Who: The Vakarians (Garrus & Cindy) with the Cendrillon side of the family What: Garrus comes out of the alien closet in front of Cindy's family, and causes the stepmother to faint When: This past Sunday Where: The Cendrillon Home Rating/Warnings: Language, talks about frozen sperm, nothing awful! Status: Complete!
Southern culture was not only a certain kind of lifestyle, it was a way of thinking. The way people welcomed visitors, the way they radiated pride in their history, their appreciation for the landscapes, the pine forests and the lazy rivers - it was all just inherent. It really couldn’t be taught. And every time Cindy went back to visit her roots, she became immersed in the low-country boil that she now wouldn’t eat, the football games on Saturdays, the way music could linger in the air up along the coastlines, sweet or unsweet, Arnold Palmers, the millions of churches both large and small and remembered that she couldn’t really escape this, even if she wanted to. At one point she thought she did, but that had changed.
Stop and stay awhile was standard in this neck of the woods; she’d told her family that her and Garrus were coming for a visit after Valentine’s Day, after they saw his parents, and the doctor, his wife, and the two stepsisters seemed to be thrilled to see their kin. Well. Cindy’s stepmother notwithstanding - to be fair, she was never really thrilled about anything. Unless it involved her sewing circle and being the Queen Bee.
This would be the trip where Garrus revealed his changed self, and Cindy was glad for it - she didn’t want to keep this a secret from her family, even if technically she could. They were far enough apart to where it wouldn’t be an issue (no surprise visits, most likely) and Garrus had some kind of transformative glamour that he could use if need be. But still. It felt wrong somehow, especially if Garrus’ parents knew.
They could handle it though, her folks could. Cindy knew that. And she could handle telling them. She was a steel magnolia, as her stepmother said - southern women in general were, you didn’t want to cross one, and that was perhaps the only positive thing Cindy could recall her stepmother ever teaching her. Don’t you worry none, you’re a steel magnolia.
The dinner table was set with elegant china and linens, on the veranda. Claire and Charlotte were outside enjoying the light breeze, shucking oysters, and Cindy helped them - even if she didn’t plan on eating any. The cook had both Cindy’s dietary restrictions to keep in mind, and now Garrus’ too. “What do you mean he can’t even have a mint julep?” Claire’s frown was most disappointed, as she jabbed at the oyster she was working on with her knife.
“Stop it, silly, you’re doing it all wrong,” Charlotte tsked. “More mint juleps for us, then!”
Indeed, Cindy was definitely drinking one of those. She wouldn’t turn down this particular southern classic. “His diet’s changed a lot, is all,” she said, resisting the urge to stab Claire discreetly - come on a knife blade between the ribs, no one would notice. Hopefully Garrus didn’t get caught up listening to her father wax poetic about how this country was going to hell in a handbasket. A proud southerner who attended church every Sunday rain or shine and was a member of the NRA, yet he was educated and stern. He hadn’t voted Trump (the fellow’s not very Christian, according to him). Thank god.
Living the lives they did, a degree of secrecy was mandatory - classified intel, government involvements, missions and dirty dealing that came with it all because it was hardly ever just black and white. No one was innocent, and even the ones that did their best to be genuinely good people had blood on their hands. That was a category he and his fable-powered wife fell under, and it was a part of their realities best kept hidden away.
His father, for one, would have a fit and rant on and on with his ideology of ‘do things right or don’t do them at all.’ Vakarian Senior was very by the book, a strong advocate of upholding the law no matter how twisted it was, and hardly ever question authority. Garrus was the opposite. Do away with the red tape, question and rip apart to expose what was beneath all the bullshit (very reminiscent to the ‘truth is out there’ thing, hah) concealed by semantics and politics. Military life was suppose to ingrain the habit of ‘following orders’ but, ah. That didn’t always take. Turian rebel, through and through.
But there were some things that couldn’t be kept forever, and while they had tossed up excuses here and there they were only short-term explanations that wouldn’t last. Solana had been their guinea pig in testing his side of the family. The news had taken her as a surprise but then it clarified more things for her, and now she rolled with it in her deadpan jokes to torment her oldest and only sibling. The Vakarian Parents were next, and after hours and hours of explaining it all (his parents were quiet but gave him and Cindy their full attention, processing and nodding, and asking things in the end) they did what any parent should do.
Accept it. The proof was right before their eyes, and like Solana it helped clarify a lot of things and were - thankfully - more concerned about his wellbeing on this planet that wasn’t designed to support his otherworldly genetics. Holiday dinners and other get togethers had to be tweaked around his diet, but that was it. If Cindy and Garrus made it work throughout their daily lives, then they could too.
