Chapter Text
Miguel tugged on Terco’s lead with a loud groan. “Come on you stupid, stubborn ox! Don’t you want to go home?”
Of course he didn’t, not when he could laze around munching on the greens and weeds in Miguel’s neglected, overgrown winter garden.
“There is probably a delicious oat mash waiting for you,” Miguel sang. Whether Terco understood or luck smiled on him, the ox finally decided to follow Miguel down the road to town.
Don Ariza welcomed the ox with a slap on Terco’s hindquarters. “Was he well behaved?”
Miguel laughed. “I’d say he was his usual self.”
“He’s getting on in years. Maybe the next ox will be Tranquilo.” He laughed at his own joke and shook Miguel’s hand before ushering him out the barn door.
In town, Helena and Tia Saray welcomed Miguel with hugs and kisses to his cheeks.
“Abuela made fresh churros for you,” Helena said, ruffling his curls when he sat at the kitchen table. “And she has news.”
“Don Mesonero has proposed!” Abuela clasped her hands together and laughed like a little girl. “Alma is going to die of jealousy!”
“You’re getting married?” Miguel asked, his mouth dropping open in shock. What weird sort of prank was this?
Helena rolled her eyes. “She said no.”
“Why do I want that pendejo slobbering all over my nieto’s churros? No gracias.” She handed the plate to Miguel and kissed the top of his head. “But I’m glad he asked so I can rub it in Alma’s face.”
Miguel made his rounds in town, settling his accounts. The chore no longer felt like a chore, now that rumors had faded and wariness no longer shadowed every conversation. As difficult as the training and testing had been, it brought him back into the community again. His thoughts flitted to Ferran, but those memories still ached too much to examine closely.
He stopped at the apothecary last, not because he needed anything, but to check in with Luka.
“I didn’t see you yesterday. Did you two settle on a date yet?” His words slowed as he registered Luka’s wild hair, suggesting he’d been tugging it in all directions. “I’m guessing no?”
“Cloe said we should have gone with you to Mudiz and gotten married there.” Luka shook his head. “As if her father would ever let me back in this town if we eloped.”
“I’ll be sure to check the wagon for stowaways on my next trip.”
Luka laughed, but the loud clomping of horse hooves interrupted whatever he might have said. They went outside and saw an army unit making its way down the road.
Miguel stiffened. What if they were coming back for him? He almost shrank back into the apothecary, but then a familiar head of dark brown hair caught his eye. “Ferran,” he whispered.
His heart raced in his chest and his body warmed with excitement. He should be angry or scared or something. And maybe he was a little of all of those things. But curiosity burned hottest. Why was Ferran Torres riding through Galicia with six other soldiers in brown and grey?
“Let’s go,” Luka said, kicking off his sandals and pulling on his coat. “We have to see what they want. We can pretend to be visiting Cloe.”
The subterfuge was unnecessary, as many of the townspeople followed the riders. Ferran’s eyes scanned the crowd, and Miguel couldn’t be sure he ducked out of sight fast enough. One of the other soldiers knocked at the magistrate’s door.
The three soldiers in grey went inside while the remaining soldiers waited with the horses. Miguel didn’t recognize any of the soldiers in grey, but didn’t expect to. All the new recruits from Galicia would still be in training and not out on missions.
Children ran to and fro, spreading the word so that more people gathered. Helena and Saray found Miguel.
“What is it?” Helena asked. “Why are they here?”
“We don’t know,” Luka said.
“But Ferran is here,” Miguel added.
She rubbed a soothing hand down his back. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I am,” he said with a smile. But she knew he’d had a hard time getting over Ferran’s leaving and gave him a concerned look. “I am. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to him… ask him why.”
“We’re going to move closer, so we can hear.” Helena squeezed Miguel’s arm. “Find us after, all right?” She and Saray moved closer to the Cedillo’s house as the door opened.
The murmuring swelled in volume. Don Cedillo held up his hands, quieting everyone.
“As many of you know, we’ve had evidence of a shifting camp in the south woods. The army has sent a small unit to find this group and take them into custody.”
The crowd all began talking at once but he quieted them once again. “We already have a plan of action and are confident the matter will be dealt with in a timely fashion. As I’ve told you for weeks, you are in no immediate danger, so long as you stay out of the woods. Gracias.”
He shooed the people away, but when several elders lingered, he stayed to answer their questions.
Ferran kept scanning the crowd until his eyes locked on Miguel. Stepping around the magistrate, he came towards Miguel and Luka, largely ignoring the townspeople that called to him. He looked just the same to Miguel, except for the longer hair in little braids near his temples. And the dashing grey uniform with its blue bands at the cuffs.
“Don’t be an idiot, Miguel,” Luka whispered quickly. “Remember what he was like.”
Oh Miguel remembered perfectly. Late night coffee and laughing over Ferran’s dramatic readings of fairy tales. Card games and walks through the woods. Company while he worked and reminders to eat when he got lost in it. Soft cuddly mornings with hands carding through his hair.
But also that terrible moment when Ferran walked away, even if it was for Miguel’s own good.
“I remember,” Miguel replied. It didn’t stop his heart from soaring as Ferran joined them.
“Miguel,” Ferran said, brown eyes shining with delight. “You’re here.”
A light, floaty feeling stole over Miguel. Joy at seeing Ferran fought with the pain of his leaving. Madre del Fuego, what should he say or do with the unexpected return of the man he loved and hated?
“I just arrived from Mudiz last night. You could have hitched a ride in my wagon again.” His breath broke when the inside joke made Ferran’s dimple appear.
But Luka wasn’t charmed by Ferran, after spending weeks listening to Miguel pine over him. “What are you doing here?” he asked harshly.
Ferran smirked. “Didn’t you hear? An outside threat. There’s an unidentified class one Fuego out there. And a missing Aire.” He dropped his voice, as if imparting a secret. “We think they’ve teamed up and are helping other young class ones evade the army.”
Miguel’s eyebrows went up and a heavy band squeezed his lungs. “An unidentified Fuego?”
“And a missing Aire. Rafael Botero is here, I know it. And I owe him.” He patted his leg. “I’ve considered all the options, and I think an enema of boiling water has won out.” He smiled at Miguel. “Assuming I can find a Fuego to heat the water sufficiently.”
Luka rolled his eyes but Miguel grinned at a familiar threat against the unknown Rafael. Padre Aire help him when Ferran actually caught up with him.
“I’ve brought a few friends to help out.” Ferran turned around and whistled a single rising note. The two other soldiers in grey waved and ambled down the road to meet them. “This is Mercedes and Jaime.” Ferran gestured at Luka. “Luka here also compels earth. Class two.”
Mercedes smiled at him suggestively. “Oh, perhaps we could train together some time.”
“He’s taken,” Ferran said immediately.
She gave Luka a once over and sighed. “What about this one?” she asked, pointing at Miguel and scanning him quickly as well.
“A Fuego. And also taken,” he said with far more confidence than he should have. He raised his eyebrows, almost asking Miguel to challenge him on it.
Luka elbowed him, but Miguel stayed silent.
“Well then thanks for calling us over,” Mercedes said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go, Jaime.” She waved goodbye and they returned to their horses and the other soldiers talking with the magistrate’s men.
“He’s not taken,” Luka said, tapping his cane impatiently against the ground.
Ferran gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you have a betrothed to bother?”
“I also have a best friend to protect. He’s too stupid to look after his own heart.”
Perhaps Miguel should be offended, but Luka’s statement had merit.
“If you’re marrying Cloe,” Ferran said, “you owe me a favor, remember? I’m claiming it now. Get lost.”
Luka opened his mouth to argue but Miguel nudged him. “It’s all right. I’ll find you later.” He didn’t look happy about it, but Luka left them alone. Miguel waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “He’s just going to find Cloe and interrupt us again so make this quick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So you said. In your letter.” He reminded himself to proceed with caution, that he deserved answers, but it seemed impossible to remember with the enticing heat of Ferran’s nearness fogging his brain.
