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Jedediah hasn’t been a man of faith in a very long time.
Of course, he’s still painfully aware soulmates are a thing. They might be the only thing he still believes in — and even then, for the longest time, he’s sure he doesn’t have one.
He's in the middle of looking over a tough job at the railroad one day when that changes. They’re going through a bad summer heatwave, and the museum feels like an oven, so he decides to roll up his sleeves. He is immediately greeted with the sight of large, colorful splotches all over his skin. It looks like a kid’s finger-painting project.
Furrowing his brows, he runs a finger along the colorful spots, but they disappear like ripples in water as soon as he touches them.
“You alright, boss?”
He looks up. Dakota, his second-in-command, tilts his head in question.
Jedediah rolls his sleeves down and adjusts his hat. “Right as rain, partner.”
Dakota nods and turns back to his work, looking over blueprints for something they're probably never going to be able to build as long as they're trapped behind a wall of glass.
Sighing, Jedediah turns and heads for his tent. Those marks on his arms — they're the marks you get when your soulmate touches you. The ones that disappear when you touch them yourself.
This poses a couple problems: One, it means he met his soulmate and didn't even realize it. Two, Jedediah doesn't remember making physical contact with anyone in the Western diorama — at least not with his gloves off — these past few days.
Which can only mean one very, very bad thing.
Well. One of two very bad things.
Either his soulmate is one of the night guards — he hates it when they manhandle him — or worse, his soulmate is a Roman. After all, their last battle was about the only time recently he had his gloves off since they were surprise-attacked in the middle of him washing up.
The thought makes him want to laugh and cry at the same time, so he does neither and chooses not to think about it. A problem for tomorrow-Jedediah, he decides.
Octavius has a soulmate, and he has no idea who it could possibly be.
At first, when he saw the colorful marks, all he could think of was how strange it was that a miniature like him could even have a soulmate. Does that mean miniatures have souls? Do all of the museum exhibits have soulmates?
It's certainly something to think about.
But of course, the bigger problem is really who. He didn't have these marks before their last fight, and none of the soldiers he's made contact with have sparked the colorful reaction. That leads him to believe it must be one of the citizens of their diorama.
Because it could not be one of the barbarians next door. The gods wouldn't do such a thing to him, would they?
No. Of course not.
So his soulmate is one of his own people. Or perhaps one of the night guards — though the thought unnerves him.
Either way, he has more pressing concerns at the moment than matters of the heart. For now, he decides, he will not think about it — better to worry over it later than let it cloud his senses.
Something Jedediah notices about his soulmarks is that they’ve only ever appeared after a scrap with the Romans. Whenever the dioramas aren’t boxed in behind glass walls, they’re busy raining hell on each other in any way they can. That’s usually when he gets those colorful marks on his skin.
So that confirms it, then. He’s got a Roman soulmate.
Fate’s really got a screw loose, huh. It’s a cruel thing, to try and tie him down to someone he’s supposed to be fighting.
The thought rests, sour, in the back of his mind. He doesn’t even want to figure out who it could be, because then he’d have to go to war knowing his soulmate’s identity. It’d be hard to focus on the fight that way.
No, there won’t be any of that, he decides. He’s not even gonna think about his soulmate. He’ll just keep his sleeves down and his gloves on, and he won’t think about it. It’s better that way, anyhow. He has people to lead and business to take care of. Love would just get in the way.
So that’s what he does — he forgets about it. Blocks it from his mind.
Take that, fate.
Conquering is not going well.
It isn’t as if it’s going poorly, but it certainly is not going the way Octavius had hoped it would.
Not only are the night guards painfully disagreeable about any of their attempts, but the wretched wall between Rome and the West is impeding their progress. They can’t get through.
Not for any lack of trying, of course. When the glass is closed over their dioramas — which is most of the time — they’re hard at work training, using the battering ram, or holding Senate meetings.
In all the commotion, he nearly forgets he has a soulmate at all. It’s not until their next battle that the marks return, distracting him for long enough that one of the cowboys hits him over the head and runs off. He falls over, but quickly stands back up and turns his attention back to the battle, soulmate forgotten.
Later, after the guards have interrupted their fight and closed the glass over the exhibits, Octavius takes his helmet off and looks over himself briefly in a mirror. It’s only meant to be a glance, but his eye is caught by a vibrant paint-like pattern spreading across his temple. The exact place he’d been hit earlier.
Dread pools in his gut. It was one of his enemies that hit him there, not a fellow Roman. Which can only mean one thing — his soulmate is a barbarian cowboy.
Octavius wipes it away and turns, trying very hard not to resent the gods for doing such a thing to him.
But why? Why would such a fate be given to him, of all people? Why couldn’t he have a soulmate he could actually love?
He shakes the thoughts from his head. The gods have their reasons, surely.
This Octavius guy is really starting to get on Jedediah’s nerves. He acts all high and mighty all the time, but just because he’s the leader of the Romans doesn’t mean he gets to pretend he’s God’s favorite princess.
