Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gabe strode down the palace halls toward the library, rolling his shoulders to stretch out his tired muscles. His duties as General had kept him for longer than he’d anticipated, between getting some new recruits set up in the barracks and drafting the next week’s training regimen, and though it was fulfilling work, at this hour he just wanted to relax. Preferably with Mateo. Besides, he felt like he should make up for brushing him off that morning.

It wasn’t that he’d wanted to, but it had been hard to maintain his sense of discipline with the newbies when Mateo had insisted on being present and adorable, so in the interest of preserving his focus he’d gently pulled him aside and pointed out that the overt flirting while he was on the clock was actually really distracting. Mateo had taken it pretty well, all things considered, but the look of resigned disappointment on his face had sent a stab of guilt through Gabe all the same. The only question was whether or not Mateo would still be busy himself by now.

Mateo had always kept odd working hours, even before he’d moved into the palace, but not having to go home at night had only enabled his irregular schedule. He’d be so absorbed in his work that he wouldn’t even think to check a clock, let alone consider that the hour meant he should maybe start winding down for the day, and as Gabe rounded the corner to see light streaming through the open library door, it seemed that this would be another one of those evenings. Sure enough, as he poked his head in, he could see Mateo sitting on one of the sofas and hunched over a stack of books. He was scribbling something into a notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration, seeming completely unaware of Gabe’s presence.

At least his work habits made him easy to find.

Gabe softly rapped his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mateo startled, snapping his head up from his books. The surprise melted off his face, though, once he saw who it was, and was replaced by a bright smile that Gabe took as his cue to cut across the room, aches forgotten in an instant, and he dropped onto the sofa beside him.

“Hey,” he said, swinging an arm across Mateo’s shoulders.

Mateo’s smile grew wider as he let Gabe pull him in. “Hey,” he replied. “I take it you’re off for the day, then?”

“Yeah. Took a while to get the new guys settled in.” His eyes skimmed across Mateo’s work again, now that he was closer, taking in the heavy tome propped up on the table and the pages of handwritten notes both scattered around it and stuck between the pages of the open journal in Mateo’s lap. “I guess you’re still working though, huh?”

“This barely counts,” Mateo said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’d be doing this even if it wasn’t my job, so I’m technically not even working.”

“What’s got you so invested?”

If Mateo wasn’t smiling before, he definitely was now as he suddenly launched into a verbal essay on the intricacies of conjuration rituals. He kept his voice fairly even, but Gabe could feel him nearly buzzing with excitement as he carried on. It was endearing, the way he got so passionate and giddy whenever magic got involved, and Gabe felt warm just listening to him, a smile creeping up his own cheeks. He couldn’t believe he’d dismissed the subject in the past.

The spontaneous magic lesson concluded, Mateo settled back in, swapping his journal for the spellbook and leaning heavily against Gabe’s side. “I should be able to finish this chapter pretty quickly, yet,” he said, “so I’ll be done here in just a little bit.”

They fell into a companionable quiet, and Gabe leaned back himself, content to just be there for the moment. He shifted his arm a bit lower and rubbed his hand along Mateo’s upper arm, watching him fondly as he read and taking the scene in: the soft sound of their breathing, occasionally disrupted by Mateo murmuring a spell to himself, the way Mateo’s fingers fiddled with the edge of the page, and just how happy and relaxed he looked. He flipped a page, and Gabe saw the larger text printed across the top of the next one, his heart already speeding up in anticipation of Mateo calling it a day and returning his affections.

Mateo flipped another page.

Gabe didn’t know any Maruvian, save for the bits he’d learned from the guards’ magic lessons and just from being around Mateo, but he was still pretty sure he could recognize a chapter header when he saw one. Time for an intervention, it seemed, or Mateo would be staying deep in his studies all night again. With a sigh, Gabe squeezed Mateo’s arm and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

He made a quiet huffing sound, like he was annoyed, but Gabe just barely caught the sly look that crossed his face, his eyes flickering over to him and his lips twitching up into an amused smirk. Grinning, Gabe moved in for another kiss, trailing a line of them down across his cheekbone.

Mateo snorted. “Gabe, please, I’m trying to concentrate,” he said, leaning away to look him in the eye, but Gabe just followed, giving his arm another squeeze.

“Mm. Take a break,” he mumbled between kisses, nuzzling against his cheek, and his heart fluttered in his chest as Mateo laughed again.

“That’s something, coming from you,” he said, snickering. “You’re still in your uniform.”

Gabe sputtered, glancing down at the bright colors of his jacket. “That’s—I came straight here!”

Mateo looked almost smug as he replied. “What, you were that excited to see me?”

He blinked, then, surprised, as Gabe’s face softened. “Well, yeah,” he answered earnestly. Reaching up, he brushed one of Mateo’s curls aside and ran his thumb down his cheek. “I missed you after this morning.”

“This morning,” Mateo echoed absently, looking back down at his book. His smile only grew more flustered as he grazed his own fingers against the back of Gabe’s hand, where it was gently cupping his jaw. “I seem to recall you saying this morning that you didn’t condone distracting someone while they’re working.”

“And I seem to recall you saying that you’re ‘technically not working,’” Gabe retorted with a wink.

Mateo drew back and opened his mouth, and then closed it again, eyeing Gabe like he’d said something suspicious. “Oh, you’re good,” he finally admitted, before snapping his book shut with a dramatic sigh. “I guess this will still be here tomorrow,” he said, and setting his book aside, he finally leaned over and put his arms around Gabe, snuggling against his shoulder and kissing his jaw as he settled in. “Although technically, you’ll still be here tomorrow, too.”

Gabe chuckled. “I do have to work tomorrow,” he reminded him.

“Mm. Maybe you should take a break.”

