Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Marry me,” Andy says.

Rafa chokes on his drink and splutters, “W-what?!”

Andy tightens the grip on his straw and keeps poking at the ice cubes in his glass. “You heard me.”

“Umm. That’s it,” Rafa says, reaching over the table to swipe Andy’s glass. “No more drinks for you.”

Andy huffs out a mirthless laugh. “I can explain. Please.”

Rafa’s dark eyes bore into his and Andy tries to hold the gaze. A few moments pass, then Rafa glances away and downs Andy’s drink. “I’m listening.”

All the phrases Andy has prepared vanish from his mind. He opens his mouth. “I…”

Rafa grabs the bottle and carefully unscrews the lid. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“You never thought to seek professional help?”

“No,” Andy answers curtly and watches the woman fill in another column in his documents.

“Not even when you turned twenty one?” She does something with her face that makes her glasses travel up her nose, the frames nearly touching her eyebrows. Her eyes look owlish and there is nothing kind in them.

“Not even then, Ms. Finnieston.”

“You have read the statutory instrument to 501M8 SLT, have you not Mr. Merry?”

“Murray,” Andy corrects her.

Ms. Finnieston’s pen hovers over the form for a split of a second, then her lips thin into a flat line. She wets the pad of her thumb and starts leafing through her files. “Ah, yes, yes. Mr. Murray.”

She pulls out a single sheet of paper, briefly skimming it.

Andy folds his hands in his lap and reminds himself not to fidget. “I did, I read it. The paper I mean.” The one that Scotland had approved in 1518. The one he had never been bothered about, not until he got the summons. Once the shock wore off, he read the damn paper, thrice. And then a few more times, focusing on the loopholes. Right now, he might just as well be a leading expert on the subject matter. But he isn’t telling her that.

“Oh. Did you?” She says, distracted.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well.” Ms. Finnieston finds whatever it was she wanted to find and puts the papers back. “Is there anything you would like to ask me? I’m here to make sure everything goes smoothly. It’s necessary that we take evidence of cases such as yours…” she wavers, peers into her papers, clears her throat, “Mr. Murray.”

“Of course, I understand.”

“Then this will be just a minute. You’ll sign that you’ve been instructed about the situation as well as about all the possibilities you have.”

There aren’t any possibilities but Andy keeps nodding politely. “Yes, certainly, ma’am.”

“It’s just a precaution, you see,” she tells him, using what’s probably her motherly tone. It gives Andy goose bumps. “You know how it is.”

“I know,” he confirms.

“Very well.” Ms. Finnieston reaches into the drawers of her desk. “Now. If you could sign down your full name,” she says, sliding a few documents across the desk to him. “Here and here. And then the same on the last page. You needn’t sign your own copy.” She points to a penholder to Andy’s right.

Andy takes the pen, checks the papers and does as he’s instructed.

“All right, Mr. Merry, if you think of any questions later, do not hesitate to contact the Institute.”

Andy nods, once. “Thank you.”

“If you’re quite sure you don’t need any further guidance or our help with your current situation…?”

There is something sneering in her tone that makes Andy grit his teeth. He shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

“Very well,” she repeats and starts gathering the papers into her folder. “We will be in touch. Don’t forget to obtain a copy of the report from your attending physician. We need to have a current statement and we need it….” she trails off again, squinting at her small table calendar.

“Within ten days from now, yes, I remember, thank you.”

“Right. You can go through the council register in your hometown if you don’t want to come all the way here. Just make sure we get all the documents on time.”

“Naturally.”

“Well, if you really don’t need to go over your options one more time–”

Andy shakes his head, maybe a little too vigorously.

“–then that will be all from me.”

Andy gets up, nearly knocking his chair over. He needs to get as far away as possible.

“Oh, and Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Andy returns on autopilot. He grabs his coat and his suitcase and staggers out of the office. He tugs the scarf high up so it’s covering most of his face against the sharp wind (and the curious gaze of passers-by), and hails a cab to the airport.

He’s never been happier to be leaving Edinburgh behind. He doesn’t need any help. He knows exactly what to do. It just doesn’t mean he has to like the option. Or that Rafa will agree. If he doesn’t, then Andy is truly screwed.

Merry Christmas to him, indeed.

About three hours later, he gets off the plane, reclaims his suitcase and goes outside the airport to wait for the transfer car to come collect him.

Hiding in a shade of a tall palm tree, he already feels like he can breathe a little easier. Ms. Finnieston and her stuffy office back in Edinburgh would be only an unpleasant memory if it weren’t for the papers Andy’s got stuffed in his bag, together with his coat, the scarf and the dammed wedding rings.

Andy checks his watch, leans against the railing and watches people bustle around. The airport is probably the only place on the whole island where people actually seem to be in a hurry.

He doesn’t have to wait long until an old white Seat pulls over near him. The driver gets out, heading straight for Andy’s suitcase, basically wrestling it out of his grip as he starts a stream of chatter in Spanish.

Andy interrupts him, making sure he’s going to be taken to his actual destination.

“Sí, sí.” The driver flashes him a smile, throws the suitcase into the back of his Seat and holds the passenger’s door open to Andy.

“Uh. Okay,” Andy says, climbing in and buckling up. This part of his trip is always an adventure.

The man gets into the car as well, turning his keys in the ignition and backing out of the parking slot so fast one might think he’s trying to get away from a bank robbery.

“Holidays, sí?”

“Yeah,” Andy says.

“Better weather aquí, sí?”

The Seat pulls forward with a lurch and soon they’re navigating the roads leading to the east coast, the barriers and railings dangerously close as the car sways from right to left. The planes coming in for landing are so close above Andy can’t tear his eyes away.

The driver doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest, much more interested in his new passenger.

“Yes, the weather here is beautiful,” Andy manages belatedly.

That seems to be the correct answer, judging from the man’s beaming smile. He lets go of the steering wheel for a moment, shoving his hand in front of Andy’s face.

Andy shakes it automatically and the man’s other hand comes to close around Andy’s, giving their joined hands a couple of friendly pats.

“My name is Marco,” the man says.

“I’m Andy.”

“First time in Mallorca, Andy?”

“No. I keep coming back,” Andy admits.

Their car makes it to a roundabout, swerving sharply at the last moment to make their turn. “Oh! Good choice, good choice. Yo también.”

“You’re not from Mallorca?”

“No,” the man enthuses. “But I work aquí.”

“Oh. Cool,” Andy says. “You had a busy day today?”

“Hm,” the man says. “Only getting started ahora. Evening and night I work, then I go to mi casa to sleep and the rest tomorrow.”

They’re passing through some town. Marco doesn’t bother to ease off the gas. They hit three speed bumps, the car groaning as they fly over them. Only fifty more minutes to go, Andy tells himself.

Andy’s stomach is a little queasy by the time Marco drops him off. On the other hand, he knows enough of Marco’s family history he could probably write a book, if his tennis shtick stops being profitable.

Marco is back in his car, eyeing Andy suspiciously. Probably because Andy is just standing there, gathering courage to ring the bell. He can hear the soft murmur of voices and laughter coming from the back of the garden.

