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“You know,” says Azul, pinching the bridge of his nose below his glasses, “my contracts are intended to involve me.”
Riddle Rosehearts looks up from the scroll. “And this one does,” he says sharply. “You are an intermediary party in our negotiations. You are providing counsel and proper enforcement.”
Azul frowns, but doesn’t say anything more.
Riddle promptly resumes his examination of the contract’s clauses. He furrows his brow upon reading a certain line. Then he says, quite evenly, “Floyd.”
“Hm?”
“I will not allow this.”
Floyd, from the other chair before Azul’s desk, pouts. “Goldfish,” he whines. “I put it in there ‘cause I wanna do it. Ya won’t lemme have somethin’ I want?”
“Absolutely not,” Riddle says, sounding affronted. “You could seriously injure yourself. I will not allow that to happen.”
“But it’d be sexy.”
Riddle’s face goes brilliantly red in embarrassment or anger or perhaps both. His voice rises an octave. “Well, Floyd, I cannot endorse your penchant for associating violence with arousal. And I will not, under any circumstances, be collaring you with magic during sex.”
“But you always wanna collar me anyway. And I’d be into it. So—”
“What part of ‘not under any circumstances’ was unclear?!”
“Yeah, but don’t you wanna try somethin’—”
“Oh, and I suppose you want your cervical spine to be—?”
Azul slams his hands down on his desk. “Please!” he interrupts, more than a little flustered. “Let’s try to be reasonable, gentlemen. Are you going to bicker over every line?”
“Yep.”
“If this scoundrel won’t behave himself, then yes.”
Floyd’s eyes actually light up. “I’ll behave for my Goldfish,” he sings, grinning slyly. “Ya just need a proper punishment for when I’m bein’ bad, yeah? Scare me into compliance a little?”
Riddle smacks him across the face with a quick stream of water magic. Floyd takes the hit without protest. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all. He just looks a little hungry.
Azul sits back down slowly. His head pounds with every passing moment. These are not things he needed to know about his own employee. He thinks he might be sick. “I’ll remove the clause allowing collaring. Let me know if you have any other objections.”
Riddle nods and resumes scanning the contract carefully. His perpetual frown doesn’t slip. In fact, it only grows more pronounced with each line he reads. “Floyd,” he says eventually, “why are there no restrictions on what materials I can use for bondage?”
“Figured we could try a bunch. Experiment.”
“I expressly told you I would only use soft fabric. Azul, would you please—”
Azul groans and slams his head into the desk. It hurts, but the pain is no worse than the conversation. Blissful silence falls for approximately four seconds, in which the pain is so dizzying that Azul can’t process anything. He grimaces. Then, when Riddle comes back into focus, he sighs.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll add a stipulation. Soft fabric only.”
Riddle seems utterly unfazed. He just continues reading. He reaches the last page without further complaints. Azul, rather foolishly, feels preemptive joy.
Then—
“If these are broken, the perpetrator will return to merform for a week? I don’t have a merform!”
Floyd leans back in his chair, looking put out. “Well, duh. Ya won’t break the rules. S’kinda your whole deal, Goldfish.”
Riddle huffs and slides the contract back across the table. “I demand that a proper punishment be added for myself, as well.”
“Floyd is quite right,” Azul says hurriedly, pushing the contract away. “You won’t need it. Isn’t breaking the rules in itself enough of a punishment for you?”
That seems to work. Riddle considers, one hand tapping against his lips. “I suppose so…”
“Fantastic,” Azul interrupts, smiling too widely. “Now sign the scroll.”
For one treacherous moment, Riddle’s eyes scrunch in doubt.
Azul looks at him in desperation. “Sign. It.”
Riddle picks up his pen and signs his name, with big, looping R’s. Floyd takes the pen afterwards and scrawls something vaguely legible to match. The contract glows gold with finality, and Azul practically wilts with relief.
“I’ll store this in the vault,” he says, as is customary. “If you ever need to revise it, simply contact me and I’ll retrieve it for you. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Floyd grins his usual loopy grin. “Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”
Riddle elbows him with conviction.
Azul just sighs and looks at Floyd. “You owe me so many favors.”
Floyd’s smile widens. “S’gonna be worth it. Hey, ya think they make straps with scales on them? Goldfish scales? That kinda thing?”
