Cain's Family Ties 2/12
Title: Cain’s Family Ties
Rating: R
Pairings: Cain/Ambrose, DG/Jeb
Warnings: Incest, rape, violence.
Summary: A fun, tearful family reunion takes a turn for the worse.
Chapter One
Annuals had past, but Cain could still navigate through the house without a speck of light to guide him.
Smack!
“Ow!”
The coffee table had decided to punish him for his hubris, and he carefully hopped on one leg and he felt around for a light. Someone flicked on the wall lamp, and Cain found himself facing his mother, who was standing in the doorway and trying not to laugh. She wasn’t trying very hard.
“You still wake up too damn early,” she sighed, shaking her head.
“You were the one who always told me to get up this early!” He tried on his old Mom impression, and found that it still fit like a glove, “Early to bed, early to rise, and I won’t throw your breakfast to the pigs.”
“Punctuality is a very proper virtue to instill in your child,” she said primly, turning up her nose at him.
Since the rest of the house was fast asleep, and he had always suspected the walls were made of paper, they stifled their laughter the best they could as they both walked into the kitchen. They weren’t trying very hard.
“Gods, I was worried sick about you,” she said as she began to make them coffee. “Eddie wrote us a few months before he... died. He said they had put you in one of those awful tin things. Tried to stop it, he said, pleaded for mercy... And then you told me about Adora.”
Cain didn’t know what to say, so he just kept quiet and drank his coffee.
“In case you were wondering, your son came waltzing in with that girl an hour ago.” She gave him a stern, disapproving look.
“What? He’s twenty eight, Ma! Do you want me to send him to his room without supper?” He shrugged. “Besides, that girl happens to be a princess, and I’d trust her with my life.” As long as we’re not in any kind of motor vehicle.
“Twenty eight, hm?” She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “You’re old.”
“Ma.”
“Hm?”
“I’m forty seven.”
“Stop, you’re going to make me feel- Oh, damn it.”
They stared at their empty cups bitterly.
The sound of soft footsteps roused them from their cloud of despair. “Can I have coffee too, Mama?”
She watched as Hattie climbed up into the chair beside Cain. “What are you doing up?”
“DG was kickin’ me!” She motioned at the coffee pot.
“You’re too young,” Gertrude said sternly. “It’ll make you shrink.”
Sighing and rolling her eyes, she glared at Cain. “Well, guess I’ll just have to be tired all day.”
“Didn’t sleep well, sweetie?”
“No, not with Wyatt and his friend wrestlin’ all night!”
Cain had poured himself another cup of coffee and had taken a gulp when she had said that, and soon regretted it. He spat the coffee all over the counter, staining his shirt.
Gertrude laughed so hard, she nearly cried. “Harriet Johan Cain! Mind your manners!”
The girl smiled broadly, revealing crooked front teeth. “Ok, bye!” Hattie swiped Cain’s cup, finished it off, and ran off.
As Gertrude began to do the dishes, Cain sat back and listened. Frogs croaking, trees swaying, wind whistling, and... engines roaring? “Who’s that?”
Gertrude stopped cleaning a glass and thought for a moment. “Probably your father, Eustace, and Tuck. The thresher broke last week, so they had to ride into town to get it fixed before the-”
“Tuck’s back?!”
She almost smiled at the excited tone of his voice, as if he were a little boy again. “Yes, he was released a few months ago... Though, Wyatt, I must warn you: He’s a bit... strange, now.”
“Strange? In what way?”
“I’m not quite sure. Something’s wrong, though.”
“He’s probably just adjusting to not being locked up anymore. I can relate.”
The sun was beginning to rise, and the sounds of everyone in the house slowly stirring awake became apparent. “I should probably go get a new shirt,” Cain said.
“You do that.” She watched Cain leave with a worried look. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, and years of experience had proved that her stomach pit was quite prophetic.
“DG, wake up.”
No answer.
Jeb sighed. It was his job to wake up the princess, after a game of “not it” he had been quite cruelly left out of. He might as well have been trying to raise the dead. “C’mon, Deege! Grandma made pancakes! She says she’s not a short order cook, and if you want food, you need to wake up now!”
Somehow, DG had managed to convince him that they should drive to the nearest bar and have a bit of fun. He had gone, if only because she was a princess and could have him executed at any time, and wished that he hadn’t. Even if he had only had a few drinks, he still had a dull, throbbing headache. DG, who had elected to get completely plastered, was splayed out on Hattie’s bed, still wearing her clothes from yesterday.
“DG...”
