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Chapter Text

Every day there were projects and errands, orchestrated by Wilde and always taking longer than it seemed they should. One midday, Barnes and Carter sat together on a park bench that had dried out after two full days without rain. The winter sunshine was weak, but the brightness seemed warming and brought some measure of cheer after the constant mist and drizzle. Two weeks after the battle, this part of London was still mostly empty, but it seemed like the quiet of a winter weekend rather than the aftermath of the end of the world.

Between them was a chunk of cheese with one of Carter’s small knives stuck in it. Carter slouched back, eyes closed. Barnes was looking through his little notebook. He set down the book with the slim pencil tucked inside, then picked up the cheese and cut off several blocky slices. He nudged at Carter’s shoulder until he sleepily turned his head.

“Open your mouth, How.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Then take it.” Barnes cut a bite-sized piece from one of the slices, held it out. Carter’s eyes were still closed.

“Never mind. Give it.” Carter opened his mouth and Barnes stuck in one of the bits. With his mouth full, Carter said something that could have been peep peep while Barnes went back to his notebook.

“Must be Sunday today, yeh?” Barnes asked, taking another bite of cheese.

Eyes still closed, legs stretched out, Carter slurped from his water bottle and nodded. “Sounds right. Got an appointment?”

“Got a schedule. Where’s your pack?” Barnes leaned down, looking under the bench.

“Here.” From the ground on his other side, Carter lifted the pack by one strap and unbuckled it, handing it over to Barnes. He waved to Cel, who was walking across the park toward them.

Barnes reached inside the pack. “Hmm.”

Carter turned back, squinting, watched Barnes’ face change from calm to annoyed as he rummaged in the pack, then to concerned. “How?”

Carter sat up and his eyes went wide. “Oh no.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, then Barnes withdrew his hand from the pack. Carter’s expression was part horrified, part guilty. “By Ra, Barnes, I didn’t know.”

Cel sat down on Barnes’ other side. “How is that cheese? Kiko found some apples that would be good with it. What I want is bread, fresh bread, but until Zolf finds some good yeast we–”

“You couldn’t have.” Barnes set the pack in Carter’s lap. “Hey Cel.”

“Maybe it just moved around, or they came out.” Carter kept looking at Barnes as he dug around inside his pack. He shook his head, then fastened the buckles and set the pack on the ground.

Barnes sat back against the bench with a sigh.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Carter crossed his arms tightly against his body. “The pocket. It’s gone. James had, it was supposed to be safe.”

Cel looked from Carter’s face to Barnes. “James had something, in your pack, and now it’s gone.”

Barnes wrapped one hand around Carter’s upper arm, tugged to unwind his crossed arms. “S’not your fault. Just one more thing.”

He looked back to Cel. “Carter’s pack has a special pocket. Had. The pocket wasn’t really there, it’s somewhere else, or that’s what I’m told. It’s a good place to keep things safe that might get broken. Was. It was a good place to put some potions, before the battle. Now the pocket is gone and my potions are gone, too.” He rubbed his palm along his jaw, keeping the other hand around Carter’s arm.

“The potions, they’re for–” started Cel.

Barnes did an up-down hand wave over his front, raised an eyebrow. “More of some, less of the other.”

“What’s gonna happen?” asked Carter. He was still staring at Barnes, hands gripping his thighs.

“Suppose we’ll find out,” said Barnes. “It’s been years. Cel, you’re the potions expert, what do you think?”

“Well now, the potions I’m most familiar with only work for me, but I know the type of formula you’re talking about and if we can find the ingredients I can give it a try. Botanicals mostly, might not be available here, if we can talk to some of the temples they might know.” Cel’s hand moved gently on Barnes’ shoulder.

“The Aphrodite lot, that’s what made the ones I had,” said Barnes. “Enough for a year, before the Vengeance.”

“Barnes, it’s–” started Carter again.

“Hush, How,” said Barnes, combing his fingers through the hair over Carter’s ear. “You can look for the ingredients as you’re out and about on Wilde’s errands.” Carter leaned into Barnes’ palm, unclenched his hands with a shiver. “Cel, you’ll make a list?”

“Certainly, with some different options depending on the sources you might run across. Apothecaries would call it one thing, herbalists another. Not to mention the temples, if you check with them, and then there would be regional differences, unless Britain has standardized the chemical nomenclature. That would be convenient. Quantities, too, should be enough since there are probably others and of course I’ll need some for myself.”

Both Barnes and Carter looked over at Cel. “For yourself?”

“Sure!” Cel grinned. “I’m accustomed to having some, let’s say, flexibility.” They did the same sort of hand wave, up and down their front, then patted Barnes’ thigh. “A good part of that was magic, but back in the day it was all mundane potions. Whoo, did we end up with some interesting effects! Those formulas would be in my notes somewhere, maybe one of the trunks back in Japan. No promises, but that might be fun someday.”

Carter leaned forward to talk to Cel across Barnes. Now that the surprise had worn off, his usual curiosity was back, tinged with mischief. “Cel, can I ask what you have going on right now? Unless you want me to find out for myself.”

“Hah! Bold, you are,” said Cel. “It has been some time, hasn’t it? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Since the bear,” said Barnes. “Been busy. Missed you.” He threaded his arm behind Cel’s back, the other around Carter’s shoulders. They all adjusted until they were leaned together companionably.

“Well now, this is nice,” Cel sighed. “Concave, to answer your question. I mean who takes a penis into battle if you don’t have to? Talk about breakables. Same with tits, just enough to keep the bandoliers from sliding around too much.” Carter’s mostly silent laughter made the bench wobble. “So I went with the streamlined configuration and now I’m stuck with it, at least for now.”

“We’re stuck with it, too. Good thing we like all your configurations,” said Carter. “Don’t we, James?”

Barnes leaned his head back onto Cel’s arm where it was stretched along the back of the bench. “Indeed we do. Howard, feed me some of that cheese if you will, my arms seem to be pinned. Then I’m back to clearin' out that hall where Zolf is settin' up his big kitchen.”

Carter swallowed his bite of cheese, poked a piece into Barnes’ mouth and handed another to Cel. “Where are we sleeping?”

“The new place, assumin' the kobolds found the water problem.”

“They found the problem all right, broken pipe. Remains to be seen if they were able to make the necessary repairs. If they found some extra pipe, perhaps in the basement or in one of the less habitable, that is to say, more ruined houses? That would make it easier and we could have a place to stay for a good while.”

“Let’s hope. It would be nice to go back to the same place more than twice in a row. Cel, you could set up your little laboratory, like you wanted.”

“Well now, there’s even more reason to get started on that, isn’t there?”

Chapter Text

It was their favorite position. On their sides, the three of them. Cel, spooned around Barnes and Carter on his other side, kissing Cel over Barnes’ shoulder, Cel’s own taste on his lips. They still tingled, from core to fingertips, thanks to Carter’s attention between their legs while Barnes held them and kissed them silly. Somehow the two of them found a rhythm in whatever they did together, didn’t they? They certainly found a rhythm with Cel, kissed and licked and pushed them right over the edge and left them with goosebumps and the need to keep touching.

They could reach everything from here, and did. One arm couldn’t reach very far, trapped as it was under Barnes’ neck, both of their necks actually. But they had enough reach to touch a shoulder or just grab hard into the pillows, seeking the sense to not float away with the hot lovely thrill of it.

They stroked Barnes’ thigh where it was pressed against Carter’s ribs. They held their spread fingers against Carter’s ass as it flexed, that rhythm catching as he thrust up into Barnes. It was more forwards than up, actually, depending on the vantage, rocking Barnes’ sweaty back against Cel so his soft moans were felt as much as heard.