Azul very, very keenly wishes he could avert his eyes fast enough to miss the sight of Riddle smacking Floyd quite forcefully for that. He also wishes, even more keenly, that the door had closed sooner, so that he wouldn’t have to hear Floyd’s delighted giggle.
Azul did not need to know any of this, he thinks, as he stores the contract far, far back in his vault. This was a horrible misjudgment on his part. He will certainly not be doing it again.
***
One week later Jamil Viper walks into the back of the Mostro Lounge on a Tuesday night and says, “I need a favor.”
Azul has had wet dreams less exciting than this. He leans forward at his desk, trying with all his might to restrain his smile. “Why, Jamil, all you ever had to do was say the word. Please, tell me what misfortune has befallen you. I’m sure we can reach an arrangement.”
Jamil looks at him flatly. Then he pulls a beaming Kalim into the room behind him.
Azul blinks. He’d hoped that perhaps, for business as discreet as theirs, he would leave Kalim behind.
“This,” says Jamil, letting Kalim go. “This has befallen me.”
Kalim pouts, exaggerated. “Come on! I barely did anything! You’re the one who did it!”
“And I don’t want it to happen ever again.”
Azul is very, very intrigued. He looks between the two of them in sheer delight. “Gentlemen,” he says, “have a seat. Now, how can I help?”
Jamil does not have a seat. Instead, he looks Azul directly in the eyes and demands, “Make me a contract.”
Oh. Oh. Azul must have fallen asleep over some particularly dull accounting paperwork because this is a scenario too perfect to be real. He’s been wanting to make a contract with Jamil for years, and now Jamil just waltzes in asking for one? With his incredibly rich master at his side? What a day. What a glorious, beautiful day.
“I never thought I’d have the delight of drawing one up for you, Jamil,” he purrs, almost beaming. “Now, what do you wish for?”
Jamil looks vaguely embarrassed. His mouth is thinner than usual. Not that Azul has spent a lot of time staring at his mouth, or anything…! “Not with you,” he says stiffly. “I… heard from Floyd. During basketball. That you offer a certain service. With your contracts.”
Azul’s stomach plummets. “Ah,” he says, his voice suddenly faint. “You mean to say—”
“I want to make one. With Kalim.”
Azul feels like burying his head in his hands. Instead, he inhales very deeply. He can hardly go back on his word, now that Jamil has come to him. “Fine. What stipulations do you require?”
“Just one thing,” says Jamil. “You know my signature spell—”
Azul suddenly, with startling clarity, sees where this is going. “No,” he says.
“You know how it—”
“Stop talking.”
“It lets me control—”
“Absolutely not.”
“See?” says Kalim, beaming. He elbows Jamil in the side, looking supremely unbothered. “Azul doesn’t think it’s weird either!”
Azul stares at him. Surely he doesn’t mean… That he… That Jamil… To him… While they were…
“What?” says Kalim, with no shame whatsoever. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Azul says faintly. His voice sounds far away, like he’s hearing it from underwater. “I’m only rather surprised that you seem so unbothered by the use of Jamil’s magic on you. I must admit, I find this prospect rather concerning.”
Jamil locks eyes with him. “My point exactly,” he says, a little desperate. “Write in the contract that I cannot do it.”
“I told you, Jamil,” Kalim says, louder this time. “I like it! It’s perfectly okay! You didn’t hurt me or anything! It was fine!”
Jamil has started to look a little green. “Make it off limits,” he says. “Please.”
Azul thinks he might pass out soon if his brain doesn’t get more oxygen. “Kalim,” he says slowly, against his better judgment. “You cannot possibly be saying that…”
“Don’t ask,” Jamil says firmly. “In fact, specify that Kalim can’t ask for it either.”
Kalim tugs on his arm with a frown. “C’mon, Jamil, you liked it too! I can still feel things when you’re using the spell, you know.”
Jamil goes spectacularly pale. “I,” he says, and then he says no more.
Great Seven. Perhaps yesterday Azul would have relished in the sight of Jamil’s embarrassed face, but he wishes he could unsee it now. And Jamil had even admitted himself that it already happened once. At least once.
“I can draw up a contract,” Azul says, feeling off-kilter. “Is that the only stipulation you wish to include?”
