Work Text:
Clown was painting, when he heard his spouse coming home.
It sounded domestic, and it wasn’t. He was painting with powered crystals on some strange, sticky, unpleasantly natural substance that Branzy had offered him with too much delight, and he’d accepted out of prudence. There would be other options, if he didn’t entertain himself.
And Branzy was hardly even his spouse. But Clown couldn’t think otherwise, firstly, because the bonds in his mind got antsy when he tried. And secondly, if he stopped thinking it, he might stop acting it, and then Branzy would stop leaving him unsupervised at all.
So, he loved Branzy. He was the-fae-equivalent-of-married to Branzy. He was sitting and painting, waiting for his faerie spouse to return like a good pet human, and he was considering painting in his own blood, if he didn’t find something more interesting about the mind-numbing endeavour.
Apparently, his mind needed a little numbing sometimes. No bloodshed in Branzy’s Court, or so he’d been told, so Clown needed to take the edge off a few of his impulses, or it would be done for him. Probably unpleasantly. Branzy wasn’t opposed to leaving him tied to something for days at a time, it turned out, and Clown got fidgety after mere minutes.
He played nice. It was nice, to play along. Branzy didn’t make it hard, and Clown had chosen this, to his own extent.
His sigh was very much one of relief, at least. Branzy was back. Clown wouldn’t say he’d been worried, because one of them was a Fae King, and it wasn’t him. But it was unlike Branzy, to go wandering off into the Wildes with a little less than his usual enthusiasm.
Silently, Clown slid off the stool in the recreation room Branzy had given him, padding across glassy flooring without shoes. It kept him going outside, and he was more than ok with it. Just socks was nicer. Quiet, and comfy.
Plus, it gave him a chance to sneak up on Branzy. Who loved it. Clown didn’t understand that one, didn’t understand why a being essentially all-powerful in his own domain enjoyed having the shit scared out of him by a lowly human, but Branzy did adore him doing it.
Not today, apparently.
Clown stopped short, as soon as he’d slipped out of the door, frozen. He hadn’t expected to see Branzy right outside.
He hadn’t expected Branzy to be carrying something.
Someone or something, it was hard to tell. Clown pondered the difference, this deep in the Feywildes. There were so many inhuman things, so many things that defied humanity in every way they could.
This one could be a dog. Or a human. Clown tilted his head, glad he had his mask on. It was one of his human things, black fabric that didn’t scratch his face. It protected his identity, while he puzzled out that of the newcomer, whatever it was, limp in Branzy’s arms with silver claws glinting over his shoulder.
Branzy turned, and smiled at Clown, stroking its back. It was a dog, Clown was increasingly certain. Or appearing to be one. He wasn’t sure what had happened on first glance, but it had seemed differently proportioned to how it did now, like a wolf just starting to be domesticated, with dark grey fur streaked through with white.
“Hey. Miss me?”
“A dog.”
“He- he’s my son, actually.”
Giggling, Branzy took a few steps closer, and crouched as if he was offering the matted fur for Clown to pet.
Clown’s hands stayed by his sides, and his eyes fixed on his spouse, glaring. Branzy could do him the credit of not telling him bullshit. This was clearly a dog, a wolf at best, and while Branzy may not have mentioned any children he had, Clown had some faith in him.
“You’re bullshitting me.”
“I’m not, actually.” Taking the hint, Branzy straightened again, adjusting the dead weight of a wolf-puppy in his arms to coo down at it. “He just- likes to run away, don’t you? It- its been a while since he came my way, and I- I missed you, yes I did…”
Clown watched, in abject disgust. It was strangely human, how cutesy Branzy got around things he loved. He’d spent his fair share of time being cuddled and cuddling back like a baby bird latching on to the contact offered. He hadn’t gotten much of that, back in his other life.
So maybe he was a hypocrite. Maybe he was jealous, that would be a novel thought. Jealous of Branzy, bestowing his boundless, unidentifiable affection on something else.
“Stop doing that.”
To his credit, Branzy did stop. He pulled away, slowly, looking at Clown with sad puppy eyes that almost made him believe the wolf in his arms could be related to him.
