black commonplace book to a stunned Klaus. "The ribbon is on the page," she added helpfully.

   Duncan watched, fingertips grazing Klaus's arm, as his lover slowly opened the book. It opened to a page covered in Isadora's handwriting, detailing dates and names, most of which pertained to their parents; it was a gold mine. 

   "This… they knew each other. Our parents were friends, just like we are," Klaus swallowed heavily. "Wait, was… Violet, you know how Dad would always talk about that guy, Logan?"

   "And how happy they were, all together… oh, my God." Violet looked down at the floor of the tent. 

   "Wait, what? What are you talking about?" Quigley piped up.

   "Hopa!" shrieked Sunny, then returned to chewing lightly on the Viper's tail. 

   "What my sister means is, 'Our father would always talk about this man named Logan,' and she's right, though I'm surprised she remembers. He never mentioned the nature of their relationship, but I guessed. I think our dads dated when they were younger,"

   Quigley whistled. "That's a bombshell,"

   Duncan simply sat in silence. The only thing he could think of was the story his mother had told him once, the story of how she and his father had met. She said they had been together for a long time, almost as long as she could remember, but that had to be wrong, if Klaus was right. Duncan could see in Isadora's face that she was coming to the same, or a similar, conclusion. 

   "Quite," said Violet softly. "Wait, Klaus, can I see that?" Klaus handed over the commonplace book, blank expression on his face; Duncan wished he could do something, make some emotion shine through his mocha eyes. "Ishmael was here, too. These dates overlap with when he said he started being in charge."

   "So…" Isadora said slowly. "Ishmael knew our parents." Violet nodded. "But we can't go to him, because who knows what he might do if we approach him and say, 'you knew our parents, explain,'" Violet nodded again. 

   "I think we should go," said Quigley softly. "I know I need time to process this. We'll meet here tomorrow to get back on this, yeah?" Everyone mumbled their assent, and his and Klaus's siblings cleared, leaving the two lovers alone.

   "What do you think of this whole thing?" murmured Klaus. Duncan laid his head on Klaus's shoulder while he thought.

   "Like Quigley said, it's a big bombshell," he said eventually. "I don't really know how to feel." It was the honest truth; he didn't know how to feel. "But the thing is, are you sure ? Sure, your dad had a relationship with a guy named Logan. How do we know it was romantic? How do we know it was my dad? There are too many variables to be sure." Klaus nodded.

   "I'm really sure that it was romantic: there was this look he'd get in his eye whenever he'd talk about him, something I've seen in Violet, and Quigley, and now you. It was romantic. But you're right, there's no way to know if it was your dad unless we time-traveled."

   An idea popped into Duncan's head. “I don’t know about time travel,” he said slowly, “but I do know about summoning ghosts.”

   “You’re saying that you could summon my dad?”

   “I was thinking about all our parents, yours and mine, but yeah,” he said. “It’s really complicated magic, and incredibly dangerous, but I could do it,”

   “I’m going to stop you right there with the danger. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt. I don’t need to know that much.” Klaus sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

   “It wouldn’t just be for that, love. We could talk to them about all of this, about their time on the island and Ishmael and why he’s doing this,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Klaus’s face. “It would be beneficial to the whole thing.” Klaus considered for a moment. 

   "I suppose," he said. "I still don't want you in danger, though. I don't want you to get hurt."

   "That's only natural," he murmured. "What about this: I take it slow, do the spell in parts?"

   "That works. I can be there on the side to help, right?" Duncan nodded. "Okay. One condition: we do not go through with the spell if there's any sign that you can't continue. We're good detectives, we'll figure it out eventually anyways,"

   "That's fair. One condition for your condition: I am the judge of how much I can take and how far I go. I know my limits better than you do and I'm the more experienced magician here."

   "Okay." Klaus pulled Duncan into his chest and the latter buried his face in the former's neck. "I love you, Duncan. Please don't push yourself,"

   "I won't. I love you, too, Klaus," He pressed a soft kiss to the skin of his neck, sighing happily as he felt strong arms wrap around his waist. The rough fabric of the robes scratched his skin, but he could ignore it. 

   He let a noise escape, though not willingly, as he felt Klaus lift him slightly to lay back on the bed.

   "So we don't have to move later," he explained. 

   "You're stronger than you look," mumbled Duncan. Klaus chuckled. "What? You don't look that strong, but you can lift me easily. It's…" He paused. "I don't have words."

   "Is that a good thing?" Duncan lifted his head to look in Klaus's caramel eyes.

   "Yeah," he said eventually. Klaus smiled up at him, lifting a hand from his back to run it through his hair. Duncan closed his eyes at the feeling, lowering his head slowly onto Klaus's collarbone; he hummed happily. 

   He fell asleep like that, listening to the steady beat of Klaus's heart deep in his chest. 

   "Duncan?"

   "Hmm?" 

   "Where'd you put the record player?" Duncan lifted his head from his book to see Klaus holding a new record. 

It was blue this time, with a big picture of a man on it: the name read Bobby Vinton. 

   "It isn't right there?" Duncan pointed to the record player, and Klaus facepalmed.

   "I swear that wasn't there five minutes ago," he said. "Thank you, sugar drop,"

   "Anytime, Astra ," Duncan smiled and returned to his book. 

   Soft music floated from the record player a few moments later: a man singing of a woman he'd lost, blue velvet. Klaus's voice came from the kitchen, singing along softly, and for once in his life, Duncan couldn't focus on his book. It sounded like, if sounds could be colors, what Duncan could see in his eyes: chocolate, umber, and russet. His own eyes fluttered shut, and he tilted his head towards the kitchen; he heard Klaus chuckle and felt a kiss on his forehead. 

   "You have a nice voice," Duncan murmured, opening his eyes to see Klaus's tawny ones staring right back at him. He was holding a teacup, an offering: he wanted something. "What is it?"

   Klaus simply looked confused. "What do you mean? It's tea, with milk, just like you like it," he said, with another kiss, to his hairline this time. 

   "You want something," said Duncan, setting his book down on the side table. "You never bring me tea without asking. You--" He poked Klaus in the chest, who simply looked startled at this point-- "want something from me." and Duncan sat back in the chair, arms folded, like he'd done something smart. In reality, it took about four seconds to figure out what was going on. 

   "What? Pfft," Klaus scoffed. "Cuddles?" Duncan laughed.

   "C'mere." He opened his arms and Klaus set the teacup down and crawled into the chair, resting his head on top of Duncan's and wrapping his arms around him. "That's better, hmm?"

   "Yeah," he breathed. Duncan felt him press a soft kiss to his hair, then another, and another. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," Duncan murmured, pressing a kiss of his own to the expanse of Klaus's shoulder. "The record's going to spin out soon. You should put on the other one,"

   "Clair de Lune? Or the Hozier?" 

   "Is that his name? The second one, please,"

   "Alright," he said, shifting so that he could get out of the chair but ended up just planting a kiss to Duncan's lips instead. "In a minute," and he settled back against Duncan, who giggled and moved a hand to run it through his hair. 

   The record did spin out, and with a reluctant groan, Klaus rose and set the other record into place. Almost immediately, Klaus moved back into Duncan's arms, apparently eager to stay there this time. Duncan sighed happily, pulling lightly on Klaus's curls; the other sat up for a moment to remove his glasses, then pressed his face back into Duncan's neck with a barely audible, "keep doing that?" and Duncan was more than happy to oblige. 

   Eventually, though, his legs fell asleep, and he was forced to make Klaus get up. His lover promised him that he had a solution for that, but even after he settled himself between Duncan's legs, he was having doubts; those evaporated faster than he could blink. 

   They migrated to the bed, Duncan lying beneath his lover, who was leaving soft kisses to the sensitive skin of his neck and jawline, whispering "I love you"s and praises. Duncan felt like royalty, his every want catered to for the rest of his life, and realized that for the first time in a long time, he was truly and completely happy. He held Klaus close, unwilling to give him up for anything; he needed Klaus to live, his presence and love as much of a basic need as water and air. 

   He wanted to breathe Klaus in, to become a part of him. He wanted to be near him for the rest of time, let alone his life, extended as it will be with his magic. The last thought made the whole moment sour as he remembered that he wouldn't have Klaus for his whole life . He wasn't a born magician, just someone who had it, someone who would not have the longevity that Duncan will. It brought tears to his eyes to think of attending Klaus's funeral with a hundred years left to go without him, and before he knew it, he was crying and Klaus was brushing aside his tears.

   "Are you alright? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" Klaus's voice was soft and worried, his carob eyes the same, and Duncan shook his head.

   "You didn't do anything wrong," he said through his tears. "I-- I just--" More tears fell, until he was sobbing into the hand Klaus had placed on his cheek. "I'm sorry,"

   "Don't be," Klaus murmured, pressing kisses to the places his tears pooled. "Why are you crying, precious?"

   "I-- you," He took a shaky breath. "You need to know something." 

   "What is it? You can tell me anything, prince. Anything. I love you,"

   "I love you, too. Okay." Another shaky breath. "I was just thinking about my life. How long it's going to be. You won't--" Duncan paused for one more wracking sob-- "you won't be around for long. Not as long as I will. You'll be ancient history by the time I'm gone. I can't-- I can't imagine a life without you, even though I'm going to be living one eventually,"

   Klaus cooed a placation into his hair, promises he won't be able to keep, that he'll live longer, that he'll plant lilies on Duncan's grave.

   "Klaus! You don't--" He felt more tears slip down his cheeks as he wrenched his eyes shut. "You don't understand!"

   "Then help me, sugar drop. What have I got wrong?" Duncan knew he wasn't really listening, with the way he kissed down his face; he wouldn't understand until he was dying and Duncan was sitting by his deathbed looking like he was in his forties. 

   "You won't listen."

   "I'm listening now, precious."

   "No, you're not! You-- you won't understand. You can't ." Duncan knew Klaus was going to be angry with him, but he didn't care. It wasn't like Klaus was going to hit him or anything. "I am going to be in my two hundreds when I die. I'll be ninety, at most, when you go. You can't promise to see my funeral, because no one we know today will, not even Sunny. But what do you care?"

   Klaus couldn't answer for a long time, only stuttering. "You're right." he said eventually. "I can't understand. Why, Duncan? Is it something we can reverse magically? Can I--" He swallowed tears. "Can I help? What can we do? Tell me, please," He was begging now, bargaining.

   " Shut up! You don't understand! " Duncan screamed. "I never should have taken up with you. You don't-- why won't you listen to me?" 

   "I am listening to you!" Klaus roared. "That's all I have ever done! I cared about you so fucking much , I gave you everything , and this is how you react? This is what you do when someone cares about you? You take their love, and you rip it to shreds?" Duncan merely sat in stunned silence, helpless as Klaus climbed off the bed and began to pace. "Fake Duncan was right, all that time ago. I regret this! I regret opening up to you, I regret accepting you, I regret believing you when you told me you loved me! I let you pull wool over my eyes, let you cover all your red flags with rose-colored glasses, let you pretend, but I'm done. We're done. Break the spell."

   "I--"

   " Break the fucking spell! I never want to see you again." 

   "You're lying," Duncan sobbed. "You-- you have to be. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, don't go!" 

   "I can't believe you. Break the spell before I break your neck ."

   "No! I can't-- I need you! Kill me, if you want, but that won't change anything."

   "Fine," said Klaus, and in an instant, those strong hands Duncan loved so much were gripping his neck, pressing the life out of him. Duncan didn't cry, didn't beg for his life; he simply sat there, allowed Klaus to force him into oblivion, allowed the boy he loved to kill him.

   The worst part: Klaus meant it. Duncan could see it in his chocolate eyes, before everything turned black: there was no mercy, no hint of the love, the kindness he had treated him with less than an hour previously. 

   He woke crying on the island, no warm body behind him, no hands to hold him and caress him, no voice, deep with sleep, to comfort him. He was alone, completely and utterly, and he knew, this time, there was no going back. He'd messed up, he needed Klaus, but he was gone.

   Moonlight filtered through the crack of the opening in the tent, illuminating the spot Klaus's robes used to be, now just blank canvas. His commonplace book was gone, too, and Duncan knew he was gone . 

   Duncan pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them, wrapped his arms around himself to simulate Klaus's presence. Something deep in his chest ached with every breath, something that whispered to him to go, drown. Let Klaus find your body and know how deeply he hurt you. Let him cry and know that this is how you felt when he left you. Go on, hurt him like he hurt you.  

   Duncan was not in the mood to argue with that voice, so he found himself on the beach a few moments later, warm water lapping his toes. He was hesitating, knowing that in one of the tents he had just left behind, his siblings were sleeping, blissfully unaware of what he was about to do.

   He slipped his robe off of his shoulders, even though he knew it would make the whole process faster; when he was bare, he stepped into the water, wading out until he was at his shoulders, then, when he couldn't touch anymore, he let all the air out of his lungs and dropped under the water.

   It was surprisingly easy to keep himself under, staying down until he needed to gulp air, but he didn't go up. Instead, he opened his mouth and allowed the water to fill his lungs. It was a horrible feeling, and an equally horrible way to die, but this was the only option he had. 

   His vision went spotty as the water shoshed around inside of him and he allowed himself to be carried by the waves. Bubbles floated to the surface from his mouth, bubbles no one would see. He let his love for Klaus go up with those bubbles, and eventually, he could not keep his eyes open any longer. He didn't stop them from closing. Eternal sleep waited for him, beckoned him to a world where Klaus had never done this, where they lived happily forever.  

   He died with that image in his head.

Chapter Text

   Klaus devoured book after book, eager to appease the hunger set deep in his belly. He'd do anything for more, more knowledge, more information. Count Olaf paced the room around him, swinging a cane he'd found; Klaus couldn't care less about him at the moment.

   That changed, though, when he opened his mouth and said, "I have something new for you, little Baudelaire,"

   Klaus immediately perked up. "Yes?"

   "They found your little boyfriend dead on the beach this morning. He'd drowned himself." 

   "And? Anything else?"

   "No, that's all. I'm surprised, though, little Baudelaire. I'd think you'd have a bigger reaction to your boyfriend's dead body."

   "I'm reading," was all he said back, and he was. He didn't care that Duncan was dead: it was the logical outcome of the situation he put him in. Olaf had promised him information for doing it, and for whatever reason, he enjoyed it. 

   "I'll let you get on with it. I'll be back later." Olaf smiled a horrible toothy smile at him, but Klaus couldn't see it. 

   Klaus closed the book he was holding sharply and set it down. He was hungry for food, though he knew nothing could truly satiate him. He felt a deep sense of dread when he turned to look at the pile of unread books, and he groaned audibly when he realized there were no more. 

   Some part of him, the part Olaf hadn't managed to bewitch, screamed in pain and frustration. That part was growing bigger by the hour, and the part he had managed to enchant was curious, eager for new things, and allowed it to happen. 

   He pulled a box of crackers down from a cabinet hewn from the wood of the very tree he was standing in the center of, and a jar of peanut butter to go with them. 

