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squishmallow36 · 1 year

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You're My Aurora Borealis

@purplesoup-lad-le You were my Secret Santa! I tried to add as much Dizznee and Fedex as I possibly could in this thing. I don't think there was much more that could've been added. This fic takes place within the Keeper of the Lost Prepositions Universe, but it isn't necessary and the spoilers are very very light if you haven't finished it.

And @song-tam you suffered through my ramblings because I couldn't talk about my ideas with everybody!

Word Count: 5.4k

Tw: food, light swearing, Alden mentions, the end is probably really cheesy

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @theseasonismerrybutimnot @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @ahyesitsshmeegus @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @cherryys-stuff @arson-anarchy-death

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Fitz shivers.

It might be the cold, it might be the gnawing pit of dread in his stomach, or it might be Dex’s hand clasped around his own.

A gust of wind rushes past, chilling Fitz’s already frozen fingers clasped around too many tubs of plastic containers filled with mallowmelt and other sugary goods.

Yeah, it’s probably the weather.

Rimeshire is pretty much always freezing--a byproduct of the latitude of the Gloaming Valley--despite Elvin thermoregulators. There’s even several centimeters of snow on the ground, filthy from the months the majority of it has spent there.

The last time the grass could be seen, Fitz was still speaking to his father.

His eyes flicker to the horizon, just beginning to turn orangish with a sunset, small stratus clouds reflecting the warm tones, making him want to sit here on the porch and watch it.

Instead, his stomach growls, making the fear he’s trying to ignore that much more apparent. And studying the fine silver details around Rimshire’s door is quickly becoming insufficient.

Fitz feels a soft squeeze on his hand, dragging him back to reality. And by reality he means Dex’s dimples.

That’s certainly one way to simultaneously calm him down and cause his chest to tighten at the same time.

“Hey,” Dex whispers, barely audible beneath the blood rushing through Fitz’s ears.

“Don’t give me that look,” Fitz snaps.

“I’m not giving you a look.” Dex closes xor eyes and faces the opposite direction just to prove his point.

Fitz rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“Just--just think of it like a normal family dinner. You’ve suffered through several of those before.”

Fitz forces himself to exhale. “Dex, I know you mean well, but don’t. You know as well as I do that trying to reason either of us off the edge doesn’t work.”

“That’s just because I’m good at arguing against you when I don’t want to do something.”

“Well, I graduated with Honors from the Keefe Hesledge University of Being a Tosser.”

“You say that but then you don’t seem to use your degree.”

Fitz absent-mindedly rolls his ankle. “That’s because I don’t enjoy using it, not because I failed most of my classes.”

“You know, every time you bring this up I tell you to remind me to see the curriculum the next time we see Keefe, and yet that hasn’t happened yet. I need to see how it let you out.”

Fitz stops. “...Are you trying to make me mad to distract me from the fact that I am currently standing outside my boyfriend’s house with a copious amount of stress-baked, questionably edible things?”

Dex blushes. “Yes,” xe lies. At least he’s consistent.

“And how well did that plan work out for you?”

“It was going pretty well, then someone had to figure out my master plan. That was very inconsiderate of you.”

Fitz takes a breath. “I apologize in advance for messing up your Gloamhenge. Whatever I inevitably do, I’m sorry.”

Fitz watches Dex as xe processes this, trying to find the best way to tell him to shut up without leaving himself open for counterarguments. “You’re gonna have to bring your A game, Fitzy. I have a feeling the Triplets will make it their personal mission to screw everything up the fastest.”

Fitz decides to give him that. “Yeah, that sounds on brand.”

“Okay. So we’re good? We’re fine? We’re mildly okayish enough to continue functioning for one evening?”

Fitz has to hold back a smile. It’s the exact thing they’ve said to each other too many times to be healthy but now it’s lost most of its actual meaning because of semantic satiation--oh, Exile, is he actually learning things from Dex? This is terrifying.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far, but sure. It can’t go much worse than a certain dinner with someone.”

Dex looks just a little murderous at the reference to Alden. “Is it really necessary to bring that up every single time?”

“Yes, because it was glorious and you should regret not being there.”

“Oh, trust me, honey, it would’ve had the same outcome, just way faster.” Dex smiles.

Fitz’s heart still flutters a bit, even after however many months it’s been. “And there’s scary!Dex. Lovely. I always love being mildly afraid of you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m here for.”

Fitz fakes a gasp. “Preposition.”

“Oh, great. Don’t mind me as I pull a Henry David Thoreau.”

