Work Text:
“Which color’s your favorite today?”
Eris glanced away from his laptop to focus on his six-year-old who was setting up a beauty shop’s worth of nail polish on the kitchen table. Of course Zoreia would assume that a favorite color should change every day of the week, like hers did. Some of the bottles were filled with painfully bright colors, like electric blue and Pepto Bismol Pink, which meant that those were the ones his and Aurae’s twin daughters had picked out, but others were more neutral. Someone had been raiding her mother’s supplies.
“I’m apprehensive about picking one,” he said, “Are you actually going to use the color I choose this time?”
“Long as it’s not boring, maybe,” Zoreia said. She frowned at the colors and rearranged them, moving the colors that Eris wouldn’t want closer to the front. “You never pick nothing special.”
“Anything special,” he corrected, “Then why offer so many options?”
“Because,” she said, “It’s good business.”
“Ah.” And somehow so was showing off the color options but not allowing the client to actually choose for themself. “And why even ask me what I want when you’ll choose for me in the end?”
“‘Cause I’m supposed to, but you don’t like any good colors,” she said, picking up a bottle of green that looked like it had been scooped from the depths of a nuclear waste facility. “You always pick red or gold.”
“Those are perfectly acceptable colors and they can be stylish, especially if you put them together.”
Zoreia shook her head, her curls bouncing against her cheeks. “No, a color like this.” She held up a bottle of metallic purple and started smacking it against her palm. “But you didn’t say what your favorite was.”
“I’m debating.” Gold was his favorite color (most days) and he knew that there was a bottle of it on the table somewhere since Aurae liked to do a simple gold French tip herself when she couldn’t be bothered to go for a pedicure. However, with the contrary mood Zo was in, the likelihood that she would let him have his choice was extremely slim. He would have to play this carefully. “Give me a moment.”
Zoreia lifted her chin, her aloof expression very much like her mother’s, before she got up from where she had been kneeling by the coffee table. “You have a minute. I gotta get some more stuff.”
“What stuff, exactly?”
“Things!” she exclaimed before darting off, heading toward the sweeping stairs of the manor home’s foyer.
Outside, thick gray clouds rolled over the forest that surrounded the manor. Snow lay a couple inches thick in the backyard, which was crisscrossed with paths from the girls and the dogs playing earlier that morning with their house guests. The dogs were currently sprawled out around the den, all three of them exhausted from the day. The youngest, Rona, was snuggled up to Boyd while Selma claimed one dog pallet for herself. The houest guests were elsewhere in the manor.
Eris’ brother Ruari had shown up on the doorstep last night with his girlfriend Isolde, both of them exhausted, Izzy waving goodbye to the Uber driver who had dropped them off after some kind of party in the city. While his brother was completely capable of renting a high-end room anywhere in town, he had decided that they would rather “crash” with Eris and Aurae and the girls. Eris had almost sent them packing but he had pity on Izzy, who was much more likeable then her older brother, even if she was just as prideful and dramatic. Also, Aurae had swooped in and invited them in the house, wrapping her arm through Izzy’s and telling Ruari to take his muddy boots off.
Honestly, Eris was sure Ruari and Izzy had decided to invade his and Aurae’s home because Lucien was visiting. He had been sent back the US to a meeting in the city, so Elain and Cersi had stayed in Japan while he had come home without them since the flights back and forth in less than a week would’ve been taxing for three-year-old Cersi. Lucien was currently working at the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo. Lucien was staying two nights with Ruari must have heard through the family gossip tree that Lucien was staying at the manor and decided that he needed to fill a yearly quota of pestering their youngest brother while he was in the county. Easier that way.
Obviously Lucien now had to be at least partially regretting not staying with his parents instead of Eris and Aurae, even if they were closer to New York.
As if summoned by thoughts, Lucien came into the den alongside Phoebe. Only minutes younger than her sister, Phoebe was slightly shorter and had darker red straight hair as well as a calm demeanor for a six-year-old, most of the time. Unless she was excited, which judging by the way she was showing Lucien a picture in the massive book he was carrying for her.
“I love that platypuses babies are called puggles,” she said, “But they look a little weird. And they come from eggs! I don’t get how a mammal can have an egg.”
“That’s outside of my area of expertise,” Lucien said as he closed the book, “But I’m happy to help you look it up.”
