How to Love Your Dragon

by J. R Fox

  Gabriel didn’t question him on it, and he drove the small car up the cluttered road until Peter told him to stop. “Here it is,” Peter said, stepping out of the car to point to the dismal building of brick and fire escapes before them. Gabriel looked at it with less vigor than he’d had in the car.

  “So you live here,” Gabriel said. “Not there,” he pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Why don’t I show you the inside,” Peter laughed nervously, sidestepping Gabriel’s observations. Pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket, Peter went up to the main door and unlocked it, motioning Gabriel inside behind him.

  Peter’s apartment was on the third floor, and it was with a sinking heart that Peter found an ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the elevator again. “Uh, so the stairs are through here,” he pointed. As they walked, a dim light flickered from the top floor, throwing shadows on the wall every time it sparked.

  After three sets of stairs and an awkward attempt at small talk, Peter pushed through the door onto the third floor landing and led Gabriel to his apartment.

  “Three-Three-Eight B,” Gabriel read aloud while Peter sorted through his keys to find the right one.

  “Ah-ha,” Peter muttered, slipping a silver key into the rusted lock and giving it a firm twist. His door opened with a creak of the wood, and he flipped on the lights as he walked inside. “Here we are,” he said, taking off his jacket as he dropped his bag into an armchair. “Home sweet home.”

  Gabriel followed at a snail’s pace, his eyes flicking anywhere and everywhere as he seemed to drink in the sight of Peter’s corner of the world. He paused at the montage of pictures a friend had given Peter at graduation, at his cluster of books piled on a side table and his odd assortment of movies. But most of all, he looked at the blank walls.

  “No family pictures?” Gabriel asked casually, his hands clasped behind his back.

  The question made Peter pause, but he got over it soon enough and shrugged. “I guess we haven’t had that talk yet,” he seemed to mutter. Then, louder, he said, “I’m an orphan. Never got adopted, but my grades saw to my education through scholarships and the like.”

  “Oh,” Gabriel said, staring at Peter’s diploma framed prettily on the wall. “Sorry.”

  Funny, but he didn’t look sorry at all. If anything, Gabriel looked satisfied.

  “So, do you want soda, or…?” Peter asked, motioning to his meager collection of wine.

  “Another time, perhaps,” Gabriel grinned, finally looking up to face Peter. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “Oh?” Peter asked, confused. The man had been so excited to come over, and yet he was so quick to leave. “Uh, okay.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Gabriel laughed, waving goodbye as he walked right back out the door and closed it behind him.

  “Weirdo,” Peter frowned, crossing his arms. Who invited him, anyway?

  Chapter Four

  Gabriel became a bit odd after that. Not that the man wasn’t a bit of an eccentric already, but it was as if he’d thrown all rules about personal space out the window. He started touching Peter a lot more – hanging on his shoulder, putting a hand on his lower back, and even reaching to grab his hand. Not to mention the questions.

  “Were you circumcised as a child?”

  Peter nearly spit out the water he’d been drinking. “What?” he asked, taken aback.

  Gabriel carried on as calmly as before. “Were you—”

  “Isn’t everybody?” Peter cut him off in a rush, his ears red with embarrassment.

  Gabriel just shrugged. “Not quite.”

  And that would be the end of it. As far as Peter could tell, there was no rhyme or reason to Gabriel’s new prodding. He’d just say what was on his mind, or move however he felt that he should. Peter found himself mostly going along with it, either out of shocked surprise or amused bewilderment. Though, sometimes, Peter wondered if Gabriel was doing it on purpose.

  Wondered if Gabriel had realized, simply through the layout of his apartment or the nature of his possessions, that he was gay.

  It was a thought that Peter didn’t give much time to, but still, it was there all the same. He’d never been someone who’d flaunted his sexuality as he didn’t think that it was other people’s business, but if a friend knew then it certainly wasn’t the end of the world, either. Still, with all the crazy curveballs that Gabriel had been throwing at him lately, Peter wondered why the man didn’t just ask him outright.

