The Path not Taken 2/3
Title: The Path Not Taken 2/3
Pairing: Ambrose/girl!Cain
Rating: Steady PG-13.
Disclaimer: Yeah, no, not mine.
Summary: Wyatt Cain wanted nothing more than to be a Tin Man and follow in her parents' footsteps. It doesn't go exactly like that.
Notes: This is an AU. The premise is that Cain was born a woman, so no actual genderswitch so much as AU. If you need help envisioning, I've used Robin Wright Penn the whole time. And this whole thing is dedicated to kseda who told me that she wanted to read it and so it existed. Part 1 is here, in which Cain is sixteen and goes to school to become the best in her class.
Ambrose, Cain suspected, was even smarter than even he realized. Cain doubted that Ambrose was even aware of the strategy he’d set into motion by casually hinting at feelings towards Cain and then acting completely ignorant of that admission. She had tested him to see how far those boundaries of nonchalance would go and found that he was being good.
She was getting tired of good.
She’d spent three months since Ambrose had admitted his feelings for her with Thorne and they both knew it was just a matter of time before they reached their end. Three months and Cain had become obsessed with the notion of Ambrose, with the image of him, with the imagined weight of his hands in her hair, his body aligned overtop Cain’s. All because of that little hint of emotion.
It was a flawless strategy and Cain doubted that Ambrose even knew he had been doing it.
Thorne took the break-up with a laugh, admitting that he was surprised they lasted as long as they did and they parted with a quick hug before Cain wandered off to be solitary for a good while. She spent two weeks on her own, sitting in the back of classes, skipping meals, and locking herself in her residence room at the end of the day. Cain still went by Ambrose’s room after dinner so he wouldn’t worry, but was a lot more withdrawn and barely said a word.
“Cain, what’s wrong?” Ambrose asked worriedly, hand rubbing her back in slow circles as they sat over a mass of books that described Ambrose’s latest invention - which had to do with creating a microcosm of a world inside the macrocosmic universe. She didn’t say a word as she stared at the pictures in the books and let herself sink back against his hand.
“Smartest man in the O.Z.,” was all Cain eventually said, turning to face him and finding that their faces were inches apart.
“I don’t know that yet,” he said anxiously, “I…”
“…still haven’t met everyone out there,” Cain finished the sentence along with him. They did that often, either overlapped one another or knew exactly what the other was about to say. It meant there was some kind of fit. She leaned in slightly and rested her forehead against his. “Thorne and I are done, but you knew that already,” Cain said evenly, staring down at the slightest of stubble on Ambrose’s cheeks. He’d spent the full day inventing and hadn’t allowed himself the personal time to shave and Cain couldn’t help smiling because she just knew that. “Do you still want me?”
“Cain,” Ambrose quietly remarked, lightly holding her by her shoulders and easing her back. “This was never about me just wanting you.”
“Then what…” Cain started sharply.
“It’s not just wanting you,” Ambrose continued, giving Cain a ‘don’t interrupt me’ look and she firmly shut her mouth to let him speak. “It’s about more than that. It’s about you.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding out both hands to her and pulled her to her feet. “You can have my bed for the night. I still have some work to do. The Queen wants an audience with me first thing.”
Cain couldn’t help the smug little smile on her lips.
“Yes, I know,” Ambrose sighed at the tacit boast. “Your suggestions worked, be happy, but now I have hours of work ahead of me.”
“I’ll come, keep you company,” Cain offered, still holding onto both of his hands.
Part of him hated the idea because of the distraction it would afford, but the more sane part loved it because he knew they could carry on a whole conversation and not have to say a word and if Ambrose was doing something wrong, Cain would definitely point it out. So he just gave a tug on her slack arms and they were off, Ambrose leading and holding onto a trailing Cain’s hand.
*
It was raining when it happened.
Ambrose was sprinting across the gardens to find shelter when he turned to find Cain just standing there at the bench that they sometimes sat at when they had a bit of free time in the afternoon. He had nearly made it when he caught sight of her in the corner of his eye and rushed over to grasp her with an arm around her waist, tugging her to the palace.
“I was waiting for you!” Cain insisted over the pouring rain. She tugged him back, as if determined to drag him back to the bench, even if it was pouring.
“Cain! It’s raining!”
“I can see that, genius,” she teased with a grin, grabbing hold of his soaked lapels and yanking him in for a very wet, very long, very good first kiss, their hair sticking to their skin and he grappled to hold onto her, hands clasping wet bunches of fabric as he kissed back, letting her sway against him and push her body flush up against his. He almost couldn’t believe they were doing this when he was so cold and so hot at once and when he pulled away and exhaled, he could see his breath in the air and Cain’s blue eyes were nearly illuminated as she stared up at him.
He started laughing, out of nerves and happiness and grabbed hold of her hand, tugging her along as he sprinted for the sanctity of dry rooms and dry clothes and dry blankets.
She went along with him to his room and Cain was the one who stood there and peeled all of her clothes off before doing the same for him and by the time they warmed up under the sheets, there was a look in Cain’s eyes that was not to be denied.
“It’s not just about want,” Ambrose felt compelled to remind Cain as she eased in against him.
“But the want is a part of it,” Cain corrected. “It is for me, don’t pretend it isn’t for you.”
And what use was there arguing with that?
*
Ambrose woke late in the morning, the silk sheets of his bed rumpled in pools and spread out everywhere and anywhere. He rubbed a hand over his face as he glanced to the thick curtains and the sun that landed on the floor while the draperies blocked it out. It couldn’t be later than noon, but it certainly wasn’t an early hour of the morning and part of him didn’t appreciate waking at all.
He stifled a yawn and stretched, pale skin looking unhealthy in the dim light of the room, but he simply crawled back under his sheets and sprawled out alongside Cain.
“Morning?” Cain mumbled tiredly as Ambrose splayed a palm over her bare back, resting atop the shoulderblades.
“Time yet,” Ambrose countered, pulling the sheets up to cover them both and drawing her into his arms. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured in exhausted reply, his eyes having shut a very long time ago in the duration of their conversation.
He was met with a tiny sound and Cain draping a bare leg over his waist and hitching him in closer. “Don’t wake me until it’s time for dinner,” Cain gave her instructions and they didn’t worry about waking up for a very long time.
*
Cain’s nineteenth birthday arrived in the spring just weeks before the graduation ceremony was about to occur and Ambrose had arranged with her closest friends to get her the biggest cake they could find and hold the party in the Central Gardens when everything was in the highest bloom. Ambrose had the pleasure of tying one of his ties around her eyes as he held onto her waist with firm hands.
“Is this the part where you shove me down a flight of stairs?” Cain teased in a deadpan as he got them outside.
“And have you bedridden for me and only me? Cain, honestly. I could just sprain your ankle for the same effect,” he murmured in reply, leaning his lips in against her ear as they arrived at the scene of the party. “But I won’t.” He yanked off the tie and the group announced their birthday wishes in happy cries before tossing handfuls of confetti in Cain’s direction, getting the party favors in her hair.
