Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Jimmy was born long before the Gods of the world had even begun to ponder the creation of soulmates and the Marks to identify them. Long before they had begun to create with intent rather than boredom- and therefore before the  humans, gnomes, elves, and many other sentient creatures which would be created with them even existed. Thus, he was born without any of the magical marks on his skin. To be fair, he wasn’t even really born with traditional skin at all- scales and all that- but the point still stands.

It was decades upon decades before he finally received his first Soulmate Mark, when he first reached the muddy land of the swamp. It was as his lungs breathed pure, mostly dry air for the first time, that the now-old magic of soulmates was finally able to reach him. A feather bloomed into existence,  wrapping itself around the inside of his wrist.

He was quickly found by an older couple, two sweet ladies who knew too little about magic and the old gods to recognize him for what he was, but enough to know that he wasn't entirely human when they spotted him washed up on shore. They took him in, fed him, and dressed him in his first pair of sturdy boots and slightly baggy clothes that he would never quite learn to dress out of. They’d taught him to build and survive in the swamp, and didn't need to teach him how to fish or swim. 

The one with brown hair, Linda , she told him to call her, had sat him down and traced the lines of inky mark. Had explained to him what it was, and what it meant- that there was another person already born and waiting for him, waiting to love him. Jimmy, fresh from the water, wide-eyed and oh-so naive, had taken it to heart, tracing the mark with a sort of wonder usually reserved for only the youngest of souls.

The Mark was gorgeous, delicate lines forming a skillful depiction of a feather (an owl’s feather, Lizzie would later tell him- a knowing look in her eye), with glimmering gold veins and highlights in it. The whole image looked to be drawn with rich, freshly drawn ink, the lines tapered and smooth in a way that made it look ridiculously elegant as it twisted with the shape of his wrist. That night, as he fell asleep in the guest bedroom that was quickly becoming his , he traced the Mark with soft fingers. 

His memory was already so faded, and his body felt foreign to him in a way he wasn’t sure was normal. Like he was used to something being different, moving differently. He had the feeling that there was something odd about him, different from his soulmate. He hoped that whoever his soulmate was, that they wouldn’t mind that he was clumsy, that he couldn't manage to keep mud off his clothes no matter how hard he tried, or that he struggled to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. 

Then again, they were his soulmate, wasn’t that already a guarantee that they’d love him regardless?

Jimmy liked that idea. And he promised himself, in that moment, that he’d love his soulmate regardless of any of their flaws too.

Jimmy grew up, perhaps aging a bit slower than those around him, but aging all the same. The small community in the Swamp grew into a large settlement, and then into a kingdom, one which Jimmy found himself elected leader of. He loved it and hated it in equal parts those first few years, the respect he gained and how he was able to help his people, but having to face all the attention and socializing it required. He hated talking to the other rulers, hated the formalities and the stuffiness and the way eye contact was basically required if you didn’t want to start a war. 

A few years into his leadership he attended a masquerade event in the Overgrown, a celebration for the birth of their new princess, and found that having his face covered greatly improved his social performance and comfort. His famous codfather head was gifted to him not long after by his kingdom’s current council, and time granted him the gift of his face fading from general memory,

 It brought new rulers to the Empires, kinder with each generation. Jimmy never thought to question why he’d outlived so many other rulers, instead merely appreciating the changing standards and decreased haughtiness. These new emperors were much more inclined to see him and his kingdom as equal instead of lesser.

It was only with the most recent generation that he truly made friends with any of the other rulers. Katherine, Pixl, and Lizzie (although she’d been a ruler since near the start, and always been kinder to him than most). Joel, and Scott- all were allies, all were friends. Ones who never took offense to his odd mannerisms or faciale anxiety, ones who he trusted to be peaceful and logical. Their friendship, their kindness, had been more than enough to balance out the poorer quality of relationships with The Wither Rose Alliance.

Perhaps that was why, when in the ruins of a failed prank Jimmy stood without his Codfather head outside of his cabin for the first time in centuries, Jimmy was able to (mostly) quiet his whirling anxious thoughts with the simple reassurance of who was seeing his face. Pixl, one of his closest allies and friends- kind and wise beyond his years. Jimmy could trust them, did trust them. It didn't entirely soothe the worry stirring in his gut- but it helped enough for him to remain mostly calm.

He cracked a joke about it, and Pixl noticed his discomfort and kindly offered him a llama head to cover his face. Jimmy breathed a bit easier with a barrier between him and the world, and Pixl was smart enough to wait a few moments, until their conversation had lulled and Jimmy had relaxed, before jumping back into their teasing dynamic.

Still, even with Pixl’s kindness, Jimmy left soon after, making his way back to his cabin, where his backup Codfather head waited. The llama head helped, had muffled what remained of his fear- but it had done little to dispel the overwhelming discomfort of being without his Codfather head. The heavy door swung shut behind him, the creak and thud that followed echoing in the room. He took the extra time to lock it, bolting it closed and doing the same to the windows.

He could still hear the soft sound of the water churning below his feet, and a breeze moved the leaves of the foliage outside. Beyond that, the room was quiet- a sudden and welcome change after the chaos of the ravagers. Besides sleeping, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken off the Codhead for more than a few minutes. 

He discarded the llama head on the table, running a cursory hand through his hair as he made his way across the room to the chest that held his backup.

It was pure, dumb luck, that Jimmy had happened to catch the flash of blue in his reflection when he walked past the ornate mirror he had hung on his wall, a gift he’d received from Lizzie a few months earlier. He’d ignored it at first, his brain taking a moment to catch up after a long day, but eventually backtracked, tilting his head to get a better look at the mystery blue. Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it was.

Sure enough, near the top of his neck, tucked just behind his ear, bloomed a simply-drawn blue orchid. The petals were a muted, almost cyan blue, the story-book style of the drawing softening the edges and-

Cyan blue?

Images of soft looking, fluffy cyan hair flashed through his head, and the confident smirk and icy eyes beneath it. 

He’d never been extraordinarily close to the tall elf- despite them having both started ruling around the same time. Scott had always been ...closed off, stiff and cold whenever Jimmy had tried to start a conversation at the House Blossom Meetings. He’d found out later, from Joel, that Scott had started ruling fairly young for an elf, after the death of his parents and disappearance of his brother. His behavior made more sense after that, he was in mourning.

Slowly, Scott had started to warm up to the group, having a soft spot for Katherine especially. Jimmy tried not to mind too much when Scott had started showing interest in befriending and allying with practically every ruler but him. It was almost like he was making a point to avoid him, to keep the two of them as far apart as possible. He’d never been especially rude , beyond his normal sarcasm, but Jimmy couldn’t help but feel as if he was being looked down upon, or at the very least disliked.

He didn’t even know what he’d done to apparently offend Scott- he’d told Lizzie and Joel as much one afternoon when he’d stopped by for lunch. They’d made eye contact, having some sort of silent conversation that Jimmy couldn’t even begin to understand- before reassuring Jimmy that they would take care of it.

Jimmy wasn’t sure what they had done, whether they had bribed or threatened Scott into being nicer to him - knowing them it was probably the latter- but whatever they’d done, it’d worked. The next meeting, Scott had approached him, his manner still stiff and slightly awkward, but with a visible effort to appear polite and interested. Jimmy had taken mercy on him, re-introducing himself to Scott and making easy small talk- asking about Scott’s kingdoms, his hobbies, his favourite colours and foods- before excusing himself to go over trade terms with Joel.

After that, Scott had been (perhaps begrudgingly) much kinder to Jimmy whenever they interacted.

 Katherine tried seating them next to each other at a meeting once, likely trying to assist in the effort to make the two of them get along. Jimmy was mostly fine with this, Scott had nodded politely when he sat down, and they’d had a few minutes of quiet small talk about the upcoming rainstorms before Katherine had officially started the meeting.

However, there did come a problem when Jimmy realized that his close proximity to Scott suddenly rendered him privy to Scott’s under-his-breath-witticisms and comments. The first one had surprised him, a sarcastic quip about “how no-one could have ever seen that coming” when Fwhip informed them of his most recent experiment’s failure. The shock kept him mostly quiet, but when Scott continued the  cynical commentary on all of the rulers updates, Jimmy had a harder and harder time keeping quiet.

Of course the stiff, pompous, devastatingly pretty elf had a terrific sense of humor. At his next quip, Jimmy couldn’t help the small snicker that escaped him. Lizzie’s foot immediately shot out underneath the table, her foot colliding solidly with his leg. 

The pain in his shin was worth it though, because the snicker had earned him a small, pleased smile from the tall elf next to him. Scott’s eyes flickered to his for a second, icy blue met chocolate brown for a few moments. Scott evidently found whatever he was searching for in Jimmy’s eyes, and he subtly adjusted his seat until he was facing slightly towards Jimmy.

The reason for this quickly became apparent when Scott only had to slightly lean in to whisper his next quip. The entire meeting their chairs moved closer and closer together until they were practically touching, quietly giggling at each other's jokes like small children. Jimmy knew he should be trying harder to stay quiet- but how could he when every snicker and giggle made Scott’s eyes gleam just a little brighter, made the smile reach his eyes just a little more.

So Jimmy was a sucker for pretty men- sue him.

Sure, Katherine ended the meeting early, only to stare down and lecture the both of them before they could leave, and yeah- she had never let the two of them sit anywhere near each other since then. Not to mention Jimmy had to deal with Lizzie’s immediate scolding and Joel’s teasing as soon as he made it out the door- but Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when it had the wonderful, unintended effect of Scott’s sudden affection for him. 

These days, Jimmy would often be halfway through building a new project when Scott would suddenly appear, having flown from Rivendell, to help and mess with him in equal measure. Jimmy probably should have been a lot more bothered by Scott’s barbs and ribbing, but Scott’s brand of teasing fell more into the category of badgering than mockery, and whatever annoyance or hurt he caused was usually smothered with a flirtatious comment or smile that rarely failed to set Jimmy’s cheeks ablaze. Jimmy got used to catching flashes of Scott’s white and gold feathers in his periphery, and even more used to the comfortable banter that would often follow. He learned about Scott slowly, an off-hand comment about his liking of archery here, the way he adjusted and ran his fingers through his hair when he thought Jimmy wasn’t looking, a playful ruffle of one his owl’s feathers there-

In Jimmy’s defense, how was he not supposed to develop at least a small crush?

They still weren’t very close, but they were getting there with every visit.

Now, there was a Mark on his neck, that could have been there for years without him noticing- that shared the colour of Scott’s hair. A sudden blush overtook his face at the connection. The Mark felt warm beneath his fingers,  and Jimmy’s mind couldn’t dismiss the notion, the hope , that maybe the Mark was meant for him.

The possibility stayed at the back of his head for the next while, as the more pressing issues took the bulk of his attention. Specifically, the demon terrorizing the continent. He tried to ensure the health of his small kingdom’s crops, despite the toxic corruption destroying his fields, as well as defend himself from the demon that seemed to just love tormenting him. Although, at the very least, he was glad he hadn’t been freaking kidnapped like Scott and Gem had been.

Jimmy had to admit, he was surprised that Sausage had been a part of all that, that he had gone as far as to tortue another ruler. Especially a ruler who had been an ally- and a seemingly close one at that!

 Sure, Sausage had messed with Jimmy a lot throughout their war, but beyond the whole “crater of peace” incident, Sausage had never done anything truly… destructive in such a manner. Jimmy couldn’t help but be a bit put off by the sudden change in his neighbor, how he’d transitioned so quickly from a cheerful, mischievous frenemy, to a legitimate, power hungry threat who could slaughter him in one blow.

It bothered him, more than he thought it probably should have, to see such a large and negative change in the man stemming from Xornoth’s influence. Anyway- the possession was just one more reason for Jimmy to hate this demon guy.

Sure, it had been a bit scary and unusual to find two of his almost-allies trapped in his neighbor’s dungeon, but it turns out that being heroic and saving those two allies did have its perks. Perks in the form of a date with the cute Elven King he’d just rescued. At least, he was pretty sure it had been a date, Scott had gone so far as to call it one after all, but Scott was just so naturally flirty that Jimmy really couldn’t be sure.

Whether or not the romancing had been an intentional move on Scott’s part, it certainly had a romantic impact- skyrocketing Jimmy’s “small” crush into “possibly just a little bit in love.” He got back from the outing that night grinning from ear to ear, and his free hand (the other one holding a bouquet of poppies) reached up to trace the petals of the orchid subconsciously.

It was such a small chance, such a small chance- Jimmy knew that, knew he shouldn’t be letting himself fall for Scott so easily like this. Scott was flirty with everybody, he had just wanted to make a good alliance impression- say thankyou for rescuing him, Jimmy really shouldn’t be getting his hopes up-

The communicator on his wrist buzzed, a message from Scott popping up on the screen.

“Hope you got home safe, thanks again for coming. We should do this again sometime <3”

Jimmy’s heart skipped a beat  in his chest, and a swarm of butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

Cod-dangit.

On the other end of the "Jimmy's life crises" spectrum, the demon stuff got worse, with Joey and Sausage killing a bunch of rulers in a sort of arena to get more power for the demon or whatever that chaos had been.

Then the demon stuff got better when Gem killed Sausage- which cured him of his demonic possession apparently? Jimmy really wasn't sure exactly how magic worked, especially if that was how one purified a soul, and when Sausage dropped by to share the news and apologize Jimmy had been much too overwhelmed by the profusion of information that Sausage had prattled off like it was nothing to ask for clarification. 

In the end, Jimmy didn't care all that much about the specifics of what exactly had gone down with Sausage- don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

What was important was that Sausage was back to his (mostly) non-murderous self- which Jimmy counted as an absolute win. Especially when it came with the added benefit of odd gifts and favours that Sausage gave him as a way to make up for his past misdeeds. The two kisses Sausage had given him along the way had also been nice.

Of course, Sausage had immediately followed them up with a frantic reassurance that the kisses were platonic- a concept that Jimmy found a bit charming. He really needed to learn more about Mythland culture if they were all so affectionate.

He'd also made some comment about "not telling Scott" that Jimmy didn't quite understand- but had reassured Sausage that he wouldn't anyway. The kisses hadn't even been that long, the first one just a quick excited peck on the lips and the second one an affectionate kiss on the cheek- but they'd been enough to keep Jimmy smiling for the rest of the day. 

The next time they’d met was just as pleasant- when they worked together to build the bridge connecting the two kingdoms and liven up the crater below it. 

From the very start, Sausage had cheerfully helped connect the two bridges together, creating the archways in the walls with a confident talent as they worked. Jimmy didn’t think he’d ever been genuinely complimented so much in such a small time frame. Sausage didn’t scoff at or belittle Jimmy’s ideas as some of the other rulers would have, nor did he tease Jimmy for his less practiced building skills or overenthusiasm. Instead he was just as, if not more, excited about the whole thing, and never strayed from his positive narrative as he corrected and helped Jimmy build, expanding from his ideas instead of shooting them down.

Jimmy had to wonder how, even with the war and semi-friendly rivalry, he’d never realized just how much fun Sausage was to talk to. It was so easy to have a conversation with him when he matched Jimmy’s passion with his own. Jimmy didn’t feel like he had to watch his words, like he was one misstep away from another prank or taunt to torment him with. He felt… safe with Sausage.

Which, he acknowledged, was most likely a shining example of his extraordinarily poor judgment - that he was feeling safe around the man who had so recently killed him.

But it was so hard not to- Sausage had taken his suggestion of changing the crater seriously, and came up with a creative solution for it that took into consideration Jimmy’s skill level and allowed them both to work together on it. Then, when he showed Jimmy a trick, for once he wasn’t ridiculed for not knowing something “basic”. Instead, Sausage got excited with him, and walked him through it, making sure he understood how it worked and never once making him feel lesser for it.

It certainly didn’t hurt that he was, objectively, beautiful. Once they’d finished, they'd found themselves sitting on the edge of their newly constructed bridge. Jimmy had happened to glance over at him from where he’d been admiring their ravine in the soft light. With the sun setting behind them, the moon peeking above the horizon in front of them, the lighting perfectly highlighted the curve of Sausage’s face. He was smiling, just like he had been for most of the encounter, but with the sunset casting a golden halo at his back, silver moonlight reflecting in his sparkling eyes- Jimmy felt like he was on the cusp of understanding something. Like the blue of Sausage’s eyes should mean something to him. A cool breeze snuck through the cod head, and the sensitive patch of skin beneath his ear, where the small orchid bloomed, tingled at the cold air. 

