Mime & Dine || Oscar, Regan & Kaden (ft. Rumplskuffs)
TIMING: Current LOCATION: Kaden’s apartment PARTIES: @kadavernagh, @forfuchssake, and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Two hunters and a fae sit down for dinner
It was a lot slower going around the kitchen while he was still injured, but Kaden was determined to make this meal the best he possibly could. Not that he needed to impress anyone he was cooking for tonight, Regan and Oscar were both aware that he didn’t suck. No, the effort wasn’t out of pride so much as a means to keep his mind off of the situation at hand. His uncle was coming to dinner to meet his girlfriend. Which was weird enough as it was. Kaden had a girlfriend for one. Two, it was serious enough to bother meeting family. And three, Oscar was in the same town as him. These three things had never once happened in succession. So this was already strange. The fact that he was dating a fae and that his uncle was a hunter did nothing to simplify the matter. Lucky him. It meant he was making a three course meal because if he was cooking it meant he wasn’t panicking. At least that’s what he was telling himself.
Abel barked to alert him to the rap on the door and Kaden quickly put aside what he could, pulse pounding through him at the thought of what was next. “Necklace!” he called out to Regan as he went to get the door, just in case she didn’t already have it on or forgot or who knew. It was second nature to have her around without it on at this point. But the last thing he needed Oscar to see was the wings. He swallowed down the fear creeping up his throat and placed his slightly shaky palm to the doorknob, swinging it open. He’d chalk up the unsteadiness to his injury. Even if that wasn’t quite the reality of the situation. “Hey, come in. Still have a bit to finish up before we can eat,” he said to Oscar as he led him inside, Abel pushing past to greet the other man. “You already know Abel. And, uh, this is Regan.” He gestured back towards his girlfriend who seemed almost as nervous as he felt. Almost. “You, uh, should talk. Or something. While I--” A beeping started coming from the kitchen. “Soon, it’ll be done soon.” He ran off to the safety of the kitchen to finish off what was left of the meal. Putain, maybe he should have started prepping earlier, it was an idiotic idea to leave the hunter alone with a banshee. Kaden had a feeling he wouldn’t be eating a lot tonight. Not if his stomach kept churning like this.
“So you see,” Regan explained to Abel, as the two of them were sprawled out on the couch, “that’s why both humans and canines can get salmonellosis.” He seemed attentive, but the only response she was met with was panting. They could work on that. Then again, she was about ready to start panting, too -- the smells drifting over from the kitchen warmed her as they filled her up. Kaden wouldn’t tell her what he was making, wouldn’t even let her help, but Regan trusted that even in his injured state, he was still the best French cook in town. Plus, it was good for him to handle his stress in a healthy way. She wasn’t sure how to handle her own. Oscar meant so much to Kaden, was really all he had left in this world for family, and even knowing his opinions on people with wings -- ridiculous -- she still desperately wanted to meet him. Abel suddenly leaped off the couch and zoomed toward the door. Necklace! Kaden’s panicked shout sounded from the kitchen, and Regan bolted up. It was so easy to forget she wasn’t even wearing it these days. Even Kaden didn’t seem to mind. She plucked it from the bowl in the middle of the table and clasped it on, then slipped into a cardigan to hide the long slits in the back of her shirt, too. Those would probably raise a brow. There was a lot riding on her ability to hide her symptoms -- not just Oscar’s inevitable poor reaction, but more importantly, his relationship with Kaden.
She followed Kaden over to the door, observing his shaking hands and the nervous flitting of his eyes toward her back. Her own anxiety was spiking, knowing how much was on the line, but Kaden’s was definitely worse. Regan slid her arms around him, careful to avoid the healing gunshot wound, and pressed her lips to his warm cheek. “Kaden, it’ll be-- there’s no way he’d know. I mean, with the necklace. Nothing’s going to go wrong. No wings, no mimes, just a normal dinner with delicious food and a mountain of anxiety.” That didn’t seem to make things better as he opened the door.
Oscar was… well, he was older than Kaden, but not by the huge margin Regan had expected. He had a weathered look to him, punctuated by a dry, easy smile. Her eyes searched for features shared with Kaden, before she remembered that the two of them weren’t actually blood relatives. Her stomach plummeted as Kaden motioned toward her in introduction, and then he took off, called back by the kitchen. The words of comfort she had for Kaden just a few seconds ago dried up in her mouth, as she realized it was just the two of them right now. She extended a hand, but immediately thought better of it, remembering her cold skin. “I, uh -- it’s really nice to -- I’m Regan. Like he just said. You know that. Obviously. It’s not like Kaden has a bunch of random women living with him, so that’s probably -- oh, uh, not that I live with him. We each have our own apartment. Separately. Though he’s staying with me right now while he heals; he was just insistent on using his own kitchen for this, so we -- he was badly hurt, you know. He was in the hospital...” Kaden, please come back. She shot a pleading look toward the kitchen. No salvation came. “Oh! He’s okay now, though. Well, mostly. Well enough to be doing this. I’m a doctor, so I’ve been making sure he doesn’t over-exert himself, and -- and sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Or sometimes not at all. But Kaden suggested we talk, so that’s -- it’s nice to meet you.”
