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Malleus Draconia did not understand the ‘hype’ about many things mortals seemed to enjoy.
Yes, he had indeed consulted the dictionary—‘hype’ referred to an intense and often exaggerated publicity for a certain person or item. That definition, be it useful, failed to answer his question.
He did not understand the ‘hype’ of the mobile application, Magicam. Of what use was snapping and storing photos into that thin metal box, then never glancing at them again? He had asked Diamond once, and the other boy had replied with something along the line of ‘likes’ and ‘shares’ and ‘Internet engagement’. Malleus decided against questioning him again, lest the boy demand a ‘selfie’ in return.
He also did not understand the ‘hype’ of mobile games. Were mortals so inherently violent that they tangled themselves into the spiderwebs of addiction, to something as foolish as a screen, in which you tap to shoot a fictional gun, to kill fictional people? Lilia did seem to have his fun with it, so Malleus had to concede.
He, for his part, was pleased enough with Roaring Drago. Drago was cute, ate well, and slept well. And did he mention that Drago was cute?
The ‘hype’ of the movie-watching art too mystified him. What was so entertaining about viewing a scripted work that mostly catered for two ends of the spectrum—the hairless monkeys or the ridiculously aroused twenty-somethings? Schoenheit would ‘have his ass’ if he spoke his mind, of that fact Malleus was certain.
Malleus did, however, understand the ‘hype’ about Leona Kingscholar. It was, in fact, one of the few mortal phenomena that required no dictionary consultation, no careful observation from afar, no tentative questioning of Lilia or Silver or Sebek.
It was simply self-evident.
Kingscholar was—how had Shroud once phrased it?—‘insanely attractive’. It was a crude assessment, perhaps, but not an inaccurate one.
Malleus found that the appeal did not lie solely in appearances, though those alone could have justified entire libraries of mortal obsession. Leona possessed a sort of languid, sun-drenched beauty, the kind that seemed effortless to the point of insult. Dark hair that refused to be tamed, skin warmed by a perpetual savannah sun, and emerald eyes—those sharp, jewelled eyes—that held a constant, simmering disinterest in the world.
Perhaps that was the use of photos. Malleus tapped at a picture of a sleeping Leona on Bucchi’s Magicam, zooming in on the way his lashes fell over his eyes, caught unaware—
“Oi.”
If Malleus had startled—which he didn’t—Leona could only feel it due to the way he had wrapped his arms around his waist. When he offered no resistance, the beastman pulled him closer—as if he were a mere teddy bear—and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
Malleus’ cheeks burned, but he raised a hand to thread his fingers through Leona’s hair, giving one of his ears a light rub. “You.”
He could feel the way Leona smirked against his sleeve, ear twitching under his touch. “Is that so?”
“It is.” Malleus’ heart accelerated its pulse, a traitor to its own kind. “Do you have a problem with it?”
“Nah.” Leona’s tail circled his other wrist, before entrapping it, the tuft flicking lazily against his palm. “I got a little somethin’ for ya.”
“Oh?” Ah, what a renegade his heart was, betraying his flustered state without any semblance of a fight. “What is it?”
Two flimsy pieces of paper were thrust unceremoniously in front of his face. “The snake and the cephalopunk bailed on Ruggie and his idiot boyfriend. So watch with me.”
Malleus blinked. Was this… an invitation? A date, his mind supplied unhelpfully. Slowly, he took one piece of paper—a cinema ticket, he noted—between two of his fingers. “What is it that we are watching?”
Leona hummed, the sound vibrating in the space where his neck met shoulder. “How to Train Your Dragon.”
“How to Train Your Dragon?” Malleus echoed, a frown gracing his features. “But you already have me trained.”
“That I do.” A shiver blossomed up Malleus’ spine as he felt a purr reverberate against his back. Then he pulled back, and almost immediately Malleus missed his warmth. “But this is some kids’ show and Falena asked me to bring the furball along.”
“Cheka is accompanying us?” And there goes Malleus’ fantasies of a date, spiralling into the throes of babysitting.
