aiko's otter den

raise your weapon - Dusk threw away his past, his life, everything, to become a spy to preserve order. He’s now got to don the look of a family man and get a wife and child, all to prevent a war! Meanwhile, Bam is a beleaguered law secretary, struggling with identity. Miseng is a child looking to stop running. Hijinks will ensue. SxF au

Now with art by yole!

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Chapter 10

Khun warned him this morning that he’d be back late tonight. Not that Bam had minded that. Working in hospitals was a thankless, grueling role. Every time he’d ended up in a hospital because of his own carelessness had proven that. It hadn’t been often. He hadn’t wanted to worry Hatz after all, or make him question where the money was coming from. But working late was normal for most professions and they weren’t actually married, so it was more of a concern for Miseng than anything.

So Bam is not worried when he comes home with groceries (it’s his turn) and he’s the only one at the house.

What is concerning is a blond young man with a scarred face sitting on his steps. For a moment he thinks it’s Wangnan-ssi, who has been talking about visiting for a few days now. But he’s busy with school, like Hatz, and has his little brothers and father to think about, not to mention Ehwa, who has been quiet these past few weeks. She’s one of the loudest people he knows. He’ll have to visit her soon.

Once Bam sees the ponytail, Karaka’s expression an uncomfortable frown, along with the messy hair falling over the other’s suit, he relaxes a little. He should tense up, he knows, but even this person knows not to make a fuss outside of someone’s house.

“Karaka-ssi,” he greets, curtsying a little. “I have to pick up my daughter from the bus stop in about an hour. Would you like some tea?”

Karaka stares at him. He’s terrible at controlling his facial expressions, a side effect of spending most of his spare time in a suit of armor where he didn’t have to school his face. He tries, of course, controlling his mouth but not his eyes. Up close, it’s obvious that the two siblings are different. Karaka’s gaze is much, much angrier than a desperate Wangnan.

Then he gets up before saying, “I’m not one who eats from those I do not trust.”

“I hope your cooking skills are better than your brother’s,” Bam returns neatly. Karaka blinks, lip curling.

Bam lets it go and lets him in. There’s no point in keeping him out. If Karaka wants to get in, he’ll find a way. If FUG decides to be involved, they will be.

Which makes him wonder why Karaka is simultaneously being this overt while going incognito. They could have just sent a letter, or Hwaryun, or Luslec-nim would invite him to lunch.

Maybe… This could not be FUG at all, but Karaka having a snit.

Bam sets down the groceries and makes tea, anyway. Karaka is a rightfully paranoid, mistrusting, cultish man with no ability to suffer fools. They’d had the same master in FUG at different times, and for whatever reason, Karaka took that as a personal offense. But even if he doesn’t drink the tea, Bam will and Miseng might (she likes tea and sweet and sour pork and cupcakes, many things that children rarely appreciate when they have money.) Karaka hovers at the entrance to the house. Bam can’t see his expression, but the man is not subtle with his killer intent.

He sets the water to boil before turning around to meet his senior’s gaze. “Karaka-ssi, you don’t usually beat around the bush like this.”

“I have said nothing,” the man says. He’s trying not to sound defensive. And yet.

Bam rubs his eyes. “You don’t really have to. What is FUG’s concern?”

Or rather, what is Karaka’s concern?

Karaka regards him and still doesn’t speak.

Bam sighs and pulls out a couple of mugs. He smiles and watches the kettle for a moment, continuing to prepare to be a good host. “You can sit down, you know.”

He doesn’t mean for the bite in his voice, but the tension cracking in the air snaps to and Karaka exhales.

“Must you always be so impertinent?”

Bam doesn’t bristle or do much more than grip the handle of his mug a little harder than necessary. He breathes out. “It is not impertinent to remind a houseguest to have manners people don’t expect them to maintain.”

He doesn’t need to see Karaka’s face to hear the sharp intake of breath.

Bam forces himself to not raise his voice. “If you kill me, you’ll cause a scene, and our master will be upset.”

And it will annoy FUG if they have to groom another assassin before they get to test Jahad being immortal or not.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Karaka looks around, gesturing with a hand. “This domesticity. Your brother’s needs are still being met and you can enjoy the daytime?”

“I haven’t dropped my body count,” Bam says with a sigh, turning around. “Nothing has changed other than my address. What is your concern?”

Karaka’s nostrils flared. “You will play house with a man and his spawn. Why?”

Bam pours them both some tea, trying to understand where the hell this is going. “Why not?”

“You are a prince,” Karaka stresses. “You are the Thorn Prince.”

“So glad you approve of my gender practices.” The words slip out, coarse and angry, and Bam counts to ten before he dares say another word. “I’m never going to be royalty. Jahad-nim made certain of that. All… All I care about is Hatz having a wonderful life. If I get one as a side effect, I won’t banish it offhand.”

Karaka crosses his arms. His usual ring is nowhere in sight. That is a safety measure more than anything.

