Chapter Text
Aerys pushes the peas around his plate with the curved point of his spoon. He picks them up in clumps every few seconds only to turn the spoon over again to let them clatter down, his lip curved, his cheek resting on his fist. Every so often, Luke can feel the daggers of his glare cut through his back as though his son thinks he doesn’t know it’s there.
“You have to eat them,” he says bluntly, flicking his eyes up to meet the blades.
“Why?” His son cries, indignant, sitting suddenly straight to throw his hands on either side of himself, very nearly knocking his glass off the table. He misses by a hair, and seems none the wiser to it. “They’re gross! They’re not even edible!”
Mara groans dramatically beside him, her shoulders dropping and her head thrown back to face the ceiling. The bow of her violin falls from the strings as she does and instead into her lap. “Can you stop whining? You’re breaking my concentration.”
“Good.”
“Not good! I have my concert in two weeks!”
“Why is that my problem? Why can’t you practice in your room?”
“You know the acoustics are better in here!”
“Doesn’t make it sound any better,” he grumbles, and Luke steps in before his daughter can escalate it further.
“Enough, you two. Aerys, eat the peas. They’re good for you.”
“They can’t be that good when they taste like that.”
Luke rolls his eyes. “You know, there are kids across the narrow sea that would kill to have that kind of dinner.”
Aerys sneers. “Maybe we should send it to them, then.”
Luke can feel his mind fracturing with every second their argument drags on. “Eat the food.”
Aerys groans loudly, dramatically, and throws himself back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He glares meanly over the edge of the table, over the offensive vegetables in front of him. “Dad doesn’t make me eat them.”
He narrows his eyes at his son, fingers curling so his nails scratch at the butcherblock countertop he’s leaned against, the food he’d been packing away forgotten.
Aerys seems to realize his critical mistake in the mere second that passes. His petulant sneer falls from his face and he stills, sitting straighter in his seat. “I’m only saying,” he mumbles, eyes downcast. He lifts the spoon again and pushes around a singular pea, before scooping it up. “They make cubes for this now.”
“He’s not feeding you cubes, you little weirdo-”
“You’re a weirdo-!”
Luke takes a breath and closes his eyes, tilting his head back to lift his chin towards the ceiling. There’s an ache in his temples, throbbing with every beat of his heart. Whether it was from work, dehydration, or arguing with a ten-year-old, he couldn’t know. But it’s there, and growing worse with every tick of the clock behind him. They argue still and he reaches for the bottle in the cabinet behind him, dolling out two into his palm and knocking them back. Already it eases, though maybe it’s only the sated habit that does it.
The front door opens beyond where he can see, and he hears several voices and falling footsteps come inside.
“Laenora?” He calls, leaning over the counter to try to catch a glimpse of the closing door. He sees only shadows passing on the wall. “Did you bring friends over?”
His eldest appears from the little hall to his left, her bag still slung over one shoulder. “Yeah, my group for the project. That’s still fine, right?”
“Oh! Sure, yes!” He says, trying to remember when he’d said that. He must do a poor job of hiding it, because his daughter’s smile changes.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Of course not,” he lies, waving a hand flippantly as he goes for the ceramic dish bottle on the other side of the island. Aerys had left it there that afternoon for one of his ‘science experiments,’ though it really looked more like he was just making bubbles. Either way, he’d cleaned up enough of the mess. Luke shook his head. “I remembered. Of course I remembered.”
“Right,” she says, and reaches past him for one of the cookies cooling on the tray he’d just pulled from the oven, the store-bought sort that comes from the refrigerated section. Close enough to home-made. As close as he can get. He gives her a look, but he’s beyond trying to regulate what she eats. If she didn’t want the peas, that was her business. Aerys, on the other hand…
“It’ll only be a few hours,” she says, and turns back out of the room.
He shakes his head and turns back to the sink, and freezes. The soap bottle slips from his hands and shatters at his feet, but he can pay it no mind with the looming figure in the doorway across from him, leaned against the wooden post at the end of his counter.
“Lucerys,” Aemond drawls, looking almost amused as he takes in the blue liquid pooled at his feet, seeping into the grout of his kitchen floor. “Been a while, nephew.”
