A/N: Drabble. In which they all realize that lunch didn’t explode in their faces, domestication is an amusing thought, and Saint still can’t understand his predecessor’s tendency of antagonizing everything that moves. Though it could just be that karma and idiocy runs in the family.
***
“Okay? Seriously, doesn’t this scream surreally disturbing to any of you guys?”
Three pairs of eyes slowly turned to him, each gleaming with a different emotion. For all that they quietly spoke, accusation or annoyance wasn’t present in any of the looks shot at him. He took that as a sign that his day wasn’t going to go downhill earlier than he thought.
“What kind? As in surreal like you actually wearing the pants in your living-together-finally-leveled-up relationship?” The man with bright crimson eyes sitting across him spoke in bemusement.
Scratch that last thought.
The first man rolled his eyes and very nearly threw his cup of juice at the other. Then again, Sidhe had been very sweet to make him a cup before she left. No one can never say he wasn’t prudent or grateful.
“Screw you.” He settled for insulting instead. “And for the record, it’s called marriage. You know, making vows and an official commitment to loving each other equally til’ unto Death’s threshold we cross? I guess you don’t remember that seeing as you’re actually an old man possibly suffering dementia.”
The stare turned a notch less interested. “For the most part, people call it a Game Over. Was the after-party at least worth it? Oh wait, don’t answer that.”
“I reiterate, screw you.”
A snort of amusement. “As much as that sounds rather amusing, I have standards. And you technically being my successor sounds terribly like, ‘Father I’d like to--’”
“Don’t. Even think about finishing that sentence.” Kia, the only female of their little group threatened with a spaghetti wrapped fork. As of late, she had taken to wearing a silvery mask attached to a sturdy blindfold that hid most of her face, save for her mouth and the sides of her eyes. But even then he could imagine seeing her blue eyes glaring threateningly at the other, daring Red-eyes to give her the permission to doing unspeakable damage to his person. To which, the first man thought, was not unlikely to happen.
The older man shrugged, never once voicing his yield but it was already evident in his actions. The woman shot him another long, warning laced silence, before looking back at the first speaker. “So what’s gotten you asking that question, Saint?” Her tone changed to mild-mannered and curious in two seconds flat.
Get back on track. On topic. Okay. Don't make the old lady mad. “Just a random musing. I mean we’ve got a bunch of new kids hanging around trying to get a grip on things, sure. But even I have to admit Enlil being domesticated is just eye-popping. Even this,” He gestured to the four of them seated at the table. “Is just disturbing to an extent.”
“For the latter, a point made.” Red-eyes said. A grin stretched across his face as he leaned forward, interlocking his fingers in front of his face. “I should be killing you all too, for the lack of a better way to explain myself. One of us shouldn’t even be married at all, given that he’s of a class that practices celibacy.”
“You just love picking me out, don’t you?”
“It’s a hobby.”
The woman looked up, most likely rolling her eyes skyward. “For the love of everything... Saint just stop, will you?”
“Which Saint are you referring to, woman?” Red-eyes drawled, resting his cheek against an upright palm.
So even they had to admit it was infuriating. The two men shared nearly the same face -almost like twins but Odin forbid it-, and the same name. A lack of originality perhaps? Or was it something more close to following an unspoken rule of some sort?
Whatever. Bottom line, it was annoying and hell lot confusing.
Kia shook her head. “Ugh, you know what? I’ll just call you Johan. Him, Saint. Sounds fair enough.” That made the green-eyed one blink in confusion, and his predecessor glower all of a sudden.
“Why am I being addressed by his dead name?” He practically hissed.
“I am not going to call you Overlord. He’s the you now and I just like being difficult.” Came the speedy reply. Saint fought back the urge to chuckle.
The older one rolled his eyes but looked away with a muttered, ‘Whatever.’
“However surreal it is, it is fine, isn’t it?” Their attention drew to their fourth member who had been silently watching their exchange with veiled interest in his ash-grey eyes.
In place of a normal pair of ears, a pair of orange gradient wings flapped once. Saint had been curious and was tempted to reach out and touch them, but he knew when to listen to his voice of self-preservation. It didn’t mean that he wasn't distracted by their movements each time Irae was within sight, though.
“I don’t know about you, Irry, but I think I would be disturbed if supposed villains or someone along those lines were to eat at the same table as me without maiming me one way or another. The food could be poisoned for all we know.”
Irae stared at him with wide eyes before pushing away his half-eaten sandwich with a cautious look. Kia tried and failed to prevent slapping her face just as Johan -now that sounds really weird- let out a breathy chuckle.
Saint himself tried not to feel too guilty about giving the young mage knight the thought. “It was an assumption, Irry. A pure unfounded assumption that really can’t be true. You can take back your sandwich and eat it. It's actually good! I promise! Sidhe makes the best sandwiches this side of the continent.” He nudged the plate back to the other.
Johan chose that perfect time to add in his two cents. “Besides, food poisoning is such a boring way of killing someone. Only assassins get a kick out of poisoning things. Then again, Saint, you are living with a couple of assassins that are unhinged one way or another, right?” If Irae’s glare could set fire to things, the sandwich would have been nothing more but a charred piece of lump.
The same could almost be said for Saint, only, he was more of a strangling type.
“You’re really unfortunate that Sola isn’t here at the moment or that the bag of cats isn’t very interested in crossing you.”
“Really now?”
There was more to be had, really. If things went the way the former Saint wanted it to go, the table would be shot into non-existence and the kitchen wouldn’t even be called a kitchen. But there were forces that even he couldn’t defy sometimes, one of which was the woman who was already stomping on his foot under the table with a not so harmless metal heel.
Well shoot, when did she equip those pointy greaves? And no, that wasn’t him yelping like a dog. It was a manly grunt. Only in a slightly higher pitch.
“Fu--! You woman--!” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as he was grabbed by the collar and dragged out by the backdoor. Saint laughed at the sight of seeing his predecessor being dragged away by someone nearly a head shorter than he was. A rude gesture was sent his way, but he only returned it in kind with an added snort.
Kia turned to glance at the remaining two at the table. “Excuse us for a moment.” She spared them those words and promptly closed the door behind them.
“Saint.”
“Yeah?” He said, not turning his gaze from the epic earful going on outside in his backyard. Irae shifted a little, looking a little embarrassed before he took his sandwich again and ate a mouthful.
“I have to ask. Does your ‘father’ understand that he’s rather domesticated for a so-called villain?”
Now the high priest had to laugh. Normally he’d correct people about the father thing, but he was just too amused right now to bother. “Just as much as I understand why he enjoys picking on me,” a blank look from Irae, “... which is as far as I can throw him with my own bare hands. Which isn’t much.”
Irae seemed satisfied then. “These lunch gatherings. If it doesn’t end up in catastrophe, I’d like to have another.”
“You’re strange.” A smirk found its way onto Saint’s face. “I’ll see if I can get the whole house to participate next time. Bring Luce, and I’ll order pizza.”
And wasn’t that just inviting pandemonium in a box?
END ENTRY.
