Chapter 17 #2
Elric ends up with the pre-teens, directing construction of an epic blanket fort while the littler ones mostly seem to be playing chase and pouncing on each other like the tiny little predators they are in their various other forms.
Winny does most of the hosting stuff for the adults, I keep the kids occupied and redirect their play when it gets too rowdy.
I doubt any of them will make it through the entire vigil with as much energy as they're burning through their play, but that's fine.
By the time they all leave, looking exhausted, I'm ready for some peace and quiet.
We say our goodbyes to everyone and then Winny and I are finally alone, the longest night of the year stretching out before us.
I survey the torn apart living room, where it seems like the blanket fort might've spawned more pillows and blankets across the floor than we actually own, and deflate at the thought of tidying it before going up to bed.
"We should tidy that up huh?"
"It will keep until morning, treasure." Winny smiles at me, but there's worry underlying the brightness. "You seemed to be having fun?"
"Yeah, I love them. Of course it's good to spend time with them. And I like getting to know your family too."
"They like you." Winny's smile seems more genuine, but then she frowns and goes to put the couch cushions back where they belong, despite telling me not to bother with the task.
“I like them too.” I join her, handing her each oversized pillow as she puts the living room back together.
She won't look at me as she asks. "You're so at ease with the kids. Do they make you want one of your own?"
I laugh at the question, more because if that's what she's worried about then we're good. "No. The opposite. Makes me feel like I can love on them without having to be a parent myself. Best of both worlds."
"Really?" Winny smacks the last cushion into place and we both toss the remaining decorative pillows onto the couches.
"Really. I mean, I can't promise that how I feel now is how I'll always feel, and if something happened that meant any of our niblings needed a guardian, I'd be first in line for that.
But barring something tragic, I wouldn't make you choose between us and a hypothetical future kid.
Promise. I know you don't want to be a mom, so I am on board with dating you meaning motherhood isn't on the table. "
I drape two of the cozy blankets my sister gave us over the back of the couch and Winny roughly folds a quilt that she brought and rests it next to the others, and just like that, our cozy living room is mostly restored to a usable space.
I grin at Winny and she holds out a hand for me to grasp, pulling me close and tucking my back against her chest as we both take in our handiwork.
"See, this is why I love you," Winny murmurs, her chin on my shoulder.
I freeze and so does she. I don't think anything else could have made me step out of her embrace, but I need to see her face for his, so I turn in her arms and stand far enough away not to get distracted by how good she feels in my arms.
"Did you mean to say that, or just, one of those slips of the tongue after all the 'love yous' at the door?"
Winny hunches her shoulders a bit as she eyes me warily. "I mean, I didn't intend to say it like that for the first time. But yeah?"
"Yeah?" I frown, this feels like a precipice and I might screw everything up if I push too hard or say the wrong thing next.
"You're going to make me say it first?" Winny closes her eyes, and takes a deep steadying breath, then another, tapping the tips of each of her fingers against her thumbs in an oddly repeating pattern.
I wait for her to get through the calming ritual, but it's hard not to interrupt when she paces over to the mantle shelf where all the little raven trinkets from our house-warming are on proud display alongside some art from my niblings and a family photo from True in a macaroni picture frame that Trip made last year at pre-school for family day.
"You don't have to say it, Winny," I say.
"No, but I want to. I had plans and ideas about how long I should wait.
" She snorts at herself as she paws through a little silver trinket box, looking for something.
"It's fine. Here, you're still getting the whole speech.
I worked hard on it." She glances over her shoulder at me and wags a finger like that's a threat and not one of the most endearing things anyone has ever said to me.
"Where is that darn—There!" She turns with something hidden in both of her hands and walks toward me, slow and a little shaky at first.
"What is it?" I ask. It's disconcerting to see her confidence shaken, but she said that's been a struggle since her accident and it feels like a sign of her trust that she lets it show now. Our gazes lock and she lights up. Winny’s usual self assurance changes her entire demeanor as she closes the distance between us and offers up the gift on both of her palms.
