Cian (thebettingsort) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-12-12 10:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, aisling wilde, cian wilde |
Who: Ash & Cian
What: Discussing all manner of things, and making a few decisions
Where: Cian's place
When: Today
Rating: PG-13 for language
Status: Complete
Honestly, the idea had never crossed her mind. Marriage was something other people did, not people like her who ran underground fight rings, was the second in command of a crime org, and was somehow, inexplicably, the madam of a brothel. She had too much shit to do, not enough time to do it, and really, it wasn’t like marriage could get her anything that she didn’t already have. Cian had taken her last name back when he’d take over the org - and even though she’d wondered what his actual surname was, it wasn’t like they’d been in a place to talk until just recently, and now it didn’t really seem to matter - and they were already stuck together by the nature of the business they were in. But then she’d started showing, and everyone and their fucking mother had to have an opinion, and she could ignore that, too, because she’d long given up caring what other people thought, but then one of the girls at Ruby had mentioned that with shit getting even more dangerous by the day, she was glad that she had married her husband because if something ever happened to her or him, their kids would go to one of their parents. And, yeah, there were ways to take care of that legally without marriage, but she knew wills could be contested. And she had family - she just didn’t like them, she hadn’t seen them in years, and they didn’t live anywhere near Emillion. Cian, as far as she knew, didn’t have any. So, marriage for that reason was out - if something happened to her and Ci, then the kid was going to Neil. If he hadn’t died trying to keep her from dying. But that would still leave Pat, and Ash knew Neil’s husband just as well as she knew Neil, so that wasn’t really an issue. But since she’d been thinking about it, even if she’d managed to talk herself out of the legitimate reasoning for it, she was still thinking about it. And yeah, family-wise, it wasn’t necessary, but she’d gone to the Civic district and talked to one of the magisters who owed her a favor, and there were still some benefits to it. It was stupid, and she could blame it on hormones, but she was sitting across from Cian, who was doing work - always working on some fucking thing or another - and it was still rolling through her head, and she blurted out, “Have you ever thought about getting married?” The amount of work he'd had to do since his insane acceptance of Fee's offer (and naturally, the woman had to leave for parts unknown before he could realize what a fucking mess she'd landed him in) was so massive that even he had to admit that it was unsustainable. Paranoid as he was, he'd had to find people he trusted enough to take on some of the tasks he'd gotten accustomed to doing himself. Things would be settling down sometime soon, or he'd work himself into the fucking ground. Which was why he had papers with him all the time lately, even on this visit to check in on Ash -- who wouldn't appreciate the thought that he was checking in, but the more pregnant she looked, the more it stressed him out -- and why his mind was only half present as he tried to work out how to distance himself a bit from the Ordalian smuggling operation now that things had settled down on the border from the latest evaded raid... Which flew out of his mind entirely as what she'd said registered. She then had the uncommon opportunity to see him completely taken by surprise for a moment as he looked up from his papers and tried to figure out exactly what to say. (There were moments when she got completely irrational lately, and he had to consider that this topic was likely to be volatile to begin with, and damn, but was there even a right answer?) "Ever's a long time," he said finally. "So at one point or another, I probably have." He'd been young and idealistic and stupid once, after all. Of course, she probably meant, had he thought about it recently. "Mostly, I assumed that wasn't my game." She nodded and looked down at the stack of papers that were in front of her: org business, expense reports for Ruby, and, tucked at the bottom of the pile, the list of requirements for a marriage license, which she’d grabbed for Faram knew what reason. “Yeah, not really something that happens in our world a lot,” she said. Then: “Have you ever wanted to?” “Ever’s a long time,” he repeated. After a moment, he sighed and closed the folder. He wasn’t getting any work done anyway. “Are you asking about ever, or about recently? Might as well put your cards on the table, princess.” Ash shrugged. “Let’s go with recently, because I’ve been thinking about it and it doesn’t seem like it would be that bad of an idea. Not like a whole lot would change, right?” “I haven’t considered it recently,” he finally answered. Hilariously, she wasn’t wrong -- what difference would it make, at this point? It was a special kind of relationship, he thought, where they went from screaming at each other over useless shit to discussing marriage like it was about as important and relevant as what to have for dinner. “Apparently, you have. Not enough big life changes for you lately?” His voice wasn’t cruel, though. It wasn’t like he was trying to backpedal out of the idea, either, because again, what would change? It was just kind of out of the blue. Because really, them? Married? Seriously? Well, he wasn’t flat out refusing, so that was a plus. “It’d be nice to give the kid,” and fuck, that was still awkward to say despite the fact that her stomach made her look way further along than she actually was, “some kind of normal. Married parents are kind of a thing, even if I didn’t exactly have ‘em. Besides, we could make use of the tax breaks that the piece of paper will give us.” “Are they a thing? I wouldn’t know.” About parents in general, come to that. Fuck it. “Tax breaks,” he repeated. “That’s your pitch, princess? Let’s sign a paper and stick it to the government?” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or shake his head. “Because I’m pretty sure any kid of ours isn’t likely to get much in the way of normal -- whatever the fuck that is -- either way. So, tax breaks.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m dying to take your name, Ci. You already took mine. And it’ll make some things with the kid easier, paperwork-wise. And I’m not suggesting a big, white wedding like Albrecht and Reinholdt are going to have. It’s just going to one of the magisters, signing some papers, and walking back out.” The piece of paper at the bottom of her pile was removed and she handed it over. “And I think it would be nice. And normal. And I want just a little fucking bit of normal after everything.” The last bit was said quietly, but she knew he’d hear it. It was a stupid admission. She used to think about marrying him years ago, and then she used to think about killing him and smiling at his funeral. And now she was back to maybe sort of wanting to marry him. Fuck it. Maybe normal was never in the cards for them, but she’d take what she could get. “I took the syndicate’s name,” he disagreed peevishly. “It just happened to match yours. Which isn’t the point, actually.” The point was the paper she was holding out to him. He didn’t take it -- because why? No point. “Thanks for giving me the actual reason, anyway,” he said after the silence had stretched out too long. “Tax breaks -- bullshit. Should’ve said you wanted to from the start instead of dancing around it. We’ve got to be past that point by now, don’t we?” And he had to wonder whether it would make his life easier or harder, in the long run -- because there were things, now that he couldn’t tell her. Would it make her life easier if something happened to him? Government widows got stipends of some sort, didn’t they? Fuck, fuck, fuck everything. “I’m drawing the line at the big and fucking useless party. But if you’re asking if I can spare a few hours to go down to the Civic District with you,” a shrug, “then you’re right, not much of a change in the everyday. If you want to go sign a paper, we can sign one. We’re… whatever the hell we are, with or without it.” “Already said I don’t want the party. And we don’t tell Neil until after, otherwise he’ll throw the damn party.” She shook her head, but she was smiling. “And the tax breaks are a pretty big draw, don’t lie.” “He’ll try to throw the party posthumously. No, that’s not meant as a crack at your idea, so don’t get bent out of shape.” A fight was probably not what they needed. And after all, wasn’t she -- and this unborn kid, faram fuck -- the reason he’d already made an actual, massive change in his life? A piece of paper sort of paled in comparison to signing his life away to King and Country. That was a topic he’d need to broach -- carefully -- sometime very, very soon, apparently. He’d been given leave to share very limited information with ‘immediate family.’ He hadn’t had any, so he’d brushed it off, but apparently that was changing. “Right, so… tell me when to clear my schedule, I guess.” The least dramatic proposal of the century award went to Aisling Wilde, thank Faram. They’d had enough drama. “Anything else on your mind?” “How does next week sound? We can do it Wednesday, then grab something to eat. I’ve got an errand there that day, so two birds, one stone.” There was probably some part of her that should feel annoyed or cheated that this was how they were planning their wedding - a sidenote that was just another thing on the calendar - but she surprisingly didn’t care. The big, white wedding would have attracted attention neither of them wanted, and really, all marriage was was a piece of paper. Why waste the money to celebrate that? And since this went so well… “Names, actually.” “Names? You already pointed out that we’ve got the same -- right.” He didn’t have to see her growing amusement to realize he’d gone down the wrong track with the question. “Names. Didn’t we already talk about names? Never mind,” he quickly added, “forget I said that. All right, names. I’m assuming you’ve got suggestions that aren’t on the ‘fuck, no’ list?” “I’m still fond of Tynan for a boy,” she said, leaning back and grinning. At his unamused look, she rolled her eyes. “Kidding. I’ve got a few for each gender, but I was more wondering if you’d thought of any.” She had an appointment the following week to find out the gender, and Neil had suggested waiting on name planning until they knew, but since Ci didn’t really care to know, she figured why bother waiting? At worse, she’d throw out a list. No big deal. How would he even go about picking a name? He thought naming kids after someone was vaguely creepy (and anyway, almost no one in his life had left a positive enough impression for him to consider it), and he wasn’t a big reader, unless one considered financial reports and the occasional mathematical treatise… “Wouldn’t know where to start,” he finally admitted. “Any name I take out of a book is going to be… fucking ridiculous.” There was that one book he’d gotten from the Cathedral library some time ago, never to return it, which was fairly fascinating in its theories, true, but had been written by someone named Escbertsa Helwingtafin, and seriously, could you even make this shit up? “Nothing idiotically long and impossible to say,” he added, just in case. “Generally, you start with names you like. Like Alys. Which is on the no fucking way list, I know. Still doesn’t change that I like it.” She shrugged. “But I also like Siobhan, Liza, and Eliana. For boys, there’s Dorian, Dillon and Mathieu.” “I hear Mathieu and I think of that twit who used to sit on council,” Cian said with a shake of his head. “You sure it wouldn’t turn the kid into a fluttering