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solarpunk AU

"Good afternoon," said Arthur, sliding out from behind the counter and straightening his waistcoat when the handsome newcomer came in. "Can I help you with something?"

Eames turned and smiled, all charm and warmth and scruff with a mouth that looked like it was meant for filthy things. "You must be Arthur. I'm Eames."

Arthur shook the proffered hand, feeling the tingle of sorcery riding under the warm hum of Eames' aura. "I am, it's good to meet you. The new tattooist?"

"Yep," said Eames. "I'm looking for a few things for art references." He glanced around at the array of beautifully displayed plants, potions, ingredients, and charms. Arthur's Apothecary carried a wide variety of things to serve the community he'd made his home. "I don't suppose you're interested in a tattoo?"

"I do barter," said Arthur, "but if you just want to draw them, why not come here or borrow the plants for a day?"

Eames blinked, and his grin went from charming to delighted. "I would absolutely love to do that, Arthur, that's very kind of you. Is there something I can do to return the favor?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," said Arthur, turning back toward the counter. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Ah, favors owed. Well, that's not a bad thing, either," said Eames. "And yes, please. Should I just give you my list?"

Arthur was aware of Eames' gaze on his well-tailored backside, and considered once again that the expense of keeping the tailor's favorite flowers in his hothouse always paid off. "Yes, that would be fine. Will you want to try to borrow them all at once, one or two at a time, or just come here to draw? The conservatory gets great light." He filled the kettle and put on to boil.

"You've got a conservatory?" asked Eames, intrigued.

Arthur chuckled. "This whole building is mine, so I grow plants on the roof. It cuts into my solar panel space, but the plants are more profitable than energy."

"And you allow customers up there?" said Eames, hopeful.

Arthur shook his head with a little half-smile. "Not usually, but as a favor I could set you up at a table with some specimens, as long as you promised not to touch anything else." He poured a bit of hot water into the teapot and swirled it, then dumped it onto his waste-water watering can. "This is camellia sinensis, I trust that's all right?"

"Proper tea? I'm going to owe you more than one favor after today," said Eames, coming forward eagerly.

Arthur measured out the tea and poured the hot water, then set one of his timers running. "It's not as uncommon over here, I guess, though I make do with herbs a lot of the time." He got out two lovely porcelain cups he'd traded the potter for, as well as a jar of golden honey from his own hive.

"Tea and honey," said Eames, voice almost reverent. "Next you'll tell me you've got milk, and I'll be forced to propose on the spot."

"Only hemp milk, I'm afraid," said Arthur. "Dairy's a little too dear for everyday use."

"Even that will be lovely, if it's on offer," said Eames hopefully.

Arthur couldn't help but smile. "Yes, of course," he said, bending down to get it out of his little fridge. He gave himself to a splash of it as well, and then poured them both tea, offering the honey to Eames first and watching the pure delight on his face as he stirred some into his tea.

"This is an incredible treat, darling, you have no idea," said Eames, taking a sip and making a face that had Arthur picturing him in other, less clothed situations. "Oh, wow, that is proper tea."

Arthur smiled and sipped his own tea and sighed. "The honey's my own, but the tea is worth the price when I can swing it."

"I'll say," said Eames. "You're definitely earning that tattoo, or some other spell-art if it comes to that." He didn't seem to mind the idea of going outside his chosen speciality; for that matter, most of the sorcerers across town were unlikely to do spellwork for a witch like Arthur regardless of price. It was an offer far more rare than a cup of tea.

"Here's to new friendship and favours fairly exchanged," Arthur said. They clinked cups and had another sip.

Eames sighed happily. "You're a very generous soul, Arthur. I shall try to live up to your example."

"We're a generous community," said Arthur. "At least, to each other."

"Outsiders have to pay, is that it?" Eames' eyes were bright as noonday sky and full of mischief.

Arthur smirked right back. "Got to get money coming into the area somehow."

The bell over the door rang and Arthur straightened up, smiling as another stranger came in. This one was of indeterminate gender, dressed in solar panel clothing stitched onto recycled finger-knit plastics in a manner that placed them from the cyber ghetto. Their skin was a dusky brown and their hair a mess of curls, cables, and colors; their coffee-black eyes darted around the store.

"Can I help you?" asked Arthur, setting his teacup onto its saucer, which he'd enchanted with a small warming spell to keep it from going cold on him.

"I heard you've got some, uh, American Columbo root?" asked the customer, fidgeting a little.

Arthur nodded. "I do, there's dried and fresh both but the fresh is a bit dear right now," he said. "Buy or barter?"

"You take crystals?" They fumbled inside their clothing and drew out a pouch. "Lab-grown chalcedony, quartz, coupla alexandrite."

"I might," said Arthur, thinking of who would take them and how he'd turn a profit. The alexandrite were quite beautiful, cut and polished to gem quality. The quartz was grown in long spears with one end jagged where it had been broken off, and the other in a beautiful point. The chalcedony had a nice luster but the shape wasn't refined, making it more of a tool than a jewel. "What are you hoping to get?"

"Need three whole roots, um, I think dried is okay?" Fingers fidgeted forward one of the quartz, one alexandrite, and a good-sized chunk of chalcedony. "For this maybe?"

"For that, I'll throw in a bit of balm for your hand," said Arthur, spotting the dry, itchy-looking skin. "Three dried roots and balm, for these three lab-grown crystals," said Arthur, holding his hand out for shaking.

The customer looked surprised, and a smile cracked their dour face as they shook. "You're a good find."

Eames had wandered off while they were bargaining, but Arthur wasn't worried that he'd risk future cups of tea let alone his welcome.  It only took a few moments to sweep the crystals away into a box and tuck them behind the counter. He handed over the small tin of balm and then came out from behind the counter to find and separate out three of the dried roots, checking them for completeness. Another bag was produced from the depths of the customer's clothing, and the roots also changed hands.

"Good bargain," they said, offering their balmed hand for another shake.

Arthur nodded. "Welcome back anytime," he replied, shaking firmly. "I make the balm here, it's cheap enough if you need more."

"Probably will," they said, slipping out the front.

"That was kind of you, to give them the balm," said Eames, strolling up while Arthur got the rest of his depleted stock tucked away.

"I wanted all three crystals, and it would've been overcharging. I can use the chalcedony myself and trade the other two away." He pulled the box back out and laid them on the counter, double checking them for quality and, with a bit of concentration, see the magical auras, pure as manmade crystals always were. It wasn't always what one wanted, sometimes the muddiness of earth-born crystals was required for a spell, but for Arthur's purposes these would be fine.

"That's a nice alexandrite," agreed Eames. "May I?"

Arthur grinned. "Going to get even more in my debt?" he teased, nodding as he turned to grab his teacup and have another warm sip. "Mm, that's good."

"Maybe, though I might have something of equal value to trade, I've a few charms going spare," said Eames. "I didn't know if you took stuff like this."

Eames drained his own cup with a soft sigh, and Arthur took pity and poured him another cup; the pot would hold four of the small teacups, which was usually enough to conduct any business that rated tea for the customer. He set the honey and milk on the counter and said, "Go on, I have a feeling we'll be working together a lot."

Eames lit up at that, which Arthur chose to ascribe to the prospect of their working relationship rather than the treat. "Ta, darling, you're a gem."

Arthur finished off his own cup and poured out the last of the pot. "Now, you said you had a list of plants you needed to reference?"

"Ah, yes," said Eames. He set his cup down with reverence and fished out a battered notebook while Arthur put away the precious condiments and cleaned out the pot; used tea leaves were a perfect fertilizer for some things. He was getting a little low on hemp milk, but that was relatively cheap to replace, unlike the honey that was always a good source of income for him. Eames flipped through the notebook and made a series of very entertaining noises.

"So, perhaps we should start a fresh list?" offered Arthur, rummaging under the counter for some paper. He owned a lot of locally-made things and this rough, recycled paper was no exception, but the graphite pencils he used worked just fine on it where ink would blur terribly.

Eames didn't eye it askance the way people from other districts sometimes treated the handmade nature of the witches' lifestyle. Arthur indulged in more polished items for some parts of his life, but his bespoke suits were as much of an eccentricity to some as the witchlights that kept the shop lit. Instead Eames took the proffered pencil and started transferring items from some sort of personal spell notebook, his handwriting neat with a touch of flair.

"I'm going to do some watering, but I'll be on this level," said Arthur, taking his watering can and making sure he had enough concentration with Eames here to check plant health without wasting the energy for an actual spell.

Eames made a vague noise of assent, and Arthur extended his senses with a push of his will, feeling around for plants that needed water, weeding, or anything else. He topped off a few plants, gave one a bit of plant food from the potion in his pocket, and plucked a few aspiring weeds from one of the big tree pots. There was one overwatered succulent he'd gotten for a song that was still needing more time to dry out, and Arthur spent a moment murmuring to it memories of desert winds, feeling the moisture evaporate for him to blow away with a soft breath.

"That's a lovely bit of magic," said Eames, startling him.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Er, thanks." He hadn't learned enough about the inner workings of sorcery to know about how it was different from his own witchy magic, just that it would be. "I'm about done here."

"I've got my list," said Eames, handing Arthur the paper and pencil.

"Let's see what I've got, then." Arthur scanned down the list and only saw one thing he didn't have. "Are you going to need any ingredients off these, or just to sketch them?"

"Oh, just to draw them," said Eames. "I might need to draw specific elements, but I shouldn't have to pluck anything."

Arthur nodded. "I should be able to do this, then. There's one I'll have to acquire, but since I get to keep the plant it's worth the effort for me."

"Really?" Eames looked like a kid on his birthday, getting the treat he's wanted all year. "That's amazing, Arthur, you're a gem."

"It's good you realize it," said Arthur impishly. "Now, if you really want to get in my good graces, you'll go get your sketching things and some lunch for us. My apprentice will be here soon to mind the shop."

"And you'll show me the conservatory?" At Arthur's nod, Eames stuck out his hand again. "It's a bargain," he said.

Arthur shook, and this time lingered just a moment, feeling the strange pull of Eames' aura. He was surprised to look down and see a tattoo slithering out of Eames' shirt cuff and over the back of his hand, the stylized snake flicking its tongue out where they touched as if to taste Arthur right back.

"Oh! I've never seen a tattoo do that," said Arthur. He nurtured that spark of wonder, an echo of Eames' earlier reaction to his trick with the cactus. Life in the city made one jaded sometimes, and he wanted to always love magic as much as he had when it first called to him.

Eames smiled fondly and used his other hand to stroke its head. "She likes you."

"I like her back," said Arthur, feeling the little tickle of magic reaching out to stroke over his skin every time its inked tongue flicked out. "How independent is she?"

"She can't crawl onto you without some special permission," Eames replied, "but she's got something like a spirit of her own, I invited her in when I made the tattoo as a vessel for her."

"Wow," said Arthur. He reached with his other hand and paused to ask, "May I?"

Eames beamed. "Yeah, go on." He lifted their joined hands a little.

Arthur felt his dimples coming out as he reached out and stroked his fingers over the snake's head, feeling the warmth of Eames' skin and the tingle of both their magics, getting a sense of some otherworldly presence. "Not a nature spirit, I guess."

"No, astral plane." Eames' eyes were fixed on Arthur's fingers, which had wandered up the snake's body toward Eames' wrist. "She chose the snake form, sort of."

"Do you have others?" asked Arthur, finding that both their magics seemed to like his curious caresses, which made his ears grow a bit warm. "I mean, of course you do, but others like this?"

Eames shook his head. "It's hard to house more than one spirit under your skin." He sounded a little breathless now, and Arthur made himself pull away and drop Eames' hand.

"Thank you for letting me meet her." Arthur was still smiling despite his embarrassed fascination. "Does she have a name you can tell me?"

"She has a name, but I don't really know you well enough to give you a piece of it." Eames' smile was lopsided and adorably sheepish. "Maybe in a few weeks, yeah? She definitely wants to make friends."

"Well, we can agree on that," replied Arthur, aware that he was flirting. Eames didn't seem to mind, though; he was hot enough to be out of Arthur's league, and exotically new to boot, but Arthur wasn't going to complain that he caught the man's eye.

"So," said Eames, hands going into his pockets, "What shall we have for lunch?"

---

"What's that grin for?" asked Ariadne, coming behind the counter to put her bag away and make a pot of tea.

"Make the big pot," said Arthur. "I've got a lunch. Thing." He had amassed a tray full of plants to take upstairs, nearly everything on Eames' list that wasn't already up there.

"A lunch thing? Do tell," said Ariadne, rinsing out the big teapot with a very happy smile. Arthur was rarely cheerful enough to make so much tea at once, and he knew she was looking forward to having more than two small cups' worth.

"Tattoo guy wants to come here and draw plants as a favor." Arthur added one more pot to the tray and ticked it off the list. "He's getting us lunch. Also, as hot as advertised."

"Oh my goddess," she said, beaming. "You gave him tea and honey, didn't you?"

"And hemp milk," Arthur replied, tucking the list away in a pocket. "He's buying us lunch from the Patels."

"Yeah? Am I getting saag or do I have to fend for myself?" She pulled out her apprentice journal and the store ledger, checking to see what Arthur had sold that day.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot." Arthur came over to put the earlier barter in the ledger, which led to showing her his trade items, not just the stones but several seed packets from earlier that morning, and a couple of IOUs. "Oh, and we'll need more hemp milk pretty soon."

"I've been meaning to try my hand at making it." Ariadne made puppy eyes at him.

Arthur laughed. "Yeah, I'll send you to get ingredients tomorrow morning, it'll be a good project for you."

"I always forget you don't grow it," she said, making some notes in her journal.

"Everyone else does. Why waste the space when the things I grow are more valuable?" Arthur replied. "I like that there's cheap, easy trade stuff we always need, too."

"We?" said Eames' voice as he came through the door, making the chimes above it ring sweetly.

"Ariadne, this is Eames. Ari's my apprentice, so the shop sustains us both." Arthur did a little bow.

Eames' smile came back to its full wattage, showing charmingly crooked teeth. "You must be the recipient of the saag and extra naan that were impressed upon me as necessary," he said, setting down the box and pulling out containers. Ariadne's lidded ceramic bowl was glazed in a lovely celadon with dancing stalks of grass in a darker green, and the bread was wrapped in a matching cloth napkin. Arthur had a few bowls that lived with the Patels, and it looked like they'd all come back with this order plus a few extras, along with several napkin-wrapped bundles and a pot of chai.

"Oh, we were going to make more tea," said Arthur, as the kettle clicked off.

"We can save it for later," suggested Ariadne, perking up. "If I can steal a cup of that?"

"Yes, of course," said Eames, pouring for her when her teacup appeared on the counter. "Are we eating down here, petal?"

"Upstairs," said Arthur, trying not to twitch at the pet name. Assuming it was directed at him, of course, but everyone seemed to take for granted that it was. "Did they charge you for Ari's food?"

"They almost didn't even charge me for yours, but I did take it upon myself to treat us all," replied Eames, packing the box back up carefully, making sure nothing would rattle now that they were down two items. "I'm sure your apprentice won't mind benefiting from the favors owed to the shop owner."

"Neither of us minds," replied Arthur, before Ariadne could speak. "I usually feed her, it's easier than trying to give her much of a salary."

"He covers my rent in trade, too," explained Ariadne sheepishly. "I only need pocket money when I want something we can't trade for here."

"Not a lot of viable currency going around these days," agreed Eames. "I'm very lucky Arthur was willing to lend me the use of his conservatory for favors owed."

"Speaking of which," said Arthur, slipping the list onto the tray of plants and picking it up, "get the door, will you, Ari?"

"Sure thing." She put the lid back on her food while Eames hefted the box, and they headed over to the door hidden by screening vines and a small notice-me-not charm.

Arthur felt the soft rush of warmth when his wards closed behind them with the door, and he wondered what it felt like to Eames to be surrounded in the cradle of Arthur's magic.

"It's just straight up to the roof from here," Arthur said unnecessarily, filling the silence with nervous chatter as he climbed the stairs. It was three flights, the ground floor being the shop, the second floor his living quarters, and the third his lab with the roof garden and solar panels up top.

Eames let out a soft, considering noise. "You're all through this building, aren't you?"

"It's mine," said Arthur simply. There were a lot of ways property could be acquired these days, not all of them strictly legal, and it never hurt to make people wonder how an apothecarist could afford to own his own building.

