“You made another one after the first one caught fire?” Sam was grinning now.
“The timing was right the second time. The fire was just...bonus ambiance.”
“That’s not how ovens work.”
“It is if you’re committed to the process.”
Sam shook his head, but he was laughing, and Mabon felt something loosen in his chest.This is actually working. Four people around a table, their drinks growing cold, the rest of the café fading into background noise, as they all chatted with each other.
Maya passed by their table, not even pretending subtlety as she gave Sam another enthusiastic thumbs up. Sam caught her at it and went red again. “She’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”
“The end of what?” Mabon asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral even as his dragon demanded to know exactly what Maya had said, what theories she was developing, and more importantly, whether she approved.
“She thinks...” Sam traced the rim of his cup. “She’s been saying for months that I needed to put myself out there more. Meet people. And now…”
“Now you’re having coffee with three men who’ve been really bad at courtship,” Urien finished.
Sam’s smile went soft. “You haven’t been that bad.”
“We tried to buy this place,” Mabon reminded him.
“Okay, that part was weird.”
“Stalked your cottage from the bushes,” Rux added.
“You did what?”
“Nothing. Forget I said it. Nothing.”
/~/~/~/~/
The coffee had grown cold twice over, replaced, then abandoned again as conversation meandered from gardening to cooking to Mabon’s worst investment disasters - including the time he’d accidentally bought a haunted vineyard in Tuscany.
“You’re joking.” Sam was grinning, eyes bright behind his glasses.
“I wish. The ghosts were very particular about their wine.”
“Did you sell it?”
“Eventually, to a vampire with boundary issues.” Mabon caught himself. “That’s...also a thing that exists.”
“Of course it is.” Sam didn’t even look fazed anymore. “What’s next, werewolves?”
“Two packs in Scotland,” Urien supplied. “Lovely people, although they have terrible table manners during full moons.”
Rux snorted into his third latte.
Mabon checked his watch – it was nearly six - and felt his dragon protest immediately. Sam was laughing, relaxed, the wariness from yesterday had been replaced by something softer, and Mabon wanted to freeze the moment and preserve it like one of the rare books in his collection.
But part of looking after a Treasure meant meeting their every need. Basil would be waiting. Sam worked early shifts. Their mate needed sleep and to keep to his routines in a life that didn’t revolve entirely around dragons who’d already disrupted everything.
“We should let you get home,” Mabon heard himself say, even as every instinct screamed against it.
Sam blinked. “Oh. Right. Yeah.” Was that disappointment in his voice?
They stood, the table suddenly too small for four people trying to navigate around chairs. Maya went past, her grin wicked.
Sam grabbed his jacket from a nearby rack, shrugged it on, and fumbled with the zipper. “This was...this was really nice.”
