Episode 208: Step-Step-Parenthood (Greg)

He didn’t know what the hell he was anymore. Step dad? Step step dad? Ladder rung dad? Asshole who married their mom in a few days?

It didn’t matter. He was Aadya’s, so he was theirs too, and he wanted to be a resource for them. Maybe they’d be close, maybe they wouldn’t, but he couldn’t not try.

That would be a double negative, and those weren’t allowed in English.

Luck magic told him Aadya would sleep for an hour or two, before things got serious. Luck magic told him to wander the halls.

He was a luck magic robot, so he went.

He found the source of the problem in the library: cornsilk hair hanging over one of many tomes, intent, it seemed, on scouring every book in the library.

It was his wedding night. Greg had assumed, mistakenly, apparently, that Acheron would join Spence in the jail cell. Guess not. Then again, Greg wasn’t sure he would either. Wedding night set a certain tone, which cinder block walls and buzzing door locks and cameras kind of detracted from.

Maybe alone was easier than temptation.

Greg joined him at the table. Alone didn’t have to be alone, not while Aadya was asleep.

“This looks like one heck of a wedding night,” he said, mostly because Acheron didn’t look up when he sat. That meant that Acheron had already seen him and decided he didn’t want to talk.

Maybe footstool dad, instead of stepdad. Or toadstool dad.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Acheron said.

“Couldn’t tell,” Greg joked, but Acheron didn’t laugh so he tried a different route: “What are you researching?”

He glowered at the book for a minute. Greg thought he might be in for an epic tell-off, but then Acheron relaxed his shoulders and looked at Greg. “Wicca magic. I don’t really want to die in the attack.”

Holy shit, a Dragon with survival instinct. “That’s funny.”

Acheron set his pencil down pointedly on his book and sighed, loudly. Comically transparent. “What is?” he asked.

“You’re the first person in this family who has said that.” He started eating from a bag of bite sized apricots he’d grabbed on his way down here. “I think you have a much healthier response than all the people saying it’s for the greater good.”

Acheron shrug-twitched his shoulder, like a horse flicking off a pesky fly. “That’s why I was born second,” he said. “They’re all a lot better at putting the kingdom first.”

Actually, luck said Acheron was born second because Talise was the conceived heir and Acheron was magically added to be her support. There was something weird with their bond, for the same reason.

Somehow, he didn’t think Acheron would be open to hearing that his sole purpose in life, according to magic, was to support his twin.

Greg would have to handle this one carefully. “Maybe you can teach them how to take care of themselves a little better, then,” he suggested. He took another bite while Acheron twirled his pencil like a baton.

“What?” Acheron asked after a second. “They’re fine.”

Right, because it was healthy to stoically sacrifice everything for some future good. Yes, there was a time and a place for it, but the locals around here had a plague of martyr syndrome.

“I’m pretty sure your mom and sister didn’t want so many dads in their lives,” he pointed out. “They’re far from fine.”

Acheron, predictably, blushed. Then the redness in his face became more deliberate and directed and he leveled his eyes coldly on Greg. “Speaking of that, isn’t my mom in labor? Shouldn’t you be there with her?”

“She’s sleeping.” He had another bite. “Your sister’s in labor too. And terrified, because of their age.”

Acheron shrugged his shoulders. “She doesn’t want me there.”

What an accurate observation. Greg couldn’t think of much Talise would want less than having her brother hanging out in her delivery room. “Hm,”” he agreed.

“What does that mean?” Acheron demanded.

Greg leaned back. “Just wondering why you think she hates you. I doubt she wants you there, too, but you could do something…send flowers, a card, a pet…something.”

Acheron looked down at the table, his shoulders tight and crabby. “You weren’t here, but she used to be married to Spence. I kind of stole him.”

Ha. He’d seen enough looks pass between all of them to know exactly where everyone’s affection lay, and probably had, for a long time. “Is Talise happy?” he asked him.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. She complains a lot.”

Greg didn’t try to fight the laughter. He couldn’t decide if Acheron was blind or stubborn. “She complains, I think, to buy herself time to think. Also, have you noticed that when she complains people stop listening? It’s a nice way to deflect attention while she figures out what to do and how to do it.”