Pressing a kiss to Mateo’s hair, Gabe smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Text

A trip to the beach had been exactly what Elena needed. The sand was soft and warm between her toes, and the gentle breeze rustling through the palms granted a reprieve from the otherwise stagnant, humid heat of the Avaloran midsummer. And the water—the water was perfect, just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold, and Elena sighed happily as she waded out further into the surf. All in all, it was a perfect break from the responsibilities of ruling, and she could feel her stress floating away.

Her friends seemed to be enjoying the change of pace as well. Isa had enlisted Mateo and Naomi’s help in building a sandcastle, which had quickly turned into Naomi systematically burying Mateo in sand while Isa added meticulously crafted sand parapets along his sides. Gabe, meanwhile, had elected to join Elena in her walk along the shoreline. He paced just beside her, nodding along as she chatted idly about how her first few months as Crown Princess had been going. Though Elena had needed a break from the hubbub of palace life, she didn’t exactly do too well with total solitude, which made Gabe’s reliable company a welcome constant.

There was only one issue.

“I still can’t believe you wore your uniform to the beach,” Elena remarked, poking Gabe in the shoulder.

Gabe puffed out his chest and straightened up, a proud smile on his face. “As your personal guard, it’s my duty to be at my best on your behalf, whenever and wherever the need may arise. You never know when an enemy of the Kingdom might strike.”

“I don’t think we really need to be worried about any villainous seagulls,” Elena joked. “Come on, we’re on vacation! You can relax a little!” Feeling playful, she grabbed a hold of his hand and tugged him forward, giggling at the surprised look on his face as his boots sank beneath the seafoam. “You could at least take your boots off,” she added, nodding down toward them.

Gabe spluttered, trying to regain his air of composed formality. “A Royal Guard has to always be prepared,” he insisted.

Elena grinned, something mischievous bubbling up in her chest. “Oh yeah?” She crept a few steps closer. “Well, are you prepared for this?” And without further warning, she dragged her hands through the water and sent it splashing up toward his face.

Bewildered, Gabe stumbled backwards a step, coughing, and he fixed Elena with an almost betrayed look that softened as soon as he saw her laughing. He shook his head with a quiet chuckle, saying, “All right, if that’s how it’s going to be,” and with his own devious grin, he surged forward with a retaliation splash.

Letting out a delighted squeal, Elena led Gabe deeper into the waves in an impromptu round of tag, swatting water back toward him and feeling her heart race, thrilled for reasons she knew only partially stemmed from the joy of the game. They continued to play, dodging around each other and darting back and forth through the shallows, until the drag of the water began to wear on them. Breathless and beaming, Elena gradually slowed to a stop, laughing as Gabe got her with one last splash, and she held still to listen to the crashing waves, the distant commotion of Isa chiding Mateo for moving too much, and the heavy rush of her and Gabe’s breath.

“I think we’ll call this one a draw,” she finally said.

Gabe started to chuckle again, but suddenly cut off with a gasp, and he rushed closer with a cry of, “Princess Elena, look out!”

Alarmed, Elena turned to see a shadowy wave rearing up over their heads. Well, that probably wasn’t good. Reacting quickly, she took a deep breath and dropped, sliding cleanly beneath the water as the wave passed harmlessly overhead. It barely even jostled her as it went by, and she smiled at the gentle motion, watching the filtered sunlight rippling serenely on the ocean floor. Still peaceful, despite the disruption. Yeah, she’d really needed this break. When she popped back up, though, she was puzzled to find herself suddenly alone, and she turned in place to spot where Gabe had gotten to.

Where he’d gotten to, in fact, was back at the shoreline, where the wave had apparently carried him after missing her. He was sitting up in the sand, looking soggy and confused, and Elena stifled another giggle as she took in the sight of him blinking away the seawater, a piece of seaweed still clinging to the side of his head. She sauntered over, taking some amused satisfaction in the way that she towered over him for once.

“My hero,” she teased, earning her a flustered pout, but Gabe accepted her offered hand all the same. She pulled him back to his feet and reached up to delicately pull the stray seaweed away, tossing it back into the ocean.

“There,” she said, patting his cheek. “Maybe now you’ll consider some swimwear?”

Looking down at himself and raising his eyebrows, Gabe considered his dripping clothes. “I think now this is swimwear.”

Elena laughed. “Well, then there’s no reason to not get back in the water!” And with that, she tightened her grip on his hand and led him back to the waves.

Chapter Text

“Remind me again how long you two have been together,” Naomi says between bites of an empanada.

“Oh! Uh,” Elena looks over at Mateo and tilts her head. “I think we’ve known each other about, what? Ten years, now?”

He nods, his own mouth too full to answer, but Naomi huffs and shakes her head. “No, no, I mean,” her face scrunches up, “how long have you been together, together?”

Elena lets out a confused laugh and smiles. “Well, that’s,” she starts, and pauses. “I think that’s,” she tries again, and stops short, looking back over at Mateo as if expecting a different clarification from him. “I think it’s something like…”

She’s six years old, and Alacazar’s daughter is dropping something off at the palace that he forgot at home. She has her son with her, a tiny, nervous thing that must be around Elena’s age himself. He clings to his mami’s skirts, trying to hide his face as Elena watches him curiously, and he squeaks as she draws near, tightening his grip.

She sticks out a hand. “I’m Elena,” she says. “What’s your name?”

Elena doesn’t quite catch his response, but he slowly reaches out and accepts her handshake anyway, and she seizes the opportunity to tug on his arm and pull him stumbling away from his hiding spot.

“Papi, can we go play?” she asks, pulling the boy to her side and looking up at where her parents are talking with his mami and abuelo.

