Chapter Text
The nightly trips to Savanaclaw become a routine from then on, though things don’t always end like they did the day before Halloween. Sometimes Leona rants about whatever he considers especially annoying that day, head resting on Malleus’ lap while slender fingers pet his ears. Sometimes Malleus extensively tells him about the difference between Gargoyles and Statues as Leona dusts off his chest set and places it in the middle of the bed between them. Sometimes they’re too busy mussing up the sheets to talk much at all.
And sometimes Malleus quietly enters, sits on the floor in front of Leona’s bed and unblinking stares out the balcony.
Leona isn’t particularly fond of sharing but the bed is much softer than the carpet, warmer too and most importantly, easily fits the both of them. The floor, on the other hand, is awfully uncomfortable. It’s cold and his knees begin to hurt after a while, his toes and the tips of his fingers grow chilly and he really isn’t willing to trade his soft cushioned bed for creaky floorboards, no matter how much Malleus likes the view out his windows, even if Malleus’ lap makes for a really good pillow.
The intimacy of sharing a bed isn’t lost on Leona but having been raised by Lilia Malleus is nothing if not a gentleman, never overstepping boundaries even when things get a little heated. He’s also surprisingly gentle for someone who’s supposed to be one of the five most powerful wizards in the entire world, always touching Leona like he was going to break, kissing him like he was something sweet instead of the foul-mouthed beast he was, holding him like he was precious.
Tonight, Malleus is gentle too though his tenderness isn’t directed at Leona. Perfectly hidden by the darkness around them, Malleus stares into the night sky beyond Leona’s balcony door, contemplating something he can’t put into words. He’s in one of his brooding moods and when he gets like this there really isn’t much Leona can do to get him out of his own head and back to reality, preferably Leona’s bed.
To Malleus’ bad, Leona is neither patient nor kind and with the night slowly progressing in a way that is unfavorable at best, he’s beginning to grow infinitely bored. He turns on the bed to inspect the obsidian night and its constellations spanning between two spirally horns.
Horns, huh?
By now he’s touched them plenty times, knows Malleus likes it when he pulls them and manhandles him a little, but he’s never really looked at them. He pillows his head in the palm on his hand.
They’re long and sleek and curve in a perfect arch and part of Leona wants to poke them just to see if they’re as sharp as they seem.
Leona quickly checks his options.
One, he doesn’t poke the horns and continues being bored until he falls asleep. Or two, he pokes the horns and Malleus will probably get mad because he interrupted one his moods and threw him off his groove. Worst case scenario: the horns are as sharp as they look and he’ll prick himself, maybe even bleed a little, and Malleus gets mad, probably completely disappears into the darkness.
All things considered, his chances aren’t particularly bad, especially considering he might even get to annoy Malleus. Leona’s never really been one to deny himself little pleasures like that so he reaches out.
“What are you planning on doing?” Malleus asks out of nowhere.
King of the Beasts be damned, and he hasn’t even touched him yet. Stupid Malleus and his ability to pick up on everything with his stupid fairy sensitivity or whatever shit was to blame. But Leona has already made up his mind. He was going to touch the horns. Malleus has no say in the matter.
“Shut up and let me do this.”
Malleus turns his head enough for Leona to see the raise of his eyebrow. He doesn’t move beyond that though so Leona presses a finger to the very tip of Malleus’ right horn.
Sharp but not sharp enough to draw blood– with a little more pressure, sure, but Leona doesn’t really fancy hurting himself. He’d rather not have to go to the infirmary tomorrow, or any other day for that matter. Too many memories of the aftermath of his overblot and long evenings after magical shift games for him to seek that place out willingly.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Malleus says. There’s an urgency in his voice, as if Leona was already bleeding all over the carpet. Leona’s not even close to breaking skin yet. He makes no move to pull away, but he does huff in annoyance. As if Malleus could ever hurt him, as if he’d ever let him.
“I said shut up.” Leona slides his hand down the horn, following its natural curve. No scales, no bumps, no nothing. Just a smooth horn. Neither warm, nor cold, just … bone?