His hand is shaking as he waves Marco off, trying to add a reassuring smile. He can’t tell if it’s because of the traumatic transfer or because of what he’s about to start.

Marco returns the wave, then shrugs and peels away from the sidewalk, the tires squealing.

Andy shoots Rafa a text. I’m here.

The reply comes awfully quick. Already?! I thought you’d let me know. You’ll have to wait till I get there to pick you up.

Rafa picking him up was exactly what he was trying to avoid for the sake of his own sanity. If there is one thing worse than drivers tearing through towns as if they were on a race track, it is driving with Rafa. Rafa is awfully careful, flooring the brakes more than the gas pedal, hardly ever ‘risking’ an overtake.

Slowly, he types, Took a cab. I’m in front of the house. Let me in?

It’s only a few moments before the front door is opening.

It’s not Rafa who comes to open the gate for him, it’s his mother.

“Andrew!” She calls out, pleased. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

She gives him a bone-crushing hug the moment she gets the gate unlocked and pulls him in. She kisses both of his cheeks, then hugs him again.

“He-hello,” Andy heaves.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” she sighs happily. “Have you eaten anything? You’re so skinny! Have you even been eating? Come, come!”

Andy lets her grab his arm and lead him through the house where he leaves his bags. Then they walk out to the patio.

Some other members of Rafa’s family are sitting there and Andy gives them a wave, a little awkward. “Hello.”

It’s a lovely late evening and they’re enjoying the time together. Andy feels a stab of sentiment when he glances around to meet everyone’s eyes.

They never have family gatherings likes this. Sure, they get together for the holidays and birthdays but Andy can never shake off the feeling that half of the family would much rather be sitting someplace entirely different.

Rafa’s family genuinely seems to enjoy each other’s company. Andy has often envied the comfort with which they all fit together. No aunties screaming bloody murder because someone put one spoonful of sugar less into their mug of coffee, no uncles smugly boasting about their newest promotion, no one openly criticizing the dress choices of the person sitting to their right.

These gatherings are an oasis and once Andy got to be a part of them, however infrequent, he could understand quite easily why this is the place Rafa always chooses to recharge.

Rafa’s mother is still dragging him along and Andy obediently follows her to the table. There are so many plates, trays and bowls that one can hardly see the colour of the tablecloth beneath.

Ana María grabs a clean, empty plate, shoves it into Andy’s hands and then proceeds to fill it up with different tapas.

“The paella won’t be done for another half an hour, we’ve only just covered it,” she explains, clucking her tongue. “Here, try this while we wait, Andrew. And this. And have some fruit, too. You like the pineapple, don’t you?”

“Uh. Yes, I do, thank you.”

She piles about seven slices of a pineapple onto his plate, right next to the anchovies and stuffed peppers. “I remember that,” she says, putting down the tongs and licking clean two of her fingers. “I’d remember all your favourites if you came here more often.”

Andy isn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he picks up one of the golden fried rings that might be onion as well as calamares – you never knew until you bit into one – and shoves it into his mouth before it could fall off his plate.

Ana María gives him a beaming smile, before bellowing, right next to his ear, “Arturo! Where are you with the wine? Have you gotten lost on the way?!” Then she pats Andy’s hand, “Won’t be but a second, honey.”

Chewing carefully before gulping down, Andy asks, “Where is Rafa?”

Ana María purses her lips. “Rafael is being late again.”

“Ah. I texted him earlier, I–”

“Then he’ll be down here in a minute,” she says, turning away when one of her cousins calls out her name. Andy uses the time to sneak away from her, before she has the chance to make him ‘try the meatballs, honey’.

He finds an empty seat next to Rafa’s sister. She is busy typing something furiously into her phone but she glances up when he comes to her.

“Hi Maribel,” Andy smiles, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek when she offers. “May I?” He waves at the chair next to her.

“Sure! Hi!” She pulls the chair out of him so he can sit down. “Did you miss me?” She grins, her face lighting up. He really did miss her, he realizes. Her quick smile and her bubbling personality.

“I couldn’t stay away.”

“Of course not,” she says, holding up one finger as she finishes her message. “Just a second and then you can tell me all about the UK. Gosh, you’re so pale you’re basically glowing in the dark.”

Maribel talks a mile a minute, much like her mother. Andy tips his head down and pick up one of the anchovies, shoving it into his mouth and hiding his smile. He’s barely arrived and he’s already feeling much less stressed than merely hours earlier, in Ms. Finnieston’s office.

Rafa appears about fifteen minutes later, his hair damp from having taken a shower. By that time, Maribel is done updating him on everything that happened since Andy’s last visit. Andy’s laughing at some story she’s telling, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up.

Rafa pats his shoulder. “Hey. Good to see you here,” he says, leaning down and stealing one of the fried bell peppers from Andy’s plate. He tips his head back, opening his mouth wide and dropping it into his mouth.

“Go get your own food, Rafael,” Maribel says in a pitch perfect imitation of her mother’s stern voice.

“Don’t be rude to your brother, María Isabel,” Rafa retorts and all three of them burst out laughing.

Rafa is still standing close behind Andy, hand clutching at his shoulder, the warmth spreading from his palm. Andy brings his own hand to tap at Rafa’s hand. “Thanks for having me,” he says when they’re done laughing.

“Anytime,” Maribel says quickly and Andy glances over just in time to catch the undecipherable look she shoots her brother.

Chewing obnoxiously, Rafa extends his other hand in which he’s holding two glasses of wine by their stems. He holds his hand out to Andy, who carefully takes one glass and makes to hand it over to Maribel. She shakes her head so Andy shrugs and takes a sip himself instead.

Maribel gets to her feet, stretching and smoothing down the skirt of her flowery summer dress. “Going to check if the rice’s cooked already,” she says. “I hate when it gets all soggy.”

Rafa takes her seat and drags the chair a little closer to Andy. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I was just coming back from a run and I had to take a shower. You were here early.”

Andy holds out his plate to him, and Rafa snatches three olives, lobbing them into his mouth in a precise arch.

“Sorry about that,” Andy says. “I came straight from Edinburgh. Didn’t feel like stopping home just to sleep through the night and set off in the morning again.”

“We don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Andy says, glancing around the patio. It’s bustling with life. There are two younger kids, probably from Toni’s side of the family, whose names Andy doesn’t immediately recall. He watches them as they try to be sneaky and drop a few breadcrumbs down their drowsy cousin’s shirt. Unfortunately for them, she jerks awake in no time and retaliates by kicking the nearer boy in his shin, making him yelp in pain. Andy nearly chokes on his next sip of wine. “It’s nice to catch up with everyone again.”

“Your Spanish is getting better, too.”

Andy feels his smile turn a little forced. He’s had a good reason to improve pretty fast, over the past few months. He’s crammed going over everyday phrases into his daily routine, he’s gotten used to falling asleep while listening de Vega’s plays on his iPod. He’s got a medley of Spanish songs to play on loop while he’s driving. The Introduction to Spanish Grammar and a ‘Brief’ Overview of Spanish History are two books that travel everywhere with him. They resemble colouring books more than anything, there are so many things underlined and highlighted. There is barely any space left in the margins because Andy keeps scribbling down his own notes with every new reading.

