RP logs: Giving Charles de la Marck a stroke
Stephen is delamarck, Max is fast_max. This happens in the future related to most scenes played out here.
Scene set up: Charles comes over, Sol greets him coolly as she does, Stephen and Max are out back playing with the kids and laughing and having a generally good time. Aidan and the three girls, Tammy, Sammy, Tania. (Stephen is about forty-seven and Max about forty-two and Charles in his very early eighties.)
Eventually they come in, possibly Max and Stephen with a girl on their shoulders and Aidan scampering along behind them. Because the girls would be about four and Aidan would be about... nine. Max has Tammy, Stephen has Sammy, and Tania with Aidan
Autumn outside, with leaves on the ground and all, and at least one of the girls has one still stuck in her hair.
And they turn the kids over to a household ... ah, nanny/governess (there may be at least two security staff, but no manservants. Butler or au pair. Someone to cook and someone to clean, but they come in. A driver who also is security. That's probably about it. While the kids are so young, at least one, maybe one person for the girls and one for Aidan, to be there in case Stephen and Sol are out / late, who possibly is/are resident. Pool house at the back.
And Stephen raising the children to take the attitude that just because these people cook and clean after you a) doesn't mean you shouldn't know at least the basics b) doesn't mean they aren't people too and c) while they may not be family or as close as family, they deserve the respect and loyalty of family. So, perhaps you wouldn't share your deepest darkest fears but if their father dies, you buy them a plane ticket home for the funeral.
But just, with how dangerous both of their lives are, they'd make sure that there's ALWAYS somebody the children know to take care of them... no matter what. Always there.
So, family servant in general.)
They turn the kids over to him or her and head towards the lounge.
Meanwihle Solace and Charles are talking about... something engrossing enough that they miss Stephen and Max coming in, possibly the fact that Aidan's almost old enough to be sent to Spenser, the same boarding school that Stephen went to.
... which makes Sol... "hmmm" - but they would have something to talk about, or hiss at each other about.
Meanwhile Max and Stephen are in the lounge, just... talking. Goofing off.
They'd set up some competition among the kids and are discussing the conclusions - animated, goofy, happy.
Discussing Aidan's smart mouth or Sammy or Tammy's or something.
"Which she gets from you," Stephen pointed a finger at Max.
Max laughed and said, "well it's certainly got me into good stuff, hope it works good for her too"
"Well, let's hope so." Smiling.
"Mm. And some of the good stuff is better than other." Licking his lips and grinning.
Smirking, now, eyebrows slightly raised. If he were Max he'd be waggling his eyebrows. "I always said Trouble was your middle name."
Drawling, "weeeeell, one does one's best."
"You do very well." Stepping closer to him. "Certainly I never mind getting into trouble." Ahh, bad jokes
Max wrapped an arm around his waist, and smirked. "Certainly I mind you getting into much trouble, but then again, you're all so nice to me and everything."
Sliding both arms around his waist. "How nice, would you say?" Low and teasing.
"Mmm... very nice. Deserving a cookie. Or another prize."
"What sort of prize would you like?" Softly
"I thought you were getting the prize."
Max laughed. "Well, I was thinking of something more..." Licks his lips, "rewarding."
Stephen, pulling him in a little closer. "Explain, please..."
Max's arm tightened around him, the back of the other hand's fingers brushing along Stephen's cheek before settling on his shoulder. "I think we can negotiate something adequate."
Both an amused and an adoring little smirk, one hand sliding lightly up and down Max's waist. "I think we can..." as he leaned in just a little closer, lips hovering inches before his now
"Mmm, in a bit." Max crossed the tiny remainder of the distance...
Stephen sighed a bit, just enjoying the sensation of Max's lips on his for now, not pressing, settling him in his arms, settling into Max's arms
Max's body just settled closer to his, arms warm, kiss light, and then unobtrusively opening up.
Stephen pulled him just a little tighter, or maybe a little more snug to him, opening a little himself but also keeping it slow, deeply passionate instead of deeply physical, drinking in Max's warmth and giving him steadiness in return, love flowing between them freely.
Love flowing freely indeed, no rush to stop the kiss, no rush to the kiss, all there was right now is here, and yes, passionate, connecting, enjoying the togetherness. Feeling as though he could taste the recent laughter on the other man's lips, the contentment of how things were. Or maybe it's just how good kisses with him feel anyway. Slow, tender almost, yet no less intense for it.
Tatiana, of course, appeared in the doorway at the least opportune time. "Eeeww..." she ran out after proclaiming this on her tiny four-and-a-half year old legs
Solace was alerted by her voice and looked to listen what the fuss is about, then laughed and caught her and picked her up.
Stephen just sort of chuckled against Max's lips. Tammy, of course, went to see what was so disgusting and then promptly ran after her sister. Tatiana gave her mother a very stern face. "Mo-ommy, Daddy and Unca Max are kissing." As though this was just about the grossest thing adults could ever do. Of course, she would tell Unca Max when Mommy and Daddy are kissing, too. She just thought it unfair that they would pay attention to each other and not to the girls, of course
Max tightened his arms around Stephen briefly, then said gravely, "We have been caught." In turn, he caught sight of Tammy and how she turned around and runs too. "I think we may need to go and see how we'll be able to appease them before they get really really unhappy with our gross misdemeanor." Oh yes, tongue in cheek. And stealing another peck before making any move away.
Solace held up Tania and grinned, "are they now?" before a choked sound made her recall that, ah, there were more people present than usual...
Charles was just sort of staring at the family tableau, white-faced and dark-eyed with rage. There was something not only unseemly about all this affection (although it was between women, so he didn't say anything about that) and... his son? Kissing another man? Surely this had to be a wild fancy of the girl's. To which he went out in the direction she'd come from.