“But- look at him…” With dramatised innocence, Branzy offered the massive puppy again, and to Clown’s surprise, it stirred. “Oops. Someone’s waking up. I- am going to be surprisingly busy, today.”
“I can help.”
“Aw, Clown, you don’t need to-“
“I want to help.” Clown dusted off his hands, letting the sparkling dust puff off him in clouds. “I’m done painting.”
Branzy’s eyes betrayed his amusement, and he opened his mouth, as if to needle Clown about the materials he’d been given, and look at how compliant he was getting, he was learning to like it here…
Clown cut him off before he could get started with a deadpan stare.
“I want pencils. Tomorrow. Human pencils.”
“I- I will send for them, my lord.” Branzy dropped into a bow, and nearly dropped his wolf-puppy, and straightened, looking abashed. “Tomorrow. I have- I have a lot of things to do.”
“Lead the way, then.”
Clown gestured, enjoying his magnanimity, until it was undermined by Branzy tugging him merrily along by a twitch of his fingers, calling to the violet collar wrapped around his neck.
He followed, suddenly quite ill-tempered, and continued to eye his supposed son-in-law. The wolf looked out cold, and there was something human about the way it hung, like a toddler being carried to a car. Something sapient, at least. Branzy could well have had a child that only existed as an oversized husky.
There were a few things, though. A few clumps of fur matted with blood, some dusty lilac fabric nestled in thoroughly uncombed hair.
He’d come to no good conclusions, by the time they arrived at Branzy’s rooms. A new one had appeared, with the door elegantly tied shut with one of Branzy’s distinctive violet ribbons, but decidedly present.
Clown eyed it suspiciously, as he followed Branzy in, and closed the door softly behind him.
Branzy’s room was, to say the least, a marvel. It was one of the first things Clown had fallen in love with, and promptly redesigned to his liking. Fashioned after a geode like you could get in a child’s kit, but blown up to human proportions. Amethysts glittered in the corners, sloping the walls into something out of a cave deep under the world, casting shadows across the bright white lamps, and chalkboard-esque wallpapering with designs from the two of them sketched across.
It was beautiful. Clown should think so, he’d made half of it liveable. He had to sleep here, after all, and if he wasn’t in the human world, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to to have a walk-in closet with mannequins sculpted out of diorite, and have Branzy make him decorative knives to display above his side of the nest.
The nest, which Branzy dumped the wolf into with little aplomb, and Clown watched warily. That was his space, and now there was something else in it. Branzy-approved, which brought a little comfort. But not much.
“Right… just… one second, with this, he should wake up… pretty easy…”
It made Clown shiver, to see Branzy bring someone else out of an unconsciousness he’d personally induced. It had happened enough to him, to have that mirrored fog settle over him, to feel like he was being force-fed candyfloss and lost in an endless mist, until Branzy saw fit to clear it for him. It was one of the things he was best at.
Clown watched, as Branzy held the wolf’s head in his hands, and pressed a kiss to the fabric buried in its fur, and silver eyes fluttered open, and fur settled into skin like mist over water, and Branzy was pressing his forehead against that of a teenage boy with empty, furious eyes, and a headband holding back a mess of dark brown hair.
“Hi there.” Branzy spoke almost in a whisper, not pulling away. “I missed you.”
“Does it have… a name?” Clown circled closer cautiously, risking some open disrespect for the sake of answers.
“This is Clown. He’s my husband.” Branzy giggled, still speaking softly, cupping the wolf-boy’s face in both hands. “Can you- can you tell him your name?”
“Wolf.”
The boy glared, up, at his father, not at Clown. Branzy, who tsked softly, and Clown thought he and the kid could get on, if only in hatred of the chiding they both seemed constantly subjected to.
“Real name. It’s ok, remember, it doesn’t count.”
“Yeah. Someone else has it.”
“And he’s not here to not tell you to give it to someone else, is he?” Branzy patted his son’s cheek gently, and nudged him to face Clown. “You- you can break the rules. It’s me.”
To Clown’s relief, both he and the wolf-boy seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact.
“…Wifies.”