Hey, I told xem about that. I do exist somewhere in his brain. I didn’t expect that.

Thoreau basically got angry at society--honestly, mood--so he went and lived in a cabin in the woods for like two years and wrote an infuriatingly dense book. And now he’s like human famous or something because of it.

“No, don’t do that! Don’t leave me alone with these people!” Fitz jokes.

Dex laughs, knocking on the door.

Juline opens it much too quickly to honestly believe she wasn’t eavesdropping, but at least it wasn’t Bex. And if that’s the bar, you know you’re in for a wild ride.

Oh, who am I kidding? These are the Dizznees. We knew that coming into this.

“Aw, Fitz, you didn’t have to bring anything. Come in, come in.” Juline exclaims, stealing his baked goods from him, probably never to be seen again. It won’t be the first time the Triplets have chewed their way through a plastic container.

Wait, no. That was the squirrels getting into the Everglen garbage can.

“I tried to stop him, trust me,” Dex says, deadpan. “Also trust me when I say he would be living in a cave on the coast of Lumenaria Island if he didn’t bake.”

“I am not as bad as Keefe,” Fitz argues, voice cracking embarrassingly, stripping him of any credibility he could’ve had.

“Aren’t you living at Candleshade in an attempt to avoid your father?”

“We do not acknowledge that wanker as being biologically related to me unless it’s for comedic purposes,” Fitz snaps.

Before Dex can come up with a coherent response, the Triplets have seemingly sensed Fitz’s presence as they swarm him, nearly knocking him over.

His knee wails in protest at the attack of his ankles and--ow!

“Did one of you just bite me?”

The only response is unintelligible screaming. But wait--is Bex laughing harder than before? That little--.

“I’m here to eat dinner, not to be dinner!”

Dex turns away to hide the fact that xe’s laughing, but it doesn’t work when his shoulders shake that much, and Juline even has a hard smile.

“Speaking of dinner, it’s almost ready, so make yourself comfortable until then. I will be making sure Kesler hasn’t, in my absence, blown up the kitchen.”

“Hey, it’s been two whole weeks since then!” Kesler yells from the kitchen over the sound of the vent hood.

Juline turns and walks towards the kitchen, yelling, “You haven’t had many opportunities in those two weeks. I don’t trust you!”

Fitz smiles. “Hey, that kind of sounds like you after you found out about my relationship--or, more accurately, lack thereof--with recipes.”

Dex begins explaining, talking more with his hands than actually talking, “Baking is a chemical reaction, so that means it’s alchemy you can eat, and while you really shouldn’t eat anything in the lab because it all tastes bad anyway--don’t worry, I checked--it’s still a science and that means it needs exactness! Not just, oh, a little baking soda here and, yeah, a little flour there! No! You need order! And structure! Not this absolute madness!”

“Don’t hurt yourself, love.”

The Triplets laugh.

“I’ll hurt myself if I want to hurt myself. You can’t tell me what to do,” pouts Dex.

“You’re not smacking yourself in the eye again, Dex.”

“That wasn’t my fault. You got me started on the types of Supernovae.”

“That was for my Universe final. What else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know--Bex, why are you looking at me like that?”

She only responds with indecipherable giggling, burying her face in Fitz’s jerkin instead of confronting reality.

“Exile, you’re insufferable,” Dex complains.

“That’s what I’m here for, Dear Brother,” replies a voice that’d probably be Bex if she wasn’t hiding.

Dex and Fitz lock eyes, simultaneously mouthing ‘preposition’ and collapsing into a fit of silent giggles.

“Can you maybe not sound like Biana?” Fitz asks the tumor that’s now permanently attached to his leg.

“No,” comes her muffled response.

“Is your stubbornness by chance genetic?” Fitz asks Dex.

“Not to my knowledge. What on Earth would make you think that?” Dex asks, trying and failing to hold back a smile.

That adorable smile. How the Exile am I supposed to function with those dimples? It’s not fair.

Fitz shakes his head, shuffling over to the couch. It takes the same amount to get comfortable as for Juline to call, “Dinner’s ready!” causing a Triplet stampede as they rush to their seats.

There’s a lot of yelling, and several alleged thrown elbows. One would think they would have assigned seats by now, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Don’t you, I don’t know, want to go reserve your seat?” Fitz asks, still trying to get off the couch. It’s like a black hole. Except it’s dark blue.

“I think I threatened them sufficiently this afternoon. It should be fine,” Dex replies.

I don’t want to know what that means.

