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“You are a gift,” Clarence said. “I might have lost some of my faith, but not all of it is gone. And it tells me you are a miracle sent to us by someone who knew we’d need you.”

“Being your hoard feels more like an honor than a burden,” Ethel said, and Milo realized his walls were crumbling to dust.

His eyes misted and burned, and before he could stop himself, tears spilled over his cheeks as they all piled in around him, hugging him from all sides.

He’d found them by pure chance. He’d come to look at the apartment and found Ethel living alone in a dilapidated building. She’d inherited it and kept it running while she had the means. But the place had worn down with time and she couldn’t keep up. Tenants had left, and she’d remained. Alone.

He’d offered to help around the place in exchange for a bed in the empty space on the top floor. Ethel had done him one better. She’d roped her retired friends in to donate furniture and make his place look like a home.

Then came Glenn. They’d found him at bingo night, sitting alone at the end of one table, folding tiny paper flowers out of the cards and humming softly to himself. He barely remembered his name. Had no idea where he came from. They’d tried looking for his family but nobody ever came forward. So he stayed.

And Milo found another job.

Then Shelly knocked on their door with Clarence holding her arm. They’d heard they could sleep there for a night or two while they looked for a place to stay.

They never left.

Conrad came through Clarence’s old church.

Milo found more jobs to cover bills. Remembered their medications. Learned their quirks. Loved them. Claimed them as his own without even realizing he was doing it.

But with their number growing and resources dwindling, Ethel had to sell the building just for them to continue making ends meet. She’d made sure to make the new owner agree to let them keep renting and it worked. For years they’d lived in peace until Rowan’s company offered the new owner money he couldn’t refuse. And now it was on Milo to fix it because they were his.

“We love you,” Shelly said, because the feeling was very much mutual.

“I love you too, guys.” Milo wiped his face with his sleeve as they dispersed back to their seats. “Okay, enough feelings. The food’s getting cold.”

They sat back down, waiting for a moment for Clarence to say his prayer. The little round table went silent, Clarence’s soft muttering the only sound. Milo smiled.

He really did love his family.

“Hi, I’m Glenn, and I’m an alcoholic,” Glenn said finally.

“No, you’re not,” Ethel said. “You’re a librarian. And demented.”

“Who got cemented?” Conrad asked.

“You sure you want to keep them?” Ray asked from across the table and Milo chuckled.

“’Fraid so,” he said, digging into the food.

Notes:

The idea of the old people being Milo’s hoard was one of the very first that came to us when we initially started thinking about this story. We wanted a dragon who had zero idea he was a dragon and had managed to get himself the weirdest collection a dragon could have.

Why old people? Zero clue XD

But they are so insanely fun to write we just couldn’t pass the opportunity.

9

Rowan

He moved the couch a little bit to the left. It just felt like it was in a better position in the sunlight like that, facing the glass balcony doors. Then he realized his monstera plant was squished between the couch and the coffee table, so he picked up the pot and transferred it to the other side of the couch.

He tilted his head and assessed the new layout before concluding that he definitely liked the plant where it was before. But that meant the couch couldn’t be in its new spot. But the couch worked better there.

He frowned.