Stephen just sort of grinned and stole another kiss. "They're going to be unhappy no matter what we do, we may as well get the most bang for our buck." Deliberate choice of words there.
Sol called out to her father-in-law, which may or may not be heard by the two men, then kissed one daughter and knelt go let her down and hug the other sister too.
Max grinned, "is that so? In that case... we might as well." Another kiss. More than a peck again.
Definitely more than a peck. Not more than he'd ever do in front of his children, but more like how he was kissing him earlier. More wrapped up in the happiness of the moment, lover and children both, than listening to what Sol says.
Which was why his eyes flew open when Charles spat out, furious beyond belief (and a little dizzied by it all... or something) "What in hell's fury is going on here?!"
Max pulled back a bit, more at the sudden tensing of Stephen's body than the voice and it's shock, and his arms didn't let go - but just remained loose enough that Stephen could step away from him at any moment he wished to. The thought flashed in his mind that it might not be a good idea to aggravate things further, but his lips hitched up by reflex, "just something to make sure the girls have reason to make us do their bidding." Not specific which girls, either.
Stephen's eyes flashed furiously, just for a second. And then, well, the darkness didn't go away, the underlying deadliness, but his stance relaxed almost leonid in its deadly laziness and he smiled. "Of course." And then, halfway over his shoulder but still not moving or taking his arms away from Max. "Hello, Father. Did you want something?" His tone was the sort that came rarely, but usually right before he skewered someone. Solace might remember it from the beginning of their first night together.
Charles was pale and there might actually have been a little froth gathering at his mouth. Maybe. His lips were thinned in anger and he didn't seem to be able to find words for his disgust. "So," he grated out. "This..." looking them up and down, as though he'd caught his son in a by-the-hour motel in bed with an eight ball and five hookers of varying genders, races, and states of cleanliness. "This..." Still no words.
Max would flinch if he could mistake that flash as for meant for him, and while he may not fully recognize the voice, he recognized enough of the signs. And didn't let go either, on the one hand because he wanted to be there like that, no matter what, on the other... to make sure that he could constrain Stephen. Not for Charles's sake, no. But obviously there were four children running around the house, and a sight of violence was not something he wanted for any of them.
Solace had sent the girls back in the direction of their room, and after making sure they did go that direction, almost ran, showing up behind Charles in the doorway very quickly. Her voice was absolutely frosty. "This is no business of yours." But there could be no doubt at all that she was aware of the proceedings - and approved of them. Her disapproval was of Charles's intrusion alone.
The girls were reluctant to leave, and Tatiana went so far as to make a rude gesture with one hand at Charles who, fortunately, didn't see.
Stephen shifted his hold and his stance in Max's arms a litle, just to pull him close and cradle his shouldrs in one arm, more protective than anything else. "Speak your piece, Father, or leave. No one wants your ill temper in this house, and if you cannot behave yourself towards my family you can stay away until such time as you learn at least basic human compassion and some manners."
Charles just sort of sputtered. Rocking back and forth on his heels slightly, not out of emotion but because he literally couldn't seem to stand upright. "Manners? This is... this is the worst kind of behavior... I raised you better than this! I taught you better than..." definitely frothing a bit here, eyes wide and wild. "To be some sort of whore for the lower classes!"
Max blinked for a moment and choked out a small laughter at imagining Stephen as a whore, hands warm and close on Stephen's body. Would mutter thanks for being named family, but oh well, he could do that later, right now distracting the man on the line wasn't a good idea.
Solace hissed, "Oh shut your mouth about things you couldn't possibly understand, old man." Yes, she was aware that he was younger than her father. That didn't mean her words lacked vehemence or conviction. "Or speak your full, just know that your words are empty. You raised him to be proud, that much I will grant, and he settles for nothing but the best. But no, he grew up much better than you ever could raise him."
Now, just because she'd made herself a target, he whirled on Solace "You shut your mouth, you whimpering excuse for a wife! If you were a proper woman he wouldn't be taking a... a..." gesturing flappingly at Max, not seeming to have all control of his limbs. "He wouldn't be turning catamite for a backwater hick boy..."
Stephen snarled at the old man. "Get out. Get out before..."
Well, before he had a heart attack apparently, because that's when Charles seemed to drop, in the midst of a seizure.
Solace bit down the comment she'd about to make, about having no doubts of bringing satisfaction, phrased appropriately and unflapped, for the situation, when Charles dropped down, and as the one closest to him knelt by his side very soon, checking his pulse, if he was moving, trying to hold him from harming himself, including biting or swallowing his tongue, by the way-too-familiar first aid routines, frowning.
Max just muttered, "what the--" before moving, possibly in stride with Stephen, to the door to see and react to the situation more directly.
And Stephen did move in stride with him, swift strides and precise, dropping to his knees beside his father with an expression on his face somewhere between pain and anger, worry and hate. On the one hand, this was his father. The only father he'd ever known. On the other hand, this was the person who single-handedly, deliberately, and with unknown intent had kept him in the cold for half his life. Kept him alone and as emotionless as possible, expressing no love that Stephen could remember, ever. And now that he knew better, now that he had a better idea of what a father should be, the idea infuriated him even more. Guilt, of course, the more acute later if Charles didn't survive. But that'd be later.
Right now there was at least a very real danger of Charles biting his tongue or possibly hitting his head too hard on the floor, but his limbs didn't seem to be moving with any deliberate direction whatsoever, and he was flopping like a fish on land. No focus to his eyes, no fear or hate or panic, just the seizure and the twitching afterwards as he lied there, physically exhausted and.. yes, possibly not mentally all there. Certainly, still, not focused.
Max hovered for a moment, but it seemed to him a third pair of hands wouldn't do much good - and while he could sew up a cut or even set a bone (well. Some bones.) as well as the next man, this kind of issue wan't something he'd know how to approach. He squeezed Stephen's shoulder silently, a warning that he was moving away, and crossed the distance to the nearest phone to call for an ambulance. After which he'd go have a word with the one taking care of the children, to make sure they wouldn't get exposed to anything that would panic them, before returning to see if there was something he could help with already - if only just being there.
