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Sam drags him out of the house one day, midweek, after they get back from touring.
IV feels the post-tour blues more acutely than any of his partners, prone to listing about the house and slipping into slight depressions. He endures Vessel’s concerned eyes on him with a modicum of ease and promises him that he’s okay. This isn’t the first tour they’ve come back from, and it isn’t the first time IV has felt like this.
Sam takes him to one of his friend’s houses, and IV has the wherewithal to think it’s weird that Jack, the friend, isn’t there when they arrive. He says as much and Sam waves his hand dismissively.
“Jack’s at the pub,” he says. “More importantly, Jack’s mum — you know, Mrs. Baker — is here. I think you need some time with a mum.”
IV studiously stares at a shelf filled with various tchotchkes and tries to pretend his eyes don’t feel damp. His own relationship with his remaining family is fraught, thanks to Marc and that whole mess, and while he tries to do things that honor his own mother, it’s hard. He misses her every day.
He’s had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Baker before; she has the type of energy that pulls other people in. Vessel and II are the type of people to stick to themselves, and to an extent so is III, but now that IV has gotten a taste for having people in his life, he only wants more.
III jokes that he’s done wonders for their popularity in the village; they previously haunted the town like a group of specters, hesitant to reach out in a town Sleep made their own.
Mrs. Baker toddles out of the kitchen after a moment, fingers plucking at the energy in the air, and she inhales in surprise as she sees them.
“Hullo, Mrs. Baker,” Sam says, a smile curling around the edges of his face.
IV waves a hand over Sam’s shoulder in greeting.
“Boys,” she says, like they aren’t grown men, “come in, come in.”
IV finds himself bundled into a seat at the kitchen table with a cup of sweet, milky tea in his hands before he even realizes what happens. Mrs. Baker fusses over them both, slices thick pieces of cake for each of them, and lets Sam expound about coming home after a long tour.
IV tucks into the cake easily, enjoys the tangy taste of the citrus glaze, and adds in his own thoughts to the conversation as they become relevant. The kitchen is warm around them, and Mrs. Baker continues plucking at energy around them until she’s cleared out the cobwebs and tangles. He feels lighter, more centered and grounded, as the afternoon wears on.
She smooths a hand over his brow at the end of a story Sam shares, and says, “There, that’s better.”
Her magic is old magic, IV can tell. She’s raised her own kids, and folded others, like Sam, into her flock along the way. She reminds him of his own mother, back before she got sick, and feels comforted by the similarities.
“Thank you,” IV says after a beat, and then, “Can we help you with anything while we’re here?”
Sleep’s magic is different from other magic; there’s no requirement for equivalent exchange, but it’s still the polite thing to do. It’s taken him a while to get back into the flow of a life where magic presides, to undo the damage Marc did to him, but he likes where he’s at now. He likes that he’s able to do this for other people.
Mrs. Baker folds an arm around his shoulder and leans against him for a moment before she says, “Would you mind terribly to refresh some of my wards?”
This is what his magic does, he’s found: it curls up in the corners like a cat, eyes ever watchful of its environment; it molds to the doorframes and walks about, tail curling. His magic protects, which makes him feel some sort of way. He goes around the house and refreshes her wards, and lets her hug him at the door when he’s done. He leans into the embrace when she gives it.
“You come around whenever,” Mrs. Baker says. “You’re always welcome. Bring your men with you next time.”
IV laughs into her shoulder and says, “I’ll try. You know how they are.”
“That I do,” Mrs. Baker says, a smile in her eyes.
Sam walks them back to the car and says, “She’s definitely going to brag to the other mums that you did her wards, so don’t be surprised if you start getting requests.”
IV cups a hand around his mouth to hide his smile. He thinks he doesn’t mind.
III curls around him as soon as Sam drops IV off back at the house. “Hi, hi, I missed you,” he says. “Did you have a good time?”
IV nods into his shoulder and then inhales, letting all the air out of his lungs in a whoosh.
“Come on,” III says. “II brought a bunch of fruit back with him from the shops.”
Later, they tear into oranges, fingers pulling back their peels, and share wedges of the sweet fruit between them, press sticky fingers to the sides of II and Vessel’s faces, and IV thinks about what it is to be loved.