In the end it took three weeks for Ilya to come out of the slump on his own. Reassurance, letters to and from the kids, and careful care from Shane all helped, but in the end the only true cure was waiting out the feelings.
Shane continued to be diligent and doting for another few days after Ilya crested the hill, at least, until his husband shooed him out the door. (You can only live as though you are sewn into someone's skin for so many weeks in a row.) They both needed some time away from one another. Shane offered to spend the afternoon with Kate and Evelyn. Ilya promised the floors would all be cleaned when he returned.
-
Ilya tracked Shane with his camera as he slid into the second lawn chair. Long shadows decorated the yard as the day died before them, and golden light cast Shane in a radiance that matched the glow Ilya always saw around his husband. Shane handed Ilya one of the beers he'd carried out.
Ilya cracked the lid off with his keys before handing them over to Shane. "Where did you get these?"
Shane opened his own beer and tossed them back. "Kate and Evelyn sent me home with a few, they had too many."
"That's very kind of them."
"Da…" Shane reached around Ilya's neck to pull the camera strap over his head.
Ilya was haloed in the reddening sunlight, Shane wanted to capture it. Ilya took a long drink, trying not to grin too wide behind his bottle. When he ultimately failed, he brought the beer from his lips to cheers the lens.
"How's Blue?" He asked, taking the camera back to take a clip of Shane's matching grin.
"Blue is great." Of course Ilya would ask about the dog before the people. That's okay. It actually matched Shane's own thoughts pretty well right now. "She lay down on my feet the whole time. I couldn't move."
Ilya set down his beer and made an exaggerated shocked face. "My Shane, the man I married." He pointed at himself. "Considering a dogs comfort over his own?" He pointed at Shane. "What have you done with my husband?"
Shane gave an exaggerated eye roll and a rueful smile. "Shut up."
Honestly seeing Blue had been nice. Shane liked the weigh on his feet, the feeling of Blue slamming into his legs in greeting. Anya was great but she was small and sharp, as well as: definitely Ilya's. The internet said that Australian Shepherds are one-person dogs. Whatever mix was in Anya it hadn't overwhelmed that trait. She listened to Shane, yes, but if she had the choice between saving Shane from a roaring river or getting swept down the current to be with Ilya? Shane was confident she'd leap in and leave him for dead.
Shane had been thinking for awhile about not having a true hobby, and about how he liked to spend his time. He liked elevated climbs more than Ilya, he liked working to get better and better at something, he particularly missed practice and training. Watching Blue flop through Evelyn's commands for some cheese had done a lot to solidify these desires into a plan.
Shane laughed awkwardly. "I've been thinking." Ilya perked up but kept quiet. "I ran into Susie down in town like two weeks ago. She said she still has a pup she can't home."
Ilya looked like he was scared to make any sudden movements. "One of Ms. Maggie's?"
"Mhm." Shane took another sip of courage. "And I mean, you have your camera and letters, but I haven't really figured out my hobbies yet."
Ilya watched Shane. "What are you saying?"
"You can say no, but I was thinking." Shane stared at the beer in his hand. "I could get a dog. I mean—"
"Yes." Ilya said over top of him.
"—if the little guy is even still available." Shane snapped head up to glare at Ilya. "Okay, think about it for a second at least. It would be a big change!"
"Okay, it has been a second, and I have thought about it, can I say yes yet?" Ilya was buzzing out of his skin.
Shane threw his arm over his eyes and grinned at the sky. "You're ridiculous."
"Yes."
"Glad you agree."
"No, I'm saying yes to the dog. You should get a dog." When Shane looked back Ilya was barely sitting in his chair still, opting to hover excitedly in case he needed to sprint somewhere. "I have Susie's number we should call her. Right now."
This was moving a little fast. Shane really should slow down. Except he had slowed down, he had thought about this a lot. He hadn't brought it up to Ilya until he was completely sure he could handle the responsibility. So really what would be the harm in–
Shane sprung out of his chair. "Not if I get there first!"
"Cheating!" Ilya screeched launching after him.
-
Shane set down the phone. "Oh my god. I'm getting a dog."
Ilya squeezed him tighter. "Susie sounded very happy. We should go get him."
"Tomorrow."
"Fine."
Their attempted kiss was little more than a clashing of teeth.
-
"What are you going to name him?"
Ilya spoke into the darkness, unable to fall asleep with excitement.
"собака." Shane had made his decision back when he first started entertaining this idea.
"What?"
"I will be calling him собака."
"Shane." Ilya sounded equal parts confused and incensed. "You cannot name your dog. Dog."
"Why not?"
"Um?? because it deserves to have a name?"
"It does have a name, Dog."
"No. besides we call Anya, собака! You would have to at least call him пёс." Shane could not see Ilya in the dark. He knew his husband was talking with his hands.
