this battleground is deadly

-

Kira knew how horrible of an idea it was. The already complicated nature of their relationship didn’t need them to have sex and entangle it with temptation. Nevertheless, she couldn’t physically walk away now that she’d given into the pull. They were magnets. Thoughts barely formed correctly in his presence as haze settled at the forefront of her mind. All she wanted was to feel his hands on her form after so long. Frankly, she was almost at the ready to beg.

His words elicited a slight flash of hurt in her expression. While she wasn’t always the nicest person, she knew that she was no longer the monster they’d made her out to be. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, she hadn’t returned to make his life a living hell. “If you don’t want this,” she paused to look back at him, almost daring with her words, “then walk away.” It would hurt but she hoped he wouldn’t be able to physically untangle himself from her grasp.

--

The thought of leaving, of walking away, felt harder -- worse -- than allowing this, allowing the moment to take him away into something he didn’t realize he even missed as much as he was finding he did. In a strange way, he wanted to prove her wrong. He wanted to stay, to continue, to prove to her that he wasn’t her. That he wouldn’t do what she had done years ago. And the way she looked at him -- her eyes focused into his, pleading, not just to let this moment continue but something else -- pleading to be forgiven, to be given another chance.

Suddenly taking hold of the sides of her face once again, he pulled her in -- his lips crashing against hers like a violent storm. Fuck it. What was done was done and there was no coming back from it. He had already let her in, may as well let the waves carry him out and when it was all said and done, when the storm had gone, he’d face the clear sky again, when his mind was finally thinking straight.

-

The brunette had been afraid of the male’s reaction to her arrival. Whether he’d dismiss her and find that he was better off without her — that their child was better off. A part of her wondered if feelings would remain, whether he’d appreciate her healthier form. While she’d known immediately that a spark still lived — if only physically — the moment she’d exited the guest bathroom in his shirt truly confirmed it. His light hues had racked over her form while her dark ones had done the same. 

The pull in his direction was welcomed, if only due to the alcohol she’d consumed. Just as she moved in to kiss him, his actions were the ones who beckoned her. Lips crashed into his in a bruising kiss as her hands rested on either side of his face. Lithe form pressed upon his in dire need to get closer to him, to feel his hands upon her body. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” the brunette lied as dark hues settled over him. She wanted it, needed to feel a touch she’d yearned for so long. “Do you not want to touch me?” Her voice fell a few octaves, hoping her enchanting words would give him pause.

--

Yes -- yes, he wanted to. At least, through the haze of whisky clouding his judgement, wishing with everything he had that he was fucking sober. Damien could practically hear his sister’s voice in his head, and Natalie’s, spewing shit about whether or not he was thinking of his kid, about whether or not he cared about his integrity -- but the temptation was real. Shit, was it real. And all Kira did was make it worse -- her body, warm, soft against his. He could feel the desire growing in him, flooding him like a broken dam.

His voice, softer and quieter now, spoke: “Fuck, Kira,” he sighed, swallowing hard -- “why’d you have to come back?” Her words, it doesn’t have to mean anything, he wanted to run with them -- run with them as far as he could go and pretend she was right, but he knew (they both did), that that wouldn’t be the case. Still though, just for tonight, he could pretend. He slid his hands to the edge of the counter he leaned against, knowing the minute he touched her, there would be no going back.

-

Kira looked over at the male and wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that Valencia was a part of him. However, she simply nodded her head as she knew she was still on thin ice. She couldn’t afford to piss him off this early. He could easily go to court before her and legally ensure she wouldn’t ever see her daughter again. No matter the fact that she was clean and sober, she had still left for seven years of their lives. “Fine,” she told him once more as dark hues searching his. “I won’t mention it.