Oscar had to admit that being in the same town as Kaden again felt nice. As an only child with no children himself, it wasn’t as if he had much outside the hunter community. Plus, this town had no shortage of beasts to kill. Most of his recent hunts had been hedgehounds and bonedoggles, but it was only a matter of time before a more exciting fight came into play. It was no wonder Kaden chose to call this place home. Hell, he was essentially even getting paid to hunt in a very official capacity. He was proud of the life his nephew had built for himself here. While it was a little too on the up and up for his liking, it was good to see him doing well for himself. He was looking forward to meeting this Regan that he seemed so sweet on. It was a surprise to see him settling down to this extent, but as long as he wasn’t shirking his duty, the kid deserved a little happiness.
He opted to wear a sweater rather than his usual leather jacket. No need to have Kaden’s lady friend making unsavory assumptions about him. Oscar knew they were all likely to be true, but making a good impression all around was probably important to Kaden. He’d brought a case of beer along with him. As he knocked on the door, he heard Abel alert everyone of his presence. The fact both Kaden and Regan seemed a bit nervous wasn’t lost on Oscar. “No worries,” he assured as he made his way inside, “I’m sure your lady and I can find something to talk about while you finish cooking.” He handed off the case of beer he brought before Kaden ran off to follow the timer that was going off. He shook his head and let out a small chuckle. “It’s good to meet you, Regan.”
Before he could get another word in, she seemed to be rambling at a million miles a minute. Apparently they didn’t live together, not that Oscar would care if they were. They were both adults after all. Hell, she’d probably be safer having Kaden around, especially considering there was a ghost trying to kill both of them. He placed his hands up and laughed a bit as he responded, “Immer sachte, even if you two did live together, I wouldn’t care. Not that it matters what I think. It’s Kaden’s life. If having you around makes him happy, then I’m happy for him.” He still couldn’t quite understand it, being in a relationship with a human who didn’t know about the supernatural, but it was obvious they cared for each other. “I’m glad he has a medical professional taking care of him though,” he added though he wondered how she didn’t question the speed at which his wounds healed. He walked over to the couch with Abel following close behind and took a seat. “So, tell me a bit about yourself, Regan. I know that you’re a medical examiner and apparently entirely too smart for Kaden here, but not much else.”
Kaden couldn’t tell if the sweat on his brow was coming from the warm kitchen or from everything else. What were they saying over there? Had he seen the wings? Somehow? Through the glamour of the necklace? Putain, he’d definitely seen the wings and was probably about to stab her right now. Then he heard her rambling all the way from the kitchen. He stood up straight and inhaled deeply. This was fine. It would be fine. Hell, he thought she was human for months. Oscar couldn’t possibly figure it out in one night.
Right. Kaden swallowed back the panic. Or was it finally bile? He wasn’t sure. Still he raced around the kitchen, trying to work as fast as possible. What if she shook his hand? Putain de merde, he’d know, he’d figured it out, maybe he already had. Kaden poked his head out of the kitchen briefly. They were just standing and talking. He rushed back in as soon as he remembered he had to take the fucking food off the stove top. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Breathe. He had to breathe.
Kaden held that breath, expanding his lungs and waiting, trying to force his pulse back to something normal. Alright. The food only needed a minute longer to cool off and he could plate it. Nothing more for him to do in the kitchen. Probably good. As much as he wanted to run away from the situation, leaving the two of them alone seemed far worse. He grabbed a beer for Oscar, pouring it into a stout glass. He grabbed the wine and poured out a glass for Regan. And for a moment he stood there and contemplated which he wanted for himself. The beer Oscar had brought was a good one, he expected nothing less from his uncle, it was a good dark stout and was no doubt enjoyable. The wine he’d bought for the meal was perfectly balanced, just right for the coq au vin he was preparing and about to serve. Oscar wouldn’t poke fun at him for picking the wine, right? Putain. He was sure he’d enjoy both, but he didn’t know how to pick. Practically speaking, the bottle was open now. So wine it was for him. He couldn’t exactly waste any more time hiding away, he needed to intervene.
“I was gone for a minute and already talking shit about me, I see,” Kaden said to Oscar, carrying the drinks over as best he could, handing the beer to the other hunter and one of the wine glasses to Regan. “You’re not wrong though.” He stood close to Regan and took an awkward sip from his glass, not sure what to say next or how this was supposed to go. “We can sit soon. Or you should. I’ll get the food in a minute. It just needs to cool off a little.” It would be great if the tension he felt could cool down, too.