“Yeah.” Leona yawned, running a hand through his hair. “Kids watch free, anyway. I’ll probably sleep the whole way. You can watch the kid for me.”
Malleus, touted prodigy and the heir to the multidollar company of Caer Draconia, did not pout. He simply… did a thing with his lips. “And here I thought you were inviting me, your partner of a singular human year, on a date.”
That made Leona’s eyes settle on him, his own lips curling into something sly. He leaned in, stopping just a hairsbreadth away from Malleus’ face. “Did you, now? Sorry for rainin’ on your parade.”
Malleus resisted the battling urges to either pull back or close the gap between them, and let out a soft, breathless huff. “You should be. What shall I receive in return for my unfortunate sacrifice?”
Leona clicked his tongue. “Fine. You and me, next Friday, after my club practice. You pick me up in that car of yours and we can go drinkin’ or somethin’ damn stupid like that.”
Malleus let out a satisfied hum. “I would like that.”
Leona scoffed lightly, though he inched just a little closer so their noses touched. “Of course you would, lizard.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’re predictable.”
“So?”
Leona chose to withhold a reply, stealing a kiss from his lips instead. Pleasantly smug to render him speechless, he turned to leave, tail swishing behind him languidly. “Nothin’. See you later.”
Malleus, effectively stunned, let his finger creep to his lips—to the spot where Leona’s kiss still lingered. No matter how many times it occurred, the act of affection still managed to catch him off guard. “I’ll… see you then.”
—
If he was to be completely frank, Malleus simply adored the small child. For one, Cheka seemed utterly giddy to be spending time with his ‘Unca Mal’. From his limited experience with human children, Silver never did seem as happy to see him. Their meetings mostly transpired in his younger brother throwing a fit and was only content when Malleus allowed the pulling of his horns.
Kingscholar’s nephew, on the other hand…
“Unca Mal, Unca Mal, Unca Mal!” The little boy was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, weaving a small circle between his legs. “Lift me up, lift me up!”
Malleus let out an amused hum, before hoisting the cub by the waist, settling him in his arms. Cheka immediately clung onto his neck, giggling slightly as he turned to Leona, who watched them both with a light glare. “Done?”
For his part, Malleus only shifted the child so he sat closer, more comfortably so, against his chest. It was proving quite the entertaining feat to provoke his partner. “Yes.”
Leona huffed, his tail lashing behind him in irritation, before snatching Malleus’ free hand in his and leading him into the station.
Cheka leaned in closer, whispering into Malleus’ ear, curiosity colouring his voice. “Why is Unca Leona angry?”
“He is simply…” Malleus stifled a soft chuckle, “jealous.”
“Am not.” Leona’s ears twitched, shooting him a glare. He let out that huff again, the one that Malleus was starting to find adorable, and plopped himself down on one of the metal chairs before the rails. “Sit. Train’s comin’ in five.”
Cheka did as he was told—a well-behaved child, he was—sliding into the seat beside his uncle and kicking his legs back and forth. Malleus took the one beside the boy. His legs were too long to kick.
Malleus knew that they could’ve easily taken a cab, or either of their cars, or even Leona’s bike. Still, as he fiddled with the pass card his partner had lent him for the ride, he thought it was nice in a way. To be able to enjoy these simple joys with the person he loved, that was more than he could ask for.
“What’s that?” Cheka was leaning over Leona’s shoulder, his little tail flicking inquisitively as he glanced at his uncle’s screen. Malleus found himself inching closer, placing his chin atop the cub’s hair as he did.
To each their own, a pastime was. Malleus watched, enamoured, as Leona made a blocky little chicken hop across a crocodile-infested river. His thumb flicked against the screen, guiding the pixelated chicken one tile forward, then another. It hopped, paused—
—then flattened.
Cheka gasped. “Unca Leona, you died!”
“No kidding.” He scoffed, though there was no bite in it, already tapping to restart. “That’s kinda the point, kid.”
Malleus tilted his head, watching the little creature ‘respawn’. Lilia had taken to educating him about the ‘gamer slang’. “You seem to be failing rather spectacularly.”
Leona’s ear twitched, and the chicken was run over by a car. “You wanna say that again, lizard?”
