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MHA #8, Saturday morning
Aside from getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him at prom, the night had gone well for Stark. Honestly the ice had only led to a hasty retreat to the apartment building to remove wet clothing so frell you, Anakin. Three nights in a row had gone very well indeed for Stark.
Eventually he'd fallen asleep, though not before tossing water on a pair of amorous and very noisy raccoons on the balcony because he had to admit the water was a good way to momentarily redirect energy.
Between the pollen, finally finding some outlets for the affects of the pollen, and having been away from the island for so long before last summer, Stark had forgotten that mysterious children tended to appear after prom. Waking up with his head clear after a week of it being very much not hadn't led to remembering. Waking up with his head clear had just led to a few moments of mild panic wondering what the repercussions of the past 3 nights might be.
But there wasn't going to be time for Stark to get thoroughly awkward just yet. After showering he was making his way to the kitchen when he stopped. Who could possibly be knocking on his door this early? And why did it sound like someone was giggling in the hallway?
[Ooooopen, for some impossible children, any neighbors that might stop by as a result of impossible children, or one neighbor who could have stayed the night if she wanted but I'm not going to presume]
Eventually he'd fallen asleep, though not before tossing water on a pair of amorous and very noisy raccoons on the balcony because he had to admit the water was a good way to momentarily redirect energy.
Between the pollen, finally finding some outlets for the affects of the pollen, and having been away from the island for so long before last summer, Stark had forgotten that mysterious children tended to appear after prom. Waking up with his head clear after a week of it being very much not hadn't led to remembering. Waking up with his head clear had just led to a few moments of mild panic wondering what the repercussions of the past 3 nights might be.
But there wasn't going to be time for Stark to get thoroughly awkward just yet. After showering he was making his way to the kitchen when he stopped. Who could possibly be knocking on his door this early? And why did it sound like someone was giggling in the hallway?
[Ooooopen, for some impossible children, any neighbors that might stop by as a result of impossible children, or one neighbor who could have stayed the night if she wanted but I'm not going to presume]
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"Oooh, I'm hungry too!" The second voice was totally unfamiliar to Stark but still just as obviously a child. "Open up!"
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"I'll open the door," he said faintly. After a quick glance around to be sure that the apartment was suitable for children to inhabit he did so, and found himself facing two children. One blue and familiar and another that was neither.
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Dad always made sure there were sweet breakfast things. That was an excellent thing about this Dad.
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He'd been a bit preoccupied and he'd made a very deliberate choice not to visit the bakery this past week.
"You ought to tell me your name first. We haven't met yet, here."
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"He knows me," Ziya said with a hint of smugness.
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"Ziya," he added, smiling fondly at her because he did know her from before and because she was Zhaan's, "Ziya has visited before."
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"He's my Papa," Ziya confirmed. "The one who lives here but not with me and Mama because he's not the same Papa but he's my Papa if things went differently."
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"But I don't," Stark protested. "Not yet. But if you tell me I'll know!"
"My other Dad is Liam!"
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That was an unexpected complication. And confusing.
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She had, fortunately for everyone, put on clothes.
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Even if he'd never met the one before. Ziya certainly belonged to a version of himself and there was no reason to believe the new child didn't as well.
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Yes, sex pollen, she had known about and planned for and anticipated like Christmas. But no one had warned her about the kids.
"You didn't have kids yesterday." A weird accusation to make, Faye, yet nonetheless accurate.
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Sometimes the island makes you incredibly horny for a week and then sometimes the island gives you children that may or may not be possible.
"It's fine," he said, both to Faye and the children. "They're fine. Just surprising."
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Except for how a new, dark-haired little girl was just letting herself in, like you did with a stranger's apartment. Or at least, like you did when you were this child.
"Moooom," she announced, making a beeline for Faye, who was just sort of standing there in shock. "I got bored waiting for you."
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Ziya took that opportunity to ask in an exaggerated whisper "Papa, who is your friend?"
Because Ziya was old enough to know exactly what was going on here and to be curious about it and to want to have something to report to Aunt Chiana when she returned home.
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"You're blue," Lucia helpfully informed Réaltín, like perhaps this was new information, before seizing onto Faye's hand. "Are we doing a heist?"
Okay, now Faye could maybe believe this one was hers. Maybe.
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"You don't have to leave," Stark said to Faye, though this was not exactly how he'd pictured the morning going last night.
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"Dad usually ignores her when she gets like this. Says she's doing it for attention," Lucia contributed helpfully, turning her attention back to the much more interesting blue child and keeping a firm grip on her mother's hand. "I'm not supposed to go on heists, but one time Ein and I helped fly the getaway ship, anyway."
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"And you can tell me about flying the ship," she added to Lucia. "I've never flown any ships."
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Great, since that was clearly fascinating Faye was just going to try to pry this little monster's fingers off of her wrist, and -- "Wait a second, you know Ein?"
Oh, shit. No. No.
"Don't be dumb," Lucia replied, rolling her eyes. "Uncle Jet says you pretend to be dumber than you are a lot, Mom."
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
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Stark was just looking back and forth between Faye and the children.
This morning was going so strangely.
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This was the worst weekend, following the best week, and Faye was vaguely wondering if the child-punishment here was somehow meant to be proportional to the amount of sex she'd had this week. Because this was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her, easily.
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