Oscar wanted to know about her. Beyond her job. This already felt like navigating a mimefield. Er, minefield. “No, no, we can’t live together,” Regan insisted. Then realized why she shouldn’t say that. It would raise questions. “Uh, I mean because… I barely sleep. You know, rising early to go for a run and then spending evening hours at the morgue. Oh, but you asked about me outside of work. Wait, did Kaden say that? I’m not-- I’m lucky to have him.” She felt the blood rising to her cheeks, and scurried behind Oscar over to the couch. She stayed standing, nervous about inching too close. There was no way he’d be able to tell, right? She hadn’t shook his hand. He couldn’t hear her pulse from here, surely. And even if he had done or was capable of those things, what was to say that he’d even put two-and-two together? Her condition was incredibly rare -- so rare that Regan had never heard of a medical professional who knew about it.
“Well, I… I’m from Augusta. It’s a few hours from here. J'apprends le français. Kaden is teaching me, of course. And, don’t worry. The first word I picked up was putain.” Regan leaned flat against the wall, observing Oscar’s comfort level with Abel. The two were well-acquainted. “I have brothers. One in Augusta, and one near Boston.” Though her relationship with both of them ranged from complicated to non-existent, given recent events. “No pets, but I was recently reunited with my childhood coyote skeleton. Is that, uh, sufficient?”
Thankfully, Kaden came fumbling back into the room, smelling like warm food and looking like he’d gone for a cycle through a washing machine. He thought-- “What? No, we weren’t-- right, joke.” Normally even she would realize that right away. This was tense. Regan shook her hands out in front of her like it could relieve some of the situation’s gravity, and she sidled closer to Kaden. “Are you doing okay?” She whispered, trying to catch a moment when Oscar was preoccupied. “We’re fine, Kaden. Really. Just…” She noticed what he was holding. Well, she’d noted the wine glasses before. But realized they were glass as he pushed one of them into her hands. Regan’s eyes flicked between the glass and Kaden, as she tried to communicate her worry.
The wine glass in her hand felt dangerous. Even on a good day, bringing one to her lips or holding one felt like tempting fate. Today, her nerves were relentless. Meeting your significant other’s closest relative did that, she supposed. And according to Kaden, Oscar happened to be a bigot. Who would hate her if he knew about the wings on her back. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to file that away somewhere, never to revisit it, or if she wanted to cling onto that fact, unable to fully see Oscar as the good, kind, loving person Kaden had always known him to be. Regan gulped down a breath and treaded carefully into the kitchen. Without any commentary, she quietly swapped her wine glass out for a plastic one. Fortunately, Kaden started keeping some non-glass options. Regan wasn’t sure exactly when he’d bought them, but she suspected it was after she’d blown up his entire alcohol cabinet. Dinner smelled close to done, and when she turned around, she saw Kaden and Oscar had followed her. “So, um, do you want to fill us in on what you’re making, Kaden?” She turned to Oscar, setting her new glass on the table to hopefully divert some attention from it. “I assume you know about Kaden’s proclivity for making incredible food. Desserts, especially.” One of the things Kaden took from his mother, which left Regan wondering… just how much did Oscar know about his parents?
It was a bit confusing as Regan explained why they couldn’t live together, but Oscar shrugged it off. Whether or not they were ready to live together was entirely on them though he imagined it’d be difficult for Kaden to explain nightly patrols, especially on the nights surrounding the full moon. It was for the better, not that it was truly his place to say. “No need to explain yourself, but I’ll say it’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work. He did, but I think you’re probably right. You’re both lucky to have each other.” He mostly believed it though he had a hard time wrapping his mind around having an honest to god relationship with someone clueless about the supernatural. Kaden had to be free to make his own choices though he could practically hear Lauren chiding him about legacies of all things.
Oscar let out a hearty laugh as Kaden returned from the kitchen and handed a beer over to him. While he’d hardly call it talking shit, it was always a good time to poke a little fun. “Now, now, I’m just using your words, Junge, though the more she talks the more I’m inclined to agree,” he joked. He took a refreshing sip of his beer and focused his attention back to Regan as Kaden put the finishing touches on their meals. He hadn’t heard of Augusta, but he did chuckle at the mention of the first French word she had learned being putain. Not surprising coming from Kaden. “Ah, putain de merde, I see someone still has a foul mouth. I can assure you he didn’t get that from me. Le français est une belle langue mais l'allemand est meilleur,” he responded before adding, “A coyote skeleton, huh? I take it you’ve loved biology from a young age then?” A bit strange, but not entirely concerning on its own.
Something was off though Oscar couldn’t quite place it. Both Kaden and Regan seemed apprehensive and he couldn’t understand why. Sure, he’d given Kaden a hard time about settling down with a nice lady, but they had to know he’d only been joking, right? Maybe he’d have a talk with Kaden later though he hated serious conversations. For now, he’d do his best to lighten the mood as he followed Regan and Kaden over to the table. “Kaden’s always been a good cook. That part he definitely didn’t get from me though I can make a great bratwurst.” There still seemed to be an air of tension, so he went along and agreed, “Please do fill us in. Everything smells great. I know your papa would be proud.”