Garrus was, honestly, more concerned about the in-laws. Mr. Cendrillon always managed to pleasantly surprise him and he hoped that streak would continue. Tweedle Dee and Dum (his affectionate nickname to them behind the scenes but to be honest, he was fond of them - they were family) were ones he didn’t think he should worry about. He could be wrong, and he hoped not.
The infamous stepmother, whose face was equivalent to Solana’s favorite internet personality (Grumpy Cat) in just about every wedding photo? That had him pause. Were aliens in the bible? Would they be condemned to eternal damnation and hellfire? Garrus wasn’t religious, he didn’t know, so her reaction would be the most interesting of them all.
For the moment, while dinner was in preparations, he found himself entangled in a conversation of mutual opinions with his father-in-law - it was interesting to hear a southerner’s perspective of the political turmoil of the country. Personally, the turian-in-disguise was all for the riots. Change didn’t come by being docile and arguing with people on social media (spirits, what the fuck has this world come to).
At least the two of them were having a grand time chuckling over the latest Twitter meltdowns as they joined the sisters outdoors. “And I quote, ‘This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to cover-up the many mistakes made in Hillary Clinton's losing campaign.’ Am I the only one surprised he didn’t spell out some kind of emotion with an exclamation point there? No ‘sad!’ like usual?”
The response was a laugh from Cindy’s father, and his own observations - no wonder he was such a pillar of this community; when he spoke, there was a richness to his tone. A deepness and bass sounds that echoed the might of a stormy ocean. You know, that typical patois of the south. “Well, he’s just real mad about those fake news people and what they’re doing,” he spoke in all mocking seriousness. “Being real mean to his administration and everything about these unlawful leaks, it’s a right shame.”
The good doctor clapped Garrus on the shoulder, stepping closer to the girls to see what they were up to. “Y’all got those oysters about ready? Your mama wants them grilled, so we can eat.”
“Ready, daddy!” Ever the dutiful daughter, Claire leapt up to bring the buckets to the chef - except Charlotte wrestled it away from her first, and dashed into the house, causing her sister to squeal like a pig. Cindy winced - oh, wasn’t it great to be home.
Her father was holding a drink in his hand, and he sipped from it even amidst the brief bit of chaos - apparently he was used to it from those two. “Now, Peaches here - “ Such affectionate nicknames he had for his daughter, peaches, pumpkin, probably sassafrass too, “...tells me that you brought your own ingredients for dinner tonight?” he asked Garrus. “Just want to make sure everything’s alright, son.” It wasn’t normal to turn down good home-cooking, especially since Garrus had eaten much of it here at the plantation the last time.
Boldest thing Garrus could drink without having some kind of allergic reaction specific to his species was water, because that was at least one constant aspect among planets with life. That’s what his glass had, on the rocks - a true badass, right? His arm went around his vertically challenged wife, hugging her to his side.
Tough shit he couldn’t indulge in southern cooking, alas. He was genuinely disappointed in that - most of the time the ingredients involved things that didn’t kill him and the flavor was like nothing else, but he’d have to deal with the turian palette going forth forevermore. Damn.
“Well -” At least they tied the news to his diet to not get their hopes up. When they broke it to Solana her first thought was babies, and then expressed her disappointment that she’d never get the mix-species babies she never even realized she wanted. Genetics didn’t work like that. “I’m fine, it’s nothing life-threatening,” he assured, blue eyes fleeting to Cindy for a moment. “I appreciate the dinner accommodations, though, I really do. A couple things have changed and we figured it was best to lay it out there, but we’ll wait until everyone’s gathered?”
For unison gawking if gawking did actually occur.
“Oh, well, sure thing,” Cindy’s father agreed, though he was still concerned - he had the same cornflower blue eyes she did, that pale shade like the daytime sky, and the concern showed there too. “Seems like we’re fixing to eat now anyway, so come on out on the veranda and have a seat.”
The oysters hadn’t taken long to grill, just a few minutes, and everything was set at the table when they arrived. Pork chops and gravy, her dad’s favorite - and also Cindy’s favorite vegetarian delights like fried corn, succotash, creamed peas, and her extra favorite. Fried green tomatoes, mmm. No one made them like the cook here at the ‘castle’ - or the manor, really, straight out of Gone with the Wind with white columns and its wraparound porch. The hustle and bustle of the inner city portions of Atlanta weren’t far.