Cel slid a hand between them and James gasped and bucked hard as they touched him, circled and slid their fingertips through his wet warmth. He reached back to grip the back of Cel’s thigh, another force in their complicated tangle.

Cel could have reached down the other way, underneath, between James’ thighs and Carter’s too, but that was guaranteed to send Carter right over the top. Why rush it? Time enough later for that, to cradle the tight pouch of his balls as he writhed and cried out, pressed close, Cel’s other arm underneath, bracing Carter’s shoulder and like as not to get kissed or even sometimes bitten.

Carter swore and shifted, Cel pulling their hand upward just in time to not be crushed by the rocking slide of them. Carter was getting close, one hand gripped around Barnes’ hip as he moved faster, leaned back, or sideways.

The change in angle left space for touching, tracing and grasping at Barnes’ belly, along his ribs, up to the solid curves of his chest. He really does have the most marvelous chest, thought Cel, skimming their palm across a nipple, then pressing and rubbing in time with Carter’s thrusts, as much as they could match his rhythm as he started to fall apart.

They pressed their forehead against James’ shoulder, smiling as his moans became small open-mouthed cries of delight and something else, something different under their palm, softer, and that hurt, pressing his nipples like that, and that meant something…

“Stop,” Cel said. It came out in a whisper, so they cleared their throat and tried again.

“Wait… Hold it… Stop… Stop,” louder each time. They tugged their arm free and got an elbow planted to prop themselves up, push at Carter’s shoulder, then harder at his hip, “Stop!”

They shoved as hard as they could and Carter rolled away, curled around himself, hips jerking, face pressed into the pillow as he spent against the sheets. Barnes was breathing hard, had one hand on Carter’s shoulder, grabbed Cel’s hand with the other.

“Good,” said Cel, “that’s good,” softer and not quite as frantic.

Carter groaned. “Cleopatra’s balls, Cel, what the fuck was that about?”

Cel kissed Barnes’ shoulder. “I’m really sorry about that, it couldn’t have been a worse time, but a worse time could happen. Better to be careful, I mean, well, now, it might not be the worst, but it could be unexpected, and that would be something, especially these days when we–”

“Cel,” interrupted Barnes. “Love. What is it?”

Cel shifted their hand in Barnes’ grip, pressed his fingers against his own nipple, hard enough that he hissed with it. “Feel that? That’s mammary tissue. If it’s making a knot like that, could be other stuff going on.”

Cel moved their hands to rest over his breastbone, spoke with their lips against his shoulder.

“You could get pregnant.”

“Oh,” breathed Barnes.

“Head of a jackal,” said Carter, rolling over to face them but not moving closer. “Are you sure?”

“No,” said Cel. “But time was of the essence. Sorry Carter. You too James, that was deeply unsatisfying.”

“What do we do?”

“Get some sleep, talk about it tomorrow. James?”

“Yeh. This is not a position I expected.” Barnes shifted his hand to twine his fingers with Cel’s, still pressed to his chest. He took a shaking breath, tried to will his pulse to slow, to stop pounding in his ears, his core, his throat.

Carter reached over and wrapped his hand around their two joined hands. “We’ll always take care of you, right?”

Barnes raised his arm enough for Carter to slide in closer. They all shifted and wriggled, tugging at pillows and arranging two-blankets-for-three-people as best they could. They were comfortable enough, and certainly tired enough, but none of them managed to fall asleep for a long time.

Chapter Text

There’s a sitting area at the top of the main staircase, away from the public rooms downstairs and nice for a hand of cards, a bit of reading, or a quiet conversation. One night, when they’ve arrived upstairs for the night, Barnes pulls Carter over to one of the big sofas, sets the candle on the coffee table.

“I thought we were going to bed.”

“We are. We need to talk first.”

“What did I do now? Whatever it was I’m really, truly sorry and I swear by the claws of Mafdet to do better. Once you tell me what it is.”

“Cute. Wait a minute, can’t you, for Cel to get back. It was their idea to talk all together.”

“I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s nothin' like that.”

“They’re at the door. Remind me later to oil that lock again. Are you going to cut your hair? Here, let me braid the top. Bet I can do it before Cel gets up here.”

“Ow, don’t tug.”

“Baby. There. Hey Cel.”

“Well now, isn’t this cozy? Good idea to talk all together when it’s important like… Carter? What's wrong? You’re all red.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? What did you do?”

“I don’t know! Can you just say so we can get the yelling over with and go to bed? Not that I’m even much in the mood any more–“

“Howard.”

“Must be bad for you to Howard me.”

“Shut up.”

“Hmph.”

“Cel?”

“Yes, love. Well, just to say that we all should know what we know and how we feel about it, so we can be there for each other with all the information. Especially the feelings, which can be tricky, you know they can be tricky, and I’m not even sure what’s possible.”

“Erm?”

“It’s been a long time, I mean my kids that I already have could have children of their own now! James, you didn’t ever have children? Or you Howard, I feel like that’s something we would have said at some point, but what would that be like, baby siblings? Stepsibs I suppose, and who knows when they could meet.”

“Barnes, help. This isn’t about me is it?”

“No, How. It’s about us fucking and that, well, at this point–“

“He could be fertile and there’s a chance I might be too and how do we feel about that?”

…

…

“James?”

“I thought so, once, and then the storms happened and he, y’know. Was gone. Now there’s you. Us. This all can’t get much stranger. If somethin' happens I know you two will have my back. New adventures, yeh?”

“Well now, not even knowing if it’s possible… I’m warming up to the idea. Been a long time since my children and it seems like even if it’s not exactly a good time it wouldn’t be a total disaster. New world, new people.”

“Your turn, what about– hey, hey, How, it’s all right, what’s wrong? If it’s too weird or scary we’ll figure somethin' out.”

“It’s, gods, you don’t even know, that you, both of you–”

“Hey, buddy, breathe.”

…

“That you even think it’s alright for me to maybe have a child? With you. It would be amazing, and I’m well rattled but in mostly a good way. So yes, I’m good with the maybe.”

“C’mere. You too.”

…

“Whatever else, always this.”

Chapter Text

There was a third rattling crash from the stairway, followed by an even louder outburst of shouting and laughter. Barnes couldn’t remember hearing the kobolds having so much fun since they were on the bear but gods did that buzzing chuckle drill right into his head. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment, tried to figure out what in all the possible hells they were doing. He gave up when Kiko, Carter, Cel, and at least two kobolds talked over each other in three languages. They were very, very loud.

There was the sound of feet on the stairs again, some sort of countdown, another crash, and that was it, he couldn’t stand it another moment. He pushed back from the huge dining room table they used as a communal desk and workspace. He stepped to the doorway and looked into the foyer. Swooping formal stairs curved down from above, currently decorated with people variously sitting – Cel, Kiko, Draal – and standing on the railings – Carter, of course, whooping it up.

“That’s enough of that,” Barnes said, and it must have sounded even more admonishing than he felt, or maybe it was his fists on his hips because there was a beat of silence with all of them looking at him.

“But Barnes,” started Carter, at the same time Cel began with, “Are we bothering you?” and then both of them launched into explanations of kobold aerodynamics and variable centers of gravity and the sound echoing off the marble floors reached a new level of hammering against his skull.

Barnes shook his head, somewhat gingerly, and walked back through the door to the table. It wasn’t just the headache. He felt out of sync, as if everything happened just a bit too fast for him to follow. He’d catch a nap maybe, after he finished this report and dropped it off to Wilde, who would surely raise an eyebrow at his handwriting and his arithmetic.