“I merely observe.” Malleus hid a smile against Cheka’s hair. “You have yet to surpass thirty steps.”
“Oi.” And there it was—that faint narrowing of his piercing eyes, glinting with the undertone of challenge Malleus had taken to love. “Think you can do better?”
Malleus did not hesitate, reaching over and plucking the device right from Leona’s hand. “I know I can.”
“Hah.” He could almost hear how ticked-off his partner was. “You tap the screen to make it move. That’s it.”
Cheka scooched closer. “Go, Unca Mal! Don’t kill the chicken!”
Malleus narrowed his eyes at the screen. Before him, cows strolled on their merry way, back and forth and back again, chewing on every other beat. Mortals surely did create such interesting things.
He tapped the screen once.
The chicken hopped dutifully.
Then again.
Then—
“Aww, poor Chicky.” Cheka whined, his ears flattening just like ‘Chicky’ had been, the cubed chicken stampeded over by its roaming counterparts.
Leona leaned over, and Malleus didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking. “You were sayin’?”
Malleus thrust the phone back into Leona’s hands. “I am simply… preparing for victory.”
Leona snorted. “You just keep tellin’ yourself that.”
The station bells played their tune, and Cheka bounded out of his chair, spinning around in a dizzyingly hyper circle. “Train’s here, train’s here!”
He held out both of his hands, palm side up, to the two of them. Malleus looked at his hopeful expression, then to Leona, who sighed. “Just take his hand, lizard. He does something stupid whenever the train comes.”
Cheka pouted at him but swung their joined hands together despite that. “It’s not stupid! And Papa says not to say bad words, Unca Leona!”
Leona rolled his eyes. “Oh, I can say so much worse.”
“Do not traumatise the poor cub, Kingscholar.” Malleus slid his hand into Cheka’s, before he smiled down at the child. “Now, what is it you require of us?”
“‘Please watch the platform gap!’” Cheka recited cheerily.
Leona groaned at his words, then turned to Malleus. “Basically, we bring him up like this—” he proceeded to lift the boy up slightly through their joined hands “—over the dumb lil’ gap between the platform and the train.”
Malleus blinked. He used to perform this act of ‘uppies’ with Lilia when Silver had been a toddler. “Ah, I see. Shall we?”
Leona experimentally yanked Cheka up the same time Malleus did, an excited squeal of laughter escaping the little lion. Unbidden, a smile pulled at his lips. Perhaps the burden of babysitting was not as tedious as he had deemed it to be. Now he was starting to miss Silver—mayhaps he should take up Lilia’s offer to ‘thirdwheel’ him and Shroud.
They recreated the little jump when the cabin doors slid open, with Cheka doing a skip during the brief moment he was airborne, descending in giggles.
When they find Cheka a seat—and convince him to sit, that is, the child was very eager to try his utmost to be a ‘big kid’ and hold the handrails—Leona chose to rest his entire weight against Malleus, cheek to shoulder, cheek to crown. Malleus’ fingers tightened around the pole as his lover’s tail banded the line of his waist. Leona yawned, then opened one eye to stare at him. “Your heartbeat’s too loud. S’annoyin’.”
“Ah…” What was he to say to that? He was fairly certain a blush was starting to creep up his neck. “I apologise.”
That elicited a low scoff out of Leona, and he only moved in closer. “Shut up.”
Malleus did.
—
Leona had booked seats at the far back.
“It’s ‘cause of your stupid horns,” he’d said, before delivering a light flick to the said accessories that crowned Malleus’ head. “People’ll complain ‘cause you’re blockin’ the view.”
Malleus trailed his hand up to his horns with a slight frown, his fingers brushing against Leona’s where they lingered. “I did not think of that.”
“‘Course you didn’t.” the beastman barked out a short laugh, a fang catching on his lip when he grinned. He lightly tapped Malleus’ nose, making it scrunch up unconsciously. “That’s why I’m here, hmm? So don't worry your pretty head ‘bout it.”
Again, Malleus did not pout. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“I’m callin’ you pretty, stupid.”
“You are calling me pretty stupid?”
