sidestepdestiny | (no subject)

"Hey!" I call and clap my hands over my mouth when I see that Saoirse's sleeping. I point instead to the corner of the living room. It took more attempts than I'm willing to admit, but I enchanted one of our pillows into a bed. It's sized for a child and it's even pink. If I could have managed this sort of charm at Watford I'd have had far better grades.

Now I beam and hurry forward to take her bag from Baz's shoulder before it bangs into something and wakes her. "I tried to do a canopy," I admit in a whisper, "But I think it's pretty brilliant."

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I give Simon a look to be quiet, but he's already clamped a hand over his mouth. Then I realize a moment later it won't really matter if Saoirse wakes up, it isn't her bed time.

When Simon shows me the bed he magicked for her my eyes widen for an entirely different reason. "You did that?" I say softly in awe, smiling. "And you didn't burn the wall down?" I slide my free arm around his waist and lean in to give his cheek a kiss. "It is brilliant."

I move over to the pink bed and carefully lower Saorise into it. She must have wanted a nap.

"It's perfect."

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I nod so hard it hurts my neck a bit, but fuck it, I'm really quite proud. "Just the one wall," I whisper, looking over at our slightly warped fireplace, "But I fixed it. Mostly."

I look down at Saoirse as Baz lays her down. It's so strange to think I know her a bit already when she doesn't know me at all. Is she smaller? She seems smaller. "Should I make some sandwiches?"

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"Eh, it won't be ours soon, anyway," I say with a grin. A thought goes through my head, wondering how we're going to leave the apartment with one wall missing, another warped, and scorch marks on the ceiling for all the times light bulbs have burst when Simon orgasms. I can't count the number of times I've had to spell them back to normal, but the stains never seem to leave the ceiling.

"And yes, I'll help. I'm famished," I add, following Simon to the kitchen. "I remember she likes a regular peanut butter."

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"But the crunch is the best part!" I say, dragging out our lone jar of smooth peanut butter from the cupboard. We didn't really eat much peanut butter at home, and I cant imagine why - it's fantastic. Once, I ate an entire jar with a spoon before I even knew what happened.

"Jelly?" I ask, ducking into the fridge. There's half a chicken inside, and I drag that out for my own sandwich. "Baz," I say, struck by a sudden thought, "Are you going to eat in front of her?"

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I snort, taking the jar of peanut butter and the jar of jelly to make Saoirse's sandwich while Simon makes us chicken. "I don't disagree." Snakes, she might like the crunchy kind, but I've never seen her eat it before so I'm just not sure. There are a lot of small details I've been trying to recall.

I look up at Simon's question, startled for a moment. "Maybe, after she gets to know me again. I did before, but I'd known her then awhile. She thought they were funny," I add, absently.

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"That's daft, they're clearly adorable," I say with a smirk. I can't help it, I love Baz's fangs. I find cheese and a huge squirt bottle of mayo and set them on the counter, shredding the chicken with my bare hands to make sandwich fillings. Every third handful goes right into my mouth, but I can't stop thinking about sandwiches.

"I'll do a peanut butter one, too," I decide, assembling a chicken one for Baz first and sliding it over. "So she doesn't know you're a vampire yet?"

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I just shake my head with a small smile. It still amuses and astounds me to no end that Simon thinks my fangs are cute. My gaze returns to him when he offers to make the sandwich for Saoirse. "Thanks," I say, pushing the jar of peanut butter to him and taking the sandwich he's made for me in trade.

"No, not yet. Unless Magnus has told her," I say. I wouldn't put it past him. Not because Magnus would mean it in a cruel way, but because I don't think he cares very much what I am. None here seem to but me, which I'm grateful for. "I want to give her some time. She does know about my magic, at least. I'm sure she'll be delighted by yours."

Simon's is always an adventure. I grin and take a big bite of the chicken sandwich, fangs popped.

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I grin back for the fangs, not the mention of my magic, which is the worst. Though it's hardly pretty, Saoirse's sandwich is easy to bang out, and I quickly make another for myself, eating half of it while I make another one with chicken.

"I hope she likes her bed at least," I say. "D'you think she'd like a canopy? I always thought they made them look like princess beds."

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I don't mention the fact that my bed back home has a canopy. The gargoyles at least keep it from looking princessly.

"I think she would. You could put your magic into me and I'll cast to create it," I suggest, to keep the bed Simon already worked so hard to create from bursting into flames or turning into something else entirely.

"She might like to watch, even," I add between bites.

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Baz looks a bit dodgy then. I frown, but frankly my sandwich is too distracting to think on it overlong, and I nod at him. "Good idea. It'll be nice to have someone to perform for." Even nicer when my magic will be used for good instead of the usual chaos.

"How long are littluns supposed to nap?"

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"Maybe we can start performing for the Normal's primary school," I say with a grin, imagining Simon in a suit and top hat, pulling a rabbit from it. Except none of it would be tricks, it would all be real.

At his question I look over my shoulder at Saoirse, seeing if she's still sleeping. She appears to be. I look back to Simon. "I'm not sure. It isn't later enough for bed, really. She must still be young enough for naps."

Crowley, I don't think it matters what age you are, naps are always nice.

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It's while they're debating her sleeping habits that she wakes, the faint smell of cooled chicken and peanut butter reminding her that she hasn't eaten since breakfast. Her tummy is small, but she's growing, and more and more she finds herself wanting food, even between meal times.