"In every sense, I guess." Eames sounded impressed, and not at all bothered by the long climb. Though Arthur paused at each landing to make sure they both had a good grip on their burdens, it didn't take too long to get up to the top and out into the noonday sun.

About half the roof was taken up with solar panels, a uniform set thanks to a judicious trade. Another quarter held a proper greenhouse, glassed-in and full of exotic plants, not to mention the beehive. The last quarter was a beautiful garden with a table and chairs in the middle, which is where Arthur led Eames to set down their burdens.

"You serve us up lunch and I'll make sure these don't get sunburned while we eat," said Arthur, taking a few of the more delicate plants over to a shaded workbench. He had a small shed against one wall of the greenhouse that provided shade and storage, as well hiding the plumbing for his two water features, one under glass and one out in the open air.

"This is beautiful." Eames was parceling out the dishes, making sure there were teacups and pouring them each some chai, which the restaurant made with creamy coconut milk and spiced tea and would have cost him enough that Arthur was already feeling on more equal footing. "I'm honored you've invited me up here."

"You've got a good aura," teased Arthur, not entirely joking. He sat and began uncovering dishes, laying out the napkins of naan and making a plate out of one of the lids. "You need to work and live here just as much as I do. The reputation you'd get for spoiling a major community resource wouldn't be worth whatever mischief you might get up to."

Eames laughed. "Sensible as well as soulful." He followed suit and began serving himself. "The meal wasn't too much but their tea came a lot more dearly than yours."

Arthur took a sip and sighed happily. "It's a good bribe for me to hunt up that lithops."

"I'll have to go back to herbal blends tomorrow," said Eames with a sigh, "but maybe my favorite plant supplier will find me somewhere to buy a tin for myself."

"I could arrange it, if you really do have a charm or two going wanting," said Arthur. He dug into the food now that it had cooled a little, sighing over the taste. "The Patels also have a tea connection."

"Not the same one?" Eames dug in as well, both of them using the bread for utensils along with a couple of the serving spoons. It was hard to care too much about germs when water to wash the dishes was so precious, and most people kept a personal warding or charm against illness. At least in the magical neighborhoods; he wasn't sure what the techs did, though he'd not heard of any of the city's districts having outbreaks of colds or influenza last winter.

"Not the same one." Arthur mmed at the taste of the spiced naan, a favorite that also came at a small but significant premium. "Their supplier imports their spices, too, and I can't meet the minimums."

"Ah, well, the price of luxury I suppose," said Eames with a shy grin. "I've got my sketch things here, will I be allowed to stay up here unsupervised?"

"I've got some work to do here, but if you're still drawing when I'm done you can stay until the light goes." Arthur had a spoonful of the creamy yogurt and cucumber mix he rarely paid extra for. "Mm, you really did go all out, this is a rare treat."

"Anything for you, darling." Eames winked and had a bite of his own raita.

They ate in silence awhile, murmuring appreciation for the feast that slowly dwindled until there was nothing but a surprise dish of sweets for each of them, and the very last dregs of chai. "I'm going to waddle around doing my chores," said Arthur, stretching before he dug into the sweet jalebi.

"That was the best meal I've had in ages," agreed Eames, rubbing his belly. "I can't bring us lunch like that every day but I am absolutely delighted to have done so today."

"It'll be my treat tomorrow, I usually cook us something." Arthur licked a little bit of syrup off his fingers. "And there's always some fresh greens."

"Oh, you tease," said Eames with a laugh. "It sounds delightful, should I bring anything besides myself and my sketchbook?"

"Can you get some hemp milk in case Ari's experiment goes awry?" asked Arthur. "Or any kind of milk, really, though I'm not fond of soy."

Eames nodded, pulling out his phone to make a note. Arthur licked his lips, then pulled out his own phone, one of his most expensive possessions and one he rarely showed off. "Shall we trade numbers?"

"Oh, erm, I'm only on the magical network," said Eames apologetically.

Arthur nodded. "I'm on both." He flashed Eames the modified front, gold-filled runes etched into the tech glass along with delicate traceries of pure magic in flickering blue. "Don't tell anyone?"

"I would never," Eames swears, looking impressed. "You really have done well for yourself, if the building and the phone are both yours."

Arthur laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I do pretty well. I economize where I need to, but I can afford quality when it suits me."

They spent a few moments with the business of exchanging numbers and making sure they could send messages, and then Arthur tucked his phone back away in the special inner pocket of his waistcoat, which had its own notice-me-not spells woven through it. "All right, I really do need to get to work," he said, giving in and eating the last bite of his dessert. "Thank you again for this feast, it really is a treat."

"You're very welcome, Arthur, you are a delight to have met," said Eames. "And it's saved me all kinds of trouble to be able to do these here, even if it means the shop's closed up while I work."

Arthur savored the last sip of his chai and sighed, then stood up and nodded to Eames. "Leave the dishes, we'll do them tonight with the rest of the day's cleaning."

"Boxed up?" asked Eames, wiping his mouth on one of the napkins.

Arthur nodded, and they both busied themselves with work. When he looked back, Eames was working away at a sketchbook, all the dishes neatly packed away and a single plant in front of him. Eames had pulled out the stake that read 'string of pearls' in Arthur's neat script, and angled the pot to get a good swathe of the hanging tendrils in his sketch.

The afternoon went like that, Arthur in his apron working away at the bench or in the planters, while Eames drew this plant and that. After a couple of hours, Arthur decided it was time for a break and ran his hands through a quick cleaning spell to get the dirt off without wasting water.

"How's the progress?" asked Arthur, coming over to see what Eames was doing.

"Two down, many to go," said Eames with a chuckle. He flipped back and showed Arthur first the string of pearls, done in bold pencil and delicate watercolor for a beautiful juxtaposition of styles that worked well for the odd plant. The next one was the blooming clover, its yellow blossoms painted in splashes of pigment and the bold greens rendered with more delicacy around them.

"I'll put these back where they belong, and make sure everything else will be fine overnight." Arthur slipped the two finished plants off the tray and took the rest over to his workbench, dropping off several there and putting the rest in the greenhouse. When he came back, Eames was nearly done with his sketch of cheerful marigolds.

"I'll be another half hour at least getting these colors right." Eames looked up with puppy eyes. "Can I stay?"

"Yeah, want some water?" said Arthur, smiling at him warmly. "I need to go check on Ari."

"Yes, ta," Eames replied, already back to his sketching.

Arthur smiled warmly and took the box of dishes downstairs, putting it in his own kitchen before heading down with a snack for Ariadne, fresh tomatoes from his own vines, halved and rubbed with basil. She accepted with good grace and they talked about the shop, which had been busy enough that he gave her his tomato and made more for himself and Eames.

"I brought a treat," said Arthur, emerging into the light with his hands full of cool water in glass bottles, and the napkin containing their snack.

"Brilliant," said Eames, grinning as he set his things aside and accepted both water and food. "Oh, you grew this, I bet." He bit into the ripe half-sphere, juice running down his chin as he made a pleased noise.

"Of course, and the basil, too." Arthur nibbled on his own rather more delicately, not wanting to get tomato on his shirt.

Eames mmed and used the napkin on his chin. "I'm never leaving, you're a wonder." He was beaming, crooked teeth biting into the flesh of the tomato again and taking a basil leaf with them this time.

They ate their snacks in silence, giving the good food the attention it deserved. Fresh food would be much rarer in winter, though Arthur kept some things in his greenhouse for year-round produce. Arthur watched Eames eating, big bites that he savored with unvarnished enjoyment, and wondered how he'd be in bed, doing magic, making real art. By contrast, Arthur kept himself contained. He'd honed his magic, his will, and his expertise to razor sharpness, using each with precision to best effect.

Eames' brilliant, cheerful chaos was intoxicating.

"What time do you need to be at your own shop?" asked Arthur, once Eames had devoured his tomato.

"I'm not really open yet, actually. I've got a couple of commissions pending and I won't open the shop until I've got the art done for the walls, and those two people done. Should be another couple of weeks." Eames cleaned himself on the napkin and folded it to one side, going back to layering paint on his marigolds.

"So you'll be here morning to night until then, and company for lunch." Arthur nodded to the loose, gorgeous drawing. "That's really lovely, very different from your snake."

"Different purposes, I suppose. Runework is more variable than you'd think, depending on the intent of the piece." He splashed a little more green onto the leaves and then began carefully cleaning his brush, brushing the damp bristles against an etched spell-stone that removed both paint and water with each stroke. "This is as much for my memory as the final design, anyway."

Arthur nodded. His own spells could look very different depending on the purpose, sometimes needing elaborate preparation and tools, and sometimes just a few words and his will. "I suppose our magics aren't so different," he mused.

"They're different enough," replied Eames with a sigh. "But more in source than function, I understand. Witchcraft is all about nature, and sorcery's more about the supernatural."

"Well, hopefully you won't disrupt our nature here too much," said Arthur, with just enough sharpness to make it a warning. He might think Eames was a lot of good things, but he'd be the first to cut him out of the neighborhood if Eames' magic started to eat away at the core of their lifestyle.

Eames shook his head. "Part of why I left," he replied shortly. His tone made it clear he didn't want to broach the subject further, and Arthur chose to respect that for now.

"Then you'll fit in here just fine." Arthur finished his last bite of tomato, finding a clean bit of napkin to wipe his mouth and fingers. "I should get back down to the shop."

"I suppose your apprentice has her own work to do," said Eames. He made sure the paint was dry and shut his book, packing everything away in his bag. "What time shall I return tomorrow?"

Arthur suppressed a stab of regret that Eames was going so soon and got up, making sure his clothing was dusted and everything up on the roof was in good order. "I open at ten, you can come in then."

"Will do," replied Eames. He let Arthur escort him downstairs and out the front door.

Arthur went to relieve Ariadne at the counter, where she was having a little trouble with one of their cantankerous regulars. She scampered off as soon as she could, and Arthur suppressed another little sigh before taking up the thread of conversation and figuring out what the man actually wanted.

---

The next morning, Arthur came down from his lab to open the shop and found Eames already waiting, chatting with one of Arthur's other favorite customers, an old witch who came to him for his plant ingredients and the odds and ends he got in trade from others.

"I've told her that you've got first dibs on my charms, darling, but she wants to see what's on offer anyway," said Eames with a wink.

It took Arthur an embarrassingly long moment to realize that Eames meant magical charms and not the other kind. "Yeah, of course, come in and I'll make us some tea."

"Nettle and mint for me, none of that caffeinated stuff," said Cora, shuffling in after Eames. "I've got a few ingredients to pull as well."

"You shop, we'll get everything ready," Arthur assured her, leading Eames over to his counter and getting set up for two pots of tea, since he knew they both would want camellia sinensis. "Ari's making us more milk today, I gave her a budget and sent her off to find raw ingredients since I don't grow hemp or nuts."

Eames nodded. "I hope you haven't given away that alexandrite?" he said, getting out a small roll of dark velvet that he unrolled onto the counter. "I really did want to trade for it."

"No, no, I remembered." Arthur got the kettle going and warmed the pots with a quick spell so he could get the herbs measured out. He got out the box of traded items, knowing they'd both want a look through it. He found the honey and the last of his hemp milk and set those beside their cups, not letting himself get distracted until the kettle dinged and he could pour water into their teapots.

Arthur finally let his attention, both mundane and magical, wander over to the metal charms on Eames' unrolled velvet. "These are lovely," said Arthur, passing his hand just above them and feeling the energies, one for luck and one for love, one for prosperity and one for health, not big charms but well-wrought and lasting. There were three that took him a moment until he narrowed his focus: the first was a charm specifically to keep the owner from damaging their possessions; the second was a charm against spoiled food; and the last one was Arthur's favorite once he got the gist, a charm to hone one's sense of enoughness so one always used the right amount of a resource for the purpose.

"I want this one," said Arthur, tapping the counter above it. "If it's for sale?"

"Really? That's such an odd little charm." Eames sounded surprised, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was more of an experiment."

"I love the specificity," said Arthur. "Assuming I'm interpreting it right."

"You can give it a try when you make up our tea," offered Eames, picking it up and pressing it into Arthur's hand with both of his. "If so, I'd be happy to trade it for that gem."

"Oh, no, it's worth more than that." Arthur's protest got caught up in a smile when the snake tattoo snuck down out of Eames' sleeve again to lick at Arthur's skin. "Hello there."

"It's really not, it's such a small thing." Eames was smiling, too, as the snake wound itself around his hand, getting tastes of both Arthur's skin and the charm. "She's so curious about you."

"Our Arthur is a curiosity," said Cora. She came up and set a bundle of items on the counter, sorting them out a ways down from Eames' impromptu display. "Tea about ready?"

"Not quite," said Arthur without thinking, the answer popping into his head with a little spark of magic from the charm. "Yeah, I definitely want this one." He made no move to reclaim his hand yet, enjoying the warmth of Eames' aura and the alien tingle of the snake's threading through it.

"I'll take a look at the rest, then." Cora trundled over to peer at them.

Arthur felt a tug at his awareness and regretfully pulled out of Eames' gentle grip, keeping the charm in his palm. "Tea's about ready."

"I like this one," said Cora, pointing to the charm for fresh food. "Whatcha want?"

Arthur tuned out their bargaining and poured the tea, using the charm to sense when he'd put in the perfect amount of everything and finding himself amused to be adding more honey and milk to his own cup than usual, and nearly the same amounts to Eames'. Cora liked honey but not milk, and he slid her cup over to her before handing Eames his.

"I love the charm, and I'll take it," said Arthur, tucking it in his vest pocket. "It'll save me a lot of my own magic when I'm working with plants."

Eames lit up. "Oh, yeah, I didn't think of that. It's perfect, then, charm for the stone?"

"Sure. If you're done with Cora you can go up, I added you and your snake to the stair wards." Arthur had spent long moments last night calling up the memory of their auras and whispering permission into his wards, which readily accepted Eames as much as they had Ariadne and Lancelot. He'd burned a sprig of dried rosemary while he worked to give himself a boost, and the shop still smelled of herbs and smoke today in a way Arthur, at least, found appealing.

Arthur fished the stone out of the box and passed it over to Eames, who folded it up into the velvet with the charms to keep safe.

"We're done enough," said Cora mysteriously. "I'll get that done for you, poppet, never fear." She'd secreted her own charm into one of the many pockets hidden in her voluminous, colorful skirts.

"I knew you would," said Eames, charming as ever. He swooped in with an impish grin and kissed Arthur's cheek, and then Cora's weathered one. "I'll see you upstairs, petal." Bag and cup hefted, he made his way to the back, only hesitating a moment before vanishing through the door.

"He's a lovely one," said Cora with a knowing cackle.

"Yeah," agreed Arthur. "Now, what've you got here?"

---

Their business done to Arthur's great satisfaction and Cora's as well, he brought the last of the pot up to Eames, trusting the shop wards to let him know if anyone else was downstairs. "I thought you might like this," said Arthur, bringing over the small tray with pot, milk, and honey.

"I would very much, ta," said Eames, looking up from his work. He'd found one of the plants on Arthur's workbench from his list and set himself up to draw. He drained the last bit of his cup and let Arthur fix his refill, the charm helping him to make it perfectly to Eames' taste.

"There you are." Arthur picked the tray back up. "I can't stay now, but I'll be back to get you for lunch once Ariadne's here."

"I'll come down if I need you," said Eames with a wink.

Arthur huffed a laugh, knowing he was showing his dimples. "I don't doubt it."

He stole a glance at the graceful swoops of Eames' sketch, loose graphite that captured the essential shape of the leaves, and he knew he was still smiling when he got back down to the shop just in time to help out a trio of customers.

---

Arthur made them a salad for lunch with fresh greens and herbs from his own plants, more tomatoes and cucumbers from his prolific vines, lemon juice from his dwarf tree in the greenhouse, goat cheese traded for a potion against parasites, and hard boiled eggs from a neighbor's hens. His avocado tree was just starting to put out fruit, but they were still a little too precious for this. Instead, he sliced up some apple and pear from another neighbor's trees, and added a sprinkling of walnuts as well. Eames' charm helped him get the right amount of everything and even nudged him to add a little sprinkle of salt for all of them, as well as slicing the squeezed lemons into a pitcher of fridge-cold water for them to share.

