no bullies or bums, the chums are tens here

the bastion

"Sì, il gin è ancora il mio preferito," Remi confirms with an easy nod, dimples deepening as Mateo slides the glass toward him. The little yellow umbrella earns a quiet trill of laughter, a sound so familiar it feels like a ghost of easier days. "Grazie," he adds, the word brightened by affection more than etiquette before he takes a sip. He hums, low and approving, though the truth is he would have done so regardless; even if Mateo had handed him bathwater, he would have smiled the same, the gesture mattering so much more than the drink.

Listening to his son’s laughter about Kaisel, Remi’s grin softens. "Sto essendo gentile," he sighs, lifting the glass faintly for emphasis. "Voglio solo che Flora sia felice, anche se è con qualcuno che è—" The rest of the sentence never arrives. Flora appears in the archway like a storm given shape, her presence commanding enough to halt even the spriggan on his shoulder, Remi’s brows lift in innocent surrender.

"I’d be happy to set the table," he offers, rising to his feet with exaggerated obedience. "And I’ll leave the cocktail-making in Mateo’s capable hands." Still smiling, he drifts toward the kitchen, the glass balanced loosely in his hand and Oria peeking out from behind his curls to watch the shifting colours of the stained glass above.

As he steps into the doorway, Remi nudges his husband through the attuned bond, wordless and wry, his amusement brushed in the warmth of fond disbelief. Do I have you to thank for that little interruption, he asks silently, his eyes flicking to the Knight over the counter, or has Flora suddenly been studying up on the travelling tongue?

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"I wouldn't say that," Ronin says of taking game night off the table entirely. "Especially if you put them on the same team. Besides, Remi and I are the ones who really tend to get fired up about charades." Especially when the Attuned bond is taken off the table, because what do you mean he has to just figure it out?

Speaking of which, Ronin has finished his vegetable prep and is grabbing a beer for himself and Kai when said Attuned bond blares with warning like he's just accidentally stepped into the restricted section of a building. Sheepishly handing Kai his drink and slinking away to start preparing All the Meats, he offers a grin to his husband while Sugar trills for him atop his head.

Our daughter is very smart, he decides to respond with practiced diplomacy, smirking to himself and taking a long sip of his drink.

"Kai is on shrimp duty," is what he announces out loud, bouncing his eyebrows over to where the boy and his adopted dragon baby are at their station. "And I have every confidence in his abilities."

RONIN

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Raising his eyebrows expectantly, a dimpled and mildly disbelieving smile spreading across his face, Mateo props his elbows against the back of a chair with his glass between his hands as Remi explains himself. And it's just as he gets to exactly what Kai is when Flora interrupts, the botanist jumping a bit and abruptly straightening up. He opts to drink away the smile trying twitch into a shit-eating grin, only partially successful by the time Remi slinks away. 

"We were being nice," he hisses at his sister, voice rough around the liquor as he turns to make her an accompanying mai tai as well. (He's not a bartender and this is what he's making tonight, and everyone who demands a drink will like it). "Or I was, anyway. And I was honest - I do think Kai is a good guy. Even if he is afraid of ghosts." That last part is mumbled a little smugly and is accompanied by a soft roll of thunder from the ever-darkening sky outside.

"How are things going in the kitchen? Well, I hope, seeing as you just abandoned your boyfriend to both of our fathers to come in here and sass me." Like throwing a lamb to wolves, Flora. For shame.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

She departs like a general answering the call of battle, moving with all the practiced ease of someone used to victory. His gaze flicks from her back to the kitchen as her ahem fires off like a cannon and he can't bear to see the bodies.

"So the whole family is like that, hmm?" he wonders with a touch of fondness, that being competitive about even small things, finding any mound a hill worth dying on if it means scoring points. He can relate. Grabbing the offered beer in gratitude, he tilts it back just as the first war refugee makes an appearance.

He sets it aside with a glance towards Remi, starting to drag the prepped shrimp through flour, then egg, then the coconut breadcrumb mixture. Keeping one hand wet and the other dry, he holds them out from him, a megawatt smile erupting at Ronin's simple praise. "I always cooked a lot with my mom, even when I was little." He offers it like added proof to Ronin's backing, given that neither of them have tasted anything yet to decide otherwise. "Are you always the cook, Ronin?" he wonders with a lifted 'brow.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //

is this the end of all the endings?