“Thanks,” Andy says. “Spanish I can manage, it’s that quirky language of yours that’s giving me nightmares.”

Rafa grins and says something in Mallorquí that’s too fast and too quiet for Andy to understand.

“Nope,” Andy says, popping the final sound. “Not a word. I don’t have an ear for that kind of noise.”

“Barcelona spoiled you at your young and impressionable age, my friend,” Rafa sighs theatrically and helps himself to more of Andy’s food.

When the paella is done, a generous portion is given to everyone. Andy takes a bite and shudders at the taste. Either Maribel got distracted on her way to check it or she arrived too late, because the rice is all clumped together, soft and mushy. Also, there is definitely too much garlic. Andy scoops up another bite and washes it down with the wine.

There is no way to dispose of the nasty food and he doesn’t want to seem rude – no one else seems to be having troubles stomaching the food. He soldiers on, eventually trying to get rid of the lingering taste by snacking on the tapas again. He is being sneaky about it, too, because if Ana María catches him, she’ll just think he’s still hungry and he’ll end up with another plate of the paella.

Rafa stays close to him throughout the late evening and well into the night, occasionally striking conversation with other family members but not leaving Andy to be the third wheel. Andy is grateful for that.

Rafa is kind enough to let him stay at their house and Andy doesn’t even have to answer millions of questions first. Sure, Rafa is curious, Andy can read it in his eyes, but he isn’t pressing. He is waiting for Andy to open up and explain at his own pace.

If it were up to him, Andy would put it off indefinitely. But his ten days are ticking. He gives himself three days – until the weekend is over. There is no way he is letting his drama disrupt the family time Rafa has going on right now.

It isn’t until well after the midnight that the family starts to retire to bed. There is the usual chaos as everyone gets placed for the night. Andy is lead to his usual room and he finally has time to unpack. He takes a long shower, glad to be getting rid of the lingering airplane smell.

Despite being tired, he can’t fall asleep.

He is tossing on the bed, listening to the sounds of the house, overly conscious of the way his bed creaks each time he shifts into a different position.

Finally, around half past four in the morning, he decides to call it quits.

He sneaks out of his room, footsteps muffled by the carpets. He walks down the hallway, planning to sit down in the main living room and give Jamie a ring. Jamie is down in Sydney where is around two in the afternoon – a reasonable time for a call.

Andy doesn’t want to talk on his phone in his room, because the house is full of people and he isn’t sure who is or who isn’t sleeping in the rooms next to him. He’d hate to wake anyone up.

Downstairs, the fireplace is lit. The heat envelopes his body before he even makes it halfway down the stairs.

Andy pokes his head into the room. The TV is on, casting a soft blue glow over the room. The lamp is on as well, dimmed to give the minimum of light. The dancing flickers from the fireplace make the room seem even cosier.

Rafa glances up from the sofa, beckons him closer. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a busy day and I can never fall asleep so soon after flying. What are you watching?”

“Er. Um. We’ve been watching an anime, with Carlito and the other kids. And then they went to bed and I just…”

Andy bites back a smile. “Had to see how it ends?”

“Yes. Stop laughing at me.”

“Not laughing,” Andy says, sitting down next to Rafa. On the screen, a girl with a bright purple hair spouts wings. “What is it about?”

“Uh, it’s complicated. There is this group of people who can change into creatures and normal people fear them. And this group was sentenced but instead of being sent to jail, they’ve been… You know, it’s really complicated.”

“Uh, okay.” A few more scenes pass. The girl on the screen is arguing with a pale, lanky boy with long black hair. “Why are they wearing those collars?”

“They can turn into the creatures so the other people wanted to have a way of controlling them… Well. It’s–”

“Complicated,” Andy finishes for him.

He scrolls though his phone, thumbs open a message to Jamie. It’s probably better if Jamie doesn’t hear his voice. Andy has never been a good actor and Jamie would know something is up.

Andy keeps composing the text and deleting it for so long the episode ends. Andy glances up, sees the credits rolling and decides to send Jamie the latest version of his text. Just a quick hello and good luck.

“So? How did it end?”

“It didn’t,” Rafa answers grumpily. “It’s a series and the newest episodes don’t have any subtitles yet.”

“I’m sure the kids will let you know when the next episode comes out.”

“Of course they will,” Rafa says. “We always watch it together. It’s our thing.”

“Are you doing anything these days besides watching the TV, you old man?”

Rafa switches the TV to some channel showing fishing tips. “Serena is coming here on Tuesday. I was thinking we could take the boat out.”

“Sounds fine,” Andy says with a little shrug, inwardly panicking.

By Tuesday, he needs Rafa to already know about the mess he got himself into. A boat trip where they won’t be able to escape each other’s presence would be a disaster.

He wants to ask how long she is staying – but it would be rude and uncalled for. Rafa has probably already had plans with Serena by the time Andy asked him if he could come. If he’s being honest, he practically invited himself. He is on a tight schedule and wouldn’t have taken no for answer. But Rafa didn’t turn him down because Rafa would never say no when his friends asked.

For someone who is trying to cling to his ‘ferocious opponent’ persona, Rafa is surprisingly kind and fragile. Andy has yet to hear no from him which is a part of the reason why Andy is going to ask him to play a part in the charade.

There is a first time for everything, though. The nagging voice in Andy’s head keeps whispering that this might be when Rafa shakes his head and refuses to help Andy out because he is asking too much.

“What time is she arriving?” Andy asks instead.

“I’m picking her up at nine.”

Andy’s respect for the woman goes up a notch. Willingly getting into a car with Rafa takes a lot of courage and the nerves of steel. She’s known Rafa for a long time, there is no way she doesn’t know what kind of a driver Rafa is.

“Cool,” Andy says distractedly. He will have to tell Rafa soon because that’s why he’s here. But it doesn’t mean he has to tell him right now.

He is probably silent too long, because Rafa turns his head to look at him. “…likes to dote on her. Hey, you with me?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Has it been too much? The evening, I mean.”

“What?” Andy blinks. “Not at all. It’s been… it’s been such a great evening, here, with your family.”

“They can get a little intimidating.”

“It was fun,” Andy assures him. “Your family is something else. The atmosphere here – I’ve never had that with my family.”

He probably never will. There is the strain of expectations put on him and he can never shake off the feeling of being watched and judged, too conscious about his every word to relax and enjoy himself the way he can with Rafa’s family.

Andy has yet to spring the news on his own family. He can imagine their expressions crystal clear. His stomach clenches.

“My family and I,” Andy goes on, “we don’t get along the same way all of you do. I mean, we do get along, it’s just not this… intense.” Or heart-warming. “Your family…”

“They get involved without being overbearing,” Rafa summarizes.

“Exactly,” Andy says. There is something is Rafa’s gaze that makes him add, “sometimes I feel the most fond of my folks when I’m not with them.”

