Chapter 20
Previously: Obsidian: Crystal Heart – Chapter 19
Ah, it’s been too long! Quincy looks up at the familiar castle as he rides along the driveway. It’s good to come home, well, home base. He can’t wait to have Cycy give him all the attention he deserves and see Blondie glare at him for it. He’ll make up for that when he listens in to the latest way Blondie is managing that useless art patron of Quincy’s. Well, useless apart from being a good front.
Yes, taking that idiotic theatre deed and selling it off to finance a Europe tour was the best idea Quincy ever had. All the stories he will be able to tell Cycy. Perfect. She’ll love it.
In fact, he’s sure she’ll come running out the door any moment now to greet him.
Any moment now.
Now.
Now?
Come on, what is this? He huffs when he makes it to the front door without the welcome committee he deserves and gets reduced to actually ringing the doorbell. Him, ringing the doorbell, please!
Ah, Arthur! Certainly, he’ll be happy to see him… what’s that frown for? Plans? What plans is he interrupting? Seriously?! He’s just being waved in while Arthur, at least, has the decency to see to his horse.
What is going on here?
At least the place seems a whole lot more lively than last he was here. Well, it’s been months… more, goodness, over a year. But that’s no excuse for not everybody coming running to welcome him back! He’ll give them a proper shakedown for that and he knows where to start, he’ll get up to Darcy’s room, maybe he should just get his apology by way of throwing her on the bed. She reacts well to that.
Just… what the hell?! What the bloody hell?!
Yes, she’s in her room, but she’s not alone, that’s a seamstress… A seamstress working on what has to be a wedding dress! What did he miss?!
He certainly didn’t miss her insecure look, but it must just have been at him opening the door, she looks relieved a second later… Wait, that look is going past him, so he turns and looks at Blondie. Well hello there, somebody filled out nicely! Looks good in… wait a fucking second! That’s a very fancy suit, the grumpy manly man wouldn’t just wear that.
Oof, that hand on his shoulder is heavy, and he knows when he’s being dragged off. So, obviously, he huffs, but only gets a grunt back.
“Ugh, Blondie, use your words, we’ve been here before.”
He’s still in the study before he gets a proper answer.
“You mean I’ve been here. You’ve been off gallivanting around on culver’s bill. Look. I’m not going to throw you out the front door, but we weren’t planning for you. Arthur is panicking about the seating arrangements as is and the scandal is making culver nervous enough. I don’t need your drama on top of that.”
Excuse you! Who does Blondie think he is?!
Something in Quincy scratches. Something is wrong. Something is wrong about everything here.
But even while he has that sense of being partway out of it, he hisses back at Blondie that that’s no fucking way to greet him. Cycy should be all over him! It’s been a while since she saw the man she loves, after all.
Was that a scoff? Was that a bloody scoff from Blondie?
Quincy has his finger poking at Blondie’s chest in a moment. He’s not going to let himself get scoffed at like that. He was part of this entire plan for how to manage Cobb.
Ouch! The fist Blondie wraps around his finger is far too tight and… and Quincy really doesn’t like the look in Blondie’s eyes. There’s the stormfront he’s familiar with, but there’s a gust of ice cold wind with it. That’s not the hot summer rain he associates with… Blondie… Why does that name feel wrong? No, not hot summer rain in a storm, there’s hail in John’s eyes as he tells him with far too much power vibrating in his voice that there is no more managing Cobb. It’s a tragedy, yes, that’s what the newspapers say when a young knight postulant and baroness consort dies in his sleep. Heart failure. The doctor attested to it, too. “So what are you a part of, really, Molly? Not this household. You left her. I stayed.”
Quincy’s blood runs cold. Died in his sleep… Cobb died in his sleep and there’s ice in John’s eyes. Ice and power, and he’s not stupid, some of that anger is not aimed at Cobb. John is angry with him for leaving, and telling him in the same breath as he informs him that he murdered Cobb. Bloody hell.
There’s that scratching at the inside of his skull again. And a whimper. A whine. A furry whine. And no, it’s not that sensation that isn’t a sensation against his mind. That furry thing isn’t Darcy. Why is it scratching? That’s his drac, isn’t it?
His drac is whining, looking at Blondie… no, no that’s wrong… not Blondie… shouldn’t this be his darling? Yes, that’s the word! The endearment!
And now his blood runs even colder. If that didn’t remind him of his grandfather, he’d cherish the feeling, because… because that’s what’s wrong!
He left his lovelies!
Why? Why would he do that? … Because he’s exactly that kind of flighty bitch.
No! Bloody hell, no, he isn’t!
This idiot version of him is!
Oh… version of him. He’s stuck in one of these bloody visions! That’s why he’s looking at a John who looks at him with anger, who’s threatening him.