   He dropped them moments later when the spell broke. It was then that he truly realized what he'd done, that he'd killed Duncan. He began to cry with that thought, with that new information; that this was all his fault. He wished Duncan were here now so that he could wipe away his tears and hold him. 

    I fucked up , he thought, looking to the door. Olaf hadn't locked it behind him, trusting that Klaus would stay, but that was a fatal mistake. All of Klaus's grief bubbled over into anger, and it was then that he promised himself that even if it was the last thing he did, he was going to kill Count Olaf for what he did. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks as he stormed out of the tree and down the narrow path beyond, down to the tents, careful to avoid anywhere Olaf might be, until he reached his own. 

   He was reluctant to enter, reluctant to see Duncan's body (he nearly broke at that thought), reluctant to face him, even if he was dead. He knew the other two triplets would have put him in here and waited for Klaus, waiting for him to finally show his face. 

   Still, he had to clear his conscience. He had to explain what had happened to someone , or he was going to go insane. He pushed the flap to the tent aside slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone that might be in there, but there was no one, except Duncan. 

   Duncan, who was up on his feet. Duncan, who was definitely not dead. Duncan, who was probably going to kill him. 

   "Duncan," he breathed, stepping into the tent fully. He didn't dare try to hug him or kiss him, knowing what he'd done under the spell. He swallowed heavily. "I-- Someone said you were dead," and Duncan glared at him.

   "And whose fault do you think that was? I want you to take a wild guess, Klaus. Go on," 

   "Mine, but I can--"

   "Explain? You can explain why you drove me to suicide ? I killed myself because of you, Klaus. You have three minutes. No excuses." Duncan folded his arms.

   "It-- I-- I can't explain without it sounding like an excuse. All I can say is that I'm sorry, and you'll probably mock me for that. I am sorry, Duncan. I love you,"

   "You love me? I want you to walk out of this tent and try to explain that to my siblings, who had to find my dead body , Klaus. Can you imagine just going for a nice walk on the beach, and bam! There's Violet, dead as a doornail. I can't imagine what it must have been like. This is your fault, Klaus."

   "I know," he whispered. "I know. But it wasn't my fault, not really."

   Duncan laughed, and it was far from the sweet sound it normally was; Klaus flinched as he was thrown into memories of Olaf-Duncan, laughing at him just like Real Duncan was right now. He guessed that was Olaf's plan: to drive him to suicide, then Violet, then keep Sunny until she comes of age. 

   "Not your fault? Then who, pray tell, was it?"

   "Olaf," he said desperately. "He enchanted me, promised me things if I--"

   "If you killed me," finished Duncan bitterly. "Tell me, Klaus, was it worth it? Did you get what you wanted?"

   "No. I got what I wanted, but it wasn't worth it. I--" He swallowed a lump in his throat-- "I love you, Duncan, I really do. You're my other half, I need you," If Duncan didn't do something, he was going to get on his knees and beg, pray to him like he was God. 

   "You should have thought of that when I actually cared," sneered Duncan. Something in Klaus's chest broke at that, shattered beyond repair. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he shook where he stood; was this how Duncan felt when he broke his heart, when he screamed at him? The memory was slightly hazy, like he'd  been drugged, which he was. 

   "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'll do anything, please, let's move on. We've done it before, all you have to do is--"

   "Accept the fact that you told me you didn't love me?" Duncan finally turned so Klaus could look him full in the face, and Klaus gasped at what he saw: not rot, or something horrifying, but pain. He could see, in Duncan's emerald eyes, that he was broken, that Klaus had broken him. "You told me, word for word, that you regretted loving me. That you regretted letting me love you. What do you think that did to me, Klaus? How do you think that made me feel? And now, I'm supposed to be your pretty princess and just accept that you abuse me? That no, I can't tell you anything, because you'll do this?"

   "I--"

   "No! You don't get to make excuses. You don't get to shatter me, to hold my heart in your hands and tear it apart like it's junk. You don't get to do this, and come to me begging me to take you back, because I won't stand for it. I'm sorry. But I can't keep doing this to myself. I can't keep submitting myself to you, then having to withdraw, because it hurts. It hurts ."

   "I'm sorry, Duncan, I'm so sorry," 

   "I know," Duncan said softly. "I'm sorry, too, come to think of it. If I'd just told you what was going on--"

   "Don't blame yourself, love." Klaus stepped forward; Duncan allowed him to place a hand on his cheek. 

   "It's my fault, too, though. I'm sorry." Duncan wrapped his arms around Klaus's middle and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry I told you all those nasty things. I love you,"

   "I love you, too," Klaus laid his head over Duncan's and closed his eyes. "Do you still want to take a break?"

   "No," Duncan said almost immediately. "If you aren't lying, and Olaf enchanted you, he'll be after you. We can't be fighting or anything when he comes."

   "Mmm," Klaus hummed. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too." Duncan pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "But!"

   "But?"

   "Promise me something."

   "Okay,"

   "Promise me this: this never happens again. If we have bad feelings, or we're angry at each other, we need to talk about it. Communicate. Promise me you'll communicate." 

   "I promise," murmured Klaus. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," 

   A comfortable silence settled over the lovers, permeated only once by Klaus asking if the other wanted to move to the cot. Soft rain began to fall about noon, and the sound of the drops hitting the orange tarp still spread above the tent lulled Klaus into a deep sleep.

   No moonlight shone through the windows when Klaus awoke in the cottage. Heavy rain fell, pounding the glass and the stone of the exterior; Duncan tossed and turned. When Klaus placed a hand on his forehead softly, he found it hot with fever. 

   Duncan was sick.

   Immediately, Klaus jumped up and began to panic. What was he supposed to do? How did you take care of a sick magician? Was it different? He managed to calm himself eventually, rushing to the kitchen for hot water. He was waiting for it to boil when Duncan groaned. 

   Klaus was by his side in an instant. "Love?"

   "Klaus? Is that you?"

   "I'm here, dove. I'm here,"

   "Where? I can't--" He launched into a coughing fit reminiscent of Mr. Poe-- "I can't see you. I can't see anything,"

   "But you're looking right at me," he said, and it was true, though now Klaus could see that while Duncan's magnificent sage irises were just as magnificent as they had always been, his pupils were cloudy. "Oh. Oh, no, no,"

   "Klaus?" Duncan's face contorted into its usual expression of confusion, though his eyes stared straight through him. "What's wrong?"

   "You-- you're blind. This fever, it's made you go blind,"

   "Have you read of things like this happening? Is it permanent?"

   "I read a biography of Helen Keller when I was younger, but she had scarlet fever. This isn't something I've ever seen, or at least read about." A loud clap of thunder rang through the cottage and Duncan jumped. Klaus waited until it passed before he spoke again. "I don't know anything about this. I don't know if you're contagious, or if this is going to have other side effects, I don't--" Klaus came to the very sudden and very horrifying conclusion that-- "I don't know if you could die," 

   "That's-- I don't--" Another coughing fit-- "I don't know what to say," Duncan felt around his face, nearly poking Klaus in the eye before he took his hand and guided it to his cheek. 

   "God, I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you you're going to be alright," 

   "I wish I was alright," he said softly. "I wish I could see you, astra ."

   "I wish you could see me, too." Klaus leaned forward to rest his forehead against Duncan's burning hot one. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too." Klaus closed his eyes, ignoring the kettle as it screamed for attention; Duncan mattered more right now. "I hope I don't get you sick," and both chuckled.

   "I hope so, too, precious," Klaus murmured. "I have to go to the kettle. I'll just be in the kitchen, so call me if you need me,"

   "Always so thoughtful," Duncan mumbled. Klaus smiled, rising reluctantly to tend to the kettle.

   He wasn't really sure what he boiled the water for. Tea, maybe? He didn't know how well a hot compress would work on a fever, so he abandoned that idea; the tea was the only thing left. 

   He pulled the kettle off the stove and went through the motions to make tea; pouring the water, adding the bag, and it was while he was waiting for it to steep that Duncan's voice, slightly choked by mucus, rang out.

   "Klaus? You're still there, right?"

   "I'm still here, Duncan. I'm making tea. Do you need something?"

   "Will you bring me something cold?"

   "Sure, prince. Hang on." The idea had popped into Klaus's head to use the towel Duncan always rolled his dough on: he kept it in the icebox, so it was probably cold enough. It was covered in frozen flour, but he was sure it would be alright. "I'm here. Where do you want this?" He knelt next to the bed.

   "Forehead, please," 

   "There. Better?" Duncan nodded. "I can't kiss you, not on the mouth, but hopefully this--" He pressed a series of sweet kisses to his cheek and nose-- "will do. I have to go back to the kitchen now,"

   "Okay," Duncan whispered. His olive eyes opened, still cloudy, and blinked up at him slowly, like a cat. "Come back to me soon? Cuddles?"

   "Soon, precious. Too much longer and the tea will overbrew,"

   "Okay." Duncan smiled weakly up in the general direction of Klaus. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," Klaus called from the kitchen, pouring milk into Duncan's teacup. Carefully, carefully, he set it down on the bedside table, then circled around to crawl into the bed behind Duncan, who squeaked when Klaus wrapped his arms around him, but relaxed almost immediately. A soft  kiss to the back of his neck probably helped.

   "Hey," whispered Duncan.

   "Hmm?"

   "I think I know what might be happening," 

   "Do tell, precious. I can take better care of you if I know,"

   "I don't know what kind, exactly, but this sickness is magical," Klaus took a deep breath.

   "What does that entail?"

   "Well, it isn't contagious to non-magicians, also known as you--" Duncan coughed-- "and it's probably stemming from overuse of my abilities. Like when you get sick if you get too stressed." Klaus hummed. 

   "Are there cures? Can I make some gooey stuff and make it go away?"

   "No, unfortunately. We just have to wait it out," Duncan sighed. "At least you can kiss me,"

   "At least," agreed Klaus. "It sucks that you're sick, though. Will this carry over onto the island?"

   "Probably, so we have to keep my siblings away or they'll get sick, too." Duncan sighed again. "I'm happy you're here. Thanks for literally begging me to take you back,"

   "Thank you for forgiving me." Klaus kissed the back of his neck again. "I love you so much, no matter what I say while under creepy spells cast by maniac pedophiles." Duncan laughed.

   "I love you, astra ,"

   "I love you, too, my prince." Klaus pulled Duncan in closer. 

   "Sap," teased Duncan; he launched into a coughing fit, and Klaus waited until he was finished to answer.

   "You love it,"

   "Yes, I do." Klaus chuckled. "When I say--" Small coughing fit-- "When I say I love you, I mean all of you,"

   "Especially when I--" Duncan yelped as one of Klaus's hands traveled southward.

   "Yes! Especially that." Klaus could see a pink blush spread down his shoulders. "All of you, Klaus, everything. I love you,"

   "I love you, too. All of you." Duncan coughed. 

   "I'd like to get up soon," he said. "I don't like the idea of staying here the whole time I'm sick,"

   "Don't overexert yourself, precious," Klaus murmured against his neck. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

   "You're not my mother!" Duncan cried, and for a moment, Klaus was taken aback; when Duncan began to laugh, he realized he was joking. "I'm joking, by the way. I appreciate your worry."

   "Good," he said, and kissed the side of his neck this time. "Thank you,"

   "Do you need that sometimes? Was that--"

   "I have trouble sometimes, with jokes," he said. "Sorry for interrupting you. Sarcasm, too. That did help, though, thank you."

   "Okay," mumbled Duncan. "I'll keep that in mind. I would like it if you did that, too, if it seems like I might need it,"

   "Alright, prince. I love you,"

   "I love you, too," and with that, Duncan fell asleep, and the sun that had been peeking over the treetops fell suddenly, plunging him back into soft moonlight. Sometime after Duncan woke up, the rain had stopped; now, though, the soft patter of rain filled Klaus's ears. 

   Klaus pulled Duncan closer, like a beloved stuffed animal, burying his face in his soft brunette curls, and fell asleep.

   When Klaus woke up on the island, Duncan was sitting in the corner, writing in his commonplace book and sneezing occasionally.

   "Hey," he said softly, startling Duncan slightly. "Are you seeing okay?"

   "Not really," Duncan mumbled, closing his book sharply. "I was earlier, but it's gotten fuzzier since I woke up. Just shapes now, colors,"

   "Is that normal for magical illnesses?"

   "It depends. For mine, obviously, but I have a list of magical ailments in here that might help, but I couldn't find it before my vision went fuzzy. I know it's in this one, but it took a while and now I can't read it." His face scrunched slightly, obviously on the verge of tears; Klaus laid his hands gently on his cheeks and tilted his face up to kiss his forehead.

   "Here. Are you alright with me reading it?" Duncan nodded, handing over the book; Klaus flipped through the pages until he found one entitled 'Sick'. "There's one here called 'Vibrim Sickness', symptoms 'loss of eyesight, jagged irises'--" Klaus moved one of his hands to Duncan's chin to look at his eyes; sure enough, his irises were jagged around the edges-- "'coughing fits'. Would that be it?"

   "Yeah," said Duncan. "I remember reading about that one. My mother always said we were really prone to it, for some reason. I don't ever remember having it, but Quigley does, when we were little. Vibrim Sickness, huh? Does it say anything about treatments?"

   "Um… yes. 'No known cure, but treatments include green tea and cold compresses.' We have both of those,"

   "In the cottage. Do you see any green tea around here? Rhetorical question."

   "You're right, as usual. Do you think treating you in the cottage will carry over to here?"

   "It might," Duncan mused. "Only one way to find out, hmm? Is it contagious for non-magicians?"

   "No," said Klaus, bringing the page to his face. "It says, 'Non-contagious for non-magicians, but caution should be used, because it may manifest as a cold.'"

   "Ah." Duncan coughed.

   "I'm not prone to colds, though. Chances are it'll pass right over me,"

   "What will?" said a feminine voice: Isadora. She eyed Duncan, sitting in the corner and staring blankly at nothing, and whispered, "What's his deal?"

   "Vibrim Sickness," said Duncan. "Stay back. Quagmire quarantine, no siblings allowed,"

   "Yeah," Klaus agreed. "It's contagious for you three. He needs to stay separate from you two,"

   "No," Isadora pouted. "We need to show you something,"

   "I can't see it in the first place," said Duncan irritably, waving a hand in front of his face. "Can't see anything. The world is going black…" He clutched his chest as if he were dying. "Tell Quigley I love them…"

   "You aren't dying, dipshit, Vibrim isn't fatal," It never failed to surprise Klaus how quickly Isadora could change. Moments previously, she had been pouting and whiny; now, she had her hands on her hips and her eyes, so much like her brother's, were a steely green. “I’ll let Ishmael and Quigley know you’re sick,”

   “Don’t tell Ishmael it’s Vibrim,” said Duncan. “Just say I’m sick. Please?”

