Chapter Text
On the whole, faerie heritage was quite easy to hide. Nowadays most people tried to pretend they had died out anyway. Nobody could deny they had existed once, but that didn’t stop people from saying that they didn’t exist anymore. That was advantageous. It’s much easier to hide in plain sight if the people looking don’t really want to see you.
Jehan knows the average customer would rather not believe in Fae and they take full advantage of that. Their little café is as popular as it is tiny and most of the regulars have no idea that it’s the magic in the food and drink that keeps them coming back. Not that Jehan actually makes them come back. They don’t lay spells on people, they pride themselves in that. All they use is a little glamour…and a little glamour goes a long way. Some of the customers do actually taste the burst of happiness Jehan bakes into their pastries, but that doesn’t mean that they can tell the difference between faerie magic and the other glimpses of power that some people are still born with. Which is good, because when they do believe in it, faerie magic freaks people out. Jehan doesn’t resent this, but it does make them smile sometimes. The days of faerie rings are long gone and they don’t live in a grassy mound with a hawthorn growing on its top. They live in a little apartment above their café. They like the city and they love their shop.
Because faeries make deals, that’s what they’re all about, and Jehan makes a deal with every customer that walks through their door. They give them the shimmer of the silver and gold that they earned and they give them the food and drink they crafted with their own hands. (Jehan’s café is the last cash-only place left on the block. It’s the shimmer that counts as well as the value you see, and even paper money has a glitter to it.) This is the deal and Jehan honours it, for a faerie is never in debt. They smile at every customer and everyone smiles back, because far away in their mortal subconscious, they know they ought to. It’s wonderful. Jehan loves this life among the mortals. Loves to be surrounded by the bustle of the city. Loves to see the same happy faces coming back to their counter week after week.
They have favourites of course. The three young men that come in with laptops, books and pamphlets every Friday for instance. And the two girls that treat each other to scones most Wednesdays. They are here again today. Jehan is watching them laugh and talk together. He used to nickname them the Laughing Blonde and the Smiling Brunette, but today the blonde locks are a gorgeous bubble-gum pink. Jehan is still admiring it when the shop bell rings and a small crowd of semi-regulars comes in. Jehan turns back to the counter, smile at the ready, when they stop breathing for a second. Coming in behind the group of chattering women is the prettiest mortal Jehan has ever seen. For a moment they doubt whether he really is mortal, so graceful are his movements. The young man is tall, clad all in black, and has such a striking combination of fair skin and dark features that it makes Jehan’s heart ache. He moves with ease and confidence and the faint smirk around his lips looks as if it never leaves him.
“Parnasse!” the Smiling Brunette suddenly calls out.
The smirk turns into a grin as the young man joins her table, nodding at the pink-haired girl and suddenly Jehan understands. For the first time in their life they know why their ancestors played their flutes in the dark woods just at the edge of hearing and wove spells in the moonlight. Because of mortals like this.
It takes all their willpower to serve their customers with a tolerable appearance of care and attention, because the young man named Parnasse has risen from his seat and is joining the queue. They try to keep their eyes on the hot chocolates they’re making, but the tall, dark shape is still at the edge of their vision.
The three women are still counting out their money when Parnasse steps past them and leans on the counter.
“Double espresso please,” he says.
“Nothing else?” Jehan asks, their eyes firmly fixed on him now that they finally have an excuse. His eyes are green. So green…
Parnasse glances over the various piles of freshly baked goods displayed both on the counter and behind the glass and shakes his head. “No thanks.”
Jehan would be offended, but that grin…
“I’ll get you your coffee then,” they say, turning away. When they turn back Parnasse is leaning against the counter nonchalantly while the women laughingly hand over a handful of coins.
“We always forget to hit the ATM before we come here.”
“It’s really Zeph’s fault this time,” one of them says conversationally, but Jehan isn’t listening.
They move to a table by the window, waving at the pink-haired girl in passing.
“Here’s your espresso,” Jehan says, turning back to Parnasse.
He takes his hands out of the pockets of their leather jacket. It looks expensive. Very expensive. “Thanks.”