And Solace was acting on pure practical reflexes. Keep the head from hitting the floor. Turn him sideways, one of her knees carefully propping his back to keep him from rolling either way, to make sure he didn't gag on anything. Looking for something to place between his teeth to stop him from biting his tongue. A part of her was wondering whether it wouldn't have been a better idea to let any of those things to happen, considering who is there on the floor, but in the end she couldn't make that choice. Not when he was helpless like that.
Not somebody who still matters to Stephen, despite all the differences. Some way. Even if not exactly a good way, Charles still was somebody who was a part of her husband's life. Blood of his blood, if nothing else. And while Charles may not even know what caring, affection for his son - or anyone else, for that matter - was, Stephen now knew. And she could read that in his face. The only family he'd known, before her.
No mater how much she was irked at him right now, for taking something like this quite so problematically. It just bloody well wasn't his business. Damn it.
Stephen helped, where he could, but he just wasn't sure what to do. Medical things other than basic first aid had not ever been in his training at any point. Some of the anger was starting to leech away underneath a child-like fear and the guilt. He had goaded his father, made things worse. Even if he was damn well intruding himself where he didn't belong. Oh yes, that was resentment. Resentment for his father who had never given him a tenth of what he ended up with, even the things that a father should have given, that Stephen now knows. Resentment for his father taking what had been a lovely afternoon with his children and his beloveds and ruining it by flopping around on the floor.
But Charles wasn't flopping anymore. His face was sweaty and pale, and there was blood on his mouth from where he'd bitten the inside of it although, perhaps thankfully, not nearly enough for him to have bitten his tongue more than superficially if at all. Every now and again the tips of the fingers on his right hand twitched, but that was about as much movement as he seemed to be capable of, and his eyes remained unfocused.
Sol's fingers sought Charles's neck, felt for the pulse. Not the steadiest she'd felt, but it wasn't ... growing fainter that she could tell. But his skin was cold. She rose from her knees just enough to reach for a blanket from the nearest couch and throw it over the formerly neat, aristocratic trim figure which was now reduced to something less, something dishevelled, disordered. Helpless. Something that was making his son's body look almost as immobile, in moments, as the one on the floor, and his face...
Solace kneeled beside Stephen, eyes on his features rather than on the pasty ones below, and she reached to hold his hand. Or wrap her fingers around his fist, whichever. Her hand wasn't shaking, in anger or stress or fear. She just held his hand. And spoke his name quietly. If he needed something else to focus on... or wanted.
Max's figure shaded the doorframe, so close. He was not at all out of breath, from between the playroom and here, but he knew he'd be questioned about running inside the house. By several pairs of young eyes looking up at him - closer and closer by the day, it felt. "The ... kids will be kept away as long as possible. Food." That was usually a safe way to distract them for a bit. "Ambulance is on its way, will be here in minutes, by the sound of it." In a neighborhood like this? Yeah. Solace's lips quirked as if by the same thought - mirthlessly, ironically. "I-- can wait with the kids?" And he could see what Sol had seen. It was a good idea to leave alone exactly neither of the two men on the floor. He just had no idea where he would be more useful. Or marginally less useless? Yeah. Whatever.
He covered her hand with hers for a moment, grateful. For both of them. For their presence in the room so that he didn't have to be alone with his guilt. This could just as easily have happened in conversation between the two of them alone, him and his father, and then he didn't know what he would have done. Stood and stared while the older man twitched and died. Called for the ambulance or not. He just didn't know.
Stephen took a breath, looking up and over at Max. "That... might be best. Before they worry." Although, truth be told, he didn't want Max to go. Didn't want either of them to go. Of all things, after all these years, the old icy feeling was encroaching again and he wanted to cling to their warmth. Wanted not to be glad that the bastard was suffering for Stephen having found some sort of happiness. Wanted not to be the cold-blooded ruthless person he had been when he was young. Wanted to be able to reach out instead of being paralyzed by this... whatever it was.
Ah, but 'might be best' was enough of an instruction too. Years and years and years of work together, time together, attention paid to each other meant that Max could read the actual meaning in the words. Not contradictory, no. He knew that Stephen's reason backed up the words, and he meant them completely, but also if that was what he wanted Max to do, the actual phrase would have been different. Or the voice, something.
"Mmm. I'll have to time it right to make sure they're not all over the place when the medics are here." Reason to appease reason. Motion to respond to the reaching out, subtle and small as it had been. He was on the floor, behind Stephen, within moments, moving fast and quiet and dropping to his knees, arm around one of the other man's shoulder and upper arm, there, offering him the chance to lean back against his chest, but not insisting. "Just where I am needed, when I am, for those who do worry." For one thing or another, Stephen did. Body position, ways of movement, word choice. So many signs. So many signs that both could read.
Sol's fingers twined with him, tight and firm. Her tiny smile at Max was thankful, for what he'd just done, for what he was doing, and for what he likely would do yet. She hoped they'd be here soon, the medics. This didn't look good. And she did not like the idea of him being on their hands. She took a deep breath, and spoke softly, enough that if Stephen wanted to say something, she'd hear and her words could fade, but clearly, letting her voice, no matter what its message, be another beacon for him. "I'll call her--" Charles's 'wife' "--when he's taken away. Until she gets there you're going to be the one that gets asked questions, I think. I'm sure you know the kind of things to warn them not to keep him about - for his or ours abilities?" Something for him to focus on other than the shock, in whatever form. "Neither of us must go with him with the ambulance, I don't think." The older man probably wouldn't be particularly impressed by that show of concern anyway. If he registered it at all.
