The Arcana and its characters do not belong to me. This story takes place post-canon. Please enjoy the sweet, sweet fluff.

Vesuvia and the lives of its people slowly returned to normal.

The problem for Julian was that he had never truly experienced 'normal' and it felt like…a trick.

Like everything was once again rolling inevitably towards the next catastrophe that would rip away happiness and sanity. So he simply drank his bitters slowly as he followed the love of several lifetimes with his eyes as she whispered with his sister at a table across the room. He had flirted and found her precious and perfect before when he thought he was going to die. No. When he thought he'd deserved to die, but now…

He hesitated to reach for happiness. To reach for her.

Hope, he had learned, was much more terrifying than any disease or arcane entity.

"You!"

Julian wiped the ale out of his eye with a sigh and looked to the drunken fool who'd slammed his ale down on the counter beside him.

"I…?," he prompted as Asra paused to drop onto the stool.

"You!" Asra began again, thrusting a finger into his face, "are a lucky, death-defying bastard moron!" He sucked in a breath and seemed to gather himself. "Who's also lucky," he finished with tipsy dignity.

"Thank you." I think. "I agree with all of those statements, my friend." He raised his tankard with a nod. "Being alive is more than I deserve."

"No no no no. You're a stupid-head."

Julian jerked forward as Asra tried to throw his arm around his neck, but seemingly forgetting about the height difference, slapped him across the back instead.

Asra snuggled into Julian's side. "Stupid," he said again with a sigh. "You're making her sad."

"Who am I making sad, Asra? The Magician? My sister? The barmaid?" He smirked into his tankard. "Faust? Wait. Is Faust a girl?"

Asra reached up and squeezed his chin then none too gently then jerked his head to the left. "Stella." He growled. "My Stella. You are making my apprentice Stella sad," he hissed. "Sad! You ass!"

Julian's heart clenched into a painful knot and dread closed his throat so that his, "What?" came out as a whispered croak. He frantically flipped through his memory these past weeks since the masquerade, trying to recall his offensive act, then jerked his eyes back to the bar as Stella and Portia turned their heads towards them since Asra's last two words had been yelled for all the tavern to hear.

He slapped his hand over Asra's mouth to shut him up, his hand so large that he ended up covering most of his face, then leaned in until they were nose to nose. "Why is she sad? Is she okay?!" He whispered, then shook his head. "No, I mean, it couldn't have been me. I haven't spoken to her in weeks except in passing,"

Asra slapped Julian's hand until he could breathe again. "I want to pour this drink over you so very badly you don't even know." He drilled a finger into Julian's chest, laid so conveniently bare by his choice of shirts. "You spend weeks talking to her with 'Darling' this and 'Darling' that. You get to know her. You make eyes at each other all over our shop and around town. Pulling her into schemes and wiles. Making her think you like her. Then poof!"

He took a moment to apologize to those he'd just sloshed with ale, then turned back with gritted teeth. "You die, just a little fucking bit. Save everything and then ignore her!" He reached into Julian's shirt cat-quick, but this time to yank at hairs. "Her heart hurts you stupid-head ass!".

Julian rubbed his chest, partially for the pain of hair removal, but also for the memory of the hardest, yet most precious time of his life. "I understand. I'm sorry she she had to suffer through that. Maybe if I apologize for dragging her into my mess…". He laid a coin on the table and went to stand up, only to help as Asra grabbed a fistful up of hair on his head and yanked him down to his level.

"She does not want an apology." Julian stilled as Asra's voice became suddenly, terrifyingly, sober and calm. "She has feelings for you. Feelings you stirred up on purpose then trod upon these past weeks with your self-pity, self-righteousness, and neglect. Which is stupid," the ale seeped back into his tone and he yanked on Julian's hair again, "because you love her!"

Julian didn't even try to disentangle himself, even though he was sure he'd felt a few hairs would remain in Asra's fist. Instead he stared. Speechless Just stared until the expression on Asra's face changed to one of concern and had him petting his hair instead of yanking on it.

He didn't even know he was crying until Asra wiped away a tear.

"What if…if she won't have me? What," this time he pulled Asra close as he pressed his face to his chest. "What if something happened to her, Asra? It happens so easily. Every day." Julian looked up at the magician and realized he'd fallen to his knees. "It would break me forever."

"You're already broken, my friend. But you don't have to be." Asra told him gently, patting his head. "And I am much too drunk for this chat. Not too drunk to yell at you, mind you, but definitely for much more than this."

He grabbed Julian's ears and tilted his head back, then leaned down until they were inches apart. "You're both alive. Now. Right now. You make her happy, gods know why. I can tell." He tapped what was left of his heart. "And she makes you happy, which everyone can tell, because you never were, my boy. Until her. Am I right?"

Julian's nod, and his bright red face, made him smile. "Do you want her?" Nod. "Will you cherish my apprentice?" Another, more emphatic nod. "Then court her, Doctor asshat, for both your sakes. And know that I will hex you crippled if you hurt her. Is that fair?"

Julian's answer was to hug Asra hard, which from his knees still meant that the magician was soon gasping for breath and hitting him about the head.

"Yes, yes, fine. I'm even going to help you. Starting now." Asra's arm locked around his neck, keeping him in place.

"No. Wait!"

"Stella! Come! I need you."

Julian slumped against him in defeat as he heard the light step of the apprentice, despite the sounds of the rowdy bar. He kept his face in Asra's shirt and prayed that maybe, just maybe she was drunk as well. Too drunk to help in whatever Asra's scheme might be.

He was completely and utterly prepared for what happened next.

"What do you need, Asr…," her question cut off as she gasped and rushed to their sides. "Julian!"

That her voice could still sound so concerned, caring, worried even, would have brought him to his knees if he hadn't already been there. And that those same emotions could come through her touch as she stroked his hair, his shoulders, his arms, and the bit of face she could see buried against Asra had him again fighting tears, but this time from awestruck joy.

"Our dear doctor here has had a bit too much to drink and has asked me for a potion, since he has an important patient to meet tomorrow. Could you be a dear and take him to the shop?"

Stella had already tucked her hands away, embarrassed to have patted the man down like a prison guard. She was so glad to be near him that her voice was extra sharp. "Now?" She looked around at the raucous crowd and then at the night-dark streets. She put her hands on her hips and tried to ignore the adorable blush that was creeping from Julian's ears and down his neck. "Did you lose a bet that it has to be done now?"

"That's….right!" Asra's gleeful answer had Stella narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Asra was not a graceful loser. "And you," his smile turned into a smirk, "have yet to pay up on our last bet. So you have to take him."

"Did you hear that Julian?" Asra yelled as though he was deaf. "Stella's going to settle my debt. She's going to take you to the shop now. Alright? Great!"

A snap of his fingers had Julian magically on his feet and towering above the two magicians. One who watched him with wariness and concern. And the other making little shooing motions and kissy faces as he moved behind his apprentice.

"Fine," Stella sighed, "Though betting on who could wait the longest to wash the dishes was not a fair bet, Asra. Come on, then." She held out a hand to Julian and silently blessed Asra for this stolen moment. "I can guide you or I can spell myself and carry you."

"No, no my dear. I'm fine walking on m…oof!" Julian winced and watched Asra nod thank you to the fellow beside them who'd unabashedly listened to their entire encounter and had lent a sharp, well-meaning elbow. "I mean, I don't want to put you out, but I would appreciate the help." He took her outstretched hand and fought the urge to simply yank her against him and bury his face in her hair. "Tomorrow is really quite important."

An epic day, in fact, since he would start his campaign for her heart and soul in earnest.

But not tonight. Tonight he would play the wounded (drunk) lamb and be led by the beautiful shepherdess to greener pastures. Or at least, greener potions, if he remembered this particular cure correctly.

Stella reached up and put a hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes at the touch. The day's end had brought out a light scruff that scraped against her soft skin and he vowed to shave twice a day from then on.

"You seem steady enough on your feet at least."

"Oh, uh, that was my doing I'm afraid, and temporary. It won't last long." Asra raised his ale to his lips and whispered a phrase that turned Julian's knees to jelly and had him dropping to the floor once more. "See?"

He helped him up and whispered in his ear, "They'll go loose every ten minutes or so for the next few hours. You're welcome."

Asra turned to Stella and beckoned her to take his place. "Just stay near walls and you should be fine. Don't worry Ilya," he assured him, "Stella knows how to get a drunk man home. Ouch!"

He held his nose and ear since both Julian and Stella had slapped and/or flicked him. "Sorry. Anyway!" He cleared the way to the door and ushered them through. "Off you go, then. Good luck, I mean night!"

Stella and Julian stood for a moment, staring at the slammed tavern door, then at each other, before they both looked away with a blush. "Alright then." She tightened the arm she had around his waist and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Shall we?"

She hadn't a hope of actually lending him her shoulder, bless her, since her head barely came up to his armpit. "Lead the way, darling."