“Make it very specific,” Jamil clarifies. “Make sure Kalim cannot use his authority as my master to ask for it. If we somehow end up breaking the terms, seal my spell for a month. Make sure no one can use it.”
Azul’s hand falters as he writes the words Snake Charmer, but he is not a businessman for nothing. He proceeds with as much dignity as he can. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” says Kalim. He slams down about eight pounds of gold on the table. “Tear that thing up.”
Jamil places both hands on Azul’s desk, and looks him in the eye. “I will never ask you for anything else,” he says desperately. “I swear on my life. Just do this. Please.”
Azul takes one look at the pile of gold and swallows his pride. He slides the contract across the table.
Kalim looks a little disappointed, but signs it anyway. His signature is surprisingly ordinary, like the handwriting of a common man rather than a sultan’s son. Jamil’s signature, by contrast, is so perfectly neat that one would think he had the royal education. What an interesting duo.
“So,” says Kalim, when he gives the signed contract back. “Um, sorry, but what counts as sex? Like, does it have to be penetrative sex? I mean, if Jamil were to use Snake Charmer and then we just kinda, like, would that still—”
“Let’s not find out,” Jamil says abruptly. Then he takes Kalim by the wrist and drags him out of the Mostro Lounge back room faster than he’d hurled him across the Scarabia dimension.
Azul stares at his own hands for a few minutes in despair. He doesn’t manage to eat any dinner.
***
“Ashengrotto,” says Vil, once the headmage has dismissed the housewarden meeting.
Azul, halfway through pushing in his chair, raises his eyebrows. “Yes?” he asks. “Are you in need of more moisturizer already? I would be happy to oblige.”
“No,” Vil says. “I heard you offered a service involving your contracts. A negotiation, per se.”
It’s been nearly a month. Azul, rather foolishly, had begun thinking he was safe. But Vil is very influential, and he’s quite a reasonable man, so surely he’s not asking for what Azul thinks he’s asking for. “It may not be what you’re expecting,” he says, smiling serenely in his usual, rather threatening, way.
Vil looks him directly in the eyes. “I am expecting to negotiate what is and isn’t acceptable during sex with my partner, with the assistance of your binding contracts. Is that correct?”
Azul just sighs. He can’t afford to get on Vil’s bad side, so he just packs up his bag and says, “Alright, then.”
“Splendid. Are you free now?”
“Now?” Azul repeats, frowning slightly. “You must understand, all parties must be present during contract negotiations. Why don’t you retrieve your partner, and then we’ll discuss this in my office over some cold lemon tea?”
In response, Vil discreetly glances back toward the housewarden table. There are only three people present: Riddle, fixing his tie; Kalim, texting with a grin; and…
“You mean to tell me,” Azul whispers furiously, “that you’ve been sleeping with Leona Kingscholar.”
Vil looks at him, exasperated. “I’ll admit it was not my finest decision.”
“Then simply stop doing it. Problem solved.” Azul makes his way toward the door.
“Hold on.”
Azul, for all his self-assuredness, stops in his tracks when Vil demands. As much as he hates to admit it, Vil is a valuable asset. “Fine,” he says, feeling nauseous. “But make it quick, please. I’ve got to get the Lounge open by four.”
Vil nods, businesslike. “It’ll be quick. I know we’re both busy men.” He turns to the table. “Leona,” he calls, unbothered. “Come here a moment.”
“Fuck off,” says Leona, and then he comes over anyway.
Azul tries his best for a professional smile. “Hello, Leona.”
Leona looks at him like he’s gone insane. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Vil has asked me to make you a contract.”
Leona stares at him. “I watched you overblot over that shit. I am not making a contract with your unstable ass.”
Vil places a single restraining hand on Leona’s shoulder. It works wonders; Leona actually stops baring his teeth, and his shoulders physically relax. His ears even flatten against his head. Azul is, however much he hates to admit it, impressed. Is the sex that good?
“I want to make a contract with you, you abhorrent lion,” Vil says, lifting his hand again. “Ashengrotto is just a middleman.”
“Fine,” Leona sighs, which is a small miracle, actually. “But Octavinelle is too far away. Just do it here.”