“It’s not all roses here, either,” Rafa says quietly.

“I know, but…” Andy trails off. No wonder Rafa can’t even begin to imagine it, his family is nothing like Andy’s. To Rafa, the sense of openness and safety is the norm. It’s what he is set to expect. Even if sometimes the peace is disrupted, everyone reaches out to join their hands and stay calm throughout the storm. “But sometimes I simply feel better when I’m with my friends,” Andy chooses to say instead.

Andy’s family… it’s more like a constant storm that is occasionally granted a brief moment of rest before things get shaken anew. Sometimes it can be even the tiniest things that cause the trigger reaction. The broken wine glass his brother’s wife dropped by an accident. A well-meant compliment about the food. The quick flash of a smug smile when Andy tells his father Amélie won’t be training him anymore. And now, Andy is brewing up a true tempest. Either he’ll have to tell them about the options the Institute has given him, or he’s going to tell them about ‘him and Rafa’. Either way, he can’t avoid the fall out.

The silence stretches, interrupted only by the crackle of the fire.

Rafa clears his throat. “How is Jamie doing, anyway?”

Andy relaxes, stretching on the sofa and crossing his legs at the ankles. “I came down here to give him a call, actually.”

“Oh. Don’t let me stop you.” Rafa says, drawing his legs up and settling against the cushions.

“I’m texting him instead.”

Rafa gives Andy a sidelong glance, quieting his voice into a soft murmur. “Tell him I say hi.”

“I haven’t told him I’m here.”

“Oh. Okay.” Rafa nods, once, and turns his attention back to the TV.

The fly casting techniques are boring. Andy finds himself watching the fire in the fireplace instead.

Rafa doesn’t seem to be too enthusiastic about the programme either. “You mind if I put on a film instead?”

“Not in the slightest. Please, do that. Want a cup of tea?”

Rafa shakes his head and Andy wanders off into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea. When he sets it on the table in the living room and makes himself comfortable on the sofa, Rafa leans across him to reach for the cup. The film is already cued up, one Andy doesn’t recognize from the opening scenes.

“I thought you said you didn’t want any?”

“What? No, I don’t. Just – here,” Rafa says, fiddling with the cup so that the handle is facing to the right. He then bites down on his lip, looking sheepish.

Andy doesn’t say anything but he makes sure that when he takes a sip, he places the mug back on the table in the right way.

He jerks awake to the sound of someone giggling and snapping pictures on their phone.

Without really seeing her, Andy blinks owlishly at Maribel. He undoubtedly resembles Ms. Finnieston for a few long moments. Then he comes to his senses and jolts upright, Rafa sinking into the cushions instead, his head sliding off Andy’s shoulder.

Rafa makes a feeble protesting sound at the loss of contact, then leans to Andy’s side with a snuffle, seeking the warmth. Maribel starts laughing aloud, and Andy prays she is only taking pictures and not filming a video.

Rafa wakes up, staring up at the two of them in confusion, before his brain comes online as well and he scrambles away from Andy.

Maribel fires off in a rapid Mallorquí and Rafa replies to her just as quick. His tone is harsher than hers. Andy catches only a few words of the exchange, frustratingly not enough to make much sense of it.

“He’s hopeless,” Maribel says, shaking her head and pocketing her phone. In her other hand, Andy notices only then, she has balanced a container with the leftovers and a huge jar of Nutella, with the lid unscrewed and a big spoon sticking out of it like a sore thumb. “I’ll leave you to it.” She saunters up the stairs, smirking.

Andy clears his throat. “Guess we could fall asleep after all. What time is it?”

“Too early,” Rafa groans, sinking back into the couch.

“I’m going to try get some sleep, then,” Andy says, drawing himself up from the couch.

“Yeah, me too,” Rafa says but he remains where he is, unmoving.

“Uh,” Andy starts, “good night.”

“Good morning,” Rafa returns. He’s still not getting up, so Andy turns away and starts up the stairs, his heart heavy.

The scene played out perfectly into his hands but he can’t bring himself to feel happy about it. He imagines Maribel thinking back to this scene when they tell her – if they tell her – how she’ll croon and say she knew it. Even though there was nothing she could have known.

He hasn’t talked to Rafa yet and the rings are safely tucked in his suitcase where no one has seen them.

Andy wakes up well rested and ready for the new day. He gets dressed and walks down into the dining room, surprised to find most of Rafa’s family members already up and awake.

Even Toni is there, with a wet dish cloth folded across his forehead. He catches Andy staring and grimaces.

“Rough morning?” Andy asks.

“Yes.” Toni grunts.

“Morning, honey,” Ana María says, giving Andy a brief one-armed hug. Andy stumbles with the motion, although he should have expected it. Rafa’s family is incredibly affectionate, even towards him. “Eggs?”

“Morning. Yes, please.”

Ana María hands him a cold glass of water and when Andy just stares at it in confusion, she makes a motion to Toni.

Andy crosses the kitchen and offers the glass to Toni, who grunts again and takes it, chucking it down in a few long gulps.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Ana María calls, “he should have known better than to try matching Arturo.”

“I never used to get hangover. Never in my life,” Toni protests feebly.

“Maybe not until you turned thirty,” Ana María acknowledges. “You’re getting old, Toni. Your body is getting old and it won’t keep up with you the way you go at it.”

“My whole life and I never threw up after drinking. Not even once,” Toni mutters grumpily.

“Must have been the wine,” Andy offers.

Toni brightens up. “You heard the boy? That’s what I’m telling you!” He gives his glass back to Andy and makes a shooing motion with his hand. Andy fixes him another glass, Toni reaching out for it greedily when Andy returns.

A timer starts beeping. Ana María takes the pan with the omelette from the stove, sliding the omelette onto a plate and folding it into half in one swift motion. Then she stands on her tiptoes, reaching for a mug. “Coffee?” She asks Andy. The timer is still going and she lets the annoying sound drag on.

Toni is whimpering slightly. “Vicious woman,” he hisses under his breath.

Andy takes the plate and the mug, sitting at the table next to Carlito. Carlito takes one look at the amount of ‘yucky veggies’ at Andy’s plate and goes on happily munching on his cereals.

Andy takes a sip from his mug, Carlito slurps his cocoa. Andy takes a bite of his eggs, Carlito shoves in two spoonfuls. Soon, there is some sort of a competition between them. Andy doesn’t quite get the rules but starts eating much more quickly than he would normally do. A very determined expression twists Carlito’s features into a frown.

Andy and Carlito are still shovelling the food into their mouths when Rafa appears, placing down his breakfast next to them and starting to chew slowly.

Andy’s and Carlito’s eyes lock, then Carlito snickers and Andy suppresses a smile. He quickly forks the last bit of his omelette and turns his attention to finish off the vegetables.

“Ugh. How can you stomach that stuff,” Rafa shakes his head, giving Andy’s plate the stink eye.

“Is it the tomatoes?”

“Yes,” Rafa says.