Sausage turned, halfway facing him as their eyes met-

“Are you serious right now?” His eyes twinkled with awe, “Look how beautiful this looks!” Jimmy nodded, smiling back on instinct- the thrill of a finished build overtaking the wandering of his thoughts.

“The ravine’s beautiful, we’re beautiful, our empires are beautiful-” 

“-And look at that moonlight coming up, with the sunset on the other side-” Sausage eagerly agreed. He paused, his smile turning to more of a smirk “-some might say this is very romantic.”

Jimmy didn’t even pause, his allyships with Scott and Joel had prepared him for this, the friendly, joking flirting that his friends seemed so fond of. He wouldn’t have pegged Sausage for the type to make that sort of joke, but he supposed it wasn’t too out of character. If Sausage wanted to joke around, Jimmy was happy to play along.

“Yeah,” he replied cheerfully, watching the grin on Sausage’s face grow, “some would say-” he jumped up, speedily walking back towards his kingdom. “Bye Sausage!” He walked about halfway to his archway, before spinning back around with a shit-eating grin. Sausage was still frozen where he’d left him, and it seemed to take him a few seconds to process it. Jimmy almost worried he’d done something wrong, maybe taken the joke too far, but then Sausage burst out laughing, Jimmy giggling with him. They laughed for a good while, probably longer than their age and supposed maturity as rulers should have deemed acceptable. Sausage was the first to stop snickering, his eyes returning to the sliver of sun still visible on the horizon.

“I love this. This is the best thing we could have done.” The joy in his voice was genuine, as most things about Sausage tended to be, but it sounded more… fragile than it had been just moments before. Maybe he was tired? It was getting late- but Jimmy did have one more thing to ask before he retired for the night.

“Thank you- thank you so much for this. Did you-” Jimmy felt oddly nervous suddenly, a flutter of butterflies suddenly spawning in his stomach as he met Sausage’s patient gaze. “Did you wanna become an official alliance?”

Sausage (literally) jumped at the chance, standing up to bounce and grab Jimmy’s hands.

“Of course I do, Jimmy!” The huge smile was back, and whatever unease had been brewing in Jimmy’s stomach lessened greatly, settling itself into a light fluttering.

They couldn’t do the usual drowning ceremony this time, the tank being broken- but Jimmy already had one of Sausage’s heads- and all Sausage requested for his end was one of Jimmy’s banners.

They shook hands to seal the deal, both of them playing the part of a serious ruler for just a few seconds before delving back into their excited demeanors. Sausage’s hands flapped in the air as he babbled and Jimmy rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet as he chimed in.

Jimmy went to bed that night exhausted, but fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Then, as if life was trying to apologize to Jimmy for what it’d put him through with the demon and the wars, Jimmy won the crown!

Sure, he’d had to kill Scott for it, which he felt more than a little bad about- but for once he had won something, had competed against the other rulers and come out victorious, (the victory over Fwhip felt especially sweet- take that cod killer). As if that wasn’t enough- Sausage had immediately declared his support for him, swearing to protect him and the crown.

Despite their rough start, Sausage really was a good guy- Jimmy was glad that they were allies now.

It was almost as if things couldn't get any better- with Cod Sanctuaries being built in every empire, Sausage spending more time with him under the guise of “protecting” him, and then Scott showed up for a visit.

It had started out so nice, Scott had given him several heads for his hall as a gift- and seemed genuinely interested in his building progress. They’d chatted, Scott had flirted- and everything seemed fine! Scott was being…perhaps a little kinder than usual- but not enough for Jimmy to register it as anything but positive. Other than the new ice powers, Scott hadn’t seemed any different or nefarious.

Then, Scott had asked if Jimmy wanted more gifts- and Jimmy’s stupid, stupid brain had immedietly flustered him with thoughts of kisses and more dates or whatever non-pg joke Scott was probably about to make about what the second gift could possibly be. He had been distracted, with a faint blush creeping its way onto his cheeks- when Scott had struck him down.

The nerve- the NERVE of that man. To kill an unsuspecting ally outside of combat, and then to prance around with his stolen crown afterwards. He had baited Jimmy, distracted him with flirty words and gifts- played him like an aquatic fiddle- and Jimmy was humiliated, livid. Most of all, Jimmy just felt hurt- betrayed by the disgustingly smug elf who was flaunting his victory in Jimmy’s own head room.

  Then Fwhip had shown up- of course Fwhip had shown up, complaining about his own plans to steal the crown- and then Scott GAVE Fwhip the Codfather head. Gave it to him- like it was nothing! Like he wasn’t aware of just how much the Cod Head meant to Jimmy, like he wasn’t aware of what had happened last time Fwhip had it.

He hadn’t been able to stand it for long, had kicked the two of them out not long after- and Scott, full of audacity and some other emotion Jimmy couldn’t identify- had tried to justify it.

“You knew this was the game when you started playing,” “You killed me to get this crown, the blood is even", “-I’m still your ally, I don’t want something to happen that’s going to hurt you-.” 

As if- AS IF the rules of the game were more important than friendship and loyalty- as IF Jimmy killing Scott in clear, initiated combat was even remotely the same to the trickery Scott had just pulled.

As if Scott would have gone through with his plan if he didn’t want Jimmy to hurt.

Not to mention that Scott had near immediately given up the crown to Fwhip for some gold, did he even care about the crown at all? Had Jimmy just truly meant that little to him?  before promptly fucking off to Cod-knows where after freezing Gem or whatever magical nonsense had happened there. Luckily, Joel had swooped in and grabbed the crown- a development that Jimmy was overall happy with- but still.

(He’d sent Scott a message, because Jimmy was an idiot who didn’t know when to stop caring. It hadn’t been much, just a casual check in, with a request that Scott come home soon- that Jimmy, his people and the other rulers missed him. Scott had left the message on read.)

It served Jimmy right, really- the pain in his chest and the irritation of his eyes. He should have known from the start that somebody like Scott could never be his soulmate. That somebody like Scott would never love him.

(but he hadn’t- he’d hoped and he’d believed- and it hurt)

Small mercies, even after Scott had broken his heart betrayed him taken the crown from him, Sausage still stopped by his kingdom quite often. Sometimes he would help Jimmy with a project when he got too lost in his own thoughts to be as productive as he needed to be, and would drag him over to Mythland to see a new build when he needed a distraction- but most of the time they just ended up talking. Sausage would ramble on and on about most everything, about his newest project, or Fwhip’s most recent experiments, or Gem’s new spell, or about the birds he’d spotted flying over his tower this morning- and didn’t Jimmy think that it was a bit early in the year for a migration? 

Jimmy liked listening to Sausage, liked that way that he'd wave his hands in the air as he did so- talking just as much with his hands as he did his voice. Jimmy had never before met somebody who could make basic trading and economics sound even remotely interesting (although many of his allies had valiantly tried), but he supposed Sausage was unique in that way. It was just so easy to get excited over whatever small thing Sausage found interesting at the moment when Sausage himself was just so genuine about it. 

Maybe that was why Jimmy found himself opening up to Sausage so easily.

They’d been lounging around Jimmy’s cabin, Sausage with his legs swung over the sides of an armchair and Jimmy dramatically spread out on the couch, when Sausage had asked an innocent question about whether or not Scott had come to see him since returning from his self-imposed banishment a few weeks ago. 

Something in Jimmy had broken at that moment- his previous, well buried worry for Scott being gone for so long- suddenly snapping like a rubber band.

Scott was back- had been back for a good while if Sausage wasn’t lying, and he hadn’t even bothered to come see him.

Jimmy hadn’t been expecting an apology from Scott, but you’d think that a high-and-mighty elf might have figured out how to respond to a cod-damn comm message at some point in his life- or dropped by or somehow communicated to his ally that he was back.

Sausage must have seen something in Jimmy’s face, because Jimmy had barely had time to blink to dispel the sudden, angry mistiness in his eyes before Sausage was sitting suddenly on the couch next to him.

“You didn’t know he was back, did you?” Sausage’s voice was almost uncharacteristically soft, concern obvious on his face. His hand raised to rub comforting circles in Jimmy’s back, and Jimmy couldn’t help but crumble- both literally and figuratively.

He let himself curl into Sausage’s side, and Sausage wrapped an arm around him without hesitation.

“No.” His voice was already wobbly- and Jimmy hated that, hated that he was being so weak- that Scott had made him so weak in this moment. “I didn’t know.”

The whole story  burst out of him after that- his history with Scott, how he’d hoped wondered if Scott might be his Soulmate, Scott’s betrayal, and his anger over the whole situation.

Scott was a horrible, horrible man- flirting with him and getting his hopes up, and then killing him and not coming to see him since. If Rivendell hadn’t been such a fantastic trade partner, Jimmy might have actually called the alliance off just for the indignity of it. How could he have ever hoped- could have ever imagined that Scott was his soulmate?

Jimmy didn’t know if he was making any sense, his brain bouncing from one event to the next far too quickly to be easily followed,  his own feelings confusing and unknown to him even as he tried to express them. But Sausage, for his part, seemed to be keeping up with him enough to get the gist of it.

“Jimmy, are you upset because what Scott did was hurtful, or are you upset because it hurts?” His tone was careful and slow, like he was chewing each word before he said it- or was nervous about Jimmy’s response.

“What?” 

“Scott taking the crown from you. What he did was bad, and him not telling you he was back was bad too. But are you more upset about the fact that he didn’t tell you he was back, or about the fact that it hurts that he didn’t?”

Oh…

Oh

“I was so- so worried about him, Sausage! He betrayed me and was a jerk and I shouldn’t have cared but I did- and I sent a message to check up on him and I was worried about him the entire time that he was gone. And now he’s back and I shouldn’t be so relieved about it but I am and it’s just so annoying that I still care so much after he hurt me while he ....” His cheeks were wet, and his voice was rough and- oh, he was crying. “While he obviously doesn’t care about me.”

Sausage’s arm was tight around him, a grounding presence that Jimmy greatly appreciated. Sausage muttered something under his breath that Jimmy didn’t catch, before speaking up.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” His voice was rough too, like he was holding back tears like Jimmy had been, and he sounded sad. It made Jimmy feel worse for a moment- that he was making Sausage feel sad as well.

“I wish I didn’t.” Both of them ignored the way Jimmy’s voice cracked. “But yeah, I do. I really do.” Sausage seemed to ponder that for a moment, breathing slightly irregularly, and his hand moved to soothingly rub at Jimmy’s back.

“What was it?” He swallowed, his tone lighter and more casual than it had been for most of the conversation, but there was an odd..tenseness to his voice that Jimmy couldn’t identify. “What was it about your Mark that made you think Scott was your Soulmate? You have a feather on your wrist, right?”

 Was he trying to change the subject? Jimmy appreciated the effort, although it did occur to him that he ought to start spreading the news about his second Mark, he’d quite honestly forgotten that most people didn’t know about his orchid. But first things first, Sausage had specifically asked about the feather.

“Yeah, I have an owl feather of some sort, or at least that’s what Lizzie told me. One of the white ones I guess, it has some black spots and gold lines on it.” He shrugged. “How did you know about the Mark?”

“You and Joel were talking about it at one of my first meetings. Well-” He chuckled a bit, “It was a group of you guys talking about it, but Joel was one of the loudest, so I mostly just heard what he said or repeated.” 

That made sense, Jimmy could vaguely remember that meeting, when Lizze and Joel were on the cusp of courting each other and Joel had been eagerly steering every conversation he could onto the track of Soulmates and romance. He’d pulled most of the Cod-vengers into the conversation quickly, asking about their Marks and loudly talking about his own, probably trying to get them to gossip to Lizzie about the large Blue Axolotl swimming up his calf (Or to find out about hers, a swipe of multi-dyed clay on her shoulder). Not that he had really needed them too, Jimmy was pretty sure that most, if not all, of the rulers had caught sight of it at one point or another, Joel’s choice of formal attire usually being a skirt of some sort those days. 

Jimmy laughed, finally pulling away from Sausage, whose grip loosened to release him immediately.

“You remember that? That was ages ago!” 

Sausage shrugged, 

“Only 20 or so years, most of it’s gone quite quick for me- my first years ruling and all.” His eyes found the ceiling, his brain clearly whizzing through whatever information Jimmy had just given him to figure out something, although Jimmy wasn’t quite sure what.

“An owl feather for Scott,” He continued, “that makes sense.” 

Jimmy blinked,

“It does?”

“Well yeah, matching his wings and all.” Sausage said, raising his hands to flap them in a mock-flying fashion, “I- I need to go.” He stood up quickly, Jimmy’s balance being slightly thrown off by the change in distribution of weight.

“Already?” Jimmy couldn’t help the disappointment clear in his voice, “You’ve only been here-” He checked his comm, and the blinking green numbers on the screen caught him off guard- had they really been talking for that long?

Sausage noticed his shock, and smiled good naturedly, even if the smile itself seemed a little strained.

“Time flies, huh Jimmy?” He rushed on before Jimmy could interrupt, “But I really do need to get going, it’s getting late- and you know how it is- life of a king and all that.” He pulled his boots on with surprising efficiency, and patted Jimmy’s cod-covered head as he made his way to the door. “This has been great, it’s always great to hang out with you, you’re always great- you’re great- But I really do need to get going so uh- Bye Jimmy!” 

And with that convoluted farewell, Sausage was out the door, his elytra unfurled and rockets blasting as he quickly took off. Leaving Jimmy confused, Sausage’s own cape still thrown over the back of the chair, and with the door open.

Don’t get him wrong, Sausage was a sweet, talented, funny guy- but man was he weird sometimes.

Trying to shrug off the little twinge of hurt from Sausage’s abrupt departure, he shut and locked the door- struggling with the latch for only a few moments before sliding it into place. Sausage’s cape was already folded where it lay, so Jimmy left it- Sausage would probably be over again in a few days anyway.

The sun was just beginning to set, the orange-red light bleeding through the cracks between the curtains on his window, and Jimmy couldn’t help the sudden feeling of loneliness that hit him. He took off his Cod-Head, holding it underneath his arm.

He had Soulmates, he knew he did- two of them! But Cod help him, if Scott was off the table, Jimmy had no clue where to even start looking. The tips of the orchid behind his ear, where Sausage’s fingers would have brushed had the Codhead not prevented it, felt slightly warm. His own fingers reached to brush over it, and his mind flashed back to that evening on the bridge, sun setting behind Sausage as he grinned at Jimmy.

Huh.

Weird.

The warmth beneath his fingers was suddenly gone, and Jimmy drew his hand away to stare at it. The few beams of light making its way through the curtains reached the mirror, and reflected right into his eyes. He moved the hand to shield his face from the light, and the odd moment of warmth was forgotten. The sun was setting, meaning that it wouldn’t be long until the now pleasant temperature of his home plummeted to freezing cold without the help of his fire. He grabbed some larger logs from the stack beside the fireplace, ones that would be likely to last all night. It didn’t take long for the old, dried wood to catch aflame, and Jimmy allowed himself a few moments to bask in the pleasant heat the flames were producing- before making his way to his heavily blanketed bed.

He’d find his Soulmates one day, that much he knew- but he hoped he’d find them soon. Or even better they’d find him. Either way, the last thought he had before he was quickly swept into the realm of odd, water-based dreams, was of his Marks, and the people whom they represented.

He couldn’t wait to meet them.

Chapter Text

Scott was born with a bright red poppy blooming in the hollow of his throat. The petals swirled with watercolour-esque textures and gradients, paired with a saturated, narrow stem that curved to rest against the skin of his neck. His parents had both been relieved to see it, the contrasting red flower on their son’s skin telling them that his soulmate was already born— and thus more likely than not an immortal. Hopefully, another elf, or one of the fae from the Overgrown, as the flower seemed to suggest.

The determination that the Mark was of a romantic nature, (according to the priests who examined it), was yet another relief. That their son would have a respectable spouse, one who he would marry, have heirs with, and would reflect well on the kingdom.

Scott was born into the mandatory role of a perfect prince, and the more equipped he was to play it, the better.

He grew up being taught about the ways and traditions of running and managing an elvish kingdom— all he would need to know to rule Rivendell as strictly and effectively as his ancestors had. He learned of his duties, and took up archery, sword fighting, and several intellectual skills at his parents’ demand request. He grew up busy, playing the part of the perfect, obedient heir— loving and loathing the conditional praise and pride he earned from it, grooming the ugly mix of ego and insecurity swirling inside him.