“Charlotte made chocolate pecan pie bars for ya for dessert, Cindy,” Claire said as she took her seat, immediately reaching for the fried green tomatoes - but her hand was slapped away by her mother, Grumpy Cat looking pointedly at her daugher.
“Not until we say grace, Clarinda,” she spoke, setting her lace fan down by her plate. “Why don’t you go on ahead, since it would be impolite to place this burden upon our dear guests?” Bless their hearts.
Cindy rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Charlotte,” she made sure to say, sincerely, because it was nice of her stepsister to bother making one of Cindy’s favorite things.
“I ate most of ‘em though,” Claire lamented, before she was shushed by her mother. ThankyouGodforthisfoodsomethingsomethingInJesussnamewepray, amen, let’s eat!
Everything smelled so damn good, it really did - and it wasn’t like dextro-amino food wasn’t anything flavorless, either, but things like fried green tomatoes and other southern delicacies weren’t native cuisine on his home planet. With all the galactic species coming together on the Citadel, they geared those turian and quarian friendly foods to resemble human-like (among other things) edibles and he knew for a fact there was nothing in his dreams like this.
It was only a little depressing. At least there he hadn’t a clue what he was missing out on, and here he’d tasted plenty and now it was forbidden fruit more than ever. Dextro-amino vegetables and grain it was for him, then, with a side of imported Palaven chocolate for dessert.
All so he wouldn’t die from shitting all of his organs out, literally.
“Thank you again for hosting us,” he started, polite as ever in the presence of the Cendrillon’s - he kept that dry, dark humor on lockdown around them. Unless it was appropriate. “Coming out here’s definitely a nice change of scenery from the beaches and palm trees, but this particular visit’s come with some extra purpose?”
Definitely not the kind of thing he’d want to announce through, say, Skype. Better to see it all in the flesh with their own eyes to assess and understand, or at least be somewhat horrified in person. The latter was a natural reaction and, no, his feelings wouldn’t be hurt.
Garrus gulped down ice water before continuing. “Cindy’s mentioned how strange the place we live is before, I’m sure, and you guys already had some questions about our peculiar wedding venue?” Ceremony and reception, literally, in space with a front view of Earth and the crater-covered Moon?
Probably a good thing dry humor was kept in check - Cindy could count on her dad to be occasionally funny, but stepmother dearest was just a lost cause. The woman had no sense of humor at all. Even now, her face looked pinched with disapproval - yes, that frown in place, like she also possessed absolutely no smiling muscles. She was always hunting like a bird of prey for something to judge. Or someone. Such was the way of things. “Well, of course we had questions, but we just figured it was what Cynthia wanted. All that - “ Her keen eyes cut to her husband, then back again. As if asking why did you support a wedding not conducted by an actual pastor again? “...sci-fi stuff.”
The term sci-fi stuff was just as Cindy would have expected, so she didn’t pay it much mind. “Well - “
“Are you having a baby?? Is that what you came to tell us?” Charlotte asked, clapping her hands together. “Name it after me, name it after me!”
“No, me!” Claire interjected, which led to both girls slapping at each other right there at the table. Little wimpy slaps, like kitten bitchslaps, but still.
“Oh my god, stop,” Cindy rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “That’s not it.”
Finally, her father put a stop to all this nonsense and brouhaha in his voice of baritone authority. “Now, now, let’s hear what Garrus has to say,” he insisted. “And if the baby’s a boy, darlin, I don’t think they’ll want to call him Charlotte.” See, he made jokes - sometimes.
Ah, forgive him, the next sip of water must have gone down the wrong pipe because he coughed into his fist, or maybe it was a way to hide the fact that the expectation of a baby bomb had him a little flustered. Garrus never did well being put in an awkward spot - and he hoped he shrugged it off, smoothly.
Probably not. The Gods, Spirits, whatever above, they liked to make fun of him.
“No, there’s no baby in the picture - not yet,” he assured, because it’d come for them at some point. The idea of fatherhood wasn’t so daunting with Neal and Wisdom letting him handle their tiny genetic creations ever now and again, and it had him wonder just what kind of person he and Cin would make. All that could be found out after the looming Reaper threat was stopped, though. “It’s more about where we live, what it allows us to do and access, and how it changes us in ways we...never expected.”
‘In ways we never dreamed’ would have been incorrect. Garrus chose his wording on purpose.
