Gabriel Date Day (Patreon)

It was uncharacteristically warm the day that I met Gabriel at the edge of the bridge. The ocean waves were loud and the clambering of something below echoed across the rolling dunes to the right. A group of individuals, far bigger than I had seen in the market, began patching the recent erosion to the Velvet Guard's walkway to the caves.  I stood patiently as Gabriel stepped out of the metal door down the way, nodding his head at the receptionist before checking that his sword was strapped to him.  He walked briskly towards me then, uniform perfectly pressed, not a hair out of place.

“Shall we?” He held out his arm in that gentlemanly manner that I wondered if he had learned from observation during his patrols, or if it was something innate to him.  Reaching out, I bypassed the crook of his elbow to reach for his hand, lacing my fingers within his. When his grey eyes glanced downwards, there was a brief twitch of a smile on his lips.  “I thought we could get something warm to drink before our dinner reservations,” he said. “Perhaps walk around the market a bit.”

I nodded, falling into easy step by his side.  “That sounds nice. There is a new place I discovered, if you want to follow me.” It was far from where our dinner reservations were and in a part of the market that I didn’t know if Gabriel ever traversed.  Given the state of his office and his home, I thought it to be doubtful.  “It has tea and little steaming shells full of something that Hazel calls Soa and also these really big twirling bottles of steam that apparently turn to liquid when you drink from them.”

“Only drink those if you are of the dragon kin or if you have an esophagus more prone to the heat.”

I blinked, looking up at Gabriel as I tried to decide if this was one of his dry jokes or if this was something I needed to be aware of. His face held no mirth and so I decided I should just err on the side of caution.

“I have a question about that,” I started, the two of us navigating the market alleys.  “Why is it most people are human presenting? I mean, occasionally, I see people with horns, or their skin will shimmer. Or like the workers down below.  They looked far bigger than the average individual.  Why in a nexus point is there not more differences?”

“Your eyes have not adjusted yet.”

“My eyes default into bipedal humans.”

“No,” he laughed. “Your eyes adjust not to see the magic.”

“The magic that does not exist here?” It was such a joke at this point to claim that it didn’t, but Gabriel still seemed to cling to the idea of it not.

“I am not sure how to describe it to your satisfaction. But essentially, the market can appear one way when you arrive and then the longer you are here, layers are pulled back to reveal something far different.”

I thought about that. About how the market had been changing before my eyes.  It was a slow change. One that I didn’t realize was happening at the time. But the horrors of the market suddenly took on a different tone, the lanterns had adjusted from their bright and overwhelming light, the smells had evened out to something richer and far more intriguing, and the people that walked the street became to grow in shape and size.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “But nothing about here really makes sense.” Rounding a corner, I tugged on his arm. “Oh, there. That is the place I was talking about.”

The drink cart in question was embedded into the side of the alley wall. Just enough room for two women to sit behind the counter, with three different samovars of liquid.  They poured the contents into the container of your liking and the contents changed based on the container.

But really, there was no magic within the Night Market.

The two of us ordered tea that was placed in steaming ceramic mugs that we got to carry throughout the wandering alleys.  There was not much in the mouth of this district and I purposefully kept Gabriel here as we drank and exchanged small talk of our day. He had just arrested several individuals who were trying to illegally tunnel beneath the market. I was trying out different pots of milk for Mr. Billows because he clearly did not like the one we had on hand this week.

After a few moments, I turned to him. “So,” I stated, dragging out the syllable.  “Would you be upset if we didn’t go to dinner?”

He frowned. “We have reservations.”

“Would you be upset if I said we canceled said reservations. And by we, I mean me?”

His frown deepened even further at that, the lines across his forehead becoming dark in true confusion and slight displeasure. “Why?”

“Because, Gabriel,” I said, this time looping my arm within his like he had wanted me to earlier.  “I think there is something much more important that we need to do today. Something far grander than dinner. But could still be a fun date.”

He didn’t get the chance to ask what that something was. Because I was leading him around the corner that opened up onto sprawling hills, rolling upwards towards the night sky where children ran and hit the lanterns, laughing as they were showered in dew.

“Why have you brought me to the flea market?”

“Because you need furniture, Gabriel. Your office has two broken chairs and your house only has a sofa and a table.”

“And a bed,” he said.

“A tiny, uncomfortable bed. We are getting you new furniture.”

“At a flea market.”

“Yes.”

He stared at me evenly. “A flea market.”

“Okay, I’m sensing a theme here. What is wrong with a flea market?”

“It is not exactly my taste in furniture.”

“Your taste in furniture is to have no furniture so I don’t really think that’s an argument.”

His face looked pinched as he stared out over the tiers of stalls, all slowly rounding upwards.  The market was packed today, people milling with baskets and some with carts for the bigger things. I had scoped it out a few days prior and had found an entire section with handmade furniture. I was determined to at the very least, get him a night stand today.

“Everything is bright,” he said.

“I promise you, there are darker colors for your furniture selection. Some even black. We just have to look a little.”

Gabriel was the Warden of the Night Market. Daily, he apprehended criminals in some of the seediest corners of the world. Yet, this, this place, somehow brought a sneer to his face.

Hugging him a bit closer to my side, I waited for him to process what we would be doing. Because I was not letting him get out of here without buying something.

“I could just order from the catalogs if you are truly wishing for me to get more furniture.”

“You could. And maybe we will look at those catalogs tonight. But, I think it is good for you, Gabriel, to get out among the people and actually buy their wares.  Make time for yourself as opposed to pointing at a page and saying ‘that’ and then letting whatever you bought sit in a box all season.”

I didn’t know if he actually did this but by the look on his face it was clear it was pretty close to the truth.

With a sigh, he looked at me. “This is what you would like to do for our date?” he asked.

“Help you with tasks that you shove aside because you are a workaholic? Yes.”

Defeat crossed his face.  “As you wish.” Before we took another step though, he leaned forward, capturing my lips against his own. It was a kiss slow and sweet and one that he took his time with.  I grinned against him, feeling his body respond as I trailed my hand up his side.  “Will you be picking things out for me?” he whispered against me, his tongue flicking out to play against my own.

“No, that is your job,” I told him with a small laugh. “But I will be making sure you do as you are told.”

When he pulled back, he smiled at me, something dark playing across his eyes.  “I hear I take orders well,” he mused. Straightening, he locked my arm within his, and then looked out at the flea market as if it were a battleground.  Nodding resolutely, he stepped forward, the two of us falling into some makeshift march.

And with each thin and slightly patronizing smile at my furniture suggestions, I felt myself fall for him a little more.