Among his studies of elvish culture was a small chapter on soulmates, on their meanings and place within society. He learned that the mark on his neck meant that his soulmate was already born, and that the poppy represented something about the person that etiquette dictated he spend the rest of his life with once he met them. (Once he met her, his parents corrected when he’d shared his discovery, already so certain that Scott’s soulmate would be one of whom they’d approve of, of whom their traditions would approve. Scott had wished quietly, desperately— that they were wrong.)

He didn’t quite trust the concept of a soulmate— didn’t like that his romantic partner was yet another thing in which he had no choice. He did his best to ignore his Mark— chose high-necked garments in his formal wear once he was trusted to dress himself, and showed it to as few people as possible. The fewer people that saw the mark, the fewer people that might recognize who it was for— and the longer he’d be able to avoid meeting his soulmate and keep the little freedom he still had.

He was a young adult by the time a second mark had bloomed on his skin; he'd woken up one morning to find a lamb resting on his lower back. The texture seemed thicker than the other, hints of fingerprints pressed into the illusionary paint’s depiction— giving a handmade charm and warmth to it. The lamb had dark eyes, an affectionate look on its face as its head tilted to the side, a wither rose dripping from its lips. It was heavily detailed, or at the very least more detailed than Scott’s other Mark, with shading in the curly and knotted fur of the lamb’s wool, scratches and uneven wear on the barely visible hooves.

While the poppy on his neck was all soft gradients and saturated colours, the lamb featured much more muted colouring.

The creamish-brown of the wool was varied and gentle, and the skin of the face was an only slightly lighter shade. The colours seemed soft, not picturesque and exaggerated like the poppy, but undoubtedly vibrant in its own way— the thick paint giving it an odd depth from the skin surrounding it.

The semi-realistic style of the piece was only disrupted by the yellow and red shading which emphasized certain aspects of the Mark. There was a sunrise-suggestive rim light at the edges of the wool, and the wither rose had deep red highlights.

It, in many ways, reminded Scott of his visions. Scott didn’t tend to have many visions— only the occasional message sent from Aeor to his champion, but they always had a vague…haziness to them. Disturbingly realistic and blatantly fake in the same moment. It had a disarming effect, his surroundings always both simple and incomprehensible at the same time.

The Mark had a similar effect, with the small dew droplets leaving trails down the sharp petals of the rose, and the imperfect grass-taken burs that twisted and tangled in the lamb’s lower fur.
It gave it a sense of realness, like all Scott would have to do was reach out, and the soft texture of wool would greet his fingertips. And yet there were small oddities. In how the lighting settled in the creases of the wool, mimicking thick paint instead of fur, or the lack of reflection in the eyes, the brown-black eyes deep and unwavering— tipping off his brain to the distinctness of the scene— that what he was seeing wasn’t quite real, or solid.
It blended into his skin, the almost-but-not-quite-realism unusual and comforting instead of the eeriness he had come to associate with his visions.
It didn’t seem like the contrast should work— the style and the colouring contradicting and competing with each other— but of course, it was magic, a Soul Mark— it was as gorgeous as the poppy was.

It also had a flower, he’d noted with a small amount of dry amusement— to match his other mark he supposed— even if a wither rose and a poppy were rather different in most regards.

It wasn’t unheard of for a person to have more than one soulmate, but it was relatively rare among elves. It would probably be fine, if he were to reveal that he had a second soulmate, but with the timing heavily suggesting his second Soulmate being mortal, and with all the work his parents had put into presenting him as the next traditional, respectable ruler, Scott didn’t doubt that there would be backlash. If not from his subjects than at least from his advisors. The older elves still loyal to the wishes and ideals of his parents.

Luckily, the placement of the Mark made it easy to hide, and years of lying to his parents had groomed his ability to keep a secret better than any training or lecture ever could’ve. Not that he had to worry about keeping secrets from his parents anymore— corpses weren’t particularly known for their investigative abilities.

This was fine. Scott just wouldn’t mention the second Mark, wouldn’t give anybody the chance to see themselves in the illustration. Maybe if he got lucky, he would be able to identify both of them, and at least be able to choose between the two.

He thought he’d found a pretty good solution, in revealing neither of his Marks to the public, giving him perhaps a better chance at avoiding being caged into a relationship with somebody he didn’t love— couldn’t choose to love, for as long as possible.

He had considered flings with the more trustworthy of the servants. Ones who he knew would tell him “no” if needed, as well as keep their mouths shut afterwards. Of course, in a castle full of servants picked by his parents, attractive and age appropriate men of that caliber were few and far between.

It didn't matter though, it was fine. At least this way he wouldn’t fool himself into seeing a future with any of them, wouldn’t accidentally fall in love or get attached when he was already promised to strangers.

To be fair, he hadn’t been planning on choosing to love anybody at all, Soulmates and non-Soulmates aside— instead opting into the plan of avoiding the thought of his Soulmates and the inevitability of him marrying one of them to make an heir— until he was forced to do so.

Fate may have taken his parents and brother,maye have crowned him champion to a God who couldn't clean up their own messes, may have blemished his skin with strangers’ signatures— but if nothing else, his heart would be his own. To protect and keep— as was smart, as was safe.

He would be a kind ruler, a polite peer to his fellow emperors, maybe even a friend to a select few— but he would never break his own heart so foolishly, by daring to fall in love.

But then Jimmy, in his slimy, passionate, stupidly oblivious glory, had gone and wrecked that plan.

Maybe some part of him had recognized the danger Jimmy posed to his guarded heart, because Scott had barely been able to stand Jimmy when they first met. He wasn’t rude to him (at least, not any more than Scott was to all of the other rulers), but even he could admit he was unnecessarily stiff to the shorter ruler.

Every time Jimmy had tried to start a friendly conversation, slightly too-sharp teeth bared in a smile as he peered up at him, Scott had answered as quickly and bluntly as possible.

Of course, that hadn’t lasted too long before Joel and Lizzie cornered him after a meeting.

Lizzie, shorter than him as she might have been at the time, had carried herself with the fierceness and confidence Scott had only seen in some of his oldest advisors. She’d stated, plainly but with all the fake politeness that was still expected of rulers, that his behavior was unacceptable— and that if he had any fondness for his head and didn’t want multiples of it to hang from her wall— then he’d better start being friendlier.

Aeor’s Antlers, that woman was terrifying.
Joel had also threatened him, although Scott had to admit that he was significantly less intimidated by him. Joel was more terrifyingly annoying than anything else.

Either way, he’d grit his teeth, plastered a polite look on his face, and approached Jimmy the next meeting. Jimmy had lit up like a Winter-Festival lantern, introducing himself (did he think Scott didn’t know who he was? Had he been that dismissive of him?) before immediately trying to small talk his way into Scott’s good graces.

Scott didn’t trust him— he wasn’t that easy of a pull— but he couldn’t help but be softer on Jimmy after that. Whatever, he’d held a civil conversation with Jimmy, and would continue to be nice when they interacted. At least now Lizzie and Joel would get off his back.

Unfortunately for that plan, Katherine had noticed the two of them getting along better— and sat them next to each other for a meeting.

If Scott didn’t like Katherine as much as he did (which was quite a lot, considering the fact that he came to these meetings at all), he might have left right then and there.

Instead, he politely chatted with Jimmy until the meeting started, and spent the rest of his pent-up frustration giving valuable and intelligent contributions to the conversation. Under his breath, of course.

However, his comedic genius did become a problem when a well timed jab at Fwip’s latest project pulled a snicker from the fish next to him.

The sound was quickly cut off, the small thud Scott heard from beneath the table suggesting that another ruler— probably Lizzie— had been the one to put a stop to it.

Scott couldn’t help the pleased smile that grew on his face, eyes darting over to meet the shorter ruler’s gaze. Or at least, meet it as much as he could with the mask covering Jimmy's eyes. Scott searched his face for any hint of malice or sarcasm, any indication that Jimmy’s humour was anything less than genuine.

He found none.

He adjusted his seat slightly, noting the small look of confusion Jimmy gave him as he did so.

Pixl was next, their speech an odd mix of casual and overly formal that only a being as odd as him could hope to pull off— and Scott leaned towards Jimmy, a slightly mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips, whispering a quiet height-related joke into the man’s ear.

Jimmy bit his lip, eyes alight with mirth as he clearly fought down a giggle, his gaze delightedly flickering towards him.
Scott smiled back, partially for politeness’ sake, and partially because he couldn’t help it. His chair found its way closer to Jimmy’s, tiny scoots that led to increasingly less and less deniable proximity.

It was addictive, this heady, light feeling that invaded his chest with every reaction he drew out of the shorter man. His hand reached out without his permission, resting dangerously close to Jimmy’s. His fingertips prickled slightly when his fingers brushed against the outside of Jimmy’s wrist, barely enough to notice.
Jimmy was magnetic, his joy infectious like a drug, and Scott couldn’t bring himself to regret getting his first hit.
(Even if Katherine was pretty peeved at the two of them— although Scott would argue that the situation was her fault in the first place for seating the two of them next to each other. Still, he’d throw in some extra wool next time they traded.)

Scott found himself stopping by the Cod Empire more often after that— quick conversations on his way home from trading with Mezalea morphing into Scott giving tips and insults in equal measure as Jimmy worked on his latest build, morphing into casual hangouts beyond that.

And maybe Scott’s usual, teasing flirtatious banter occasionally toed the line between joking and sincere. And maybe Scott was a bit softer, a bit kinder with his teasing towards him than most of the other rulers.

But in the unlikely event that that was true, and did in fact occur— that meant absolutely nothing, and was nobody’s business but Scott’s own.

Scott was not falling for Jimmy, had no interest in him outside of platonic realms— had barely any interest in him within those realms! If he was a little kinder and more affectionate with the man, it was merely because he was atoning for his earlier behavior— satisfying Lizzie’s protectiveness. No other reason. None at all.

Scott was certain that there was no ulterior motive to his small gifts and compliments to the fish man, that every leap and flutter his heart made when he was around him meant nothing— that there was no part of him even considering Jimmy as a lover, especially not when Scott had never even planned on being his friend.

(It was far too late to not be his friend, far too late to take back the vulnerability that Jimmy had drawn from him. And as much as he fought it, as much as he wished to wall himself back up— to protect that part of him that was still suspicious, still untrusting and scared— he had to admit that Jimmy had, against all odds, squirreled his way into Scott’s heart.)

At the very least, Scott was pretty sure that Jimmy wasn’t his Soulmate, regardless of any feelings the elf may have had towards him. He could thank Joel for that. The loud-mouthed man had taken it upon himself to ensure that every single ruler (and likely their citizens as well), knew about and were interested in his Soulmark. In his efforts, he’d more than once drawn an unfortunate ruler into a pre-meeting conversation about the Marks. Jimmy, in either supportiveness or naivety— had joined in many times, happily allowing himself to be prompted into mentioning his Soulmark. Apparently, it was something that twisted around his wrist.

Scott hadn’t paid enough attention at the time to remember exactly what it was that Jimmy had— but his actual Mark wasn’t what was important. What was important— is that he had only mentioned the one, meaning that the likelihood of him being Scott’s Soulmate had decreased significantly.

Sure, it was possible that Jimmy had lied about only having one Mark, but Scott didn’t get the feeling that Jimmy would be the type to lie about that sort of thing. Especially when, as far as Scott knew, he didn’t have any reason to. For as long as Scott had known him, Jimmy had always been very optimistic about the concept of Soulmate— had been remarkably open and confident in the concept.

So, in all likelihood— Jimmy wasn’t his Soulmate. He was just a slimy, awkward, earnest guy. Who Scott was not in love with. Shut up.

(But— if, hypothetically, he was in love with him— Scott couldn’t really be too upset about that either. Jimmy was nothing like the unknown Soulmate his parents had dreamed about— nothing like the regal, uptight fae Scott was expected to have as a Soulmate, was expected to fall in love with. Jimmy had snuck his way into Scott’s heart, burrowed into his chest even without a Mark to stake his claim.

And without a Mark, Scott had the ability, the choice, to truly love him.

 If Scott was in love with Jimmy, maybe he could stand that sense of vulnerability. Maybe he didn’t have to take away his own freedom, his own agency, if he was choosing to love someone instead of being expected to.
Maybe.)

Then, Scott was finally reunited with his brother. Which, because the universe hated him, wasn’t a happy “I’ve missed you so much and I love you” reunion, or even a slightly annoying one where Scott got called “weird” more often than his actual name. No, it was a “your sibling was turned into a demon and is now possessed by Exor, and also was the one who killed your parents all those years ago! They want to destroy the world, have fun stopping him” type reunion. Which, in Scott’s humble opinion, was absolute bullshit.

So yeah, King Scott of Rivendell, Champion of Aeor, was now also responsible for whatever the hell that situation was— with minimal instructions or guidance from the God whose own brother was the one responsible for the mess in the first place.

Whatever, whatever! It wasn’t like Scott usually had a choice in any of his life-altering decisions anyway! Like he had ever had any great sense of agency in his life! This was just another dollop of icing on the infuriating cake that was his life. It was fine, Scott would fight this demon bitch and defeat them and their brainwashed servants (Had Scott forgotten to mention that? The two possessed rulers who were now super powerful and also fighting against him? Oh, well, he had to deal with those two as well).

Of course, that was easier said than done, especially when said servants had you locked in an insultingly damp dungeon.

Honestly, there was a mushroom growing in the corner of his cell, did Xornoth not have any standards? This was ridiculous.
Gem was there too, in the cell next to him, which was both a comfort and a worry. A comfort, in that Scott wasn’t trapped here alone, had somebody to talk to and distract him from the screaming of his own thoughts. But a rather large worry, in that Gem had been killed multiple times in concerningly short succession, which had unsurprisingly had some negative effects on the woman, who was limply collapsed against the wall, her breaths much weaker than Scott would have preferred.

Scott was pissed— at Joey and Sausage for torturing her and then leaving her like this, at Xornoth for driving them to— and at himself, for allowing this to happen. He was Aeor’s champion, and a trained fighter at that! Allowing himself and an ally to be so easily captured-

Guilt sat heavy in his gut as he listened to Gem shiver beside him. It wasn’t good for Gem to be in this cold of an environment when she was already so weak. Scott, as an elf, was used to withstanding a certain level of cold, but Gem, no matter her magical prowess, was human. This cold was no doubt making her already hazardous health decrease further.

But Lady Luck seemed to favour him that day— because it took only a little more than an hour before he heard footsteps above him, too light to be Sausage, and too slow and cautious to be Joey. He called out, and the person above them stopped,

“Hello?” The confused voice was muffled by the floorboards, but still recognizable.
Scott’s heart leaped to his throat. Jimmy.

Jimmy, against considerable odds, had stumbled across them, had (after, admittedly, a bit of messing with them-which Scott may or may not have been just a little bit proud of him for) freed them— and helped them escape.

Scott had, with a vulnerability and genuineness he would later attribute to the stress and fatigue of the situation, thanked him, and promised Jimmy that he would make it up to him.

Jimmy had shook his hand, and the tips of Scott’s fingers— not covered by gloves as they usually were— tingled at the brush of skin.

He’d flown home, paranoia resting in his bones as he made his way higher and higher into the sky, anxious eyes scanning the horizon until Rivendell finally came into view.

It took him a little over an hour to do a flyby of his own kingdom, to check in with the citizens and fields— until he could confirm that Joey and Sausage hadn’t done any extra damage to Rivendell.
He finally stumbled into his home, boots dragging across the floor as he forced himself to make his way to his bed instead of sleeping on the suspiciously comfortable looking stone beneath his feet. The adrenaline that had kept him alert for the past few hours had left him, leaving a deep exhaustion that Scott could barely process.

Through either luck or sheer willpower, Scott managed to make it to the bed, not even bothering to undress before flopping face-first into the soft blankets.
His dreams were confusing and trippy that night, full of bright colours and warm touches by faceless lovers. He fell headfirst into a puddle, and found himself completely submerged in still, blue-green water with sunlight above him. He sank quickly, as if weights were tied to him, but couldn’t bring himself to panic as he stared into the picturesque water above him.