And… and it hurts. Yes, the groom’s suit hurts, too. Cycy is his queen! But… their girl. He said it only last night! There is no love without John. And he left. This bloody fucker left!
Quincy is so fucking, (yes, he knows he’s slipped into his darling’s curse here,) so very fucking angry with this version of him. And… and anger is better than hurt, but he’s still feeling his eyes sting.
The way John is crushing his hand hurts, but not half as much as the look without any of the protection and fondness he knows from his darling does.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry for what he did. He… I should never have left. I’m so sorry… Sorry, bro. Please, please tell me she loves you!”
Oh that look in John’s eyes, the way the ice is melting to confusion is good, so good, and no, Quincy doesn’t care if he gets punched, he throws his arms around John, the one he can, and drags one of John’s arms around himself, he knows they both don’t like to be hugged. But this idiot version of himself ruined everything!
“No drama, no drama, I promise. I don’t want to crash your wedding. I should have been here to plan it! To giggle with Cycy about her hair and makeup and dress. To help you with your lines. To cheer you on. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you! I love you so much and I know you are as likely to rub your neck as punch me for saying that, but… that idiot who left wasn’t me.”
There is a spark of the darling he knows, that’s John patting his shoulder and not letting go, well, not of the hug at least, he’s getting his finger back, no more threat.
“I don’t have any other friends and this idiot here didn’t know what you are, what you can be. No, I wanted to be here to help Cycy see the man you are. I… I promise I am not leaving again. I need her. I need my queen. But I need you, too.”
There’s no pain, no hissing at admitting that, at shedding the tears against John’s shoulder even as he feels, knows he won. This wasn’t a challenge, this vision was a joke. This other him was a joke and he wishes he could hiss in his face!
Instead, Quincy feels the chair he’s sitting on, the weight of Darcy on his lap, even though he can’t see shit because something is blinding him. But that’s not important, no, what is important is that there’s more than Darcy, there’s a heavy hand against his brow, a heavy hand with small callouses.
No, he doesn’t give a hell’s damn how it might seem, Quincy throws both his hands up to hold on to John’s hand and whines. Lets that furry thing inside of him whimper, and when he finally can see, he pulls on that strong hand so that he can pull John against himself. No hug. No, he has no need to assert himself like that. He’s perfectly happy to whimper at John to please hold him.
~
Arthur can’t really get a good look at the symbol with John’s hand in the way, but that’s not the important part right now, anyway- he thinks.
Because, well, at least Quincy isn’t angry like he was when he came out of his last vision, but is clearly upset better? Good enough to end his vision quest, apparently.
But… it looks like this one was about John? Not Darcy? That’s odd- isn’t it? Arthur’s not sure. He would’ve said John isn’t usually much for displays of affection, but Quincy is all clutching at him and John clearly doesn’t mind.
Though, why shouldn’t the visions be about more than one person? His own were about his father and Gregory at least as much as Darcy. And John and Quincy have been inseparable for the last few days just as much with each other as with Darcy.
Arthur feels maybe a little pang at how close the three of them clearly are, but that’s petty. He’s happy they’re friends and have each other! And it isn’t like they’re not his friends, too.
And also, this isn’t about him, this is Quincy conquering his visions, so instead, he chimes in to agree with John and offer his congratulations on getting through this, and pretty quickly, too.
~
He might regret it, but Darcy is making puppy eyes and their molly is a mess… about him? Well, that’s going to be a long night of rewards for the molly. Hey, actually, John’s been toying with the idea anyway, but he didn’t want to put it together on the spot. But now, he’s got an upset molly to placate and reward and praise, so fuck it, he’ll throw the dhampirs a wedding this night, in the dreamscape, with all the bells and whistles… and the way he knows those two, white horses and bats carrying veils and what not on over-the-top drama. But, that’s okay, he has a suspicion Quincy will make Darcy give him half a vow, too, will make Darcy get engaged to him or something. He trusts his bro. He really does. And that also means that, okay, he can be a bit less reserved, so he waves Arthur over. “Oi, get into this hug!”
Which is also a good excuse to tap Arthur’s brow and show him Quincy’s symbol. He doesn’t trust Llew not to spy, and he remembers how overly eager Eluned had seemed when they got their symbols. Quincy’s fey, for all he knows that’s worse if they get his, so no, he covered it over but took a glance himself. Enough for his long practice at visual memory to edge it out in his dreamscape for Arthur and ask him to be discreet but start looking through the books if he can find it.
~
And suddenly, any remnants of that little pang disappear as if it’s never been, as he finds himself included in the hug and an anti-fey conspiracy. Yes, of course Arthur is going to look for that symbol, as sneakily as he can!
Before he can do any of that, though, Quincy declares that this calls for a celebration, he deserves one, and they’ve worked hard enough for one day- they all deserve the rest of the day off. Also, he heard the last party for the quests was shit, so: Party time!