Her papi chuckles warmly. “Elenita, I’m not the one you need to ask.”

“Oh, okay. Señora de Alva, can we go play?”

The boy’s mami laughs, too, but Elena isn’t quite sure of just what’s so funny. “Well, Mateo? Do you want to go play with Princess Elena?”

Mateo stares up at his mami, and back down at where Elena is still tightly holding his hand, and suddenly he’s nodding, and looking back between all the grown-ups and still nodding, so fast Elena wonders if his head is going to fly off.

Elena sprints off toward the gardens, nearly dragging a startled Mateo behind her. The two of them chase each other around, and Elena shows Mateo all her favorite spots, and Mateo gets so excited about a rare flower that his abuelo told him about once that he carries on about it for nearly ten minutes (and he has a nice voice to listen to, Elena decides, glad she got to hear it after all). When it’s time for the de Alvas to go home, they nearly have to be pried apart, because Mateo doesn’t want to let go of her hand.

They’re eight years old, and Mateo has just started his formal apprenticeship with his grandfather.

On the one hand, that’s great! Mateo loves magic; it’s his favorite thing to talk about whenever someone brings him by the palace to play, so Elena is ecstatic he’s finally getting to learn properly. On the other hand, it means that now, whenever he’s at the palace, he’s too busy with his lessons to spend much time with her. It’s not that her other friends aren’t fun. Feli and Victor and Cousin Esteban are all wonderful playmates, and Isa is starting to get old enough to be interesting, but it just isn’t the same without Mateo there, too.

So Elena loiters outside the library around when she hopes is the end of the lesson, listening intently to the muffled sounds of Alacazar explaining different spells and crossing her fingers that Mateo will have some time to play before his abuelo takes him home. The painting slides open with a click and Mateo bounds out, chattering excitedly about the session, but he freezes at the sight of Elena and looks up at his grandfather with wide eyes.

“Well, I guess we have some time before your mami will want us home,” Alacazar says with a chuckle, and Mateo barely waits another second to go running over to Elena, and she barely waits a second to grab his hand and start walking with him down the hall.

“You’ve gotta tell me everything that you’re learning,” she says, and he nods, grinning.

They’re ten years old, and Elena is sick in bed. It’s just a cold, the doctor has said, and she knows she’ll be fine soon, but she’s still miserable now, with a cough and a stuffy nose and an awful ache behind her eyes that both makes her want to sleep and makes sleeping infuriatingly impossible to do. To make matters worse, her mami doesn’t want any of her friends getting sick, so they’ve been barred from visiting in person, with a stack of treats and flowers and get well soon cards passed along in their stead. So, not only is she sick, but she’s bored, too.

Frustrated, she rolls over, frowning toward the open window and angry that the day decided to be so warm and wonderful when she can’t go enjoy it. And then she rubs her eyes, confused, as a single, yellow flower haloed in orange light floats up through the window and drops itself just a few inches shy of a nearby end table. Another follows close behind, landing on the windowsill, and when the third finally makes it onto the table, Elena gets up to investigate.

Mateo is standing down below, beside a small pile of brightly colored flowers, and he has his tamborita pointed at another one that’s made it halfway up to the window when Elena pokes her head out.

“Hello!” he calls brightly, waving, and the flower falls back onto his face while he’s distracted.

“I thought you already sent me flowers?” Elena says, giggling. “And a card, and those little berry candies.”

“I know, but I wanted to send you more. They were supposed to be a surprise for when you woke up but…” He pauses and rubs at the back of his neck. “I guess now it’s a show?” Glancing down at the pile, he makes a face and continues. “You should go lie back down, though. This, uh. This might take a while.”

“You can bring them up with you!” She doesn’t want to get Mateo sick, but she’s desperate for company her own age. “I bet you can get to my door without anyone seeing you.”

Mateo stares up at her for a moment, and then suddenly grins. “I have a better idea,” he says. “Stand back!”

Elena obliges, curious, but after nearly a minute she’s getting antsy, and she starts for her window again just as Mateo’s face pops into view directly outside it.

She stifles a scream, and Mateo nearly falls, the orange glow around him snuffing out, but she grabs hold of him just in time to pull him scrambling through the window.

“I need to work on that one,” he gasps. But, shaking his head as if he’s clearing the thought away, he presents his haphazard bouquet with a smile.

They spend the afternoon together, whispering stories to one another and telling jokes, and Elena almost forgets that she isn’t feeling well.

When Mateo accidentally drops himself on the way back down and breaks his wrist, Elena makes sure she’s the first to sign his cast, apologizing profusely the entire time and leaving a trail of tiny hearts after her name.

They’re twelve years old, and Elena is pretty sure Mateo is being bullied at school. He doesn’t say so, but that’s kind of the problem. He just isn’t saying much at all anymore, quiet and withdrawn in a way she hasn’t seen him in years. It hurts to see, and it hurts even more that Elena doesn’t know how to help.

She’s tried asking about it, and she’s tried not asking, just waiting for him to speak up instead, and she’s tried carrying on with all their regular activities as if nothing is wrong, but something is wrong, so she can’t stand pretending. It’s admitting her own sorrow that finally breaks through.

“Oh, uh. Some people have been saying that I talk too much,” Mateo says softly, “and that it’s really annoying, so…”

Elena doesn’t respond right away, just trying to hold down the aghast anger that anyone would say that at all, let alone to Mateo, and he seems to take her stunned silence as confirmation.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs at his arms like he’s hugging himself. “I was worried I’d been bothering you all this time and I just hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps, finally finding her voice again. “You’re not annoying, and anyone who says so is wrong.”

“But I—”

“Nope! I’m the princess, and this is my decree!” Hooking her arm through his, she tilts her head back and shouts into the open air of the gardens. “You hear that? Mateo is great, and anyone who doesn’t think that can answer to me!”