“See?” Branzy ruffled his hair, fingers catching in the countless knots. “Oh- wow, someone needs to brush your hair.”
“Not you.”
“I mean- it can be Clown?”
Clown wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Wifies barely seemed to want to be here, and even as he watched, a fluffy wolf tail slid back into existence like a boat emerging from fog, wrapped anxiously around his waist. For all Branzy’s eagerness, Clown was tempted to side with his fellow reluctant.
Even so, Wifies’s silver eyes flicked over him, and back again, and he shrugged.
“Whatever.”
It was a strange thing, to call a victory. Clown knew he’d had to work hard, for so much of even Branzy’s trust, and it was mostly his now lack of effort that left him on such bad terms with much of the rest of the Court. He was the King’s dangerous little pet, following him like a blood-soaked shadow, or painting out his murderous impulses.
To earn the wolf-boy’s flippancy felt like something in and of itself. Clown doubted anyone related to Branzy would bar holds in making their displeasure known.
“Wow.” Branzy’s deadpanned annoyance only served to heighten Clown’s vague feeling of triumph. “I missed your emotional nature, darling. My- Court’s really felt empty without your- your sheer delight.”
Darling.
Clown didn’t hear that one often. Normally if he was acting out. Branzy wasn’t big on nicknames, not when he seemed to enjoy chosen names like delicacies. Maybe his pet names were reserved for his family.
“Shut up.” Wifies’s eyes darted, and now he had ears, too, and they were pressed back, the fur ragged and missing entirely in patches. “I’m not… here for that.”
“What are you here for, then, darling? If- if I’m allowed to know.”
Branzy was putting on ridiculous airs, a full pretence of haughtiness that shone through as not entirely insincere. Clown was beginning to see why Wifies would chose a stranger so much more willingly than his own father.
“You don’t need to.” Wifies looked down, and seemed to notice his tail, pushing it down and back awkwardly like he could make it disappear. “You really don’t need to know.”
“Please?” In an instant, all facades dropped, and Branzy seemed… softer. Like he really cared. Silence settled in place of the ambient underground nosies he usually conjured in the background, and Branzy’s violet eyes mapped onto Wifies’s, irresistibly drawing the wolf-boy’s gaze. “I- I won’t be mad. I’ve- definitely done worse.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Would... you tell Clown?”
Again, Clown startled, and again, he felt Wifies’s eyes trace over him, judging his silhouette for trustworthiness. He almost protested, glaring daggers at Branzy over his mask for dragging him into what looked like his dysfunctional relationship. He’d run away from his other life because he’d had enough of those.
“…yeah. I guess.”
“Ok. You- you can do that, then, and I’ll be back… soon?” Branzy moved to get up, quickly, almost flighty in his hesitancy. “Is that ok?”
In the corner of his eye, Clowns caught Wifies giving the Fae King a deadpan stare that rivalled the worst of the teenagers he’d used to know. For his own part, and just nodded, quiet and acquiescent.
“Thanks.”
Branzy circled around in a sweep of sheer lilac fabric, and pressed a kiss to Clown’s forehead, before heading out in quick, uneven steps.
That left Clown with a boy he hardly knew, and apparently trusted him more than his father.
He glanced over at Wifies, who had somehow gotten quieter. The ears were still there, as was the tail, and he rubbed gingerly at his teeth with the back of one too-thick, too-sharp nail, he and Clown discovering simultaneously that they had sharpened to wolfish canines.
“…Sorry. I didn’t… mean to make you listen to me.”
Wifies’s lip trembled, and he didn’t so much as cast a look over at Clown. Just pulled himself into a small ball, and hid his face, trying to hide all his dog features that he couldn’t seem to rid himself of in Branzy’s nest.
It took Clown an embarrassingly long time to realise he was crying. He wasn’t used to that, anymore. It was a human response to human emotions, and faerie had apparently never heard of the concept of a mental breakdown.
Maybe Wifies wasn’t so faerie.
“You’re… part human?”
Clown moved a little closer just by a few inches, wondering how to approach this. People didn’t always take kindly, to his style of comfort. He liked to be a little forceful with it.