“People are less likely to look at a couple for an assassin,” Bam says after a moment of long thought. “Besides, my brother is getting suspicious of me remaining single. This is for the best.”

“Even if they are not who they say they are?” Karaka argues, eyes blazing.

“Am I who I say I am?” Bam points out, meeting his eyes. “Are you?”

He’s going to regret saying that. Karaka’s hair is starting to flare up. “Are you doubting me? My devotion? My cause?”

“For FUG?” Bam shakes his head. “Your intentions with me? Always. Master’s fondness of you has not waned. I don’t see any concern.”

“You wouldn’t,” Karaka hisses. “They’ve sheltered you. You do not know the waves you are making.”

“Are you going to tell me?” Bam asks, blowing on his tea and checking the clock.

Karaka just looks at him, mouth pursed into a line.

Yeah, he didn’t think so. So something about Khun-ssi was a lie. Something about Miseng was a lie. So? It wasn’t as though he was being honest with them. And they didn’t, they weren’t—

It isn’t a repeat of Rachel all over again. As long as it wasn’t like that, Bam figures a sham of a happy life for a little girl’s sake was effectively harmless.

“I need to go pick up my daughter,” Bam says. “We can walk together?”

It does not surprise Bam when Karaka slips away into the crowd without saying a word. He needs to tell Wangnan his brother’s a jerk, but that is way too difficult to explain.

---

Miseng’s a deep, intense thinker.

For a five-year-old. She looks a little younger than that. Khun said six. She looks and walks like she’s four. She thinks hard, like everything is important; the gravest mission. But she’s also a bundle of energy. He’s not surprised when she notices him and jumps down the bus stairs into his arms.

“Hi d-mama,” she corrects herself, and Bam’s heart swells. She’s a great kid, no matter what she’s not telling him, or even her dad.

“Welcome back,” he says, instead of floating into the sky and disappearing altogether. “Did you have a fun day?”

“I said sorry to that dumb Prince!” she declares as Bam carries her away. Miseng walks soon enough, stopping to hop because she’s so busy talking. “I don’t like him! But he wants to beat me, so I’ll beat him in all his classes and then we have to be friends!”

“Sounds like you’re making progress!” Bam has no clue why Aguero wants them to be friends, but maybe there’s less bullying if you have a rich patron kid covering you. It must have worked with Hatz, because he and Endorsi have been friends for years now.

Or maybe that’s just Endorsi thinking Bam is a girl still. He’s not sure.

“Mama?”

“Mm?” They cross the street slowly, and Bam scans for any sign of Karaka. He probably just came by to be intimidating, considering he didn’t stalk them back.

Miseng pauses for a moment too long. Then she says. “Would your friends be friends with papa? He’s really busy and bad at making friends. He thinks too much about big stuff.”

Aw. What a sweet kid. “That’s up to him,” Bam says instead of ‘yes’ or “no”. “He met a few of them at the party we went to, but he may like some more than others. They’re all very intelligent, like him, in different ways, which may make them clash. Why?”

“I met Dummy Prince’s brother!” God, he hopes that wasn’t Karaka. “He was all happy and had short blond hair! He was nice!”

“Oh!” Bam smiles. “You must have met Wangnan-ssi. He’s very cheerful. You’d like him. He likes spy cartoons.”

Miseng beams, like she solved a piece of the puzzle. “Can he come over?”

“Do you want Prince to come too?” Bam leads her up the steps.

“No,” she says solemnly. “But I want Verdi to come over.”

“Let’s ask your dad,” Bam replies with a smile. She must have come a long way since her recovery to want a sleepover. There was definitely no time to waste. After all, Bam had always sent Hatz to go on sleepovers. It’d be nice to host one someday.

Miseng cheers, though there’s a cautious look in her eyes that wasn’t there.

Once again, Bam dismisses Karaka’s words off-hand and goes to start dinner.

---

When Dusk gets home, he usually enters an empty apartment, or a headquarters bed, or a cheap hotel that smelled of the garbage from the last tenant.

Today it’s to Miseng waving her finished worksheets with checked scores, a warm home-cooked meal, and Bam sounding out the words in the crossword puzzle. The tv plays the news he had taken part in today, and something generic about the filling animal shelters.

“I’m back,” he says, instead of putting words to the odd, cotton ball feeling in his chest.

“Welcome back,” his fake family says together.

“Miseng wants to have a sleepover,” Bam tells him and Miseng beams.

“A… I’m sorry?” A what? He never had those at home. Why would kids do that?

Miseng laughs. “I want daddy to make a friend! And I made a friend, so it’s gotta be fair if I get two.”

God. This parenting thing doesn’t make a lick of sense does it?

Bam just smiles and Khun… he doesn’t give in. Dusk certainly isn’t, but it’s close.

“I’ll think about it.”

He eats dinner that night and reminds himself that he has a mission to complete. Whatever it takes.

However, it looks. It will be done. They will have world peace, no matter the risks or costs.

It has to be enough.

A piece of mail sits on the table with his name on it. It goes ignored for tonight.

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