and i'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but i'll be alright Who: Cian & Aisling What: Ha. Hahahaha. Where: Cian’s place When: After this and this. Rating: PG-13 bc let’s be real. Cish. Status: Complete
One of these days, she and Cian were going to be able to talk like regular people and not find shit out secondhand. She’d been pissed when Neil had informed her that Cian had been taken into custody for murder of all fucking things. It wasn’t like he kept her up to date of who he was offing and why, but he was usually more careful.
And, from what she knew, they didn’t have any ties to the Milionas, which would have made it even more random.
So when he messaged her to tell her he’d been released, she’d sighed and told him she’d meet him at his place. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t need to talk to him about… She shook her head, clearing the thought from her head. She still hadn’t figured out what to say - hell, she still wasn’t even sure she believed Delacreaux. Or Isabel.
Fishing the key from her shirt, she undid the traps and made her way upstairs, careful to reactivate everything once she’d entered Cian’s apartment. She poured herself a glass of water and settled down on the couch to wait.
It was probably good that he hadn’t mentioned the fucking fiasco to her right off the bat -- he’d been drunk off his ass the night immediately after, but by now he’d managed to regain at least some composure. He considered, as he made his way down from the rooftop, exactly how much he should tell her.
Some of it wasn’t really his to tell, and some of it was a little bit too close to home. He’d kept that buried for years now, and whatever their relationship had evolved to… yeah. Not getting into that. Not getting into daddy dearest’s role in that, especially. They did better when they didn’t discuss the old man at all.
She was already waiting, of course, and looking none too pleased; he tossed his jacket on the counter and headed for the kitchen. “Sorry for the delay. Had to fight the fucking clerk for my dice. Apparently no one thought I’d notice if I was missing a pair. Should have let her blow herself up.”
“Which would have gotten you back into the interrogation room,” she quipped, sipping her water. But that wasn’t something she really wanted to think about. Not after Miles had gotten his ass caught and tossed in jail for the next decade and a fucking half. She wasn’t going to admit that she was jumpier now about the EKP than she had been before; Cian was playing nonchalant, so she was going to follow along.
“So, why the fuck did they peg you for this?” She’d heard about the murder - it was the new topic of the day now that Miles was locked up. From what she could tell, fucker deserved it. And it made Monaco’s sudden appearance at Ruby, asking all sorts of fucking questions that she played dumb about, make sense. Not that she’d told Cian about that.
Seemed like she had more shit to keep from him now than she had when they weren’t doing… whatever it was they were doing. Not that she was sure they’d be doing this much longer once she told him.
He could have lied, but a partial truth seemed to serve best in this case (he didn’t want to think that he’d changed, but obviously he must have, if he was willing to offer even this much): “Because I had people cleaning out the fucker’s place of business -- I use the term loosely -- right around the time he was getting carved up like a Faram’s Mass turkey.”
Ash sighed. “I’m assuming all they had was some idiot who said they saw you so clearly you must have offed the fucker?”
“Something like that,” he said with a shrug. The ancient coffeemaker (one of these days, he was going to replace this piece of shit) began humming on the counter as he turned around. “Fact is, they got nothing on me because I didn’t kill the asshole, but I’m not thinking anyone’s gonna be mourning him particularly, or sniffing around, much. Monaco probably would have thanked me for it, if he’d thought I’d done it -- which he didn’t, because he doesn’t, because I didn’t. I’m not Baines, princess, relax.” He reached into one of his cabinets for a cup, paused, and asked, “Coffee?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, but then she remembered Isabel’s instructions. You need to cut caffeine out of your diet, Aisling. It’s bad for the baby. She swallowed and shook her head. “Nah. I’ll stick with water, thanks. So, Monaco was the one who got to play interrogator?”
“Guy’s fucking everywhere lately. It’s like there’s no other Knights in the Faram-damned city.” He retrieved one cup and gave the coffee maker a glare as it slowly began to drip brown liquid into the attached pot. Definitely needed to have someone go out and buy him a new one. (It was a shitty distraction, but whatever.) “Anyway, all’s well that ends with me not in lock-up. I told you it was nothing to get bent out of shape about. Just another day in the life.”
I can make it a more memorable day, she thought darkly. “Yeah, he stopped by to ask about the old brothel with kids that papa used to run. Told him I didn’t know shit about it, and when I went looking for any of the records, I couldn’t find them.” Ash shrugged. She’d heard rumors that Tynan had gone down that line of work, but he’d never mentioned it to her, so she’d figured it was rumor.
