Chapter Text
“Mama, do you think the waist should be pulled in?” Theo’s current client twisted in front of the mirrors to glance at the fanciful floral bodice laced up her chest, forcing the young man on his knees to rear out of the way of her elbows, teeth clutched around a few sewing pins that he tried to stick into the hem of the overskirt. “I don’t want to look fat in front of the prince.”
“Your waist looks fine, darling, but I do think your bust needs some extra padding. And your hips.”
“Mama!”
The pair departed with more titters about the upcoming ball and the shopping they needed to complete, leaving Theo with a pile of silk and satin that he set down on a nearby table and another list of adjustments to pin to the wall, next to all the other emergency orders he’d been given within the past few days.
Dark strands of hair curled at his temples, fell across his forehead, a ruffled mess from the amount of times he’d combed his hands through it in frustration.
Trained to be an assassin since childhood, and he’d been reduced to the life of a tailor.
He didn’t even glance up at the ring of the bell above the door, an indeterminate amount of time later, wrapped up in stitching up a rip in the hem of a dainty, pink silk dress.
Unfortunately, he recognized the pattern of two pairs of footsteps across the wooden floor.
“Theo.” Alec’s sing-song voice echoed through the store.
“I’m busy.” The former assassin reached across the table to grab another spool of thread. “Go bother Derek.”
This garnered him a pout from the first of Lord Derek Hale’s wards, the second hovering just behind him, freckle-spattered face and perfectly combed dirty blond hair betraying his perpetual nervousness as his gaze wandered around the organized chaos of the store.
After being released from prison to help quell another set of assassins, and a following coup d’état against the monarchy, Theo hadn’t had anywhere to go. He couldn’t stay in the palace, not when he’d tried - and almost succeeded - at killing the king, not when said king could take away his freedom at any time, in spite of Liam’s ( the prince, he had to remind himself) unnaturally fierce protests against the latter.
He’s my responsibility.
Theo couldn’t stay. Not even after watching blue eyes blow wide, breathless and dazed and bewildered, red lips forming the words, what are you doing here? Blue eyes boring into his with a fiery intensity, I’m not dying for you echoing between them, even though they both knew it was a blatant lie. Blue eyes watching him limp along after the battle, a soft hand curling around his elbow, steadying his weight.
So, Theo did what he knew how to do best.
He ran.
Derek Hale found him working at a dingy bar, a few weeks later, and, to the young man’s surprise, offered him a job. Apparently, the lord owned a tailoring shop downtown, and the woman who ran it was getting old, needing an apprentice to take over after she retired.
With that, Theo had a home.
His job had expanded, over the year he’d spent working for the Hale Estate, to running errands and housekeeping and, on rare occasions, cooking, but Derek never seemed hesitant about letting the former assassin have free reign of his mansion. In fact, Theo eventually found himself eating meals in the grand dining room, on top of staying in the estate itself, in a room he knew was too nice and a bed that was too soft for a man - a convicted criminal - like him.
Unfortunately, his job had also expanded to becoming the unofficial babysitter of Lord Derek Hale’s adopted strays, known officially as Alec and Nolan.
“Derek did say not to bother Theo while he was working,” Nolan gently reminded with a nudge at Alec’s side.
“We’re not bothering him. Here -“ The boy with the dark curls proceeded to flop down on a brocade chaise meant for customers. “If we sit here and talk to each other, it doesn’t count.”
Theo rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, resigned to his fate.
“Nolan, come here, I need the hem on these sleeves restitched,” he said, and Nolan responded dutifully, making himself comfortable at the table as he rifled through the mess of pencils and pincushions for a suitable needle to start work on the suit jacket Theo had pushed in his direction. Unlike Alec, Nolan was actually able to sew, allowing Theo to supervise the young noble’s work on some simpler adjustments while he plowed away on the larger projects.
The former assassin only tuned into Alec’s ramblings when he heard Liam’s name.
“… Honestly, I think Liam is going to combust with how much he’s freaking out over this ball thing. He keeps ranting that there’s no way he can pick someone to marry in just three days, but Scott just says he and Kira were an arranged marriage, and that they love each other anyway. I’m pretty sure it’s not helping.” He paused for a moment. “On a completely unrelated note, you’re coming to the dance with us, right, Theo?”
“No.”
“ No?”
