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The headache that had begun some time around noon still hounded Lucanis on his way home. He felt weary, wrung out, and stiff from spending most of his day around a desk. In short, he was painfully reminded why he had never coveted the title of First Talon in the first place. Fortunately, he had something to look forward to now.
The tension in his shoulders began to ease when he closed the door behind him with a soft click, and he felt a rush of warmth spreading through his chest when he spied Rook reclining on the chaise in his — no, their — reading nook.
"Welcome home!"
Her smile was radiant like the sun and he would never, ever, get tired of this.
"Hello, Ceres." An answering smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he bent down to kiss her — just like that, as if it was the most normal thing in the world — before flopping down next to her and burying his head in her lap. Big sigh, to let go of the day's frustrations, and then a deep breath, to fill himself with the sweet smell of her. It had been a week since she moved in, and it still didn't feel entirely real. Going to sleep with her warmth in his arms, waking up to the scent of her favourite soap infusing his sheets — their sheets. Watching her traipse around the apartment in nothing but one of his shirts, making breakfast with her arms around his waist, feeling her unravel with his name on her lips. Taking a nap with his head in her lap and waking up to her playing word games with Spite.
An Us instead of an I.
The book she had been holding landed on the side table with a soft thudd and her hands began to comb through his hair, the soft scratch of her nails on his scalp sending a shiver down his spine.
"Long day?"
"Mhm." Spite started purring at the back of his mind, and he would have joined him if he had the capacity for it. He couldn't help but turn into a puddle when she did this, all tension bleeding away to leave nothing but the feeling of her gentle touch. It didn't matter that there was still an invasion to deal with, that there was a small mountain of documents awaiting his review and signature, or that half of Antiva's Crow houses probably considered plotting his downfall. Here, he felt safe. Home.
"Tell me about it?"
Another sigh, eyes still closed, and he shifted just enough so that he could speak clearly. "So much paperwork. It's like half the city has something for me to sign, my contract negotiatior wants me to readjust my rates, Caterina wants to redecorate the west wing, Viago wants to plan the liberation of Antiva, and there's a small mountain of contract proposals awaiting my judgement."
He could hear the grin in her voice when she answered. "Well, you did say you wanted to make your own decisions going forward."
"I feel like there should be a grace period going from no decisions to all the decisions."
Her chuckle jostled his head, just a little, but somehow, his headache didn't seem to mind. He rolled onto his back to look at her, a smirk stealing over his face. "Maybe you should be First Talon. You're much better at making decisions than I am."
"No thank you. Firstly, I am still on vacation, and secondly, I think I'd rather not be head assassin. I prefer not to do some petty nobles' dirty work for them."
Lucanis felt his smirk fading as comething clicked in his mind. "You … don't approve of of my work." It wasn't a question, not really, not when her face pulled into a grimace. And suddenly, the tension was back, coiling into a lump in his stomach.
"I … it's complicated?"
He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Not that he'd know what to say, not when he felt a thin thread of fear snaking around his lungs, robbing him of breath. Fear that she would finally realize that this was a mistake, that she deserved better than this, better than him. Fear that she'd leave.
Some of it must have shown on his face, for she moved her hand to cradle his face.
"Lucanis, I love you. None of this changes how I feel about you, ok?"
He nodded mutely, and she smoothed her thumb over the frown that was etching itself into his brow again.
"It's more abut how I feel about myself. Most of the Crows' contracts come from people with money, yes? People with enough coin to spare to not mind spending some to get rid of a pesky rival or some such. Well, I don't like the thought of money deciding over life and death; of some rich asshole getting to decide who lives and who dies."
"They don't get to decide though; we decide which contracts we take." His voice sounded rough to his own ears.
"Sure, but are you going to tell me that compensation doesn't play a role in that decision?"
No way to argue with that.
She sighed, thumb brushing gently down his cheek.