Mateo is giggling beside her, looking embarrassed, but he’s smiling again, and laughing again, and that’s all that matters.

They’re fourteen years old, and they’re dancing together at the Sunflower Festival. They’re clumsy and all over the place, twirling back and forth across the festival grounds with abandon, right up until the moment Mateo’s foot snags on the hem of Elena’s dress and they tumble into a pile of limbs and ruffles. Elena pushes herself partly back up, looking down at Mateo’s bewildered face below her, and the two of them suddenly burst out laughing. They laugh until their sides hurt, and then they untangle themselves and go right back to dancing, a little slower this time, but their smiles are just as wide as before.

They’re sixteen years old, and they’re staring down a sorceress, with terror locking them in a do or die stalemate. Elena’s thoughts are a chaotic whirl; she can’t seem to pull even one out of the maelstrom to focus on long enough to process. Her parents are gone. Her cousin is missing. Her sister, oh God, she doesn’t know where her sister is. The only one that’s here is Mateo, hands shaking around his tamborita, desperately pouring everything he has into a shield that they both know won’t last forever.

But it holds long enough. It holds long enough for Alacazar to arrive, and two wizards can hold the line better than one. They buy enough time for a battalion of guards to show up as well, and even the most fearsome of magical foes still knows the old adage of the strength found in numbers. Shuriki isn’t dead, and she’s far from gone, but she’s fled for now, giving Elena a chance to finally just breathe and remember that

oh God her parents are gone

and the world caves in around her. She’s supposed to be breathing, but it’s coming too fast and shallow, and her chest constricts painfully around her lungs to squash whatever is left of that ability. Her vision is blurry, or dark, she can barely tell the difference, and the floor is rushing up at her and floating away all at once.

When her senses start coming back to her, she finds herself kneeling on the ground, with Mateo’s arms around her. He’s holding her tightly and murmuring apologies and prayers into her hair, and she’s able to feel herself breathing again, though the sound is ragged and foreign in her ears. When Alacazar approaches to inform her that her sister and grandparents are safe, she nods stiffly and stands, gripping Mateo’s hand with one of her own trembling ones to keep her balance. Alacazar leads them to the palace infirmary, just so they can get a once-over from the doctor, but it’s Mateo that gently tugs on Elena’s hand so that she can keep walking, as far away as she feels, and even as her scrapes are being cleaned and as her breathing becomes just a little bit easier, she still doesn’t want to let go of his hand.

“You know,” Elena finally says, a wistful smile on her face, “I’m not sure I actually know the answer myself.”

Chapter Text

Naomi didn’t know what Mateo did in the evenings that left him so wiped out during the school day, but she hoped that whatever it was was worth risking trouble for dozing off in class. This was the third time this week, and this time, there was no way he wasn’t going to get caught. Well, whatever, she’d be nice. She drummed against her desk to try and get his attention, but the sound bled into the background noise of pencils scratching against paper and Tulio’s droning voice as he rapidly neared the end of his assigned section (and by extension, Mateo’s doom), and Mateo didn’t stir. Naomi tapped a little louder, but Mateo just snorted softly, his head drooping a bit further. She was going to have to do something more obvious, wasn’t she?

Barely containing a sigh, she pulled a blank page out of her notes and scribbled Hey sleepyhead, you’re up next, adding page 25, paragraph 3 as an afterthought, and as soon as Sra. Díaz turned her back to add another note to the chalkboard, she crumpled the page in her hand and pitched it against Mateo’s arm.

Ah yes, very discreet.

Mateo jolted upright and shot her a baffled look, which only grew more confused as he watched Naomi pointing down toward where the note had fallen. He shrugged helplessly, and Naomi dropped her face into her hands, muffling an exasperated noise.

Okay, she’d try again. Look down, she mouthed, jabbing a finger toward the ground again, and Mateo dropped his eyes to his desk, and then his lap, and finally to the note on the floor, and with a quick thumbs up to acknowledge he’d seen it, he slumped in his seat to scoop it up and carefully unfold it under his desk.

All at once, the situation seemed to hit him, and he snapped his attention to the back of Tulio’s head before flipping frantically through his textbook, grimacing, and Naomi covered her mouth to stifle a laugh as he got to the right page just in the nick of time.

“Thank you, Tulio, that will be all,” Sra. Díaz said, crossing one last ‘t’ on the board and turning to her students. “Mateo, please start from the next paragraph.”

Mateo nodded and began to read, but not before casting a relieved smile in Naomi’s direction.

It kinda became a thing after that.

Mateo had passed the page back to Naomi with a thanks scribbled on it, and really, he could’ve communicated that much without the note, but it was kinda funny, so when Naomi felt bored to tears by the biology lesson an hour later, it seemed natural to write some snarky commentary and pass it back to Mateo, and he’d snickered and added his own thoughts before giving it back, and then—

And then. By the next week, they’d gotten creative, both in their conversation topics and in how they passed the scraps of paper around. Gossip, weekend plans, tic-tac-toe—anything was fair game, and sometimes they’d even say something relevant to the lesson. Mateo seemed to have made it his personal mission to make Naomi laugh in the middle of class, judging by the way he kept sending her dorky jokes and goofy doodles, and of course, it was only natural to add something to the drawings before flicking the note back onto his desk. And then Mateo would add more nonsense to the drawing, like it was a battle of some kind, sticking the page into a book and handing it to her, and Naomi would spend grammar lessons planning how to best retaliate.

You’re not worried about getting caught? she scribbled onto the bottom of the page, leaning over to pass it into his hand.