But not for Charles's sake, for theirs they had to do all that was possible. Because they'd come to live with their actions today for the days yet to come. And no matter what... it was a man helpless.
And he'd made possible the existence of her husband. For all the ill he'd done after... That alone was something she couldn't not be grateful for.
Stephen nodded slowly, flicking a smile at both of them, grateful, again. "I'd completely forgotten about her," he added, with a wry twist of a smile that was nonetheless less strained than he had been a moment ago. His stepmother was more of a mild irritation than anything; she was, thankfully, more normally dysfunctional. "Thank you." Reaching up his other hand to cover Max's.
And looking down at the body. Strange, how he was thinking of Charles as 'the body' already. As though he was dead and not dying, if even that far gone. If he recovered, though, Stephen would be disinherited, disavowed. What was the word in English. Disowned. An appropriate word, since Charles seemed to have regarded his son as more of a possession than another person with his own will and thoughts and feelings. Stephen wondered if he cared about that. And then, realizing that, he wondered if he cared about anything. Everything seemed muted again, distant. Cold.
Enough times had Solace seen him withdraw into the distance to know the signs. The slight shift in his features, turning him into a perfect person whose every reaction was considered, none felt. Enough times had she waved it away on him, let it be when he was working, teased him into brushing it off, even occasionally sexed through it to him through the years.
And enough times had Solace seen that caused by Charles.
Maybe this wasn't the time to break through it. But it made her anger at the man down on the floor flair briefly again, and she dug her fingernails against Stephen's hand, twined as their fingers were. This, you're feeling. All, you are feeling. Her words were strained, with that anger - although, with her as always, that also came out as calm, cool level voice. "Once she gets there you can release responsibility - she's the next of kin. Technically." It would all be in the medics' hands anyway for the coming, oh, day or so at least. By her guess. And then the aftermath would start clearing. And how...
And then her thoughts, reaching the more outflung wards, allerted her that likely the rushing ambulance was approaching.
Max stayed still, close, arm still around his friend's shoulders until Solace nodded to him. Time for him to be there with the children, it would make it quicker and raise fewer questions if Stephen was dealing with this along with his wife. Fewer delays if the little ones - all of them - stayed out of the way, and that was more likely if one of them all parents was there with them.
But before he rose to leave, he did pull Stephen back against his chest for a hug. Brief, but warm. And said quietly, "you'll know where to find me. Do. And if you go with him, make sure you don't make me regret I wasn't there to keep you safe, all right?" One passenger in the ambulance. If Stephen was going, the chance to travel with him was absent anyway.
Stephen unfroze enough at that touch to hug him back tightly and with just a bit of clinging. There was always that sense of sharp, poignant loss when he left the room (outside of work hours, of course) or the building. Both with him and Solace, but more so him. Stephen wasn't experiencing that nightly, subtle reassurance, that routine of reaffirming bonds before sleep. In the day to day, it hardly mattered. In the day to day there were conversations or drive by visits, little ways to touch each other. In a time like this when his equilibrium had been entirely upset, it mattered. Not enough to stop him, but enough that he felt it.
"I'll be careful," he said, though, and smiled. A tiny, strained smile. And kept his eyes on Max until the other man had left, hand tight with Solace's, until Max was out of sight and then he curled both hands around Solace's and clung to her, bowing his head over their clasped hands.
"Is it wrong of me, do you suppose," he said quietly. The emergency crew would be told where they were, would expect the son to be at the father's side. "To wish for him to simply pass away from this?"
"Perhaps, if it were many other people." Solace said quietly, then gently released one of her hands - just one, and only to place her arm around his shoulders and hold him closer to her. "Besides, we may wish many things. What we act upon matters even more. And what we mean to do." She leaned her forehead against his, just for a moment. "And he might yet. Just not because you failed to do anything that you know you need to do."
He nodded a little, though his hand tightened for a moment on hers. She was right, of course. It worked on most of the guilt, not all, but most. They had done what they could and what they had to do, what they had been able to do. And then the ambulance was there.
A flurry of medical technicians, and Stephen kept as calm as he could under the circumstances. It wouldn't do anyone any good to short out the medical equipment, although a certain amount of that was to be expected just from Charles' own power. Deep breathing, calm, even. Solace was there. The EMTs were there, they knew what to do. He answered questions in a haze, though not enough of one that he couldn't gloss over exactly what had sent Charles into this state. They had fought. That was enough.
If they asked more, Solace would cut in with firm, chill information that they had fought over the raising of the children. Especially their eldest who was near enough if anybody had energy to spare to check on the fact. Clearly and loudly enough so that Stephen could keep that in mind. It wasn't false, after all - Aidan had been a cause for dissent between the father and his son's family for a long time, through no fault of the boy's. Or, really, Stephen's.
It was enough of details. More were unnecessary to anybody.
In not too long, Charles was loaded up in the ambulance. One of the medtechs asked Stephen if anybody was going to ride with him, and Solace took her husband's hand again, briefly. His choice, whether to go or not. She just asked which hospital they were taking him to, and got an answer. It was... the easiest way to make sure she knew.
Her fingers tightened around Stephen's hand, and she spoke softly, "I will stay here with the children." Who were looking out through the window, as often as they could get out of adults' direct control. "Will come when they're settled, if you go."
He nodded at that, squeezing her hand once, tightly, and then making himself let go. "I'll go with him," he said, voice subdued under the weight of all that had happened. As next of kin, blood donor if necessary, someone to make all the legal decisions even if he suspected it was Charles' new wife who had the power of attorney. If she couldn't be reached... there would be decisions to make. If the worst happened. If not...
He just wasn't sure. What was going on, what would happen. But he kissed Solace swiftly, taking strength from the brief touch of her lips as much as giving reassurance that he would be all right, and climbed into the ambulance where and when indicated by the EMTs. He did not, possibly conspicuously, hold his father's hand or any such gesture.