She wasn’t certain what she was doing. The alcohol coursed through her veins and despite having attempted to ignore the way her chest felt tighter in his presence, she couldn’t. Her head tilted back at his sudden but casual admission. “Am I like other people?” her voice fell a few octaves then, inching closer until her own form brushes his. “Is that how you viewed me? Another person in your life? Another girl?” He certainly wasn’t another man for her. Even after so many years, she always wondered where and what he was doing. In fact, she’d prepared herself to return to a married man who had other children and a perfect family. It felt like a slap but she refused to believe it was completely done. Not when she felt the slight tremble in her own hand when she reached out. “It doesn’t have to be,” she spoke. Fingers uncurled to carefully brush along the back of his hand, toying with his fingers. “When was the last time someone touched you?” Maybe she didn’t want to know the truth but given the rise and fall of his chest, she had to estimate that it had been a while. “Don’t you want to touch me?” She whispered as she leaned closer.

--

How the hell the two of them ended up in their current state, he didn’t know. One minute, he was practically kicking her out of his house and the next, she was brushing up against him and he...wanted it -- wanted her. Gulping, Damien could feel his heart rate rising, an almost dizzy at her question -- am I like other people? No, she wasn’t. She was the woman he loved once (the woman he may have still loved but her leaving fucked him so much, he didn’t know what he felt, didn’t know what was real and what was bullshit), she was the mother of their child -- definitely not just another girl.

The air around them felt thick, warm, heavy. He could feel her breath against his skin as she spoke, words tantalizing him, making him wonder how long it had been -- too long, too fucking long. Before he could say anything else, his body made moves of their accord: Damien leaned in suddenly, one of his hands finding their way to the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss -- it was hungry, his lips pressing into hers with fervor and almost a sense of desperation. It took him several seconds more than he expected to pull away, “fuck,” he shook his head. “No. No, Kira. Look, I’m drunk, you’re buzzed, we don’t know what we’re doing. We can’t do this shit, we just can’t. What we had in the past is in the past.”

Kira knew that his anger came from one place — fear. At least, it was her assumption. Fear of losing his family, the biggest ally he had, and being on his own. While she had always accepted the male’s affiliation with the gang, she couldn’t help but understand the danger it also put them in. At one point it had been only his life at stake but their daughter was not a gamble she was willing to take. At his first rule, she shook her head then. 

“No. I want a rule to help me see my daughter, Damien. A rule to gain your trust but my opinion on the Valencia will remain the same. Here I thought you’d appreciate my worry for my daughter.” Dark hues searched his for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. She could feel every ounce of her being begging to get closer to him, to touch and pull. “I can see the way you look at me,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “Not that you’ll admit it.” The brunette looked over his features as she mentioned it. “Did you miss me, Damien?” She whispered, letting her fingers brush the tip of his own.

--

“Just don’t fucking bring Valencia into this. What you want with Lyla is between me, you and her.” It was almost as if he expected this exact conversation should Kira have shown up with shit about finding a lawyer and taking him to court. Not that she hadn’t (not that she should, that’d be a pretty shit way to repay the man who parented your child single-handedly cause you were too fucked up to do it yourself), but he knew that if she ever returned, the first thing she’d use was his involvement with Valencia.

Suddenly, the air changed between the two with her words -- I can see the way you look at me. Damien’s eyes gazed into hers, confused, upset...curious...yearning (as unfortunate as that was for his sake). Don’t let her in, he told himself, she’s gonna lure you in and take Lyla right from under you. And then came her question, and as badly as he wanted to lie, the alcohol in his system didn’t let him. Whisky was a double edged sword -- it made you forget what you didn’t want to think about and it lured you into situations that sober, there’d be no chance of it ever happening. “Sure, maybe, I miss a lot of people. I miss a lot of shit from the past, but,” he paused, swallowing hard, sudden memories of what they were, of what they shared, rising to the surface, memories he buried so far in his subconscious, he thought they were gone for good. He felt the heat come off her the closer she came, could smell the faint scent of her perfume. And though he could feel her hand brushing against his, he didn’t move, didn’t flinch. “That’s done. Why even bring that shit up?”

-

“She’s asleep. Lower your fucking voice.”  Kira hissed at the male when his voiced boomed throughout the room, a hand shoving against his chest in the hope of quieting him down. “I don’t think they’re going to do anything but I think that your affiliation is dangerous. If someone wants to hurt you for whatever reason, they’re coming for Lyla because that’s your heart. Valencia has enemies which also means you do.” She inched closer, hoping he understood the worry but she knew all he could see was red at her sudden demand for him to leave people he’d been involved with for so long. 

