*A/N* I finally have time to breathe!! *takes deep breath* I feel good now.
I'm so very very sorry about the incredibly slow update, I had a pile of
homework the size of the Empire State building... anyways, on with the
story!
Twin Lights... Fathers
"Christian! Where are their jackets?" Satine hollered from the bottom of the closet.
"What jackets?" Christian answered distractedly, struggling to put Ian's little shoe on. The boy simply giggled in delight at what he thought was playtime. "They don't need jackets."
Satine's head poked out of the black hole closet, where things were put in but never came out. "It's chilly out. I don't want them to get sick."
"They'll be fine. Look at them," he said, proudly displaying the twins, "strapping, resistant boys. Just like their father!" Christian grinned playfully before adding on a more serious note, "besides, it's not that cold outside."
"Still, I'd feel better if..." Satine trailed off as she caught Jared pulling the tablecloth, nearly spilling dishes on himself.
"I'll tell you what. How about we bring the coats in case it gets too cold?" He walked up to her and took Jared out of her arms, while successfully pulling off an adorable pleading puppy face. **Please?**
Satine rolled her eyes and swatted him playfully. "All right. You win." She grabbed the coats from under the cushions on the tattered sofa (finally found them) and picked up Ian from the floor. "Let's go."
And they set off for their evening walk.
"Mère Poule," Christian muttered jokingly under his breath.
***
The evening was colder than Christian thought, and they put the twins' coats on immediately after stepping outside. Their usual route was towards the Moulin Rouge, where they brought the twins to visit Harold and Marie (they were both waiting anxiously their arrival every night."
"Are we gonna visit grand-maman and grand-papa?" Satine cooed at Ian, who nodded excitedly. They were always spoiled by their "grandparents".
Jared stayed calmly still in his father's arms, quietly sucking his thumb. Christian caught the act and silently shuddered, suppressing the memories of a skinny, broken Satine nestled in his arms and doing the same. After the duke... after they found her unconscious on the streets as she escaped his basement... after the horrible months that followed her recovery...
Christian managed to pull out of his thoughts. They were in front of the Moulin Rouge. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. How did they get here so quickly?
**You were elsewhere, darling, while we walked. What were you thinking about? It seemed serious.**
As Christian tried to think of an answer, the front doors opened, revealing three figures. He gasped and almost dropped his son in shock.
"F-Father?"
All eyes were on him; he wanted to turn and run back to his garret, or maybe hide behind Satine's dress.
"Christian!" Harold boomed happily. "You never told me this was you're father!" He put his arm around the older man's shoulder.
"You know each other?" Christian managed to choke out, repulsed.
"Oh yes, we were best friends in school," Harold answered.
"Until he fell in love with some... can-can girl and wasted his life away to the bohemian revolution," Christian's father finished resentfully. "We were going to be partners in business, you see. But Harry had this ridiculous obsession with love, and became this," he gestured aimlessly around himself. "A pimp, and a poor man, scrounging the streets."
Marie gave him a look for his can-can girl comment, but remained silent.
"W-What are-are you doing h-here?" Christian stuttered, still not having recovered from the shock. Satine watched the exchange with interest.
"Coming to visit you, my boy!" he chuckled. "After you didn't answer the letter I send you, your mother became worried and ordered me to see if you were still living. I took the opportunity to visit old friends."
He seemed to finally realize Satine was standing beside his son, and immediately steps forward. "Mademoiselle Satine, how nice to see you again."
Christian nearly fainted. "Again?!?"
**He's been here before. Don't ask why** Satine pleaded in his mind. Confused, Christian kept quiet.
"And who is this little one?" he asked, patting Ian's head.
"That," Christian said protectively, "is my son," and stood between Satine and his father, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. The fathers stared each other down...
*A/N* Mère Poule = Mother hen (can u say that in english? meh, anyways, it means overprotective mother...)
Twin Lights... Fathers
"Christian! Where are their jackets?" Satine hollered from the bottom of the closet.
"What jackets?" Christian answered distractedly, struggling to put Ian's little shoe on. The boy simply giggled in delight at what he thought was playtime. "They don't need jackets."
Satine's head poked out of the black hole closet, where things were put in but never came out. "It's chilly out. I don't want them to get sick."
"They'll be fine. Look at them," he said, proudly displaying the twins, "strapping, resistant boys. Just like their father!" Christian grinned playfully before adding on a more serious note, "besides, it's not that cold outside."
"Still, I'd feel better if..." Satine trailed off as she caught Jared pulling the tablecloth, nearly spilling dishes on himself.
"I'll tell you what. How about we bring the coats in case it gets too cold?" He walked up to her and took Jared out of her arms, while successfully pulling off an adorable pleading puppy face. **Please?**
Satine rolled her eyes and swatted him playfully. "All right. You win." She grabbed the coats from under the cushions on the tattered sofa (finally found them) and picked up Ian from the floor. "Let's go."
And they set off for their evening walk.
"Mère Poule," Christian muttered jokingly under his breath.
***
The evening was colder than Christian thought, and they put the twins' coats on immediately after stepping outside. Their usual route was towards the Moulin Rouge, where they brought the twins to visit Harold and Marie (they were both waiting anxiously their arrival every night."
"Are we gonna visit grand-maman and grand-papa?" Satine cooed at Ian, who nodded excitedly. They were always spoiled by their "grandparents".
Jared stayed calmly still in his father's arms, quietly sucking his thumb. Christian caught the act and silently shuddered, suppressing the memories of a skinny, broken Satine nestled in his arms and doing the same. After the duke... after they found her unconscious on the streets as she escaped his basement... after the horrible months that followed her recovery...
Christian managed to pull out of his thoughts. They were in front of the Moulin Rouge. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. How did they get here so quickly?
**You were elsewhere, darling, while we walked. What were you thinking about? It seemed serious.**
As Christian tried to think of an answer, the front doors opened, revealing three figures. He gasped and almost dropped his son in shock.
"F-Father?"
All eyes were on him; he wanted to turn and run back to his garret, or maybe hide behind Satine's dress.
"Christian!" Harold boomed happily. "You never told me this was you're father!" He put his arm around the older man's shoulder.
"You know each other?" Christian managed to choke out, repulsed.
"Oh yes, we were best friends in school," Harold answered.
"Until he fell in love with some... can-can girl and wasted his life away to the bohemian revolution," Christian's father finished resentfully. "We were going to be partners in business, you see. But Harry had this ridiculous obsession with love, and became this," he gestured aimlessly around himself. "A pimp, and a poor man, scrounging the streets."
Marie gave him a look for his can-can girl comment, but remained silent.
"W-What are-are you doing h-here?" Christian stuttered, still not having recovered from the shock. Satine watched the exchange with interest.
"Coming to visit you, my boy!" he chuckled. "After you didn't answer the letter I send you, your mother became worried and ordered me to see if you were still living. I took the opportunity to visit old friends."
He seemed to finally realize Satine was standing beside his son, and immediately steps forward. "Mademoiselle Satine, how nice to see you again."
Christian nearly fainted. "Again?!?"
**He's been here before. Don't ask why** Satine pleaded in his mind. Confused, Christian kept quiet.
"And who is this little one?" he asked, patting Ian's head.
"That," Christian said protectively, "is my son," and stood between Satine and his father, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. The fathers stared each other down...
*A/N* Mère Poule = Mother hen (can u say that in english? meh, anyways, it means overprotective mother...)