Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Doug’s morning passes quickly and pleasantly.

He spends most of it sleeping in, but that’s what makes it so great. There are very few things Doug enjoys more than waking up curled under his light green duvet, opening his eyes to sunlight pouring in from his blinds, and getting to turn around and fall right back asleep. To be fair, of course, ‘sleeping in’ for Doug is waking up at, like, nine-thirty, which isn’t terribly late all things considered. Still, for a certain workaholic blonde that he knows, waking up at nine-thirty would basically be wasting the whole day away. The thought makes Doug laugh.

Granny Blossom, the absolute gift that she is, has left Doug some breakfast in the fridge. He spends the next hour or so happily munching at this while reading the book he ‘borrowed’ from Dylas, that the guy’s been looking for for nearly two weeks now. 

(Surprisingly, Dylas likes to read sometimes. Even more surprisingly, his taste in books is actually pretty good, when he’s not reading the world’s most boring genre of all time, AKA fishing manuals). 

It’s an adventure story about some knight named Eddie gone rogue, and as much as Doug hates to admit that he and Dylas can have similar tastes sometimes, the book catches Doug’s attention enough that he doesn’t realize how much time’s passed by the time he’s throwing on some clothes and heading downstairs to check on Granny.

He spends the next hour or so doing small things around Sincerity General, ignoring Granny’s protests that it’s his day off. 

What? He’s not working! He’s way too lazy to work on his day off, come on. He’s just, you know, unpacking some of the products that are supposed to go on the top shelves, because Granny’s back has been particularly sore lately and Doug worries about her keeping her balance on the step ladder. Not that he says any of this to her, of course. He makes up some excuse about wanting to stretch his arms and legs before spending the whole day eating rice and laying down, and even though he can tell from the look Granny gives him that she doesn’t entirely believe him, she doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

After he’s done, he finds that his trail of thoughts have left him with a brilliant plan.

“Doug?” Granny calls out, as Doug dashes up the stairs two at a time. “What’s got you so excited? Are you finally going to enjoy your day?”

“I have been enjoying it! But yeah, I’ve thought of something to do.”

Before she can respond, he hears the sound of a customer entering the shop, and soon the chatter of the general store going on with its business downstairs turns into background noise as he starts boiling some water.

He’s not exactly a great cook by any means, but once he gets to stand back and stare at the efforts of his labor, Doug’s pretty pleased with himself anyway.

On a large floral-patterned serving tray is a small army of somewhat-disfigured-but-still-totally-delicious salmon onigiri, piled up high. They may not be the prettiest, or the fanciest, but if there’s one thing Doug knows, it’s rice. He also knows that the man that will be receiving them (or at least, most of them, since Doug’s not gonna make a bunch of onigiri and then not have at least some for himself) cares more about taste and convenience than presentation when it comes to his food anyway.

By the time morning’s nearly over, Doug is making his way back down the stairs, though now one step at a time since he’s carrying precious cargo with him.

“Are you having a picnic?” Granny asks, eyeing the plate.

“Not exactly.” He grins, then holds out the tray close to her. “Wanna try one?”

“I’d love to.” She grabs one and takes a bite, and Doug totally isn’t nervous. Not at all! He’s made these a ton of times before, though he’s never made quite so many for a specific person. A specific person he totally doesn’t care about impressing in any way. 

That would be silly.

After what feels like an eternity, though is really just a couple seconds, Granny swallows and smiles. “Those came out lovely, Doug. Just the right amount of flavor to be delicious while still elegantly simple.”

With his free hand Doug fist pumps into the air, though he regrets it a second later when he feels the plate teeter precariously in his hands. Still, after getting her approval Doug feels a lot more confident. “Thanks, Granny!”

“Not a problem. I’m sure Arthur’s going to love them.”

“Yeah I— wait, what? Who said they were for— where’d you get the idea that— I was just— I was just gonna eat these! Myself. By the, uh. Lake. Maybe ask uh…” he tries to think of someone as unlike Arthur as he can think of. “Amber. If she wants some.”

“Amber.” Granny repeats, one gray eyebrow rising up even as she wears an amused smile.

“Uh-huh.”

“Salmon onigiri, for someone who doesn’t like fish?”

Shit. Fuck. Abort, abort, abort.

At the speed of a herd of rampaging buffamoos Doug has pulled back the tray, vomited out the words, “Ah well you know sometimes you just wanna try things you hate just to make sure you still hate them so anyway I’ll be going now byeeee,” and hip-checked his way out the door. It closes behind him with a clash, though not before he can make out the sound of Granny laughing.

Doug sighs, taking a second to lean against the wall and fend off whatever blush is trying to crawl up his cheeks. Granny knows too much. 

He wonders vaguely how long she’s had him figured out for. He only realized his own feelings a couple of weeks ago! If she’s known for longer, it would’ve been nice of her to tell him and spare him the agonizing journey in masochism that is trying to understand your own emotions. Especially emotions about a person, a particular blond, intelligent, willowy person with workaholic tendencies and an understated but witty sense of humor that Doug had never expected to find so hilarious.

Not that it matters for today, anyway.

Doug’s not going to Arthur’s office with a mountain of his favorite food to be anything embarrassing like his suitor, or the guy who has a crush on him . He’s just going as a friend, who’s looking out for his friend that has a tendency to skip meals in favor of working.

Ahem. Anyway.

It’s both a blessing and a curse that he and Arthur live so close to each other— a blessing that they get to see each other frequently because of it, a curse because Doug has barely had the time to compose himself by the time he’s standing outside of Arthur’s office door, shifting the tray onto one hand so he can wiggle the handle with his other.

“Knock knock,” Doug says as he enters, in lieu of knocking, though to be fair, no one really knocks on Arthur’s office door during business hours. And business hours for him are from midnight to midnight, so… “Hey, man! I brought you something.”

“Hello, Doug,” Arthur responds without looking up from whatever sheet of parchment he’s reading from. His thin silver-framed glasses have slipped down to the tip of his nose, and his eyes continue to move across the page even as he talks. Whatever’s written there, it has Arthur’s attention glued to it even more than normal. “I’m sorry, I’ll be done with this in just a moment. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“No problem.” 

Normally, Doug would tease Arthur for being overly formal with him. He’d call him stuffy and tell him to loosen up. Right now, though, as he quietly sits on the couch and sets the tray of food down on the coffee table in front of him, Doug finds himself unable to focus on talking, when he can instead be staring at Arthur. Arthur, with such a particularly fond, small, almost— shit, what is that emotion? Giddy, maybe? Excited, almost, smile on his face. It’s not even just in his lips, which are only lightly curled upwards at the edges, but in the arched crinkle under this eyes, in the way that his (usually gaunt, or at least gaunt-ish, honestly) cheeks look livelier than normal, giving his whole face a healthy glow. His expression looks lit up from inside, gently but thoroughly, like sunlight shining through water.

Like sunlight through water. What is Doug even thinking? Gods above, he needs to get a hobby.

Arthur doesn’t leave him waiting too long. Less than two minutes later he’s neatly rolling up the parchment, setting it to the side, and then standing up from his desk to come sit across from Doug. Not that Doug’s staring anymore, of course. 

Totally not.

“Sorry about that,” Arthur says as he crosses his legs at the ankles. 

“No worries. Must have been one hell of a letter.” When Arthur blinks at him in confusion, Doug adds, because he has no sense of self-preservation and can never just let things go, “You were smiling at it a lot. What was it? Good news? Did you get in a shipment of something rare? Were you just invited to join the world trade show of fancy glasses?” And, because Doug hates himself, he also adds, “Ohhh, was it a secret admirer or something?”

Arthur makes a noise that makes it sound like if he was drinking something at the moment, he’d be spewing it all over the table right now. “No, no. None of that.” He raises an eyebrow. “You have a very active imagination.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything at that, just stares down at his neatly trimmed nails, but it looks like his gaze is a thousand miles away. There’s that little ghost of a smile on his face, again, that faintly glowing light shining through like he can’t suppress it, and Doug’s pulse starts beating in his ears.

“A… friend of mine just let me know that he will be visiting Selphia soon.” 

For the second time today, Doug is struck speechless. 

Then Arthur looks at him, like he expects Doug to respond for the conversation to keep going, since, duh, that’s how conversations work, and Doug scrambles a little. He can’t think of a way to verbalize his immediate thought, ‘You have friends? Real friends? Outside of Selphia?’ without sounding like a huge asshole, and contrary to somewhat popular belief, Doug doesn’t usually want to sound like an asshole. Not all the time, at least. Not unless it’s to Dylas.

So, instead, he just echoes, “A friend?” 

That seems to be enough to push the conversation forward. Arthur nods, looking surprisingly… shy? 

Doug’s skin starts getting warmer under the collar of his shirt, his hair raising on the back of his neck, and he has genuinely no idea why. What is wrong with his body today?

“Yes, from the capital.” Arthur, all-knowing, all-seeing Arthur, fixes Doug with a look like he can see right through him. Because of course he can. “Which I know is surprising. I didn’t have many friends there. I actually… only ever had one, and it’s him.”

Doug really doesn’t know what to say this time, but thankfully Arthur just keeps going, after a short, reflective pause. 

“Yuan was my attendant, actually, when I was… Shall we say, more actively a prince. Despite court conventions, however, we actually became quite close, and he then became my closest confidant and truest friend in the palace. In the city.” Arthur takes a breath, then fixes Doug with another look, this time looking less lost in thought. “Regardless, it’s the first time I’m seeing him since I left for Selphia. I feel both excited and nervous— that’s strange, isn’t it?”

“No… no, that makes sense.” He wants to say that he thinks he’d feel the same, if he were suddenly seeing someone from his hometown after years, but he… can’t. For many reasons. So he settles on, “It’s been a minute since you’ve seen him. And Selphia’s way different from the capital, right? 

“Exceedingly so.”

“Then it makes sense that you’re looking forward to it and nervous. It must feel like a totally different, uh… context, I guess, to see him here.”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.” Arthur says, a little slowly, like he’s only realizing that himself at this very moment and is still digesting it. What? Yeah, Doug can say something emotionally perceptive now and again. He’s full of surprises. 

Even surprises to himself— he’s not sure why, but his chest feels weirdly tight, and his veins feel like they’ve been replaced with low, crackling embers.

“Either way,” Arthur clears his throat, “my apologies for rambling on. You must have had a reason to come see me. Did you bring something?” He gestures with his eyes over towards the plate, covered by the only bowl big enough that Doug had found lying around.

“Oh! Oh. Yeah.” Doug clears his throat too, though it feels rougher when he does it, like charcoal scratching against a table. “I totally did, and you’re gonna love it, dude. How much have you eaten in the past forty-eight hours?”
A look of vague panic settles over Arthur’s face, like a bear that’s just realized there’s a trap in front of it. “Er—”

“Exactly.” Grinning, Doug pulls away the cover. “I figured that’d be your answer, so I’ve got you covered.” It’s immensely, world-shatteringly, brilliantly satisfying to see the way Arthur’s eyes, already the color of rubies, literally sparkle at the sight. “And this way, people can’t get mad at you for not eating today, because you’re about to eat a mountain of rice and protein— and I’ll even back you up if they don’t believe you!”

Arthur smiles, bright, slightly toothy, and just a little bit mischievous, like they’re sharing some kind of secret; it fills Doug with so much ego-sweltering pride that he feels like he can go take down a chimera single-handedly or something. 

“Did you make these yourself?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Doug shrugs. “Well, I was bored today, ya’know with it being my day off or whatever, and I also have good taste and love rice, so I figured this would be fun to make. I’m not Porcoline or anything but I still hope they came out good.”

Shit. Actually, Doug kind of forgot about that. He’s bringing homemade food to the guy who literally lives with, was practically adopted by, one of the most famous chefs in the country, if not the world.

Arthur reaches for one, grabbing a napkin and the salmon onigiri closest to him with his long fingers. He raises it to his lips, takes a bite, and then chews long and torturously slow. Doug doesn’t know if he’s ever been this nervous. Doug doesn’t know if his body is remembering how to breathe right now.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But not a very big one.

Then Arthur’s eyes light up, like dawn over the mountains. “It’s absolutely delicious,” he says, barely after he swallows his food, like he almost can’t remember his own manners, which is the biggest form of compliment from him. “Thank you very much, Doug.”

Oh yeah. Doug can go take down five chimera. At once.

“Please,” Arthur gestures politely, once he’s finished the onigiri in only another two bites. “Have some with me. Food always tastes better when shared.”

“I’ll toast to that!” Doug grins, grabbing an onigiri for himself and knocking it against the new one in Arthur’s hand, like a toast. “Cheers!”

Arthur smiles again, and it’s beautiful. “Cheers.”

It turns out that Yuan’s arrival is a little over a week later.

Just about the whole town knows about it by that point, because of course they do, but Doug figures out pretty quickly (mostly from listening to Kiel’s wildly inaccurate speculations) that Arthur didn’t quite give as much detail to the others as he gave him. 

Yuan’s an old attendant and friend of his from the palace, coming to visit. That’s about it. Nothing about him being his one and only friend from before Selphia, his confidant and closest companion. Nothing about that delighted, tiny little smile he had while talking about it that day in his office, or the way he can’t stop smiling with his eyes for the whole week of waiting for Yuan’s arrival, even when the rest of his expression is completely neutral. Nothing about the way his gaze had stared off, distant and privy to a whole world Doug realizes he has never and will never quite know. Nothing about the unusual bout of nervousness he had. Nothing about how Doug (that’s right! Doug! Of all people!) made him feel better.

Nope. Just a friend visiting. An old friend. A palace friend.

Doug doesn’t think too hard about it.

Nope, not hard at all. Who’s thinking hard? Doug? Never. Not ever.

Not about his stupid, stubborn, one-sided feelings over a work-obsessed man with golden hair, not about the itching-burning-combination sensation on the back of his neck when he thinks about that letter, not about anything. That’s Doug: zero thoughts. Just rice, and hatred of bread, and keeping Granny Blossom from hurting herself in the general store.

And if Doug did have a thought about that letter, about this new visitor, it’d be excitement. Yeah! Doug’s stoked. Maybe he can wheedle some of Arthur’s embarrassing childhood stories out of this Yuan guy, or ask if Arthur ever was a kid at all or just born a fully grown adult like Doug teases him about sometimes. He’s excited to meet the man that knows a whole side of Arthur none of them will ever know, the man who elicited that smile out of his face, the man who’s coming to visit any moment now. 

Doug has never been more thrilled.

He’s trying not to pace a hole straight through the sidewalk. 

Truth be told Doug’s not even sure why he’s here, waiting in front of the airship. About a third of Selphia is behind him, all chatting amongst themselves as they wait, and another third is lingering somewhere nearby, pretending to have a lot of urgent business they have to do on Airship Way. What he does know is that he had run into Arthur this morning while the man was on his way to wait for Yuans’ arrival, and Arthur had asked Doug if he wanted to wait with him. Who’s Doug to say no?

An idiot, probably.

But either way, here he is, waiting. Arthur’s by his side, rays of sunlight pouring from the sky on this breezy spring day, as the light bounces off of the flat plains of Arthur’s shoulders, which just barely hover next to Doug. Doug tries not to fidget. He glances behind him at the small crowd, ends up making eye contact with Leon of all people for some reason, and of course the guardian shoots him a wink. An all-too-knowing wink, like Doug’s just an open book for him to read at his leisure. Nope. Not dealing with that. Doug turns around and stares resolutely forward at the airship dock.

“I would have gone to pick him up myself,” Arthur had said earlier this morning, “But Yuan was quite resolute on meeting me here. Ever since he heard of Lest’s fall following the bandit attack, he’s been rather openly against my piloting or even riding any airships, in his letters.” Then Arthur had glanced over at Doug and shot him a small, conspiratory wink. “Not that that has stopped me, of course.”

Yes, Doug had said something in response, but he honestly couldn’t say what; he was too busy trying to remember how to breathe without looking like a gaping fish.

Anyway, what’s up with people winking at him today? That needs to stop. It can’t be good for his health, one way or the other.

In about ten more minutes the airship eventually sails into view, a growing brown dot against an open blue sky.

 It’s weird, to be part of a crowd that’s collectively holding its breath, as that dot gets closer and closer and eventually forms itself into a ship holding a variety of tourists on its deck. But at least Doug spends those next few minutes waiting for the ship to get there and feeling too genuinely curious to keep getting in his own head about whatever weird emotions this whole ordeal is unexpectedly bringing up in him. What’s wrong with him? Why is he so apprehensive, anyway? Things are going to be fine. He really does want to meet whoever this Yuan person is, who Arthur obviously holds in such high regard, and Doug does think Arthur is pretty damn good at reading people, so this guy can’t be too bad.

Doug realizes he’s wrong almost as soon as Yuan sets foot on Selphia’s pavement. And it’s not about the polite, friendly-if-slightly-serious expression on his face, or his long, light blue hair tied into a low ponytail, or the stiff, formal fabric of his travel clothes. It’s not even anything about his personality, because the guy hasn’t had the chance to say anything before Doug realizes that they are simply not going to be able to get along, and it’s because of one glaringly obvious fact:

Yuan is tall.