  “Now,” Peter directed his tour group, leading them to a tapestry of a red dragon fighting with a white dragon. “Who knows why King Arthur had a round table?” He looked out over the crowd, and while most of the children were smiling, none were raising a hand in answer. “So no one could corner him!” As a few people laughed, Peter caught sight of Gabriel standing on the edge of the group. The man was tapping his wrist and making a face.

  Time to leave, then.

  “All right, and then through here…” Peter ushered, giving Gabriel a small wave as he continued his final tour of the day. Luckily, medieval Europe was the last gallery, so it’d only take him another fifteen minutes or so to wrap it up.

  “Gabe?” Peter stepped into the workroom with his bag over his shoulder, his lanyard half-stuffed into his pocket as he looked around for his friend. His tour had run on a little longer than he’d expected when a kid hadn’t stopped asking about pirates. Thank goodness that his mother had finally intervened and shut him up, or he’d probably still be trying to explain that no one purposefully spread the black plague around, especially not pirates.

  “Hello?” Peter tried again, making his way through the maze of tables. All of the individual lamps had been turned off and the tabletops cleared, making Peter wonder just how long Gabriel had been waiting to leave.

  As he wandered to the back where Gabriel’s actual desk was, he frowned at the glinting piece of jewelry sitting atop a pile of papers. Edging closer, he realized that it wasn’t jewelry at all but a golden arm brace, outfitted with leather and jewels. He stood over it, guessing at the possible sapphires, and bent low to study the runes on the side of it.

  “Dreki?” Peter breathed, eyes narrowed as he tried to read it out loud. It was a Norse word, that much he knew, and he had to wonder if the brace was a Viking replica. It definitely wasn’t an artifact – it was too new, too perfect. Peter reached out a hand to turn the brace over, to follow the script and see what it said, brushing his fingertips along the side.

  What happened next made him gasp.

  The stones on the brace lit up, each little gem acting like its own solar flare as the room blossomed in hues of blue in the dark room. He tried to step back but only managed to stumble as his legs hit Gabriel’s office chair, his eyes wide as the arm brace suddenly jumped at him. He cowered against it, his arms raised to protect himself as he closed his eyes.

  His heart sank as he felt it wrap around his left arm from wrist to elbow and squeeze.

  “Ah!” he yelped, scrambling to rip it off. He scratched with his nails and bit with his teeth, but the thing stayed put, snug and secure over his skin.

  “Peter?”

  Peter looked up at the voice, tears in his eyes as he looked at Gabriel in relief.

  “Gabe,” he said shakily, raising his trapped arm so that Gabriel could see. “The arm brace, it just came at me…” Peter trailed off as a look of utter shock came over Gabriel’s face. “I-I swear,” he said quickly, licking his lips. “I’m not crazy, it—”

  “No,” Gabriel said quietly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “No, you’re not crazy.” Sighing, he laughed. “Damn, Peter. I knew that you were of dragon blood, but I never thought…”

  “Gabriel,” Peter whined, his blunt nails still scratching at the leather on the brace. “Help me!”

  Gabriel seemed to nod, but then he kept going, leaning low as he extended his arms out in a grand bow before Peter. He looked up at him through his red hair, his brown eyes burning as he said, “I
have been waiting a long time for you, Peter Hill.”

  Peter just frowned. “What the hell are you going on about—” But then Gabriel was rushing him, his arms swinging at his sides as he full on charged Peter from where he’d been standing. “Gabe!” Peter yelled, freezing up as he waited for impact.

  Gabriel’s arms flew around his waist, grabbing him up as the world suddenly turned and the light of the arm brace spun all around them.

  In a blink it stopped, and suddenly Peter could feel his feet on solid ground again and his back straight as he was held in a suffocating embrace.

  “Gabriel,” Peter said pitifully, his voice muffled against the fabric of Gabriel’s deep emerald shirt. “Gabe, let me go,” he said, pushing against his strong chest. Sure enough, the surprisingly toned arms holding him close dropped, and Peter stepped back warily.

  Gabriel let him move away, silent and watching while Peter regained his senses. Peter, on the other hand, couldn’t stop moving – he was staring at everything, his eyes zooming around the room as he held his hands out in case Gabriel tried to rush him again.