Cain made the rounds and hugged each friend and talked animatedly about their upcoming graduation while Ambrose hovered by the cake, dipping his pinky into the frosting and sucking it off experimentally.
That was also how he got smacked on the arm. “Ow!” he protested lightly.
“That’s my cake,” Cain accused, as she yanked his frosting covered fingers over and began to slowly suck off each and every one until there wasn’t a trace of icing left and Ambrose didn’t have much willpower to go along with that, either. “And you’re just lucky no one arrested you for thievery,” Cain mumbled, when she was through cleaning him up.
“How long does the party last?” Ambrose asked, heart racing in his chest.
“I think I can make some excuses and go see what you got me for the day,” Cain negotiated, waggling her brows at him in a challenge to see that he would have something to contest with the party.
The robotic personal helper waiting in Cain’s room said that Ambrose most definitely could beat the party and more.
*
The graduation ceremony for the Tin Man was chaotic with the number of revelers and the atmosphere it created. Ahamo gave the speech in the Queen’s stead and Ambrose sat on the risers as one of the advisors to the Queen, handing diplomas to each of the graduating class. When it came time for Cain’s turn, he held the diploma out in one hand and the other was offered at the ready to shake her hand.
Head of the class, she was. Ambrose hadn’t expected anything less.
She took the diploma and slid her hand into his and they smiled for the cameras in public that day, accepting questions and letting people other than Cain’s friends know that they were a couple. He talked to her friends and was allowed to drape an arm over her shoulders and didn’t even have to hide the fact that he was staring at her from a distance.
In private, Cain couldn’t stop staring at her own diploma.
“First in my class,” she was announcing with the sound of giddy pride, lying on his bed and staring up at the paper in both hands. “With honors, first in my class, Ambrose!” she nearly cried with happiness, smacking him in the chest with a free hand. “Can you believe it?” Cain asked in disbelief, laughing even as Ambrose crawled over her and stared at her from his upside-down angle.
“You’re a star,” Ambrose agreed, plucking the diploma from her hands and setting it on the nearest table before he began to run slow kisses down her neck and start their own little private celebration.
*
The next time Ambrose was putting together a stone into a setting, he had a much bigger laboratory. Maybe it wasn’t a full floor to himself, but he had space to move around and drawers to put things in and the door even had a lock to it so that people couldn’t budge their way in. He had been to the mines in the Black Mountains to rifle through the wares himself and found a stone that was right for his project.
It didn’t take long to fuse into the setting and he tucked it away into one of the drawers in the laboratory before he made his way out to hold his meeting with a Viewer named Raw, apparently extremely talented and respected amongst his peers.
He was waiting for Ambrose in the lobby and they took a walk about the gardens as they discussed the monarchy and the Queen’s rule and when Raw shook Ambrose’s hand, he smiled, just so, and said, “Good things,” in a soft and warm tone. “Good man. Very good things ahead.”
“Are there happy endings?” Ambrose asked hopefully.
“Raw not see,” he offered apologetically. “Future is hazy.”
Hazy was better than dark and Ambrose was willing to take it. They spoke about politics and their next arranged appointment and when Ambrose waved Raw goodbye, Cain wandered up to join him, wrapping an arm around his waist and watching the Viewer leave. “Day over?” Ambrose asked, glancing to his side to see Wyatt in full uniform, yet. He was greeted with an affirmative nod. “C’mon, let’s go out for dinner. Maybe dancing?” he hinted at, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
Lucky for him, it was nearly impossible to say no to that particular smile of Ambrose’s.
*
The stars from Central were impossible to see through the haze of the city and the lights and so if you wanted a good view of them, you had to go outside the city and travel the brick route a little, taking the fields of the Papay as a scenic detour (which, luckily, was always pleasant). Cain led Ambrose through the rich smell of the flowers by the hand, tugging him along as she talked about the property they were going to.
“It’s not much, but my father wanted me to have something on my graduation,” she was explaining. “It’s just a little piece of land and a small house. Nothing fancy.”
“I don’t think you’d accept it if it was,” Ambrose deduced, leaning over to brush several petals from Cain’s hair as they left the fields and began making their way down the last bit of hill. In the distance, he could see a small cabin perched by a beautiful pond.
“There it is,” Cain announced quietly, tugging on his hand and leading him the rest of the way.
They sat under the porch until the sun had set, at which point they lay on their backs on the dock by the pond, staring at constellations in the sky as the moons set them off. Cain’s hand remained twined in Ambrose’s and her head settled against his chest.
“Cain,” Ambrose mumbled quietly, while the crickets provided a steady soundtrack all around them.
“Hm?”
“I love you,” he told her, for the very first time, even if it had been burgeoning beneath the surface for a very long while.
“Good,” Cain said, in pleased reply. “Because I love you too.”
*
The Queen was a beautiful and graceful woman and was currently pregnant with her second child. Azkadellia was an intelligent girl of seven annuals and tended to hover around Ambrose to ask questions when she could. Today, she was riding Cain’s shoulders in a piggyback while Ambrose and the Queen convened about some of the forces to the South. Cain lingered behind because she had her own say in the matter.
Now that Cain was an official Tin Man (and at only nineteen annuals), she was already doing her part in Central to keep the peace. Azkadellia often asked questions about what the bad guys were like and what forms of disciplinary punishment Cain thought best.
Ambrose would just catch Cain’s eye and offer a wink that said to play along for the Princess.
The conversation shifted from reinforcements in the latest battle past the Black Mountains. It shifted past that to Ambrose’s personal life when Cain and Azkadellia drifted out of earshot.
“I heard rumors that you were speaking to the cook about his capabilities,” the Queen remarked, her tone musical and playful. “Is there something you’ve yet to tell us?”
“I haven’t done anything,” Ambrose said, pleading his innocence. “And you would be the very first to know if I did ask.” That said, he cast a glance back at Cain who smiled warmly in his direction and it made Ambrose’s whole face light up with joy. “But I think it’s only a matter of time,” he admitted, eyes still stuck on the way Azkadellia wore Cain’s hat and how Ambrose couldn’t dare to take his eyes off of her.
*
Cain had started on the fitness craze the moment she realized that to keep up with the older and more experienced Tin Men, she would need to be in shape. She went out for evening runs, pulled weights at the gym, and the worst of it all was the stretching she did in the morning to increase flexibility.
It was becoming habit now for Ambrose to wake up to a cold bed and find Cain in a pair of tight pants and a tank top on the carpet and stretching with her legs in impossible positions, leaning forward and presenting herself in contortions that made Ambrose very happy that the blankets were thick and tended to hide things, as a rule.
One morning, she caught him staring and Ambrose curled up and twisted so that he wasn’t spying and was instead just watching.
“I know this is for your job,” Ambrose informed Cain simply. “But it’s probably the single most arousing thing you’ve ever done for me.”