Scene set up: Charles comes over, Sol greets him coolly as she does, Stephen and Max are out back playing with the kids and laughing and having a generally good time. Aidan and the three girls, Tammy, Sammy, Tania. (Stephen is about forty-seven and Max about forty-two and Charles in his very early eighties.)
Eventually they come in, possibly Max and Stephen with a girl on their shoulders and Aidan scampering along behind them. Because the girls would be about four and Aidan would be about... nine. Max has Tammy, Stephen has Sammy, and Tania with Aidan
Autumn outside, with leaves on the ground and all, and at least one of the girls has one still stuck in her hair.
And they turn the kids over to a household ... ah, nanny/governess (there may be at least two security staff, but no manservants. Butler or au pair. Someone to cook and someone to clean, but they come in. A driver who also is security. That's probably about it. While the kids are so young, at least one, maybe one person for the girls and one for Aidan, to be there in case Stephen and Sol are out / late, who possibly is/are resident. Pool house at the back.
And Stephen raising the children to take the attitude that just because these people cook and clean after you a) doesn't mean you shouldn't know at least the basics b) doesn't mean they aren't people too and c) while they may not be family or as close as family, they deserve the respect and loyalty of family. So, perhaps you wouldn't share your deepest darkest fears but if their father dies, you buy them a plane ticket home for the funeral.
But just, with how dangerous both of their lives are, they'd make sure that there's ALWAYS somebody the children know to take care of them... no matter what. Always there.
So, family servant in general.)
They turn the kids over to him or her and head towards the lounge.
Meanwihle Solace and Charles are talking about... something engrossing enough that they miss Stephen and Max coming in, possibly the fact that Aidan's almost old enough to be sent to Spenser, the same boarding school that Stephen went to.
... which makes Sol... "hmmm" - but they would have something to talk about, or hiss at each other about.
Meanwhile Max and Stephen are in the lounge, just... talking. Goofing off.
They'd set up some competition among the kids and are discussing the conclusions - animated, goofy, happy.
Discussing Aidan's smart mouth or Sammy or Tammy's or something.
"Which she gets from you," Stephen pointed a finger at Max.
Max laughed and said, "well it's certainly got me into good stuff, hope it works good for her too"
"Well, let's hope so." Smiling.
"Mm. And some of the good stuff is better than other." Licking his lips and grinning.
Smirking, now, eyebrows slightly raised. If he were Max he'd be waggling his eyebrows. "I always said Trouble was your middle name."
Drawling, "weeeeell, one does one's best."
"You do very well." Stepping closer to him. "Certainly I never mind getting into trouble." Ahh, bad jokes
Max wrapped an arm around his waist, and smirked. "Certainly I mind you getting into much trouble, but then again, you're all so nice to me and everything."
Sliding both arms around his waist. "How nice, would you say?" Low and teasing.
"Mmm... very nice. Deserving a cookie. Or another prize."
"What sort of prize would you like?" Softly
"I thought you were getting the prize."
Max laughed. "Well, I was thinking of something more..." Licks his lips, "rewarding."
Stephen, pulling him in a little closer. "Explain, please..."
Max's arm tightened around him, the back of the other hand's fingers brushing along Stephen's cheek before settling on his shoulder. "I think we can negotiate something adequate."
Both an amused and an adoring little smirk, one hand sliding lightly up and down Max's waist. "I think we can..." as he leaned in just a little closer, lips hovering inches before his now
"Mmm, in a bit." Max crossed the tiny remainder of the distance...
Stephen sighed a bit, just enjoying the sensation of Max's lips on his for now, not pressing, settling him in his arms, settling into Max's arms
Max's body just settled closer to his, arms warm, kiss light, and then unobtrusively opening up.
Stephen pulled him just a little tighter, or maybe a little more snug to him, opening a little himself but also keeping it slow, deeply passionate instead of deeply physical, drinking in Max's warmth and giving him steadiness in return, love flowing between them freely.
Love flowing freely indeed, no rush to stop the kiss, no rush to the kiss, all there was right now is here, and yes, passionate, connecting, enjoying the togetherness. Feeling as though he could taste the recent laughter on the other man's lips, the contentment of how things were. Or maybe it's just how good kisses with him feel anyway. Slow, tender almost, yet no less intense for it.
Tatiana, of course, appeared in the doorway at the least opportune time. "Eeeww..." she ran out after proclaiming this on her tiny four-and-a-half year old legs
Solace was alerted by her voice and looked to listen what the fuss is about, then laughed and caught her and picked her up.
Stephen just sort of chuckled against Max's lips. Tammy, of course, went to see what was so disgusting and then promptly ran after her sister. Tatiana gave her mother a very stern face. "Mo-ommy, Daddy and Unca Max are kissing." As though this was just about the grossest thing adults could ever do. Of course, she would tell Unca Max when Mommy and Daddy are kissing, too. She just thought it unfair that they would pay attention to each other and not to the girls, of course
Max tightened his arms around Stephen briefly, then said gravely, "We have been caught." In turn, he caught sight of Tammy and how she turned around and runs too. "I think we may need to go and see how we'll be able to appease them before they get really really unhappy with our gross misdemeanor." Oh yes, tongue in cheek. And stealing another peck before making any move away.
Solace held up Tania and grinned, "are they now?" before a choked sound made her recall that, ah, there were more people present than usual...
Charles was just sort of staring at the family tableau, white-faced and dark-eyed with rage. There was something not only unseemly about all this affection (although it was between women, so he didn't say anything about that) and... his son? Kissing another man? Surely this had to be a wild fancy of the girl's. To which he went out in the direction she'd come from.
Stephen just sort of grinned and stole another kiss. "They're going to be unhappy no matter what we do, we may as well get the most bang for our buck." Deliberate choice of words there.