Gods fucking dammit.

Like, tall-tall. Not quite Dylas tall (haha! One point to Selphia) but not too far off either. He’s taller than Arthur, and obviously taller than Doug. Significantly so. Fuck. Who does this guy think he is? Sure, height isn’t something a person can really change about themselves— a fact that Doug has lamented many, many times— but that’s not going to stop him from holding it against the guy anyway. How dare he be tall? How dare he make Doug have to crane his neck up to look at him? How dare he be the perfect height for Arthur to rest his chin over the shoulder of, when they hug?

Oh. They’re hugging. That’s cool. It’s super normal, of course. They’re friends, and friends who haven’t seen each other in a while; honestly it would be weird if they didn’t hug, and Doug would be a hypocrite for thinking otherwise because of all the times he’s tried to get Arthur to loosen up with all that royalty stuffiness that he had lingering around him when he first came to Selphia. 

The fact that that hot, burning feeling under Doug’s collar has only worsened is due to the weather, probably. He doesn’t know why his body’s betraying him, but he’s ignoring it. Seriously, what is wrong with him?

Yuan and Arthur pull away a second later, and really it was the world’s quickest hug, but the image is seared into Doug’s brain anyway. 

Doug suddenly wonders if he’s breaking out in a fever, and if he should go see Jones.

“Yuan,” Arthur says, friendly, and bright, and with an achingly kind familiarity behind it, like the feeling of running your hands over the spine of a well-loved book, or staring at a homemade bowl of your favorite food. “I trust your flight went smoothly?”

“It did, thank you.” 

“Oh good. I was terribly worried you would be charged by pirates, or… Ah, what was it you wrote in all of those warnings? ‘Struck down by cannonballs?’”

Arthur’s delivery is so perfectly polite that Doug does a double take before he recognizes the teasing lilt behind his voice and the fond crease of his eyes, hidden except for those who have known him for a while. 

It makes Doug’s pulse quicken.

“Of course, I would never want to cause you to worry over me,” Yuan responds easily, voice remaining perfectly level as he teases right back, like he’s dealt with this dozens of times before. “But I do appreciate that you were concerned for my safety, considering the dangerous nature of this kind of voyage. Truly, you are quite kind, even if you misuse commas in your letters.”

They stare at each other for another long second, one that feels like it spreads on for eons and eons, before both of them break out in cheerful smiles. Yuan’s is a lot more reserved than Arthur’s (that palace stuffiness must still be fresh on him) but is obviously happy. 

They don’t hug again, but Doug recognizes the look on Arthur’s face and knows that he wants to. Again, his heart squeezes, which makes him aggressively think ‘ Cut it out,’ to himself. He has the indescribable urge to grab his brain— and heart, that fucker’s not innocent in this— and shake it violently like he’s trying to get the last coin out of a piggy bank.

The last few tourists that had been on board step out of the airship and disappear to different parts of Selphia. The crowd of locals linger, and at this point Doug suspects that most of the town is here. 

Arthur seems to realize this too, as he says, “Let me introduce you to everyone.” 

Then he turns to Doug, which, of course he does— Doug is the person right next to him. Obviously he’d turn to him first. No need to be surprised. Doug has to suppress a jump, and then does his best to act as normal as possible. He can do this. He can be so normal around Arthur’s very good, very close childhood best friend.

“...is Doug,” Arthur’s saying, when Doug remembers to actually pay attention. If Doug was paying more attention (which he isn’t) he would notice Arthur hesitate for a moment. “He’s become a very close friend of mine. Doug, this is Yuan Ka-Fai.”

That definitely makes Doug tune in fully. Hearing himself referred to as a ‘friend’ by the man he’s hopelessly pining for should probably disappoint him, but he’s too happy with the fact that he’s important to Arthur, in some way, to feel anything but a smug, dizzy sort of happiness.

“Hey.” Doug gives a little wave, not quite able to keep the grin off his face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Yuan replies, with a small bow of his head.

“Oh, uh, you too— and you can just call me Doug. Don’t worry about formalities, we’re all pretty casual here.”

“That’s true,” Arthur adds, and Doug swears there’s an extra hint of fondness in his voice.

Yuan glances between the two of them, and Doug swears that for a second he notices some kind of spark of interest in the man’s green-eyed gaze. But then Doug blinks, and it’s gone.

“Very well.” Yuan nods. “It’s nice to meet you, Doug.”

Then Arthur’s guiding Yuan over to meet the rest of the town.

“Of course this is Lest, who has been dutifully handling…” and the rest of the morning passes in a haze of introductions.

Chapter Text

Selphia’s track record of adopting absolute strangers with frightening ease has continued. 

Predictably. 

Yuan, despite the fact that he comes off as a bit stoic at first, catches on with the townspeople like a bridge on fire, or however that stupid expression goes. 

It’s only the second day that Yuan’s been here, and Doug’s already had three separate people come into the shop during his shift and go on about how great he is. 

And Doug gets it! He does. Apparently the guy’s a pretty talented swordsman. Cool! He’s got a really dry and understated sense of humor, once he stops acting so formal with everyone. Hilarious! He’s quite considerate and helpful, even around people he just met. Awesome. And to top it all off, he’s tall and handsome or whatever, or so Margaret says. 

“Not that I have eyes for anyone but Forte,” she makes sure to add, as she’s leaning over Sincerity General’s front counter and watching Doug count coins. “But you know,” she waggles a finger at him, “you can appreciate someone’s beauty without actually wanting anything else from them, obviously. And I guess I’ve always had a thing for swords-people, huh? And tall people…” Here, she gets that same dreamy look in her eyes that she always gets when she talks about her girlfriend.

“Tall people are overrated,” is Doug’s reflexive response as he finishes giving her back her change.

“Uh-huh.” Margaret raises a single, extremely pointed eyebrow at him. “Sure. I totally think you believe that.”

“Sh-shut up and take your wine.”

She takes the two bottles from him, placing them carefully in her cotton bag. “Geez, alright. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, huh?” 

Doug rolls his eyes at her, though for a second he worries that he is, actually, being a bit too much of a dick. It’s not that he’s trying to be in a bad mood. It’s just that there’s an uncomfortable itch under his skin that he hasn’t been able to get rid of for the last couple days.

Then Margaret sticks her tongue out at him and flicks him on the forehead with her free hand. “You look like Dylas when you’ve got that grumpy look on your face, you know that?”

“Hey!”

“AnywayI’mGoingToHaveAPicnicWithMyGirlfriendByyyeee!” she says very quickly, and then speeds out the door.

Doug grumbles in response, realizes that makes him look even more like Dylas, and then headplants into the counter. Raking his fingers through his hair, he pulls at the short tufts and lets the feeling of the tug at his scalp ground him.

The wooden grain bites into his forehead, as he absently wonders where he’s gotten to in his life that he’s acting like Dylas , of all people. Sure, the guy is his best friend (outside of Arthur, but a platonic best friend and a best friend that you hopelessly stare at while feeling lovey-dovey feelings are two different categories, in Doug’s mind), but A. he’d never admit that aloud except under life-threatening circumstances— and even then, it’s a toss up— and B. just because they’re best friends doesn’t mean he wants to act like Dylas. 

This is the state that Granny Blossom finds him in when she makes her way downstairs.

“Doug, honey, are you not feeling well?” is her immediate question, as she shuffles over to him and tries to gently move him so she can press her palm against his forehead.

He instantly feels bad for making her worry, and tries to fend off the reddening of his cheeks at her tender, motherly affection. It’s not uncommon, not after all this time, but he’s still never fully gotten used to feeling that again. 

“Oh— uh, no, no, I’m totally good. Don’t worry.” 

Satisfied enough by his supposedly normal temperature she pulls her hand away, though she still pins him with a questioning look.

He shrugs. “I was just getting bullied by my friends. You know how it is.”

A fond, knowing smile spreads over her lips. “Ah, yes. Of course.” She makes her way over towards the produce section, and starts rearranging the potato display. “Speaking of! Have you had a chance to talk to Arthur’s visiting friend?”

Doug’s mouth goes dry. Not looking over her shoulder, Granny continues, “Because I spoke with him yesterday evening, and he’s absolutely lovely. So polite, and so gallant. It of course makes sense why he and Arthur have gotten along so well and for so long. And he’s so tall!”

A groan slips out of Doug’s lips, unable to be stopped. “Why is everyone going on about how tall this guy is? It’s not like none of us have ever seen a tall guy before— hell, Dylas is taller, and we all see him all the time!”

Granny turns to look at him, a confused look set into the normally warm lines of her face. She opens her mouth, clearly about to question him, when the door chimes, signaling two new arrivals.

“And this is the general store,” Arthur smiles, nodding a thanks as Yuan holds the door open for him. “Not only does it keep seasonal produce and ingredients in stock, it also has common household items and furniture. As well as other goods. Hello Blossom, Doug. Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

Granny fixes Doug with one last ‘I’m going to ask you what the hell is wrong with you at a later point in time’ look, and then goes back to smiling brightly at the new pair. “Yuan, is Arthur giving you a tour of Selphia?”

Yuan’s eyes go from drifting around the store to focusing on Granny. “He is. It’s quite a beautiful town. I’m afraid Arthur’s descriptions in his letters didn’t do it justice, though he certainly tried.”

Granny nods. “It’s certainly unique. Have you traveled to many places?”

He seems to think about that for a moment. “Somewhat, yes. I’ve stayed mostly in the capital, since my duties lie largely in the palace, but not infrequently I’ve traveled to other cities, and even other countries, to guard emissaries on their trips. Including Arthur, of course.”

At that, the blond smiles, though it’s that slightly tight, not entirely genuine smile he gets whenever his past life as a prince is brought up. 

That’s interesting, Doug finds himself thinking.

The conversation continues, mostly between Granny and Yuan, though Doug does interject here and there with the occasionally friendly line or two— because Doug is a super normal, friendly, and chill guy, especially to Arthur’s close friend. Obviously! And dammit, Doug does have to (albeit begrudgingly) give Yuan points in his book for getting along so well with Granny. She laughs and smiles, recounts her own stories of her younger traveling days, and listens to the varied experiences Yuan shares about him and Arthur. 

It’s endearing and annoying in equal measure, and Doug can’t figure out why. Whatever weird, confusing mess is going on with his emotions need to chill the fuck out, actually.

The pair spend the better part of an hour at the store. Other people come and go, and most of them make small talk as they buy their groceries. Leon’s the only one that sticks around even after he’s done buying stuff, leaning debonairly against the front counter on the other side of where Doug’s standing, and keeping up easy conversation.

There are two highlights, at least, to this impromptu visit to the store from Yuan and Arthur.

First, the topic of the general store’s actual products and goods comes up, which lets Arthur go on one of his nerdy rants about trading: which items he’s helped bring in, which vendors he’s set up relationships with between the general store, which goods are more commonly or more rarely found in Selphia than in the capital for many geo-economic-political reasons, et ceta et cetara. 

It’s mostly stuff Doug has heard him talk about before, but he still listens with what is arguably the most attention he’s given all morning. Sure, Doug does actually, secretly, contrary to the reputation of lazy work-related nonchalance he’s tried to keep up, care about the well-being of the shop, and not just about Granny Blossom; so he does find Arthur’s business talk interesting, and even more than that has always appreciated the business help Arthur’s given since he’s gotten to the town. 

But more than that (or, at least, equal to, because ‘more than that’ would be kind of lame, right?) Doug, like always, finds himself focused on the way Arthur’s face brightens up when he talks about his work, and the intelligent, fascinated sparkle he gets in his eyes. The smile that pops up on his face as he brings up certain products that he really had to barter for to bring to Selphia is a genuine one, lighting up his face all the way from forehead to chin.

It’s adorable.

Doug doesn’t realize how hard he’s staring until he hears a snicker from the fox-eared man beside him, and he has to fight the urge to ‘accidentally’ knock Leon’s elbow off the counter. 

The second highlight of the visit is the brief moment of someone being more awkward around Yuan than Doug is. To be fair, that person ends up being Dylas, and it’s a pretty low bar to be less awkward than him, especially when the tall fuck’s around a stranger, but still. Doug will take a win when he can.

It happens when Dylas, at some point or another as the morning goes on, walks into the store. He’s clearly in one of his moods— not anything particularly bad, but his body language screams ‘get into the store, grab whatever essentials Porco sent me here to buy, and then leave immediately.’ It happens. Most people who have lived in Selphia for longer than a few weeks know to just leave Dylas be when he’s like this: his shoulders hunched, tail stiff and jerky, and face looking mildly terrified at the concept of social interactions, despite his attempt at an indifferent expression which ends up just looking pissed the fuck off. Yuan, then, who’s been in Selphia for a little over 24 hours, doesn’t know this.

(No one can blame him, though for someone who’s been a knight or royal guard or whatever for years and years, Doug would think he’d be better at reading a horse’s body language. Just saying).

While trying to pretend he’s invisible, Dylas ends up dropping a few of his groceries, Yuan bends down to try and help him pick them up, the two of them accidentally bump heads together; Dylas stammers out a crappy apology, calls Yuan an idiot, and then leaves without buying or taking any of his groceries with him.

Classic Dylas move.

It’s hilarious, and deeply gratifying to watch.

But then Doug sees Granny reaching over to pick up the fallen groceries and he can’t have that with how her back’s been, so he gently steps in front of her and bends down instead. Yuan is still on his knees, having some of the fallen bags of rice gathered in his hand, though he’s stuck frozen and staring at the door. Then he turns to Doug, then Arthur, then Leon and Granny, giving them all a quizzical, if slightly pleading, look.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Doug can’t help it. He takes pity on the guy, so he shrugs. “Just ignore that. Dylas can be kind of weird around new people. Actually like, super weird. It takes forever to get to know him.”

“He’s right,” Arthur chimes in, taking the items from Doug and Yuans’ hands and setting them back in their rightful place. It makes Doug feel a little fuzzy around the edges to see him so casually and easily helping in the shop, knowing immediately where everything goes. “Dylas isn’t the best at expressing himself, especially when flustered, but he’s actually quite kind. There’s no need to worry. I’m sure he’ll come to the restaurant early tomorrow morning to knock on your door and apologize.”

“Though he is quite fun to tease, when he gets like that,” Leon adds a little impishly, mischief at odds with how he helps put away the last few items with Granny’s quiet guidance. “You can really let him soak in his regret and watch him squirm when he apologizes before letting him off the hook. If you’d like.”

“No, that’s quite alright.” Yuan stands up, dusts off the fabric of his pants, and then holds out his hand to Doug. Somewhat begrudgingly, Doug takes it to stand too. 

“Your loss,” Leon replies with an unflappable shrug.

Doug’s mind is still churning though, caught like it's tripped up carpet over something that he can’t quite make sense of. “‘Knock on your door’ at the restaurant?” Doug echoes, mostly at Arthur, though he looks over at Yuan for a second, too. “You’re not staying at the inn?”

“Hm?” Arthur blinks, glasses falling slightly down the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head just a little to the left. “Oh, no. We considered the inn, of course, but it’s a busy tourism season for Lin Fa and Xiao Pai, so instead Porcoline very kindly offered use of Dylas’ old room for Yuan’s stay. Plus, staying down the hall from each other does make being his tour guide easier, of course.”

Arthur and Yuan, staying down the hall for each other. Seeing each other, right before bed, and first thing in the morning. Sharing basically all their meals together, with Porcoline and Margaret and Dylas, and probably Forte and Lest pretty often too— maybe even Bado and Kiel. Like. Like a family. A whole family, cozy and happy and…

“Oh. Right.” Doug replies, a little shell-shocked, despite the fact that Arthur’s reasoning is perfectly sound. “Right. That makes a lot of sense.”

Arthur and Yuan seeing each other in their pajamas, and what’s likely to be Arthur’s bedhead in the morning. Yuan coming downstairs to see Arthur still at work, and dragging him up to bed.

It’s horrifyingly, disgustingly, incredibly, easily domestic. So, so domestic. 

And it’s so much of what Doug’s wanted, for a while now, but never felt he deserves to express— much less deserves to have. He’s convinced himself that not jeopardizing his friendship with Arthur is his priority, that their friendship is all he really wants, and of course he values their friendship, of course he does, but… picturing someone else in that position, particularly one who already knows Arthur so well, still hurts, even if it makes nothing but perfect sense.

Doug feels like he’s gonna be sick.

“I have noticed many tourists around,” Yuan says. “Is it because of the cherry blossom season?”

“Why, yes.” Granny replies warmly. “You see, there’s a tradition in Selphia that…” and regardless of Doug’s inner downward spiraling, the conversation carries on.

The little bell by the front chimes again, signaling the departure of Arthur and Yuan. After making conversation for a decent amount longer, they eventually excuse themselves to make their way on to the rest of Arthur’s tour.