“God, go away. Ain’t hungry... If I get hungry later, I’ll find that cow we hit yesterday and fry it up.”
We? Though, he had to admit that it was partially his fault, since he had let a stumbling, shouting DG actually get behind the wheel. She was a mean drunk: She had started gabbing on about something called GTA and had actively begun to run things over: Fences, small trees, gardens. The night had ended when she hit the cow, though. She had mumbled something about Prithvi and passed out on the horn. He had driven her back.
His mother had never approved of alcohol. When he used to drink with the other rebel soldiers, she would sniff quietly and tell him that booze brought nothing but trouble. Apparently, his father had some problems with the stuff, but she would never go into detail on the matter. He reminded himself to ask him about it later.
“DG...”
A pink pillow hit him square in the face. “Next time, it’s a lamp,” DG grumbled, turning her back to him.
He stood in the doorway, just staring at her for a second. “I’ll save you something,” he said softly.
The ladies loved him. They laughed at all his jokes, toyed with his curly hair, and asked him about his life in the Royal Court. They said he was cute, especially Elmira, which didn’t disturb him as much as he thought, a thought that disturbed him. They thought he was the smartest man in the world.
At some point, Ambrose had entered a bizarre version of his teenage years, and he never wanted to leave.
Elmira was his favorite. He had never had any sisters, and found it exciting to actually interact with one and mentally record the differences and similarities between her and his brothers. She didn’t seem all that bright... Yet, she had a comely face and a kind temperament. He truly did love her.
And she loved him, though not quite in a way he felt comfortable with. Nothing would come of it, he knew, for she was barely ten annuals, but even the childish, innocent crush made him feel quite uncomfortable. He would reveal their kinship to her, eventually.
Until that day, he was more than happy to sit in the living room and let her tie ribbons in his hair. He didn’t even mind when Hattie brought out her dolls and demanded that they play with her.
Marjorie watched them from over the rim of her book. Though she seemed to be trying very hard to look aloof and interested in reading about the history of Other Side civilizations (a topic he himself found very boring; they didn’t even have magic!), she never took her eyes off of them.
Ambrose nudged Elmira slightly. “Do you know what I think would be really fun?” he asked in a whisper.
She turned her dark eyes on him; the only trait they shared. “What?” she answered in a whisper. Elmira liked whispers. They made even the most boring chitchat seem like a secret conversation of the upmost importance, like she was a spy.
“I think you should go play with Marjorie.”
Hattie positively beamed. “That’s a great idea!” she chirped. “Marjie! Marjie! You can be the princess doll!”
With the girls sufficiently distracted, Ambrose slipped out of the room, only to find himself wrapped in a strong embrace. “Well, hello there, stranger,” he said coyly. “Have we met before?”
Cain grinned and kissed him.
It would have probably continued into something more, had the light giggling of two little girls not become increasingly apparent...
“Wyatt and Ambrose, sittin’ in a tree!” Elmira and Hattie sang. “K-I-S-I-N-G!”
Elmira blinked. “I think we got that part wrong.”
They shrugged.
It was always painfully obvious when Ambrose blushed, and it stayed with him until they reached the front door. “And you complained about a lack of privacy at my house...”
“They’re just kids, Ambrose. Kids like to invade your privacy.” He grinned. “I remember how I used to spy on my brothers though a little hole in the wall.”
“Ever see anything interesting?”
“Nah, nothing much. Once, I caught my brother, Caleb, sneaking out to meet his girl one night. I told Mom and Dad, and he got so mad, he waited for me to peep again and blew coal dust into my eye.”
Ambrose chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “Lucas used to throw coal at me,” he said.
“Wyatt!” Gertrude called from the kitchen. “They’re here!”
Cain smiled and bounded out the door before Ambrose could get a word in edgewise.
“Who’s here?” he asked, bewildered.
Gertrude joined him at the front door. “My husband, Johan, and my brother-in-law, Eustace.” He hoped that she didn’t notice the slight hitch in his breath at the name. “But, most importantly to Cain, my nephew, Tucker.”
Ambrose picked out Tuck at once. He seemed slightly older than Cain, about Ambrose’s age, and his long blond hair was a shade darker, mostly covered by a green bandana. His bare arms were covered in intricate tattoos. When Cain hugged him, he seemed to scowl.
“I hope...” Gertrude’s voice trailed off. She didn’t need to say anything more. They both felt it.
Johan was an older, gray haired version of Cain, and looked just as stoic. Not very interesting. The one who really caught Ambrose’s attention was the man standing next to him. Tall and weedy, he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other Cain men. Most noticeable, however, was his jet black hair. Ambrose knew who he was.