Fitz’s knee groans as he stands, finding two seats actually next to each other for once. Dex’s threats might have actually worked. That’s scarier than it should be.

He plops himself down in the right seat so he doesn’t get elbowed by Dex and his left-handedness.

Looking around the table, Fitz sees a combination of normal foods and, for lack of a better word, Dizznee foods.

The glasses of Lushberry juice are standard enough, as are the mashed carnissa root and umber leaves.

But then there’s a solid, opaque pink dish that jiggles when it’s moved and tastes sweet, like fraiseberries, and doesn’t seem to belong on a dinner table. It seems more like a dessert, but then Fitz remembers his baked goods he brought.

Yeah, Juline was probably planning on that.

The Triplets inhale it like there’s no tomorrow, using butter knives as weapons to keep the others away from it.

Then there’s a casserole dish with grated breadfruit, covered in a creamy, stringy, delicious yellow substance that got slightly crunchy on the edges.

“Cloudberry?” Juline offers, holding out a bowl of golden-yellow berries.

Fitz takes one, ripping off a single drupelet and popping it into his mouth. It bursts with a light pressure, exploding sweet and sour flavours across his taste buds.

He’s going to be kidnapping that bowl later. Might eat the glass itself.

Fitz glances over to Dex to find xem watching him and smiling. For someone who isn’t a telepath, xe’s very good at knowing what he’s thinking. Annoyingly good.

Bex leans over her mountain of food, butter knife grasped in her hand. “So, Fitzy…”

“Congratulations, I am already afraid.”

“Is Biana by any chance of mercy single?”

This is the third time you’ve asked this week. Do you think I wouldn’t keep you updated?

“Before I answer that, you have to be aware of the fact that Bi doesn’t tell me anything. So, to my knowledge, yes. But my knowledge is pretty much zero.”

Bex swears, stabbing her knife into the container of butter. “Any update on Amy?”

“If there was, I would have held a whole press conference the millisecond I heard anything at all,” Dex answers tiredly.

“Nanosecond,” Bex corrects.

“Planck time,” counters Dex.

Bex considers that. “No physics allowed in this house.”

“Then have fun as all your atoms explode because the strong force isn’t holding your atomic nuclei together anymore.”

“I will.” Bex crosses her arms, but only long enough to realise that prevents her from shoveling food in at light speed.

“No talk of exploding anyone at the dinner table!” Juline reprimands. “Not after last year!”

Fitz leans over to Dex, whispering, “What happened last year?”

“Just put that on the list of things I say I’ll explain and then never end up doing.”

Fitz nods. “Gotcha.”

The room is oddly silent for a moment--the longest possible length of time in the Dizznee household it seems--before Kesler asks, “So, Fitz, are you ready for the Gloamhenge quiz tonight?”

“There’s a quiz? Oh, what am I saying? Of course there’s a quiz. Where else would Dex get it from? Oh, great, preposition. But my point still stands.”

“At best, it sits,” Dex mumbles, and Fitz glares at xem.

Kesler laughs. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

“...I should make that a thing next year though.” Fitz holds his head in his hands as Dex writes that down.

“Do you see what you’ve done? You’ve given him ideas. There’s nothing more dangerous,” Fitz grumbles.

“No, Dex. You would make all the questions incredibly specific and then you would cackle the entire time we were struggling to answer them,” Kesler predicts very accurately.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Dex argues. Some might even say whines.

“Yes, you would,” Rex states. “You’ve given me like ten programming pop quizzes and that’s exactly what you do.”

Dex puts xor hands on xor hips. “Fine then. How about you make me a quiz. Show me how it’s done.”

Fitz places a hand on Dex’s, gently tugging it away, quietly promising, “I’ll make you a quiz. I know you have a very unhealthy relationship with Kahoot and I will very much enable it to the best of my abilities.”

“Thank you,” Dex says softly, smiling just enough to show a single dimple and laces their fingers together.

Fitz melts into a puddle of Fitz-goo. This is incredibly unfair and it should not be allowed.

“Hey, Dex! Did you tell him about the cinnamon competition?” One of the Triplets--probably Lex because they’re the one that hasn’t caused a catastrophe yet today--asks.

“I told you, I’m not adding that to the official Google Doc of festivities. It was a one time thing, and I’d like to keep it that way. Let it live in our memories in its true glory. Don’t spoil it with a sequel. You know those are never as good as the original.”

“Except for Shrek,” Lex inconveniently points out.

“Shrek is an outlier and should not have been counted.” Dex looks at Fitz. “And, no. You don’t get to hear about it. I don’t want to think about it ever again.”