   “Alright,” she said, turned on her heel, and left. Klaus liked Isadora well enough, but she was such a wild contrast to her siblings, it was hard to find things to like. She was loud, and outgoing, and such a polar opposite of Duncan, who was soft and sweet, quiet; a perfect fit for Klaus, someone equally as soft spoken. 

   “She’s annoying sometimes, yeah? Please tell me that’s not just a me thing.” Duncan coughed once and sneezed.

   “Bless you. That’s not just a you thing, prince, I promise,” Klaus pulled Duncan in for a hug; the latter ended up half in the former’s lap instead. “I think she and Violet have something, like us, and maybe that's affecting her emotions,”

   “It makes sense,” mused Duncan with a sneeze. “Sorry, I sneezed all over you,”

   Klaus chuckled. “It’s alright,” he said, brushing a strand of hair that had been disturbed out of Duncan’s face. 

   “Love you,” Duncan murmured. 

   “I love you, too." Klaus kissed the top of Duncan's head. Duncan hummed happily, leaning his head onto Klaus's shoulder; his nose scrunched up like he was going to sneeze, but never did. "Can you see anything?"

   "Nope!" Duncan waved a hand in front of his face. "Nothing. Wish I could, though. I'd pay money to see your face right now,"

   Klaus chuckled. "How much?"

   "All of it! They can have the whole Quagmire fortune. I want to see . How do you do this?"

   "I don't, precious. I may be legally blind--"

   "You're legally blind? I thought having glasses  made you illegally blind." Klaus laughed. 

   "After a certain point, you're considered legally blind and can get a guide dog and all of that," Klaus kissed the curls gracing the crown of Duncan's head. "My father was, but he could still see, he just had really thick glasses."

   "Mmm," hummed Duncan. "And you're legally blind, but not really,"

   "Yes, prince."

   Duncan looked up in the general direction of Klaus's head. "Love you," Duncan yawned. 

   "Love you, too. Let's get you into bed. You need rest." Klaus manoeuvred the two of them so he could pick Duncan up with relative ease. Carefully, he deposited his lover onto the cot, kissing the bridge of his nose. Duncan grabbed at his shoulders, a silent plea to join him, and with the look Duncan somehow managed to have in his basil eyes, he found it impossible to say no. 

   Klaus climbed carefully onto the cot beside Duncan, the poor thing creaking under their combined weight; immediately, Duncan buried his face in Klaus's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist. Klaus kissed the top of his head, sighing happily as he felt his lover return one to the apex of his collarbone. 

   The soft rain, ever present on the tarp overhead, picked up slightly, the sound lulling the two lovers to sleep.

   Klaus ran a hand through his hair as he stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. From his position, the bed was blocked by a large, leafy plant, but he wasn't going to move, because he knew as soon as he did, the kettle would begin to whistle. 

   Duncan sat, propped up by the dozens of pillows Klaus had made for him, on the bed, waiting patiently for his tea. Klaus was tempted to wander over and put a record on, but, sure enough, the kettle began to scream. 

   Green tea was not something either of them drank regularly, so Duncan wasn't inclined to keep it in the house; luckily, though, there was a mostly full box of bags in one of the cabinets. Klaus had moved it to a lower shelf for Duncan, something he was tempted to tease him about, but refrained. He chose a teacup from the china cabinet, and its matching plate, and soon the tea was ready.

   Duncan stared blankly at the bedspread, pupils still cloudy, irises still jagged, as he picked at the stitching. He didn't seem to notice as Klaus strode over and placed the tea on the bedside table, but he did react via kissing back when Klaus placed a soft kiss on his lips. He smiled softly in Klaus's direction, or where he thought Klaus's direction was. 

   "Where are you?" he murmured, and Klaus placed a hand softly on his chin to tilt his head in the right direction; he sat himself on the edge of the bed.

   "Here, love," he replied. "I brought you some tea,"

   "Green?" Klaus nodded, then realized Duncan couldn't see him; he vocalized his answer instead. The verbalizing was going to take some getting used to, after he'd gotten comfortable with mostly non-verbal communication. "Will you--?"

   "Sure," said Klaus, and lifted the still steaming tea to hand it to his lover. Every few minutes, as the two spoke, he had to stabilize the cup so it wouldn't spill. More than once, Klaus leaned over for a kiss, only to dip his sweater into the boiling tea, and pull away to a scald on the stomach. Duncan apologised profusely after each incident, though, and eventually the tea was forgotten on the bedside table.

   "Darling," Klaus managed between kisses. He was laying flat on his back, Duncan on top of him, barely breathing between the comfortable yet formidable weight on his lungs and Duncan's ferocious kisses. "Darling!" Klaus grabbed him by the hair in a last-ditch attempt to stop the assault. 

   "Klaus?" Duncan's juniper eyes stared past him, but the worried look on his face spoke for them. "Are you alright?"

   "I'm fine," he breathed. "I'm just not in the mood."

   "Ah." Duncan climbed off of him, laying on his back next to Klaus, splayed like a starfish. His hand brushed Klaus's temple; if he reached a bit further and a bit down, he could poke him in the eye. "You're fine, though, other than that?"

   "I'm fine, love," he repeated. "I'm fine. Your hand is really close to my eye, though,"

   "Sorry." Klaus closed his eyes as Duncan's hand carded through his hair. "Better?"

   "Much." Duncan looked beautiful in the golden light streaming through the windows, brunette hair and olive skin tinting. "You look so beautiful," he murmured.

   "I'm sure you do, too," replied Duncan. "You always do." Klaus felt the tips of his ears heat up. He frowned, though, when he realized--

   "When's our anniversary?" Duncan frowned, too. 

   "I'm not sure. Why are you asking?"

   "I'm just curious." Klaus shifted so he could face Duncan, head on. "I have no concept of time anymore, so." Duncan laughed, soft and sweet, melodic. "May, maybe? No…" 

   "I think it's in September. It was June when we went up, and Isadora kept track of the days up until our birthday, then Quigley's arrival. We were born in early September, and it had been a few weeks when we got together,"

   "September, then. How does the fifteenth sound?"

   "That's alright with me," said Duncan. He rolled onto his side, forest green eyes focusing on Klaus. "Hey, I can see you! Not well, but--" He moved the hand that had stilled in his hair down to cup his cheek-- "there you are,"

   "Here I am," said Klaus softly. He reached over with his own hand to cup Duncan's cheek, relishing the way he leaned into the touch. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too," murmured Duncan, though it was almost inaudible as Klaus rose and carefully placed a record onto the player. Clair de Lune, tinkling and soft, warbled from the speakers. Duncan hummed along as Klaus grabbed Duncan's hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Hello,"

   "Dance with me," he said, tugging lightly on his arm. Duncan did not budge, instead leaning his head back to look Klaus in the eyes. "If you don't want to, all you have to do is say so,"

   "Give me a second," he mumbled. Duncan pulled himself up onto his knees with more effort than it should have required (Klaus began to worry) and shifted awkwardly off of the bed. 

   "Are you alright?" Duncan was clutching his hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive. "Prince, love, Duncan, are you okay?"

   When Duncan looked up at him next, Klaus gasped at what he saw: his eyes, normally so vibrantly emerald, were pitch black.

   "Isadora!" Klaus sprinted across the sand to her. "Something's wrong with Duncan,"

   "He's sick, Klaus, what do you expect?" Violet looked confused, Isadora slightly exasperated; Klaus couldn't understand how neither was panicking. 

   "No, something's wrong ," he said. "His eyes, they're black,"

   "And?"

   "Klaus, you should know this better than anyone. Duncan's eyes are green ." Violet shook her head with a smile. "My brother's a little crazy sometimes,"

   Klaus felt hot tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Yes, his eyes are normally green, but they--"

   "Klaus. Nothing is wrong with my brother, aside from the fact that he's sick."

   " There is something wrong! Just-- come look." Isadora rolled her eyes, but she dropped Violet's hand and followed him. 

   Back into his tent they went, and Klaus paused a second before crouching in front of the boy seated in the corner. "Duncan?"

   Obsidian eyes stared up at him and Isadora. The latter gasped, obviously not expecting Klaus to be telling the truth, and she, too, knelt before her brother. 

   "Duncan? What happened?" she breathed.

   "He won't talk," said Klaus sadly; the truth. "I've asked him all sorts of questions--" A lie-- "but he won't answer any of them." In reality, Klaus had run straight for Isadora after he woke the two of them. Duncan's eyebrows met in the middle for a split second, then returned to their blank expression. He didn't respond to a hand on his cheek, placed there softly by Klaus.

   "I don't understand," said Isadora. "This isn't-- I've never seen anything like this before. What happened?"

   "I'm not sure," said Klaus. "I just wanted to dance, and when I got him out of bed, he went really weak and his eyes changed color. I don't know why, or how, or any of the other things you might ask me."

   "This is a spell," she murmured, tilting Duncan's head up to look in his eyes. He didn't resist, blank expression still gracing his face. Klaus shifted from his haunches to sit down properly, and Isadora released Duncan when she was satisfied. "Someone's cast a long distance spell, probably just wanting to control him, but it's gone wrong. That may have been what the Vibrim was, the side effects of his body trying to combat it,"

   "Isadora?" Duncan's voice was raspy and it sounded far away. "Isadora,"

   "Here, Duncan, here," she said. "What is it?"

   "Home," he said. "Bird. Loop, loop, loop. Think of home, think of the birds."

   "He's gone insane," mumbled Klaus. "Someone's made my prince go insane." Isadora did not let the pet name go unnoticed, but Klaus shut her up with a glare before she could start. 

   "Klaus!" Duncan's eyes, when he turned to face him, were slowly losing their black tint; they were almost normal again. Klaus longed for his normal, gorgeous pear tone. "No more. Gone, gone. Circle, loop, mirror, reflect. Feather soft, brown, owl."

   "He's not insane," said Isadora, scrambling for his commonplace book. "This has happened before, to--" Her face went stony. "To Quigley. Four days later, our best friend was kidnapped. Quigley had feelings for him."

   "Should I be worried?"

   "Yeah, probably," she said, flipping wildly through the pages. "Damnit!" 

   "What?" Duncan turned to her, too, with the exclamation. 

   "It must be in the other one," she explained. "I didn't think it was that long ago, but apparently it was."

   "Long, short, soft, loud." sang Duncan. "Bird, owl, jackdaw, phoenix," 

   "That's it! That's the connection," Isadora cried, jumping to her feet and beginning to pace. Quigley's face popped through the tent flap.

   "I am so confused," said Klaus, hand running over Duncan's back as he snuggled into his chest. "These things, they're connected?"

   "When you become a magician, whether you're born one or made, you're assigned a familiar. We haven't gotten ours yet, but Mom always said he--" she pointed to Duncan-- "would be a jackdaw or a crow. Our friend, Elliot, was a phoenix, and he had his. All we found after he was kidnapped was a feather. You, you'd probably be an owl, and that's why he mentioned that. I can't explain the first part, but I think it was triggered by what I said about it being a long time ago." Quigley shrugged and left. 

   "So, what are you saying?"

   "What I'm saying is, well, it's several things. There are several things that could be happening here. One: Elliot may be trying to get in touch with us. Two: whoever kidnapped Elliot is going to kidnap you. And finally, three: this is just a spell that missed its target."

   "I find it hard to believe that last one, if this has happened before--"

   Duncan groaned. His head dropped heavily onto Klaus's shoulder and when he picked it up again, his eyes were their normal castleton green, if unfocused. 

   "Klaus? What-- ohh ." His voice was still scratchy, but it had lost its far-away quality; Klaus was pleased to see the absence of fogginess in his pupils. "Hey, I can actually see stuff now! And--" He launched into a coughing fit-- "okay, never mind."

   "Are you feeling better?" asked Klaus, and Isadora paused her pacing to kneel beside the lovers.

   "A little," he answered. "My throat and head hurt, though." He spied something Klaus hoped he wouldn't notice: "Have you two been going through my stuff?"

   "We were just--" began Isadora, but Klaus shushed her. 

   "We were looking to see if there was something in there to help you. You weren't in a state where we could ask you permission, so we decided to make an executive decision." Klaus's voice was soft and laced with love, something he knew Duncan couldn't resist. 

   "Oh." Duncan laid his head back on Klaus's shoulder, still staring at his open commonplace book. "I guess that constitutes an exception." Klaus looked to Isadora with a slightly smug look on his face, and she fumed. 

   "Just because you kiss him goodnight--" she hissed.

   "Oh, believe me, I've done a lot more than kiss him goodnight," said Klaus: the truth. 

   "Like what, wise guy?"

   "Well, there was this one time I--"

   "Can we not have this conversation right now?" Duncan's face was bright red. "I'm not really sure I want my sister to know all the dirty details of what you've done to me,"

   "Fair," said Klaus, and relented. One of his hands came up subconsciously to run through his lover's hair, and he felt a soft rush of love and pride for the way he melted into him. 

   Isadora wrinkled her nose at their affection. "Ew," she said, incredibly eloquently, and Duncan stuck his tongue out at her. 

   An idea popped into Klaus's head. "Oh, precious Duncan," he said, tone exaggerated and dreamy, "you have no idea what you do to me. Every night, as we lay in bed together, I think of you, and I get--"

   " Okay , that's enough," said Duncan, clamping a hand over Klaus's mouth. "If you can promise me you were going to say anything other than 'horny', I'll let you go," 

   "Promise," he said, though through Duncan's hand it sounded more like "phfhphf,". Duncan removed his hand carefully, then more confidently as he realized Klaus was not going to open his mouth. "I was going to say 'horny', but I won't. For you."

   Isadora made some sort of gagging noise reminiscent of Vice Principal Nero's violin playing in that they both sounded like cats dying in violent, horrendous ways. Duncan hit him lightly on the arm as he cackled.

   "You promised!" he cried, but he was smiling. Isadora continued her assault on the lovers' ears, until she choked on something, probably her own spit. Quigley wandered into the tent with a loud, warbling cry, flopping down on the floor. 

   "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he said. 

   "Quigley, Isadora," said Duncan, shooing them. "Out!" His siblings cleared with various groans and warbling moans, leaving the two lovers alone in relative silence. Duncan let out a long, low breath, resting his forehead on Klaus's collarbone. "Thank God," he said softly. 

   "Right?" In reality, Klaus had been having fun, but if Duncan wasn't, he'd give up anything to make him comfortable. "I love you,"

   "I love you, too." He sighed happily as Klaus kissed the top of his head and leaned into the touch when he ran a hand through his hair. "I love you so much, astra ,"

   "I love you more, prince," 

   "Where did that one come from?"

   "An impulse," Klaus said. "You're wonderful," and he relished the way Duncan's blush spread up his ears and the way he mumbled "thank you,". "Really! Every time I try to tell you how beautiful you are, we get interrupted."

   "Third time's the charm?"

   "Hopefully," Klaus murmured, kissing the top of Duncan's head one more time before he began: "I'll start here. Your hair is so soft, all the time, and it amazes me. It feels like cashmere, like soft wool I could run my hands through forever, if you'd let me.