He reached the bottom, and red vines grew around him, twisting to bind his neck and wrists to pull him underneath the sand. He had not been able to breath before— but now the tightening of the vine around his throat frightened him, caused him to twist and writhe against the rapidly overwhelming corruption. He was trapped— he couldn’t breath— he couldn’t move— he was stuck-

The vines pushed him down through the sand— and he fell through it— right into the arms of a person whose face he could not see. He jostled the both of them as he landed— but the mystery person seemed to have been expecting him, because their hands came to his sides to easily catch and stabilize him. Scott thought he caught a glimpse of one of them— a thick and scarred hand with the thumb rubbing his side comfortingly. But his vision blurred— and when it refocused the hand was replaced by a slimmer one— long and freckled fingers spread across his side with barely visible scales tapering off from the wrist.

Scott’s body relaxed in the stranger’s hold, a nonexistent memory guiding him to turn his head and close his eyes to tuck his head into the neck of the person he suddenly knew was a man. He could breathe again— and his chest heaved with the realization. The man he was tucked against smelled like blood— terrifying and comforting in the same moment. He smelled like plains grass, like coconut and smoked sage, like sweet swamp tea.
Scott’s eyes flew open— and he was suddenly awake in his own bed, dawn not yet arrived but close enough that hints of light were beginning to appear. A name— heavy and right, but not quite complete— rested familiar on his tongue, like he had spent many breaths calling it.

Jimmy?

He had sat in the mysterious euphoria that bled from the dream for only a few moments— before he had become aware of himself and the elation had soured into a feeling of dread and dread. He had prepared for the day quickly, hoping that the busyness of his day would purge the haunting memory of the dream and its lingering feeling of importance from him. But it followed him throughout the day, and kept him awake that next night as his mind flickered back to the phantom feeling of hands at his side, flashing to the fish scales of a familiar headpiece— an easy laugh accompanying it, and ringing in Scott’s ears.

Really, he should have known before now.

Honestly— he had known before now.

Maybe from that first meeting, when the thrill of making Jimmy laugh had overpowered decades worth of repression and sophistication.

But he had ignored it, had covered that part with a cloak of denial that had only been torn off when Jimmy’s voice had called out in the dark of the cell, echoing slightly off the stone. When Scott had immediately been filled with an old joy— not borne just of hope or of rescue— but of disgustingly sweet teas, and early afternoon sunbeams, and babbling water, and Jimmy. A joy so uniquely borne from Jimmy, from his presence, from the very thought of him— a joy so bright and comforting that Scott didn't know how he hadn’t yet drowned in it.

How had he ever managed to keep himself in the dark of this brilliance? How had he convinced himself that the bubbles of youth and wonder that Jimmy seemed to encourage in him with so much as a smile, shared no similarities to the crushes he’d had as a child, on the stable boys who had taught him how to ride and care for a horse. How had he failed to recognize the warm sense of familiarity, of comfort, of home— that had so gently surrounded him whenever he was around Jimmy?

Maybe…

Just maybe-

Scott was in love with Jimmy, head-over-heels, heart-over-logic— in love with Jimmy, and had been for quite some time.
The thought froze his chest, and a phantom feeling of ice in his lungs screamed at him— begged him— to stop. To bury that flurry of feeling back down into his gut, into the darkest corners of his heart, where they would be safe— where Scott would be safe.

And perhaps if it had been any other— if Scott’s heart had so fiercely tied itself to any other man, Scott would have found the fear strength to cut it loose. To lick his wounds and move on— nursing that fear and love until they merged into something more weak, manageable. To make the smart decision, the decision that wouldn’t put his heart and reputation in so much danger— to deny and bury his feelings as he had been for the better portion of his life.

(Scott’s mother’s voice whispered in his ear, joined by his father’s and his advisors— this was stupid— foolish. To court a mortal— to court a man as well, would be as safe as taking a blindfolded midnight stroll around the cliff sides. Scott knew this— he knew this— as well as he knew his own name or creed.)
But it wasn’t anybody else— it was Jimmy.

Whose smile was always a bit too sharp— slightly pointed teeth covered by black stained lips that didn’t help his slightly off putting appearance— but never managed to remain threatening once they opened to speak. It was Jimmy, who would kick and pout and make a fuss over the smallest offense to him or his friends, but would offer kindness and loyalty just as easily. It was Jimmy, who was cloaked in a warm sense of familiarity and nostalgia, of genuineness.

(There was a whisper in his ear, quiet yet still louder than the rest of the clamouring voices in his head-

“You’ve made this decision before— to love him, foolishly. Loving him, has never been a regret.”)

An owl screeched outside his window, the sound carrying more in the otherwise quiet mountainside.

“Damn it.” Scott thought.

Screw it— If Scott defeated Xornoth, then his advisors could shove their judgements aside or up their asses for the Chosen of Aeor and a Savior of their world. And if he didn’t— then they would all have far more important things to worry about than who their King was romancing.

Not to mention, if they started talking poorly of him, Scott could always have them killed. He had never exercised that particular power as King, save the occasional assassins that had been hired after him when he first took the throne— but that had been procedure, not his judgment. But he was almost three hundred years old now, had been ruling for more than a century— he could probably kill them if he really wanted to, especially when his parents had killed so many of their own advisors throughout their regime.

Like, he didn’t want to do that (most of the time— they were a real aggravating bunch) but he could, if he needed to.

(He did spare a moment to wonder about Jimmy’s soulmate, whether or not they would be content to share Jimmy if they ever found him, if Jimmy would be content to be shared. If sharing would even be an option— if Jimmy would discard Scott without a second thought once he found the person he was meant to be with.

The thought was almost scarier than anything else about the situation. Sure, Scott was fairly certain that Jimmy felt some sort of attraction towards him, but love? Love enough to choose somebody who wasn’t his soulmate?

Scott didn’t want to be used again, didn’t want to be abandoned.

He thought of Jimmy, messing around with him during a meeting with the most powerful rulers in the world, of his delighted smiles he would give wherever Scott stopped by, of the shoddily carved arrow he’d proudly presented Scott with the week before his birthday.

Jimmy had already proven his trustworthiness, that he was willing to break rules for Scott.

Scott loved him enough to trust him to do it again.)

In Elvish culture, courtships were usually initiated by a hand-crafted gift— something of significance from the courtier. As an archer, Scott could have carved an intricate bow, or enchanted some arrows— but neither of those felt quite right for the situation. If Scott was going to do this— was going to risk so much and put himself into such a vulnerable position— he might as well go all out, and make sure it was worth it.

There was a nearby mountainside which had long since been mined of its valuable ores, and Scott’s hands itched for his sketchbook the moment he thought of it. Mind filled with images of a hollowed section within it, he could neaten the edges a bit more and push the ceilings and walls, add a small pond and plant some mosses and greenery to spruce it up. He checked his storage to see what he had in the way of flowers, and sent out an Owl to Katherine to pick up some of the ones he didn’t.

It took the better part of a week, working on the cave in between his other Kingly duties— not to mention that he was building the whole thing himself. But the finished product— the now well-lit cave carpeted by a mixture of soft cave mosses and clover, and the walls blooming with flowery vines and various shrubs that had been transplanted into the cracks— made the dirt under his fingernails, and the scratches up his arms from the glowberry’s thorn’s worth it.

The picnic blanket was soft and colourful— made to match the vibrant colours of the banners hanging behind it. The basket on top of it was woven of a darkly stained birch, and the flowers from Katherine were littered around the ground surrounding it.

Catching the codfish without Jimmy realizing had been a pain— as had the balcony that he built to extrude from the mountain side. But the fish had adjusted quickly enough to their new underground home, scales reflecting the glow berries' yellow-gold light, and the balcony had turned out every bit as elegant as Scott could have hoped.

It was some of his best work— and Scott felt that it was fitting, after all— Jimmy was some of the best inspiration Scott had had in decades. He deserved a courtship reflective of that.

With what should have been the hard part done, Scott waited for a few days— until Rivendell’s current storm had passed over. It had barely been a significant flurry— but the clouds had blocked the sunshine, and Scott’s steadily growing nerves had been insistent on a sunny, perfect day. There were some extra flowers left from his order from Katherine, a mixture of daisies and poppies, fresh enough to still look alive, but lacking the roots to be replanted.

The daisies he twisted into a crown, the soft, pastel shades working well together, and contrasting nicely with his darker hair. The poppies, he almost threw away, the skin of his neck itching where the faux ink stained it. A reminder, a threat— that his fate was promised to another.

Scott potted the poppies and spread them around the area— whether in defiance or simple anger at their intended meaning. If his poppy was meant to represent his soulmate, and his intended love for them— then what better way to use them than in a gift for Jimmy? The man who Scott intended to give all of his love, all of his devotion to— no matter what fate or destiny had chosen for him.

At the very least, maybe the gods would appreciate the irony.

The skin beneath his Marks seemed to pulse in unison with his heartbeat at the thought.

Scott ignored it, just as he ignored the shakiness of his hands, as he stood on the doorstep of the Codfather’s cabin, trying to stamp down the nervous twisting in his stomach. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to muster up the courage to actually knock on the door— three sharp taps against the dark wood— his heart rapidly fluttering in his chest. Luckily, Jimmy answered the door almost immediately, before Scott’s anxiety could take over and send him flying back towards the mountains.

“Scott!” Jimmy’s smile was evident in his voice, and Scott forced himself to pretend that hearing his name fall so fondly from Jimmy’s lips didn’t affect him. “What a lovely surprise!” Scott smiled back at the man, and his stomach loosened slightly at the obvious show of affection towards him.

“Can I come in?” He’d meant for his voice to sound much more confident, instead of the quiet, choked back sound it came out as. But Jimmy didn’t seem to either notice or care, smile only widening as he ushered the elf in, where Scott was hit with the smell of old wood and a flowery scent wafting from the kitchen. It was warm and slightly cluttered in the cabin, the woven decorations on the walls and the fireplace next to the bedroom making a homely contrast to the comfortingly dark woods of the floor and walls. Scott felt his shoulders relax, and his hand, which had still been hovering anxiously in the air, fell to rest at his side.

“Why are you here?” Jimmy asked as he headed towards the kitchen, his tone friendly and warm. Scott sucked in a breath, and all of his memories of his pre-written speech flew from his mind as Jimmy turned to him, the dark glass eyes of his fish head gleaming in the reflective light of the fire. Scott was suddenly far too aware of his hands, and he drew them back up reflexively to grasp each other to try and keep from fiddling too much.

“So…you know how like-” The ceiling of the cabin was made from the same beautiful dark wood as the rest of the structure, “the other day, you saved me from my impending doom?” Scott thought the lanterns hanging from the wood ceiling were very pretty, the chunky detailing charming and characteristic of Cod Lands. “And then I said that I would like— make it up to you?” Scott trailed off, confidence failing him for the moment as his gaze flickered back down to Jimmy.

Jimmy was looking directly at him, head tilted like he was trying to figure something out, but his smile had yet to leave his face. He reached the stove of his kitchen, where some sort of floral soup seemed to be cooking, and removed the lid to stir the mixture as he hummed an affirmative.

“Yeah?” Scott forced himself to swallow.

“Would you…” The light flickering on the walls from the lanterns really was pretty.

“Maybe like to— I don’t know— go on,” He forced his eyes back down to meet Jimmy’s as best he could. “Go on a date with me?”

Jimmy stepped slightly back, head tilting, and Scott was suddenly reminded of all the ways that this was a very, very bad idea.

“Well-” Jimmy started carefully, and Scott internally ran through what type of trading deals would best make up for the situation. “What kind of date?”

“I don’t know I’ve just-” Scott stumbled through his words, trying his best not to panic, “I've planned a little thing— built a little thing-”

“-Wait you’ve-” Jimmy interrupted, a smile starting to crawl back onto his face as his tone grew more hopeful. “You’ve planned a little afternoon for us?”

“Yeah, I’ve planned a little afternoon for us.” Scott desperately hoped he didn’t sound as relieved as he felt.

“Oh. My. Gosh. This is very cute.” Scott wasn’t sure whether Jimmy was talking to himself or to him, but he blushed anyway.

“Yes, alright, let me just-” He turned back to the pot of soup, quickly grabbing a lid off the counter and placing it on top, almost knocking the pot off the stove with his elbow in the process. “Right,” he turned back to face Scott, “Do I need anything?”

“Nope.” Scott replied, a little bit of fondness sneaking into his voice. “Just yourself.” Despite not being able to see them, Scott got the distinct feeling that Jimmy’s eyes were directly on his. Jimmy smiled again, sharp teeth peeking out from under dark lips.

“Just myself.” Jimmy repeated, voice warm— and Scott’s heart soared.

Jimmy had spent at least half of the date cooing over the cod in the pond, having an odd conversation with them about the weather in the cave and proper rock sizes.

From what Scott could tell, they at least seemed to have mostly positive opinions of their new habitat. Not to mention that it had given Scott a great opportunity to just… observe the man who he was in love with for the first time since he’d realized that he was. Jimmy’s laugh lines were well defined, carved into his face as if he was created to have them, full enough of love and passion that he simply needed some physical indicator of that. Scott wondered if he had similar wrinkles around his eyes, and then had to immediately derail that line of thought before he got too distracted.

He had spent the other half of his time eagerly fawning over the area Scot had made. He had nearly cried over the correlated colouring of the picnic blanket, and had made some awe-filled comments on the cave’s shaping and design that had had Scott’s wings puffing with pride despite his best efforts not to.

Jimmy scuffed up the moss running around the place, and his excited yells were loud enough to make the echoes slightly painful to Scott’s more sensitive ears. He grabbed every potted poppy he spotted, gleefully arranging a bouquet for himself with a smile so wide Scott couldn’t manage to feel upset about it.

The sight of Jimmy, poppies piled in his arms as he smiled at Scott, prodded at something at the back of Scott’s mind, and he felt for a second that he was teetering on the edge of solving a mystery, like an obvious answer was staring him in the face as he the pieces together.

Jimmy nearly dropped one of the flowers, and Scott darted forward to catch it. The weird feeling dissipated, easily replaced by Jimmy’s dramatic thanks and laughter as he protectively readjusted his grip on the flowers.

Jimmy was awkward, over enthusiastic, loud, and a bit odd in his reactions the entire time— and Scott still wasn’t sure whether or not he understood that this outing was a date.

It was the best date Scott could have hoped for.

“No one else comes here.” Jimmy had said, hands clutched around one of Scott’s, head so steady that Scott knew that his gaze was fixed on his. “No one.” His voice was steady and a little possessive in a way Scott wished he didn’t find reassuring. “This is our place.” Scott’s gloved hand brushed against one of Jimmy’s wrists, and the contact, combined with the eye contact, left a buzzing sensation in his hand, even after Jimmy had pulled away.

It had gone well, even with Jimmy’s seeming obliviousness— and Scott allowed himself to feel the fluttery joy and flusteredness that came with it. Well enough for Scott to gain the courage to add a heart to the end of the message he sent afterwards. It felt good, if not a bit blasphemous— to be doing this. His whole life he had been so wary of getting close to somebody like this, of doing anything that might threaten his standing and reputation as the King of Rivendell— anything that might encourage the judgment or ire of his people and fellow rulers, of his family’s memory.

And sure, his parent’s voices still echoed in the quieter moments of his days— but they were easily drowned out more and more by the memory of Jimmy’s laughter— by the ghost of the hand on his waist from the dream.

All Scott had ever wanted was freedom—

And with Jimmy?

Like a tiger set free from its cage, a canary released from the mine-

Scott felt free.

Or, at least, as free as he could feel with a demon brother and their corruption trying to take over his kingdom and the rest of the world, along with all of the other responsibilities that came with being the sole ruler of an expansive kingdom.
But it was still progress, still a change— still something Scott couldn’t find it in him to label as anything other than good.

Everything went so..quickly, after that. Sausage and Pearl invited a bunch of rulers to an arena— only to be slain by Xornoth easily. No doubt, they were gaining power through the deaths and spilt blood. The Ender Dragon’s body had long since grown cold, and Xornoth and Sausage had stained the stones of the arena red with royal blood— they were growing stronger by the day, and Scott didn’t know what to do.

The bargaining with Lizzie was a nice, if brief distraction. Not to mention that the boots he got out of it were more than impressive— the ice trailing behind him felt right, natural and thrilling in a way Scott couldn’t quite describe.

Sausage was freed from his possession at some point by Gem, as the Wizard informed him later as they prepared to leave the newly discovered Elvin Library to confront the demon themself in light of Shubble’s kidnapping— ritual instructions clenched tightly in the woman’s hand as she shakily fumbled with the straps of her elytra. Which Scott did his best to use as a motivator— that Xornoth would be without one of their more powerful allies.

The fight was…scary.