His mind doesn’t register anything the other is saying for several moments, his blood rushing through his ears at a deafening volume, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Still, Aemond stares, single eye lifting up from the mess in front of him and then over him, slowly, all the way up to his eyes and his hair and the heat of his cheeks.
He hasn’t seen Aemond in… Gods, ten years? Yes, that had to be right. Not since just after the accident, where he’d been promptly kicked out of his step-grandmother’s manse and told not to come back, the gifts and apology note shoved back into his hands. He remembers Aemond as small, scrawny, sullen. Always with a scowl and something biting to say to any of his cousins or nephews or anyone, really.
He’s entirely different now, looming at the edge of his kitchen.
His eyebrows raise another hair, and Luke realizes he hasn’t said anything.
“What are you doing here?” He manages, and then to his children, “both of you go to your rooms.”
“Thank the Seven.”
“But I’m practicing!”
Aerys rushes out, leaving his chair out as he goes, not sparing a glance to any of them as if he thinks Luke will change his mind if he lingers. Mara doesn’t. She stays in her chair, looking between Luke and Aemond across from him, her brows furrowed. A look from Luke, and she goes with a huff, setting her violin carefully in its case and tucking the whole of it under one arm, carrying her music stand with the other. She glares at Aemond as she goes, and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.
“Cute kids,” he says, and it’s Luke’s turn to glare.
“What are you doing here?” He demands again.
Aemond shrugs, pushing off the wall with only his shoulder and stepping further into the kitchen, around to the side of the island, only a few steps away from Luke before he stops. Again, his eye rakes over him, burning as it goes. The one of sapphire almost sparkles in the evening light, like water in the bay. Another shrug. “I’m in Laenora’s group for the project. Thought I might come say hi to my nephew first.”
There’s an air about him Luke can’t place. It unsettles him slightly, unsteadies his feet. He clears his throat if only to break some of the tension rising in him, and looks down at the mess of blue liquid pooling at his feet and seeping into the grout between the tile.
“Alright,” he says. “Hi, Aemond.”
His teeth glint in the light, the points of them sharp as he almost smiles. “Hi, Lucerys,” he returns. And still, he stares.
He’s grown significantly, Luke realizes. He always thought his uncle might grow into something gangly and long, with the way he was all those years ago. Spindly, even. An image comes of Aemond half the width that he is now with glasses at the tip of his nose, his face buried in some thick book, old and dusty and probably boring. A sweater swamping him. His face gaunt.
But he’s none of those things. He’s lean and toned with time obviously spent in the gym, his arms thick enough they might dwarf the whole of Luke’s thigh. They stretch the fabric of his black t-shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, obvious even under the drape of his jacket. He’s grown tall, tall enough for his head to nearly skim along the edge of the light fixture above them, and his face long. Handsome. He shakes that thought away before it can take root in his mind.
“Um,” he mumbles, intelligently. He twists the ring on his pinky as he looks away, anywhere but the man standing in front of him. The soap is going to be a pain to clean up. It’s disappearing already in between the stone tiles, nearly gone, and he might need somebody to come fix that for him before it can ruin his floors entirely. “Alright,” he says, and bends low, not at all hiding from his uncle as he all but crawls into the cabinet below the sink to look for his dustpan.
When he emerges again, Aemond is still there, still looking. It’s odd. He feels like a prey animal in the boy’s gaze, and a shudder runs down his spine at the thought. It’s been years since he’d seen him last, and now here he is, spontaneously materialized in his kitchen. Does Alicent know he’s there? It’s not as though there would be much for her to do about it anymore. Ten years, so Aemond would be…
He flecks his gaze to him every few seconds as he sweeps as much of the broken ceramic as he can, balancing on the balls of his feet, keeping himself face-forward to the other. He should say something else, he thinks, but what can he say to the boy whose eye he slashed out a decade before and had seen exactly once since? Anything that comes to mind dies on his tongue, inadequate. Again, he shudders.
“Do you need anything?” He settles on, grateful for the distance as he takes the other side of the island and tosses the pieces into the trash, and cursing himself when he has to return closer anyway to grab the towel hanging off the handle of the dishwasher. He lays it over the soap mess, and uses his foot to stamp it down.