And then—

“Señora, Naomi and Mateo are passing notes,” Tulio drawled, turning in his seat to raise an appraising eyebrow in their general direction. Naomi glared back at him, certain her face was beet red already. Oh, if looks could kill.

“Is that so?” Sra. Díaz asked, turning on the pair herself. “Anything you two would like to share with the class?”

“Not really,” Mateo replied, and their classmates giggled around him as Sra. Díaz stiffened and marched over to his desk, holding her hand out expectantly. Sinking down into his seat and looking like he wanted to be anywhere else, Mateo slowly handed her the scrap of paper he’d been writing on.

With a sharp nod, Sra. Díaz lifted up the paper, adjusted her glasses, and read aloud, “‘Kind of, but talking with you is the best part of class.’” She tutted and folded a crisp line in the paper before staring back down her nose at Mateo. “How sweet,” she remarked, “now please pick up your things and move to the desk by Celia. And Naomi,” she added, turning to stare her down as well, “I don’t know how things worked at any of your previous schools, but here in Avalor, you’re expected to respect the dignity of the classroom.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Naomi mumbled, feeling her cheeks burning. Sra. Díaz returned to the lesson, and the other students snickered again as Mateo slunk across the room and settled in at what was apparently his new desk, looking sheepish.

Naomi felt sour for the rest of the day. So much for that.

It was barely two days later when Naomi was interrupted from reviewing a math worksheet by something sliding under her desk and tapping against the side of her foot. The offending object looked like a small piece of paper, neatly folded into a tight square. Curious, she picked it up, unfolded it, and—

She’ll have to try harder than that to keep me down!

It was Mateo’s handwriting, for sure—she knew it well by this point. But there was no way he could’ve gotten it to her from the other end of the classroom, right? She glanced over at him, and was surprised to see him watching her expectantly. He waggled his eyebrows as they made eye contact, grinning. Unbelievable.

Naomi snorted and scribbled you’re either a genius or insane onto the back of the paper, and with a deep breath, she folded it into her palm, grabbed her pencil, and stood up to head for the sharpener by the door. She technically had her own that she could use, but Sra. Díaz didn’t need to know that, and Naomi easily dropped the paper directly onto Mateo’s desk as she passed by, shooting him a sly smile.

It was definitely a thing after that.

It wasn’t even so much about holding a conversation as it was about finding the most absurd ways to do it: sliding tiny paper packages across the floor, dropping them into each other’s bookbags, finding every excuse possible to get up from their seats, subtly scooting their desks back just enough to give them a clear shot to literally just throw the notes at each other. Anything. They weren’t especially inconspicuous, but they were spared from further public shame by a combination of good timing, better hiding spots, and the good graces of their classmates, who seemed to be getting enough entertainment out of their game to refrain from turning them in. At least Tulio sat in front of them, the tattle-tale.

At one point, Celia had sneezed loudly enough to draw Sra. Díaz’s attention away from the board and toward that side of the room, and in a panicked scramble, Mateo shoved the note he was reading into his mouth. Naomi had nearly fallen apart right there. The strained look on his face was just too much, and she choked back laughter and had to wipe tears from her eyes at the sight.

I have paper cuts on my tongue, now, was the note that followed, accompanied by a dramatic frown. Not that it stopped him, though, because barely a half an hour later he’d gotten yet another note to her.

Grinning, Naomi unfolded it with a strange sense of anticipation that immediately burst into something bigger as she saw what it was, and her breath caught, the feeling foreign in her chest.

It was her.

Mateo was far from a spectacular artist, but he had a steady hand, and a decent enough eye that the subject was recognizable. It was definitely her, smiling with barely restrained laughter, with the window beside her framing her like a portrait. There weren’t any gags or quips around it, or any trace of irony at all, and she found herself staring at it much longer than she’d expected, dumbfounded. She was very careful in folding it up and concealing it.

What was the drawing for? she asked later, on another pencil sharpening run, because her heart was still stuttering weirdly and she couldn’t not know. Mateo already had his response prepared when she headed back to her seat.

I just thought you looked really pretty.

They kinda became a thing after that.

Not formally, but there was definitely a shift in the tone of their notes. There was still the usual fare of snarky jokes about the lesson or their classmates, and there were still Mateo’s silly puns and their doodle wars, but there was the added element of the occasional line that was way too sweet to be casually passed between friends. It was mostly Mateo—he was a bit of a sap, it turned out, and he seemed able to pull mushy one-liners out of thin air, but Naomi wasn’t exactly discouraging that attention. She’d tried it out herself, once, sending him a similar line, and he’d been all smiley and ridiculous for the rest of the day, and just—okay, fine, so he was cute, and sweet, and actually pretty funny and—

Yeah, okay. This was a thing.

The game had changed again—they couldn’t afford to be so blasé anymore. As embarrassing as it would be to have to explain one of their weird, convoluted drawings in front of the class, it would be infinitely worse trying to explain why they were flirting by passing notes, of all things.

Oh, jeez, they really were flirting, weren’t they?

So now they erred to the side of discretion, trying to get the more sentimental notes to each other in passing, as they entered or left the classroom, or on the more legitimate trips across the room, or even just outside of class outright. Which, at that point, they might as well drop any pretense of not being a thing, right?

At least, that was what Naomi was telling herself as she shoved another note into Mateo’s hands while they were relaxing out in the school courtyard during a break.

I actually really like you.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Mateo raised it up, but turned away and looked pointedly ahead as he was reading it, feeling uncharacteristically fluttery. Hearing crinkling beside her, she took a bracing breath, expecting to feel paper against her palm, but instead, Mateo’s fingers grazed against hers, and then threaded between them, clasping her hand in his.

They were definitely a thing after that.