He scratched the back of his neck, nervously, and his fingers went to float over his wrist watch. There was no easy way of saying it, and he was able to demonstrate how he changed with his parents by shutting off the glamour trick thing (whatever it was called, he wasn’t a wizard). They, however, weren’t all that religious and didn’t jump to spiritual judgment. “I can either show you,” he went on. “Or I can explain it. Showing you might scare you, and explaining it might not entirely convince you - you’ll need both. Let me know which one you want first.”
That was one hell of a decision - and the way it was set up? The ‘never expected’ part? There were eyebrows raised around the whole table. Charlotte and Claire were terribly curious though, and they leaned forward in sync - a lot of their movements were, blonde sisters that were only a couple years apart. Cindy had always resembled her stepsisters, despite not being related by blood. They got mistaken for triplets quite a bit, ugh.
“Tell us first!” Claire insisted. “It sounds juicy.”
Her reasoning was no doubt stupid (whatever it was), but Cindy thought that might be best too. “Tell, then show,” she encouraged Garrus, giving his leg a squeeze under the table. “But you have to promise to listen to the explanation,” she added to her family. “Don’t just faint.”
That was directed to her stepmother, with loving sarcasm.
Cindy’s encouragement was godsent - he was fine about all this, even gained confidence when his own family handled it relatively well, but some of that was snuffed the more they spent time with her side of the tree. That flame of anxiety that built because he knew this was coming in the horizon, but their reaction was, overall, the wild card in this crusade of ‘coming out the alien closet.’
Garrus didn’t want them to faint. Really, he didn’t. That’d set the tone to all this.
His knee brushed against his wife’s in a subtle show of appreciation, and after sucking in a deep breath of air, he squeezed the buttons on the side of the watch - almost like he was adjusting the time itself except it was far from that. His entire humanoid being rippled as if a veil of water had been hugging him, and then -
Inches of increased height, three digits instead of five on hands and legs, every inch of flesh and inky hair, gone. It was shades of gray, plates of scales smooth in most places and rough in others, mandibles for lips, razor-pointed teeth. All that remained the same were the color of his irises; that clear sky blue.
Then, he coughed into his alien fist. Awkwardly. “Surprise?”
No fainting, surprisingly, at least not yet. But Claire shrieked like she’d had a gallon of boiling hot water poured over her, and it was a symphonic melody with Charlotte’s own shrieking. A sweet baby Jesus in a manger escaped Dr. Cendrillon, and later he’d probably lament how he’d taken the Lord and Savior’s name in vain, or something.
Grumpy Cat just fanned herself. As all the color drained from her face. As she was looking like she was about to faint.
“What is it?” Claire demanded. “He looks like an alien!”
“That’s because he is an alien,” Cindy said, and she sat up straighter. Her hand covered those three digits, the talon of her life partner. “This is who he really is. It’s what we found out, living in Orange County - that the lives we know aren’t our only ones. We’ve opened...windows into another life too. And I know it sounds like a bunch of new age bullshit, but it’s true.”
Her father’s jaw had practically hit the table. “That...that can’t be very comfortable, son. Is it?” And for once, his wife was speechless. For now.
His expressions were difficult to decipher in this form. No eyebrows to furrow or raise, no flesh mouth to stretch across his face for a grin - instead there were mandibles that moved, and when they flared a certain way it was meant to represent wry amusement. Such as now.
Garrus was pleased tables weren’t flipped over. Shock prevailed the table, however, and he was prepared to expect at least that.
“I’m used to it,” he assured with a voice of steel, ‘fingers’ curled effortlessly around Cindy’s - hers were always small in his hands, human or turian, but it was a perfect fit. “It’s why my diet’s different. It’s a secret that’s awkward to hide when family get togethers usually involve food.” No ordering from a restaurant or a bar. He’d be stuck rejecting generous offers and doing his best not be rude about it, but it was more than just the food - this is what he was. Who he was. It’d come to light one way or another, and he wanted to be the one to tell them.
His grip on his wife tightened. “We knew this change could come. And your daughter, your sister - she stuck with me anyway. If it weren’t for her, this whole thing would have been a lot more difficult.”
The family was still having a hard time wrapping their heads around all this, but the gears were turning - so obviously they were trying. And they liked Garrus, they loved him as their own - or really, in the Evil Stepmother’s case, she was as affectionate as her cold demeanor allowed her to be.
“Well - “ the doctor cleared his throat. At least right now, Charlotte and Claire didn’t look horrified, like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre guy just busted onto the veranda or something. “I can’t say I really understand this, but...I just want my little dumpling to be happy.” So was it really his place to judge the fact that her husband came from outer space? Probably not. He didn’t want to lose his daughter again, not for years at a time and going that long without speaking.