Leona gave him a look that meant that he probably missed a ‘social cue’. Malleus blinked, then immediately ‘backtracked’. What should he say? Should he thank Leona for his preconceived compliment? Or was it an insult— “I think you are pretty and stupid as well.”
Ah.
Well.
Leona blinked, an owlish lion. Then a laugh bubbled out of him, right there in front of the registration counter, stark and loud against the backdrop of popping kernels and carbonated soda, then another.
Malleus was helpless to do anything but smile, a chuckle rising up the column of his throat to parallel his lover.
Even after claiming the title of ‘being together’, it was rare and few that Malleus had the privilege to see Leona so genuine. It was a sight he wished to treasure, to enclose within the throes of his hoard, for it to deign itself as a gold-plated memory.
“Unca Leona!” Cheka had finally returned from the washroom, adjusting his pants with little hands as he beamed up at his uncle. “You’re laughing! I haven’t seen that in really, really, really long!”
Leona only ruffled the cub’s hair. “Yeah, well—” he jabbed a thumb in Malleus’ direction, “—my boyfriend’s really funny.”
Malleus did not know it was possible for Cheka’s eyes to widen even further, but they did. He could almost see a constellation dancing within them, dappled curiosity made tangible. “Really?”
Leona only rolled his eyes—the second time that day, a new low—and hoisted Cheka up into his arms. “At times. Don’t push it or he’ll get smug.”
“I am wounded, Leona,” Malleus hummed, following the pair as they walked down the aisle to Number 7, “that you think so lowly of me you assume me to be smug. Due to a simple compliment, no less.”
“Oh, shut it.” he picked up a plastic ‘booster chair’ for Cheka as they reached the obsidian entrance of double doors. “I can practically hear it.”
He set the little lion down with their tickets to scout out the seats like a pint-sized detective, and Malleus took his opportunity to lean in when they were both shadowed by the dimmed lighting of the theatre. “Boyfriend, hmm?”
Leona let out a soft chuckle. “What of it?”
Malleus wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Nothin’. I love you.”
He could feel the third eye-roll, but Leona’s tail slid down to circle his thigh, settling there like a particularly affectionate strand of yarn. There was a beat—the projection screen displayed its first fluorescent ad—before Leona replied, voice barely above a murmur, “Love you too, idiot.”
—
Cinemas were a location that Malleus had no experience in.
His first impression was that it was loud. As a fae, his ears were more sensitive than most, and the sudden blast of music as the intro played out struck him like a war-drum. Perhaps that was why Leona had cupped his palms over Cheka’s ears during the first few minutes, refusing to move them even as the little lion whined.
His second impression was that a ‘movie’ was simply a breathing work of art. Picture by picture, frame by frame, sewn together to create an illustrious world of fiction. Malleus found his eyes widening at every other scene, letting out soft gasps when Cheka did, fingers blindly feeling for the boxed paper of popped kernels as he kept his gaze fixed to the screen.
How intriguing it was—to have his heart touched by animated characters. Shroud has once said something along the lines of mortals creating these ‘people’ for one to relate to, to love and to laugh with; for them to stay by your side even if no one else did. Malleus hadn’t understood him then, and was uncertain if he gauged the correct definition from his words even now, but he supposed that whoever made these characters must’ve been very lonely. From all the love their characters received, he hoped the creator felt that love tenfold.
He reached for the ‘popcorn’, as Cheka had dubbed it, feeling plastic rather than warmth, and patted the armrest until he did. Then that warmth presented itself palm up, lacing their fingers together.
Leona let his head fall against Malleus’ shoulder with a mutter of, “If you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just said so.”
And Malleus was stricken speechless yet again, stumbling over his words before he settled on, “I wanted the popped corn.”
He could feel Leona’s ears twitch in irritation against the high collar of his ‘turtleneck’. “So, me or the damn popcorn?”
Ah. He misspoke. Gently, he inclined his head to brush a kiss against the crown of his lover’s head. “Is that even a question? You, Leo.”
Leona grumbled, though it dissolved into a tentative purr, ears flattening against his head. “Shut t’fuck up, Mal.”