Sol called out to her father-in-law, which may or may not be heard by the two men, then kissed one daughter and knelt go let her down and hug the other sister too.
Max grinned, "is that so? In that case... we might as well." Another kiss. More than a peck again.
Definitely more than a peck. Not more than he'd ever do in front of his children, but more like how he was kissing him earlier. More wrapped up in the happiness of the moment, lover and children both, than listening to what Sol says.
Which was why his eyes flew open when Charles spat out, furious beyond belief (and a little dizzied by it all... or something) "What in hell's fury is going on here?!"
Max pulled back a bit, more at the sudden tensing of Stephen's body than the voice and it's shock, and his arms didn't let go - but just remained loose enough that Stephen could step away from him at any moment he wished to. The thought flashed in his mind that it might not be a good idea to aggravate things further, but his lips hitched up by reflex, "just something to make sure the girls have reason to make us do their bidding." Not specific which girls, either.
Stephen's eyes flashed furiously, just for a second. And then, well, the darkness didn't go away, the underlying deadliness, but his stance relaxed almost leonid in its deadly laziness and he smiled. "Of course." And then, halfway over his shoulder but still not moving or taking his arms away from Max. "Hello, Father. Did you want something?" His tone was the sort that came rarely, but usually right before he skewered someone. Solace might remember it from the beginning of their first night together.
Charles was pale and there might actually have been a little froth gathering at his mouth. Maybe. His lips were thinned in anger and he didn't seem to be able to find words for his disgust. "So," he grated out. "This..." looking them up and down, as though he'd caught his son in a by-the-hour motel in bed with an eight ball and five hookers of varying genders, races, and states of cleanliness. "This..." Still no words.
Max would flinch if he could mistake that flash as for meant for him, and while he may not fully recognize the voice, he recognized enough of the signs. And didn't let go either, on the one hand because he wanted to be there like that, no matter what, on the other... to make sure that he could constrain Stephen. Not for Charles's sake, no. But obviously there were four children running around the house, and a sight of violence was not something he wanted for any of them.
Solace had sent the girls back in the direction of their room, and after making sure they did go that direction, almost ran, showing up behind Charles in the doorway very quickly. Her voice was absolutely frosty. "This is no business of yours." But there could be no doubt at all that she was aware of the proceedings - and approved of them. Her disapproval was of Charles's intrusion alone.
The girls were reluctant to leave, and Tatiana went so far as to make a rude gesture with one hand at Charles who, fortunately, didn't see.
Stephen shifted his hold and his stance in Max's arms a litle, just to pull him close and cradle his shouldrs in one arm, more protective than anything else. "Speak your piece, Father, or leave. No one wants your ill temper in this house, and if you cannot behave yourself towards my family you can stay away until such time as you learn at least basic human compassion and some manners."
Charles just sort of sputtered. Rocking back and forth on his heels slightly, not out of emotion but because he literally couldn't seem to stand upright. "Manners? This is... this is the worst kind of behavior... I raised you better than this! I taught you better than..." definitely frothing a bit here, eyes wide and wild. "To be some sort of whore for the lower classes!"
Max blinked for a moment and choked out a small laughter at imagining Stephen as a whore, hands warm and close on Stephen's body. Would mutter thanks for being named family, but oh well, he could do that later, right now distracting the man on the line wasn't a good idea.
Solace hissed, "Oh shut your mouth about things you couldn't possibly understand, old man." Yes, she was aware that he was younger than her father. That didn't mean her words lacked vehemence or conviction. "Or speak your full, just know that your words are empty. You raised him to be proud, that much I will grant, and he settles for nothing but the best. But no, he grew up much better than you ever could raise him."
Now, just because she'd made herself a target, he whirled on Solace "You shut your mouth, you whimpering excuse for a wife! If you were a proper woman he wouldn't be taking a... a..." gesturing flappingly at Max, not seeming to have all control of his limbs. "He wouldn't be turning catamite for a backwater hick boy..."
Stephen snarled at the old man. "Get out. Get out before..."
Well, before he had a heart attack apparently, because that's when Charles seemed to drop, in the midst of a seizure.
Solace bit down the comment she'd about to make, about having no doubts of bringing satisfaction, phrased appropriately and unflapped, for the situation, when Charles dropped down, and as the one closest to him knelt by his side very soon, checking his pulse, if he was moving, trying to hold him from harming himself, including biting or swallowing his tongue, by the way-too-familiar first aid routines, frowning.
Max just muttered, "what the--" before moving, possibly in stride with Stephen, to the door to see and react to the situation more directly.
And Stephen did move in stride with him, swift strides and precise, dropping to his knees beside his father with an expression on his face somewhere between pain and anger, worry and hate. On the one hand, this was his father. The only father he'd ever known. On the other hand, this was the person who single-handedly, deliberately, and with unknown intent had kept him in the cold for half his life. Kept him alone and as emotionless as possible, expressing no love that Stephen could remember, ever. And now that he knew better, now that he had a better idea of what a father should be, the idea infuriated him even more. Guilt, of course, the more acute later if Charles didn't survive. But that'd be later.
Right now there was at least a very real danger of Charles biting his tongue or possibly hitting his head too hard on the floor, but his limbs didn't seem to be moving with any deliberate direction whatsoever, and he was flopping like a fish on land. No focus to his eyes, no fear or hate or panic, just the seizure and the twitching afterwards as he lied there, physically exhausted and.. yes, possibly not mentally all there. Certainly, still, not focused.
Max hovered for a moment, but it seemed to him a third pair of hands wouldn't do much good - and while he could sew up a cut or even set a bone (well. Some bones.) as well as the next man, this kind of issue wan't something he'd know how to approach. He squeezed Stephen's shoulder silently, a warning that he was moving away, and crossed the distance to the nearest phone to call for an ambulance. After which he'd go have a word with the one taking care of the children, to make sure they wouldn't get exposed to anything that would panic them, before returning to see if there was something he could help with already - if only just being there.