Which leads to Darcy bouncing to her feet and clapping her hands. Papa taught them how to cook, they’re going to do this themselves!
John groans and grumbles, but Arthur notices how he doesn’t put up any actual protest, and, well- he himself learned a little cooking from Mrs Harker, too, so he’s willing to give it a go.
This time, the castle lets them light the stove, which Arthur takes for a vote of confidence. It’s chaotic, but fun, and somehow, they do manage to make edible pancakes between all of them. Quincy somehow knows the recipe, and John even steps in with a grunt to grip the pan to save the molly from burning himself or breaking his delicate little wrists, (his words, of course.) They manage the cheese sauce and chocolate frosting from Christmas, too, to go with the pancakes for those who like it sweet or savoury, respectively.
The kitchen ends up rather messy and floury, but Arthur doesn’t think the house minds, because it keeps popping up the correct ingredients or tools whenever one of them reaches for the wrong thing at the wrong time.
And there’s the time John lets Darcy try a piece of something brown and dried he’s cutting, which she obviously thought was some kind of meat, and then laughs out loud when she pulls an appalled face and spits it out, and sticks out her tongue like it got burned, complaining: “Sweet!” in tones of great offence.
That, of course, makes Arthur and Quincy join the laughter, though then Quincy swoops in with a piece of ham to ‘save his queen’, and really… it’s all just so much fun.
It’s like Christmas Eve, really, all of them doing something together, making something together not because they have to but because they want to. And in the end, they have a respectable stack of pancakes, and bowls of sauce and frosting, and a few more with other things to add, like the ham and the, it turns out, dates, which are indeed very sweet, and also sugar, and applesauce, and cheese, and sausage for Darcy’s carnivore tastes. (The house obviously helps with providing some of those.)
They put it on the table in the library like a buffet, and Quincy tells the house what kind of music he wants, and they dance and eat and have a much nicer party than the one in the nexus.
Darcy dances up the walls with Arthur again with a giggle, and Quincy pulls him into the middle of the room for a more mundane dance, too, much to his surprise.
Though when Quincy winks at him and asks him: “What’s that expression for, honey?”, Arthur has to admit that he doesn’t know why he’s surprised, actually. And it’s not like dancing with Quincy is any less fun than dancing with Darcy.
It’s when he’s taking a short break and considering one more pancake when John leans against the sofa next to him while Darcy and Quincy dance with each other. A moment later, he finds himself in the dreamscape, where John asks if he would be miffed with him if he asks to do a bit of research, he has something planned for Quincy and he could really use the meaning of that symbol but he doesn’t want to be an arse.
And if John asks like that, of course he’s not miffed! In fact, he enjoys sneaking off deeper into the library, between the shelves, while John distracts Quincy and Darcy.
The house helpfully supplies him with the fey dictionary again, and this time, he makes very sure to account for every squiggle and line, so it takes him a good fifteen minutes to be very sure that he found the right one. Not that he’s sure what kind of symbol to win trials with ‘delusion; error in judgement’ would be, but you never know with fey. But no, he’s sure he’s correctly identified it as ‘dedication’.
When he returns, he finds the others hopping in a circle, Darcy giggling as she bounces from leg to leg and kicks her feet with gusto, though comparing it to how smooth Quincy and John are with it, she isn’t quite always on time. He catches John’s eye with a nod as he circles past.
~
“Oh no, no, no, honey, you can’t just get away so easy. Come here. John, explain the steps again!” Not while Quincy’s around does Arthur get to play wallflower! Letting go of John’s hand and reaching out to Arthur doesn’t mean Quincy stops turning in the circle, oh, right, time for the closing in and clapping part. Which just might be the one thing Darcy is the best at. Well, that, and being just addictive with how her laughter and loving smiles are the equivalent of the very doors of heaven opening and serenading him personally with their praise. Still, she can’t get the steps right, so Arthur has no excuse either!
~
Arthur gives Quincy a bright smile, because far from wanting to get away, he’s more than happy to be included in the fun. And the steps don’t seem particularly complicated- just starting with the left leg, and stepping behind it, and a kick, really, but it still takes him a few rounds to get fully into the rhythm of it, while Quincy seems determined to prove he can kick the highest, and John is… fondly amused, Arthur thinks.
Soon, he’s laughing with the others, and swirling in the circle, one of his hands held by Quincy and one by John. It’s strangely addictive.
Eventually, they all collapse on the sofa in a heap of exhaustion and laughter and good mood, and Arthur gets pulled into book selection for future dreamscape adventures. Which isn’t at all easy, because Darcy wants wilderness, Arthur adventure, and Quincy civilisation and social things. But none of their arguing ever gets mean, and Arthur really, really likes that.
