“Cocoa might have been nice,” he commented to no one in particular, but didn’t make any for himself. Cocoa was better when someone else made it. Maybe just when Lucas did, with whatever else Lucas had added to it besides cinnamon and marshmallows. Maybe Robin just missed Lucas.
It had only been a few days. Robin was lonely and being silly. Whatever was between them, Lucas deserved to have a goodtime with his family without Robin pestering him. So, Robin could think of Lucas and move around him as he cooked as he had already learned to do, but he wasn’t going to bother him.
He drank his tea. He let Flax out. He let Flax back in. He finished his preparations and set the timer.
Cup empty, task momentarily complete, even somewhat rested, Robin wiped his hands on a dishtowel and then took himself back to the workroom. He’d had a plan for the day and he could still try to follow it. So far, for his Yule, Robin had not gotten much work done. It was almost enough to make him suspicious, but he had a feeling that if he found and followed the threads around him, this was what was meant to be. Which made this day of rest auspicious; something a certain absent wise one had probably foreseen and deliberately failed to mention.
Robin forgave him, mind already full of nebulous plans.
He had that black and blue and gray yarn still dogging him. Or he could find something chunky and fun… no,funwas not Lucas’ style. Fingerless gloves might do to keep Lucas warm but leave his fingernails visible, though Robin stopped short of planning a whole sweater. That curse was not a true curse, but Robin didn’t feel like inviting attention, either.
If nothing called to him in the workroom, he’d check the storeroom, but he shouldn’t linger. It was going to get cold, and Robin didn’t want to take a single log from the living room to use anywhere else. That wasn’t what Lucas had intended with them.
Master of silence, that one.
Robin forgave him for that, too. Maybe it was his mood and his recent nap. Maybe it was sleeping in an actual bed.
Maybe it was the kissing.
He sighed in a way that probably made ghosts laugh at him and walked into the workroom only to once again stop because Flax was on the spinning wheel, waiting.
Birds were birds and ravens could be mischievous. But this one was the mate of a familiar who spent time around Lucas, and Lucas affected things.
It didn’t seem wise to see Flax there and ignore the message.
“That will take time,” Robin told him, slightly exasperated. “I don’t even know what I want to make, so how would I know what I need to spin—and do not say ‘shake well but don’t tell.’ Anyway, I don’t want to be in here tonight. That wouldn’t be honoring them. It would just make me sad. I’ve been in here for months already. That”—he pointed in the direction of the living room—“is also a workspace. Theirs, anyway, and it’s warmer and certainly cozier, and Yule is meant to be a gathering of family, alive and dead, past and present. This is not the place for that. And… andfurthermore, I’ve set up the living room and Lucas gave me a log and that is that!”
He was arguing with a bird.
A special bird. But still a bird.
Flax tilted his head to the side as if he had been taking lessons from Sassafras.
“Fine.” Robin huffed. “But I’m not doing it in here.”
Flax extended his wings as he flew up and then descended to perch on top of the table loom.
“I’m not doing that right now either,” Robin informed him snippily. He finally came into the room, crossing to the fireplace and the spinning wheel. He bent down to pick the whole thing up and then carried it to the living room. He had to go back for the chair.
He was going to get tired again, sooner than he’d planned.
“Tomorrow maybe,” he muttered irritably to the watching raven, then turned off the light to the workroom with his elbow.
He put the chair down by the wheel and checked the spinning wheel for any incidental damage from the move, chiding himself when he saw the dust, which had to be dealt with before anything else.
That done, he went to the storeroom, hollering to Flax as he went. “Well, come on then!” And was called a baby, and a big baby, and then, “Oh, Blessing,” but Flax followed.
It must have been too long since Robin had tried a project for himself, because he couldn’t settle once inside the storeroom. Everything had a possibility in it. It made him twitchy. Flax watching anxiously from the sidelines didn’t help.
Robin felt, if he was going to spin again, then he should do it with something in mind, maybe even specially order something since all the other earlier steps were unavailable to him. But that was all too far away, and in front of him were drawers and bins full of neatly wrapped roving and a washed alpaca blanket that had never been used. He didn’t want to take the time to further prepare anything tonight, but maybe he would tomorrow.
He sat on the storeroom floor for a while, head in his hands. He did not think that a handmade sweater would suit Lucas perfectly. He did not think about what it meant that he wanted to make him one. He had left Lucas to his own devices for over a decade and Lucas had done the same to him, and giving Lucas clothing made by Robin’s very hands, clothing that was Robin’s very own work, even if done without magic, would be too much. Even by outsider standards, he was sure.
Of course, it isn’t as if Robin had tosaywhat he was making. Or even give it to Lucas once it was done.
He could say it was practice. That he wanted to use neglected skills.
Flax croaked at him from the edge of a large basket. Someone, probably Robin, had tossed a bag of caramel-colored rolags onto the top of it, nearly concealing the roving underneath. The roving was a good creamy color. Not bright, but for all of Robin’s playful musings on the subject, bright and especially modern colors didn’t suit Lucas either.