His hands only paused a moment before he withdrew the pot (still only half-full) and poured his coffee. “There were a few lines of business I shut down when I took the helm,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Shit with bad ROI and the like.” No revenue worth that.
The shit her father had been into never failed to make her sick to her stomach. Or maybe that was the pregnancy. “Monaco was wondering about ties. Pretty sure Miliona was just an opportunist, trying to fill a void.” She didn’t say anything else about Tynan’s involvement - discussing her father with Cian was never a good idea.
“Anyway, that’s all wrapped up now, yeah?” The last thing she needed to worry about was Cian getting picked up again.
Opportunist was a light, easy word, but he let it go. “Yeah, that’s wrapped. No ties, no murderer, no problem. At least, not for us.”
“Good,” she said. “And speaking of things that are wrapped, I need to figure out what to do with Ruby.” Lena had disappeared, leaving the brothel in Ash’s name, which had surprised the fuck out of her. For months, she’d been playing double duty - second in command here, in charge there - and it was beginning to take its toll on her. Not to mention that she had no fucking idea what the energy of a pregnant woman was like, and if she started slacking in her org work, lover or no, Cian would flip his shit.
“Hire someone to oversee it, or hire someone to sell it,” was his immediate response. This was a much easier topic. Maybe they could sidestep the old man for another year after this. Or hell, longer. “It’s profitable, so if you want to keep it, keep it. But you’d be wasting your considerable talent managing a single enterprise.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” she said. “I don’t want it associated with the organization, so I’ve been thinking of selling it off, but I need to make sure that whoever I hire isn’t gonna take off or try to revamp the damn club. Also, I’m pregnant and was thinking that you would know who to contact to --”
That he only spilled his coffee and didn’t drop the cup was a testament to self-control that he apparently had. He didn’t bother letting her finish her sentence, either. “What. The actual. Fuck.” He turned and gave her an incredulous look that was possibly bordering on panicked. The look on her face seemed to imply he hadn’t just misheard. “Run that by me one more time.”
Well, that wasn’t how she’d meant to broach the fucking topic. Faram damn it all. Maybe if she just pretended… “I figured you’d know who to contact to sell off Ruby.”
The cup slammed down on the counter with a clatter. He wasn’t in the mood for coffee, suddenly. “How about you not play games with me right now?” Apparently, where accusations of murder could be met with nonchalance, this was something else again.
Aisling sighed. Should have fucking known. “I’m pregnant,” she said, leaning back into the couch and glaring at her cup of water. “About seven weeks along.” Which had been really fucking surprising considering a fucking dinosaur had knocked her clear into a damn tree, but Isabel had shrugged and said people keep going on with life until they know, and would you look at fighters?
Give the woman credit -- he didn’t remember the last time he’d been struck completely speechless. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at her like she’d grown an extra head. Was this a -- no of course it wasn’t a joke, she wouldn’t find it funny. She didn’t look amused. “Well, that’s just…”
And that was about the extent of his vocabulary just now, actually.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but a practically silent and shell-shocked Cian wasn’t it. Suddenly upset, she stood up. “You don’t have to have anything to do with it,” she informed him. “I’m not even sure if I’m gonna keep the damn thing, so forget I said anything. I’ll see you later.”
Before she could storm out the door, though, his hand was on her arm, gripping like a vice. In his defense, his strength wasn’t really something he was considering at the moment. “Did I fucking say that?” His other hand came up to scrub over his face. Ajora on a fucking skewer, what was his life? “Why do you always jump to idiotic conclusions?” he muttered. “Just, why do you do that? Seriously, Aisling, it’s like a fucking competitive sport with you, Faram fuck. You can’t just spring that on me as a by-the-way and expect me to keep up.”
Ash whirled around, attempting to wrench her arm from his grip and failing. She looked up at him and glared. “How the hell was I supposed to tell you? This wasn’t something we’ve ever talked about. And you didn’t look any shade of fucking happy when I told you - you looked like I just imposed some sort of fucking death sentence on you! So fuck it, it’s my problem. Not yours.”
“Well I’m not exactly jumping up and down,” he snapped. “Maybe part of that’s the fact that you’re -- we’re -- shit at having serious conversations. I’d be calmer with a fucking death sentence; at least I’d know what to do then,” he added in a mutter. Death was easy.
This was…
“Let’s be really clear here, you don’t look any shade of fucking happy yourself,” he said with a shake of his head. “So maybe you could calm the hell down and stop assuming I’m about to tell you to not let the door hit your infuriating ass on the way out. No one but you said this was exclusively your problem.” He had to remind himself then that especially in this instance, he wasn’t going to be his mother; he didn’t need another drink.