“What’s it made of?” He asks and grips the horn a little tighter, trying to see if he could snap it in two.
“I thought I was supposed to stay quiet?” Malleus teases and if Leona wasn’t so preoccupied, he’d rise to the bait but right now he wants to know more about the horns on Malleus’ head and how to break them. Maybe they’d give if he tried another angle?
“Shut up and tell me what they’re made of.” Leona growls but so far he’s never managed to intimidate Malleus into doing as he says. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“You contradict yourself, Leona.” Malleus informs him, still sitting in the same position he’s been in for the last half hour. Like a statue, Leona muses. Perhaps the horns are made of stone? No, that wouldn’t make sense …
“King of the Beasts, you’re annoying. Just tell me already.” Leona huffs and tugs on the horn again as if he could shake the answer out of Malleus.
Malleus hums in contemplation, deep and somber and dully reverberating through the room. They both know he’ll tell Leona eventually. Leona prides himself on being able to get to Malleus, both under his skin and on his nerves.
“Keratin mostly.” Malleus says and when Leona doesn’t answer, he keeps talking, “It’s a protein. You can find it in hair and fingernails or the hooves of some animals.”
Leona squints skeptically. “So you’re saying these” he squeezes a black horn, then slides his hand into dark hair to twirl a black strand around one of his fingers “are the same as these?”
“Essentially.” Malleus answers. Leona tangles his fingers in the crown of Malleus’ head. He could pull his hair out if he wanted to. Could he pull the horns out too? He slides his hand up again and gives an experimental tug.
“Though hair and horns are vastly different in their other components.” Malleus continues, “The most outstanding one being, of course, their relation to magic. While horns can appear in either form, magical or not, hair can only take on magical powers if you’re under the influence of a potion – most commonly a growing potion – or, in very few documented cases, by direct blood relation to the princess of-”
“I get it, I get it. No need to go on a rant.” Leona interjects. There really is no stopping Malleus when he starts talking about something he’s passionate about – and Malleus is passionate about the weirdest things.
“What about this then?” Leona asks and pushes Malleus’ bangs out of the way. He’s noticed the markings a while back, almost a year ago when they teamed up for beans day and he wiped the sweat off his forehead after the final battle against Vil and Rook. They’re usually covered behind his fringe, and he hasn’t had the chance to catch another glimpse of them since. “Are they scales?”
Malleus hums. “No. They’re markings.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know.”
That’s new. Pristine, perfect Malleus, one of the most power wizards in the entire world admitting he’s at a loss? It must be a first for Malleus, Leona notes.
“Why not?” He asks and traces his fingers over the black spots on Malleus’ forehead. They don’t feel weird, maybe a bit raised from the rest of his skin but they’re neither harder nor softer nor otherwise particularly interesting.
Malleus contemplates his answer for a moment and Leona waits a whole minute before he tugs on a strand of black hair to get his attention back. It does the trick, Malleus finally speaks again. “Not everything in life makes sense, Leona. For example” he continues, shifting so they’re face to face, “these don’t serve a purpose either, do they?”
Malleus brings a hand up and swipes his thumb across the freckles splattered across the bridge of Leona’s nose. They’re barely noticeable, a slight discoloration of skin that you need to get up close to see. Leona scrunches his nose. There’s an odd gleam in Malleus’ eyes, not mischievous or teasing, almost soft, or as soft as eyes the color of toxic waste can be. Generally, in the dark of the night, Malleus looks softer, less like a crown prince born from thorns and more like a person, tangible and real. Leona raises his nose to look down on him but Malleus doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps examining Leona’s freckles.
“Did you know” Malleus begins, thumb now brushing over Leona’s cheeks, “Some fairies consider marks around the nose a sign of creativity and diligence. It is said that those people are guaranteed a successful life both in their career and family.”
Leona snorts “Well, consider me the living proof that their words hold no meaning.”
While Leona laughs, Malleus scrunches his nose and watches him silently until he settles down again. “I didn’t know you were part hyena.”
Leona blinks at him.
