#bernest

It’s 2pm and the kids are at school, so technically Kit is in no hurry to leave yet, but she does have a meeting at the headquarters later that she doesn’t want to be late for, so she thinks she should probably get going sometime in the next 13 minutes. She rolls around to her side, and glances at Beatrice. She lets her glance slide from Beatrice’s disheveled hair to her collarbone to her arms and eventually the ring on her finger, the ring that once belonged to The Duchess of Winnipeg. With a sigh, Kit slowly drags herself up from the bed and starts putting her clothes back on. She frowns at a coffee stain on her tie that she didn’t realize is that noticeable underneath the light.

“Damn it,” she mutters under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asks from the bed, tilting her head slightly but not getting up. “Did you realize you dropped your fashion sense somewhere on the street? I told you those earrings have never been in, not even when they’re in.”

Kit ignores that. “Can I borrow one of Bertrand’s ties?”

Beatrice shrugs, “Sure, sweetheart. Just go and take one.”

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Kit says, heading towards Bertrand’s wardrobe.

“Obviously,” Beatrice agrees grandly.

****

Kit grabs an iced cold brew coffee on the way back to her taxi and skillfully flips the lid off and gulps down a large sip of coffee, mixed with two ice cubes. She feels the usual satisfaction as her teeth crack down on the ice, a sudden shot of refreshness surging through her. Cold brew coffee at this hour will most definitely keep her wide awake past midnight, but Dewey has plans for organizing the 18th century poetry subsection tonight and she likes to be of help when she can.

New Order’s Round & Round comes up on the radio after she starts the taxi, and with a frown Kit switches the channel and switches again when Duke Ellington comes up. Hell, but she hopes jazz isn’t back in again, it dredges up old memories Kit isn’t too keen to revisit. Finally she lands on one channel playing heavy metal she knows Jacques loathes, which is always an amusing thing to remember, when she remembers.

A bird chirp comes from her phone, and she picks her phone up as she speeds through a yellow light, noticing the incoming text notification from Frank asking her about the details of a report she submitted last week. She throws the phone back to the passenger seat again and grabs the cold brew instead, drinking the coffee and chewing on a particularly challengingly large piece of ice cube. It freezes her brain for a moment, in a good way, or at least that’s how she classifies it.

She runs a stop sign.

****

“Well, these numbers look wrong,” Bertrand frowns, “I’ll run by Mulctuary Money Management to check with them before I pick Violet and Klaus up at the school.”

“I’ve been saying for a long time we should station a secretary there,” Frank covers the speaker end of the phone briefly to grimace at Bertrand before removing his hand from the speaker and talking again, “Yes, of course, Ma’am. One luxury suite for the next weekend, you got it. Thank you for the reservation.”

He hangs up the phone, and picks up the conversation naturally, “But they’re running short on mid-level volunteers right now, so that’s probably not an option.” He gives Bertrand a slightly resentful glare, as if that’s his fault.

“What, you’re blaming me for the shortage?” Bertrand asks.

“I’m not blaming you,” Frank says archly. “But you can’t deny that you and Beatrice’s decision to keep the kids uninvolved required more time and effort of pretense on your parts that ultimately detracts from the time you’re able to do volunteer work.”

Bertrand gives Frank an incredulous, are-you-fucking-serious look. “You agreed with me that it’s best to let the kids have a childhood outside of the organization until they’re old enough for it,” he points out.

“I do, so I didn’t say it’s your fault,” Frank says, “it’s just the natural consequences of things, so to speak. Calm down.”

Bertrand scoffs.

“And we do have a shortage -”

“Yes, due to the schism and other larger environmental reasons,” Bertrand snaps. “Not because Beatrice and I are leading double lives, thank you very much.” He grabs the document from Frank’s desk in a rather brisk manner. “Anyway, I’ll be going.”