Alec sat up straighter, his dark eyes widening with genuine surprise, as if he wasn’t directly looking at all the work Theo had to complete within the two weeks before the ball. “But -“
“Alec.” A pointed look, and a one-handed gesture toward the complete chaos that formed his workspace. “Unlike both of you, I actually have to work.”
“Derek would give you the three days off.”
“Even if he did, I don’t own any formal clothes, and there’s no fucking way I’m stepping back into that palace. Not while it’s filled with guards and the people I almost murdered.” Theo knew his tone was harsh, bitter, and he tugged on another stitch a little too hard.
It wasn’t like he wanted to go. Every noble in the kingdom would be there, vying for the Prince’s attention, and by the end of it, Liam would find a perfectly suitable girl to marry and live happily ever after with.
A happily ever after that didn’t include Theo.
Alec’s face had shifted to something plaintive, guilty, his gaze flickering over to Nolan, who looked just as upset, though he hid it better.
“We could still -“ the other boy tried to say.
“Drop it, Nolan.”
With that sharp command, both boys lapsed into silence.
~
Two weeks passed by in a blur of tulle and puffy sleeves and piles of brocade silk. Theo was going to have nightmares about pink floral patterns and cross-stitches for the rest of his life.
Alec and Nolan hadn’t mentioned the ball at all, after the first time, which he was grateful for, but they had resorted to asking the former assassin and current tailor a myriad of unusual questions, ones that Theo didn’t have the time or energy to protest against.
“Hey, Theo, how do you recommend pulling in a waistline? And could we have your measurements? Just to practice with?”
“Theo, are evening gloves made of silk or satin?”
“Just for fun, do you like red or green better?”
“I’m stealing your shoes, we’ll give them back in, like, an hour, don’t worry -“
Two days before the first night of the ball, Theo sat in one of the drawing rooms of the Hale Estate, organizing the bills and payments for the tailor shop with a pencil in hand and an ink quill set aside on the desk, when Derek called his name.
“Theo? Come here, please.”
The young man answered with a short, “Give me a moment,” before setting his writing utensils down and trekking dutifully out to the nearby living room, fingers running through his dark hair to pull it out of his face.
Alec, Nolan, and Derek all stood in a line in the middle of the room, Alec bouncing on his toes, Nolan with a shy smile, and Derek with a slightly less grouchy face than normal, which was not suspicious at all.
Theo raised his eyebrows.
“Mind telling me why you all look like you just stole from a candy store?” he asked.
“So…” A grin widened across Alec’s cheeks. “Remember how you said you couldn’t go to the ball because you didn’t have anything to wear?”
“What does that have to do with -“
With a flourish, the two young noblemen stepped to the side, revealing the mannequin they’d hidden behind the shield of their bodies.
A tuxedo draped over the wooden form. Sleek black lines of finespun wool and satin shone beneath the chandelier, paired with a pristine white bowtie that matched the pleated shirt and fitted waistcoat.
Theo stared.
Alec’s grin dropped a little. “Um - it’s one of Derek’s old ones - Nolan did most of the sewing stuff, with the sheet of your measurements that I stole - but I did do this one part -“ He reached over to point out a small, embroidered gold flower on one silk lapel, the makeshift petals a little crooked and uneven. “See?”
Wetness stained Theo’s eyes, and he blinked a few times, staving away the burning sensation behind his lashes.
“That’s why you’ve been so interested in my work, lately,” he laughed, and his three companions relaxed, Nolan’s rare smile lighting up his freckled cheeks, along with a kind look from Derek, hidden behind the scruff of his short beard.
“Try it on,” the lord urged, and Theo found himself swept into a nearby bathroom with the mannequin, along with a pair of brand new leather shoes and white silk gloves.
Everything fit. The sleeves and the trousers were a little too long, and he would need to tighten the waist of the tailcoat, but he could do all of that easily, within the next few days.
Nolan handed him another accessory, once he’d stepped out fully dressed in the new outfit, an ornate, gold-and-ivory face mask, that would hide the entire upper half of his face, save for his eyes.
“It’s a masquerade ball.” The young noble sounded a little nervous, as Theo took the mask in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the carefully engraved designs. “You said you didn’t want the guards - or the royals - to recognize you.”
Theo held the mask a little tighter, and, stupefied, thought to himself, I can see Liam again.
Even if it was just for three nights, from across the ballroom, he could see him again.