It takes another three prolonged heartbeats of him staring blankly at Malleus until his brain kickstarts again and he barks out another laugh. “Malleus, was that your attempt at making a joke?”
“Not at all.” Malleus says and places a hand on Leona’s shoulder. He pushes him down until his back hits the soft mattress, “But hyenas laugh at everything.” Malleus continues, the hand on his shoulder returning to caress Leona’s cheek, “Even the truth.”
He half-expects Malleus to lean down and kiss him but Malleus rarely takes the initiative, something about wanting to be invited to do things, and today doesn’t seem to be an exception. He’s lucky Leona just takes what he wants. Between the two of them there’s no hierarchy keeping him in place and rules that stop him from pushing himself up into Malleus’ space and closing the gap between them.
Leona simply takes while Malleus lets him.
Malleus goes willingly.
It's good enough for now.
He watches Riddle examine Ruggie’s arm from the corner of his eye. Riddle is meticulous in the way he works and moves with practiced ease. Beside him, Ortho floats up and down happily and parrots the results of the scans and tests he had Ruggie do earlier. All his results are normal, nothing is out of the ordinary.
Ruggie’s arm is alright.
Ruggie is alright.
Still, Ruggie spends the rest of the day and all of the night at Mostro Lounge, curled up amongst the other second years. Leona no longer catches him scrutinizing his arm from that point on.
“Do you think it’s because you’re one of the strongest?” Malleus asks him.
They’re sprawled across his bed, Leona’s chess set squeezed in between the tangle of limbs they’ve become.
Leona raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Malleus stills to take a look at the board.
“Before your overblot.” He says, then moves his queen. “You burned the brightest. Maybe that’s why you’re so cold now.”
He’s not cold but they’ve steadily been gravitating towards each other over the course of the game until Leona sneakily scooched his toes underneath Malleus’ thighs. Malleus had looked borderline offended at the sudden contact but it’s not Leona’s fault Diasomnia has no particular interest in heaters and proper insulation.
Leona takes a quick glance over their current positions and puts Malleus in check.
Then the game halts.
Malleus doesn’t look at the board again, only at Leona, and whatever is going on in that horned head of his, Leona wants no part of it. He wiggles his icy toes and huffs, “You’re being ridiculous.”
Malleus hums and rests his hand next to the chess board, palm up, instead of making his next move. Leona rolls his eyes but diligently places his own on top of Malleus’.
Their game ends in stalemate.
Malleus scratches the sensitive spot behind Leona’s ear and flips the page of the book he’s currently engrossed in. Leona doesn’t notice that his world has shifted upside down yet when Malleus flattens his hand and runs it down Leona’s spine, down to where his tail sits right at the small of his back, then up again.
They’re skipping Alchemy. Leona is, Malleus has a free period and Music classes in a little over half an hour that Leona is intent on making him miss. Malleus doesn’t need Music anyways. He can play a ridiculous number of instruments and he’s absentmindedly humming a song right now – that should be enough musical knowledge to last him a lifetime. It’s a surprisingly chipper melody, something far lighter than what Leona would have expected from someone from the Valley of Thorns, sinister and dark as it has been described to him. Then again, the lullabies he sang to Cheka were much alike, far removed from the ugliness of the world to lull an annoyingly innocent child to sleep.
Malleus’ voice fills the empty air, but it’s not loud enough to carry beyond the little perimeter of where there sprawled out underneath a plumeria.
“Do you know how to dance, Leona?” Malleus asks, cutting the song just short of its refrain. His fingers slip into his hair again where he moves them in small circles over his scalp until Leona lets out a soft purr.
“Mm kind of.” Leona says. Back when him and Farena still hung out they’d danced sometimes. Nothing grand, just two kids hopping to the beat of a drum. He stopped when it turned to him and a snappish dance instructor in an empty ballroom though, and he hasn’t danced since. “I’m not really good at it.”