“I don’t want to fight,” she said softly, dropping her gaze. She was too tired to keep up with the way their relationship usually worked - well, had worked before. And now she had no clue what the fuck to expect because she hadn’t ever considered kids. (When she was younger she had, but even though Tynan had been careful to keep her out of everything until she was older, she had still seen and heard things she shouldn’t have. Who the fuck would want to bring a kid into that situation?)
“You’re the only one fighting,” he responded with a sigh. Since when was he supposed to be the rational one? He was crap at being rational. The easiest solution seemed to be punting the responsibility for the progression of the discussion off on her… while he tried to wrap his head around the fact that (considering her insistence on exclusivity) he was apparently in the sort of situation he’d managed to avoid for the last twenty years. “So you don’t want to fight, we don’t fight. What is it you do want to do, exactly?”
To not be in this situation, she thought tiredly. His grip had loosened, so she pulled her arm out of his hand. “I have no fucking clue,” she finally said. Despite not wanting to be in this position, she wasn’t sure if she could go to Loch and ask for a potion to take care of the problem; she hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to the idea of keeping the kid, but she had given equal thought to not keeping it.
Ever since she found out, she’d been focusing on how (and whether) to tell Cian. Now that that part was out of the way, she had to figure out what she wanted to do. “You got any thoughts on it?”
Now there was a complicated question. Considering a moment, he said, “Ultimately your call, isn’t it? I don’t get to tell you what to do in this case. So whatever you decide is fine.” A pause, then, “I’d be a shit parent, probably. Though I guess if I stuck around I’d already do better than mine did, which is a fucking depressingly low bar.”
If I stuck around caught in her head. She wanted to say so if I kept it, you wouldn’t stick around? but hadn’t he just accused her of jumping to conclusions? Not that she didn’t think this was a reasonable conclusion to jump to based on what he’d just said, but. He was going to leave this decision to her.
Just fucking great.
What did she want to do? Did she really want to have a kid? A little voice in the back of her head was telling her if she didn’t have one now, she’d regret it. She may not have another chance. But fuck - did she really want to bring a kid into her life? People kept trying to kill her. Lugging a kid in her stomach would just make her slower, upping her odds of finally losing the fight.
Ash went back the couch and sat down. “I’ve got no fucking clue what to do, or what I even want to do about this,” she confessed, eyes on the ceiling.
“Well then, I guess you have a decision to make,” he said. With a sigh, he stepped away and sprawled on the couch, then after a moment patted the cushion next to his, in case she was interested. “Just so you don’t go off imagining fuck-all,” he said, “I’ll go with whatever you decide. If you want the kid…” Damn but this had gotten all sorts of complicated. Whatever she did, they were going to be dealing with it, seemed like. That, and if she’d wanted to just take a potion and write it off, she’d have done it already; his gambling sense told him that there wasn’t much chance of it being simple even if she went that route. “Well I guess all I’m saying is, I can’t make any particular promises about how helpful I’d be. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try, just can’t say I wouldn’t fuck it up.” He could be a better father than his, sure. Maybe a better father than hers, though in some ways that was debatable; from what he understood of it, the old man’s parenting hadn’t been much like his style of doing business.
“Guess so,” she muttered, moving to sit next to Cian. This entire situation was just all kinds of complicated. “Did you ever want kids?” Might as well have that conversation. Maybe it’d make her decision easier if she just knew…. What? If he’d wanted kids, he’d probably had hundreds of chances by now. What made this anything more than an inconvenience?
“Never figured it was in the cards,” he replied, assuming that in this case, honesty was the best policy. “Didn’t exactly have a warm and fuzzy sort of childhood, princess.” Not that she knew much about that, and he’d always intended to keep it that way, but… “Always figured I’d just wind up repeating old mistakes, so I can’t say I was actively thinking about family except in the sense that I wasn’t cut out for one. Fortune’s a fickle bitch though, as usual.” Wasn’t that the universal truth.
And okay, maybe the idea of her carrying around a tiny human right now was pretty fucking disconcerting, but she wasn’t one of the dozens of women he’d played with and tossed, either, and he wasn’t pissed about it, just… “I also figure I’m adaptable,” he said. “Guess in the long run that’s a better indicator of anything than planning; whole chunks of my life haven’t gone as planned, and it’s worked out, maybe better than it might have otherwise in some cases.”
Ash nodded. She didn’t know much about his childhood - hell, she didn’t really know anything until Tynan had brought him over to be an enforcer even though she’d heard rumors that he’d been in the org long before that. And she’d never pushed; way she figured it, if he wanted to talk about it, he would. Though she wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t curious, she also knew that it was none of her damned business.