"Okay, we can call him пёс for recall and I will call him dog when it I'm not talking directly to him." Shane did not hold the grin back from his voice.
"Those both just mean dog!" Ilya cried. "Boy-Dog is just gendered. You have to give your dog a real name!"
"No." Shane swung onto his side to give Ilya's cheek a quick and gleeful kiss.
"I hate you."
-
"Here's your pooch!"
A heavy lump of fur was deposited into Shane's waiting arms. Both parties seemed equally thrilled by the action. (Meaning they were without complaint and moderately happy for the new experience.)
"What have you been calling him?" Ilya asked, loading the puppy supplies Susie offered into the trunk of their jeep. "Bodi is struggling with names."
Shane didn't bother arguing, he would much prefer for Ilya to hear Susie's reply. He knew what the answer would be.
Susie handed over the last of the already torn up toys. "Oh, I've just been calling him Doggie."
Ilya's jaw dropped and he looked between Susie and Shane in utter betrayal. "Doggie…"
Shane grinned ear to ear. "Susie, what do you think about Sobaka?"
"Sounds Russian."
"It is."
"Sobaka sounds great. Name him whatever you want." Susie waved her hand towards a lump of marred plastic she's sparred them from giving a home. "Just keep him away from the Frisbee. He's a maniac."
"Thank you, Susie," Shane hoisted Sobaka deeper into his arms. "I'm sure we'll find the perfect name for him."
-
"I'm not sure why you don't like dog's name. Susie seemed to think it was fine," Shane poked. He plopped Sobaka into his lap as he slid into the car. Sobaka, already large and opinionated, promptly climbed up onto Shane's chest to start investigating the head rest.
Ilya who was entertainingly enraged by the whole ordeal quickly reminded Shane that, "SHE DOESN'T SPEAK RUSSIAN!"
Shane held Sobaka up to his face. "Say hi to dog!"
Part 22 -> Part 23 -> Part 24
Robotnik flexed his hands around the cuffs clasped tightly around his wrists. The Hybrids around him shifted nervously as they all looked up at the window to the cab of the transport truck. They were all cuffed like Robotnik.
"I have a load of Hybrids for the breeding program."
Carol's contact had been infinitely helpful. Not only had he gotten them a transport truck, but a few uniforms from the Hybrid Division as well. Robotnik had picked two of the stronger of his Hybrids to dress up and act as their guards. Since the Division's uniform consisted of a helmet, their ears were hidden.
It was there luck that none of the guards were Hybrids themselves or they would have smelled their scents.
"Proceed."
The truck began to move once more. Glancing away from the window, Robotnik met Carol's eyes. She gave him a sharp nod.
Once they infiltrated the facility, they would be lead back to the holding areas for new Hybrids. From there, Robotnik could search for Stone and Rockwell.
If there was any trouble, Robotnik had given each Hybrid the full go ahead to fuck shit up.
Each of them had been given their own personal, small badnik to accompany them. It would help keep them all connected through comms, along with a few a small laser. He had to warn them that the battery was smaller and would need to recharge after a few shots.
Robotnik was hoping it wouldn't come to that.
Not that he didn't want to lay waste to the facility, but because he didn't need to deal with the paperwork. Or the scolding he would receive from Walters.
Or even the court marshal that had his name on it for destroying another military facility.
If they didn't want me doing this, they should have stolen my Hybrids, Robotnik thought angrily to himself.
The truck jostled them all as it drove inside. Robotnik could see some of the Hybrids giving him looks of concern. He met their eyes and willed them to hold steady.
He wasn't about to let any of them fall into danger.
His actions had already caused Stone and Rockwell to be stolen away. There was no way he would let any of these Hybrids fall into White's hands.
The back doors of the truck slammed open, guards ushering them out with cattle prods.
"Males line up on that side! Females, over here!"
Sharing once last look to Carol, Robotnik let himself be manhandled into the line. They all stood docile as the guards began to ID them. Robotnik's two false guards stood with them, their hands hovering over where they had hidden their own badniks.
"A husky? Never soon one of them around here. They're usually with the Search and Rescue units," one of the guards said, looking Robotnik over. "We'll make sure to milk him dry then."
The other guards chuckled along with him.
Robotnik wanted to rip his throat out.
"C'mon, you mutts!"
Robotnik followed in line as they were taken from what looked to be a docking area and into the main facility. The halls were barren and the lights excruciatingly bright. In front of him, he saw a few of the Hybrids wincing, as if in pain. Glancing back to the shorter Hybrid behind him, he saw he looked to be in pain.
"High frequencies," the Hybrid grunted quietly.
Robotnik should have known. He quickly twisted his own face to reflect discomfort.