For once, it paid off, and Wifies nodded, still shaking and sobbing quietly. Impressively quietly, really. Like he’d learned he wouldn’t be heard anyway.
For once, Clown regretted no longer being quite human. Even if he’d never fit in, as a human, he’d still have the conditioning that told him how to respond. He’d have a better script than what he did now, which was move yet closer, and speak in a soft, low voice that he hoped was soothing.
“Can I touch you?”
Wifies nodded.
“Not my tail. Or- my hands.”
“Noted.”
Clown moved, carefully leaning over where Wifies’s tail was buried in cushions and fluff, and pulled a few fingers through the base of his hair. It made him twitch, then whine in soft pain, then relax, trying to hold still as the easier knots were finger-combed out.
“So.” Clown started carefully, watching the back of Wifies’s head as his ears perked up, a little. “Tell me… anything. I don’t know who you are.”
“Nor do I.”
“Hm?”
“…sorry. I’m- not very interesting.”
“You seem very interesting.” Clown started working on a harder matt of hair, shying away from the bases of Wifies’s ears. It would give him time to draw out this line of questioning. “Branzy’s interesting, so it would stand to reason.”
“I’m not… like him.”
“How so?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
Every time he tried to push further than skin-deep, it was like Wifies shut down. Just threw up a barrier, told Clown in no uncertain terms he wasn’t getting past, and sent him backwards.
It was like a puzzle, in a way.
“I don’t. I’d like to, but I don’t.”
“You’re about to ask where I’ve been.”
“…I might have been.” Silently, Clown raised his eyebrows, safe from reprimand as his gloves tugged through knots, but wondering just what went on in Wifies’s head. “That’s impressive, if you knew I was going to.”
“Humans are easy. So’s... everyone.” Wifies dropped his head, without warning, and yanked on his own hair. His voice got quieter, until Clown could barely hear. “M- most of everyone. You can- I can just tell. What they’re going to do. Normally.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do next?”
It was partially genuine curiosity, partially a desire to move the conversation forward. Clown wanted to test him, in a way. He wasn’t crying anymore.
“…another Court. Seelie, of the spring realm.” Wifies pulled away entirely, pressing his face back between his knees as his voice emptied of anything. “You can.. tell my dad I was with someone. He’ll... know who.”
“Someone?”
“Someone.”
Wifies’s confirmation came softly, and it carried so much, so much on a single breath that it left Clown silent, for a moment. It was smiles, and it was grief, and it was love and anger and miserable devotion.
“Why did you leave them?”
“Because he told me to.”
That time, Wifies’s voice was barely audible. Like his tears were sticking in his throat, cutting into the volume of his words. Like he was thin as spun-sugar, a sheet of glass so fragile it would crack any moment now, suspended in the middle of a snowstorm about to turn to hail.
It was one of the most beautiful things Clown had heard someone say, and he didn’t know why it struck him like a blade of ice to his chest.
“And you listened.”
“I listened.” Wifies nodded, in the same thin, light voice, strangled to the point of meticulously restrained hysteria turning to watery sunlight through silk. “Because he used my name, so he- he must have really wanted me gone, this time.”
It cracked. Just a little, not enough for it to all come tumbling down. But the thin mask cracked, and Clown saw that beneath, it was already broken. The silk was a covering, concealing a jagged emptiness just beneath the surface. It hurt. It hurt just to hear.
“He has your name?”
Clown was just parroting, seemingly. It seemed to be getting Wifies through it, and he needed to get through it. It was the only thing Clown could think of to do for him.
“That’s… why you can know it. It- I’m his. I’m his. I-“
His voice cracked, before Wifies could get any further. It sounded like something inside him had snapped too, something painful and irreparable, as he collapsed again.
Clown didn’t know why he was the one doing this. Branzy should be here, he’d do it better than he ever could. Clown couldn’t operate in the human world, could hardly function in the realm of the fae, and now he felt useless wherever he tried. He wasn’t helping.
“If I get… your dad…”
“Use his name. Please. S- sorry, I don’t know…”
“I’m going to get Branzy.”
