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Epel glared as hard as he could at where Jack stood in front of him, one hand around a thimble of warm, soapy water, and the other clutched around one of Ortho’s old toothbrushes. “Absolutely not. There’s no way in hell ya’re gonna use that on me.”
Jack, albeit being one of the taller Starsailor pieces of nearly six inches, seemed to shrink, his ears drooping. “But Epel—”
“Never.” Epel was vaguely certain he’d seen Jade use that toothbrush for fungi cultivation. He was not at all ready to be assaulted with a toothbrush used for Jade’s fungi cultivation. “Ah’d rather jump back into the darn applesauce.”
Ah, yes. The darn applesauce was the exact reason why Epel and Jack had ended up in this stupid situation. All he’d wanted to do was sneak a taste—even though Jamil had had a stick up his ass and told him to wait until dinner. Epel had been entirely too certain of himself. It would be simple, he’d said in his head, in an’ out job, like Ruggie always says.
He had scaled the spice rack, then he’d clambered up the wooden ladle, then he’d leaned over the rim of the boiling pot to simply take in the delectable smell of fresh apples, cinnamon and sugar.
Then the ladle wobbled.
And Epel, in a display of grace that would have made Vil cry actual tears, went face-first into the applesauce.
Not all the way in.
Just enough.
Enough for his boots to disappear beneath the surface. Enough for applesauce to get in his hair, his ears, his sleeves, and somehow inside his collar. Enough for him to spend several agonizing seconds flailing around while screaming words that would have gotten him banned from family-friendly board game packaging.
Then Jack had pulled him out by the scruff of his coat.
And now they were here.
Epel was sticky and humiliated and still facing that dumb toothbrush.
“Epel.”
“No.”
“It’ll only take a minute.”
“No.”
Jack sighed.
Epel only crossed his arms harder.
The problem was that he knew exactly what he looked like.
His lavender hair had become one giant applesauce-coated clump. His tiny Starsailor cape was stiff with dried sugar. There was cinnamon on his nose.
There was probably cinnamon inside his nose.
Jack crouched down until they were eye-level. “Epel.”
Epel pointedly chose to avoid his gaze. “Stop sayin’ mah name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like ya’re talkin’ to a scared rabbit.”
Jack blinked. “You are scared.”
“Ah am not scared.”
“You’re terrified.”
“Ah ain’t terrified!”
“You climbed three shelves to steal applesauce.”
“That ain’t relevant.”
“You screamed when the ladle moved.”
“THAT ALSO AIN’T RELEVANT.”
Jack’s tail twitched. The bastard was trying not to laugh.
Epel pointed accusingly. “Don’t.”
“I’m not.”
“Ya are.”
“I’m not.”
His shoulders were shaking.
Epel contemplated throwing the thimble at him. Unfortunately, the thimble was larger than his torso.
Jack finally managed to compose himself. “Epel.”
“What?”
“You smell like dessert.”
“So what?”
“What if Sebek tries to eat you?”
Epel stared at him. The thought was sinking in, permeating his skull. The mere prospect of being mistaken as dessert by that loudmouthed ten-year-old and being eaten… Epel shuddered despite himself.
That was exactly how it would happen.
Sebek would discover him somewhere on the kitchen counter, still sticky with applesauce, assume he’d been specially prepared by the humans, and proceed to carry him directly toward Malleus while proudly announcing his findings.
Epel buried his face in his hands. “This is the worst day of mah life.”
Jack reached over and gently pried Epel’s hands away from his face. “Let me clean you up.”
Epel let out a long, drawn-out groan. “Fiiiinnneeee.”
Jack immediately held up the toothbrush with an eagerness that brought Epel the assumption that he’d been waiting his whole life to do this. His tail was wagging. Bastard.
“Ya look like a damn dentist.”
“What’s a dentist?” Jack dipped the toothbrush into the thimble.
“A terrifyin’ creature.”
“Sounds fake.” He squeezed out a dollop of foam soap onto the bristles.
“It ain’t. Trey told me about ‘em.” Epel resisted the urge to shuffle backwards when Jack approached him. “Apparently they eat teeth.”
“We don’t even have teeth.” Jack began dabbing him with a patch of cloth, taking the larger chunks of apple out.
Epel held himself still. “Eh, even so.”
Jack let out a noncommittal hum.