Maribel enters the dining room, overhearing them. “It’s the tomatoes and the cheese.”

“And the ham,” their mother chimes in while Rafa is pouting. She turns to Maribel to give her a quick kiss on her hair, Maribel having to lean down a bit into it. “Good morning,” Ana María tells her quietly. “Just the toast again?”

Maribel nods, pouring herself a cup of tea and flopping down on the chair next to Carlito. She ruffles his hair and Carlito scoffs and leans as far away from her as possible without having to leave his post. He’s not done with neither his cocoa, nor his cereals. Andy has already wolfed down his eggs so it’s a losing battle but the young boy doesn’t seem to be discouraged.

“You’re pale,” Rafa says, looking at his sister with sharp eyes.

Andy glances up. Indeed, Maribel is looking tired and sickly pale, despite having retired early from the family gathering yesterday.

Her mother places the dry toast in front of her, smoothing her hair from her face and calling her ‘my little one’. Maribel manages a weary smile. She ignores both the butter and olive oil and starts nibbling at her dry toast, washing it down with the tea.

Looking concerned, Rafa opens his mouth to make a comment, but his mother cuts in, “Don’t tease your sister, Raphael.”

“I won’t.” Something flashes in Rafa’s eyes as he snaps his mouth shut. Andy is certain he wasn’t about to tease Maribel at all, but he takes the reprimand seriously anyway.

Maribel curls one hand protectively around her stomach and she closes her eyes with a little sigh.

Neither him nor Carlito understand the sudden shift in the atmosphere but they’re both glad to get away, finishing their breakfast in a record time and speeding away from the kitchen and dining room.

Carlito generously invites Andy to come join him and they get out to the veranda and play fetch with Carlito’s dog, Pato. Carlito is more than happy to let Andy throw the ball once he realizes just how far Andy can throw it, whooping at every single throw Andy makes and daring him to surpass the distance with his next one. It’s nice to have someone who isn’t watching for how tense or relaxed are his shoulders, how far apart are his feet or if his stance is correct, someone who isn’t making critical comments about the angle at which he throws. The little dog seems pretty excited as well.

Andy keeps throwing the ball further and further away, probably well over sixty meters from where they’re standing. The ball is easy to spot – it’s a tennis ball, its bright colour dimmed from the dirt and its surface all fuzzy from the dog’s teeth.

The dog is surprisingly tireless for his size and they keep playing until Rafa follows after them. Pato retrieves the ball and then he sees Rafa. He barks out in excitement, dropping the ball from his mouth and hurrying to greet Rafa. Then he seems to realize he’s lost the ball, swivels around and returns to grab it, hurrying as fast as his little paws can carry him. Rafa doesn’t even crack a smile.

Carlito quickly kneels down and pockets the ball as if he’s worried Rafa is going to keep it for himself.

“Tomorrow, you teach me,” Carlito says to Andy in a heavily accented English and it makes Andy beam.

“Claro,” he agrees. “Mañana.”

Carlito grins up at him and hurries back into the house. Pato wavers for a moment, then runs after the boy, trying to sneak into the house.

Andy comes to stand next to Rafa.

The weather is pleasant, so much kinder than it would be right now in Glasgow. There are only a few greying clouds gathering at the horizon, the soft wind picking up.

“We could ride the bikes to Felanitx,” Rafa suggests, apropos of nothing.

Andy remembers the killer serpentines raising up to the Sanctuary of San Salvador quite vividly from the last summer. He groans in a feeble protest. “Then down to Mondragó?”

“Sure.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

There are so many chances Andy could just put a hand on Rafa’s arm. ‘Hey, can I talk to you for a second?’ And Rafa would tilt his head and raise his eyebrows, giving Andy that slightly confused but open look.

Andy lets every moment pass. He doesn’t have the courage. He doesn’t want to tear down the easy friendship between them. He doesn’t want to make Rafa second-guess Andy’s every little gesture, his every smile and touch.

The weekend comes and goes, and Monday passes just as quickly. Rafa would look at him oddly, from time to time, probably whenever Andy was busy freaking himself out from just thinking about asking Rafa. But Rafa just looks and doesn’t ask. Andy doesn’t say anything.

Then Tuesday morning comes and Andy just can’t do it. He sends Rafa off to meet with Serena and claims he’s not feeling it.

“Probably the jetlag finally catching up with me,” he lies.

Rafa’s brow furrows but he doesn’t push Andy into joining them.

Andy stays holed up in his room for the better part of the morning. He takes out the files from his suitcase and reads through them for the hundredth time. He places the ring box on the table and stares at the offensive item. He runs his hand over his mouth and after much contemplation, he realizes he can’t do this. Much like he couldn’t bring himself to ask Rafa, he won’t be able to demand this from Rafa. It would be selfish, asking Rafa to jeopardize all he’s built for himself over the years. He shoves it all back into his suitcase, shoves it deep under the bed where he doesn’t have to see it and flops down onto his bed where he stays until there is a soft knock on his door.

When he opens, it’s Maribel, asking him if he wants to join her downstairs for a brunch.

The house is quieter with just the two of them in the living room. Maribel curls up in her favourite armchair, taking a while to find a position to settle in. She looks tired but happy.

Andy is lulled into the sense of domestic security so that’s why it takes him by a surprise when Maribel switches the topic from the books she’s been reading to a seemingly innocent, ‘So when are you going to say anything?’

The chances of her knowing about the law requiring everyone over the age of thirty to be bonded else they would be assigned a partner by the Institute is slim. She can’t know about the rings either.

“Excuse me?” He says.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Look, I get it that you’re nervous but it’s not like we don’t know anyway. Should have been more careful if you really wanted to keep it secret from us. We’re his family, you know? We notice these things.”

“These things,” he echoes faintly.

“Yeah. I don’t remember time when the condo on the top floor here wasn’t yours. You belong with us, I want you to know that. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Oh,” Andy says feeling like the dirtiest scumbag ever. Maribel has no idea. And he’s not about to inform her about what is really going on.

He manages a weak smile.

“Look, I get it but I’m just saying, I kinda need you to man up and say it so everyone who didn’t know already can freak out and those of us who knew anyway can welcome you to the family. I’ve got my own news to tell when this all blows over and it’s not like I can wait much longer to tell. You’re not stealing my spotlight, okay?”

“All right, then,” Andy says. He can’t take this away from Rafa. He’s going to fly back to Scotland tonight and he’s going to make that doctor’s appointment tomorrow and hand in those files to the Institute and pray he’s not going to be miserable for the rest of his life.

“Cool,” Maribel beams. “This is going to be quite some dinner tonight, I can tell.”

When Andy just looks at her, expression blank, she reaches out over the side of the armchair and parts his head.

“It’s going to be okay, you’ll see,” she says, placating.

Andy gets back into his room, throwing his things back into his bags again. He can’t be bothered to waste any time folding everything neatly, he just grabs all he’s unpacked and stuffs it back inside.

Rafa and Serena probably won’t be back from the boat any time soon but he doesn’t want to risk running into them.