They were eventually led towards what looked to be a shower room. There were shower heads and drains lining one side of the room while a few garbage bins lined the other.
"All right, bitches!" A guard stepped forward. Robotnik wished he wasn't wearing a helmet so he could memorize the man's face and ruin his life. "Strip!"
None of the Hybrids moved.
"Get a move on!" The other guard shouted, lifting his cattle rod.
Robotnik pressed a few buttons on his gloves.
"Now!" He shouted back.
The cuffs that had been on the Hybrids' wrists fell away with ease as they all pounced towards the guards. Robotnik backed away, pulling up a hologram of the facility.
He had disabled the cameras in this room, and proceeded to turn the rest off systematically throughout the rest of the building. Eyes flicking over the layout of the building, he nodded in satisfaction. Plucking the headband off his head and yanking the tail off his belt, he threw them aside as he addressed his Hybrids.
"A team, with me. B team, regroup with Carol. Spread out and take down anyone who gets in your way."
"Yes, sir!" The Hybrids responded in unison.
Pushing himself into a full sprint, Robotnik wasn't surprised when all the Hybrids kept pace with him. He used his map to guide him towards the holding cells.
Any guard that got into their way, the Hybrids with him took them down with ease.
Especially when they got their hands on their own cattle prods.
"This way!"
Robotnik was panting harshly as he reached two, thick doors. He didn't bother with subtly as he yanked out a badnik out of his pocket. It was a the size of a baseball, much larger than the ones he had given the Hybrids.
Tossing it into the air, the robot immediately shot the lock on the door. Robotnik didn't waste any time pushing through them, but stopped dead after a few short steps.
He had entered a hallway. On either side of the hallway were windows staring into small rooms. But he knew they weren't rooms.
They were cells.
Robotnik felt his stomach roll as he walked slowly through the hallway.
Heavily pregnant Hybrids stared back at him. Some stood to see the commotion, while others barely reacted. Every Hybrid had their hands covered in a leather mitten, making their hands effectively useless while a small lock kept the mitten secured on their wrists. Worst of all, they were all completely nude.
What surprised Robotnik was that he saw pregnant, male Hybrids as well in the cells.
"Get them out," Robotnik stopped in the middle of the hall and whispered.
"Doctor?" One of his Hybrids asked.
"Get them out!" He shouted.
His team scrambled to comply as Robotnik marched past the long row of cells. There had to be at least twenty. More and more of them were coming towards the window to see what was going on. They stared at him with shock and awe.
He purposely didn't meet their gazes.
Many of them wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for him.
At the end of the hallway was another set of doors. His badnik made short work of them.
Bile rose up in his throat.
The cells had been bare, with only a bed and toilet, but the next room was even worse.
It was as if he had walked into a dog pound. Instead of cells with a bed, dozens upon dozens of Hybrids were shoved into cages so small, they could barely walk around in them.
All they had were ratting blankets to sit on and a bucket in the corner.
Stepping into the still too bright room, he saw many of the Hybrids shying away. They shoved themselves into the corner, staring up at him fearfully. He could see that all of them were wearing the same leather mittens and nude.
His eyes moved every cage as he walked through the room. With how many Hybrids were there, it shouldn't have been so quiet. Other than the dull sound of a filtration fans, the large room was silent.
Of course, it was quiet for him. He would bet that there were high frequencies being pumped into this room to leave the Hybrids disorientated.
His steps let out sharp clicks as he continued walking. The further back he went into the room, he discovered Hybrids in various stages of pregnancy. Not as far along as the ones in the cells, but enough to be obvious.
However, he didn’t see Stone or Rockwell.
Beep!
Stopping mid-step, Robotnik's hand flew to his watch.
"Carol, report."
"Doctor..." her voice faltered.
"What!?"
"Come to my position."
Robotnik felt his heart speed up. What happened? Did she find them? Were they in critical condition?
Turning on his heel, he rushed back towards the way he had come. He nearly ran into one of his own Hybrids, who was avout to enter.
"Get them out, as well," he snapped.
"Where do you want me to take them?"
"Just get them out!"
He pushed past and broke out running full speed once more. He couldn't spare a second longer.
His badnik led the way towards Carol as he swung around corners and shoved through once locked doors. He even had to jump over unconscious bodies of guards who tried to stop his Hybrids.
Finally, he reached an office. It was far more luxurious compared to the rest of the facility. If it was a true prison, he would assume it to be the warden's office.
Carol stood next to a fancy desk, a scowl on her face as she growled down at a man cowering in a chair. His eyes silently pleaded with Robotnik as he entered.
The man was tied to the chair, but one of his wrists had been tied to the other side of the desk to keep his arm outstretched. As Robotnik approached, he could see the man's fingers were completely broken. Glancing over to Carol, Robotnik saw her holding a hammer.