The toothbrush was surprisingly gentle. Probably because it was Jack holding it. If it was Ace—and Epel would rather die than ask him—it’d probably feel like medieval torture. If it was Deuce, Epel probably would’ve drowned. If it was Idia, he probably wouldn’t be using a toothbrush in the first place.
It was unfortunate, really. Epel had already committed to the drama bit.
For a few long moments, it was peace and quiet with the exception of the brushstrokes.
“Ace and Deuce are getting Bonded soon.”
Epel blinked. “Like, bonded Bonded?”
“Mhm. Apparently Deuce already asked Idia about it.”
Epel whistled low. “Damn. No wonder Deuce was lookin’ all happy-happy yesterday. ‘bout time they did.”
“Mhm.”
“They should’ve done it before, ya know,” Epel made a vague gesture with his hand, “before Deuce got lost and Ace got all sad and mopey.”
“Well, they’re together now.” Jack met his eyes. “That’s what counts, right?”
“Mhm. Even if it took ‘em forever.”
Jack began to scrub at his cape. “Remember when Ace would wait by the window?”
Epel giggled. “From dawn to dusk. Told us he was ‘birdwatching’. Riddle got pissed Ace kept refusing to be summoned, ‘specially with how useful his ability is ingame.”
Jack let out a chuckle. “Then he’d be such a downer during mealtimes. Especially when Idia made eggs.”
“Oh mah Sevens.” Epel snorted. “He wouldn’t shut his trap. Everything was, ‘Deuce used to like this’ or ‘Ah should save some for when Deuce comes back’ or something. They’re sickening.”
“It got to the point where Idia put him in therapy,” Jack caught his eye, and they said the name in unison, “with Aide Jade Leech!”
They both burst into mutual laughter, the toothbrush and applesauce forgotten by their sides.
When it died down, Jack popped another question, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “Have you ever thought about it?”
Epel, who was fighting the urge to pat his head like one would a puppy, blinked. “About what?”
“Getting… getting Bonded.”
Epel’s jaw went slack.
He stared.
He stared at the way Jack refused to look him in the eyes, at the way his ears were pinned against his scalp, at the way his tail was wagging at the pace of Azul’s running speed—and something in his brain crash-landed and proceeded to explode.
“Bonded?” Epel repeated.
Jack nodded once.
“Like, permanently?”
Another nod.
“Like, officially-officially?”
“Mhm.”
Epel’s face felt hot.
That was bad.
That was extremely bad.
So, naturally, he did what any reasonable person would do when cornered by his own feelings.
He started talking.
“Ah mean, not with Ace, obviously.”
Jack blinked.
“Because Ace is Ace. Ah’d rather throw myself into another pot of applesauce than be Bonded to him. He’d be insufferable. Can ya imagine? Ah’d never hear the end of it. He’d start introducin’ me as his husband just to be annoying.”
“Epel—”
“An’ Deuce is already taken.”
“Epel.”
“An’ definitely not Floyd. Ah like livin’. Ah enjoy havin’ all mah limbs attached. Ah enjoy knowin’ where Ah’m gonna wake up every mornin’.”
Jack opened his mouth.
Epel steamrolled right over him.
“An’ definitely not Jade. Ah don’t trust anyone who smiles that much. Ah’d wake up one day and find out he’d turned our house into a mushroom farm.”
“Epel.”
“An’ not Ruggie neither. Ah love the guy, but ah ain’t payin’ taxes.”
“What?”
“Ya heard me.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Ah don’t know.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because ah’m stressed!”
Jack looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, which only made Epel more determined to keep digging his own grave.
“An’ definitely not Azul.”
“Obviously.”
“An’ not Jamil.”
“Obviously.”
“An’ not Kalim.”
“Epel.”
“An’ not Vil.”
Jack snorted. “Okay, now you’re just listing people.”
“Ah’m makin’ a point!”
“What point?”
“Ah don’t know!”
“Exactly.”
Epel threw his hands into the air. “Look, all Ah’m sayin’ is there are a lotta people Ah wouldn’t get Bonded to!”
“Yes.”
“A lot!”
“Yes.”
“A whole lot!”
“Yes, Epel.”
“And—”
“To me?”
The words hit him like a brick to the head.
Epel, again, stared.
Jack’s tail was wagging so fast it was practically generating wind.