The door barely finishes closing before Leon and Granny turn on Doug at a frightening speed.

“Wh-what?” He stammers out, once they both keep boring holes into his skull with their intense gazes without saying anything. “What’s wrong with you guys? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Doug, dear, I don’t think either of us are the ones that have been acting weirdly.”

“She’s right,” Leon adds, crossing his arms over his chest as the two of them take a step closer to Doug at the same time. It’s beyond unnerving when they move in unison like that. “You were the one acting very, very strangely during that interaction. Actually, if my memory serves me right, you’ve been acting strangely for the last week or so.”

“What? What are you going on about?” Panicking, Doug starts counting the money in the till. Yes, he knows that everything’s going to turn up normal in there, because his math is impeccable thank you, but he’ll do anything to tear his eyes away from the pair of them and to keep his hands busy. “I haven’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Leon’s right,” Granny says.

“Stop agreeing with each other! It’s creepy and you’re freaking me out.”

Unphased, Leon’s eyes— which are usually relaxed or apathetic— have gone sharp around the edges, like he can read Doug like an open book. It makes Doug want to crouch behind the counter and stay there. “I believe I know why, too.”

“What? No you don’t, because I don’t know why I’m— I mean— shit— because I’m not acting weird! There’s nothing to know! Agh. Dammit.” He hip checks the till closed, turns away from them, and then drags his hands through his hair again as he pretends to be very, very interested in the shelves behind the counter. 

Have those potatoes always been there?

He feels a touch, not overbearing but considerate, on his upper arm. Out of the corner of his eye he glances down and sees Granny’s hand, lightly wrinkled and scattered with the occasional sunspots. Something in the kind, familiar sight makes the tightly-coiled, constantly rotating, and lightly on fire ball of emotions in his chest loosen up. 

Doug finds himself turning around to face the two of them, sagging back against the shelf, and letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

“Alright,” he concedes, “I don’t know. I don’t know! I mean, I know I’ve been acting kinda weird,” Leon snorts at the word ‘kinda,’ which Doug chooses to ignore because he’s nice like that, “but I have no idea why, other than it’s just—” he makes a vague sort of hand gesture. “Yuan. Something about Yuan. I don’t know. I think I’m cursed to get off on the wrong foot with tall, long-and-blue-haired men forever.” 

“Does that include me?” Leon asks.

“I thought Dylas’ hair was more silver,” Granny muses. “Or perhaps lavender?”

“Either way,” Doug cuts in, raking his hands through his hair for what feels like the umpteenth time today. “I don’t know. I’m not trying to be an asshole to Yuan or anything— I mean, shit, sorry granny— I don’t want to be rude. I just… I feel so weird around him. Him and Arthur, specifically. I don’t know why.”

Granny looks vaguely pitying— in a sympathetic, loving sort of way that is still very embarrassing for him, even if he knows she means well— and Leon shoots him a slightly incredulous, ‘ Are You Sure You Don’t Know Why?’ sort of look.

“What?” Feeling his face flush red, Doug groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. He vaguely considers walking back over to the front counter and softly bashing his head into the hard surface until he falls unconscious; maybe he’d wake up and find out this was all a very bad, very confusing dream. “Will you both just cut me a break and tell me what you think already, please?”

He either wants to be put out of his misery, or be allowed to wallow in it. Is that too much to ask?

“Oh, Doug. Have you considered that the feelings you’re having towards Yuan are… How do I put this?” Granny Blossom glances over at Leon.

“Jealousy.”

“What?” Doug’s brain screeches to a halt. “That’s not— I’m not— I mean I guess I… But I don’t…”

“It’s a very normal feeling to have,” Granny adds.

Has it really just been that all along? Is Doug just so oblivious that he didn’t understand it? That itching, cooped up feeling under his skin ever since he heard about Yuan’s visit… “But what would I have to be jealous about? It’s not like they’re…” Again he makes a vague hand gesture, and the fact that he can’t even say the word ‘dating’ is probably revealing too much of the emotional state he’s in that he’s only just becoming aware of.

“That’s true,” Leon says, “But they are very close.”

“Well, yeah… But so are we, right? Like, all of us. He’s been living in Selphia for nearly two years, I’d say we all know him pretty well. Though, I guess Yuan lived around him for even longer back at the capital…”

And Arthur is pretty closed off. Deceptively so. But Doug likes to think he’s— semi-accidentally, at least at first— slowly taken down Arthur’s walls, just like Arthur has with his. Maybe not all of them, but they know a decent amount about each other… Right? 

Somehow, the look in Granny’s eyes turn even more sympathetic. “Now, I’m not necessarily saying this is the case. You know your own feelings better than anyone.” Doug’s not too sure about that, if the last week or even the last ten minutes is any sort of indicator, but he appreciates Granny’s vote of confidence. “But could it be that the two of them being childhood friends, of a sort, is what’s causing you to feel this way?”

“Uh-huh.” Not unkindly, he prompts, “Go on.”

“It’s true that you two are very close,” Leon explains, and once again Doug ignores the slightly sly undertone in his voice as he says that. “And it’s also true that Arthur has become quite close with everyone in Selphia. But that doesn’t negate the fact that Yuan has not only known him for longer than we have, but also knows parts of him that none of us know. Parts of him that we may never know.”

“‘May never know…’” Doug echoes, as it all slowly slides into place. Oh. That look on Arthur’s face earlier, when his princely background was mentioned. The immediate closeness between the two of them, a sort of trust that comes with placing your life in someone’s hands repeatedly. The history of Arthur’s life that Doug has heard about, from the source himself, but never at length. And Doug hasn’t pushed— he knows, better than most maybe, what it’s like to have skeletons in your closet and to want to keep them there. But that of course leaves the fact that Yuan has never had to push. He was already there, during all those moments, those years, in the city and the palace— and he probably knows him better because of it.

Huh.

“Huh,” Doug says out loud this time. “Wow.” Surprisingly, he feels calmer now that he can recognize what’s been going on inside him. The itch, that anxious ache, has almost eased and faded into dull, white noise. Not entirely gone, but less pressing now. “So… what do I do? Like, to stop feeling that way?”

“To stop feeling jealous?”

“Yeah. It’s like— Again, I don’t want to be an ass— uh, to be rude to Yuan. I just don’t know how to make my stupid brain act normal around him.”

At this, there’s a long pause.

After a minute, Leon breaks it. “I don’t know that jealousy is an emotion that’s easy to simply ‘stop’ feeling. However, you could spend time with him, and try to get to know him better. It may help.”

“Really?”

The guardian nods. “You may realize that there’s no need to worry, or the feeling might go away if you start to associate other, positive feelings with him.” He shrugs. “Such as friendship.” 

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Granny chimes in. “You could share a meal with him, try to find something in common you have with him, or even give him a welcome gift.”

“Huh.” Doug scratches at his chin, and tries not to wonder what he’s done to get to a point in life where he’s taking sincere advice from Leon. He guesses it’s not terribly unlikely— Leon’s wiser and more perceptive than he likes to let on, and of course so is Granny— but it still feels weird. “Yeah. Yeah! Okay. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna try."

Chapter Text

Something, Arthur thinks, is decidedly strange. 

He can’t quite put his finger on it, though.

The first instance begins that morning. They’ve had breakfast, and at one point Yuan slips back upstairs. Arthur follows and knocks politely on his door.

“It’s open,” Yuan calls out, and Arthur steps inside.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, long legs stretched out in front of him as he laces up one of his sturdier pairs of boots that reach all the way up to his knees. His hair is tied back in its usual tight ponytail at the base of his neck, and the long strands of it drape over his shoulder as he hunches forward.

Completely engrossed in his task he doesn’t glance up, but still says, “Hello, Arthur.”

This makes Arthur pause, smiling to himself. “How do you always know it’s me?”

“Well, first, I just saw you downstairs.” Yuan switches to lacing up his other shoe. “And second, I could see your shoes in my periphery. After all these years you’re still the only person I know that wears those.”

“They are very practical shoes.”

“Mhm,” Yuan deadpans, not sounding very convinced. Still, when he finishes with his laces he sits up and smiles that small, affable smile of his. “Either way, is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Ah, yes. I wanted to ask if you would be okay on your own today. I’m afraid I received a rather urgent letter from one of my clients this morning. Apparently if it isn’t handled immediately, all hell will break loose.” He pauses, for just a split second. Despite the fact that they’re both adults now, Arthur— who admittedly rarely swears to begin with— still feels a bit strange using strong language around the man who was basically his surrogate guardian-slash-protector-slash-older-brother, of sorts. But Yuan isn’t phased in the slightest. “I should be able to finish the work quickly enough,” Arthur continues, “but it will likely take me the better half of today, so I wanted to apologize for not being able to accompany you.”

“No worries,” Yuan replies easily, standing up and grabbing his leather satchel. He starts rifling through it, as if to check what’s inside of it. “I enjoy spending time with you, of course, but don’t feel as if you have to babysit me. I know your work is important.” At this the smile on his face grows, just a little, with a fond twinge to it. 

Arthur finds that he has to swallow around a small lump in his throat; they had talked about it last night at length, about what Arthur’s been doing in Selphia, and all the things that have changed for him since leaving the capital, as well as how proud Yuan apparently is of it all. It was one of the few things Arthur was nervous about, with Yuan’s visit: showing him why he left. To see if it was all worth it. 

But it was, it is, and Yuan seems to agree.

It still makes Arthur a bit emotional. He knew Yuan’s approval was important to him, but clearly he hadn’t realized just how much until this trip.

Then Yuan speaks again, snapping Arthur out of his reverie. “And, I’ve already made plans today.”

“Ah, did you?” He shouldn’t be surprised; despite it only being a handful of days since Yuan’s arrival, the residents here have taken to him like fish to water. Arthur smiles. “That’s wonderful.”

He’s about to ask with whom, but Yuan suddenly closes his satchel, takes one quick, systematic glance around the room, then nods to himself. “If that’s all, I should get going. Goodbye, Arthur. I’ll see you later in the day.”

“Ah— yes, enjoy. I’ll see you.”

Striding quickly to the door, Yuan still pauses to hold it open for Arthur. The knightly etiquette has never quite left him, it seems. Arthur nods at him in thanks before stepping out. Yuan, with his usual purposeful and long stride, is already making his way downstairs not a moment later.

Arthur’s left blinking at the staircase.

The second instance of strangeness happens at lunch.

Dutifully, Arthur spends the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in his natural habitat, which is to say: sitting at his desk and working. He does take a break at one point, largely because the client’s ledgers he’s reading are beginning to give him a rather nasty headache, and partly because he knows his kind, lovely, wonderful friends will threaten bodily harm on him if he forgets to eat a proper lunch again.

And that group of lovely, threatening friends now once again includes Yuan, who has always been particularly good at convincing Arthur to take care of himself— mostly through a very potent expression of mild disappointment that he’s mastered. 

Meg had used that same expression yesterday. He suspects she and Yuan may be swapping notes.

Setting down his quill and moving aside his stacks of parchment, Arthur stretches and lets his joints pop before properly standing up from his desk. He’s just about to start walking over towards the connecting door to the restaurant when he hears a knock on his office’s front door instead, and a moment later Xiao Pai is letting herself in.

“Oh.” She says, eyes widening as she takes in Arthur, mid-walk. “Is it a bad time for me to have caught you?”

“Not at all. It’s actually perfect— I was just taking a break. What can I help you with?”

“A break!” Her eyes crescent in amusement as she raises a hand to cover her giggles. “Now this is rare. Yuan must really be an important friend to have you take a break, yes?”

She says it so readily that it catches Arthur off guard. Not because it isn’t true, and not because he doesn’t expect his and Yuan’s long friendship to be very obvious to the town, but because… Well, Arthur’s not terribly sure, but he thinks he’s still not quite used to being read so easily, even if the citizens of Selphia have a penchant for getting right to the heart of a person. It’s something he loves, of course, but it’s also something he’s still familiarizing himself with, still fighting off the instinctual habit to put up a wall against. 

At this moment it means he’s not quite sure how to respond, so he just settles on the simple truth, with a small smile of his own. “Yes. He is.”

“That’s very nice. It’s been great meeting him. He and Mama had a lot to talk about the other day, you know! It turns out his hometown is one of Papa’s more frequent travel spots.”

“Is that so?” Arthur thinks back to what Yuan’s told him about his home and what Arthur’s learned about Yang Fan. “That does make sense. I suppose I never quite put that together.”

“Right? It’s a very fun coincidence, I think.”  

Arthur lets out a hum of agreement. Then there’s silence, as the two of them stand in front of each other. Xiao Pai raises a hand to fiddle with her hair, shining a warm gray in the light of his office, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Ah, so…” Arthur starts, trying to think of the most polite way to ask her why she came looking for him.

Thankfully she seems to be one step ahead of him. “Oh! Yes. I came over to give you this.” From one of her surprisingly deep pockets hidden somewhere in the layers of her clothes, Xiao Pai pulls out a parcel wrapped in string and paper, with a business card sticking out of it. “The tea you asked about! Actually it was Papa who was able to send it to me, once I wrote to him about your request.”

The smile grows on Arthur’s face as he takes the package from her, turning it over in his hands to inspect the card more closely. Just as he thought, it’s one of the more rare but reputable tea sellers outside of Norad. Arthur hasn’t managed to strike up a business relationship with them, but he’s certainly not lost hope yet. Though trying to form a partnership isn’t the express purpose of him acquiring this tea, he does hope this can help him in that endeavor.

“Thank you very much, Xiao Pai,” Arthur says earnestly as he looks back up from the package “I look forward to being able to drink this. And tell your father thank you for me as well.”

Her own smile is bright and cheery as she nods. “I definitely will! I am just thankful I didn’t lose that package on the way here, yes? Like, that a bird didn’t swoop out of the sky and pluck it straight from between my hands! These things happen, you know.”

Arthur chuckles. “I very much believe you.”

She lets out a responding chuckle of her own, though it’s considerably more wry than his is. Then she glances at the clock. “Oh! I should be going back to work now. I just wanted to give you that before it slipped out of my mind.”

“Thank you again.”
“Of course!” She waves as she turns back towards the door. “Goodbye, Arthur!”

With the parcel still held carefully between his hands, Arthur moves towards his desk and opens one of its many drawers. He sets the package inside carefully, and makes a mental note of it for later. Then he continues his original mission, and walks towards the restaurant.

Immediately he’s greeted by the usual boisterous and friendly sounds that he’s come to associate with Porcoline’s. It’s an hour or two past the usual lunch rush, so the dining room isn’t too busy— only a table or two occupied by tourists and a few others with locals. 

There’s one particular table that caches his, one of the ones set closer to Arthur’s office. At it sits Doug and Yuan, who are talking between themselves animatedly. 

Something odd stirs between Arthur’s ribs.

It’s not that the sight upsets him— actually, quite far from it. Though he’s mostly attributed it to the hectic nature of getting Yuan acquainted with the whole town within the first day and a half of his visit, a small part of Arthur has worried that he and Doug (arguably the two people in his life that know him the best, though in completely different ways) haven’t gotten along very well. So naturally, it catches him off guard to see the two of them, without any of Arthur’s intervention, laughing vibrantly with each other. 

Yuan is eating and giving Doug his rapt attention, and Doug is gesturing animatedly as he tells some kind of story, his smile pleasantly bright. As Doug finishes his sentence he throws his head back with laughter, which makes the fringe of his hair fall out of place and dance just above his eyes. Arthur has the urge to walk over and set it back into place, maybe even tuck the longer strands behind the tip of Doug’s pointed ears.

He ignores that urge, of course. That would be inappropriate. 

“They’ve been like this all lunch, you know.” Margaret pops up from behind Arthur’s shoulder, and he has to make a very active effort not to jump out of his skin. 

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah.” She moves to stand next to him, giving him a knowing smile at having caught him staring. Then she glances back over to the table. “I thought there was something off between them, but I must have been wrong. They’ve been laughing so loud they actually scared away some customers.” 

Arthur shoots her an apologetic look.

Meg waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t even worry about it. Actually, Porco loves it. He said it adds to the ‘splendiferous ambiance.’ His words, of course. You know how he is— he’d rather have a few, really happy customers than a lot of bored ones.”

At that, Arthur smiles. “Yes, well. I can see the merit in that.”

When he glances back over, it’s now Yuan  that’s speaking, surprisingly enthusiastic for his more reserved countenance. He must say something particularly funny, because Doug suddenly has to brace himself against the edge of the tables as he wheezes out laughter.

“I haven’t seen Yuan smile that big either,” Meg continues. “It’s nice.” She’s got a pleasant smile of her own on her face, eyes full of interest as she watches the pair.

“Yes,” Arthur replies, feeling a wave of that odd feeling from earlier. Something is strange. He raises his hand to adjust his glasses. “It’s uncommon for him, to be honest.”

