One Vanilla-Raspberry Macchiato, One Americano Black

... is the order the barista calls that afternoon when they go out for coffee. The café may be called "Hocus Latte," but the beans aren't the only kind of magic.

Or: Kaolin Alabaster and Garen Norwitch go on a date to a coffeeshop. They talk a little, drink a little... and maybe, just maybe, learn to grow up a little more.

This is a one-shot fanfiction written by Alpha originally hosted on Google Docs. It was published on the wikia proper in May 2017.

He looks at him like there is magic in his eyes.
He looks at him like there is magic in his eyes.

Garen's not sure if that gaze is meant for him, and him alone, or if it's just the way Kaolin sees beauty in everything. Still, his eyes are soft, a distant starlike brightness within them, and not for the first time, Garen wonders if there is magic somewhere in their depths, a magic that not even curses can kill.

It's beautiful. It makes him want to kiss him.

But of course, that is only wishful thinking-- he doesn't dare touch, not really. He doesn't trust his hands, which have broken stronger magics than the ones that keep Kaolin fully mobile here in Ever After, far beyond the borders of his enchanted homeland. Garen's curse is to render those spells useless with little more than a touch, and though he's been assured more than once that Kaolin's amulets are made of sturdier stuff than that, it's still better to be safe than sorry.

Being sorry could mean really, actually killing him. No matter how small that risk, it isn't one Garen is willing to take.

He slides Kaolin's Hocus Latte onto the table in front of him, instead, and hopes that the heat of the beverage can be close enough to holding hands for now. It's not the same, he thinks, never quite the same-- but Garen takes a heady sip from his own drink nonetheless, and pretends for a moment that it is.

"So," he says, and tries to keep the strain from his smile. "How's the art project going? I think you mentioned that it's due the day before midterms start... so the deadline's coming up pretty soon."

"Ah... you have a good memory," Kaolin offers a slightly crooked smile. "I've been making progress, but... well, let's just say that I'm especially grateful for the coffee right now."

"Mn," Garen makes a faint noise of agreement. His voice comes soft, low and gentle: "It's getting to be pretty busy, so... be careful not to overwork yourself, all right?"

"I won't," Kaolin chuckles, bright and homey like the sound of teacups clinking. "I'm pretty tough, you know... it takes more than one or two late nights to break me."

Garen tries not to think about how easy, how very easy it would be for him to slip up. He doesn't think it's impossible. The curse has already wounded his destiny, his family's pride, his ability to protect all of Oz. Enough people have been hurt by it already-- he could brush a fingertip over that amulet, glistening at Kaolin's vulnerable throat, and his cursed hands, his cursed blood could destroy yet another person he loves.

"That's right... you're tougher than you look," he answers at last, but wonders still if tougher is yet tough enough.

His eyes drift to Kaolin's hand, and it takes an effort to stop himself from reaching out to hold it.

"Tougher than I look?" Kaolin lifts his eyebrows and smiles that too-charming smile of his, teeth slightly crooked and dimples in his cheeks. He teases, "How do you think I look, then? To your liking... I hope."

Garen flushes, going pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Kissable, he almost says. Instead, he goes for, "Handsome... which I find very favorable. I hope I... haven't mislead you into believing otherwise?"

Kaolin averts his eyes slightly, toying with the end of his coffee stirrer. Garen's almost worried that he's been too straightforward in his compliments, that he's embarrassed his boyfriend into silence, when at last, he speaks: "I... I'm glad you think so. Really glad."

He's not always the most observant person around, but Garen's schooled enough in the cloak-and-dagger of political maneuvering. He was raised within the Northern courts, cut his teeth on high society a decade ago. He knows it like a gut feeling, he knows it like an old lullaby. He recognizes it when he sees it... recognizes when someone almost answers a question, but not quite.

He almost lets it go. He almost doesn't press further, doesn't want to pry for information not readily divulged. He almost leaves it at that fragment of a reply, just enough of an answer that he could coax himself into believing it-- but something like a knot settles into his throat, and he knows he cannot leave it there.

They've been to this place enough times before, half-truths told to keep each other from worry. Garen's pretty sure the only reason why they're still together at all is because of Chartreuse's meddling, and with the Emerald Cityzen constantly playing their messenger, the fissure between them seems farther than ever. It’s like a chasm, sometimes-- one that he’s too frightened to bridge.

It’s the lion who’s the alleged coward in their fairytale, not the Good Witch. Just once, he thinks, just once I'd like to make things right on my own.

And so he ventures, "I... haven't mislead you into believing otherwise... have I?"

He regrets speaking almost instantaneously when Kaolin, in lieu of a response, but stares at his coffee, rolls the stirrer anxiously between his fingertips. The pause is long enough that Garen hesitates in taking those next words at face value when Kaolin next speaks-- "No... you haven't mislead me."

It's only a hunch, but Garen feels like there might be something more left unsaid. He prods, as gently as he can, "But?"

Kaolin's fingers freeze mid-stir. His eyes remain glued to his saucer.

"But... maybe I've been misleading myself a little," he admits. He still won't make eye-contact. "It's not really important, though. I... don't want to make you worry."

"I think," Garen pauses, purses his lips. "I think I would worry more if you just left the explanation there. If it's something that troubles you... that's reason enough to consider it important."

"It doesn't trouble me... not really," Kaolin answers, returning to stirring his coffee. "Or... maybe it's more accurate to say that it's the same thing that always troubles me. I've grown used enough to it... I'll be fine."

There are chips enough on Kaolin's shoulders, cracks and bruises enough that have yet to heal. However much he repairs the bisque of his complexion, invisible dents remain like an echo, a fault that lies beneath the surface. It's not something Garen understands personally, not really, but he tries to.