He calls himself a cab, hoping this time he’ll luck out and whoever comes to pick him up will drive better than Rafa and safer than Marco.

Rafa’s mum is not back from the market yet, which is something Andy had also been counting on. There is just Maribel, still occupying the armchair and watching TV series of questionable quality.

Andy draws in a breath. The key is to be quick about it.

He can hear the cab pull in front of the house. He glances up and sees a driver get out, opening the boot of the car for Andy’s bags.

Andy grabs his stuff and makes it downstairs.

“Thanks for having me here, Maribel,” he says as he approaches her, lightning quick. He drops a kiss to her hair. “Say bye from me to the rest of the family, okay? Okay. Hope to see you again soon!”

Maribel is shouting something at him, sounding positively shocked, but Andy is not stopping until he’s seated in the passenger’s seat, slamming the doors shut.

This driver is older than Marco had been and he just gives Andy one long, hard look and then he switches on the radio and doesn’t try to make a small talk.

Andy’s heart still hasn’t calmed down by the time he arrives at the airport. He’s missed one flight back home by a few minutes, the other one is completely booked. He’ll have to wait and see if everyone makes it to the departures or wait for the next plane that doesn’t leave until well into the night.

It’s maybe three hours later and he’s still at the airport thanks to his last minute change of plans, when his phone rings. It’s Rafa. For a second, he doesn’t want to answer and make up lies about his absence but then, it’s Rafa and he doesn’t deserve this.

“Hey,” Andy says.

“Oh, Hi. Glad you’ve picked it up. You’ve, uh. You’ve left your suitcase here,” Rafa says.

Andy’s breath catches in his chest, his stomach dropping. “Shit.”

Rafa’s tone isn’t much telling through the phone. He can’t tell if Rafa has opened the suitcase and saw the papers, saw the forms and the bloody rings. He couldn’t hold it against Rafa, Rafa would have only wanted to see if the forgotten things were of any importance, if they could wait there for Andy to come back for his usual practise on clay, or if they needed to be sent after him. Damn it. If Rafa opened the suitcase and saw the rings…

Rafa’s voice is tight, controlled. “You left in a hurry, didn’t you?”

“I’ve forgotten about an appointment.” Not a complete lie, technically.

“Oh,” Rafa says. There is a silence that stretches. “Maribel hasn’t talked to you about… anything?”

Andy frowns. Why would Rafa ask that? Was there something Maribel could have told him that would cause him to storm out of the house?

“No, she hasn’t,” Andy says slowly.

“Ah. Okay.”

“Listen, I’ll have to hang up. See you back home later tonight, okay?”

He freezes the moment the word ‘home’ leaves his mouth but Rafa doesn’t seem to think it’s anything odd to say.

“You’re coming back?” Rafa chooses to focus on instead.

“Yeah, sure. I’m staying, I’ve just forgotten about an appointment I’ve had.”

Rafa doesn’t answer right away and the pause is enough to make Andy worry Rafa will ask about why he needed to pack all his other things for this ‘appointment’ of his and ‘is that the airport terminal I hear in the background?’ .

“Okay,” Rafa says again. “See you.”

Andy hangs up, glances at the endless row of monitors displaying the list of departing flights and with a little defeated sigh, he dials the cab company again. By this rate, he’s going to become their favourite client.

He needs the files he’s forgotten if he wants to make it to the appointment. He can’t imagine himself in the doctor’s office, though, being evaluated for potential bonding. By this point, he isn’t sure which option scares him more. Telling Rafa, or not telling him.

When Andy gets back, no one asks him any questions, which is highly suspicious.

Andy moves his bags back upstairs. Serena is nowhere in sight and when he later ventures to ask Maribel, she just looks at him oddly and says that Serena was ‘staying at the hotel, as usual’.

Rafa gives him about half an hour to settle, then he comes in, two glasses in hand and a bottle of god knows what. He looks more withdrawn and less relaxed than he was in the morning and it’s all Andy’s fault. Rafa sits in one of the small armchairs in the room, carefully placing the glass and the bottle on the table. “Drink with me?”

Andy reaches for the glass, then holds it up for Rafa to pour him the drink. Rafa slowly slides in the ice cubes before pouring the drink.

Andy decides to tell Rafa, just as instinctive and desperate as he was when deciding to flee the island.

When it finally happens, Andy has barely any thought before the words leave his mouth. It’s not how he wanted to open up this can of worms at all. He wanted to ease Rafa into the subject, warm him up to the idea first. And not just glance over and blurt it out.

“Marry me,” Andy says.

Rafa chokes on his drink and splutters, “W-what?!”

Andy tightens the grip on his straw and keeps poking at the ice cubes in his glass. “You heard me.”

“Umm. That’s it,” Rafa says, reaching over the table to swipe Andy’s glass. “No more drinks for you.”

Andy huffs out a mirthless laugh. “I can explain. Please.”

Rafa’s dark eyes bore into his and Andy tries to hold the gaze. A few moments pass, then Rafa glances away and downs Andy’s drink. “I’m listening.”

All the phrases Andy has prepared vanish from his mind. He opens his mouth. “I…”

Rafa grabs the bottle and carefully unscrews the lid. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Andy tells him, stumbling over his words. He tells Rafa about Ms. Finnieston and about the 501M8 SLT, the law that dates nearly five hundred years back.

Rafa is uncharacteristically quiet while Andy talks. His dark eyes are focused but his face doesn’t betray any emotions and it’s been a while since Andy has glanced over the net and seen this exact mixture of focus, assessing and judgement. He loses his train of thoughts, momentarily.

“Please. Please, Rafael, I’m not beyond begging,” Andy says.

The silence is deafening.

“My mother’s going to be the hardest to convince,” Rafa says in the end.

Instead of the elation at the implied agreement, Andy’s stomach sinks. He’s asking Rafa to drop this nuke onto his happy family’s lives. There isn’t anything in return that he could offer and that would be enough.

“I know it’s a horrible idea but I’ve been desperate, okay? And I know it’s impossible, what I’m asking, and that’s why I tried to get away from this all today.”

Rafa sighs. “What is in the suitcase?”

“The rings,” Andy answers.

He doesn’t expect to hear Rafa’s laughter. “You’re a mess, my friend.”

“I know,” Andy manages, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I know.”

“Okay, so. Aren’t you afraid you’ll find your soulmate later on and would not be allowed to bond since you’d be too busy pretending you’re already bonded with me?”

“If I don’t bond by the next May, they are obliged to bond me to someone anyway.”

Rafa’s eyes widen. “I thought… forced bondings were abolished when the Empire fell?”

“Not in Scotland, apparently.”

“But that’s just… that’s horrible.”

“Yeah. But I’ve had thirty years to bond on my own and I haven’t so far so I doubt it would have happened in the future anyway.”

Rafa makes a strange sound. “Don’t you think… with the way you live. That there just wasn’t time for finding your soulmate?”

“There were always more important things to worry about, yes,” Andy admits.

Rafa searches for something in his face but Andy can’t tell if he’s happy with what he sees. “Has there ever been anyone who made you wonder?”