“What’s so bad?” Lex asks. “I thought sugar and spice makes everything nice.”

“So does crack though,” Rex chimes in, and Fitz gets the feeling that isn’t the first time that exact exchange of phrase has occurred.

“That’s why we host the cinnamon competition. Double the nice. Duh.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense now.” Rex’s attention turns back to the mashed carnissa root on his plate.

“And that is why we have a lock on the spice cabinet.”

“Come on, do you really think a little metal’s going to stop us?” Bex asks.

“No. You’d chew through the wood first,” Dex replies like xe’s thought about it at length. Which he probably has.

Lex argues, “I’d at least try to pick it.”

Fitz expects Dex to pull out the good old Yoda quote, but instead xe says, “It’s not a Masterlock. It has to be at least marginally better than absolutely useless.”

“I can handle it. I’m cool like that.” The moment Lex says that is also the moment that they take a sip of Lushberry juice and cough on it.

“Remind me to add that to the very long list of reasons why I’m never getting them a lockpicking kit,” Dex says, taking a bite of an umber leaf.

“Does that mean you’ve neglected to get me one for the,” Lex counts on their fingers, “twenty-seventh Gloamhenge in a row?”

Dex nods as Fitz asks, “Wait, how do those maths work?”

“Okay, first of all, getting things for other people isn’t even a part of the Gloamhenge tradition. You just want things so you try to add it every time. But, to answer your question, Fitz, there are two a year, one on the spring equinox, and one on the fall equinox. Am I really that bad of a teacher or were you not listening yesterday?”

“...the latter,” Fitz admits begrudgingly.

It’s not my fault, it’s your dimples. I am a very weak man.

Dex sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Tell me to take notes.” Fitz suggests. “Maybe I’ll be too busy doodling in the margins or maybe I’ll actually listen.”

“Or I could threaten a quiz at the end.”

“Why are we back to this? I’m already under constant threat of pop quiz at any time you’re bored enough to make a Kahoot. Which is at all times!”

“At least you’re aware of the danger. Not all are so lucky.”

“You mean Sophie, don’t you?” Fitz guesses.

“Mmhmm, yes, exactly, correct, very good. One point of extra credit to be redeemed during the next pop quiz you inevitably fail.”

“That’s not terrifying at all.” Fitz turns to Dex’s parents. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him for so long.”

Kesler is laughing, enjoying this almost as much as Bex is, which is saying something.

Juline, on the other hand, says, “Xe gets it from his father,” looking pointedly at Kesler. He stops laughing abruptly with a painful sound.

“I’m full,” Lex complains, leaning back in their chair.

At the same time, Dex and Kesler say, “Hi full, I’m Dad.” They look at each other for a moment before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

Juline takes that as an opportunity to start cleaning up the carnage that used to be dinner. And there weren’t any major injuries, so this was a wild success.

Fitz tries to stand to help, but gets pushed back down into his seat by Juline.

What the--how dare you not let me help? I want to be helpful. Let me be helpful. Anger.

Dex manages to pull him away back onto the couch with a disproportionate amount of groaning.

They sit next to each other with the minimum amount of space between them to avoid Triplet teasing.

An alarm goes off, and Fitz checks behind the pillow he’s currently crushing to see if he caused it, but no. It was Dex.

“It’s 9:52, officially Nautical twilight. Got until 11:18 until astronomical twilight when we might be able to see something. Even with the new moon and forecast for tonight.”

“What are you going on about with all these different twilights?” Bex asks from somewhere Fitz can’t see. “We collectively decided to block those.”

“You’re thinking of the book and movie series with Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn. Why do I know that? Scientific twilight definitions are civil twilight, which is still bright and immediately after sunset, nautical twilight, which is the pretty one with a dark sky and a bright orange ring near the horizon, and astronomical twilight, which is only slightly brighter than night,” Dex explains.

“Of course you know those. Was it on a Universe exam or does it just live in your brain for no good reason?”

Dex smiles. “Take a wild guess.”

Fitz sighs. “Why do I even ask anymore?”

“I really don’t know, you should know better by now,” answers a mysterious voice Fitz is about seventy percent sure belongs to Lex.

“Rude!” Fitz calls to the empty air. He doesn’t know where the Triplets have gone, and he’s not over excited to find out.

Juline comes back from the kitchen after loading all the dishes into the dishwasher, one of the few gadgets in the house that wasn’t built by Dex, sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“How’s the sun’s activity doing? I know last fall wasn't a great show.”