So they make their way to a vacated classroom instead of going to the nearby mirror room. Azul suspects Leona is secretly hesitant to go back there after… Well, anyway, Azul isn’t exactly keen to relive those memories either. Not keen to think about his life’s work falling through his hands like so many grains of sand. He’s fine with keeping Leona at a distance.
Once they sit down, Azul summons a contract. He clicks his pen. “So, gentlemen,” he says. “What would you like to negotiate?”
Vil turns to Leona and says, no-nonsense, “Stop leaving marks.”
Leona doesn’t even hesitate. He just scoffs. “No.”
“They’ll show.”
“The Pomefiore uniform has a high collar. Who gives a fuck?”
Vil sighs and pinches the bridge of his beautiful nose. “My manager says it tarnishes my image.”
“Then quit sleeping with me. Problem solved.”
“And how well did that work out for us the last four times?”
Leona’s mouth drags up into a smile. “Not my fault you’re a size queen. S’that a dorm thing? Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who has the biggest cock of them all?”
Azul glares at them both. “Are you going to tell me the contract terms or not?”
“Sorry,” Leona says, not looking at all sorry. “‘Kay, draw a line. I won’t go above it.”
Vil traces a line across his collarbones with his finger.
Leona clicks his tongue. “Stingy.”
“Greedy cat. I left you the rest of my entire body.”
Leona traces a different line with the tip of one of his claws. It goes directly below Vil’s chin. Azul watches, perplexed, as Vil calmly takes his hand and drags it down again, halfway across his shoulder. Leona’s claw leaves a thin trail of red in its wake. It doesn’t draw blood, but it looks strikingly bright against his pale skin.
“See,” says Leona. “Why the hell do you want me to stop leaving marks when they look so damn nice on you?”
Vil doesn’t react at all. He takes Leona’s hand and traces the same line again, halfway across his shoulders and down by his collarbone. Then he looks at Azul expectantly.
“I’ll write that down,” Azul says, in response to his unspoken question. “Any other conditions I should note?”
“Wait,” Vil commands, finally releasing Leona’s hand. “Record the measurements.”
Azul watches in utter disbelief as Vil pulls a tape measure—a whole-ass tape measure—out of his robes. He measures the distance from his neck to the specified spot on his shoulder, then down from his chin. “Twelve centimeters and eighteen centimeters.”
“Ten centimeters,” Leona says. “And fifteen.”
“Twelve and eighteen.”
Azul writes down twelve and eighteen and hands the contract over without preamble. Vil signs it without hesitation. Leona looks at him oddly, but to Azul’s surprise, signs it too.
“I’ll be keeping this,” Azul says. “Pleasure doing business with my fellow housewardens.”
Leona nods and walks out without a word.
“Thank you, Ashengrotto,” says Vil politely, and then he exits too.
Azul files it away with the other two contracts. This time, he shoves them even further back into the vault. To his dismay, it’s still not far enough for him to forget about them.
***
The housewarden meetings become intolerable. Azul cannot look anyone in the eye. Worse still, he’s started… noticing things. Vil adjusting his collar in meetings. Leona’s claws leaving imperceptible patterns in the wood grain of the table. Riddle’s lips turning down one too many times. Kalim starting to daydream and looking peaceful, too peaceful, when he’s drifting off. Azul can’t see any of them the same way. Every housewarden meeting is an exercise in not losing his mind, and he keeps failing.
The only respite he has, besides the faint and heartwarming thought of Malleus’s existence, is Idia’s tablet sitting next to him at the table.
So when Idia asks to talk to him one day after board game club, Azul is on edge, to say the least.
“Uh, hi,” Idia says, when he approaches. He smiles, a little shy.
“Yes?” Azul asks, softer than usual. Idia isn’t fragile, but he likes to pretend to be. Azul has learned, over the years, to be gentle with him. “What’s the matter?”
Idia opens his mouth, then closes it. “Um. I. I heard. That you have. Uh.”
“Fuck no,” Azul blurts, before he can think better of it.
Idia cringes.
“I absolutely will not,” Azul continues, a little crazed. “Those were all exceptions, I tell you, special exceptions. I should never have taken Floyd up on his ludicrous proposal. I regret everything. Everything, Idia!”
“…Nevermind. K bye.”
Idia’s dejected retreat is so depressing that Azul gives up. He sighs and taps Idia’s shoulder.