“Can you eat a platypus egg?” Ruari’s voice asked before he also entered the room, Zoreia right on his heels. Ruari was carrying a box filled with what had to be a third of Aurae’s side of the bathroom. Zoreia must’ve made him tote it around. “I’d like a scrambled one.”
Phoebe stared at her uncle, her blue eyes going round. She didn’t yell at him like Zoreia would. Instead, her mouth became a straight line of disdain. “We don’t eat platypus eggs. And it’s almost lunch time, not breakfast.”
Lucien shot Ruari an exasperated glare. “Stick to annoying people your own age.”
Ruari winked at Phoebe as he set the box on the coffee table. “No harm meant. Good thing they’re in Australia, unless your da imported some?” Ruari lifted his eyebrows at Eris.
“I’d rather stay out of the exotic animal trade,” he replied. He would’ve have gone back to working, but now he was worried about the future state of the den. Lucien sat down on the couch as Eris got up from the table by the window.
Phoebe wandered over to his side. She slipped her hand into his. “Can we go to Australia to see the puggles?”
Eris squeezed her little fingers. “That’s quite a request.”
“For my birthday?”
“Only if you come visit us while you’re already traveling,” Lucien said, leaning forward to help Zoreia unpack the box.
Ruari flopped down onto the floor, his back on the plush carpet, hands behind his head. “You haven’t invited me to visit.”
“And you somehow found our house anyways,” Lucien said. He tossed a cotton ball at Ruari’s nose. It bounced off the tip.
“Strange how he always wants an invitation yet never waits for one before showing up unannounced,” Eris said.
“Right. Why should we waste time making invites when you clearly don’t need them?”
“Because maybe I collect them,” Ruari countered.
Eris guided Phoebe back over to the couch. They both sat down, Phoebe scooting in-between Eris and Lucien before cuddling up against Eris’ side.
“All right, okay,” Zoreia said, scurrying to her feet. “We’re playing Salon. Me and Bee are the salon people.”
“And me,” Ruari declared.
“Not you,” Zoreia said. She put her hands on her hips. “You’re a person who comes to the salon.”
“What if I open my own—”
Eris interrupted. “Would you be quiet for five seconds?”
“Shut up, Ru,” Lucien said at the same time.
Ruari rolled over and nestled his face against his arms. “I’m vastly unappreciated in this family.”
“I think you’re appropriately appreciated,” Aurae said. She and Izzy had appeared at one entrance to the den, Izzy toting an armful of snacks while Aurae brought in a metal carafe and packets of hot chocolate with a stack of insulated paper mugs.
Izzy smirked as she dropped the snacks onto the seat of a chair and then flung herself onto the carpet beside Ruari. She pulled her fingers through his thick dark auburn hair. “Poor big man baby. Do you want to throw a pity party?”
“With cupcakes?”
Izzy tugged his hair. “The saddest cupcakes in the world. And chips made of sorrow and champagne distilled from the tears of forgotten gods who care about the least loved among us…”
Ruari’s supervillain-esque laughter was muffled by his arms. “Perfect, everything I’ve ever wanted in a pity party. Cupcakes and chips and godly champagne and company.”
“Oh I’m not coming.”
Ruari snorted but peeked at her. “You wouldn’t dare leave me alone in this delicate state.”
“Debatable. Extremely debatable.”
Zoreia joined them and poked the back of Ruari’s neck. “Get up, we’re doing nails.”
“All right, if I can’t have my own shop, I want the best manicure in town,” Ruari said, unearthing himself from the carpet. He kissed Izzy’s cheek before scooting over to the coffee table. Splaying his tattooed hands on the table, he showed off the fox and autumn leaves on the back of one hand and the constellations and raven on the other. “I want neon orange.”
Zoreia picked up the bottle of orange polish. “This one?”
“That’s the one. I’ll look exceptional at my pity party.”
Aurae settled down beside Eris, her side pressed against his, hand on his thigh for a moment. Her pale golden hair was drawn to the threads of his sweater. “I see a raid of a certain bathroom drawer occurred.”
“I’ll put yours back,” Zoreia said. “Some of its mine. And Bee’s.”
“Mhmm,” Aurae said. “Zo, I’d like to apply for a position at your salon. Especially since I’m supplying the materials.”
“Okay.”
