Chapter 37 #3
“It’s not—” She turned back to him, package hidden behind her back. “It’s nothing like what you made. It’s actually kind of a disaster.”
“I’m sure it’s—”
“No, really. There might be paint in places paint shouldn’t be and the leather refused to cooperate. And as you know…Flicker helped, which means there are probably paw prints somewhere unfortunate.”
He smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
“You haven’t seen it yet.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He stepped closer, holding out his hand. “I told you before. You made it. That already makes it perfect.”
The certainty in his voice gave her the courage she needed. She thrust the package at him before she could lose her nerve.
“Just… remember that the technical part works. Probably. Oliver would be proud. Of that part. Not the rest.”
Gideon accepted the package with the same care he might use for unstable alchemical compounds. The wrapping alone told a story, multiple layers where she’d clearly started over, and what looked suspiciously like a blue paw print on one corner.
He peeled back the paper slowly, revealing her creation in all its… glory.
His expression didn’t change. Not exactly. But Cassara saw the minute widening of his eyes, the way his jaw tensed like he was physically holding back a reaction. His mouth twitched once. Twice.
“It’s…” He turned the leather-wrapped disaster carefully in his hands, examining it from different angles like that might help identify it. “This is…”
“Functional,” Cassara supplied helpfully, though she could feel heat creeping up her neck. “Mostly.”
“Right. Functional.” He held it up to the light, where a suspicious spark fizzled from between the leather wrapping. “And it’s a…”
Oh gods. He didn’t even know what it was.
“It’s a protection charm,” she said quickly. “For weapons. Or ACS units. You can attach it to—” She gestured vaguely. “Things.”
“Of course.” He nodded seriously, though she caught the way his shoulders shook slightly. “I can see that. The, uh, the leather wrapping is very…”
“Lumpy?”
“Artistic.” His finger traced one of the paint smears that had definitely seeped where it shouldn’t have. “And this blue accent really adds…”
“That’s not supposed to be there.”
“Character,” he finished, mouth definitely twitching now. “It adds character.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not.” But his voice came out strained, like he was fighting a losing battle.
“You are. Your eyes are laughing even if your mouth isn’t.”
“My eyes are expressing joy,” he corrected, turning on the charm again. He turned it over and something rattled inside. His eyebrows rose. “Is it supposed to make that sound?”
“No,” Cassara admitted miserably. “I think some of the paint got into the mana channels. It might have… crystallized.”
This time he couldn’t quite suppress the sound that escaped, not quite a laugh, more like air escaping a bellows. “You got paint. In the mana channels.”
“Flicker was helping!”
“Of course he was.” He examined the leather more closely, noting what were definitely tiny paw prints pressed into the surface. “I can see his artistic influence.”
“Just say it’s terrible.”
“It’s not terrible.” He looked up at her, and despite the mirth in his eyes, there was something genuinely warm there too. “It’s… unique.”
“That’s what people say about things that are terrible.”
“No, terrible would be if it didn’t work at all.” He held it up again, and another small spark escaped. “This clearly… functions. In its own special way.”
“You don’t even know what it does.”
“Well,” he said reasonably, “that does add to the mystery. Is it supposed to protect against something specific, or…?”
She grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach. “Give it back. I’ll make you something else. Something that doesn’t look like Flicker and I got into a fight with craft supplies and lost.”
“Absolutely not.” He clutched it protectively to his chest. “This is mine now. You can’t take back a gift just because it has personality.”
“Personality,” she repeated flatly.
“Besides,” he continued, finally letting the grin he’d been fighting break free, “how many people can say they own an original Allencourt artistic disaster? This could be valuable someday.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He was fully smiling now, examining his paint-splattered, lumpy, occasionally sparking gift with what looked like genuine delight. “This is perfect. It’s like you somehow captured our entire afternoon crafting explosion in one small, chaotic package.”
“That wasn’t the goal.”
“Which makes it even better.” He attached it to his belt, where it hung crooked and immediately released another small spark. “There. Now I’m protected by… whatever this protects against.”
“General threats,” Cassara muttered. “And getting lost. It’s a tracking charm. In case you misplace your ACS. Or yourself.”
His expression shifted, the laughter fading into something softer. “You made me a tracking charm?”
“It’s practical!”
“So I don’t get lost,” he repeated quietly.
“Your ACS is expensive. It would be irresponsible to lose it.”
“Right. My expensive equipment.” But his hand went to the charm at his belt, fingers tracing the lumpy leather with surprising gentleness. “That’s very… thoughtful.”
“It’s very dysfunctional, is what it is.”
“It’s perfect,” he said again, and this time there was no laughter in it at all. Just that same intensity from the dance floor, from the snowbank, from every moment where the space between them felt too full of possibility.
“Even with the paint?”
“Especially with the paint.” He chuckled. “Though I do have one question.”
“What?”
“If this is for tracking…” He tilted his head, studying her. “Does that mean you’ll always know where I am?”
Heat flooded her face as the implication hit. She hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t considered how it might sound.
“Yes but for emergencies,” she said quickly. “Only for emergencies.”
“Of course.” But his smile suggested he heard what she hadn’t said. That she’d made him something to keep him safe. That she’d wanted to be able to find him.
That maybe, despite everything, she couldn’t bear the thought of him disappearing without a word.