Flora rolls her eyes so hard in Remi’s direction it’s a miracle they stay in her skull. "Yeah, yeah," she mutters, watching him rise with the innocent grace of a man who has absolutely just been caught mid-gossip and is trying to deflect with dimples and manners. Her arms fold tight beneath her chest as she swings her glare to Mateo next, her gold rings catching the flicker of candlelight like warning bells.

"Kai is a good guy," she declares, chin tilting up with sisterly fire. "He's sweet, and funny, and—" she waves a hand as if to say there were a thousand things more to add. "And you better get used to him, because he is not going anywhere." The ghost thing barely earns a shrug. "So what if he’s a little spooky-sensitive? I like that about him. Makes it easier to scare him." A trait Flora abused almost anytime she could hear him coming down the hall.

She flashes Mateo a grin that’s all mischief and teeth, until he lands a low blow she hadn't been expecting. "WH—" she starts, full of scandal and betrayal as her mouth drops open. "Ughh!" The sound leaves her in an exaggerated puff as she spins on her heel, stalking back toward the kitchen like a woman on a mission to rescue her beloved from certain doom.

She fully expects to round the corner and find Kaisel tied to a chair with Ronin shining a light in his eyes while Remi asks leading questions about his intentions. She’s already rehearsing her dramatic monologue in his defence when, oh. Everything in the kitchen is...fine. Kaisel is still upright, Ronin still has his eyebrows, and there are shrimp on the counter that haven’t been weaponised. Spice looks smug, Sugar is still a decorative hat. Everything looks...weirdly good. Domestic. Adorable, even.

Flora’s steps slow to a halt, caught between surprise and vindication, before she glances over her shoulder just long enough to shoot her brother a look. It’s pure fuck you and see? I win, her smile a little too satisfied as she re-enters the fray like she’s never left it.

"Soooooooooooo, how are things going in here?"

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

the bastion

Remi snickers under his breath even though nothing’s been said aloud, the sound buried beneath the low thrum of kitchen noise. As he passes Ronin, he nudges the Knight lightly with his shoulder, the gesture quick and familiar. And I wonder who she got that from? the thought hums along the bond, all dry affection, the edges gilded with love for both his husband and their daughter.

Glancing over toward Kai, Remi raises his brows and nods approvingly. "That’s high praise," he remarks, his voice lilting faintly with amusement before he adds, "You will notice that I am not on shrimp duty.' The small smirk that follows is proof enough that he has no complaints about that particular arrangement, though his crime of eating too many shrimp while cooking is still one he thinks should be legalized.

As the boy mentions cooking with his mother, Remi’s expression softens, some of the mischief fading into something far gentler. Reaching for a stack of plates, he pauses long enough to glance back at Kai and nod. "I did too," he says quietly, his voice warm with the weight of memory, before turning toward the dining room to begin setting the table.

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"Remi cannot be trusted on shrimp duty," Ronin adds, grinning over his shoulder as he starts to fry off some rounds of chorizo in a deep pot, the sizzling filling the air and carrying with it a smoky aroma that has Sugar coiling lower around his face. "Oi," he complains to his companion, laughing and offering her a slice of it for good measure, just to avoid wearing her more like a beard than a hat.

"I am the cook," he confirms, just in case it wasn't obvious, though his smile is already growing softer as he gazes over his shoulder to where Remi is gathering the plates and getting ready to set the table. "I didn't cook with my parents much, alas - or do much with them, actually. But my brother and I made the most of things in our free time."

He shrugs a bit and turns back to his cooking when Flora pops up again, her lecture seemingly delivered without any rebuttals. "Nothing is on fire yet, so I would assume quite well. Give it time, though." He winks.

RONIN

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Raising his eyebrows as Flora goes on full Kai defence, Mateo tries and fails to contain his dimpled grin behind his glass as he finishes off her cocktail. "You know I knew him growing up, right?" he says. "While you were playing in the Greatwood and I was up in Stormbreak." He knows just how sweet and funny and ghost-wary Kai can be, and probably a lot of other things besides that Flora would prefer he didn't bring up.