Yuan is always attentive, always on guard and scanning his surroundings, so it’s rare that Arthur sees him so open like this, and so in the moment with one person. Even around Yuan’s friends and fellow knights at the capital, Arthur has rarely seen the man so… extroverted. He’s staring at Doug like he’s trying to see right through him, into his very core, and Arthur’s not sure what to make of it. 

He doesn’t have too much longer to dwell on it, since Doug notices Arthur and immediately waves him down. Doug’s cheeks are nearly as pink as his hair from mirth, and the grin on his face is glittering.

“Yo, Arthur! Over here!”

After giving a nod to Meg as goodbye, Arthur makes his way over to the table. He ignores the amused look that Yuan gives him; his former attendant has only just in the last day or two gotten used to addressing Arthur informally, especially in public. It’s clear Yuan’s not quite used to others doing it yet either, and apparently finds it endlessly funny.

“Hey man. Good to see you crawl out of your cave,” Doug grins, with a quick glance towards the office. In the lighting of the restaurant, his silver eyes shine warmly, like walking into a room with a steadily smoldering hearth after spending a long, cold day outside. “Yuan says you got sucked into your work today. Did you forget to eat again?”

Arthur glances to his left, the clock mounted on the wall ticking away. “I don’t think it’s quite so late to count it as me ‘missing’ lunch, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, you’re just in time. Wanna join us?”

He blinks. “Ah— I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Are you kidding? We’re both your friends. Come on, sit with us.”

It’s a little bit of a tight squeeze, pulling an empty chair up to this two-person table, but they manage to fit. A moment later Dylas comes by, and Arthur orders the new turnip dish that Porcoline has been working on.

“Are you a turnip lover too?” Doug asks, looking at Yuan but gesturing towards Arthur.

“I’m not a picky eater in general,” is Yuan’s reply. “I’ll eat anything put in front of me.”
“I mean, sure, eating it’s fine, but do you like it? Even a ‘royal knight' has preferences, right?” 

Arthur can see Yuan pause at Doug’s casual bluntness— his easy dismissal of titles and positions, cutting straight to who a person is as an individual instead. It’s the same thing that had caught Arthur off guard, when he and Doug had first met, and it’s also part of what made Arthur so endeared to him, as Doug easily batted away Arthur’s princely pleasantries and polite distance, becoming one of the closest and most important people in his life in the process.

“Well,” Yuan says, after thinking about it for a moment. “They are quite good for the body. But no, actually. I think they’re far too bitter, and taste like death.” Arthur chokes on his water, and Doug barks out a surprised laugh. Yuan adds, “I actually much prefer something softer and milder in my vegetables, such as squashes. They’re more versatile too.”

“You never said anything about this,” Arthur protests, finding himself a bit offended. He feels like he just found out his friend has had a secret, second set of arms tucked inside his clothes for his entire life. “I made you so many awful radish and rice dishes, in our youth. And you ate them all!”

Doug bursts out into yet another fit of laughter.

Yuan, for his part, looks like he’s trying to fight back some nausea at the memory, though there’s also a pinch of guilt in his brow. “Well… You went out of your way to sneak down to the kitchens and beg the chefs to show you how to cook… and you looked so proud…”

“Oh my gods—” Doug wheezes between his raucous laughter, “That is so cute— and so fucking funny— I feel like I’m gonna throw up— Hrrh— Wait, actually though—”

As Doug clutches his stomach and takes deep breaths, Arthur does two things: first, he feels his face flush red, though whether it’s from the embarrassing memory or the fact that Doug has, in some capacity, just called him ‘cute,’ is hard to tell. Second, he ignores the pointed look from Yuan that he can feel aimed directly at him. He’s not sure what Yuan wants to say with his eyes, but he feels like it’s only going to make him more flustered, and Arthur is the master at avoiding such things.

(Also, he knows the man well enough to know that Yuan will just stubbornly bring it up later, anyway, and Arthur would prefer whatever conversation that’s going to be to be had in private).

By the time Doug calms down and Yuan stops staring through Arthur’s skull, the blonde’s food arrives. He begins eating, and the conversation drifts towards more agreeable topics. Near the end of the meal, it comes up that Yuan’s plans this morning were, in fact, with Doug, and they had spent the better portion of the day together, even before lunch.

“Is that so?” Arthur asks. “I’m glad to see you two getting along.” And he means it, he truly does. But he also feels something stir in his chest again, awkward and unrefined, spurred on by Doug’s pearlescent grin and Yuan’s studying gaze.

“Yeah! Turns out we’ve got a lot in common. Like, Yuan appreciates the absolute beauty that’s rice-based dishes.”

The blue-haired man nods, sagely. “Rice is the superior grain choice.”

Doug throws his hands up. “Exactly! Thank you. And I found out he likes mining and gems and shit too, so I showed him some of the jewel sellers in town, then to Bado’s shop to browse weapons, then some good mining areas nearby. The Water Ruins are great this time of year.”

“It sounds like an enjoyably busy day,” Arthur replies, absently folding the napkin in his lap.

“Definitely! Or, uh, for me at least. I hope I haven’t just been dragging you around,” Doug glances at Yuan.

A small, genuine smile spreads on Yuan’s lips. “Not at all. I’ve enjoyed myself today.”

“Good! Good.” Doug looks satisfied with himself. It’s an endearing site. There’s an odd fluttering to the pulse Arthur’s veins, though he’s not completely sure why— probably because Doug looks so happy. Even before Arthur started his fruitless pining endeavor, he has always enjoyed seeing Doug happy.

“In that case,” Doug continues, now turning to look at Arthur. “I was actually thinking of taking Yuan back over to Bado’s. He said he’d give us a forging demonstration. Do you wanna, uh— Wanna join? You know, if you’re free.” Doug gets a little bashful, here. Arthur, unbidden, imagines it’s because of the idea of wanting to spend time alone with Yuan, but feeling obligated to invite Arthur, though whether it’s out of polite guilt or out of Arthur being their original mutual friend, he’s not sure. Either way, it’s unlike Doug to be so roundabout with his normally straightforward approach to life. His growing friendship with Yuan must truly be unique.

“Actually, I’m afraid I have to keep working,” Arthur declines, keeping his voice perfectly courteous. “It will likely take me a few more hours, but I should be done by dinner. My apologies.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem man! Do what you gotta do.”

“I’ll see you at dinner then?” Yuan asks, getting up from the table. Arthur and Doug stand as well.

“Yes, of course.”

Yuan nods. Then the three of them go about paying, and saying their goodbyes— Arthur back towards his office, and Doug and Yuan towards the front door. Porcoline waves a bright and happy farewell as the pair leave, and even Dylas gives an awkward little salute.

Staring at their retreating figures, their height difference quite pronounced like this, Arthur is left blinking at Yuan’s departure for the second time today. The double doors close behind them, and Arthur tries to ignore the uneasy feeling that sits somewhere inside him, in the spot that might be his heart.

Chapter Text

When making plans for this trip, Arthur and Yuan had agreed that Yuan would stay for two weeks. As Yuan tells him, after having been bestowed an award for outstanding service in the knight’s guard, he had been granted a rather lengthy time off. Arthur is glad that the man is able to spend a decent amount of that time here.

Sadly, Arthur can’t quite take the same amount of time off from his own work. He does make a determined effort to work a lot less (moving schedules when he can, and having worked ahead before Yuan’s arrival to account for this), but there is still always something to be done, on most days. Still, most everyone in Selphia has noticed that the bespectacled workaholic now only works four hour days at most, and even takes more than one full day off within the two week time span.

Arthur gets teased for it, endlessly. He finds he doesn’t mind too much.

And, as much as he sincerely does love the work that he does, he finds this whole ‘working less’ thing to be rather refreshing, if anything simply because of its novelty. Today, about a week since Yuan’s initial arrival, is one such day where Arthur is done by just a little before noon.

Thankfully, Yuan continues to easily find ways to keep himself occupied whenever Arthur can’t spend time with him. Sometimes it’s simply resting in his room or reading a book by the lake, but often Arthur’s noticed that Yuan’s found ways to incorporate himself into the daily happenings of Selphia. He hears about it, whether from Yuan himself or from local residents telling Arthur what a wonderful friend he has. Serving as a model for one of Dolce’s sewing projects, helping Lest rescue a baby chipsqueek out of a precarious tree branch, and even patrolling the city with Forte (a task she rarely allows others to join in on, due to its dangers, though apparently Yuan also being a knight helps), Yuan seems to find ways to try out a large variety of what daily activities Selphia has to offer.

It does, however, make the blue-haired man a little bit hard to track down sometimes, when Arthur wants to find him.

He doesn’t mind. It’s infinitely worth it, to not only see the Selphians he has come to love look so happy, but to see his childhood best friend particularly sociable and cheery, even if it’s still in his own more muted way.

On one of those very missions to find Yuan now, Arthur starts off with the restaurant. He doesn’t think he’ll find him there, but he does think he’ll find someone who knows where Yuan is. It is a small town, after all.

Thankfully, Arthur immediately spots Kiel leaning against the front counter just before the kitchen, talking cheerfully with a rather shy-looking Dylas. 

That’s interesting.

“Good morning,” Arthur says, walking up to them once there seems to be something of a lull in the conversation.

“Good morning!”

“Morning.”

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” Arthur gestures lightly between the two of them.

Kiel shakes his head. “Oh, not at all!” A pause. “Actually, do you mind if I ask your opinion on something, Arthur?” Blushing deeper, Dylas makes something of a groaning noise, to which Kiel adds, “What? He does so much trade, he must know a lot about these things. I think his opinion will be really helpful.”

“I’d be happy to help, if I’m able,” is Arthur's reply.

Dylas looks between the two of them, then nods. “Fine. Yes. Please.”

Arthur then glances over at Kiel, since it’s clear Dylas isn’t going to expand on whatever his current problem is any further.

“So, in a few weeks it’s Lest’s birthday, right? Dylas is secretly really thoughtful—” Kiel gets a mumbled ‘hey!’ in response to that, which he ignores, “So he’s already thinking about what to get him as a gift this year. It’s important, since it’s his first birthday since they got married.”

Arthur nods. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah! So we’ve narrowed down a list of ideas of things that would feel special, and so far we’ve got: a teleporting floating field system so he can stack farmland on top of farmland, a home-cooked meal, a wooly costume, or a new sword.”

Arthur blinks.

Elbows now on the counter, Dylas sinks his face into his hands and groans again. “See? I told you those were all ridiculous or too boring. This is never gonna work.”

Vaguely, Arthur hears Dylas miserably mumble something like ‘he’s gonna divorce me,’ but Arthur can’t quite make it out in full clarity over the sound of Kiel’s loud words of encouragement that he says while rubbing a hand over Dylas’ broad back.

“Hey, don’t worry! We’ll figure something out! Also Lest isn’t even the type to care too much about gifts. Whatever you get him will be perfect.”

“Kiel is right, of course,” Arthur adds sympathetically. “If your relationship was the kind that depended on a single gift, then I don’t know if the two of you would be married in the first place. Gifts can be lovely tokens of affection, but they’re hardly ever a dealbreaker. There’s no need to worry.”

“Yeah! Plus, we haven’t even heard what Arthur has to say. What do you think, Arthur? I’m leaning towards the floating field.”

“Is that…” Arthur moves a hand up to fidget with his glasses, “technically possible? Have you found a way to make a floating field? If so that would be a case of engineering marvel.”

“Oh…” Kiel wilts a little. “No, we haven’t but… I read about these giant dragons that correspond to the seasons and have farms on their backs! I think Dylas can find one of those.”

“Within the next month?”

A pause again. “Hm. Maybe not. What about those other options?”

Where Kiel looks at Arthur with an eager curiosity, Dylas looks at him a little helplessly.

“Well,” Arthur’s words are slow and measured as he carefully considers his response. “Personally, I have a bias towards something as adorable as the wooly costume, of course. I even know a saleswoman who can— ahem, either way, however, I don’t know how much that’s Lest’s style. Or Dylas’, for that matter.” 

“Yeah,” Dylas mutters. “But Lest has a dozen swords, and I cook for him all the time. Neither of those feel special enough, I guess.”

“Well… I believe anything can be special, if you put in the effort to make it so. Lest might have many weapons, but how many does he have commissioned and designed by you, personally?”

“That’s a good point!” Kiel chimes in, as he smacks his fist to his palm. “And it’s a perfect gift for someone who loves weaponry like Lest does. Actually, I’m pretty sure I overheard him the other day talking with my sister about needing to overhaul his collection.”

“Plus if you work together with Bado, I believe you could make him something very suitable. You could even pair it with a meal of all of his favorite foods, like you did for your proposal. A meal can be just as much about the effort and the company as it can be about the food.”

“Yeah, that could…” Dylas nods, eyes focusing on some unseen point on the counter as the gears clearly turn in his head, already setting the plan into motion. “That could work. Maybe. Right? Yeah.”

Pacing the floor behind the counter, Dylas crosses his arms and starts mumbling to himself. He’s immediately lost in his own little world, until Porcoline calls out from the back of the kitchen.

“Oh, shit. Comin’ Porco!” He glances at the pair of blondes and gives an awkward but grateful bow of his head. “Uh. Thank you both. A lot. I’ll cook you something to, uh, say thanks properly. Okay. Bye.” Pivoting on his heel, he strides into the kitchen and out of sight.

Kiel and Arthur share a look, and then immediately both chuckle.

“He’s come really far, hasn’t he?” Kiel asks.

Arthur can’t help but agree. “He has.”

“So, did you need anything from us? Sorry, you came over and then we got you distracted with the whole Lest talk!”

“No need to worry. Actually, I was simply going to ask if you’d seen or heard of where Yuan is, today. I finished my work earlier than expected, and he promised me he’d give a chance at riding the airship while I’m piloting it.”

“Oh! That’s very exciting. Hm… I think last I heard, he and Doug were dueling to the death over some of Lest’s pumpkins?”

“What?!” Arthur’s eyes go as round as saucers, body immediately tensing.

Kiel nods. “Just a rumor though! Either way, you’re probably good checking out the castle farms.”

“I— yes—” Flustered, partly at the bewildering news and partly at Kiel’s nonchalance, Arthur finds himself in a rare moment of stumbling for words. “Yes, well, I’ll be going to. Check on that then. Thank you, Kiel.”

“Yup!” Kiel waves, as Arthur hurriedly turns to leave. “Have fun!”

Picking his way through the back entrance trail, Arthur is at the farm in record time. Porco’s restaurant has never been too far from Lest’s fields, of course, but the threat of the potential death of Arthur’s two closest friends puts a certain hurry in his step, even if he doesn’t completely believe the absurdity of what he’s just been told.

Thankfully, he finds no murders happening. Yuan and Doug are, however, in fact facing each other with their weapons in hand, and both are squared in a position that’s clearly readying for a fight. But neither seem terribly aggressive, so much as just competitive. The fact that Lest and Forte are standing a short distance away, panting and leaning heavily against the walls of one of Lest’s monster barns but also watching with keen interest, makes Arthur think that clearly there’s no kind of ill will here.

Honestly, it seems like they’re sparring.

Lest notices Arthur first, waving him over as Arthur slows his hurried pace down into an easy jog until he’s at both of their sides. 

“Good morning, Arthur!” Though Lest’s voice is no less pleasant than it normally is, he does keep the volume quiet; by the way he glances back over at the pair further away on the field, Arthur thinks it’s on purpose to not disturb them.

“Good morning,” Forte says as well, a small, if focused, smile on her face. “You came just in time to watch, if you’d like. Those two are up next.”

“Are they…?” Arthur starts, unsure of how to phrase the question.

Lest, understanding like he always seems to, nods. “Sparring, yup! I don’t quite know how it happened, but I saw them earlier talking about wanting to, then suggested the field as a good spot, and then Forte came by, so we all started taking turns, and here we are. They’ve already gone twice. This is the tie breaker.”

“That makes much more sense.” He can feel their questioning looks on him, so Arthur turns to Forte, and is unable to help the amusement in his voice, now that he knows there’s no need to panic. “Your brother said he heard they were dueling to the death over pumpkins.”

“What? Kiel!” Her face goes bright red, and she raises up a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. It’s not on purpose on his part, but I’ll have another talk with him about his rumors…”

Arthur’s about to say that there’s really no need, when he’s cut off by a loud call.

“Oy! Arthur!” Doug is waving brightly, then immediately sheathing the short sword that’s in his other hand. 

Similarly, Yuan puts away his spear, and then they both walk over.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Doug continues, as he gets close to them. Forte hands him a towel, which he uses to clean off the sweat gathering on his brow. His face is flushed red with exertion, though clearly not as much as Lest and Forte, who must have just finished their own match.

“I only just arrived. I finished my work early, and heard Yuan was here.”

“Ah, is it time for the airship?” Yuan has a somewhat queasy, pinched look on his face as he asks. He had never had any trouble with airships, until he heard the flight into Selphia that Arthur was supposed to be on was attacked by bandits. The man has, extremely stubbornly, never let that years-old fact go since. “Sorry Doug, I’m afraid our tie-breaker will have to wait.”