He was liking her more and more.
"Well?" He pressed.
"Tell him what you told me," Carol snapped down at the trapped man.
"T-the Hybrids you're looking for," the man panted in pain, eyes flickering between Robotnik and Carol. "General White had them moved."
"Where!?" Robotnik yanked the hammer out of Carol's hands and slammed it down in the back of the man's hand.
The man screamed. Tears and snot ran down his face as he begged.
"Please! Please! I'll tell you!" He sobbed.
"Where are they!?" Robotnik snarled, raising the hammer again.
"At White's private residence!" The man blurted out. "He wanted to personally impregnat them."
The library was nearly empty at this hour, save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffling of pages from someone studying just as late as they were.
Lando leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, watching as she… folded a tiny paper star?
He narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t look like studying.”
She sighed dramatically, pressing the crease into the paper with a little too much force. “I can’t study anymore. My brain is fried. Done. Over. That’s it. It’s rejecting all new information.”
Lando exhaled through his nose, staring at the textbook open in front of them. They’d been at this for hours—practicing logic games, running through sample arguments, dissecting the intricacies of contracts and torts. She was good, but she was tired.
And when she got tired, apparently, she made little paper... thingamajigs?
Her head lolled onto her folded arms, barely upright at this point, eyes unfocused as she stared at the open prep book in front of her.
“Okay,” he said, flipping a page. “Logical reasoning. Let’s try one more.”
She groaned, voice muffled against her sleeve. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Noooo.”
“Yes.”
“Liam,” she lifted her head, fixing him with a mildly-impressive threatening stare, “I swear to God, I could not tell you the difference between a necessary and sufficient assumption right now if my life depended on it. Like, gun to my head? Not happening.”
Lando blinked, looking at her seriously. “Your life does not depend on it.”
“Exactly,” she declared, tossing down her highlighter. “So I’m making stars instead.”
She reached for the strips of paper she’d been folding absentmindedly for the last ten or so minutes, fingers deftly creasing them into small, perfect origami stars. The table was already littered with them, tiny constellations of her boredom.
Lando leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her work with a bemused expression.
“I didn’t know you were so easily defeated.”
She shot him a glare. “I’m not defeated. I’m… on strike.”
“Against?”
“My own brain.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Great. Can’t wait to see you argue that in court one day.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, fingers still working on another star.
Liam stared at her for a moment too long, seeming very judgmental for someone who did not have to do the actual studying part. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re serious?”
She didn’t even look up. “Liam, I cannot study anymore.”
“You said that half an hour ago, and yet, we are still here.”
“I know, and that was the last time I could study. My brain is at maximum capacity. I have reached the limit of human intellectual absorption.” She held up a tiny, folded star between her fingers, as if to prove her point.
Lando sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He should tell her to keep going. Should remind her that this test was important, that she couldn’t afford to slack off now. But she looked tired, and he wasn’t a monster.
“…At least make me one,” he said, nodding toward the paper scraps.
Her head snapped up, eyes suspicious but there was a glimmer of excitement there too if Lando looked hard enough. “You want an origami star?”
He shrugged. “Eh, might as well.”
For a second, she just stared at him, like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. But then she grinned—small, genuine, and earnest. Lando wondered what other things caused her eyes to light up like that, what simple pleasures had her glittering with this pure kind of joy.
He leaned forward, interrupting her space by plucking a finished star from the pile and examining it between his fingers. “So… is this, like, normal or whatever? Or is there a cure–”
She gasped, appalled. “Oh, shut up! I just needed to do something with my hands that wasn’t writing or highlighting or underlining—”
Lando flicked the tiny star at her forehead.
She gasped. “Liam!”
“You were talkin’ too much,” he said, leaning back in his chair, smirking. “Consider it a tactical disruption.”
She huffed, flicking one right back at him. It hit him squarely in the chest. Once a concerning number of them were sufficiently scattered about their work table, he reached over and picked one up, inspecting the delicate folds.
“Should I be worried that you can make, like, fifty of these in under five minutes?”
“It’s a completely normal coping mechanism.” She started another one, hands moving on autopilot. “Some people take smoke breaks. I make stars.”
He raised a brow. “Not sure that’s the best analogy.”
She grimaced apologetically, realizing her mistake. Liam had been extra grumpy after recently quitting, despite the fact that he claimed not to smoke in the first place. Even though it resulted in his car smelling nicer, it apparently was still a touchy subject. She shot him an apologetic look before turning back and placing another finished star in a neat little row beside the others.
Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. He should probably tell her to keep studying, but—screw it. She’d worked her ass off. If she needed a break, she needed a break.