But then she's suddenly gone - and even though he'd provoked it on purpose and for fun, he's still grumbling as he follows in her wake with a mai tai in hand that she'd not collected from him. Arriving in the kitchen a moment later, it's to see Remi on plate duty and Ronin and Kai hard at work. Both of them dark-haired chefs with a soldier's posture and a little white dragon perched around them to supervise.

Fuck, it's too good a line not to draw.

"Aw," he croons, pressing the drink into Flora's hand, before whispering, "doesn't he look like dad?"

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

All prior fears, even the ones that lingered when he did in fact find himself alone in the kitchen with just her dads, fades easily by now. There's not enough beer in him yet for that to have helped, but the focus of familiar work beneath his hands and the easy conversations have made it simple to relax into the idea of this being normal. A laugh rouses even, as Ronin adds the key clarifier. "Same reason I can't be trusted to bake then. Brownie batter and cookie dough require so much sampling to ensure they're perfect I always run out." A baker's dozen might be thirteen, but a Kaisel dozen is two at best.

The moment softens more than he means it to when he brings up his mother, each of them responding in the quiet past lives stir like dust through light, the meaningful people lost to them just the various motes drifting across thoughts. He knows they're both not from Caido, so he's guessing neither of them have seen their families in some time, making the new ones built here all the more precious.

Flora's arrival lances through the risk of edging into something too somber, saving Kaisel from asking questions he maybe shouldn't. He flashes her a thumbs up, coated in flour dust and crumbs. "Is that a risk for you or me?" he wonders with a tilted grin of the possible fire. With the shrimp all coated and laid out in a tray, ready to be fried as well, Kaisel washes up again at the sink to reclaim the use of his hands.

His cardigan is definitely a shade lighter than when he started, his own apron forgotten behind the door. "Hazards of the job I guess" he mutters, looking down at it as he takes the towel from his shoulder that Spice isn't on to dry his hands. He pinches the fabric and tries to shake it off over the sink, rather unsuccessfully. Fortunately, this is no collector's item.

"Anything else chef?" he asks as he takes another swig of his beer, glancing back at Flora with a wink.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Flora watches the kitchen scene unfold like it’s her own personal play, a private production starring three men and a shrimp tray. Her arms fold beneath her chest again, this time less in judgment and more in fond amusement, aqua gaze sweeping over the trio with a silent mmhmm of approval.

She catches Ronin’s wink, and rolls her eyes like a daughter born to do exactly that, though it’s all warmth beneath the exaggerated huff. The sight of them—Ronin stirring, Remi stacking plates, and Kai in the middle of it all like he’s always belonged—shouldn’t make her chest ache as tenderly as it does. But it does. Gods, it does.

She’s still gazing adoringly at Kai—flour-dusted, cardigan suffering, the kind of domestic dream she never believed she’d actually want—when Mateo slides in beside her and presses the drink into her hand. The smile that lifts her mouth is soft, touched with sisterly affection until it isn't. Her face flattens instantly, theatrically, as if someone just replaced her with a wax dummy mid-expression. She blinks slowly. Looks at Kai. Then Ronin. Then Kai again.

The resemblance is there. Too much, actually. Both tall, broad-shouldered, with dragons looped around them like feathered scarves and a baffling ease with hot oil. Ronin’s got silver in his hair, sure, but the knightly posture? The comfortable competence? Obnoxiously similar.

But Flora, naturally, says none of that.

"EW, David Mateo," she snaps, elbowing him hard in the side, her voice dripping with disgust that is entirely performative. The glare she tosses his way could curdle milk, though it’s somewhat undermined by the flush rising up her neck.

With a dramatic huff, she swans into the kitchen, the clink of her glass on the counter punctuating her exit. She beelines for Kaisel without hesitation, brushing her hands down his chest with a playful tsk at the state of him, fingers dusting flour from his front like she might actually be able to rescue the cardigan. Then, shooting one last dagger-eyed glance at her brother, she rises onto her toes, cupping Kai’s cheeks between her palms and kissing him without care for the audience. He tastes like beer and heat and something that belongs to her.