"I mean, I get that it shouldn't be cheap. That it shouldn't be easy to buy someone else's death. It's just that I know that all too often, it's more than affordable for exactly the wrong kind of people. And I know that if you wouldn't do it, if the Crows didn't take these contracts, they'd find someone else. I'm pretty sure paying for murder has been around longer than the Crows.
And Maker knows I've been perfectly happy about all those Venatori you took out even before we met, and that I've done my fair share of killing. So I'm not really in a position to judge. It's just — complicated."
She wasn't wrong, and he couldn't blame her. If anything, her very idealism — her strong moral compass, her dedication to do better, to leave the world better than she'd found it — was something he admired about her. He lifted his hand to touch her face, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering on her skin.
"So where does that leave us?" Almost proud, that his voice didn't shake. He didn't know if he could do this if she left.
Her lips twitched into a lopsided grin, at odds with the unhappy frown on her her face. "Same place we've always been — trying to figure this out, one step at a time."
They had never really talked about it before — what they imagined their life to look like after saving the world. He hadn't even had the courage to ask her if she would stay with him until they had reached that after. What if the shape of their lives outside of the end of the world didn't fit together? If there were edges they couldn't smooth, differences they couldn't bridge?
A moment of silence, as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Would it help if I showed you? The contract proposals, the process, everything?"
She hesitated. "I .. don't know? That's the thing: I'm not sure if knowing more would make it better or worse. I very much remember your offhand comments about your training, for example, and I have opinions about treating children this way. I've spent some time teaching children, and the mere thought of withholding food or water or hurting them to somehow make them learn better makes my skin crawl and my fingers itch to shake your grandmother by the ears."
His turn to chuckle; he could very well imagine Ceres berating Caterina. He'd had ample opportunity to observe her regard for authority, or lack thereof.
"I mean, seriously, who does that? To their own family?"
He sobered. "She wasn't always like that — well, that I know of — but after house Velardo … it changed her. How could it not? She wanted to make sure we'd survive."
"I guess living through the murder of all your children would do something like that, yes." Her voice grew quieter, her frown deeper.
"I spent a long time resenting her for it, too. But I made my peace with it years ago, and I don't think I would have survived the Ossuary without her training."
Her frown softened. "Yeah, well, I guess I can't very well resent her for that. I am rather happy to have met you."
The knot inside his stomach eased, at least a little, and he couldn't help but return her tentative smile. But she wasn't quite done with her ire yet.
"But still, I just — I mean — would you torture your own children like that?!"
He blinked. "My own … " Eyes widened. "Are you … ?" And his mind went blank.
"What?" Her turn to blink, then stare as realization set in. "No! I didn't mean — that's not —" Her face flushed a bright red, and he could feel the same heat rising up his neck.
"I'm not pregnant — that I know of," she muttered.
Silence, as they both fough with an entirely new wave of panic.
"Is that … something you'd want?" She evetually asked in a small voice. Cautious, curios.
Afraid.
Lucanis was afraid, too — that there was a right and a wrong answer to give. Couldn't really look at her as he struggled for words.
"I … don't know. I've never thought about it." Had never really thought it was an option for him, that he'd ever find someone he'd want to be with in this way, someone who chose him in return.
The tight ball of fear in his gut was for losing her, depending on his choice. The layer of anxiety above that belonged to the risk of losing her — losing any family they chose to build — to Crow politics, much like he'd lost his own family. But there was hope there, too. Anticipation. Excitement.
"… but yes, I think I would. Like that. With you." Whispered words, tinged with nervousness, as he glanced up at her. "If that is something that you'd want, too."
Her cheeks were still flushed, and her eyes shone like stars, a little too bright to be entirely dry.
"Yes, I would." More of a breath than a voice, and he forgot to breathe for a moment. "I'd like to make a family with you."