He appeared lost in some deep thought, so he caught her off guard when he reached for another piece of scrap paper and attempted to fold his own.
“Wait, are you—”
“Shut up. I’m concentrating.”
She leaned in, curious, watching as he fumbled through the folds. By the time he finished, his “star” looked more like a crumpled piece of trash than anything else. He scowled, huffing as he flipped it over. “I changed my mind. This is stupid.”
There was a beat of silence. And then she burst out laughing.
“Wow,” she wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “That’s horrific.”
She exhaled determinedly and pushed her books away, flexing her fingers like they ached from all the writing. Then, casually, she slid a few extra strips of paper toward him. “Want another try? I can teach you.”
He frowned at the offering. “Nah, I don’t do crafts.”
“Oh, come on. Please?” She gave him a playful nudge with her foot under the table. “Don’t be lame. It’s easy, just fold here—”
She reached over, her hand grazing hers as she tried to guide the paper through the first few folds. When the instructions became too confusing, she decided that they would attempt visual learning instead. Reaching closer to the half-complete star in front of him she gently took his hand in hers as she led him through the final tucks and indentations, leaving behind with a half decent star. It was a little lopsided, but a star nonetheless.
His star.
He had turned to look at her as soon as her hand made contact with his, caught off guard by the feeling of her delicate hands resting briefly against his calloused ones. Her hair had untucked itself from behind her ear, curtaining her face away from view momentarily. It was only a split second before she fixed it, absentmindedly tucking her back as she’d likely done thousands of times before.
She continued with her explaining and rambling as she focused completely on what she was doing, Lando couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. It was strange, inexplicable – after the split second that her hair had covered her face, Lando suddenly saw her in an entirely different light. Still fixated on her, he barely breathed. It was such a simple thing, barely a touch at all, but for some reason, his body had the nerve to register it like it scalded him, but in a sort of pleasant way.
His skin burned but he didn’t seem to mind, lost in trance while she was focused elsewhere, something about ensuring they did the right number of folds so they could have adequate paper for a neat final tuck.
Makes them cuter, she’d explained.
Lando Norris didn’t know a damn thing about origami or stars. Yet he’d never been paying more attention to something so inconsequential as he did right then. Suddenly, he was struck with the idiotic idea to unravel the star they’d made, just so they could do it all over again.
When she looked at him proudly, he cleared his throat, pulling his hand back before he could think too much about it. “You seem to be quite the expert. Think I’ll leave the paper artistry t’you.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, and he ignored the way that smile did something weird to his chest. The library stayed quiet after that, save for the sound of her folding tiny stars and him watching the way the light made them glow in her hands.
A few days later, they were crammed in his car outside the testing center, and she was flipping through well-worn flashcards like her life depended on it. She chewed her bottom lip raw, flipping through them with a frantic energy he hadn’t seen in all the time he’d come to know her.
"Alright, last one," she muttered, holding up a card. "If a contract is formed under duress—"
"It's voidable at the discretion of the coerced party," he answered.
She blinked. "You got that right."
"Obviously?” he questioned, pretending to be offended. ”I do pay attention, y’know."
She stared at the card for another second, then groaned, dropping it back onto the larger stack. "Okay. I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Don't do that," he said. "S’bad for morale. Also, I happen t’like this car. Just got it clean, too–"
"Liam."
When she glared at him, she looked like she hadn’t decided yet whether to cry or throw up. Lando can’t imagine giving some stack of papers that much power.
What’s a score, anyway? Scores could be bought, extorted, bartered or bargained for–
He cut himself off before that line of thought could go any further. It was simply instinct, unfortunately. “Hey,” he reached over, plucking the papers right out of her hands. “You know this stuff.”
She didn’t even try to get them back from him, which should’ve been a sign to take this more seriously. But he noticed the way she fiddled with her fingers, pushing and pressing at her cuticles like it’d sooth her somehow. “This is the admissions test. For law school. What if I don’t?” she blurted.
“You do.” He was still laughing as he rolled his eyes.
She huffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t know that.”
Lando raised a brow. “I do, actually. I’ve been here every night watching you make flashcards and rewrite your notes and—look, if you weren’t already going to ace this, I’d just pay off the testing center.”
She blinked.
He tapped the steering wheel, as if actually considering it. “Or the admissions officer. Or the licensing board, now that I think about it—” His grin widened at her visible annoyance.
Why wasn’t he taking this seriously?
“Liam,” she groaned, shoving his shoulder.
He grinned but softened slightly, letting his voice drop. He turned to face her, and Y/N could practically feel her cheeks burning simply at the intensity of his gaze. Something about Liam always projected, confidence, strength, surety.
Sometimes she wished she could be as sure as he was.