Andy mulls it over. It isn’t all that surprising that he hasn’t developed a mark. One needs to be ready to bond. Be ready to throw everything away and commit to their partner. Finding someone with whom you can form a bond and sharing a soul doesn’t mean sacrificing a piece of yourself, not at all. It means acknowledging that the most important thing in your life, the only thing your world revolves around, is your bond.

For Andy, of course, tennis always comes first.

“No.”

Rafa looks saddened by hearing that but it is the truth. Andy has never considered searching for a relationship that could turn into a bond. And now he is running out of time to figure things out on his own.

‘Calm down,’ he scolds himself. Technically, if the Institute forces a bond on him with someone truly horrible, the soulmate marks would never appear. Many things could be arranged artificially, but there is no masking a lack of compatibility.

“So,” Rafa says, “what you’re saying is that if you’re already married, the Institute won’t come after you?”

“Not quite. They don’t care if I’m married or not, they are to see that everyone over thirty is bonded.”

Rafa goes perfectly still. “So you need me to fake a soulbond?”

That makes Andy snort. “Don’t be daft. No one can ‘fake a soulbond’.”

“Than what do you need from me?” Rafa looks more confused than angry.

Andy reaches into his suitcase, clicks it open and finds the rings. “I need you to marry me.” He slides the box across the table between them. It catches against the side of Rafa’s glass and Rafa reaches out, automatically moving the glass further away. He doesn’t take the ring box, though, just stares at it as if it might explode any second.

“How is that going to help you?”

‘Ah, here comes the best part,’ Andy thinks to himself. He reaches across the table, flips the box open, picks up his own ring and slips it on his finger. It’s a simple brand with their names in the inscriptions on the inner side.

“It’s December now. We announce we’ve been dating for a while and that I’ve asked you to marry me and you said yes, so we decided to go public about the relationship. Christmas is, actually, a pretty common time to ask your partner to marry you.”

“I know that.” Rafa barely seems to be breathing.

“Then I turn thirty in March and the Institute will send someone to look into my soulmate status.” Andy grimaces as he imagines Ms. Finnieston knocking on his door and demanding to be let in, a thick folder of complaint forms under her arm.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to pretend to have bonded instead?”

Andy shakes his head. “They wouldn’t buy it.”

Rafa looks offended by those words. “Why not?!”

“Uh.” Andy isn’t planning on agitating Rafa any further. “There is no need to pretend I’m bonded with you. If I’m married to you, I can apply for the citizenship by September and get it approved by December.”

“But Spain won’t allow you a double citizenship,” Rafa says in a rush.

“I know that,” Andy says, trying to sound firm. “I count on that.”

“Oh.” Rafa grapples at the bottle, then thinks better of it. “Your Spanish has really improved,” Rafa remarks, voice softening.

“A necessity,” Andy says and he notices Rafa’s little flinch.

Andy would have preferred to deal with Rafa getting angry – that, he knew how to handle. Shouts and threats and getting in each other’s faces was familiar, something they always bounce back from. But the lack of reaction from Rafa is unsettling.

Rafa bites down on his lip. “Have you been sticking around all this time just to make it more believable for everyone?”

“No. Rafa, how can you say that?” Andy has to dismiss the ridiculous assumption right away. Tell Rafa he genuinely enjoys hanging around, tell him the moments he spends here with him are the happiest he’s ever been. “I… no, of course not.”

Rafa’s voice is still perfectly levelled. “When did you know? In Rio? Or maybe even earlier?”

“I was always glad for the time we get to spend together,” Andy finally manages to say. “No ulterior motive.”

“Well.” Rafa swallows. “All that time together is certainly going to be in our favour in the public eye.”

“It’s going to sound more believable,” Andy nods, hope rising again. Rafa hasn’t said no. Rafa hasn’t called him a traitor and threw him out. He hasn’t demanded Andy never shows his face here again. He didn’t even call Andy a madman for deserting his country. “We can claim we’ve been madly in love since forever.”

Rafa is ready to sacrifice so much for him. He doesn’t even blink, just sighs and says, “Okay, we can do that.”

Andy could kiss him – which is a disconcerting thought. Because he could.

“We can do that tomorrow.”

“Sure, let’s tell them in the morning.”

“Your sister first,” Andy says. Maribel is going to be the easier one to sway, he thinks.

There is a small, quick smile that plays on Rafa’s lips. “… so that’s your battleplan?”

“Uh. Yes. That’s the battleplan.”

“Let’s do this, then.”

“Let’s.”

Rafa reaches for the box and tugs on the other ring, a weird expression on his face and eyes so dark and intense that Andy can’t bear to look at him.

“This will get out,” Rafa warns him.

“I know.”

“Once we hand in the request and they’ve processed it, they’ll have to contact the Institute in Scotland. Then it’s going to leak out.”

“We need to make sure we tell everyone that matters first.”

“We won’t have much time and we can’t forget about anyone. William. Jamie and his wife. Delgado–”

Andy squeezes his shoulder. “I’ve got it covered.”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight.”

“Me neither. We can always finish marathoning that… what it was we were watching again?”

This time, the smile lasts longer. “…I don’t know why I’m marrying you.”

Maribel doesn’t get downstairs until the rest of the family is already up. They can’t single her out without it being suspicious and she manages to sneak out early into the evening. They decide to stay up and wait for her to come back.

Andy half expects the day to be endless, keeps waiting for the awkward silences between them but they never come. Rafa is the same as usual and Andy finds it is easy to let his guard down.

Finally, well after nine, Maribel comes back. “Hey, you two,” she says, coming to a halt next to them. She seems surprised when she sees both of them curled on the sofa but she gives them a small nod and a smile.

“Hi,” Andy returns.

Rafa is regarding his sister with the same sharp gaze Andy has seen before.

Maribel chucks her jacket over the nearest chair and straightens her hair. “Have you two been here the whole time?”

Rafa shifts, his thigh pressing against Andy’s as he sits up. “Yes. Where have you been, Maribel?”

She shrugs. “With a friend.”

Rafa’s eyes narrow. “María Isabel, don’t you dare lie to my face,” he says, a perfect imitation of his mother. Andy is pretty sure Rafa’s not joking, despite the tone. “Have you been with a boyfriend?”

Maribel lifts up her head defiantly. “What if I have?”

Rafa is taken aback, so Andy fills in, attempting the same tone, “Then, María Isabel, we would start pestering you with questions about the grandkids instead.”

Maribel laughs, a pure delighted sound, but Rafa is still tense.

“Gosh, look at you, now there’s two of you, that’s unbearable,” her cheeks going a little pink and she’s gasping for breath, her laughter quieting to giggles.

Andy rests his hand on Rafa’s knee. Rafa relaxes marginally at the touch and he says, “You’d better name the kids after me.”

“If it’s a boy,” Maribel says, “I’m naming him Novak.”

Rafa tenses right back up, Andy can feel the change in him and if Andy thought Rafa has been tense before, now it’s a whole new level.

“Don’t even joke about it,” Rafa says, voice flat.