  “W-where are we?” Peter asked, quickly realizing that they were no longer in the museum. A room full of crushed red velvet drapes and truffle leather sofas surrounded him, something that he could only see because of the light from his arm brace. Otherwise, the windowless room would’ve blinded him in darkness.

  “My nest,” Gabriel answered, and his voice had an odd confidence to it, one that Peter had never heard before. “Or rather my home, I should say,” he muttered quietly.

  “How did we get here?” Peter asked, jumping as his legs hit the back of a chase lounge. He quickly skirted around it and put the seat between them. “We were at the museum—”

  “You flew us,” Gabriel said simply. “Well, the bond brace did. It will transport the chosen back to the security of their dragon’s nest whenever threatened. I activated it just now by running at you and making you fear for your safety,” he added.

  “Flew? Dragon?” Peter repeated. He was beginning to see why everyone had warned him not to make friends with Gabriel all those months ago. “Do you honestly hear yourself right now?”

  “You don’t know,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “I figured as much when I didn’t find a single dragon heirloom in your apartment. And then you said that you were adopted,” Gabe shook his head. “It’s a sin that you grew up under humans.”

  “Because we are humans, Gabe! You and me, right here!” he panicked, motioning between them.

  “No,” Gabriel shook his head slowly, patiently. “You and I are dragons.” When Peter just stared at him, Gabriel pointed at the brace on his arm. “You see that? It’s been passed down my line for centuries. It’s a bond brace – an engagement ring, if you will. It’s from eight hundred A.D., the time of the Vikings, when a dragon could still go out for a flight without being hunted.” Moving to drop onto one of the couches, he said, “It used to go on the tail of a dragon, but as we adapted and relied on our human forms, it became common for it to attach to the arm.”

  “Attach?” Peter asked, remembering how it had jumped onto him and fastened itself.

  “It picks the intended for the dragon,” Gabriel explained, his elbows resting on his knees as he sat. “It picked you for me, an alpha dragon of the Karros clan,” he said. “Meaning that you must be a compatible omega dragon. My mate.”

  “Your ma—Look, I’m not a dragon,” Peter hissed. “And if this thing says differently, then I’d say it’s time to find yourself a new one because it’s broken!”

  “Oh, Peter,” Gabriel smiled sadly, standing up. “Do you know why it’s lit up like that?”

  “Grade A batteries?” he countered sarcastically.

  “Nothing quite so modern,” Gabriel said, lips quirking. “The magic in your blood is powering it. If that bond brace was ever forced on a human, it would sit as still as any other lifeless piece of attire placed upon their skin.”

  “You expect me to believe that I’m doing this?” Peter snapped, motioning wildly at the gemstones.

  “It’s not a matter of believing if you can,” Gabriel answered. “It’s the fact that you are.”

  Chapter Five

  Peter didn’t go home that night.

  After it had become clear that Gabriel wasn’t going to stop refusing to see reason, Peter had tried to leave. But once he’d stepped outside to find a forest just beyond the front door and realized that he really had no idea where he was, Gabriel had offered to give him a ride.

  “We’ll have to fly,” he’d admitted. “My manor isn’t anywhere near the human population—”

  “Just get me home,” Peter had cut him off, tired of his nonsense.

  Gabriel had only been too happy to oblige. He’d stood with his shoulders back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as the sound of his shirt ripping had suddenly cut through the silence and two monstrous wings sprouted from his back like a parachute unleashed.

  “The fuck!” Peter had yelped, scrambling away.

  “Sorry,” Gabriel had said quickly, standing there awkwardly with two horned wings towering over his head. “I can put them away—”

  “Yes!” Peter had demanded. “Yes, put them up!”

  With the same stillness that he’d used to summon them, Gabriel breathed, and the two things seem to fold back into his body with a snap. When Peter just continued to stare at him from afar, Gabriel had cleared his throat, and said, “You can use your arm brace.” He’d pointed to an especially bright gemstone on it. “Just imagine where you want to be.”