   "Your face. God, I could go on for hours about your face, and how beautiful you are." Klaus's head was tipped back towards the ceiling of the tent as he heard soft rain begin to fall outside. "How your eyebrows scrunch in the middle when you're worried, or nervous, and it's so cute. How your nose curves, how much I love to kiss it. How soft your lips are, how well you kiss, how every time we get going I think, wow, I scored big ." Duncan was bright red again, big jade eyes looking at him like he was the only man left in the world, and suddenly, Klaus realized what Quigley meant all that time ago by 'bedroom eyes'. "And how could I forget your eyes? So pretty, precious. Gorgeous."

   "All yours," Duncan said softly. 

   "All mine? All for me?" Duncan nodded, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat; Klaus tipped his head back to give him better access, and when he spoke next, he spoke to the canvas of the tent: "Good." Duncan whined, arms wrapping around his waist, head falling to his shoulder. "Good, because I am all yours ."

   "I love you, Klaus Baudelaire," 

   "I love you, too, Duncan Quagmire." Klaus tipped his head back to its normal position, resting his chin on top of Duncan's brunette curls. "I love you more than you will ever know,"

   "That you will," wheezed someone from the opening of the tent. "Because you will all be dead within the hour."

Chapter Text

   Duncan coughed, and coughed, and when he was finally done, he had to admit he sounded too much like Mr. Poe for his own liking. He could feel something in his lungs, growing, and while it was unpleasant, he had to admit it was better than dying. 

   Klaus, as he paced the length of the tent, looked terrified, chocolate eyes harboring something beyond the fear of death present in all of them. Duncan simply sat in the corner of their tent, contemplating.

   What was he supposed to do? When, all that time ago, they saw Olaf with the helmet full of Medusoid Mycelium, it was evident neither actually expected him to use it. Klaus had mentioned horseradish, and wasabi in a pinch, could cure one of the horrible deaths they were facing, but when Duncan truly thought about it, he wanted to die. It would send them to the cottage forever, no threat of waking and losing each other looming on the horizon, somewhere Duncan could make the perfect world for them. He knew Klaus didn't want that, though.

   "What do we do, Duncan?" Duncan's heart bled for Klaus, who had paused his pacing to look up at the sky as if to say, why us ? "How-- how do I protect you from this? From death?"

   "I was just thinking the same thing," he said quietly. "What spell can I cast to get rid of it, what can I do to extend our lives? But there's nothing. We can't do anything ."

   "It feels weird," mused Klaus, "to not know how to protect you. I always thought I'd be the strong one, that I'd be able to make whatever was troubling my partner go away with a flick of my hand. I never thought..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I never thought I'd have to die to do it."

   "We'll be dead together," said Duncan. "If anyone survives, we'll leave a note saying to bury us side by side."

   Klaus smiled weakly. "I love you so much," he said. 

   "I love you more," he replied, opening his arms. Klaus lowered himself into them, laying his head against Duncan's chest and resting his hands against the small of his back. Duncan welcomed the familiar weight on his body, thankful for it, even: it was a physical reminder that Klaus was there , not going anywhere. "You mean the world to me," 

   "I never got to--"

   "Now is not the time to do that," Duncan said, firmly but not unkindly. "Now is the time to be quiet, to tell each other how much we love each other. Maybe God will take pity on us and give us our own patch of heaven,"

   "You are my patch of heaven," murmured Klaus. His head slid down to Duncan's lap, though neither was complaining. Duncan's heart swelled, though he launched into a coughing fit. In his chest, Duncan felt the Mycelium spread through his lungs, and knew that he did not have much time left. 

   "That's very sweet of you, love," said Duncan, hand rubbing his chest, over his collarbone and down, almost to his stomach. Something tight, separate from the Mycelium, clutched at his heart. "I always thought I'd have to stand at your funeral. Looks like we'll be having one together,"

   "I love you, Duncan. I love you more than anything--" Klaus coughed violently-- "anything in the world. You are all I've ever needed. I love you, I love you..." His voice trailed off, but Duncan knew he was mouthing the words as a mantra, something to hold onto as he lay dying in Duncan's arms. The thought made hot tears spill down his face.

   "I love you, too, Klaus." A hand tugged lightly on Klaus's dark curls. "I love you as the moon loves her stars, as the ocean loves the shore." Duncan didn't know what brought on this bout of poetry, but he wasn't about to stop. "I love you like the trees love the sun; I love you more than anything. I'd give up spellcasting for you. I'd die for you," 

   "It looks like you're about to," said Klaus softly. 

   " I don't care . I love you ." Duncan closed his eyes in a futile attempt to stem the tears streaming down his face. "If we die here, right now, at least I will die knowing I lived for something greater than myself. That's all I can ask for. If no one tells our story, if we never grow up--" He coughed violently, knowing he was on his last breaths, but damn whoever was going to stop him from getting this out-- "I will die knowing you love me, and I love you. I did my best at life, and that's all anyone can ask for."

   "You've been--" Klaus's voice was scratchy as he coughed-- "you've been the best lover I could ever ask for. Duncan, if we die, I want you to know I love you more than anything. You are my world, my life, the most precious thing to me in the entire world. I love you, I love you, I love you ,"

   "I love you, too." Duncan's head fell back to look up at the canvas ceiling of the tent. Klaus shifted to bury his face in the crook of Duncan's neck, pressing as many kisses there as he could. He could feel it getting harder to breathe, and he knew Klaus felt the same, with the way he began to breathe through his mouth to get enough oxygen. 

   When Duncan pulled his face up, on an impulse, he could see Klaus's chest rising and falling heavily; he pushed their lips together for one last kiss--

   "Wow. That's totally what I wanted to see when I walked in here,"

   Somehow, Violet's voice was only slightly scratchy, though it came out more in her laugh when Klaus rubbed his head following an assault via rotten-smelling apples.

   "Eat them!" she said, throwing her hands in the air. "They might be a little sandy, though."

   "Quigley totally didn't shove them down their robes!" called Isadora from somewhere outside, though Violet shook her head.

   "You two really thought we were going to die? Oh, God, you might anyway," she said, then added, after Klaus launched into a coughing fit to rival Mr. Poe. "Eat the apples,"

   "Fine," rasped Klaus, and he snatched one from the ground. "Do you want this one?"

   "This can't be such an easy out. This can't be real. Even if it is, this is going to come back to haunt us. No, I'll take the other one," Duncan murmured. "We're going to sound like fifty-year-old pack-a-day smokers at twenty,"

   "It's the best option, even if we do. I love you, no matter what,"

   "I love you, too. Here goes nothing," and Duncan took the biggest bite of the apple he could manage. 

   Immediately, he felt better. His throat was instantly less scratchy; he could see in Klaus's wonder-filled face that the same thing was happening to him. They looked at each other, stunning carob eyes meeting dull green, and all of a sudden Violet didn't exist; Klaus was alright, his lips were soft, and when he licked inside Duncan's mouth just right, something hot swept through his veins--

   "A hem ," said Violet from the entrance. "Can you make out later? You have to eat the whole apple." Klaus looked sheepish; Duncan regretted nothing. Delicately, they began to munch on their apples, occasionally stealing bites and kisses from the other; Violet simply looked exasperated. 

   "Are you finished?" asked Violet after a few minutes. The lovers looked down at the cores in their hands, then at each other, and finally at Violet, who read their minds: "No, you don't have to eat the cores. The rest of the flesh will do,"

   "The flesh of an apple is the part you eat," whispered Klaus to Duncan. "Not, like, human flesh, or any other kind of flesh, or anything."

   "Is it just me, or did that apple have a really bad aftertaste?" Duncan pulled a face. 

   "Isadora and I are working on that," replied Violet. "I'm going to leave you two alone. Behave ,"

   "Yes, Mother," said Klaus, saluted, and smiled. Duncan took the prime opportunity to kiss his cheek, oce, twice, then moved up to nibble at and kiss the shell of his ear. Violet glared at his shoulder, but he, very pointedly, ignored her, instead choosing to move down Klaus's neck. He shivered. "That feels nice, precious," he murmured, low and meant for just Duncan.

   "I'm glad," he whispered right in Klaus's ear. 

   Klaus was struck with the odd, inexplicable urge to mark Duncan, bite him and show everyone who he belonged to, because Duncan did belong to him. Something in his chest rumbled at the thought: a physical acknowledgement of who owned him.

   "Klaus? You're kind of scaring me, are you okay?" Something in Klaus snapped with Duncan's words, and he shook his head involuntarily. 

   "'M fine, prince," he said. "Sorry I scared you,"

   "I said 'kind of'," replied Duncan, olive eyes staring him down, though not unkindly; he looked more concerned than anything. "No offense, or anything, but you aren't that scary."

   "None taken." Klaus kissed the crown of Duncan's head, then his forehead, then the space between his eyebrows. Duncan leaned into each one, juniper eyes fluttering shut. He let Klaus tilt his chin up and press soft kisses to his lips, kissing back into one of the longer ones like Klaus was his air, a basic need like food or water, and Klaus couldn't be angry at him. For one, there was no reason to: he loved Duncan's kisses, but for another, Klaus knew he'd kissed Duncan like that before. If he was going to stay anti-hypocritical, he had to allow it. 

   "I love you," he murmured against Duncan's lips, punctuating it with a kiss. Duncan's lips were soft and secure, a lifeline.

   "I love you, too." Duncan's pine eyes opened slowly, blinking up at him like a cat. There was no doubt in Klaus's mind, at that moment, that Duncan was telling the truth, that he did love him. He wasn't inclined to believe that Duncan was in the habit of lying to him, but you could never be too careful. 

   At this distance, when Klaus stared into Duncan's emerald eyes, he could see little flecks of gold and brown; it only made them more stunning. His eyes held so much emotion, and that emotion was love right now; Klaus knew he was giving Duncan a similar look. He kissed right over his eyebrow, relishing the way Duncan's head fell onto his shoulder with a soft, happy sigh. Klaus dropped his head on top of Duncan's, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

   Violet was gone, apparently, because she made no comments about the affection he was imparting upon Duncan. He didn't trust her to leave them alone, not really, after they had almost died, but he respected her for honoring her word. Klaus could feel Duncan's breathing, comforted by the steady rhythm. They'd been through so much together, and still they held onto each other like they were little kids. 

   Duncan's face pressed closer to his neck, and involuntarily, he let out a long breath. His brunette curls were soft on Klaus's cheek as he pulled his lover closer, bodies tangling to the point Klaus could barely tell where he ended and Duncan began, but that was the ideal. He wanted to be so close with him that neither of them were seperate people, just one fusion born of love and desire.

   "Klaus?" mumbled Duncan.

   "Yes?" Duncan's arms came to wrap around him, barely meeting in the middle of his back, and Klaus felt him smile against his skin. 

   "You love me, more than anything, right?" Klaus hummed in assent rather than answering. "And you'd do anything for me?"

   "Anything, prince," replied Klaus. Duncan's head lifted, moving to look him square in the face, and in his eyes, there was something unreadable; Klaus didn't like not being able to read his lover. "Why? What's wrong?"

   "Um," said Duncan, and Klaus had to applaud his lover for eloquence. Soft blush began high on his cheekbones, spreading down until his face was a lovely shade of pink. "I need you to come with me."

   "Okay." Klaus was incredibly confused, but he allowed Duncan to pull him from his sitting position and lead him to the other side of the island. 

   There stood the tree Count Olaf had kept him in, curling like it was in pain; Duncan led him up a winding path to a door at the base. Klaus recognised all of it, having lived there for a day or so, but when Duncan turned the doorknob, the interior was nothing like he remembered. Granted, it was a little fuzzy from the magic, but he still could see pieces: a dark canopy, now slightly green from the chlorophyll in the leaves; dark stained cabinets, now similarly colored to the wood of the tree. 

   Duncan looked proud of himself, though Klaus had no clue why. 

   "What's with that look on your pretty face, precious?" Duncan simply smiled, blush darkening slightly.

   "Look," he said softly, gesturing all around him. "Isn't it nice? I found it in a dream, somewhere we can live and be happy without having to leave the island,"

   "It is nice, love, but…" Klaus ran a hand over the carved countertops. 

   "But? There's something wrong?"

   "I'm not sure," said Klaus honestly. "This is lovely, and it's lovely that you're so excited about it, but I'm not sure about this. I want to leave someday, and as much as I would love to live on a tropical island with you forever, I still want to have a life. I want to buy a house, get married, have children, and all those wonderful things we talked about doing. I hope you understand,"

   "Silly," giggled Duncan, "I didn't mean forever . Just for a while, until we're old enough to do those things."

   "That sounds wonderful." Klaus twined his fingers with Duncan's as he began to poke around the tree. "I wonder who lives here. This place looks lived in, and recently." He pulled a fresh peach from one of the cabinets that couldn't have been there more than a day. 

   "I live here, Mr. Baudelaire, and if you do not exit my house immediately, I will be forced to drown both you and your little boyfriend."

Chapter Text

   Ishmael stood at the door to the tree, on his own two feet, and held a menacing-looking knife aloft and pointed at Klaus's face. Klaus knew Duncan's eyes were as wide as saucers, heart racing at the prospect of being drowned again --

   Klaus made the executive decision to pull Duncan from the tree, not ready to lose him, especially not to Ishmael’s hand. He shoved past Ishamel, who pressed the knife to his pulse point, and he froze. 

   “If you tell anyone about what you’ve seen, you won’t wake up from that sweet dream you’re having.” Klaus's heart nearly stopped, but he swallowed it and nodded twice. The edge of the knife left his skin, leaving a slight sting, but he simply gripped Duncan's hand harder and dragged him away down the path. 

   "Klaus! Stop. Stop walking, Klaus, we need to talk." Duncan tugged on his hand, digging his feet into the ground; Klaus only stopped when Duncan's hand dropped from his. 

   "What is there to talk about, Duncan?" Klaus knew he should keep his irritation in check, but right now, he was more focused on trying to get them out of there. 

   " He knows, Klaus . He knows about the cottage. Something is up." Duncan crossed his arms. His sage eyes bore holes into Klaus with the strength of the glare he was giving; he was, if Klaus had to be completely honest, a bit intimidating. "I admit that just walking in there probably wasn't a good idea, but now we know something. Ishmael has a secret, something that he has to keep on the other side of the island."

   "Maybe he eats babies or something, I don't know. We need to go before he changes his mind and comes to kill us anyways." Klaus reached for Duncan's hand again, but he just stepped away. "Come on, love, we can talk about this in a moment. We need to go ." 

   After a moment of intense deliberation, all of which was evident on his face, Duncan offered his hand to Klaus. The latter gripped it, weaving their fingers together; Duncan allowed him to pull him wherever he desired, sticking close to his side. 

   "Where to?" Klaus said, making Duncan flinch; when their eyes met, Duncan's army green irises were unfocused. "Are you alright?"