Wifies didn’t react. Clown got up, too jerkily, too quickly, like he was desperate to be away. Maybe he was, a little. He felt like he was going to hurt something, if he stayed near Wifies.
Branzy would know what to do. Clown didn’t want to touch this, for fear of breaking something, and Wifies seemed like the kind of person he didn’t want to break with a single touch.
He pushed through the door in a hurry, and found Branzy, with something that looked like a toy cart in his hands, turning it from side to side and upside down. He was sitting on the floor, which he really didn’t need to do, when he could conjure himself a chair, but he was, and he looked up at Clown like a lost puppy, and Clown was the lost one, Clown was the one who felt like crying, or something equally stupid right now.
“Is- is he ok?”
“No. Help. Please.”
His desperation must have shown through. Clown felt like he was drowning without anything to soothe the itching inside him. He’d fucked up, or he’d been about to, and he didn’t yet know whether to be proud of himself for running away, or if he should have tried to fix what he must have already done wrong.
Branzy grabbed him, and he was pressed against the cool, flawless body of a perfect being, his wrists held between them, and he needed to hear Branzy, that was the best way to make himself accept help.
“-m sure its okay. He’s strong, and you’re good, Clown, you- you haven’t done anything wrong. Can you tell me what he told you?”
“His- whoever has his name.” Clown took a breath, tasting real candyfloss, not the silky counterfeit Wifies had wrapped himself in. It had been almost disturbing, how sharp his fragile edges were. “Told him to leave. He’s been crying.”
“Oh... ok. Ok, I- I should have seen that one coming. That’s so okay, Clown, he- there were going to be tears anyway. Trust me.”
Clown trusted Branzy.
He took another shaky breath, and cleared his thoughts and his ears, and nodded, waiting for Branzy to let him go. He would wait. He’d wanted Branzy to do this for him, he might as well commit to being a coward.
“I didn’t… do too badly.”
“I- I know. I know. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Branzy probably wanted to see Wifies. He probably cared about Wifies more than Clown, which was ok. As long as Clown still had everything he’d been given, he would be ok.
Wifies looked asleep, when Clown found him, buried in Branzy’s nest. He looked sort of right there, grey fabric and brown hair and purple headband blending into the more vibrant purples around him.
But he looked up, when he heard them coming. And his lip wavered, but his eyes were cold, when they found Branzy. Clown looked up, a little, and found Branzy smiling.
“Hi.”
Wifies glared, and closed his eyes. As Clown watched, the fluff on his ears shortened, turned a brown to match his hair, and the puffy tail clutched tight whipped out of his hands, now thin and catlike.
He was a cat.
Branzy squeezed Clown’s hand, and crouched down.
“Cat means girl. She won’t mind if you forget.”
Oh.
Clown shrugged, and stared, letting Branzy go to cross over to his child. It was a strange feeling, seeing him settle on the side of his nest like he had when he’d first brought Clown here, and he’d refused to move or speak for days on end.
He still remembered Branzy taking his mask off. That had been one of the first times his name had been used against him, and it had worked so well, because there had been such an ache in him to relax. To let Branzy see the parts of him he hid, and let Branzy take care of him.
That might be why he felt so easy now. Easy to push around, every part of him controlled by Branzy. They were all just dolls, in his world.
Clown was ok with that, too. He’d had to make a lot of choices, before. Coming here was his last one, and that was fine.
He found himself on the other side of the nest to Branzy, watching the Fae King cup his daughter’s cheek, and Wifies staring up at him, eyes glassy and calculating.
“You don’t need to go back to Parrot.”
Wifies tried to pull away, panic flashing in the flick of his tail, but Branzy held on. Clown felt the tension build, and froze still himself, waiting, watching.
“And you won’t. If he- if he’s not in this Court, he has no power over you. And I’m not letting him step foot in my Court, ok?”
“No. No, he-“
“He’s hurting you.” Branzy’s fingers dug in, visibly, and he may not have claws, but there was a deep pain in his eyes that matched Wifies’s mirrored depths. “I- I know you. You can go, I’m not- I’m not going to hold you hostage.”
Clown huffed the smallest laugh, and received a freezing, warning look that made him go quiet as the grave.