By the time the new night guard shows up, Jedediah’s already gotten tired of all this Roman conquering bullshit. There won't be any of that, no sir — Jedediah has his own business to take care of. Manifest Destiny. No Roman’s gonna stop him from fulfilling it.
Except Gigantor keeps getting in the way. He shuts down their attempt to put Octavius in the stockade, then shuts down Manifest Destiny, then makes these loud snapping noises at them when they're in the middle of their biggest fight yet.
Sure, he lets them run around all night, unlike the old guards. But he’s annoying. Too strict about the exhibits needing to keep the peace around the museum. He wants them to get along. Definitely has a screw loose, that guy.
Jedediah’s not the type to give up or surrender. Especially not for a giant who thinks he’s some kind of big shot.
But when everything goes haywire and he finds out he might never live again if they don’t get that tablet back, Jedediah reluctantly agrees to work with Octavius. And they actually get along, somehow.
At first, he thinks that after all this is done, they’ll go back to their regular habit of arguing and getting into fights neither side ever seems to win. But things change when a slip of the tongue has Jedediah insisting he’ll stay by Octavius’s side. And then they’re racing through a park together, Rexy on their tail.
It’s the most fun he’s had in years. Maybe the most fun he’s had ever. And Octavius is right there the entire time.
When it's all over, and Jedediah is covered in soot and snow, he feels worn out. Not the same kind of worn out he feels after a scrap with the Romans, but more like a satisfied, happy kind of worn out.
He’s washing the soot off of his face when Octavius shows up, unannounced, causing Jedediah to jump out of his skin in a way he’d never admit to anyone else.
“Jedediah,” Octavius says, “I’d like to make a truce.”
“You wanna stop fightin’? Thought you Romans didn’t like to surrender.”
“We are not surrendering. All I ask is — well, I suppose I’d prefer it if we didn’t have to fight anymore.”
Jedediah considers this. It’d feel weird going up against them again after all they’ve been through together. Not that he wants to buddy up with them, but a truce wouldn’t hurt anyone. And besides, his soulmate is one of the people over there. He doesn’t think he’ll end up falling in love with them, but maybe it’s better not to fight.
“You know what, partner? Sure.”
Octavius tilts his head and offers a polite smile. Then he turns, leaving the West peacefully for the first time.
Jedediah continues wiping away soot and assumes that’ll be the last of their interactions.
He’s wrong, of course.
Jedediah has become a dear friend to Octavius.
At first, the two of them were content to go their separate ways. But that only lasted so long, as soon enough they were bonding over their leadership responsibilities and shared experiences.
For more than fifty years, they fought ruthlessly against each other whenever they had the chance. Octavius can hardly imagine why, looking back on it. Jedediah is a wonder to be around — even if his driving is quite frightening — and Octavius wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world.
At some point, Larry leaves them. In the two years that follow, they have plenty of adventures. One time, they find themselves running for their lives from a massive lion, which leaves Octavius terribly shaken. But Jedediah — wonderful, courageous Jedediah — seems completely unfazed by it. He’s not, of course, because Octavius knows him better than that, but he admires the show of bravery his friend puts on.
Sometimes, when they’re not doing anything but sitting in each other’s company, Octavius finds his gaze lingering just a little too long on Jedediah’s breathtakingly blue eyes. He wonders what Jedediah’s hands would feel like in his, if he ever took his gloves off.
Then he has to shake the thoughts from his head. Jedediah is a good friend, nothing more.
Unfortunately, two years is all the time they get. Soon enough, the museum curator is trying to replace them with more “technologically advanced” exhibits, and Larry is back. Octavius resents him for leaving, but he’s more disappointed when Jedediah turns down his offer to go for a walk.
Of course, he gets bored wandering around on his own through the museum and ends up searching for Jedediah anyway. He finds him sitting precariously on the edge of the front desk, the car he likes so much just at the bottom.
It takes Octavius a moment to find a place to climb, but he does, and sits down beside Jedediah in a slightly winded state. Jedediah looks up at him.
“What are you doing here? You should be having fun with the others, Octavius.”
The first sign he’s upset: referring to Octavius by the whole word instead of one of his silly nicknames.
“It’s no fun without you, my friend,” Octavius says, smiling.
Jedediah does not return the gesture. Instead he looks around at the museum, those beautiful eyes of his downcast.
“It’s hard to imagine we’re leavin’ this place, you know? And some of us ain’t even comin’ with. Teddy, Ahk, Rexy...”
“I know how it feels. We’ve been here for so long. It won’t ever feel the same again.”
“Yeah. Wish we had more time.”
Octavius inches closer, laying a hand on Jedediah’s shoulder. “I’m sure everything is going to be alright. Do not give up hope yet.”
“Ock, we don’t even know where we’re goin’. For all we know, they could be gettin’ rid of us for good. What if I never see you again?”