She tried to think back to her childhood, tried to remember how Tynan had kept her from sticking her neck in places it didn’t belong, but all she remembered was dancing and practices and rehearsals. She had kept herself out of the house for years, doing one thing or another, and she had been pretty happy. But she also remembered being lonely; having friends as the daughter of a crime boss had its pitfalls, and so she hadn’t really had any.
Would she - they, if Cian stuck around to help raise the kid - be able to do better than Tynan had?
“I used to want kids,” she confessed. “Kids, the big white wedding. But reality is a bitch and that just wasn’t really in the cards.” She didn’t say that part of that new and wonderful mindset had been because of him. She knew why he’d done what he had, and she wasn’t angry per se, but it still hurt. “I’d shelved those thoughts years ago.”
Now he shrugged, uncomfortable. She didn’t have to say it for him to know that teenage Aisling Wilde had cast him in the role of adoring husband and father and… fuck, but if they’d really run off all those years ago, maybe he would have been, but he’d also still been too angry, so it might have ended far worse than what they had now, as more or less sensible adults. “You decide you want kids,” he was just going to ignore that plural as a hypothetical, “nothing’s stopping you. You’re fine with Neil’s spawn.” She liked them, didn’t she? “We’ve got means, Ajora knows. I already told you, I’ll do what I can. If you decide that whatever the hell that is is actively harmful,” thoughts of his own mother shoved back into the tiny, dark compartment where he tried to keep them, “then you tell me and I don’t do anything.” Better to stay apart than to become that kind of monster.
There really wasn’t anything that she could say to that. Hell, how did she know she wasn’t going to be a crap parent? How the hell did one even be a mother? It wasn’t like she had any example - good or bad - to go off of. Hers had died. Tynan had probably had lovers, but none that had ever been serious enough to be introduced to her.
“Neil’s spawn” and she gave him an amused smile “get to go back to Neil at the end of the day. No such luck if the spawn is ours.”
“There are people,” he said. “Aren’t there? There are people who do everything. Gotta be someone out there if it’s really that bad.” If there weren’t people who professionally reared children, he’d… well, something drastic. “I mean, worst case, you hire a person and go punch something and let off some steam.” A pause. “Or not. Not saying you have to. Just saying you could.”
A flustered Cian was not something she was used to seeing, and it was doing a lot of good towards improving her mood. “Nannies. I had one until I was about ten. Papa was busy with the org, and he hadn’t hired my permanent baby sitter Neil yet. So, yeah, there’s help if we need it.” She gave him a wicked grin. “Or I could put the kid on your desk and go out. I’m sure you’ll be aces with it.”
“You’d be the only one of us sure of that.” He gave himself credit for not visibly paling, though. One shocked face per year just about cut it for him. It would be fine, right? He’d teach the kid to play poker, or something. Nothing like a cute face to have people underestimating you -- wasn’t that how he’d kept himself fed when he’d still been able to claim something like ‘cute’ for himself?
And this was a whole lot of hypothetical.
“So,” he said, “anyway, point is, it’s not impossible. And I’m not… actively against the idea. Just kind of thrown. One of these days, I’m going to write you a manual,” he decided. “‘How to Deliver Important News.’ Something.”
A manual. Please. “I could have just thrown you a surprise party to announce it. Should have invited the entire org and Loch. That’s what Dear Ellie suggested last week to some chick who couldn’t figure out how to tell her boyfriend she was knocked up.”
“Let’s not take advice from the unofficial queen of… what’s that Kerwonian shit called, schadenfreude?” She’d probably sneak someone in with a memstone and hold it over him for the rest of his life. Just the idea gave him chills.
“Anyway.” He gave her a critical look over, said, “You done being pissed at me for something you assumed I’d do?”
“For now,” she said, content, and leaned against him. “But imagine: if I go through with this? Nine months of hormones, Ci.” Okay, so maybe this part of the pregnancy thing was a little fun. “And I wasn’t pissed - just preemptively annoyed.”
“Great,” he said dryly. “Won’t that be fun. Assuming.” Which, if she wasn’t, he was. She might think she was still thinking, but he wasn’t the worst at predicting outcomes, and this one seemed a foregone conclusion.
Less than a year to figure out how to be a father, Faram fuck.
“Assuming,” she agreed. She’d talk to Loch, get her input even though she could already guess what it would be. Maybe Neil for perspective. Because if she went through with this? She was gonna need a whole lot it.