He’s almost to the door when Frank says, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Bertrand doesn’t respond, but he does stop in his tracks. He starts counting to five in his mind, because if Frank thinks that a single line is all it takes -

“I was just … frustrated about the current situation of the organization, and I took it out on you. Look, I don’t actually think it’s your fault. And I’ve always supported your decision to raise the kids away from the organization. You guys were right, we need a change from the previous generation’s model if we were to adapt.”

He thinks, realistically, that this is probably all the apology he’s going to get. And admittedly, it’s a quite sincere and honest one, as far as their standards go.

“Fine,” he shrugs, as an acknowledgement, because that’s just basic manners. And also, in the grander scheme of things, he probably owes Frank one.

Frank gets up from his chair and walks up to him, and then gives him a soft, quiet, and chaste kiss on the lips. “Thanks for taking care of the report,” he says. “I hope the line at Mulctuary won’t be too long.”

Hell, he hopes so too. Bertrand hums in vague agreement.

“Alright, I really got to go,” he says again, softer this time.

Frank nods.

Bertrand leaves Frank’s office and heads for the hotel entrance. Just before he’s about to leave the lobby, a concierge runs up to him. “Mr. Baudelaire,” says the concierge. “The manager asked me to give you this.” He hands him a chocolate croissant in a paper bag, one of the hotel’s specials. Judging by the warmth of the bag, it looks like it’s fresh out of the hotel’s bakery’s kitchen just now. It’s one of Bertrand’s favorite pastries, all the managers of the hotel know that. So do a few of the concierges.

There’s an “F” signed on the lower left of the bag.

“Thank you,” Bertrand smiles his usual polite smile at the concierge that he’s perfected over the years. “Please tell the manager that I appreciate it.”

“Will do,” says the concierge.

****

Jacques frowns when he sees the tie Kit’s wearing. “You’ve been at the Baudelaires again,” he says disapprovingly. Flatly. It’s not a question.

Kit rolls her eyes impatiently, “Yes, and?” Just because her twin is being a celibate who decides to forever pine after obtuse rich idiots, that doesn’t mean she has to suffer in solidarity.

“If you’re going to continue to sleep with Beatrice, don’t you think you should also try to convince her to actually listen to the orders of the assigned missions, instead of liberally interpreting them how she wishes?”

“She’s following the instructions,” Kit says. “Very literally, too. Most of the time.”

“Way too literally,” Jacques scowls. “She should know better.”

“It’s not like she just started doing this now, she’s been like this when we were kids,” Kit waves her hand. “So there’s no reason for you to get so pressed about it now.”

Jacques narrows his eyes in displeasure.

“You,” Kit says sagely, poking Jacques’s shoulder. “Need to get laid. That would be my advice, J.”

****

Late night library organizing with Dewey is always a nice, peaceful time. An oasis from the ever so chaotic world that keeps on spinning and spinning and spinning. It would be ideal if they weren’t occasionally interrupted by his triplet.

Ernest Denouement is sprawled out on a sofa, earphones on, reading what looks like a movie script.

“Can’t you be literally anywhere else that’s not here?” Kit asks.

She watches as he presses pause on his mp3, “What?”

“Why can’t you go to your office? Or, you know, I don’t care, anywhere that’s not here.”

“I like it here, it’s nice,” Ernest says languidly. “Dewey’s set up a very nice place for reading.”

Dewey smiles, pleased. “I’m so glad you like it. I redecorated a bit over the weekend.”

“And it’s excellent,” Ernest reassures him. “Very nice atmosphere.”

“I didn’t know you knew anything about reading,” Kit says critically.

“Well, now you know, Snicket,” Ernest drawls. “Surprised that anyone who’s not a volunteer can read, huh?”

Dewey sighs. “Are you two going to fight again? It’s very tiresome, you know.”

“Sorry, Dewey, but you see how she is,” Ernest shrugs, looking slightly apologetic, a look he generally only reserves for Dewey.

“If you’re not going to help with the organizing,” Kit scowls, rearranging some books on the shelves. “I don’t see a need for you to be here.”

