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The girls are on Olruggio as soon as he shuffles into the kitchen.
“Wow Master Olly! Are you using your mask thing again? Can I see?” Tetia’s chair scrapes loudly across the kitchen flooring in her haste, and she charges towards the Watchful Eye, giving him no choice but to catch the little witch flying into his arms.
“H-hell fires! That’s some way to say good morning to — oy.” Tetia’s palm meets his cheek with a soft ‘pap’. Olruggio clicks his tongue and sets her back down. “You can’t just touch someone’s face like that, girl.”
Tetia, unperturbed, turns to the other girls. “Master Olly shaved! He really shaved! His skin is sooooo soft, like a peach!”
Coco squeals in delight and fires off a barrage of questions —“Are you going somewhere special, Master Olly? Is it to another client? Can I —” Richeh has approached as well, expressing her wishes to touch his ‘peach face’, while Agott sits all prim at the end of the dining table while she reads. She may not be an active participant, but Olruggio thinks she’s no less innocent than any of her friends, complicit to the chaos the witch senses is about to ensue.
Oh, hell.
—
Qifrey nudges the door open with his shoulder, announcing his entrance to the atelier. “Good morning, girls! My apologies, I had to address something early today, I hope some velvet peaches will make up for — oh!”
The most adorable scene graces their humble home: Tetia, Coco, and Richeh all in Olruggio’s arms, their small hands on his clean-shaven face, and Olruggio himself looking mighty disheveled from all the patting and petting. The irony isn’t lost on Qifrey. He smiles and tilts his head, holding up the small crate in his arms. “Could you be a dear and lend me a hand with these, Olly?”
Olruggio splutters, at a loss for words for his sheer audacity, and Qifrey laughs. “I only jest. Alright girls, stop bullying our Watchful Eye, please. I trust you all had breakfast already?”
It’s amusing how the girls act as if climbing onto Olruggio is part of their daily routine, like he’s a mere fixture on their playground. They chime their yesses while hopping off the poor man, and Qifrey does his best to stifle a laugh when the man withers in place, the adrenaline leaving his body. Their little brushbuddy peeks out from under his cap to fan him with its tail.
Qifrey means to say something, a smart riff to Olruggio on the tip of his tongue, but his thoughts are interrupted by the crate in his arms jostling. He looks down and blinks at Agott trying to take it from him. “Ah, it’s heavy dear, don’t worry about —”
Agott huffs, her cheeks puffed out, and slaps a piece of paper on its side. Qifrey’s load suddenly feels much lighter. So light in fact that the crate practically floats out of his hands. A wonderful spell, of course. Pride swells within Qifrey; his apprentices remain ever so thoughtful. “My thanks, Agott.”
“I wouldn’t be a proper witch if I couldn’t handle a box of peaches,” she says, tugging it out of his arms. This time Qifrey allows it, amused by her antics. Coco scurries to join Agott at the kitchen counter, and together they start washing the fruit.
Tetia skips to him and tugs on his sleeve, directing Qifrey’s attention. “Master Qifrey! Doesn’t Master Olly look so nice today?” She motions to Olruggio with excited hand gestures, presenting him with great fanfare. “Doesn’t he look handsome today?”
Olruggio flaps his hand about, waving the compliment away. “You girls should be worrying about more important things than how I look.”
So he says, but Qifrey can tell he’s enjoying the praise — and perhaps looking for more, judging by the surreptitious glance Olruggio sends his way.
There’s a twinkle in his eye when Qifrey smiles. “I see the effects of Olly’s makeover mask made quite an impression on you all,” he comments. “He did look appropriately groomed for a fancy party.”
“Or a fancy date!” Tetia exclaims. Olruggio coughs into his sleeve. “Master Olly, when was the last time you even went on a date?”
“Master Olly never leaves the atelier except for work,” Richeh points out, “and every time he leaves he just looks like that.”
That, evidently being the scruffy Olruggio they’re familiar with.
Tetia elbows Richeh.“We just mean we don’t normally see you actually looking nice! Oops, I mean…” A grimace sets into Olruggio’s smooth features. Qifrey can tell the exhaustion setting into Olruggio’s bones. Poor man, he likely woke barely a clock mark ago to this absurdity.
“Look, girls,” Olruggio says tiredly, “You’re too young to be thinking about adult problems. In any case, I —”
“Olly is quite popular with or without facial hair, as I recall,” Qifrey cuts in with a smile. “Perhaps I should do something different with my appearance as well? What if I grew a beard…” He strokes his chin.
All the girls scream in unison, “NO!" Olruggio throws his hands up, his billowing sleeves adding dramatic effect.
“What’s with you lot and your distaste for beards!”
Giggling fills the room until Qifrey claps his hands. “Alright, enough of that. Girls, why don’t you bring out your materials and we’ll continue from yesterday’s work period, yes? Agott and Coco, you can leave the rest of the peaches to me.”