“Water, actually,” Aemond says. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” His voice comes high and his hands tremble as he pulls a glass out of the cabinet and fills it slowly at the fridge. He stills them with the elbow of his sleeve, rolling the fabric between his fingerpads. He hopes Aemond doesn't notice as he hands the glass over.
“Krimvose,” Aemond murmurs in thanks as he takes the glass from him, large fingers brushing over his own as he does. Even as he drinks he watches Luke, throat bobbing until the glass is empty and he’s handing it back.
Luke takes it and looks at it. “Do you want more?”
“No, I’m good,” Aemond says, and plants his palms on the counter to lean that much closer, bottom lip pulled between his teeth.
It’s odd. It’s awkward. Luke’s mouth feels dry as he flounders, the ground feeling as though it’s fallen away entirely and he’s left to dig his claws into the dirt walls of the tunnel made. Feet over head, his dishes and tiles and cookies with him, clattering around as they fall and ramming into him, leaving bruises.
“Well… I’ll be here if you need something else.”
Aemond’s brows raise, and his tongue finds the tip of his tooth. His eye falls to where Luke’s own teeth are worrying his bottom lip, and up again.
“I’ll be sure to let you know,” he says, and turns. He stops, looks again, and reaches out.
Luke fights the urge to step back from it, afraid the heat of it will burn, but his uncle only takes a cookie from the rack and takes a bite before stalking out of the kitchen.
***
Eighteen years before, Luke bought his house for the turret above his bedroom.
The stairs up to it creak with the years gone by, the wood in desperate need of repair and replacing. A draft comes through the walls even before he wrenches the door open and slips through into the evening air, into the cooling purple twilight surrounding him, the twinkle of stars fighting against the city lights.
Technically, he quit smoking. It was a bad habit he picked up early in high school, and dropped the second he found out he was pregnant. And again the second time. And the third. After Laenora, it was little more than on occasional vice, anyway, saved for when everything got too overwhelming and he just needed a moment to fucking think.
This counts as one of those times.
He pulls the bench cushion up and moves over the box of old, cracked chalk and the half-burned citronella candles and pulls the carton free from its hiding place in a box of old play cars, untouched for years already, still caked with dirt and sand.
There’s six cigarettes inside, and he considers briefly putting them all between his lips at once and puffing away. His heart still beats frantically like a rabbit let free from a trap. He can feel every flutter in the artery on his throat, his skin bouncing with it. His hands haven’t stopped trembling, and they continue to do so as he slips just one of the cigarettes between his lips and lifts the long candle lighter to light the end.
The relief is immediate. He holds the smoke in his lungs and lets his head fall back to lean against the turret post, then slowly exhales. His mother and Laenora both would kill him if they caught him, but the thought is far from his mind as he takes another drag, the cherry growing bright before it dims again.
He dials his sister's number, and she picks up on the first ring.
“Aemond is in my house,” he says before she can say anything, before he can even get the phone propped up against the candle on the table so he can be in view of the camera.
“Woah,” she says. “Like, Aemond Aemond? Like-“ she covers one of her eyes with her fingers. “That Aemond?”
“Yes!” Luke hisses, bending low when his voice rises, squinting over the turret wall to make sure no one three stories below is listening. “He’s in Laenora’s group for her project! He’s in her room right now!”
For over two hours. Luke had cleaned the kitchen, putting away the leftover food and scrubbing the remnants from the top of the stove, had swept and mopped and done everything he could to get the pool of dish soap out of the grout. He’d put the cookies in the jar on the counter and done the dishes, finally, and hand-scrubbed the pans that wouldn’t fit. He’d checked on the kids and made sure Aerys and Rhaella had done their homework and brushed their teeth and gotten into bed for the night, and done everything he could to avoid the door just across the hall from the stairs. He’d tip-toed in front of it as though the sound of his footsteps might draw Aemond out, a beast lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.
It’d been an accident when he’d taken Aemond’s eye. He shouldn’t have been there at all, really. He’d only gone to the Keep to see his mother for some favor she needed that he’d never heard. Halfway up to her rooms he’d heard the shouting grow louder and louder, and a scream.