“I’m here, reading quietly, if you’re bothered by my presence that’s your problem, not mine,” Ernest points out. “By the way, nice tie, I have to assume it’s not yours.”

****

The party hosted by the third most important financial advisor of The City is boring, but one they have to make a presence at, due to VFD’s arrangement with the said financial advisor’s real estate company. Josephine used to handle this, but that was before she and Ike moved away  to a small town after what Kit usually refers to as The Gregor Incident. Kit initially thought it was a temporary thing, but as years go by, they’re all starting to realize perhaps the Anwhistles have no plans of coming back to The City. They still take on assignments outside The City, and attend important meetings if it’s really needed, but most of the time they like to stay away.

Frank’s on her arm as her plus one, as he often is on such occasions. Most people, volunteers and outsiders they meet on party occasions such as today’s alike, assume they’re a couple. They don’t correct the misconception. Encourage it, even. After all, Dewey’s presence is a secret and Ernest’s loyalty not so much of one, and Occam’s Razor says the simplest explanation is always the best, of something of that sort, Kit imagines, so they go with the easiest, most straightforward explanation people can accept.

Frank’s keeping a neutral expression that isn’t particularly enthusiastic nor particularly displeased, which is very business as usual when they’re outside. He greets people with a professional tone that she used to be impressed with, a decade and half ago.

She sees Esme in the crowds.

“Katherine, darling,” Esme simpers. “What a coincidence to run into you here.”

Esme’s wearing a necklace that Kit recognizes as once belonging to Beatrice. Or maybe it had been Esme’s, and Beatrice just stole it and then Esme stole it back again. Kit can never keep track. She used to be jealous of this weird, strange, almost ritualistic behavior between them, like a secret that only belongs to them, like a game that only the two of them can play, but she’s long over that jealousy now. Well, not completely, but old bitterness and jealousy tend to mellow through time, they don’t completely go away but she’s learned to live comfortably with them by now. It’s actually a little comforting to know that some things stay the same, no matter what. Little truths one can always rely on.

“Nice necklace,” she says, just to let Esme know she recognizes it.

Esme smiles brightly, “Why thank you, darling,” so Kit’s not completely sure if Esme catches the hint or not. It doesn’t really matter, she supposes.

A Daily Punctilio reporter hurries forward, and Kit recognizes her as Geraldine Julienne, one of Jacques’s coworkers. The annoying one. Not that Jacques isn’t annoying himself, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Miss Esme! Can you comment on the Back to the 60’s Fashion Week starting on Sunday?”

In the corner of her eyes, Kit sees Frank pocket a very nice pen from one of the tables.

“And you claim you’re nothing like Beatrice,” Kit comments drily.

“I am very different from Beatrice,” says Frank matter-of-factly, without any trace of shame or guilt. He’s always liked collecting nice pens when he goes out. It’s a hobby. When one runs a large hotel and stays inside it for long periods of time, it’s important to develop hobbies like this. “For instance, she sleeps with you in secret away from the public eye, the image of a perfect mother, while I go as your plus one to social functions. I do wonder if she’s jealous.”

Not more so than Dewey, probably, but Kit doesn’t say that out loud because that will be too much of a low blow and it will ruin the atmosphere here as Frank will actually wallow in guilt for the rest of the party, and they can’t afford that there. She herself will also feel the guilt, not towards Frank, obviously, but towards Dewey. So she says, “Whatever. Let’s dance.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Gladly, Miss Snicket.”

****

“We should really stop doing this,” Bertrand says when they’re done.

“You said that the last time,” Ernest reminds him as he pulls up his pants and then neatly adjusts his cufflinks. “And the time before that,” he adds thoughtfully. “Which is, granted, quite a while ago, since we don’t really get many chances.”

“And I meant it,” Bertrand makes a face. “This isn’t part of the arrangement I have with Beatrice.”