“Then we should make the best of our time now.”
Jedediah looks at Octavius. He takes his hat off, leaning in closer and resting his head on Octavius’s shoulder.
Octavius doesn’t mention it out loud, but he’s terribly aware of this being the closest they’ve ever been to each other. He brushes a hand against Jedediah’s temple, hesitating, before running it through his hair gently.
They sit like that for a while, legs hanging off the edge as they take in the museum for the last time.
Octavius has spent his entire life here. As a miniature, anyhow — he’s sure the real Octavius had more adventures than racing around a museum in a tiny car. Still, he knows he’s going to miss this place. His heart already aches for it.
Just when Octavius finds himself wishing he could stay right here forever, he notices the sky outside lightening.
“It’s almost time to go,” he mutters to Jedediah, pulling his arm away.
Jedediah sits up hesitantly, reaching to grab his hat.
It’s at this point that Octavius sees a large, colorful mark slowly spreading from Jedediah’s hair down to his jaw. He stares, eyes wide.
“There somethin’ on my face?”
“No,” Octavius says, “it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Jedediah frowns at him, taking a glove off and rubbing his face to check for anything strange. The mark disappears in an instant.
Unfortunately, Octavius doesn’t have the time to even think about what he’s just seen. The sun is rising, and they have to get back to their boxes.
With a sigh, he wipes the colors off his fingers, stands, and resolves to shove the thought to the back of his mind for the time being. There will be time to think about it later.
Jedediah makes a stupid decision and nearly pays for it with his life.
For a while, he's not even upset about it. But the more the hourglass fills, the closer he gets to death.
As a miniature in a museum, never growing old or getting sick, he thought he'd have forever. Now, though, he feels like he's staring down the barrel of a shotgun and he has no way out.
Maybe the worst part of it is the fact that Jedediah gets a whole hour to stew in his own guilt over the fact that, had he never even come up with that stupid plan and just stayed in the truck, this Kahmunrah guy wouldn't have been able to get the upper hand like he did.
When Gigantor comes racing into the room with the code Kahmunrah wants, begging him to hand the hourglass over, Jedediah feels more like a bargaining chip than a person. It's humiliating.
Then, of course, because things can never go right, Jedediah gets thrown across the room. Somehow, the hourglass doesn't break, and the sand just keeps coming. The impact makes it worse, actually. And now all Jedediah can do is sit there, awaiting his death. His limbs are stuck under layers and layers of sand, and it’s getting everywhere — in his clothes, his eyes, his throat. He can barely breathe.
And then, like a blessing, Octavius shows up.
Jedediah has never held anyone tighter in his life. He hugs Octavius like he’ll die if he lets go — he kind of feels like he will. Octavius wraps his arms around Jedediah in response.
After a moment Jedediah breaks away, coughing, and all he can think about is how damn grateful he is for this guy. He’d be dead without him.
He looks up, grinning. He probably looks like a mess, sand in every crevice, but he knows Octavius doesn’t care.
“Can’t believe that thing broke ‘cause of your helmet and not after bein’ thrown,” Jedediah says, laughing.
“Of course it did. This helmet is pure Roman craftsmanship,” Octavius says, pulling his sword out. “Here, take this.”
Jedediah takes the sword, staring at it with awe for a moment. Then he turns to the giants fighting each other with a mischievous grin. Octavius gives him a knowing look and nods.
Together they run into the fray, and Jedediah never notices the small, colorful mark on Octavius’s neck where the two of them hugged.
The ride back home is spent in relaxing silence. Jedediah and Octavius sit on the ground beneath the seats, and Jedediah has long since fallen asleep against Octavius. That’s a thing miniatures can do, Octavius supposes — he’s never tried it. He’s never really needed to.
Jedediah seems exhausted, however. Perhaps the stress of the night has taken a toll on him.
Octavius sighs, pulling Jedediah closer. It’s almost impressive how the two of them, in all their years spent together, made so little skin-on-skin contact with each other. He wonders how things might have changed had the two of them discovered this earlier on, when their lives weren't put at stake immediately after.
Actually, does Jedediah even know?
Octavius isn't sure. And he doesn't want to approach the topic without a good deal of caution. Jedediah is a very dear friend to him, and he wouldn't want to lose what they have.
Perhaps, he thinks, that might not be all there is to it. He runs his fingers through Jedediah’s hair with a small smile. Jedediah sighs, leaning into it.
Where Octavius’s fingers brush against his skin, vibrant colors bloom and spread slowly. Fascinating, he thinks.
The way soulmates work has always baffled him. Nearly fifty years ago, when some of his people began discovering their soulmates, it caused conflict between some of them. Sometimes, their soulmates wouldn't be their own spouses or lovers, but someone else entirely.
Not everyone was willing to follow fate blindly. Some preferred to stay with their current partners. Octavius can understand that — he respects the gods, but even he would struggle to part with someone he loves just to obey their whims.