   Duncan nodded. He tightened his grip on Klaus's hand slightly, and the other responded with a light squeeze. "Um…" Klaus was forced to admit how cute Duncan looked when he bit his lip. "We could go back to our tent, I guess. Anywhere we can cuddle."

   "I like cuddles," Klaus murmured, tugging him lightly not in the direction of the tents, but to a clearing they could settle in alone. He flopped on the hard ground, thankful for Duncan's soft weight almost immediately settling on his chest and his warm breath on his neck. "You alright? You're shutting down."

   "What do you mean?" Duncan pulled his head up to look Klaus in the eyes.

   "Sometimes, when bad things happen, you just kind of… shut down. You get really quiet and I get worried."

   "Sorry. I don't mean to scare you or anything," Duncan mumbled. His head fell back onto Klaus's shoulder, his nose pressing into the crook of Klaus's neck; he thought Duncan mumbled something there, like "I love you," but he couldn't be sure. 

   "You aren't scaring me," he cooed, running a hand through Duncan's soft brunette curls. "I just worry, that's all. I worry about you all the time, prince. How you're doing, how I'm doing as a partner, things like that. My mother used to say I'm a perpetual worrier. I had this rock, before the fire, that I'd rub all the time. There was almost a hole in it, I worried it so much." Klaus chuckled at the memory.

   "I'll have to get you another one," mumbled Duncan. "A nice rock, all for you,"

   "All for me? Not to share with Sunny or something?"

   "Nope! Klaus's rock. Just yours." Klaus smiled, wider when he felt Duncan smile against his skin. Golden light began to filter through the leaves of the trees above them, signaling the end of a very eventful day. He could tell Duncan was tired, in the way he mumbled nonsense long after Klaus didn't reply. "Can we go to the cottage now? 'M tired."

   "Yeah. C'mon, lovely, let's get you to bed." But upon attempting to move him, Klaus discovered he'd fallen asleep. He chuckled softly to himself.

   "No! Bad spider plant. You are not allowed to take over my kitchen."

   That was a sentence one didn't hear every day. 

   "Duncan? Are you okay?"

   "Hmm?" Duncan's head popped up from where it was half-buried in a plant on the counter. Klaus propped himself up on his elbows to stare in confusion at his lover. "Oh. Spider plant." He gestured to the monstrosity before him, as if that would explain it. 

   Klaus heaved himself out of the soft bed with a heavy sigh and strode over to Duncan. He, upon further inspection, was holding a pair of kitchen scissors and staring at Klaus with big basil eyes. He wasn't moving, his hands paused in the middle of snipping a tendril of the plant away from its mother.

   "Yes?"

   "What are you doing, love?" Carefully, Klaus ran a hand over Duncan's back and shoulder blades. Duncan simply stared at him, slowly closing the scissor blades around the vine with a soft snip . 

   "Spider plant wants to take over the kitchen. I had to stop it before it ate you,"

   " Feed me, Seymour ?" Klaus chuckled and ruffled Duncan's hair. "So brave, my prince,"

   "It's nothing," said Duncan, smiling up at Klaus. His jade eyes shone in the bright light streaming into the cottage, and Klaus thought briefly that he had never looked so beautiful. He leaned in for a kiss, pleased with the way Duncan eagerly shot up to meet him halfway, and stayed there for a moment, living in this soft moment. "Do you mind if I make it rain for a while?"

   "Go ahead. Tea?" Duncan nodded. His juniper eyes fluttered shut for a moment, opening to reveal a much more subdued hue as soft droplets pattered the windows. "Wait." 

   "What?"

   "Do your eyes…?" Klaus lifted his chin with a soft hand to look in Duncan's eyes. "They do," he marveled.

   "Do what?" His eyebrows came to rest in the middle of his face, forming a crease Klaus almost immediately kissed away. 

   "They change colors sometimes. They were this really pretty shade of emerald earlier and now there's a lot more gray in them." Klaus smiled sweetly down at his partner. "That's-- they're beautiful. I didn't know they did that."

   "I didn't either," admitted Duncan; a soft rosy blush was forming high on his cheeks. "Side effects of magic, I suppose. Yours do that, too, sometimes,"

   "You're so handsome," Klaus breathed. "My beautiful prince." He rested his forehead against Duncan's. 

   "I love you," whispered Duncan.

   "I love you, too." Outside, the rain fell a bit harder; a long, loud clap of thunder shook the house. Klaus's eyes flew open --he wasn't aware that he'd closed them-- and he moved to close the storm shutters. 

   When the last one finished, he turned back to Duncan, still standing in the kitchen, posing as he had been when Klaus was still with him. His eyes were screwed shut, and he was trembling slightly; instantly, Klaus moved to shake him. 

   "Duncan. Duncan!" He wouldn't wake. "Duncan, sweetness, you're getting carried away, I need you to to wake up." Outside, the gale continued to rattle the little cottage, and for a moment, Klaus was convinced it had been lifted off of the ground with the way it shuddered. Duncan remained unbothered, not even flinching when the loudest thunderclap Klaus had ever heard in his life sounded through the space. "Duncan, prince, lovely, please wake up,"

   Duncan's eyes fluttered with that, but it may have been his tone: Klaus was desperate and scared. His hand twitched, then moved, fingers curling and uncurling from a fist. His eyes opened properly, displaying not a greenish-gray like they had before but a full silver. 

   "Klaus? I can barely hear you." His head tilted up to meet Klaus's gaze; he looked just as confused and scared as Klaus felt. 

   "That'll be this storm you whipped up, precious," he said, pulling Duncan's head in close to his. Duncan's not-stuck hand moved to tangle in his hair. "I need you to calm it down,"

   "I can't," Duncan said sadly. "I can't. It's gotten too out-of-control. I'm sorry,"

   "How can we get it back under control?" Klaus flinched when a resounding crash echoed through the cottage, and when he turned, their precious bed had been ripped to shreds by an enormous tree branch and several deadly-looking shards of glass. 

   "We can't. There's a basement we can wait it out in, come on," and shakily, he began to stride to the middle of the floor. Klaus glanced to the wall of windows opposite him, deciding that-- 

   "Get away from there!" he cried, and pulled his lover out of the way; just in time, too, because one of Duncan's giant potted plants came flying through the window.

   "My monstera!" Duncan moaned. He tried to move to it, tried to shove the dirt back inside the pot, but Klaus pulled him back into his arms. Wildly, he whipped his head around to try and find a better place, making a frustrated noise when he found none. "Klaus, help me move it. We have to get underground,"

   Klaus only wrapped his arms tighter around Duncan, placing his hands strategically so that if they got hit with shrapnel, Duncan's vitals would not be harmed. He buried his face in his brunette curls and prayed.
  "I love you," he murmured into Duncan's hair. His lover was struggling against his arms, trying to break free, but Klaus held on with all his strength. "I love you." He hoped Duncan would understand what he was doing eventually. 

   "Klaus," he whined. The cottage stopped shaking, and the sound of the rain pounding slowed. Slowly, slowly, Klaus released his death grip on Duncan, hoping he didn't leave bruises; his lover didn't show any physical signs of injury, but Klaus had had plenty of experience with wounds below the surface. 

   "You're alright," Klaus breathed, running his hand through Duncan's soft locks. 

   Duncan's brows met in the middle and he wouldn't meet Klaus's eyes. 

   "You-- you are alright, aren't you?" Worry coursed through Klaus's veins.

   "My monstera," he said softly. His army green eyes were filled with sadness and the beginnings of tears when he finally brought his head up for Klaus to see. "My, my… my baby."

   "The big plant that came through the window?" Duncan nodded. "Oh, precious,"

   Duncan collapsed into Klaus's embrace and began to sob into his sweater. The rain picked up again, softly, like it would in a movie, and all Klaus could do was pet Duncan's hair slowly and let him ride it out. The plant lay still on the floor, not aware of its fate, and Klaus stared at it sadly for a while. 

   Duncan's sobs slowed to hiccups, then deep, shaky breaths, and eventually he removed his face from Klaus's chest. 

   "I--I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes, "sorry for doing that. I just… that plant…"

   "You don't need to apologise." Klaus made his tone firm, but still kind and caring. "Your plants matter to you, and that's nothing to apologise for."

   "That was--" he sniffled-- "that was my first one. The first plant I ever raised. And if we don't get it upright soon, it won't--"

   Klaus shushed him softly. "Allow me, prince," 

   He stood and attempted to assess how he was going to move this thing. It was massive : leaves spread for a diameter of four feet, at least. His hands came to rest subconsciously on his hips, eliciting a soft snicker from his partner. 

   "You aren't going to help? This is your plant, after all." Duncan's eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet, standing next to Klaus and mimicking him. "How should we do this?"

   "I don't know. This thing has never tipped over before,"

   "I think we can call this a bit more than 'tipped over'. It came flying through our window and almost killed you." Klaus looked down at Duncan. "Not being rude."

   "This thing has never come flying through our window , then." Duncan adjusted his hands so he looked sufficiently sassy for his line. "Um… try this. Stand here--" he placed Klaus where he wanted him-- "and I'll be right back."

   He came back a few minutes later with a length of rope (Klaus's mind went places it shouldn't have) and a wheel. 

   "Pulley system," said Klaus. "Smart."

   "Thanks," he said, and stood on top of the pot to attach the wheel to the ceiling. "Now. Since you're stronger than I am, I need you to pull the thing up."

   "This thing going to stay in our living room?"

   "No, once it's upright I can--" He paused, exhaled, and facepalmed. "Levitate it."

   "You can't do that on its side?"

   "I can." He climbed off of the thing, reaching for Klaus's outstretched hand as he slid down the side. "I almost forgot." Klaus laughed. 

   "I love you, Duncan, but sometimes you can be a bit thick."

   "I love you, too," he grumbled, lifting his hands and activating thin tendrils of glowing magic. They wrapped around the pot and the plant itself, enveloping it in a soft, glowing cocoon, until it was off the ground. 

   "Wait." Duncan paused his movements. "Would it do well here? Would it get enough light?"

   Duncan considered for a moment. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Why?"

   "I just don't want it to almost decapitate you again," answered Klaus. "Plus, you want to keep a close eye on it, right? What better place to do that than our living room?"

   Duncan smiled and placed it right in front of the window. The magic expelled itself after its final use, soft flickers of emerald tinting the light that came through the holes in the wall. Duncan turned swiftly, taking Klaus's face in his hands and planting a kiss on his lips. 

   "I love you," he murmured against his lips.

   "I love you, too," mumbled Klaus, kissing Duncan one more time. "We should go deal with all the broken glass and trees and stuff on the bed,"

   "Yeah, we should," agreed Duncan, looking more than a little disappointed. "If you'll get the tree branch out of the way, I can magic the windows back together,"

   Klaus eyed the log nervously. "Will you teach me to levitate stuff like that?"

   Duncan grinned. "Not sure you can lift it?" Klaus nodded. "Sure, I'll teach you. C'mere."

Chapter Text

   "Ink!" shrieked Sunny from her spot on her brother's lap. The snake in question slithered up onto Klaus's lap, and she began to chew lightly on its tail. Klaus ruffled his baby sister's hair. Duncan, in turn, reached over to ruffle Klaus's hair, and it turned into a cycle until Violet cleared her throat. 

   "We get it, you're in love! Now tell us why we're here. I have a date with the sandbar." Quigley called from their spot on the floor. Duncan had half-forgotten why they had called the others there, but luckily Klaus had a better memory. The girls glared at them, but they didn't seem to notice. 

   "We had a, um, interesting encounter with Ishmael yesterday." Had it been a whole night? That sounded right, with how much work Duncan had to do. He got something after that made it worth it, though. "He was going up to that tree on the hill, the big one on the other side of the island. We were simply looking at what was there--" Ha , thought Duncan-- "and he strolled along and told us to leave. He had a knife."

   Isadora looked between her brother and Klaus. "Ishmael, up and walking, threatened you with a knife?"

   "They never said he threatened them," said Violet, patting Isadora's hand. 

   "He did," said Klaus. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing whatever slightly greasy strands came out off to the side. "At the rate we go through terrible things, I'll be gray before I'm thirty," he added lowly, just loud enough for Duncan to hear.

   "But yes, Ishmael was up and walking and threatened us with a knife." Duncan, behind his and Klaus's backs, linked their hands and gave the other's a light squeeze, fighting a smile when Klaus squeezed back. It was a soft gesture, just something to remind each other that they were there and supporting them. 

   "That's odd. Thanks, can I go now?" Quigley flung their arms out in an attempt to gain momentum to rise. It failed miserably. "Izzy, help me up." Isadora simply giggled, pulling both of her hands away and leaning into Violet. 

   "That's all we had, so if you want to go, you can," Duncan said, rising to help his sibling off of the ground. "You're heavier than you look," he commented, earning a glare from Quigley. They brushed themself off, put on a pompous face, and strode out of the tent as annoyingly as they could. 

   Isadora and Violet were next, rising and leaving slowly, waving to both lovers in turn. Eventually, Klaus had to shove his sisters out of the tent, the Incredibly Deadly Viper wrapped around Violet's shoulders. He sighed heavily, leaning against the frame of the tent, and Duncan rose to rub at his shoulders. 

   Klaus let out an odd noise, halfway between a word --probably Duncan's name-- and a moan, obviously grateful for the gesture; Duncan placed a kiss to the base of his neck. " Mea vita ," he breathed, reaching his hand back awkwardly to pet Duncan's hair. 

   "My life, right?" Klaus nodded softly. "You're too sweet,"

   "You love me,"

   "I do," Duncan admitted. "I do love you." He pushed his hands a bit deeper into Klaus's muscles, looking for knots. He found too many to not be slightly concerned, but he brushed it aside for now. The soft whimpers and whines Klaus was letting out were occupying most of his attention. "Come sit down. I can get a better angle." He slid his hands down his lover's arms, tangling their fingers together, pulling lightly back to the cot.

   "'M coming. Give me a second, though. You have the hands of a god." Duncan felt his face heat up, and he stuttered as he settled on the cot. Klaus sat facing him for a moment, resting their foreheads together. "I mean it. I couldn't think for a solid minute after you started,"

   "That-- thank you," Duncan smiled up at Klaus; his lover's mocha eyes were slightly unfocused, but filled with pure adoration nonetheless. "Turn around, so I may continue my work,"

   "One more thing," mumbled Klaus, holding up his index finger. His other hand came to rest under Duncan's chin, tilting it up and pressing a short, chaste kiss to his lips. "Okay," and he spun to settle half in Duncan's lap. 

   Duncan raised his hands and placed them gently on Klaus's back, making a split-second decision to wrap tendrils of soft green magic around his fingers before he dug them into Klaus's shoulders and upper back. 

   Instantly, Klaus let out a long, loud sound, head tipping back almost perpendicular to the rest of his torso. Duncan smiled, pleased with the effect his hands had on someone else. He could feel Klaus's ecstasy through the magic curled around his fingers as he untangled the cords of muscle in his back.