And then he rose, twisting to face her, almost tumbling off the couch in his rush to kiss her, hands cupping her face as he swallowed her breathless laughter. Something wet licked at his thumbs and there were tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and it didn't matter, because she didn't want to leave, she wated to make a family with him. His balance shifted — the world shifted — and he had to grip the backrest for balance as he caught his breath, resting his forehead against hers.
"Maybe not immediately though. I think I need to figure myself out first," she admitted between shaky breaths.
"I'm not going anywhere. Take all the time you need."
He could feel her smile on his skin, her fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck, into the fabric of his vest, and then she kissed him again, pulling him down with her, arching into his touch. I love you, said his lips on that soft spot just behind her ear. I want you, said her fingers tangled between the buttons of his shirt. We're okay, said their mingled breaths.
She may not have wanted to try for children just yet, but she didn't mind the practice.
—
They made it to bed eventually, after dinner and a bath that ended with perhaps a little more water on the floor than absolutely necessary. Just as Lucanis was beginning to drift off, his arm around Ceres' hips and his face pressed into her side, he felt Spite gently nudging him aside.
Fine, but don't keep her up when she gets tired!
Under his demons grudging assent, he allowed himself to be claimed by sleep.
Rook!
"Hello, Spite." She smiled down at the demon's glowing eyes, running a hand through his hair. She knew he enjoyed this just as much as Lucanis, and his purr was oddly soothing.
Will you. Explain?
"Explain what?"
Why. Were you afraid. Before?
Ah. "I wasn't sure if Lucanis wanted to have children of his own, some day. I do. And that is something I can't do alone. If he hadn't, I'd eventually have needed to decide what was more important to me."
More important?
"If I cared more about Lucanis, or about starting my own family."
But we. Are family!
"You are," she agreed. "But it's … a bit different, with children."
Why?
"Because … well, you've met Lucanis family; they're … complicated. My family isn't much better, though at least none of them have tried to have me killed — that I know of. Children are easy. They just love you, and you love them back. Until they're old enough to want to define their own life, at least. I really want that, this sense of unconditional belonging."
But Rook belongs. To Us!
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile grew across her face. "I know. And I am so, so happy about that. But I'd still be sad if I had to give up on that other dream to stay with you, so I'm very glad that Lucanis wants to make a family — a bigger family— with me, too. I've seen other relationships sour because one partner was forced to give up something important to them, and I wouldn't want to end up like that."
For a moment, he grew quiet, gears visibly turning in his head as he mulled something over.
Lucanis was scared, too.
"… What was Lucanis scared of?" She knew she shouldn't ask, shouldn't cheat by encouraging Spite to divulge thoughts and feelings that Lucanis hadn't be ready to share. But she had never been good at turning away from knowledge, understanding. Besides, she was never quite sure how much of their little chats Spite passed on to Lucanis later, so maybe it balanced itself out.
That Rook. Would leave. The demon sounded strangely forlorn.
Her expression softened. "Oh, Spite. I don't think I could ever truly leave Lucanis — and you."
Not even. For children?
"Not even for children. And from what I understand, there are plenty of Fledglings I could take under my wing. Maybe I'll collect my own little flock, to completely infuriate Caterina. I bet I could make things better for them, too, even if I couldn't do that for children of my own."
Maybe she'd do that anyway. She really didn't like what she'd heard about Crow training, and restructuring and overseeing that might give her something to do. Taking a vacation was nice and all (and certainly necessary after the year she'd had), but she'd never been good at sitting idle.
Lucanis probably wouldn't be happy about the way Spite grinned at her, gleefully anticipating many a prank on his human's grandmother. He'd seen enough of the aging Crow matriarch to learn that while she was certainly determined, she was also no fun at all. It didn't help that he wasn't allowed to speak in her presence, making him particularly spiteful.
Ceres scratched ligtly under his chin, watching his eyes drift close, but then he rallied, looking at her expectantly.
Will you. Read a story. To me?
She chuckled, reaching for the book she'd begun reading to him. "Alright, but just one chapter."