Cooking Mama Chapter 9: Who's Your Daddy
[Mama!Saïx] In which Mama unleashes the ultimate weapon: Daddy.
Rating: T for language
Chars: Saïx, Xemnas, Luxord, Zexion
Genre: Humour/Family
Spoilers: Minor BbS spoilers regarding Xemnas' identity; some Days spoilers.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting copyright to Square Enix.
COOKING MAMA
9: Who's Your Daddy
I don't think I've ever mentioned it before, but holy fuck, Luxord is the most handsome guy I've ever seen.
No really, he is.
What?
Just because I'm a Nobody, it doesn't mean I can't have appreciation for beauty when I see it. He's cool and optimistic, composed and trim (annoyingly so when put against my dishevelled hair and stained apron), he's got these sparkly blue eyes and he actually listens to me when I talk. I haven't been acquainted with that general conception of courtesy for a while now, and if that isn't a turn on I don't know what is, and shit, I think I might be drunk.
-x-
I stagger out of the cubicle with a smidgen more grace than a frazzled sailor on a sinking ship. "Ugh…oh god…"
"Better?" Luxord hands over a glass of water.
"Yeah. I just…need to look at something which isn't a toilet bowl or the bottom of a beer mug." I collapse against the hardwood wall of the tavern's restroom, gripping the sink for support. "These problems aren't going away, Luxord. I can still remember those four brats."
"Yes, it only works if you agree to remain in a permanent state of drunken stupor," Luxord concedes. "You will, essentially, still have your children. Where's Xemnas?"
I snap my head up so quick my eyes and brain rattle out of place, I swear. "No, no, we have to keep an eye on him, I can't have a repeat of Agrabah-Xemnas! Answer me now!"
A silvery head pops out from under the sink. "I'm here, Mama. You look so ill."
"I'm fine," I slur unconvincingly. "I just want it to be Monday."
"Home might be best for both of you," says Luxord, not unkindly. He bends over, hand outstretched in an amicable gesture to pull up Xemnas. I admire his ear piercings and steady gaze of patience and unruffled composure. Seriously, that is some gaze-ugh, snap out of it, Saix.
"I'm not going home yet. I know what you're trying to do, Luxord - you're trying to fob me off so that you can go back to squishing people in playing cards. I'm meant to do something to you." I snap my fingers for the thought to come to me. "Oh yeah! I'm supposed to recruit you."
Luxord gives a dry laugh. "I'm a fair man, Saix. I'll give you a sporting chance and allow you to become sober first." He lifts Xemnas up into his (strong, lean) arms and offers a (dazzling) smile. "Let's take you to the park then, Xemnas. It's just up the road."
Yeah, the park is 'just up the road', but it's no easy trip when my head isn't screwed on straight. I stagger along with Stripy, and I wish for nothing more than to hurl, but I can't look bad in front of Luxord, can I-
"Saix, sit here." I get pushed onto a hard bench and the red sky goes in circles round my head.
"I want to play on the swings," exclaims Xemnas. He snatches Stripy away from me and runs off.
"Don't worry, I'm keeping a close eye on him," Luxord says. "Relax here for now. Why not tell me what exactly is going on?"
"Which part? Why I'm wearing a stripy green and yellow apron, why I owe you so much money, or why my boss is a four year old running around with a cuddly doll named Stripy?"
"Whatever you're comfortable with," he replies. He rests his elbows on his knees. "The wearisome struggle that is life can be so much more bearable when you have a friend with whom to share your problems. We all at some point feel victimised and helpless, but things are never as bad as they seem."
"Pass me your rose-tinted glasses, I want to wear them." I scowl and kick out my legs in a huff, but I contemplate the offer regardless. I mean, I've been morally screwed over these last few days but who knows? Maybe this is the tearing of the finish line ribbon. As in, "Congratulations, Saïx, you've put up with five days of torture, here's Luxord as your reward!"
…Phwoar. When put that way, I'm definitely having the last laugh.
"It's Demyx's fault," I accuse, "and then everyone had a hand in making it worse because it's great entertainment watching me suffer. It's really not fair, you know! I practically run the Organisation, and now it's turned into a loony crèche because four members drank shakes, resulting in an allergic reaction of them becoming kids, and I thought I was handling it really well, but it turns out I had no chance in the first place."