“Why he ever,” he muttered to himself, pulling the ledger closer. “Who knows, and why I ever is a better fuckin’ question…”

“Why you ever what?” asked Cel as they walked in. In the doorway Carter was saying something - loudly, again, the man had no inside voice - shouting to Kiko and calling after the kobolds in Draconic. Whatever it was made them laugh again, even as they were leaving through the front door, talking loud enough that Barnes pressed his hands against his eyes, elbows resting on the table.

Carter walked in, following Cel to the other end of the long table where they had a city map spread out.

“Why I ever considered taking on the harbormaster duties. Just a sailor, I told him that.”

“Well, now, you know all the boats and how to arrange them, and what the tides are, and what boat should carry what cargo and how far… I remember you did those trade routes? Probably why Wilde tapped you, only logical choice. Zolf would put the bag of corn right with the goats.”

“Good one, Cel,” said Carter, dropping into one of the chairs at that end of the table. “You’re proper brilliant at that, Barnes,” he continued. “And frankly nobody else gives a mummified phalange.”

“They’re ships,” said Barnes.

“What?”

“Ships, not boats. In the harbor.”

“Exactly.”

“What, exactly?”

“You care what things are called, like boats and birds and fingers.”

“Fingers? The fuck, Carter?”

“Fingers. You were about to say a phalange could be a toe as well as a finger.”

Cel rapped Carter’s knuckles with a pencil. “Phalanx, actually.”

“Now what?” Barnes picked up his pen and pried the stopper from the inkwell.

“Phalanges is all of them, phalanx is just one. My phalanges are aching, since yesterday, might be the weather, unless I’m coming down with something, it could be a sign of that. New gloves might help.” Cel rubbed the knuckles of one hand with the fingers of the other.

“I would give a mummified phalanx, if I had one, to never need to write in a ledger book.”

“Well I’m the lucky soul with that task for today,” said Barnes, dipping his pen and tapping it gently on the rag he used as a blotter.

He kept writing, adding descriptions to the list of ships for the ones he remembered, paging through one or another of the leather-bound collections of newspapers from the past five years to find the shipping news. As he worked, Carter and Cel were tracing and measuring something on the map and discussing whether some unspecified it could be moved or removed based on what they knew so far about the tunnels, getting louder and louder as their ideas got more and more outrageous.

The writing in the ledger was starting to blur, flowing like water with the torrent of conversation and the pulse rushing behind his eyes.

At the next spate of laughter, Barnes set his pen down and placed both hands flat on the table.

“Could you–” he started, cleared his throat. “Could the two of you possibly shut the fuck up for five bloody minutes?”

He might have raised his voice more than intended by the way they startled, their eyes wide, and quiet for once.

He cleared his throat again, paused. They were having fun, after all. His misery wasn’t their fault.

“Just, this is the last page, then it goes to Wilde and maybe my head stops poundin’.”

Cel exchanged a look and a shrug with Carter. They stood up, patted Carter’s shoulder and walked to the other end of the table. They put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed.

“Well, now, guess we were getting loud. That can wait until one of us figures out how to open those doors. James, maybe you–?”

Barnes rubbed his eyes again, shook his head slightly. Cel sighed, rubbed his head absently. “I’ll just catch up with the kobolds, then. See if we can get the water running in a few more places and let that idea stew for a bit. Speaking of stew, see you later at the Kitchen? Someone came in the other day with bushels of vegetables and Zolf said something about, well, stew.” They leaned down, kissed the top of his head and headed out the door.

Carter at the other end of the table was putting pencils and protractors back into the basket with exaggerated care. He kept looking up at Barnes, not sure whether speaking up would make it better or worse. Barnes was usually so calm and patient, must be the headache making him so grumpy.

Carter rolled up the map and set it back on the sideboard with the basket. He turned in place and just looked at Barnes for a moment, watched him dab at a blot on the page. He wiped his pen and put the stopper in the inkwell, closing the ledger with a sigh.

“That will have to do.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

Barnes looked up as if he’d forgotten Carter was there.

“Are you all right?” Carter walked over, curved one hand around the back of Barnes’ neck and the other around his forehead.

“Beast of a headache. Feeling prickly.”

“Might have noticed that.”

Barnes let his head lean forward into Carter’s hand. “All catching up with me maybe. You are loud.”

“It’s a gods-given talent.” Carter rubbed along the muscles in Barnes’ neck, stroking with thumb and forefinger. “I’ll come with you to Wilde’s. Maybe Zolf has something for your head.”

“Bring the bag, we can spar there. Maybe whackin’ you with a stick will make me feel better.” Barnes stood, pushing the chair back and tucking the ledger under his arm.

“You can try.” Carter bumped his shoulder. “One of us will feel better, anyway.”

It was less than a mile through mostly-quiet streets to the former temple where Zolf had set up what was becoming well-known as the Kitchen. It helped that Ed was with them when they spoke to the Apollo lot about using the temple, and it helped that they had a purpose. That did seem to be the key since the battle, to have a purpose, to seem confident. We’re all pretending, thought Barnes. Making it up. No wonder my head hurts.

“He’s not even here?” Barnes had the ledger under one arm, their gear bag for sparring in the other. “Fine. That’s fine. I’ll leave it on his desk.”

“Be quiet upstairs,” Zolf said. “Azu’s having a lie-down.”

Carter looked at Zolf, eyebrows up. “Is she sick? What happened?”

“Not exactly. But you don’t want to bother her.” Zolf handed each of them a mug. “It’s not coffee, sorry, but at least it’s hot.”

“Azu and James can battle it out, he’s a grouch today. Says he has a headache.”

Zolf looked at Barnes, eyes narrowed. He dragged a step stool - one of several - from one spot at the counter to another and stepped up to open a drawer and pull out a jar. He pinched out a wad of something shredded and put it into a mug. He stepped down and went to the stove, shifting the kettle back onto one of the hot spots.

“You stay, I’ll take the book up,” said Carter. “Meet you out back.” He took the ledger, downed the rest of his tea. “Thanks Zolf, see you at dinner.”

When the water steamed, Zolf filled the mug and handed it to Barnes. “This is going to be bitter as anythin’ but if you can get even a few mouthfuls down, will help your head.. Leave whatever you don’t finish and you can take it with you for later.”

He turned on the step stool and used his arms to boost himself to sit on the counter. “Are you all right?”

“Wish people’d quit asking me,” said Barnes. “They were makin’ even more noise than usual, I have a headache, maybe I said shut it pretty loud. Maybe it was the shippin’ news making me cross-eyed.” He sipped, made a face. “This is truly vile.”

“Nothin’s easy any more. Not that it really was.”

“How’s Wilde?”

“Better. Keepin’ busy helps, and he sure gets into everythin’.”

“He’s keepin’ Carter busy, too, and that’s good. Me, too, s’pose. Sugar?”

“Honey pot is over there. Sugar’s still in very short supply. Maybe Hamid will bring some back with him. Hopin’ one of your ships comes in from the tropics. Curious what’s happ’nin’ over there.”

“Pray there’s rum aboard.”

Barnes held his breath and gulped the rest of the tea. He set the mug in the huge stone sink and walked over to Zolf. They clasped each other’s wrists the way they always had, at least since they’d made their peace.

Zolf jerked his chin toward the door. “Go work up a sweat, you’ll feel better.”

The training area was smooth-packed clay, better maintained than other parts of the temple grounds. They warmed up with kata they’d learned on the bear with Kiko and the kobolds.

Barnes went through the moves, tried to distract himself by watching Carter flow through the steps with his usual grace. It didn’t help though, it just made him feel clumsier. At least the headache was easing off.

“Ready?” Carter tossed him a stick, and he almost missed it. He turned the awkward catch into a flourish that didn’t fool Carter but at least he hadn’t dropped the bloody thing. He managed to turn in time to parry Carter’s strike and then they were in it, parry and strike, step and sweep. Carter kept him on the defensive, seemed even faster than usual. Barnes stepped back two steps for every one forward. He kept his eyes on Carter’s chin; he telegraphed his moves from there, or used to anyway, but suddenly Carter caught his hand with a sharp blow and Barnes’ stick went clattering away.

