Chapter Text
"Oh, wow," Fig murmurs for about the tenth time as Millie wiggles in her big sister's arms.
"Is she doing something remarkable?" Ayda asks, peering over Fig's shoulder, "I haven't encountered very many babies, but this appears to be standard behavior."
"I think Fig's just excited," Adaine hums to Ayda, her crochet needle deftly weaving through absurdly soft yarn. It's a new hobby, but she's already getting quite good at it, if the teeny tiny sock taking shape in her hands is anything to go by.
The three are arranged around the couch: Fig sitting criss-cross on the floor with her back against it, cradling Millie, Ayda settled on the actual couch, her hands busy rebraiding Fig's long, thick hair, and Adaine perched on the arm of it beside a tote bag of yarn decorated with pins and buttons, only some of which Adaine herself actually put there. Gorgug is standing behind the couch, peering over the three to get a look at Millie. He's been silent so far, but there's a soft, absent little smile on his face, his eyes just a bit more crinkled at the corners than usual.
"She's just... awesome," Fig says, glancing up and back at Ayda and summarily ruining the braids her girlfriend has been working on.
Ayda smiles at Fig's awed expression, and leans down to drop a kiss between her horns before starting over on the braids.
"Of course she is," she says softly, "she is related to my darling paramour. She could not be anything less than... 'awesome'."
"Gaaaayyyy," drawls Kristen from the armchair she's sprawled over, and everyone but Fig, Ayda and Millie heaves a sigh. Adaine uses a mage hand to fling a pillow at Kristen, who tries and fails to deflect it with her staff, giggling.
"And here I thought there was only one child in the room," says Fabian, and Kristen sticks her tongue out at him.
"Kristen brings down the median age of the group," Riz points out with a faint smile, "we know this."
Among the ensuing chorus of laughs and offended noises, Fabian takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, reminding himself that if there's anyone he trusts to hold Millie, it's his party.
It had taken a while for Cathilda to convince Fabian to return Millie to the bassinet in Hallariel and Gilear's room. There had been more back and forth than he'd like to admit over it, and Cathilda had- well. She'd had to take a bit of a stern tone towards the end of it. She was right, though; his Mama had had a baby before. Gilear had been a father before. They were both... Millie would be okay with them for the night, and Cathilda would know if the baby needed her. She always had before.
It had been about that point in the conversation when Hallariel herself had wandered in and positively lit up at the sight of Millie in Fabian's arms. She had swept over and plucked up the baby, leaving Fabian with a kiss on the cheek and a "Thank you for watching her, darling" that had left Fabian... rather stunned, actually. Cathilda smiled broadly, and before trotting after Hallariel had leaned across to Fabian conspiratorially.
"She's ready this time, master Fabian. I've seen to it."
She's ready this time.
Something bounces off the back of Fabian's head, and he comes back to himself, turning sharply to glare at Riz, who's perched on the back of another armchair, folding up another bit of paper, presumably to throw at poor, oppressed, unsuspecting Fabian who has never done anything in his life to deserve such treatment. Such is the attitude Fabian conveys, at least, in his betrayed and saddened exclamation of "The Ball."
Riz just grins, fangs glinting, and the next bit of paper hits Fabian in the forehead to raucous laughter from most of the rest of the group, and polite applause from Adaine.
"I welcome you all into my house," Fabian huffs, pulling himself to stand, "and you assault me. Typical. Fine, fine, I can see when I'm not wanted, I'll just Go-"
He makes a show of dragging himself dejectedly towards the kitchen, and only presents a middle finger to the room behind him when Kristen calls after him to grab her a sparkling water.
Of course he's going to, but that's besides the point.
Although his junior year study nights had been borne more of a cloying desperation to fill the empty house than a genuine wish to provide something for his classmates, Fabian had quickly found that he actually enjoyed playing the host- at least, once he'd figured out how to actually do it. He's already excited to start those evenings up again once the semester starts, and in the meantime he's delighted to host the other bad kids. He's also fairly sure that Fig's been too excited to actually eat since she'd heard the baby was coming, and that wouldn't do at all. Cathilda's been teaching him the basics of- well. Food, and he's grown confident enough to put together a tray for his friends. He's well aware that most of them will eat about anything, of course, but that doesn't mean he won't put effort into this. He's Fabian Aramais Seacaster, and nothing if not a generous and considerate captain to his crew.
So: Charcuterie.
He hums a shanty absently as he slices cured meats and cheeses, arranges crackers and grapes, and picks out several flavors of sparkling water he thinks the others will enjoy. His ears twitch at every sound from the living room, and he reminds himself once - twice - many times - that Millie is safe with Fig and the others. She's safe. They're watching her, she isn't alone, she's with the people he trusts most in the world, and she's safe.
She's safe.
She's-
"Hey-"
Fabian jumps out of his skin, barely avoiding slicing a finger off as he drops the cheese knife and whirls around to face the door, hand automatically reaching for a sword that isn't there. Stupid, stupid, how could he let his guard down like-
"Woah, okay," says Riz, holding his hands up, tail lashing in alarm, "sorry, just me- didn't, uh- forgot I was being quiet, sorry."
Oh. Right.
"Well done, The Ball," Fabian huffs, making himself relax (it's just Riz, he's safe, there's no one in the house who shouldn't be, they're all safe-), "I nearly lost a finger."
"Sorry," says Riz again, "just came in to see if I could help with anything."
"I know where to find the sparkling water now," Fabian says, raising an eyebrow, "don't worry. No more milk and vodka."
Riz makes a face, clearly suppressing a shudder.
"Yeah, uh. Good."
They stand there staring at each other for a minute. It's awkward, which is nothing new with Riz, but something feels... weird. Fabian can't quite put his (blessedly intact) finger on it.
"...did- were you looking for something in particular, or-?"
"No," says Riz quickly, eyes darting around the kitchen and refusing to settle on Fabian, "just- you're good? With this?"
"It's a charcuterie board," says Fabian blankly. Riz makes a frustrated noise, hunching his shoulders. He looks like he wants to disappear into the shadows, which is odd, because he doesn't do that. He just stands there in the doorway, as awkward and twitchy as if he'd walked in on Fabian and Mazey making out again.
(Definitely one of their weirder dates. Mazey had gently suggested to Fabian afterwards that they try hanging a tie on the door now and then. It seemed to be working so far.)
"I mean," said Riz, ears pinned back, "with- this. Everything."
"The Ball, I genuinely, honestly have no clue what the hell you're-"
"I thought you hated that you were gonna have a little sibling," Riz blurts out, glaring at the floor, "and- and everyone's making a big deal over her, and your mom's barely spoken to you for months as far as I've seen, and you're acting okay, but you're really good at acting okay and I just- I didn't-"
"The Ball-"
"I don't want to miss it again," Riz finally says, peering up at Fabian through a worried frown and thick, square-rimmed glasses. Has he had the same pair since freshman year? Fabian really ought to make him go to an optometrist, even if his prescription hasn't changed, his lenses must be scratched to hell by now. "you weren't okay last year. You were alone, and I missed it, and I'm not doing that again."
Oh.
"Oh," says Fabian quietly.
"Yeah," says Riz, glaring at him, tail lashing side to side again. "And... um. Jawbone keeps telling me that it's good to talk about stuff - I mean, thank fuck for all the secret passages at Mordred, it's like he tries to give me therapy every other time he sees me - so I just... I thought if you maybe- if you wanted to... to talk. Or anything. Maybe I could help."
Riz has been hunching in on himself more and more as he speaks, and Fabian kind of hates how he looks like a scared cat right now, so he lowers himself to the floor to feel a little less like he's looming. To be fair, he can't really help looming around Riz, the guy is half his height, but- still.
"Riz," says Fabian quietly, and that gets Riz to unfurl a little bit, looking at him in surprise. "Thank you," Fabian says, and- okay, Riz could stand to look a little less shocked at that, Fabian did destroy toxic masculinity, after all.
"Oh," says Riz. Good, it's his turn.
"Yeah," says Fabian, glancing away, "I... you're right, I did hate that I was- that Mama and Gilear were... but. I don't know, I..."
He trails off, frowning as he tries to put the words in order. Riz creeps a little closer, hesitates, then sits down across from Fabian. They're both sitting criss-cross now, their knees almost touching. Riz's claws tap nervously on the floor, the tip of his tail twitching. One ear is angled towards Fabian, the other back towards the living room. Riz is never entirely still; he's always watching, waiting, listening, ready for the next move.
It's comforting.
"...Mama was so happy," Fabian finds himself saying.
Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Claws on linoleum.
"She kept talking about the baby's nursery, the clothes, getting a dog to protect her, which they still haven't- anyway."
"Fig's got that covered, I think," Riz points out, "German shepherd mode, or whatever."
"Fair," Fabian concedes, "yeah. It's just... all the excitement and planning and- and everything, and I just kept thinking... I wondered if she was like that when- when it was me. And if she was, then... fuck, what happened, you know?" He laughs quietly. Riz doesn't. The tapping stills. "and I... yeah, I was angry. She wouldn't stop talking about the baby, and she picked out that stupid name, and it was like- she was talking about it like it was the first time she'd done any of it, I mean- Cathilda had to teach her how to swaddle, how did she not know how to-"
Riz's hand settles over Fabian's, and Fabian reminds himself to breathe. Riz's hand is cold. He should make some coffee.
"...I don't know what I think is worse," Fabian admits, barely above a whisper now, "the idea that- that Mama's going to raise Millie the same way she did me, or... or the idea that she's going to do better this time. And I just have to watch her be a good mom. I mean- I think- I think she'll do better, I think she already is, I mean- she's sober this time, and Cathilda's making sure she- and Gilear's- but- but Millie's so fucking little, she doesn't deserve to be- to be there so my mother can feel better about herself-"
"Fabian-"
"and Mama's been alive so long, Riz, for hundreds and hundreds of years, and even if she tries to be around this time, she's just going to end up like Telemaine and she's going to leave Millie alone without even realizing she's doing it, she's going to leave Millie like she did me, and it's not fair, it's not fucking fair-"
Wiry little arms wrap around Fabian's neck, and suddenly he has a lap full of- well, Riz. Riz, who's hugging Fabian as tight as he can, even going so far as to wrap his tail around Fabian's middle, and Fabian barely feels in control of himself anymore as he hugs Riz back and hides his face in his best friend's bony shoulder, and he doesn't realize he's crying until the inside of his eyepatch gets uncomfortably damp against his cheek.
"Sorry," he finds himself mumbling, "sorry, I- 'm sorry, I just-"
"Shut up," Riz tells him. He shuts up, biting back another hiccuping sob. Riz sighs, sounding frustrated. "No, shit, I mean... just- don't apologize. You don't have to apologize, there's- fuck, Fabian, what are you even sorry for? For talking about shit? The think I fucking asked you to do?"
Fabian chokes out a wet laugh, and Riz huffs again. He's getting twitchy at staying in the hug for so long, Fabian can tell, but when Fabian begins to loosen his grip, Riz just hugs him tighter. It's a little uncomfortable, but it's also... it's nice.
"It's not fair," Riz tells him, "it's really, really not, and I'm gonna be so honest, man, your mom makes me so mad-"
"Seems like my family has a gift for that."
"Yeah, well. Anyway. It's not fair, and I'm- I'm so fucking sorry."
"...Thanks, Riz," Fabian mumbles. Riz nods a little. His ear twitches, and smacks Fabian in the cheek. Fabian snorts, then laughs, and Riz lets go of him and pulls away, looking sheepish but still pleased with himself. Fabian flips up his eyepatch and rubs at his eyes, wiping away the tears before pulling it back into place.
"...So," says Riz, who has never been good at gracefully ending conversations, "um. Yeah."
Fabian grins broadly at him, and Riz flattens his ears, glaring.
"Shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"I can hear you thinking."
"Your passive perception is not that good-"
"Oh, like you'd know-"
"Rude, The Ball!" Fabian exclaims, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense, "insulting me in my own home, I can't believe you'd be so churlish!"
"Shut up, Fabian," says Riz again, finally giving into his hatred of standing still for long periods of time and climbing up onto the counter to get at the coffee maker. Fabian just hums, suppressing another laugh, and grabs a bag of dark roast from the freezer.
"We have cinnamon sticks," he offers, and Riz visibly perks up. "Cabinet over your head."
A couple minutes later, the coffee machine is sputtering away and Riz is sitting on the counter like the uncouth rogue he is, clutching a mug with a stick of cinnamon in it and swinging his feet as he watches Fabian put the finishing touches on the charcuterie board.
"Why would anyone put cranberries in cheese?" he asks, wrinkling his nose, "that sounds awful."
"You ate Kalvaxus raw, and you're complaining about my Wensleydale?"
"Meat's meat," Riz shrugs, "cheese is cheese, and cranberries are gross. And they don't go in cheese."
"Regardless," Fabian returns haughtily, and Riz rolls his eyes. He's grinning, though, and Fabian feels lighter, the weird, distant weight in his chest now mysteriously gone. He feels like he's back in his body again. It's nice.
When they return to the living room, the hoards descend on the charcuterie, but they at least make use of the little plates and toothpicks Fabian brought, and do their best to not get cheese and honey on the carpet. Fig reluctantly hands Millie off to Fabian so she can get at the food herself, and Fabian waits for Riz to get settled in his armchair again, with coffee and plate of crackers, cured meat and cranberry-less cheese on the table beside it before approaching.
"You haven't held her yet," he notes, and Riz abruptly looks terrified.
"Uh," he says, "I- I'm good, I don't have to-"
"You're going to support her head," Fabian instructs, carefully putting Millie in Riz's lap and arranging his arms around her.
"Fabian, I have claws-"
"And you're very good at not scratching us with them. It's fine, The Ball, you won't hurt her."
The I trust you not to goes unspoken, but he's pretty sure Riz hears it anyway. His passive perception is very good, after all.
"There, see? Not so hard, is it?"
Riz doesn't say anything. He's staring at Millie with wide eyes, and Fabian watches his pupils slowly expand. Riz shifts a little, curling around Fabian's sister as well as he can, and-
"Oh my gods," says Fabian, and Riz glares.
"Not a word," he threatens, which somehow doesn't interrupt the honest-to-Cass purr rumbling from his chest.
"This is incredible, how did I not know about this-"
"It's a goblin thing."
"I mean, clearly-"
"It's a protective instinct," Riz mutters, flushing teal. Then he mumbles something else, and Fabian's ear twitches.
"What was that?"
Riz cannot look Fabian in the eye to save his godsdamn life.
"...You were unconscious last time it happened," he manages after a moment. Fabian frowns, confused, and Riz glances up at him for a split second before focusing on Millie again.
"Leviathan," he says quietly.
Oh.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"How come Riz gets to hold her before me?" complains Gorgug, wandering over, "I was next in line after Fig-"
"I go after Gorgug!" Kristen calls, and Adaine tells Kristen she's about to spill sparkling water on the carpet, and Fabian sighs heavily, resigning himself to an afternoon of pass-the-baby with his friends.
To be fair, there are certainly worse ways to spend the day than in a room full of people he trusts.