He shouldn’t have been there. Aemond shouldn’t have had a knife. Luke had seen him once since then, laid out in a hospital bed, a wrap of gauze over half his head and half a look that could kill. He’d tried to make things right, but between Aemond and Alicent, it wasn’t going to happen.
“Is he like…”
“Like what?”
Rhaena huffs. “Like, does he seem like he’s going to murder you?”
That had been a concern for a while. Not so serious as to do anything about, and Luke hadn’t been present for whatever threats the boy had hurled at everyone around him, but it had been bad enough that he’d heard about it from Aegon of all people, and the queen had insisted the boy start therapy as soon as humanly possible.
So far, Aemond hasn’t tried anything.
“I don’t think so. He was just… staring at me.”
“Staring at you?”
“Yes, Rhaena.” He huffs and clears his throat. Somewhere on the other end of the line comes screaming, but his sister doesn’t so much as look up to it. “Sorry, just. Yeah. It was weird. And I guess he’ll be coming back, since their project isn’t due until the end of the month and Laenora says they all agreed to meet here-”
“Can’t they meet at the library or something?”
Luke scoffs. “Have you been inside of a university library recently?”
“Have you?”
He’s quiet a moment. “...No, but Laenora says it’s always packed, which is why she never goes. And I’m not going to have her cram into someone’s dorm room or something when there’s plenty of room here.”
Rhaena purses her lips. “I think you should tell Jace.”
“Gods, for what?” He scoffs again, and takes another, longer drag. The sun is going down over the horizon, painting the sky deep orange, streaks of pink over the clouds. The light catches the smoke as it swirls upwards when he blows it out. “He’s just a kid. He didn’t even look angry, really-”
“Hey!”
Luke freezes, cigarette raised halfway to his lips. He feels the blood rush from his face and his heart stutter in his chest.
“Oh my gods, is that-”
“Hold on,” he says, and stands from the bench.
There are three cars parked on the street in front of his house. One is already pulling off and making the turn back down towards the main road as the second rumbles to life. The third is still parked right in front of the walkway back up to the house, his uncle leaning against it, his hands shoved into his pockets. His hair glows the same color of the sky as it cascades over his shoulders and the dark leather of his jacket. He’s staring up at Luke, his mouth lopsided with something akin to a smile.
Aemond nods his chin up once. “You smoke?” He shouts to be heard, and his voice carries across the abandoned street.
Luke looks down at the cigarette in his hand, smoke curling from it where he’s leaned palm-first against the railing, the cherry at the end glowing red-hot. He moves it quickly behind his back as though his uncle hadn’t already seen.
“No.”
“You’re a mother, shouldn’t you know those are bad for you?”
He scowls despite himself. He leans over the rail and looks to the front porch down below just to be sure none of his kids are coming out of it, ready to join his chastising.
Aemond pushes off the side of his car and stalks closer, trampling the grass. Luke has a mind to say something about it, but Aemond doubtlessly won’t care. He stops just below the tourette, neck craned to look all the way up at him. “Can I bum one?”
“Are you even old enough to smoke?”
“I’m old enough for a lot of things, Lucerys.”
He can hear Rhaena saying something behind him, but can’t make out the words. Aemond’s smile grows, and Luke can’t help the curl of something forming in his stomach.
“Come on, mandianna, I left mine at home. Just one.”
He mulls it over a moment before turning away, swiping the pack from the table and returning. He pulls one out – four left, then – and holds it out over the railing. He drops it when Aemond holds a hand out, and watches as his uncle grabs it out of the air, somehow managing not to crush it.
“I can get you a light, but-”
“No, I have one,” he says and reaches into his backpocket, pulling out a familiarly sized carton.
“You just said you forgot yours.”
Aemond shrugs, pulling the lighter from within his pack of cigarettes and lighting the one between his teeth. He looks up at Luke through his exhale and smirks. “See you in a couple days,” he says, and stalks back over to his car. He looks back up to Luke still leaned over the railing and waves a hand before pulling his car door open and slipping inside. Luke watches it rumble to life and peel off, down to the main road just outside of his neighborhood.
“What the hell was that?” Rhaena says when he returns, willing the cushioned bench to open up and swallow him whole. It doesn’t, and he curses it for it.