Maribel’s eyes shine. “I’m not joking.”

Rafa opens and closes his mouth, then he chokes out, “I need some air.” He scrambles out of the room, Andy staring at him in confusion.

He turns to Maribel. “You can’t be serious about Novak.”

Maribel raises her eyebrows, “Of course not. That’s not what we’ve been talking about.”

Andy doesn’t understand anything anymore.

Maribel pats his cheek. “Don’t worry about it, love. I’m going to go after him, make sure he’s taking the news well. I don’t want him blurting it out at the dinner table. Not until you’ve made your announcement and had your share of drama. Maybe tell them at the Charismas dinner on Friday?”

Andy has no idea what she is talking about. “Why would there be a Christmas party on Friday?”

“So mum could burn some more Yorkshire puddings. You should have seen the first two batches, even Pato wouldn’t come anywhere near them. But I’m sure there’s going to be a roasted duck, so I wouldn’t object if I were you.”

“The dinner is because I’m here?”

“Well, sort of. It’s because you’re here and because you’re family,” Maribel says easily, like she wasn’t saying anything new. She grabs her jacket again and starts after Rafa.

Andy waits impatiently, curled up on the sofa. He’s typing a text to Jamie again, letting him know he’s finally ‘sorted it out’. Even Jamie doesn’t yet know that the solution means Andy won’t ever call Scotland home again.

Andy stills, his fingers immobile over the screen of his phone. He breathes through the nauseating wave of panic that washes over him.

Maybe Rafa will realize what a colossally bad idea this is and come back all apologetic. Maybe Maribel will only manage to get him pissed even more.

Then he hears the soft steps. Andy smiles and despite the warmth in the room he gets up to get the blanket, knowing Rafa’s going to be barefoot again, complaining about the cold tiles in the hallway.

“You don’t have to go anywhere, right?” Rafa says the moment he walks into the room.

“No, why?”

“There is a storm coming up.”

“I’ll stay put.”

Rafa doesn’t tell him what Maribel said but Andy can be patient, too.

They are already holed inside by the time the storm hits. It’s short but intense, heavy rain beating against the window and the wind strong and howling, upsetting flowerpots in the garden and bending trees low to the ground.

Rafa draws his legs up on the sofa, tucking his feet beneath Andy’s thigh. Andy glances up from his phone at the motion but Rafa only offers a small smile and reaches for the TV remote.

Rafa cranks up the volume in a way he normally wouldn’t. It doesn’t quite help to drawn the noise of the rain but Andy understands the sentiment. He lets his hand drop, loosely cupping Rafa’s ankle and softly stroking his thumb across the bare skin that Rafa’s sweats don’t cover.

Rafa lets out a small sigh, shoulders relaxing.

“This is going to be a long year,” he murmurs.

Andy has to say it. “You really don’t have to, I would understand if–”

“Now look who’s being daft,” Rafa cuts in and that’s it.

The sun sets, the air turning crisp. Andy’s legs are freezing and he makes an unconscious sound, low in his throat, trying to shift closer to the warmth he feels eloping his body.

He yawns, rubs at his eyes and blinks them open.

The first thing that registers with him is seeing Rafa’s mark.

Rafa’s mark.

Andy freezes up. Rafa’s arm is casually thrown over Andy’s chest. They’ve shifted closer together in their sleep, snuggling.

The mark is dark, barely recognizable in the dim light coming from the TV. But it’s there, over the underside of Rafa’s wrist, in a place that’s going to be easy to hide with the wrist guards.

Andy tears at the sleeve of his own shirt, rolling it up, heart pounding in his chest. His palms are sweating and he’s so afraid his sleeve will come up only to reveal unmarked skin that his throat is constricting.

It’s there. Rafa’s familiar scrawl, soft, curved loops wrapped around his own wrist.

He can finally exhale but the breath catches in his throat and he’s choking, tears quickly welling up in his eyes.

He never though he could… he was positive that if the bonding hasn’t happened so far, it won’t ever happen.

“Rafael,” he tries to say but his voice cracks. He reaches out with his hand, with his marked hand, and shakes Rafa awake.

Rafa wakes up and his annoyed face at being woken up smoothes some when he recognizes Andy. “Hey,” he yawns. “What’s up?”

Andy doesn’t trust his voice, he simply takes Rafa’s hand and holds it next to his own, both their marks side to side.

Andy knows the exact moment Rafa realizes that he’s looking at their soulmarks. He can hear the breath hitch in Rafa’s throat, he can hear the sharp exhale, the muffled gasp. Rafa is sitting upright and peering at their marks and Andy feels two hot tears finally spill and slide down his face.

Rafa looks up at him, astonished, his eyes wide, his lips parted.

There are two hands on Andy’s face, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look up. Andy has to close his eyes and remind himself to breathe. He doesn’t get the time to compose himself – Rafa closes the rest of the distance between them, his breath against Andy’s lips.

“Andy?”

Andy doesn’t open his eyes. Instead, he tilts his head and presses forward, just the tiniest of movements, but it’s enough. Their lips brush and Rafa grabs his shoulders, his fingers sinking in like claws.

Andy wraps his hands around Rafa’s waist, pulling him closer. He turns his head away, embarrassed, struggling to gain control over the turmoil of his emotions.

Rafa surges up, pressing a series of quick, hungry kisses against Andy’s mouth until Andy parts his lips and Rafa catches his bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting down.

There is a crackle, like electricity, that shoots down Andy’s spine and he feels his skin prickle. Rafa lets go, resting his head against Andy’s shoulder. Andy is surprised to realize Rafa is trembling. He sucks in a breath. “You’re my soulmate,” Andy says, voice thick and unsteady. He needs to say it, he needs to acknowledge it because he fears it won’t be real otherwise.

Rafa shudders against him, nodding. “You’re mine,” he croaks.

Andy tightens his arms around Rafa, then starts running his hand up and down Rafa’s back. Rafa melts against him, his damp breath against Andy’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this, not anymore,” Rafa says as they pull into the parking lot. “It’s different now.”

The only thing that’s different is that he doesn’t have to run away from Scotland to stay away from the power of the Institute. All they’ll need is to send Ms. Finnieston a copy from the registry which will verify their marriage as well as their bond.

Andy glances down, first at Rafa’s mark, then at his own. “You’re right. It’s different. Because now, I want to do this.”

They get out of the car, Andy stretches with a little wince, his spine cracking.

The building of the Civil Registry is old and ornate, tall windows and brown stone.

He’s calm. For the first time in the last months, he feels completely calm.

He’s found his soulmate. There is nothing he wants to do more than to commit.

He turns to Rafa, “Are you sure? Once we go in we can’t–”

“I’m sure,” Rafa cuts in, holding out his hand, palm up. Andy shuffles his files to his other hand to take Rafa’s hand, intertwining their fingers together.

Rafa is the first to move towards the entrance. He lets go of Andy’s hand and holds the door for him, causing Andy to smile. “After you,” he says.

Andy elbows him as he passes through, his smile turning into a grin.