In response, Cain just slid her legs into center splits and leaned all the way down until her chest was on the floor, but her gaze peered up at Ambrose as she managed just three fingers loose and flipped him off with a gesture best known in the Northern villages of the O.Z. as a way of saying ‘screw off’.
He could only groan in frustration.
*
It wasn’t long at all before Ambrose sought counsel with the Queen, rather than giving her his own patient and metered advice. She had since moved him into a larger lab and had promoted him to Head Advisor as she trusted no one quite so much as she trusted her Ambrose.
Cain had brought him champagne to celebrate and Ambrose wasn’t likely to forget the mischievous grin she’d worn on her face that night as she undressed Ambrose and pushed him onto the bed to properly ‘congratulate’ him.
He shook his head to distract himself from those thoughts, glancing up at the Queen and her ever-growing stomach. Ahamo sat at her side, rubbing circles on her palm as the Queen smiled warmly at him.
“Has it come time for you to seek my advice?” she asked as Azkadellia scribbled something in her diary several chairs down from the Queen and her husband. Ambrose nodded and dug out the small velvet cloth that encased the object and he stepped forward to present it to her to inspect.
“I found the stone myself in the Mountain mines,” he explained, rubbing a hand over his hair. “And then I set it in some of the gold I used to make your necklace.” He swallowed anxiously. “Is it too much? Is it not enough? How do I even do this?”
The Queen returned the pouch to him and Ambrose tucked it away carefully, not daring to lose the precious object.
“All things will become clear in time,” she promised. “And the opportunity will present itself. You’re both young, Ambrose. She is only nineteen annuals, after all, and you only twenty-one. You have time.”
Ambrose smiled and bowed his head in gratitude as he departed the throne room, closing the doors behind him. They might have all the time in the world, but he didn’t want to spend them apart.
*
In the end, it wasn’t some elaborate plan he’d concocted (though the gods knew he had about ten of them, just in the space of thinking about it over breakfast one morning). They had been eating lunch in his room during one of Cain’s breaks from the job and she’d asked if he could pass over the juice.
Instead of saying ‘sure, here you go’ or ‘no problem’, he’d blurted out, “Will you marry me?”
Cain didn’t immediately respond. She leaned over the table to calmly take the orange juice for herself and pour a glass while considering Ambrose’s words, even as he slid the green velvet across the table and lifted it so that the ring was visible. She sipped at the juice and set it down before leaning over to pick up the ring and twirl it in the light of the room, glancing past it to look at Ambrose. “Are you sure about this? You’re putting all your bets and hopes on me,” Cain pointed out calmly.
“I don’t see any other future that works,” Ambrose put it plainly with a smile. “I mean it. You’re very obviously my best friend and you advise me in ways I should see, but am usually too blind to. I also happen to be stupidly in love with you, but I think that’s just a happy coincidence,” he said, wryly joking.
“Well, then,” Cain said, sliding the ring onto her own finger and giving Ambrose a nod. “Guess that’s a yes.”
Blissful was about the best way to describe how Ambrose felt right then.
*
The ceremony was incredibly small and incredibly pleasant. Cain had her parents and Ambrose had the Queen and Ahamo, Azkadellia walking down the aisle as the best-behaved flower girl that Ambrose had ever laid eyes on. Cain hadn’t really wanted to wear a dress and had wound up in a very plain beige skirt and a long-sleeved top and Ambrose couldn’t care less. He’d never had some ritualistic day in mind for this.
The truth was, he never really expected this to happen at all. He expected he’d be alone with his inventions for the rest of his life.
He thanked the gods for that day when he’d accidentally dropped a book.
They made it through the vows without incident and slid cool rings onto warm hands and caught secret smiles as the ceremony drew to a close and absconded away to his room, which had been her room for months if only unofficially. He drew the door closed before wrapping his arms around her waist. “Just tell me, are you happy?” Ambrose asked, sounding quietly like a little boy.
“Ambrose,” Cain said patiently. “You know I’m happy. So stop it and carry me to that damn bed already.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
*
Cain had never been to Finaqua before in her whole life and so when Ambrose had suggested it for the honeymoon (“I know it’s not the most perfect plan because I have to be there for the Queen, but now that she’s so close to giving birth, I…” “Ambrose, shut up. It’s perfect.”) Cain had been happy go along. They took horses to ride down and Cain prided herself in outgunning Ambrose on every stretch there was, arriving there two hours before her new husband.
That was something that would take getting used to. Every once in a while, the stone would glint in the light of the suns and take Cain by surprise. Even more shocking was that it was the good kind of surprise, the one where her stomach turned happily and she knew, just knew in her heart that she’d made the right choice.
It had been about what he’d said to her once.
He wanted her to have bliss.
Cain reasonably knew that no one could ever be permanently that happy and that realistically, no one’s life was even that great, but Cain also knew that being with Ambrose gave her some of the most comfortable and happy days of her life. It was enough. She dismounted in the reeds of Finaqua, staring out at the lake and the castle beyond it and took a seat in the swing under the gazebo, idly swaying from side to side as she waited for Ambrose to catch up to her.
He managed to make up some of the time, pulling up beside her, panting and heaving. He collapsed on the swing next to Cain and let her do all the work of pulling into his lap.
“You sound winded,” Cain remarked with mild mock-concern. “Guess that means plans are off for tonight.”
“Don’t even think it,” Ambrose retorted breathlessly, kissing her so hard that the swing dipped and the rope holding it up nearly snapped, to his delight and Cain’s horror.
*
Ambrose discovered one day that even if he thought he knew the ins and outs of Cain, he apparently didn’t know everything. He found her in one of the Central courtyards on a pleasant spring day, sipping coffee and watching a woman at another table. Ambrose leaned down to press a kiss to Cain’s lips, settling down beside her as he opened the paper.
“Suspicions?” he asked, when Cain couldn’t stop staring over to the other table and to the animated blonde woman with the dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, talking with her hands and laughing beautifully. Ambrose glanced over the current news and watched Cain tilt her head to one side. “Cain?”
“Hm?”
“You’re staring,” he very lightly said, trying not to smile at the obvious distraction.
“You don’t think she’s gorgeous?” Cain asked, staring at Ambrose, turning her attention back to the woman to miss the part where Ambrose’s jaw dropped and he let the newspaper fall to the table as he scrambled to sit beside her and watch the woman (Adora, he thought? One of the daughters of a well-established noble) stare in their direction, giving them a sunny smile. Ambrose’s mind was busy short-circuiting as he glanced at Cain, eyes widening by the second.
“Wyatt…” he gulped, mouth going dry.
“She’s just so incredibly attractive,” Cain admitted, as if surprised to even say the words aloud, her cheeks flushed with a pink coloring. “She’s definitely the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” This time, she didn’t miss the way Ambrose was gaping at her in his best impression of a fish. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I took my vows and I stand by them. You’re just lucky I met you first.” Teasing or not, that image wasn’t likely to leave Ambrose’s mind for a very long time.