“-But you need space. He’s- he’s not everything. He doesn’t want to be your everything, Wifies, please. Listen to us.”
“I… I’m sorry, I need to tell him-“
“No. No- no, you don’t. You’re home. You- you can stay.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re going to.”
Clown wanted to hug Wifies. She looked like she was shaking, in Branzy’s hands, and he wanted to hold her close and make her understand that they were both safe here.
But he’d probably fuck it up. He was bad with people.
“I can’t… stay away from him, I’m sorry..”
“No, no, Wifies…”
Finally, Branzy pulled her closer. Clown saw the moment she broke, too, crumpling against her father like it could save her from whatever was happening here that he didn’t understand. All he could think was finally.
Maybe that made him a horrible person, for thinking to intrude on such a sweet moment.
Clown was ok with being horrible. It made his heart twist, and he took a moment, calming himself as he stood, carefully, sliding out of the nest.
There were other rooms, in this Court. Other places he could go, and hide, and wonder why Branzy could possibly have chosen him.
Clown tore his eyes away from the crying cat-girl in his King’s arms, and fled, quickly, with feet silent against stone floors, bolting out of the door and halfway down the corridor before his insides reeled, and he had to stop before something awful happened to him from being so far away from Branzy, so fast, without warning.
Leaning on a wall, one hand gripping the windowsill of a stained glass window, head bent and panting, Clown paused to consider. He wasn’t… threatened by Wifies. He was secure, he was happy, he’d be happy if Branzy did nothing more than let him wander around and pretend to hunt the creatures that strayed in out of the Wildes.
He just didn’t know what he was doing here. And Branzy wouldn’t tell him, and sometimes, it felt like he had done something horribly wrong, to have been so unable to be human that he had to live in a world of nonsense and trickery.
He couldn’t even help one of the few people who had looked at him and not seen something dangerous.
——————
“Clown~”
Branzy twirled Wifies’s collar around his finger, trotting briskly through his halls, one hand outstretched to rummage mentally through the rooms. His human could have run off anywhere, he didn’t want to miss him.
By human standards, he should feel guilty. He’d let Clown slip off, and hadn’t even noticed, not until he’d put Wifies back to sleep to continue their argument in the morning. Then, he’d realised a certain lack of his mortal lover, and might have panicked.
Still, he didn’t feel too guilty. Guilt would come if he’d truly done something wrong, and he couldn’t have. He could turn the whole Court upside down, and Clown wouldn’t get a scratch on him. If truly in doubt, Branzy could use his name, find a little more force in it, wrap his tongue around the letters and tug his lover out of hiding.
But he wouldn’t. Clown deserved the dignity of running and hiding. Branzy gave him that freedom, he wouldn’t revoke it unprovoked.
Now, if Clown had run off to hurt himself—which he wouldn’t, Branzy had made sure of it—it would be a different matter. But he was different, in the fae realm. He seemed so much happier than when Branzy had found him, even if he complained of the lack of things to kill.
Branzy trusted that Clown was being responsible, when he ran away without warning.
“Clown?”
“Here.”
And there he was. Branzy looked up, grinning, sending up a cloud of sparkling dust to ease Clown’s way out of a nook he’d found near the ceiling, overlooking the centre of the Court through a large window.
“Hi up there. Waiting for birds?”
“Not really.”
Clown climbed down, carefully ignoring the supportive nudges Branzy offered, and swung his way to the floor with impressive coordination. He was cuter, when he was slightly delirious, but that wouldn’t be fair either. Branzy would give him a fair chance, until he was well and truly bored.
“Well- what did y’go running off for, then?”
Branzy tried to sound nice about it. He wasn’t trying to loom over Clown, to be a restrictive presence. This was just a nice, normal conversation, between him and his pet lover, which might end with Clown losing a little mental autonomy, if he gave certain answers.
“Bored.”
“ClownPierce.”