Luckily for him, he might never have the need to. His soulmate is right here, fast asleep on his shoulder. Octavius feels love for nobody else.
Love feels like a foreign word to use for someone like Jedediah. After all, their friendship is new. Two years in the making, but still new in comparison to the fifty years of hatred and constant battling.
At the same time, however, love is the perfect word. Could he describe the way he feels any other way?
No. Not really.
He can only hope Jedediah feels the same. Cowardly as Octavius is, though, he’ll likely never admit how he feels.
For the next hour or so, Octavius lets Jedediah sleep against him. When the plane lands, Octavius reluctantly wakes him up.
“Jedediah,” he says, gently tugging him up, “it’s time to go. The sun is rising soon.”
Jedediah grumbles, attempting to press closer. Octavius has to push him off.
They ride in Larry’s pockets on the way back, Jedediah lethargically pointing out how Amelia starts flying in the wrong direction back to the Smithsonian. With sunrise looming, Octavius worries she won’t be able to make it back in time.
Silently, he prays the gods grant her safe passage home.
Larry drops them off by Jedediah’s car, muttering something about a “Dr. McPhee.” Octavius doesn’t question it, turning to Jedediah with a small smile.
Jedediah smiles tiredly back at him, oblivious to the vibrant mess of colors covering the side of his face.
“I’ll drive,” Octavius says, despite his very small amount of driving experience.
For a moment Jedediah protests, but Octavius gives him a disapproving look that is somehow enough to quiet him.
Due to the nature of the car being nothing more than a toy, the controls are minimal. Pedals, a steering wheel, and a button to turn the engine on are the only features. For Octavius, that makes driving much easier.
The ride to the basement is quiet, Jedediah too uncharacteristically lethargic to speak in his usual animated manner. Once they arrive, Sacagawea helps carry their car down the stairs for them, and Octavius thanks her when he gets out.
The basement is dark. There are lights, of course, but they’re dim enough that the corners of the room seem completely swallowed by shadow.
At his height, it’s very intimidating.
“You could fit the whole of New York in here,” Jedediah mutters as he steps out of the car. “Miniature New York.”
“Aren’t we in New York?”
“Unrelated.”
Octavius snorts, looking around for the box full of their things Larry spoke about. He sees, near the wall, a group of cowboys and soldiers climbing on top of each other and arguing as they try to reach the lid of a large wooden crate.
Octavius gestures for Jedediah to follow him in that direction. When they get there, Octavius yells to ask what they’re doing.
“We’re gettin’ our stuff back! What does it — OW! That’s my head!” one of the cowboys yells as a soldier mistakenly uses his head instead of his shoulders for leverage.
Actually, Octavius isn’t sure it’s a mistake.
“Sir, all of the miniature exhibit parts are in that box,” one of Octavius’s men says. “Our buildings and their tents. We are attempting to retrieve everything.”
Octavius smiles. “I never thought I’d see you all getting along like this. Impressive!”
“Hey, when do you think they’re gonna let us back in our dioramas?” Jedediah asks, changing the subject. He seems more awake now, eyes scanning the room with barely-restrained curiosity.
“Shouldn’t be too long now,” comes Theodore’s voice from behind them.
Octavius turns. “Theodore! What are you doing in the basement? Don’t you have to be back at your exhibit soon?”
“I wanted to come and say hello. I wasn’t sure you’d all be coming back after you left.”
“Why’d you lie to us? The tablet wasn’t comin’,” Jedediah says.
Theodore takes on a solemn look. “I’m truly sorry. I thought it might be better to lie in the spirit of not scaring any of you.”
“I ain’t scared, Teddy! You don’t gotta lie to us.”
Theodore chuckles. “I swear it won’t happen again.”
“It better not.”
Just then, Larry rushes into the basement, ushering Theodore up the stairs as the sun begins to rise. Octavius’s men are still trying — and failing — to scale the box and retrieve their items, so he senses that they won’t get much done in the few minutes left.
He takes his last moments before dawn to sit down with Jedediah against the leg of a large wooden table in the middle of the basement. Neither of them say anything, but as Octavius feels his body go stiff, he thanks the gods for giving him a soulmate like Jedediah.
Jedediah likes the way Octavius smiles.
It’s rare — he’s always so serious — but whenever it happens it makes Jedediah feel all funny.
Maybe it's the way his eyes crinkle, like he’s somehow aged even though he's a miniature. Maybe it's the way most of his smiles happen when his helmet is off, and he’s less composed, and Jedediah gets to watch the way his hair curls around his ears and frames his face.
Whatever it is, Jedediah doesn't like it. It unsettles him, makes him scared to look at all, because he can't be feeling like this. It's not right. Octavius is his friend.
But even without soft smiles, the funny feeling returns every time Octavius starts passionately rambling about whatever's caught his eye recently. It returns when they're sitting close together, and Jedediah is painfully aware of every brush of their legs and shoulders. It returns when they're in the car, and Octavius is yelling and laughing because of Jedediah’s driving.