   He got them all undone eventually, wrapping his arms around Klaus when he slumped back against him. His head came to rest heavily on his shoulder, nose nuzzling into the crook of Duncan's neck. It was surprising, considering Klaus didn't enjoy being as vulnerable as he was, even around Duncan, the one person he could trust to be vulnerable with. Duncan figured it was a trauma response. 

   "Thank you," whispered Klaus into his skin. Duncan simply hummed as a response, basking in the soft glow that seemed to emanate from his lover's olive skin. He loved being able to do this: have Klaus in his arms, have the ability to care for him the way Klaus loved. His glasses had been lost to the floor between the wall and the cot, so there was no harsh bite of metal into his shoulder; Duncan welcomed the chance to feel his lover in his entirety. 

   One hand came up to card softly through Klaus's hair, a gesture he didn't often get to make. This switch of places was quite nice, Duncan reasoned. Klaus melted into his lover, molding himself to his form and tangling their bodies together. His face pressed further into Duncan's shoulder, and Duncan was especially grateful for his lack of spectacles. 

   "I love you," murmured Duncan. Klaus hummed from his spot curled up in Duncan's lap, larger form hunched over. It couldn't be good for his back, especially after the massage he had just received, but Duncan's worry was replaced with love and adoration. All he wanted, at that moment, was to be able to hold Klaus, to provide comfort. 

   "I love you, too," came Klaus's muffled reply. Duncan felt more than heard it, the movement of Klaus's mouth more like a complicated kiss than words. "This is nice,"

   "It is, isn't it?" Duncan's hand came to a rest on the nape of Klaus's neck. "I like holding you. Makes me happy." 

   "Then I should let you do it more often," said Klaus, bringing his head up. His caramel eyes were dark and deep, filled with emotion, filled with love. "Or you should take initiative. Whichever you want is fine."

   "Well," said Duncan, almost at a loss for words with the way Klaus was looking at him. "Sometimes it feels like you have all the say. Sometimes, that's okay with me. I like being taken care of, it feels… right. But only sometimes. Other times it's…" He ran a hand through Klaus's hair. "Irritating. I'd like it if I could hold you sometimes. I understand if you aren't inclined to like that sort of thing, but it's nice. Like repaying a favor."

   "I do like it," said Klaus. "I'm just not really used to affection still. Well, maybe not the affection as much as feeling vulnerable. It's been a long time since I've had someone I can trust as much as you to care for me; Violet's not really one for physical affection." Klaus smiled. "I love you, Duncan. You matter an inordinate amount to me."

   "I love you, too." Duncan was drowning in Klaus's eyes, surrounded by sweet syrup. It wasn't at all like drowning in water: he could breathe, because Klaus was his life, his love. A basic need, like food or air. There had been times he regretted that time in the dark pit, but if he were asked if it were a bad decision, he would say no before the question was even finished. He loved Klaus, fully and truly, and knowing Klaus had the same feelings spurred him on, kept him going. 

   " Mellilla ," said Klaus, nuzzling Duncan's hair. He'd propped himself up, drawing up to about half his full height, which was still steadily growing. "Little honey. I'd like to add some Latin into the circulation,"

   "Do you have any others?" asked Duncan. 

   "Mmm," he hummed. " Carissima, 'dearest'. Deliciae , 'delight'. Amata , 'beloved'. That's all, besides the others."

   "I love me a man who can speak dead languages," mumbled Duncan, eliciting a chuckle from Klaus. He loved the way they were tangled up together, so close that Duncan couldn't tell where he began and Klaus ended.

   "And I love you, darling. Sorry, deliciae ." Duncan shivered under Klaus's wonderfully soft touch, gracing his cheeks, neck, and chest. He was acutely aware of Klaus's umber gaze, following his every move; he loved the way Klaus loved to lave over him, to provide for his every need.

   "A hem ," called a feminine voice from the mouth of the tent, causing Klaus to jump back. His beautiful olive skin was tinted ever so slightly pink by an equally beautiful blush, brought on by the presence of--

   " Isadora ," Duncan whined at the sight of his sister, arms crossed and planted at the entrance to their tent. "We are doing a couple of very important things."

   "Like what? Copulating? You still have your robes on. I admire your commitment." Duncan's face burned red hot. He knew he probably looked like some sort of exotic tomato, and coupled with Klaus, it was a wonder Isadora wasn't laughing her ass off. "Come on, we need your help." She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the lovers to stare at the mouth of the tent and each other.

   "What do you think she needs?" said Duncan, leaning against Klaus, who shook his head.

   "No clue, amata ." He turned to face Duncan, a smile crinkling the corners of his coffee eyes. "Shall we find out?"

   Duncan shrugged. "I don't--" He paused abruptly, staring at the unexplainable presence of a--

   Bird. There was a bright red and gold bird in the corner of the room. It was preening one of its wings, occasionally dropping an unwanted feather. Eventually it was satisfied, apparently, by the way it pulled its head from its position. It cocked its head at the lovers, tangled as they were, and let out a soft squawk . 

   "I've never seen one like that before," breathed Klaus, staring intently at the thing. "It's pretty." The 'it' in question hopped over to the cot, squawk ing again, like it wanted to get up. Carefully, Duncan disentangled his hands from somewhere, reaching down despite Klaus's soft protests of "It could have a disease!"

   The bird's feathers were soft, and it allowed Duncan to lift it into his lap, hopping around happily.

   "I wonder why it's not flying," Duncan mused, petting its head softly. It nipped at his fingers, much like Sunny would, gently, when he tried to pull away.

   "Could be hurt," said Klaus; this was proven true when he went for one of its wings and it let out a loud SQUAWK and bit down hard . "Yep," he said, rubbing his hand. 

   "Oh, you poor thing," cooed Duncan, scratching under its chin. "Got a hurt wing and some mean man comes along and pokes it,"

   "I was trying to perform a scientific experiment ," argued Klaus. "It is not my fault it bit me."

   "It kind of is," said Duncan. The bird hopped into his lap, almost glaring at Klaus when he went to imitate Duncan, placing a hand softly on its head. Duncan took advantage of their close proximity, laying his head on Klaus's shoulder and running a hand down the bird's back. 

   "Where's El?" came a frantic Quigley's voice, bursting like a tornado into their tent. They were wildly out of breath.

   "El? Like, Elliot? He's alive?"

   "No, Duncan," they said flatly. "Yes! Elliot Feint. Crashed--" they swallowed-- "here a couple hours ago."

   Duncan looked down at the bird in his lap; or, he would have, if the bird was actually in his lap. It had hopped away to an unknown place, also known as the underside of the cot. It was messing with Klaus's glasses-- "It better not be scratching the lenses!"-- and Duncan had that odd moment of dawning comprehension. 

   "He's under here, Quig, don't get anything in a twist." The bird-- Elliot-- screeched, squawked, and made other very alarming noises as Duncan grabbed him gently and pulled him up onto the cot. He tried to hop away, wiggling and thrashing, but Duncan was much stronger and held fast. "Careful, his wing's hurt."

   "He's hurt?" Quigley's face was overcome with pure panic. "Oh, oh God, okay,"

   Duncan rolled his eyes. Elliot continued his attempted escape, though to his dismay, he did not succeed. 

   "The bird's name is Elliot?" whispered Klaus right in Duncan's ear, making him jump.

   "He's not really a bird," he replied. "Shapeshifter. Boy disguised as bird."

   "Ah." Quigley was petting him, making odd baby-talk sounds, and Elliot was not having it . It was objectively hilarious to watch this bird squirm in Quigley's arms like his life depended on it, but something was wrong. "Wait, if he's a shapeshifter, why isn't he changing back? Why is he trying to get away like this?"

   "I was thinking the same thing." Duncan's worry was beginning to mount, and he could see on his sibling's face that theirs was, too. Elliot had calmed down some, not thrashing about like he had been, and eventually he held out his hurt wing. 

   "That one?" cooed Quigley. Elliot made a soft noise as if in agreement, tucking his head into the crook of Quigley's elbow. "I'm going to go," they said to Duncan. "El needs help."

   Duncan nodded. He tucked his own head into Klaus's neck, closing his eyes.

   "Do you want to help?" asked Klaus. His tone was soft and sweet, laced with concern; Duncan had a feeling he knew Elliot was important to him. Duncan took a moment to consider, thankful for Klaus's arms tightening around his waist and his head resting softly on top of his own. It didn't make the decision any easier, but nothing ever was with them. 

   "I'll stay here unless they ask me to come." Elliot was important, but the way Klaus was rubbing his back softly was divine . Klaus's soft "Okay," was almost lost to the wind whistling gently outside and the rain beginning to patter on the tarp. Duncan melted into his lover, molding his body to Klaus's form much as he had done earlier. "Do you want your glasses?"

   "No," said Klaus. "Later." Duncan nodded. "I can see you just fine this close."

   A small smile tugged at Duncan's lips. Klaus ran a hand down his arm softly, placing it gently on his cheek and using the leverage to pull him up; seconds later, their lips collided in a wonderful display of devotion. Duncan rested their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Klaus laid kisses all over his cheeks and nose, whispering I love you s after each one. Duncan couldn't have replied if he wanted to, too caught up in the moment to even begin attempting words. Luckily, Klaus planted another kiss squarely on his lips, so he didn't have to. 

    Squawk , came something from the floor. Upon further inspection, Elliot was back; he was still only hopping about, but his wing was bandaged. Duncan laughed, watching him pick at the robes in one corner, then his commonplace book, then Klaus's (with a noise of protest from the owner), and finally he circled back to the lovers. He squawked at them again, and Duncan lifted him back onto his and Klaus's laps. 

   "Elliot!" called Quigley from somewhere outside. Elliot made a soft noise of annoyance, though he allowed Klaus to run his hand softly along his feathers.

   "No hard feelings?" said Klaus, chuckling.

   "Elliot, oddly enough, doesn't really hold grudges," said Duncan, letting Elliot nibble on his finger. "We call him El for short, by the way."

   "Is Elliot in here?" said Quigley, poking their head through the flaps of the tent. Upon spying the bird on Duncan's lap, they sighed heavily; "If you want to play hide and seek, El, you have to ask,"

   "He's not really in a state to say anything," laughed Klaus. Elliot allowed Quigley to pick him up and cradle him like a baby, wing splayed out to the side, with only small noises of protest. It was cute, oddly enough, though Quigley's baby-talk ruined the picture slightly. Duncan found himself imagining himself in Quigley's place, holding a baby. Something heavy settled deep in his stomach, something he probably couldn't explain if he wanted to. 

   Quigley pointed at the entrance to the tent, turning to leave, and the lovers let them. What did they need with them? Elliot squawked something that sounded like goodbye . Duncan waved. 

   "Elliot seems fun,"

   "He's mute," said Duncan. "He uses sign language. We're all fluent, but Quigley especially, because they're together ." A few months earlier, he would have wrinkled his nose; now, though, he thought it might be distasteful, considering he's literally in his boyfriend's lap. It wrinkled for a split second, out of habit. 

   "I read a book on sign language once," mused Klaus. "We'll see how much I remember." He smiled down at Duncan, walnut eyes filled with love. He leaned in for a kiss, which Duncan happily accepted.

   Klaus began to disentangle himself from Duncan, much to the latter's dismay; at one point, he reached out for his mussed-up lover, trying to entice him back into his arms. Klaus merely laughed, though not unkindly. 

   "I want to go meet Elliot properly," he explained. "If he's in his proper form, that is."

   "You may be hard-pressed to find him," said Duncan, laughing slightly as Quigley called for Elliot. "Looks like he's escaped,"

   "He is slippery," agreed Klaus. He planted a wet kiss on Duncan's forehead. "I'll be back soon, amata . I love you,"

   "I'm coming, too!" cried Duncan, pulling himself out of the cot.

    Squawk ! squawked Elliot from the floor by Klaus's feet. Duncan scooped him up in his arms, tutting.

   "What is it with you?" Elliot only squawked again in response. Duncan scratched his chest feathers, feeling him relax under his fingers; at that moment, Quigley burst into their tent.

   "Why does he keep coming back here?" Quigley moved to take Elliot from Duncan, but the latter stepped back.

   "Maybe you should let me take care of him for a while."

   "I have a theory," announced Klaus. "Elliot thinks you --" he pointed to Duncan-- "are Quigley, and you --" he turned to Quigley-- "are Duncan. If you two were… you know--" he made a kissing gesture with his hands-- "it makes sense that he'd want to stick around that triplet. I think he's just confused; plausible, considering you're more identical than you've ever been, in the time I've known you."

   The two triplets looked at each other, then down at Elliot. Quigley shrugged, a silent he's probably right, you know , and Duncan could only agree. He did look an awful lot like his sibling, and with Elliot's bird vision, they were probably clones. Duncan could see the differences between them, and he knew Klaus could, too, thank God, but Elliot, in his hurt bird state, probably couldn't see past the end of his own beak. 

   Quigley moved to take Elliot again, and this time, Duncan let them; Elliot bit the end of Quigley's finger, but allowed them to take him from Duncan's arms. In truth, Duncan needed to get him off: he could feel currents of magic flowing through Elliot, more than he had before, and distantly, he wondered if he was about to change back.

   It wasn't so distant. In a blinding flash, Elliot the bird was replaced by Elliot the person, arm bandaged similarly to how his wing was. Quigley's legs buckled slightly under the new weight, having a hundred pounds shoved on them in an instant. Elliot gazed up at them, mouth slightly agape, before he turned to Duncan, confused.

   "I'm Duncan," Duncan said helpfully. "That one's Quigley." The sibling in question shifted him slightly, making him grab one of their shoulders for stability. Klaus moved to stand closer to Duncan, trying to get a good look at Elliot, but clicked his tongue when a mop of blond hair obscured his vision.

   "El," said Quigley. He turned to look at them, mouth curving up into a smile; one of his hands came up to rest on their cheek. It was a sweet gesture, but not something Duncan particularly wanted to witness; he could feel, if he extended a tendril of magic to Klaus's hand, the same thing in Klaus's mind. Quigley cleared their throat and gestured outside as best as they could. Duncan made a shoo ing gesture with his hand. 

   Quigley, with a nervous smile reaching their eyes, exited awkwardly, as one was bound to do while holding someone bridal style and trying to walk backwards. Duncan had a fleeting thought of I wish Klaus would carry me like that . He made a mental note to mention that when they got to the cottage. 

   Through the flap in the tent, Duncan could see an orange sky; it must have been late. Klaus was beginning to yawn, so Duncan pulled lightly on his sleeve, moving back to the cot. Klaus went willingly, laying his head down on Duncan's chest and sighing happily when Duncan carded his fingers through his soft hair. 

   "I think you need a shower," said Duncan; it was true. His hair was getting greasy, both here and in the cottage, and something in Duncan's chest fluttered at the thought of showering with him, if he desired. Klaus merely hummed in response, not really listening; Duncan figured he could push Klaus into the bathroom later and hoped he got the hint. 

