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Hallow’s Eve doesn’t exist on Faerûn, a fact that Taako finds utterly abysmal. Carey, Killian, and Ren accuse them of attempting to make them the butt of some convoluted joke when Magnus attempts to breach the topic. He looks utterly devastated, and his damned puppy-dog eyes coerce Taako into calling in reinforcements— namely, Joaquin.
For the next solid week, Magnus triumphantly proclaims to every non-IPRE friend he has that his plane shares a holiday with that of the Man Wreathed In Flames. He doesn’t seem to care that Joaquin is a gangly teenager thrown into this mess without his consent, nor that he himself is a far bigger celebrity. By association with Taako, Magnus seems to revere him.
It would be almost sweet if he didn’t use his new knowledge to enforce the fucking holiday here on Faerûn.
Even those who don’t have a history with it join the movement in full force. Magnus returns to his signature move of jumping out from oddly well-hidden positions with a cry of Magnus!, which nearly no one is thrilled with. Lup revels in the amount of tacky skull decor she can litter their houses with. Many of the pieces of white plastic have crudely taped on blonde wigs. Davenport’s illusion magic is in full force, hideous ghouls and ghosts roaming within his radius at night. Fat black spiders hang from his windows so as to ward off a surprise visit from Magnus. Carey and Killian have what seems to be Fantasy Costco’s entire supply of dragon-themed yard decorations littering not only their yard, but the entire street’s— Taako almost has a damn heart attack when encountering a light-up hydra on his way to school.
On their lunch break, Ren remarks to him through giggles that the adults seem to be enjoying the holiday more than the children. Which, Taako supposes, is true. They really only have three kids as permanent residents. Four, if you count Magnus, which Taako does, because holy shit, Mags, it’s not even supposed to be possible to eat that much candy, what the hell.
It’s in the spirit of getting the kids to enjoy their newly instated tradition that Taako finds himself stitching sequins onto Angus’s last-minute wizard’s hat. He’d planned on going as Caleb Cleveland up until literally an hour ago, to no one’s surprise. It’d only taken one off-hand comment of you’re already a brilliant detective, boychik, to cause a Pompeii-level eruption of tears and babbled thank-yous.
Now he’s going as, in his words, “a shitty wizard”, which apparently includes raiding Taako’s wardrobe and requesting a replica of his hat. Fucking insufferable.
Taako loves it.
“Ay!“ Taako shouts, and hears the patter of footfalls on the stairs moments later. He tosses down the hat, and straightens his own glitter-coated jacket. Angus appears at the bottom of the stairwell in a matter of seconds. The moment his feet touch the floor, he skids, arms pinwheeling as he stumbles in a pair of Taako’s old heeled boots. It’d be rather endearing if the shoes weren’t years out of style, and more importantly, if Taako’s heart wasn’t threatening to leap up his throat. Trailing close behind in a pressed and ironed suit, Kravits darts forward to place a firm hand on Angus’s shoulder. Both an unfortunate fall and Taako’s oncoming heart attack are halted so quickly that Angus is back on his feet before it seems he even knows what just occurred. Taako shoots him a look, brow arched in a way that feels foreign on his face (he’s still attempting to nail that whole ‘kids need rules’ debacle that everyone sensible insists on) that he hopes conveys something along the lines of lean forward, not back, or you’ll bash in your damn head. Angus shows no sign of catching Taako’s self-learned message, and despite nearly falling, their boy detective and resident klutz only adjusts his glasses and blinks at the hand on his shoulder.
After a moment, he shakes his head like one of Magnus’s dogs after a rainstorm. “Thanks,” he says, his breathing a little ragged. It really shouldn’t be, not after descending a single flight of stairs, but Taako isn’t one to judge on athletic ability. Angus pulls away from Kravitz’s grip, hands fidgeting as he meets Taako’s unimpressed eyes. His expression falls. “Did you…” he trails off, but the hopeful expression playing across his face makes any snide remark Taako had at the ready die on his tongue. This kid will be the fucking death of him.
“Your glasses shot?” Taako asks, because really, you can’t expect him to resist making at least one jab. “To your left, the thing that looks like a disco ball met Louis Vuitton,” he says, cocking his head at the table behind him.
When Angus sees the hat lying on the table, his eyes widen behind his off-kilter frame. He beams, and though it’s about time someone appreciates his fashion sense, Taako deters what he’s sure is about to be an onslaught of mushy, tearful gratitude by grabbing Kravitz’s sleeve in what he hopes is a breezy gesture.
“Bones,” Taako greets, and flashes a grin at his boyfriend. “You miss the whole ‘dress-up-as-something-you’re-not’ memo?”
Kravitz chokes out a laugh, and links his arm through Taako’s. Taako doesn’t miss the way he fidgets with his starched collar. “Cool it, homie,” he drawls. “Not the end of the world if you forgot. I’ve got some spare tights upstairs that, frankly, you’d look killer in—“
“I didn’t forget,” Kravitz intercepts, though he opts to wave at Angus as he races out their front door, floppy hat in tow, rather than elaborating.