“Oh, yeah. No worries, dude.” Despite his nonchalant words, there is a marked disappointment on Doug’s features.

They really must be getting along, for Doug to look so disappointed, Arthur thinks.

“There’s no rush, you know.” A little proudly, perhaps a tiny bit smugly, if one didn’t know better, Arthur adds, “I do have a permit to fly at night, as well.” At this Yuan glares a little at him, but Arthur goes on to say, “But either way, it’s barely noon, so we have plenty of time. Plus, I would hate to interrupt. Please, continue your sparring and the airship can wait until later, or even tomorrow.”
“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Actually, if you two don’t mind, I’d be curious to watch.”

From what he’s learned from seeing the two of them fight, albeit separately, their fighting styles are quite different. He’s sincerely interested. 

Neither of them seem to mind the request. 

Actually, they look re-ignited in their energy, both confident and competitive though in their own ways— Doug, like an open, bright flame, and Yuan, less openly expressive but just as passionate.

“That’s great,” Lest says as he takes the towels back from the two of them. “I’d love to see who wins the tie-breaker. You guys were pretty really close, each time.”

“And you both fight in very different styles,” Forte chimes in, unknowingly echoing Arthur’s earlier thought. Her eyes gleam with interest, in the particular way that they do when it comes to these things. “I would also love a chance to observe it again.”

“Works for me!” Doug agrees.

“Very well.” A ghost of a grin tugs at one end of Yuan’s lips. “After you.” He gestures towards the empty part of the field that the two of them had been standing in before.

To Arthur’s surprise, as they start making their way towards the spot, Doug suddenly turns around and walks backwards so he’s facing the trio. He makes eye contact with Arthur, shoots a friendly wink, and calls out, “Root for me! Okay?”

Down to the very edges of his collarbone, Arthur feels himself flush bright red. He clears his throat and turns away from the prying eyes of Lest and Forte, hoping he can blame the color on the sun— and though he can’t see Yuan’s expression, out of the corner of his eye he can see the tell-tale sign of the man’s shoulders shaking with barely-restrained laughter. 

Thankfully, Arthur doesn’t have to find a way to respond to that without completely embarrassing himself.

The pair pause to stand a few feet apart from each other, pull out their weapons, and take their starting stances. Both of them spend a minute eyeing each other, clearly neither quite ready to take the first strike. 

Arthur takes the chance to study their weapons. He recognizes Doug’s as the trusty dwarven-style shortsword that Lest made for him some time ago, that Doug carries on him regularly. He recognizes Yuan’s, on the other hand, as the lighter, more compact and manageable version of his preferred weapon— what the man calls his ‘travel’ weapon, since most places don’t appreciate the nearly seven-and-a-half-foot double-sided spear that Yuan carries with him while on official knight’s duty. Still, his fighting style with it usually remains rather similar, despite the adjustments for the difference in dimensions— fast and fluid, but with heavy swings that almost replicate that of a long-sword.

However, Arthur hasn’t actually seen Yuan’s fighting style in a few years. He wonders how it’s changed since, and how it faces up against Doug’s.

Though it’s still not the season for it to be overwhelmingly hot, the sun bears down on them from where it sits high in the sky. For a long moment it’s quiet, except for the still-recovering heavy breathing from Lest and Forte next to him, and the gentle sound of foliage rustling in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps. Everyone stands with baited breath, and Arthur thinks that, from within the palace, he might even see Venti’s large head peeking through one of the windows.

Then, with the sunlight glinting off of its blade, Doug twirls his shortsword around his hand while dashing in for a strike. He goes for Yuan’s shoulder with a slash, on the opposite arm of where Yuan’s bearing most of his spear’s weight; Yuan easily parries the strike with the long reach of his weapon, but a second later Doug is using his shorter height to his advantage by dropping down and aiming another swing at Yuan’s legs. The second strike is too fast for Yuan’s heavier blade to swing around again to parry; however, Yuan does use the weight of his own slow swing as leverage to help throw himself into a backflip, jumping out of the way of Doug’s strike just in time. Yuan’s barely hit the ground before he’s running back into melee range to stab at Doug multiple times in succession.

“You’re a fast fucker, huh?” Doug asks while he dodges left and right, mostly using his body, instead of his sword, to avoid the strikes. He’s got a slightly wild grin on his lips that Arthur can see even from this distance.

“It helps to have long legs,” Yuan replies, even managing to shrug nonchalantly as he twirls his spear around him before bearing it down on Doug.

“Woah— hey! Don’t call me short.” Doug just manages to catch one edge of Yuan’s hooked spear tips and uses the leverage of his body to shove it to the right while side-stepping to the left himself. Yuan immediately thrusts out again, then pulls the weapon back towards himself to try and catch Doug with that same hooked tip on the way back.

“Is it okay that they’re using real weapons?” Arthur asks quietly, empathizing with Lest’s choice to whisper earlier. It feels wrong, somehow, to let his voice carry throughout the field, lest it interrupt the intensity of the match.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I suggested training weapons,” Lest says with a bit of a ‘ what can you do?’ kind of shrug, “but no one listened to me. Well, Forte did,” he acquiesces, as the blonde knight begins to open her mouth, “but those two wanted real weapons. They’re not going for any fatal blows, and we do have healing magic, so I think it’ll be fine.” The color of his gaze is a honeyed kind of lavender, as he smiles knowingly at Arthur. “Don’t worry. They won’t get hurt.” At that exact moment one of them grunts loudly in exertion, so Lest adds with a wince, “Not badly, at least.”

Forte nods beside the acting prince. Arthur moves his eyes back to the fight, where Doug and Yuan have found themselves locked in close range at a standstill. Rather relevantly, Doug calls out, “Hey Lest! Forte! If we use some magic, will you heal us after in case any shit goes wrong?”

“Huh? I mean, yeah, but be careful—!” Lest calls out.

“Please be—” Forte says at the same time.
“Great!” Smiling brightly, Doug uses his freehand to summon a small ball of flame. To his defense, he doesn’t aim it directly at Yuan, but rather just to the side of his head. It’s definitely close enough to put some heat on Yuan, but not at all enough to be explicitly dangerous. (Somewhat. The line is a thin one).

Every member of the small audience lets out some noise of surprise. Yuan, however, as the actual recipient of the move, doesn’t. Instead, with a surprisingly vibrant and adrenaline-filled look to his eyes he smiles, as he hops to the right to avoid the fire. 

“Is that so? This will be interesting, then.” Yuan backs up a few paces, posture still squared against Doug, who shoots him a watchful look. Then the taller man takes a running leap at Doug, managing to gather a surprising amount of distance in the air with his long limbs and sprightly movements. 

Doug moves to brace himself against the aerial strike, planting his feet and putting his sword perpendicularly above his head, but then Yuan’s landing falls short, striking the ground a foot or two in front of Doug instead. One end of the spear’s blade buries itself deep into the farm’s soil, and as Doug is reeling from the unexpected miss, a circle of electricity crackles around the pair. Similar to Doug’s fire, Yuan’s electricity isn’t centered under Doug, but rather behind him— not meant to directly hurt him, but just to startle him into moving closer.

It works, as Doug lets out a yelp and instinctively rolls forward to avoid the crackling arcs that emit from the rune circle on the ground. Then, just as Doug is kneeling at the end of his roll and is about to hop up, Yuan points his spear to the dwarf’s throat, signaling the end of the match.

“And, done!” Forte calls out with authority. “The match is set. The winner is Yuan.”

Doug is breathing heavily, making the tip of the spear just barely hover near his Adam's apple. Yuan holds the weapon for a second longer, then puts it away by strapping it into the sling across his back. He holds out a hand for Doug, who takes it and stands. He sheaths his own blade before wiping the dirt off his knees.

Lest and Forte soon start walking towards them, towels and suddenly procured glasses of water in hand. Arthur follows, cloak nearly swirling around him with the eagerness of his steps.

“Good job, man!” Doug is saying with a sincere smile. “I think I gave you a good run for your money, but you definitely got me there. But seriously, where’d you learn to fight like that? That can’t just be from the castle.”

“Ah…” Yuan hesitates for a moment, and it’s only because Arthur knows him so well that he can see the man’s walls come up, at the accidentally slightly touchy subject. Yuan then glances over at Arthur, studying him for a second, before turning back. He must have seen something in Arthur’s eyes, though Arthur’s not sure what, because surprisingly, Yuan elaborates. “In truth, I originally learned amongst elves, in my youth.”

“Woah, elves? Really?” 

“That does make sense with your technique,” Forte says, holding her chin in her hand as she nods to herself.

“Yes. It may not look like it,” Yuan draws aside his hair, briefly showing off his rounded ears, “but I’m actually a half-elf myself.” 

“How did you end up in Norad?” Lest asks. “Uh, if that’s not a rude question. Um, if it is, don’t worry.”

“It’s… a very long story. Not one suited for being told while standing out in the sun. Perhaps another time.” 

Though Arthur could note everyone’s eyes gleam with interest— Forte’s most of all, likely due to her renewed interest in Elven culture lately— no one pushes. 

“Another time,” Lest echoes amicably, a smile on his face that seems to say ‘Only if you feel comfortable.’ The other two nod easily. 

Arthur, rather unexpectedly, feels a bubble of pride swell up in his chest, and he’s not even sure at what. The politeness of his friends? That feels a bit condescending. Yuan cracking the door open to his tightly guarded past? That feels rather hypocritical, considering even Arthur hasn’t shared the extent of his past to anyone here. The closest he’s come was by exceedingly vaguely mentioning his mother to Doug, when the two had opened a bottle of wine gifted by one of Arthur’s clients, and then spent a long night in Arthur’s office simply talking; through the dizziness that comes from both the spirits and Doug’s company, they chatted about bits of nothing and everything, including more sensitive topics than he would have expected either of them to.

No, Arthur’s not sure what specifically he’s proud of, but the feeling is there regardless. It floats around his chest like dancing flames, warm and soothing and fueling life. 

As the five of them continue to chat, radiant sun above them and rich soil beneath them, Arthur thinks he might just be proud of how happy the moment feels, with the Selphian breeze blowing around them. 

As it tends to do, the weather suddenly turned from breezy, sunny days underneath blue skies to the heavy deluge of spring showers pouring and pouring beneath a sheet of gray. Margaret had joked this morning that the stretch of good weather that had followed Yuan from the capital had run out. Yuan had joked back that the true bad luck was it not running out faster, so that it could have prevented Arthur from giving Yuan an airship ride yesterday evening. Arthur had laughed, and then had very politely ‘accidentally’ flicked just a tiny bit of strawberry jam onto Yuan’s cheek from across the table.

Now, with a bit of nostalgia, the two of them are nestled inside Arthur’s office.

It turns out Yuan had made no plans today, though the rain would have interrupted them anyway. Arthur, in a rare moment, didn’t have any work that was absolutely pressing, but he did always have some kind of backlog he could keep working on. So, in an echo of how they had spent a considerable chunk of their youths, Arthur sat at his desk with stacks of parchment splayed out around him, and Yuan spread out his long limbs on the couch nearby with a book in his hand (though Yuan had never quite shared Arthur’s enjoyment of fiction, Leon had apparently lent him one of his books on ancient warfare techniques).

That’s how they spend most of the peaceful morning, with the sounds of shifting paper and rain pattering around them. It really does, for just a moment, feel like they’re back at Arthur’s study in the capital, on one of the days that he could focus on studying instead of having to deal with other nobility. 

Arthur’s reminiscing is cut short by a sudden pang across his lower back, a familiar ache that lets him know that he’s been sitting for too long. 

Setting aside his reports to gain some semblance of order on his desk, Arthur stands and does a few stretches to ease out the feelings of numbness that arch throughout his spine and limbs. 

Over the top of his book, Yuan’s deep green eyes peer at him. “Time for tea?” He places a bookmark between the pages and then closes his book, setting it on the counter as he starts to stand. His joints, noticeably, don’t make loud crackling or popping sounds, and if asked Yuan would probably say that Arthur needs to do more physical exercise. Though he knows the man is right, the blonde would choose to ignore him.

“Yes, but please don’t get up,” Arthur says, quickly moving from around his desk. “You’re the guest here, remember? Allow me to make the tea.” 

He looks hesitant for a moment, but Yuan does sink back onto the couch, though this time sitting upright instead of sprawled.

“Is White Peony still your favorite?” Arthur asks over his shoulder, as he pulls out the parcel from inside his desk drawer before moving to boil the water in the tiny kitchenette he had installed in the back of the room for exactly this kind of purpose. 

He can hear the slight smile in Yuan’s calm voice. “Yes.”

“Wonderful. Xiao Pai was able to procure me a bag of some from a renowned tea trader that her father knows.” 

“Ah, yes,” Yuan hums. “I remember talking to her about her father.”

A few minutes later Arthur comes back with a ceramic tea set and begins to pour for the two of them. He knows neither of them take any kind of sweetener in their tea, so he doesn’t bring out the usual honey and sugar that he would. The two of them sit on opposite couches, facing each other with the ornate coffee table between them and rug below them. For a moment Arthur closes his eyes and allows himself to focus on relishing the hot, full-flavored tea as he takes a sip.

This, too, reminds him of the past: the soothing heat of the tea, the quiet warmth of Yuan’s presence, and the smell of books and rain. Arthur’s not sure what’s put him in such a nostalgic mood, but he imagines it has to do with being in such regular contact again with Yuan.

“This feels quite reminiscent, doesn’t it?” Yuan asks, verbalizing Arthur’s thoughts with an unsurprising amount of accuracy.

“Yes, it does. I was just thinking about that, actually.”

Yuan smiles around his cup, looking a bit nostalgic himself. As he takes a sip of his tea his eyes are fixed somewhere just past Arthur’s shoulder, gaze distant as he probably flips through the same kind of memories Arthur had had earlier.

“You know,” Yuan continues, once he moves his eyes back to Arthur. “I never told you this, since it wasn’t proper of my station to do so, but the other knights were completely bewildered by you.”

Caught off guard, Arthur blinks. “Is that so?” 

He sits forward, curiosity sparked completely— having always felt restricted by what being a prince meant in social standing, he can’t help but relish an opportunity like this to hear about the things that could not have been said around him at the time.

Yuan must notice, because he chuckles. “Yes. Apparently most of your siblings and other members of your family had the other knights either constantly attending them to stuffy gatherings among other nobility, or had them running circles in town as they tried to evade their guards to go do something elicit. They couldn’t understand why you liked staying in your study so much. Nor how when you did go into town, you mostly just liked to look around quietly.”

Arthur simply shrugs. “I don’t know what to say. I was simply… curious. I liked to learn from books, or from observing people around me.”

Again, Yuan smiles. “That’s what I tried to tell them. But still, most of the other guards and attendants were either jealous that I got to ‘sit around’ all day as you studied, or said I must have been bored out of my mind. What I didn’t tell them, of course, is how often I had to come up with an excuse to get you out of social settings you didn’t want to be in. Or that I had definitely caught you once or twice trying to sneak out your window at night.”

Arthur has to hold back a snort. “That was only once. And I had a good reason.” 

“Mmm,” Yuan replies with a passive hum. He’s quite good at that: neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I remember. The traveling night market with rare creatures.”

Arthur can feel his cheeks grow pink at the memory, and adjusts where his glasses had fallen down his nose. “I had only ever heard of a King Wooly, at that point, and I knew Father wouldn’t have allowed me to go. You could understand why I was excited, albeit a little desperate.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, when I saw you hanging out your window, clinging on to a rope made of your own clothes.” Yuan’s reply is pointed, but not unkind— it’s clearly something he can laugh at now, but will still hold against Arthur for the rest of time, it seems. “Your prince clothes, might I point out. It was not exactly made of the kind of material known for prioritizing durability.”

“Yes, well,” is Arthur’s non-answer, taking another sip of his drink to hide his blush. And then after a pause they both start laughing, a lighthearted sound shared between them.

He expects for them both to sit in comfortable silence like this for some time, but Yuan speaks soon after, managing to catch Arthur off guard yet again.

“You seem happy, you know.”

Arthur blinks down into the reflection of his tea, then up at Yuan. “Hm?”

“Here, in Selphia I mean. It’s obvious from your letters, of course, and I expected it but… I must admit, it still surprised me, to see how happy you really are, Arthur.” 

Though Arthur’s chest clenches in a brief, illogical moment of anxiety, there is no jealousy, or annoyance, or even wistfulness that he can see in Yuan’s face, or gleam from his voice. Just a real sincerity, and what Arthur thinks might be a wave of relief.

“Thank you.” Arthur has to try to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. “It— yes, I am. Happy.”

“And I can see how the citizens here help with that happiness. Immensely.”

“Yes, they do.”

Yuan’s smile turns a little knowing, and Arthur swears he hears the man mumble something under his breath, but he can’t quite make it out.

“Sorry, come again?”

“Hm?” Yuan waves a hand. “Oh, nothing.” 