And like an idiot, he replied, “Bonded.”
“Mhm.”
“To you.”
A slightly less confident, “Mhm.”
“Oh mah Sevens.”
Jack’s tail immediately stilled. He looked like a kicked puppy, and Epel was the one doing the kicking. “Is that a bad thing?”
The moment the words left Jack’s mouth, Epel wanted to launch himself directly into the nearest electrical outlet. Because somehow, somehow, after all of that, after Jack had practically handed him the answer on a silver platter, that was what had come out of his mouth.
“What? No!”
Jack blinked.
Epel blinked.
Then Epel realized that What? No! sounded significantly more horrified than reassuring. “Wait, no, not like that.”
Jack’s ears lowered further. “Not like what?”
“Not like—”
Epel made a strangled noise.
How did people do this?
How did Ace and Deuce do this?
How did Kalim and Ruggie do this?
How did anybody do this without spontaneously combusting?
“Ya can’t just ask that!”
“I just did.”
“Yeah, an’ look what happened!”
“You started panicking.”
“Because ya asked!”
“Because I wanted an answer!”
“Well, now ya got me havin’ a heart attack!”
Jack opened his mouth. Closed it.
Then quietly said, “Sorry.”
And that immediately made Epel feel like the world’s biggest jerk because Jack looked genuinely upset.
His tail had stopped wagging entirely. His ears were drooping and he was holding the toothbrush against his chest like he’d suddenly forgotten what to do with it.
“Hey.”
Jack glanced up.
“Hey,” Epel repeated.
“What?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look all sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
“Jack.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
Epel groaned. “Sevens.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Then immediately regretted it because there was apparently still applesauce in his sleeve.
Great. Perfect. Excellent.
The worst confession of all time was now taking place while he was covered in fruit.
“Look,” he muttered.
Jack waited.
“It ain’t a bad thing.”
Jack’s ears twitched. “It isn’t?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Stop soundin’ surprised.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
A tiny smile appeared. There it was, much better.
Epel pointed at him. “An’ quit lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like ya’re waitin’ for me to solve a math problem.”
“You kinda are.”
“Jack.”
“Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry. The smug little tail flick gave him away.
Epel narrowed his eyes. Then sighed.
Then sighed again.
Because apparently the universe hated him.
“If Ah was gonna get Bonded.”
Jack immediately straightened. “Yeah?”
“Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically.”
“An’ if Ah had to pick somebody.”
“Hypothetically.”
“Quit sayin’ hypothetically.”
“Sorry.”
He wasn’t. Again.
“Then it wouldn’t be Ace.”
“Mhm.”
“Or Deuce.”
“Mhm.”
“Or anybody else.”
Jack stared.
Epel stared back.
For one long second.
Two.
Three.
Understanding slowly dawned across Jack’s face.
Then his ears shot upright.
Then his tail started wagging again. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“Oh.”
“Jack.”
“Sorry.”
He absolutely wasn’t. His grin was growing.
“Jack.”
“Sorry.”
“Ya look ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“Ah hate ya.”
“I know.”
“Stop bein’ happy about this.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s you.”
The words came out so simple, so honest, that Epel forgot how to breathe.
Jack seemed to realize what he’d said a second later because his face immediately turned red. “I mean—”
“Nah.”
“I mean—”
“Too late.”
“Epel.”
“Too late.”
“Epel.”
“Heard it.”
“Epel.”
“Every single word.”
Jack covered his face with one hand.
Epel felt a grin pulling at his own mouth. Finally, he wasn’t the only one suffering.
“Good,” he informed him.
“Good?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because now we’re both embarrassed.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“It is for me.”
Jack laughed, and the sound settled somewhere deep inside Epel’s chest.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Jack looked at him. Really looked at him.
Applesauce-covered hair. Cinnamon on his nose. Sticky cape.
All of it, the whole utter mess Epel was, and he somehow smiled anyway.
“For the record,” he said softly.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’d ask.”
Epel’s heart nearly stopped. “What.”
“Someday.”
“What.”
“If you wanted.”
“What.”
“Epel.”
“Jack.”
“You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Where you only know one word.”
“What.”
Jack laughed so hard he almost dropped the toothbrush.
And despite himself—despite the humiliation, despite the applesauce, despite everything—Epel started laughing too.