“It’s doing its thing, exploding all over the place. As it does. Throwing particles everywhere. Looking pretty good.”

What? It’s literally nighttime. Why do we need to monitor the sun?

“Fitz, would you like an explanation?” Dex asks softly.

“Well, considering that you enjoy explaining things to me like I’m a five year old--which I am, more often than not-- so I’ll go with yes.”

“You better take notes this time. I’m not going through my presentation again for at least six months. I will find other lecture topics if you need a condescending explanation before then.”

Fitz pulls out the notes app on his Imparter without having to ask for a tutorial, a major accomplishment.

Dex begins, “Okay, so. Around the equinoxes, one of which is today if you weren’t aware, the Northern Lights are really bright. Do we know what those are?”

“Are you going to go into extreme levels of detail regardless of my actual answer?” Fitz guesses.

“You betcha. How’d you know? Basically, the sun is a mass of incandescent gas that is just, like, constantly throwing a fit. Sometimes that fit is directed at the Earth--it’s actually really similar to pulsars and neutron stars now that I think about it--anyway, because the ionized particles are, well, ionized, they’re deflected by the Earth’s magnetic field into the atmosphere at the poles. Sometimes the sun throws a really big tantrum called a Coronal Mass Ejection, or CME, and then the humans have to deal with things like the Carrington Event.”

“Hang on a second, I can only type so fast. I’m not good at typing like you.”

“I’m not good at typing, just pretending that I am.” Dex pauses, waiting for Fitz’s thumbs to stop moving. “The Carrington Event is the name for this really strong CME like a hundred and fiftyish years ago and it messed up pretty much all much tech that existed at the time. There wasn’t much, but telegram lines weren’t pleased. And auroras were seen all the way to the Equator. That’s when you’re going to want to draw a giant arrow from aurora to the definition.”

Fitz nods.

“In the northern hemisphere, it’s called the Aurora Borealis and in the southern hemisphere, it’s called the Aurora Australis because Latin is like that.”

“Hang on, let me write that down. Spelling is difficult.”

Especially when the keyboard switches to Latin letters like Human English uses instead of Elvin Runes in the middle of a sentence. But it’s not like I can ask for help. I’ll figure it out later.

“They translate to ‘north dawn’ and ‘south dawn’ but that’s not really important.”

“And yet you still felt the need to tell me.”

“What else did you expect from me, eh? Anyway, like I said, auroras tend to be most visible near the Equinoxes. You’d think they’d like the winter solstice, but I digress.”

“Maybe the sun particles don’t like travelling the extra distance because the Earth goes like this,” Fitz holds his arm up at an angle that is most certainly not the angle of the Earth’s axial tilt, but it’s a good enough approximation.

Dex points to xemself. “I don’t know, I’m not an astrophysicist.”

“Why not? You should get to work on that.”

“Go get your doctorate in Elvin History, and then we can talk…Are you literally writing that down?”

“Yeah. Otherwise I’m going to forget.”

Dex sighs, mooshing into Fitz’s shoulder. “From the Universe, you have a vague memory of the ecliptic, right? The imaginary line in the sky where the sun and moon and planets and human astrology constellations all fall?”

“I would have said no, but you just defined it for me, so it all worked out.”

“On the Equinoxes, the ecliptic is perfectly East-West because it weeble-wobbles with the seasons. That fact is very helpful if one wants to make a calendar but one doesn’t have access to the internets. So you put up some giant rocks in a circle marking where the sun is and when it lines up again six months later, you know it’s an equinox and you can plan for the upcoming winter if you live in a temperate climate.”

“I thought time was relative.”

“Leave Einstein out of this conversation. We don’t talk about him.”

“...okay.”

“Did you just write down 'stop with the Einstein erasure’?”

“Yeah.”

“I--I don’t even know how to react to that. Moving on--”

Fitz laughs.

“--If that circle rock thing I just described sounds familiar, that’s because there’s a big old monument in England that humans don’t entirely understand called Stonehenge and it’s like that. My bet is that it was an elf messing with them, but that’s just my opinion.”

“Yeah that tracks.”

“Your spelling is atrocious. Also, why are you in the Latin alphabet? I specifically disabled it. How did you manage to get it back?”

Fitz shrugs, and Dex chooses to finish xor lecture before fixing the technology for whatever reason.

So close yet so far. I should figure out how to fix it myself…which is more likely to result in breaking the whole thing, but I’ll just buy a new one if I get desperate.