“Does that matter?” Malleus asks, digging his fingers into the space behind Leona’s ear where fluff turns into hair. Leona turns his head in Malleus’ lap and narrows his eyes at him. It matters, he wants to say but his mouth stays shut. Farena can’t dance yet he stumbled his way through his wedding dance. Cheka still hasn’t discovered there’s a rhythm he’s supposed to follow but he shuffles around the room when there’s music anyways. And Leona – Leona hasn’t danced in forever. You dance when you’re happy, at celebrations and parties, even if they’re all politics and bubbly champagne. But that’s not his world, not anymore, not since –
“I wanted to ask you to dance at the party of the last day of Halloween.” Malleus continues and twirls a chocolate colored strand around his index. “But I stepped outside briefly and when I returned you were swept up by the students of Pomefiore.”
Ah, that. Epel and the other magical shift players wanted to play a drinking game, not caring that you couldn’t get drunk off of apple juice and sparkling water. Vil had some things to say on the matter, mostly about how Epel spilled his drink over himself and ruined the cape he spent so much time designing. Then there was Rook who Ruggie still thinks is intent on skinning him. Granted, Rook is part of the science club and you never know when Crewel decides it’s time for a new coat, not that Rook has ever needed an excuse for a hunt.
“Besides” Malleus starts again. “I don’t feel like you would have taken me up on my offer.”
Then Malleus’ hand stills completely as Malleus gets lost somewhere within his thoughts, in the dust covered shadows of the back of his mind. The hand in Leona’s hair grows light, his touch barely there. It feels like they no longer occupy the same space. Leona decides he doesn’t like it at all.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have.” He says. Malleus stays quiet and that’s just as well, even if Leona adds the solemn look on his face to the list of things he doesn’t like. It’s the truth though. They’re not really friends, not quite – they still fight all the time, over magical shift and whose dorm has the better starters, who’s responsible for dropping another vial during potions classes or who gets the comfier pillow. And Leona doesn’t dance, not in front of that many people and not alone in his room.
He doesn’t even remember how to.
“We could dance now.” Malleus says, already shuffling to his feet. Leona’s head gets dislodged in the process and hits the soft grass. He shoots Malleus an ireful look and swipes at his feet but he’s too far and he ends up tearing his claws through empty air.
“Who says I’d dance with you?” Leona growls and pushes himself up on his elbows. His words fall on deaf ears, Malleus already has his pen out and draws an artful curve through the same patch of air Leona split. A familiar buzz fills the greenhouse as his fingertips start tingling pleasantly from the presence of Malleus’ magic, overwhelmingly powerful even at such minuscule displays of his ability, and perpetually majestic. As much as he loathes to admit it, Malleus’ magic is always a sight to behold, wild like a dream and commanding like a storm, nature itself abiding by his will as if it was the greatest honor. He closes his eyes and savors the feeling on the tip of his tongue.
Then there’s music, soft, melodic, and pleasant as an orchestra of string instruments takes over the quiet. When Leona looks up again, there are no violins and Chellos within the conservatory, only their sounds tinting the world around them the tender colors of a sunrise. Malleus has already pocketed his pen again, his hand now expectantly outstretched towards Leona.
“I’m not particularly well-versed in dancing either.” He says, looking this side of wary, as if he’s not sure Leona won’t unleash an armada of rampant herbivores from within the greenery and try to stampede him again at proposing something as ludicrous as dancing. “But it’s just us here.” Malleus continues, his hand not wavering in the empty space between them, “No one would see us.”
Leona narrows his eyes at him.
He doesn’t dance. But Malleus looks at him almost eagerly, hopeful, like all the cares of their world would disappear if Leona took his hand.
Leona sighs. “I get to step on your feet.”
The smile Malleus shoots him is blinding and Leona has to look away for a moment before his heart catches in his throat.
He lifts his hand, Malleus takes it, pulls him up and just like that they’re dancing.
Badly.
Malleus twirls him around the room with little grace and finesse. Neither of them knows what they’re doing. There are too many plants in too little space to avoid a face full of leaves at least once. One pot topples over and cracks at their feet when neither of them makes a move to save it. Leona frequently steps on Malleus’s feet and laughs at all of the faces Malleus makes when he does.