Maybe that's enough. Maybe it isn't. He doesn't know.

Garen almost reaches out to take his hand, to offer him what small comforts he can-- but then, he remembers himself, and his wrist stills midair. He says instead, tentative and delicate: "Do you... maybe want to talk about it?"

(He hopes that wasn't the wrong thing to say.)

Kaolin takes a sip of his coffee-- bordering on lukewarm, now-- and slowly sets it down. His eyes drift upwards slightly.

They almost meet Garen's, for a moment. Almost, he thinks, but not quite.

"I was just thinking," Kaolin begins. Whatever it is he's thinking must be difficult to say, enough that he interrupts himself with, "I mean... I think Chartreuse would tell me that it's important to say it before it gets worse..."

It strikes Garen in that moment that most highschoolers don't need relationship counselors. He's always had a life filled with advisers and assistants, certainly-- but the same can be said about any royal family, and most of his classmates don't have friends who constantly keep an eye out for their relationship's wellbeing. Not like this, at any rate.

"I think he's usually right," Garen agrees, and maybe it's a sign that they're growing up if they can learn to talk about it themselves. "What were you thinking?"

"I was just thinking... that you could have your pick of anyone else," Kaolin swallows like he knows Garen won't like what he's going to say. "I was just thinking it was a shame you had to settle for me."

On his behalf, Garen's never had much of a poker face. He can't hide the indignation in his eyes, the way his back straightens into something utterly authoritative. He's trying to be less imposing, he really is, but he can't keep himself from that quick, clipped reply, the jagged shard of an entire thought process that comes shooting out: "Why?"

Kaolin inhales sharply, startled by the brusqueness in his tone. It's almost a flinch. He sounds like he might cry, for a moment, when he replies with a wavering, "Why what?"

"Sorry," Garen exhales, immediately regretting his curt question. He doesn't deserve Kaolin, he thinks. Not when he doesn't even need to lay a hand on him to hurt him. "I was just... startled by what you said. What I meant to ask was why you thought I was... settling. I'm not, you know."

If anything, he thinks, he's reaching. Kaolin deserves better than a boy whose family surrounds the relationship with disapproval, better than the guy too weak to protect him from the public's scrutiny. He deserves better than the witch who kills magic instead of casting it. He deserves someone who isn't afraid to hold his hand.

No. Garen's certain of it. He may have the higher social class, the connections and prestige of his heritage-- but in every other aspect, it's Kaolin who's doing the settling here.

"It's just..." Kaolin gives pause, his voice faltering a moment. "You... haven't realized it yet, have you?"

"Realized?" Garen's brow furrows for a moment. "Realized what?"

"It's just... this thing," Kaolin touches the amulet at his throat. "I've... noticed it. When you move like you're going to come closer to me, but stop just as soon as you remember who I am. What I am."

"That's not your fault," Garen immediately insists. If assuring Kaolin that his position in Garen's heart is secure is all that it takes, he'll write whole textbooks about it. "That's just... I don't want you to get hurt because of my curse. Even for a second... even if it just stops for a moment, I don't want to hurt you."

I can't bear to see your body go still, he means. I don't want my hands to cause that.

"I know," says Kaolin, and something about his eyes are like magic for a moment-- like he can see what Garen really means, then. "You're kind of selfless like that... taking responsibility for others' safety. Trying to protect me from things you think might hurt me... even if it isn't necessary, it still feels nice to know you care so much about me."

"I'm glad," Garen smiles weakly. "I've been told I can get a little overbearing sometimes... so I'm glad you know it's because I care about you. I... really care about you a lot."

I love you, he means, and he's pretty sure that Kaolin understands, too, when his gaze glistens back and magic, it must be magic, lives there within his eyes.

"I care about you, too," he replies, his expression soft. "I can see it, you know...  when you're holding yourself back from getting close. The way you look at me like I might be something worth protecting. It's just... I feel sorry about it sometimes."

"About what?" Garen turns his head to the side, gentler than he usually is.

"If you were with anyone but me," Kaolin answers. His fingers wrap around that amulet, "Anyone who didn't need this to live in Ever After... you could stand as close to them as you wanted, all the time. You could hold hands with them in the halls... you could cuddle them while watching a film. You wouldn't need to double-check and triple-check it was in a safe place if you decided you wanted to kiss them. You could just... do it, without worrying about whether or not they'd turn into pottery. It would make things... easier."

"Maybe," Garen admits... but he is nothing if not stubborn. "Maybe it would be, but not just anyone can make me feel like this... not just anyone cares enough to stay, even when the great Glinda herself stands against them. Not just anyone smiles like they mean it, or tells me I feel like home to them. Not just anyone has magic in their eyes. Not like you."

"You're too kind to me," Kaolin glances off to the side for a moment. "I'm not anything exceptional..."

"Me neither," Garen chuckles wryly. The magic that makes Glinda's heritage so essential does not exist in him, not yet, and he is almost cloyingly normal right now-- "But I think I could be happy with being unexceptional... together."

"Together?" Kaolin repeats, and the word sounds like a miracle when it leaves his tongue.

"Together," Garen confirms, and takes a second sip of his drink at last. He cringes at the taste.

"Your coffee's cold," Kaolin glances apologetically towards the cup.

It's impressive, Garen thinks, that Kaolin knows exactly what he finds wrong. He shakes his head fondly, "So it has."

"Let me buy you another," Kaolin smiles softly, his gapped teeth peeking out between his lips, and like this, Garen looks at him with all affection, like he is magic itself.

He answers, then: "Okay."

And if they're bold enough to risk letting their hands brush when Kaolin moves to stand, it is a moment known only to the two of them.