And against his lips, warm and quiet and true, she whispers, "You’re doing great."

the bastion

A gentle pulse of warmth hums through the Attuned bond at Ronin’s mention of his brother; an unspoken touch of comfort that shimmers with quiet love. It's been a while for both of them, he's sure, since they've spoken about the family they left behind in Northaven, leaving the Bastion rolling his shoulders a touch to relieve the threat of melancholy as he sets the final plate into place.

At Flora’s sharp cry from the doorway, he glances up, one brow arched, the faintest twitch of amusement tugging at his mouth. Whatever Mateo has done to earn that particular outburst clearly doesn’t warrant intervention; the mischief in his son’s expression speaks of sibling theatrics rather than any real fire. Still, when Flora marches in and kisses Kaisel without hesitation, Remi politely looks away, a smile curling against the rim of his glass. It’s...nice, he admits silently. Strange, but nice, to see her happy in this way.

Crossing back toward the kitchen, he slips easily to Ronin’s side, their shoulders brushing in that quiet, familiar way that says more than any words. The sizzle of chorizo and the faint sound of the sea through open windows weave together into something domestic and unexpectedly peaceful.

"So, Flora." Remi says at last, turning his attention toward his daughter with a small, fond smile. "How is the house treating you?"

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"Well so far you've only prepped the shrimp, so I'd say me. If you want to up your risk of fire and start frying them though, by all means," Ronin says with a grin over his shoulder - and that comes under the banner of anything else chef, if Kaisel's wondering. Waiting until the chorizo is browned on both sides before removing it from the pan with the tongs he'd threatened Sugar with earlier, Ronin coats the ramphire in seasoning and adds it in next, just in time for Remi to sidle up beside him.

Smiling automatically to feel the warmth of his husband, both against his shoulder and through his mind via the Attuned bond, he takes the opportunity to steal a kiss from his cheek as the Bastion queries the haunted house they're now standing in. "Oooo, yeah - do you have any strange happenings beyond the stuff you expect?" Or don't expect, given the nature of spirits.

RONIN

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Smug as a smug thing - even with the hard elbow to his ribs that puts him at risk of spilling his drink - Mateo manages to wheeze a laugh as Flora flounces away. "Non è colpa mia se ho ragione," he hisses after her, having to put his mai tai down to catch his breath, which is about when everything starts to get real mushy between his parents, his sister and his beau.

It's impossible to be a fifth wheel when you ride a unicycle though, so the botanist merely collects up his drink (when he can inhale comfortably again) and Flora's and swans off into the dining room without them. "I will be ready for taste testing whenever you are finished tasting each other," he calls over his shoulder, preparing to get very merrily liquored up just in case things do go south.

Increasingly unlikely, he knows, but the night isn't over yet. There's still time.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

Uncertain what Mateo had done to earn such a swift jab to the ribs, he can't complain when it sends Flora splendidly spilling back to his side. Straightening up a touch as she approaches, an arm naturally folds around her, hand splaying along her lower back. The cardigan is a lost cause despite her efforts, sparking a soft smile at the fact she attempts to save it. "Should wash out at least," he murmurs, and isn't it nice to have that be the worst event of the evening, thus far.

Her kiss is returned in equal earnest, his second hand abandoning its claim on the counter to find her waist, fingers curling tighter against her. He leans into the buzz of her, propriety momentarily forgotten when everything's hot honey. The sound of Mateo's voice cracks through the moment though, and a smile streaks across his features in response as they drift apart enough to see each other again. "You bribed them all, didn't you?" he huffs out just for her, but he's beaming far too much behind her praise to keep any sort of playfully accusing look for her.

"On it," he says louder, to Ronin, reaching for his shrimp tray with one parting peck on her cheek. He does grab the apron this time with his other hand, slipping it on over his head as he settles near the dad duo to get to frying. "There's been some colorful eggs lately," he says absently in response to the house's activity. "Also took a chair to the shins the other day," he mutters as some shrimp plop into the oil with a hiss. The chair had suddenly been slid out at him as he'd been walking by, and he can't decide if it was payback for leaving the toilet seat up a time too many or if the offerings of jellybeans had not been acceptable.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //