Three

Gloves

Cloak hovered at the edge of the room, and watched as it's Chosen smoothed on the leather gauntlets, a satisfied grin shaping his often severe expression. He flexed his hands, moved them, muttered,

'These will do nicely.'

The light colored leather was buttercream soft, conformed perfectly to his elegant hands.

He looked to the dark skinned, dark haired man, clad in blue, waiting before him, said,

'Thank you, Master Bryton, for making these for me.'

Master Bryton offered a small bow, and a large smile.

'I'm pleased that they will fill your needs, Doctor,' he responded, and exited the audience hall of Kamar-Taj.

Stephen continued admiring the gloves, and, after a few minutes, Cloak gave an annoyed ruffle, drawing Stephen's attention.

After a brief second of confusion, he remembered,

'Students. Right,' and headed off toward the training grounds.

Cloak noticed he was still fussing happily with the new addition to his wardrobe, gave another petulant fluff, but waited, patient as always, for the return of it's Chosen.

That evening, back in New York, Stephen pulled off the new gauntlets, briefly eyeing his crimson comrade, hovering further in the corner of his rooms than it ever had. He smoothed the glove leather, obviously quite pleased with this new acquisition, then laid them on the desk. Cloak rippled, slightly, but Stephen wasn't quite sure what to make of his companions' mood.

He gave a wide yawn, and, with a perplexed look toward Cloak, headed off to shower, and to bed.

The next morning, preparing to leave for another day of tutoring at Kamar-Taj, Stephen stepped to the desk, looking for his gloves.

Brow furrowed, he looked all over the desktop, certain that was where he'd left them, the night before.

He was very nearly going to ask Cloak if it had seen them when he spotted them plopped into the waste can beside the desk.

Puzzled, he decided he must've accidentally laid them too close to the edge, and they'd fallen in.

With a shrug, he pulled them on, glancing toward Cloak, informed, cheerily,

'Kamar-Taj again, today,' headed out the door, waiting to feel the reassuring weight of Cloak settle onto his shoulders.

When it didn't, he stopped, looked questioningly toward Cloak, asked,

'You aren't coming?'

Almost reluctantly, Cloak shuffled from the corner, draped limply across his shoulders.

Stephen made a face, snorted,

'Ah, what's up with you, today?'

Cloak was uncharacteristically still, but Stephen was running late, and didn't have time to give it much more thought.

Then, the gloves were mislaid when he removed them to eat.

Again, when he went to research in the library.

The last straw was when he came out of the shower that evening to find them, yet again, in the waste can.

He pulled them out, with a sharp look toward Cloak, lurking in a far corner.

The obvious culprit.

His initial reaction was anger, but, first, he took a deep breath.

Asked, a bit more confrontationally than he intended,

'You don't care for these?' shaking them in Cloaks direction.

Cloak plastered its collar flat, leaving no doubt that it was scowling, and gave a short, brisk shake, back and forth.

NO.

Stephen shook his head, snapped,

'Why?'

Not exactly certain how he was going to get any clarification.

Sulkily, but with a determined swing, Cloak came alongside, then, hesitantly, reached toward Stephen's hand.

Irritably, he stretched it out.

Cloak carefully rubbed it's edge along his trembling palm, then let it's folds fall, and floated back a pace or two, waiting for it's Chosen to understand.

Stephen raised his brows, surprise, a sudden realization.

'You don't like that you can't touch me? Or, that I can't touch you, when I'm wearing them?' he blinked, astonished, and Cloak gave a solemn nod.

Stephen shook his head, then laughed, astounded.

It hadn't occurred to him how strongly Cloak had bonded, nor would he have ever thought it would actively seek out affection.

After a contemplative silence, he commented,

'Are you...jealous?' almost teasingly, with an edge of confusion.

Cloak jerked away, spun so its back was to Stephen, clearly in a huff.

Stephen chuckled, bemused, shook his head.

'Well, I must say, I am a bit confused as to why.'

Cloak did a half turn back, listening.

'These cover up my...' he displayed his scarred fingers, then clenched his hands into fists.

Sighed, admitted, 'They serve my vanity. Nothing more.'

Cloak swung back away, not completely appeased.

Stephen gave another obvious sigh, stepping away to lay the gloves on the desk,

'I mean, I like to think I've changed a lot, but I'm still a work in progress.'

Stephen gave a covert glance Cloaks direction, continued,

'I'd think my best friend would cut me a little slack.'

Cloak spun, met it's Chosen's gaze. Pointed toward itself, with its hem edge, a query.

Me?

Stephen shrugged, admission,

'Of course. My partner, my most trusted friend.'

Cloak hit Stephen like a bolt of crimson lightning, nearly knocking him over, quickly snuggled onto his shoulders, a wriggle of happiness.

Stephen laughed, offered,

'Can we compromise? I'll only wear these in public, and you stop throwing them away.

Deal?'

After a few seconds, Cloak gave a brief twitch, and Stephen smiled,

'I'll take that as a yes, you silly, jealous thing.'

Cloak shrugged, and cuddled it's Chosen.