They stumble and almost fall.
There’s a stick in Malleus’ hair and a vine curling around his horn and Leona’ pretty sure there’s a thorn stuck in one of his braids. Malleus’ grip on his hip is a little too tight and commanding. He steps onto one of the ceramic remains of the pot and they almost bump into a rhododendron twice, actually do on the third time because they can’t take their eyes off each other.
It’s the most fun Leona’s ever had while dancing.
Malleus’ brows furrow when Leona starts laughing. He’s still concentrating hard on not tripping over his own feet but Leona does it for him, steps on Malleus’s boot that’s already got has an imprint of the sole of his sandal ingrained in the leather, and when Malleus finally looks at him he can’t help the stupid smile and joins Leona in his laughter.
“You know” Leona says in between chuckles, “I thought you were kidding when you said you couldn’t dance but you’re actually trash.”
If Leona wasn’t looking so cheerful Malleus would have argued. Right now though, he’d much rather Leona stay this chipper so he decides to take the blow to his ego. For now.
“I don’t want to hear that from you, Leona.” Malleus says and scrunches his nose in disdain. Leona laughs again and pulls him a little closer before he spins them around, a little faster this time, trying to catch up with the rhythm of the melody. It’s futile though and they both stumble.
Malleus steadies them before they burst in another fit of laughter. It’s difficult to keep the momentum of the dance going like this but Malleus tries his best, even when Leona interprets a step differently than he intended and he ends up scrambling to keep the pace. Adapting to another person is rather difficult for someone of his level of skill but he needs to let Leona know that he could depend on him as the lead, to keep him safe and secure even through little mess-ups. Somehow, he manages to keep them both on their feet. A miracle, as far as Malleus is concerned.
Leona steps on his foot again.
“Quit looking so tense.” He chides, shooting Malleus another smile, teasing and beautifully carefree.
They’re not quite dancing, more swaying on their feet and occasionally throwing each other for a loop, trying to make the other stumble but never letting them fall. It’s not physically exerting enough to make them break a sweat but Leona laughs again and slides his fingers into midnight colored hair, pulls Malleus close.
They’re both breathless by the time the music comes to an end.
“And it’s a hooooooome ruuuuuun!” Cater announces as they all watch the ball disappear somewhere within the forest. It’s far enough for Leona to have trouble seeing but he’s pretty sure the ‘ball’ that is really everyone’s gloves tied together with sheer determination and magic hits a branch and comes undone.
“Actually, I think that might be a foul ball.” Trey says, one hand on his hip while the other shields his eyes as he squints in the distance.
“Ça depend.” Rook cocks his head to the side in thought and gets up from where he was squatted behind Leona. “We never specified the depth of the outfield. It might still be within reach.”
“Don’t you need to circle all bases for it to be a homerun?” Vil asks though he sounds terribly disinterested. Leona’s not sure why he even bothered joining their game in the first place – any of them really. It started out with just him and Malleus and a one-on-one magical shift game after classes. Then suddenly they were six with only two brooms and Cater was magicking their gloves into a ball. With only two brooms and Vil’s nail file they don’t have enough for magical shift – and the only thing they’re making good use of is Vil’s nail file.
“Well, Leona certainly isn’t running.” Cater observes, swinging his phone from some indistinct space in the woods to Leona who bares his fangs at the camera and swings Malleus’ broom over his shoulder. His own broom rests safely against the nearest tree trunk. They only need one bat and he’s not about to let the herbivores manhandle his.
“I only hit the ball.” He growls, “I don’t run.”
“Fair.” Cater nods even though it’s not. Leona’s the batter, he should run as soon as he hits the ball. It’s also not fair he has to play baseball. He wanted to play magical shift and make Malleus eat dirt while they’re at it. Leave it to Rook and Cater to get involved in things that don’t concern them.
“So is it in or not?” Trey asks again.
“I don’t know.” Cater pockets his phone and shrugs, “I never played baseball before.”
“Neither have I.” Trey shakes his head.
“Have any of you even played baseball before?” Leona asks, caught somewhere between exasperated and bone tired.