Still, he passed the popcorn, and Malleus felt his satisfaction melt alongside the salt on his tongue.
Mal, hmm?
—
“Remember when Hiccup went whoosh, through the air?” Cheka held his arms out, in a childish imitation of the Night Fury, Toothless. He ‘flew’ around in rapid circles before Leona held him still with a hand to the scruff of his collar. “No fair, Unca Leona!”
“How are you not tired?” Leona picked him up and gave him a shallow toss in the air. “Go to sleep.”
Cheka only giggled. “Never!”
Leona sighed, shooting an exasperated glance in Malleus’ direction. “See what I have to deal with?”
“I do not.” Malleus lightly pried the cub from his uncle’s arms, settling the boy on his shoulders. Cheka immediately took to using his horns as some form of reins, bouncing excitedly in place. “Little Kingscholar is adorable.”
“See, Unca Leona?” Cheka stuck his tongue out at Leona. “Unca Mal loves me more.”
“Seriously?” Leona’s tail swayed in that aggravated little lash. “Get down from there, brat.”
“No!”
Malleus chuckled, earning him a glare. “Oh, so now you’re siding with the furball.”
“I am taking no sides.” Malleus said simply, and spun Cheka around in a slow circle. He offered his boyfriend a smile. “Whilst the cub may best you in the sector of cuteness, you have him beat at any competition of beauty.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Another rolling of his eyes, but Malleus saw his cheeks tint—only slightly, but it was there. And his next words—a little quieter, so it felt like it was only for his ears to pick up, “thanks.”
Then he huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck as if to dispel whatever faint embarrassment had dared to linger there. “C’mon. Train’s gonna be packed if we don’t hurry.”
Cheka cheered from his perch atop Malleus’ shoulder, little hands tightening in his hair—no, horns—utterly unbothered by the distinction. “Race you, Unca Leona!”
“In your dreams, kid.” Leona snorted, though he did pick up his pace in a way that betrayed his entertainment of Cheka’s whims, long strides easy and unhurried in a way that still somehow outmatched most.
Malleus followed, careful in his steps, one hand steadying the child above him. The echoes of the film still danced behind his eyes—flashes of starlit skies, the rush of wind beneath wings, the quiet, fragile trust between dragon and rider.
Trust.
Such a peculiar, delicate thing.
—
The train screeched into the station with a metallic groan, and Cheka immediately lurched himself forward the moment Malleus set him down on the concrete floor, all eager feet and wagging tail.
“Hold up,” Leona muttered, catching the cub by the front of his shirt before he could fling himself into the gap. With his other hand, he reached back and held his palm out toward Malleus, not looking at him, gaze already half-narrowed at the opening doors. “Gimme a sec, lizard. Floor’s gonna shift when the train stops.”
Malleus blinked.
Leona had not meant it as anything more than a warning, surely. A steadying hand, perhaps. Something practical.
And yet, the second Malleus saw it, instinct answered.
He stepped closer without thinking, lowering his head into Leona’s open palm.
Warm.
Leona went still.
Cheka made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeal. “Unca Leona, Unca Mal, you did the thing! The boop!”
Malleus, realising belatedly what he had done, opened his eyes. Leona’s hand was still there, fingers splayed lightly against his hair, as though he had meant to pat him and had forgotten how.
“…was that,” Leona said after a pause, voice carefully blank, “intentional?”
Malleus took a moment to consider, then decided honesty was the safest path to take. “No.”
Cheka looked between them, eyes practically sparkling. “Do it again, do it again!”
Leona groaned, but he didn’t pull his hand away, which Malleus counted as a victory, “You two’re impossible.”
Malleus straightened slowly, and Leona’s hand slipped from his hair to his cheek for the briefest moment before falling away. It should not have felt so intimate. It should not have made his chest feel so full.
And yet, it did.
Leona clicked his tongue, finally dragging his hand away like it had lapsed a second too long. “C’mon. Train’s here.”
Malleus followed without protest, though his fingers ghosted briefly against his own hair where Leona’s had been, thoughtful.
Perhaps he understood the ‘hype’ now.