*
Cain had been irritable for too many days and all the sleep in the world wouldn’t drive away the constant headache she had. Ambrose did his best to tend to her, insisting that she ought to go and see a doctor at some point, just to check that she didn’t have the nasty bug going around Central. Cain promised it wasn’t that and bundled herself up in blankets while Ambrose stroked her hair back off her forehead and fed her fruit.
It felt like the flu she’d gotten when she was a small child and Cain didn’t want to spend their first anniversary bed-ridden and expressed that worry to Ambrose.
He took it well, smiling playfully. “Actually, I had hoped that…” but he couldn’t finish because Cain shoved him off the bed (even if she was grinning herself).
He climbed back onto the bed and curled up behind her, taking her temperature. Cain groaned and turned in his grasp, giving him something of a pathetic look. “Maybe call the doctor,” she admitted with a sigh. “With any luck, he’ll prescribe me some pills and we can go to Finaqua like we wanted.”
“I’ll call him soon,” Ambrose mumbled, lips pressed to her neck as he laid lazy kisses there. “Too comfortable.”
“I’ll get you sick,” Cain warned.
“I’ll manage.”
*
The doctor had come back with the results of the variety of tests he had performed on Cain, who had lain in bed looking pale and exhausted. Ambrose’s concern had begun to grow more by the day when Cain didn’t seem to improve and though he fed her juices and healthy leaf-salads, none of the color was returning to her cheeks.
Ambrose stepped outside and wrapped his arms around his thin torso - he’d managed to lose weight, himself, in the preoccupation for taking care of Cain - as he fidgeted and stared at the doctor.
“Pills?” he started the conversation. “Maybe something to get her energy back. She hasn’t worked in weeks and I know it’s starting to drive her mad.” He let out a weary and broken laugh, brow furrowed. “I don’t want things to go downhill so soon. We’ve only been married a year,” he explained, rambling on while the doctor looked at him like he’d gone mad. “She says one of her coworkers, some man named Zero, he’s trying to get her position and…”
“She’s fine,” the doctor insisted. “Mrs. Cain is healthy.” (In the ensuing marriage, Cain had retained her last name, insisting that since Ambrose rarely used his in a show of hating it, she wanted to keep a name she was proud of ). “Some women take to the early sickness of pregnancy worse than others.”
Ambrose gaped for a long while. “I-I…wa…wh…she…”
“Keep feeding her as much as you can. More red meats would help,” the doctor advised, clapping Ambrose on the shoulder. “I’ll drop by vitamins that should help, if only slightly.”
Ambrose gaped at the doctor’s retreating back for a long while before he yanked open the door and nearly pounced on Cain in bed, even to the sound of her protesting groans. “Ambrose, uneasy stomach, remember?” she sharply reprimanded.
“And for the best reason ever,” he promised, wrapping his arms around Cain loosely as he leaned down and kissed her. “You’re not sick. Well, you are sick, but you don’t have the flu.”
“Mm?”
“You,” Ambrose announced, relishing every last moment of this as he tapped her nose, “are pregnant.” Cain just gave another groan and turned into Ambrose’s arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Go to sleep, you can be happy when the sickness wears off,” he promised, not thinking any less of her for not immediately sharing in his elated excitement.
“Guess I really am stuck with you now,” Cain mumbled teasingly under her breath while closing her eyes. Her breaths deepened and Ambrose just let her sleep rather than say anything back (even if he had about four good retorts lined up).
*
Jeb had immediately been ingratiated to the Royal Family at the Queen’s insistence that she see Ambrose’s boy. He took after Cain physically, by the looks of it, but there was something about his expressions that belonged solely to his father. Ambrose had him carefully in his arms, letting DG poke and prod at him with her annual-old fingers, squealing happily, even as Jeb let out displeased cries.
“He doesn’t cry often,” Ambrose explained, lightly rocking Jeb back and forth. “Obviously when hungry or in need of a change, but he’s very well-tempered otherwise. He takes after his mother in that regard.” They both had a fairly even keel when it came to emotions and didn’t go through the same ups and downs that Ambrose experienced. “He’s an angel,” he mumbled as the Queen leaned over to study him. “Looks it, too, what with the coloring. That’s all Cain’s, too. Sometimes, I wonder what of me is in him,” Ambrose expressed his worry and wonder in the same breath.
“There’s more than you would have yourself believe, I’m sure,” the Queen assured, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jeb’s small forehead. “He will be with us and a close friend of the family, I’m sure. Just as you are.”
Ambrose just hoped that was true. He hefted Jeb up into his arms and gave him a long look. “How about you and I go see what Azka-D is up to, now?” he offered. “Probably toying around in my lab looking for something to learn about.”
He didn’t get much more than a sleepy yawn in response from Jeb, but it was better than a wail of a cry.
*
When Jeb was old enough to walk, he immediately took to running. Cain observed that it was from Ambrose’s influence as they walked behind him and made sure to scoop him up in the event that all his running ended up in him falling flat on his behind. Cain had crouched down to grasp Jeb tightly in her arms, listening to him babble about something or other in the incomprehensible language he had.
“I still want to try and translate what he’s saying,” Ambrose mumbled.
“Give him time and he’ll start speaking People, sweetheart,” Cain promised, leaning over to kiss Ambrose’s cheek.
“So, you were saying about Zero?” Ambrose asked, getting back to the original topic as Jeb settled in Cain’s arms and rested a cheek on Cain’s shoulder.
“I don’t trust him. We’ve got pictures of his wife and DeMilo playing hide the sausage, but no one really wants to hand them over. Zero’s bad enough on a good day, so no one’s keen on finding out what one of his bad moods looks like,” Cain spoke quietly as they took their slow walk around the park. “And he just does not like me.”
“He wants your job, you said,” Ambrose recalled.
“He’s trying to use the time I took off for Jeb as a reason. He knows I’m more skilled and have better contacts, so he’s getting underhanded,” Cain said, giving a grateful noise as Ambrose moved a hand to the small of her back and just held lightly. “It’s not going anywhere, but it’s starting to wear on me,” she admitted.
“Maybe you should ask for a transfer?” Ambrose suggested quietly. “Work for the Mystic Man. He has a spot open and you’d have the Queen’s reference. You wouldn’t have to worry about Zero, seeing as there’s only two Tin Men and one of those spots is open and the other is a very good man we all approve of.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Cain asked, catching Ambrose’s eye.
“Zero is making you miserable. Why would I mind you getting away from that?” Ambrose asked gently, stroking Jeb’s hair. In his repose and sucking his thumb, the little boy looked calm as ever and not like the sprinting little devil he’d been only minutes ago. “I’ll arrange the meeting. You just dazzle him with your incredible skills.” Ambrose leaned in and pressed his forehead to Cain’s. “This is your dream job and you get to get away from a creep. There’s no way in the realm I’d let you miss this opportunity.”
tbc
Pairing: Ambrose/girl!Cain
Rating: Steady PG-13.