But now, bearing the full weight of his gaze and being the sole object of his undivided attention, it felt almost like her heart was stuck in her throat. There was something about those green-gold irises that made Y/N feel like he could see all of her, like he could see right through her.
It made her pulse flutter with something foreign.
“Hey.” His voice was a near-whisper. The familiar smirk flickered, but his eyes held her captive. He gently nudged her chin, tilting her face up so she couldn't look away. "You're going to be perfect. Go out there and make me proud, yeah?"
Y/N was momentarily speechless. His touch, the way he held her in his gaze, left her breathless. She nodded, too caught in the intensity of the moment to form words. A strange mixture of fear and fascination swirled inside her as she exhaled, tension slipping from her shoulders.
“You’re the best,” she said before instinctively reaching out, squeezing his hand for half a second before quickly pulling away.
It was a fleeting gesture—a brief press of warmth—but it sent a shock up his spine, something lingering on his skin, even as she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car, heading toward the entrance.
He watched her go, his fingers curling into a loose fist.
…Right.
Time to lock that away and never open it again.
a/n: oh my clueless little babies. oh they're so cute!
Summary: Plans for the empire, musings and afflictions transpire.
Notes/Warnings: mentions of ancient words/beliefs... kilani: a sofa, nundinaes: weeks, anno: year, Floralia a festival of flowers…fertility…celebrated with dancing…merriment. Moments of Caracalla’s illness is shown…nothing explicit.
❤️s, likes, feedback & reblogs are always welcome & appreciated. (Sorry about the delay)
You reclined on your on klinai. You had told Aelia to have one of the servants bring it out onto the balcony. Pillows and blankets covered it and surrounded you. Never had you seen so many.
Your comfort was of the utmost importance. Geta, you felt was always calling for a fresh plump pillow for you. They were changed regularly in the royal box. The throne the two of you shared no longer was uncomfortable.
Earlier, Geta had to attend to some matters in his planning room regarding Caracalla’s baths. Before he had left, he had made sure you were in good spirits. Inwardly, you were very pleased. Geta, was truly all you could have prayed for in a husband, a companion.
How you came to be with him was a distant far off memory. That night, fear moved through you. You were truly terrified. His reputation caused nightmares. Though the man was different, there was and still remained a sharp edge. The goddesses had been with you and gave you strength. You did not waver before him.
You felt blessed that he shared his soft side, the dreamer side of him. The one who loved reading and the beauty in life. He had told you of times he would sit in the shade under the mighty boughs of a tree.
You were terribly aware that in the deep shadows resided in Geta. There lurked a side of him that could be cruel and unforgiving. Many had met their end by blade and beast alike with a casual word or a twist of his wrist.
That side came into the light to protect the two of you. His patience was kept for you, and Caracalla but as of late for all else it had shorten considerably. No longer were dissidents simply expelled, banished their punishments were swifter and more violent. Their words were silenced almost as soon as they spoken. The stones under foot were brilliant in the scarlet of their life being spilled.
To disagree with the emperor was like disagreeing with the gods themselves. The murmurs of discontent that reached you, worried you. You wished there was something that could be done to please the people. To bring their favor back to Geta, you and the child you gently swelled with.
That’s when the idea struck you. A festival could be held. Floralia, you remembered in your village how much people had enjoyed it. Carefully, you rose from where you had been lounging. You would go to him. Tell him.
*******
“The gardens are being seeded and have taken growth.” The man said he glanced him and his brother who nodded.
“Good. They will keep the airs fragrant and fresh. People will want to be there.”
“Yes, sire.”
From the corner of his sight he saw Caracalla tremble where he sat. As he got closer, a far away look clouded his eyes. The tremble grew in strength.
“You are dismissed. Leave.”
“I thought…” Geta saw the man look towards Caracalla.
He stood between them. “I said leave.”
The laurel that had been sitting atop his brother’s own firey strands fell with a sharp rattle on the ground at his feet.
“Leave now.” He hollered. He came up behind where Caracalla sat. Tearing and freeing sash that had been wrapped around him, he covered his hands and gave firm touch to his brother’s shoulders to still him.
“I am here. I am here, calm thy spirit. Calm thy spirit.” Geta whispered.
“No!” He raged, he bounced where he sat. “Father wishes for me to join me.” The edges of his mouth were growing foaming. “No!”
“Lepidus! Lepidus, come forth!”
The door clanked and banged against wall.
Geta, glanced. Brief respite filled him seeing that the man answered his call. The man bowed his head briefly.
“Sire? Oh Sire.” The broad, yet wiry guard made haste over to where they were.
“Bring him to his chambers. Draw the curtains to dispel the light of the day and stand fast in case there is another moment his illness grabs for him.”
The wiry man nodded, then easily retrieved the laurel and rested it on his bother’s head. “Sire,” He softly whispered. “It is I, Lepidus.”