"The skills of being an evil Organisation's deputy didn't transfer so well to parenting, you mean," Luxord remarks.
"Exactly. Someone should have told me that sooner. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Not only do I have an Organisation to somehow run with four children making my life hell, I also have to manage four extremely unhelpful adults - one of whom has been squashed into a card, thank you so much - and also figure out how to eventually talk the Superior out of recruiting Liam the Agrabah creep and oh yeah, I owe you over seven hundred thousand Munny."
Luxord blinks, and by now, it's clear he's the complete opposite of me. Nothing seems to faze him, not even the level of distress he's caused. He rubs the back of his head, and that's about all the effect I have on him. "Well," he says after a moment, "I understand now why you resorted to the drink."
We fall into a short silence, which is only punctured by Xemnas' nonsensical jabbering as he sits on a swing with Stripy.
"…There's got to be some way of reducing that debt," I try. "Demyx didn't know what he was doing when he gambled away our money, he's as thick as a plank. Can't you let the debt drop?"
"That would go against the rules of competition upon which we both agreed. I'm sure you can scrabble payment from somewhere. Alternatively, you can try a few games of luck and see if you can win it back."
I burst out laughing by reflex. I don't know if you've ever heard a Nobody laugh, but it never sounds particularly pretty. "Really? Try my luck?"
Luxord smiles. I try not to stare too long. "Yes, perhaps someone such as yourself should refrain from games that require good fortune. You're incredibly ill-fated."
"No shit."
"However, today may prove to be unusually lucky for you. While I cannot agree to cancelling your debt, I can offer to lift Xigbar's curse and revert him to his normal form. Having heard your situation, you are in dire need of an extra pair of hands."
Something inside me clicks. "Exactly," I breathe.
Let's just get this straight. I'm not exactly a Nobody for negotiating. You know, I'm more a fan of demanding until I'm red in the face, so I'm relatively inexperienced when it comes to haggling and somehow staying respectable at the same time. Couple that with my drunkenness, and you know I'm going to come out with some choice sentences which would promptly kill me from embarrassment, if I had capacity for such an emotion.
I shuffle on that park bench, sitting up straighter and angling myself to face Luxord. "Tell you what," I begin (read: slur). "Xigbar's not really that important. I don't know who the bastard thinks he's kidding, he's totally expendable. Forget about fixing him for now. If you think I need help, you come along instead. You can be the extra pair of hands."
"You mean I can have a butcher's, see what I'm missing out on and wonder why I haven't joined the Organisation sooner?" Luxord settles back in the bench.
"Exactly," I say again. "It's a brilliant idea. I mean, you're probably ten times smarter than Xigbar, at least ten times hotter than him, you're the best thing I've seen all week."
He doesn't bat an eyelid. "I wouldn't place all bets on me if I were you. I'm merely a passerby who can't help but sense an echo of derisive pity and amusement every time he looks at you. You know, I used to live a life just like yours. Not plagued with children, mind you, just incredibly unlucky." He stretches an arm over the back of the bench. Proximity and personal space has always been an issue with me, but this one time, I don't seem to mind.
"I tried so hard to fit in, to go by the book and be what's 'good'. But things meant to set the course straight turned out to be catalysts to further unhappiness; people I was supposed to be able to trust were in fact the ones I needed to hide from. When you feel the whole world is out to get you, you find yourself on the brink of madness. It eats you up, consumes you, melds you into a person who wants nothing but his own destruction."
He shrugs, as though we're discussing something trivial like the weather. "I surmise, however, that if a Nobody ever receives similar bad luck, it renders him into a gibbering drunk with a frayed apron and beer stains on his cheek."
I try to wipe my face but I end up poking myself in the eye instead. "Does it bother you?"
"Your dishevelled look? Not at all. If anything, it's remarkably down-to-earth and approachable."
"I meant being a Nobody, I wasn't talking about me-really?" I perk up for the first time in years. "No one's ever pegged me as approachable. Even I wouldn't approach myself."
"Sure," enthuses Luxord. "It makes a change from your friend Xaldin threatening to beat me into joining the Organisation, not to mention Xigbar the resident sycophant and Demyx, whose mission notes written verbatim on his hand still didn't help him understand what he was supposed to be doing. You seem to be the first honest member."