After a moment, Arthur asks, “And you? Are you… happy, at the capital? At the castle?”

Yuan takes a moment to regard him, eyes seemingly searching for something before he lets out another chuckle. “There’s no need to look guilty.” Arthur flushes a little again, at being so easily read. He’s not used to it. To his relief, though, Yuan then goes on to say, “Yes, I am. I’ll admit, I do miss your presence now and again. But in the last few years I’ve taken up training the new members of the guard, and it’s brought an honest sense of pride in my life. Frustration too, of course.” A wry look comes across his face then, undoubtedly thinking about one of the many stories he’s written to Arthur about, such as the cadet named something like Richie that nearly stabbed himself on his first day with a real weapon. “But mostly pride.”

Arthur’s about to ask about one of those stories, wanting to hear the tale again in person, but he’s cut off by the harsh sound of knocks on the front door. He and Yuan share a bewildered look that communicates something like ‘Who in the world would come out in this weather?’ before Arthur quickly hurries his way over.

In his rush to alleviate the person on the other side from this onslaught of weather— not quite a typhoon, but not too far from it either— he doesn’t check the peephole, so the sight in front of him is a complete surprise: Doug, soaked from nearly head to toe, holding a giant brown bag in his hands that he seems to be trying to shield with his body, despite the fact that it’s taller than he is.

“Hey, Arthur.” Doug says with a casual, if self-deprecating, smile. “Can I come in?”

“I— yes, of course, please do.” Arthur steps aside hurriedly. 

Doug steps inside much more slowly, not going much farther than a step before he pauses and looks down at the small puddle already gathering on the floor. “Shit— sorry, I don’t wanna get your floor wet. Especially your carpet.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Arthur sighs, having to fight the urge to pat Doug’s head endearingly, the pinkish-red hair plastered wetly to his face making him look all too cute. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“Thanks!” Doug calls back, as Arthur makes his way towards the stairs. “Oh, hey Yuan! I was actually looking for you. Figured you’d be here.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Yuan says, which makes Arthur blink as he makes his way onto the second floor, just out of listening range. 

When had they talked about Doug?

Going quickly about his task, Arthur grabs one towel for Doug, and another for the floor. He returns downstairs to the two of them making easy conversation, though Doug is still rooted to that same wet spot on the floor.

“...talked to Bado about— oh, thanks Arthur.” Doug says with a slightly bashful smile as he takes the towel from Arthur. He props the bag, and whatever long, thin object is inside of it, against the wall and goes about cleaning himself up. Meanwhile, Arthur sets the other towel over the puddle on the floor.  

“So I was talking to Bado about making it,” Doug continues as he dries himself off, not pausing when the towel covers his head completely nor when he shakes it aggressively around his hair, “‘cause it turns out you’re kinda fucking tall for the average weapon, and that two-sided spear you like to use isn’t so common. But he said it was no problem— seriously, don’t let that guy’s work ethic fool you, he’s actually really good at his stuff— and so I gave him what I found and… well, I shouldn’t ruin it. Let me just—”

Arthur is still reeling from the conversation when a mostly dry (or at least, as dry as he’s going to get without laying his clothes by a fire) Doug grabs the bag off the wall, gives it a quick pat down too, and then walks over to where Yuan’s still sitting on the couch. Arthur sits too, back on the other couch like before, and silently leaves enough room for Doug. Whether consciously or not Doug seems to notice, because after he hands over the large item to Yuan he moves back to sit in that very spot. However he stops right before landing on the cushion, to shoot Arthur a look.

“Oh, is it okay if I…?” He gestures to his damp clothes and then to the couch.

“It’s no problem.”

Doug then nods, and sits. He looks like he wants to say something else, but then his attention is focused back on Yuan at the sound of the rustling fabric. “Oh, careful with the— yeah.”

Yuan reaches his hand deep inside the bag, and then has to maneuver the long object out of it carefully. It turns out to be a double-sided spear, just like Doug said, though it's different from the one’s Yuan normally wields. It’s thin and long, yes, but instead of the spearheads ending in hooked points, they are instead long and narrow, almost like the blade of a sword. They’re much longer than that of the average spear Arthur sees, though there’s still plenty of room in the center pole for its wielder to maneuver their hands as needed, bound carefully in leather. Most impressive, however, is that in the gilded base that connects each spearhead to the pole is an inlaid emerald. 

Yuan’s favorite gemstone.

When did Doug learn that?

“I know you’re mostly used to elven and human weapons, so I thought you might like a dwarven one too,” Doug says. “I’m honestly not very good with this kind of crafting and forging stuff, even for a dwarf, but like I was saying, Bado was able to help me out a ton. Uh, not with the gems though. I got those at that spot I told you about the other day.”

A long moment passes in silence, as Yuan inspects the weapon with intense interest. Arthur can feel Doug shifting beside him a little nervously, though the blonde feels a bit too dizzy, suddenly, to fully focus on that. He’s not sure why; the pulse roars in his ears, and for a moment his vision has difficulty focusing on anything else other than the bright, beautiful green of those two emeralds, clearly chosen by Doug very carefully. They match the shade of Yuan’s eyes so perfectly that Doug must have done it on purpose— yes, he must have put extra effort to select and polish them.

Finally Yuan speaks up, and when he can manage to tear his gaze away from the spear, he’s giving Doug a touched, grateful look. “Doug… this is an extremely thoughtful gift. I don’t know what to say, or how to repay you—”

“Woah, hey,” Doug waves his hands in front of him. “No need to worry about ‘repaying’ or whatever. Just a ‘thanks’ is fine. If you like it, obviously. If not you can like, punch me, or something.”

And there it is: the easy dismissal of the strict social norms that Arthur and Yuan grew up in, the extremely kind gesture that Doug passes off as if it's no more than a whim, something anyone else would do, when that’s far from the truth. And there’s that boyish, slightly nervous tilt to his smile, as well as the humor that he uses to try and put others at ease. It’s what’s made Arthur, slowly but surely, fall in love with him. His heart hurts.

“Of course I like it,” Yuan replies, with conviction. “It’s beautifully crafted, and of very high quality.” He pauses, and in a rare moment allows a large, achingly soft smile to split over his features. “Thank you.”

Doug smiles back, toothy. “‘Course dude. Glad you like it.”

It’s strange, Arthur thinks, to be watching over this moment. He feels like he’s floating somewhere near the ceiling and watching down from above, as the two people who know him best smile beautifully at each other and exchange kind words, a thoughtful gift, memories of the meaningful moments they’ve already shared together in the week and a half or so that Yuan has been here. It’s strangely intimate, this echo of love and care that Arthur feels for them both, albeit in different ways, now aimed at each other. 

He feels like he’s intruding.

Chapter Text

The rain hasn’t let up since it first started pouring a handful of days ago. 

Doug’s not sure whether someone in Selphia pissed off a weather god or something, or if it’s just spring being its usual temperamental season, but either way the days stay wet and gray.

Personally? He doesn’t mind it one bit.

Doug actually likes the rain a decent amount. It’s a nice excuse to stay indoors and do fuck all, which he will never say no to, honestly, but he feels a bit bad that the stretch of stormy weather is book-ending Yuan’s visit. He knows that Selphia has plenty of indoor activities to offer, but he still hopes that it doesn’t ruin any plans that Yuan and Arthur might have been leaving for the end of his visit.

Well, at least it doesn’t seem to bother them too much— the pair looked very peaceful when Doug visited them the other day, curled up on the couch and drinking some kind of white tea. It made Doug feel fond, in a kind of weird and melancholy way; they looked so comfortable, so very at home, that he felt nostalgic for memories that were never his in the first place. They must have spent a lot of time together like that in the past, he realized. The funny thing is, it doesn’t even make him think of his childhood, of the home he can never really go back to. It actually made him think of something more like… a home he could have maybe had, one day, if the stars had aligned, and a certain glasses-obsessed blonde dork felt for Doug the way Doug feels for him. A home that, in the end, was also never really his in the first place. He mourned its loss anyway though, in the panging ache of his heart, because apparently emotions and love absolutely fucking refuse to listen to logic.

But Doug’s learned to move past that. Mostly. He may not be over the bridge quite yet, but he’s on the road to get there god damnit, has at least taken the very first step, and that counts for something.

It helps that Granny and Leon had, actually, been pretty right. Getting to know Yuan has considerably softened up the (admittedly illogical and a bit unfair) grudge that Doug held against him at the beginning. The guy’s actually pretty damn cool and likable. Even if he’s still annoyingly tall.

He’s no Arthur, of course, but Doug can see why the guy likes Yuan so much. He can even see the similarities they share: both polite, considerate, dependable; both have a rather dry sense of humor, though they present it in different ways; both hold this quiet confidence in the way that they carry themselves; and both of them have an innate curiosity about the world around them, though about different things. They’re like two sides of the same coin, and seeing them spend so much time together has only solidified for Doug that it makes perfect sense for them to have been so close in the capital, and to still be able to be close now while catching up.

There’s no reason for him to be jealous, because he never had anything to be jealous of in the first place. 

Yuan knew Arthur first, and will always know a side of him that Doug can never quite access, by virtue of never having been there. And he empathizes, he really does. There’s also a piece of Doug that he doesn’t think he can ever fully share with the people of Selphia, because he can’t truly and sincerely share it without knowing the sights and the smells, without being able to exist there at that time and let people see it for themselves. The difference is, he has no Yuan.

Maybe that’s the root of where his jealousy’s come from: he’s jealous of the idea of having someone know him like that, someone from your past who can hold onto similar memories as you. It’s a heavy burden, Doug’s discovered, to bear alone.

The thought’s a bit depressing. Still, it makes him happy too when he sees how happy Arthur is around Yuan. So he’s doing his best to let go of any resentment. It’s easy to want to do, when Arthur and Yuan are both so likable.

It’s these thoughts that swirl and swirl around in his head as Doug sits on the edge of his bed and watches the steady fall of rain, enjoying the sounds of the drops against the window pane and, at a distance, the cobblestone streets.

Man, he wants to go out there, and just… lay on some grass or something. 

“Doug?” Granny calls from the kitchen, drawing him out of his thoughts. Before he has the chance to respond, there’s a shuffling sound and she’s standing in his doorway. A smile sparkles in her eyes, tugs at her lips, as she holds a mop in one hand. “Ah, I should have guessed.”

“Guessed what?” 

“I can always find you curled up by the window on a rainy day. Especially since Arthur gave you that.” She beckons at the soft, fern-colored blanket Arthur had given Doug for his birthday last year.

Doug glances down at the blanket awkwardly, then has to fight back the urge to glare at it like it's betrayed him. His instinct is to tug it off and hide it under his bed or something, but that would just make this ten times more embarrassing than it already is, and besides there’s no hiding anything from Granny, really. So he just shifts under it, letting his too-warm feet poke out from the edge to catch some of the cool humid air.

“Did you want something?” He asks, without any bite to it. He could never really be mad at her, even when he’s embarrassed, and he asks more to change the subject than to be snarky. 

“Goodness! Yes. I meant to ask if you had any ideas for dinner tonight. I was thinking of making a mushroom and leek risotto. I’ve always thought it’s lovely for rainy days, and we have the ingredients.”

Eyes widening, Doug launches himself off the bed and pumps his fists into the air. “Oh, fuck yeah—! Shit, sorry I mean: yes, Granny. Totally. Your risotto is so good. I would love that tonight, if you’re in the mood to cook.”

“Then it’s settled.” Her smile grows wider. “And of course I’m in the mood. I’ve always loved cooking when it’s raining. It reminds me of my parents.” She lets out something of a small, wistful sigh, and Doug wonders if that’s just what happens when it rains for a while: people get nostalgic. She’s quickly back to her normal self again though, smiling and watching Doug from the doorway as he starts to clean his bed and pull out his clothes for the day. “Are you going out?”

Over his shoulder, Doug flashes her a grin. “You know I’ve gotta.”

She lets out another sigh, this time much more put upon, but it’s canceled out by the fond look in her eyes that she can’t hide. “You and your rain. Well, don’t stay out there too long or you’ll catch a cold. And make sure to come home at a good time, or I might just eat all the risotto myself.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That seems to satisfy her, and she starts to walk away. She comes back a moment later though, hovering by the door while Doug’s shrugging a shirt over his shoulders. “Oh, and it’s always easier to make it in large quantities, so feel free to invite anyone you’d like for dinner!”

She leaves again before Doug can question her further, though by the way she puts a particular emphasis on ‘anyone’ he feels like he already knows where that conversation would go. Sure, Doug’s realized that his feelings for Arthur are pointless, but at least he’s still got Granny in his corner. The thought makes him feel both bashful and reassured. 

He’s outside not ten minutes later, an umbrella that Granny insisted on in hand. The rain’s gotten much lighter than it started out as, even if it hasn’t let up completely yet. Despite this, the feeling of refreshing, wet rain clinging to his skin soaking him through puts a smile on his face. 

He does open up his umbrella a minute later and lets it sit over his head, because he knows Granny well enough to know she’s peeking out the window at him and will be stubborn about it later if he doesn’t actually use it, but again, he really can’t be mad at her. Partly because it feels nice to have someone worry about him, like family does, and partly because she’s making him fucking risotto later today.

He’d forgive just about anything if it came with a bowl of rice.

Well, not anything, obviously. But too many things, for sure. More things than the average person would. Probably.

It’s likely because the risotto stays on his mind as he starts his rainy walk around Selphia that Doug does consider walking over to the restaurant and inviting Arthur and Yuan over tonight. They’d have pleasant conversations, and Doug’s never against having more people appreciate how good of a cook Granny Blossom is. But then he pictures the domestic, tender intimacy of their cozy dining room, of having Yuan and Arthur spend dinner with the woman that he considers a mother figure in his life now, and that makes it too uncomfortable. He may be on board with letting Yuan and Arthur do their thing, but he doesn’t think he can take it that far, at least not just yet— especially with how important family dinners were growing up, particularly as part of the courting process in his town’s culture.

So, no. None of that. 

Doug pivots on his foot away from where he had naturally started walking, and instead goes the opposite direction. 

He doesn’t walk with a particular purpose. He lets his feet take him past Lumie’s shop, across the tree-lined sidewalk that takes him towards the center square, and just enjoys the mostly empty streets and pattering rain. When he’s out of sight of the general store Doug closes his umbrella, and goes back to letting the rain, refreshing and cool, fall against his skin, his hair, his clothes. 

Why are people pissy about the rain again? He has no idea. This shit feels great.

At least there’s one other person who shares Doug’s fondness for being outside on rainy days, though it’s for a super duper boring reason. As Doug passes the castle he sees Dylas fishing in the canal right outside of Bado’s. Dylas also has an umbrella, though it’s laying un-used on the ground next to him as he busies both hands with holding his fishing rod instead. The two of them make silent eye contact across the cobblestone street as Doug walks past. He waves silently, Dylas waves back, and then Doug keeps going.

With Dylas accounted for a couple blocks behind, Doug doesn’t expect anyone in the large grassy clearing that makes up the shore of Selphia Dragon Lake. Nevertheless, sitting there on the big, fallen wood log with his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, large umbrella in hand (and actually being used properly) is Yuan. 

Doug briefly considers turning around and slinking away before he’s noticed— he can’t think of a good reason why, though. Maybe it’s because Yuan looks so peaceful, sitting there, with his solemn gaze staring at the lake’s surface a few feet in front of him, and the fine mist of rain falling like a blanket all around him and his umbrella. Though conflicted, Doug figures the guy’s leaving town soon enough anyway that he wouldn’t mind bugging Yuan one last time before he goes. Especially since they’ve actually gotten along really well this whole time, all things considered with Doug’s traitorous heart and his annoying, illogical feelings.

So, instead of leaving, Doug makes his way properly into the clearing, and then waves when he catches Yuan’s attention.

“Yo,” Doug says with a small, lop-sided smile. “Want some company?”

Yuan looks him up and down— in a way that is just slightly disconcerting, like he can read you straight to your soul with just a glance— before his gaze settles on the closed umbrella in Doug’s hand.

“You’re getting wet.”

Doug snorts. “Yeah, no shit. That’s the point. Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘stop and smell the rain?’”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.” Despite his deadpan tone, there’s a smile hiding just under where the umbrella covers Yuan’s expression. “But yes, feel free to sit down.” 

Doug does, though he makes sure to sit just far enough down the log that the umbrella doesn’t cover him. Yuan keeps his face completely and politely blank except for one single eyebrow that he raises, an expression so similar to one that Doug’s seen Arthur make that the red-headed dwarf has to actively stop himself from laughing. Still, Yuan makes no comment, and lets Doug keep sitting under the light shower of the weather.

“I’m actually glad to see you out here enjoying the sights,” Doug says, breaking the silence.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I felt kinda bad that the weather suddenly turned sour on you. I’m glad it’s not stopping you from enjoying the last bit of your visit.”

“Ah, yes.” Yuan glances up at the cloud-filled sky, and then back over at Doug. “At least there hasn’t been a typhoon. Arthur told me that those tend to hit Selphia quite heavily, when they come.”