“Huh,” he grunted, shaking his wrist. “Been practicing.”

Carter rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Did you let me do that?”

“Nope. Your lucky day.” Barnes picked up the stick and didn’t even turn all the way around before reaching out with a sideswipe, but Carter danced back and his own momentum made him stumble.

“You’re not yourself,” Carter said, letting his arm drop to his side, the stick tapping against his leg. “What’s wrong?”

The tender note in his voice made Barnes feel even more off balance. “Nothing. S’fine,” he said gruffly. “C’mon.”

Carter came at him again, and again he barely parried, again he mistimed his own attempt, and this time Carter landed a solid blow against his thigh.

“I’m not doing this any more,” said Carter. “I’m happy to kick your arse but not like this.” He stepped close to Barnes, grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged so they were almost touching. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” said Barnes softly. He really did feel strange. It reminded him of something, like a combination of a hangover and a bad cold. His headache was better but now his back hurt and there was an ache low in his belly, not the familiar twist of desire but a heavy fullness. Oh.

He stepped back. “Yeh, let’s skip it for today. I need to ask Zolf something, then we can go.” He handed Carter the stick, walked over to the back door and into the kitchen.

Zolf was back at the stove, stirring a giant pot of stew and holding a book in his other hand.

“Zolf?”

“Hmm.”

“Azu, not feeling well and being grumpy about it, is this a regular situation?”

Zolf didn’t turn around, nodded. “Every month. She takes a hot bath and sleeps the whole day. We stay out of the way, it all works out.”

“All right. See you later.”

Carter was waiting on the side path. “Zolf tell you what you needed to know?”

“Yeh. Not particularly good news.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No, I really don’t. Want a nap.”

“Do you mean a nap where we go to sleep or a nap where we don’t go to sleep?”

Barnes smiled. “You really are irrepressible. S’good.”

Climbing the front steps of their building, Carter put out a hand and stopped Barnes. The other hand had a dagger in it as he gestured to the open front door. Barnes set the bag on the step and slipped one of the sticks out. He continued up the steps, Carter just behind his left shoulder, the possibility of danger bringing everything into focus. Monthlies be fucked, this is their home and sad tidings to anyone inside without their leave.

Inside everything looked as usual. Cel’s pack was on the floor in the foyer and they could hear the kettle boiling furiously, rattling away on the stove loud enough in the kitchen to hear all the way to the front.

“Cel?” called Carter. He put a hand on Barnes’ shoulder blade, nudged him gently toward the back, tipping his head toward the stairs. Barnes nodded and Carter went silently up the stairs as Barnes walked down the center hall.

He paused in each doorway to glance into the drawing room, dining room, parlor. He glanced around the kitchen before going in; no Cel. He crossed to the stove, pulled the end of his sleeve around his hand before lifting the kettle from the stove to the pad on the counter. There was quiet, just the ticking of the cooling kettle, then Carter’s voice from upstairs. “James!”

He strode out of the kitchen, still clutching the stick, and took the stairs two at a time, which set his head to pounding again. Carter was standing on the landing at the top of the stairs, next to the big armchair where Cel was curled up, cheek against their bent knees, seemingly asleep. Barnes looked over at Carter; this was strange, since Cel was almost as funny as the kobolds about going to sleep in the open.

Barnes put a hand on Cel’s back and rubbed. “Cel? Cel. Wake up. What’s going on?”

Cel raised their head and blinked sleepily. “James.” They swiveled their head upward. “Howard. Hello. So cold. Very sleepy.”

“Yeh, all right, let’s get you to bed.” Barnes handed the stick to Carter and put one arm around Cel’s shoulders, using the other hand to get their legs over the seat of the chair, then pulled them upward. They stood up willingly, and all three of them walked slowly to the entrance of the suite of rooms they shared.

By the time they got Cel undressed to shirt and leggings and tucked into the big bed, Barnes was on his last bit of stamina. He folded trousers and jacket, headed to the washroom as Carter was coming out. No blood, yet, but he grabbed an extra towel for the bed and made a mental note to chase down something to use when the time came. Cel too, maybe.

Carter was already spooned against Cel’s back, so Barnes climbed in and pressed against Carter’s back. “Sorry to be such a grouch,” he murmured into the back of Carter’s neck.

“S’all right,” Carter said. “You’ll be better for a nap. Couple days you’ll be yourself again.”

Barnes squeezed with the arm around Carter’s middle and let himself slide into sleep.

Chapter Text

The windows in the big bedroom at the back of the house overlooked the garden and gave a sense of space and airiness. They also allowed the very earliest rays to fill the room with a rosy glow and slant into the eyes of anyone still abed after dawn, which was rarely Cel, often Barnes, and almost always Carter. Carter most times rolled away from the light without waking, nuzzling his face into some part of Barnes or one of the pillows, sighing back into sleep. Barnes usually managed to doze for a while, especially when Carter’s face ended up tucked into his chest and he felt warm and wanted.

This morning, however, it was a good thing Carter rolled in the other direction because all Barnes felt was sick.

It wasn’t a hangover, and unlikely to be spoiled food. He didn’t remember anyone around being sick, but it could be one of the kids. It felt more like seasickness than anything.

He’d rarely been seasick since his first berth all those years ago. This felt the same, deeply uncomfortable and unsettling, a sense of impending disaster. He wanted to run away as long as he could stay completely still.

Whatever it was, he certainly didn’t want to be sick in the bed or anywhere near the carpets they’d dragged from all over the house to layer around the room. He sat up slowly, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Standing, he took the few steps to the closet and grabbeda robe from the hook there. It was actually a bit better, standing up, moving around.

The dizziness returned as he walked out of the washroom. He stood in the hallway until he felt steadier, then walked to the end of the hall and through the door to the back stairs. It was the longer way around, but he didn’t fancy losing his balance on the grand front staircase, with its slippery bannister and marble steps.

In the kitchen Cel was sat at the kitchen table with a mug and a bemused expression. There was a plate in front of them with an apple core and a bunch of crumbs. They looked up as he sat, gingerly, in the chair across from them, and their eyebrows bunched with concern. “James, what’s wrong? You’re so pale, are you ill?”

“Feelin' wretched.” Talking didn’t help. “Tea?”

“Well now, let me put the kettle back on and get you a nice cuppa, see how that helps.” Cel got up and moved around the kitchen, for all their lankiness efficient and quiet. Cel leant against the counter as the kettle heated, in Barnes’ view without him having to turn his head. He rubbed at his wrist, the spot below the base of his thumb that was supposed to relieve nausea. It seemed to help a little, at least as a sensation to focus on apart from the weird churning in his belly.

Cel poured water into his mug and added two heaping spoons of sugar.

“Pretty sweet,” said Barnes, stirring. “We’re not made of sugar.”

“Well you won’t take honey and it needs to be sweet. It will help, I promise. Strong sweet tea is soothing. Hmm, that has a nice sound to it, strong sweet tea. Nice taste, too, and good for what ails you.” Cel poured water into their own mug. “How is it?”

Barnes took a second sip. It was really too hot to drink but the warmth was a comfort. His stomach seemed to turn over, but gently, then started to settle.

“S’good,” he said, looking up at Cel. “Seems to help.”

Cel leaned back in their seat. “Try to eat something? There’s ham from yesterday, and fresh eggs.”

Barnes swallowed hard against the thought of food. “Later, maybe, if this gets better.”

“It likely will,” said Cel. “Or not, everybody is different.”