I bask in that compliment for a few moments, and then say, "Well, since I'm so honest, take it from me that joining the Organisation is the best thing you'll ever do."
"Seriously?" answers Luxord. His gaze detracts from me as Xemnas bounds over like a puppy returning a ball. "Look at what the Organisation has done to you. I'm not subjecting myself to that."
"No one gets treated worse at the Organisation than me, don't worry," I reply. "You'll be treated well and I'm sure the Superior - once he's stopped fooling around as a kid on a sugar high - will recognise your invaluable assets as the master of time. I don't understand why you wouldn't join an evil Organisation populated by similar folk to you. You get to kill people and monsters as a pastime, get paid monthly, you get three meals a day and a complementary pass to the hydrotherapy spa in Agrabah. Don't ask me if it's any good because I haven't had the time to go; I've been too busy running this godforsaken madhouse."
Xemnas starts to walk circles around the park bench, mumbling to Stripy. He really isn't doing much for my cause, but Luxord seems to do a good job in not getting distracted.
"Oh Saix," he says finally, with the heaviness of a bartender listening to an entire pub's woes. "You are such a poor sod, how can I ignore it?"
-x-
On Saturday morning, Xaldin surveys the scene with a permanently insulted expression etched on his face. Luxord stands around in the dining room with his hands behind his back, as though he's at an art gallery and the sound of bickering children upstairs is simply a study on postmodernism and not my real and sad life.
"So you got him to join temporarily," Xaldin says of him.
"I have a way with words," I explain, serving up warm croissants with butter and jam.
"Yeah, it seems you do missions better than everyone else." Xaldin takes a chunk out of his croissant, as if he's ripping flesh out a leg. "Though if anyone has a way with words, it's me, and Luxord didn't budge an inch the three times I confronted him. What the hell did you tell him?"
"I don't really remember, I was drunk."
"For fuck's sake, Saix," he utters to the ceiling, "you must remember something."
"Not a single word. I was really drunk." I toss him a napkin. "Stop talking or you're going to get jam down your front."
He scowls, skulks into the dining room and that's that.
My head might have gone through a blender overnight before being patched up like papier mache on a balloon. I might have thrown up more than I actually ingested and I might now be experiencing the terrible hangover of regret, but I'm not quite incapacitated enough to admit I banked on Luxord's pity to get him in.
-x-
Luxord invokes a series of differing reactions when the kids eventually stop fighting and come downstairs for breakfast. Save for Lexaeus, who remains silent and unamused on my hip, they're pretty vocal.
"Wow, you're so cool and so tall! Look at those earrings!" Axel exclaims, doing circles round him like a malfunctioning remote control car and promptly forgetting that I had my ears pierced ages ago. "Are you here to stay?"
"Obviously not," says Zexion, "given that like me, he isn't wearing the Coat of Conformity. Good choice, by the way. Perhaps you're from social services? I've submitted dozens of complaints but your answering receptionist is a phone message black hole."
"He's my friend, everyone!" Xemnas announces, as though that clarifies everything as opposed to dumbfounding everyone even more. "Yesterday, we went to the park together and he got me apple juice."
"Actually, I'm just a friendly debt collector here on Saix's request." Luxord occupies adult Xemnas' spot at the head of the table, waving a newspaper open. "Now pardon me for pointing this out so soon, Axel, but manners dictate we do not rest our elbows on the table at any time."
Axel shrugs, still propping up his chin with a hand. "Nah, I like my elbows where they are."
"It wasn't open for discussion," says Luxord. He glances at Axel's cereal bowl, snaps his fingers and squashes it into a playing card. "I advise you be very careful with how you speak to your elders, son, or your attempts to eat may very well fall a little flat."
Axel stares at his paper breakfast, while Xemnas looks torn between laughing and fearing for his own breakfast's safety. (He slowly moves his elbows off the table.) Zexion's facial muscles run through a selection of nasty expressions before he settles for the default that is contempt.
"Oh, don't be afraid of me," Luxord says easily, returning Axel's breakfast back to normal once the guilty elbows slide off the table. "I'm certain you're all good children who require little correction. I like courtesy, decency and manners. Assuming you do too, we're going to get along just fine."
"Isn't he brilliant?" I hiss to Lexaeus (although shamefully, Vexen overhears this as he passes the kitchen). "I should have recruited him a long time ago."