idiot? I’m sure it’s happened at least once or twice. Main reason to avoid Alys, if you ask me. She’s only gotten to be more of a mess since she picked that name up.” “Eh, Aud isn’t that bad, though she’s been a shut-in lately. But fine, I’ll take Mathieu off the list.” She actually did like the name, and she didn’t think that the former councilor had been that much of an idiot. Public relations-wise, anyway. She looked down at her (large, protruding) stomach and frowned. “Maybe we can just call it ‘It.’” “Great,” he said dryly. “Not that that’s not the sort of thing people will be expecting from us, probably. Me, anyway.” He’d just leave the subject of tiny alone -- the less Ash knew about the ninja’s issues, the better for everyone involved. “How about we pick from that list of yours and call it done?” Minus Mathieu, fortunately. Why the hell would they give their kid an Ordalian name, anyway? They were about as Valendian as they came. “You like those? Great. Siobhan’s good. Dillon’s good. Either way, done.” And he’d made sure not to pick the first name from both lists, because the last thing he needed was an accusation of just picking the first random thing he heard and not caring. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he just didn’t really have any idea how these sorts of decisions were made, or what impact they’d really have (unless he named his kid Escbertsa, anyway, in which case, the likely impact would be a lifetime of resentment). She sighed in exasperation. “You really don’t give a shit, do you?” He’d been pretty damn hands off since she told him, and yeah, part of that was that he was probably waiting for her to tell him what he needed to do, but fuck. Neil seemed to have more of an interest in the kid than Cian had. Not that that was saying anything - Neil liked kids. Period. She didn’t even know if Cian had been around kids. There wasn’t any point in making a big deal out of it. He’d at least narrowed it down. “Siobhan or Dillon, then.” “I give several shits,” he disagreed. “About all of this.” And he was still terrified he’d be a horrible parent, but what could he do now but try? He’d literally signed his life away, and the kid was the biggest reason for it -- And that explanation would just have to wait. Playing by the rules was important, when you didn’t make the rules. So he said, “I read that book you left. Twice.” Mostly because he’d spent the first readthrough in shock. He’d never thought women were entirely helpless or weak, not when they bothered not to be, but fuck. Ash grinned. “Braver man than me,” she told him, shaking her head. “I only read the chapters that have to deal with whatever trimester I’m in. Neil gave me the highlights, and those damn books have diagrams.” Another shake of her head. “Learn anything interesting, Ci?” Okay, maybe she shouldn’t be laughing, but damn, she’d have paid money to see his face as he read the section on actually giving birth. He glared. “Learned that you’re a little shit sometimes, which I should’ve known already. Want me to summarize the rest of my learnings? In full and gory fucking detail? I have a good memory; those diagrams are going to be with me for awhile.” “It’s not that bad,” she pointed out. “You just had to read about it. I get to go through it.” And that was not something she was looking forward to. She had a high pain threshold, but just looking at some of the diagrams made her wonder how the fuck anyone was born. For Faram’s sake, the kid would be the size of a damned watermelon, and she was supposed to --- Nope. Not thinking about that. “And I’m reading,” she added. “I read ahead when I first got the damn books and spent a week in abject terror and reconsidering my choices in life. Which is why I’m taking it trimester by trimester. The less I know, the better for my mental health.” “Ignorance is bliss?” he asked. A moment later: “Can’t blame you, I guess. You’ll be dealing with it eventually one way or another. But I’m not convinced you’re not a little shit anyway -- pretty sure you hoped I’d read the damn thing for your amusement.” Good thing for him that she hadn’t been around when he’d actually gotten to one of the sections -- as he recalled, he’d asked his empty apartment, in complete horror, what the actual fucking fuck? Yeah, definitely better her than him. “Right, so, names, check. Wednesday,” Ajora fuck, “check. And aren’t we just productive as fuck, making big life decisions today? Good for us.” Or something. “I’m assuming you’re feeling… okay,” again, or something, “or you’d have mentioned it?” She shrugged. “Morning sickness has pretty much disappeared. Mostly just feeling tired.” All the damn time. And off balance, but she’d been working on getting around that particular disadvantage. “I’m taking it easy, and if something was wrong, I’d have said something. Or Neil would’ve. Fucker seems to know more about what’s going on with me than the damned midwife.” “Good. That’s good.” And why did talking about this always make him feel like such a damn fool? And for that matter, how well did that bode for when it wasn’t just the two of them anymore? There were days when he really wanted to reconsider his choice to drink sparingly. “Right, so… we should probably finish this.” And honestly, the thought of the papers was a lot less terrifying than the rest of this, and he suspected that despite her occasional bravado, she probably felt exactly the same. She smiled but went back to her paperwork. There were still some financial things she needed to square away for the brothel. “Oh,” she said, making a note on the paper, “wear your one nice shirt Wednesday, would you?” And then she went back to focusing on the task at hand. He considered telling her that all his shirts were fine, but settled for “Yeah, yeah.” He’d deal with buttons if it was so damn important. In the grand scheme of things, compared to the circus that the guildmaster was throwing, it seemed a small enough price to pay. |