“Okay, we’re in the home stretch.” Dex promises, but Fitz doesn’t trust him that much. “The human city of Chicago--have you ever been there? Super mega tall building with a name nobody can agree upon, green river both literally and the carbonated beverage, says gym shoes instead of sneakers or whatever, putting ketchup on hotdogs is a punishable offence?”

“If you think I could tell the difference between the human cities I visited, you’d be mistaken. Maybe pictures could feel vaguely familiar, but there were so many.”

“Well, Chicago is on a grid system and a consequence of that is that on the equinoxes, the sun can line up with the tall buildings and it’s called Chicagohenge and it’s supposed to be really pretty. Don’t ask me why I know that. If I knew, I would tell you. It just lives in my brain like that.”

“Just like so many other things.” Fitz smiles softly, his boyfriend’s seemingly endless well of random knowledge always a source of happiness even when he’s tired.

It is decidedly past Fitz’s bedtime, and it’s still another who-knows-how-long before he’ll get to go to bed. Is this what he gets for being a morning person?

“I know. I have a problem. You’re aware of this fact. I’ve given you many opportunities to run away. It’s not my fault you haven’t taken advantage of any of them.”

Fitz puts an arm around Dex, squeezing xem closer. “Stop trying to get rid of me. It hasn’t worked yet and I am progressively getting more stubborn every time you try.”

“Oh, wow, I did not know that was even possible. Any more Gloamhenge questions before I go into a food coma or are we good?”

Fitz yawns. “So you eat food then go watch the Northern Lights?”

“Yeah.”

“You could have just said that and I would have been fine.”

“Fitz, how long have you known me? Have I ever explained anything in two sentences or less?”

“Well, you have told me ‘just go google it, dumbass’ before. Which should still count as one sentence.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Dex concedes.

With that, Dex snuggles deeper into Fitz’s shoulder and Fitz opens up a crossword puzzle to keep xem entertained.

Three puzzles and about an hour later, Dex’s alarm goes off once again.

“Astronomical twilight! Time to migrate outside!”

By ‘migrate outside,’ Dex means ‘take folding chairs into the cold outdoors and sit in them for hours on end until something interesting happens in the sky.’

Even with temperature regulation and a blanket graciously donated by Juline, it’s kind of torturous.

“And now we wait,” Dex says, breath condensing in the freezing air and fogging up Fitz’s glasses.

“Now, one would think that if one was a telepath who lives in a very northern latitude, one would have invented seat warmers,” Fitz mumbles.

Dex instead scoots his chair closer to Fitz, lying xor head on his shoulder and twining their fingers together. “This close enough to a space heater for you?”

Fitz smiles. “Yes, thank you. I am weak and pathetic in cold temperatures.”

Dex’s brow furrows. “Then how did you go visit Fintan in his ice prison?”

“Don’t try to logic your way out of this--”

Dex laughs, a sound that never ceases to make Fitz’s heart flutter.

I am also weak and pathetic in the presence of Dex. This is unfair and I do not appreciate it.

“Do you have a gadget that’s going to tell me when the sky’s going to do the thing or am I just going to lose my toes?”

“No, that’s why we all have to sit out here.”

“You don’t have, like, a sunroom that would work?”

“No, that’s why we all have to sit out here,” Dex repeats, more slowly this time.

Fitz sighs, the giant cloud of water vapor obstructing his vision for a good five seconds. “I thought this was just for tradition reasons. Why must I suffer?”

“That too. But I am lazy and I don’t want to wake you up at three in the morning to tell you there’s going to be a two second aurora.”

Before Fitz can respond, he gets hit in the back of the head with the regrettably familiar coldness of a snowball.

“Alright. Which one of you do I need to Exile?”

Fitx glances back just long enough to find Bex pointing at Lex while Lex and Rex are pointing to Bex. As many disadvantages as there are to there being three of them, at least they’re all very willing to rat out the culprit at the slightest notice.

“Oh, come on, Rex, they’re a froster!” Bex complains.

Lex just gestures to the snow-covered ground to prove their point, and it’s a very valid point.

Fitz rolls his eyes, turning back to Dex. “I’m surprised you still have snow on the ground. Everglen only gets a little sprinkling once a year, if that, and it more often than not doesn’t even stick.”

“Exile, that sounds nice. Most of the year, it’s actually too cold to snow but October hits that perfect sweet spot of complete nightmare. It’s like living in a snowglobe. At least March is drier so spring Gloamhenge doesn’t tend to snow. But the stuff on the ground,” Dex kicks a plume of it into the air, “is still leftover from snow season. We like to joke that we have two seasons: construction and snow.”