Scott broke away from the group early, sneaking away from Joey’s ravagers when he spotted Shelby in her elevated cage. His wings had been a great help, carrying him the rest of the distance that his ender pearl hadn’t, and softening his landing in a way normal elytra wouldn’t have been able to. Still, he’d barely reached Shelby when the sound of skidding rocks and moss alerted him to the arrival of his brother.

“No.” He said, more out of reflex than anything else, his sword in his hand before he’d even fully processed their presence. “No. You can’t keep doing this.” His voice wobbled dangerously, and Scott knew that the pleading undertone that had haunted his every interaction with his sibling since their return was clear.

Please— please don’t make me hurt you. Please don’t make me lose you again.

Xornoth hadn’t been swayed, purple and red glowing eyes narrowing only slightly as a grin spread across their face.

“I do what I want.”

Scott’s hand had tightened around his sword, and he blinked away the blurriness that threatened to swarm his vision. He took a half step forward, feet settling into a more defensible position.

“Come and get me.”

Scott swung his sword,

“I will.”


(It would only be later that night, with the necklace heavy around his neck, that he would allow his face to grow reddened and wet. That he would mourn, for the second time, the loss of his brother.)

His dreams had been stuffed with Xornoth, bittersweet and bitter memories twisting into a nightmare that had left him shaking beneath the mountain of blankets he had piled on himself the night before. He hadn’t felt cold— his resistance to the cold had rather increased the last few weeks— but his entire body had felt restless despite his fatigue. The weight of the blankets had helped, however slightly, with the skittish energy beneath his skin. He’d been desperate for sleep at that point, breaths long turned painful and arduous— and had taken what comforts he could.

He’d woken up the next morning sweaty despite having apparently kicked the majority of the blankets off his bed sometime during the night. His cheeks were grossly sticky and his throat protested its continued existence even as he tried to soothe it with gratuitous glasses of water.

Scott wanted nothing more than to take a potion to muffle his dreams, call in sick, and crawl back into bed for the rest of the day, if not the week. But the gem hung from his neck with an almost accusatory gleam, and he had yet to give his advisors a full rundown of the battle, word needed to be spread that Xorno— the demon, had been defeated and sealed away. The people needed to know that they were safe.

When he put it on, the fabric of his cloak felt stiffer than usual— more dense on his shoulders where it rested. He’d chosen one of the shorter ones to avoid having to worry about it dragging or getting tangled— but now he had to fight not to flinch every time the wind blew it to brush against his side and arms. He didn’t cry from the frustration, but it was a near thing— probably only saved by the fact that he’d already burned through his reserves the night before.

Everything should have been fine, everything was fine now. Scott had done his duty as Aeor’s chosen, his people were safe, he was in a courtship with the man he was in love with— a man who didn’t seem to care that they weren’t soulmates— what was there for Scott to worry about now? Why should he still feel so..troublesome? Like every corner could have a threat hiding behind it, that the necklace around his neck would strangle him the moment he dared take a breath?

He’d been desperate, perhaps too desperate, for a distraction of some sort— something to burn through the excess of adrenaline left flowing through him, something to clear his mind from thoughts of dead siblings and of the brush he had encased in ice trying to pick it up that morning— that he had barely thought about it before jumping right into Fwip’s game with a near frenzied disregard.

The fact that Jimmy was the first emperor only made the whole thing better— not only was his earning of it a great achievement, o showcase of his strength and battle skills, and something that had made the codman ridiculously happy— it had also been more than a little hot.

Scott wasn’t happy to have lost, but at least it had been Jimmy he had lost to.

(Because he was proud of him, alright? Not because Jimmy, with his teeth and sword gleaming in the sunlight as he stabbed Scott through the stomach with it— had been an absolutely breathtaking sight. Which Scott possibly found a little more attractive than was appropriate… what was he talking about again?)

It would have been rude for Scott not to reciprocate with a showcase as brilliant as Jimmy’s— would have been foolish not to. To be honest, Scott had been excited to play the game anyway, but to play it against Jimmy? Scott was ecstatic.

(Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A game, and a way to court Jimmy that was fun. Jimmy loved fun!)

He brewed the potions carefully, collecting fresh ingredients instead of pulling from his stocks, and he even let them steep overnight instead of the minimum of four hours. These potions weren’t going to be sold or used on any random stranger, they were for Jimmy— and Jimmy deserved nothing but the best.

(Plus, Scott could admit that he really, really wanted that crown— his competitive streak had resurfaced with a vengeance sometime during the planning process, and Scott was a little giddy to be scheming like this again.)

He had to wear gloves, to make sure he didn’t freeze the glass bottle, but that was fine— this was fine, better than fine! He spent hours collecting the mob heads as a present for Jimmy. The man was bound to be a little disappointed that he lost the crown— Scott was sure some gifts wouldn’t go amiss to soothe any irritation Jimmy might have. This really was the perfect plan, flirting, pranking, and winning the game all in one swoop? Scott was almost proud of himself

He was a bit manic, he should have realized, still so on edge from the last few months that slowing down to think seemed as painful as a death sentence.

He hadn’t stopped to consider his actions, not really, he’d only focused on what seemed obvious to him, what made sense to him in the moment. He’d fallen back on his old habits so quickly, shoving himself back into the desperate desire to be the smartest person in the room, towards the safety that came with being the one in control— of himself, if nothing else.

Jimmy had answered the door almost immediately, beaming at Scott without an ounce of suspicion in his gaze.
“Look at you in your crown.” Scott’s tone had been both flirty and hungry, his fingers already twitching for the crown to be in his own hands. Jimmy seemed to pick up on neither aspects— expression merely turning brighter as he twirled in place.
“Do you like it?”
“I do.” Scott said without thinking. “I certainly do— it looks very nice.” Jimmy seemed to notice something was off with that statement at least, head tilting curiously. But his smile didn’t falter, and neither did his trust.

(Scott did end up accidentally freezing some of Jimmy’s water pools on the way in. Exor on a pike, it really was lucky that Cod were so durable. He had forced himself to smile through it, to keep his body language casual— instead of panicking like his first instinct. He was nervous, despite his excitement. But he wasn’t as nervous as he had been when he’d asked Jimmy on the date— so Scott would count it as a positive.)

It had been almost too easy, Jimmy had cooed over the mob heads with him, eagerly leading him to the hall he was building for them. It was secluded, with no weapons in sight, and only a single exit— an exit that Jimmy strode happily away from to arrange the heads, oblivious. In essence, Jimmy had practically cornered himself— left him an easy mark.

“I like gifts.” Scott couldn’t help but smile, and despite his best efforts— he knew that it was probably coming off more predatory and smug than he would have intended. Although that might have ended up working in his favour— as Jimmy had stuttered in his steps in a way that suggested flusteredness.

“I can give you…” He let the words hang in the air, watching Jimmy’s smile turn slightly nervous as he seemed to catch on. “...This gift.” He threw the first bottle, and Jimmy stumbled back.

“Wait-” Particles swarmed around him as another glass bottle shattered at his feet, confusion preventing him from any effective dodging. “No-” His protest seemed stilted, realization crashing into him like a wave as he tripped over the uneven stone. “You're trying to-” The final potion hit him square in the stomach, and Jimmy’s body twisted from the impact as it fell to the ground.

It was quiet for a moment, any rocks displaced by the short fight settling quickly, and only the faint sound of water could be heard in the underground. Scott’s comm buzzed, and he knew without having to check that Jimmy’s death message had just come through.

He couldn’t help but indulge in a bit of villainous laugh, standing from his half crouched position to survey the room. The floor was covered in shards of glass, and small puddles of the wine-red poison were beginning to form in the divots of the stone.

He normally would have basked in his victory for a bit longer, but the torch light of the room bounced off of the crown in a way that had Scott already imagining the phantom weight of it on his own head. He carefully crossed the floor, sparing a moment to be thankful for the thick soles of his new boots protecting him from the crunching glass underfoot.

Jimmy’s body was half twisted, likely having tried to curl in on himself as he fell, but the crown was still steadily attached to his head— wellcut gemstones flickering in the light. It wasn’t really necessary to prop Jimmy’s body up to take the crown, Scott probably could have shimmied it off the body without too much trouble— but it felt disrespectful to leave Jimmy twisted on the floor as he was. Logically, Scott knew that it wouldn’t have any permanent effects on the man, as Jimmy would just respawn in his own bed sometime in the next few minutes. Still, he dragged Jimmy the few feet to the wall, propping him up against it in a sitting adjacent position.

The crown slid off of his head without much resistance, and Scott could feel the pleased smile on his face grow into something more sinister. It had been far too long since he'd been able to participate in any real mischief- Xornoth had kept him busy. He looped the crown over his arm, crouching down to fiddle with the fins of Jimmy's head, rearranging them to lie flat. He leaned back on his heels, trying to see if anything else had been knocked askew by the scuffle. There were a few shards of glass stuck to his shirt that Scott brushed away with careful fingers, and one of his sleeves had been rolled down. Scott carefully pushed it back up, and his hand reached to find the strip of fabric that usually was buttoned to keep the sleeve up that had fallen behind Jimmy’s wrist. The gloves, which Jimmy usually wore while working, had been taken off when Scott had arrived. Scott’s fingers brushed Jimmy’s wrist— and then immediately recoiled back as a small shock ran through them.

No.

Scott turned Jimmy’s arm over in his hand without time to think, hands shaking in effort to stay gentle when instinct was pushing them to dig in like claws.

There on Jimmy’s wrist, shiny like the ink was still fresh and wet, curving to match the shape of Jimmy’s arm. There were gold, elegant highlights that seemed to shift in the light, the highlights of a feather. A feather which looked suspiciously similar to the ones of his wings. A feather which felt suspiciously like Scott.

No.

The mark was beautiful, graceful and aesthetically pleasing in a way that most people would be delighted to have as their representation on their soulmate.

Their Soulmate.

The Mark was beautiful. Scott had to swallow down the nervous bile rising in his throat.

No.

He stumbled backwards from the body, tripping over his own feet and nearly braining himself on the rough stone.

Please, No.

How could he have been so stupid? So foolish as to think that he could defy fate in anything? Let alone something so dear to him as this? How could he have been so foolish as to think destiny would let him be free in this area of his life when it had chained him so thoroughly in every other one— no matter how badly he wanted it! Every bit of Scott had been built and maintained for others, for a purpose not of himself. He was the King of Rivendell not because he wanted to be, but because there was no other to take the throne. It was his responsibility to lead, to learn to lead and devote himself to it no matter the personal cost. It wasn't his choice to be Aeorś champion, it was his destiny, his duty to accept and perform that role (as if he’d had any choice in the matter.) Every choice he ever wanted to make, and responsibility he wanted to refuse or take on, had always been hilariously out of his control.

But this, this had been his decision, was supposed to have been his decision! He had promised himself he would love who he wanted to! That his heart would be his own to command, and when he loved somebody— he would love them not because some Mark had decided he should, but because he had found somebody whom he wanted to trust with that love.

He had wanted to give that to Jimmy, had tried to give that to him. But the Mark was burned into his brain like a sin, proof that his love for Jimmy was predetermined, fake and ingenuine. He didn’t love Jimmy for his laugh or his kindness, for his humour or his passion—

He loved him for the stupid Marks burned into both of their skins— the marks that neither of them had had a say in, and never would. The Marks that robbed them of their free will, the Marks that dubbed them “Soulmates.”

If Scott couldn’t choose to love Jimmy, then could he even claim to love him at all?

…

…

No.

How could he have been so stupid as to think that he could defy fate in something so old and innate? (How could fate have been so cruel, to rob him of this too? Of something so important and raw?)

Scott could hear footsteps approaching from outside, loud and furious enough to be heard over the numbing buzzing in his ears—his own subconscious trying desperately to escape the drowning devastation coursing through him. Jimmy stumbled into the room, having long respawned while Scott spiralled. His face twisting with a hurt that Scott could already see morphing into anger even as Jimmy valiantly tried to keep his composure. His eyes were squinty, obviously unused to the amount of light they were being exposed to. Scott tried desperately to convince himself that the light was the only reason for the wateriness of his eyes.

“Can I have it back now?” Scott barely registered the question, and for a moment his brain scrambled to figure out what it was that Jimmy wanted back. The crown, or his Codfather head?

—his Codfather head

With a start Scott realized that he was seeing Jimmy’s full face for the first time, that he finally could see the colours of his eyes. They were beautiful, a rich, muddy brown with umber highlights that—

That Scott wasn’t supposed to be seeing, that Jimmy hadn’t given him permission to see. His eyes darted to the ceiling, and something in his brain snapped at the added stress and inner conflict. The room around him faded, and he distantly heard his own voice telling Jimmy that he wouldn’t give him the crown back, smugness colouring his voice. He handed over Jimmy’s trident, and meant to hand over the Codhead, but Fwip— who had apparently been on his way to acquire the crown for himself— had snatched it before Jimmy could get to it.

“I’m still your ally,” Scott had said, a meager offering of comfort to the clearly distraught man. “I don’t want something to happen that’s going to hurt you.”
It had been obvious that Jimmy didn’t believe him.

Scott didn’t put the crown on until long after he had gotten home, even though he’d had a rule in mind since the game was announced. Even the weight of the crown on his head didn’t clear the fogginess there, and the idea of making all the rulers walk instead of fly didn't seem nearly as entertaining as it had just a few days ago.

Maybe, deep down, he had always known that Jimmy was his soulmate. He should have known, at least, from their first meeting, when the thrill of making Jimmy laugh had overpowered decades worth of repression and propriety.

He tried to power through it, really tried.

He messed with the other rulers, bragged about his crown and tried his very hardest to get lost in the fun of the game and of his life without the stress of Xornoth. He ignored the film of ice that would cover his blankets when he woke in the mornings, ignored the heavy churning in his gut whenever he passed the Codlands. He pretended he didn’t notice when Jimmy sat as far away from him as possible at the next meeting.

Of course, denial couldn’t soothe the ache in his heart whenever he saw something red, or how the crystal hanging from his neck seemed to grow heavier with each passing day. It couldn’t make Jimmy’s visit to earn his elytra any less awkward and painful, and it hadn’t saved Gem when Scott had frozen her and her school halfway through.

“Gem— enough!”

It had been enough, it was all enough, it was all too much. Scott couldn’t do this anymore, was hurting people by trying to stay.

He sold the crown to Fwip for a few gold pieces, a trade that even Fwip seemed to think was unbalanced, and he ran.

Well, technically he flew, but Scott wasn’t under any delusions that he was doing anything but running away as he made his way towards mountains far from Rivendell, far from his friends, far from Jimmy. Maybe far enough away that he would never be able to hurt any of them again.

And once he was alone? In a place where quiet was a rule rather than an exception? Scott spent a lot of time crying.
He cried for Xornoth, over nostalgia-tinted memories of them playing together as children, for the sibling who’s freedom had been taken away by Exor, and by the crystal that Scott had left safely behind.

He cried for Jimmy, for the man whom Scott's so carefully given love for meant nothing, because Scott had been promised to him long before either of them had a choice in the matter. He cried when a message had come through from Jimmy, a gesture far kinder than Scott felt he deserved. He read it over and over again to himself, and then pretended he’d never seen it in the first place.

On his more selfish nights, he cried for himself. For every bit of him that had been given up, stripped away, by himself or by others, for the sake of making him the perfect heir, the perfect ruler, the perfect champion. He cried for all that he was, and all that he was not. More than anything, he cried for what he wished he could be.

He came back.. better, when his tears had dried up and the fog in his head had cleared enough to leave him feeling coherent again. It was easy enough to settle back into his role as ruler, even if he did have to deal with a few of his advisors trying to stage a coup— which, while possibly warranted, was not appreciated nor well motivated. He tried to stage his absence as both a chance for him to safely master his god-given powers, but also as a test to his advisors and government, to see if they’d be able to function without him if he was ever dispatched. The people seemed to buy it, and at the very least, it finally gave him the excuse to fire most of the remaining of his parents' lackeys.

Thank Aeor for— well— Aeor. Scott was pretty sure it was his reputation as Champion that was cushioning him from the worst of public outlash. (The financial and peaceful success of his kingdom under his rule was probably also a factor.

As well as the fact that unlike most of his predecessors, Scott actually left his people’s private lives alone, not employing nearly as many spies, especially when it came to spying on his own people. Which Scott saw as more of a gross failure of his predecessors than a credit to his ruling abilities. Really, Scott had just been too overloaded with other responsibilities to not just mind his own bucking business.)