“Nope.” Cater says and throws up what he thinks is supposed to be an appeasing peace sign.
“Never.” Trey agrees.
Vil keeps filing his nails while Rook shoots him this appeasing yet highly entertained sort of smile that makes his blood boil. Malleus looks utterly lost at him from the pitcher’s mound.
Leona drags a hand down his face.
“Alright then.” He says, not bothering to hide any of his disdain, “We can just play sockball then since our ball is trash anyways. Rook, you explain the rules while I get what’s left of the ball.”
Normally, he wouldn’t lower himself to such tasks but it’s better than sticking around. He could try to sneak away now but Rook would notice before he’d be able to get any considerable distance in between himself and the herbivores and it’d be an unfair fight anyways with the five of them ganging up on him – and he’s not about to have his ass handed to him by Vil Schönheit and Cater Diamond. Sockball is easy enough, even the cubs play it back home. Now that explaining the game is up to Rook and his waterfall mouth he might even get a nap out of it. Or maybe –
“Malleus.” He says and nods his head towards the general direction of the forest. “Get going.”
Malleus gives him an incredulous look. Clearly he was very interested in the rules of Sockball but Leona really doesn’t care. Rook’ll talk about something unrelated the first chance he gets anyways. Probably Vil’s hands now that he’s done filing his nails. Leona really doesn’t want to be around for that.
He starts walking. Malleus follows short after and they disappear into the forest just when Rook swings his arms out wide and leads everyone else down a mental detour.
The fairies have decided to skip winter so the trees are back to being thick with lush green leaves when their branches should be bare. The autumn leaves have also been cleaned up. There’s no crunch underneath his sandals when he walks. He steps on a twig and cracks it in half. It’s not the same but whatever. Green leaves make for a softer bed anyways.
“We’ve got ten minutes.” Leona says when they come to a stop in front of what’s left of the ball. Finding it was easy enough with all of their scents combined into a pile of residual magic. He thinks back to Rook and how he’s probably explaining why today’s sky is so much prettier and bluer than anything he’s ever seen. “Fifteen, actually.” He corrects and turns to Malleus with a sly smile. “Any ideas what we could do until then?”
“You could explain the rules of Sockball to me.” Malleus says, one hand coming up to tap his chin, “I think Lilia mentioned playing it once though he never told me about the specifics. If I remember correctly, it was when he –”
Leona presses their lips together before Malleus can continue that train of thought.
The surprise last only a fraction of a second, then Malleus exhales a little puff of smoke through his nostrils. It fans across Leona’s cheeks and warms his skin while Malleus moves against him, with him. Sunlight isn’t warm like Malleus but fire is too destructive to truly catch his nature. Malleus isn’t caustic, he’s not vicious, he’s not coal and ash but something gentler.
If anything, Malleus is infinitely soft, someone born from loneliness that still wants to reclaim the dreams he once abandoned. The dragonfire coils inside him like a stellar object radiating pure energy from its core, pushing outwards against the world and trying not to crumble inwards when the pressure from everyone else lures him into an unstable limbo between a star and a supernova.
If you asked Leona to pinpoint what happened first between him pushing into Malleus’ space until Malleus needs to step back and Malleus burying his fingers into his hipbone to pull him tight he wouldn’t be able to tell. But Malleus steps back, the fabric of his pants catches on the twig that’s now snapped in half and they both tumble onto the mossy ground.
Leona’s instincts kick in, he scrambles to stay on his feet, bumps his nose into Malleus’ shoulder and his elbow into his stomach and effectively knocks the air out of them both. They fall, hard, and he’s pretty sure Malleus hits his head against one of the overgrown roots sticking out of the dirt. It’s the first time he hasn’t landed on his feet since he learnt how to fly a broom when he was four.
There’s groaning – not the nice kind – and he can’t tell if it comes from Malleus or himself. Probably both. He never really recognizes either of their voices when they pull apart for air, like they’re still bleary from sleep and a little bit dazed and words are less spoken than they are resonating inside their ribcages.