Chapter Text

Naomi’s appointment as Chancellor had turned out to be a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Chancellor Naomi was needed around the palace far more often than Grand Councillor Naomi had been, which meant she got to spend way more time with Elena by extension—not that they’d really needed an excuse to be together, but the closeness of their work definitely gave them fewer reasons to be apart. They’d fallen into an easy rhythm with their work, blending it between their usual banter and finding that even the most monotonous of paperwork was more enjoyable in each other’s company.

On the other hand, it meant that Naomi had to travel away from Avalor on diplomatic missions far more often, which, in a vacuum, was perfectly fine. She loved to travel, and she loved having a chance to be back on the sea. The problem, then, came from the fact that Elena’s responsibilities as Queen did not allow her to join Naomi on every trip, which meant that when she left Avalor, Naomi often had to travel away from Elena, by extension.

At least now, there was always the promise of her return, which made the send-offs a little bit easier to bear, but even a “see you later” meant that there did, in fact, have to be a “later.” To help soften the blow, Elena had made certain that even if she couldn’t be on the journey with her, she would always still take time to see Naomi off properly.

Now was no different, as Naomi found herself accompanied to her ship by her friends, just minutes out from being Cariza-bound.

“I just wish I could go with you,” Elena lamented for the third time that morning. She had not let go of Naomi’s hand since they’d left the palace for the docks, and she was still holding it now as she stared forlornly at where Naomi’s sailboat sat, bobbing gently in the water.

Naomi offered her a tiny smile. “I know. I wish you could, too.” Her smile grew into something roguish though, as she added, “Is this where I should say a sappy line about how a part of you is always with me?”

It wasn’t a strictly metaphorical sentimentality—she did still have her and Elena’s picture inside her compass, and the tool’s hinge was starting to get worn down from how often she’d flip it open while on her voyages.

Giggling, Elena leaned in closer. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

A low chuckle from further back on the pier snapped Naomi out of the moment, finally remembering that she and Elena weren’t alone. “Are you two going to do this every time?” Gabe joked. “This isn’t even the longest trip she’s taken this year.”

“Yeah, she’s only going to be gone for two weeks,” Mateo added, arching an amused eyebrow.

Elena gave a gasp of mock offense, drawing Naomi so close to her side that their cheeks were almost smushed together. “And that’s two whole weeks she won’t be here!”

Naomi snorted, her face heating up at the proximity and the attention, and she sent a fond glance at Elena before turning her attention to the others. “I didn’t know you guys were in such a rush to get rid of me,” she quipped, her grin broadening at how Mateo immediately began to sputter out a protest.

Gabe chuckled again. “Ah, you know we’re just teasing,” he said, and then elbowed Mateo in the side. “C’mon, let’s give them some privacy.”

Naomi watched her friends’ backs as they receded down the pier before her attention was pulled back at the feeling of Elena taking her other hand.

“You’ll write?” she asked, her eyes and voice both brimming with hope.

“Of course,” Naomi replied, squeezing Elena’s hands. “Although I’ll probably be back by the time the letters actually get here,” she added, not quite keeping the amusement out of her tone.

Elena rolled her eyes playfully and scoffed. “I know that, I just,” she paused, her face softening, “I like knowing that you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.”

Smiling warmly, Naomi pressed her forehead against Elena’s. “I always am,” she said, and gave Elena a soft kiss, hoping that it carried as much sincerity as her words. “Every moment,” a kiss, “of every day,” and another, “that I’m not here,” and one more for good measure. She leaned back, satisfied at how flushed and happy Elena looked, and smirked. “That a good enough goodbye for you, Your Highness?” she teased.

“First of all, it’s not a ‘goodbye,’” Elena corrected, “because I’ll be seeing you in two weeks. And second of all,” she grinned, “I think I need one more kiss.” Laughing, she leaned in again to do just that, finally letting go of Naomi’s hands to loosely wind her arms around her neck.

Naomi could’ve stayed like that forever, but she did have important work to do, and so reluctantly, the two parted. Bidding one last, quick goodbye to the guys and another lingering one to Elena, she finally boarded her vessel and set off.

The wind was in her favor, it seemed, and it carried her away from the shore, but even as her ship pulled further and further out, Naomi made sure she turned back to see Elena still waving from the pier.

Chapter Text

The first time they danced together had been years ago, on the night of Naomi’s sixteenth birthday. It had been so new to them both—the removal of Shuriki’s dancing bans was still a recent thing, so neither had much of a chance for any prior, practical experience—and it showed in the way they moved. They were clumsy and awkward, with Gabe treading on her feet a few times and Naomi shedding all semblance of Esteban’s over-the-top formalities as the night wore on. But despite the chaos of it, it was fun in a way Gabe couldn’t quite describe, and it washed away any remaining bitterness of the rejection he’d faced earlier that day, when Naomi had (albeit temporarily) dismissed him from her court.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the way she danced just a bit closer to him than their other friends. At the time, he’d filed that realization away in the back of his mind with a strange sense of satisfaction and had simply carried on dancing, not dwelling on why, exactly, that thought had made him feel so happy.

The next few years had been an unpredictable mess, punctuated with battles against malvagos and hunts for magical artifacts, and unpacking his feelings about his one-off dance with Naomi wasn’t exactly Gabe’s highest priority. When they danced together again on Carnaval, though, he had no choice but to confront them. She dipped him low, grinning broadly, and in that moment, she’d somehow made her ridiculous, glittery, bright yellow Carnaval outfit work, with the sun catching off the sequins in a way that made her look dazzling in more ways than one. Armed with some new experiences from Norberg’s Family Day not long before and presented with the sight of her then, Gabe’s muddled thoughts on their last dance hit him with less of a nudge and more of a wallop, leaving him breathless as if he’d really been struck.