Oh.
A certain heaviness overwhelms Taako’s chest, and he stutters briefly, before settling back into his comfort-zone of cool and disaffected. “Alright, alright, fair, it’s chill if you don’t wanna—“
A thin piece of metal poking out from Kravitz’s hand glints in the light. Taako frowns, and the words drop from his mouth, forgotten. “Wait, what? Is that a— is that a fucking wand? If you were interested in learning some of the ol’ repertoire, you could’ve joined Agnus in our kiddy class. It’s on Tuesday.” He winks. “Don’t be late,” he instructs, pointing a lazy finger at Kravitz’s chest.
Kravitz’s eyes crinkle around the edges, and the corner of his lip pulls up in a half-smile. The kindness in them makes Taako want to melt. “I am dressed up, Dove.” He brandishes the wand. “As a conductor.”
“Oh, Hell yeah. Choo-choo. Doesn’t explain the wand.”
“Baton,” Kravitz corrects, turning a glare on him with exaggerated impatience, though the humor playing on his features ruins the effect. “An orchestral conductor— I wanted to be one in life.” Something in Taako’s shriveled heart wilts, though Kravitz seems unperturbed.
“Well, my man,“ Taako starts, and swallows hard. This isn’t his forté, and the words sound underwater to his ears. "No law saying you can’t become one in death. We’ve already got use of Barold’s piano. Add in your cello, Lup’s violin, fuck, I’m sure Mags would be thrilled to bang on a drum or some shit.”
Kravitz only laughs, tips Taako’s chin back to kiss him. He’s right— he is certainly not a train conductor, because fuck, Taako’s train of thought has absolutely gone off the rails.
The night comes to a close quicker than he’d imagined it would, and he humors Angus, Mavis, and Mookie as they come to their door, arms and pillowcases (he notes with a little too much glee that one of them is Lup’s, and is surely stained with whatever melty chocolate and bugs Mookie has in there) heavy with candy. Magnus too, when he rattles the doorframe in a panic because he’s ingested twelve times the suggested servings of fantasy Kit-Kats, and Merle refuses to treat him.
He’s out of his costume, sitting on the foot of Angus’s bed in their little nighttime routine, when something occurs to him.
"Hey, Agnes,” he calls softly, hand hovering on the switch of the lamp. Lucas’s gift— Taako would rather not have the fire hazard of Angus’s novels next to open flame. Despite the nickname, Angus lifts his head slowly, then scoots up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes blearily. “How would you feel about a new case?”
His eyebrows furrow, and he paws for his glasses on the nightstand. Taako nudges them with a sock covered foot towards his outstretched hand. “Like—” he yawns, baring his teeth in a way that reminds Taako vaguely of a kitten. “Like what?” he continues.
“I need you to find something for me,” Taako continues, still playing at being elusive. He isn’t quite sure what to say, or if Kravitz will even want this. Angus isn’t amused, and shoots him a sleep tinged glare that Taako is a little proud to think was probably learned from him. He’s quite the master of looking like a sleepy asshole.
“If it’s my silverware again, I’m moving out,” Angus says, and Taako chokes on a laugh that bubbles up unexpected from his throat.
“Yeah, then what?” He asks. The bed dips under him as he shifts to tousle Angus’s hair, which makes the kid jump back in mock-indignance, though he leans into Taako’s side anyway. “You gonna move in with Magnus? You’ll smell like dog, and then I won’t even be able to let you in the house anymore.”
“You let Magnus in still, and he smells awful,” Angus remarks, scrunching up his nose. It’s such a childish action that Taako’s heart aches at the sight. It’s a very unfortunate time to go soft, because he’s been working on steeling himself to ask this of the kid. It happens anyway, looking at the little boy on the bed, thick comforter tucked around him, curls sloppy and flattened against the pillow.
It’s getting a little harder to breath with the thickness of emotion clogging his throat, so Taako swallows, and rests a hand on Angus’s blanket cloaked knee. “That’s only because I spent a hundred years with him. Cha'boy’s noseblind to Magnus’s signature scent by now.”
Angus giggles softly, and Taako realizes two things. One, Angus will be mortified about acting so young in the morning, and Taako will have to pretend through his stuttered apologies that he doesn’t recall anything beyond perfect maturity. Two, Angus looks like he’s about to collapse, so if Taako is going to ask it has to be now, or both his nerve and Angus will disappear into the world of sleep.
“I need you to help me find the best fucking orchestra in Faerûn,” he blurts. Angus only takes a moment to blink, and then nod, because Angus isn’t the World’s Greatest Detective for nothing, and if Taako noticed the baton, Angus likely has Kravitz’s entire backstory dissected. They sit in silence for another moment, and then, in the soft lamplight and sleepy air of Angus’s bedroom, the world’s greatest detective and shittiest wizard start a new case.