“Everglen has two similar seasons: construction and mosquito. Although those more often than not overlap.”

Fitz yawns, letting his head rest on Dex’s.

“Wake me up if anything interesting happens.”

“Promise you won’t bite me?” Dex asks.

“It’s not my fault I was arguing about something I don’t even remember in my sleep and you had to test whether or not I would bite your hand off and, not to mention, that was one time.”

Sound really does travel farther in cold air, because Fitz can hear Kesler and Juline laughing from the spot where they decided to set up camp.

“Fine. I won’t bite you. I’m going to bed now.”

“Did you know that sleeping makes you more susceptible to hypothermia?”

“Well, I’ve got a personal space heater on my arm, so I should be fine.”

Fitz doesn’t wait for Dex to reply before he lets his tired eyes close as he drifts off to sleep.

It’s some sort of magic how whenever he passes out--intentionally or accidentally--at Rimeshire, he doesn’t dream. Other than that one time. But that was an outlier so that doesn’t get to count.

A jostling on his shoulder brings an unwilling, groaning Fitz back to reality.

What century is it?

“Look up,” Dex whispers.

It takes a solid three seconds to process what that means, and when Fitz tilts his head up, he’s greeted by beautiful ribbons of greenish light dancing against the night sky.

It’s so much greener than he thought it would be. The sky isn’t usually green because of something, something, Rayleigh scattering.

A tickle of lavender occasionally flicks through, mostly on the edges.

It’s absolutely stunning.

Maybe not worth losing his toes, but stunning nonetheless.

Fitz’s lips pull into an involuntary smile.

This is exactly what a family should be. A group of people freezing to death while the Triplets are screaming in the background--how do they have so much energy?--together not just because it’s tradition but because they genuinely adore one another.

The green fades from the sky, and Fitz’s exhaustion returns. His brain probably just realised he’s awake in the middle of the night, and that’s not allowed.

“Okay, that was pretty. I’m going back to bed now.”

Dex laughs, dimples showing.

And all Fitz’s sleep-added brain can think is, xe’s more stunning than the aurora.

#kotlc #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #fedex #detz #kotlc fanfic #reverse birthday present time #kotlc secret santa 2022

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fractionallystruckout · 8 months

Text

Unspoken and Unequivocal

(Just in time for Tetsu's birthday, a fic about Jun's birthday. :D)

TetsuJun, established relationship, long distance relationship, birthday fluff

Tetsu visits Jun on his birthday.

Also on AO3.

—

Jun stood on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building

It was cold. He rubbed his hands over his arms, grimacing against the light breeze.

He should've put on a jacket.

He hadn't thought about the weather when he rolled out of bed a few minutes earlier, staggering into the elevator in his pajamas, a Meiji University t-shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants. He didn't consider that, despite it being September, winter was beginning to creep in, closing in around warm fall days as cold mornings and chilly nights. He forgot how cold it could be before the sun came up, a fact he would never forget again if his sockless feet had anything to say about it.

He wasn't thinking.

It was early.

Jun had only been asleep for a few hours before the phone call woke him.

It was early.

And he was too excited.

Tetsu was coming.

Jun shifted as he glanced down the street. He dropped his hands from his arms, the thought of Tetsu's imminent arrival alone warming him against the early morning cold.

There were times when people questioned the inner workings of their relationship.

His sisters, his college teammates, even their friends from high school. They would see them together and they would ask Jun, what was it like to date someone like Tetsu? There was never malice or ill intent, more of a curiosity that Jun guessed came from a lack of imagination. People saw Tetsu and they saw his seriousness and tone and demeanor. No one ever asked if Tetsu was loyal or dedicated, traits that were easy to assume from any impression Tetsu made.

But occasionally, there were questions.

They would ask.

Was Tetsu fun?

Was he affectionate?

Was he romantic?

Jun hated those questions.

There wasn't anything wrong with the questions themselves. Jun understood why they asked those things. He'd asked himself similar questions in the first few weeks of knowing Tetsu.

But he knew the truth and the truth always made him feel flustered and embarrassed.

A noise grabbed Jun's attention, anticipation winning out over the last of his sleepiness as he heard the car before he saw it. Jun watched a simple sedan turn onto the street. Even from a distance, he knew it was Tetsu. It was too early, the neighborhood too quiet and still for it to be anyone else. He also recognized Tetsu's meticulous driving, from his use of the turn signal on an obviously empty street to his adherence to the speed limit even if it delayed their reunion by a few minutes.