“Oh, totally.” Doug lets out a whistle to emphasize his point. “One time, the winds were so strong that one of Lest’s monsters ended up on the castle roof. Poor buffamoo was confused as all hell.”

“He must not be used to having such a tall range of sight.” Though Yuan’s voice has been as calm as it usually is, Doug can hear the teasing drip into his otherwise impeccably well-mannered voice as a tiny smirk ghosts at his lips. “A feeling you can emphasize with, surely.”

Though Doug wants to be offended, he can’t help that a loud, shocked bark of laughter comes out of him first instead, and then helpless to stop it he just keeps on laughing. “God damn. I’ve known you for like, what, less than two weeks and you betray me like this?”

“My apologies,” Yuan replies, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “It was simply too easy a shot to take. I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself.”

“No, no, it’s fine, man. I get it. At least I know for sure now that you and Arthur really do have the same sense of humor, huh? Hidden, subtle, but snarky as all hell when you let your guards down.” Like the last few ripples of a wave, Doug’s chuckles are still subsiding. It’s because of this that Doug doesn’t notice at first that it takes Yuan a few long, quiet moments to answer.

When Doug does notice, it’s to see Yuan’s eyes studying him. They’re a pine-colored sort of green when contrasted against the watery gray sky above, and the dark green foliage of the trees behind him. If Doug thought he was getting read before, it’s got nothing on how Yuan’s looking at him now; Doug vaguely feels like he’s some kind of creature in a petri dish being studied. The most intimidating thing is, Yuan’s face is completely impassive. It would be easier to read the emotions of a concrete wall than him right now, which makes this whole ‘studying someone’s face’ thing completely one-sided,

So Doug decides to just kinda sit there and squirm while Yuan keeps… looking at him, or whatever the hell he’s doing.

Finally, using his free hand to tuck behind his ear a long strand of blue hair that had fallen loose from his low ponytail, Yuan puts Doug out of his. “May I ask you a question?”

While his immediate reaction is to answer ‘You just did,’ something in the severity of Yuan’s expression stops him. Doug decides, in a rare moment of social grace, to just answer normally. “Uh, sure. Go ahead, man.”

The rain starts to fall harder, and despite himself Doug shivers a little. Silently Yuan moves an inch closer, and tilts his umbrella so it mostly covers both of them. One of Yuan’s shoulders— which is quite broad, actually, under the length of the man’s dark blue cloak, now that Doug is close enough to notice that— is getting a bit wet, but the man doesn’t seem to notice at all. 

“What do you love about Arthur?”

“I—” Doug’s brain comes to a screeching halt. “Sorry. What!?”

Yuan blinks impassively. “What do you love most about Arthur?”

Again, Doug fights off his initial instinct to deflect by cracking some kind of joke, or calling Yuan nuts or something before coming up with some kind of excuse to get up and bolt. But he stays. It’s the look in Yuan’s eyes, maybe, still so serious and searching but also knowing that makes Doug realize he isn’t nearly as slick as he thinks he’s been these last two weeks— or even longer than that, maybe. 

The hilarious, ironic, ugly truth of Doug’s whole life is that he’s never been as good a liar as he’s needed to be, and this moment is not excluded from that.

And yes, Doug’s realized that the uphill climb is unreachable, that the hesitance to pursue anything further with Arthur out of fear that his one-sided feelings will ruin their friendship has only been solidified since he realized that Arthur and Yuan are so perfect together and clearly feel strongly about one another. 

But still. 

Still, for some reason, he reads that knowing look in Yuan’s eyes as a challenge, and even if Doug can’t win this one (and, admittedly, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge just because he knows he’s gonna lose it) Doug wants to say he put up a good fight. He wants to let Yuan know, in some small way, that the love that Doug has— had? Fuck. currently has, will one day past tense had— for Arthur was strong. That it was real, even if it never goes anywhere further than the space between his ribcage.

So, Doug decides to answer honestly. 

“Well, shit.” 

Though, just because he’s answering honestly doesn’t mean he has to do so eloquently. There’s only so many expectations he can break in a day. 

“I mean,” Doug continues, looking over at the lake. “There’s a lot to love.” That’s the first time Doug’s said ‘love’ about Arthur out loud to someone. It feels freeing, somehow. “And, like, if you ask anyone else they’ll say all the same things about Arthur. He’s friendly, he’s selfless, he’s kind. He’s dependable, and hardworking to a fault, sure, but in a way that’s really endearing too. And even though he’s always got his nose in some ledger or book or whatever, it always seems like he’s enjoying his life here in Selphia to the fullest, you know? That’s not… that’s not something I did, when I first got here. It actually kinda took me a while to get there. So, I respect that about him. A lot. But…”

Doug scratches at his neck, letting the sharp feeling of his relatively blunt nails against the sensitive skin ground him in this moment, as he tries to string his thoughts together in a way that makes sense to anyone else that doesn’t have his heart beating in their chest. 

What does he like best about Arthur? It’s like asking someone what they like best about breathing, or rice. How do you explain why you love something that’s just an undeniably important part of your life?

Yuan, for his part, doesn’t interrupt Doug once, and instead just patiently waits in silence.

“But, I dunno!” Doug throws his hands up in some semblance of frustration at his own lack of eloquence, nearly knocking the umbrella aside. He looks at Yuan, and thinks his own eyes might be a little wild around the edges. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like that shit too. It’s great, and he’s great. But what do I love ‘most?’ It’s just. Him. Like, he’s so fucking polite, but also witty and fun when you get to know him more. And like, have you ever seen him pissed off? Like actually, truly angry? He’ll put the biggest, coldest smile on his face while basically destroying you on the spot. It’s terrifying and impressive as hell, man. And it’s so frustrating how he’s always putting others in front of himself, but also so admirable that he does it without even thinking. He’s so nice, effortlessly nice, and never inconsiderate. And he’s just— such a fucking dork, about glasses, and work, and woolies and chispqueeks. And his eyes take on this, like, really specific shade of red when the sun catches against his glasses, and he’s so honest and perceptive and he makes me laugh and…” 

Doug trails off with a weak laugh. Distantly he thinks he hears someone cross the bridge to the clearing, like a creaky board squeaks or something, but Doug can’t be sure over the growing sound of the rain around him, and the pumping of his own blood in his ears.

“To answer your question,” Doug goes on, “without rambling your ear off for the last day of your trip, I don’t know what I love most about him. I could meet someone tomorrow that has all of those exact qualities, and I wouldn’t feel about them the way I feel about Arthur. Because he’s…” Doug blushes, now, can feel the near-feverish heat of his cheeks underneath the cold layer of rain covering him, as the downpour thrums heavily. His voice drops quietly, almost reverently. “He’s just him.” Another pause, longer this time. “I guess that’s what I love most about him: he’s Arthur.”

The silence stretches out between them, filled with nothing but rain, and rain, and more rain. 

Then, with his eyes incredibly gentle, and at a volume so soft that Doug has to actually lean closer and strain to hear him, Yuan asks, “Have you told him that?”

“I—” Speechless, Doug pauses. For the first time today— this week— these years— Doug feels like he’s struck with an absolute sense of clarity. It feels like the sun’s shining through the clouds, even though the weather above doesn’t reflect that. For the first time, Doug feels like he can properly read the other man. That look in Yuan’s eye, that’s been in his eyes around Arthur all this time, wasn’t some kind of deep, passionate, romantic love. It almost, sort of, reminds Doug of how Granny looks at him: full of love, yes, deep and honest and almost painfully unconditional, but not romantic love. It’s the sort of care that comes from watching over someone, and trying to keep them safe. From hoping for the best for them, and their happiness. For the first time, Doug realizes that maybe Yuan isn’t so much in love with Arthur as he is someone that loves Arthur. And though that doesn’t guarantee how Arthur feels, about any of this…

At the very least, Doug should give himself the chance to find out.

“No,” Doug replies simply, after a bit. “I guess I haven’t.”

Yuan’s eyes, crescented kindly in affection, then focus on a point somewhere behind Doug’s shoulder, and he makes a subtle gesture with his chin. “Now might be a good time, then.” 

A little panicked, and with enough force that he nearly falls off the slippery edge of the log, Doug turns around to see Arthur standing there, at the mouth of the bridge that leads to the lake’s clearing. He’s got a very serious look on his face, though the rain catches on his glasses and obscures his eyes too much from this distance for Doug to accurately tell.

Doug goes to wave, is opening his mouth to call out to him, when in a flurry of beige-and-blue cloak Arthur spins on his heel and turns around, walking back across the bridge.

“H-hey!” Doug starts, scrambling to stand up. “Arthur! Wait up!” His feet nearly slip on the slick, muddy surface of the grass, but by some miracle Doug manages to get up properly without face planting.

He starts to run off towards Arthur, though halfway through he remembers to turn around. While running backwards, Doug waves and calls, “Thanks! Thank you! You’re the best, Yuan!”

The man smiles, and lets out a laugh that would probably be quite melodic and pleasant, were it not drowned out by the rainfall around them. “No problem. You forgot your umbrella!”

“Eh, it’s fine! Keep it!” And then Doug turns around and sprints, as fast as he can without falling, towards Arthur’s retreating figure.

Arthur should have known. Arthur should have guessed. Arthur really, well and truly, should have seen this coming.

He is often mistaken for a fortune teller, right? So how had he not been clairvoyant enough, or even just any amount of perceptive enough, to know that this would happen? 

Except he did know. He did. 

This heart-pounding moment is less like something that caught him off guard and more like a wild locomotive racing straight towards him while fully in his line of sight, that he still closed his eyes to and flinched from for some reason. As if not seeing it would cancel out the noise, the heavy heat and steam in the air, the sense of impending doom. How foolish of him.

Upon finding his umbrella missing and going out in search of Yuan today, it was somehow both a huge, gaping shock and not at all surprising to see him and Doug, huddled together close by the gentle lapping shores of the lake underneath the intimate confines of that same umbrella and talking about something… well, important, probably. Arthur couldn’t make out what they were saying over the sounds of the blasted rain around them, but he could see their shoulders curved together like two crescent moons, the gentle and affectionate look on Yuan’s face, the blush at the tips of Doug’s ears, almost the color of his hair. 

The color that Arthur is usually so fond of.

In all honesty, Arthur should have turned around the moment he noticed them having a private conversation. Not only would it have been the courteous thing to do, but it would have saved him the hollow, aching pain in his chest as well. Had he done that, he wouldn’t have been privy to what was clearly some kind of impassioned, bold declaration of undying love on Doug’s part, and easy, fond reciprocation on Yuan’s. Because of course he would reciprocate— who wouldn’t? They may have only known each other for two weeks, but Arthur knows better than most, probably, how easy it is for Doug to make his way into someone’s heart, to charm them with his honesty and kindness, his steadfast consideration and concerned care that the redhead tries so hard to hide. 

 “Hey! Yo! Arthur!” Doug is calling behind him, and it pains Arthur to ignore him but he tries to anyway.

He has to also make an active effort to ignore Dylas, who is openly staring at the scene in front of him from where he stands across the canal with a fishing pole. Arthur manages to make it as far as the town square (which is thankfully devoid of any other people) before his guilt makes him stop and turn only a dozen or so feet in front of Selphia’s grand gates. Doug catches up to him soon after, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath.

“When did you— get so good at— fast-walking?” Doug looks like he’s trying to fight the urge to squat over and rest his elbows on his knees. Arthur would find the sight terribly endearing, if the man he’s currently talking to, the very object of his pain and yearning, wasn’t the reason Arthur is in such emotional turmoil right now. 

What Arthur does do, however, is stand just a bit closer, unable to help the way his pulse kicks up in doing so, so that he can tilt his umbrella forward and cover Doug as well. The back of his coat is getting wet now, but Arthur doesn’t mind at all. 

Looking up at him through the wet fringe of his hair, Doug shoots him a thankful grin, and it puts a stone in Arthur’s chest considering the situation they’ve both found themselves in.

“Did you need something?” Arthur asks, a bit more coldly than he intends.

“Oh. Uh.” Doug fidgets in place a bit, bouncing his weight from one foot to the other. 

Internally, Arthur curses at himself. He’s not trying to be rude like this. Through it all, Doug is still his closest friend, no matter what, and Arthur has never, ever wanted to ruin that.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur amends, making an active effort to sound less like an ass. “That didn’t come out how I intended it to. I simply meant that I would hate to have interrupted your conversation with Yuan. It seemed important. Please don’t feel obligated to have run after me.”

“Oh,” Doug repeats, blinking wide, almost like that didn’t even occur to him. That can’t be right. Arthur must be reading him wrong. That’s not usually the case, of course, but Doug can be quite stubbornly closed off when he wants to. He doesn’t look it now, though. His cheeks are still flushed, expression almost a little fuzzy around the edges, open and full of emotion but still managing to look gentle. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Doug continues. “Actually I— I wanted to talk to you. That’s what— that’s what Yuan and I were talking about. I wanted to tell you something.”

“Ah.”

And here it comes. Doug, telling Arthur that he and Yuan had just confessed to each other, no doubt.

Gods, why this? 

Arthur will support them. Of course he will. 

He loves the two of them more than just about anything, and just because Doug can’t find his happiness at Arthur’s side doesn’t in any way mean that Arthur doesn’t want him to find his happiness at all. If anything, he’s happy that Doug has found someone as strong and capable as Yuan. It’s just that the pain is still fresh and the shock still aching, so Arthur really doesn’t want to deal with it at this very moment. Just a few days to let the wound scab over is all he needs, even just a few hours for Arthur to remember how to hide his true feelings behind a palatable mask of agreeableness like he has so much practice in. 

He’s supposed to be good at this, at lying. 

The truth is, as ugly and ironic as it is, that as much as Arthur loathes deception, especially the kind he often encountered around nobility, he is really, really good at it. It’s something he hates about himself, really, despite how unfortunately useful it’s been for him. And it serves as a reminder that no matter what Arthur would prefer, he is still, in the end, nobility himself some way or another. 

But Selphia was— is— supposed to be different. He’s not supposed to need to do that here, and especially not around Doug. It’s why he has to cringe and brace himself before putting on the absolute best semblance of polite indifference, of easy acceptance, that he can muster before facing Doug.

“Yes?” Arthur manages to say. He’s going to be supportive in this, no matter what— or at least he’s going to try to be, because Doug deserves the best. “What is it?”

“Well, um…” Doug swallows visibly, clearly nervous. “Yuan and I were talking about, like, feelings and shit— and you know that I don’t usually like talking about that stuff, at least not when it comes to my own shit, but that guy really has a way of drawing it out of you, huh? Like when he pins you with that green-ass stare, it’s hard to be anything but painfully honest.”

“Doug…”

“And— shit, okay, well, what I mean to say is, we were talking and it came up and this whole time since you’ve mentioned him visiting I thought that you two were, you know, or about to be, or meant to be, but then I realized that maybe you aren’t but even if you are I should still be honest with you because you should at least have a choice?”

“Doug.”

“Or like, at least make an informed decision,” Doug continues, his rambling getting faster and more panicked as he starts to move his hands vivaciously to emphasize his point. “Or just— shit, this is is coming out really, really wrong and really stupid but I guess I just want you to know this because everyone should know this because it’s as basic to me and who I’ve become here as breathing is, really, like honestly, so I just—”

“Doug—!”

“I just want you to know that I’m in love with you!” Doug practically shouts, managing to be clear as day over the roaring of the rain. “I am so, so in love with you, Arthur.”

The sound of the weather around them has nothing on the sound of Arthur’s heart in his ears, of the raucous, thundering storm crashing across his chest at this moment.

“I— you—” Arthur asks, voice extremely and terribly quiet in contrast. “You what?”

“I’m in love with you!” Doug repeats effortlessly, with a slightly hysterical laugh. “And I’m sorry to just burst out at you with this out of the blue, but I just need you to know how I feel because you deserve to know the truth, and you don’t have to say it back, obviously, because it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way about me, it really is, and I get it, I know I’m kind of difficult to—”

“Doug!” Arthur drops his umbrella without a second thought, freeing up his hands so he can reach out and grab the sides of Doug’s face. His fingertips cup the shorter man’s cheeks carefully, brushing the slick tips of Doug’s wet hair. The prince can feel the rain immediately start to soak through his own hair and clothes, plastering them stickily to his skin, but he can’t bring himself to even begin to care about anything else right now. “You’re ridiculous. I—” His voice wavers just a little, despite himself. The tidal wave of emotions threatening to pull him under makes it so that he can only just get the words out at a whisper. “Of course I love you too. Of course I do. How could I not?”

“Oh.”

Arthur can’t help but chuckle at that, the sound carrying a bit of a high-pitched whistling quality to it as he struggles to contain his emotions. “Yes. Oh.” 

“All… all this time?” 

“For quite a while, yes.” 