“What does that mean? Is some sickness going around?”

“I wouldn’t say something is going around.” Cel was definitely not speaking their whole mind, and in a less distracted state Barnes might have tried to tease out more information.

“What about you, feelin' all right?”

Cel grinned. “Feeling great. Hungry, which isn’t usual for me in the morning, but I may be taking up a habit of breakfast, especially now that we have bread.”

Barnes tried a slightly larger sip of tea. It had cooled a bit and was very sweet, and the sweetness seemed as soothing as the warmth. The sense of dread lifted and he moved his shoulders, releasing the tension. Cel smiled as he took a couple of deep breaths.

“Well now, seems you’re feeling better. There’s some color in your face now, and you’re looking less like you’ll slide under the table any minute.”

“The tea helped, very much, thank you.”

“Any time. There are other tactics to try as well, which I’ll see if I can get some.”

Carter walked into the kitchen as Cel was talking. “Get some tactics, what does that mean?”

“Tactics as in foods, certain herbs, maybe some other items for that list you’ve been carrying around. To help James feel better.”

Carter turned away from the stove where he’d just set down the kettle. “You’re ill? Is it–” Carter pointedly looked at Barnes’ face then lower, waved his hand toward his belly, “you know?”

“Don’t think so, just an upset stomach. Might go away on its own.”

“Here Cel,” Carter said, pulling his notebook from his pack and sliding a folded piece of paper out. “Put the new stuff right on the list and I’ll see what I can find. I have errands today, I can ask around.” He took the paper and pencil back from Cel and put his pack to rights.

Barnes drank the last of his tea and stood up. He swayed a bit, but the wave of dizziness wasn’t nearly as severe as earlier. Felt all the world like seasickness.

“Better now. I’ll be down in a minute if you want to wait?”

“Sure, I have tea and one of these scones.” Carter tapped the pastry on the plate. “Remember what they made on the bear? Those were pastries. These are more like something you’d put in a tomb for a dead king to eat, so I’ll leave some crumbs for Osiris, hoping for a good day.”

As he walked up the stairs Barnes heard Cel ask a question. The only word he caught in Carter’s answer was canopic.

The next morning was the same. When Barnes walked slowly into the kitchen Cel was pouring hot water into a mug, set it in front of him as he sat down. He bent slightly to inhale the steam, and relaxed his jaw. Cel stood behind him, touching his shoulders lightly. “All right to hug you? Don’t want to make it worse.”

“Think so.”

Cel draped themself over his back, pressing their cheek against his, one arm crossed over his chest, one hand resting softly just under his breastbone. The warmth of Cel’s palm and their gentle touch soothed the nausea and he sighed without thinking.

He could feel Cel smiling against his face. “Thought that might help. Or it might not have, might have made it worse, either way now we know.”

“Yeh, feels good,” Barnes said, taking a small sip of the tea. “Hope whatever this is doesn’t last too long. We’re supposed to take the ship out in a few days.”

“Well now, that could be fine. Or it might be awful, hard to know, but with the dizziness you can think about putting that off for a while.”

“How long a while? Cel, you’re mighty mysterious about all this. What aren’t you saying?”

“Yeah Cel, what aren’t you saying?” Carter’s question preceded him into the kitchen. He stood next to Barnes’ chair, leaned down and nuzzled into the crown of Barnes’ head, wrapped his arms on top of Cel’s, around Barnes.

“Many, many things I’m not saying,” Cel replied. Carter laughed, and Barnes smiled, and for a moment they leaned on each other, holding and held.

Carter dropped his pack on one of the chairs, went to the stove and put the kettle back on the hot spot. He looked over his shoulder as he gathered mug, tea, honey pot. “I’ll be gone overnight. Wilde got a lead on a group of tinkers further inland, wants to invite them here.” Cel’s head came up at the word tinkers. “You might get more people for your projects.”

“Hope they have tools,” said Cel. “New ideas would be a help, and more hands.”

“On the way I’m going to keep trying for your list, Cel. Zolf and me, between us we’ve been to every purveyor of herbs and tinctures within a half-day’s ride. We’ll see what people might have further out.”

“Who else is going?”

“Just me, gormless and harmless.” Carter pulled a hat out of his pack, a battered thing he’d found in one of the closets and taken to wearing as a sort of disguise. He jammed it on his head. “Nobody minds talking to the nice man, just hoping everything is going well for you here.” He ducked his head and really did seem softer, older, tamer. Barnes snorted.

Carter grinned. “Unless you want to go? I can find another hat, you can be a nice man, too.”

“Nah, you go on, enjoy the change of scenery. Get out from under all this for a bit.”

“You know me well.”

“Be safe, yeh?”

The morning after, Barnes woke to an empty bed and a full mug steaming on the bedside table. He pushed himself upright, stomach churning.

The first sip of tea seemed to go down slowly and he hoped it wasn’t getting worse. He made himself take another cautious sip. The warmth eased the tightness in his throat and the sweetness calmed the nausea. He hummed with relief and sipped slowly until the mug was half-empty before standing up. This was the way to do it, he thought. Clever Cel. Clever Cel who knows something.

Cel wasn’t at the kitchen table when Barnes came in from the back staircase, but there was the sound of voices from the dining room. Barnes topped off his mug before walking down the hallway. As he got closer he recognized Sassraa’s voice, arguing with Cel in a mix of Japanese description, English technical terms, and Draconic obscenities. He stopped in the doorway and watched what he assumed was a discussion but looked like a fight.

Sassraa was standing on one of the chairs and whacking at the map on the table with one of the sparring sticks. Cel was pointing to the map and then snatching their hand back as Sassraa hit the map; by the way Cel was grinning this might have started as a discussion but was now well diluted by foolishness. Sassraa’s ears were swivelled all the way toward Cel and twitched forward with their strikes at the map.

Barnes leaned against the door frame, enough movement to register in Cel’s vision. “James! Good morning, did we wake you? Only Sassraa says we should move further into the city instead of along the river. I see their point but, quite frankly, we don’t have enough information about who,” Cel gulped from their mug, “Who is, well, what the situation is. What do you think?”

“Morning,” Barnes nodded. “Along the river is mostly mercantile and naval, would be good for trade to reclaim more of those buildin's.” He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness, glad he was already leaning. When he opened his eyes he was curious to note that Cel was looking at Sassraa, no doubt also noting her posture shift to paying attention. “But if there are people in the city without water that should be first.” Sassraa met Cel’s eyes, then turned back to Barnes, ears back.

“Barnes, how sick are you and is it contagious?”

Barnes smiled and shook his head. “Hello to you. Not very and likely not.”

Sassraa stared at him for another long moment, then, disconcertingly, sniffed deeply. “Hmm.” They looked back at Cel with an ear flip that didn’t mean anything to Barnes, but it must have meant something to Cel. Their reaction wasn’t a nod or a headshake but a short question in Draconic, a word in it that sounded familiar. Sassraa jumped down from the chair and went to their pack. They rummaged for a minute, then pulled out a wrapped package and handed it to Cel.

“Thanks,” said Cel. “Let me think some more and talk to the others. Meet over there with Wilde at lunchtime to decide, all right?”

Sassraa shrugged into their pack, held up both hands, claws curled. Cel touched their fists to Sassraa’s. “We could do both. Especially with more people who know one end of a spanner from the other.”

Sassraa’s ear flipped again, the gesture Barnes recognized as a shrug. Barnes held out his own fists as Sassraa walked toward the doorway, bent down so they could touch foreheads. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “Come with Cel. Say what you said about the riverbank.”

“Maybe I will,” said Barnes.

Cel was a few steps behind Sassraa. As Barnes straightened up, they tucked their hand into the bend of his elbow and leaned their shoulder against his, watching after Sassraa as they went down the hallway rather than out the front door.

