Luckily, Christian had already boxed up the toys that had lost their magical life. He’d boxed everyone up when he’d moved, and he had only unboxed the still-alive automatons when he’d unpacked at Safi’s apartment. Well, Safi and his apartment, now. Still, he had noticed how uncomfortable the bodyguard had seemed with the toys, even the alive ones, so he had figured to keep the rest of them in the box.

And after a couple of weeks, not only did it not bother him to have them out of sight and maybe mostly out of mind, but he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with keeping them.

They weren’t people anymore. And they weren’t really corpses, either. They were just toys. Toys he didn’t play with, toys that were in a box in a closet hidden behind a hamper. There weren’t many places in Central or Gotham that would sell his little creations for more than they had cost to make, and really, he at least wanted to get his money back out of them if he were going to sell them.

How else could he make new creations?

So he wandered into the building, a realtor from the looks of it, wondering if whoever it was that worked here might be able to at least point him in the right direction, to someone might be willing to either purchase his box of automatons, or at least consign them for some small fee or percentage.

Stepping through the doorway with his box between his arms, Christian smiled, “Hello… I… Was wondering if you might be able to help me? I know you’re a realtor, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask if you know of any place where I could sell some… Toys?”

Steve stepped out of the Avengers Mansion. So much had happened the last few days since arriving at the Hub, he really felt the need to get away. He heard that in addition to Avengers Mansion there was also Stark Tower now too. With nothing better to do and no place else to go, Steve heads in that direction.

The stark building is a marvel of modern engineering, nothing like the buildings back from his day. He steps towards the doors which open automatically with a swish. Impressive. He enters and finds himself in an expensive looking lobby. It was reminiscent of the expensive hotels he had seen when he was young, but could never afford to stay in.

Putting on an optimistic smile Steve looks around for anything or anyone to help him get his bearings. In the lobby he sees the back of a dark haired man. Steve would recognize that confident posture anywhere. Mr. Stark. Steve walks up to greet him.

"Mr. Stark. It's good to see you. I thought you were still back at the mansion" steve says

The Stark Tower was even more impressive than he had ever imagined. Steve got lost roaming the halls of the massive building. And everybody seemed so friendly. He had multiple people smile and nod at him as he passed in the halls. However, as interesting as this all was, he knew he couldn't spend the rest of his life roaming around aimlessly taking in the sights.

He needed a sense of purpose. He needed a mission. He didn't know if villains existed in the Hub but if they did he wanted to be out fighting them. He's not fully sure how to go about getting back into the good fight,  but that's never stopped him before. He's hoping someone here can help him.

He turns a corner and almost runs into a man in a sharp looking suit.

"Sorry," Steve apologizes.

Phil wasn't the dedicated marksman that his boyfriend was, Clint spent several hours a day on the range, when he wasn't out in the field. But that didn't mean that Phil didn't put in a decent amount of time on the range, and since now was the "hurry up and wait" period that often happened before going in to unknown danger, it seemed like a good time to put in his bi-weekly range time.

When he arrived, Phil saw that he wasn't the only one on the range. Safi, the bearded, Israeli not-Steve who'd arrived a few days ago was on the other end, and a glance showed that he was very ably hitting his targets. Phil let himself watch for a moment, to take in the measure of the man, and get some idea of his skills. He hadn't gotten a chance to do much of either, although he'd heard that the man was paranoid, and very protective of the not-Stark he'd followed into The Hub.

As usual when he was observing someone there was nothing hostile about Phil's actions. He was a nice guy, there to engage in a bit of harmless target practice, slightly curious about the person he was sharing the range with, curiosity that involved interest in the breadth of the other man's shoulders and his shapely ass as much as they did the gun in his hands. The gun interested him more than the ass, truth be told, but it was the less confrontational reason for him to be observing an attractive stranger while he took his pistol from its case and loaded it.

After that, his attention was focused on his own target.

“I’m just saying that we could find our own place for when we’re staying here.” Anywhere, honestly, would be preferable to the mansion that they had currently taken up residence within.

Anywhere that Tony Stark wasn’t going to be was far, far preferable for Christian.

He really sort of hated that guy. No no, there was no sort of. Sure, Tony was gorgeous, but that meant nothing. Because Tony was the jerk that Safi liked and flirted with and looked at the way he looked at Tony, and that… Chris hated that. Hated Tony for it. Haaaaaated.

So even as they walked into the mansion, he fought having to come here, because really, anywhere else. “You know, like we have at home. We could have a nice little apartment, somewhere that’s just ours. That would be nice, don’t you think?” He wasn’t pleading, he wasn’t begging, but he was sounding more and more earnest, and really, if it had been anyone other than Safi, he might have been bothered by it, but it was Safi, so it was okay.