“Hold on, why her and not me?” Ruari demanded. Zoreia grabbed his wrist before he could pull away.
“Are you really asking that?” Eris reached over and picked up a bottle of deep scarlet polish that already had a sheen of gold in it. If he could get Aurae to do his nails—
“I call dibs on the newbie,” Izzy said, “I want black with white daisies.”
“Yeah put the newbie through her paces,” Ruari said. When Eris cut his eyes at him and Aurae’s mouth quirked into a silently reproving smile, he grinned. “I mean, you have to prove yourself, don’t you?”
“I wanted to do Izzy’s nails,” Zo argued, “I had ideas.”
“You can do mine,” Ruari said. He nodded to the bottle of orange nail bottle and tapped his fingers on the top of the coffee table.
“I wanted to do both of yours.”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we want, but what we do get to do is your favorite uncle’s nails,” Ruari countered. “And don’t you dare look at Lucien. I’ll never recover.”
Zoreia rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Fine, I’ll do yours.”
“What about you, Bee?” Aurae asked as she took the lid off the black bottle. The chemical scent of polish drifted into the air, competing with the pine scent from the forest behind the house and the clean scents of the room. “Are you going to paint nails?”
“I do hair,” Phoebe said. She pointed to the box Ruari had carried in. “I have hair things.”
“Perfect, I’ll sign up for that,” Lucien said. He pulled the hairband from his messy bun, sending his long red hair cascading like a L’Oreal commercial. It was Eris’ turn to roll his eyes. Shorter hair was much easier and more efficient to take care of, but Lucien had always gone with styles that were at least past his shoulders. Then again, he had his reasons. Beron-related ones…
“Want me to sit on the floor, Bee?” Lucien asked.
“Please.”
As the rest of his family situated themselves around the room and the nail painting and hair styling started, Eris reached for his laptop. He could send a few emails while they were busy, maybe read a report. Then the laptop was sliding out of his hands.
Aurae arched both eyebrows at him and put the laptop under the coffee table. “Braid my hair?”
“I don’t work here,” he said even as he slid his fingers into the silky pale gold strands.
“It’s like an interview,” Zoreia said, “Maybe you can be Phoebe’s helper.”
“I don’t mind a helper,” Phoebe said. She was brushing Lucien’s hair back into a high ponytail.
“But your mother works here, too, so doing her hair on the job seems unprofessional,” Eris said. He let a few strands fall through his fingers like water.
“Eh, we’ll look the other way,” Izzy said, “This time.”
Ruari grinned. “I’d leave a terrible review online, but my nail job is so good I’ll look the other way.”
Eris reached out with his free hand and gently squeezed the back of Aurae’s neck. “What kind of braid?”
“A fishtail,” she said, leaning back into his touch, her head tilting. “If you can handle that.”
He ran his thumb along the bare skin peaking out from her loose shirt collar before he began to braid, rising to her challenge. Lucien put on some music, letting David Bowie sing about pressure and golden years as the girls ran their pop-up salon. When Eris finished Aurae’s braid, he kissed the soft spot under her right ear, quick and promising something better for later. He was pulled off the couch and to the table by his daughters, who took one hand each to paint his nails. At the same time, Izzy painted Lucien’s nails, testing her own skills as an “apprentice.” Aurae hesitantly let Ruari experiment with her nails, her expression staying neutral and then mildly pleased as he picked a dark blue instead of the violent green his fingers had been hovering over.
Zo painted the nails on Eris’ right hand dove grey while Phoebe painted his left hand nails solid gold. As they waited for the nails to dry, Phoebe played with his hair, trying to get it to do something ‘interesting,’ though she had to settle for a couple tiny braids.
“Here, paint ours,” Zoreia said, putting her hands on the table. “One hand! Mom can paint the other.”
Phoebe smiled and put her hands on the table as well. “Mom needs her nails painted, too.”
Ruari smirked over the mug of hot chocolate he had made for himself. “I could—”
“I’ll do it,” Lucien said, “I haven’t gotten to participate in the new family business.”
“I like this better than the other ones,” Ruari said, “All the offense, E.”
Eris decided to not take the bait as he blew on his nails to get them to dry faster. As Lucien settled at the coffee table across from Aurae, Eris half-smiled. In secret truth, he was awfully fond of this new business as well. The neverending new emails could wait.