Work Text:
The scarlet and violet hues of sunset bathe the estate in warm, vibrant colours. They dip low into the sea and dance across the shore-lined figures on their way down, and Brand understands not for the first time why the senior Lord Sun translocated his future home to this place.
From his vantage point, Brand can see Addam's hand move across his notepad in a rough sketch of the beautiful scenery with Rune basically plastered to his back and in deep conversation with Diana who's claimed a different beach chair for herself. Corbie and Layne aren't outside - they are probably stealing the left-over pastries Queenie has stashed on the higher shelf of their fridge while the baker herself is sharing ideas of interior design with an equally enthusiastic Zurah and Ciaran. Not too far from Addam, Quinn and Max have built sandcastles that would be best described as miniature fortresses and they are watching Anna's animated sand soldiers fight in an imaginary war between the two kingdoms while engaging Mayan in a heated discussion about battle strategies.
Brand feels like a proud parent in moments like this.
Such domestic afternoons have (thankfully) become ordinary by this point, but there's a matching look of joy on everyone's faces today that's still pretty fresh. Brand doesn't have to wield magic to sense the peace that has been resuscitated within their family, nor does he have to rack his brain particularly hard to figure out the reason for this rejuvenated merriness and serenity.
"Is there space for one more?"
Brand looks up as the reason himself appears. He scoots over so Lord Tower can take a seat on the tire swing (the new, much bigger one that could support two kids - or adults, per Rune's request - at once since there have been some disputes over it in the past) and tries not to pay much attention to the way their knees brush together.
"I want to say thank you," Lord Tower starts, never one to beat around the bush, "You kept them all safe in my absence. You kept Mayan safe."
"It wasn't just me."
"This is not the time to play humble, Brandon."
Brand nods and lets the pride settle in his chest for a moment.
It's been a full day since the Tower's return but Brand can still feel the weight of the Arcana's arms wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. It was completely by impulse, or perhaps by the restlessness that had been flowing back and forth the Companion bond like some spiritual ping pong ball, that Brand almost tackled the Tower when he first saw him again. He had to take a short pause while Rune reaffirmed that the man in front of him was indeed Anton Saint Joshua, and then he was surging forward and enveloping the Tower in a near bone-crushing hug.
The Arcana hugged him back.
Rune hasn't brought it up yet, but the look he gave Brand afterwards was telling of how unsurprised he truly was. The lack of confrontation from his Companion is alarming and Brand wonders if Rune knows. If there was ever an echo of his feelings that Rune could sense through the bond.
"I-" Brand catches himself and continues, "They missed you. Everyone, I mean."
"Yes, I had a hunch after today's Welcome Back From Semi-Death party."
"Quinn came up with the idea for that banner."
"Naturally."
Brand has been watching the kids all this time but now he can't help but look at the other man. There's something in his eyes - and not just the new creases around it - that has been slowly taking in all the changes that happened since he disappeared into the timestream. It's pride, partially, but there's resignation as well. And while Rune has always worked hard to impress the Tower, he might have missed just how much the Tower has been trying to delay this moment.
"You're important to him, you know," Brand says, and that gets the Tower's attention. From this close, neither of them can hide their feelings, and Brand wonders who's more scared in this scenario. "You probably think that we get along well without you. That Rune doesn't need you anymore. So let me give you a reality check for free and tell you right now that you're fucking wrong. Yeah, we managed not to get ourselves killed while you were gone, but you're needed. You're family. And we're only whole when you're here."
The breeze ruffles Lord Tower's hair as he gives Brand a contemplative look, and it takes more effort than Brand would like to admit not to look away.
"I'm having a strange sense of déjà vu," The Tower finally admits, not entirely without fondness, "This isn't leading where I think it does, right, Brandon?"
Brand rolls his eyes, both as an answer and as an excuse not to look Lord Tower in the eyes as he says: "You've already got a love confession from me once. And even if I was in love with you - which I'm not - I would still think that one rejection was perfectly enough for at least one lifetime. So don't get cheeky."
The Tower doesn't reply, and his unreadable expression irks Brand more than the silence. Then the Arcana rises from his seat, probably so he can look down on the younger man, and Brand just knows that he's about to say something that will surely ruin the ambience.
"You know, I had some time to think in the timestream," Lord Tower says, all philosophical in a way Brand isn't in the mood for.
"I heard that's good for the brain," Brand hums, "Especially for someone in your age."
Lord Tower gives him a withering look before turning around and taking a deep inhale of the ocean air. Dramatics were never just a Misfit Throne speciality.
"I was going to say that if you made a love confession now, my answer might be different," The Tower finally drops the bomb like it's nothing, then follows up with: "But never mind."
As he walks away, Brand struggles with deciding on which emotion to feel in that instance and eventually settles on anger as the good ol' faithful.
"MIGHT?!" Brand repeats as he calls after Lord Tower's retreating back. Even his walk looks smug, goddammit! "You're a fucking asshole, Anton!"
The Tower doesn't look back to correct him on the name use and Brand is left fuming on the tire swing until Corbie runs up to him (with crumbs lingering around his mouth) to ask for a push.
Under the darkening sky, nobody sees Lord Tower smile to himself.