Once A Tale (MXM, BXB)

Briar Rose: Bonus Short II

"I'm getting cabin fever," Hugh declared unceremoniously one day.

Gustave, working seriously on his latest embroidery, blinked and looked across the room at where Hugh was bonelessly sprawled in his chair. His limbs weren't in the proper places at all and, even now, his head lolled off of the arm of the couch as he peered at Gustave.

"You want to go... out?" Gustave asked skeptically. "To town?"

"That town? And stare at all their stupid faces?" Hugh and Gustave exchanged a deeply understanding look; their grudge against the town, kingdom and so on had been well-crafted and deeply instilled. "No thanks. But I want to go somewhere."

"Hmm." Gustave frowned down at his embroidery, torn. It was coming along marvellously and he was just putting the finishing touches on the mushroom border.

"You can finish that any time, you know? Let's go somewhere. You've probably got a magic broomstick tucked away somewhere, don't you?"

Gustave jerked his head up in offence, raising his chin as his face reddened. Hugh was always assuming this and that about him and, worst of all, it often turned out to be correct. "It does not," he started indignantly, "seat two."

Hugh stared at him, righting his posture to gape. "Wow. I can't believe you can't put on another seat for me."

As usual, Gustave had no idea whether Hugh was being serious or making fun of him or not. He was so blasé and dry in speech that it made it difficult to understand him. But he was learning as time went on that there was often a type of seriousness in anything Hugh said. No matter how dramatically or playfully he said it.

"...It wouldn't be very comfortable," Gustave admitted at last, grudgingly. "But I suppose I could conjure up some other form of transportation for us."

Hugh's freckled features lit up as it seemed like—indeed—he'd been perfectly serious about riding a broomstick and wasn't about to turn down another magical ride. "How long will it take?" he asked eagerly, leaning forward.

Gustave felt an excited little tremor in his chest, fought not to show it on his face. Who else would look forward to magic he could do but Hugh? He cleared his throat and, at last, set his embroidery aside for later. Some things took priority. "Not long. Perhaps half an hour."

Hugh whooped and leapt to his feet. "Then, let's do it! Let's go on a flight together. Let's go on a hot date somewhere!"

"H-hot date?!"

-----------------------------------

"Wow."

Before them, sitting on Gustave's front lawn, was what he had crafted. Rather, he had used his magic to draw it from another plane of existence entirely (much like his fridge, his microwave, and other such amenities) and give it the simplest of flying enchantments.

"What'd you say this thing was called?" Hugh asked.

"A moped," Gustave introduced it with a grand wave of his hand, quite proud of himself indeed.

"'Moped'... huh. Let's give it some fancy-pancy name afterward, but let's go! Let's get on and fly somewhere!"

"Ah, yes..."

When they settled onto the moped in question, a problem quickly became evident.

"I can't see anything," Hugh declared petulantly behind Gustave. Gustave wanted to sigh and nod in agreement—only when he was looking at the moped did he realise this might be an issue. Frowning at the handlebars, he shifted, standing up and gesturing with one impeccably manicured hand.