Midas was of the opinion he should go for it.
And Fix…well he pretty much agreed. He was sure of what he was feeling. There was a pull inside him that kept tugging and leading him Liam’s way. He knew what he wanted. What he craved.
It was a long shot to hope Liam wanted the same.
Someone to care for him. Someone to take some of the weight off his shoulders. Someone to ease the burden of existing for him. Fix had seen how he reacted to direct instruction, but he couldn’t assume anything with any confidence.
He needed to ask if Liam wanted a daddy.
He parked in front of the headquarters and skulked to his office to pretend to do paperwork while his mind kept replaying every moment he spent with Liam on an endless loop. When he couldn’t even fake focus anymore, he gave up and decided to go home until the next call came in. He was useless anyway.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Taylor’s drawl carried through the doorway to Fix as he turned the corner from the hallway into the front lobby.
He pulled up just short of being spotted, peeking around the potted plant blocking him from view. It was a gamble walking into the lobby of a cursebreaker building. You never knew what was about to greet you.
Fix instantly recognized the head of strawberry blond curls that were shining amber under the overhead lighting above the reception desk. Round wire-rimmed glasses glinted as they were nervously adjusted by long fingers.
Avery Undergrove.
Avery was the Curator and Archivist for the Slatehollow Warehouse, where all good cursed objects, and some magical, went to die—meaning classification and safeguarding. Fix had visited the warehouse a number of times—sometimes the line between cursed objects and nuisance curses that were cast on objects blurred. The previous C&A had been a surly man who’d only acknowledged things with grunts until his very last day, when he’d declared “good riddance” and walked out.
Avery, on the other hand, was as sweet as a box of candies and…eccentric.
It was the only polite way to put it without outright calling the caster weird.
Admittedly, Fix didn’t know too much about him other than that he was surprisingly young to hold such a high title. Only twenty-four. But that added to his eccentricity. Curation and archiving were never any caster’s first choice. Being stuck cataloging objects and sitting around all day was usually what a caster aging out into retirement chose to do with the rest of their working days—like the previous grump.
Avery had been bright-eyed and freshly graduated when he took over two years ago, and appeared to be absolutely delightedby the job to this day. Rarely did he venture outside the confines of his warehouse. Rain or shine. Day or night. Emergency evacuation orders be damned. (Yes, there had been a news report about the strange caster caught cradling cursed objects instead of following safety instructions.)
There was only one thing in the world it seemed that was able to draw Avery from his cave.
A very particular interest.
“This is for Midas. To finish the reports on the items he brought in,” Avery mumbled, holding out a stack of papers the thickness of three books and haphazardly put together.
“I see.” Taylor eyed it with an amused air, making no move to take it with her freshly painted nails. Fix could smell the acetone in the air. “Is the fax machine still broken?”
Avery bit his lip, pink blooming on his cheeks and making his freckles stand out. “Yes. It’s the strangest phenomenon, really.”
“I’ll say. Over a year now and they can’t find the problem and fix it.” Taylor pouted in sympathy. “And your email?”
“Completely unrecoverable still.”
“How frustrating.”
Avery cleared his throat, pulling the paper stack back to his green sweater-vested chest for support so he could use one hand to adjust his glasses again. “Quite frustrating. A mystery, truly.”
“Surely they should send someone out at this point? I’m going to call and give them a piece of my mind, honey, don’t you worry.” She made a show of reaching for the phone and Avery made a sound not unlike the rodents who’d been living in Fix’s desk.
“NO! No, don’t trouble yourself,” he rushed out, holding his hand protectively over Taylor’s handset. “I already called them. They’re on their way…t-tomorrow…maybe…um…next week…um…”
Taylor hid her smirk well, but Fix caught it lurking underneath her concerned veneer like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Well, only if you’re sure.”
Avery bobbed his head up and down so hard Fix was surprised the glasses stayed on his face, relief making his shoulders sag, the papers against his chest slipping lower and revealing a small oval amulet in rose gold.
“It’s still too much though. That you have to come all the way over here in person and risk seeing Midas’s miserable face,” Taylor said, and Fix rolled his eyes, thinking she was laying it on a little thick now.
Avery noticeably twitched at the sound of Midas’s name. The undeniably cute ears that stuck out away from his head turned a deep red that bled down his neck. His fingers tightened on his papers as he fought for nonchalance and landed squarely in enamored territory.