When they were gone, Cel stepped into the hallway, pulling Barnes along, across the foyer to the small parlor. Barnes raised an eyebrow but kept quiet and let Cel lead him to the sofa in front of the fireplace, sitting down as Cel did. Apparently they were going to have a conversation, and he hoped it didn’t end up being a loud argument. He was right about supporting trade along the river; after all, that was the point of giving him the harbormaster’s hat, wasn’t it?

Looking up, Barnes realized Cel didn’t want to talk about trade, or water systems. They were looking at him intently, something serious and almost sad in their expression. He finished his tea, the last swallow gone cold and not helping the flutter in his stomach.

“Here,” they said, handing him the package from Sassraa’s pack. It was about the size of one of Zolf’s novels, but much lighter.

He picked open the origami corners of the wrapping. Inside were four pieces of hardtack, ship’s biscuit, last resort against hunger aboard ship and only tasty when well-soaked in soup. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking back at Cel. “Is this about going out on the ship? We’ll only be gone for the day and you know Zolf will bring a proper picnic.”

Cel reached over and took one of his hands in both of theirs. “For some reason the kobolds love the stuff, maybe it’s the salt, or just feels good on their teeth. But that’s not it, and not for the outing, which I’m starting to wonder if you can even–”

“Cel. What.”

“When my father came back from a trip, he would take the leftover biscuit to Leaning-Trellis-of-Morning-Glories, who had an apothecary shop at the south end of town and dispensed remedies and advice that went along with her specialty. She was known for it, people came from miles, human and elf, and–”

Barnes squeezed the hand Cel was holding. “It’s all right,” he said. “Whatever you’re hinting at, whatever you haven’t been telling me, you can say it.”

Cel huffed a laugh, then their face returned to serious. “She was a midwife, James. She handed out the biscuit because if you eat a little bit in the morning before you get out of bed it helps a lot. When you’re expecting.”

Barnes took a deep breath, inhaled for moment after moment, as if he breathed in the meaning of Cel’s words, as if preparing to dive overboard, or to scream. He’d thought about this moment, if it came. He’d expected fear, anger maybe, or excitement. Instead, what filled him up was closer to relief than anything, and quite nearly joy.

They sat there, looking at each other, quiet enough that they heard the back door opening from all the way back in the kitchen. There was a beat of silence between the sound of the lock and the sound of the door closing hard, which meant Carter had enough presence of mind to catch the door after he flung it open before it hit the wall but not enough patience to actually stop as he went through it.

They heard his boot heels and his heavy breathing echo in the foyer, the barest pause as he looked into the dining room and turned, almost running for the few steps into the parlor where he half-fell, half-dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor at their feet.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Huh. Looks like–” He stopped, took two long breaths in through his nose, hands gripping his knees. “--like you’re having a moment. Me too, a moment.”

“Did you run all the way here?” asked Cel. Carter kept nodding as he tried to catch his breath.

“Have to talk to you.” He looked back and forth between them. There was something serious and almost afraid in his face. “Cel. About the list, I talked to Zolf.”

Cel rubbed their eyes with one hand, held Barnes’ hand firmly in the other, raising their eyebrows at Carter. “Well now, what did Zolf say, I would be interested to know.”

Carter kept going as if he hadn’t heard. “I would have asked Azu except Bast knows she’ll tell your secrets before you even know you have a secret. Zolf–” Carter scrubbed his hands through his hair, breaths quieter but still fast. “Zolf sent me down the road to a thatched cottage with flowers all over and she said, she told me what it was for.” Carter knotted his hands together in his lap.

“Is it, is he–” he looked at Cel, then at Barnes, “Are you?”

Barnes had been pressing his lips together, not sure even for himself what shape they would take, whether they would curve into a smile or tremble with the weight of the news. At Carter’s question he exhaled, and nodded, and smiled.

In a moment Carter had flung himself forward into their laps and Cel was saying yes and brilliant and Carter was humming and Barnes curled his hand around the back of Carter’s neck and held tight to Cel’s hand.

Cel had their other hand on Carter’s shoulder, and after a minute they shook his shoulder and nudged until he got his knees under himself and sat up enough to look at them.

“There’s, um, something else,” Cel started.

They looked up from their joined hands to meet Carter’s eyes, then Barnes’. “You should know. Um. Me, too.”

Carter rocked back; only Cel’s hand on his shoulder kept him from tumbling backwards. Barnes’ hand was almost comically in the air, reaching for Carter and for Cel at the same time.

“Wait–” Carter said at the same time Barnes said “What–” and Cel said “Oh Howard, your face!”

Barnes got his arms around Cel, hugged them hard. “So you’re not really feeling all right.”

Cel pulled back, nodding emphatically, “I am all right, I am, I’m not sick, just hungry. That’s why I suspected. The only time before I ever wanted to eat in the morning was carrying my boys.”

“Huh. I ‘most always want breakfast, but not these past days for sure. Just your strong sweet tea.” Barnes smiled at Cel, then leaned against the back of the sofa and looked at Carter. “You look…”

“Stunned.” Carter was sitting with one leg bent, his chin propped on his knee. “Stunned and amazed.”

“But not speechless.” Barnes held a hand out. Carter grasped his hand, let himself be tugged up onto the sofa between Cel and Barnes. He curled toward Barnes, and Cel curled on his other side, until they were awkwardly half-spooned.

“Are you glad?” Carter’s question was soft, half-muffled against the back of Barnes’ neck. He felt Barnes nod and squeezed around his belly. “Oh!” He loosened his grip. “Is that all right? Must I hug softer now?”

“Maybe later, s’alright for now. Hang on tight.” Barnes lay his arm over Carter’s, gently pushed his hand from where it was curved against his ribs, past the queasy spot, down right below his navel. He pressed his hand over Carter’s, both of them covering the place where something was happening, someone was growing.

Chapter Text

The stairs to the roof were at the back of the house, narrow and cramped, in a dark stairwell and steep enough to feel like a ladder between decks. The kobolds found the doorway, the edges a faint ridge under layers of wallpaper at the end of the upstairs hallway.

It would have been a place to watch the horizon for sign of sail, in the days before every ship had a Sender. More recently it would have been a privileged perspective on the city lights and a way to get away from the bustle at street level. The view to the docks, much less to the sliver of ocean in the distance, would have been obscured by woodsmoke, fog, and the unrelenting rain.

Now the view was clear again, and the afternoon sun struck glare from the sea and sparked glints from the brass fittings of ships and boats moored and docked in the harbor below. Barnes stood for a while at the railing that ran around the narrow platform, the breeze catching the ends of his hair. He sat then, in the low slung canvas folding chair he’d dragged up from the garden.

The hatch scraped open. Cel. If it had been one of the kobolds there would have been only the faintest sound. If it were Carter, the door would have banged against the jamb. Besides, Carter had been out at first light, away, chasing down information, not stuck at a desk while everything changed.

He looked up as Cel’s hand gripped his shoulder, reached up a hand to help them balance as they lowered themself to the floor beside his chair. They seemed more solid, not round exactly but definitely more substantial in the middle. Barnes let his hand drop back on his belly, over his shifted center of gravity, his own thickening.

When Cel was settled he leaned over the side of the low chair as they tipped their face up. They’d kissed hundreds of times before, but they still bumped noses about half the time, still lingered to discover how their mouths fit together. The light wind flipped the end of Cel’s long scarf against their faces and Cel sat back with a laugh.

“Certainly much nicer up here now that the rain has stopped,” Cel said.

“It’s warmer, too, with the springtime,” said Barnes. “Sure you don’t want a chair?”