He can't escape it.
He tries, of course. But his tried-and-true strategy of ignoring all of his problems only works for so long before he gets that ache in his chest again. He does also try avoiding Octavius entirely, but that's probably the worst plan he's ever had — it falls apart almost instantly with Octavius coming to the Western diorama and Jedediah caving all too easily.
That's the thing about Octavius; his personality is infectious. Jedediah wishes he got to know him better earlier, because whenever he's around Octavius, it almost seems like there's no problems in the world. Like it's just the two of them, free of responsibility and worry.
Well, except for that one bit. The one Jedediah is desperately trying to avoid.
He slumps over the tiny desk in his tent with a groan, displacing his hat. Grappling with his feelings has gotten too much for him today, so he leaves the tent, walking out into the light of the newly-restored Western diorama.
It’s an off-day for them, which Jedediah is grateful for — he doesn’t have the energy to entertain people. He could go visit Octavius, but he’s not in the mood for that either. Instead, he steps into the saloon.
The place is as cheerful as ever, upbeat piano coming from a corner surrounded by dancing patrons. Jedediah sits down at the bar, tapping his foot to the music.
“Whiskey?” the bartender asks, wiping the inside of a glass absentmindedly.
“You got it.”
She nods and turns to fetch him his drink. He sits there, patiently waiting, and soon enough she's back. She sets the shot down in front of him, and he expects her to turn and go about her business, but she doesn't. Instead, she leans down and props her head up on a hand, looking him in the eyes. It'd be uncomfortable if he didn't know her so well.
“You look like hell,” she says.
“Abby,” Jedediah warns, knowing full well where this conversation is going.
“I'm not sayin’ anything, just curious what's got your feathers all ruffled.”
“Nothin’. Don't worry about it.”
Abby gives him an unimpressed look, humming as she stands. “You know, I heard tell you've been spendin’ an awful lotta time with that Roman fella. You keepin’ him company?”
She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. Jedediah doesn't take the bait.
“What the two of us get up to is nothin’ to nobody. Get your mind outta the gutter.”
“Ah, but you didn't deny it,” she teases.
It's because he can't.
“Whatever,” he says, pushing his now-empty shot glass across the bar. “Get me another shot, will you?”
Abby rolls her eyes before leaving to get the drink.
Later in the evening, he steps out of the saloon, a pleasant haze over his mind. The lights are dim now — something new they’ve been trying, to mimic the feel of nighttime — and the energetic conversation has died down to a quiet murmur. He likes it like this.
At this time of night, the clanging of hammers on the railroad is replaced by... the clanging of armor.
Well, not usually. But tonight it looks like he’s not getting the peace he was hoping for.
“Octavius,” he says, by way of acknowledgement.
Octavius, slightly breathless after climbing up into the Western exhibit, frowns at him. “You never call me that.”
“Whaddya mean? I do it plenty.”
“Only when you’re upset.”
Jedediah tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Am I not allowed to visit my best friend?” Octavius asks, and Jedediah winces.
“No, I just didn’t... expect you up here. That’s all.”
Octavius frowns. “What’s wrong, Jedediah? What happened?”
“It’s nothin’” Jedediah says. “I’m right as rain, partner.” He flashes a wide grin.
“You don’t have to tell me about it. But you don’t have to pretend it’s fine when it’s very clearly not.”
Jedediah’s expression falls. Normally, he’d tell Octavius everything — but this isn’t something he can talk about. He doesn’t even want to think about it, let alone say it out loud.
“Just leave me alone, Ock. I’m not in the mood to be friendly right now.”
Octavius nods. “I understand.”
Of course, the look on his face doesn’t match his words. He turns away with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw, way less energetic than he was when he climbed up that rope.
Jedediah didn’t want to turn him down like that. But he’s never been good at this whole ‘having friends’ thing, and he’s terrified he might say something he doesn’t mean to say. He really doesn’t want Octavius to be put off by...
Well. Nothing, actually. Jedediah’s not thinking about it. Not at all.
They’re just friends. That’s it.
No matter what anyone says.
Octavius doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.
Jedediah still talks to him — quite frequently — but he’s tense. He stares just a little too long, and he shies away from any and all touches, and he refuses to tell Octavius why he does any of it. He’s adamant about it being perfectly fine. Even though it’s clearly not.
The worst part is that he’s not like that around other people. Octavius has seen him give other people affectionate shoulder bumps or high fives, which he used to do with Octavius all the time.
So Octavius has done something wrong, and Jedediah, his best friend, won’t tell him what it is.
He worries he might have made Jedediah uncomfortable. The knowledge that they’re soulmates has made Octavius desire more contact, sometimes even doing particularly risky things in the spirit of trying to decipher how Jedediah would react.
Perhaps that was a bad idea.