He shakes his head. “I have no idea,” he says, honestly.
***
“No, Alyn. He’s trying to fuck us again.”
Luke’s headed home too late, too long spent running errands and fielding phone calls where he couldn’t answer emails. The sun hasn’t even set, and already he’s ready to curl up in his bed and sleep for ten hours. Twelve. Twenty-four.
“He says he’s not taking no for an answer. I told him you wouldn’t-”
“Tell Prince Nevio that if he thinks I’m paying anything because he wants to measure dicks, that he’s sorely mistaken. I do not need his fucking business if I can just go through the Lysene port instead.”
“It’d take a lot of time to reconstruct the port there to accommodate everything. And a lot of money. I think if we can offer something else, he’d be willing to lower the tariffs.”
Luke huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. The car behind him beeps loudly, and he realizes his light has turned green without him noticing. He waves a hand in apology as he goes, veering the car gently to the left to get into his neighborhood.
“Just… give me a day. Let me get this figured out tomorrow when I can actually think without my head trying to fall off.”
An understanding hum comes over the line, and a sigh as tired as Luke feels. “Maybe their crops will die this year and they’ll sacrifice him like in the old days. Then we won’t have to deal with him.”
Luke’s laugh comes sharp and sudden, loud enough he can hear the feedback from the other side of the line. He covers his mouth to quiet it as he pulls into the driveway, not bothering to guide his car into the garage. “We can only hope,” he says, switching off the ignition. He looks across the yard to his son on the sidewalk, a few friends surrounding him.
And someone else. Someone entirely too tall to be anywhere close to ten years old, with a head of long silver hair falling over a plain black shirt.
“I’ll call you back,” Luke says at once, ripping his phone from the cord and all but falling out of his car.
Aemond looks up as he approaches, feet catching where they grip and slide against the sanded surface of Aerys’ skateboard. He steadies mid-air, sliding his foot along the length to kick the board into a roll. The trio of children around him cheer as the board twists and Aemond catches it again with the sole of his boot, clattering loudly to the ground.
He’s too big for the damned board.
“What are you doing?” Luke demands, a hand out as though to catch the younger man if he falls. “Aerys-”
“Relax, Luke,” Aemond says, waving a hand dismissively as he steps off the board, stomping a foot down to kick the board up, catching it by the opposite lip. He hands it back to his son’s hands, who reaches eagerly, stepping away to drop the board to the ground and mount it himself. “I was just showing him how to do an ollie.”
“Watch!” Aerys shouts, widening his stance with his arms out. He crouches and at the same time he jumps, he kicks his foot out.
The board does nothing.
“What the fuck!”
Aemond guffaws beside him, clutching his stomach as he laughs.
“Aerys!” Luke shouts, a hand to his forehead. “Language!”
“You say it!”
“I’m almost forty! You are not!”
“But-”
“Aerys.”
The boy pouts, looking to his feet still on the board. His friends are laughing with Aemond, snickering behind hands raised to cover little mouths. “Sorry, muña.”
Luke sighs, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Just-” he turns, rounding on his uncle. “What are you doing here?”
Aemond gestures to Aerys. “I told you, I was-”
“Right, yeah. I got that. Why are you here.” Luke points to the ground, and to his house beyond them. Aemond follows the line of his finger and looks back.
“Oh. I think I forgot my car keys when I was here yesterday. Where were you, by the way?”
It’d been the third time Laenora’s group had come over for their project, and Luke was almost grateful for the excuse to be anywhere else. The time before he’d been walking on needles, waiting for his uncle to descend the stairs.
And he had. He’d asked Luke for more water, and lobbed questions at him he hadn’t had to answer in years. Just you, huh? Seven years? And no one’s claimed you for themself yet? I can’t imagine. Three kids, do you want more?
It was odd. All of it was odd, and there’d been no escape when Aemond had opened cabinet after cabinet and pulled out a plate and a fork and served himself the lasagna Luke had made for his kids for dinner – frozen, from a box.
Shouldn’t you be helping them with the project? Hadn’t worked, either. Not when Aemond had given him an odd look and told him, I already did my part. I’m just here for moral support.
Whatever that meant.