“That’s bullshit,” Kaden shot back with an easy laugh. “I’m pretty sure I learned every curse word I know from you. In three languages no less.” He shook his head a bit before taking a sip of his wine. With the way Regan was holding the glass like it was a grenade, he wondered if he’d made the wrong choice. Should he have gone with beer for all of them instead? No that seemed wrong. Still, he couldn’t figure it out.
In the brief moment Oscar turned away to give Abel some of the attention he was begging for from any of the humans in the room, he gave Regan’s free hand a squeeze. “I’m alright. I’m fine. It’s--” Kaden tried to keep his voice at a whisper but it was hard to manage with them spilling out a mile a minute. His words trailed off as he followed her line of sight to the glass, his brow knitting together as he focused on the stemare. What was the issue? Did she not want wine? Should he have gotten something different? His eyes flitted back to hers, still narrowed in confusion and missing whatever very obvious hint she was clearly trying to send him. Nope, still didn’t get it. “Did you want something different?” As soon as the words left his mouth it hit him.
Putain, he was an idiot. The glass. Guess he wasn’t lying when he said she was too smart for him. Before Kaden could figure out what the hell to do with the glass, any of it, all of it, Oscar had stopped petting the dog and looked back at them. Well, fuck. That was it, this was doomed. He should make them both leave now, that’d solve the issue. Thankfully Regan slipped away into the kitchen, likely to make a swap. Okay good. He could do this.
“Must not have poured enough,” he said with an attempt at a small chuckle. Kaden looked over at Oscar, hoping to catch his eye, ask him without words if he approved or-- well, merde, he didn’t know what he was asking, really. Some sign this was all going okay? He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what he was even meant to do in this scenario. There was some solace in the fact that he was confident that Oscar was just as lost as he was muddling through this. “You like her so far?” he asked once Regan was out of earshot. For someone who spent a lot of his time touting how little he cared about what others thought of him, Kaden was pretty concerned about what his uncle thought of his life. At least he did now, when it was looking like the path he was carving was different than the one his uncle took. Not that he ever expected that to be the case.
Regan headed to the table and Kaden figured it was about time to get the food ready. “You sit down, I’ll bring out the food,” he said as he branched away towards the kitchen to grab the plates, bringing the dishes out one by one. Quickly. The less time they were left alone, the better, right? “So tonight we have coq au vin served with rosemary roasted potatoes and green beans blanched with a dijon vinaigrette on the side,” he said, placing the plates in front of them.
“And of course, a tarte tatin for dessert,” he added, flashing Regan a quick smile as he took his seat, finally. “I considered making a soup course to start with but I, uh,” Didn’t want to extend the evening any longer than he had to. “Well, I think I went overboard as it is so bon appétit.”
His stomach was twisted in a complicated web of knots. It was all Kaden could manage to pick at the food in front of him that he spent so many hours creating. But pick away he did, his eyes barely on his food. Instead he was trying not to stare at Regan and Oscar intently. Right, he drifted his gaze back down to the table instead. The tablecloth. It… It was purple. And polka dotted. And were those dots changing sizes. “What the…” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. The fucking pixie. Great. Just great. The one factor of this equation he hadn’t planned for. Maybe Oscar wouldn’t notice. “So, uh, anyway, how’s the food?”
Shit. Crap. Putain. She shouldn’t have mentioned the childhood coyote skeleton. Would he see that as a symptom? No, no, surely there were plenty of children who opted for articulated animal skeletons instead of stuffed toys, right? Regan stuttered, unable to get a good, convincing answer past her lips. “It’s-- well, yes, I always have-- sometimes I find b-- I mean, I had all of the bones, and I wanted to-- it seemed a waste to not--” Kaden saved her, describing dinner. He must have been really stressed to cook so much. Not surprising, but the thought ached inside of her nonetheless. He wanted both of their approval. That much was obvious, despite Kaden’s usual commentary about not caring about that kind of thing. Regan never really believed that to be true, and any conversation involving Kaden’s family highlighted just how false it was. She’d share her own thoughts about Oscar with him later, after he left. So far, they were mostly positive. That alone sat inside of her uncomfortably, considering what she knew about him beyond his easy and kind demeanor. Based on what Kaden had told her, this dinner would be going very differently if she hadn’t been wearing the necklace.