  Sure enough, with Gabriel’s hand on his shoulder, they’d ended up just outside of his apartment building. Peter hadn’t bothered to say goodbye as he’d left Gabe standing on the sidewalk and walked up the three sets of stairs to finally escape into his apartment. He’d stripped, wrapped the arm brace in a t-shirt to block out the light, and fallen into bed with the wish that tomorrow would be normal – better. That today had all just been one strange dream.

  That hope had gone out the window when he’d merely blinked, and then Gabriel’s head had suddenly been leaning over his with a knowing look.

  Peter had jumped up. “What—”

  “You’re back in my nest,” Gabriel had said simply, sweeping out an arm to indicate the enormous room. Peter had looked around, a weird pit in his stomach as he’d slowly realized that the bed he was on wasn’t his, and that the space had the same color scheme as the room Gabriel had spooked him to earlier.

  After a moment, he’d asked tiredly, “The bond brace?”

  “The bond brace,” Gabriel had nodded. “It wants you here, where it’s safe, when you retire for the day. But otherwise, you can leave whenever you’d like—”

  “Well,” Peter had said with an empty laugh. “That’s one piece of good news.”

  Technically, living with Gabriel wasn’t an inconvenience. If anything, now Peter had a free washer and dryer to use, a free ride to and from work every day, and free room and board. It reminded him of college life, actually, with the main difference being that college had paid him for his brains while Gabriel was paying for, well, he didn’t know exactly.

  Didn’t even know what an omega was.

  Not that he was going to ask Gabriel about it. From what he had gathered about the bond brace and being a ‘mate,’ he had a feeling that an omega was something like a bride, and there was no way that he was going to give Gabe the chance to elaborate on that idea further. So, instead, Peter tried to focus on his work rather than his friend-turned-roommate who was convinced that they were both dragons.

  “Well, I’m a dragon,” Gabriel had tried to explain on the way to the museum one morning. “You’re a dragon blood. It means that a dragon entered your family line at some point in the past.”

  “Are you saying that someone in my family married a dragon?” When Gabriel had just continued to stare straight ahead, Peter had sighed. “So, what? I’m one-sixteenth dragon?” Peter had asked sarcastically.
>
  “More like one-hundredth, from the smell of you,” Gabriel had muttered. “The dragon’s been thinned by a few generations.”

  Peter had just rolled his eyes. “Yeah? That why I don’t have wings?”

  “The wings will come,” Gabriel had answered calmly

  “Wait, what?” Peter had demanded. “What does that mean?”

  Gabriel had just shrugged. “You’ll see.”

  But Peter didn’t want to see. He just wanted to go to work, tell a few stupid jokes a dozen times over, and go home. His home, not some stupid dragon’s nest.

  “All right everyone,” Peter called, leading his group through the medieval Europe exhibit. He was almost finished with them – he just had to herd them past King Arthur and the black plague. “Who can guess a hungry dragon’s favorite day of the week?” As the kids settled down and the adults fell in line around them, he said, “Chewsday.”

  As a few children laughed, Peter pointed to the tapestry of the red dragon fighting the white dragon. According to the myth, Merlin exposed the dragons for what they were: Saxon red, and Britain white. As the white dragon won, so did Merlin make the prediction that Britain would be victorious in battle.

  But, as Mark had told him from the beginning, the general public did not care for such boring stories.

  “And you know what they say about dragons,” Peter continued. “Don’t meddle in their affairs, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.”

  As a couple of parents chuckled and Peter moved to lead them onward to learn about the bubonic plague, a little girl clutching a unicorn plush stopped him.

  “Um!” she said loudly, making him pause. “Dragons are nice,” she said, her voice plummeting as she realized that all of her classmates were watching her. “They just don’t like it when people take their stuff,” she whispered, hugging the stuffed animal to her chest.

  Peter kneeled before her, his eyes on her unicorn as he noticed all the rips and smudges on it. “I don’t think anyone likes having their stuff stolen,” he agreed. “Right?” he asked her classmates, and they hesitantly nodded. “But,” he said, pointing to the tapestry. “Dragons are vicious – they don’t play nice even if they aren’t threatened.”