“Come on, then,” Luke says, a look to his son still trying his trick before heading up the walkway, Aemond only a step behind.
“Hm.” Aemond rushes forward as they climb the steps to grab the handle of the front door before Luke can, holding it open for him. He raises his brows when Luke stops, waving a hand in front of him and gesturing to the open door as if to say after you.
Strange. Weird. Luke shakes his head, stepping inside.
“Were you on a date?”
He stops again just inside of the doorway, planting a foot to whirl around. “What?”
Aemond nearly runs into him, a noise pushed from his throat as he barely manages not to. He shrugs, shoving his hands into his back pockets. It stretches the fabric of his shirt tighter over his chest, tighter over the circumference of his arms. “I just figured, you know. Evening and all. You were probably on a date.”
Luke blinks, unable to control the way his brows knit together and his mouth curls in confusion. “Mara had a violin lesson. I was taking her.”
Aemond’s face brightens oddly at that, his mouth pulling. “Hm.” He stalks further into the house past him.
“What did you say you left?” Luke calls after him, hanging his bag on the hook and following. It’s as though Aemond has made a home in his kitchen, migrating there without thought. There’s a mess on his counters, papers spilled from a messy school bag, dishes left from snacks and not the dinner the kids should have eaten, and what he thinks is dirt sitting in a plastic bag – why is that even there?
“Car keys,” Aemond says, picking up the bag and inspecting it. “Is he growing something in here?”
“I am,” A voice calls, and Mara bounds down the stairs, a friend at her heels. Where is Laenora? “We did this project at school with paper towels and beans, and I wanted to see if it’d work better with soil.”
“Fair enough,” Aemond says, passing it over.
“Why is it on my counter?” Luke asks, grabbing papers and shuffling them into an unkempt stack.
“We got distracted. Arryk called.”
He pauses. “Who is Arryk?”
“My boyfriend,” Mara’s friend, Jeyne, informs him, obviously trying to hide a very pleased, bashful smile. She clasps her hands behind her back and turns slowly from side to side, shoulder to shoulder.
Luke lets out a breath, then sucks in another. “You’re thirteen. You shouldn’t have a boyfriend. Does your mother know?”
Both girls’ smiles fall and Jeyne stares at him with wide eyes. “Please don’t tell her.”
Luke huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he turns away. “Gods, you mean to turn my hair grey. I’m not gonna tell her as long as I know – for a certainty – that there are no boys here when I’m not.”
“So Arryk could come over as long as you’re here?” Mara tries, and Luke shoots her a look. She grimaces. “Right. Sure. Why is he here?” She points to Aemond and shares a look with Jeyne, who leans to look around her friend, her cheeks going immediately pink as Aemond waves a stiff hand at her.
“He forgot his car keys.”
“Uh. Then how did he get here?”
Luke pauses where he’d been putting dishes into the sink, hand hovering. Aemond’s tongue is caught behind his lip as he grins at him and pulls the aforementioned keys out of his pocket.
“I guess I had them the whole time. Should’ve looked first before coming over.”
Luke stares. There’s nothing left to do in the whole of the conversation but that, with his uncle half his age showing up at his house for seemingly no reason.
Maybe he really does mean to murder him.
“You know this could have been a lot easier if I could text you about this stuff. Could’ve saved me a whole trip.”
Luke blinks. He swallows. “Like, my phone? You want my phone number?”
Aemond’s mouth widens into what must be a smile. It pulls the tail end of his scar with it, skin gone taut around it. “Yeah, unless you want me to email you like it’s the middle ages.”
He scoffs. “That’s not funny. You probably don’t even remember instant messaging on the desktop.”
“Hey, I know IM-ing. I’ve seen it in old-timey movies and shit.”
Luke has to repress a gag. “You’d think I was a hundred years old, the way you’re talking about it.”
“Then you look good for a hundred.”
A gasp comes. Luke looks, and Mara and Jeyne are still in the kitchen, still leaned against the counter watching the conversation unfold. Jeyne leans in to whisper something into his daughter’s ears, and she goes red.
“Shouldn’t you be doing homework?”
“We did,” Jeyne says.
“Like, two hours ago,” Mara adds.