Jehan watches him take the cup and walk back to his friends. They barely manage to swallow a sigh. No spells. They promised themselves they’d never…
Soberly they return to cleaning the coffee machine. Every now and again their eyes inevitably drift in the direction of the table where Parnasse sits with the two girls. They seem to be having a good time, only Parnasse is sitting with his back to him, so he can’t really tell. After a while the two girls get up.
“You coming?”
Jehan lets out a breath. He’s leaving, but at least they’ll get to see his face again as he turns.
To their surprise, however, Parnasse hesitates and then shakes his head. “You go ahead.”
Jehan feels a flutter in their stomach. He is staying? Alone?
“Okay,” the brunette shrugs. “See you!” And she leaves with her pink-haired companion.
Parnasse seems to shift in his seat uncomfortably, but then he chooses a new spot in the corner and picks up one of the magazines scattered around the tables. Jehan considers going up to him to ask if he wants something else to drink, but they decide against it.
Customers come and go, the chatty trio of women leaves, and still Parnasse remains. Sometimes he gets up and walks through the café as if he’s about to leave…and then doesn’t. Jehan is watching him more often than not now, but Parnasse never looks in his direction.
“Enjoy your muffins!” Jehan smiles at an old man with friendly eyes that comes in once a week just to buy some pastries to take home. They’re pretty sure he lives with his sister, or maybe two sisters.
“We always do,” the man replies happily and he gently closes the door behind him, leaving the café empty for the first time that day.
Well, empty apart from Parnasse, who is still sitting in the corner. Jehan makes a decision and speaks up:
“Hey, can I get you anything? I do sandwiches too…”
Parnasse’s head snaps up from the magazine he clearly hasn’t actually been reading, because he hasn’t progressed at all. He glances around, quickly, tensely, and then gets to his feet. “No,” he says, voice oddly strained. “You can’t get me anything. You can do something for me.”
Jehan raises their eyebrows. They’re not sure they like that tone of voice. “And what might that be?” they say, crossing their arms.
Parnasse walks up to the counter with long, almost threatening strides. “Let me leave,” they say roughly.
Jehan blinks in surprise. “Let you-”
“I can’t leave,” Parnasse snaps. “You did something to me. I can feel it.”
A spark of panic ignites in Jehan’s chest and they hurriedly feel around for their own magic. They hadn’t- They couldn’t have. Weaving a spell took effort and concentration, they couldn’t have done it unconsciously.
“You can look sweet all you want, I’ve been to the hidden places in Paris,” Parnasse growls, leaning towards Jehan across the counter. “I know magic when I feel it.”
Jehan lifts their eyes to his and something clicks. “Then you should have known better,” they say emphatically, “than to steal from a faerie.”
Parnasse’s eyes widen and Jehan feels their cheeks burn. They shouldn’t have said that, it’s an utterly stupid thing to do. But this guy has no right to come in here with his too green eyes and his too perfect smirk and accuse them of spellbinding while he stole from them.
“I…” Parnasse begins and then he draws back and runs a hand through his hair.
Jehan can tell that he’s shocked, but he is not as shocked as he could have been. Obviously the existence of faeries is not a surprise to him, just that he happens to be stuck with one at the moment.
Parnasse grimaces. “I took a damn muffin,” he says finally.
“Freshly baked lemon-curd muffin,” Jehan corrects smugly. “And it doesn’t matter what you stole. You stole from me. You broke the deal.”
“What deal?” Parnasse groans.
“You took coffee and a muffin,” Jehan says accusingly. “You only paid for coffee.” They smile at Parnasse and they use their actual faerie smile for once. “You have a debt.”
One corner of Parnasse’s mouth twitches and Jehan can’t help but notice that he is neither actually angry nor really afraid. If anything he look slightly amused now. “Fine,” he says. “Then I’ll pay. How much are they?”
Jehan scoffs amusedly and shakes their head. “It doesn’t work like that. A contract broken can’t be mended that easily.”
“So I’ll pay you more,” Parnasse says, spreading his hands against the counter. He smirks. “Or are you just trying to keep me here, fae?”
“You can call me Jehan,” Jehan says pointedly. “And don’t blame me for your thieving fingers.”
