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1
Olruggio blinks slowly, trying to bring the mess of lines inked on paper back into focus. He’s almost fourteen clock marks deep in this project, and he’s so close to finishing the prototype — if only he can find which one of the seals is causing the backfiring problem.
Granted, that would be easier if the seals themselves stopped swimming before his very eyes.
With a sigh, the man leans back on his seat and rubs his eyes. His spine makes an ominous popping sound and his shoulders ache fiercely from maintaining the same hunched posture for so long.
I’m getting old, he thinks despairingly.
The flame on one side of the desk flickers, as if mocking him. Olruggio shoots it a glare and stretches out his arms. Perhaps it’s time for a break.
The atelier is quiet at this time of night, with the four girls hopefully sleeping peacefully. Olruggio stumbles into the main area with half a mind to find something to snack on that might get his brain going again, and stops in his tracks at the sight of Qifrey lounging on the couch, a book on his lap and robes pooled around his waist.
The other man looks up instantly, fleetingly surprised.
“Olly, I thought you were asleep,” he says as way of greeting.
Olruggio tiredly runs a hand through his hair.
“I had a deadline.”
“Oh.” Qifrey winces a little, seeing his expression. “I take it, it’s not going well?”
“I’m close to finishing the prototype… there’s just a small mistake in one of the seals and I can’t find where it is,” he explains. As he speaks, Olruggio trudges towards the kitchen. He definitely needs a snack. “Is there any honey left?”
“Second cupboard to the right,” Qifrey instructs without looking.
They sit in silence for a while, Olruggio eating bits of cheese with honey on the kitchen table while Qifrey goes back to his book. It’s nice, Olruggio thinks. Peaceful. He enjoys their nights together greatly, with the crackling of the hearth as comforting background noise.
As he finishes the small meal and washes his hands, Olruggio finds himself getting sleepy. It seems the food has had the opposite intended effect: instead of spurring him back to work, it’s making him want to lie down near the fire where it’s warm.
He steps back into the main room and is greeted by the back of Qifrey’s head. Under the firelight, his white hair has a golden hue to it, and something about that sight compels Olruggio to step forward.
Come morning, he will definitely blame the sleep deprivation for what he’s about to do. His body moves almost on its own, seeking Qifrey’s warmth; his arms curl around deceptively slim shoulders, and Olruggio buries his head in those white locks.
They’re softer than he thought.
Qifrey makes a noise of surprise, twisting a little, and Olruggio tightens his hold, unwilling to relinquish it so soon. Qifrey feels warm in his arms, a comforting presence that seems to seep all the frustration out of him.
“Just… gimme a moment,” he mumbles into his hair, which smells a bit like woodcruor with a lingering floral scent.
After a beat, Qifrey finally relaxes — not fully, but enough to let him know he’s not bothered by their embrace.
Olruggio will take what he can get. Satisfied, he smiles into pure white hair.
2
It’s a sunny day in the middle of summer, hot but not unbearably so: the perfect weather for a picnic outside. The four little apprentices, Qifrey and Olruggio are all sitting in the shade of a big tree, sharing slices of mountain apples and relishing in the cooling effects of one of Qifrey’s water spells.
Olruggio feels content, leaning against the tree trunk with his arms crossed and eyes closed, basking in the noises all around him. The occasional cool breeze ruffles his white shirt and caresses the bare half of his arms where the sleeves are pulled up.
“Master Qifrey, can we go swim at the stream?” Tetia asks, voice hopeful. “Please! We can practice water spells too!”
“You don’t need the stream to practice water spells,” Agott points out. Olruggio peeks one eye open in time to see Tetia sticking out her tongue at the other girl.
“The cold water must feel so nice,” Coco says wistfully. “Please, Master Qifrey!”
“It will be good for Riche's health,” Riche adds, completely seriously.
Qifrey chuckles, a tinkling sound that makes Olruggio automatically smile. He looks pretty under the sunlight, in his summer robes. Less burdened.
“Okay, okay, but stay within our sight, alright?” Qifrey concedes. A chorus of cheers erupts immediately.
“Yay!”
“Thank you, Master Qifrey!”
The four girls take off running towards the stream —well, three of them are running, while Agott walks seemingly disinterestedly after them— and the two older witches are left alone under the tree. Both of their hats are sitting in the grass next to them, tassel and ribbon swaying in the breeze.
“Ah, they never run out of energy,” Qifrey sighs, leaning back against the trunk.