At first glance, it's a feather. Puzzled I take it, looking down at the offering to hide my confusion since it's clear this gift means something to her. "A feather?"
"It's mine." Winny closes her hands over mine as soon as I touch the soft feather, so I don't get a closer look at it.
"The feather itself isn't really the gift though.
It's kind of a Solstice tradition for mates.
It's a promise to make our nest a home together and to always share the best of myself with you.
Like, you'll always have warmth and shelter under my wings.
Metaphorically, in my case, because my wing is purely decorative these days.
" She laughs self-deprecatingly, and lets go of my hands.
"Oh! It's like giving you my shells? It's beautiful.
" I take the feather reverently, and run my fingers gently along its length.
I'm surprised at how soft it is and the way it all but glows to my octopus's sight, ultraviolet patterns traced on inky purple-black.
I realize I love this shifter and I haven't even seen her in her feathers yet.
But she trusts me enough to give me one of the big flight pinions I've seen on her relatives when they were visiting.
"Shells?" Winny twirls the silly hairband on her wrist so the seashell bead is facing her and twiddles with it absently. If I'd known she was going to wear it so much, I'd have given her something nicer. "What do you mean about shells?"
"It's a ridiculous story, actually. Super nerdy, but the short version is that some static octopuses use discarded shells as projectiles to ward off unwanted advances.
And sharing prey with a potential mate is basically my octopus side's equivalent of saying love makes people act irrationally, but it's not a bad thing.
Anyway, True and Linc tell it better, but when she decided he was the one for her, she gave him her shells and told him that it meant the opposite of if her octopus side threw them at him.
And since he's also a science nerd, he knew exactly what she meant and he still has her shells, and when they fight he sometimes asks if giving them back so she can throw them at him would make her feel better.
So we kind of use 'giving someone our shells' as a shorthand for falling in love. "
"Aw. That’s sweet, in a weirdly violent way. So, does that mean you didn't mean this that way?" Winny holds up her shell adorned wrist.
"I didn't expect you to notice, or keep it.
I kinda meant it though. I, um, might've tried to find some actual shells for you on the beach before work the other day, but the tides were wrong for beachcombing and the ocean is damn cold this time of year.
" All the ones I found were cracked open by whatever ate them.
The one I've had in my pocket all day is one of a handful my octopus pried open with exquisite care to be sure the gift would be perfect for our mate.
She stirs at the memory of how sweet her contribution had tasted. 'Hand it over already, she wants you.'
I mentally roll my eyes at the pushy internal voice, fondling the layered texture of the mussel’s growth rings for the thousandth time.
I've been waiting all day for the right moment to ask her.
I want to do it before we go upstairs and sex makes it harder to be sure it's not just a fantastic orgasm talking.
My octopus is right, now is the time. I do as she says.
"So I only found this." I shrug sheepishly as I pull out both halves of an unblemished blue mussel shell. It fits easily in my palm, the outside is a vibrantly striated midnight blue-black that matches her feathers and fades to hints of periwinkle near the narrow end
"Oh, we'll match!" Winny takes the shell and holds it next to my feather. She opens the two halves and giggles. "And it's happy to see me, see, that same pretty purple you turn when you’re content. Can I make them into earings?"
"Sure, they're yours." I nod. She holds the two halves of the shells up to her face, showing off the pearly nacre inside in the exact hue of lavender my chromatophores turn when I'm excited to see her.
It's a deeply contented color for me. I love that she knows that, that she's already taking the time to learn my tells.
"You didn't have to go diving in the ocean for me though. Feathers, is that even safe?" Winny clutches her prize to her chest, so even if it was a big deal to get it, I wouldn't regret it in the least.
"Nah, my octopus can handle colder water than that.
True would natter on about currents and temperature ranges, but basically, other than having to shift back, swimming in the ocean is perfectly enjoyable in my aquatic form year round.
" I twirl her feather in my fingers and wince as it occurs to me to ask, "What about you though?
Did it hurt to pluck this? What do I do to accept it? "