He brought the tray of goodies downstairs and found Eames leaning on the counter while Ariadne chattered away at him, showing off all of Arthur's most popular poultices and unguents.

"I was beginning to wonder if he did any actual apothecary-ing," said Eames teasingly.

"I do my lab work in the mornings while you're still lazing in bed," replied Arthur, setting the tray on the counter and nodding to the three bowls. "Blue is Ariadne, Brown is me, and Green is you."

"Arthur makes a lot of extra money growing his own ingredients and selling them." Ariadne snagged her bowl and a fork and dug in with glee. "But the medicinals are still our main gig."

"Witches like Cora trade me finished potions for ingredients, too," added Arthur.

Eames looked curious. "She wouldn't make more selling herself?" He accepted his own bowl with a soft thanks.

"Cora has been known to yell loud enough to be heard down the block when people bother her for things they can buy from me instead," said Arthur with a chuckle. "The ones that trade to me don't want to be bothered for mundane stuff they make in big batches."

"Cora only likes to do special orders personally," said Ariadne between bites. "But she sometimes gets Arthur to broker those, too, if she's feeling particularly antisocial."

Eames was smiling thoughtfully. "I knew I liked her," he said, eyes twinkling.

His snake came peeking out when Arthur handed Eames his water, their hands brushing on the cold glass. Her tongue flicked at the condensation and Arthur was charmed to see the drops quivering in reaction to the small magic.

"I hope it's good, your charm is really great for cooking," said Arthur. "I think you'll find other people wanting one, if you decide to make more."

Eames shrugged. "I haven't got the facilities right now, but maybe someday." He brought his hand over to cup Arthur's, letting the snake get her taste of his magic.

Arthur chuckled at the tickle of her curiosity against his aura. "You spoil your snake," he said fondly.

"You're one to talk. I've seen how you are with that lazy cat of yours," said Ariadne dryly.

"You have a cat?" Eames' whole face was lit up with delight. "And it doesn't roam the shop?"

"He can, but he chooses not to," said Arthur. "His name's Lancelot."

"Arthur found him when he was a kitten, and sacrificed a lot of our food budget to get him healthy," said Ariadne. "Still, it was nice to always have milk for tea for awhile."

"He gets scraps from restaurants now," said Arthur. "He does hunt, too, but he's really lazy and my vermin wards are pretty solid."

Arthur finished giving everyone their food and water and finally dug into his own salad. The extra salt livened up the fresh ingredients, and he let out a little hum of happiness at the taste. "Seriously, that charm is the best."

When he looked up, the tips of Eames' ears were suspiciously pink.

---

The next few days passed peacefully, Eames showing up at shop opening and painting until closing, with Arthur working up on the roof as he could. Eames provided lunch sometimes, shared in theirs sometimes, and was always unstinting in his offers to help or provide. Their hemp milk was upgraded to a choice of coconut or almond milk courtesy of Eames, and Arthur introduced Eames to his bees as a reward.

"These are smart bees," said Arthur, pausing at the door to the greenhouse. "I mean, magical bees."

"I'll be polite," assured Eames. "I've never met any before, but I've heard of them."

"Good. Her Majesty will introduce herself however she wishes you to know her, but generally treating her like royalty will go over well." Arthur took a deep breath and opened the door into his greenhouse, letting out a burst of warm, scented air and a few lazy, curious bees that looped around them and back into their familiar haven.

"It's beautiful in here," breathed Eames, face lit up as he took in the rows of tables and planters and shelves and hanging pots, arranged as much for aesthetics as atmosphere.

"She likes it to be pretty." Arthur let the familiar atmosphere soothe his nerves. He hadn't been hard to convince to forgo the regimented organization of the shop for a more attractive configuration up here, as long as all the plants he needed could be accommodated. "I do, too."

"I can see why she likes you, then." Eames' flirting was as natural as breathing, Arthur sometimes thought, but it was directed at Arthur the most often so he let himself enjoy it. "It's beautiful in here, petal."

"Thank you," said Arthur. "Ah, the scouts have reported in."

A small group of bees swooped and dove their way over, showing off their precision flying to the newcomer.

"This is Eames," Arthur said to the bees. "He's here to be presented to Her Majesty."

There was a moment of whirling, and then the whole group bobbed up and down once before heading back the way they came.

"I take it that's a yes?" asked Eames. He had that look of childlike wonder he got sometimes, and Arthur wanted very badly to kiss him.

Arthur nodded instead. "Yeah." He led Eames to the middle of the greenhouse where there was an elaborate, beautiful hive built in a squat, potted tree.

Arthur had built the hive with magic and a lot of sweating and swearing, making sure it would support a good colony of bees without harming the tree before he did the spell to invite bees into his greenhouse. The bees had done the rest, carving the frame into beautiful whorls and honeycombs, filling it with wax, and getting Arthur to bring them new wood to add to it whenever they required it.

In return, Arthur was allowed to harvest honey and royal jelly in carefully measured quantities. The Queen deliberately overproduced honey for Arthur's benefit, so that much more of her hive was devoted to honeycomb than a normal hive, which they all considered fair return for Arthur's continued maintenance of their home, not to mention the comfort of living in a warded, climate-controlled, flower-bedecked environment.

"Beautiful," said Eames again, looking positively starry-eyed as they approached the tree.

Arthur took a critical look at all the parts of the structure, and thought he might have to trade for some more wood and clay soon, and spend a few nights enlarging the pot and supporting the structure. "Your Majesty, the hive is looking splendid. You've been expanding again."

Arthur put a hand on Eames' arm to keep him from starting when the Queen floated up out of her crowd of bees, a tiny flower fairy barely as tall as a thumb and possessing an eerie, insectoid cast to her features. Far from being repelled, however, Eames looked fascinated.

He moved forward and bowed politely. "Your Majesty, thank you for granting me an audience. Arthur has let me try some of your delightful honey, and I've never had better."

"We wish to have a few special items, and have made honey for payment," said the Queen. "We are pleased that our honey is so well-received."

Arthur bowed, too. "I'm happy to acquire whatever you need, Your Majesty." Even if it cost more than the honey gave him this year, an expansion would assure years of profit. "I'll spend some time on your tree, as well."

"We would appreciate it." Her voice held the buzz of her workers, low and alien, but her words were high and clear. "We will tell you of our wishes."

Arthur pulled out his notebook and made the list, smiling as he realized. "Will you want to share the greenhouse, then, or is there somewhere calling for a new hive?"

"We wish to have the flowers outside harvested," said the Queen. "We do not wish stranger-bees on our roof, so we will make a sister-hive for outside."

"I'll do everything I can to prepare for it," Arthur assured her. "The wards can handle the worst of the winter weather, with a little alteration."

"We knew we could count on you to keep our sister-bees as well as you have kept us." Her voice was smug and pleased. "Our sister-hive will give honey of a different flavour. If you bring us all we ask, we will have healing honey for all of us."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Arthur blinked, holding in his surprise.

"We are pleased with your new man. Bring him back to us when you have let him mark you." She sank back down into the hoard of her bees, their bodies covering hers until she vanished from sight. Arthur knew she had some kind of chambers inside the hive, but he had made a point never to inquire too closely about it. It felt like a trust he didn't need, given the rest of their relationship.

He and Eames both bowed, and the roiling mass of bees dissipated into the hive. Arthur led Eames back out to the roof and then back downstairs. "I think we both need more tea after that," said Arthur with a laugh.

"Do you know how valuable healing honey is?" said Eames, once they were inside.

Arthur chuckled. "I do, but I expect there will be more demands in return. The hive is profitable but she makes me work for it."

Eames nodded. "I saw that hive, that was gorgeous. How much if it was you?"

"I build and add to the structure, but her bees do all the intricate carving work. The pot is my design, though, and I trained the tree into its shape." They made it down into the shop and Arthur headed for the kettle, only to find Ariadne had already started it up.

"You always need tea after seeing the bees," she explained. "Did she give you another shopping list?"

Arthur laughed. "Yeah, and it's a big one. I'll have to take a few days off to get started on it, and then spend a lot of time on the roof. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, as long as you keep your phone on so I can text you if I need you," she said. "My milk project can be moved down here, and I can always bring down the small mortar and pestle and do prep work for your lab time."

"Good Apprentice." Arthur readied the small teapot and got into his very secret stash, some black tea he'd flavoured himself with a precious vanilla bean. Ariadne knew where it was, of course, but she also knew better than to get into it -- she'd get some whenever he drank it if she left it alone.

"What is that heavenly smell?" said Eames, scenting the air as Arthur uncovered the tin and then unwrapped the plastic inside.

"Vanilla." Arthur sighed softly and inhaled deeply.

"Wow." Eames shook his head. "You are spoiling me for other men, Arthur, darling."

Arthur could feel his dimples showing. "It's worth a celebration," he said. Ariadne warmed the teapot for him, holding the kettle poised while he carefully measured in three teaspoons of the precious treat, and a little extra sprinkle for the pot. She poured the water, a little less than usual since they were going for three cups instead of four, and Arthur got the tin sealed back up and tucked into its warded cupboard. He turned to Ariadne, who was looking incredibly curious, and said, "I'm building a second hive, Her Majesty wants to make a sister-Queen to make healing honey."

"Even a little of that will help us out a lot," said Ariadne, getting down their cups and wiping them clean, making sure they were matched with the spelled saucers.

"Hm, I feel like I should have contributed something to this celebration." Eames was standing over the pot, inhaling the steam.

"You did," said Arthur, pulling out the tin of coconut milk. "This will be amazing in vanilla tea."

Eames and Ariadne both let out oohs that made them all laugh, and somehow the reverent hush that had settled over them became properly celebratory. Ari nipped upstairs to get some cookies from Arthur's stash, while Arthur carefully poured a measure of coconut milk and honey into each cup, using his new charm to judge the amount.

"What will you choose for a tattoo, d'you think?" asked Eames. His snake had snuck down of his sleeve again, tongue flicking out when Eames gently waved his hand through the fragrant steam.

Arthur chuckled. "I've no idea yet. We should talk about it, though, because I haven't got a really clear idea of the possibilities."

"Will your poppet want one as well? You two certainly are both welcome." Eames smiled at Ari as she brandished the cookie tin at them, its holiday motif painted over with preservation charms.

"I absolutely want one," said Ariadne. "Arthur'll help me afford it."

"Eames and I will work it out for you," agreed Arthur. "So yeah, we're definitely on your list." He could feel the tea was ready, and he poured it into three cups, the last trickle just filling his own cup perfectly. They each stirred their cups and slipped a few cookies on the saucer. They were made of ginger from Arthur's garden and molasses acquired by barter, flour from the mill on the river and honey from his bees, leavening from the alchemist and butter from one of the farmers that came in to market, eggs from their neighbor and the rest of the spices traded from the Patels a measure at a time for their own share of the cookies.

Arthur took a sip, sighing over the flavor. "Perfect."

"Really perfect." Ariadne said, after her own first sip.

Eames was still smelling his, inhaling the mix of honey and coconut, tea and vanilla, eyes closed to concentrate on the scents before he took a sip. He let out a positively obscene sound and opened his eyes. "Definitely perfect."

They tacitly agreed to concentrate on their treats, each of them sipping and nibbling at their own pace. Arthur was glad that he only had one sip left when the bell above the door rang, admitting Cora with a basket of her own wares, her trade for the things she'd taken the other day.

"Celebrating something," she said matter-of-factly. "Good omen I came now, then."

"We're sharing a special treat," said Eames delightedly. "Do you have mine, too?"

"I do," she said, passing a cloth bundle to Eames. "It's a good trade, even if I have to start another for myself now."

Arthur let the mystery go for now, finishing his tea with a pleased sigh and offering Cora the cookie tin.

"Don't mind if I do," she said, taking two ginger cookies and biting into one while the other vanished into her skirts. "I've got yours here, too, never fear."

"I never do, with you," Arthur assured her, while Ariadne cleared up the remains of their miniature party.

Cora put the basket up on the table, and Arthur spent a few minutes discussing what she'd brought him, witch-potions that were more in her milieu than his. It gave his shop more cachet to have not only his own preparations but her potions, among other things.

She had a little surprise for him, a new remedy for the flux she'd been trying out, and he parted with a few more traded stones in exchange for a promise that it came with the same quality guarantee as always. After a cup of lemon-mint and dandelion tea to seal the bargain, they parted ways and Arthur turned his attention back to the rest of the shop.

Eames was just coming out of the door to upstairs wearing a huge grin on his face and a warm, autumn-themed patchwork witch skirt in place of his trousers. "I knew it'd fit a treat, this is the most useful garment I've ever owned!"

Arthur was surprised at how well the layered skirts suited him, the bright colors and many secrets that it would, someday, hide for him as it did for some of the neighborhood's other witches. "It looks great on you," said Arthur, feeling his ears heat a bit and his dimples showing, and trying not to wonder what Eames had on underneath. He never had that problem with Cora.

"I'm thinking maybe a waistcoat on top, the way you do sometimes," said Eames, swishing back and forth. "They're far superior to sorcerer's robes, those never have enough pockets."

Arthur laughed. "You, Mr. Eames, are a delight. Will you draw more today?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," said Eames, coming over to lean on the counter lightly. Ariadne handed him a glass of cool water with a bit of the lemon-mint in it, giving one to Arthur as well before taking herself away to see to the plants.

"What's up?" asked Arthur, sipping the water and hoping it wasn't anything bad.

"I was hoping I could come along on your shopping trips," Eames explained, "only it would mean even longer hanging about on your roof."

"Oh, yeah, that's fine," said Arthur, relieved. "You'll want to meet everyone anyway, and you know I don't mind having you here." He considered saying something flirty, but everything that came to mind sounded dumb even in his head.

"I like being here," said Eames, his smile open and warm. "I know I'll have to have my own shop open for normal hours someday, but for now I'm enjoying this little break."

"You might not," Arthur pointed out. "If you always work by appointment, you wouldn't need to keep office hours the same way I do here."

"That's true." Eames leaned in a little closer. "I'll just have to hope that there's enough good word for me to sustain such luxuries."

"Cora's like that, only does custom work by appointment. That's why she sells me her big-batch stuff." Arthur licked his lips and wondered if it would be entirely unprofessional to kiss Eames, eyes flicking from those lush lips to Eames' bright eyes.

"Well, I can hardly sell you batch tattooing," Eames replied with a chuckle. "Still, I'd much prefer to stick to large, well-researched pieces. Perhaps I can do small work all day on Thursdays or something." He looked thoughtful, though his gaze shifted to Arthur's mouth a time or two.

The bell over the door broke the moment, and Arthur had to go take care of the first of a small stream of customers. Eames and his bright new skirts vanished back upstairs, with Arthur only staring a little as Eames joyfully swished them around on his way out.

---

"Ready for a shopping day?" asked Arthur, as Eames came swishing into the shop a few days after their meeting with the bees. Arthur had dressed for going out in his most sturdy boots, well-cut suit, and an overcoat with plenty of pockets both visible and hidden. He had a basket full of cloth bags and a few boxes and bits and bobs, things he knew would appeal to the people he was hoping to bargain with.

Eames beamed. "Ready as I'll ever be," he said, giving another swish of his new skirts. He'd not worn them since that first day, much to Arthur's disappointment, but now he was wearing a goldenrod Mandarin collar linen shirt and form-fitting green tweed waistcoat with them. He had a proper sorcerer's cloak to go on top of it, the student embroidery carefully picked off so it was plain black with no affiliation or rank. He had his messenger bag and a stout walking stick with him, and Arthur could feel the tickle of charms when he bounced closer.

"Let's have a cuppa and we'll go," said Arthur, passing Eames the mug and feeling the small keep-warm charm he'd cast on it dissolve. He, too, had a mug; He hadn't wanted to waste time on ceremony today, so instead he'd just made up mugs and kept them warm for Eames' arrival.

"Poppet coming in early?" asked Eames, pulling out a treat of his own to share, oatcakes from the brownie's bakery laden with dried fruit and Arthur's own honey.

"She'll open and hopefully we'll be back to take over, or she'll get the Patels to deliver lunch and charge it to me." Arthur grinned. "She's perfectly capable of locking up for a break if she needs one, too." No one much minded a 'back soon' sign when so many shops were run by just one person.

"So she is," said Eames. He was leaning close against the counter again, and Arthur laid his hand over Eames', smiling when the contact coaxed the snake out to play. "Speaking of she, are you going to let me give him something to call you besides 'snake'?"