Ferran shook his head. “I know I fucked things up and it’s all complicated. I got caught up in the job and then you and us and… I wasn’t lying about… about loving you.”
The tender flare of hope seared Miguel’s heart, but he had to be careful or it would consume him. He kicked at the ground. “I don’t know how to trust you.”
“I know.”
He forced himself to say the worst of it. “How do I know what was real?”
“All the important things,” Ferran said, taking Miguel’s hand and cradling it between his own. “All those times we laughed together. Miguel, that was all real, I swear it. Please, just give me a chance to try again.” He gestured at the soldiers behind him. “We’re looking for local people to help. We could use a Fuego on the team.”
It prickled on the tip of his tongue to say no-fucking-way. He’d been a horrible wreck after Ferran lied to him and left him.
But he couldn’t forget that Ferran had also saved him. Without his training, Miguel would have been taken away. And his open affections paved the way for Helena to trust Miguel again.
Yes, it hurt that Ferran left. But he also came back. For Miguel. And also to give Rafael an enema, but mostly for Miguel.
“I’ve been practicing,” Miguel said.
“Have you?” Ferran smiled, squeezing Miguel’s hand in his excitement.
Miguel searched the ground for a good sized rock, about the size of an apple. He placed it in Ferran’s hand and hovered his left hand over it. He pressed his right hand to Ferran’s chest.
Taking a deep breath, Miguel focused on the heat of Ferran’s body. Slowly he drew it out, transferring it to the rock. He’d learned the hard way while practicing this trick with heated metals in his forge that keeping the heat inside himself could lead to a meltdown.
Ferran’s eyes widened as his body temperature dropped and the rock grew warm in his hand. “Miguel! You’re incredible.” His hand closed around the rock and he pressed it to his heart. “And now I’m fucking freezing, juevon.”
“I guess I’ll have to warm you.”
“Fuck me, you are something else entirely.” Ferran grinned and leaned forward as if to kiss Miguel.
But Miguel stopped him with a hand to his chest. “We’re going to take it slow. Get to know one another again. No lies this time.”
“No lies. Take it slow. Yes, absolutely.” Ferran dropped the rock and grasped Miguel’s arms to pull him in for a deep kiss. One hand wrapped around Miguel’s waist, and the other tangled in his curls.
Madre del Fuego, how he’d missed the taste of Ferran’s mouth. He groaned and hugged Ferran tighter. Heat exploded throughout Miguel and habit had him transferring it to Ferran.
“Fuck yes,” Ferran groaned, closing his eyes as the heat chased away the last of the chill. “All this time, I’ve been terrified you’d find someone else. That you’d forget me. That I ruined everything”
“Se gasta my kisses on someone else? Not likely.” For all that his old friends welcomed him back, laughing and teasing as they used to, none of them excited Miguel like Ferran did.
Ferran laughed, the bright laugh Miguel missed these last weeks. “Se gasta? Really?” He snorted. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone outside my family use that phrase.”
“Well it’s true enough, isn’t it?” He kissed Ferran lightly, nuzzling his cheek. “I can’t be wasting my kisses on the undeserving, right?”
“Oh I wholeheartedly agree.” Ferran rubbed their noses together and Miguel took the opportunity for one more kiss, relishing the way Ferran arched into him.
Until a ball of dirt smacked him in the back. He looked up to find Luka frowning at him from twenty feet away with Cloe clinging to his arm, biting her lip against a tiny smile.
“Okay starting now,” Ferran said, giving Luka a rude gesture. “Taking it slow. I promise. I can be deserving of all your kisses.”
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I know.”
“And I still hate you.”
Ferran grinned. “I know.”
“But there’s hope,” Miguel said softly, resting his forehead against Ferran’s. “Because I think I love you a little too.”
“I know.” He dropped a quick kiss on Miguel’s lips. “Okay, starting now. Because I love you too.”