Disclaimer: Yeah, no, not mine.
Summary: Wyatt Cain wanted nothing more than to be a Tin Man and follow in her parents' footsteps. It doesn't go exactly like that.
Notes: This is an AU. The premise is that Cain was born a woman, so no actual genderswitch so much as AU. If you need help envisioning, I've used Robin Wright Penn the whole time. And this whole thing is dedicated to kseda who told me that she wanted to read it and so it existed. Part 1 is here, in which Cain is sixteen and goes to school to become the best in her class.
Ambrose, Cain suspected, was even smarter than even he realized. Cain doubted that Ambrose was even aware of the strategy he’d set into motion by casually hinting at feelings towards Cain and then acting completely ignorant of that admission. She had tested him to see how far those boundaries of nonchalance would go and found that he was being good.
She was getting tired of good.
She’d spent three months since Ambrose had admitted his feelings for her with Thorne and they both knew it was just a matter of time before they reached their end. Three months and Cain had become obsessed with the notion of Ambrose, with the image of him, with the imagined weight of his hands in her hair, his body aligned overtop Cain’s. All because of that little hint of emotion.
It was a flawless strategy and Cain doubted that Ambrose even knew he had been doing it.
Thorne took the break-up with a laugh, admitting that he was surprised they lasted as long as they did and they parted with a quick hug before Cain wandered off to be solitary for a good while. She spent two weeks on her own, sitting in the back of classes, skipping meals, and locking herself in her residence room at the end of the day. Cain still went by Ambrose’s room after dinner so he wouldn’t worry, but was a lot more withdrawn and barely said a word.
“Cain, what’s wrong?” Ambrose asked worriedly, hand rubbing her back in slow circles as they sat over a mass of books that described Ambrose’s latest invention - which had to do with creating a microcosm of a world inside the macrocosmic universe. She didn’t say a word as she stared at the pictures in the books and let herself sink back against his hand.
“Smartest man in the O.Z.,” was all Cain eventually said, turning to face him and finding that their faces were inches apart.
“I don’t know that yet,” he said anxiously, “I…”
“…still haven’t met everyone out there,” Cain finished the sentence along with him. They did that often, either overlapped one another or knew exactly what the other was about to say. It meant there was some kind of fit. She leaned in slightly and rested her forehead against his. “Thorne and I are done, but you knew that already,” Cain said evenly, staring down at the slightest of stubble on Ambrose’s cheeks. He’d spent the full day inventing and hadn’t allowed himself the personal time to shave and Cain couldn’t help smiling because she just knew that. “Do you still want me?”
“Cain,” Ambrose quietly remarked, lightly holding her by her shoulders and easing her back. “This was never about me just wanting you.”
“Then what…” Cain started sharply.
“It’s not just wanting you,” Ambrose continued, giving Cain a ‘don’t interrupt me’ look and she firmly shut her mouth to let him speak. “It’s about more than that. It’s about you.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding out both hands to her and pulled her to her feet. “You can have my bed for the night. I still have some work to do. The Queen wants an audience with me first thing.”
Cain couldn’t help the smug little smile on her lips.
“Yes, I know,” Ambrose sighed at the tacit boast. “Your suggestions worked, be happy, but now I have hours of work ahead of me.”
“I’ll come, keep you company,” Cain offered, still holding onto both of his hands.
Part of him hated the idea because of the distraction it would afford, but the more sane part loved it because he knew they could carry on a whole conversation and not have to say a word and if Ambrose was doing something wrong, Cain would definitely point it out. So he just gave a tug on her slack arms and they were off, Ambrose leading and holding onto a trailing Cain’s hand.
*
It was raining when it happened.
Ambrose was sprinting across the gardens to find shelter when he turned to find Cain just standing there at the bench that they sometimes sat at when they had a bit of free time in the afternoon. He had nearly made it when he caught sight of her in the corner of his eye and rushed over to grasp her with an arm around her waist, tugging her to the palace.
“I was waiting for you!” Cain insisted over the pouring rain. She tugged him back, as if determined to drag him back to the bench, even if it was pouring.
“Cain! It’s raining!”
“I can see that, genius,” she teased with a grin, grabbing hold of his soaked lapels and yanking him in for a very wet, very long, very good first kiss, their hair sticking to their skin and he grappled to hold onto her, hands clasping wet bunches of fabric as he kissed back, letting her sway against him and push her body flush up against his. He almost couldn’t believe they were doing this when he was so cold and so hot at once and when he pulled away and exhaled, he could see his breath in the air and Cain’s blue eyes were nearly illuminated as she stared up at him.
He started laughing, out of nerves and happiness and grabbed hold of her hand, tugging her along as he sprinted for the sanctity of dry rooms and dry clothes and dry blankets.
She went along with him to his room and Cain was the one who stood there and peeled all of her clothes off before doing the same for him and by the time they warmed up under the sheets, there was a look in Cain’s eyes that was not to be denied.
“It’s not just about want,” Ambrose felt compelled to remind Cain as she eased in against him.
“But the want is a part of it,” Cain corrected. “It is for me, don’t pretend it isn’t for you.”
And what use was there arguing with that?
*
Ambrose woke late in the morning, the silk sheets of his bed rumpled in pools and spread out everywhere and anywhere. He rubbed a hand over his face as he glanced to the thick curtains and the sun that landed on the floor while the draperies blocked it out. It couldn’t be later than noon, but it certainly wasn’t an early hour of the morning and part of him didn’t appreciate waking at all.
He stifled a yawn and stretched, pale skin looking unhealthy in the dim light of the room, but he simply crawled back under his sheets and sprawled out alongside Cain.
“Morning?” Cain mumbled tiredly as Ambrose splayed a palm over her bare back, resting atop the shoulderblades.
“Time yet,” Ambrose countered, pulling the sheets up to cover them both and drawing her into his arms. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured in exhausted reply, his eyes having shut a very long time ago in the duration of their conversation.
He was met with a tiny sound and Cain draping a bare leg over his waist and hitching him in closer. “Don’t wake me until it’s time for dinner,” Cain gave her instructions and they didn’t worry about waking up for a very long time.
*
Cain’s nineteenth birthday arrived in the spring just weeks before the graduation ceremony was about to occur and Ambrose had arranged with her closest friends to get her the biggest cake they could find and hold the party in the Central Gardens when everything was in the highest bloom. Ambrose had the pleasure of tying one of his ties around her eyes as he held onto her waist with firm hands.
“Is this the part where you shove me down a flight of stairs?” Cain teased in a deadpan as he got them outside.
“And have you bedridden for me and only me? Cain, honestly. I could just sprain your ankle for the same effect,” he murmured in reply, leaning his lips in against her ear as they arrived at the scene of the party. “But I won’t.” He yanked off the tie and the group announced their birthday wishes in happy cries before tossing handfuls of confetti in Cain’s direction, getting the party favors in her hair.