“Yes, Master Qifrey!”
—
The high energy in the atelier dissipates quickly, replaced by the ambience of quills scratching gently on paper, the muttering and hushed whispering between his apprentices.
Qifrey putters around the kitchen, multitasking meal prep and answering any questions the girls have. Olruggio would normally have stolen away back to his room to work already; instead he loiters about the main area, busying himself with this and that.
Intrigued, Qifrey keeps his ears pricked, following Olruggio’s footsteps. The witch takes to sweeping around the atelier first. Then, he helps Qifrey with chopping vegetables, and after that he moseys around the girls, taking his turn to assist in their studies so Qifrey can concentrate on cooking. A clock mark later, seemingly bored, he goes outside the atelier to wipe down their windows.
Through the squeaky clean kitchen window facing the counter, Olruggio peers right at Qifrey whilst he cuts up the velvet peaches. Without his beard he looks so much younger. His bright eyes, his round face…. It takes Qifrey back to the days when they still lived in the Great Hall.
Such fond memories have him feeling a tad cheeky. He sticks his tongue out at Olruggio.
Olruggio sticks this tongue out too in retaliation, then walks away from the window frame to continue cleaning. Qifrey chuckles to himself, shaking his head.
(Behind him, the girls whisper not-so-quietly. He pretends not to hear.)
Eventually, Olruggio shuffles back into the atelier straight back to Qifrey. He has no more tasks for their Watchful Eye though, so all he offers is a smile.
Olruggio dips his head, his eyes shifting to the girls and back to Qifrey. Ah, I see now.
How patient he must have been, waiting several clock marks to talk privately. He supposes he should indulge his friend, since he’s been such a good sport until now.
They have a hearty lunch, then Qifrey announces a free day for the girls to enjoy the nice weather and a bowl of already-sliced velvet peaches. They scamper off with little brushbuddy hot on Coco’s heels, which leaves Olruggio and Qifrey to mind themselves.
Qifrey holds a small basketful of peaches and a paring knife up to Olruggio. “Care for dessert?”
—
The two of them settle outside under the shade of a tree, a decent ways away from the atelier so that the girls cannot not hear them, but they can watch the girls frolic in the field.
“We could have told them then,” Olruggio drones.
Qifrey cuts a neat segment of peach with his knife and nudges it into Olruggio’s hand. “And what ever would we tell them, dear friend?”
Begrudgingly, Olruggio accepts the offering. “Stop faffin’ about. You know I’m talking about us.” Juice dribbles out of the corner of his mouth when he bites down. With no beard to catch it, it slides down to his chin. Qifrey’s desire to lick it off rises, then ebbs. Olruggio wipes the juice away with a flick of his thumb.
“Do you mean our relationship?”
“What else do you think? Aye, our relationship.”
Qifrey appeases the grouch with another peach slice while he ruminates on a response.
It’s been some time since Olruggio brought this up last, so he isn’t surprised his friend’s tolerance for his nonsense is waning now. This is but part of a cycle between them where Olruggio pushes Qifrey a little, then waits; pushes, then waits.
Few would believe it if they were told Olruggio is greedy, but he is. Qifrey can find no fault in that; in fact, he revels in it. He lets Olruggio push him now, all too willing to indulge after a lifetime smothered by dread and paranoia…
Yet whenever Olruggio suggests they go public with their relationship, a little part of Qifrey twists into itself, and he convinces the man to wait a while longer.
Their secret is kept purely because of Qifrey’s selfishness. He knows he’s taking advantage of Olruggio’s kindness and patience for him, but he wants to keep Olruggio to himself in all the ways he can, now that he can.
Forgive me, my star, I want to be greedy too. Just for a little bit.
A gentle touch to his shoulder pulls him out of his reverie. “You still want to keep this to ourselves?” Oh, how Qifrey wishes to kiss his frowning lips, beard or no. “How many Silver Eves must pass ‘til then?”
He tilts his head, regarding Olruggio through his eyelashes. “What’s your favourite number?” he teases. Olruggio clicks his tongue and turns away. In the distance, they can observe Agott teaching the others how to weave a flower crown. Coco distributes the peach slices to everyone amidst their lesson.
“I’m being serious, Qifrey. The girls’ll catch on eventually. And children remember when you’ve lied to them.”
I’m well aware, Qifrey thinks serenely. Had Olruggio said that to him back then, it would have sent Qifrey into a spiraling panic. But these days, Qifrey doesn’t have to keep his secrets hidden to protect a morbid pact anymore. These days, he only hides things to surprise his girls, or poke fun at his best friend.
And so he replies, his voice tone light and playful, “If they discover our relationship for themselves, so be it. Elsewise, I believe what we do behind closed doors is none of their business.”
Qifrey senses his Watchful Eye’s displeased glare burning a hole into his boot. He sighs.