And Solace was acting on pure practical reflexes. Keep the head from hitting the floor. Turn him sideways, one of her knees carefully propping his back to keep him from rolling either way, to make sure he didn't gag on anything. Looking for something to place between his teeth to stop him from biting his tongue. A part of her was wondering whether it wouldn't have been a better idea to let any of those things to happen, considering who is there on the floor, but in the end she couldn't make that choice. Not when he was helpless like that.
Not somebody who still matters to Stephen, despite all the differences. Some way. Even if not exactly a good way, Charles still was somebody who was a part of her husband's life. Blood of his blood, if nothing else. And while Charles may not even know what caring, affection for his son - or anyone else, for that matter - was, Stephen now knew. And she could read that in his face. The only family he'd known, before her.
No mater how much she was irked at him right now, for taking something like this quite so problematically. It just bloody well wasn't his business. Damn it.
Stephen helped, where he could, but he just wasn't sure what to do. Medical things other than basic first aid had not ever been in his training at any point. Some of the anger was starting to leech away underneath a child-like fear and the guilt. He had goaded his father, made things worse. Even if he was damn well intruding himself where he didn't belong. Oh yes, that was resentment. Resentment for his father who had never given him a tenth of what he ended up with, even the things that a father should have given, that Stephen now knows. Resentment for his father taking what had been a lovely afternoon with his children and his beloveds and ruining it by flopping around on the floor.
But Charles wasn't flopping anymore. His face was sweaty and pale, and there was blood on his mouth from where he'd bitten the inside of it although, perhaps thankfully, not nearly enough for him to have bitten his tongue more than superficially if at all. Every now and again the tips of the fingers on his right hand twitched, but that was about as much movement as he seemed to be capable of, and his eyes remained unfocused.
Sol's fingers sought Charles's neck, felt for the pulse. Not the steadiest she'd felt, but it wasn't ... growing fainter that she could tell. But his skin was cold. She rose from her knees just enough to reach for a blanket from the nearest couch and throw it over the formerly neat, aristocratic trim figure which was now reduced to something less, something dishevelled, disordered. Helpless. Something that was making his son's body look almost as immobile, in moments, as the one on the floor, and his face...
Solace kneeled beside Stephen, eyes on his features rather than on the pasty ones below, and she reached to hold his hand. Or wrap her fingers around his fist, whichever. Her hand wasn't shaking, in anger or stress or fear. She just held his hand. And spoke his name quietly. If he needed something else to focus on... or wanted.
Max's figure shaded the doorframe, so close. He was not at all out of breath, from between the playroom and here, but he knew he'd be questioned about running inside the house. By several pairs of young eyes looking up at him - closer and closer by the day, it felt. "The ... kids will be kept away as long as possible. Food." That was usually a safe way to distract them for a bit. "Ambulance is on its way, will be here in minutes, by the sound of it." In a neighborhood like this? Yeah. Solace's lips quirked as if by the same thought - mirthlessly, ironically. "I-- can wait with the kids?" And he could see what Sol had seen. It was a good idea to leave alone exactly neither of the two men on the floor. He just had no idea where he would be more useful. Or marginally less useless? Yeah. Whatever.
He covered her hand with hers for a moment, grateful. For both of them. For their presence in the room so that he didn't have to be alone with his guilt. This could just as easily have happened in conversation between the two of them alone, him and his father, and then he didn't know what he would have done. Stood and stared while the older man twitched and died. Called for the ambulance or not. He just didn't know.
Stephen took a breath, looking up and over at Max. "That... might be best. Before they worry." Although, truth be told, he didn't want Max to go. Didn't want either of them to go. Of all things, after all these years, the old icy feeling was encroaching again and he wanted to cling to their warmth. Wanted not to be glad that the bastard was suffering for Stephen having found some sort of happiness. Wanted not to be the cold-blooded ruthless person he had been when he was young. Wanted to be able to reach out instead of being paralyzed by this... whatever it was.
Ah, but 'might be best' was enough of an instruction too. Years and years and years of work together, time together, attention paid to each other meant that Max could read the actual meaning in the words. Not contradictory, no. He knew that Stephen's reason backed up the words, and he meant them completely, but also if that was what he wanted Max to do, the actual phrase would have been different. Or the voice, something.
"Mmm. I'll have to time it right to make sure they're not all over the place when the medics are here." Reason to appease reason. Motion to respond to the reaching out, subtle and small as it had been. He was on the floor, behind Stephen, within moments, moving fast and quiet and dropping to his knees, arm around one of the other man's shoulder and upper arm, there, offering him the chance to lean back against his chest, but not insisting. "Just where I am needed, when I am, for those who do worry." For one thing or another, Stephen did. Body position, ways of movement, word choice. So many signs. So many signs that both could read.
Sol's fingers twined with him, tight and firm. Her tiny smile at Max was thankful, for what he'd just done, for what he was doing, and for what he likely would do yet. She hoped they'd be here soon, the medics. This didn't look good. And she did not like the idea of him being on their hands. She took a deep breath, and spoke softly, enough that if Stephen wanted to say something, she'd hear and her words could fade, but clearly, letting her voice, no matter what its message, be another beacon for him. "I'll call her--" Charles's 'wife' "--when he's taken away. Until she gets there you're going to be the one that gets asked questions, I think. I'm sure you know the kind of things to warn them not to keep him about - for his or ours abilities?" Something for him to focus on other than the shock, in whatever form. "Neither of us must go with him with the ambulance, I don't think." The older man probably wouldn't be particularly impressed by that show of concern anyway. If he registered it at all.