He just really, really liked her, and he was pretty sure she liked him, too.

It made a lot of sense, actually. He maybe should have figured it out a little sooner.

The chaos in Carnaval’s wake didn’t leave much room for him to act on this realization, though, and like after Naomi’s birthday, Gabe set the thoughts aside, this time with the promise of ‘soon’ attached.

And then she’d left, without warning, sailing away from Avalor for who knew how long, right as he was starting to lean into his feelings, and ‘soon’ turned into a crushing, possible ‘never’. Her absence would’ve been jarring enough alone, but making matters worse was that she hadn’t offered so much as a goodbye before she was gone, and Gabe had to get the story piecemeal from Elena and Mateo. Though they insisted that it had been spur of the moment, that she hadn’t told anyone but Elena, that she surely meant to let him know, a part of him had to wonder if he’d done something wrong. If he’d made her uncomfortable. If he’d misread their relationship.

She returned much sooner than anyone had expected, but by then, that part of Gabe, as small as it had started, had convinced him to temper his heart. For all his best efforts at moving on, though, seeing her face again was enough to set his heart racing, and he had to drag the joy back down his throat as it threatened to burst out in a poorly-timed rush of everything should’ve said before. She’d moved on, surely, where Gabe had failed. She’d seen the world. She’d left for a reason, and she didn’t need him dredging up any old ‘maybes’.

He’d never been so glad to be so wrong.

On the night of Elena’s coronation, he stood by, rigid and formal, knowing better than to ask Naomi for another dance that was certain to be rejected, only to nearly fall over as she pulled him into one herself, grinning up at him like nothing had changed at all. Like Carnaval had been yesterday.

It became an unspoken promise for them, then, to always save each other a dance at formal events. A first dance, a last dance, both, every dance in between—it didn’t especially matter, as long as they got the chance to do it.

Now was no different—they were out on Naomi’s ship, just the two of them, to get some peace and quiet and privacy. Naomi had pulled him in without any preamble, or even any music—not that they needed an excuse just to hold each other close. Gabe gazed down at her, a warm fondness spreading through his chest, right up until the moment he was suddenly gazing up at her instead as she dipped him and leaned in for a kiss.

They parted slowly, the feeling lingering against Gabe’s lips. “You’re turning into quite the expert on sweeping me off my feet,” he remarked, smiling.

“Well, it’s the only way I can kiss you without standing on my toes,” she replied.

Gabe chuckled. “You could just ask me to lean down, you know.”

Naomi paused and tilted her head like she was seriously considering it, but her expression turned impish as she looked back at him. “Nah, I think I like my way better.” And with that settled, she kissed him again.

Chapter Text

In Mateo’s defense, the sudden shift from a harmless game of cards into an all-out pillow war was not entirely his fault. Sure, he’d technically fired the first shot, but he really hadn’t been aiming at Elena, and Gabe had definitely been egging him on. Besides, he’d had zero say in the way Naomi had cackled at Elena’s bewildered expression and pitched another pillow into the fray, or the way Elena had grabbed a pillow in each fist and circled the table to finally enact her fluffy revenge on Mateo, and at that point, well, he was just acting in self-defense.

Half a minute later, the four of them had armed themselves with every pillow off of Mateo’s couch, cards scattered and the original game completely forgotten. Barely half a minute after that, Mateo found himself caught at the center of the pillow storm after accidentally whacking Elena again because Gabe had ducked out of the way.

He had to be doing it on purpose, or something.

Either way, it was all Mateo could do to squeeze his way past his friends and escape from the center of his room, retreating up the stairs to his bed. “Okay, okay, you guys win,” he gasped, flopping backward onto the sheets. “I’m out.”

He lay there, catching his breath and taking in the sound of the others still playing, with laughter and the sounds of pillows filling the cavernous space of his room.

“Ah hah!” Elena cried, accompanied by the dull thump of another pillow collision. “And that’s what you get when you challenge the Queen of Avalor!”

“Mateo’s bed is the ‘out’ zone,” Naomi declared, “so get over there!” A decisive thud followed, and then another, as the girls chucked a barrage of pillows after Gabe to make absolutely sure he left the makeshift arena.

“I’m going! I’m going!” Gabe managed through a bout of laughter, and before Mateo could sit up to confirm what that meant, Gabe had leapt up the floating steps and tossed himself onto the bed, landing right on Mateo’s outstretched arm.

“Ow! Gabe!” Mateo rolled halfway over to swat at him with his free arm, falling back as it turned out to be futile.

Gabe laughed again, still sounding breathless. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, showing no signs of actually getting up, and before Mateo could protest again, Elena let out another victorious whoop from the center of the room.

“Yet another victory for Queen Elena! Just what will she accomplish next?”

“Make room!” The defeated Naomi called, climbing up to the bed, and Mateo quickly tucked his free arm in to avoid getting that one pinned, too, as she dropped onto his other side.

“One more!” Elena chimed in, discarding her pillow arsenal and running up the steps herself. She squeezed herself in on Naomi’s opposite side, to a chorus of “scooch in” and “move over” and “ow, that was my stomach,” and somehow, they managed to get all four of them crammed together in Mateo’s bed, all giggly and flushed.

And somehow, Mateo’s arm was still trapped underneath Gabe’s body.

But somehow, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been. His arm was falling asleep, and Naomi was pressed against his other side so tightly that he could barely even wiggle the rest of himself, and then Elena was curled around her in such a way that her own outstretched hand brushed against Mateo’s hair, bumping a curl into his face. By all accounts, this should have been miserable. He couldn’t move, his hair was tickling him, he could feel every rustle and shift of the bed as his friends squirmed around, trying to get comfortable themselves, and he—

He was really warm. It was actually kinda nice. Cozy. Just him and the people he cared about most, all together, just like he thought they were meant to be. Mateo settled in with a sigh, letting his eyes flutter closed and allowing himself to feel content.