The snake looped playfully around Eames' wrist and slipped into the space between them, head hiding under Arthur's hand though still under Eames' skin.

"Is that a yes?" Arthur wasn't sure he minded either way, since it wasn't as though he knew anyone else's snake tattoo, but he was also eager for anything that brought him closer to Eames without jeopardizing their budding friendship by pushing.

"Yes, I think I can give you her nickname," said Eames, mming as he stroked over the coils of ink around his wrist. "I call her Ruby."

Arthur beamed, dimples coming out, and felt the tickle of her tongue against his palm as she sent her aura out to taste him. "Ruby, it's very nice to meet you."

The snake peeked out playfully, wriggling in the way he'd learned meant she wanted Arthur to stroke her head. He obliged happily, getting a hum of pleasure from both Ruby and Eames' auras.

"She's feeling very spoilt to have met you," said Eames, "as am I, darling."

"I'm pretty lucky to have met you, too," Arthur replied, looking up at Eames' face though his fingers still played along the inked designs on Eames' skin. "Thank you for coming along with me today."

"It's very much my pleasure," said Eames, voice low and a little rough.

Arthur wondered if now was the time for a kiss, but then Ruby swooped away and he sighed. "Better finish up and get going before the morning's half gone."

Eames sighed, too, but he looked quite cheerful as he sipped his cuppa.

They enjoyed their treat in silence after that, sweet and filling and warm, so that they were fortified for their outing. Some of the people Arthur needed to see were further than they could go in a morning, but that would be a trip for another day. For now, they locked back up and went strolling through the neighborhood, hands brushing as they walked.

"Who all have you met so far? Just food people?" Arthur was distracted, consulting his mental map of who opened early and where their shops were located.

Eames let out a thoughtful sound. "Mostly, yeah, and you. I haven't needed much else, since you had everything I needed for that big floral commission."

"Will it have magic?" asked Arthur curiously. Some of the plants didn't go together well, magically speaking, and he worried about invoking them in a permanent way.

Eames nodded. "Mm, yeah. Once he's seen the sketches we'll work out the final bouquet, as it were." He sounded as lost in his own head as Arthur, so Arthur let the conversation drop, only pointing out a shop or two that they'd be visiting on the way back. Arthur's street tended to open in late morning rather than early, and stay open until after dinner, while a few streets over they all opened with the dawn and closed early.

"Maybe we'll bring lunch from there," said Eames, nodding at the little Ethiopian place tucked in between the big Italian bistro and the crystal shop they'd be visiting later.

Arthur smiled. "They're really good, three is enough to be worth setting up a borrow. They're new, so I don't have dishes there yet."

Eames brushed his hand again, and Arthur felt Ruby's caress along with it. "Ariadne told me you were on outs with the potter."

Arthur laughed and ducked his head. "Yeah, well, he was an asshole."

"Maybe I can get a few things, or we can go looking for secondhand? I need my own dishes for home and takeaway both, I mostly have the one student set." Eames looked sheepish, as though Arthur would berate him for borrowing off Arthur's more settled household.

They slipped through a natural alleyway, and Arthur let himself bathe in the cool feeling of water magic flowing along the stream at its centre. There were stepping-stones and bridges criss-crossing it, but no one messed with waterways when they wanted to show up. Arthur paused on top of his favorite bridge and dropped in a seed, adding a whisper of magic to it.

Eames got that delighted grin of his when a mermaid's head breached water far too shallow to hold the glorious tail they could see waving lazily in the deeps below.

"Arrrthur!" Her grin was full of sharp teeth but not threatening, hair a dark, bloody red where it was plastered to her head, becoming more like her namesake where it floated on the water. Her skin was pale white, and her tail bright, sparkling ruby red with emerald green green fins.

"Strawberry," said Arthur warmly. "I need to trade, are you interested?"

"Lay it on me," she replied. Arthur got on well with the water girls, since he had no interest in their charms and always traded fairly. Eames was looking a little stunned, but Arthur brushed over Ruby's head and that seemed to snap him out of it.

"I need three honey-gold pearls, and seven would be better." Arthur had his written list but he'd already committed it to memory. "What do you guys need right now?"

She cocked her head and swayed her tail, and Arthur felt another wash of alluring water magic, clean and fresh but the wrong wavelength to tug at any part of him. He weaved his fingers with Eames' and squeezed, hearing Eames' breathing start back up with a little stutter.

"Eames here isn't as gay as I am, so be gentle," said Arthur.

She laughed delightedly. "He's pretty in his skirts, I would ask for a taste but he's not yours to give."

"He is not," agreed Arthur.

Eames chuckled, snapping out of her spell a little more. "I'm just lucky Arthur's immune to your charms, or you'd have me up skirts and down the river."

Another delighted laugh like a brook over river rocks, and Strawberry leaned her chin on her arms and made pensive faces a few moments more before asking, "Do you remember the seaweed salve you made for us, Arthur?"

"I do, I have all the ingredients but I'd need the containers back." They'd given him some special shells that had spells that he couldn't replicate for preservation under the waves. "When can I pick them up?"

"Primrose is bringing them," said Strawberry. She flicked the edge of Eames' skirts with webbed fingers. "Flash me and I'll throw in something pretty for you."

Eames laughed delightedly. "What do I have to flash?" he asked, swishing his skirts teasingly, "And does it count if Arthur gets to see, too?"

"Oh, Arthur definitely needs to see," said Strawberry, disconcerting red-flecked green eyes twinkling mischievously. "We want to see what you've got on under your bright skirts."

"We do," conceded Arthur, "I'll try to contain myself so she doesn't get enough reaction to hook her magic into, though." His voice was dry, but he was genuinely a little worried that he'd get too turned on.

Eames looked from one to the other, then shrugged. "Why not?"

Arthur glanced around, but the street was still quiet at this hour, and no one was paying them any attention. Eames shifted, angling himself so that his audience of two could see, and gathered up his skirts. His legs were just as muscular as the rest of him, and he had two thick bands of dense rune-work on his left thigh and a matching one on the right. Above that he was wearing wrapped silk in a beautiful brocaded coral that hid anything indecent from sight. Arthur let out a soft sigh and Strawberry pouted beautifully.

"I don't suppose you'd take off the silk?" She walked her fingers toward his feet, clad in pointy black sorcerer's boots.

"Wasn't part of the deal, sorry, lovely," Eames replied, stepping back and dropping his skirts. He was grinning though, pleased with either the bargain or the heat Arthur could feel rising from his cheeks.

"I suppose I should leave something for Arthur," she said slyly.

Arthur was saved from replying when a lovely golden mermaid came swimming up, her hair the yellow of bright flowers and her tail white shading to deep gold at the edges of her fins.

Primrose surfaced next to Strawberry and giggled. "You've been making trouble," she said approvingly.

Strawberry kissed her nose and accepted the net bag, poking inside to count the shells. "There's 13 here, is that an acceptable trade?" she asked.

"For 7 pearls? Very acceptable," said Arthur. He bent down to shake her hand and take the bag. "13 shells filled with seaweed salve for 7 honey-gold pearls."

"And one pretty something for me, in exchange for services rendered," reminded Eames.

The two girls giggled again, and Strawberry shook on the deal. "Since you can't keep Primrose, I suppose I'll think of something," said Strawberry.

"I bet he'd taste lovely," said Primrose, flashing teeth as white as her tail.

"No eating Eames," said Arthur sternly, standing and tucking the bag of shells into the bottom of his basket. "Shall we say a week from now?"

"Ten days, please," said Primrose. "I know where she means to go, and I want to go, too."

"Ten days, then," agreed Arthur.

Strawberry looked pleased, and gave Primrose a sweet kiss on her cheek. "Ten days, and a trip with my pretty yellow rose. A very good bargain."

They giggled again and sank under the water, diving deeper than seemed possible as they vanished from sight.

"Nice mermaids," said Eames with a laugh, shaking his head. "Sorcerers are idiots."

Arthur chuckled. "Not entirely, they'd cheerfully have dragged us down if they could." He shrugged. "We get on okay, though, and they benefit from trading. Even the seed I used to call them is one they can cultivate or just eat."

"You're very fair, petal." Eames swished his skirts thoughtfully. "I bet they wouldn't really want to lose your trade, even if they could have gotten their hooks in." His smile grew a bit flirty and sly. "Did you like what you saw?"

"Very much," said Arthur, feeling his face heating all over again. "You're very well-built."

"You don't mind the skirts, then?" Eames' hands vanished into the side pockets, just like they sometimes did when he wore trousers.

Arthur shook his head, feeling affection rise up alongside his renewed wanting. "I think they're amazing, and I'm glad I finally know what you've got on under them."

Eames laughed and stepped close, taking Arthur's arm and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Well, then, I think we've got more shopping to do."

"Yeah, we do," said Arthur. He knew he was beaming like an idiot, but he couldn't bring himself to mind one bit.

They finished crossing over that bridge and a few more besides, ending up on a wide lane full of sunlight and big, old trees with buildings built around them rather than vice versa. Arthur always loved this neighborhood with its graceful architecture and mix of magical and technological cultures: the florist that charged batteries for a fee while you shopped; the repair shop that worked on the whole range of technomagical artifacts; the cafe that served food for every kind of magical being and humans as well; and the shop they were heading to next, which had stones of every possible type: man-made, lab-grown, magic-conjured, and natural.

The dwarf that ran the place was a shrewd curmudgeon of indeterminate gender who fortunately had a sweet tooth. "Arthur," Aimwelle said, running their hands over the lush braids of their iron-grey beard, "have you brought me honey?"

"Always," replied Arthur. "This is my friend Eames, I've got a shopping list and I'm introducing him around. He's a tattooist."

Aimwelle perked up immediately. "Tattoos, really? Mundane or magical?"

"Both," said Eames with a grin. "Commission only at the moment. I'm doing research for a magical backpiece for a client, so I don't have shop hours yet."

"Hm." Arthur had grown used to Aimwelle's odd range of grunts, and this one seemed quite intrigued. "You got a list, too?"

"I've my eye out for a few things," said Eames, glancing over to Arthur. "I can always use more credit with Arthur, or vice versa."

Arthur hid his surprised pleasure, and instead gave Eames' hand a pat before letting his arm go. "Why don't you two talk while I gather what I need? I don't think there's anything I can't grab myself."

Another grunt, and the dwarf stamped over to their little cooler where they kept mineral water for the customers that rated such things. Arthur winked at Eames, getting a nod in return, and went to look for just the right stones for the new hive.

Arthur pulled out his list for this, because there were some details she'd imparted with her tone and body language that he wanted to recall without having to keep the whole list in his mind as well. He wandered among the many labeled drawers and cabinets of curiosities, finding everything in the unlocked displays as expected, except for one rather special bit of honeystone that he suspected he'd need to get Aimwelle to find for him.

"Do you have any other amber?" he asked, bringing his spoils over to where there were two glasses of water sweating forgotten onto their sandstone coasters next to Eames.

Aimwelle grinned at him. "Mmhm, and you've something else you want as well?"

Arthur mmed back, picking up the water and taking a sip. "Oh, this is good this month. New formula?"

Aimwelle nodded, looking begrudgingly pleased that Arthur had noticed.

"I need some honeystone. Mellite. Minimally faceted into a double pyramid, maybe, this big?" Arthur held up his fingers to indicate a few centimeters apart. "Honey gold in color, as much so as possible."

"I might have something, that's a pretty rare one. Honey amber as well, I take it? You do spoil those bees." Aimwelle finished off their water and grinned. "Show me the honey you've brought, an' I'll see if I can't get us enough credit between you to get that tattoo I've had a hankerin' for."

"I'm sure we can work it out," said Eames, before Arthur could reply. Aimwelle ambled off, and Eames turned to Arthur with a soft, warm smile. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," said Arthur. There were a lot of other things he could have said, but his mouth went with, "You should try the water, it's really good today."

Eames seemed to get it, though, nodding and picking up his glass to take a sip. He made a surprised noise and took another. "Oh, that's delightful."

"Aimwelle drives a hard bargain, but they're the best." Arthur carefully laid his other purchases out on the counter with the jar of honey next to them. "Did you get what you wanted?"

Eames chuckled. "Sort of. As expected, it's a bit pricey, but a trade might bring it within my reach."

"Well, I can definitely afford it, if it comes to that." He took a sip of water and added unnecessarily, "My stuff all gets used up in the spell. A lot of it ends up embedded in the tree." Her Majesty's list was different than the one he'd used the first time, with a number of pricier and more magical ingredients. Arthur had the money for it now, as he hadn't back when he'd started out, and the Queen Bee had a knack for knowing how much she could tax his resources.

"It's fascinating," said Eames, his face earnest. "Sorcery tends to use up ingredients as well, often by feeding them to the forces in question as a bribe."

"Is that what you're getting here, bribes?" Arthur asked curiously.

Eames chuckled. "A few, and a few things for pigments. The magic keeps the materials from being toxic."

"It'd suck to be poisoned by your own body art," said Arthur. "Just don't tax your resources now to avoid owing me later, remember you've got me and Ariadne to tattoo."

Eames perked up, grinning. "That's right, I'd forgotten about your poppet. The same goes for you, though, we can work this credit out in their tattoo if you don't mind me loitering around the conservatory longer."

"I like having you around." Arthur might have said more, but Aimwelle returned with a stack of velvet trays, each containing an assortment of rarer stones.

"I'll take that honey today," said Aimwelle, "and the rest we'll put on credit against my tattoo, if that suits?"

"Works for me," said Eames cheerfully, pulling all but one of the trays toward himself.

Arthur nodded. "That's fine, as long as we're clear on how much of my purchase is going on Eames' tab." He was actually pretty satisfied that Aimwelle had been willing to take his vouchsafe as good enough to extend the credit; it meant that his own reputation was very good indeed.

Aimwelle grunted agreeably and handed Arthur a piece of honeystone that was basically perfect for his needs. "This one's the best, but it'll cost."

"It's just right," said Arthur firmly. "You'll get a great tattoo for this."

Aimwelle grinned, nodding and letting out another pleased sound. They moved over to look at the other items Arthur had chosen, pulling out an ancient ledger and fountain pen, both in impeccable condition, to make notes of everything leaving his inventory. Arthur looked over the tray full of amber, ignoring the two pieces of inferior mellite. He concentrated on the aura of the one in his hand, then moved his senses over the amber until they caught on a smallish piece in one corner. It was clear and polished, golden as honey and full of bubble-like inclusions that made it sparkle attractively. The shape was odd, but that wouldn't matter to the tree, so Arthur brought it over with the rest and began hunting up the strip of soft silk he'd brought to wrap the stones in.

"This for the honey," said Aimwelle, having moved almost everything Arthur had chosen to one side.

"Add in this and you have a deal," said Arthur, sliding the two small obsidian shards to the other pile, leaving the amber, mellite, and a gorgeous geode filled with colorful agate crystals that had been cracked open and both halves offered for sale.

Aimwelle looked a bit more grumpy but they nodded, hefting the honey. "And the rest goes on Eames' tab?"

"Or mine, if you and Eames don't come to an agreement. You know where to find me," said Arthur. He began carefully wrapping up his purchases, with the precious mellite and amber each in actual pouches, the geode in its own bag, and the rest carefully rolled into the length of silk.

Another grunt of agreement, and Aimwelle slid over to talk to Eames a bit more. They used the language of trades and barters to outline the value of each thing Eames wanted, and at the end they both looked very happy and Eames had made several things vanish into his skirts.

"Take this for me, will you?" asked Arthur, handing over the amber. He'd already slipped the mellite into one of his own many pockets, and the bundle of lesser stones into his basket.

Eames looked almost more surprised about this than the trust of Arthur's credit. "Of course, petal," he said, secreting it into what Arthur was certain was an entirely different pocket than the rest.

"Thanks." Arthur gave him the full-dimple grin, letting all his happiness show on his face, both from the successful bargains and his deepening relationship with Eames.

Eames' ears went pink and he shrugged and grinned back, showing his crooked teeth. "Anytime." They clinked glasses and finished off the cool mineral water, then waved at Aimwelle and left, getting another grunt in acknowledgement with the dwarf busy putting the unpurchased items away.

"So, that honey's pretty valuable, then," said Eames, once they were back out in the sunshine on the busy street.