“There’s only the one chair and I won’t roust you from it. Maybe we can find another and drag it up? We could bring some cushions out instead, that would be easier. We would need–”

Barnes took Cel’s hand from where it had been resting on their knee. They stopped talking, squeezed his hand back.

“It’s a lovely spot anyway, James, and it’s nice you have a vantage. Is that why you come up here, because it’s like a ship?”

“That’s part of it. It don’t sway, of course. I was glad for that when I was so dizzy, was never so glad to get my legs back. Mostly it’s pretty, and I can watch the city changin’, and it’s quiet.”

“It’s quiet downstairs mostly, at least when Carter and the kobolds have gone off to do whatever they do out in the city. You could have your pick of the dining room or any other place, for quiet. You wouldn’t have to climb all the way up here.”

Barnes glanced at Cel, then looked back at his mug.

“The climbin' is alright, I’ve been on worse ladders. Up here if I’m weepin' into my tea it’s less likely someone will walk in and wonder, isn’t it?”

“Oh, love,” Cel said. They lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles, then wrapped their other hand around his.

“Haven’t found my bearin's, yet, is all. After all that’s happened, everythin’s different in ways I never thought about. I’ve no ship, no clear course to follow. My sword gathers dust. My body… well. I can be patient, and I will, if only I knew.”

Cel reached up and lay their hand against his face, rubbed their thumb against his mouth. “You’re still you, James.”

“Huh. Maybe. Not sure I know. Oh!” He sat up, startled, turning toward Cel, both hands splayed over his belly. “I felt. There’s somethin’.”

Cel grinned. “Little fishy wiggled its tail?”

Barnes nodded, looking down at himself. “Somethin’ like that. Ridiculous coincidence.”

“Well now, an excellent coincidence I would say. That’s your purpose for now, your course to follow. Swells and storms and all. You’re still you, Commander. And you’ve got us, your crew, me, and Carter, Sassraa, all the others.”

“And a fish,” said Barnes, keeping one hand on his belly and reaching out to take Cel’s hand again.

“Fishy,” said Cel.

“Ridiculous,” he said again, but he was smiling.

~

“Amazing that it was still there after all this time.”

“You should have taken it.”

Carter held the front door open, then closed and locked it once Barnes was inside.

“Nah, what would I do with it? Better to leave it, go back for a look now and then.” Barnes struck a match, touched it to the wick of the oil lamp, fit the chimney carefully over the flame and adjusted the wick to steady the glow.

“Suppose so. I would have taken it.”

“I know.”

“Um, Barnes?” Carter nodded to the wall over the table. There was a mirror there, or used to be. Now there was a rectangle of less-faded wallpaper. Barnes shrugged, held up the lamp and started down the hall.

“What if it were in a house instead?”

“More reason to leave it, if it belongs to someone particular.”

“What if–”

“Carter. It isn’t. Just leave it alone. Take that bottle through to the dining room, yeh?”

Carter was back in a minute with a glass in his hand and a puzzled expression.

“The mirror is gone from there, too.”

“Huh. Where’s Cel?”

“Should be home. Upstairs I guess, early night.”

“I’ll go up. You ready?”

“In a minute. Something to finish.” Carter swung his leg over the back of one of the chairs and sat. He pulled his sketchbook out of his pack and pulled a pencil from his pocket.

“Get the jets?”

“Course.” Carter was already immersed, the book turned sideways.

Barnes went up the back stairs, taking the lamp with him. They’d need oil soon, though the longer days would help with that particular shortage. The jets weren’t lit on the landing but there was light visible under the door to their rooms. He’d expected the reverse, lights out here and dark for sleeping in the bedroom.

Cel wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t even in bed. They were on the window seat, looking out into the darkness. As recently as a couple of weeks ago they’d have been sitting with their arms around their knees, impossible now that their belly was properly round.

“Cel?”

“Hello, James.”

“All right?”

“Hmm.”

“Know anything about the mirrors?”

“Put them away. I put them all away, took them down and stacked them carefully against the wall in the north bedroom, the one nobody would want to stay in anyway because it never gets warm in there.”

Barnes lay his hand on Cel’s shoulder. They jumped a little even though they knew he was there. They felt warm, the skin of their neck a bit damp, which made sense if they’d been carrying mirrors around. He’d opened his mouth to ask when they started talking again.

“Fourteen. I put them all away so I wouldn’t break another one.” Cel looked up at him. “Just the one in the foyer, all the glass should be cleaned up but don’t go barefoot. I know you don’t usually, but just in case. It was so, just so odd.”

“What happened?”

Cel swiveled around and he stepped back as they stood up. “I have been so many shapes, Barnes. I have had tusks and wings and big floppy ears and I have never, never not recognized my face. It was quite funny, actually. I yelled, loud, which startled me even more. Then I hit the mirror.” Cel held up their hand, knuckles wrapped in green cloth. “It must have been old, to break like that. Picked up all the glass, went into the dining room for a glass of wine. I looked like a stranger in that mirror, too.”

Barnes held his arms open and Cel stepped close, let him pull them into a hug, and spoke into his neck. “So I went around and took them down. It was still light, good thing. It was spooky enough without doing it in the dark.”

Barnes rubbed their back. “Sorry we weren’t here to help.”

“You didn’t know. I didn’t know! This is different, not what I remembered in so many ways. What else is going to be different? I’m starting to be afraid, James, what else? Can I do it, be a parent, no magic, still making a home?”

Tightening his arms around them, Barnes talked softly. “You can do it. We can do it. You are no stranger to me. You will be no stranger to your child.”

After a few minutes Cel gave one more squeeze and stood up. “You always make me feel better.”

“That’s why I’m here. You too. We’re all right.”

~

It was going to happen at some point, he knew it, and it was every bit as awful as he anticipated. Until the end. The end was all right.

He had it hidden in the closet under the stairs. It was originally upstairs in the closet in the north bedroom, and nobody would ever find it there but it was too far away if he needed it on short notice. So he moved it, and if it hadn’t been for the damn socks no one the wiser.

He had it in his hand when Barnes came around the corner.

“What’s that?”

Making something up would just delay the inevitable, so Carter took a deep breath and told the truth.

“It’s a pack.”

“I can see that. What’s it for?”

“Carrying stuff.”

Barnes was right next to him, expecting some eye contact any minute now.

“Right. What stuff. And why is it hidden down here? Is it stuff you shouldn’t have?”

Carter looked up at that, replied in his most offended tone. “It’s my stuff, nothing I shouldn’t have, just want to be able to get it.”

Barnes crossed his arms, which wasn’t nearly as intimidating as it used to be with his belly sticking out underneath. Carter managed to not grin, which wasn’t actually that hard given the topic.

“In case I have to get out fast.”

“We’re safe here, Carter. We won’t have to run away.”

“Yeah, just me. Just in case I have to leave. When.” He could feel his face getting hot and really hoped he didn’t end up crying.

“How, what are you talking about?”

He finished the last buckle and set it back into the closet, then pushed the door until the little latch clicked. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms too.

“You and Cel are so good together, maybe you want just that. And what happens when I fuck up? Horus knows with me around, something always happens, no matter how hard I try.” He dug his fingers into his arms, forced himself to not turn away.

“You would leave?”

Carter nodded. “What if I’m rubbish? It’s so, I’m so fucking scared sometimes, all I want is to go.” He sniffed. “Better without me, you could decide that. And if you don’t want me to be around anymore…” His voice trailed off.

Barnes stepped forward and put his arms around him. It felt good, crossed arms and up against the wall and belly pushing into him and everything. When Barnes talked, it was right next to his ear and Carter couldn’t help shivering. Barnes backed off a little bit which was probably best for listening.

“Please don’t leave. We are good together, and you and me are, and you and Cel. No matter what happens. We want you. I need you, Carter.”