But not for Charles's sake, for theirs they had to do all that was possible. Because they'd come to live with their actions today for the days yet to come. And no matter what... it was a man helpless.
And he'd made possible the existence of her husband. For all the ill he'd done after... That alone was something she couldn't not be grateful for.
Stephen nodded slowly, flicking a smile at both of them, grateful, again. "I'd completely forgotten about her," he added, with a wry twist of a smile that was nonetheless less strained than he had been a moment ago. His stepmother was more of a mild irritation than anything; she was, thankfully, more normally dysfunctional. "Thank you." Reaching up his other hand to cover Max's.
And looking down at the body. Strange, how he was thinking of Charles as 'the body' already. As though he was dead and not dying, if even that far gone. If he recovered, though, Stephen would be disinherited, disavowed. What was the word in English. Disowned. An appropriate word, since Charles seemed to have regarded his son as more of a possession than another person with his own will and thoughts and feelings. Stephen wondered if he cared about that. And then, realizing that, he wondered if he cared about anything. Everything seemed muted again, distant. Cold.
Enough times had Solace seen him withdraw into the distance to know the signs. The slight shift in his features, turning him into a perfect person whose every reaction was considered, none felt. Enough times had she waved it away on him, let it be when he was working, teased him into brushing it off, even occasionally sexed through it to him through the years.
And enough times had Solace seen that caused by Charles.
Maybe this wasn't the time to break through it. But it made her anger at the man down on the floor flair briefly again, and she dug her fingernails against Stephen's hand, twined as their fingers were. This, you're feeling. All, you are feeling. Her words were strained, with that anger - although, with her as always, that also came out as calm, cool level voice. "Once she gets there you can release responsibility - she's the next of kin. Technically." It would all be in the medics' hands anyway for the coming, oh, day or so at least. By her guess. And then the aftermath would start clearing. And how...
And then her thoughts, reaching the more outflung wards, allerted her that likely the rushing ambulance was approaching.
Max stayed still, close, arm still around his friend's shoulders until Solace nodded to him. Time for him to be there with the children, it would make it quicker and raise fewer questions if Stephen was dealing with this along with his wife. Fewer delays if the little ones - all of them - stayed out of the way, and that was more likely if one of them all parents was there with them.
But before he rose to leave, he did pull Stephen back against his chest for a hug. Brief, but warm. And said quietly, "you'll know where to find me. Do. And if you go with him, make sure you don't make me regret I wasn't there to keep you safe, all right?" One passenger in the ambulance. If Stephen was going, the chance to travel with him was absent anyway.
Stephen unfroze enough at that touch to hug him back tightly and with just a bit of clinging. There was always that sense of sharp, poignant loss when he left the room (outside of work hours, of course) or the building. Both with him and Solace, but more so him. Stephen wasn't experiencing that nightly, subtle reassurance, that routine of reaffirming bonds before sleep. In the day to day, it hardly mattered. In the day to day there were conversations or drive by visits, little ways to touch each other. In a time like this when his equilibrium had been entirely upset, it mattered. Not enough to stop him, but enough that he felt it.
"I'll be careful," he said, though, and smiled. A tiny, strained smile. And kept his eyes on Max until the other man had left, hand tight with Solace's, until Max was out of sight and then he curled both hands around Solace's and clung to her, bowing his head over their clasped hands.
"Is it wrong of me, do you suppose," he said quietly. The emergency crew would be told where they were, would expect the son to be at the father's side. "To wish for him to simply pass away from this?"
"Perhaps, if it were many other people." Solace said quietly, then gently released one of her hands - just one, and only to place her arm around his shoulders and hold him closer to her. "Besides, we may wish many things. What we act upon matters even more. And what we mean to do." She leaned her forehead against his, just for a moment. "And he might yet. Just not because you failed to do anything that you know you need to do."
He nodded a little, though his hand tightened for a moment on hers. She was right, of course. It worked on most of the guilt, not all, but most. They had done what they could and what they had to do, what they had been able to do. And then the ambulance was there.
A flurry of medical technicians, and Stephen kept as calm as he could under the circumstances. It wouldn't do anyone any good to short out the medical equipment, although a certain amount of that was to be expected just from Charles' own power. Deep breathing, calm, even. Solace was there. The EMTs were there, they knew what to do. He answered questions in a haze, though not enough of one that he couldn't gloss over exactly what had sent Charles into this state. They had fought. That was enough.
If they asked more, Solace would cut in with firm, chill information that they had fought over the raising of the children. Especially their eldest who was near enough if anybody had energy to spare to check on the fact. Clearly and loudly enough so that Stephen could keep that in mind. It wasn't false, after all - Aidan had been a cause for dissent between the father and his son's family for a long time, through no fault of the boy's. Or, really, Stephen's.
It was enough of details. More were unnecessary to anybody.
In not too long, Charles was loaded up in the ambulance. One of the medtechs asked Stephen if anybody was going to ride with him, and Solace took her husband's hand again, briefly. His choice, whether to go or not. She just asked which hospital they were taking him to, and got an answer. It was... the easiest way to make sure she knew.
Her fingers tightened around Stephen's hand, and she spoke softly, "I will stay here with the children." Who were looking out through the window, as often as they could get out of adults' direct control. "Will come when they're settled, if you go."
He nodded at that, squeezing her hand once, tightly, and then making himself let go. "I'll go with him," he said, voice subdued under the weight of all that had happened. As next of kin, blood donor if necessary, someone to make all the legal decisions even if he suspected it was Charles' new wife who had the power of attorney. If she couldn't be reached... there would be decisions to make. If the worst happened. If not...
He just wasn't sure. What was going on, what would happen. But he kissed Solace swiftly, taking strength from the brief touch of her lips as much as giving reassurance that he would be all right, and climbed into the ambulance where and when indicated by the EMTs. He did not, possibly conspicuously, hold his father's hand or any such gesture.