Cain made the rounds and hugged each friend and talked animatedly about their upcoming graduation while Ambrose hovered by the cake, dipping his pinky into the frosting and sucking it off experimentally.
That was also how he got smacked on the arm. “Ow!” he protested lightly.
“That’s my cake,” Cain accused, as she yanked his frosting covered fingers over and began to slowly suck off each and every one until there wasn’t a trace of icing left and Ambrose didn’t have much willpower to go along with that, either. “And you’re just lucky no one arrested you for thievery,” Cain mumbled, when she was through cleaning him up.
“How long does the party last?” Ambrose asked, heart racing in his chest.
“I think I can make some excuses and go see what you got me for the day,” Cain negotiated, waggling her brows at him in a challenge to see that he would have something to contest with the party.
The robotic personal helper waiting in Cain’s room said that Ambrose most definitely could beat the party and more.
*
The graduation ceremony for the Tin Man was chaotic with the number of revelers and the atmosphere it created. Ahamo gave the speech in the Queen’s stead and Ambrose sat on the risers as one of the advisors to the Queen, handing diplomas to each of the graduating class. When it came time for Cain’s turn, he held the diploma out in one hand and the other was offered at the ready to shake her hand.
Head of the class, she was. Ambrose hadn’t expected anything less.
She took the diploma and slid her hand into his and they smiled for the cameras in public that day, accepting questions and letting people other than Cain’s friends know that they were a couple. He talked to her friends and was allowed to drape an arm over her shoulders and didn’t even have to hide the fact that he was staring at her from a distance.
In private, Cain couldn’t stop staring at her own diploma.
“First in my class,” she was announcing with the sound of giddy pride, lying on his bed and staring up at the paper in both hands. “With honors, first in my class, Ambrose!” she nearly cried with happiness, smacking him in the chest with a free hand. “Can you believe it?” Cain asked in disbelief, laughing even as Ambrose crawled over her and stared at her from his upside-down angle.
“You’re a star,” Ambrose agreed, plucking the diploma from her hands and setting it on the nearest table before he began to run slow kisses down her neck and start their own little private celebration.
*
The next time Ambrose was putting together a stone into a setting, he had a much bigger laboratory. Maybe it wasn’t a full floor to himself, but he had space to move around and drawers to put things in and the door even had a lock to it so that people couldn’t budge their way in. He had been to the mines in the Black Mountains to rifle through the wares himself and found a stone that was right for his project.
It didn’t take long to fuse into the setting and he tucked it away into one of the drawers in the laboratory before he made his way out to hold his meeting with a Viewer named Raw, apparently extremely talented and respected amongst his peers.
He was waiting for Ambrose in the lobby and they took a walk about the gardens as they discussed the monarchy and the Queen’s rule and when Raw shook Ambrose’s hand, he smiled, just so, and said, “Good things,” in a soft and warm tone. “Good man. Very good things ahead.”
“Are there happy endings?” Ambrose asked hopefully.
“Raw not see,” he offered apologetically. “Future is hazy.”
Hazy was better than dark and Ambrose was willing to take it. They spoke about politics and their next arranged appointment and when Ambrose waved Raw goodbye, Cain wandered up to join him, wrapping an arm around his waist and watching the Viewer leave. “Day over?” Ambrose asked, glancing to his side to see Wyatt in full uniform, yet. He was greeted with an affirmative nod. “C’mon, let’s go out for dinner. Maybe dancing?” he hinted at, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
Lucky for him, it was nearly impossible to say no to that particular smile of Ambrose’s.
*
The stars from Central were impossible to see through the haze of the city and the lights and so if you wanted a good view of them, you had to go outside the city and travel the brick route a little, taking the fields of the Papay as a scenic detour (which, luckily, was always pleasant). Cain led Ambrose through the rich smell of the flowers by the hand, tugging him along as she talked about the property they were going to.
“It’s not much, but my father wanted me to have something on my graduation,” she was explaining. “It’s just a little piece of land and a small house. Nothing fancy.”
“I don’t think you’d accept it if it was,” Ambrose deduced, leaning over to brush several petals from Cain’s hair as they left the fields and began making their way down the last bit of hill. In the distance, he could see a small cabin perched by a beautiful pond.
“There it is,” Cain announced quietly, tugging on his hand and leading him the rest of the way.
They sat under the porch until the sun had set, at which point they lay on their backs on the dock by the pond, staring at constellations in the sky as the moons set them off. Cain’s hand remained twined in Ambrose’s and her head settled against his chest.
“Cain,” Ambrose mumbled quietly, while the crickets provided a steady soundtrack all around them.
“Hm?”
“I love you,” he told her, for the very first time, even if it had been burgeoning beneath the surface for a very long while.
“Good,” Cain said, in pleased reply. “Because I love you too.”
*
The Queen was a beautiful and graceful woman and was currently pregnant with her second child. Azkadellia was an intelligent girl of seven annuals and tended to hover around Ambrose to ask questions when she could. Today, she was riding Cain’s shoulders in a piggyback while Ambrose and the Queen convened about some of the forces to the South. Cain lingered behind because she had her own say in the matter.
Now that Cain was an official Tin Man (and at only nineteen annuals), she was already doing her part in Central to keep the peace. Azkadellia often asked questions about what the bad guys were like and what forms of disciplinary punishment Cain thought best.
Ambrose would just catch Cain’s eye and offer a wink that said to play along for the Princess.
The conversation shifted from reinforcements in the latest battle past the Black Mountains. It shifted past that to Ambrose’s personal life when Cain and Azkadellia drifted out of earshot.
“I heard rumors that you were speaking to the cook about his capabilities,” the Queen remarked, her tone musical and playful. “Is there something you’ve yet to tell us?”
“I haven’t done anything,” Ambrose said, pleading his innocence. “And you would be the very first to know if I did ask.” That said, he cast a glance back at Cain who smiled warmly in his direction and it made Ambrose’s whole face light up with joy. “But I think it’s only a matter of time,” he admitted, eyes still stuck on the way Azkadellia wore Cain’s hat and how Ambrose couldn’t dare to take his eyes off of her.
*
Cain had started on the fitness craze the moment she realized that to keep up with the older and more experienced Tin Men, she would need to be in shape. She went out for evening runs, pulled weights at the gym, and the worst of it all was the stretching she did in the morning to increase flexibility.
It was becoming habit now for Ambrose to wake up to a cold bed and find Cain in a pair of tight pants and a tank top on the carpet and stretching with her legs in impossible positions, leaning forward and presenting herself in contortions that made Ambrose very happy that the blankets were thick and tended to hide things, as a rule.
One morning, she caught him staring and Ambrose curled up and twisted so that he wasn’t spying and was instead just watching.
“I know this is for your job,” Ambrose informed Cain simply. “But it’s probably the single most arousing thing you’ve ever done for me.”