She looks around, feeling a bit lost. She'd fallen asleep against Mr. Baz, and now he's nowhere nearby, and she doesn't recognize the room or the pink bed. She feels afraid for a moment, and listens carefully. She doesn't hear Macha's owls. She only hears voices, and she's certain that she hears Mr. Baz.

With a quiet cough, she makes her way towards the voices, dark eyes big and curious.

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My mouth is open to go on an epic rant about naps - they're horrid, and no kid should have to be forced to stare at the ceiling for two hours of 'quiet time' just so the adults don't have to do any work - but a small cough stops me.

"Oh, hey!" I say, dropping onto a knee so we can meet properly. She's just as little as last time, exactly the same, and again it strikes me as odd that she could return not knowing any of us. "Hullo. I'm Simon. Are you hungry?"

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I know what that look in Simon's eye is, he's about to go on a rant, but it's interrupted by a quiet cough. I turn in surprise, seeing Saoirse up and out of bed and shuffling over to us. I quickly make sure my fangs retract, setting the remains of my sandwich on my plate.

"Morning, Puff," I say, even if it isn't morning, because what else do you say to someone when they've just woken up?

While Simon is saying hello I get up and go over to the fridge to pour her a glass of milk.

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She rubs one eye with her fist, hair poking up a little where she'd been laying on it. She hesitates when she sees Mr. Simon. He's warm and she feels odd around him, but his face is nice, and his voice is nice, so she smiles and waves at him. When Mr. Baz gets her a glass of milk, she brightens and shifts around so that she's closer to him. It's not that she's afraid of Simon. She just isn't sure how to take him, that's all.

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I wave back, taking that little wave as a yes. "Take her to the table, yeah?" I tell Baz, gathering up the plate with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a torn bit of paper towel. I suppose we ought to have napkins, but I'm just pleased that I remembered this much.

"I hope you like peanut butter," I say. "If not there's chicken. Or we could work up something else."

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"C'mon, Puff," I say, lifting her and placing her in one of the chairs at our small table. It's only ever been Simon and I, but at least it's got four chairs so there's room enough for all of us. I bring the glass of milk over and slide it in front of her, sitting down next.

"Simon loves food, so we have plenty," I add, smiling lovingly over at Simon a moment. "And he made you that bed for when you're here."

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She likes her bed! She smiles up at Mr. Simon gratefully, then turns the look to Mr. Baz before sipping her milk. She lets her feet swing freely beneath her seat, elbows on the table to brace her. She's still a bit too small to sit in big chairs without a booster, but she gets by.

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"That's right," I say, my chest puffing a bit when she smiles at her bed. "And we might make it even better, if you like. Would you like a canopy like princesses have?"

I take the opposite seat at the table and stretch my arm to the counter until I can grab the chicken, tearing off another large hunk of meat to push into my mouth. "And stuffed animals, too." I look up at Baz. Why hadn't we thought of those? "Oh, and I have two cats if you like them."

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I notice how Saoirse isn't easily reaching the top of the table so I get up, leaving the kitchen for a moment and returning with a small cushion. I scoot it underneath her and sit back down. These are probably things parents take into account, but I haven't even seen my sisters in over a year.

"Just don't stuff the cats," I joke.

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Saoirse doesn't get the joke, but she smiles anyway. She shifts her bum on the cushion Mr. Baz brings out, so she's a little more comfortable, and settles with her milk. She thinks about Mr. Simon's question, very seriously, and nods. She sets her milk down and gestures, pantomiming a rough shape of a canopy.

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"Wicked," I say with a grin. "We can get started after you've had your sandwich. And - " I say, feeling something wind around my ankles, "Here's one of them now."

I reach down and pull the fluffy, white Persian into my lap. "This is Coconut Cream Puff, or Puff for short, if you ever wonder why Baz is yelling at a Puff to get out of his cereal bowl, he means her, not you."

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I chuckle. "Yes, please don't start lapping milk from my cereal bowl, I can't handle two misbehaving Puffs." In my defense, I hadn't actually minded with Coconut Cream Puff would drink the leftover milk in my cereal bowls when I was through, but Simon told me milk is actually bad for cats, and the last thing I wanted was the thing throwing up in our bed.

"The other cat is shy. He's black, his name is Treacle because Simon's two favorite things in the world are desserts and his cats," I add with a grin.

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She giggles at the idea of drinking his milk. That's silly! She listens, learning about Treacle, and looks up at Simon with a new appreciation. They have a lot in common, she determines. She beams up at him, then finishes her drink and makes a grabbing gesture for her sandwich.

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I grin and push the plate closer to her. Puff tries to help me - or get at the sandwich, more likely - but I hold her carefully, digging up one of her jangling toy balls from beneath the table with my foot. I kick it, and she bounds from my lap to give chase.

"Baz got him for me last Valentine's," I tell her.

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"She was a four hundred dollar present," I grumble, which is ludicrous now, considering all the money we've been given. At the time when I came out of that ridiculous stupor it had made me sick to my stomach that I'd spent all our savings, but now I can smile about it. "But at least Simon loves her."

"We'll be moving soon, by the way, to a larger home. There'll be more room for your bed, and more places to play," I tell her, figuring it's better to get her used to the idea before it happens.

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