“Don’t bring full custody into this, Damien.” The brunette lowered her voice then as she looked him into the eyes. While he had every right, she also knew that her job and stability was enough to get her some rights to their child should she bring him to court. Especially if she made accusations of his involvement with the Valencia. However, she hadn’t wanted it to get that far ever. “So what are the fucking rules then, Damien?” They were closer than she’d expected and for a moment, the realization tore the air form her lungs. “I don’t even think you know. Do you even know what to do with yourself around me?”

--

Of course he thought of it -- thought of all the enemies Valencia had, all the bullshit Valencia had gone through, of course he did, but every single time, it brought him to one thought: no matter what, Valencia was the biggest asset he had against anything that could possibly happen to Lyla. Valencia could do ten times more than any fucking cop or FBI agent combined. If Kira failed to see that, then that was her fucking fault, not his. He was done -- so done talking about this shit. He didn’t care what she thought, he didn’t care about her fucking opinion.

“Right now, the rules are to leave Valencia out of it and never mention them again. I don’t care what you think,” he seethed, their closeness creating a heat so warm, he’d forgotten what it felt like. But he hardly noticed, not really anyway, rage coursing through him once again at her words, at her presence -- as happy as he’d been to find her stable, healthy, alive, for that matter. Maybe it was the length of time, maybe it was the fucking alcohol, who knew, but he found himself...drawn to her, and he couldn’t stand it. “What the fuck are you even talking about? Do I even know what to do with myself around you? What does that even fucking mean?!”

Kyra peered over at him as he held upon the counter, nothing from what she could see of his expression that some guilt lingered there. Truthfully, she expected nothing less. Damien was a good father and always inspected every situation and what harms could come of his child. Which meant he had to see his own involvement and the problems within that. What she hadn’t expected was for him to turn it around. Dark hues narrowed then, watching his form turn towards her and deflect on how they had been there when she hadn’t. 

Her head shook, dark tresses tumbling down her shoulders as she approached him. Enough to be certain that they could whisper without being heard by their daughter. “No, you don’t get to blame your involvement and the dangers that come on it on me. Because I wasn’t there, you couldn’t leave? That’s bullshit, Damien. I’ll take a lot of the brunt but that’s on you and no one else.” The brunette hissed, close enough to feel the heat radiate off of him form. “I have an opinion because she’s my child whether you’d like to think so or not. I’ve done my own set of wrong decisions but I won’t let you pin yours on me. I can’t force you to do what you want, but if anyone lays a hand on her because of the Valencia….” Her head shook as she looked up at him. She’d kill them all, or worse.

--

“And what the fuck do you think they’re gonna do, huh? You really think if anyone lays a hand on Ly that Valencia won’t go out guns blazing in a fucking heart beat?” He yelled, realizing then the volume of his voice before reeling it in a little, regrettably. “If anything ever happens to Lyla, it won’t be Valencia’s fucking fault and they’ll be the first ones to do something about it. If anything, my involvement protects her. You can fuck right off if you think I’m leaving them, it’s not happening.”

He was seething, fucking pissed. He found his way to the empty glass he once nursed, pouring another two ounces of whisky into it before downing it all in one go. “Remember that I’m the one with full custody. I’m the one with the assets here. I have been her father and her fucking mother. If you want a relationship with her, then you’re gonna have to play by my rules and that’s that. Fuckin’ deal with it. Valencia stays.”

Kira folded her arms as she listened to him. If she had any doubts about his continuous involvement with the club, she now knew the answer. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she let her gaze flick back towards him. “Have you ever considered how dangerous your involvement with them may be?” She questioned nonchalantly. Of course he was a father and he’d run over the things that could hurt their daughter, but she imagined he’d brushed over it before he could let his mind go too deep. “What if someone wanted to get back at you? What if you end up in prison? What would have been the plan?” His sister, she imagined and somehow the thought left a sour taste at the back of her throat. 