Geta stepped back, leaving the cloth on his brother’s shoulders. He had taken ahold of it and twisted some of the fabric about his fingers. His eyes appeared to be clearing and returning from the far away look at that had taken ahold.
He glanced up at Lepidus.
“Dondas, wishes for you and him to rest.”
“That will be pleasant.” Caracalla replied softly, regaining his breath after his outburst.
The wiry man easily helped his brother to his feet and soon together they left the room.
Geta leaned against the large table. It felt heavy to see such an outburst. It came on the appearance of the spreading of his disease. It sadden him greatly.
******
“Empress, I only left for a moment to check on this evenings meal. What is it you wish?” Aelia, found you in one of the passageways.
“I had an idea I wish to share with Geta.”
“Are you sure you should go to his planning room?”
You saw distress fall cast a shadow over her. It creased her brow. Geta, in an angered state had sent her away. You supposed he had never spoken to her as thus. It can be quite scary when rage fitting of Jupiter is in him, certainly you understood that she wished for it to never happen again but truly you going to speak with him would not cause that in him.
“I am the empress, his empress surely I can go in there.”
“Yes, yes but he worries about you. You have been blessed with good feelings and no ailments since you are with his child.”
You were in good spirits, a wondrous idea had graced you. He would be pleased, you were certain of it.
“I have. I have shown how grateful I an to the gods, goddess daily for that blessing.”
“Why, not go and enjoy some of the fresh airs in the atrium and I will tell him you are there.”
You took a moment and thought about it. “I suppose that would be nice. I do like the fresh scent of the flowers.”
*******
Aelia, powered wine and some vinegar she had fetched from the kitchens and powered them over Geta’s hands.
“The empress, wishes to speak with you Geta. She had wished to speak here but I told her to go the atrium. I will have the footfalls of Caracalla wiped, I will not chance his madness grabbing her or the baby that grows in her belly.”
“Thank you Aelia. I shall go to her. Will the madness be swept away by nightfall?”
“Yes, surely.”
*******
Sitting there gently you ran your fingertips along some petals and some soft, fuzzy green stems. The memory of Geta first spotting you in the atrium visited you. It was from that moment forth he had begun to refer to you as his blossom. You smiled softly.
“Before me is my blossom, my flower full of life and color.”
Smiling wider, you turned in the direction of the rich timber of Geta’s voice. It filled the atrium. His words were as sweet as honey when speaking of you and to you.
“My husband.” You replied. “Geta, my love.”
They would never cease to brighten your spirits. As he drew closer, you watched as he looked you over.
“Are you in good spirits, the baby?”
“Yes.”
Easily with care of the layers of his clothing, he sat facing you. He took your hands into his lap. Gently, he caressed them with idle touches.
“You called for me?”
“Yes.” You nodded. “Yes, a thought came to me,”
You glanced down at how his ring hands held yours. His thumb, gentle caressed the back of yours as you spoke.
“Oh?” He smiled. “What came to you?”
Inwardly, you fluttered like that of butterflies wings.
“When I was a child, there was the Floralia festival. The people of my village loved it. It was fun.”
You glanced at him as you spoke. A serious expression sharpened his features.
“It could lift the spirits of the people.”
He nodded. “My father only ever enjoyed war festivals, hunting ones. They were good but this will show our love and appreciation of the goddesses.”
You nodded. “They have been wonderfully kind to spare me of the illness that sometimes plagues women when they carry
a child. This will surely please them.
“Yes, yes it should.” He smiled. “And then when general Acacius returns with his victory it will make their happiness even greater.“
His eyes were warm as he looked at you. He brought one of your hands to his mouth and he pressed a kiss to one of your knuckles. “We will do it. It will be a wonder to behold since you are and will always be my special blossom.”
*******
It had been a quick two nundinaes. You had maintained a level of rest and taking care of yourself during that time. A few times those that crafted your clothes visited a few times so that you would have an array to choose from. They were soft and lovely.
One particular night, staying in shadows when the royal Domus was fast asleep, Geta brought you to his planning room. Glancing around he opened the doorway and ushered you in. He made sure that door would not close with a loud clank, as it normally did.
He ushered you to the table to show you the approved sketches from the craftsmen.
“I told them your beauty was to be their inspiration.”
Flowers were shown hanging from lofty heights. Fellows with lyres in their hands were here and there. Memory of the beauty of their music visited you with a glance. Goats were shown free among the people. You hoped their mischief would not be uncontrollable.
“Geta, this all looks truly wonderful.”
A proud look had come over him.
“So this pleases you?”
You nodded.
“Your beauty has brought a greatness to the empire it did not have previously.”