He didn’t respond to Jimmy’s message, didn’t drop by for afternoon visits, and avoided him as best he could. It was better (and easier) that way.

…

…

He pretended it didn’t hurt.

Scott had just gotten back from last-minute preparations for the storm when Sausage showed up on his doorstep. The storm had been blown in sooner than expected by strong gusts of wind, and it had been a race against time to get all the sheep safe in their pens and the people in their houses. He had just hung his already-near soaked cloak next to the fire and started setting up for a cup of tea when the knocker alerted him to the presence of his visitor. His initial reaction had been a mix between annoyance and wariness— coming from both the ill-timed interruption and the fact that the interruption was coming from the very same man who had kidnapped him not long ago.

“Are you here to kidnap me again?” He asked dryly, too tired to bother keeping his voice at the stiff, polite candace he usually had for other rulers. “Because I would not recommend it at the moment— it has been a long day and I really do not have the patience for it.” Sausage let out an awkward, half laugh.

“Not quite— I’m just here to talk. About Jimmy, actually.” Scott’s heart jumped— suspicions leaping into his mind as he fought the urge to slam the door in Sausage’s face— or punch him in it. Both were appealing.

“-And we don’t have to worry about that corruption kidnappy evil stuff anymore-” Sausage said quickly, probably picking up on Scott’s hesitation, “Gem got rid of that! I’m a good boy n-now!” Scott nodded slightly at the attempted reassurance, the stutter in Sausage’s voice drawing his attention. The shorter man’s face was paler than normal— save for the reddened tip on his nose and a slight flush on his cheeks. He was obviously cold, most likely unprepared for the severe cold of a mountain storm.

Scott briefly pondered the pros and cons of letting a fellow ruler, albeit an annoying one, freeze to death on his porch.

Fortunately for Sausage, and unfortunately for Scott’s patience— he’d come to talk about Jimmy, and seemed genuinely worried. With the distance between him and Jimmy right now, could Scott really afford to turn away potential information about his Soulmate?

He exhaled hard, his lips thinning into a line, pretending he hadn’t already made up his mind.

“...Right.” He said finally, turning sharply on his heel and stalking back into the house. Sausage hesitated at the door, uncertain in a way uncommon for the usually obviously eager man— before carefully stepping through the frame.
He took off his cloak first— and Scott couldn’t help but notice that it was different from the one he normally wore. It was longer, without the red lining and with thinner, intricate embroidery.

The detail felt oddly important— although Scott didn’t have the slightest idea why— Sausage wearing a different cloak wasn’t important in any shape or form. He dismissed the thought as best he could— reaching his kitchen and taking his teapot off the fire.

“I was making tea,” Scott started, barely bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice— almost wanting Sausage to know that he had interrupted.”Would you like some? It’s herbal.”

“Oh, no thank you! I’ve always been a coffee guy myself.” Sausage’s voice was obnoxiously cheery again, and Scott forced himself not to chuck the cup of near-boiling tea at him.

Scott herded the two of them into his sitting room— his usual meeting room unavailable due to the storm. It made him uncomfortable, on edge, to have Sausage in his house— one of the few places he hadn’t bothered to decorate entirely ornate and dispersonal like so many of his professional builds. It was still elegant, certainly, but with softer and simpler undertones than one would expect from an elf— especially of his rank. The landscape paintings on the walls were made of soft watercolours that were only slightly sharpened by black outlines, and a collection of mulit-coloured glass bottles sat on the shelf in an undisciplined array. The rug underneath their feet was soft and comforting despite the religious patterns on them. The room was colourful, felt genuine and lived-in in a way that left Scott feeling rather exposed— why hadn’t he insisted that they move this conversation to the meeting room? At least that room had gold and white accents— instead of the warm brown wood that made up his interior.

Nothing in the house screamed royalty or authority like it had when his parents had ruled it— nothing was like what Scott was expected to portray, like he was supposed to portray.

Sausage wasn’t dumb— or at least, he wasn’t entirely so— and Scott could see his eyes jumping across the room, clearly processing and judging his surroundings. His eyes snagged on the carved details of the wood framing, on the trinkets that tastefully decorated the shelves. Scott didn’t like how Sausage’s gaze settled just above Scott, how he seemed to be able to see what was behind the build instead of what was immediately apparent. Like he would only have to squint to see whatever fragile pieces of Scott had been responsible for the homely design.

“I didn’t know you liked horses.” He finally said, without any judgment
Scott blinked, head turning to look at the painted horses grazing that hung behind him on the wall.

“To an extent,” He fought to keep his voice smooth, like he hadn’t just nearly sent himself into a panic over nothing. What had he been worried about? Sausage was oblivious— had just had his eye caught by a pretty painting— not the vulnerabilities that Scott had so recklessly invited him to see.

“It was a gift to my grandfather, back when the Grimlands and Rivendell were allied in their war against Mezalia. Meant to be ironic, I suppose— happy and healthy horses— Mezalia would have hated it.”

Sausage chuckled,

“That sounds about right. Has Joel seen it? I don’t imagine he’d be too happy about seeing something like this hanging up.” Scott’s face tightened,

“No actually, Joel hasn’t seen it. I mean, even he's been considerate enough to send word when he’s wanted to meet with me.” Scott didn’t bother to conceal the thinly veiled passive aggressiveness in his voice. “So we’ve not had the issue of him coming across this room— since Rivendell has a building meant specifically for the purpose of nobility having meetings.” At the very least, Sausage did have the decency to look ashamed, if only for a small moment— before quickly slipping back into a smile.

“Oh yes. I am sorry about that— I tried to send a Raven but I don’t think your Owls have quite gotten the message about me not being evil yet— poor Nigel was kept out by them. Gave him quite the fright!”
Scott had forgotten that he had ordered his Owls to keep the Mythlandian birds away from Rivendell when Sausage had been possessed, although even if he had remembered, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to lift the ban. It did make it harder for Scott to blame Sausage for his unannounced presence though, which was annoying. Which— to be fair— was how Scott felt about most things when it came to Sausage.

“Couldn’t you have borrowed one of Gem’s messengers or sent me a message on my com?” Sausage shook his head slightly, chuckling good naturedly.

“I mean, I could have- but then Gem would have wanted to know what I was sending-” he shrugged as he casually sat down in the armchair closest to him, “-and I figured you’d want this sort of thing kept private. Same goes for messaging you, you never accepted my personal channel request, so I would have had to post it in the main messaging area.”

“What did you want to tell me about Jimmy? I’m quite busy.” Scott was self-aware enough to recognize that his voice was a bit harsher than necessary, but in his defense, the fact that Sausage of all people had managed to out-logic him was highly irritating.

“Really? I would have thought that being stuck inside would have made it harder for you to get anything done— especially since you do all your paperwork in the morning.”

“How do y—” Scott paused to take a breath. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, Jimmy told me! He talks about you a lot, or at least he did before that whole falling out.” Sausage’s voice had yet to drop slow or show any indication that he had anything serious to say, and considering the figurative punch to the gut that Sausage had just given him, Scott was wondering if it wasn’t too late to let the storm do its work. “But don’t worry! He usually only says nice things about you, you should have heard him complimenting your new builds when we were building the bridge— he was so impressed by the—”

“Sausage, do you have any information relevant to me or would you like to take your leave?”

“Oh, yeah, whoops! Sorry, I do tend to talk a lot don’t I? But anyways, I wanted to talk about you and your soulmate!” Scott heard his own sharp intake of breath, and had to take a moment to hide the sudden spike of fear that Sausage had prompted.

“I thought you were here to talk about Jimmy.” Scott tried to frame it more as a question, but his carefully crafted neutral tone had it come out more like a statement.

“You bet! I mean, I honestly should have figured out you two were Soulmates ages ago, I mean, you two have been making heart eyes at each other at meetings for as long as I’ve been ruling. Not to mention how often you visit him, or at least how often you used to visit him. Speaking of—” Sausage raised a finger uncomfortably close to Scott’s face and wagged it as he continued.

“You need to stop avoiding him, and give him a proper apology for that crown stunt. You’ve really hurt his feelings and I don’t like that one bit so if you don’t apologize then I will be unleashing several blood sheep into your castle so do keep that in mind.” Scott could feel the feathers of his wings begin to rise.

“Are you threatening me Sausage?” He took a step forward, doing his best to make use of his several feet of height over the man as he glared warningly.

“Yep!” Sausage, with all the concern and disagreeableness of a child playing with a puppy, had the audacity to smile up at him. “Although I’m hoping I won’t have to do that considering Jimmy still likes you and I’m still kinda indebted to you for sealing up Xornoth and freeing Joey.”

“Sausage, if you bring even a single blood sheep into my castle, I can assure you that there will be unpleasant consequences.”

“I bet there will be! Especially since that would mean that you hadn’t apologized to Jimmy yet, and I would certainly describe that as unpleasant.”

“You are infuriating.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before. But I’m not the one I’m here to talk about, I’m here to make sure that you know that Jimmy is your soulmate, although I’m pretty sure you know already, considering that date you took him on.”

“Jimmy is not my soulmate, but thank you for the attempt to make this somehow any of your business.”

“You’re welcome, but the thing is that he most definitely is, considering that his Soulmark most definitely matches you and that you’re completely infatuated with him.”

“We are not—” Scott’s voice was rising in pitch, as much as he tried to steady it.

“Scott.” Sausage stared Scott down with a disappointed frown, tone heavily implying that Scott was the ridiculous one in this interaction. Scott was floundering, his usually strict persona melting in the face of such pure, unfiltered… silliness wasn’t the right word, neither was impervious. But there was something, something about Sausage that he couldn’t identify that absolutely bulldozed his walls and patience.

He sat down in his armchair near the fireplace, suddenly drained. His body felt heavy, and he couldn’t help the annoyed sigh that found its way out of him.

“Fine.” He looked at Sausage, who, even while still standing, only just reached Scott’s eye level. His voice was defensively steely, but Scott didn’t have the energy to correct it. “I share your opinion on the two of us being Soulmates, based on our Marks, it does seem likely.” Sausage’s eyes lit up with a burst of excited satisfaction,

“I knew it!” He bounced slightly in place, and Sausage belatedly realized that he hadn’t invited Sausage to sit. He gestured to the seat across from him, and a flicker of confusion flickered through Sausage’s face, before he seeming also remembered that he was the only one of them standing. He perched on the edge, gaze anchoring itself to Scott’s.

“So what is your Mark?” Scott bristled out of habit, but even he could admit that his heart wasn’t in it.

“First off, that is a very rude question to ask.” Sausage blinked, and tilted his head, waiting for Scott to continue. Which, to be fair, he was, but it was also rude of Sausage to not at least pretend to be reprimanded. “But it’s a poppy.” Sausage gasped, apparently delighted.

“Awwww! That’s so cute!” Scott blushed, pursing his lips to try and keep from saying something embarrassing in response.

“Nonetheless, neither of our Soulmarks are relevant to my situation.” Scott kept his voice as steady as he could, “I am not in love with him.” Sausage snorted disbelievingly, like Scott had just said something completely ludicrous.

“Yes you are.” His tone was so certain, so casual, like he somehow knew Scott’s heart better than he did.

“Am I?” He tried his hardest to mask the vulnerability that threatened to saturate the words like blood in lamb’s wool with a threat, a dare, a challenge to defy him. He had long learned to exude an air of danger, to play the part of a serious threat, one that would be stupid to go against. He should have known Sausage better than to assume he’d ever be the type to back down from a challenge. Or a stupid decision, for that matter.

“For Cods sake, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? Of course you are!”

“Excuse me?” His voice was low, sharp and deadly like the dagger Scott always had tucked in his left boot, but still fragile quiet. He hoped it was loud enough to drown out the pounding of his heart.

“You’re excused-” Sausage said cheerfully, not even taking a pause to acknowledge the offended hiss-like sound his response drew from the elf, “I mean, it’s fairly obvious to anybody that pays half-a-thought’s attention that you’re heads-over-heels for our favourite Cod-boy. Not that I can blame you,” Sausage chuckled oddly, before hurriedly continuing “with you guys being Soulmates and all that.”

“Regardless—” Scott’s voice felt like concrete coming out of his mouth. “—of whether or not he is my Soulmate, I do not love him.”

“You can be as snooty and defensive about it as you’d like Scott, but even I’m not that oblivious. You’re in love with that fish man, I know that much.” He paused and took a deep breath, picking absentmindedly at a loose stitch on the seat. Perhaps he was just taking a moment to organize his thoughts, perhaps he was taking mercy on Scott’s scrambling mind, either way, Scott couldn’t help but appreciate it. “What I don’t know is why you’re so against the fact that you’re in love with him.”

Scott gave Sausage the most withering glare he could muster, staring the much shorter man down with every ounce of rage and intimidation afforded to him by his status of Champion. Sausage blinked, head tilting again as he waited patiently for Scott’s response.

“I don’t love him, because loving him was never an option. I didn’t choose him, I didn’t choose to give him my love or my loyalty, and without choice that “love” is worthless. Jimmy deserves better than that, and I- I can’t give any more of myself. I never have a choice Sausage, my entire life had been determined for me. I never wanted to rule Rivendell, I was going to defer the crown to them when the time came. I didn’t ask to be Aeor’s champion, I just had to go along with it! Every important choice about my life and my happiness has been taken from me. My destiny, my purpose, I didn’t get a say in any of it, not really.” He took a harsh breath, ignoring the blurriness in his eyes.

“But I won’t let the Gods, or Fate, or whatever pairs together Soulmates, tell me who to love. My heart belongs to me— I won’t let that choice be taken away too. And I won’t force Jimmy into an artificial love, no matter how strong it is.”

There was a moment of quiet, the wind outside providing an acoustical backdrop to the shakiness of Scott’s hands. Sausage was looking up when Scott’s vision finally cleared enough for him to focus. He looked confused, but serious.

The former wasn’t an unusual sight, but even after this whole interaction, the solemnity of his face was still enough to surprise Scott.

“Tell me,” Sausage began slowly, before pausing and seeming to recollect his thoughts, “Scott, when did you first have feelings for Jimmy?”

“I don’t- I’m not- I don’t see how that’s-” Sausage leaned forward, eyes meeting Scott’s. For a moment, Scott was distracted by how… odd they were. The pale blue seemed unnatural in the light of the fire, and there was an intensity to them that Scott hadn’t been expecting.

“Indulge me?”

“I probably liked him for years-” Scott admitted, “but I only realized after he rescued me.” Sausage nodded,

“Okay, and when did you learn that he was your soulmate?”

“About a month ago.” Sausage shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a casualness that seemed inappropriate for the situation.

“Then you don’t love him because he’s your soulmate,” Sausage said simply, “you love him because you chose to.”

“It’s- it’s not that simple.” Scott protested,

“Alright,” Sausage acquitted.  “Then let's say that you didn’t have the Mark-”

Then I’d just have the other one, Scott thought a little hysterically,

“-Would you still love him?” Scott blinked,

“What?”

“If there was no such thing as Soulmates- if you didn’t have a Mark at all, would you still have fallen in love with him?”

Yes

“I don’t know— but I don’t see why it matters—” Scott sputtered, “as it stands, we are Soulmates. That’s not something that tends to change.”

“Yes, but-” Sausage leaned forward, “If you’re choosing to not be with him because he’s your Soulmate, aren’t you still letting that choice be made for you?”

“Sausage-” Scott interrupted, ”What is the point you’re trying to make?”

“If your only motivator for not loving Jimmy is the fact that he’s your Soulmate,” Sausage’s voice began to climb back into his usual energetic tone, “then you’re still letting fate determine your choice for you.”  Sausage looked extraordinarily proud of himself, and for once Scott didn’t have the brainspace to judge him for it.

“I…” Scott trailed off, before swallowing hard and starting again. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.” Sausage beamed, bouncing slightly as he sat back up against the back of his chair.

“Ok…well— let’s say, for the sake of the argument—” Scott started carefully, “that I was in love with Jimmy. What would I- what would you want me to do about it?”

“I mean,” Sausage shrugged, “ideally you’d pull those shiny antlers of yours out of your butt and confess to him.”

For a single moment, Scott let himself imagine that it might be that simple, that he truly could just confess to Jimmy, and the two of them could be together and-
The image of Jimmy’s dead body on the floor of his head room flashed into Scott’s head, and the feeling of defeat that he’d temporarily forgotten returned with a vengeance.