   "Which way?" said Klaus from behind the curtain, followed by a shriek when ice-cold water came crashing down on him. "Not that one." A happy sigh and steam came a few minutes later, and Duncan smiled. 

   He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, waiting impatiently; should he take initiative? Should he get in the shower with Klaus rather than waiting for an invitation?

   It didn't take more than a few seconds of deliberation before Duncan's sweater was on the floor, followed quickly by his shirt and pants. Klaus was too enamored by the shower to wonder what he was doing, but when Duncan stepped in, his expression changed faster than Duncan had ever seen.

   Once, twice, he looked him over, staring at each feature like this was the first and only time he'd seen him naked. Duncan felt himself blush under Klaus's umber gaze, hunger hiding deep in his eyes when they finally met.

   "Baby," he breathed, gently placing his hands on Duncan's hips. It was too late to shy away now, but even if he could've, Duncan wouldn't want to. "What are you doing?"

   "I need to shower, too," said Duncan, cocking his head to the side. "So I thought, why waste water when we can just shower together?"

   "Um, well," said Klaus, caramel eyes shamelessly traveling up and down his body, "I can think of several reasons,"

   "I think you like this," said Duncan, pressing forward; Klaus's arms ended up wrapped around his waist and resting on the curve of his back, right above his ass. He was right, of course. His hair was falling, wet, into his eyes, and Klaus reached up to brush it away. 

   He pressed their foreheads together, allowing his hands to roam, occasionally letting a soft noise of reverence slip from his throat. Duncan thought it was the sweetest thing in the world, watching Klaus come so undone and knowing that he did this, he was making Klaus short-circuit. His own hands came up to rest on the back of Klaus's neck, lightly threading into his hair. 

   Duncan wasn't aware of a word that could describe how he felt. Bare, perhaps? Primal? It was something akin to how he felt when they'd first gotten close, when Klaus had kissed his neck and held him like he was the only thing in the world that could ever bring him joy. That may have been an overstatement, but Duncan didn't care. 

   Klaus's face buried itself by Duncan's ear, nipping lightly at it; his hands began to rub soft circles into Duncan's hips. Duncan leaned against him, head dropping onto his shoulder; he moaned quietly when Klaus's hands began to explore a bit more. They gripped his ass lightly, then moved down to his thighs. Duncan had never been particularly chubby, but he wasn't quite a beanpole, either; he wasn't very fond of his body, but he was willing to do anything for Klaus, who seemed to be having a field day. His hands came around his front to run up his stomach, then his chest. 

   Duncan's heart was racing faster than he'd ever known it could. He knew Klaus could feel it under his fingertips, feather-light as they were; he also knew Klaus's heart was going twice as fast. They stood there for a moment in silence, panting slightly, before they both dove in, kissing like it was their first and their last at the same time. 

   This was far from their first kiss, all those months ago: that one had been soft and reassuring, but now, it was all tongue and teeth, hungry in a way neither had ever been hungry before. Duncan tangled his fingers in Klaus's hair, moaning into the kiss as Klaus got handsy. When they finally detached themselves from each other, it was to Duncan pinned to the cold tile of the shower wall, one hand by his head and the other still in Klaus's hair. 

   Klaus looked beautiful in a way Duncan had never thought of anyone before: his lips were parted in a pant, pink and swollen from Duncan's assault on them; his hair was wet and mussed in the most perfect of ways; there was a soft pink tinge to his cheeks and, now, creeping down his chest under Duncan's gaze, though Duncan was slightly surprised he had any blood left in him to blush, what with the situation down below. He looked so wonderfully debauched above Duncan. 

   Duncan knew he had to look similar under Klaus's caramel eyes, roving over his body shamelessly. He loved the way he could make Klaus fall to his advances with just a simple action, but he had to admit, in this moment, it seemed that he was falling to Klaus's advances more than the reverse. Klaus tipped their foreheads together with a soft but forceful exhale. 

   "Duncan," he breathed, "please tell me this isn't just a tease. Please tell me you want me just as much as I want you,"

   "That depends, my love," said Duncan breathlessly. "How much do you want me?"

   At first, Klaus only groaned in response, grabbing handfuls of his ass and thighs. He pulled Duncan closer via his hips.

   "That depends, my love," he echoed. "When you look to the sky at night, how many stars do you see?"

   "More than I could possibly count,"

   "Then that is how much I want you. Right now, and always, though not always in a purely..." He gestured down to their situations. "Sexual sense."

   "Bed," mumbled Duncan, wriggling his wrist free from where it was still trapped by Klaus's hand. "C'mon, Klaus, bed,"

   Klaus muttered something incoherent and shut off the water. Duncan knew he should have felt cold, but nothing could permeate this warmth deep in his stomach; he yelped when he was jerked from his own head by Klaus lifting him by his waist. 

   "Warn me next time," he grumbled as Klaus shifted him to carry him bridal style. It trapped him in an uncomfortable position, but if he rubbed his thighs together just right...

   Duncan groaned out in pleasure at the feeling. Instantly, Klaus picked up the pace; thankfully, he seemed as eager for this as Duncan was. That was important. It came as only a slight surprise when he was practically thrown onto the bed. He closed his eyes as Klaus puttered around him, preparing something. 

   "Klaus, you'd better be bleeding out and dying or getting a rubber," groaned Duncan, hand slipping downstairs. It seemed to be the latter, thankfully, as he discovered when Klaus's weight made the bed creak slightly. Klaus's lips on his slightly parted ones was a sensation he would be committing to memory, especially when he took the opportunity in the form of a moan to slip his tongue past Duncan's lips. One of Klaus's hands made its way down to Duncan's, taking control easily, as if he'd done this a million times. As if they'd done this a million times. 

   Duncan moaned and spread his legs a bit when Klaus's hand slipped down between them. Klaus drank up the noise as he'd done all the others. Carefully, he moved his hand to Duncan's backside and his head down to his neck in tandem, eliciting an embarrassingly loud noise from Duncan's throat. He had half a mind to clap his hand over his mouth, but something (also-known-as Klaus's cute little groan and the way he bucked his hips into Duncan's thigh, which, by the way, when did his problem start pressing there?) told him he shouldn't. 

   Carefully, he ran a fingertip around Duncan's hole, making him almost scream in surprise. Klaus brought his head up to look in Duncan's eyes, apparently satisfied with the mess he'd made of Duncan's neck, and kissed him sweetly. It almost gave Duncan whiplash. 

   "May I?" he groaned, teasing Duncan slightly. Duncan nodded eagerly.

   He arched his back when Klaus pushed his index finger in. A loud, long moan escaped his mouth, and he scrambled for purchase on the bed sheets. It hurt, like the devil, but he was loathe to stop Klaus now, especially when he knew what was coming. This was simply the intermission to a movie he really wanted to know the ending of, though not even that, because Klaus's lips were on his before he knew it. 

   "How is it?" breathed Klaus, beginning to pump his finger in and out. The pain and discomfort floated to the back of Duncan's mind, and he smiled weakly through his little whimpers. 

   "Feels good now," he whined: the truth. It did feel good. "Another?" He outright moaned when Klaus slipped another in, the thought that they were doing this dry not even crossing his mind. 

   "I know it's a bit uncomfortable, sweetness, but I don't want to hurt you," Klaus said, almost reading Duncan's mind. "Only one more, you're doing so well for me,"

   "Want-- mhnn--" he moaned in response. "More, more, Klaus, please, more," 

   Klaus's grin was slightly wicked as he slipped a third finger deep into Duncan. Despite that, Duncan knew Klaus would do everything in his power to keep him from getting hurt, especially now, at the height of his vulnerability. 

   "That's it, amata," Klaus groaned. He was rutting frantically against Duncan's thigh, just as eager for satisfaction as Duncan was.

   It took a large amount of effort to stop Klaus in his actions. "I don't want to finish like this," he explained. "Want you inside before I'm done,"

   "I can do that," answered Klaus, reaching for the rubber where it lay abandoned. Duncan watched him put it on, blissed out and high on the pleasure, and smiled when he settled above him. "Ready?"

   "Yeah," breathed Duncan. Klaus returned the smile and dipped his head to kiss Duncan sweetly. "Hey. One thing. Keep saying those sweet things? 'Bout how I'm being good?" Klaus nodded. "Thank you,"

   "Anything for you," murmured Klaus. Slowly, he pressed in, watching Duncan's face like a hawk with blown-out carob eyes for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he finally bottomed out, he rocked his hips a few times, shuddering out a moan of his own.

   If Duncan thought Klaus's fingers were good, his world was being rocked right now. It felt amazing, being this close to Klaus; he could feel inches dragging along his insides. He moaned out at the feeling, rocking his hips back in tandem with Klaus's movements. Curses and praises and fuck, so goods spilled from Klaus's mouth, and he gripped the headboard in a feeble attempt to brace himself. 

   "You alright?" Duncan could only moan in response, still-wet hair fanning across the pillowcase. "I hope that's a yes. You're so pretty for me, sweetheart, all for me,"

   "All for you," Duncan moaned. "You can move now,"

   Klaus wasn't about to pause for another moment, snapping his hips back and forth, trying to build a rhythm. It was clear neither would last very long: they were teenage boys, after all. Strings of moans slipped from both of them, soft groans and actual coherent words from Klaus; loud, long syllables of pure pleasure from Duncan. 

   It wasn't long before the whirlwind was over, and they were both panting. Klaus was the first to fully come down from his high, pulling out with only a soft whine in response. Duncan simply laid there for a while as Klaus puttered about the cottage, fetching soft pajamas, tea, and a wet rag. It was the nicest he'd ever been treated, especially when it was all over and Klaus climbed into bed next to him. 

   "Hey," he whispered. Klaus smiled at him and nuzzled into his hair. "That was really good,"

   "Yeah?" They both chuckled, caught up in each other for the time being. Duncan knew he'd be sore when he woke up, but with the way Klaus was cuddling him, he decided he didn't care.

   They fell asleep spooning each other, each wrapped up in a comfortable tangle of the other's limbs. 

Chapter Text

   Duncan was stuck.

   Literally stuck. Klaus was sleeping peacefully beside him, but he'd had two dreams already, and he was coming to terms with the fact that he might be dead . He knew the cottage was his safe space, but the soft moonlight filtering through the window and onto Klaus's sleeping figure was not something that made him feel particularly safe.

   He could get Klaus unstuck: he could sever Klaus's connection to the cottage, but his own connection was keeping the cottage there . If he severed his connection to this place, there was a good chance he would never sleep again; he wouldn't have a place to go after he drifted, so he would do just that: drift. He'd move through time and space randomly, and chances were good that he would wake up fifty years older than when he went to sleep. Chances were good that he could die in his sleep. 

   He couldn't put Klaus through that, couldn't put himself through that. But there was no other way.

   He needed Klaus. He knew it was dangerous, waking him like this, but it was all he had. He needed his level-headedness, needed his logic, but above all, he needed his presence . He needed to know Klaus was there.

   Slowly, carefully, he roused Klaus from sleep; his chocolate eyes blinked once, twice, then focused on Duncan. 

   "Need something, love?" His voice was deep from sleep, though careful and measured as usual. 

   "'M stuck," said Duncan. "Stuck here. Can't wake up." Klaus was silent for a long time.

   "Here. Why don't I try something?"

   "Okay." Duncan snuggled into Klaus, eliciting a chuckle from him; Klaus ran his hand through Duncan's hair. "Love you,"

   "Love you, too," he said, and promptly fell asleep. Duncan wondered for a moment what his plan was, but when he felt a phantom hand on his shoulder, nudging him awake on the other side, comprehension dawned as he dropped into sleep.

   It was dark in the tent, and he couldn't see Klaus very well, just an outline, but at least he was there, at least he was awake. There were definitely worse places he could be. He whined softly, reaching for Klaus, who chuckled and wrapped his arms around him. Duncan buried his face in Klaus’s chest, thankful for his presence, and slowly, he fell asleep, but he didn’t go to the cottage.

   Duncan sits alone at a rickety table, clicking away at a typewriter. He doesn’t know what he’s writing, but it must be important, because when he glances over at a clock that’s appeared next to him, it’s almost midnight. 

   Klaus steps into the room, clad in pajamas and holding a candle. He smiles at Duncan, striding over to press a kiss to his forehead and to murmur, “Come to bed.” Duncan feels exhausted all of a sudden, the kind that settles into your bones, and he wants nothing more than to oblige; something in him, though, is urging him to stay. 

   He is forced to choose: trust his gut or trust Klaus? Klaus’s eyes are so enticing, a wonderful blue--

    But Klaus’s eyes are brown , he remembers, too late. His eyes shift to brown for a split-second, then glow a horrible carmine; his canines elongate and he dips his head down faster than Duncan’s eyes can see and the next thing he knew--

   He was panting and sitting bolt upright in the cot, covered in a cold sweat. Klaus is laying next to him, fast asleep, but Duncan wasn’t one bit reassured by the way his chest rose and fell. His brow furrowed, and he moaned quietly, like he was in pain; his face contorted into an expression of extreme discomfort. 

   Duncan placed a fingertip gently on his temple, allowing a soft tendril of magic to extend, and pulled it down his face, leaving a wake of glowing sage all down his cheekbone. The effect was immediate: his expression relaxed, and he melted down into the cot, murmuring something Duncan couldn’t quite make out.

   He laid back down beside Klaus, the latter’s back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around him tightly; his soft breathing was quick to lull Duncan to sleep and off to the cottage.

   "Do you ever have these, like, really weird dreams before you show up here? Almost like a newsreel before a picture." Klaus shifted slightly so he was facing Duncan. His caramel eyes were trained on him from the other armchair, book laying abandoned in his lap.

   "I just had one, actually," said Duncan. "I was alone, typing at this old typewriter, and you came in, but it wasn't you, 'cause your eyes were blue, and then they turned red and… I don't remember after that." Duncan ran a hand through his hair. "It might be a bad sign,"

   "A bad sign of what?"

   "Someone trying to enter the cottage, or our consciousnesses. I think I have a ward for that, though, hang on…" Duncan rose, heading for the bookshelves behind Klaus. He knew there had to be something : in magic, it was better to assume that whatever was happening to you had happened already before you, rather than trying to make something up yourself, because there were too many accounts of what happened to people that tried to trailblaze. He reached instinctively for a well-loved tome.

   “Shit, sweetheart, that thing’s falling apart,” Klaus laughed. He wasn’t entirely wrong: the spine was peeling, and the pages were a bit yellow and torn (and stained, in some places), but it had belonged to his parents. Duncan took a long look at the cover and wished they had been able to recover the real one from the fire. “It belonged to your parents, didn’t it?” Klaus’s tone was significantly softer now, sweeter, filled with the evidence of his love. Duncan nodded.