But Jedediah won’t talk about it, so Octavius will never know what the problem is. And he doesn't have the time to think about it too much — there are so many other things to focus on.
Like, for example, their impending arrival at the British Museum.
Jedediah seems fine when he pops out of Attila’s hat, confidently declaring how incompetent Larry is without them. He smiles and laughs like he normally would, and Octavius thinks nothing of it.
But then it all goes downhill again.
One moment, they’re running for their lives — a very typical experience — and the next, they’ve fallen through metal bars and are being rocketed through the air against their will.
He suspects that, were they a little larger, the air current wouldn’t have such an effect on them, but they’re not, and it’s terrifying. He’s also lost his cape.
Soon enough though, they reach the end. Octavius can feel his body slam into a strange wall, pressed against it with extreme force, and it feels like he’s suffocating. He can only imagine Jedediah feels the same.
After a moment of feeling like he’s going to die, Octavius sticks his hand out.
“Hold my hand!” he yells, terrified of dying right here without ever getting to convey everything he feels for Jedediah.
But when Jedediah looks at him sideways and asks why, Octavius immediately winds it back, fearing he’s once again made Jedediah uncomfortable. And in what could be his last moments, too.
Thankfully, it’s over soon enough. They fall to the floor of the strange hallway, the air still.
Octavius looks over at Jedediah, relieved to find him alright despite losing his hat, which he quickly grabs.
“Did you ask me to hold your hand?” Jedediah asks, eyes narrowed.
As always, Octavius stares for too long. It's those eyes, he thinks. Beautiful. Like the coast just off of Nola on a bright, sunny day.
He shakes himself out of it. “No,” he says, and moves on swiftly. There will be time for this later.
The two of them wander down the hallway for a while before discovering a large chasm blocking their path. There's no way across it, and there's not a chance he's jumping down there.
With a sigh, he turns back around — which is, of course, the moment he sees the looming shadow of a large, possibly monstrous creature approaching.
He follows Jedediah's lead and jumps through into the chasm. After a rough fall to the ground, he finds himself greeted by the familiar sight of a Roman city. It almost feels like home — though of course it's nothing like the diorama he lives in.
And of course it's Pompeii. Because, after all they've been through, why wouldn't it be Pompeii?
He runs for his life. Jedediah runs with him, yelling in terror. The lava is so close behind it would burn Octavius’s cape if he still had it.
And then they reach a wall. This is where it ends, he thinks, for perhaps the millionth time today. Lava surrounds them on all sides, approaching faster than he can scan the area for a way to escape.
Common sense tells him that he should know better, really, after everything, and yet common sense is not exactly something he often listens to.
So he kisses Jedediah. It's a knee-jerk reaction, really, a way of saying I'm sorry and I love you, because he's going to die and there isn't enough time to explain these things.
He pulls away, suddenly painfully aware of the colorful stains on Jedediah's — and undoubtedly Octavius’s — lips.
Jedediah’s eyes are wide. He looks equally like he's had a brilliant revelation and like he's ready to throw up.
With the way things are going, Octavius suspects he feels more like the latter.
And then, like a blessing from the gods, Dexter appears.
Octavius never thought he'd be grateful to be urinated on, and yet here he is. It is a deeply humbling experience.
“We must never speak of what happened here today,” Octavius says, referring to the monkey. When he says so, a strange look flashes in Jedediah's eyes, but it's gone in a moment, replaced with abject disgust towards Dexter.
There is so much that just happened. Octavius elects to ignore all of it and take a photo with Jedediah.
There will be time to think about it later, after all.
Right?
Every moment passes in a strange haze.
Jedediah wants to say he’s just tired from all the near-death experiences, but it's more than that.
He keeps trying not to think about the kiss, because every time he does his stomach lurches. But it's hard to avoid thinking about it when it happened so suddenly — it's all that's on his mind. He both wants to pretend it never happened and also desperately wants it to happen again.
Oh, and there's the other thing.
The colorful smear on Octavius's face is long gone, wiped off by a shaky hand, but Jedediah saw it clear as day. It was like a dam broke, seeing that, and now he feels like he's going to be sick because he's been alive for half a century and he spent most of it trying to kill his soulmate.
Who, by the way, immediately moved on and started making goo-goo eyes at the guy who stole their life source. Because apparently Octavius is absolutely insane. That guy doesn’t have half the brains of either of them, and he’s not even that pretty. Really, Jedediah doesn’t get what Octavius sees at all.
Maybe he’s being rude. He doesn't care. He feels like there’s a knot in his throat that won’t go away, and if he thinks too hard about everything that’s happened, he starts to feel like he wants to scream. Lancelot is just making it worse. Octavius keeps muttering things about his hypnotic blue eyes and if Jedediah hears another word of it he might actually throw up.
Can miniatures throw up?
He definitely feels like he could.
What Jedediah really wants more than anything right now is to go back to the museum, get drunk as all hell, and forget about tonight.