“I love you guys.”

It slipped out, unbidden, and Mateo snapped his eyes open to stare up at his ceiling, a cold knot of dread tightening in his stomach. Had he said that out loud? He’d said that out loud. Maybe they hadn’t heard him?

The sick, icy feeling worsened, though, as Naomi snorted, confirming the worst. They heard. They heard him. He might have just ruined everything. Over four years of close-knit friendship made forever awkward because he had to go and admit his feelings ran deeper than that. He swallowed, bracing for more laughter, scorn, rejection, for them all to leave because he’d made things weird.

What happened instead, though, was nothing of the sort. “Gee, I sure hope so,” Naomi said, with a playful poke between his ribs.

“We are all best friends,” Elena added, and Gabe hummed in confirmation beside him.

They—they’d misheard? No, they heard him, they just didn’t understand what he’d meant. To be fair, he hadn’t really understood at first either—he’d just assumed that the type of relationship he wanted to have with them was a normal next step for friends. That if it was “love” the way it was in fairytales, it would be reserved for one and only one of them. He didn’t exactly have much prior experience to draw from, but he could at least recognize that the way they had all reached out to him made him feel special in a way he didn’t when he was alone. It was somewhere in the midst of trying to make them feel that same way that he realized his feelings weren’t quite platonic.

But this was… good, right? What he had with them already was more than he could’ve ever asked for. He could accept the misunderstanding, act like that was all he intended, and the status quo would remain, without having to risk their already wonderful friendship for his own selfish sake. But something felt wrong about not clarifying, like he was somehow lying to them, and, well, he’d never been a very good liar.

“That’s not what I meant,” he finally said, his mouth dry and his heart pounding in his ears. “I mean, that too—you guys are my best friends, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world, which is why I—I don’t quite know how to explain—”

The bed shifted beneath him as Elena sat halfway up at the far end, and Mateo squeezed his eyes shut rather than face her confused expression. Maybe he should just stop, take the out he’d been offered, try and pretend this whole thing hadn’t happened.

He kept talking despite himself, and with his eyes closed he could almost pretend he was just announcing this to his empty bedroom. “But it’s not just that. There’s something—” more wasn’t the right word. It implied that his love for them as his friends was somehow less, and that seemed neither fair nor accurate. “—else,” was what he settled with, despite how inadequate it felt. How could that possibly encompass everything about how important they all were to him?

The pressure suddenly lifted off his arm, the bed lurching in time, and a prickling sensation rushed through the limb as he drew it back across his stomach and tried not to think of how cold that side of him felt without Gabe there.

Stupid. Should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“Wait,” Gabe started, his voice quiet and unsure, lacking any of the bravado Mateo had come to expect from him. “You, too?”

...What?

Mateo blinked his eyes open and dared looking over at Gabe, who was gazing down at him, eyes brimming with wonder and hope. He gasped softly as Mateo made eye contact and snapped his attention upward, looking over him at the others with a sheepish grin that Mateo felt he would’ve been more likely to see in a mirror than on Gabe’s face.

“I’ve actually felt that same way for a while, now,” he went on, “about all of you, but—” He paused to huff out a laugh, looking down at the sheets. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do about it. I hated the idea that I’d have to choose, but I didn’t know what other options I had. How are you supposed to tell three other people that you love them?”

“Apparently, do what Mateo just did,” Naomi said. “And, for the record,” fingers brushed against Mateo’s elbow and he twisted his neck around to watch as Naomi hooked one arm through his and the other through Elena’s, “I’m in the same boat as you guys.”

“What?” Mateo asked. Had his voice always been so small?

Naomi smiled at him, cheeks red, and then suddenly jolted and turned toward Elena, trying to pull her arm back. “Sorry, I should’ve made sure you were on the same page first—”

“I am,” Elena said, clasping Naomi’s hand in hers. “I definitely am. I’m—” she looked away, biting her lip as if that could do anything to conceal her growing smile. “I am so, so happy that I got to meet all of you, and that I get to be here with you now.” When she looked back across her friends—no, her partners—meeting each of their eyes in turn, her own eyes were shining above her unguarded smile. “We’re all at our best when we’re together, and I want us to stay that way, for as long as we can.”

Breathless, relieved laughter from Gabe and Naomi seemed to be enough of an acceptance to her, and she lay back down, curling even more tightly against Naomi than she had before and threading her fingers much more deliberately through Mateo’s hair. Gabe seemed to take that as his cue to lie down again, as well, smushing up against Mateo’s side.

Mateo, for his part, returned to just staring up at his ceiling, trying to sort through everything that had just happened and willing his heart to stop racing. “Well. Uh. That’s good?” he finally said.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Naomi said. “You’re the one that started all this.”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting this result,” he admitted.

Gabe snorted. “Were any of us?”

“You’re happy with how things turned out, though, right?” Elena asked.

Naomi had freed her arm from Mateo’s to lock her fingers with Gabe’s, their entwined hands resting on Mateo’s chest. Gabe’s other arm was curled around Mateo’s head, where he was gently running his thumb across the back of Elena’s hand, which was still stroking Mateo’s hair, and Elena’s other arm was wrapped around Naomi. Mateo couldn’t move, as tightly sandwiched as he was, and his arm was still tingling from earlier, and every so often, Elena’s fingers would snag on a tangle in his hair. It was undoubtedly uncomfortable, and they were all going to end up with cramps in weird places if they actually fell asleep.

But it was also warm, and cozy, and it felt like they were meant to be just like that.

“Yeah,” Mateo answered. “I am.”