Page 6 of A Queen and Her Knight

Frangi made an embarrassingly squeaky noise and flew backwards into the table, knocking his paper cup to the ground, though he didn’t risk bending over to get it. At this rate, he’d probably fall on his ass.

His wings were racing faster than the rush of his heart, but he did his best to lean against his wobbling table and look like a graceful fairy of legend, or at least like a sexy potential hookup at a bar. His stomach flipped uncontrollably, but he ignored it and smiled widely.

The boy’s lips parted at his smile, but he frowned without smiling back. He focused on Frangipani’s mouth for a moment, his eyebrows in a tight line, and then he raised a hand. Between two of his fingers was the flower Frangi had tucked behind his ear that morning. Frangi reached up automatically to feel for it at his ear, but it was gone. He hadn’t really expected a haole from the mainland to understand what he was trying to say with that flower, but he still felt stupid to know that it must have fallen to the ground sometime during today’s attempt to get the guy’s attention.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling even more like a dumbass when the guy frowned harder. But he accepted the flower with the lightest, most careful touch he could manage with the boy this close. Despite his efforts, their fingers touched. Frangi shivered, and thought it was his imagination that the silver, shining light around the boy seemed to flare brighter.

That was the sun playing with his aura of fairy glitter, Frangi told himself, but held his breath when the boy didn’t move away. There was still that pink blush in his cheeks, slowly spreading to his ears the longer he stood there. Frangipani hesitated with the flower in his hand, then slipped it over his ear, only to becompletely taken aback when the boy stared at it with wide eyes and then at Frangi’s mouth a second before he dropped his head. His blush went from pink to red, and he was so close he felt like sunlight. Frangi cupped the boy’s cheek without thinking, then remembered he was dealing with a human, and humans tended to be awkward about that kind of thing, the way they were about clothes, and sugar, and the natural beauty that fairies had to offer. He pulled his hand away and stood there, waiting for the boy look back at him.

He could do this. He could speak.

“Howzit? I mean, hi! I mean, nice day,” he blurted, and briefly closed his eyes at his own stupidity. “I sound like an idiot,” he complained a second later. “Talking isn’t something I have much practice with. I mean, not to get someone to sleep with me. That makes me sound like a jerk, doesn’t it?” He pushed out a breath and wondered why his human was glancing from his mouth to his eyes with startled intensity. “Maybe you just don’t like fairies, huh?” Frangi pondered aloud, more to himself since the guy still hadn’t answered him. “Or maybe you want a fairy who is less of a dork. My sister always calls me a dork. So did the kids in high school. Maybe it’s true.” Frangipani huffed at the memory and got his wings under control at last. He looked deep into ocean blue eyes, past the scratch in the right lens of the guy’s glasses. “I still talk plenty though, eh? Sorry.”

“No!” The human burst out, almost too loud for just the two of them, and frowned so deeply that Frangipani wanted to apologize again. He must have had a weird look on his face anyway, because the boy shook his head and wet his lips before speaking again. “No, but please speak slower,” he enunciated, still loud, and watched Frangi’s mouth.

The frown on the boy’s face wasn’t going anywhere. Frangi studied him, totally confused, until he realized what was going on.

His smile returned and he bounced back to life, extending his wings with a flash of gold glitter.

“Thank you for my flower,” he said, as slowly as he could, making sure the boy could read his lips as well as his sincerity, and was warmed all over by the boy’s answering grin.

The human ducked his head, like he was shy and delicious after all, but when his gaze came up it was bold and bright. “You haven’t worn it before.” This time he moved his hands as he spoke, using ASL, which Frangi could only wish he understood.

Frangipani reached up to touch the petals. His wings were creating a breeze of their own, stirring the boy’s hair and sending it into his eyes.

“You noticed?” Frangi nearly panted it, a dork to the core. “I mean,” he belatedly tried to stay cool, “I mean, my name is....” Hesitant over the unusual word, he paused, then leaned in, “Frangipani.” They were close enough to kiss. He wondered if the boy would mind, and flicked a look up into his eyes, which were wide and stunned and really pretty. For a human. For anyone.

The boy’s hands curled, skittering out like he had a thought he didn’t share, so Frangi said it again. “Frangipani,” he pronounced, then shrugged, “or just Frangi.”

“Adam,” the boy volunteered and brushed his hair impatiently from his eyes. Frangipani had wanted to do that for him, but only sighed and inched in closer.

“Adam,” Frangi repeated, liking the quick, happy grin that appeared on Adam’s serious face, “Hey there.”

The End

Almost a Lie

First posted in 2016

Set before the events ofLittle Wolf

Summary: Graham knows something is up with Albert but no one will tell him what it is. m/m

Graham wasn’t certain what was wrong with Albert. He wasn’t—he didn’t mean to be—so attuned to Albert’s moods. It was more that Albert was usually so easy to be around that when he wasn’t, when his scent was sour with agitation and worry and he couldn’t be still, Graham noticed.

Of everyone else in town, Albert was always the easiest to be around. Albert never pestered Graham for reading too much instead of playing or going up to the Meadows with the other weres his age. Albert didn’t sniff around him in confusion or make comments about “late bloomers” in a consoling voice, as if Graham needed to be consoled about something.

Graham knew what they meant, of course. They meant the surge of hormones associated with puberty. He could hardly miss it. He was were too, despite how they treated him. He had a body, and it reacted to the constanthot/salt/ironscent of arousal in all his classmates even when he wished it wouldn’t.

But Graham didn’t smell like that for anyone. He didn’t glance around his class and see anyone who made him want to frolic, or howl, or do something equally silly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But then, at other times, when he raised his head from his studies and found Albert pacing, or staring out the windows, and it was more obvious that Graham was missing something, he felt a spike of anger. Albert felt everything the other weres did. That was why the other weres would understand what was bothering Albert now, but all Graham could do was watch Albert look out at the snow.

Albert was supposed to be studying with him, although they were in different classes and Albert didn’t care much about most schoolwork. He did well enough to graduate, but when adults mentioned college, he shrugged and glanced away.

The adults would turn to Graham then, as if something was wrong.Again.

Graham wrinkled his nose in annoyance, then inhaled, leaving his mouth open to catch more scent. His bedroom smelled like books and some dust and the lingering scent of semen from the times he masturbated. But that was all distant and already fading compared to the steady warmth ofAlbert. Albert-scent was forever a muddle even though Graham knew it intimately and would recognize it anywhere. Albert was grass, and sharp wind, and something else, as familiar as Graham’s old blanket.

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