But you don't get what you want by wishing for it, so instead he entertains himself by laughing at lions chasing after a beam of light. And then he stops laughing, because a day ago he was watching this same thing with Octavius.
Everything is just too much right now.
Jedediah blinks, and suddenly he's dying on a rooftop.
There are so many thoughts racing through his head, not a single one of them logical or sane, but in this moment he clings to the memory of another near-death experience from just a couple hours ago. Hold my hand, Octavius yelled, sounding so scared Jedediah almost gave in and reached out.
But he didn't. And now he's going to die, and however upset he is, he doesn't want to make that mistake again.
With slowly stiffening limbs, Jedediah pulls a glove off. He reaches as far down as he can, and tries not to let too much emotion seep into his voice when he offers Octavius his hand.
The relief he feels when Octavius takes it is enough to calm him down. The place where their hands connect is an explosion of vibrant colors, strangely pretty under the moonlight like this.
As his vision slowly fades for what may be the last time, Jedediah thinks that maybe this isn't the worst way to die. It’s strangely peaceful.
But he doesn't die.
Slowly, his consciousness returns to him, and the first thing he does is laugh hysterically. Octavius sits up, smiling at him, and for a moment, caught between the shock of the third near-death experience in the past 3 hours and the joy that smile gives him, Jedediah forgets how upset he was just a minute ago.
He grins back.
The ride home isn’t as joyful though. Most of it is spent in awkward silence as Jedediah tries very hard not to reach over and start making out with Octavius. That would be insane.
It’s only once they get back to the unusually quiet museum that the reality of the situation hits him. They’re all dying. Not a near-death experience — which he’s already had plenty of, thank you very much — but a real, actual death.
As close to death as a miniature can get anyway.
He’s trying to forget about the kiss and the jealousy and the way his chest squeezes when he looks at Octavius, but it’s not working because he can’t seem to stop looking at Octavius.
Now, faced with their looming deaths, Jedediah realizes that if he doesn’t get this out right now, he’s never going to get it out. He pulls Octavius over to the bench and tells him he wants to talk, and the apprehension on Octavius’s face almost makes him back out. Almost.
He sits there for a moment, thinking real hard about how exactly to word this, but in the end, only one thing comes out: “Why?”
Octavius furrows his brows. “Why what?”
“Why... everything? Why’d you kiss me?”
“Oh, that,” Octavius says, grimacing. Jedediah’s heart sinks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it at all, and it was wrong of me. You were clearly uncomfortable.”
“Then why do I really want you to do it again?” Jedediah asks, because he’s tired of beating around the bush.
Octavius looks up. There’s that look in his eyes again — the one he gets when he wants to do something but he’s afraid it could go wrong.
Finally, he says, “I don’t know.” He steps close and lifts a hand up, gently brushing it against Jedediah’s temple. “Why don’t you tell me?”
He’s inches away. The museum around them is silent, an eerie reminder of the fate awaiting them, but Jedediah doesn’t care — all that matters is this.
He reaches for the buckle on Octavius’s helmet.
“Well,” he says, “first you gotta take this thing off.”
It clatters to the ground, but neither of them pay attention. Octavius leans in and presses his lips to Jedediah's.
He’s hesitant. But with a ticking clock counting down the moments, Jedediah knows there isn’t time for hesitancy. He tilts his head and presses closer, threading a hand through Octavius’s curls.
It doesn’t take too long for them to start kissing like their lives depend on it. Octavius moves his hands down to his hips, pressing him into the leg of the bench and causing Jedediah’s hat to slip off and join the helmet on the floor.
In a way, it feels like this was meant to happen. Jedediah’s never really been a fate guy, but maybe there is something to this whole soulmate thing after all. He never wants it to end. He melts when Octavius moves away from his mouth and presses his lips to other places. His temple, his jaw, his neck—
It’s over too soon. Both of them, disheveled, colorful messes, are suddenly given a reality check by Larry’s message over the speakers urging them to return to their exhibits.
Octavius steps away, leaving Jedediah cold in all the places he touched.
“I guess this is it, huh?”
Jedediah goes to grab his hat, but he’s stopped by Octavius reaching for his hand. “May I?” he asks, and Jedediah, not sure what he’s trying to do, nods.
Octavius smiles at him and gently pulls the glove off. He presses his palm to Jedediah’s, watching the kaleidoscope of colors bloom over their skin. The sight is familiar, but it takes Jedediah’s breath away.
“Omnia vincit amor,” Octavius mutters, before lifting Jedediah’s hand and leaving a soft kiss on the knuckles. Splotches of color appear in his wake.
Jedediah can’t help himself — he pulls Octavius in for one last kiss, lingering on it for as long as he can.
Then reality comes crashing down as he pulls his glove and hat back on. They’re dying. It’s over now.
But as they say goodbye to each other for the last time, Octavius says, “I’ll see you later,” and it’s enough to make Jedediah believe that maybe there will be a ‘later.’