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, there's not a lot of tame hives around here." He licked his lips, and added, "Even though it's not healing honey, there's a little magic to it."

"I had noticed that." Eames touched his shoulder. "I've been healing faster from my latest work since meeting you, and I can kind of feel the magic, when I make the effort."

"It's as much micronutrients as magic," said Arthur sheepishly, "but it's got a reputation, especially since I only trade it to certain people."

"Limited quantity, makes sense." Eames looked curious. "Is that out of your personal stash?"

"Not really. Her Majesty lets me take a little for myself whenever I run low, she likes to check in on me." Arthur led Eames under a curtain of willow branches and into the tiny shop hidden behind them. "She likes you, too."

"Well, I'll have to see if I can earn my own jar of honey, then." Eames smiled, then looked around the little shop, inhaling deeply.

Arthur echoed him; he always loved the way this place smelled, of beeswax and tallow, soy and a thousand scents that somehow never warred with each other. Candles were a speciality item nowadays, used mostly in magic rather than for light with everyone running on solar power, and Arthur would need a whole bunch of special ones for his hive spell. There were colored ones and carved ones, virgin-pure ones and deliberately recycled ones, scented and spelled, tapered and fat.

"Feeling up for a trade?" said Arthur to the air. He felt a breeze both physical and magical as the owner's tame air sprite examined the two of them and then zipped off to the back of the shop to get the proprietor.

"Do you need candles for anything?" Arthur asked Eames, waiting patiently rather than trying to shop on his own. "Despite the displays, the chandler prefers to find things for you."

"I'll see what I can afford," said Eames cheerfully, slipping around the room with obvious joy. "I'd be lucky to take home any of this lovely work."

A figure appeared at the back on a waft of incense, and Arthur's breath caught at the heat that flared in his belly when the man stepped into the light. "Arthur, it's good to see you, as always." His pale face lit up with genuine pleasure, and Arthur had to swallow. He was descended from one of the nymphs of the underworld but not closely enough to want to spend his days sporting on the banks of the river Lethe. Still, even a quarter Lampas was enough to give him an eerie handsomeness that drew Arthur in every time.

This time it was Eames who laid a hand on Arthur's arm to bring him back.

Arthur took a breath and smiled, relaxing at the feel of Ruby's flickering aura against his wrist. "Chandler Orvideus, it's good to see you."

"You've brought me new custom," said Orvideus, smiling warmly enough to make Arthur's heart skip a beat.

"We're mostly here for Arthur, but I'm hoping to get a few candles for my own work. I'm Eames." Eames bowed rather than holding out his hand, common enough when a touch could bewitch or bespell.

"It's good to meet you," said Orvideus. "Arthur, do you have a list for me?" He held out one graceful hand, stepping closer.

Arthur relaxed a little, seeing the lovely features closer, picking out the ways in which he wasn't quite what Arthur wanted. "As always, though I'm not sure Eames does." He pulled a folded bit of paper from one pocket, checked to be sure it was the correct bit, and handed it over. "I'm certain this will cost me more than the usual beeswax."

Orvideus' eyes slipped over the list quickly and he nodded. "Yes, and I will have to make some of these to order."

"Is ten days enough?" asked Arthur, thinking of his bargain with the mermaids. "Will you want coin or trade?"

"I have something I've been wanting from you," said Orvideus, a little smile playing over his features. "I thought I'd have to give up on your magnificent beeswax for a season or two to afford it, so this timing is welcome."

Arthur wanted to say something about always having other trades available, but he held his tongue, instead brushing his hand against Eames'. "Good fortune is with us."

Orvideus explained the nature of the preparation he needed for some fertility candles, which would need to be made by a male witch under the fullness of the moon, using some ingredients Arthur knew for a fact only he cultivated. It was complex and would lose him a night of sleep, but it was nearly an even trade for Arthur's list.

"And what are you needing, Mr. Eames? I can see from our Arthur's face that he knows even this impressive list isn't quite of equal value." Orvideus turned his smile onto Eames, but there was no weight of charm along with it -- he tried to damp it down when he was doing commerce to avoid being accused of cheating his customers.

At Arthur's nod, Eames gave his own list verbally, some common spell-candles and a couple of rarities. "I can make up any difference, and I'm comfortable working out the balance with Arthur."

"Eames is already a fixture at the shop," said Arthur with a warm smile.

They talked a little more, and in the end Eames parted with a few curls of ensorcelled ribbon to be turned into candle-wicks and they all shook on the bargain.

"Well-met, Eames," said Orvideus. "I will remember you, from now on, and give you the same courtesy I extend to Arthur."

"Thank you, Chandler Orvideus," said Arthur, and Eames echoed it. The scent of the room seemed to close in around them, and they turned and left without further ado.

"He's from one of the other planes," said Eames, as they slipped down the street and away from the last tendrils of smoke and allure.

"Grandmother from hell," said Arthur with a little smirk. "But he's not interested in being a torchbearing nymph, so he uses his natural talents here."

Eames laughed. "That explains it, then. I've always been much more of an upper-plane sort of man."

Arthur felt his cheeks flush. "He's always had that effect on me, but he goes out of his way not to take advantage. I think he's older than he looks."

"Yeah, going by the level of mastery, he's old enough to consider you jailbait," Eames teased. "Well, now we've both had our knickers twisted, where to next?"

Arthur laughed and led him on down the street.

---

"What did you bring me? I'm starving," said Ariadne.

"Hullo to you, too, poppet," said Eames with a laugh. He was carrying the basket of food, full to the brim of good food and new dishes. The restaurant had its own matching lidded dishes and was happy to sell a set to Arthur and Eames for their permanent use, so they'd chosen a beautiful sky-blue glaze decorated with soft fluffs of white clouds for the three of them.

"I finally bought dishes for the Ethiopian place," explained Arthur. "I want water, though, run up and make some cucumber water?"

"Ooh, with a sprig of mint?" said Ariadne, already heading back to the stairs.

"Perfect." Eames got their feast set out on the counter; though it would be easier to eat sitting upstairs, they both wanted to include Ariadne.

Arthur took out his small notebook and made sure he had notes on every single thing they'd bought, traded for, or been asked to create. Arthur had a lot of time in the lab ahead of himself, and he wanted to make sure he used as much of it as possible to further Ariadne's education.

Ariadne came down with a pitcher of magic-cooled water, condensation beading on the sides and muddled cucumber and mint swirling lazily through it. She poured for all three of them, making sure they had enough utensils and all that, then came over to poke Arthur. "Come eat."

"Yeah, sorry," said Arthur, closing up the notebook and tucking it away. He took a moment to hang up his coat and Eames' cloak on the coatrack by the counter, and then dug into his food. Everything was spicy and rich, and the spongy bread was the perfect vehicle for bite after bite off the communal plates. Their conversation died down to murmurs as they all ate hungrily, appreciating the bounty rather than talking over it.

Once they were down to the a few smears of delicious sauce and little straggling bites of bread, Ariadne poured out the last of the water and said, "So, tell me about shopping."

"We met mermaids!" said Eames excitedly, perking right up. "Arthur was brilliant and I flashed them in exchange for something pretty."

"Strawberry brought me some more shells, so I'll teach you the seaweed salve this week, we're meeting back up in 10 days for delivery." Arthur sipped his water and looked amused. "We visited Aimwelle, who is getting a tattoo and therefore put us a bit more into Eames' debt, but then we put Eames' candles onto my tab with the chandler."

"And then we got all of our seeds for that one charm of mine," said Eames, "and you traded another jar of your honey for those pigments which I'm getting most of."

"So basically we're mostly even, but it's like with you and me, he's just family now," concluded Arthur, grinning.

Eames looked utterly shocked for a moment and then beamed, proud as anything. "Family sounds like a good thing to be, darling."

"Anyway, we're going to head upstairs and sort through purchases and stuff in the lab, which Eames is dying to see anyway, and then I'll come down and talk to you about what all we need to make, and about our tattoos. The potter down there is willing to make me some more dishes, and Eames, too, so I have their list and I promised to let them know what theme you want for your decorations this time."

"And we needed clay for his tree magic with the bees," added Eames, adding just a little bit of smug emphasis to 'we.'

"I have to go talk to the lumber guys later, when we do our afternoon run, but for now I've got enough work to be going on with," said Arthur.

Ariadne was looking from one to the other with amusement on her face, and she finally laughed. "You two are crazy. Welcome to the family, Eames."

They toasted with the last of their water, and then got everything packed away for later cleaning. Ariadne took another quick break while Arthur went over the morning's ledger, then it was time to take everything upstairs to the lab to sort through what was whose. When they left, Ariadne was checking on her milk projects -- she was working on hemp, almond, and rice milk for her experiments, and had already produced a decent batch of almond milk.

"I wonder if I could keep a goat," said Eames idly. "Goats make milk, right?"

"Milk goats do," said Arthur, amused. "I don't know that goat's milk is great for tea, though."

Eames chuckled. "Only proper cow's milk is great for tea, I suspect." Arthur whispered to the warded lab door and it opened for him, admitting Eames somewhat reluctantly but without incident. The floor was made up of several smaller rooms dedicated to different things, but the first one off the stairs was the biggest.

"Goat cheese is nice, though," said Arthur, distracted for a moment by the whisper of all his half-brewed potions and other projects giving him their updates. He breathed in the air of his own spells and sent back a wave of energy to all of them, a boost of encouragement to help them all be the best they could be.

"It's always so lovely when you do magic like that," said Eames, a fond smile on his face.

Arthur looked at him curiously. "Like what?"

"Like breathing." Eames stepped up to the mostly-empty work bench closest to the door, where Arthur had already gathered a few things for the hives. Eames began to pull things out of his many pockets: skirt, cloak, waistcoat, and bag.

Arthur came over and began to add his purchases to the pile. "I guess sorcery isn't as natural. Well, logically." Arthur laughed and bumped shoulders. "I like your magic, too, though, it feels good."

"We fit much better than I'd been led to believe." Eames' tone was light and flirty, without the hard edge it got sometimes when he spoke of his past. "You're the best surprise I've had since moving here, and it's been a very surprising experience."

Arthur chuckled. "You've been a very pleasant surprise for me, as well, Eames." He let warmth and fondness bleed into his voice, and he could tell from the charmed look on Eames' face that at least one of his dimples was showing.

Eames pressed a soft kiss to one of those dimples, then turned back to the table. "Family, huh?" he said, eyes on his hands as he began to sort their piles.

"Ariadne's always wanted two dads," said Arthur teasingly, but with that hint of seriousness. "The Patels have already asked if I'm going to add your dishes to our family set soon."

"And then you arranged for us to get more dishes," said Eames, looking up all shining eyes and sweet smiles. "Darling Arthur."

Arthur leaned in and kissed Eames' nose. "Whatever else happens, you're our friend and a part of our lives now, Eames."

Eames nodded. "The rest will take its time." He sounded very satisfied, and they turned back to the table together this time, sorting and discussing debts and repayments, with Arthur taking the seashells directly over to one of his workstations, glad he didn't have anything going there right now. The beehive stuff would all live on that table until it was time to start doing things with it, and Arthur secretly thought the amber had taken on an extra sheen with Eames' aura cradling it the whole way home.

He'd keep the mellite on himself for a few days as well, but he didn't want to charge the amber any more without the Queen's permission; his magic was necessary but Eames' would be a change she might not be as ready for as Arthur was. They worked quietly, with the same comfort as they had on the roof, and when Arthur had sufficiently rearranged so that work was ready for tomorrow and Eames had made most of his purchases vanish again, Arthur came back over.

"Want a tour?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"Does the moon love the sun?" asked Eames impishly. At Arthur's confused blink, he laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, something my mum used to say."

"I think she was probably right," said Arthur, twining his fingers in Eames'. "This bench is really used for intake, or special projects like the beehive, that's why it doesn't have any permanent equipment at all."

"Very sensible, as I'd expect from you." Eames gave his hand a squeeze. "So you have stations for different kinds of work?"

Arthur nodded. "I keep them all blessed, do regular rites, so this one's water, can you feel it?" Arthur walked him over to the work bench against the wall, which had its own sink and painstaking inlay of silver and mother-of-pearl, as well as vials of water from exotic lands on the wall behind the shelf. Some of those had come from Strawberry as a trade, and since she knew they'd go into her own preparations, Arthur trusted their integrity.

Eames breathed in and put his hand over the bench, while Ruby snuck out to join him, flicking her tongue along his fingertips to taste. "It's lovely, Arthur, cool and deep and full of love and teeth."

Arthur reached out to pet Ruby. "That's it exactly, water as life and death, a proper blessing. I actually have the fire altar in another room entirely, they don't like each other at all. Air and Earth are more accommodating, since they coexist all the time."

"And there's one here that's just.. Nature?" said Eames, following the wall to the big corner worktable. That one was Arthur's most elaborate, with flowing water, gas piped in for fire, a vent for air, and the sturdy supporting pillar behind it for earth.

"Yes, this is all four elements in harmony. I do a lot of unguents and  potions here in big batches." Arthur's fingers traced the inlay: stone and wood for earth; more silver and mother of pearl for water; gold and burned-in symbols for fire; and curls of clear glass and slivers of crystal for air. Arthur had saved this one for last, after he'd learned all the materials with trial and error, and he'd still managed to hurt himself at least once for each material. "I have a pentacle one, too, but I do less with spirit than the other elements."

"That's more my area," said Eames, voice warm as the hand he laid on Arthur's hip. "This is beautiful work, I can tell it was done with love."

Arthur smiled and nodded. "I love my work now, and the life I've built here." He leaned into Eames just a little, breathing in the scent of him and the edges of his aura, basking in it like Lancelot in a sunbeam.

"Ah, so I'm not the only one who can hint at a mysterious past." Eames kissed Arthur's shoulder and gave his hip a squeeze. He stepped away and added, "Show me the rest?"

"I'll show you the rest of the lab, anyway," teased Arthur.

They moved through the rooms together, the beautiful Earth workstation full of plants, his smaller work benches dedicated to this or that deity or spirit, the ones that weren't really magical at all but good for experimenting on. The Air space was full of light and breezes that came through painted screens, and Fire was a small, warm corner of its own with an ever-burning flame. Ariadne had some space, too, with a definite feminine feeling that Arthur had never been able to imitate; Eames seemed to flow just fine between them, where it made Arthur uncomfortable to invade her space for too long.

Arthur explained the various projects he had going, mostly things that needed to brew for a few days or even weeks, or things that were waiting for an auspicious astronomical event to add the finishing touches and a final infusion of power.

"This will have quite a kick when the time comes," said Eames, his snake-decorated hand safely above the covered cauldron in question.

"It's gained in potency while it waits," agreed Arthur. "I'll have to see what the consistency is like once it's fully charged, but I think it's going to be worth the work." He normally only did complex work like this on commission, but he'd noticed a need for an anti-infection salve among the community and acquired some actual antibiotics, then combined them with his own ingredients and magics to make something entirely new.

Eames mmed thoughtfully. "This is much more useful innovation than most of what goes on up the hill."

Arthur snorted to hear Eames using the witches' term for the sorcerers. "Yes, well, everything we do here needs to be useful or beautiful in some way. We haven't got resources to waste on one-upsmanship."

"Well," teased Eames, "not much of it, anyway."

Arthur blushed a little and laughed. "Even my one-upsmanship is useful, generally speaking."

"Generally," agreed Eames amiably. He sauntered over to the next setup and cocked his head. "This isn't anything?"

Arthur laughed. "That's nothing really magical, just some skin salve. I've had a few more cybers come in and ask for it, since I gave it to that one guy as an add-on."

"My clever witch," said Eames. "Can I help you package it up or anything?"

"Yeah, sure." Arthur bumped his hip against Eames' gently. "I'll go grab some containers, these can go in recycled plastics. One guy traded me a whole bag of upcycled jars that I'm pretty sure they're hoping to get back in trade later."

"I promise not to get in any trouble," teased Eames.

Arthur headed downstairs, surprised not to feel much apprehension about leaving Eames alone in his lab, much the same way he'd felt comfortable letting Eames up into his roof garden. Ariadne had him take care of a deal while she pulled ingredients for another witch, and Arthur ended up with a container of fine lab-grown diamond dust. In exchange, he agreed to fill half a dozen of the plastic pots right away so they could take them back home, and an enthusiastic promise to see that more containers of all kinds were brought in for trade.