In response, Cain just slid her legs into center splits and leaned all the way down until her chest was on the floor, but her gaze peered up at Ambrose as she managed just three fingers loose and flipped him off with a gesture best known in the Northern villages of the O.Z. as a way of saying ‘screw off’.
He could only groan in frustration.
*
It wasn’t long at all before Ambrose sought counsel with the Queen, rather than giving her his own patient and metered advice. She had since moved him into a larger lab and had promoted him to Head Advisor as she trusted no one quite so much as she trusted her Ambrose.
Cain had brought him champagne to celebrate and Ambrose wasn’t likely to forget the mischievous grin she’d worn on her face that night as she undressed Ambrose and pushed him onto the bed to properly ‘congratulate’ him.
He shook his head to distract himself from those thoughts, glancing up at the Queen and her ever-growing stomach. Ahamo sat at her side, rubbing circles on her palm as the Queen smiled warmly at him.
“Has it come time for you to seek my advice?” she asked as Azkadellia scribbled something in her diary several chairs down from the Queen and her husband. Ambrose nodded and dug out the small velvet cloth that encased the object and he stepped forward to present it to her to inspect.
“I found the stone myself in the Mountain mines,” he explained, rubbing a hand over his hair. “And then I set it in some of the gold I used to make your necklace.” He swallowed anxiously. “Is it too much? Is it not enough? How do I even do this?”
The Queen returned the pouch to him and Ambrose tucked it away carefully, not daring to lose the precious object.
“All things will become clear in time,” she promised. “And the opportunity will present itself. You’re both young, Ambrose. She is only nineteen annuals, after all, and you only twenty-one. You have time.”
Ambrose smiled and bowed his head in gratitude as he departed the throne room, closing the doors behind him. They might have all the time in the world, but he didn’t want to spend them apart.
*
In the end, it wasn’t some elaborate plan he’d concocted (though the gods knew he had about ten of them, just in the space of thinking about it over breakfast one morning). They had been eating lunch in his room during one of Cain’s breaks from the job and she’d asked if he could pass over the juice.
Instead of saying ‘sure, here you go’ or ‘no problem’, he’d blurted out, “Will you marry me?”
Cain didn’t immediately respond. She leaned over the table to calmly take the orange juice for herself and pour a glass while considering Ambrose’s words, even as he slid the green velvet across the table and lifted it so that the ring was visible. She sipped at the juice and set it down before leaning over to pick up the ring and twirl it in the light of the room, glancing past it to look at Ambrose. “Are you sure about this? You’re putting all your bets and hopes on me,” Cain pointed out calmly.
“I don’t see any other future that works,” Ambrose put it plainly with a smile. “I mean it. You’re very obviously my best friend and you advise me in ways I should see, but am usually too blind to. I also happen to be stupidly in love with you, but I think that’s just a happy coincidence,” he said, wryly joking.
“Well, then,” Cain said, sliding the ring onto her own finger and giving Ambrose a nod. “Guess that’s a yes.”
Blissful was about the best way to describe how Ambrose felt right then.
*
The ceremony was incredibly small and incredibly pleasant. Cain had her parents and Ambrose had the Queen and Ahamo, Azkadellia walking down the aisle as the best-behaved flower girl that Ambrose had ever laid eyes on. Cain hadn’t really wanted to wear a dress and had wound up in a very plain beige skirt and a long-sleeved top and Ambrose couldn’t care less. He’d never had some ritualistic day in mind for this.
The truth was, he never really expected this to happen at all. He expected he’d be alone with his inventions for the rest of his life.
He thanked the gods for that day when he’d accidentally dropped a book.
They made it through the vows without incident and slid cool rings onto warm hands and caught secret smiles as the ceremony drew to a close and absconded away to his room, which had been her room for months if only unofficially. He drew the door closed before wrapping his arms around her waist. “Just tell me, are you happy?” Ambrose asked, sounding quietly like a little boy.
“Ambrose,” Cain said patiently. “You know I’m happy. So stop it and carry me to that damn bed already.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
*
Cain had never been to Finaqua before in her whole life and so when Ambrose had suggested it for the honeymoon (“I know it’s not the most perfect plan because I have to be there for the Queen, but now that she’s so close to giving birth, I…” “Ambrose, shut up. It’s perfect.”) Cain had been happy go along. They took horses to ride down and Cain prided herself in outgunning Ambrose on every stretch there was, arriving there two hours before her new husband.
That was something that would take getting used to. Every once in a while, the stone would glint in the light of the suns and take Cain by surprise. Even more shocking was that it was the good kind of surprise, the one where her stomach turned happily and she knew, just knew in her heart that she’d made the right choice.
It had been about what he’d said to her once.
He wanted her to have bliss.
Cain reasonably knew that no one could ever be permanently that happy and that realistically, no one’s life was even that great, but Cain also knew that being with Ambrose gave her some of the most comfortable and happy days of her life. It was enough. She dismounted in the reeds of Finaqua, staring out at the lake and the castle beyond it and took a seat in the swing under the gazebo, idly swaying from side to side as she waited for Ambrose to catch up to her.
He managed to make up some of the time, pulling up beside her, panting and heaving. He collapsed on the swing next to Cain and let her do all the work of pulling into his lap.
“You sound winded,” Cain remarked with mild mock-concern. “Guess that means plans are off for tonight.”
“Don’t even think it,” Ambrose retorted breathlessly, kissing her so hard that the swing dipped and the rope holding it up nearly snapped, to his delight and Cain’s horror.
*
Ambrose discovered one day that even if he thought he knew the ins and outs of Cain, he apparently didn’t know everything. He found her in one of the Central courtyards on a pleasant spring day, sipping coffee and watching a woman at another table. Ambrose leaned down to press a kiss to Cain’s lips, settling down beside her as he opened the paper.
“Suspicions?” he asked, when Cain couldn’t stop staring over to the other table and to the animated blonde woman with the dark blonde hair and hazel eyes, talking with her hands and laughing beautifully. Ambrose glanced over the current news and watched Cain tilt her head to one side. “Cain?”
“Hm?”
“You’re staring,” he very lightly said, trying not to smile at the obvious distraction.
“You don’t think she’s gorgeous?” Cain asked, staring at Ambrose, turning her attention back to the woman to miss the part where Ambrose’s jaw dropped and he let the newspaper fall to the table as he scrambled to sit beside her and watch the woman (Adora, he thought? One of the daughters of a well-established noble) stare in their direction, giving them a sunny smile. Ambrose’s mind was busy short-circuiting as he glanced at Cain, eyes widening by the second.
“Wyatt…” he gulped, mouth going dry.
“She’s just so incredibly attractive,” Cain admitted, as if surprised to even say the words aloud, her cheeks flushed with a pink coloring. “She’s definitely the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” This time, she didn’t miss the way Ambrose was gaping at her in his best impression of a fish. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I took my vows and I stand by them. You’re just lucky I met you first.” Teasing or not, that image wasn’t likely to leave Ambrose’s mind for a very long time.