I reflect on this refined godsend while washing up, and I'm not just admiring his parenting tactics either.
Then, I remember said godsend costs nearly eight hundred thousand Munny. Deciding this is highest on my list of priorities, I palm the kids off on Demyx and Luxord, and then pull Xaldin aside so that we can open the Organisation's finance system together. Seriously, when you're heavily in debt and know you can't cover your arse, you need moral support when confronting it, even when a Nobody.
"We've got just under one and a half million Munny," Xaldin reads. "How much do we owe him?"
"Eight hundred grand." I slump into my seat and start to fill out cells. "But month end is coming up, and our combined wages knock about ninety thousand off the total, plus there's the Moogle's extortionate commission, dry cleaning bill and food bill, not to mention the automatic payments to cover Ansem's household bills. We'll have money left, but not enough to keep up the grandiose meals and central heating."
"Write off the kid Nobodies' wages, that should teach them to drink revitalising shakes," Xaldin suggests.
"I can't, not without Xemnas' approval. In any case, it doesn't make us any less in the red. I can't go up to Luxord and tell him the Organisation can't clear the debt in one go. It reflects badly on us and it's embarrassing."
Xaldin cracks his knuckles absently. He eyes the computer screen, wondering like me if there is any better way of painting 'fuck you' than a maze of negative numbers. "I thought the Organisation sacrificed all manner of self-preservation when its Superior danced round Twilight Town with a stuffed cow and the second-in-command came back trashed."
"Good point. We'll clear the debt then, but we have to bounce back from that, and I mean instantaneously. I'm going to reassign missions to be money-centric." I wheel over to my tray of mission notes and start amending. "I usually prefer for Ansem's rerouted money to reach us, but if Luxord doesn't get his debt settled soon, he's going to start turning more than Axel's breakfast into playing cards."
"Leave the money making to me." Xaldin snatches up his mission brief, although he doesn't bother reading it. "I'll do some black market bartering in Agrabah today and see if I can pull up results."
"Good, but don't draw attention to yourself because Liam frequents Agrabah and I'm still undecided what to do with him."
Xaldin portals away and I sink back in my chair. Lexaeus is chewing part of my coat chain, and as I pry his sticky gums away from me, I think back on the days that made sense, where my day didn't consist of hollering for order and cleaning up after everyone.
Oh, what the hell. My life hasn't changed at all.
-x-
"All right, everyone. Here are your missions for today, come and get them." I take up my usual spot in the Grey Area. "Demyx, you're in Atlantica today. Go busking and see if you can charm the residents into donating lots of money. That's all he's good for," I add in an undertone to Luxord. "Xemnas, you're with me."
"Yes!" Xemnas hisses.
"Zexion, you're assisting Vexen with his research."
"Oh yes, with his work on sunlight allergies and its slim chance of actually being relevant to us. You do realise I actually help little, and in fact spend my time deliberately mislabelling his samples?" Zexion folds his arms, waiting for a reaction.
"Well, that's Vexen's problem, not mine."
"I prefer him." Zexion jabs a finger at Luxord, and I think to myself he's not the only one. "He actually has some semblance of sense in this insane asylum."
"That's the first time Zexion's ever taken to anyone, you should feel honoured, Luxord," I remark. "Fine, I'll switch your mission with Axel. Axel can assist Vexen, although I imagine he's going to do far more damage than mislabelling. Oh well. Vexen's already in his lab, Axel, so off you trot."
"Can't I stay here as well?" Axel whinges. "Please, Mama? Vexen scares me."
Why does it always end up like this? No matter how I plan it, the kids seem to boomerang their way back to cause me more pain and agro. Funny thing is though, do I put up a fight? Of course not. From an intelligent standpoint, Vexen will be too engrossed in his experiments to notice some kid tossing a lit match in a gas jar; Xaldin is stab-happy and liable to kill any of his charges, of which there is a one in four chance of it being the Superior; and Demyx, naturally, couldn't point to his own nose even if he had a mirror and neon signs.
So, it's back to Mama Saix. This time round, I'm not too bothered because most of the potential damage has already been administered by way of a colossal hangover, not to mention I stand a better chance with Luxord around - even if he is here for his own amusement.
"Today's task is to find as many coins as possible in the world of Olympus," Zexion reads off Xemnas' mission brief, taking extra care to sound as contemptuous as possible. "How old do you think we are? Do you really think we're going to be entertained by something as ridiculously childish as a treasure hunt?"