“Dad,” Cindy sighed, but she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “We’re going to have a family too. When it’s the right time. Garrus, um. Froze stuff. Before this change happened completely.”
That’s when her stepmother fainted. Thump, right onto the floor, and dropping the lace fan.
So that’s what did it. Froze stuff. The trigger phrase. Garrus’ instinct was to sit up and hurry over (he might poke fun at her behind the scenes but he wasn’t heartless) but he stopped himself the moment his sharp turian behind rose from the seat. “I - I’d help, but something tells me I’ll make it worse,” he said, looking at Cindy with clearly lost eyes.
They said help, we never went through the correct protocol on handling your passed out stepmother.
At least Dr. Cendrillon’s response was…hopeful. He couldn’t expect them to completely accept the alien part right away - processing was expected, and he was sure questions would arise once the initial surprise faded. And he’d probably have to reassure his mother-in-law that any babies conceived from his frozen stuff wouldn’t have any of the turian genetics.
“Is she going to be alright?” No head trauma? Concussion?
“Mama, geez!” Claire huffed, whereas Charlotte picked up the dropped fan and used it on her own face instead.
Cindy, however, would just let her father handle the passed out family matriarch. Because, right, she’d just get in the way. Sure. Pinky up while she sipped her sweet tea, with only the slightest eyebrow raise. “Oh, she’ll be fine,” the good doctor said, tending to his wife, taking the fan from Charlotte and using it to get a cool stream of air going on heated cheeks. “Come on, darlin, you’re alright - there we go, see?” She opened her eyes a little, lashes fluttering. “Claire, go get some juice. Charlotte, lift her legs.” Increased blood flow, you know.
After sipping on orange juice, the woman finally came around, and her husband helped her back up into her chair again. “My word,” she huffed, getting another look at Garrus. “That was...quite a surprise indeed.”
“Our brother-in-law is an alien,” Claire snorted. “This here’s even better than the time Charlotte got caught stuffing her bra with kleenex to fill out her cotillion dress.”
Garrus settled, then, if it was - ah, being taken care of? He reached for his glass, all three digits wrapped around it and he lifted it to his mouth for a sip and wished, wished it really was one of those mint juleps. He was saving the ‘fuck it just this one’ routine for the moonshine he was supposed to bring Neal.
“If it makes it easier, I’ll just always keep this -” He activated the spell again from his watch, and magic came over him like a visual white noise until all they saw was what they were used to. Human form with human clothes, the feel of warm skin and the absence of an avian crest. Cindy’s hand was captured again, and he brought it up for a kiss. “It helps with going out in public, and overall not terrifying the staff.”
He didn’t mind keeping it up either - because he knew, back home, he could be himself without the enchantment, and to Cindy it wouldn’t make a difference.
How Garrus could flip back and forth like that was also one hell of a magic trick, but asking questions about it - that would have to come later. “No, no, you don’t have to do that,” Cindy’s father insisted. “It’s inhospitable and besides, this is home too. A home, for you and Dumpling.”
“Like hell he doesn’t have to do that!” Stepmother glared at her spouse. It must have been serious business, for her to utter something of a swear word. “Dear, are you crazy?”
“He’s family - “
“And this is my family home, it goes back generations, and you want to just - “
“Charlotte and Claire don’t mind neither. Do you, girls?” their dad asked.
“Nah,” the girls chimed in unison. “We’re not even close to the city proper, momma, what’s the big deal?” Claire asked. “It’s just us and the staff sometimes.”
Throwing down her napkin in an outrage, Cindy’s stepmother apparently had enough. She got up from the table and stalked off without another word, and her husband sighed. “She’ll come around, she always does,” he shook his head. “You just can’t force her. It’s like moving mountains.”
“Thanks, dad, for understanding,” Cindy said quietly, then glanced at Garrus. “It went better than I thought?” Sort of.
Oh, Garrus wasn’t saying a peep during that verbal family altercation that ping-ponged across the table - not his place, and he couldn’t expect his stepmother-in-law to absorb the news quietly or even well. Still, the sisters, and her father? That turned out better than expected so he counted every damn lucky star he had out there for it.
A breathe he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding was exhaled, and he turned to Cindy with a ghost of a smile. “It did,” he whispered honestly. “We haven’t been kicked out, have we?”
Big victories, all things considered. Even if dinner might be a little awkward, but they had time to sort through it together - and with family.