Chapter Fourteen #2
“Tomorrow we plan.” Mabon looked at the clock – it was almost four in the morning. “Today we sleep.”
/~/~/~/~/
Mabon woke on the sofa to sunlight streaming through the library windows and Rux’s elbow in his ribs. Urien had somehow ended up on the floor, still asleep, one hand clutching the remote control.
“Coffee,” Rux mumbled into Mabon’s shoulder.
“You make it.”
“Too tired. I watched emotional humans all night.”
“Your idea.”
“Was not.”
Mabon extracted himself carefully, stepping over Urien. His dragon stirred, immediately orienting toward Sam’s cottage across town. The pull had grown stronger and more insistent each day. Soon, waiting would stop being an option and start being genuine torture.
By the time Mabon returned with coffee, both his mates had migrated to vertical positions. Rux sprawled in the wingback chair, hair escaping its tie. Urien sat cross-legged on the floor, looking far too alert for someone who’d slept beneath a coffee table.
“I’ve got it,” Urien announced before Mabon could distribute mugs. “A garden.”
“You have several gardens.”
“For Sam.” Urien’s eyes brightened to that particular blue that meant he’d latched onto an idea and wouldn’t release it.
“His cottage has that patch of dirt by the door. Mostly weeds. I could transform it - install raised beds, plant herbs he’d actually use, create something beautiful and permanent with his name spelled out in flowers. ”
Mabon handed him coffee. “You want to landscape his property without permission.”
“As a gesture.”
“That’s vandalism.”
“It’s romantic.”
Rux snorted into his mug. “It’s creepy. ‘Hey, noticed your gardening situation while definitely not watching your house, fixed it, your name’s in pansies now.’”
“Salvias,” Urien corrected. “Pansies wouldn’t survive winter.”
“That doesn’t address the creepy part.”
Mabon settled onto the sofa, stretching his legs. His dragon pressed against his consciousness, demanding action. Planning felt like stalling, but charging into Sam’s life without a strategy had failed spectacularly three times already.
“Gardens take time,” Mabon pointed out gently. “We need something immediate.”
“Fine.” Urien wrapped both hands around his mug. “What’s your brilliant idea?”
Mabon had spent the last hour of terrible films thinking about exactly that. What did Sam need?
“Security,” Mabon said. “Financial security. I could set up an investment account in his name - something stable that generates passive income. Perhaps buy him a business or something similar. But it could be enough that he could quit the coffee shop if he wanted and focus on his writing.”
His idea was greeted with silence at first, then Rux started laughing - a full-body, gasping laughter that had him doubled over in the chair.
“You…” Rux wheezed. “You want to give our fourth money laundering concerns as a romantic gesture?”
“It’s not money laundering. It’s a properly structured portfolio.”
“‘Dear Sam, here’s mysterious wealth from strangers, love us please.’” Rux wiped his eyes. “That’s worse than the gold bar.”
“The gold bar was traditional.”
“The gold bar made him think we were criminals.”
Urien cleared his throat. “Both ideas show thoughtfulness.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Rux said. “My turn.” He set down his mug, straightening.
“I’ll cook Sam dinner, not at his cottage because of Basil, but at a restaurant.
I can rent out the whole place and create a tasting menu showcasing everything I’ve learned about his preferences.
That would be intimate and personal, and it would show off my skill and devotion through food. ”
Mabon and Urien exchanged glances.
“That’s actually good,” Mabon admitted.
“Until health inspectors shut down whatever restaurant lets a stranger use their kitchen,” Urien said.
“I could buy the restaurant.”
“You’d buy a restaurant for one dinner?”
“I’d buy a restaurant chain if it meant feeding our fated one properly.”
Mabon’s dragon rumbled approval at that sentiment, even as his human brain recognized the absurdity.
“So we all agree my idea’s best,” Rux said.
“Your idea requires permits,” Mabon countered. “And possibly bribing health inspectors.”
“Urien’s idea requires trespassing.”
“Gardening isn’t trespassing if you’re improving the property.”
“Tell that to the police.”
Mabon’s dragon snarled in frustration. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Because you won’t admit dinner is the only viable option.”
“Dinner is the final option.” Mabon stood, pacing to the window. Sam would be at the Daily Bean by now, probably worried about Basil’s behavior, possibly wondering why three men kept appearing in his life. “We do all three.”
Both his mates went quiet.
“Sequential attempts,” Mabon continued, warming to the strategy. “Urien’s garden first…”
“See, he agrees it’s a good idea.”
“Because it’ll take time to establish. Something visible and growing, but in a public space, not Sam’s garden - that would just get us into trouble.
Then my investment account while the garden matures.
Clear financial support without strings.
Then Rux’s dinner as the culmination. We can have it here, rather than at a restaurant, because we really don’t need another business.
” Mabon turned back to face them. “Three gestures. Three of us. Each demonstrating different aspects of what we’re offering. ”
Urien unfolded from the floor, nodding slowly. “A progression. Building toward something undeniable.”
“Exactly.”
“And if he still doesn’t understand?” Rux’s expression had turned serious. “What if Sam thinks we’re just eccentric neighbors with boundary issues?”
Mabon’s chest tightened around that possibility.
“Then we tell him everything. I don’t feel we have any choice.”
“The truth?” Urien said.
“All of it. Dragons. Mates. The bond. Why we can’t stop coming to his coffee shop, why we watch his cottage, why his cat attacks us on sight.
” Mabon met each of his mates’ eyes in turn.
“If three clear romantic gestures don’t make our intentions obvious, then the problem isn’t our approach.
It’s that Sam can’t fathom what we actually are. ”
“The Council…”
“Can just deal with it. It was them who told us that dragons needed to be out among humans to find our Treasure in the first place. They had to have foreseen this possibility.” Mabon’s dragon surged in agreement.
“We’ve followed human courtship rules. We’ve been patient.
But we’re running out of time before this stops being courtship and starts being genuine suffering for all three of us. ”
Rux stood, crossing to grip Mabon’s shoulder. “You’re talking about violating secrecy protocols.”
“I’m talking about claiming our mate.”
“Same thing.”
“Is it?” Mabon looked between them. “The Council allows revelation to human mates. They have to. There are no Treasures left among the dragons. What other choice do we have?”
“I thought the revelation came after bonding,” Urien pointed out. “After the human accepts us, not before.”
“Sam can’t accept what he doesn’t know exists.” Mabon pulled free, frustration bleeding into his voice. “We’re caught in impossible logistics. Human courtship says to be mysterious. Dragon law says stay hidden. How do we bridge that gap without eventually just...telling him?”
The silence between them stretched. Then Rux laughed. “This is ridiculous.”
“Completely,” Urien agreed.
“We’re ageless beings arguing about flower arrangements and investment portfolios.”
“Don’t forget the dinner.”
“While our mate makes coffee and has no idea three dragons are losing their minds over him.”
Mabon felt his own mouth twitch despite everything. “When you say it like that…”
“It sounds insane,” Rux finished. “Which it is. But fine. Your plan works. Garden, money, dinner. If Sam doesn’t understand after that?” He spread his hands. “We tell him everything and hope he doesn’t run screaming.”
“Or call animal control,” Urien murmured.
“Or both.”
Mabon’s dragon settled, satisfied with finally having a clear path forward. “Right then.” He straightened his shoulders. “Urien starts today.”