Idia jumps. The ends of his hair flush pink with embarrassment. He turns around.
“What, exactly,” Azul says, “do you want?”
“Nothing,” Idia says quickly, too quickly. Then he sighs. “It’s… kinda embarrassing. I heard you had something.”
“If you want a contract, absolutely not. I already can’t look at any housewardens besides you.”
Idia’s eyes widen. “What? It’s not a contract. I just… uh, I heard you have the new limited-edition Premo card deck?”
Azul chokes out a sob of relief. Cards…! Idia wants cards! Thank fuck!! “I do,” he admits, even though it was supposed to be Idia’s birthday present. “I was saving it for a special occasion, but any occasion is special when I get to play against you.”
Idia’s small smile is horribly endearing. Azul decides, right then, that Idia is his new favorite housewarden. “So… TCG match?”
Azul’s smile is real, this time. “You’ll lose.”
Idia grins to match him. His sharp teeth peek out. “I won’t lose if you don’t cheat.”
Azul’s smile is just as sharp, and just as real. “It’s not cheating if you don’t catch me. Next club meeting?”
“Sure. Gg.”
Azul smiles as he watches Idia go. Thank fuck for introverts. Thank fuck for shut-in gamers who can live out their fantasies online instead of fumbling about with other fools at their school. Thank fuck for people who don’t need his contracts to regulate their sex life.
“Oh, wait,” says Idia, one hand on the door. “Why can’t you look at the other housewardens?”
Azul grimaces. “Believe me, Idia, you don’t want to know.”
***
“Hello again,” says Riddle, rather stiffly.
“Riddle. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
But the question dies in his throat as Floyd steps into his office wearing a lazy grin.
“Floyd,” he says, already feeling a headache building at his temples. “If this is what I think it is, please do us both a favor and get out.”
“Aw, c’mon, Azul, I’m just tryna have fun.”
“How about you have fun on your own? Without me?”
“Actually,” Riddle says loudly, interrupting them. Azul sits back down, reprimanded. Floyd takes his seat as well. “We’re not here to renegotiate our contract. I… ah, well.” Riddle flushes bright red. “It’s a new contract. And we’re going to need one more chair.”
“Certainly.” Azul waves his pen, sliding another chair to his desk with a showy spell. Then Riddle’s words click in his mind. Another chair. Another person. Another contract. “Seriously?” he asks, bewildered. “Who on earth would possibly want to join this—”
“Pardon me,” says Jade very pleasantly.
Azul stares at Jade. Then at Riddle. Then at Floyd. Then at Jade again. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was,” Riddle mutters.
“Really, Riddle,” he says, a little baffled. “The Mostro Lounge ought to charge you a premium for our employees’ time. At this rate you’ll be making me sign one of these with you.”
Riddle sits there. His face gets, somehow, even redder. Then, with incredible difficulty, he says, “I… wouldn’t be opposed.”
Azul blinks. The contract disintegrates between his fingertips.
“Dear me,” Jade says, sounding terribly amused. “Azul, are you quite alright? It’s unlike you to fumble something so ingrained into your muscle memory.”
Azul’s face burns. He tries to summon the contract again. His hands are too unsteady. “I am doing you a favor, Jade,” he says, trying to sound haughty. “Do not let me regret it.”
“I would,” Riddle says, very quickly. His face is still aflame. “If you want to. Make one with me. I wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’d be quite amenable. If you’re offering.”
“I don’t really like sharin’ with most people,” says Floyd, sitting backwards in his chair. “But sharin’ with ‘Zul doesn’t count. It’d be fun, actually.”
Azul feels his face burning blue. “No! That’s…” He clears his throat. “Well. I suppose it’s none of my business.”
“Well, it is your business, if you want it to be,” says Riddle.
“I—Well, well, that’s—” Azul stammers. The contract he summons falls onto the floor.
Jade laughs. “Oh, Azul,” he says, overwhelmingly fond. “It’s alright. Perhaps another time?”
“Just make the damn contract,” Azul snaps, flustered beyond belief. “Tell me when you’ve finished. I’m leaving.”
He pretends not to hear Floyd and Jade cackling as he vacates his own office. The sound is followed by Riddle’s voice loudly reprimanding them. Serves them right, he thinks. They deserve a good reprimanding after that scene. He stops to listen in.