"It looks like I'm going to have a regular trade for this salve now," said Arthur, coming in to find Eames doodling Arthur's water lab station in his notebook. "Want to see if you can power the sterilization spell for me?"

"D'you think I can?" asked Eames, immediately interested. He set his notebook aside and followed Arthur back to the prep station, where Arthur had a number of cleaning and purification spells carved into the bamboo workbench. They were set up to need a tiny bit of personal power every time, but be much more efficient than trying to redo the spell from scratch over and over.

"I think so. You understand how they work, and can feel the magic," said Arthur. "Here, watch how I do it." He took one of the containers and set it in the middle of the circle, then breathed in the sunshine and fresh air and Eames' warm affection, and breathed out his own calm energy into the spell. The runes glowed softly blue for a few seconds while the spell worked, then flashed green and went dark as it finished up.

Eames watched, his changeable eyes going stormy as he concentrated on the magic, and then he nodded. "I think I have it. How many can we do at a time?"

"Probably three or four, but start with one just in case," said Arthur, swapping the clean one for a dirty one.

Eames chuckled. "Yeah, smart," he agreed, stepping up to the workbench. He put his fingers near the runes just as Arthur had, and Arthur watched him murmur something before the spell lit up, more brightly than it had for Arthur, and finished with the scent of ozone. "Hm, a little too much power," said Eames with a laugh.

"A little," teased Arthur, bumping his hip against Eames'. They checked the container and found it intact, so Arthur arranged four more inside the circle, which was just about all it would hold without stacking them. "You'll get the hang of it," he said, kissing Eames' cheek before getting the cauldron of salve.

Arthur filled them each generously, adding a tiny push of his own magic as he closed each container to help encourage healing and softness. There really wasn't much more than nature in the salve, mostly various oils and a bit of beeswax, but Arthur always added that last bit of himself before sending it out into the world. Eames ran the spell for the next four containers, which gave him enough to take down to the waiting customer, at least. There were more containers, probably enough to take the whole batch, so Arthur left Eames working while he brought down the salve to a very happy person sharing some astringent tea with Ariadne.

"This stuff is a miracle on my throat," they enthused, toasting Arthur with the teacup.

Arthur smiled. "It is, do we have some on the shelf, Ari?"

"Yep," she said, grinning. "It's pretty cheap, you could probably just sprinkle a little more dust in the tin and call it done."

They nodded, looking thoughtful. "I think I got somethin' better." Hands furtively rustled through the layers of plastics and circuit board that made up their clothing, and they pulled out a tiny vial.

Arthur pulled down the tin of dry herbs, smiling when he turned back to find Ariadne cooing over the tiny sculpture inside, which was apparently a hobby of their customer's. "Clearly, that will do just fine," said Arthur with a smile. "If you're sure this is enough?"

They nodded. "It's a hobby, I don't do it for the trade." All seven containers vanished between sips of tea; Arthur left the pot for the two of them, heading back upstairs to Eames after shaking hands one more time.

"Another happy customer," said Arthur, slipping back through the lab wards with a smile.

"Good to know," replied Eames, from where he was working his way through the stack of containers. "I'm about done here."

"You can make us some tea while I fill them, then," teased Arthur. "I was thinking of some of my rose peppermint herbal?"

"That sounds lovely, petal," said Eames. Arthur had shown him the tea station, where everything was now labeled thanks to Ariadne's annoyance at Arthur's system of simply remembering which tea was where.

Arthur got started on filling the clean containers, getting into the rhythm of it and finding that Eames' presence next to him bolstered rather than distracted his flow. He was very happy to set down the last full pot of salve and find a steaming cup of tea next to him, along with a smiling Eames.

"I put a little honey in, but this didn't seem like a great tea for milk," said Eames, breathing in the scent of his own.

Arthur nodded. "That's perfect, thank you. We work pretty well together." He picked up the cup and hid himself in the steam a little, feeling shy now that it was just them, no work or tour or shopping.

Eames stepped closer. "We're good together, darling." He set his teacup aside; they were really too hot to drink, so Arthur mirrored him, glad he'd done so when Eames asked softly, "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," said Arthur simply, leaning in, arms going around Eames' waist while Eames' big hands slid up his biceps, over his shoulders, and into the back of his hair. Their lips met and Eames' were soft and slightly sweet, as though he'd licked the honey spoon. Arthur felt the tickle of Ruby's curiosity against the back of his neck, but it didn't detract from Eames' lips moving gently against his own.

Eames sighed as the kiss ended, and Arthur impishly kissed the end of his nose, making his eyes flutter open as he grinned. "So."

"So," echoed Arthur, when no further statement was forthcoming. "I'm not seeing anyone else."

"Just you, for me," said Eames, adding a warm weight to his words that felt more important than agreeing to date exclusively.

Arthur's stomach swirled with heat and affection, his whole body flushing with rosy magic and hot blood. "That sounds very good to me."

They kissed again, lips parting and tongues teasing, and Eames' hand came around to caress Arthur's cheek. They were both a little breathless when the kiss broke this time, and it was Arthur who grinned at everything he saw in Eames' face.

"I don't want to rush into anything," said Eames, some of the warmth cooling into nervousness.

Arthur nodded, lips brushing over his cheek. "I'd never pressure you, Eames. And if I did pressure you, I'd expect you to dump me and then sic Ari on me for being an asshole."

Eames laughed, surprised, and kissed him again, quick and fierce. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Just being able to kiss you is good, for now," said Arthur, stroking the backs of his fingers over Eames' stubbled cheek. "We've both got a lot to build right now without rushing each other."

They shared one more soft kiss and then stepped apart and retrieved their tea, both of them with hot cheeks and warm gazes. "So," Eames said, fiddling with his tea.

"I like the skirts, and I'm not concerned about any of that sort of thing, if that's what's making you nervous," said Arthur gently. "I noticed you've got a lot of energy that's both masculine and feminine."

"Some of that's Ruby," hedged Eames, but the relief on his face was obvious. "But yeah, some of that's me."

"I like both of you just as you are, and we can work out what that means together." Arthur took a sip of his tea and added. "I'm afraid I'm boringly male, head to toe, though I'm not opposed to bottoming."

Eames laughed, sounding a little hysterical, and shook his head. "I have no idea why I ever worried, petal. It's not as though I haven't seen you respect the genders of everyone else around you."

"But I wasn't going to be with them, so you still worried," said Arthur. He stole one more kiss, then stretched and sighed. "Let's go downstairs and talk to Ari about tattoos? I still don't have a clear idea of what's possible there, and the Queen wants you to mark me."

"She does, doesn't she?" said Eames, looking delighted all over again as it all sank in. "Shall we take down a treat?"

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, come on, you can see my flat. But this means I want to see your place, too."

"Tonight after work," said Eames. "I'll treat you to dinner, and we'll eat there and you can look through some of my work."

"Sounds like a perfect date," said Arthur.

---

Arthur was almost more nervous about showing Eames his living space than his lab, despite the delicate nature of some of his more volatile concoctions. There were some independent house-fairies in the neighborhood who kept it spotless as part of their deal, but it felt terribly intimate to bring Eames into his life this way.

"I usually leave my shoes by the door," said Arthur, bending to take off his sturdy walking boots, "but you don't have to if you don't want to."

"I'd never track all around your flat, darling," Eames admonished, bending down to take his own boots off, a process Arthur couldn't help but watch, one small piece of Eames' stripped down a layer before his eyes.

Eames' smile as he finished and stood in his mismatched socks was knowing and intimate, inviting Arthur irresistibly into his space. Arthur took him up on it and stepped close for a kiss, arm around his waist and a sigh on his lips. "You're so good to me."

"You're good for me," said Eames, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "Come on, let's get a treat for your little apprentice."

"And for my little tattooist," teased Arthur, showing Eames into the big, open space.

Arthur had taken out all all the walls he could, reinforcing with magic and raising up the ceiling to expose the beams. He'd spent years adding to the structure and integrity of the building whenever he could, and it paid off now with light and greenery everywhere and a feeling of safety and home that always made something relax in Arthur's shoulders and spine.

Eames moved up beside him, arm going around his waist, and breathed in the cool, plant-scented air. "It's gorgeous, Arthur."

Arthur kissed his scruffy cheek. "It's a good home," he agreed, leading Eames over to the kitchen. Herbs grew close to here, and there was a windowed nook surrounded by planters with small, indoor-friendly food plants. His once-tiny avocado tree was outgrowing the space, and would soon get to go upstairs and live with the bees, but there were tomatoes and a container just for strawberries, plus peppers and one deep well of carrots, and an overrun box of cucumbers. Arthur hunted through them for a few things, coming up with enough for a little veggie salad, once he raided the kitchen window for herbs and greens.

"I'm always so at home with the mix of beautiful and practical you bring with you," said Eames, curling up in the window seat to peer through the plants at their neighboring buildings. "This whole district is full of life and usefulness in equal measure."

"It's a good life," agreed Arthur. "We're both smart to have chosen it." He got everything settled into the spell-circle and did a quick cleansing spell on the veggies, then got started chopping with the ease of long practice. "You know, once you get profitable we might be able to afford cheese and milk more often."

Eames perked up. "We might, at that." He looked utterly delighted at Arthur's casual inclusion of him in the family planning of meals and treats, which set off a nice warm cascade in Arthur's chest and belly.

It didn't take long for Arthur to get a just-right mix of salad in all three bowls, adding some oil and lemon juice as dressing along with a sprinkle of salt and one precious grind of pepper in each bowl. "This needs something," said Arthur, staring at it in vexation. "The charm tells me it's not done, but I don't know what to add."

Eames ambled over with a small handful of bright, ripe strawberries. "These?"

"Yes," said Arthur, kissing him emphatically.

Eames did the cleansing spell himself, already familiar enough to make it work after seeing Arthur do it, and then handed them over to Arthur to be chopped and added in.

"Let me do one more thing," said Eames gently pushing his way to the front of the bowls.

Arthur snuggled around him from behind, chin on his shoulder. "Go on."

Eames put his hands over the bowls and chanted softly, and a swirl of cold came through the room, accompanied by a not-quite-there giggle and the press of cold lips to Arthur's cheek. When he looked, the salads were now cold enough for condensation to form on the bowls, and the three bottles of herb-infused water had frosted over. One of them had a heart drawn in the fog.

"I guess it likes you," said Arthur, choosing the strawberry-and-mint one to take with them.

"Or you," Eames retorted cheerfully, finding Arthur's stash of trays and loading one up with the salads while Arthur gathered up forks and napkins.

"Do you get the same one a lot, or is it just whatever's nearby?" asked Arthur curiously; a lot of his witchcraft was boosted by familiarity, with the plants, the land, and the creatures he dealt with.

Eames shrugged, gathering up the tray. Arthur hefted the water bottle and down they went, talking as they descended the stairs. "I think it's a bit of both? I know I had the same ones a lot at school, but so did everyone else. Kind of like the pigeons in the park, hanging out because they know that's where the people are who've got a bit of what they want."

"What did you give it?" asked Arthur curiously.

"Oh, energy. The bigger ones want more complicated stuff sometimes, but for little stuff like this it's just a bit of give and take." Arthur got the door, and they emerged into the shop to find Ariadne chatting happily with a couple of the locals.

"Are you guys about done?" asked Arthur, going behind the counter while Eames came around the front and began to unload the tray.

"Yeah," Ariadne said with a smile. "We're just haggling over a few small details."

The older witch harrumphed good-naturedly. "Seeds ain't never a small detail," she said.

"And who's this, then?" asked the younger witch, who was still years older than any of them.

"This is Eames, the new tattooist," said Arthur, getting down glasses for water. "He's the newest member of my tiny family."

Eames grinned hugely, crooked teeth on display and eyes lit up with a sparkle like tourmaline. "I'm not open for business yet, just working by commission only for now," said Eames, offering his hand to shake with the snake conspicuously in hiding around these strangers.

"Felton," said the younger, shaking Eames' hand. Felton mostly bought salves for his business in healing through magical massage and healing touch, and Arthur had been very grateful for his steady business over the years.

Deepti was older and more suspicious, but when Felton suffered no ill effects from the sorcerer's touch, she offered her hand and name in return. "Arthur's got some of the best seeds in the business, when I can get him to part with them for a reasonable fee."

"If you'd agree to grow a few things for me as a favor, we could barter," said Arthur, half teasing since she'd refused the same offer a dozen or more times.

She harrumphed again and turned back to the counter. "I haven't space for anything but my own garden," she said. "Which I need to be getting back to."

Arthur nodded for Ariadne to finish with her, while he took over Felton's much simpler transaction by allowing him a small credit balance to cover what his trade items didn't and entering everything into the ledger. "You'll be back, and I might need another of your miracle massages in a few weeks, anyway."

Felton grinned. "More construction still?" he said, though the question was clearly rhetorical as he carefully packed the various jars, tins, and phials away into his basket.

"Always," replied Arthur. "But good things will come of it."

"Always," said Felton with a wink, and then he was off in a swirl of colorful robes and grey hair.

Eames had busied himself pouring their waters and setting up their snack on the stretch of counter they usually used, so Arthur came over to steal a little kiss, amused to hear another harrumph from Deepti and a squeak of excitement from his apprentice. Once Deepti was on her curmudgeonly way, Ariadne joined them.

She lifted her glass and declared solemnly, "To Arthur finally getting his knickers untwisted."

Eames snorted and Arthur glared, but they all clinked glasses anyway. "You don't know anything about my underpants," said Arthur, but he sipped his water first, enjoying the extra bite of cold left by Eames' elemental.

"I try very hard not to," agreed Ariadne, wrinkling her nose, though the effect was ruined by the grin she couldn't suppress. "I'm so glad you two are at the kissing stage, anyway. I thought you'd never get a clue."

"We've had a clue all along, poppet," said Eames with an amused little smile. "But there's a lot going on in our lives, and no reason to rush."

Ariadne rolled her eyes, but she showed patience enough when it came to her studies that Arthur didn't bother to lecture her in this case. Instead he dug into his salad, just as Eames did, a small portion but full of goodness that made him sigh happily and silently thank the deities for the luxuries he'd built into his life here.

Ariadne followed suit, and for a few minutes there was nothing but crunching and happy human noises of enjoyment.

"So," said Ariadne, after inhaling her food, "magical tattoos?"

Eames chuckled and went over to his cloak to get a small sketchbook. He laid it open between Arthur and Ariadne and pointed. "First type, simple runework." He ate a bite of salad while they both leaned in to look.

"So this is just like a perma-spell?" asked Ariadne, fingers brushing the paper.

Eames nodded. "The most common ones are for protection, health, that sort of thing. I put a lot of power into it when it's laid down, and then it runs off the recipient's energy after that."

"So you do the big push to lay the spell, and they keep it topped up," said Ariadne, topping off all their waters demonstratively.

Eames chuckled. "Yeah, but it is a constant drain, so you have to be able to handle essentially losing a certain amount of magic permanently." He ate another bite. "They're simple, but not as popular as you'd think."

"You've got runework, though?" said Arthur, remembering the thick bands on his thighs with writing so dense they'd looked solid black at first.

Eames shook his head. "Those are more complex than that," he said. "I do have a small health spell from when I was first learning, but it's designed not to draw too much power unless I'm fighting off infection of some sort." He opened his waistcoat and tugged up his shirt to show off the simple runes below his breastbone, ones that Arthur recognized as part of his sterilization spell upstairs, among other places.

"And you could come find me and get energy that way, if you needed it," said Arthur.

Eames' face went all soft and he smiled. "I can indeed entrust myself to your tender care, darling."

"You two are gross," said Ariadne, grinning again. She flipped the page to find a little cat drawing that started curled, then stretched and blinked, yawned, and changed positions before going back to 'sleep'.

"So that's purely decorative magic. I put a reservoir of power in to give it a little animation," said Eames. "It's more elaborate artistically, but even the least magical person can have one, as long as they're not a drainer or a null. Popular over in some very different districts."

Arthur snorted; he could imagine the sort of luxury district with money to burn on frivolities. "Also not our thing," he said.

"It's pretty, though," said Ariadne fondly, stroking her finger over the inked fur to make the cat stretch and roll over.

"Pretty, but soulless," said Eames with a shrug. "I've done a few of them, but I don't expect to have to do them here much."