Their arms are pressed together like that, warm underneath the thin garments. Olruggio closes his eyes again and feels the rough bark against the back of his head.
“They remind me of us, way back when,” he mumbles.
Qifrey hums, and they both fall silent. In the distance, they can hear the little witches yelling and splashing around on the nearby stream. When Olruggio peeks one eye open again, he sees that Qifrey has closed his, and that they are so close their heads almost touch.
Slowly, Olruggio lets his head fall a little bit. Just enough to feel those soft white locks against his cheek, mixing with his own black hair. Qifrey doesn’t seem to mind, so he stays like that, listening to the rustling of the breeze.
“Do you ever feel like this is too good to last?” Qifrey says, so softly it could have very well been a product of his imagination.
Olruggio considers the question for a moment. He presses further into the other’s hair, feeling it tickling his nose and mouth, and hums.
“As long as we’re here, it’ll last enough,” he says.
If Qifrey has any objections to that answer, he doesn’t voice them. Olruggio is happy with that. He’s beginning to feel sleepy, and existential questions are better left for less summery days.
3
Olruggio might have developed a bit of a problem regarding Qifrey. Or, more accurately, regarding Qifrey’s hair. Oftentimes, he finds himself looking at the other witch, longing to bury his head or hands in those soft locks, to smell that faint floral scent again. Generally, he refrains himself from doing so, but there are times, such as tonight, where he’s too tired to resist.
“Another deadline?” Qifrey asks.
He’s standing at the door of Olruggio’s office, holding a small lantern and still wrapped up in the day’s clothes, looking much more alert than he should given the time of night.
“They asked for a second prototype of the contraption,” Olruggio replies. “Thought it’d be easier, but one of the seals is giving me trouble again.”
“Here, let me see.”
Qifrey steps fully inside the room and leans over his desk, leaving the lantern off to the side. The light glints off his lenses as he purses his lips in concentration, and Olruggio feels like he can’t tear his eyes away from him no matter what.
“Aren’t they too straight?” Qifrey points at a cluster of arrows. “If you draw them at an angle, maybe you’ll get a better result.”
“Already tried it,” Olruggio sighs. “It’s a good fix, but raises a host of other problems with these seals over here.”
“Oh.”
“No matter.” He puts down the pen and rubs his eyes. “I’ll continue tomorrow. It’s getting late anyways.”
Automatically, Olruggio leans back on the chair to stretch his back and arms, and in doing so, collides with Qifrey’s chest. His arms are already halfway raised, and they accidentally brush against the sides of the other man’s head, hair tickling his fingers. It feels as good as all the other times.
“Sorry,” Olruggio says, and hastily retreats. There’s a soft smile on Qifrey’s face when he looks at him.
“Have a good night, Olly.”
Qifrey leaves, taking the lantern with him. Olruggio immediately misses the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his body behind him, then shakes his head.
He’s too tired for this.
4
Qifrey looks almost unnaturally still laying in bed, shoulder and torso carefully bandaged. Olruggio keeps watch from the chair next to him, one elbow resting on his knee and his head on his hand.
They are in the Medical Spire of the Great Hall, and they have already been for a couple of days. Olruggio’s back aches from the stiff chair, but he doesn’t plan on complaining once. Qifrey’s lenses feel heavy in his pocket: packed with secrets and questions he needs answers to, but the only one who can give him a glimpse of the truth is currently unconscious and has been for a while.
Olruggio sighs. He wishes Qifrey felt more comfortable confiding in him. The man has always had a secretive side to him, but he thought they were closer than that.
No matter. They’ll talk once he wakes up, Olruggio will make sure of it.
Qifrey suddenly shifts against the pillows, body jerking this way and that as if suffering from a bad dream. Sinocia had warned he might experience some restlessness as the medicine started wearing off, so Olruggio isn’t too worried, but he scoots closer to the bed anyways.
“You’re okay,” he mumbles, feeling a bit silly. Qifrey doesn’t stop moving, face contorted in pain.
Olruggio doesn’t need to think twice. His hand reaches what’s closest to him, Qifrey’s head, aiming for a comforting gesture. The effect is immediate: as his fingers get buried in white hair, the man stops writhing.
Okay, good. He can work with this.
Slowly, he curls his fingers and then extends them, careful not to snag them in any stray hairs. His chest feels warm at the sight of Qifrey’s steadily relaxing expression, and a smile appears on his own face while the soft hair brushes against his knuckles.