His assumption was confirmed as the car approached and Tetsu came into view through the windshield. He unconsciously took a few steps forward as Tetsu pulled up to the curb and parked in front of a nearby building.

Tetsu waved once the car was securely parked and Jun broke out into a grin. He started moving again as Tetsu got out and crossed the street, carrying only a backpack and a square paper bag in one hand.

Jun hated those questions that made him feel flustered and embarrassed. He never knew how to answer them.

He would never be able to explain how Tetsu made him feel in moments like this.

Jun didn't ask Tetsu to come.

There was distance between them, a necessary physical distance as Tetsu had been contacted by a recruiter with an offer to play collegiate baseball in America. He had to go, Jun insisted. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Even an ocean away, Tetsu was being Tetsu. It was his second year in the US and he was a starter, batting sixth in the lineup, having earned his place on the field after playing mainly as designated hitter in his first season. He was nominated for a few preseason award watch lists, and there was even talk of him being considered for the MLB draft next summer.

There was distance between them but with sacrifice came rewards.

Jun picked up his pace, forgetting about the cold and the early morning hour. Tetsu lengthened his stride, his smile pushing Jun to move even faster.

Jun didn't ask Tetsu to come.

He didn't mention it. He didn't hint at it. He barely even let himself think about how this was the first of his birthdays that they would spend apart since they met.

There was distance between them.

And that meant sacrifices.

Video calls instead of dates. Daily conversations conducted through messages and emails.

Missed birthdays in exchange for career opportunities.

Except Tetsu came.

He called a week ago and told Jun he was coming.

He presented the situation as fact, not an idea or suggestion. He found the time. He arranged the trip. He flew hours across the Pacific Ocean, he rented a car and drove through the night, all so he could be with Jun on his birthday, upholding an unspoken tradition that Jun had been willing to let go.

Jun was moving at a light jog when he reached Tetsu. Momentum and excitement propelled him and he jumped into Tetsu's arms without warning. Tetsu lived up to his preseason national fielder of the year nomination, catching him easily as Jun wrapped himself around Tetsu.

"Hey," Jun said, grinning from ear to ear.

Tetsu smiled back. "Happy birthday, Jun."

Jun laughed, affection spilling out of him as he met Tetsu in a kiss. He felt Tetsu sigh into the touch of their lips, relief and contentment singing out from the press of his mouth and the grasp of his hands. Jun melted into the embrace, his hands pressing back into Tetsu's hair, held steady and strong and close in Tetsu's presence.

Was Tetsu fun?

Was he affectionate?

Was he romantic?

Jun hated those questions.

He never knew how to answer them.

It felt so obvious from the inside, looking out.

Tetsu loved him.

Wholly.

Completely.

Unequivocally.

In a fierce and quiet way that only Tetsu could love.

If that wasn't romance, then every single one of Jun's manga were wrong.

He couldn't imagine anything more romantic.

Tetsu tucked his face into Jun's neck for a moment before letting him down. Jun smiled up at him, trailing his hand down Tetsu's arm.

"What's this?" he asked, lifting Tetsu's hand and the bag it held.

"Your birthday cake," Tetsu answered.

The writing on the bag was in English, suggesting the cake had accompanied Tetsu on his international trip. Jun grabbed Tetsu by one of his backpack straps and pulled Tetsu down to kiss him again.

Because he could.

Because Tetsu came.

They lingered in the touch, Tetsu resting his forehead against Jun's.

"I brought candles too," Tetsu said.

Jun laughed. "Let's go inside," he said, unable to stop grinning. "It's cold."

Tetsu nodded in agreement.

He moved the cake bag from one hand to the other, meeting Jun, their hands finding each other when Tetsu's was free. Jun led the way to his building, tangling their fingers together as they walked.

They talked in soft voices about nothing in particular, the weather, Jun's sisters, Tetsu's flight. The topic wasn't important, only the pleasure of being able to have a conversation without screens.

It was warmer in the lobby of the building.

Jun pressed the button to call for the elevator. He watched the display blink through descending numbers, thinking about how he and Tetsu should spend their limited time together. He hadn't considered it before. He wasn't thinking.

He was too excited.

Jun turned to ask Tetsu if he wanted to go out for breakfast, his question replaced by a smile as Tetsu raised their joined hands to kiss Jun's fingers as they waited.

It was an action that made Jun feel flustered and embarrassed.

And loved.

A simple gesture.

Unspoken and unequivocal.

That answered every question.

#daiya no ace #tetsujun #juntetsu #fanfic #Fitz fic #just fluff #birthday fluff

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