He wasn’t, however, expecting anyone else to be in the hallway and Chris drew up short, blinking at the sight before him.

Safi. But not Safi.

“Hi.” the word just sort of took its time breathing out of him, and he blinked again, turned to the man walking next to him, and then back again. Two Safi’s.

Okay, take it back, the mansion wasn’t all that bad.

Sure, Tony Stark’s presence was a terrible marr on the face of the place that Safi had chosen to house them in while in Hub, but… Safi 2 did quite a lot to wipe off that malignant blight. Like, a whole lot. Chris flushed just a touch, tipping his head forward, just a tiny bit demure, “I’m Chris, and this…” he motioned to his companion, “Is Safi.” (You!) He smiled winningly at the newcomer, offering a hand, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

The talk with Ms. Zatara had left him feeling… Light. Lighter than he’d felt since… Ever? Since he’d been twelve and had discovered his little gift, which had freaked him the hell out because who in the world ever expected a toy to come alive in their hands?! NO ONE! No one in the history of the world would have expected something like that when they didn’t even believe in Santa Claus anymore! Not even a goofy, half naive orphan kid who just wanted to escape into a pretend world where he didn’t have to worry about the bullies or being adopted or any of his real world worries.

And god, did his side feel better! He knew without looking that the lighter but still mottled bruises on his ribs would be gone. That she’d done something amazing for him, and he moved with the energy and excess motion that his coworkers would have been missing the last couple of weeks.

And to whom did the PA bounce? The only bodyguard he actually actively spoke with, of course. The only person Chris had any actual interest with chatting with here…

He had spent a good portion of tonight showing Doc around, introducing him to people, helping him mingle and pulling him out when he seemed over his head. Doc was nice, and god was he a sexy beast of a man, but Chris had his eyes elsewhere. Just little furtive glances, nothing obvious, of course, never that; that wouldn’t do, he was working. Still, he’d been quite aware of where the other man had been the entire night. It wasn’t just because Safi was beautiful, either. It wasn’t. Safi was… Chris made sure he knew where to run if anything bad happened. Because sometimes bad things happened, and it was always good to know where the exits were. Where the safety nets were. And that sort of also meant knowing where Safi was, apparently.

He really wished he could pinpoint when that had started.

Still, he bounced, lighter on his feet than he had been in two weeks, giving Safi a shy but wide grin, ”Hey! How’s things over here? Hopefully running nice and smoothly?” The benefit wasn’t really over, which meant they were both here for at least a little while longer. But if they were both stuck here, then Chris figured he might as well see if Safi wanted company. ”If you’re busy, I can go… I just…” he shrugged, suddenly far more self conscious than he’d been a moment ago. It was so much easier to feel confident when he was across the room from the other man.

Yep, he was pathetic, and he knew it. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him!

It had been the week from hell.

It was almost over. Just get through today, get through today and he could have a day off. Just one; it wasn’t like they were going to let him take Monday off because he was working on Saturday, but still! It was almost over and then he could just… Die on Sunday, all day Sunday, and maybe get a semblance of peace while he just lay in bed and listen to Jonah beep and chirp at him all day.

Yeah, right.

Still, he had to get through the day.

Tuesday had been straight up miserable. Tuesdays were supposed to be the best days! He had gotten to work far earlier than everyone else, knowing he looked like hell, dragging his feet and trying to hide as much as he could. His first order of business? Get Safi Wassem that damned invitation for today’s party. Because yeah, he had told the man he would do that. And so he had, writing it up himself in his usual nearly-calligraphic handwriting he always used for things like that, and had set the little thing in it’s silver envelope with purple ink on Safi’s desk, adjusting it so it was perfectly parallel with the edge of the desk because… Because if he were going to do it, it was going to be damned perfect!

And then he had locked himself in Susan’s office (because she was on vacation and she had the blackout blinds in her office and he had her spare key so he could water her peace lily, and no one would go looking for him in here!) with his tablet and had sat on the internet for what felt like hours.

Safi wasn’t married.

His Facebook page (dammit Belle for even reminding him that the man had one, because those workout videos were just… It wasn’t fair that Safi had things like that marked for public consumption! It had taken him way too long to stop watching those things!) showed that he was ‘single’. Christian had taken over a quarter of an hour to get his blush back under control when he’d seen that. Sure, you could lie with your Facebook relationship status. You could, it wasn’t binding, but… Safi seemed like the sort of person who would be honest about it. Chris.. Chris trusted Safi. Mostly. Oh, not enough to start talking about his magic, or to start spilling his other secrets, but enough that if Safi marked that he was single on Facebook, he wasn’t lying about it. Maybe he was divorced, or separated, or maybe he hadn’t been married to Sarah’s mother. Those were all options!