His father.
Rating: R
Pairings: Cain/Ambrose, DG/Jeb
Warnings: Incest, rape, violence.
Summary: A fun, tearful family reunion takes a turn for the worse.
Chapter One
Annuals had past, but Cain could still navigate through the house without a speck of light to guide him.
Smack!
“Ow!”
The coffee table had decided to punish him for his hubris, and he carefully hopped on one leg and he felt around for a light. Someone flicked on the wall lamp, and Cain found himself facing his mother, who was standing in the doorway and trying not to laugh. She wasn’t trying very hard.
“You still wake up too damn early,” she sighed, shaking her head.
“You were the one who always told me to get up this early!” He tried on his old Mom impression, and found that it still fit like a glove, “Early to bed, early to rise, and I won’t throw your breakfast to the pigs.”
“Punctuality is a very proper virtue to instill in your child,” she said primly, turning up her nose at him.
Since the rest of the house was fast asleep, and he had always suspected the walls were made of paper, they stifled their laughter the best they could as they both walked into the kitchen. They weren’t trying very hard.
“Gods, I was worried sick about you,” she said as she began to make them coffee. “Eddie wrote us a few months before he... died. He said they had put you in one of those awful tin things. Tried to stop it, he said, pleaded for mercy... And then you told me about Adora.”
Cain didn’t know what to say, so he just kept quiet and drank his coffee.
“In case you were wondering, your son came waltzing in with that girl an hour ago.” She gave him a stern, disapproving look.
“What? He’s twenty eight, Ma! Do you want me to send him to his room without supper?” He shrugged. “Besides, that girl happens to be a princess, and I’d trust her with my life.” As long as we’re not in any kind of motor vehicle.
“Twenty eight, hm?” She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “You’re old.”
“Ma.”
“Hm?”
“I’m forty seven.”
“Stop, you’re going to make me feel- Oh, damn it.”
They stared at their empty cups bitterly.
The sound of soft footsteps roused them from their cloud of despair. “Can I have coffee too, Mama?”
She watched as Hattie climbed up into the chair beside Cain. “What are you doing up?”
“DG was kickin’ me!” She motioned at the coffee pot.
“You’re too young,” Gertrude said sternly. “It’ll make you shrink.”
Sighing and rolling her eyes, she glared at Cain. “Well, guess I’ll just have to be tired all day.”
“Didn’t sleep well, sweetie?”
“No, not with Wyatt and his friend wrestlin’ all night!”
Cain had poured himself another cup of coffee and had taken a gulp when she had said that, and soon regretted it. He spat the coffee all over the counter, staining his shirt.
Gertrude laughed so hard, she nearly cried. “Harriet Johan Cain! Mind your manners!”
The girl smiled broadly, revealing crooked front teeth. “Ok, bye!” Hattie swiped Cain’s cup, finished it off, and ran off.
As Gertrude began to do the dishes, Cain sat back and listened. Frogs croaking, trees swaying, wind whistling, and... engines roaring? “Who’s that?”
Gertrude stopped cleaning a glass and thought for a moment. “Probably your father, Eustace, and Tuck. The thresher broke last week, so they had to ride into town to get it fixed before the-”
“Tuck’s back?!”
She almost smiled at the excited tone of his voice, as if he were a little boy again. “Yes, he was released a few months ago... Though, Wyatt, I must warn you: He’s a bit... strange, now.”
“Strange? In what way?”
“I’m not quite sure. Something’s wrong, though.”
“He’s probably just adjusting to not being locked up anymore. I can relate.”
The sun was beginning to rise, and the sounds of everyone in the house slowly stirring awake became apparent. “I should probably go get a new shirt,” Cain said.
“You do that.” She watched Cain leave with a worried look. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, and years of experience had proved that her stomach pit was quite prophetic.
“DG, wake up.”
No answer.
Jeb sighed. It was his job to wake up the princess, after a game of “not it” he had been quite cruelly left out of. He might as well have been trying to raise the dead. “C’mon, Deege! Grandma made pancakes! She says she’s not a short order cook, and if you want food, you need to wake up now!”
Somehow, DG had managed to convince him that they should drive to the nearest bar and have a bit of fun. He had gone, if only because she was a princess and could have him executed at any time, and wished that he hadn’t. Even if he had only had a few drinks, he still had a dull, throbbing headache. DG, who had elected to get completely plastered, was splayed out on Hattie’s bed, still wearing her clothes from yesterday.
“DG...”
“God, go away. Ain’t hungry... If I get hungry later, I’ll find that cow we hit yesterday and fry it up.”