She watched him disappear and waited for him to come back with the shirt and blankets. Leaning forward, the brunette took the load from him and disappeared down the hall to change into his t-shirt. When it was all that covered her form, the brunette stepped back out and looked back at him. “I think I might stay up for a little bit longer. I don’t think i’ll be able to sleep anytime soon.”

--

Damien thought about her questions, already having felt the guilt of it since Lyla had been born and he definitely didn’t need her non-existent mother to step in and remind him of it when she literally just popped out of nowhere after seven fucking years. She interrupted his thoughts with I might stay up for a little bit longer -- “yeah,” he muttered, his back having been turned to her, hands against the edge of the sink. Part of him wanted to let it go; let go of her accusing him of any misfortune Lyla would fall into at the hands of his involvement with Valencia, but, they were his family. They were around when she wasn’t.

“I’m sorry but, I just need to get back to what you said --” he turned to her now, arms crossed against his chest, his eyes drawn to places they shouldn’t have been, anger, again rising in him at the mere thought. “Valencia was there for me all of Lyla’s life. Lev, Serafin, all of them, they were there. Rowan’s always been there. Where the fuck were you?” He paused, blue eyes boring into hers now, “When I needed help with Ly, when I didn’t even know what to do, they were all there. Valencia’s my family. How can you expect me to just up and leave like that? And what even makes you think you have a right to an opinion about it when you wanted nothing to do with her?”

Kira finished the contents of alcohol and placed the glass upon the counter as well. She felt the familiar warmth and lightness that came and immediately knew to put an halt to her consumption. Leaning upon the island, her arms folded over chest while she listened to him narrow it down. “I didn’t come here to break your hearts, Damien. I understand, however, that I have to prove myself. I want a good relationship with you for our daughter. I don’t want her to be put in the middle of whatever….” her tongue darted across her lower lip, “— resentment you may still have for me.” Even as they stood close, the brunette felt the pull towards him. They’d been all over each other once upon a time that it now felt odd to have such distance between them. 

“It’s about a twenty minute walk…..” she trailed off, which translated into a seven to ten minute drive. Sighing, she peered at the door. “I’d say that I can walk but the town has changed so much in seven years that I’m not convinced I’d make it there without getting lost a few times.” Her head tilted down to her toes before she looked up at him. “Do you… maybe have a shirt I could borrow for bed?” She wasn’t wearing the most comfortable of clothes for bed and somehow sleeping in her undergarments felt…. odd. Especially since she was used to sleep with nothing on. “No worries if you feel uncomfortable with that.”

--

Fucking Rorschach. He completely forgot about him. Hated his fucking guts, hated what he was doing to Red Ridge. “Yeah, no, it’s not safe,” he sighed, his temper boiling in him again -- no where near as bad as it usually was, thanks to the whisky, but it was there in small waves. “You know what they’re fuckin’ saying about that asshole? About Valencia? The cops are thinking it’s us killing all those fucking people. Can you believe that shit? We’ve been protecting this damn town for decades, bringing in jobs, business and they’re blaming us for Rorschach’s bullshit? Un-fucking-believable,” he griped, a silent breath leaving him before he turned again, calling out; “I’ll be back with a shirt and some blankets.”

He entered his bedroom soon after, sliding the wardrobe door open to fetch a gray t-shirt before heading into the basement, a queen-sized comforter in his arm five minutes later as he made his way back into the kitchen. “Got you a shirt and this blanket. Guest room is down the hall, next to the bathroom. I’m just gonna put shit away here and clean up.”

Rowan: Yeah :/ I'm working on a pick up for a quinceanera right now (150+)

Rowan: How is it MY niece loves the grossest shit I sell

Rowan: Ooooh sounds like gossip, come keep me entertained big brother

Damien: that's a good idea actually...

Damien: maybe it's better to talk about it in person but...

Let it be known, that if you persist, you will prevail. Course, now that he got what he wanted, he no longer wanted it. Mostly because man he trying to torture with his antics was giving up so easily; and that wasn’t fun. “Nice, nice,nice.” he chanted with a jig. “Oh, is it my lucky day?  Is my best friend, of all friends, the one and only friend, going to buy me a drink? I want a black coffee, yeah? Maybe a cookie with some sprinkles?”