They narrow it down to several Jules Verne works, and one slim volume that looks more like a scary story, but in the end they go with that, because it’s called ‘Frankenstein’, and, as Darcy says: “That’s my uncle’s name!”
In between there, Arthur manages to give John the translation for Quincy’s symbol in another snuck moment of dreamscape, and then they break up for the night, with John winking and saying he’ll get onto that book the next day. For tonight, he already has plans. That leads to many questions and demands from Darcy and Quincy, before they remember to wish Arthur a good night, and Darcy hands him back his genet and asks whether his headache is all gone again, and that leaves Arthur to head to sleep with a warm feeling in his chest, whether John plans to pull him in for any dreamscape things tonight or not.
~
If Quincy knew that John has an acute case of thinking he’s herding not one, but two bouncy puppies to bed, he’d huff at him, but to John, it makes the whole evening plan more fun. Yes, he admits to it, (to himself at least,) it’s fucking nice to see both of them so happy. And he fully intends to keep eliciting giggles and squeals. It’s going to be last minute, still, and cobbled together, but he is going to throw them, and maybe also himself, a bacchanal of a wedding in his dreamscape.
After he reminds the overeager dracs that they have to keep their bloodbonding up, get to it. He has teeth to brush and expects them to be ready to start the night by the time he’s back!
Okay, of course his girl took that a bit too enthusiastically and John has to delay brushing his teeth because he has a huffing Quincy to help up from where Darcy jumped up on him and seriously tried to jump-bite him. Some days, John really thinks he’s in love with a puppy, that was about as adorable as it was dangerous and derpy. Better Molly than him, he doesn’t heal, but he definitely would complain less. Not that they aren’t all three laughing by the time John can punch Quincy on the shoulder and tell him to find his dignity after he’s finally in bed and doing the blood exchanging kisses.
Yes, he can see that his bro is suspecting him of something. Yes, he is being obvious, normally he isn’t that pushy about the dhampirs getting it on, but his bro also knows better than to so much as tease about John starting to have a thing for watching. And John knows that’s partially because Molly doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and partially because John could fire right back, nope, that’s not him with the voyeuristic tendencies.
And, huh, John really thinks that might be the biggest proof yet that he trusts Molly. He still feels gross about ever having been around Gregory together with Darcy, he still feels violated and used. But… he doesn’t mind their molly being close anymore. He can be obvious in, yes, Quincy rather enjoys the sights when the three of them are going at each other, and all John has for it is verbal sparring matches with the old pervert. Quincy hasn’t done more than looking one single time, and there’s so often a smirk to the appreciative looks, there’s even been fucking discussions on muscle definition and what John could work on next with his workouts.
Yeah, John is brushing his teeth to a heavy commentary track of smooching and moaning sounds from the bedroom and he isn’t one fucking bit jealous or uncomfortable. Nope, he’s putting the get-ready-for-bed routine on autopilot so he can sneak over to his dreamscape already to play around with the lingerie he is getting ready for that wedding. Yes, he’s fucking designing lingerie for the molly, and all he can think of is that Darcy is going to quite literally slobber over both of them. Right, better get the smell checked. He wouldn’t want her to enjoy the lingerie less because it’s not stinky enough. Smell for Darcy, different textures for Quincy’s enjoyment of sensory play… Fucking hell, he knows his bro’s sexual preferences and all he does is fondly chuckle about it.
Yeah, the dracs have him around their dainty little fingers. And while nobody’s looking, he sighs happily. They make him so fucking secure. In himself, in being a man, and in not being into guys and his nightly threesome marathons not changing that one bit. Anybody who tries to attack him for that can get punched. If John even gets to that, he has a suspicion his dracs would make short work of anybody who makes him uncomfortable.
Taking a step back to look over the outfits, John wonders where to best put Quincy’s vision symbol. What would the old fashion snob appreciate… No, putting it on a collar would be snarky, not fitting. Oh, of course, the silken shirt with far too many ruffles could do beautifully with a set of silver cufflinks. Even better, cufflinks on the shirt and make the waist on the tight leather pants higher and add a double row of silver buttons with the symbol, too. There. Perfect. Quincy’s going to love it and it fits for a wedding, even a raucous drac one like the one he has planned.
Yeah, Arthur’s definitely not invited to this one. He’d die of embarrassment, and John is definitely not comfortable, either, with the thought of being in lingerie in front of him. They can have a more official, more sweet one once the blood bond takes. This one is celebration and drac extravaganza to make them feel alive and drunk with love. Not as if the dracs have their vows ready, this is all improv, and he can guess how much Quincy would glare at him if he was supposed to perform without preparation. Nope, next time they can invite all and sundry, this time, it’s fun and games and drama and likely lots of sex. So nope, only the three of them!