   “This is the only copy in existence, and it doesn’t even technically exist.” Klaus’s coffee eyes were soft around the edges, inviting and comforting. “I made it when I first made this place, before the fire, along with all my other spell books. I never imagined that this would be the only way my parents could live on.” He flipped it open to a random page, tracing his finger under the annotations his mother had made on this particular spell. 

   “I love you, Duncan,” said Klaus, voice laced with kindness. 

   "I love you, too." Now was not really the time for reminiscing, though, not with someone trying to breach his protections. He could lave over this book another day. He racked the index for the section on dream magic, hyper-aware of Klaus's mocha eyes following him. “That’s weird. There’s nothing in here about this sort of thing,”

   “Was there something in the past?”

   Duncan nodded. “I vividly remember it. It made my parents go nuts when they figured out about this place. They made me learn about all these protections I could put on the place so this didn’t happen. Sometimes, before you showed up, I’d read through this book over and over. I practically have it memorized by now.

   “Every time I’d read it, I'd come to the passage they read to me when I was younger and I promised myself I’d never forget the magic I would need to shore up my defenses someday.” Duncan traced the break between the pages, surprised to find-- “Hang on. Someone’s ripped these pages out,”

   “What?”

   “Feel,” said Duncan, handing the book to Klaus, who ran his finger down the space where the pages met. “It’s soft. That’s what happens to these pages when they rip, they go all fuzzy.” Klaus frowned. “It wasn’t you, was it?”

   “Of course not. I never touch your spell books without permission, you know that. And I’d never rip out a page without your permission. I’m not experienced enough to know what’s important to keep.” Klaus handed the book to Duncan. “That’s not good, is it.” It wasn’t a question, per se, more of a statement of a fact. “Do you think it’s whoever’s trying to get in?”

   Duncan shook his head. “Unlikely. If they can deface my book, they can get in here to do it. I think we have a gen-u-ine conspiracy on our hands.” He smiled wide and false, like the stars from the murder mysteries his parents loved to watch when he was younger. 

   “Ooh, a mystery. I love mysteries. Can I be Sherlock?”

   "And condemn myself to Watson? Never." Duncan wasn't fond of this whole thing, but who said you couldn't have fun while defending your subconscious from unknown invaders? 

   In reality, the idea that someone could be trying to take away this bubble Duncan had made for himself was terrifying. Duncan knew the risks when he made this place, this world, but he never really thought it could ever happen. He had magic, he knew how to make his home stronger, but he didn't know how to deal with the fact that he was no longer safe here. 

   "Duncan?"

   "Hmm?"

   "I love you, you know that? I'm here for you.” Klaus’s tawny eyes were wide and sweet, something Duncan could definitely get behind. “C’mere, sweetheart.” Duncan practically fell into his lover’s arms, nuzzling into his chest with a soft sigh. Klaus’s hands instinctively began to comfort him, one rubbing into his back and the other carding through his hair. “Hey. Whatever's happening, I love you. I’m here, love. I’m right here anytime you need me.”

   “I love you, too,” mumbled Duncan, muffled by Klaus’s sweater. This was long overdue. They, for whatever reason, hadn’t cuddled after last night, so Duncan was getting a little desperate: before he found the missing pages, he was incredibly close to just climbing into Klaus’s lap. Duncan melted into his lover’s embrace, welcoming soft touches to his lower back and neck. Normally, Klaus wasn’t so handsy; Duncan figured it was an afterproduct of their time spent closer than they had ever been the night before. 

   Klaus hummed softly, placing a kiss atop his head. It was ever so slightly surprising how comfortable both of them were with the kind of intimacy they gave each other, even through their fights and their hardships. It was almost like, deep down, they were destined to be with each other, designed to love each other wholly and completely. The surprising part came in the form of how quickly they were able to get used to this, hell, to crave it: a few days, at most, before they could barely keep their hands off of each other. It was a stark contrast to all the other relationships Duncan had had outside of his family. They had all been slow-moving, and none had made it past the first kiss. This, though. This was different. This was lasting, this was forever.

   "I love you," he murmured into Klaus's sweater. At first, Klaus didn't respond; Duncan was going to say it louder, for fear Klaus hadn't heard, but before he could, Klaus opened his mouth. 

   "I love you, too, Duncan."

   "Why did you pause?" Another hesitation. "Klaus--"

   "I paused because I was trying to figure out what you had said," said Klaus. The temptation to extend magic and find out if he was lying was strong, but his deep-seated respect for Klaus stopped him. He was entitled to his privacy and his secrets. 

   Duncan opened his eyes and stared at Klaus anyways. Klaus had the bad habit of not looking at Duncan when he lied, and this moment was no different. 

   "Klaus," he said, hard and deliberate. Klaus's eyebrows disappeared into his hair, but he did not look down. "Klaus, look at me." Finally, his coffee gaze settled on him. "Why are you lying?"

   "I'm not lying,"

   "Another lie, love. You look everywhere but at me when you lie." Evidenced again now, when Klaus's hickory eyes flicked around the cottage. "Hey." 

   "Duncan, listen. I love you. That's all there is to this, I swear." His walnut eyes settled on a bookshelf in the corner. 

   Duncan considered pressing further, considered getting into Klaus's mind, but something stopped him. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this. Maybe he should be leaving Klaus alone. He clearly had something he needed to work out.

   Slowly, Duncan slithered off of Klaus and the armchair and into the kitchen. Klaus's tawny eyes followed him the whole way and then some, trained on his back like a laser as he moved about with no real goal. A few times, when Duncan's back wasn't to Klaus, his partner opened and closed his mouth before he shook his head and went back to his book. 

   "Klaus, is there something you want to tell me?" he asked eventually. 

   "No," Klaus said slowly. 

   "Are you sure?"
  "Absolutely… not." Klaus sighed. "I don't know, love."

   "Klaus, darling, you promised we would communicate," Duncan said. 

   "I know." Finally, Klaus stood carefully and wrapped his arms around Duncan's waist. "I promised. I just… I don't know how to put this into words." 

   "Just do it, I guess," said a booming voice seemingly from nowhere, startling both. "Or should I? I'm good at this,"

   "What the actual goddamn--"

   "Language, weirdo," said the voice. Duncan snapped his fingers in a gesture of comprehension. Klaus just stared at random objects around them, syrup eyes wide.

   "Okay, El, you've had your fun," he said, and a figure began to materialize in the corner of the cottage, near a bookshelf. A bright flash revealed Elliot, hand up and giving the both of them the bird with a shit-eating grin on his face. He signed something rather rude while Duncan and Klaus simply blinked at him. 

   "You're both--" the booming voice began before Elliot snapped his fingers. 

   "Do you know what he said?" said Klaus carefully, turning to Duncan, who shrugged. 

   "Too fast," he said. Elliot rolled his eyes. "I can say he said some very rude things about both of our mothers,"

   Klaus stuck his tongue out at Elliot, who returned the gesture. Elliot's pettiness never ceased to amaze (and slightly disgust) Duncan, who glared slightly at his boyfriend as he said, "El."

   Elliot cocked his head to the side. 

   "What do you know about people trying to get in here?"

   Elliot shrugged. "If I got in," he signed, "I'm sure others can. It took a lot of magic, though."

   Duncan sighed. "That doesn't mean anything," he said. 

   "I don't know about anyone else trying to get in. At least not at the spot I came in. I can go check if you want," 

   “No, that’s alright.”

   “I found these, though!” Elliot held out a few yellowing, torn pages. “I don’t know if they’re yours, but here you go.”

   “Thanks, El.” The pages weren’t the ones he needed, unfortunately; they weren’t even from the same book. “Now we know,” he said. Elliot was gone when Duncan turned to him next.

   “Elliot didn’t tear those pages out of your book,” said Klaus. “I don’t know how I know, but I do. He didn’t… it wasn’t him.”

   “I know. El wouldn’t deface my property like that. He’s better than that. Sure, you know, he likes a good prank every now and then, but doesn’t everybody?” Duncan threaded a hand into his hair nervously. “Plus–” he held the papers out for Klaus to take– “these aren’t even the right pages. I’ve never heard of these spells in my life.”

   “Is it possible they’re from a book of dark magic?” Klaus asked quietly. His sepia eyes were dark and wide as he waited for Duncan’s answer.

   “It is entirely possible, yes, but considering that fact, I’m not brave enough to test them. I’m not a dark magician, so I've never– I mean– I haven’t ever even seen a book of dark magic before, let alone a dark magician, or practiced it myself. It takes too much out of you, especially if you aren’t suited for it, like you and I.” Klaus tossed the pages on the kitchen table in favor of wrapping his arms around Duncan. “I mean, I’m a dream magician, and, you know, that could be dangerous. I don’t want to risk hurting myself.”

   “Good,” said Klaus softly, “good. I don’t want you to risk hurting yourself, either. I love you just the way you are, and I always will.” 

   “I love you, too.” Something about Klaus’s embrace was making his head spin. Duncan hummed happily. This was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life: wrapped up in Klaus’s love, whether it be physical, like this, or simply a feeling present in his life at all times. It made him feel safe. 

   He collapsed, fast asleep, in Klaus’s arms not seconds later.

   “Violet?”

   “Wake up, Klaus!” Violet shook her brother a bit more. 

   “Violet! Stop–” Duncan gripped his friend’s wrists tightly. 

   Klaus groaned quietly. “Just lemme get to the bed,” he said sleepily, rolling over and promptly falling back into the cottage. 

   “Violet. If you shake him, it could be dangerous,” Duncan said softly. “There are better ways of getting him to wake up.”

   “Like what? A wet willy? Actually–” Duncan could confidently say that this was his first time pulling his friend’s head back so she didn’t lick her brother’s ear, and he suddenly became very afraid that it wouldn’t be his last. 

   “Violet? What– oh, ew !” Apparently, he didn’t succeed. 

   Violet laughed somewhat triumphantly. “We need you for something,”

   “Both of us?” Duncan asked, rubbing one eye. Violet seemed to smirk.

   “Nope. Just Klaus.”

   “Really?”

   Klaus groaned.

   “Yes, really. Come on.”

   “Well–” Duncan clambered out of bed and into a standing position. Violet’s eyes locked onto his state of dress, or lack thereof, but Duncan couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed– “anything Klaus can do, I can do, too. Unless it involves tall shelves.”

   Violet sighed. “No. This is… a family affair. I’m afraid you’re not a member of the family, despite your apparent willingness to share a bed with my brother.”

   “Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t heard them doing things in the middle of the night,” came Isadora’s lilt from outside.

   “If it’s a family affair, why is Isadora coming?” said Duncan, more accusingly than he meant. 

   “I just– stay here, alright?”

   “No,” said Klaus, finally heaving himself from their cot. “If Isadora can come, then why can’t he? I’d argue Duncan is a member of the family.”

   “I just– I’ll tell you later.”

   “No, Vi, you’ll tell us now, because whatever you need to say to me you can say to Duncan, too. That’s how this works.” Violet very pointedly turned away from them when Klaus laid a gentle kiss on Duncan’s lips, then another to the top of his head. That seemed to make something click in Klaus’s head, because he murmured something that sounded rather like so that’s what this is all about as he pulled a robe over his head. 

   “Duncan stays. That’s final.”

   “Okay, Mom .” Something in Violet seemed to snap, but she tried very desperately to hide it. Softly, rain began to patter over their heads, slow at first but gradually picking up speed. 

   Distantly, Duncan wondered if Violet was magic, too, and she just didn’t know it. It would explain all the rain. If Violet didn’t know… then that was dangerous. Duncan shoved this train of thought aside, instead choosing to think about how nice Klaus’s arms felt around his waist and how sweet his voice sounded when it whispered into his ear.

   “I’ll tell you everything the second I get back, my love, I swear. Something’s up, and I don’t want you in the dark if something bad happens.”

    Thank you, Duncan thought, sending it Klaus’s way. He could only hope he received it as Klaus stepped out into the rain with his sister, looking for all accounts and purposes like a ghost.

Chapter Text

so um. hello little gay people in my laptop.

i know what everyone's going to say. "you're cancelling the silly little gay people story DURING PRIDE MONTH????" and yes. that is true.

the truth is, this story had no direction. i had no plan whatsoever beyond something that would make me happy. and i certainly accomplished that. but the problem is that if i didn't work on this during my every waking moment, i lost motivation. i tried so hard to work on other projects while this was still in production and i just couldn't because if i did then this one would never get any attention. i started to get really heavy writing burnout and let me tell you, my writer's block was never worse than when i tried to force myself to work on this. i fell out of writing for a long time because of this story. 

i have so many other projects going now that i feel that i need to stop stressing about this one. this one has been dead for a long time and there's no use forcing myself to keep going when inevitably the writing that i produce here is going to be worse than other products i have more motivation for. 

i had something like thirty 2000+ word chapters planned for this thing, and every time i would sit down and look at my plans i would just get that tired feeling that settles into the corners of your mind and your bones and just makes it hard to do anything. i would love to continue this someday, and maybe i will, considering i have half of what was supposed to be chapter 21 written out already, but honestly, i haven't even thought about that google doc in forever. it's 164 pages long and just a tool. it used to make my already shit laptop glitch out whenever i tried to open it. it made my brain glitch out whenever i tried to open it. 

maybe i'll get a little one-shot book going for pride month or something in consolation. 

i'm sorry, even though i shouldn't really need to apologize for doing something for my own health. 

i really am.

i'm sorry that this is how this big thing had to end. this was the first long form story, let alone fanfiction, that i've ever made, let alone actually showed to anybody. i'm so happy that i could come here and see new kudos and views almost every day, and that you and i went on this journey together, because a journey is not about the end, it's about getting there. this may be the end for now, but i still had so much fun creating this. this was a lot of firsts for me: as i may have mentioned, my first published work, but also the first time i've made myself cry actual tears of joy or sadness for my own creation, the first time i pushed myself to more than 500 words to a project (if y'all want to go back to the first chapter and read again, you'll really get a good scope of the journey lol), the first time i wrote a romance i didn't immediately want to cringe at, the first time i actually even semi planned out a story, one of my first ever fanfictions in general, and just. a lot.

this thing meant a lot to me, and it's really making it hard to let go, but i think that's what needs to happen. i think it needs to go. i'm keeping the document alive, and this fic up and attached to my name, but don't expect anything.

i will never forget the joy i felt when i received my first comment, my first kudos, even my first view. those things, and those memories, will forever be very, very dear to me.

this was fun while it lasted. i can't wait to see where my writing journey takes me. 

whoo okay. good news time!!

i have so many irons in the fire right now. so many aus going at once. but i can tell you that, at the very least, y'all will have a chapter or two of a Miss Peregrine AU that i've had in the works for almost as long as this!! the second half of the mermaid au is in the works, got a crack mashup or five going, and um. maybe some homestuck fanfic?? (i know, i know, homestuck in 2022 and all that shit, but i kid you not this is like the fourth time or something that i've tried to finish it and i think this might be the one y'all)

thank you so much for being a part of this chapter of my journey, and i look forward to a new future with every one of you.

thank you forever. 

bye!!!