There was just enough wiggle room to uncross his arms and put them around Barnes, even big as he was getting in the middle. He found some space to tuck his face into the crook of Barnes’ neck.

“Mostly I know that,” he admitted. “Sometimes, though?”

“Yeh. Don’t though, all right, How? Stay.”

Carter nodded into his neck. “I want to, more than anything. I will.”

~

The day was bright and clear from the start, the breeze enough to riffle the tops of the swells and tug at the sails as they unfurled. It was perfect weather for a new maiden voyage. They’d christened her The Ursan and planned a wide loop up the coast and back to make sure nothing leaked too badly and get a sense of the new rigging.

As settled as they’d become since the end of the world, behind the wheel Barnes had a sudden deep sense of homecoming. Forward, Carter stood at the bow, grinning, curls golden in the morning sun. To one side Cel stretched their arms along the back of the bench; to the other, Sassraa perched at the chart table. He could hear Zolf and Oscar amidships, low conversation and the clink of metal as they unpacked something from one of the several baskets Zolf had packed.

Looking up, he saw a long streamer of Azu’s pink scarf trailing out from the crow’s nest.

“Lookout!” he called.

Azu’s face appeared over the edge of the crow’s nest. “Ahoy? Ahoy!” she shouted down.

“Mind your scarf, and what’s the view?”

“Oh!” Azu’s face disappeared and the scarf was pulled back.

Kiko’s face peered over, grinning. “Light fog landward, otherwise clear to the horizon,” she called down. “Sir.”

“Thankee, lookout.”

“Aye, Commander.”

Barnes took a deep breath of the salt air, one hand on the wheel, one hand curved around his belly. They didn’t know what was on the other shore or what might blow in tomorrow, much less how they would weather the coming sea change. For today, though, they were here, sailing together.

Chapter Text

It was almost dark when there was a rapid knocking at the front door. Barnes was in the big armchair in the parlor where he spent hours every day, nursing one of the babies. Cel was pacing around with the other, humming and back-patting and describing a crow they’d seen that day all at once. Carter came through from the kitchen with a tray, tea and water and bread.

“Got it, coming, got it,” he said, setting the tray on the low table and almost jogging to the door where the knocking hadn’t stopped. He turned the lock and yanked the door open, “Hold your horses it takes a minu– Hamid! You’re here!”

He yelled back over his shoulder. “Hamid’s here! And Azu. Are we receiving?”

“Now Howard,” said Azu. She was standing four steps down the staircase, which put her head about even with Hamid’s where he stood at the door.

“Carter, hello, how good to see you,” Hamid said, with a slight bow. “Congratulations, of course. The ship just arrived and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course, of course, come in, we’re just having tea. The little monsters are just about finished. Coats?” Carter ended up with an armful of coats, looked around and dumped them unceremoniously on the bench to the side of the foyer. “Come on then, just in the parlor.” Carter led the way to the first door on the right, walked right in and went to the fireplace.

Hamid stopped in the doorway, started to speak but then just stood, mouth open a little and eyes wide. Azu hadn’t been in Dover that first time and wouldn’t remember seeing Barnes in an armchair by a fireplace, wouldn’t be struck by the echo of that moment, three years and a world ago. Barnes had a dark blue knitted blanket over his shoulders, close enough to the color of his old uniform that it reinforced the sense of an overlapping moment in time. His expression was entirely different, however, welcoming and open instead of the stern, guarded look from that first meeting. His crow’s feet were deeper, too, and he had. Well.

“Commander, hello, Barnes,” said Hamid, “Erm. Cel! Babbies. I mean boo– I mean babies, of course.”

“Hamid,” said Barnes. “Welcome, you look well.” He settled the baby in one arm and held out his other hand. Hamid stepped forward and shook his hand. He carefully kept his gaze above Barnes’ collar, or where his collar would be if his shirt weren’t completely unbuttoned, with a baby, well, attached.

“Hamid! So glad you’re here.” Cel walked over, still patting the bundle at their shoulder. Azu came up behind them and made a kissing noise where the baby’s face must be looking over Cel’s shoulder. There was a soft noise, like a bird, and Azu made her noise again, and there was another coo.

“Auntie Azu,” said Carter, poking at the fire and watching indulgently. Azu beamed at Carter for a moment, then turned back, squinting and pursing her lips. Copying the baby’s face, Hamid realized, turning back to Barnes and the sleeping infant, thankfully now in his arms.

“Let’s sit,” Barnes said, standing and moving to the sofa. “Always a snooze after tea, this one.” Hamid sat, and Barnes held the baby closer to Hamid, the tiny pink face seemingly identical to the other.

“This is Sasha,” Barnes said, and suddenly there were tears in Hamid’s eyes.

“Oh dear, I wasn’t quite ready for that,” he said, patting at his jacket for a handkerchief. He really should have included pockets.

“Here,” said Carter. He handed Hamid a handkerchief and rubbed the little fluff of hair on the baby’s – on Sasha’s – forehead before dropping into the armchair. “Happens to me all the time. Bless Hathor, I’m not getting any sleep so that’s probably why.”

“Poor Carter,” said Barnes. “Has to wake up and feed… wait, that’s me.”

“Would if I could, you’re the only one with the proper equipment. The least I can do is fetch pillows and tea.” Their bickering sounded familiar, but gentler, full of affection.

Cel sat down on Hamid’s other side with the other baby. “And this is Meerak. Formally, Meerak.” Cel pronounced the first syllable and the final K with Draconic emphasis, clicking their tongue at the end.

Hamid dabbed at his eyes again. “Glad I stopped by today so I don’t totally lose my composure at the party tomorrow. Does Skraak know?”

“If the messages are making it to Japan, then yes, Sassraa wrote. We conferred with Sassraa and the others here, and they are planning a naming, so it’s good you’re here if that’s something you want to take part in.”

“Yes of course, I would, I’d want to,” said Hamid.

Azu sat in the other armchair. “Shall I pour?”

Carter sat up and stretched. “Yes, sorry, need another cup. Two.” He stood up, then leaned down to kiss Azu on the cheek. “You didn’t even say hello but I’m not nearly as cute as they are.”

“Which one is older?” asked Hamid.

“Sasha, by two days,” said Barnes. “Cel got me through it.” He shuddered. “Not my finest hour.”

Hamid leaned toward Barnes and asked him something, quietly enough that the others didn’t hear. Barnes shook his head. “It’s not short for anything,” he said. “It’s just Sasha.”

Carter walked back in, set two more cups on the tray along with the honey jar.

“Oh!” said Hamid, hopping down from the sofa and going into the foyer where he’d left his satchel. He returned with a jar about the size of a brick. “Sugar. I am here to save you from taking honey in your tea.”

Barnes slid over next to Cel on the sofa, looking at Hamid with interest. “How was your harvest?”

“No!” said Azu and Carter together, which made Cel laugh. “No merchant-talk today. Tomorrow you can catch up on the trade news.”

“Fine, fine,” said Barnes. “I’ll take sugar, Azu.”

Soon they were settled, with tea and some lemon biscuits from the new local baker; they weren’t as good as Zolf’s, of course, but he’d been busy with preparations for the big solstice celebration the next day. They talked about Wilde’s big speech, and Hamid’s journey.

The babies woke up, and Carter swapped places with Barnes, settled him into the armchair with one nursling on each side and the most peaceful look on his face that Hamid had ever seen, crow’s feet and all. He looked at Cel and Carter, holding hands, then caught Azu’s eye, answered her smile with a grin of his own.

It wasn’t exactly the anniversary of the end of the world, but the longest night of the year seemed a good time to commemorate the battle that changed everything. The new day, when the world became brighter little by little, that’s when they would celebrate.