"…Going by Xemnas and Axel's faces, yes," I answer flatly. "You're the weird one, Zexion. Go figure."
Xemnas starts to stomp his feet repeatedly, biting his knuckles. "That sounds so exciting! Do we get a prize if we get the most coins?"
"Why the hell not," I answer absently. "Here are the rules, though. No running off, no fighting and no chakrams, you hear me?"
We portal to the Coliseum. The sun's rays beat down on us, but it's not as scorching as Agrabah weather. Still, the kids (save for the obvious) lift up their coat hoods and run into the stands. While they're distracted, I start scribbling out a cheque on my clipboard.
"Treasure hunting?" Luxord remarks, not too rudely, just with the air of one wondering if he's suddenly changed planets or something.
"It's to keep them occupied, plus it was the only legal thing I could think of that they could do to make money. The Coliseum's a site for games and tournaments. It's currently out of action until the weekend, so all the leftovers from past events are still around. The people here don't know what pockets are. They clutch money in their hands, and end up losing it when they're caught up in the games. Here you go," I finish coolly, as if I'm not at all bothered by signing away more than half of the Organisation's savings.
"Wonderful, thank you." When Luxord takes the cheque, I seem to have a problem letting go of it. "This settles our debt. I hope I haven't caused any financial distress."
"Pfft," I say, "yeah right."
I sit down on one of the curving stone seats, elbows to my knees. In that short space of time, Axel has managed to coat himself in an admirable amount of powdery earth in a fierce search for coins, as if he has just been doing vigorous exercise in a concentrated sandstorm rather than crawling under seats. Xemnas peers over the seats tentatively and retrieves a coin. Trust me, it's really awkward when he wipes the grime off it and eagerly shows it off to the invisible person next to him. Luxord's eyebrows lift.
"He's crazy," I explain lamely.
"Yes," says Luxord. He glances between the fiercely competitive Axel and cloud cuckoo land Xemnas. "Isn't it interesting how allergies can affect people?"
"No, seriously, it's not the allergy's fault. That madness is like the nucleus of who he is." I tear my gaze from Luxord for just a moment, surveying Lexaeus. The little guy's slapping his fat fists against the stone leg of the seat I'm on. Lexaeus seems delighted he's found something more solid than him that can actually put up a fight. Zexion pinches the space on the other side of Luxord and to my great annoyance, he starts talking to him as well.
"That's a pretty advanced book," Luxord remarks, daring to turn his back on me.
"I was previously reading one as a study on sunlight allergies, the introduction of which proved Vexen's career - which is effectively his entire existence - as laughable and anything but science. Now that I've picked this from the library, it disconnects me from that man."
"Who exactly is Vexen?" Luxord asks me, but it's Zexion who replies. According to him, I know jack shit about the Organisation I run.
"He's the cult's hermit. He stays locked up in his laboratory and tries to feign intelligence by dotting the shelves with random samples and polluting his findings reports with as many long words as possible." Zexion scowls and resumes reading his book. When he catches me trying to sneak a peek at it, he says for my benefit, "Occam's Razor," before shutting me out the conversation completely as he engages Luxord in some difficult philosophical talk.
It's a good job Lexaeus is around. I pretend to be too occupied in watching over him to ever contribute to the discussion at hand (seriously, whose razor?). Lexaeus is reasonably cooperative, beating a rhythm against the stone leg and gurgling at the flat sound each hit emits, until he realises there are funnier sounds when he starts thwacking my shin instead.
"Ouch!" I hiss at him. I lift him up into my lap (nearly breaking my back while doing so) and take hold of his wicked fists before they start punching my face. Thankfully, all that wall punching has exhausted him, and Lexaeus quickly falls asleep. Xemnas and Axel are comparing the number of coins they've collected. Even from here, I can tell they've barely found ten Munny between them. Though it's not going to contribute at all to the Organisation's financial recovery, the good thing is that the treasure hunt has, at last, led me to discover something that can keep Xemnas and Axel quiet and civil.
In the fleeting moment of calm, where all children are occupied with hunting, sleeping or reading about razors, I turn to Luxord without even a shadow of shame. "Is it bad that I still find you painfully attractive, even though I'm sober?"