He dislodges his elbow from Malleus’ stomach and pushes himself up enough so his face isn’t half-buried in a lime green waistcoat. There’s dirt in his hair and the cuffs of his shirt now have stains. He’s missing a sandal. Malleus has mud caked across his cheek and the same sort of childlike glee in his eyes when he tells Leona about an abandoned castle he discovered during one of his walks or found a particularly intricately carved gargoyle.
Then Malleus laughs, unrestrained and sincere and rich, and something strange wells up inside Leona’s chest. Something white hot and familiar. It’s not rage –
But it’s warm.
And it kind of feels like ... sweet passionfruit, or the sultry scent of the lotus bloom.
It really feels like …
Oh.
When Leona laughs he suddenly cannot stop anymore. He laughs until his lungs hurt, until there’s moisture collecting at the corners of his eyes.
He laughs and he doesn’t stop.
Malleus asks him if he’s broken.
Malleus’ tongue is hot and heavy against his own, hungrily licking into Leona’s mouth then tracing patterns along his skin, gently biting down where his shoulder and neck connect. One knee is firmly wedged in between Leona’s thighs, spread just enough to allow Malleus to slide their bodies together in an agonizingly delightful way.
Still, something’s off.
There’s a desperation in the way Malleus fists Leona’s hair in one hand, the same kind of vigor and underlying anger Leona kisses Malleus with when Cheka calls to tell him about a particularly beautiful sunset over the Afterglow Savanna. It’s not unlike their first kiss in that regard, though it’s not as clumsy anymore, not as painfully inexperienced.
It's annoying, really, because tonight Ruggie’s too busy helping out at Mostro Lounge to sneak into his room to steal the contents of Leona’s wallet, no Jack and Sebek requesting their presence for guidance or extra training and no homesick first years crying on their doorsteps either. They were finally going somewhere, three years’ worth of tension accumulating to this, both of them sprawled out on Leona’s bed with no reason to leave anytime soon. And much as Leona wants this, he’d rather not do it when Malleus is in a shit mood.
With a heavy sigh, Leona turns his head to the side and pushes at Malleus’ shoulder. Malleus stops instantly, leaning a polite distance away from Leona to allow him to breathe.
“Sorry, was that too much?” Malleus asks, lime green eyes filled with the slightest hint of worry.
“As if.” Leona huffs and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can take a whole lot more than you could ever give.” He says, flicking Malleus’ forehead in kindhearted teasing. “But you’re not feeling it today.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turns on his side and pats the space next to him.
Malleus looks at him like wants to protest but Leona shoots him a glare, the kind that leaves no room for arguing and when Malleus’ doesn’t move, shoves him until they’re laying side by side.
Well, that was easier than anticipated. He’d expect some sort of polite reluctance from the lizard that Leona would have to wrestle out of him but Malleus only sighs, pushes a hand through inky locks and stares at the ceiling.
Malleus can’t stop himself from thinking but he can force himself to at least relax a little. Maybe.
Malleus slides his hand up Leona’s waist and rests it on the small of his back. Leona hums approvingly but Malleus just keeps it there and lets Leona curl himself around him. He doesn’t move beyond that, instead gets stuck somewhere within his head and stares at the ceiling.
Leona waits all of five minutes before he lifts his head and follows Malleus’ gaze. It’s just a ceiling, no ornate details, no intricate patterns, no stucco lining the wall, and Leona fails entirely to see what Malleus is so fascinated by.
“Keep going.” He says so Malleus moves his hand again. He skims his palms over the rise of Leona’s shoulders, down to the small of his back, then back up again. It’s almost like petting a cat. Next to him he can feel Leona relax, his muscles loosening underneath his fingers as he presses a hum into the side of Malleus’ throat.
Maybe Malleus isn’t really looking at the ceiling, Leona muses. Maybe Malleus sees something he doesn’t. But Malleus turns his head before Leona can ask him about it, choosing to look out the balcony instead, right above where Leona’s head is squished into Malleus’ shoulder.