“My heart, oh Geta.” You took one of his hands and placed it over your heart. “Around you, my heart flutters like the butterflies in the gardens.”
A smile curled his lips. “It is my pleasure to do so.” He let his hand gently to the swell of your stomach. “I am eager to see our child. I am certain it will have sense of beauty you have.”
You placed your hand over his. “It will have your strength.”
“I surely hope it does. I have prayed to gods for it.”
He reached up and cupped your cheek. His rings were cool. He had yet to remove them for the evening.
“Before we begin to usher in this festival, I have a gift for you.”
“Geta, you have given me the gift of being your wife, being the mother of your child what else could you possibly give me ?”
He smiled, then moving away from you he turned and went to a corner of the room. Anticipation filled you, as you watched him bend over and pick up a basket that was large in size. All you could make out was a large blanket.
“This love a small gift, a small companion to brighten your moments when you are here in our atrium or apart.”
Your eyes grew. “What a small delight. Hello small one.”
Out from the blanket, came out on small paws and small ears was a bunny. Its small nose twitched and rested its two front paws on the edge of the basket as you spoke to it.
“Geta, what a wonderful gift.”
He smiled softly. “She came from a wonderful family. Those that raised her family spoke of their love and sweet nature to the children of the household they were raised along side with. She will surely love our child as well.”
Fortunately, and somewhat miraculously, no great catastrophes interrupt Kensi and Deeks’ date.
Deeks made reservations for a fancy restaurant Kensi remembers wanting to try when it opened a few years ago. At any other time, she’d be ecstatic, but tonight, she barely pays attention to what she’s ordering. She’s too distracted by Deeks. From the moment he showed up at her apartment in a suit that clings to every muscle, she hasn’t been able to keep her eyes off him.
Deeks seems similarly distracted, and she’s caught his eyes drifting to the very deep V of her dress and her legs more than once while they wait for their food to arrive. It makes her infinitely glad she hadn’t gone with something less daring. Though at this rate, they’re never going to make it through the whole dinner.
Deeks grins across the table at her, as if he can read her mind. His eyes dance over her again and Kensi’s cheeks flush as she imagines his hands traveling the same path.
“So, how was your week?” he asks, the ridiculously neutral question drawing a snort from Kensi.
She follows his lead, mostly so she doesn’t act on her increasing need to have him out of that suit. Or drag him across the table—
“It was fine,” she manages, taking a hasty sip of water.
By the time their entrees are served, Kensi’s calmed down a little. It helps that they have a lot to catch up on still.
“Tell me about your self-defense class,” Deeks prompts as he sets his plate to the side. A waiter rushes by take to it away, and Deeks nods a quick thanks before turning his attention back to Kensi.
“It’s actually morphed into two classes over the last year,” Kensi tell him. “Beginner and intermediate. Though now I feel like I might need to add advanced too. Most of the students are younger women, but the classes are open to anyone, so I get a nice mix.”
Deeks smiles at that, seeming genuinely happy to hear for her, and warmth and affection fills her. It’s softer than the desire that’s been plaguing her all night, but no less intense.
“That’s amazing, Kensi. They’re lucky to have you teaching them all your ninja ways.”
Kensi makes a doubtful sound at Deeks’ assumption. “It’s a work in progress. My first few classes were so rough while I figured out how to teach people who had absolutely no training. I was so used to working with agents or cops who have some experience. Now it’s mostly figuring out how to increase strength and progress to a higher level if that’s their goal.” She shrugs. “Some are just there for the activity or to learn some self-defense and don’t worry about moving up.” She trails her fork through some sauce on her plate, tilting her head as she looks across the table at Deeks.
“What about you? Are you still taking pro-bono cases?”
“I do when I can,” Deeks says. He makes a face that has a critical tinge to it. “It makes me feel better when my paid clients turn out to be terrible people.”
“Like the one who brought us back together?” Kensi teases.
“Oh, she’s tame in comparison to some. And I believe that information falls under attorney client-privilege.”
She should not find his integrity this sexy, even if he is half-joking, but she does. God, she’s even worse than she was before they dated the first time.
“Mm, it’s be a while since I’ve heard you speak lawyer.” She drops her voice a little lower. Deeks’ eyes widen slightly with surprised delight before morphing into something smugger.
“Oh, that’s interesting. How exactly can I be of help, Miss Blye?”
Pushing her mostly empty plate to the side so she won’t ruin her dress, Kensi leans closer and brushes her thumb over his lower lip.
“I was thinking you could give me a full presentation in my apartment,” she says, letting her hand stray to his neck, her fingers stroking the soft skin there. Deeks’ lips part slightly and his eyes darken.
“I’ll get the check,” he decides, surprising Kensi by leaning in for a fleeting kiss before he stands to flag down their server.
