Who: Ash & Cian What: A discussion of double standards (at top volume) Where: Cian’s place When: Early this evening Rating: Probably R. Language, mature themes, and a seriously unpleasant screaming match Status: Complete
It wasn’t often that she went out of the city on business - when Tynan had been alive, she was too young; with Cian, she had always been too incompetent. (At least, that was what she had told herself; she was starting to wonder if it had really been that he hadn’t wanted to put her in danger if he could help it. The thought was often dismissed, though - it was likely that Cian had just felt that she couldn’t deal with it on her own, and sending more than one person was always risky.) But she was leaving Emillion in the morning for some Faram-forsaken stretch of desert - a major trading post, but still - for a meeting with some suppliers. Both legitimate and illegitimate.
Since it was just a series of meetings - with people that she’d been dealing with exclusively for years - Ash had no problem going and taking care of it. Make a few days of it, enjoy the nice weather, maybe do some shopping. Desert areas had nice airy clothing - good for dancing.
Normally, she’d pack up, spend the evening reading and be ready to jet early in the morning, but since she was going to be gone for a few days, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to drop by Ci’s place, maybe stay the night. Switch things up a bit. She was still feeling a little out of sorts about everything that had happened between them recently, and she’d reverted to business as usual with him. Until he’d managed to point out without pointing out that, yeah, things were supposed to be different.
Plus, she had what practically amounted to a key to his place. So she’d go, surprise him, hang out and then leave in the morning. She had a book in her bag, so if he wasn’t around, she could settle down outside and read for a bit until he came back. (She hadn’t been kidding about not wanting to use the key when he wasn’t home.)
But by the time she got there, clouds had started to roll in. No point in waiting outside if it was going to pour, so she found a cafe not far from the Tenements - she wanted real coffee and comfortable chairs if she was going to be there for a while - ordered a caramel macchiato, and went to wait near the bar for her drink.
Two girls walked in, gossiping loudly. They weren’t talking quietly, and Ash listened in - partly out of habit, partly because she was bored as fuck and the barista was taking his sweet ass time steaming the milk. The redhead ordered a plain coffee and a chai latte before turning back to her friend, a petite blonde thing who was practically vibrating in excitement.
“Are you going to see him again?” Red asked as they settled next to where Ash was.
“I don’t know,” the blonde confided. “I’ve heard he doesn’t really stick with anyone for more than a few months, and we only met a few days ago.” She was chewing her bottom lip. “But I, like, think it might be different with me? I mean, what if I’m the one to actually get Cian Wilde to settle down? That would be so cool, right?”
The barista called out her drink, but Ash stayed where she was, frozen. A misunderstanding, maybe? Or was that motherfucking bastard still sleeping around?
Red tutted. “You’ve just got to show him that you’re better than everyone else he could have. After all, he’s sleeping with you. You’ve practically got him in the bag.”
Ash had heard enough. She strode to the counter, grabbed her coffee and stormed out of the shop. The first drop of rain splashed on her head as she was fishing the key out of her shirt. It was pouring by the time she let herself into his apartment. She kicked off her shoes and took a seat, sipping the macchiato and keeping her mind clear. If she started to think about, she’d just get more angry, and they were supposed to be rational adults.
I’ll show him rational.
He’d wondered if she might show up -- the security had been taken down then put back up, so he assumed he’d either have a fight on his hands, or her presence. When he saw her face, though, upon stepping down from his rooftop entrance, he wondered if he might not end up with both.
He pulled off his wet jacket, tossing it on the hook near the stairs, ran a hand over his hair. “Looks like you missed the storm,” he said. Or brought it in here with you, whichever. The thought of telling her he was glad she’d finally made use of the key without warning was awkward (and by her expression unadvisable) so instead he said, “Hold on, let me just get a towel.” That said, he headed towards the bathroom, trying to think as he walked of just what could have put her in a mood. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything particularly objectionable recently.
“Hit a coffee shop before,” she said as he went to retrieve the towel. “Made it here before the storm broke.” She took another sip of her coffee; if she was drinking, she couldn’t lay him out on the carpet. At least let him get comfortable before she tore him apart - it was the nice thing to do.