He doesn’t know how long they stay there, the pads of his fingers carefully rubbing against Qifrey’s scalp in a reassuring touch, but eventually Olruggio is forced to let go as Sinocia comes back into the room.
She gives him a knowing look and he averts his eyes, feeling the phantom brush of soft locks against his fingers.
5
This is getting out of control, Olruggio thinks immediately upon waking up, the last dregs of a very nice dream still lingering in his mind.
In the dream, he’d been laying down with Qifrey’s head nestled on the crook of his shoulder, so close he could feel the other’s breath against his skin. His face had been buried in that shock of white hair, mumbling incoherent things, and Qifrey hadn’t seemed to mind. Then, Qifrey had shifted so that they were face to face, and he had gotten closer…
Olruggio drags a hand down his face and tries to forget the dream entirely. He needs a bath and some breakfast, and to focus on his latest project without any Qifrey-shaped distractions.
This all goes out the window the moment he steps foot into the kitchen, freshly bathed and stomach rumbling. Qifrey is standing at the stove, carefully tending to something that smells heavenly, and the girls are all crowded around the kitchen table. Agott seems to be buried in a textbook, while Coco tries to read not-so-subtly over her shoulder and Riche naps off to the side.
“Good morning, Master Olly!” Tetia greets him brightly. Olruggio waves at the girls, pleased to see them in good spirits.
“Oh, Olruggio, great timing. Come give me a hand, please,” Qifrey says from the stove, and Olruggio obliges.
Automatically, he goes to stand next to his friend, slinging one arm over Qifrey’s shoulders, who tenses briefly before relaxing into his hold.
“Yes?” He inquires, trying and failing to smother a yawn.
Their faces are close like this, differently than in the dream (which Olruggio wishes he had forgotten by now), but still close enough that some of Qifrey’s stray hairs brush against his cheek.
Cooking together is strangely intimate, domestic in ways neither of them want to think much about. Olruggio stirs when Qifrey asks him to, then brings the dishes to the table and tells the girls to please clear away the books if they don’t want them getting dirty.
They sit side to side, ready for breakfast. Olruggio hadn’t noticed before, but Qifrey looks a bit more tired than usual. His hair is slightly disheveled, and falls over his good eye when he leans to take a bite.
Olruggio moves without thinking. He pushes some the locks back, tucks them behind Qifrey’s ear then leans back, satisfied. The other witch seems stunned for a second, then lets out a soft sigh and smiles at him. It’s a warm smile, the type that makes Olruggio feel inordinately happy. He wishes he bore witness to that smile more often.
The moment ends abruptly as the girls demand Qifrey’s attention to explain something, and Olruggio looks down at his food, pretending to be very interested in it. When he next steals a glance at Qifrey, the man is still smiling gently as he talks to his students.
Whatever this is, Olruggio ponders to himself, it’s definitely out of my control now.
+1
Olruggio wakes up to fingers carding through his hair.
He’d dozed off on the couch not long after lunch, tired after a long week of working nonstop. Usually when that happens, he wakes up an hour or so later, alone, with the setting sun as his only company.
This time, however, there’s someone else with him. He opens one eye tentatively, and his breath catches as he realizes Qifrey is kneeling next to him, gaze softer than Olruggio has ever seen it.
Not another dream, he thinks helplessly — and then he realizes that it’s not a dream. Qifrey is really there, next to him, fingers brushing through dark hair and sending shivers down his spine.
“Good morning,” Qifrey says, lips curling into a smile. “Or should I say evening?”
“What—” Olruggio scrambles to sit up, but the hand in his head pushes him down again, not harshly, but firmly.
“Shh, don’t worry. Everything’s fine,” Qifrey reassures him.
Olruggio allows himself to relax back in the couch cushions, mollified that Qifrey isn’t waking him up for any emergencies. Golden rays of sunlight streak into the room, creating beautiful haloes wherever they land, and when Qifrey moves, he’s backlit by them.
Beautiful, Olruggio thinks. The hand threading through his hair stills, and he blinks for a moment before realizing he’s said that out loud.
There’s something sad in Qifrey’s expression as he smiles, something undecipherable, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and Olruggio barely has any time to think before Qifrey is leaning over him.
Their mouths press together softly, a brush of the lips before they break apart, and Olruggio already finds himself starving for more. His hands find the back of Qifrey’s head, carding through white hair and urging him down again.
They kiss under the fading sunlight, hands buried in each other’s hair, undisturbed. If they stayed like that forever, well, Olruggio probably wouldn’t mind.