Eames was the one to flip the page this time, to show a lovely posey of flowering clover, lavender, and blooming rosemary. "Healing, protection, and clarity," said Arthur with a smile, touching them gently. "A nice trio."

"These take a lot more work on my part, and several sessions to lay in the spells and colours." Eames smiled fondly. "The backpiece I'm doing research for is one of this sort, drawing on the power in the plants and their echo in the spirit realm, at least once I've shoved in enough power to forge the connections."

"So this takes a lot of energy for you," said Arthur softly. "Will you need to rest between jobs?" Eames had two more potential clients, bringing his total up to seven, and Arthur didn't want him to drain himself before he'd even gotten settled.

"Yeah," said Eames with a smile, "but I can charge enough to make it worthwhile. Often we start with something the bearer already has a connection to, either through sentiment or some other correspondence."

"Can the bearer help?" asked Ariadne, looking rather captivated by the delicate beauty of Eames' rendering.

Eames nodded. "It actually goes much better if the bearer is also magical and putting their own energy into the spell. Once it's done, it'll draw from otherwordly sources, though, no matter who's got it, though you have to have at least a tiny iota of magic to reap the benefits." He lifted his sleeve and showed off the bottom edge of his own bouquet, which seemed like it covered his whole upper arm, though they couldn't see more than a hint of what plants it contained.

"I'll see it someday," said Arthur with a smile, letting him push the cloth back down. "Do you have one of every type?"

Eames chuckled. "Nah, I don't have any happy kittens or puppies anywhere, my snake thinks they're tacky."

"Smart snake," said Arthur, laughing when she peeked out of Eames' sleeve to caress Arthur's hand with her magic.

"She's pretty cool, too," said Ariadne. "Is that next?"

"That's the last kind," said Eames, flipping just one page anyway. "You have to be a dedicated practitioner to invite an ethereal being to live in your skin." His tone was gentle but final.

"All right," said Ariadne, shrugging, though Arthur had a feeling she wouldn't let it go entirely. "What's this?"

"This is like my thigh tattoos, which you are too young to see," teased Eames.

Arthur smirked a little. "He's not your type, anyway," he said, when she looked like she might pout.

She humphed but gestured for Eames to explain.

"So there's a dense design of interlocking runes and symbols that work together to do something more complex. These are usually done in three, seven, or nine sessions, each of which is very draining for both parties, and in the end there's a fully functional spell that exists both on this plane and at least one other." Eames looked tired just talking about it, and Arthur had to wonder what it had cost him to get three of them done, both in personal effort and whatever money or favours he'd had to give in trade.

"That's probably a bit beyond us for now," said Arthur, "but what sorts of spells does one make such effort to embed into the fabric of reality?"

"Well, for a sorcerer you need something to really anchor you in this reality," said Eames. "This way, nothing can pull me into another plane when I try to tug it into this one." He tapped his right thigh where Arthur had seen the single band of black runework.

Arthur considered asking him about the other two, but instead sipped his water. "I'll keep that in mind for the future," he said with a nod.

"Yeah," said Eames. "Though, you know, you might want to do something to help tie you to your bees, if they'd consent."

"Oh, fascinating," said Ariadne. "I bet that'd be good for Arthur, and them. He's got really stable magic."

"Yours will even out," said Arthur, reassuring her automatically. "You're right, though, that would be a wise choice at this point. Maybe something illustrative, with some bees and flowers?"

Eames grinned. "That's a great idea, friendship and protection and some worker bees."

"Are there more types?" asked Ariadne, flipping the page to see branding. "Oh, ouch."

"It all hurts, poppet," said Eames with a laugh. "Branding is more of a one-shot push of magic for a single long-term effect, like longevity or power. I've seen it done to tap into fire magic, so that it glows when the practitioner works in their element."

Arthur nods. "Is there an earth or water equivalent?" he asked, though personally he didn't feel like he wanted to favor any one element over the others.

"There's ones for all five elements, though the spirit rite is a bit different." Eames took a big sip of water. "You could get a big work somewhere, calling the five elements, all tattooing with special inks and magic, very harmonious."

Arthur smiled at him. "We'll make sure to leave room for that when we plan the first one," he promised. It felt good, knowing that Eames had understood what he meant.

She flipped again and it showed branding with cold instead, and the next page was scarring by cutting with a stone knife and rubbing in earth, with the last involving magically superheated air to create the brand. They all looked painful and like quite the commitment in a different way than the tattoos had.

"That's enough, poppet," said Eames, pocketing the book without showing either of them the last page or so. "I'm thinking you both want plants or flowers for this first one."

"You're probably right," said Ariadne. "I'm gonna take awhile to think about it, though."

"I'm definitely interested in the flowers and bees thing, so we'll have to go talk to her and get permission." Arthur chuckled. "I'm certain Her Majesty will have at least one suggestion for my flowers, and we'll make sure it all meshes magically."

"And aesthetically," said Eames. "I'm certain the two of you will be able to check the magic, but it's my job to also make it beautiful whenever possible."

"I've seen your sketchbook," said Arthur, hoping his face and voice showed how much he loved Eames' work. "I'm not worried."

Eames was still beaming when the next customer came in.

---

The first thing that struck Arthur, upon stepping into Eames' flat, was that everything he owned was somehow magical. Not just blessed or made with a bit of luck like a witch's things, but enchanted, charmed, or created with magic. The second thing was how much of that magic was Eames' -- despite the otherworldly nature of sorcery, there was still a stamp of Eames' aura woven into every bit of enchantment.

"So, you've done a lot of object-based magic," said Arthur, trying to sound dry and mostly ending up sounding impressed and a little breathless.

Eames blinked, then grinned, sly and a little impish. "Do you like how it feels, darling?"

"It's impressive, all together like this," said Arthur, trying to calm the parts of himself that wanted to roll around and bask in the feeling of Eames on every side of him.

"Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated, Arthur," teased Eames. He stepped in and slipped one arm around Arthur's waist under his coat, using the other hand to cup Arthur's cheek before meeting him in a kiss.

Arthur stopped fighting the sensation and let himself sink into it, wallowing in Eames and magic and the hum of the other planes that surrounded them both. Even Ruby's presence was just another note in the symphony of spiritual energy that Arthur drank in until he was full to the brim.

"Darling," breathed Eames against his mouth. "I can feel you tasting me, it's.."

"Intimate," said Arthur, arms going around Eames' broad shoulders. "Erotic."

Eames laughed roughly. "I'm not taking you to bed tonight, love, but you're making me want to much more acutely than anticipated."

"I'll get it together in a minute," said Arthur, nuzzling at Eames' cheek. "I just need to acclimate to so much you all around me."

Eames blinked, and then actually blushed. "It's me that's got you all riled up?"

Arthur kissed him again, a sensual drag of lips that helped ground him back in the physical a little more. "It's you," he confirmed. He took a moment to ground himself further, dipping his senses down past the swell of Eames' magics to the deep currents of the earth beneath them, the rush of the underground river nearby and the breaths of air and fire all around them.

"Oh, Arthur," said Eames, looking at him adoringly. "That's the loveliest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Arthur kissed the small scar that broke the line of Eames' right eyebrow. "Only because it's true," he teased, feeling his equanimity settle as he got used to the new surroundings. "So, why do you have an entire flat full of magic shit?"

Eames laughed again, looking charmed and adoring. "Practice, mostly," he said, stepping away and leading Arthur to a small loveseat that had been, as far as Arthur could tell, built from scratch and infused with charms to make it the most comfortable piece of furniture it could be. "Students are allowed to think up their own projects, as long as it's nothing destructive, so I ended up furnishing my student quarters with magic."

"Very wise," said Arthur. "You're well-suited to a witch's life, making the best of what life brings." He snuggled into Eames and found that, too, was comfortable, warm and easy between them now that they'd brought their affections and intentions into the open.

Eames nuzzled him with a happy sound. "I'm well-suited to your life, I think, witch or otherwise."

Arthur smiled and kissed him. "Want to eat out? I almost never bother."

"I haven't at all since I moved," Eames confessed. He nuzzled into the crook of Arthur's neck and sighed. "I'd love to, once I get done enjoying that you're here and I can hold you."

"You'll never get done with that, I hope." Arthur leaned into him, nuzzling into his hair and smelling the scents of the day overlaying Eames' skin, incense and wet clay and candle wax, a tinge of sea salt from the mermaids and a bright top note of flowers from Arthur's flat.

"Mm, I knew I liked the way you think," said Eames.

Arthur relaxed more, letting out a sigh of pure contentment. "All right, even if you end up selling off your other things to fund your shameful milk addiction, you are never allowed to sell this couch. I am in love with this piece of furniture."

"My shameful milk addiction, hm?" said Eames, practically purring with contentment. "I'll remind you that I was used to going without until you got me hooked."

"I scandalously lured you in with milk and honey, is that it?" teased Arthur, eyes closing and his other senses expanding into the room, feeling out Eames and the touches of other magic, both human and not. There were fascinating flickers of elementals and otherplanar creatures, but there was also a thread of venal cruelty that Arthur brushed up against enough times to know it must have been someone involved in Eames' magic teaching.

"And your amazing arse, mustn't forget that, darling," murmured Eames, letting himself be cradled and petted.

"Well, I did make you follow me up several flights of stairs," Arthur mused. He let the other things rest, choosing instead to bask in Eames and Eames' magic and even Ruby's familiar presence. "I'm not sure how you could have resisted after that."

"Good thing I didn't bother." Eames' nose slid up Arthur's neck like a caress, along his jaw, followed by Eames' soft lips. Arthur kissed first one, then the other.

"Very good." They fell silent, sharing little kisses and mostly breathing in the quiet of the moment, their bodies and minds at rest for a few precious moments.

It was a little jolt of energy from Ruby that brought them both out of their reverie, almost like being bitten as her magic nipped at Arthur's skin. "What was that?"

"She wants to visit you," said Eames sheepishly. "It's too much for tonight, but she could, I mean, if you want her to. There's a ritual, and then she can go onto your skin, too, when she wants."

"Oh, wow," said Arthur, a smile blossoming on his face. "I promise, Ruby, when Eames and I are ready, we'll do that."

She answered with a soothing flick of magic over the sting.

"I think that's our cue to get food, though," said Eames.

Arthur kissed him one more time and nodded. "Yeah, let's go to that Italian place over on Hawthorne."

"Sounds good." Eames stood first, stretching, while Arthur gathered up the will to overcome the seductive comfort magic and straighten himself and his clothing.

They went back out feeling relaxed, the worries of the day set aside in favour of exploring their neighborhood together with no other purpose than to enjoy one another's company. The streets were well-lit by candle and witchlight, electric lamp and fairy light, a rainbow that sparkled and shone through the trees and plants that had been encouraged to grow in every possible nook and cranny. The streets no longer had to allow cars to pass, and especially in areas where waterways had sprung up, the footpaths were often barely wide enough for two abreast.

The buildings ranged from historical to modern; Arthur's building was one of the pre-magic ones from right before the change, with a sturdy foundation and a tendency to shift and settle off true if he let his maintenance spells go lax. Eames' building was a more recent one, all swooping curves and beautifully self-supporting lines, magic-aided construction that let the plants grow up along its sides and made space for the trees that wanted to live with it. It had held a tailor and seamstress couple before Eames moved in, but the brownies had retired to live in the country, away from the cold iron that still riddled the cities.

They took a shortcut, holding hands over the stream that ran down the middle of the alley, hopping from root to root along pathways not really wide enough even for one unless that person was sure-footed. Playful fairies darted around them, lighting their way and making the water sparkle with their inner light, and Eames paused to produce a straw full of flavored sugar from one pocket. He unfolded one end, poured it into his palm, and and said, "Ready?"

They gathered around, and danced in the rain of it when he tossed it into the air, catching the crystals on wings and limbs and in their too-wide mouths. Eames stashed the straw back in his skirts and they moved on, letting the small creatures fade away into laughter, the danger of them avoided with a simple game.

"You're prepared for everything now," said Arthur, smiling over at him. "I don't think they'd have hurt us, though."

Eames shook his head. "Probably not, but now they'll remember us fondly when we come back through here later."

Arthur gave him a kiss, tasting sugar on his lips. "You like that, making sure you're remembered fondly by everyone you meet."

"Well," teased Eames, tugging him close, "some more fondly than others."

They shared a kiss and a soft laugh, and then turned up the street and let themselves be draw into the big courtyard around a fountain. There were a few pubs and restaurants here, including the Patel's place, but eating in there was more of an experience -- and an expense -- than Arthur was ready for today. They went over to the Italian place instead and got seated in the window, sharing the L-shaped bench around the small table rather than sitting across from one another.

"What's good here?" asked Eames curiously; they had no written menu, since everything was based on what they could get fresh any given day, though there was a chalkboard off to one side.

Arthur shrugged. "I usually ask Billy what's fresh," he said. "Sometimes there's seafood pasta that's amazing, but it's pretty rare and kind of expensive."

"A bit like you," said Eames with a wink. "Do you come here for takeaway sometimes?"

Arthur shook his head. "They really prefer dine-in, so they don't encourage it. Ari and I mostly just come here for dinner if we're in the mood to splurge, instead of sharing lunch."

"Hey, Arthur," said Billy, coming over to smile at them warmly. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Eames, the new tattooist," said Arthur. "Billy's been here as long as it's been open."

"It's very good to meet you," said Eames, shaking his hand. "Arthur's been very helpful in getting me settled, I feel like I'm part of his little family now."

Arthur give him an amused look. "That's because you are." He turned back to Billy, "Eames and Ari get on like a house on fire, too."

Billy laughed. "I can imagine. There's some seafood today, and a really good wildfowl as well. Also some really nice vegetarian stuff, Angelino found a place that makes amazing proteins."

"How much for the seafood for two?" asked Arthur curiously.

Billy grinned. "I am conveniently informed that Angelino's about out of honey, and would like another jar, which would give you plenty of credit for tonight and a few more meals."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it's fate, then. Let him feed us as he will, but no more than a quarter of the jar's worth."

"Oh, it's a date," said Billy, understanding. "I'll tell him, he'll do a whole meal."

Eames smiled and kissed Arthur's dimple as Billy retreated. "A quarter of a jar of your honey is a very nice meal for our first date, petal."

Arthur kissed his lush mouth softly, feeling such affection for Eames' sweetness. "I want to share my favorite things with you," he said softly. "Angelino's seafood was one of the first things I ever treated myself to when I moved here. I have no idea who he trades with for it, but it's always amazing."

Eames kissed him one more time and sighed. "You've brought a lot of treats into my life, Arthur, and I can't help but want more anyway."

"That's a greedy I can get behind." Arthur smiled as Billy brought them fizzy drinks. Angelino made his own Italian sodas, using magic to fizz his water and making his own syrups. Arthur took a sip and let out a soft sound of pleasure at the warm sweetness of pear with just a hint of honey and a tiny bite of ginger.

Eames tried his and made an equally happy sound. "Oh, wow, okay, this is totally worth the honey."

Arthur laughed and kissed him soundly. "You can taste it in here, can't you? He'll do summer berry ones soon, too, and strawberry rhubarb as well, maybe."

"I can, I bet these alone go for a pretty penny when he's not bartering with you." A lot of restaurants ran on cash alone, and Arthur had been prepared to part with some of his precious coins, but this was better in a lot of ways. Eames was family, and using their resources to pay for not just tonight but future meals was the perfect way to celebrate the change in their relationship.

Arthur nodded. "Ari and I sometimes get these with salads in the summer, and it's not cheap."

"I guess you only provide veg to yourself?" asked Eames, taking one more sip before setting the drink aside. The charm-etched glasses would keep them drinkably chilled to the last drop, so there was no reason not to savour them throughout the meal.

Arthur nodded. "I sometimes barter a few things, but honey's the only foodstuff I supply around here, and that's mostly for home use."

"Arthur's honey is famous, however," said Angelino, bringing their first dish himself. "I'm Angelino. I hear Arthur's adopted you?"

Eames laughed and shook the offered hand. "Yeah, it seems so."

"Well, I'll try to make sure you feel properly welcomed to our neighborhood on his behalf," Angelino replied with a wink. "I'll let Arthur take care of the rest."

Arthur huffed, feeling his cheeks heat. "What's this?" he asked, deciding a protest would only make it worse.