“What’s the point?” Scott said. “I’ve done something unforgivable. What chance do I have now? What’s the point in making things worse by trying to apologize-”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Sausage interrupted, sounding annoyed. “That’s my job.” Scott scrunched his face up, and Sausage sighed.

“Jimmy loves you Scott, he will forgive you for this, if you give him the chance.” He said softly, “So please, for both of your sakes, give him the chance.”

“And if he doesn’t forgive me?” Scott asked quietly, both of them pretending his voice wasn’t cracking at the seams.

“Then I’ll be your rebound or something Scott-” Sausage said exasperatedly, “but he’s not going to! He’s almost as love-sick for you as you obviously are for him- not to mention that he forgave me for everything I did whilst both possessed and non-possed already!” He paused, “And I think between the two of us,” There was an odd sense of humour in his voice, “I was significantly worse.”

“That's fair,” Scott said, feeling more comforted than he was willing to admit. “your stuff was definitely worse.”

“Yeah.” Now it was Sausage’s turn for his voice to crack, cringing at the memory.

“And— I’m sorry for what I did to you Scott, what I did to everyone.”

That was a much more..sincere apology than he had been expecting. It caught him off guard, and suddenly snapped the world around him back into clarity. Scott was suddenly very aware of how much he’d just bared his soul to the man in front of him, a man who he very much should not trust or tolerate. He needed to be alone, ideally drink some wine, and hopefully forget this entire conversation had ever happened. He stood up, prompting Sausage to do the same as he made his way back to the door.

“Ok, this has to have been one of the most suspiciously serious conversations I’ve had with you—” Scott said teasingly,

“Am I going to find a pressure plate with TNT under it outside my door when I leave?”

“Well now that you’ve said that you just might.” Sausage responded with a jokingly offended tilt to his voice as he clipped his cloak back around his shoulders, over the elytra he hadn’t bothered to take off, “See if I ever help you again!”

Scott hummed an amused affirmative as he opened the door, eyes catching on the small movement.

“That’s not your normal cloak,” he stated, finally giving voice to the thought that still felt important, even though he knew it wasn’t.

Sausage seemed surprised by the question, eyebrows raising and fingers momentarily slipping and fumbling with the small latches before recovering, and answering the unasked question.

“Yeah, it’s one of my older ones- I left my usual at Jimmy’s yesterday.”
Scott smirked,

“Seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time with Jimmy lately.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound accusatory, but it must have come out that way, because

Sausage flinched guiltily.

“I, yeah— we’ve gotten closer over the past few months— but don’t worry! I’ll give you guys space for a while, I won’t get in the way.”

Scott furrowed his brow, tilting his head noncommittally as he tried to hide his confusion.

“Thanks.”

Sausage gave a crooked smile,

“You’re welcome.” He was already halfway out the door, but paused one last time,

“And Scott?” He waited for Scott to meet his gaze before continuing. “Be nice to him, he deserves it.”

Scott nodded,

“He certainly does.”

Sausage smiled again at that, a bit brighter than last time, before doing a rather theatrical takeoff into the now windy and snowy sky. Scott had kind of— maybe— sort of forgotten the storm, and now that Sausage was out in it an urge to call after him rose in Scott’s throat like bile. Even as the man skillfully made his way towards higher sky, probably planning to fly above the clouds, Scott couldn’t completely dismiss the odd feeling of worry in his chest. He took a deep breath, and dismissed the feeling as much as he could as he closed the door behind him.

The whole interaction had left him feeling flighty, unsure and off balance. Part of him wanted to pretend that the conversation had never happened, to continue basking in the comfort of his own (and possibly largely self-inflicted) misery. But the other part of him was aching to fling his door right back open, to make his way through the storm after Sausage, to land in Jimmy’s kingdom and kiss the fishman right where he stood.
Both options were unwise, undignified— even if both of them were tugging at him insistently, like small children on their parent’s cloak, even as he managed to finally brew himself his cup of tea.

Ignoring his feelings and the revelations that conversation had brought would be self-destructive and immature to a point that even Scott couldn’t bring himself to do so— but he wasn’t so desperate that he would go running to Jimmy mere moments after realizing his feelings. He would wait a few days, allow his emotions to settle, make a plan, and then make his way to the Cod Kingdom to apologize to Jimmy. It was the smart thing to do.

The storm lasted the rest of the morning, and well into the afternoon. Fifteen minutes after the winds had reached semi-normal levels, and the snow had dwindled to a handful of flakes lingering in the crisp mountain air— Scott was out the door with his wings bringing him skybound, towards the Swamp.

Scott didn’t remember most of the flight to the Cod Empire; he'd flown on autopilot— referencing any landmarks not covered by the fresh snow while his mind raced with half-coherent ideas of apologies and seduction— of Jimmy’s slightly webbed fingers and sharp grin.
What he did remember was when he first caught sight of Jimmy, how he had parted the clouds to find the man standing knees-deep in his swamp— evidently talking to the multiple fish swimming around his legs.

His breath had caught violently in his chest at the sight, guilt and euphoria mixing in his gut. His landing was rougher and less graceful than he would have liked as he splashed into the cool water (cool, not cold— Scott hadn’t felt cold since his powers had stabilized, -perks of ice magic he supposed), overshooting Jimmy by a good few feet.

He barely managed to catch himself, large wings nearly overcorrecting as he tried to catch his balance. Hastily turning so that he could meet the eyes of the man beside him. The fish around his legs had scattered, most likely startled by Scott’s sudden landing. Jimmy himself seemed pretty startled as well, his mouth parted in surprise as he took an unconscious step back.

“Scott?” He said eagerly, before apparently remembering that he was upset with him, and continuing in a much more guarded tone, “What are you-”

“I’m sorry.” Scott blurted out desperately, internally cringing as any chance of a dignified apology was immediately thrown out the window. “I killed you, very rudely, and then completely ignored you for an impolite and inexcusable amount of time— I hurt you Jimmy, I know I did— and I am so, so sorry.”

Jimmy’s mouth scrunched up, and for a moment Scott was terrified that he had upset Jimmy further, before the man let out a reluctant chuckle.

“Oh, you are so, so lucky I like you so much Scott.” Scott hesitantly smiled back,

“I am trying so hard to be mad at you but you and your stupid face— I forgive you.” Scott blinked in surprise.

“Just, just like that? I don’t need to beg or anything?” Jimmy tilted his head playfully,

“What, disappointed? I can make you beg if you want but I didn’t think-”

“No! No, I didn’t, I don’t want-” Scott started chuckling too, despite the slight blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m glad you forgave me, I just wasn’t expecting to be, at least right away.” A small voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Sausage seemed to be laughing at him, and Scott defiantly ignored it.

“Well, what can I say?” Jimmy joked, puffing up with false pride and putting on a fake, stuffy voice. “The Codfather is many things, humble, kind, wise, forgiving-” Scott interrupted him with a laugh, the relief pulsing through him making him feel light and giddy. Jimmy joined in before long, and then it was two of them laughing like idiots in the middle of a swamp.

For once in what felt like a very long time, Scott didn’t care that he wasn’t acting particularly dignified or formal.

“Is the Codfather also a hugger?” Scott asked, testing his luck as he extended his arms and titled his head to the side teasingly.

“Hmmm.” Jimmy crossed in arms in faux thought, lips pursing as he looked towards the sky, “I suppose that in this situation, he might be considered such. For someone worthy of it, at least.”
Scott was glad that he was used to the higher elevations of Rivendell, where the air was thinner, because otherwise he doubted he still would have been able to breathe through his laughter at this point.

“Oh, and am I worthy of such an honor, oh great Codfather?” The words were barely out of his mouth when Jimmy flew at him, arms reaching up to wrap around Scott’s shoulders even as Scott bent down to meet him. The soft identifiable material of the codhead was slightly damp against his neck, and they were both still standing in swampy water.

It was perfect, Jimmy was perfect. And apparently, not only did the relief-borne adrenaline rushing through him make him giddy, but it made him stupid.

“I love you.” Jimmy froze, and for one, blissful second, Scott wasn’t sure why. Then, his brain, belatedly, registered his own words. Jimmy began to pull away, and Scott panicked. “I-shit. I’m sorry, that is horrible timing, that’s so rude. I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t planning on-”

“Hold that thought?” Jimmy interrupted casually, stepping back and raising his hands. Scott sputtered, and would have continued again if Jimmy hadn’t begun to lift the codhead off of his face.

At first, all Scott could see was the mess of hay coloured hair that fell in front of Jimmy’s eyes, and even that was enough to erase any coherent thoughts that Scott might have had. 

And then, Jimmy pulled his hair back into a short low ponytail, exposing his face and oh,

Oh.

Truly, it would barely have mattered what Jimmy looked like, Scott knew that he was smitten enough that he would have considered any feature of his handsome, but wow.

There was a spattering of freckle-like scales that covered his nose and cheeks, and with the hair pulled back Scott could now spot a few pink stands littered throughout.

And his eyes, oh his eyes. His eyes were hickory brown, with gingerbread and honey highlights gleaming in the light, scrunched up in a smile, highlighting the crows feet that branched out from them.

He was glorious, and for the first time outside of his meetings with Aeor— perhaps even more so than with Aeor— Scott distinctly felt the urge to fall to his knees and worship.

“Hi?” He said dumbly, the best his frazzled brain could manage. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but Jimmy’s smile somehow grew wider.

“Hi.” He sounded like he was fighting back a giggle, eyes shining with joy. He stepped forward, codhead hanging by his side and water parting for him much smoother than it had for Scott.

“We are both such idiots.” 

“I’m sorry?” Scott didn’t necessarily disagree with that statement, but he wasn’t sure how it applied to this current situation. Sure, Scott had been an idiot, but Jimmy, uncharacteristically, had yet to do or say anything truly foolish.

“Yeah, you said that already. It’s okay. Jimmy reached out with his free hand to brush his fingers against the back of Scott’s knuckles. “I forgive you.”

“That’s not what I mea-”

“I know,” Jimmy smiled, expression just south of smug. “But what I meant,” Scott watched as Jimmy rose up on his toes, carefully placing a kiss on Scott’s cheek, before leaning back and beaming up at him. “Is that I love you too.”

Scott could have sworn that it hadn’t been very windy in the Codlands, but now it was hard for him to hear much over the euphoric rushing in his ears. 

“O-oh”

“Yeah.” Jimmy was laughing again, and a smile spread to Scott's face before he could even think about it.

“Oh” He said again, which only served to make Jimmy laugh harder.“Well, in that case.” He fully interlocked his fingers with Jimmy, before raising their joined hands to his mouth to plant a gentle kiss on the back of Jimmy’s hand with a flirty grin on his face. He deliberately brushed the back of his hand against the Mark of Jimmy’s wrist, welcoming the gentle lightning that shot through him at the touch. “Is the Codfather also a kisser?” Jimmy smiled back, his own face flushed as he leaned in.

“For you?”

Scott leaned in to meet him.

“Always.”

Chapter Text

In all honesty, Scott hadn’t given a single, let alone second, thought to Sausage’s absence until Jimmy had pointed it out to him. The last month had passed in what Scott could only describe as a soft, euphoric haze. He had finished appointing new advisors for the kingdom, and it was a wonder how much easier his job got when those under him weren’t constantly doubting or plotting against him. Neither Aeor or Exor had reached out to him or caused any trouble, and his ice powers hadn’t acted up in weeks.

But best of all, by a large margin, was Jimmy.

His comm lit up at random times of the day with pictures and messages from Jimmy, something he’d seen or done that had reminded him of Scott. Both of them took turns visiting the other several times a week. Jimmy would sit on Scott’s bed and play with the owls while Scott filled out paperwork, and Scott would fiddle with the decoration inside Jimmy’s cabin while he had meetings with his people. Jimmy would more often than not greet him with a kiss to the cheek, and Scott was always more than happy to turn his head and claim a proper kiss.

Scott switched out his lip stain for one less transferable after an incident that had stained Jimmy’s hand, face, and mouth considerably for a week and a half, Jimmy reorganized the cupboards of his kitchen to make room for the teas that Scott preferred. Removing Jimmy’s Codhead, an act once unthinkable, became muscle memory in secluded rooms, and Jimmy’s fingers became adept at undoing the lacing at the back of Scott’s more intricate shirts.

Jimmy, loving Jimmy, and being so clearly loved back in return, was becoming familiar in a way Scott hoped never faded.

Jimmy was already in bed when Scott got back to his room, back turned to the door and reading by the warm firelight of the torches.

“Hi Petal,” Jimmy greeted, his eyes not leaving the pages of the faded book in his hands. Scott craned his head, recognizing the duck and swan filled cover quickly. The book was a gift from Jimmy’s parents, a hand painted rendition of a common children's tale within the Empire, sewn together with handspun tweed and paper. It had been a birthday present, one that Jimmy had quickly worn the edges of the pages of. Nowadays, it was usually kept in the tight-seal box tucked under his bedside table, along with the other valuables that weren’t as waterproof as Jimmy himself was.

In the time that Scott had known him, Jimmy had most often reached for the book when something was bothering him.

“What’s upset you darling?” Scott dropped a soft kiss into his hair, “Do I need to have another talk with Fwip?” Jimmy sighed and shut the book, stretching to set it on the nightstand but easily releasing it when Scott grabbed it himself and set about putting it away.

“No.” He scooted over to make room on the bed for Scott, who gladly took the invitation— settling on his side facing Jimmy. “Fwip’s actually been leaving me alone. I think Sausage told him off a bit.” He rolled to tuck himself against Scott’s chest, humming in appreciation when Scott welcomed him, arms wrapping loosely around him. Jimmy’s hand moved to rest on Scott’s hip in a movement that could have been thoughtless, if not for the careful avoidance of the lamb painted there.

Scott bit back the instinct to question further, knowing that Jimmy would speak in his own time, and that it was far less stressful for him to be given that time instead of being prodded into an answer. He didn’t have to be patient for long. “I think Sausage might be upset with me.” He said with no small amount of uncertainty, “He usually comes by to visit a couple times a week, or at least messages me on our comms with a picture of Bubbles, or Fwip doing something stupid, but—” He cut himself off, worrying at his lip with his teeth that had begun to grow far too sharp for the nervous habit.

“But he hasn’t come by at all for ages, and I haven’t gotten a single new picture of Bubbles in weeks!”

And this is a bad thing because…" Scott trailed off, failing to keep a smile off his face when Jimmy squirmed out his grasp to hit him in the face with his pillow.

“Because he’s my friend you dick!” Jimmy protested as Scott dramatically flopped backward onto the mattress; his sternness neutralized by his laughter. “I do actually have a social life outside of you and my family you know.”

“I knowwww,” Scott whined, “But really, Sausage? Blow-stuff-up, sided with Xornoth and tortured me and Gem, has a chicken-as-an-advisor, famously antagonized you Sausage?” He sighed dramatically, “I have to question your taste.”

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, turning onto his side to partially loom over Scott in a way that had the elf biting his tongue to keep from making an indecent comment.

“Okay, first off, he was possessed during that whole Xornoth shabboggle and you know it.” Scott opened his mouth to respond, but two of Jimmy’s slender, webbed and knotted fingers pressed against his lips before he could get far. “Which does not make that trauma any less valid on your part. You are more than allowed to not feel comfortable around him.”

Scott wrinkled his nose, voice slightly muffled by the fingers (freshly manicured a bright pink hue, Scott noted- Joel or Lizzie’s work no doubt) against his mouth.

“It’s not that I feel uncomfortable around him- “

“-AND second off,” Jimmy stuck his tongue out playfully, pulling back to boop Scott on the nose. “If my taste is being called into question then I’d hate to see what that means about my boyfriend.”

For a moment Jimmy’s influence on Scott was especially apparent- his mouth open with all the stereotypical characteristics of a gaping fish.

“I didn’t think of that.” Scott admitted, slightly playing up his shock and embarrassment just to see the self-satisfied and toothy grin that he knew Jimmy would give in response.

He wasn’t disappointed, and Jimmy’s smug smile was only enunciated by the delighted snort and prim set of his chin as he swung a leg over Scott to effectively straddle him.

“Of course you didn’t,” he scoffed, “And they say I’m the dumb one.”

“You’re not dumb!” Scott protested, sitting up too quick and hands reflectively steadying the man in his lap as Jimmy nearly tipped himself off Scott’s lap. Scott let the moment sit just long enough for the compliment to sink in, Jimmy’s eyes squinting happily at him. “I’m just so smart that it makes you look dumb by comparison.”