“Scared.” Clown glared, adjusting his mask, the one he wore as a shield Branzy wished he’d feel safe enough to be rid of, by now. “Of- fucking with your kid, I don’t know. I’m shit at that sort of stuff, so…”
“So you didn’t want to try? I- I told you.” Branzy softened his voice, whispering, like there was the slightest chance Wifies could hear either of them. “He’s stronger than- than you think. And he’s made some terrible decisions too.”
“I don’t want to upset him.”
“He’s pretty upset already.” Raising an eyebrow, Branzy leaned back, eyeing Clown in no little worry. “You- probably weren’t going to make it worse.”
“He’s part human. I’m… bad at humans.”
“Is that- is that the whole reason?”
“I’m shit at humans.” Clown glared, at nothing, like a sudden rage against the whole world had sprung up from somewhere inside him. “I try, and they hate me, and I never know what I’ve done wrong, so I try again, and… if I can’t talk to people, and you won’t let me kill stuff… I don’t know what I’m doing here. I actually don’t know, Branzy.”
“You’re here to be cute?’
It was a feeble, poorly timed offering, in hindsight. Branzy regretted it, as something close to pain flashed in Clown’s eyes, and his stomach dropped. If he didn’t feel guilt, he could feel pity. Human emotions were so strong, and Clown tried so hard to avoid his.
“Great. Thanks.”
Clown turned, to walk away, and Branzy caught him. Not by his name, or with a command, but by his wrist, tugging back, pleading.
“I- I’m sorry. That- I didn’t mean that. I love you, Clown.”
Clown stared at him. Even now, Branzy loved those eyes. Too unnatural for humans, delightfully grounded for fae. Mismatched misty blue and pale orange, levelled at him like lasers.
“Why.”
Not even a question. Branzy’s insides ached, and he breathed in, composing himself as a human would to try to come off the more genuine. Clown could tell.
“Because you- you make me beautiful art. And you- and you’re beautiful, and Wifies didn’t hate you on sight, which- trust me, is a win-“
“She hates me now.”
“No. Clown…” Branzy struggled for words, and settled for tugging on Clown’s wrist again, growing more insistent. “Come on. Nest time.”
“No. I don’t… want to be near anyone. I’ll… just fuck it up.”
“Nest time, Clown, you- you heard me.”
Branzy didn’t even acknowledge Clown, who looked up, seemingly in pure distress. It hurt, to see him so upset, about something that wasn’t this fault. Wifies wasn’t angry, or he was, but undeniably at Branzy. There was no changing that.
After a painful moment, Clown took the hand offered, letting himself be tugged forward until he fell sullenly into step. Branzy grinned, and squeezed his hand, before letting it drop. Clown was more than trustworthy enough to walk on his own.
He didn’t speak, though. Not until they were back at Branzy’s room, when he just sighed, and adjusted his mask.
“I’m going to murder you.”
“So you’ve figured out how to kill me?”
Clown huffed, and pushed open the door, spinning around sharply to shove Branzy back against the wall, like he was a real threat. Branzy let him, too, staggering to make it a little more realistic but unable to stop smiling.
“I will figure it out.”
Branzy let his breathing catch, let Clown have the satisfaction of a threat well made. It seemed to placate him, and he removed his arm, scowling.
“R- right. So- I think you’re being a little- aggressive, and...”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Clown was backing away, slowly, and Branzy giggled at his wariness.
“Clown. Calm, o- ok? Calm.”
“You’re fucking with my head.”
Branzy shrugged, walking forward and running a hand backwards through Clown’s hair. He melted into it, because he was good like that, and humans were easy. Easy, and easily scared, and Branzy liked a little caretaking, now and again.
“I- sure am. You going to stop me?”
Clown shivered, and Branzy took that as permission to force his human carefully back into their nest, letting Clown smother himself in pillows in further attempts to hide his face. It was adorable, and Branzy could sit practically on top of him, leaning down to kiss every available part of his face until Clown gave up trying to hide.
“Branzy…”
“Shush. You have- never upset me, and it wouldn’t matter if you did.” Branzy pulled back, enough to nuzzle into Clown’s hair, and whisper, just in case, somehow, Wifies could hear them. “You- you do so many things so well. No one’s perfect.”
“You are.”
“Clown, I- I just knocked my daughter out because she won’t stop convincing herself that giving someone her name is enough to make them love her.”