He briefly wondered how long this man’s patience could hold out as he moved towards the free table suggested to him. He looked down at the pager in he hand. Now, just how was he suppose to hack this? He didn’t know the first thing about a pager. 

--

Damien would never get used to Ji-Tae’s antics; didn’t matter how long he’d known him, the kid was fuckin’ weird. Affable though...but weird. Smiling, part of him unsure if a smile had even been the proper expression, he nodded, “yeah, sure, sprinkles. I can’t promise you they have that though, but I’ll check. Be back in a few.”

After standing in line for several minutes, the barista had asked what he wanted -- he ordered his small double shot latte and Ji-Tae’s black coffee. A cookie with sprinkles, however, no where to be found. “You don’t have anything with sprinkles? Even a cupcake or something?” The barista shook her head without a word. “Okay. How about just that chocolate chip cookie, thanks.” And once he had that in hand, too, he made his way back, finding Ji-Tae messing around with the pager.

“Here’s your coffee,” He placed the cups carefully against the table top, then laid the small, brown paper bag in front of him. “Had to get you a chocolate chip cookie. Don’t blow up the place.” Sitting himself down with a smirk, he inquired, “you figure that thing out yet?”

“Oh, well,” Morgan said. “It was worth a try,” she shrugged. “I tried it once and it worked. Sara, one of my girls was terrified the first say she set foot inside the funeral home, but she has been working with me for the last four years,” she smiled. “I wonder what are you into,” she was going to say something else when she saw a small child behind his legs. “And who is that little fairy? Yours?” 

--

“What’s with you finding people who’re scared of dead bodies?” He bantered, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips. If it were up to him, he’d want to find people fit for the job -- not patient enough to hold off for people to get used to it or learn everything from square one. Experience was necessary, in his opinion -- and definitely not fear. 

Hearing her latter question, he turned and saw Lyla skipping her way into the Crime Fiction aisle. “Oh, yeah, that’s my little girl, Ly.” He turned to the woman again, “short for Lyla. No idea what the hell she’s doing in the crime fiction area though.”

Kira could feel a lump in her throat as the air seemed to shift between them. They hadn’t been alone, didn’t fully assess one another due to shock and other emotions that were at the forefront. He was as handsome as she could remember and her form, now more relaxed, seemed to immediately respond to the proximity. Both an urge and fear to reach out for him. Moving across from him as she leaned upon the island, her glass was placed on the counter while both hands securely held onto the surface behind her as if to ensure she didn’t inch closer. 

“I never told you,” she said softly and bit her lower lip. The last thing she wanted from him was some kind of sympathy on his part. Truthfully, she had only wanted him to see where she was coming from. That she wasn’t some fucking monster who was ready to destroy their lives. “I take full responsibility for everything.” She looked down for a moment as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “I wouldn’t have given birth to her if there wasn’t a small part of me who wanted her but I saw this perfect little thing and I couldn’t destroy her.” A shaky exhale was given as she looked back up at him. No excuse but it was what had crossed her mind at the time. Nodding her head when he spoke, she let out a small sigh. “That’s fully understandable. I won’t try to infiltrate your life and hers. You’re in charge.” The brunette whispered as she tilted her head.  “How would you like me to prove it?”

--

“I don’t know Kira, just,” he sighed, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, taking a sip before continuing, his forefingers and thumb rubbing the front of his forehead. Truth be told, the alcohol had been making it hard for him to focus -- along with what felt like fuckin’ time travel, his life taking a 360 in less than a few hours. Everything had been changing so fast -- her sudden reappearance, Lyla having her mother back, this new (though not really) information about why Kira ran -- unsure how to even feel. Angry? Sure, she left, Lyla grew up without a mom, Kira said she didn’t want her but now learning why -- he almost couldn’t blame her. So what was he supposed to feel now? Do now? Let her in like none of that mattered? Like she hadn’t left? Holding grudges was Damien’s specialty, unfortunately. 