The night sky is something Leona understands looking at, at least. It’s pretty with the moon reduced to nothing more than a sliver and the stars sparkling prettily. Farena used to point out constellations and explain their meanings when they were younger so Leona instinctively searches for the ones he recognizes.
“Look.” He says and points at a particularly bright star. When Malleus does as he’s asked Leona traces his finger across the dark sky, connecting one star to a few smaller ones clustered around it, “There’s me.”
Malleus breathes in and drags his hand down Leona’s back again.
“Leo?” He asks, sneaking his arms around Leona’s waist to squeeze, then pull him tight.
“Mhm” Leona hums as he presses himself closer against Malleus. His eyes scan across the sky again, and then after a little more searching, “And there’s you.”
Malleus puts his chin on top of Leona’s head and lets his thumb drift down to swipe against the planes of his abdomen until he pushes a satisfied purr out of Leona. “Where?”
Leona huffs, takes Malleus’ hand in own and drags their entwined fingers over the endless span of the night until they land on a group of stars a little higher up, “Right here.”
The thumb has wandered down to his pelvis where it momentarily stops tracing circles into his skin. “… We’re quite far away from each other.”
Leona laughs. “Of course we are. Nothing out there is close, Malleus. Space is vast, there’s a whole lot more nothing than there is stars and planets and galaxies.”
The sound Malleus makes is caught between a disgruntled huff and a sulk rumbling in his chest, either way he doesn’t sound particularly pleased with his response.
“We should be closer together.” Malleus argues and presses his nose into the crown of Leona’s head.
“Oh?” Leona hums and squeezes their still entwined hands – a gentle reminder that they were, in fact, impossibly close already. “You’re gonna rearrange the stars now, great wizard Malleus Draconia? Show me what one of the most powerful wizards in the world is capable of?”
He receives a gentle nip to this ear in warning, not at all pleased with Leona’s teasing. But Malleus nuzzles into Leona’s hair again, letting out a soft sigh as Leona curls his tail around Malleus’ leg and squeezes.
They stay like this long enough for sleep to begin clouding Leona’s vision. He shakes his head and tries to stay awake, at least until Malleus’ leaves – because he likes watching him disappear into the darkness of the night, pretending he kicked Malleus out with a smug smile, not because he’s come to realize that waking up alone feels a little colder when you’ve fallen asleep next to someone.
Malleus has never stayed the night so far. With those grotesquely spindly horns of his he needs special pillows to sleep without waking up all stiff and cranky the next day. That and he’s too afraid of accidentally poking Leona’s eyes out with his horns while he sleeps. Leona will just have to snag one of those pillows from Malleus’ bed and stick cotton balls to the sharp ends of his horns, then he could finally fall asleep in peace.
Thankfully Malleus makes no move to leave yet so Leona shifts again until he’s no longer lying on Malleus’ shoulder and instead on his whole arm which is both more comfortable and successfully traps Malleus in place. If he were to fall asleep now, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sneak away. Malleus wraps their hands around Leona’s middle and pulls him against his chest more firmly.
“Someday.” Malleus murmurs into the empty space between Leona’s ears. It’s barely audible, even less so to Leona who’s tightly wrapped up in his blankets and Malleus’ arms and already more than halfway asleep.
“Hm?” Leona’s too tired for actual words, the heat radiating off Malleus gently lulling him to sleep. Dragon fire, it turns out, isn’t as devastatingly scorching and soul-crushingly searing as one might have thought, more like a hot mug of cocoa on a cold winter day or heated up sand on the beach. Leona sneaks his frozen fingertips underneath the hem of Malleus’ shirt.
“Nothing.” Malleus says instead of repeating himself and presses a kiss to the top of Leona’s head, “Just go to sleep.”
Leona already has.
Malleus is stiff and cranky when he wakes up. It’s three am and Leona’s entirely too comfortable to relieve Malleus of his job as his personal pillow. Leona curls himself around Malleus tighter. There’s a flick of magic and its green residue floating through the air, then a mattress that’s a tad firmer than his own.
They sleep in Diasomnia for the rest of the night.