The food looked and smelled delicious, but her stomach was too full of nerves for her to fully enjoy it. Still, she did her best to clear at least half of the plate. Whatever they didn’t finish would either go home with Oscar, or the two of them could have it as leftovers when they didn’t need to worry about one small slip-up leading to Kaden being ostracized from the only remaining family he had left. Regan’s pulse spiked at the thought, the reminder of what was at stake. She set her fork down. Looked at her plastic glass full of wine, untouched. Her hands felt shaky, and she needed to step away, collect herself, conduct the breathing exercises Deirdre taught her so she didn’t end up accidentally breaking something by exhaling too harshly. “I’ll be right--”
But as Regan set her hands on the tablecloth to stand up, she noticed something. “Kaden, is this… a new tablecloth?” She studied it. Purple with polka dots. At least it wasn’t black and white stripes, but it was a far cry from Kaden’s usual decor. “Remind me to find you one that’s less-- well, one that fits in with the rest of your kitchen.” Not that Regan was much of an interior decorator -- her own apartment was primarily stark white so she didn’t have to consider things like this -- but a garish tablecloth undercut his cooking. She ran it through her fingers, noting that the dots almost seemed to be… no, they were moving. Some were growing, while others were shrinking. A few turned into black-and-white cookies, split down the middle. “Kaden.” She looked at him, eyes wide. This wasn’t normal. This was one of those things. Like the mushrooms in Kaden’s bed, or how Abel’s tail was occasionally green. Rumpleskuffs. She drummed her fingers anxiously against the table, before looking at Oscar, then Kaden again. “You know, our friend may have sold you a faulty tablecloth. Maybe we should go speak with him.” It was just close enough to the truth that she didn’t double over, but deep enough into liar’s territory that she choked, spilling her wine across the table.
Oscar feigned shock at Kaden’s statement. Of course he had been the one to teach Kaden swear words much to his parents’ disapproval, but it was more fun to play the innocent card. He turned to Regan and playfully commented, “Don’t believe a word this one says about me. I am and always have been a perfect gentleman.” He couldn’t even keep a straight face and laughed almost immediately after the words left his mouth. Somehow, the mood still didn’t feel any lighter and Regan seemed to spiral into another small ramble. Had what he said been offensive? Sometimes it was difficult for him to pick up on small nuances in English as it wasn’t his first or most spoken language. “I didn’t mean it if it sounded as if I was questioning the coyote skeleton. While not my cup of tea, I think science is important and it’s admirable that you took an interest in it at such a young age,” he clarified. Or at least he hoped he had. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Kaden’s girlfriend off when by all indication it appeared his nephew built himself a good life here.
The spread Kaden had going for dinner was nothing short of impressive. Oscar had no doubt in his mind that Lauren would be proud of this meal. It highlighted their culture and cuisine while still having some of the familiar aspects he’d remembered in dinners at the Langley home back in Lyons whenever Lauren and Charles would prepare a meal. It was hard not to be nostalgic for those days. Hell, it probably should have been them here at this dinner with Kaden and his lady, but here he was, doing his best still to be a stand in. Uncle had always better suited him. He was better at the more fun aspects of things, but Oscar was all Kaden had left. Maybe he’d never be able to provide the same stability Lauren and Charles had, but he’d be here when it counted. Right now, it did. “It smells just as good as I remember it. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good coq au vin.”
He had dove into eating his meal. After an afternoon filled with target practice, Oscar had worked up quite the appetite. Everything smelled and tasted so delicious, he’d been caught up in his first few bites before he noticed Kaden and Regan were being even stranger now. He looked up from his plate and set his fork down. “What’s wrong,” he asked, looking to Kaden before the movement on the tablecloth caught his attention. “Sheisse!” It was purple and moving when it decidedly had not been before. Somehow, he’d ended up with a cursed tablecloth though he had to think quick to explain it to Regan. It seemed she’d already come up with a logical explanation. “Yeah, Junge, I think your friend has an odd sense of humor. Holographic tablecloths are a little gauche, but a real shit prank.” Maybe not the best explanation, but he was thinking on his feet as the Americans said. Regan seemed to be sputtering and he looked to Kaden, “We should probably just remove the tablecloth.”
Normally Regan wasn’t one to pick at her food. Not unless something was off. Kaden knew that much. His heart sunk down into the knots of his stomach as his mind flashed to months ago, them sitting at the same table, picking at their food the same way just moments before the first time he first saw her wings. His eyes caught Oscar, scarfing down dinner like nothing was amiss. Good, that was good. He didn’t suspect anything. Not yet. He was just as clueless as Kaden had been. Maybe more. “Glad you like it,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile despite his worry. It was hard not to feel a little pride swell at the thought of following in his family’s footsteps, doing them proud, even with something as silly as getting a family recipe right.
The knot in his stomach didn’t untangle much, though. And it was obvious Regan was just fraught as he was over the whole situation. Maybe Kaden shouldn’t have told her as much as he had about Oscar, let her be a little less nervous for this. No, that would have been worse. Much worse. Keeping her in the dark might have been easier for them upfront but worse in the long run. Plus, there was some comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone with his nerves. He caught her eye and saw the flash of pure panic in them. Oh no. Not now. His jaw clenched as his eyes remained fixed on hers. Should he follow her? Do something? What if she was going to scream? Putain. He took a large swig of his wine. He had to calm down. Stress would only make this worse. If he was panicked, how could he even begin to help her? He was just about to ask her if she needed help when she pointed out what he already saw.
