Chapter Text
Ambrose hated mornings.
Especially when said morning began by being screeched at through the front door downstairs. Muttering a string of curse words that could make even a demon pale , Ambrose blindly reached for his bedside from where he had toppled out of the bed at the sudden screaming. Still squinting, he clumsily shrugged on his black overcoat, then grabbed one of the black ribbons off the bedside table to tie his ebony hair in a messy bun. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his frown deepened as the knocks became louder and more insistent, and continued to trudge down the stairwell.
These visitors were getting more and more annoying. This had to be the 30th time this month! Ambrose rolled his eyes.
Thankfully, the dumbass had listened to his request and had fashioned a handy little device that made dealing with the whiners a little more amusing. Twisting the handle, the woman’s screeching demands came to an immediate halt as Ambrose shoved the blaring horn in her face; his earplugs ensured his own eardrums didn’t burst at the deafening wails.
At least he was more awake now.
Releasing the trigger that turned on the small, enchanted can, the woman and her companions glanced back up at him, looking both downright offended and anxious at the same time. Before they could start squawking at him once more, he put his hand up, placed the can down on the mini-table next to the door.
Sighing, he said, ‘No, I’m not the witch, he lives over there,’ pointing to the (slightly gaudy) brightly decorated two story house across the street, where Raine , sporting his usual gold waistcoat, was waving excitedly at them.
It seemed the woman hadn’t quite found his airhorn as amusing as he had. Without another word to Ambrose, she swiftly turned to leave his front porch, nose stuck high in the air as she and her compatriots marched their way towards the witch’s.
Mourning his lost sleep, he turned to head back inside, only pausing slightly to acknowledge Raine’s enthusiastic waving to him with a nod, then closed his front door.
*****
Two hours later, Raine came knocking on his door, demanding food as usual.
Such a needy puppy.
‘Have the crazy cockatoos left yet?’ Ambrose asked, opening the door wider, allowing Raine entry.
‘They’re not…crazy…’
‘Just rude and demanding, at ridiculous hours I might add.’
‘Well-’ Before he could continue his lacklustre argument, Ambrose shot him a pointed look.
‘Okay fine, they were awful,’ Raine sighed, as he came to sit down at his usual spot at the wooden dining table that stood between the kitchen and front room.
‘They paid well though, and they did need help. One of their daughters is apparently due to give birth soon. They needed something to help soothe her, as well as help with the pain of the actual process.’
Ambrose sniffed. ‘Well sure, but we literally posted a sign up saying YOU were the one who dealt with witchcraft. And I know their daughter, her husband is the one who brings me new orders of seeds or plants from their shop whenever I order them. She’s not due for another moon. That still doesn't even make up for how rude they were.’
Raine sighed and smiled tiredly, ‘I know I know, it’s bad, but they could have been worse, all things considered. Remember what I told you about the last town I was in, and how they chased me with-’, cutting himself off, Raine inhaled deeply. ‘ Ooh, what’s that I smell?
Did you bake again? Why didn’t you tell me!’ He whined, before adjusting his tone, ‘You know I’m your biggest fan!’ Raine winked, as Ambrose rolled his eyes.
‘Sure you are, big fan of my food,’ he retorted, pouting, yet still placing the plate of freshly baked cookies on the table in front of Raine.
‘Baked them this morning. And I didn’t tell you because you were busy dismissing my completely deserved annoyance at those awful women.’
‘Yes yes, have you thought about selling these? You could make a fortune!’
Raine garbled with food in his mouth, just barely understandable while his face was still stuffed.
Ambrose scrunched his nose, ‘Please finish chewing before saying anything. I thought you were a civilised witch,’ he added playfully. ‘And no, I’m quite content with my trading and garden. I don’t need much. Though if you keep eating all my food I may have to cut back on a few expenses.’
‘You’re just being overdramatic, which is a first for you,’ Raine retorted, swiping another cookie. ‘Plus, it's your own fault for making such incredible delights! How can you expect me not to eat them?’
Ambrose just rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. That is, until he noticed just how honest the witch was being.
There was a whole plateful a moment ago!
Shocked at just how hungry his friend was, Ambrose reached for one of the last few treats on the plate, before they were all devoured by his happy-go-lucky neighbour.
The two continued to chat about everything and nothing; current gossip in the village, the annoying women from earlier, and onto Ambrose’s favourite topic of discussion - the cultivation of plants.
No matter how much he tried to hide his enthusiasm, Raine could always spot the glimmer Ambrose had in his eyes whenever he talked about what he loved. And no matter how much he would ramble on, or ask a million questions about his own magic, Raine could never find himself getting tired of this crazy, brilliant man, always replying and answering him with a soft smile on his face. Raine had noted that once he had warmed up to a person, ‘Rosie’ was much like an overexcitable puppy; an ironic idea, as many had often compared himself to the adorable creatures.
‘...and you can really help speed up the growing process by years?!’ Ambrose asked, astonished.
Raine giggled, ‘Yes. Of course it depends on the plant, whether you enchant it or add a potion while it's growing, but magic is powerful. Especially the magic of supremely magical witches, like myself.’
Ambrose’s eyes were going to get stuck at the top of his head from rolling his eyes so much; he chuckled before replying, ‘Sure sure.’ He gestured to the nearly empty plate of cookies, inquiring,’So, oh great and powerful witch of the forest, were you planning to leave any survivors from your great conquest?’
Pouting, Raine clasped his hands together, begging, ‘Please can I have the last one?’
Not the puppy dog eyes.
Ambrose turned his head away, making a (feeble) attempt to resist, before sighing and relenting to the ridiculous witch.
Not needing any further confirmation, Raine swiped the last cookie from the plate, grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. Happily munching while Ambrose cleared the table, Raine had remembered wanting to ask Ambrose a question for a while…
‘Hey, why do you like black so much?’
Pausing slightly from cleaning the dishes, Ambrose glanced back at Raine, who still happened to be chewing on the lemon cream cookies he had baked that morning. Turning back to the task at hand, the corner of his lips turned up slightly as he answered,
‘well, I just like black. Colours seem too loud to me, a mishmash of noise. When too many colours are too bright, it feels like screaming, and as you can tell from me living out here, I prefer peace and calmness.’
Swallowing the rest of the food Raine thought quietly before replying, ‘that makes sense…’
Bloody hell he took ages to eat.
His face broke out in a grin,’ and what about me?’
“Hmm?”
‘Are my colours too loud for you?’
Having completed his task, Ambrose came to sit back at the table across from Raine, pretending to think carefully while tapping his chin.
‘Your colours are loud, but nowhere near as awful as those pompous women. Besides…’ his teasing manner fading slightly, he turned to stare at the floor as he continued more quietly,’ your loudness suits you.’
He muttered, ‘Unfortunately, I think you’ve grown on me.’
Ambrose was not a man who blushed. Though embarrassingly, he had to admit he came close at saying such a thing.
Still stubbornly staring at the floor, he failed to notice the way Raine’s smile softened at him, eyes full of fondness at the man who, over the course of just a few months, had come to be a very endearing friend.