“I don’t know. The normal shit, I guess,” he took another few gulps. “Stick around, don’t fall into drugs or alcohol, don’t tell her one thing then turn around and do the opposite. Don’t make any promises you can’t keep and break her heart. She’s seven, she doesn’t deserve to know what that is yet -- heartache.” He breathed, downing the rest of his whisky, realizing just then he was supposed to have driven her home. “Fuck.” He placed the empty glass in the sink, not able to recall how many glasses of whisky he’d gone through that night. “I gotta go to the basement and grab fresh sheets for the guest bed. I can’t drive you home, I’m too fucked up.” He’d been mid-way out of the kitchen before turning to face her, “you live far? If it’s walking distance, feel free but I have a guest room. I can drive you in the morning.”

“No? No, no? Like as in never? What if  — And hear me out,” he paused for dramatic effect. “I, Sun Jitae, said the word, please?”In all seriousness, there was no real reason Tae wanted the pager. Truthfully, he was only using the old device to bring joy to his day by implementing his favourite pass times; annoying Damien Kingsley. “Only thirty- seven,” he repeats, followed with a gasp. “Do yo not remember? Is this the early stages of  — whatever that disease is called  — It’s me, Jitae, your forever friend, your best friend.” At this point he was just trying to cause a scene.

“Yes, yes, That’s what I’ve been saying.” He was aggressively nodding at the man now. “Just a little peek. Never know if we find something juicy, some tea, some drama.”

--

What a strange fuckin’ dude. By the time he heard him say his own name -- I, Sun Jitae -- Damien had been gawking at him like he’d suddenly sprouted wings and three heads. His gaze trailed along Ji-Tae’s features as he rambled, random words coming out like water from a broken tap, unhinged and spewing in every which way. Finally, when he saw Ji-Tae nodding in agreement, Damien apprehensively handed him the pager. May as well give it up, there was no winning.

“There you go, man,” there was reassurance in his tone, like all he wanted to do was offer him comfort so he’d settle the fuck down. “Listen, you sit over there or something -- he pointed at a free table with his chin -- and I’ll order us something to drink. You want a latte or somethin’?”

*

Kira wondered if Lyla had felt the absence of a woman or mother in her life which was why she’d immediately clung upon the woman. It was almost too natural that she couldn’t help but wonder when the second shoe would drop. It never really did and before she knew it, she was cuddled up along the small girl with a book. For a moment, she allowed herself to daydream about doing this regularly. The days events had wore the small child down who immediately fell asleep mid-way through the book. As silently as she could, she pressed a small kiss to her forehead before slowly tip toeing out of her room.

Making her return to the living space, Kira found herself behind Damien, clearing her throat as to make her presence known. “She’s asleep.” The brunette whispered as her eyes looked him over. Grasping her glass she’d forgotten on the island, she took a healthy sip as she knew there was no more running. All the anger and questions that he’d kept in his chest until this very moment would come out. 

“If you wanted to talk,” she whispered then as she moved closer to him. Close enough that he could truly look at her but not enough that she took up his personal space. Fingers toyed with the glass in her hands, nervously fidgeting. A part of her worried that he’d rethink her presence in their daughters life.

--

Damien could hear her coming through the threshold of the kitchen, suddenly feeling nervous. Not nervous to have her around -- well, maybe. Maybe because now it was the two of them, alone, no one else to witness the unearthing of their complicated history; to Damien, buried like old bones, long forgotten until that moment. He took a deep breath at the sound of her voice, finishing up the washing of the dishes they had used that night and drying his hands with a spare kitchen towel.

“Yeah,” he muttered, reaching for the glass of whisky that had been sitting on the stove. He shot the rest back before he continued, leaning back against a counter. “Look, I didn’t know. I didn’t know about your mom and all her abusive boyfriends and all the shit they put you through. I mean, I don’t know,” he sighed, “I guess I...get it. I’ve been through shit too, as a kid, me and Rowan. Shit, I pretty much became a father at just 19 after our mom died and our piece of shit dad went to jail.” Finding the bottle of Jameson by the fridge, he poured himself another ounce; “just -- sorry, is all I’m saying. Sorry you had to go through that. But I’m gonna need you to give me time, to give all this -- he made a gesture with his free arm -- some time. I can’t have Lyla’s mom suddenly poppin’ up out of nowhere after not knowing you her whole life. And...I’m not saying I fully trust you either. I’m still gonna need you to prove yourself to me...to her.”