Ernest knows what arrangement he’s referring to, the one which Beatrice and Bertrand are happily married but also Beatrice sleeps with Kit and Bertrand sleeps with Frank and it’s an open secret amongst their small friend circle - for some definition of friend - but only in this little circle, whereas Kit and Frank pretend to be a couple when they attend social functions but she is actually dating Dewey. It’s all very tight-knitted and inclusive and also extremely exclusive because it’s excluding him and he’s bored and frankly, he doesn’t see why Frank should get to have all the fun. Ernest refuses to be excluded like some overly loyal lovesick volunteer pining over a clueless rich idiot. Fuck them if they think he can be kept out of this.

The first time was more or less an accident, though the second one wasn’t. Frank found them out on the third time, but luckily Ernest and Frank have too much stake together over the same things that he managed to convince Frank to cover for them. It’s a tight balance to walk, this can’t happen too often because if covering for them is inconveniencing Frank too much who knows what he’ll do. He might not rat them out, but he can be very annoying in various small ways when he wants to be, it’s a talent of his. Ernest both loves and hates his brother for that. Hates because it’s genuinely so inconvenient at times, loves because he can’t help but admire that a little, plus it’s always nice to see Frank being a little petty, since he’s usually so incredibly uptight that Ernest thinks it must be making world record.

Ernest doesn’t know how Beatrice will react if she ever finds out, though sometimes he thinks it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to her. That it shouldn’t. After all, he’s pretty sure she’s always been vaguely fond of him, even if they’re technically on different sides. He likes to think that he did something she wished she had the courage to have done, but it’s not something they’ve ever talked about. He might just be overly narcissistic in imagining someone like Beatrice Baudelaire could admire or envy him. Still, it’s nice to imagine.

It’s Beatrice Baudelaire, after all.

Kit Snicket, on the other hand, Ernest thinks, might actually kill Bertrand if she finds out, though in Ernest’s opinion, he doesn’t really think Kit gets a say in this. It’s between Beatrice and Bertrand, mainly. But Kit likes to voice opinions on things that’s none of her business, which is so very typical of her. Sometimes he doesn’t know how Dewey can stand her.

“By the way,” he says, changing the subject, but not really because he thinks that this is relevant to the whole arrangement thing. “Did you lend Snicket your tie? I saw her wearing the green checkered one on Thursday.”

****

Kit receives a text message. “K, you go into my house, you sleep with my wife, and you steal my favorite tie?”

She texts back “<3”.

The reply comes fast. “I better have it back by next week.”

****

Beatrice is talking on the phone when Bertrand gets back.

She smiles at him and tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek, before continuing on the phone, “That’s wonderful progress, Monty. You know what, fax me your rough plan tonight and I can read over it tomorrow. Alright, bye, love you.”

“Hi, darling,” she says after she hangs up the phone.

“Monty’s latest snake poison research going well?” Bertrand asks.

“Oh, we were actually talking about his planned proposal to Gustav,” Beatrice says. “But I do know the research is going splendidly. Jacques said yesterday we may be able to move forward to the next stage.”

“That’s faster than we anticipated,” Bertrand says, impressed.

“I know, M’s always been an overachiever,” Beatrice agrees. “Hey, what do you say we take the children to that newly opened salmon place for dinner tonight?”

“Cafe Salmonella?” Bertrand raises an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Beatrice nods.

“Let me guess, Daily Punctilio said it’s in,” he smiles wryly.

“Oh no no, not yet, it will be saying so, in tomorrow’s paper, or so Jacques told me,” Beatrice says. “We’re going to be way ahead of Esme, riding on the very tip of the wave of fashion, darling.”

He smiles fondly. Indulgently. “Are we?” He says. “Well, it has been a while since we have nice seafood.”

“Exactly!” Beatrice beams. “I’m going to get dressed. Oh, by the way, did I remember to tell you Kit borrowed one of your ties? But don’t worry, green isn’t in right now, you can wear the pinstriped one instead.”

“Is pinstripe coming back into fashion again?” He asks, easily sidestepping the question about Kit.