Acheron stared at a row of shelves in silence, which Greg hoped was full of thoughts. Sister-lovey thoughts. Not too sister-lovey, because the family had a bad history there, but mending fences thoughts.

“That doesn’t mean she’s happy,” Acheron uttered at last.

Stubborn. Most dominant trait in the whole family.

“Does she love Niels?” Greg pressed. He could be stubborn too, if he put his mind to it.

“Yeah. A lot.”

Then what was all the problem about? He loved Spence, she loved Niels, everyone was happy.

“So, really what you did was help her out of an unhealthy relationship and make room for her future husband when he came into her life,” Greg pointed out. He had a handful of apricots, because he figured now was his chance.

Sure enough, Acheron opened and closed his mouth a half dozen times before he responded.

“I…” he stammered. “That wasn’t why I did it though.”

That was practically a full confession that Acheron hadn’t ruined the entire universe by falling in love.

“True,” Greg laughed. “So don’t go patting yourself on the back for saving her. But don’t go beating yourself up, either, for saving yourself.”

Acheron blushed. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“Maybe,” Greg said. He took another bite. He was going to regret eating all these apricots at some point, he suspected. He set the bag on the table, just out of easy reach.

“You’re not supposed to eat in the library,” Acheron admonished.

Greg laughed again. Victory won? Trust an Alandrial to change the subject so they were still winning the argument. “You’re not supposed to spend your wedding night alone in the library either,” he pointed out. “We’re an unconventional pair.”

“I’m not alone,” Acheron said forcefully, in the exact same tone that someone else might have said, go away.

Greg just waited for that one to sink itself into Acheron’s mind. Wedding night, not alone, implied togetherness.

There was the blush.

“So,” Greg said, leaned forward with his arms rested in front of him on the table. “What are you getting your sister? I can drop it off on my way back to laborland.”

“What did you get my mom?” Acheron asked.

“Something to look forward to.” The future, the promise of love and support forever, no matter what she needed. It was much more significant than a tangible gift.

“That’s not a present,” Acheron argued.

Greg shrugged, in response to all of Acheron’s shrugs. “It was what I had to offer, though.” And nothing to be ashamed of, as far as gifts went.

“Well I don’t know what to get Talise. We’re not that close.”

Like hell they weren’t. What they weren’t, was talking. They were as close as a knotted rubber band ball.

“What about flowers?” Greg suggested.

Acheron shook his head. “No way, our mom’s obsessed with those.”

She was, wasn’t she. Greg should get her some flowers while they were out. Something that meant new life. He’d have to browse the florist’s until luck told him which flower would work.

“So…cuddly pet?” Greg suggested. “I know a place in San Fran that sells hedgehogs. Baby ones.”

Acheron’s familiar, which had sat stoically beside the table all this time, perked its ears.

“I suck at procurements,” Acheron argued.

No way. The most transparent of the Alandrials also couldn’t steal?

“I happen to be skilled at them,” Greg promised. There was no need for modesty in the face of fact. He reached out and turned pages in one of the books on the table, until he settled on a page luck told him would work. It was a spell for making a golem for the soul, so that if the golem body was injured the soul would return to the real body, wherever it was, and be safe. Not dead. “That looks like an interesting spell,” Greg commented.

Acheron read it, and his dog familiar – a samoyed, maybe? – walked over and licked Greg’s hand in greeting.

“Do you think it would work?” Acheron asked, eager and hopeful.

Greg thought it already had. But they were thinking of different things. “Worth a try. Why don’t you bookmark it and help me steal some hedgehogs for your sister?”

“Seriously?” he asked. He closed the book over a single folded sheet of paper and wrote, in an elegant script, something in a foreign language. He left that paper, folded like a sign, on top of the book. “You want me to help you steal?”

“Seriously,” Greg confirmed. “I can get a pair for your mom too.” That was actually a nice idea. Then the kids born on the same day, in special circumstances, would have a shared thing between them. “And maybe write them a little children’s book called Pixie’s First Pet.”

Acheron laughed. A full laugh, not a withheld or reluctant or fake one.

Heist accomplished.

Greg had a stepson.

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