Shit. Kaden was hoping that he was the only one to notice that. He looked down at and back up at Oscar and then Regan. “This? Uh, yeah, it’s, uh new…” Relief hit him like a wave when she filled in the blanks for him. A small wave, tiny. Oscar did the rest. “You’re right. I should really get rid of it, just--” And then the wine splashed across the table, some of it onto his lap. Abel was up and at the side of the table, trying to lap up whatever it was that was falling off the table, hoping to get some crumbs, anything. “No, down! Shit!” He tried to push the dog away and save what he could of the food but neither was working particularly well.
Well this was a mess already. Not the kind Kaden had expected, though he really should have. He grabbed Abel’s collar and went to put him in his crate or the bedroom, something, when it hit him. “Sorry, I have to-- Can you two get the table cloth? I’ll be right back.” He turned and saw a rainbow budding out across the kitchen. Putain de merde. He’d asked the pixie to keep it down. Maybe he should have been more specific. Shit, they were going to see the-- “Uh, look! Over there! I think something spilled on the-- by the-- the thing!” he said, pointing away from the kitchen. Yes. What a perfect distraction. He grumbled and turned to go to the bedroom with Abel, but paused and realized he needed a bribe first. He dragged Abel with him to the pie in the kitchen and picked off a small piece, trying to keep it away from the dog. “Not yet,” he mumbled. “Regan will get you a peanut butter treat in a minute.” Abel barked an approval as they walked to the bedroom to go talk to a pixie.
As the wine spilled across the table, Regan’s hands flew to cover her mouth. She felt her palms vibrate as she caught and snuffed out a high-pitched yelp. A glance up. Lights intact. Nothing broken. She sighed in relief, and then slowly dropped her hands back to her sides. Close, too close. At least Oscar seemed to think Kaden got his hands on a holographic tablecloth, and-- well, maybe it really was that. It was a far more logical explanation than a “pixie” in a cage somehow altering their perception from several rooms away.
She was beginning to think she was going just as mad as Kaden, and the rest of this damn town.
“Sorry! I’ll clean this up. You--” Regan met Kaden’s eyes to confirm that he knew exactly where he needed to go. “You go do the, uh, thing. That you have to do. You know, talk to our friend! I’ll be here. With your uncle. Cleaning wine.” Her nerves spiked as what that meant started to sink in. She didn’t want to be alone with him again, not when it felt so risky. At least with Kaden here, one of them was functionally able to lie if necessary. That, and his presence just made her feel a little more at ease. She could do this, right? They could talk about things that weren’t death-related. She was capable of carrying out a normal conversation… right? “Do you like, uh, yogurt?” She asked Oscar as Kaden scurried out of the room as quickly as possible. But as she looked over at Oscar, right there behind his shoulder was-- no, that had to be light coming through the window, refracting through the glass. There wasn’t a rainbow inside of Kaden’s apartment. No way. But as she stared, saw each color grow brighter and brighter, she realized this -- somehow -- could have been Rumpleskuff’s doing as well. Crap. He couldn’t know about Rumpleskuffs, could he? He had wings, just like her. Well, not just like her. Hers were far nicer. Not that they were nice. She shook her head at the thought. Get his attention away from the rainbow. That’s what Kaden would be trying to do at this moment.
Crap crap crap crap. What was the best way to distract someone? “Hey!” Regan clapped, hoping the noise would draw Oscar’s eyes, “Let’s, uh, clean up this wine! But don’t go searching for a rag. I have one, um, right over…” She looked in the opposite direction from the rainbow. Not many dishtowel-like objects to choose from over there, but she took a chance rummaging through one of the drawers. That’s when she found it-- a pair of boxer shorts? In-- why were they-- Regan frowned deeply at the underwear in her hands. It was covered in black and white stripes. She’d have questions for Kaden once Oscar left. “Let’s use these,” she said, trying to smooth any sign of being disturbed out of her voice. She motioned toward the table hoping to keep Oscar’s eyes on this side of the room. His gaze kept wandering, though. Time for last resorts -- she put a hand on his shoulder and guided it around, back toward the kitchen table. “Don’t worry about the faulty tablecloth! Just, uh, we need to clean the floor. You know, so it doesn’t get sticky.”
Verdammt! What was supposed to be an enjoyable dinner with his nephew and his girlfriend had spiraled into utter chaos. Oscar shook his head as wine spilled off the table in an attempt to remove the table cloth. Of course the dog was eager to lick anything up that made its way to the floor. How Regan wasn’t running for the hills right now was a mystery to him, but he always found non-powered humans had an odd way of rationalizing things. The yelp she was holding in was still sizable enough to indicate she was alarmed. He looked to her and did his best to remain calm. “It’s okay, looks like your friend is a real jokester. It’s just a tablecloth. Don’t worry, we’ll get it out of here.” What they would do about the inevitable curse on it was another question entirely. Had the feud he had going with the mimes escalated?