For the second time that night Jimmy’s gasp was indiscernible from his pseudo-offended laugh, and Scott probably would have ended up with another pillow to the face if he hadn’t darted out a hand to clutch the pillow he wasn’t halfway propped against.

“Hey! That’s my weap- “Jimmy made a lunge for the pillow, only for Scott to take advantage of the situation by pinning him down against the quilt. Jimmy squawked his protest, squirming as he dislodged Scott and pounced on him, pillow forgotten for the moment. Scott’s arms were around Jimmy’s waist, and then Jimmy’s were flipping Scott onto his stomach to try and make him an easier target, and then Scotts fingers were intertwining Jimmy’s in an impromptu pin- and Scott looked so pretty with his hair all messed up and his eyes gleaming that Jimmy just had to kiss him and-

And their fight turned into something more cooperative and soft, an easy distraction that kept them far too occupied for further pillow launching.

“Do you actually not feel comfortable with me being friends with him?” Jimmy said quietly, when the moon had completed a significant amount more of its nightly journey. “Because I don’t have to be friends with him anymore if it does- “

“He doesn’t scare me, Jimmy.” Scott assured, “And while I might not understand the…” He trailed off, tongue tracing the edges of his teeth as he searched for words, “appeal, nor do I trust him—” He placed a soft kiss on the crooked bridge of Jimmy’s nose, relishing the soft smile it garnered despite Jimmy’s obvious worry.  “I do trust your judgment.”

Jimmy drew one of Scott’s hands to his mouth, kissing it softly in a move that he had picked up from Scott with an uncharacteristic smoothness.

“Thankyou.” He murmured against Scott’s skin, soft gaze meeting his in the dim light.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Scott promised. “He’s probably missing his cape by now anyway. I can return it and see what he’s upset about.”

Jimmy snuggled closer to him, the heavy quilted blankets on top of them struggling to build warmth when neither of them produced much body heat in the first place. Still, Scott could feel Jimmy relax even further into his hold, slipping into sleep with such an ease and quickness that always left Scott feeling a little jealous.

He left a final kiss for the night in Jimmy’s hair, laying his head back across the reoriented pillows with a sigh.

He hadn’t been lying when he said that he couldn’t see what it was about Sausage that Jimmy found so appealing— but the fact that Jimmy cared was motivator enough.

Chapter Text

  Sausage was surprisingly easy to find and even more surprisingly unguarded. Sure, Scott didn’t have guards posted at his quarters 24/7, but he at the very least had a rotating schedule guarding the main entrances to the castle. Sausage, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any security surrounding his castle- despite the guards Scott had seen scattered about the streets as he flew in.   

Even if rulers could respawn from most deaths, it wasn’t impossible to kill them— and Scott had to wonder if it was arrogance or stupidity that allowed Sausage to stand with his back turned to an open window, seemingly lost in the bouncy music playing from a noteblock nearby while Bubbles dozed in the corner.  

Still, no matter the reason, it gave Scott the opportunity to glide to the window as quietly as possible, climbing in with ease to stand behind an oblivious Sausage, who was currently bent over to peer into the burning furnace in front of him.  

“What’cha makin?” Scott asked lightly, allowing casualty to slur his words as Sausage whipped around to face him with a short, startled yelp.  

His apron, dyed a light blue, flared slightly as he spun, “I LOOK better than I COOK” spelled out in dramatic hand-painted strokes across the front. The man himself had his white button-up folded to rest above his elbows, with a bit of flour clinging to some of the thick hair that grew across his forearms. His curly hair was pulled back from his face in a sad excuse for a ponytail, with many strands still dangling over his forehead or sticking out— revealing a glimpse of metal in one of his earlobes as he startled.   

“Scott!” Sausage’s voice cracked a little as he gave a crooked grin, whirling to pause the music. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from you!” He wiped his hands off on the front of his apron as he made to step towards him before apparently thinking better of it. “I’m making cookies— and now you’re here!” He laughed, “How— how lovely is that? What can I do for you?” Scott raised an eyebrow, allowing his tight, pleasant smile to become a little more genuine with amusement as Sausage flailed back into place.  

“You forgot your cloak at Jimmy’s last time you were there.” He said smoothly, holding it up for the man to see. Sausage, for some reason, tensed at the statement.  

“Oh— so I did.” He stepped forward, the energy in his voice high but stiff. “Well, thank you so much for bringing it back to me, it can get a bit drafty in these big halls and—”  

“Oh.” Scott said lightly, reveling in the drama of it all, “I won’t be giving it to you.” Sausage paused, tilting his head as he peered up at Scott.  

“Oh no,” He joked. “Is this a hostage situation?”  

“Of course not.” Scott smiled, “This is more me giving you a chance to come pick it up tomorrow of your own accord.”  

“Scott,” Sausage started, clearly suspicious but his voice still light with humour that Scott couldn’t determine the genuineness of. “I had no idea you cared so much about my cloak— I can get you a matching one if you like it that much.”  

“Sausage, I have no interest in what you do or do not wear.” Scott snapped, for a moment unreasonably insulted by Sausage’s offer, before forcing a casual smile back onto his face and making a point to relax his shoulders. “This isn’t about the cloak; it’s about Jimmy.” Sausage’s smile froze, and Scott watched as he shifted his weight further to the side.   

“I haven’t even messaged him since you two got together—” Sausage started, his hands raising slightly from his sides defensively “I promise.”  

“I know,” Scott said, covering his annoyance with condescension as he folded the cloak and let it drop onto the oak table beside him. “That’s the problem.”   

He spared a moment to question, not for the first time, why the hell Jimmy liked this man. Even when he wasn’t dangerous, Sausage was almost unyieldingly plaguey, crudely obnoxious, or plain loud. The only interaction in recent memory the two of them had had where Scott hadn’t found Sausage to be near intolerably annoying was their previous conversation about Jimmy: which Scott was still half-convinced was a fluke born of love-based-stupidity and exhaustion on Scott’s part and potential divine intervention on Sausage’s.  

Unfortunately for Scott, Aeor loved to test him. So here he stood, trying to convince a man he could barely stand to hang out with his boyfriend more.  

He pulled a hand up to rest on his hip, staring Sausage down with a glare that the man –admittedly—only partially deserved, as the man visibly seemed to buffer.  

“I- what?” Sausage blinked a few times. “Why?”  

“Jimmy misses his friend.” He made only a paltry effort to disguise the displeasure in his voice as he leaned further into Sausage’s space. “And he deserves to be happy.”   

“Oh that’s- I’m— I agree?” Sausage stumbled over his words, eyes darting to the sides and ceiling in a quick breath before his eyes forcibly settled back on Scott’s face, but his gaze landed a bit too low to meet Scott’s eyes.  

What was he looking for? — an excuse, an escape, fangs? Scott let his lips stretch into a tight smile, baring his teeth as subtly as his pride would allow, tilting his head ever so slightly.  

(Just because Scott wasn’t afraid of Sausage didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware of the threat he could pose both to him and more importantly, Jimmy. Sausage needed to know that Scott, should the need arise, could and would defend Jimmy.  

Could and would do whatever it took to eliminate any threat.    

Scott was dangerous, and since Sausage had seemed entirely oblivious to that at their last meeting, he would happily make that fact as obvious as possible.)  

Sausage’s eyes followed the movement, and then briefly flickered up to meet Scott’s gaze. Sausage swallowed, a harsh movement of his throat as he briefly shifted his weight.   

“So— you’re... okay with me hanging out with him again?”  

Scott desperately tried to push down the spike of possessive glee that Sausage was asking him for permission to interact with Jimmy.  He kept his voice in the same low tone as before, trying to sound unaffected.  

“Jimmy is his own person; he doesn’t need my permission to see you.” Which was true, Scott knew it was true— and he would never make any effort to act as if it wasn’t— but the notion of Soulmates belonging to each other was something prominent in Rivendell and general elven culture that most didn’t seem to understand unless they were raised in it. Sausage had, without meaning to, given Scott and Jimmy a very high compliment by referring to one of them as the other’s authority.  

“I know he doesn’t—” Sausage held his hands up defensively, “but I didn’t think that you would...want me to—” Bubbles, still sleeping peacefully on her cushioned pink bed in the corner- snuffled her way through a yawn, tiny legs stretching for a moment before rolling onto her other side to face away from them. Scott saw Sausage register the movement; his gaze momentarily distracted as he watched her settle, “Get in the way?”  

Scott couldn't help the slight scrunch of his nose in confusion, “Get in the way of what?”  

Sausage, for his part, seemed utterly lost, face flushed and voice high with a panic that seemed disproportionate to the situation, even if Scott could grant that he’d been a bit more antagonistic than was perhaps necessary.  

“You,” Sausage said, as if it was obvious. “And Jimmy being happy.” Before Scott could even begin to respond to that Sausage was already off again.  

“Scott I told you that I’d give you both space and I meant it. Jimmy has other friends and now he has you and told you that I’d respect that—I have no interest in messing up your life again or causing problems between you I just—”  

Scott stopped listening for a moment as it suddenly occurred to him that Sausage was afraid—not merely nervous or anxious but scared as he babbled on.  

Sausage was scared of him.  

Sausage was scared of Scott, either being around him, upsetting him, or both.  

A thick blanket of odd satisfaction fell over him, watching the man— who had cackled above him with demonic energy coursing through him less than a year ago— stumble over himself, hands pulled up near his chest to clutch and pinch at each other as he spoke.  

Sausage was scared of him.  

He took a step closer, and the jerky backwards movement Sausage made, a half step that squeaked on the well-polished stone, confirmed it.  

Good.  

“You once told me,” He took another step forward, and this time Sausage matched his movement, taking a step back to stand against the counter behind him, “to pull my shiny antlers out of my ass—”  

“Okay, I said butt I’m pretty sure-”  

“—and confess to him. So now,” He took a final step forward, close enough to Sausage that the shorter man had to crane his neck to still meet his eyes, “I’m returning the favour.” Sausage’s face was flushed enough that Scott, in another context, might have thought the man was turned on, might have made a joke about it.  

As it was, he smiled, letting his height add to his intimating energy as he leaned over Sausage.  

“I’ll be spending a large amount of time in the Codlands for the next few days, especially in the evenings. I expect you to stop by and pick up your cloak, with a reason and an apology for your absence.”  

Sausage’s mouth opened falteringly, his brown eyes wide and his bottom lip shaking with the slightest quiver of a soft breath out.  

“Okay.” He said quietly, clearly biting back another question.  

“Good.” Scott stepped back, allowing his voice to lighten, “And do try not to upset Jimmy again, I’d rather not repeat this conversation.” Sausage nodded, mouthing more than speaking a soft “yeah” of agreement as Scott turned back towards the window, ready to leave.  

“Scott—” Sausage said, the word raspy and rough as if he’d had to fight himself to say it. Scott turned back to face him, now halfway between him and the large window he’d come in through. “You should kn-”  

But whatever Sausage had been about to say died as the timer on the counter went off with a bright repeating chime. Sausage jumped, and even Scott startled at the breaking of the tension. Sausage practically ran to the furnace, grabbing a mitt resting atop it and pulling out a tray of cookies with small chunks of chocolate in them. Sausage cooed over them for a second, gingerly poking the surface of one of the corner cookies with the pad of his pointer finger.   

“Do you want one?” Sausage offered, “They’re delicious with coffee, and it should only be a few minutes before they’re cooled.” He turned to Scott with a smile, tense but clearly genuine, hands already twitching towards the stack of mugs on the shelf above him.  

“I’ll pass.” Scott declined, grabbing the cloak from the table as he passed it. “I prefer tea anyhow.” Sausage nodded, raising his mitt-free hand in an awkward wave.   

“Then I guess I won’t keep you.” He laughed nervously, “And I’ll be seeing you..soon?” Scott smiled.  

“I’m sure you will.”  

Two days later, Scott was lying on Jimmy’s couch with the man’s head in his lap, fingers idly running through his hair while Jimmy told him all about Joel’s latest prank and how he and Lizzie were currently brainstorming over whether or not to dye his hair pink when someone knocked on the door.   

Jimmy stood to retrieve his cod head from the table, and Scott himself made his way to the door, opening it to find Sausage rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.  

“Hi Scott.” He said cordially with a tense smile. Scott nodded politely.  

“Hello, Sausage.” Jimmy, who had paused at the sound of Sausage’s voice, practically ran to the door when he heard his name, and Scott watched as Sausage’s smile turned perfectly genuine.  

“Sausage!!” Jimmy beamed. “You’re here! It’s been ages!”   

“I know,” Sausage bemoaned, “One thing just came after another, administrative work sucks.”  

“It really does,” Jimmy easily joined in, “I have no idea how Scott gets through his so easily, I swear the paperwork multiplies every time I turn my back!”  

“Maybe it wouldn’t ‘multiply’ so much if you didn’t make such a habit of putting it off until the last minute.” Scott suggested fondly.  

“How dare you,” Jimmy objected. “I did some of my paperwork just yesterday!” Scott laughed,  

“Ah yes, a whole three pages because I wouldn’t pay you enough attention while I made dinner.”  

“You see what I have to put up with?” Jimmy said dramatically as he sidestepped Scott to playfully hide behind Sausage, “You can’t just abandon me to put up with him by myself.” Sausage laughed good-naturedly.  

“I would never. Dooming you to spend too much time with your soulmate?” He gasped theatrically. “The horror!”  

“Exactly!” Jimmy crowed in victory, grabbing Sausage’s hand and pulling him past Scott into the house before he could protest, “Finally somebody with some loyalty!”  

“Ex-cuse me?” Scott laughed as he closed the door behind them, “I am very loyal!”  

“You are.” Jimmy acquiesced primly, “Just not as loyal as Sausage.”  

“Well I’m not sure about tha-” Jimmy cut off Sausage’s objection, leading him to the kitchen and guiding him to the table.  

“Shush and sit down, the stew should be ready by now and I need backup, or else Scott will try to convince me that it’s my turn to do the dishes.”  

“It is your turn to do the dishes,” Scott said as he followed them,  

“See!?” Sausage’ gaze darted between them, shoulders relaxing seemingly despite himself, his hesitation around Scott having evidently been won out by Jimmy’s conspiring and the man’s own affable nature.  

“I have to agree with the big man here,” Sausage said, shaking his head with mock seriousness, “I’m sorry Scott but it couldn’t possibly be his turn.”  

Jimmy practically preened; hand propped on the back of Sausage’s chair.  

“Sorry Scott, it seems you’re outnumbered!”   

“I literally did them last night.”  

“Nuh-uh”  

“I can’t believe this, how do we know it’s not Sausage’s turn?”  

“Wait a second-”  

“Scott he is our guest—”  

Sausage’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, a disbelieving smile on his face as Jimmy pointedly served him the first bowl, eyes gleaming the whole time.  

In the end, Sausage and Jimmy both ended up on dish duty, to Jimmy’s protesting and Scott’s pride. He watched them from the corner of his eye as he put away the leftover stew, the two men alternating between rapid conversation and chucking soap bubbles at each other while they worked, shoulders practically touching and their work efficient despite their mischief.  

Jimmy was smiling, even with his hair sticky with soap and bubbles clinging to his sleeves and mask.   

There wasn’t much Scott wouldn’t do to keep Jimmy smiling, to give him as much happiness as he could.  

For Jimmy, Scott could put up with Sausage’s presence, could keep up a pretense of trust while watching him.   

Even if the man was quite literally the most annoying man Scott had ever met, his past advisors included.  

So when Sausage finally moved to leave that night, Scott handed him the forgotten cloak with a pleased smile and a nod, a feeling of peaceful contentment heavy in his bones borne of a job well done.  

“Come back soon.” He said lightly, Jimmy tucked under his arm and cheerfully voicing his agreement.  

Sausage smiled crookedly back at them, “I will.” He turned to look at Scott. “Thank you.”  

When he left, Scott was once again left with a feeling that he was losing something important, like a shard of happiness had flown away alongside the brunette.  

Then Jimmy leaned up on his toes to plant a kiss on Scott's cheek, letting his hand linger on Scott’s shoulder as he stepped away to stretch his arms and take off his CodHead.   

Scott stepped forward to pull Jimmy back into his arms, and the man went willingly with a smile.  

“I love you.” He murmured.  

Scott leaned down to kiss him, and whatever odd feelings had lingered were drowned out by Jimmy rising to meet him.