“You’re perfect.” Grumpy, Clown pressed upwards, tucking his own head under Branzy’s chin. “It’s annoying.”
“Well, I- I will let Wifies disagree with you when she’s awake.”
Branzy laughed, lightheaded, but his eyes darted. Wifies was slumped across his nest, scarcely breathing, still tangibly upset. And she’d still be upset, when she woke up.
Clown didn’t know how wrong he was. Branzy was so far from perfect, with his own child, that it felt like it was eating him alive. He didn’t know what to tell Wifies, aside from begging him to come home. There was not a single thing he could do to make her listen, though.
“Branzy.”
“Mhm?”
“Please stop staring at your child while you’re kissing me.”
“Sorry. Won’t- won’t happen again.” Branzy dropped, again, this time just to run a hand down Clown’s side and feel him twitch at the touch. “See? You make a mistake, you apologise, and- and everything’s fine, Clown.”
“For you.”
“What was that?”
Branzy ran his fingertips over Clown’s navel, and his human squirmed, usually low voice suddenly coming in a short gasp. He recovered, but Branzy could feel heat burning in the warm skin beneath him, and did it again, more teasingly, trailing down to just above his pelvis.
“It’s okay for… for you, Branzy. S- some of us-“
It was one of Branzy’s favourite things in the world, in that moment, to listen to Clown try to continue lecturing him as his hips moved up, and accidentally pressed them closer together. There was a curse, beneath him, then soft, heavy breathing.
“….some of us have to earn things.”
“And what do you have to earn, hm?”
“You.”
That drew a real, quiet laugh out of Branzy, who let up on Clown enough to give him a little breathing room.
“Done. N- nothing more to do, there. My deadly little human.”
“…Who isn’t allowed to kill things.”
Clown spoke quietly, like if Branzy wanted, he could ignore the comment entirely. And, for a moment, he was tempted to. It was a difficult conversation, and one he was wary of having, especially when Clown seemed unpredictable.
It would be a difficult conversation any time, because humans struggled to understand. Death had consequences, ripples spreading the same if you lifted a rock from a pond or tossed it in. Out here, it was a crystalline web. Branzy didn’t want Clown to get caught killing something he shouldn’t.
And it was control. It was knowing that Clown would always somewhat want something he couldn’t have, and maybe Branzy could use it as a reward, or as blackmail, if ever the need arose. It was knowing he was the most important thing in his lover’s short life.
One hand keeping him in place, just under arm’s reach from Clown’s face, Branzy used the other to toy with his mask. Clown’s eyes were fixed on him, emotionless, as Branzy traced across the fabric covering his mouth and nose, just with the very tip of his finger.
“Clown… you don’t need me to- to tell you why that is.”
Because Branzy said so. It would be possible, theoretically. He had court fae, who hunted regularly, albeit with centuries more experience than Clown could ever possess. But it was easier to suggest that it was simply law, set in stone and space.
“Please.”
Not that Clown believed him, apparently. But still, it was love, in his eyes, even as he caught Branzy’s wrist and held on as tight as he could, pleading. His body resisted, but his mind folded under a gentle glance.
“You shouldn’t want it, Clown. It- it would hurt you.”
Maybe, somewhere in the back of his clouded mind, Clown understood. Maybe he heard the threads Branzy tugged on, as he shook off the warm, grasping fingers, and went back to teasing at the elastic of the mask he let Clown wear.
All he did, though, was nod. Branzy gave him due approval for it, another fleeting kiss to the bridge of his nose and a soft, cooing noise, as Clown slumped into the nest beneath him. No questions. Just the thought erased, until Clown started chipping through the light mental barrier. Then, they could do this again.
“So- don’t worry, ok? I- I’ll know, if you do something wrong.”
It was a quiet assurance, and maybe it landed wrong, but a moment after Clown tensed, he exhaled, and Branzy felt him nod. He got a small pull closer, too, although that might have just been to knock his hand off Clown’s mask.
“Thanks.”
“Wanna talk to Wifies in the morning?”
“If you’re there.”
“Deal.”