The smirk wavers a little. “Look,” Parnasse sighs. “I’m sorry, alright? Force of habit…” He gives Jehan a slightly gentler look. “How can I repay the debt?”
It’s not much of an apology, but Jehan is willing to take it. That doesn’t mean they need to be entirely helpful however. “We’d have to make a new deal,” they say airily. “You give me something in return for you freedom…”
“My freedom,” Parnasse scoffs, but the shine in Jehan’s eyes is dead serious.
“That’s what’s at stake here, isn’t it?” they say and they flash Parnasse another smile. “And I don’t have to let you go… Maybe I could use some help in the kitchen.”
Now there actually is a shimmer of nervousness on Parnasse’s face, but it’s immediately buried under a sneering smile. “You can make me stay, but you can’t make me work,” he says.
“True,” Jehan hums. “And you’d probably be rubbish at it anyway.”
Parnasse opens his mouth in an offended manner, but Jehan interrupts him.
“So what are you willing to give in exchange for your freedom?” they ask teasingly. “Are you a traditionalist? There’s always first born children…or the ability to speak…”
Parnasse doesn’t answer that, but he is neither sneering nor smirking anymore.
“Or…” Jehan hums, really enjoying themselves now. “Something smaller, like the colour of your eyes, or the darkest shade of black from your shadow…”
“You’re not serious, right?” Parnasse asks, staring at Jehan uncomfortably.
They laugh and that sound alone is enough to dispel the tension in the air. “Of course I’m not!” they say, in a kinder tone of voice. “But I don’t hear you making any offers.”
“It’s not like I know what would be a proper price,” he grumbles, looking away.
“And I thought you knew so much about magic,” Jehan teases. “There’s all sorts of things you could give me. An object you made with your own hands, a secret you’ve never told anyone.” They wave their hands about, trying to think of something else. “It could be anything, as long as it’s worth something,” they say. “A word you’ve never spoken before, a tear shed for joy.” They laugh again, because they haven’t felt this Fae in a long time and add playfully: “A kiss…”
The green eyes spark. “Really?” Parnasse grins. “Why didn’t you start with that?” And before Jehan can even say a word in reply, he curls his slender fingers around the front of Jehan’s apron and, leaning across the counter, presses his lips to theirs.
Jehan’s eyes open wide in shock as Parnasse’s close for a moment. Then he opens them again and pulls away.
“There,” he grins.
Jehan gapes at him. “You know you’re never supposed to do that right?” they blurt out. “If ‘never make a deal you can’t keep’ is rule number one, ‘never kiss a faerie’ is definitely rule number two.” Their heart is racing and the twinkling lights in Parnasse’s eyes aren’t helping. “I could have stolen your soul,” they breathe, mildly horrified.
“You wouldn’t,” Parnasse grins. “You’re not a thief.” He chuckles. “I’d know it if you were.”
Jehan shakes their head and straightens their apron.
“So,” Parnasse smirks, leaning comfortably on the counter. “Is my debt repaid?”
“Yes,” Jehan says, trying to will the blush out of their cheeks. “You’re free to leave.”
“And free to come back, right?” Parnasse says, smiling slowly. “Because I think I’d rather like to come back…”
Jehan folds their arms again and gives them an appraising look. “Do whatever you like,” they say. “Just try not to steal anything next time.”
“Oh I don’t know…” Parnasse muses. “If this is the only penalty…”
“A faerie never exchanges the same thing twice,” Jehan warns him.
“Pity,” Parnasse sighs. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on then.” He turns around and strolls to the exit, as calmly as if he’s not even slightly anxious whether he’ll actually be able to leave. “Au revoir,” he chuckles softly.
“Bonsoir, Parnasse,” Jehan replies and all their mixed feelings of flustered indignation and reluctant admiration are clearly audible in their voice.
“Actually,” Parnasse grins, turning back in the doorway. “It’s Montparnasse.” He winks and lets the door slam shut behind him.
Jehan stares at his retreating form through the glass pane. Slowly, a smile starts spreading across their freckled face.
Rule number three: never give a faerie your full name…