The weight of unspoken words between the two almost felt unbearable. She’d dropped the equivalent of a bomb upon him before entering his home. There was so much left to be said but they didn’t dare speak on it in fear that Lyla would hear. While young, she was still smart enough to put two and two together. Least of all did she want to upset her daughter by having her find out that her mother had returned into the picture. That conversation would take everything out of her and truth be told, she wasn’t prepared to have it.

Watching him, she nodded her head before her gaze redirected to the glass in her hand. “Okay,” she whispered to him. He needed to know more and that was fair enough. He deserved to know everything he wanted. Stepping forward to help the child make her pizza, she placed the conversation on the back burner. Soon enough, their pizza was moved to the oven. A waiting game at this point as they’d eat and prepare to put the child to bet. It took everything inside of Kira not to stare at him, after so long of being left with memories, she couldn’t help but want to soak in every single sight of the pair together. Her family that she’d left behind but hoped to regain.

--

Once the pizza had been in the oven, Lyla took Damien’s hand and led him into the living room, asking if he could put on Coco as they waited for it to be finished. “We gotta turn off Elton then if you wanna watch Coco.” ‘Why can’t they both be on?’ “When you get a job and can help pay for the electric bill, then we can do that.” ‘What’s a bill? They sound dumb.’ Damien laughed, nodding at Lyla while she sat herself on the sofa. “They are dumb, you’re not gonna like them when you grow up.” 

Fifteen minutes had gone by before Damien returned to the kitchen, turning the oven off and removing the pizza from inside. He called them both back in with a “food’s done” before fetching the pizza cutter and making eight individual slices. Time came and went excruciatingly slow that night as they ate, Damien nursing a new glass of Jameson every time he’d finish one, Kira and Lyla doing most of the talking. He’d steal glances from her every now and again, turning away immediately when she’d catch him. He couldn’t help it -- - she was healthier, sure, but shit was she stunning. It might’ve been the alcohol but one of the biggest things that surprised him back at Subtext when he ran into her was how...gorgeous she was. He almost forgot in the seven years of not seeing her.

8 p.m. and Lyla had dramatically dropped to the kitchen floor -- her usual way of getting out of chores. “Nah, come on, you have dishes to wash, Ly.” ‘But I’m tired!’ “You haven’t even finished Coco yet!” ‘Can Kira read me to sleep? Please! Please!’ There it was again, choosing Kira over him without even realizing she was her mother. He swore she knew. Before Lyla could give him any more grief, he nodded, a sigh leaving him as he stored the rest of the pie in the fridge. “Yeah, just,” don’t fucking tell her you’re her mother, “yeah, go ahead.”

“He’s really got potencial,” Morgan said. “He gets freaked out by everything but I think he can take it,” she smiled. “He’s our guinea pig so we’ve played almost hundreds of pranks on him.” Her name was called and she took the paper cup that was offered to her. “And the most important thing of all is that he’s not boring. He makes all of us laugh and that’s exactly what you need when you’re working at the funeral home.” She smiled at him and bit her lower lip. “Wanna give it a try?” 

Poor kid, he thought. Damien was no stranger to pranking others though -- he regularly took part in pranks with some of his crew in Valencia and sometimes took the brunt of them himself. Good, harmless fun. But at a funeral home? He could imagine the shit they got up to, cadavers and what not. Her last question took him by surprise, he turned to her, “Sorry, what? Give working at a funeral home a try?? You got the wrong dude, I’m not into that shit.”

Rowan: Take a wild guess

Damien: i'll let them kno but can't promise they'll listen

Damien: at work still??

Damien: i might wanna go see you there actually, lyla wants one of those peanut butter reeses cupcakes or whatever

Damien: also