“Don’t scare him off,” Riddle says through the door, quite sharply. “We all want the same thing. Just give him some time to get used to the—”
Azul starts running.
***
Two weeks later Floyd doesn’t come to class. He also doesn’t show up to work. Azul goes looking for him and finds him in the Octavinelle mer tank with Riddle sitting on the edge of the tank, yelling down at him.
“—bastard!” he’s shouting into the tank, to an amused-looking Floyd. “You infuriating, insensitive, ungovernable, disobedient little—”
Azul clears his throat.
Riddle flushes and falls silent. “Excuse me,” he says, rather stiffly. “I’m just rather upset.”
Azul smiles. Nothing new there; he doesn’t think Riddle’s gone a week without being upset at Floyd since they started at NRC. “Floyd,” he calls into the tank. “Are you feeling unwell? Why have you reverted to merform for so long?”
Floyd swims to the surface and sticks out his tongue. “Can’t work tonight,” he says, looking strangely delighted about it. “I’m down for the week.”
“The whole week?”
Riddle huffs. “I didn’t know the tie was leather!” he practically shouts. “You’re supposed to inform me about these things, Floyd!”
One week. Leather. Azul pales as realization hits. “You broke the contract terms,” he says slowly. “And… Floyd has reverted to merform.”
“Last night Floyd set out a leather imitation of his regular tie! How was I supposed to know not to tie his hands with it?”
Azul blanches.
“Come on,” Floyd whines, looking up at him petulantly. “Goldfish, we both know you wanna rough me up a little. I was just helpin’ you out.”
Riddle makes a strange noise in his throat.
“I was thinkin’ next time, you could try usin’ the leather to slap me,” Floyd says delightedly. “Since it left pretty good marks on my wrists, it’d be even better for the rest of the—”
“You know what,” Azul interrupts at the top of his lungs. “I’m done! I’m getting your contract right now and I’m tearing it up! And I’m not making you any more of these! Tell everyone: Azul Ashengrotto is never negotiating kinks with his contracts ever again! No more of this!”
Then he storms off to the one place he knows he’ll be taken seriously.
***
“I cannot deal with this anymore,” Azul declares, lying facedown on the table. “If you can find it in the spirit of your heart to assist a poor, unfortunate soul like myself, please do so.”
“Get off my table,” says Yuu.
Azul lifts his head. About twelve cobwebs lift off of the table with him. “Merciless as always, my dear Prefect.”
Yuu looks at him for a very long, measured moment. Then they visibly give up. “Alright,” they say. “Tell me what’s up.”
“My benevolence is being extorted.”
Yuu does not look sympathetic at all.
“People are setting boundaries for intercourse using my contracts.”
Yuu looks at him with dawning horror. “You mean, you have to write—”
“Yes,” Azul says, voice hollow. “I have to write about everyone's sex lives. By hand. While they discuss their kinks in front of me.” He sighs. When he exhales, the cobwebs move with his breath. Sometimes he wishes he’d won this place back in November. Yuu deserves better. When he finally opens the Mostro Lounge branch here, he’ll keep the upstairs floor as a dorm for them, and it’ll be ten times grander than this dump. He won’t even charge them rent.
“So,” says Yuu. “You’re suffering the effects of forbidden knowledge.”
“I most certainly am.”
Yuu is quiet for a moment. Only the creaking of the dorm floor above them interrupts the silence. Eventually they say, “What happens if they break them?”
“That’s a condition set in each contract. Floyd reverted to eel form, but I tore that contract up.”
Yuu nods, understanding. Azul feels immensely grateful for their comprehension. He’s just considering thanking them for their service with a lovely dinner cooked personally by him, along with some quality tuna for Grim, when—
“Actually, if your contracts can be used for that, would you mind setting me up with one?”
Azul stares at them.
“Well, maybe not just one,” Yuu says thoughtfully. “Maybe, um… four? Five?”
“Five,” says Azul faintly.
“Wait, seven. Eight? Um, maybe eight?”
Azul despairs.
***
The only problem with going to Yuu is that once Yuu knows something, so does everyone else.
***
“Hihi, Azul, C-M-I-I-W but during pop music club Kalim said you’re getting into contracts for kink negotiation now?”
