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Author's Chapter Notes:

Achilles attempts to make an understanding.




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


breakfast at ma'at's

 

 

He never managed to take his glasses off.

 

Scrunching against the morning light seeping into his eyes he shifted, ready to turn his pillow to the cooler side. His hands gripped at the strangely solid woven sheet, only to jerk when it moved.

 

He blinked, sitting up on his elbows. But he sighed, relieved, once he saw her bare midriff was where his head had been sleeping against instead. A proud smirk crept across his lust-parched lips.

 

Rosmurta lay just as he left her the night before -- or was it early this morning, the second... no, no the third time around? -- with her face burrowed within the rumpled blankets. He nudged her in test of just how conscious she was, sliding himself out from bed when she continued to snore unresponsively, barely twitching under the pillow she clutched to her chest. It was just as well that she sleep through everything; they had fallen into a tumble of sweat-glistened limbs but a few hours ago. 

 

After clicking off the lamps that had burned all night Achilles shifted into his jeans, not bothering with replacing the long-sleeved gray shirt strewn upon the floor with the rest of their clothes. Quietly he snuck from the cozy little bedroom, feet subconsciously avoiding the floorboards that creaked at their noisiest. The door he left cracked behind him.

 

"Slept well, did you?"

 

He hadn't reached the left staircase before taking pause. "Well enough." He and Ma'at exchanged glances as she sat up from the couch, rubbing the sleep out from her gray eyes. The irony in which she spoke to him couldn't be mistaken. "And you?"

 

  She stretched into a yawn, arms high above her head of tousled coppered hair. Those strange inked shapes traced from the upper end of her elbow and around; a familiar sight he had strewn with kisses just the night before upon Rosmurta's very spine. For the life of him, however, he couldn't shake that even last night wasn't the first time he had noticed that sort of tattoo.

 

"I would've slept soundly if it weren't for all that thumping going on in the room down the hall." The minxlike grin twisting on her plump lips struck him with little trouble, though he couldn't bring himself to behave in such a manner. Her fickle jealousy would have been flattering if it weren't so amusing. "But I'm sure it's none of my business."

 

Guess she wasn't that quiet after all, then.

 

Achilles gestured with a nod toward the kitchen downstairs, chuckling. "You'll have a cup of coffee with me?"

 

At once the light in her smoky eyes cleared and brightened. Her manicured feet slid into the precariously placed purple slippers before she donned the matching housecoat from the loveseat. Adjusting a wedgie from her polka dotted sleeping shorts she mused, "I'll fix us some breakfast."

 

|||

 

"You make as though it's some sort of big deal."

 

"And you don't take it seriously enough."

 

Achilles sputtered a pitiful laugh, aimlessly stirring the single sugar cube in his mug of black coffee as he sat at the little country table by the bay window overlooking the garden. The kitchen lay nestled on the first floor just at the bottom of the left stairwell, before the office and washrooms further down. It could easily have been the next dwelling in the shophouse after the bakery itself; the three-deck ovens, stove and kettle along the west wall, two refrigeration units hunkered beside the washing and storage corner to the north wall, followed by a baker's bench and elongated pastry table aligning much of the east wall with several tiered racks meandering around the island of solid granite in the very center. While each appliance had been updated to improve its efficiency there could be no denying the rustic essence of the original design had been maintained. Truth be told, simply looking around the place had him itching to get his real handiwork started.

 

From the stove not several feet away his momentary companion, profile to his eyes, flipped the slices of cottage loaf, leaving the hot pan to shift over to the side and finish dicing the pear and plum upon the cutting board. Though he had offered some time ago to help her prepare the meal, Ma'at insisted it was "much too simple a task" to even ask for his assistance. 

 

She cleared her throat before adding, "You've got to understand;  we've never heard of more than one of the same contract existing. Mother Watcher hasn't allowed it because it doesn't guarantee that any contract other than the first will be completed. That sort of thing is pretty heavily regulated and for the life of me I can't figure out how Penelope managed us to all sign for the same task."

 

The knife came down with a final chop.

 

Achilles eyed her from his coffee. There could be no mistaking her aggravation -- it was more apparent yesterday -- and he could not help but assume the goddess somehow felt cheated. 

 

"Yeah, well." He took another look out to the window, shrugging the broad expanse of his shoulders. "Granny always had a way of ultimately making you do things her way." Though I dunno why she pulled this out from her sleeve.

 

"The only reason I didn't leave last night was because I would've had nowhere to go without eventually having to come back here." Ma'at checked the browning bread, tossing the rest of the chunked fruit into a large porcelain serving bowl. "A goddess can't return to Elysium without her contract being completed, so it isn't as though I'd be able to plea my case to anyone. So we're just... stuck here."

 

She stood still for a moment, head downcast as if she were too lost in the complications of rather ill-importance to Achilles. Not that he believed them to be absurd necessarily, just that he didn't see what was so wrong with them all simply abiding by the terms of their contracts with his granny.

 

So he asked.