Kaden was rushing off to put Abel away and give someone a call. Hopefully a fucking spellcaster because this was a disaster. Oscar had been looking forward to this evening and didn’t quite appreciate the rude interruption. He was perplexed by the question about yogurt. “Yeah, I guess,” he answered while trying to further assess the situation. He knelt down to pick up the fallen food and was shocked when Regan suggested he used a pair of striped underpants to wipe up the wine. He looked at her, confusion evident in his face, and muttered, “Sheisse.”
“Are you telling me my nephew doesn’t keep dish towels, rags, or even paper products around for cleaning,” Oscar asked, trying to keep his tone more shocked than annoyed. His frustration wasn’t with Regan, rather with the mess of a situation they found themselves in. Though the stripes on the underwear confirmed that the mimes were definitely trying to curse his nephew. As much was truly bizarre. He shook his head and used the boxers anyway. Hopefully the curse on them wasn’t passed on by contact otherwise he and Regan would both be screwed. He started wiping up the wine though the floor was still sticky. “Does he have any cleaning spray I can use here?” He looked up from the floor, perplexed to see a rainbow in the kitchen. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “You know what, never mind, I have some water right here. Why don’t you finish your meal?” There’d be no way to explain the rainbow in the kitchen, so he hoped food was an adequate distraction.
“Hey, cut it out!” Kaden whispered harshly to the pixie on the dresser. “What about ‘keep it down’ did you not understand?” He grumbled and handed over the small piece of pie he’d nabbed over to the tiny fae. It wasn’t much of an offering, but it was better than nothing. “There are two big legs out there and at least one of them would kill you if he knew you were here.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Putain, it was entirely possible that Oscar could hear him talking in here. Hunter hearing. He’d have to keep it down, hope that he assumed he was talking to the dog. Abel looked at him and barked, expecting his own tiny treat, especially if the small winged thing got one. “Later. I promise,” he told the dog. That’s when it hit him. He blinked and then turned to Rumpleskuffs. Back to Abel. Then to the pixie again. “I’ll let you ride Abel around the room the whole time we’re out there if you promise to keep it down and no more illusions until Oscar leaves.”
Rumpleskuffs gasped in delight as Kaden walked into the room, bouncing off the walls of the cage. He kept begging Kaden to let him go spend one night in a fairy ring. Heck, he just wanted one mushroom. “All your friends always want to kill me! And you keep not letting them, so I’m okay, big guy!” He replied with a wicked grin, enchanting the air around him red with white spots, swirling and dancing around him. But Kaden had his frowny, serious face on, so Rumple pouted, collapsing on to his back dramatically. “Ughhhhh! Do you know what you need, Kaden-Waden? A sense of humour!” He sat up sharply at the suggestion of riding Abel again. “Oh, yes please! I promise to keep it - whatever that is - down and no more illusions until Oscar leaves! Let me at him!”
Kaden breathed a sigh of relief as he opened up the cage and let Rumpleskuffs fly over to Abel who seemed to not mind his small winged friend at all. Well at least both of them would be occupied and he slipped out to go see what was happening now with Regan and Oscar. His pulse spiked again at the thought alone. No, they were okay. They had to be. He would have heard a scream otherwise. He couldn’t have anticipated what he saw in his wildest dreams. They were both on the floor with some black and white striped fabric in their hands wiping off the floor. The rainbow behind them in the kitchen was fading away which was good but-- Wait. “Whose boxers are those? And where-- Why?” He shook his head and went to grab a towel in the kitchen and just saw rows and rows of striped boxers there. “What the fuck?” He couldn’t tell if that was a Rumpleskuffs or Isabelle special, but he grumbled some curse words to himself either way and grabbed a roll of paper towels. “Both of you sit. Eat. I’ve got it,” he said as he crouched down and wiped up the last of the wine. “Those aren’t mine. For the record,” he said pointing to the fucking mime boxers.
“He, uh… he does keep them. Just not… here.” Regan winced, anticipating a lump in her throat from the lie, but it never came. She supposed it was vague enough. “He’s very clean. You know, I think it comes with the territory of being such a talented chef. Clean kitchen, clean food, plenty of cleaning supplies and dish towels and rags, but-- don’t concern yourself with it, just use the… boxers. He doesn’t want them, anyways. Trust me.” If he even knew they were here.
