In Which the Past Threatens to Repeat Itself – The Adventure Zone, Taako and Angus McDonald

[thecrazyalaskan]

Title: In Which the Past Threatens to Repeat Itself
Author: fireweed15
Fandom / Setting: The Adventure Zone: Bureau of Balance arc
Characters / Pairings: Taako, Angus McDonald
Rating: T
Word Count: 1626
Warnings / Notes: Written for Round X of the Hurt / Comfort Bingo: Nausea; mild spoilers for events discussed in "The Eleventh Hour: Part 8"
Summary: Angus is sick. Taako reacts badly to that.

okay tbh y'all can have protective big brother taako when you pry him from my cold dead hands

-- -- -- 

Angus McDonald was many things—late was never one of them.

There were only so many cantrips one could waste time burning before getting a little impatient, and even then Taako gave it another fifteen minutes. Call him sentimental, maybe Still, in the war of Impatience versus Sentiment, Impatience won out. His stone of farspeech was heavy in his hand as he waited for the other end to connect.

Finally—H-hello? It was a child's voice—which made sense, given that it was a child to whom Taako was speaking.

"Angooooooo," he intoned, "I can't believe you're bailing on me already."

Oh— Angus sounded surprised, and it was all too easy to imagine him pushing his round, wire rimmed spectacles up his nose. Oh I'm sorry sir, I don't think I'll be able to make it today.

Taako's brow furrowed. Sure, they hadn't been doing the whole "magic training" thing for a short time, but Angus hadn't missed a lesson—if anything, he'd always enthused to Taako how much fun he was having, and how grateful and appreciative he was that he was teaching him, and it was so sincere and sweet that on some level it made Taako want to puke.

It's not that I don't want to, he was going on before interrupting himself. Hold on— The unmistakable sound of someone being sick—well and truly sick, not so sincere and sweet it makes you want to puke sick—filtered through the stone of farspeech.

Thaaaaaaaaat's not a good sound. "Y'okay there, bud?" he asked, almost dreading the answer.

I think something I ate—

Whatever else he might have said was muffled as Taako shoved the stone of farspeech into his robe pocket and started for the residential domes at a fast clip, expression stony and heart pounding.

I ran before. I'm not running again. Not now.

••• ••• •••

Taako knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Angus’ door was locked, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed as fuck about it. Despite his best attempts at jimmying the lock, it was unsuccessful, which only added fuel to the slow-burning fire of frenzy in his gut. “Oh to hell with this,” he finally pronounced, burning a spell slot with Knock. After a moment, the door clicked open and the door swung open a few inches.

Nobody was in the corridors, but if anyone thought it was odd that Taako was letting himself into his protégé’s rooms, well, they were just going to have to deal.

Much like how Taako was going to deal with being face to face with said protégé, right here and now.

Angus’ quarters were less like the dorm setup Taako shared with Magnus, Merle and Robby, and were more of an ensuite studio. For a hot second, he was almost jealous, but his attention couldn’t afford to be focused on petty jealousy right now. Angus had just emerged from the bathroom, glasses in hand and practically swimming in a loose tunic Taako could only assume were his pajamas. He didn’t look like the world’s greatest detective or like the Bureau’s newest recruit; he looked like a little boy, and for a moment Taako’s vision swam with pure, 100-proof guilt.

Angus slipped on his glasses, squinting for a moment as his vision readjusted. “Oh! H-hello Taako s—“

”How bad is it?” he interjected, finally feeling his feet carrying him across the floor.

”I’m… sorry?” Angus asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

Taako took Angus by the chin, angling his face from side to side."You ate something, you're sick—" Gods he sounded so calm— "what was it and how bad is it?"

"Well, it's not fun having food poisoning—" Confusion was spreading over Angus' whole face, not just his brow. "Sir, with all due respect, why—"

"It was the macarons, wasn't it?" The question instantly made Taako wince. Shit. He'd meant to play his cards close to the vest, fish for information rather than ask outright, but this was going to have to work too.

"What?"

"The macarons." He grabbed Angus by the shoulders; more than anything, he wanted to shake the truth from him—how many, how much, how long ago—as bitter panic rose up in his throat. "Gods almighty, this is why I don't cook for people, it's—"

Angus lifted his hands, waving them insistently as he finally managed to get a word in edgewise. "Sir, I've enjoyed the macarons very much."

