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The sunlight is streaming golden through the trees as you join the steady stream of villagers winding up the road to the market. Taako already has his shopping list out, hastily unfolding the paper to glance at the contents before wadding it up so that his looping handwriting is no longer legible.
Basil, you catch over his shoulder. Coriander.
“Is this a grocery list?” you ask, making a grab for the paper. As expected, he easily slips out of your reach, even with your brand-new Dex modifier. “Are you gonna cook for us?”
“Maaaaaybe,” he drawls, holding the paper over his head. “We’ll see.”
He cuts you off before you can even open your mouth to beg. “So, what’s on your shopping list, dude?”
“New boots,” you say automatically, pausing to admire a booth filled with rugs of all shapes and sizes. You don’t need one, just like you don’t really need boots, but. Being off off-base, spending time planetside, that's always nice.
Spending time with your friends is nicer.
It’s a cool morning, and mist curls around the bottom of the stalls as you make your way through the marker. You have to physically pull Taako away from a jewelry stand, but he does make a beeline for the food stalls after that.
You catch up to Taako a good fifteen minutes later, just in time to find him trying to slip an entire roll of bread up his (admittedly large) sleeve. He jumps when you tap him on the shoulder.
“C’mon, dude, pay for it,” is all you say.
“Fuck you”, Taako responds, but his tone is light and he bumps your shoulder playfully as he counts out coins.
(Sometimes you find yourself wondering if he even notices that he’s doing this, that if you didn't point it out, his habit of petty theft would go unobserved by the both of you.)
“What’s that for?” Taako asks, motioning to the bag you're carrying. When you don't respond quickly enough, he takes it upon himself to yank it out of your hands, peering inside. “C’mon, Mags, what’d you buy?”
You grab your bag back, carefully balancing the plant inside. “Just a gift for Merle. How about you, what’s that for?”
Taako glances at the bread in his hands. “Really, dude? Like, seriously?”
“No, just – so you are cooking, right? What is it? Do I get to help?”
He doesn't respond, and your heart skips a beat. Did you say something wrong? What if he’s angry?
A faraway look crosses Taako’s face, but it passes. “Yeah, sure, if that's what you're into, I guess that I could let you like, make sure the water doesn't boil over or something.”
“Just tell me what to do,” you say, utterly serious.
As it turns out, Taako has a lot of thoughts about buying the proper ingredients. He keeps up a neverending stream of chatter as the two of you head through booths, picking up items both obscure and common to add to the pantry.
Stopping by a stand labeled HAND-PICKED PRODUCE, you pick up a tomato and examine it. “Fresh vegetables, that’s the important part,” Taako drawls. “Make sure that there’s no worms or disease. Now, when you’re preparing them–”
He freezes.
You feel the motion more than see it, and when you look up, his gaze is unfocused and far away, directed across the market square.
“Taako?” you ask. When he doesn't answer, you put a hand on his shoulder. This close, you can feel him trembling, can feel the way he breathes in unsteady, sharp gasps. He’s standing ramrod straight, fists clenched at his sides and nails digging into his palms.
“Hey, Taako? You in there? What’s up?” You keep your voice low and steady.
Taako inhales, shaking his head as if trying to rouse himself from a dream. “I – sorry, I, I thought I saw –” He swallows hard, scrubs a hand across his eyes. “I thought –”
You glance across the market again. Whatever – or whoever – spooked Taako, they're long gone, but he’s still shaking under your hand, and his breathing hasn't evened out.
“Hey, what –”
“Okay, I need to get out of here,” Taako says, cutting you off completely. He’s got one hand fisted in his hair, tugging anxiously at the mess of curls. “I –”
“Okay, yeah, sure,” you say, trying to stay calm. One of you has to be. “Where to?”
“I don’t know, I just – Fuck, Magnus, I don’t –”
In all your years of friendship, you've never seen Taako at a loss for words, not like this. Up until now, he’s never so much as asked for help, but you're pretty sure that's what he's trying to do.
“Okay,” you say, leading him away from the market square. “You're okay. I know where to go.”
The alley is dark and cold, but it offers a few overturned crates for the two of you to sit on. More importantly, it’s out of the line of sight from any passerby, which seems like a pretty good idea right about now.
Taako won’t make eye contact with you. He doesn't seem to be looking at anything right now, just staring vaguely at his hands. The crescent marks left in his palms leave you with a sick feeling in your stomach.
“Take as much time as you need,” you say, rubbing gentle circles into his back. He hasn't told you to stop, which – honestly, you’d prefer that right about now.
“Sorry,” he says, as if on autopilot. “I don’t know what happened, I just…”
“You’re good,” you say automatically. Then: “Would it be better if we left, maybe? I can call an orb to pick us up, take us back to the moon –”
“No!”
You stare at Taako.
“I’m fine,” he insists shakily. “It’s fine. I thought I saw someone that I –” Taako cuts off suddenly, staring off into the middle distance again. Then, abruptly, he stands, shrugging your hand away.
“You know what, we should go. I’m okay now, and we both – we both have shopping to finish!”
“Taako –”
“–And you know what else? This is bullshit,” Taako says, voice rising in both volume and pitch. “I didn't even know if it was them, I just saw, like – the sunlight, the way it looked on their hair, the way they liked to carry their bags all on one shoulder – I mean, it could've been them! But that – But I –”
Taako sinks back onto the bench next to you, sucking in a deep breath. “But I just, I spaced out like an idiot instead of. I don't know. Something.”
Here's the thing: Taako doesn't like to talk about himself a lot, not in any meaningful way. He’ll gladly chatter on about his various magical talents, or this week’s hair color, or the date that he went on, but the second you bring up anything resembling to his past, he clams up.
(“I don't do tragic backstory hour, hombre,” he’d said once. You don't even remember what you’d asked. “If you're looking for a sob story, try Merle, ‘cause Taako’s good out here.”)
Here's another thing: The image of Taako, his face freezing up when you ask if you can help him cook. The way he shoplifts ingredients as if he forgets he has the money. His hands shaking as he bakes cookies that only he is allowed to eat, and the way all of you pretend not to notice.
“It’s not bullshit, and you're not stupid,” you say. “You don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to, either. That's your business, not mine.”
“Oh,” Taako says softly. It’s as if some of the tension in his shoulders has begun to bleed out.
“If you're good – like, really, actually fine with everything happening – then let’s go back to the market. But if not…” you trail off, shrugging.
“I didn't mean to fuck everything up, though. Like, I didn't buy half the things I needed, and you didn't even get your– What was it that you wanted?”
“Boots, yeah. There's always another time.” You give yourself a moment to think. “And I’m willing to bet you that we can bargain with Garfield for any ingredients you’re missing.”
“How much of your sideburns are you willing to lose, my man?” Taako asks, but there's a hint of a smile in his voice.
“Who says I’m gonna be the one making the sacrifices this time?”
He laughs a bit hollowly, twisting the rings on his fingers, but at least it’s progress.
“So how about it?” you ask, rising from your seat. “We head back up to the moon, terrorize Fantasy Costco, maybe catch a movie or something, does that still sound like a good day?”
You extend a hand towards Taako, and for a moment, you're afraid that he won't take it. But he does, laces his fingers through yours to pull himself up a little unsteadily.
“Yeah,” he says, not letting go of your hand just yet. “It sure does.”