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” A beat. “Awesome.” The expression in Doug’s eyes— nearly a translucent silver when compared to the roiling, dark gray clouds above them— looks like he’s still processing exactly what that means, and hasn’t figured it out yet. Despite that, a lopsided smile spreads on his lips, somewhere between self-satisfied and giddy, with a touch of reverence. It nearly takes Arthur’s breath away, that he can still see new and beautiful ways that Doug can smile even after all this time, after all the painstaking care of trying to learn each of his many, many expressions.

At some point in the last minute, one of Doug’s hands has reached up to hold on to Arthur’s wrist. Arthur hadn’t noticed until just now, when he flickers his gaze over to where Doug is absently rubbing soothing, affectionate circles into Arthur’s pale skin. It makes Arthur’s heart flutter tentatively in his chest, as his emotions continue to do more somersaults than he’s at all used to— which makes him remember himself. Arthur does his best to pull his sensibilities out from the happy, startled haze that came from Doug’s sudden confession.

“However, I’m confused,” Arthur stares into Doug’s eyes quizzically. “I thought— It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, of course, and truly I couldn't actually make out anything you two were saying, but I thought I thought you and Yuan were…”

“...Were?” Doug echoes, when Arthur doesn’t elaborate.

“I thought you were professing your feelings for each other.” 

“You… We… What!?”

Doug’s shock makes Arthur suddenly self-conscious, and he unsuccessfully tries to fight down a flustered heat that he can feel rising to his cheeks. 

“Well, you two were, it— it certainly looked intimate, of course, and you have become close during the duration of Yuan’s visit, so I could hardly blame you.”

“Arthur.” Doug’s looking at him like Arhur’s suddenly grown a second head. “I’ve known Yuan for two weeks. Two weeks. Less! How could I develop feelings for him?”

“I suppose when you put it that way…”

“And I mean,” Doug continues, “the guy’s great, don’t get me wrong, but even if we’ve become friends I still barely know him! Plus he’s your friend! If anything, I actually thought you two were—I thought your feelings were, like. You know. Romantic and shit.”

Now it’s Arthur’s turn to question if he’s suddenly grown any extra body parts. “Yuan? And me?”

Dough laughs, again with a bit of a frantic energy to it like he’s coming down from some kind of adrenaline high. “Listen I know it sounds kind of ridiculous, but like, does it really? I mean, you guys are close, you know each other so well, and for so long, and he knows parts of you that none of us here in Selphia know. That bond’s special.”

“Doug.” Arthur does drop his hands now, though only to grab Doug’s shoulders instead and take a step closer, so he acn peer as seriously into Doug’s eyes as he possibly can. The layer of water now covering the lenses of his glasses doesn’t help, but Arthur pays it no mind. “I mean it with utter and complete sincerity when I say this: I love Yuan, and our friendship will always have an incredibly important place in my heart. But I have never felt for him anything other than very close friendship. If anything, he is like family to me, in a way. On the other hand, I’ve never…” This is where the words get stuck, where Arthur has to push through the instinct that tells him not to be so vulnerable. “I have never felt for anyone else the way I feel for you. But you see I… struggle to trust others. So it can be difficult to verbalize those feelings, when they’re so strong, unique, and mildly terrifying. But more than anything else I think it’s that I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself to love you as fully and honestly as you deserve. There are still parts of my past that I don’t know how to talk about, and ghosts that may never stop haunting me. I suppose I didn’t want to burden you with that. And a part of me is still hesitant to.”

“Well that’s horseshit,” is Doug’s blunt reply. There must be a shocked look on Arthur’s face, because the dwarf cringes and then quickly amends, “I— shit, sorry, that came out wrong, but what I mean is, everyone’s got stuff in their past that they don’t wanna talk about. Stuff that haunts them. That doesn’t mean any of that’s a burden though.”

Since Arthur remains silent, Doug adds, “And I get it. Trust me, I really, really get it. But if you ever think you’re a burden to me, then you’re ridiculous. You’re…” At this, Doug’s cheeks redden. “You’re amazing. And I love you. But also you’re ridiculous.”

Arthur can feel his cheeks darken in color, the heat crawling up towards his ears and down by his collarbone at being reminded those words are real. Or perhaps he’s blushing brightly at the sheer honesty in Doug’s voice, or maybe it’s just that they’re words coming from Doug and Arthur never really thought he’d have the privilege of hearing those directed at him at all.

Maybe it’s all of the above.

“You are also ridiculous, you know.” Arthur raises a hand again to cup only one of Doug’s cheeks this time. “To think that Yuan knows me better than those here do. Than you do. It’s true that he knows a version of me that perhaps no one else can fully know but… In all honesty, it’s a very outdated version of me. It’s one that I purposefully left behind at the capital. One that I am learning to grow from. I still have much farther to go, but I’m also much happier as the Arthur that Selphia knows, that you know, than the Arthur I once was. And that was the whole point of Yuan’s visit in the first place, in all honesty.”

At this Doug cocks his head just a little to the side as he seems to mull that over. Rivulets of water drop down his jaw, defining its shape handsomely. “How do you mean?”

“This trip was meant for us to become reacquainted, essentially. I wanted him to meet the Arthur I’ve become here while living in Selphia, and he wanted me to meet the Yuan that he’s become in taking more leadership positions around the knight’s guard. Of course, there’s only so much you can know about a person by correspondence, so I think Yuan wanted to check up on me by seeing for himself how I’m doing. And I wanted to show him.”

Another pause, before Doug’s voice takes on a very soft quality. “Yeah, that makes sense. So whaddya think? Did we make a good impression on him?”

Arthur takes a half step closer to Doug, letting their faces sit just a handful of inches apart. “Most likely, yes. Though probably not if we catch a cold in this weather.”

“Eh,” Doug shrugs, taking his own half step closer, and at this proximity his grin is practically blinding. “I’ve always liked the rain. And I’ve never really minded colds.”

“That’s funny,” Arthur murmurs. “I feel the same way.” 

The last thing Arthur sees before he closes his eyes is the scattering of freckles across Doug’s nose. Then it’s just the darkness behind his eyelids, and the cold, wet rain around them being drowned out as the sensation of Doug’s lips takes over nearly everything else. 

One of them (he’s not sure who) presses even closer still, until they are practically chest to chest, and Arthur has to tilt the angle of his head a little down and to the right so he can continue to kiss Doug thoroughly. Doug’s hands snake around Arthur’s waist in response, clinging to the wet fabric of his coat like a lifeline, and Arthur hums appreciatively into his mouth as they kiss again, and again, and again.

The kiss is more cold and damp than Arthur ever imagined it would be, in the moments he indulged himself in imagining this sort of thing at all, but that makes it no less amazing. It’s more than anything he could have pictured. There’s an almost electric quality to the hum of Doug’s skin beneath him, to the shared cadence of their thundering hearts. Doug’s kisses are somehow both eager and pliant, letting Arthur bury his nose against Doug’s cheeks as he presses closer still. Against his own cheeks, Arthur can feel Doug’s eyelashes flutter, delicate like wings and beading with droplets of water. Then Doug’s hand replaces the feeling, callused finger tracing against the line of Arthur’s cheekbone as he tenderly brushes away the stray hairs that the wind is plastering to Arthur’s face. 

It makes Arthur shiver, more than the weather ever could.

At one point or another the two of them break off, both smiling ridiculously and breathing heavily. Doug stands up on his toes for a second, and Arthur acquiesces to the silent request by leaning down to press their foreheads together. He’s not sure his cheeks have ever hurt this much from smiling.

Then a crack of thunder rings out above them somewhere, and the two of them make eye contact before breaking into a fit of laughter.

“We should probably go change into something dry before the people who care for us kill us, huh?” Doug asks.

“I think that would be wise.”

Still, Arthur is reluctant to step away entirely. It seems like Doug is too, as they reach forward to link a hand between them even as they take a step back in near unison. 

Then something lights up in Doug’s eyes. “Oh! Hey. Do you and Yuan wanna come over for dinner tonight, maybe? Granny’s making leek and mushroom risotto.”

“What a perfect dish for a rainy day.” Arthur thinks he sees Doug’s smile deepen at the comment, though he’s not sure why. “I need to ask Yuan if he has any particular plans of course, but yes. That would be lovely. Especially as a way to send him off.” 

Doug’s smile suddenly drops as he seems to realize that. “Oh— shit, yeah, you don’t mind spending his last night here with me and Granny? We wouldn’t wanna intrude or anything.”

“Not at all. If anything, I can think of no better way to spend the evening. And I believe he’ll think the same.”

There’s rain and thunder, and wet and cold, and cobblestone beneath them with towering gates and a castle above them, but all of those things are outshined by the sight of Doug’s renewed smile, warm and soft and full of an emotion that has always been there, but that Arthur can now recognize as love.

“Sounds great.”

Chapter Text

After a pleasant evening the night before of conversation over a delicious dinner, the morning of Yuan’s departure comes quickly and easily. Well, it would probably be more accurate to say that it is both very easy and very difficult for Yuan to leave.

On the one hand, he’s satisfied with the purposes of his visit. Arthur not only seems happier than Yuan has ever seen him, but the young prince— who is no longer really a prince, at least not an acting one, Yuan has to constantly remind himself— seems to be thriving here, in the cheery, flora-filled town. And Yuan considerably enjoyed his visit here. Not only did everyone welcome him with surprisingly eager and kind readiness, but everyone was interesting to speak with and get to know better. He even got to meet a dragon ( Ventuswill, The Divine Wind, because even in Yuan’s own thoughts he must put respect on her name) for the first time, which is secretly something that Yuan can now cross off the bucket list he made when he was seven years old.

On the other hand… well, it’s for that very same reason that it’s hard for him to leave. Though he likes the capital, and sincerely feels proud of the life that he’s made there, there is a certain happy, calming quality to Selphia that he knows he’ll miss. And he knows, with absolute certainty, that he’ll miss its residents too.

At least he’s not alone in this. He has a suspicion that at least some of them will miss him too, as is evidenced by the crowd of people currently trying to bid him farewell by the airship dock. The feeling is both humbling and terribly endearing.

“You will be writing to me regularly, yes?” Xiao Pai asks with her eyes shining earnestly, as she holds on to both of Yuan’s hands with her own. “And next time you visit, I will try to get Papa to visit at the same time. I think you two will have much to talk about!”

“Of course,” Yuan replies back with an earnest, if small, smile. “I gave you my address. Write to me, and I’ll reply.”

“I will! I promise!” Nodding eagerly and smiling brightly despite the well of tears currently pooling around the corner of her eyes, Xiao Pai lets his hands go.

Immediately, Kiel and Forte walk up to him. 

“Thank you for all your training advice during your stay here,” Forte says with what he’s come to learn is her very specific brand of endearing intensity. “I learned a lot from you, and I feel better prepared to protect Selphia from now on.”
“I should be thanking you for very similar reasons,” is Yuan’s response. “The swordsmanship you taught me is going to be invaluable for when I return to training the cadets at the capital. Thank you, Forte.”

She nods as well, expression stern but also quivering as she clearly tries to keep a brave face. “I’m glad we could help each other, then. For Norad.”

“For Norad.”
A little conspiratorially, Yuan whispers, “Though I enjoyed your friendship in and of itself too. Not just for king and country.”

At that Forte’s expression wobbles, and she turns away to hide her face.

“And don’t forget the promise you made me!” Kiel pipes up much more cheerily, holding onto his sister’s arm lovingly as he smiles up brightly at Yuan.

“I will write to you as soon as I see if the palace library has that book you’re looking for.” Holding back a chuckle at the younger blonde’s enthusiasm, Yuan taps his temple. “I won’t forget.”

“Aw, thanks Yuan! We’re really going to miss you here.” His steel blue eyes crinkle fondly under the bright, Selphian sun. In a true stroke of luck, the streak of non-stop rain has broken, and this morning’s weather is perfectly clear today, with nothing but small white puffs of clouds in an otherwise blue sky. Yuan, vaguely, wonders if he has a particular Native Dragon to thank for that.

“I will miss you all as well. But if you’ll have me again, I’ll be sure to visit before the year is over.”

“Of course we’ll have you!” Margaret chirps, as she hops in and saddles up to Forte’s other side, grabbing the woman’s free arm and looping her own arms through it.

“That is,” Leon now adds, as he steps forward as well, “if you can stomach the trip back and forth a second time. Your pallor is quite green already— are you sure you can manage the airship? We’d hate for you to turn that color permanently.” Though there’s genuine sympathy to his voice, it’s mostly covered by the teasing drip of his lopsided smile.

Despite himself, Yuan knows the teasing works. The thought of that rickety airship, where he knows Arthur (despite claiming otherwise) has nearly died twice now, instantly makes him feel clammy around the palms. It’s not, as much as his fellow knights back home tease him for, that he’s fearful for his own life; it’s more that, even though he’s no longer Arthur’s guard, the very thought of him in those precarious situations makes Yuan see red, before he goes sick to his stomach. He folds his hands behind his back as if doing so can hide his queasiness.

“I think I’ll be able to make it. Though I thank you sincerely for your concern, Leon.”

Leon’s grin widens a bit in response, at Yuan’s inability to be baited into any more of a response.

The rest of his farewells to the townspeople continue. Yuan has at least five new pen pals, four requests of things to find and eventually bring back or send from the capital, and six separate festivals he’s been invited to participate in. Arthur wasn’t kidding when he said that Selphia knows how to leave its mark on you, and also knows how to keep busy.

Eventually, with most of the morning gone, Yuan’s said goodbye to everyone. Well, nearly everyone.

Standing off to the side, closer to the airship so they can say their piece last, are Doug and Arthur. He’s not sure if they realize it, but the two of them are practically glowing as they stand next to each other. Yuan can also tell, from the corner of his eye as he turns around, that the two of them were holding hands just a moment ago when they thought no one was looking.

When Yuan walks up to them, his cloak settled firmly around his shoulders and his luggage in one hand, the two of them smile at him in their own unique ways, though still equally brightly.

“Thank you both very much for taking care of me while I’ve been here.” Yuan decides to dip into a formal bow, feeling the length of his ponytail slip over his shoulder as he does so. When he rights himself back up again he sees both Arthur and Doug squirming in slight discomfort at the display of formality. Though he knows neither of them quite like it, Yuan still does it for two reasons: to show the depths of his gratitude behind his words, and because he likes to mess with them, just a little bit.

What? Yuan has to have his fun somehow.

Still, neither of them comment on it, and instead just smile back at him all the more warmly.

“Of course, man!” Doug says first, before giving Yuan’s shoulder a light, friendly tap with his fist. “Don’t take too long to visit again, okay? You still owe me a rematch.”

“Of course,” Yuan agrees. “And next time, I’ll be using the new spear a certain someone gave me.”

“Awww man,” Doug says with a whine, though it’s clear he’s simply doing so for the joke of it. “No way. That means you're totally gonna win again, because that spear is awesome. Seriously, whoever gave it to you must be really cool and smart about these things. They deserve some kind of award.”

Yuan playfully rolls his eyes, though all he says in response is, “Mhm.”

This seems to get a kick out of Doug, who laughs radiantly into the spring air. Yuan and Arthur, infectiously, chuckle along as well.

“I’ll give you two a moment, then.” Doug gives Arthur one last, oozingly fond look before turning to go, though not without clapping Yuan one more time on the shoulder. Just as the shorter man passes, he whispers a quiet ‘thank you’ and then continues on walking towards the crowd.

After watching him go, Arthur and Yuan turn to face each other. He sees the telltale sign in the curve of Arthur’s shaky smile that means the blonde is trying to keep his emotions in check. The sight nearly threatens Yuan’s own composure as well.

With considerable effort and a clearing of his throat, Yuan manages to keep his voice steady enough as he says, “I’m going to miss you, Arthur. It’s been incredibly nice seeing you in person again. Thank you very, very much for treating me so kindly while I’ve been here.”

“Oh, Yuan.” Though the bright glare of the sunlight momentarily catches in Arthur’s glasses, his expression is open and clear, full of gratitude and affection. “Of course. Know that you are welcome anytime. And you don’t even need to stay with me, next time.” He chuckles, eyes skirting towards the crowd a dozen or so feet away. “It seems as if you have plenty of options.”

“I think I’m very fortunate.”

“I think I am very fortunate, to still be your friend after all these years,” Arthur replies. “Thank you for visiting me, and thank you for…” here his crimson eyes once again go back over to the crowd, where Doug, Blossom, and others are laughing over something. When Arthur’s gaze settles back on Yuan, it's shining and full of emotion. Yuan can’t help but think he looks so much more open now, his expressions more clear and heartfelt than they ever were at the palace. It’s a healthy look on him. “For everything. Please continue to write to me regularly.”

“I’ll be sure to.” A pause, as the airship looms over them a few feet away. “That is, if this floating wooden death trap doesn’t put me in an early grave, first.”

Arthur’s laugh (probably at Yuan’s own expense) rings out brightly, like the noise of a windchime. “I think you’ll be okay.”

Not for the first time, Yuan trusts Arthur completely when he says that.