Azul takes one look at Cater Diamond and slams the door in his face.
***
“So I have this wolf form,” says Jack Howl.
“And I have an octopus form, but you don’t see me being a pervert about it.”
Jack closes his mouth. He nods. Then, recognizing defeat, he turns around and leaves.
***
“Have you heard of somnophilia?”
Silver looks so earnest. Azul feels bad for approximately one-tenth of a second while kicking him out, which is one-tenth of a second more than he usually does.
***
“I am so sorry,” says a terrified-looking Idia.
Azul is so proud of him for braving the Lounge, even during off-hours, that he takes pity on him and lets him into his office. “You see now,” he says, dire. “Why I can’t look any other housewardens in the eye.”
“All of them?”
“Except Malleus, I suppose.”
Idia lets out a low breath. “Yikes.”
They sit there in companionable silence. Azul basks in the respite from insanity. Idia is one of those people who’s not afraid of a little peace and quiet. Azul likes that about him.
“Hey, Azul,” Idia says eventually, a little hesitant. “You, um, you know you can play cards with me anytime, right?”
“I do,” says Azul. Then, because he’s feeling rather benevolent, he adds, “Thank you, Idia.”
“Cool,” says Idia. “Um. So. Would you. Would you be willing to.”
Azul takes one look at Idia’s rapidly pinkening hair and his stomach sinks. “Not you too,” he pleads, more than a little desperate. “Idia. Please tell me you’re not asking for what I think you are.”
Idia wails. His forehead hits the table. His entire head burns orange and pink. “I can’t even say it. Needa grind more HP before I fight this boss.”
Somehow Azul, despite himself, laughs. “Oh, Idia. Never change.”
Idia groans into his hands. “I don’t even want to ask you anymore.”
Azul just sighs heavily. “You don’t need me to set boundaries, you know,” he says. “If you trust your partner, you can just abide by them without the magical consequences.”
Idia’s eyes fly wide open. “I wasn’t gonna ask for that!” he cries. “Azul, you know I’m a virgin.”
“You’ve never told me that.”
“I’ve finished Dark Souls 2 eight times this month.”
“…Point taken.”
Idia laughs, breathy. Azul can’t help but join him. It’s ridiculous. If someone had told him two months ago that he’d be cackling with Idia Shroud in his office after everything they put each other through during their overblots, he’d have sent them to the infirmary.
“Wait,” Azul says slowly, once the shock wears off. “What were you going to ask?”
“Oh.” Idia’s ends turn pink again. “Um, I was gonna ask if you wanna get the Chopgame duo subscription with me to save money.”
Azul stares at him. “In what world is that embarrassing enough to warrant that reaction? Of course I want to get the Chopgame duo subscription with you.”
Idia’s hair burns again. “Well, it’s, like, a couples’ thing!”
“I don’t give a damn,” Azul says firmly. “If it saves money, I want it. You know that.”
“Yeah.” Idia’s hair slowly shifts to blue again. “…I did hear about the contracts, though. Is it true you’re doing kink negotiation?”
“No!”
Idia raises one eyebrow.
“Okay, yes,” Azul admits, suddenly exhausted. “I ought to destroy them all, though, for all the good they’ve done me.”
Idia frowns. “You did a comm for no gems? Who are you and what have you done with Azul?”
Azul blinks. “Come again?”
“You don’t benefit from any of these,” Idia rephrases. “Why would you do something without any benefit?”
Azul’s mind whirls. Actually, Idia’s right. He hasn’t gotten anything out of this arrangement. The information he’s gathered is practically useless. He doesn’t much feel like ruining the reputation of the Asims or the Kingscholars, and if he were to say anything about Riddle, it’d be just as incriminating for his own lounge. There’s no reason he should continue doing this. No reason at all. He’s no benevolent sea witch. He’s a businessman.
“You’re brilliant,” Azul says suddenly, as he stands from his desk. “Idia, I could kiss you!”
Idia blinks several times, very rapidly. “Please don’t,” he says, sounding terrified.
Azul pauses. He stares at Idia for a moment. Then he grins. “Don’t worry. The feeling’s all gone now. You’re just as repulsive as usual.”
“Good,” Idia says, smiling a little. “I work hard for that.”