Angelino looked very knowing as he said, "A very special appetizer of sliced raw fish with the thinnest slivers of radish between them, and a bit of this and that to add flavor."

"It looks amazing," said Eames, eyes on the four mouthful-sized mounds of fish, herbs, and paper-thin radish.

"It will be," said Arthur, getting a fork and gathering up one of the servings on it. "Try it with me."

Eames smiled, eyes sparkling with pleasure as he followed Arthur's lead, and the two of them tasted the morsels together. The fish was cold and fresh and melted on the tongue, while the radish added just a tiny hit of spice to go with the light dressing of herbs and lemon juice. Nothing overpowered the delicate flavour of the fish itself, which was sweet and light and tasted of the far oceans.

Eames made a somewhat obscene sound and lingered over the mouthful, eyes closed.

Arthur sighed as he swallowed and grinned up at Angelino. "You've been trading with the mermaids again."

"Of course," said the chef. "I can see I've got a good sense of what you two like, so I'll be back in my kitchens. Have a lovely date, boys."

"We will," replied Eames, eyes opening. "I've not had fish that good in...well, possibly never."

Angelino nodded his thanks and let himself be called over to another table. Arthur kissed Eames sweetly and grinned. "He likes you, we are getting such a treat."

"Does he really trade with the mermaids?" Eames asked. Ruby came peeking out of his sleeve, nosing toward the plate with their remaining two bites until Eames put his finger near enough to be going on with.

Arthur was, of course, terribly charmed. "He does, yeah. He's the one that taught me how to do it, actually."

"What do they buy from him?" Eames started to gather up the second bite onto his fork, so Arthur followed suit.

"Finished food," said Arthur. They paused to enjoy the treat, eating at the same time by tacit agreement and then kissing softly when the food was gone. "Mermaids aren't much for cooking, so he makes things they can't do themselves in exchange for raw ingredients."

"A bit of fire magic, in its way," teased Eames, smiling. "I'm sold so far, and I haven't even had anything cooked."

Billy brought out fresh-baked bread with olive oil and vinegar next, and after it an array of delightful cooked seafood dishes, from two small bowls of linguine and clams to plates of beautiful salmon in cream sauce. Everything was small enough to keep them from getting overfull, and Arthur was completely bowled over by the array of creativity. The meal ended with a delicate scallop risotto, the portions light enough that they had room for the two cups of affogato that rounded it all off.

"This is worth every drop of honey," said Arthur, sighing as he ate the sweet.

Eames kissed his dimple. "I'll have to treat next time we go out, if I have anything to trade worth the experience. This has been amazing, Arthur."

"It has, hasn't it?" Arthur kissed his nose. "The company wasn't bad, either."

They'd talked about their lives, small things rather than the big ones, about Eames getting his life unpacked and Arthur filling every nook and cranny of his building with usefulness, about Ariadne's studies and Eames' future projects, and a little bit more about Arthur's future tattoo and Eames' current ones. The conversation had wended itself in between bites and courses, stopping here and there to appreciate the food aloud before moving back or on or jumping to something new entirely. It had felt like settling into each other, gently braiding the strands of their lives together a little more in preparation for becoming whatever was waiting for them together.

Eames chuckled and had another bite of espresso-soaked ice cream. "Billy's quite nice, I suppose," he teased back.

Arthur promised to stop by the next day with more honey, and they left Billy with a tin of Arthur's hand balm for the dishwasher and a small gem from Eames for himself. Arthur would bring Angelino a gift tomorrow, something worthy of the gift that had been their meal.

"Yours or mine?" asked Arthur, hooking his arm through Eames' elbow and leading him back to the little alleyway on the assumption that Eames' earlier bribe would keep the fairies from leading them astray.

"I want to show you around the shop," said Eames, slipping his hand into Arthur's. "And a proper tour of the flat, such as it is."

"Sounds perfect," said Arthur, a soft hum of contentment escaping him as they walked on either side of the little stream, hands still joined.

The fairies flew around and ahead of them, lighting up the water all the way to the mouth of the alley. When they got back to the street, Arthur turned and tossed a bit of table sugar at them, getting a chorus of happiness in return.

Eames reclaimed Arthur's hand. "They'll remember us well, as much as that sort does," he whispered, once they were out of earshot of the dancing lights behind them.

"I hope so," said Arthur. "I don't think there were nearly as many of them them last time I went through that way."

"The world keeps changing." Eames nodded and squeezed Arthur's hand.

Arthur chuckled at the aphorism. "And we change with it."

Eames kissed the back of Arthur's hand and along every finger. "This is a good change."

"It really is," agreed Arthur.

They got back to Eames' building, and he let them into the shop with a warded key. Arthur felt the tingle of Eames' magic all through the space, as well as a deeper, hotter magic that permeated the foundations. "Dragon architecture?"

"Yeah, once the brownies left the old magic started seeping in," said Eames, touching one of the walls softly. "I like it, it's warming."

"You might want to put in a water feature, though, if you're going to do more elemental magic here. The fire could take over if you don't balance it out." Arthur was thinking aloud, going around the waiting room that was half-furnished with comfortable couches and low tables, and a few pieces of art clustered on one wall, clearly the start of a much more elaborate display.

"That's a good idea," said Eames, coming over to nuzzle for a kiss while Arthur stared at the drawings. "Will you help me build it?"

Arthur nodded. "After the beehive, sure," he agreed, and then he turned and took Eames properly into his arms for a lingering kiss.

Eames smiled at him, snuggling closer. "I'll put some of my flower sketches up here, but I need to choose some more finished pieces and then frame them all."

"Can I help choose?" asked Arthur, wanting to see more of Eames' art. "And frame, I suppose." His smirk belied the reluctance in his tone.

Eames kissed his dimple. "Come on, I'll show you the back, that's actually finished." They went through the double curtain, the front one of beads charmed with a minor cleansing spell, and the heavy velvet embroidered with privacy wards. Arthur admired the magic, drinking in the little sparks of Eames that filled his senses as he brushed past both.

Behind the curtains, the room was elegantly spare. An adjustable chair took up the center, in the middle of a permanent spell-circle, this one surrounded by much more powerful spells to prevent infection and promote healing. There was slate inset between inner and outer circles of copper, ready for Eames to write whatever spells were needed for the session. A rolling stool sat to one side of the chair, along with a floating tray, a simple enough spell for a sorcerer but impressive to a witch like Arthur whose powers lay in different areas.

The walls were also bare, though there were doorways at all four cardinal points, including the one they were standing in. "Wow, this is a great setup," said Arthur, stepping into the room and looking around. The walls between the doors were painted with something that would allow him to use and erase chalk, much like the slate floor but less expensive.

The room to the west held a bathroom, with another door between the cleanup area and the actual water closet to keep germs to a minimum. To the north there was a dazzling array of supplies, from chalk to spell components, pigments to implements. The eastern door was actually an exit to the alleyway, and the south brought them back around to the waiting room.

"You've kept the dragon-aura out of here pretty well," said Arthur, feeling the fire of it the same way he'd felt water, earth, and air at the other doorways. "But a water feature would still be cool."

Eames laughed. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking," he said, stealing another kiss. "This doesn't connect to my flat, unlike your convenient arrangement, but my landlord helped with the remodel, which makes it a great deal."

"He's probably hoping you stick around long enough to pay back his investment." Arthur kissed Eames' nose. "Sorcerers are notoriously long-lived."

"Witches, too, from what I've heard," said Eames fondly. "Or so I hope, anyway."

"Me, too." Arthur took his hand and led him back out the front. "Show me around upstairs before I get distracted asking what every single item in that supply closet is?"

Eames' laugh was warm and delighted. "Yeah, of course." They locked up and went back up to Eames' crowded little flat.

This time, Arthur kept his magical senses reined in and looked around the usual way, taking in the unpacked boxes, sparsely stocked kitchen, and jumble of magical artifacts both in use and in storage. The flat was smaller than it had seemed at first, just two rooms plus the kitchen and bathroom.

"Are you going to keep all of this stuff?" asked Arthur, fingers brushing along the curve of a table charmed never to allow food or drink set on it to spill or spoil. "Even as student work, I can't imagine it's not valuable."

"I'm kind of waiting to see what fits in with my life now," said Eames, giving Arthur a kiss. "This might be of more use to you than me, though," he added, fingers brushing against Arthur's and the wood of the table both.

"I was only coveting it a little," said Arthur with a warm smile. "It's good work, and I like the professor that helped with this one."

Eames made a face. "I will likely be selling off all the ones you're hinting at, I think. It's mostly things I won't have a use for here, anyway."

Arthur's smile softened into sympathy. "I can't imagine he was great to work with."

Eames shook his head. "She was," he said, tapping the table. "She helped with the loveseat, too. He thought they were stupid, boring everyday practicalities a sorcerer shouldn't be bothering with."

"He sounds like an asshole," said Arthur with a wry smirk. "I'm a much better asshole."

"You're my asshole now," teased Eames, letting Arthur cajole him away from whatever memories were wrinkling his brow. "Do you want me to tell you about all the stuff?"

Arthur shrugged. "Only if you want. I can mostly tell what's what, except the stuff that's just for doing sorcery."

"Those are all pretty valuable, and I don't need to keep everything," said Eames. "I don't plan on doing certain types of sorcery anymore."

"You left pretty fast?" asked Arthur. "It all feels mixed up."

"Yeah," Eames chuckled. "Once I decided to go, I pretty much chucked everything in boxes and fucked off."

Arthur snorted. "Decisive."

"That's one way of putting it." Eames tugged Arthur into the bedroom, which looked much more lived-in.

The bed was nothing special, but there was a bedspread covered in beautiful embroidery that had clearly taken Eames hours. Each square of the quilt held its own small set-spell to help encourage deep sleep, good dreams, healing, protection, and a dozen other things. They were organized in a pattern that was both visually and magically harmonious, a riot of color that still worked in a very Eames sort of way.

"This is beautiful," said Arthur. "I want to sleep under it someday."

"Someday," promised Eames seriously. "You're all right waiting, though?"

Arthur nodded. "Everything in its season, Eames. We're not ripe yet."

Eames chuckled. "We're getting there, though. I can feel the sweetness gathering."

"So can I," said Arthur, kissing him softly. "Tell me about the rest?"

Eames took Arthur around the room, explaining the cleaning charms, the anti-vermin and anti-wear spells, everything he'd done as he made each piece of furniture. His wardrobe was as sparse as anyone's these days, and having the cleaning and maintenance done by magic while he slept would make them last even longer. A few of the clothing items were also spelled, a sweater knitted into runes for warmth, a shirt with cooling charms for summer, and a very nice pair of trousers that were starting to fall apart despite the spells for durability embroidered onto them.

"You really are meant to be here," said Arthur, fingers stroking over the fraying threads. "You've got a great sense of how to make your magic useful."

"You know," said Eames, wryly at first but slowly lightening to genuine amusement, "I had an instructor say the same thing once, that I might as well be a witch with the way I was wasting my magic on the mundane."

"Sounds like an asshole," said Arthur dryly. He kissed the smile that had found its way to Eames' full lips. "I love the ways you've created a life with your magic."

Eames nuzzled Arthur's cheek and kissed the place where his dimple would be, causing it to blossom into life as Arthur smiled. "You say the sweetest things to me, petal, it makes me all a-flutter."

"I have no idea how you said that without sounding sarcstic," Arthur replied, grinning, "but I'm glad to set your heart fluttering, Eames, you do the same to me."

They kissed for a long moment before Arthur pulled away and added, "Don't ever tell Ariadne I said that."

Eames laughed, forehead dropping to Arthur's shoulder and his whole body shaking with it. "Your secret's safe with me," he managed breathlessly before dissolving back into laughter.

Arthur let the laughter bubble up inside himself as well, let it be a release of all the building feelings that had nowhere else to go just yet. He clung to Eames and was held close, sharing breath and warmth with their mirth, and he felt a little bright bubble of joy from Ruby join the rest.

"Darling," said Eames, once their laughter had played out and they were calm again, "I'm so glad I came into your shop.

"Me, too," Arthur replied. "I'd have been terribly jealous if you'd ended up with that florist we went to this morning."

"She didn't have your arse," said Eames impishly.

Arthur laughed and looked around again with a soft sigh. "It's getting late, but I'm not quite ready to give you up yet."

"Take me to yours and make me a cuppa? I haven't any milk here, I give it all to you." Eames made puppy eyes that Arthur couldn't have resisted even if he wanted to.

"I'll give you a cup of sleepy tea and a tour of my flat." Arthur retreated into the small parlour, where they got themselves back together for going out, even if it was just across the way.

Arthur showed Eames the back entrance, and they were grateful to make it upstairs; the night had grown cold while they'd been talking. Arthur put the kettle on and let Eames nose around in his parlour while he made tea, the silence comfortable and the rooms cosy.

"You'd be Lancelot, then?" said Eames, bending down to let the cat sniff his fingers.

Lancelot was a languid, fluffy sort of grey cat, his belly and paws white and tail a majestic flag as he curiously snuffled at Eames' fingers, which no doubt smelled of food and Arthur as well as Eames.

Arthur set up a tea tray with a soft smile. "I'll bring over a little treat for him, so he knows you're family." He rummaged for the container of them, feeling as much for the preservation charm as the shape.

"Where will we sit for our tea?" asked Eames, staying where he was while the cat nosed at his curled hand.

Arthur smiled. "You'll see." He hefted the tray and headed toward the hallway. "C'mon, you two."

Lancelot knew his cue and followed along, rubbing against Arthur's ankles a time or two. Eames trailed along in their wake. He made a sound of concern the first time the cat attempted to trip Arthur up, but Arthur was used to his antics by now and carried the tray smoothly to his library. The room was full of books of all sorts, ancient and modern, pre- and post-magic, fiction and non, any book Arthur could get his hands on. There were beautiful stained-glass windows in narrow arches between the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and a low table in the middle surrounded by two comfortable chairs and a very cosy sofa.

"Oh, Arthur," breathed Eames, stepping in and looking around. The room practically vibrated with protection magics, against everything from bookworms to scrying, all contained inside a ward to make the room seem very mundane indeed when prodded from the outside. "It's amazing."

Arthur set down the tray and let himself be proud. "I love this room almost as much as my garden."

"It's impressive," said Eames, looking around at the meticulously organized books. "I can't imagine how you afford this life."

Arthur chuckled wryly. "Let's just say I wasn't always a witch." He poured them tea and sat on the sofa, lap immediately filled by Lancelot looking for his treats.

Eames joined him, snagging the tin and snuggling up to them both. "How many can he have?"

"Four from you and two from me," said Arthur, amused. "I can't let you give them all or he'll defect in the face of your charm."

Eames chuckled and let Arthur present Lancelot with the first treat; they were homemade when he had time and resources, and kept under a strict preservation charm. Arthur contemplated seeing if he could get the mermaids to part with some more fish bits for him, but set that aside in favour of watching Eames' delight as the cat deigned to eat from his fingers.

They sipped tea and spoiled Lancelot until the treats were gone and the cat had fallen asleep draped proprietarily across both of their laps. Arthur let himself relax into Eames nearly as much as the cat, breathing in the scent of him and feeling the places their magics touched and mingled along with their body heat and breath. They talked about small things, mostly stories they loved, inspired as they were by the books all around them.

"Do you collect them still?" asked Eames.

Arthur nodded. "Obviously I can't afford to do it a lot, but the word is out that I will take books in trade or for cash, and I get takers from time to time."

"Do you lend them out?" Eames' eyes were lingering on the fiction section, battered books that were well-loved by previous owners and Arthur, too.

Arthur shook his head. "I sometimes let someone read in the shop, but I won't let them out of this building. Even Ariadne has to read in here."

"So, if I wanted to read something..." Eames trailed off, looking like a hopeful puppy.

Arthur chuckled, dimples undoubtedly showing. "Welllllll, you might be able to arrange to sit up here with me of an evening and read."

"Might I?" asked Eames, as excited by this as he had been by the offer of tea what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Arthur gave him a very soft kiss. "It's the sort of thing family does, I'm told."

Eames' excitement melted into soft affection, and he laid his head on Arthur's shoulder. "It does, doesn't it?"

Arthur kissed his hair and let the quiet settle over the three of them, warm and content for this small space of time. Soon enough, Eames would go home to his magical home, and Arthur and Lancelot would retreat to their warm nest of blankets, but for the moment they had each other and that was enough.

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