“If you’re still so inclined… I could drop hints by complimenting your appearance. The girls seemed to be fishing for that from me today, anyhow. And I imagine you were too, hmm?”
Olruggio’s scowl deepens, his cheeks ruddy. He steals the knife and fruit from Qifrey’s idle hands and furiously carves a chunk, pressing it directly to his lips. “Eat, you scoundrel.”
It tastes sweet like summer, the flesh crisp and succulent. Qifrey hums, licks velvet peach nectar off his lips and quips, “So… you don’t want to know what I think about your lack of facial hair?”
“How dare you be born with a silver tongue,” Olruggio replies, unamused.
—
They calm down after that, content to laze about and share the remaining peaches with each other. The pits slowly fill the basket.
Qifrey thinks that it certainly is a nice day out today. The sun is warm but not blistering, the wind is gentle, and the tree they’re under provides proper shade for Qifrey to set his glasses aside. Olruggio deftly slices the last sweet morsel apart from its seed, offering it to Qifrey to take. He does.
But not the fruit.
“…You taste of peaches,” Qifrey murmurs, his gaze demure.
“Oh, aye?” Olruggio whispers heatedly.
Qifrey glances at the girls, then kisses him again, tilting his head to fit the seams of their lips against one another. The lack of facial hair is most apparent to Qifrey in this moment. There is no friction against his lips, no stubble pricking his cheek or chin.
They part slowly. “Are you done?” Olruggio grumbles. His testiness contrasts with the fact that he’s got his fingers around the strap of Qifrey’s coveralls, anchoring him close.
“If I say no, what will you do?” Qifrey whispers. Olruggio says nothing, but his intense staring at Qifrey’s mouth is response enough.
From far away where the girls are, it should appear that their master and Watchful Eye are merely whispering to themselves. Qifrey takes full advantage of this and cups Olruggio’s jaw, thumb brushing over smooth, moisturized skin. He steals another kiss, right at the corner of Olruggio’s mouth.
Olruggio presses his cheek into Qifrey’s palm. “Do you like it?”
“Hmm?”
“M’shaved.”
Qifrey smiles. “It feels nice. Soft as a velvet peach.”
“Should I keep it like this?”
Oh, Olly. “I like you in whatever manner you choose to present yourself."
Olruggio droops, clearly unsatisfied with the noncommittal answer. “That being said…” Qifrey trails off. Olruggio sits up straighter; the corner of Qifrey’s mouth twitches.
“Well, out with it,” Olruggio demands.
“That being said… I’ve grown used to your beard.” Qifrey’s knuckle brushes underneath Olruggio’s chin. “I think I miss it.”
“It’ll grow back.”
“It will,” Qifrey agrees. “Until then, I’ll lament your handsome ruggedness.”
“Oh piss off.” Olruggio shoves him and Qifrey falls onto the grass, his shoulders shaking in laughter.
—
“May I ask something, Olly?”
“What is it.”
“Why did you shave in the first place? Was it for a client?”
“Nay,” Olruggio waves him off lazily, his wrist limp. He joins Qifrey laying in the grass, their hands clasped together while he watches the girls strutting about with their flower crowns.
“Then what for? Me?” Olruggio snorts. “Perhaps the girls?”
Olruggio’s lips purse. “It’s for no one. My beard was getting itchy, that’s all.”
Qifrey shakes his head, fondness filling his chest. “Olly, you’re a dreadful liar.”
“Shut it.”
“Don’t hold it against the girls, I think they just find your beard scratchy when you kiss them goodnight.”
“I said, shut it.”
—
Richeh fiddles with the two flower crowns Agott has made: a blue one for Master Qifrey and a white one for Master Olly. “Do you think Master Olly will get mad when he finds out we lied about Master Qifrey saying he looks ugly with his beard?”
Agott grips her wrists and pulls her hands away. “Give me that, you’ll ruin them.” Richeh harrumphs. “And I’m pretty sure Master Olly didn’t believe us in the first place. Still, he decided to shave…”
“He did it in the name of love! Just like we did it in the name of love!” Tetia cheers, shooting up into the air with her sylph shoes.
Richeh looks up at her. “Did what, lying?”
“There’s no need to make it sound so bad!” The little witch takes the two crowns on her head and holds them up in each hand, overlapping the two rings in the middle. “Master Qifrey and Master Olly are best friends like this… and we just helped them come together like this!” The wreaths merge, forming one crown of dense pink flowers. “Two people coming together as one… Ahhh, isn’t it romantic?” Tetia gently floats back down to lie on the grass, letting out a wistful sigh with her crowns clutched to her chest.
Coco giggles, brushing Tetia’s pigtails so they lay symmetrical around her head. “You’re right, Tetia, I think a little white lie won’t hurt… adults do it all the time. And… “She looks up at the clouds, thoughtful. “Without his beard, it won’t be itchy anymore when Master Olly gives us goodnight kisses…”
The other girls solemnly agree.