Azul looks at him carefully. “You’re quite handsome, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. “You’re not repulsive at all, now that I know you well. You’ve got a great sense of humor, and even better taste in card games.”
Idia smiles a little. “See, that’s the point,” he says. “If I wasn’t repulsive, all the NPCs would try to be my friend. But when I’m like this—” He gestures to himself vaguely. “I know all my friends are real ones.”
Azul’s chest feels a little strange. “Friends,” he says, tasting the word in his mouth. Then he smiles a little. “Yes,” he says. “We’re friends.”
Idia’s hair flushes a pleased orange. He takes out his phone and starts playing some rhythm game. Azul looks at him, taking comfort in the familiarity of it all. He shuffles through the stack of paperwork on his desk.
He usually hates having company while he works, but maybe this isn’t so bad.
***
Idia’s right. The next morning, he wakes up bright and early with a spring in his step, and tears up the contracts.
***
He slams the fragments of enchanted paper down on the table at the next housewarden meeting.
“I’m done,” he announces. “Negotiate your own damn kinks. If you can’t responsibly engage in sex without crossing your partner’s boundaries, you shouldn’t be having sex with each other at all.”
Then he sits back down.
The whole room has fallen silent. No one speaks for a full thirty seconds. Headmage Crowley looks at him and blinks, oblivious.
“What’s sex,” says Idia through his tablet.
Azul actually bursts out laughing.
***
gloomurai2: ik what sex is
gloomurai2: icydk
gloomurai2: from the hw meeting
Azul Ashengrotto: Yes, Idia. I know
Azul Ashengrotto: The tentacle porn posters cued me in years ago
gloomurai2 is typing…
gloomurai2 is typing…
gloomurai2 is still fucking typing…
Azul Ashengrotto: For Seven’s sake, Idia. I know you’re a pervert
Azul Ashengrotto: Think about it. If I minded, would we be friends?
gloomurai2: well
gloomurai2: guess not
Azul Ashengrotto: Precisely
gloomurai2: but
gloomurai2: the tentacle porn one is rly discreet
gloomurai2: it’s just the blue hair magical girl protag
gloomurai2: no tentacles
gloomurai2: how do yk what it’s from
Azul Ashengrotto: Why do you think?
gloomurai2: h
Azul Ashengrotto: I jest. Floyd sends me those sometimes when I’m feeling self-conscious about my body
gloomurai2: he sends u porn??
Azul Ashengrotto: Yes. I find it oddly thoughtful
Azul Ashengrotto: However strange it may be, it does convince me that my body is attractive
gloomurai2: .
gloomurai2: . i
Azul Ashengrotto: Yes?
gloomurai2: do u look like the
gloomurai2: urgh
gloomurai2: the tentacle monster from that one
Azul Ashengrotto: Why?
gloomurai2: .
Azul Ashengrotto: ?
gloomurai2: azul
gloomurai2: how opposed are u to
gloomurai2: doing ONE more of those contracts
gloomurai2: just one
Azul Ashengrotto: No.
gloomurai2: ok!
gloomurai2: im retreating
gloomurai2: soz
gloomurai2: saluting emoji
gloomurai2: ull never hear from me again
Azul Ashengrotto: You misunderstand
Azul Ashengrotto: If you want to have sex with me, you don’t need a contract
Azul Ashengrotto: Just ask me like a normal person
gloomurai2: real talk
gloomurai2: do i give ‘normal’ to u at all
Azul Ashengrotto: Point taken.
Azul Ashengrotto: I’ll be waiting in my office, Idia
Azul Ashengrotto: When you’re ready, I’ll be there
gloomurai2: when??
gloomurai2: not if???
Azul Ashengrotto: When
gloomurai2: .
gloomurai2: ,
gloomurai2: ,,,????
Azul smiles at his phone. There’s still a layer of thin dust at the bottom of the contract vault, from where he obliterated all those kink negotiations. This isn’t something designed for contracts. This is something everyone needs to deal with on their own. And if Idia ever gets the courage, Azul won’t pull out a contract at all. They’ll sit down and talk about it, without magic, just like anyone else.
Azul Ashengrotto: Good night, Idia.
gloomurai2 is typing…
gloomurai2 is typing…
gloomurai2: night, azul. hope u sleep well
For the first time in weeks, Azul does.