And she was so very often nice.
“Yeah?” he asked, turning as he rubbed the towel over his head. “Where’s mine?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to ask his little blonde fling, but she bit it back. “Was planning on staying there until you got back. Ended up coming by earlier than I’d planned on it after running into one of your recent flings.” That was a nice, non-confrontational way of phrasing it, if she did say so herself. She kept her gaze on him, watching for any indication that he realized he was fucked.
She got nothing of the sort; his expression stayed more or less neutral as he looked down to meet her eyes. “I’m guessing there’s a point in here somewhere,” he said dryly. “I probably dice with your johns, but I don’t feel the need to ask them -- or tell you about it. What’s stuck up your ass, princess?”
“My clients don’t tell their friends that they’re gonna be the one to tie me down permanently,” she snapped, not sure how the fuck her job had anything to do with anything. “Besides, a job’s a job. You fucking random blondes you met a few days ago isn’t the same thing.”
She got a reaction here, though probably not the one she was looking for; he crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her an incredulous look. “Can’t blame me if some stupid twit’s got ideas. I’m not planning on moving her in here or whatever. Since when do we have this problem?” he added, clearly getting irritated. “You’re fucking your way through Emillion’s wealthy thrill-seekers and I, what, sit at home and wait around in case you’ve got a night free? I don’t think it works that way, princess.” In fact, it hadn’t even occurred to him to consider that she might be expecting anything like exclusivity; the very thought was so ludicrous it was laughable.
“Why the fuck are we talking about my job? It’s a job.” She stared back incredulously. “Not like it’s some fucking secret. But I’m not out there picking up new conquests - stupid me. Didn’t think you were either.”
“No, they come to you, why would you have to go find them?” he said, voice suddenly cool. “Considering it’s a job you keep for your own amusement, I’m having a real hard time spotting the difference other than you’re getting paid -- a pretty insignificant amount in the grand scheme of things. I’m not keeping any fucking secrets, either. Just wasn’t aware of the double fucking standard.”
There was a lot she could have said about the amusement comment, but she kept quiet. It was none of his fucking business what she did. (The logic that it was none of her business what he did was momentarily lost on her.) They were supposed to be trying something, to have some sort of relationship, and stupidly she’d thought that meant some sort of exclusivity, Ruby withstanding.
They probably should have talked about it, but clearly it would have been a waste of fucking time.
She stood up. “Look, you got a problem with my job, that’s on you. It’s not something I started doing after we started whatever the hell this is, so it’s not like it’s some big surprise. You’re not getting paid to pick up chicks, so it’s a completely different problem. If you were, it’d be different.”
“Consider it an act of fucking charity,” he snapped. “I’m a Faram-damned saint. My problem with your job’s on me, sure -- I’ve known that from the start. I’m not going to mention that. But you want something from me? Maybe try fucking leading by example. I didn’t deliberately go out looking for ways to piss you off, but the fact is, you haven't changed your life any, why the fuck should I change mine?” His eyes narrowed. “If you finally showed up of your own volition just to lecture me, we’re done here, I’d say. And if you thought I would apologize for doing exactly what you’re doing, then you’re crazier than I ever fucking thought.”
“And you think I went out of my way to piss you off? None of that had anyfuckingthing to do with you, Cian.” Ash shook her head. “And --”
“I wasn’t pissed until you came in here flinging ridiculous fucking accusations,” he said coldly. “Considering nothing I’m doing on my own time has anyfuckingthing to do with you, either.”
“Ridicu-” She stopped, took a deep breath. “You know what? I was coming over because I’m leaving for a few days and I actually wanted to see you before I took off, but I should have known it was a bad fucking idea.”
Lead by example. Fuck that.
“Yeah,” he said, “apparently it was.” Because even if he’d wanted to see her -- had been aware of her imminent departure on a job he’d assigned her even though he was still wary of letting her gambol off out of the circle of whatever protection he could put up around her -- this was so out of fucking line that the line was a fucking dot. “If that’s all, you know where the door is.”