 

Ma'at gave him a mischievous smirk, dark brow arched. But he shook his hand, waving off her thoughts. "Don't go thinking I'm after that sort of thing; I've got my own love life to sort out, much to Granny's disappointment. I just don't mind spawning a few little buggers if it means seeing this place get up off the ground." He reassured then, "You'll be leaving after you get what you want, right?"

 

"She did mention you weren't keen on children," the goddess muttered.

 

In another moment she came over with their plates, setting both down before fetching the little bowls of fruit. Achilles promptly thanked her, smiling down at the scrumptious arrangement of toasted cottage loaf, thick slices of hickory-smoked bacon, and the colorfully arranged plum and pear. If Izzy could manage her way around the kitchen as well, Achilles was confident the four of them would be on top of this whole bakery business.

 

They began to eat in silence. It was comfortable enough, he could admit, and Ma'at hardly seemed to mind not talking about babies or breaking contracts for a few moments.

 

"I just want my life to be my own, you know?"

 

He looked up from his bacon, though she was quite far away as she took in the sights from the backyard. Ma'at held the coffee mug to her lips in stillness. "I've always done my duties. No one could question that. I'm the incarnation of truth and preserver of ultimate justice; I weighed hearts against my own, for fuck's sake!" She took a sip then, the scalding temperature of the coffee still not as searing as her tone had just been. For a wonder, it began to cool her tongue. "But now that my temples have withered with the sand and the here-and-now has become the ancient, I'm not needed the way I used to be. And quite frankly if everyone else in the world has moved on then I daresay think I ought to as well. We all ought to."

 

"I wouldn't go that far," he countered. Achilles had to focus on his bacon a bit more, as his sympathies for these women were beginning to pull him in directions that weren't like his usual self. Not in some years, at least. "Everyone has a need for someone, Gran used to tell. Some of us might even need more than just one person to keep us on the right path. Maybe the way you're needed has just manifested itself into other things, hmm?" 

 

The shrug of his shoulders brought a chuckle to them both, Ma'at smirking into her coffee. "I don't like that you're making me feel any better over this. I'm still angry with you for seducing Rosie."

 

"Finally! You come out with it."

 

"What was that for anyway? Out to prove something?" Her tongue blackened with her piping mug. "We only just met you, for one. Secondly, we've still got to get the bakery up before we can even think about anything else. I'm not dealing with customers and a pregnancy until I figure out how to bake a cake first!"

 

"You don't think I'll teach you?"

 

"Don't get smart with me, mortal. It's the fucking principle. But I'm sure you weren't thinking about that while you were banging poor Rosie's brains out, were you?"

 

"Poor Rosie? Ha!" Achilles snickered, his eyes flicking to hers. He didn't see the point in putting all the facts out there -- like how Rosamund came onto him with the intent to shag -- considering it would only incite additional drama under his roof. Just as quickly it occurred to him that, if things were to go smoothly with this coexistence experiment, a certain level of civility would need to be maintained. Rules would need to be established. He believed in running a tight ship, and while these women were supposedly here to alleviate the burden of his journey to success they already proved themselves to be a handful. They couldn't get in the way of things.

 

"I'll let Rosie decide just how innocent she was to seduction when she wakes, hmm? And for someone so concerned with having her own bairn I don't think it fair for you to be upset with her about the same. And I'd bet she's just as vested in this as you and Izzy are, so why wouldn't I go along with what she asked?" He had a bite of bread before deciding on how to approach the concept of house rules, but their conversation was cut short.

 

"What am I vested in?"

 

The two looked over to see Ishtar lugging brown bags of groceries. She hustled to the counter to set the heavy burden down, sighing with relief. Ma'at greeted her as she pointed to the bowl of fruit and the remaining slices of toasted cottage loaf. "Help yourself," she offered.

 

"It looks delicious," the cocoa-fleshed goddess smiled. She wiped her hands upon her black tights, glancing over at Achilles with a certain knowing. He couldn't help but go back to his own coffee, chuckling to himself. No doubt everyone in the house was aware of his grievously brilliant fuck.

 

Well, he thought it so, anyway.

 

"We were just talking about opening up shop," Achilles lied. "I've been thinking I should get a full survey of things as far as what still needs doing, then make--"

 

"Well, you can certainly cross Rosie right off that list."

 

Ishtar tutted at the biting sarcasm, taking a seat between the two. "You're not helping, Ma'at. Go on."

 

"Right then. Like I said, just need to know what's been done and what still needs finishing up as far as remodeling. But before any of that happens I'd better make a few things clear." He leaned in to the two of them, azures taking both without forgiveness. "We're supposed to have a few bastards running around here in the next, what, year or so? Well if we're planning this  then we've got to have a game plan set. We, ladies, are gonna need to set up a few rules."

 

Ma'at and Ishtar exchanged dubious glances, the cocoa-fleshed one rolling her eyes. "Alrighty then," she allowed slowly. The two of them leaned in as well, a grin crimping their lips. "What rules?"

 






Chapter End Notes:

It's been a little while, but I'm glad I got this one churned out!







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.