We? Though, he had to admit that it was partially his fault, since he had let a stumbling, shouting DG actually get behind the wheel. She was a mean drunk: She had started gabbing on about something called GTA and had actively begun to run things over: Fences, small trees, gardens. The night had ended when she hit the cow, though. She had mumbled something about Prithvi and passed out on the horn. He had driven her back.
His mother had never approved of alcohol. When he used to drink with the other rebel soldiers, she would sniff quietly and tell him that booze brought nothing but trouble. Apparently, his father had some problems with the stuff, but she would never go into detail on the matter. He reminded himself to ask him about it later.
“DG...”
A pink pillow hit him square in the face. “Next time, it’s a lamp,” DG grumbled, turning her back to him.
He stood in the doorway, just staring at her for a second. “I’ll save you something,” he said softly.
The ladies loved him. They laughed at all his jokes, toyed with his curly hair, and asked him about his life in the Royal Court. They said he was cute, especially Elmira, which didn’t disturb him as much as he thought, a thought that disturbed him. They thought he was the smartest man in the world.
At some point, Ambrose had entered a bizarre version of his teenage years, and he never wanted to leave.
Elmira was his favorite. He had never had any sisters, and found it exciting to actually interact with one and mentally record the differences and similarities between her and his brothers. She didn’t seem all that bright... Yet, she had a comely face and a kind temperament. He truly did love her.
And she loved him, though not quite in a way he felt comfortable with. Nothing would come of it, he knew, for she was barely ten annuals, but even the childish, innocent crush made him feel quite uncomfortable. He would reveal their kinship to her, eventually.
Until that day, he was more than happy to sit in the living room and let her tie ribbons in his hair. He didn’t even mind when Hattie brought out her dolls and demanded that they play with her.
Marjorie watched them from over the rim of her book. Though she seemed to be trying very hard to look aloof and interested in reading about the history of Other Side civilizations (a topic he himself found very boring; they didn’t even have magic!), she never took her eyes off of them.
Ambrose nudged Elmira slightly. “Do you know what I think would be really fun?” he asked in a whisper.
She turned her dark eyes on him; the only trait they shared. “What?” she answered in a whisper. Elmira liked whispers. They made even the most boring chitchat seem like a secret conversation of the upmost importance, like she was a spy.
“I think you should go play with Marjorie.”
Hattie positively beamed. “That’s a great idea!” she chirped. “Marjie! Marjie! You can be the princess doll!”
With the girls sufficiently distracted, Ambrose slipped out of the room, only to find himself wrapped in a strong embrace. “Well, hello there, stranger,” he said coyly. “Have we met before?”
Cain grinned and kissed him.
It would have probably continued into something more, had the light giggling of two little girls not become increasingly apparent...
“Wyatt and Ambrose, sittin’ in a tree!” Elmira and Hattie sang. “K-I-S-I-N-G!”
Elmira blinked. “I think we got that part wrong.”
They shrugged.
It was always painfully obvious when Ambrose blushed, and it stayed with him until they reached the front door. “And you complained about a lack of privacy at my house...”
“They’re just kids, Ambrose. Kids like to invade your privacy.” He grinned. “I remember how I used to spy on my brothers though a little hole in the wall.”
“Ever see anything interesting?”
“Nah, nothing much. Once, I caught my brother, Caleb, sneaking out to meet his girl one night. I told Mom and Dad, and he got so mad, he waited for me to peep again and blew coal dust into my eye.”
Ambrose chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “Lucas used to throw coal at me,” he said.
“Wyatt!” Gertrude called from the kitchen. “They’re here!”
Cain smiled and bounded out the door before Ambrose could get a word in edgewise.
“Who’s here?” he asked, bewildered.
Gertrude joined him at the front door. “My husband, Johan, and my brother-in-law, Eustace.” He hoped that she didn’t notice the slight hitch in his breath at the name. “But, most importantly to Cain, my nephew, Tucker.”
Ambrose picked out Tuck at once. He seemed slightly older than Cain, about Ambrose’s age, and his long blond hair was a shade darker, mostly covered by a green bandana. His bare arms were covered in intricate tattoos. When Cain hugged him, he seemed to scowl.
“I hope...” Gertrude’s voice trailed off. She didn’t need to say anything more. They both felt it.
Johan was an older, gray haired version of Cain, and looked just as stoic. Not very interesting. The one who really caught Ambrose’s attention was the man standing next to him. Tall and weedy, he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other Cain men. Most noticeable, however, was his jet black hair. Ambrose knew who he was.
His father.