*
Cain had been irritable for too many days and all the sleep in the world wouldn’t drive away the constant headache she had. Ambrose did his best to tend to her, insisting that she ought to go and see a doctor at some point, just to check that she didn’t have the nasty bug going around Central. Cain promised it wasn’t that and bundled herself up in blankets while Ambrose stroked her hair back off her forehead and fed her fruit.
It felt like the flu she’d gotten when she was a small child and Cain didn’t want to spend their first anniversary bed-ridden and expressed that worry to Ambrose.
He took it well, smiling playfully. “Actually, I had hoped that…” but he couldn’t finish because Cain shoved him off the bed (even if she was grinning herself).
He climbed back onto the bed and curled up behind her, taking her temperature. Cain groaned and turned in his grasp, giving him something of a pathetic look. “Maybe call the doctor,” she admitted with a sigh. “With any luck, he’ll prescribe me some pills and we can go to Finaqua like we wanted.”
“I’ll call him soon,” Ambrose mumbled, lips pressed to her neck as he laid lazy kisses there. “Too comfortable.”
“I’ll get you sick,” Cain warned.
“I’ll manage.”
*
The doctor had come back with the results of the variety of tests he had performed on Cain, who had lain in bed looking pale and exhausted. Ambrose’s concern had begun to grow more by the day when Cain didn’t seem to improve and though he fed her juices and healthy leaf-salads, none of the color was returning to her cheeks.
Ambrose stepped outside and wrapped his arms around his thin torso - he’d managed to lose weight, himself, in the preoccupation for taking care of Cain - as he fidgeted and stared at the doctor.
“Pills?” he started the conversation. “Maybe something to get her energy back. She hasn’t worked in weeks and I know it’s starting to drive her mad.” He let out a weary and broken laugh, brow furrowed. “I don’t want things to go downhill so soon. We’ve only been married a year,” he explained, rambling on while the doctor looked at him like he’d gone mad. “She says one of her coworkers, some man named Zero, he’s trying to get her position and…”
“She’s fine,” the doctor insisted. “Mrs. Cain is healthy.” (In the ensuing marriage, Cain had retained her last name, insisting that since Ambrose rarely used his in a show of hating it, she wanted to keep a name she was proud of ). “Some women take to the early sickness of pregnancy worse than others.”
Ambrose gaped for a long while. “I-I…wa…wh…she…”
“Keep feeding her as much as you can. More red meats would help,” the doctor advised, clapping Ambrose on the shoulder. “I’ll drop by vitamins that should help, if only slightly.”
Ambrose gaped at the doctor’s retreating back for a long while before he yanked open the door and nearly pounced on Cain in bed, even to the sound of her protesting groans. “Ambrose, uneasy stomach, remember?” she sharply reprimanded.
“And for the best reason ever,” he promised, wrapping his arms around Cain loosely as he leaned down and kissed her. “You’re not sick. Well, you are sick, but you don’t have the flu.”
“Mm?”
“You,” Ambrose announced, relishing every last moment of this as he tapped her nose, “are pregnant.” Cain just gave another groan and turned into Ambrose’s arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Go to sleep, you can be happy when the sickness wears off,” he promised, not thinking any less of her for not immediately sharing in his elated excitement.
“Guess I really am stuck with you now,” Cain mumbled teasingly under her breath while closing her eyes. Her breaths deepened and Ambrose just let her sleep rather than say anything back (even if he had about four good retorts lined up).
*
Jeb had immediately been ingratiated to the Royal Family at the Queen’s insistence that she see Ambrose’s boy. He took after Cain physically, by the looks of it, but there was something about his expressions that belonged solely to his father. Ambrose had him carefully in his arms, letting DG poke and prod at him with her annual-old fingers, squealing happily, even as Jeb let out displeased cries.
“He doesn’t cry often,” Ambrose explained, lightly rocking Jeb back and forth. “Obviously when hungry or in need of a change, but he’s very well-tempered otherwise. He takes after his mother in that regard.” They both had a fairly even keel when it came to emotions and didn’t go through the same ups and downs that Ambrose experienced. “He’s an angel,” he mumbled as the Queen leaned over to study him. “Looks it, too, what with the coloring. That’s all Cain’s, too. Sometimes, I wonder what of me is in him,” Ambrose expressed his worry and wonder in the same breath.
“There’s more than you would have yourself believe, I’m sure,” the Queen assured, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jeb’s small forehead. “He will be with us and a close friend of the family, I’m sure. Just as you are.”
Ambrose just hoped that was true. He hefted Jeb up into his arms and gave him a long look. “How about you and I go see what Azka-D is up to, now?” he offered. “Probably toying around in my lab looking for something to learn about.”
He didn’t get much more than a sleepy yawn in response from Jeb, but it was better than a wail of a cry.
*
When Jeb was old enough to walk, he immediately took to running. Cain observed that it was from Ambrose’s influence as they walked behind him and made sure to scoop him up in the event that all his running ended up in him falling flat on his behind. Cain had crouched down to grasp Jeb tightly in her arms, listening to him babble about something or other in the incomprehensible language he had.
“I still want to try and translate what he’s saying,” Ambrose mumbled.
“Give him time and he’ll start speaking People, sweetheart,” Cain promised, leaning over to kiss Ambrose’s cheek.
“So, you were saying about Zero?” Ambrose asked, getting back to the original topic as Jeb settled in Cain’s arms and rested a cheek on Cain’s shoulder.
“I don’t trust him. We’ve got pictures of his wife and DeMilo playing hide the sausage, but no one really wants to hand them over. Zero’s bad enough on a good day, so no one’s keen on finding out what one of his bad moods looks like,” Cain spoke quietly as they took their slow walk around the park. “And he just does not like me.”
“He wants your job, you said,” Ambrose recalled.
“He’s trying to use the time I took off for Jeb as a reason. He knows I’m more skilled and have better contacts, so he’s getting underhanded,” Cain said, giving a grateful noise as Ambrose moved a hand to the small of her back and just held lightly. “It’s not going anywhere, but it’s starting to wear on me,” she admitted.
“Maybe you should ask for a transfer?” Ambrose suggested quietly. “Work for the Mystic Man. He has a spot open and you’d have the Queen’s reference. You wouldn’t have to worry about Zero, seeing as there’s only two Tin Men and one of those spots is open and the other is a very good man we all approve of.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Cain asked, catching Ambrose’s eye.
“Zero is making you miserable. Why would I mind you getting away from that?” Ambrose asked gently, stroking Jeb’s hair. In his repose and sucking his thumb, the little boy looked calm as ever and not like the sprinting little devil he’d been only minutes ago. “I’ll arrange the meeting. You just dazzle him with your incredible skills.” Ambrose leaned in and pressed his forehead to Cain’s. “This is your dream job and you get to get away from a creep. There’s no way in the realm I’d let you miss this opportunity.”
tbc