The fight drained out of Taako, along with a good portion of the color in his face. "... What?" he echoed numbly.

"Those didn't make me sick," Angus repeated. "I think it was something else.

"Something else?" he repeated.

"Whatever it was I tossed it right after I started getting sick," Angus confirmed.

The tension left Taako's shoulders, and he released a breath he didn't realized he'd been holding. "Oh thank the gods," he mumbled.

"What was that, sir?" Angus asked.

"I said my god, why would you do that to yourself?" he lied.

If Angus saw through Taako's lie, he didn't say anything about it. "I'm eleven I don't know any better sir."

Taako released his shoulders and stepped back, hands on his hips and looking Angus over. "Well, since training is shot, I know what we're going to do next."

••• ••• •••

A page brought up a tray with the spread Taako requested—a kettle of peppermint tea; bowls of miso, flanked by plates stacked with simple crackers; and two bananas. Presentation left a lot to be desired, he noted, but he supposed he could slide the kitchens a free pass for now. In the meantime, he took a few minutes to plate everything, and to peel and slice one of the bananas.

He had just set everything on the low coffee table when Angus emerged from behind a changing screen, polishing his glasses on the tail of a fresh tunic (this one was too big for him as well). “Something smells really good, sir,” he commented.

”It’s lunch,” Taako replied, pouring two cups of tea. “You need liquids, little dude—especially if you’re barfing your brains out.”

”That’s one way to put it, I guess,” Angus replied slowly, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and accepting the tea. He took a slow, appreciative sip.

They sat and ate in silence for close a half hour before Angus deliberately wiped the cracker crumbs from his hands and turned his attention to Taako. “I have questions for you, sir.”

Taako paused, teacup halfway to his lips. He had a feeling he knew what the questions were, but that didn’t mean he was thrilled to answer them. “Now I know you’re feeling better, Encyclopedia Brown,” he murmured before taking a sip—was he bracing himself, or stalling for time? Either way, there was no getting out of an interrogation from Angus McDonald. “Ask away.”

”Why did you assume it was the macarons?” he asked.

Shit. Taako could feel a cold sweat beading on the back of his neck—he didn’t even get a soft ball question first? “No reason.”

Angus drew his knees up to his chest, watching Taako with interest. He was back in his element, despite being out of commission. ”A boy can’t live on macarons alone, sir.”

”I know.” The tension was damn near palpable; Taako could feel his resolve trying to fray and steel itself at the same time.

”So why—“

Against every ounce of Taako’s better judgment, the words, superheated and hard edged, slipped out before he could stop them. “Because bad things happen when I cook for people, Angus.”

There was a short, but intense silence. “I don’t understand,” Angus said, slowly, weighing every word. “You said you’re a great chef.”

”The fuckin’ best,” Taako mumbled into his teacup. Gods almighty, his mouth felt like it was lined with cotton.

”Then why don’t you want to cook for other people?”

”It’s a really long, really personal story,” he admitted.

”I’m not going anywhere any time soon, sir,” Angus pointed out, hugging a throw pillow to his chest.

He looked so much like a child and not a genius detective, and given the memories of Glamorsprings churning up like flotsam, Taako felt like he was the one who was going to be sick. Still, he did sort of agree to this line of questioning when he told him to ask away. "The last time I cooked for people—really cooked for people…" He stopped and swallowed hard, fighting the urge to make a flip joke. "I made a mistake—no, more than that. I fucked up, Angus."

"How do you fuck up something you're so good at?" Angus asked, reaching for his cup of tea.

"I've been asking myself that question for years," Taako admitted. The smell of peppermint, coupled with the taste of hot key lime and the memory of Sazed's frantic demands of what the fuck did you do did little to soothe his fraying nerves or the discomfort in his stomach, and he set the teacup back on the coffee table before he got sick all over Angus' carpet. "I just know that when I don't cook for people, they don't get sick so—" He chuckled without humor. "Like do you know how much effort went into those macarons? Not the prep, not to make them—just convincing myself that I wasn't going to poison you with my goddamned almond meringue pastries?"

Dread made his stomach knot up even worse as soon as he said it. "Oh god—I didn't mean that like a guilt tripping thing—"

"I understood where you were going with it," Angus replied, nodding solemnly, "and knowing that, I appreciate them all the more."

"Don't get mushy on me, Angus," Taako warned, the words coming without any real bite, as he reached for his bowl of miso.