But Safi had never said he was any of those things, and that.. Had been confusing as hell.

Chris had spent all week avoiding the bodyguard as much as possible.

He had also spent the week running on a combination of caffeine, adrenaline, and sheer willpower, because sleep was, as his colleagues so often rolled their eyes at him for saying, for the weak. He just had to get through the party Saturday, and then he could rest. Even if he couldn’t sleep, he could relax and lie in bed.

Christian arrived at the party early. He set his gift, and pulled out an extra one he’d gotten to be from Safi and set it off to the side, sort of hiding it under the table. He could let Safi sign the little card he’d put with it for Camila once the other man had gotten there and put it on the table with the others himself. Christian had gotten the girl a necklace and earring set complete with tiara. Nothing horribly expensive, but something befitting the event nonetheless. She might be a brat, and he might dislike spending time with her, but it was her birthday, and she had ogled the set when they’d been shopping before. Her favorites: soft, quiet lightly colored amethysts (that near perfectly matched the lavender she had picked for the party) and diamond. Neither were naturally occurring stones, he couldn’t afford that, but she’d liked the set anyway, and he’d snuck back to buy it for her. The gift that should be from Safi was a matching bracelet. She should like it.

That done, Chris had moved around the ballroom that they’d rented out, getting everything set up just so, knowing from his time with her what Camila would prefer and what she would expect, and moving to both meet and exceed expectations.

He had told Safi this wasn’t his best work, and it wasn’t (he’d done better even recently) but it was still better than most people could have pulled off working with a difficult personality like the fifteen year old girl. Christian wasn’t proud, not really, but he was confident of what he’d managed to accomplish here.

Once the guests started piling in he shifted to the back of the room, organizing the workers, the only way you’d know he wasn’t another guest was the fact that his outfit matched the party’s colors just a little too perfectly, his suit silvery gray, his shirt a soft lavender with a tie that had a little of both colors. He wasn't as flamboyantly dressed as he sometimes came to the offices, this was.. Softer… But it still suited him. He owned the colors, even if he wished the shirt was just a shade or two darker.

The giant cake that dominated the desert table was in the same colors, covered in fondant and little shiny gems that resembled diamonds and amethysts that all matched the theme. He had managed quite well, he thought, standing in the corner quietly, watching as Camila’s guests and Lexcorp VP’s filtered into the room. The youths getting sparkling apple cider, the adults carrying flutes of champagne.

It hadn't been a good day.

He'd been plagued by the nagging feeling that he'd been..harsh with the tiny bouncing man. He'd been...less than happy leaving Safi’s office and it had...bugged him.


By nature he was a friendly guy, just he'd been rubbed very wrong by the little guy. And the continued bastardization of his name hadn't helped.

“Evening Eric.” Safi smiled genially at the switched night shift front desk guard, striking up a conversation with the burly man. Eric had an encyclopedic knowledge of the architecture of the city. And while he didn't have an inherent interest it could come in handy and hell it was engaging enough to keep him chatting while he waited for the guy to show.

“Looks like my ride is here. Have a great night.” He winked at the muscular blonde shifting languidly to meet the fussy little man exiting the turnstile.

“So you owe me a drink.” He opened with, hands tucked into his pants pockets, a half smirk curling around the matchstick clamped between his teeth.

The fucking pie haunted him.

It fucking stared at him.

There was a packet of googly eyes in his desk drawer courtesy of his daughter; she'd. Joined this..thing on instagram about putting them on random inanimate objects and uploading the photos.

The pie boxes each acquired a set.

If he was going to feel stared at it might as well be fucking justified.

The tea got drunk accidentally, and almost made him choke with how much sugar was in it. The little man wasn't lying if he drank that stuff regularly he had to be working out.

Just not enough.

Or not getting the right skills.

Fuck probably though six weeks of Ty-bo was enough to get him by.

Fucking geeks.

Safi’s long deep sigh had more than one co-worker eyeballing him...not that he didn't know they'd been watching him all morning. Gossip he'd noticed traveled at the speed of group WhatsApp and him and the little PA getting into it in a closet had already gotten blown out of proportion.

Fuck it. He wasn't going to spend his day being stared at by god damn pie!

Bagging the containers and the half empty thermos, Safi employed a decades worth of training in moving through hostile territory to deposit them back on the ‘current off dealing with some supplier or something-’ man's desk.

He'd get to be stared at for a while.