“See ya.” Jedediah puts on his best smile and climbs up into the diorama. He takes his place by the railroad, looking around for probably the last time at the still, silent halls of the museum.
He closes his eyes, and the sun rises.
Octavius wakes to a comfortable weight at his side.
It's Jedediah — his best friend, his soulmate, his lover — who's been by his side nearly every moment of the past six months since Ahkmenrah came back. They've been a rewarding six months, but they feel so little in comparison to the years they spent dancing around each other. Octavius wishes, not for the first time, that he’d confessed earlier. It would have been easier on both of them.
Still, he and Jedediah have been busy making up for plenty of lost time.
Sighing, he turns to face Jedediah, who is as asleep as ever. Like this he looks calm and at peace, something Octavius rarely has seen in him. He lights up rooms with his presence, but rarely does he take a moment to relax.
Gently, Octavius presses a kiss to his forehead. For a moment he stirs, but then he stills again.
Octavius traces the lines of his face, coming to rest on a deep scar etched into his skin, curling around his ear. A bear, Jedediah once said. During his life before the museum, he fought a bear.
Octavius smiles at the thought. In the time he's known him, Jedediah has always been impulsive and carefree. Octavius used to think it was foolish, but now he spends more time actively enabling and indulging in Jedediah's reckless ambitions. It's surprisingly exciting.
What a world Jedediah has introduced him to. It's hard to believe he was once content with a strict, rule-oriented life like the one he’d been living.
He takes a moment to lie there in silence, legs tangled with Jedediah’s. Ever since the events at the British Museum, there haven’t been any more nightly visitors. It was fun while it lasted, he’ll admit, but he’s happy to not have to perform for an audience anymore. He can just stay here and rest, his lover at his side.
Lover. A simple word for such a beautiful thing.
Octavius sits up with a yawn, gently nudging Jedediah off of him. He stands and leaves the tiny room, exiting into the halls of his home. He finds the large central area of the domus, built with a large skylight and a balcony view over the garden.
Being able to enter portraits is very nice, he decides. For a while, the Colosseum and everything behind it seemed like nothing but a painting, reducing their little diorama down to just a few buildings, but they eventually learned they were just as real and lively as any other work of art under the tablet’s influence.
The expansive area beyond is just as beautiful as the real Rome. Of course, it's a place he knows only in distant memories, but he's sure this is almost exactly like it.
The only outlier might be his new bed. Larry got it for him, and he doesn't actually think he'd ever be able to return to an old Roman bed. This new one is far more comfortable.
And it's the perfect size for two people.
In Rome, it's not exactly natural for couples to sleep together. When Jedediah proposed it to him, Octavius was hesitant, but he's found that he enjoys the tradition more than he thought he would.
Waking up next to Jedediah every day is a new kind of delight for him. He only has so much time as a miniature — things change often in museums, and Larry won't be around to fix their problems forever. He’d rather spend what time he has left with Jedediah than anywhere else.
He smiles to himself, walking over to the balcony. Just as he puts a hand on the railing, he feels arms snake around his torso and cling tight. If Octavius weren’t very familiar with this scenario, it might scare him — but he knows it’s just Jedediah.
“Hello, you,” he says. Jedediah responds by burying his head in Octavius’s neck, and Octavius can’t help but let out a lighthearted laugh.
No amount of riches could ever convince him to give up this. Even if the entire world was free to conquer, offered up on a silver platter, it would mean nothing if it meant he’d lose what he has now.
The old Octavius would scoff at it, but he’s in love.
He’s not sure how long they stand there, Octavius looking out into the garden while Jedediah mumbles incomprehensible gibberish into his shoulder. But all good things must come to an end, unfortunately.
“I have to go soon,” he mutters, attempting to pry Jedediah off of him. Jedediah only tightens his hold. “Mea lux, I love you, but I have business to attend to. I’ll be back, I promise.”
Finally, with some reluctance, Jedediah lets go. Octavius turns, now able to get a good look at the disheveled mess that is Jedediah, hair sticking up in all the wrong places.
His lack of order is surprisingly attractive.
“You can go back to bed,” Octavius says, reaching up to press a kiss to Jedediah’s forehead. “I won’t be long.”
Jedediah pouts, but he lets Octavius go.
As Octavius is leaving the building after getting properly dressed, he’s interrupted by Jedediah.
“‘Tavius?”
Octavius turns to see him standing in the hall, fidgeting with his hair. “Yes, amor meus?”
Jedediah offers him a bright, somewhat lethargic grin.
“I love you, too,” he says, for the very first time.
For a moment, Octavius feels rooted to the ground, processing his words. Jedediah has never been particularly affectionate, so this is a milestone for them.
Unable to convey how he feels verbally, Octavius steps back through the doorway and embraces Jedediah, kissing him.
This time, it’s nearly impossible for him to let go.