Regan should have figured things would go south; they almost always did. At least this time, it hadn’t directly been her fault. She just needed to continue not being suspicious. “No, no, I’ll help. I don’t want to eat while the two of you are, um, handling things.” Not to mention, it felt like there was a storm surging in her stomach. She wasn’t going to be able to settle it enough to enjoy dinner now, and she had a feeling Kaden would feel the same. As Oscar cleaned the floor, Regan carefully transported everything from the kitchen table to the counter so she could roll up and discard the table cloth.
The rainbow hovered menacingly across the kitchen, just waiting for Oscar to catch a glimpse of it. Kaden needed to come back, and soon. Regan wasn’t sure she could hold Oscar off for much longer. She tried to stay on the opposite side of the room, keeping his attention drawn, but -- “Look over here!” She said, as Oscar nearly turned toward the rainbow. She leaped down onto the floor with him, doing some scrubbing of her own, “I mean, because, uh, oh! Kaden is coming back. I hear him.” Fortunately, she really did. She sighed audibly and sank down to her butt. Kaden was back. Everything was going to be okay. He even looked less nervous than before. “Did you talk to him?” But his face was bunched up in confusion. As Regan looked down to what was in her and Oscar’s hands, she understood why. “Oh, these are… they’re not yours, are they? We found them in the drawer. I didn’t want to get a towel because of the--” No. Don’t say it. “It doesn’t matter. Look, we cleaned up most of the wine! Everything is taken care of.” Out of the corner of her eye, Regan checked on the rainbow; even that was rapidly fading. Phew. “We don’t have a tablecloth now though, unless you have extras.” Or… Regan had a thought, staring at the innumerable striped boxers.
No.
Sometimes it was better to just not use a tablecloth.
This was decidedly not how this evening was supposed to go. Sure, settling down had never been Oscar’s thing, but he always had a soft spot for Kaden, even before Lauren and Charles had passed away. While the hijinks going on couldn’t possibly be blamed on him or ruin Regan’s impression of him, he still would have preferred things go smoothly despite the fact he normally loved some supernatural sheisse getting in the way of things. It usually meant some sort of fight though he had the feeling later on Kaden would not be opposed to letting him fight the mime who did this. It had to be a mime, right? Why else would striped boxers appear though the rainbow and purple tablecloth were also unsettling. He’d need to talk to Kaden when Regan wasn’t around. There was no need for her to get dragged into all this crap. She was drawing his attention now. “Right, yeah, he’s coming back,” he glanced briefly back at the fading rainbow which Regan seemed to have missed. That was a close one.
“What kind of people have you been hanging out with, Junge? Aren’t you a little old for pranks,” Oscar ribbed, hoping the natural air of humor he had about him would call away from anything suspicious about the situation. Kaden was insisting they sit back down and eat though now he could see the rainbow fading. The striped boxers while alarming were still funny now that he wasn’t actively trying to keep Regan from seeing anything too crazy. He could relax a bit now. That had been quite the jolt of excitement that would have been thrilling under just about any other circumstance. With a hearty chuckle, he answered, “I think we can do without the table cloth. I don’t think I’m a fancy enough guest to warrant it anyway.”
Oscar seemed to shrug off everything that had just happened, but Regan still felt the tension simmering through the kitchen. She stuck to Kaden’s side now that he was back, her arm entwining with his. As much as she wanted to whisper something to him right now about how close they’d come to Oscar seeing the rainbow, it was best to wait until they were alone. How would she have explained that, anyway? Well, actually, Regan could think of a number of implausible explanations, but she didn’t think any of them were right. She didn’t know what was right. Why had that been happening so often, lately? She looked at Kaden, staring nervously as Oscar joked up the cloth being a prank. There was silence for what felt like a minute. “Yes. A prank.”
“This isn’t from a person. It’s from a mime,” Kaden said with contempt. He thought the cookies would be the last of it. The stripes, wasn’t that torment enough? Hadn’t he suffered enough? He grumbled about Isabelle and fucking stripes, mostly in French while he helped clear off the table cloth. He sighed and brushed it aside when he felt Regan’s arm loop around his. He’d deal with all the mime nonsense and pixie nonsense and fae bullshit later. At this point, if Oscar didn’t know that Regan wasn’t human and a rainbow in the middle of the kitchen didn’t raise enough of an eyebrow to pull him aside, Kaden had to believe the rest of the night might be uneventful. It had to be, right? “You’re probably right, though. Just a prank. I’ll… figure it out later.” This night couldn’t last much longer, they were running out of disasters. And the last thing he wanted to do was tempt fate. “You know, I think we should skip to dessert. One second,” he said, giving Regan a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to the kitchen.
One step forward and a chill ran down his spine. The hell was that about? Could he sense fae now? What was going on? Kaden paused and looked around and saw the small mime monster made of cookies scurry through, a small mouse tail and little feet dangling from its stomach, and then slide out under the door. He stood there blinking as it crawled away, out of the apartment. “Putain,” he muttered. No. Not tonight. Later. He grabbed the pie and cut a few slices, carrying them back over with him. “How about we just eat in the living room on the couch?”