Luke huffs. “Fine. Then do me a favor, go make sure your brother doesn’t break something trying to do a trick on that damn board.”
“He has a helmet.”
“Mara.”
“I would much rather watch whatever this is.”
Luke’s jaw tightens as he glares, and his daughter’s face falls.
“Right. Sorry. Come on, Jeyne.”
The two scurry up the stairs – not the front door as he’d just asked – one last look thrown to Aemond as they go.
His uncle turns and plants his hands on the island, leaning over to be that much closer. “I think the short one has a little crush.”
Luke laughs. “Jeyne?”
Aemond nods, his smile sly.
He shakes his head. “She probably does. I mean, you’re older. You’re handsome. It makes sense.”
His smile only grows. “You think I’m handsome?”
“Objectively,” Luke clarifies. “From a completely impartial, outsider perspective.”
“Hm,” he says, nodding slowly, lips pursed. “Too bad for the kid. Way too young for my tastes.”
“Well I’d fucking hope so-”
“Twenty years too young.”
Luke’s mouth goes dry, and words leave him. He stares over the counter at his uncle – his strictly objectively very attractive uncle, who seems incapable of not staring at him every time he’s over – and wills his heart to slow. He’s not some teenager with a crush, he’s a man grown. And his uncle, decidedly, is barely that.
“Why are you at my house, Aemond?” He finally manages, pushing away from the counter to lean against the one behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.
Aemond’s teeth catch the light, sharpest at his canine’s, sharp enough to cut easily through flesh. He worries the point with the tip of his tongue as he smiles, his single eye dropping low where Luke’s arms are crossed and lower still, before darting up again. “I thought I left my key. My mistake.”
“Sure,” Luke replies, sarcastically.
“Brings us back to that phone number? It really would save me so much time if I could-”
“Absolutely not.” The kitchen can wait. It’ll only be a disaster again by morning, so there’s no point in hanging around inside of it and dealing with whatever his uncle thinks is happening.
Aemond frowns just enough for it to be noticed. He follows as Luke leaves the kitchen, a dog at his heels.
“I can leave you mine, if it’s easier,” he tries instead, huffing as Luke opens the front door and steps to the side, motioning his head towards it for Aemond to leave.
“I don’t want your number. I think your mother would skin me alive if she found out I had it.”
“Who cares if she knows you have my number?”
“I very much do.”
“Gods, just-” Aemond huffs, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a pen, grasping Luke by the wrist, pulling his arm out. He scrawls across his forearm – he’s gentle about it, at least, not pushing enough for it to hurt – before dropping his arm again. “Call me. You know, if you notice I forgot something again.”
“You didn’t forget anything this time,” Luke grumbles, looking at the digits sprawled in bleeding ink on his skin. Is that an eight, or a three? He shakes his head. “I’m not calling you. You have Laenora’s number. Call her if you need something.”
“Call me?” Comes his eldest daughter’s voice, and the sound of her feet descending the stairs. She stops at the landing and narrows her eyes. “What is Aemond doing here?”
Luke waves a hand. “He forgot something. He’s leaving.”
“What did you forget?”
“Car keys,” Aemond says.
Her brows furrow deeper. “But-”
“He is leaving,” Luke says again, more insistantly.
Aemond rolls his eye, turning slowly and dramatically as he steps out of the door. He turns in the frame, back to the two of them. “See you tomorrow, Laenora.”
“Yeah,” she says, eyeing him as she passes. “See you tomorrow,” and she disappears into the kitchen.
“And you?” Aemond asks him, brows raised. “Will I see you tomorrow, too?”
Luke huffs. “It’s getting dark. You should be home.”
Aemond smiles again, and it’s charming. Handsome. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, slipping one between his teeth. “I think I will, unless you’ve got yourself another date.”
“I told you, I didn’t have a fucking- don’t light that right here!” Luke screeches, pulling the door closed behind him as he steps onto the porch, forcing Aemond a step back. The flame from his lighter goes out with his movement, but he’s quick to strike it again and bring another to the tip of his cigarette. “Have you lost your mind?”
“What?” Aemond asks, shrugging. “You smoke.”
“No I do not. I quit.”
“Oh, in the last week?”
“Twenty years ago!”
Aemond hums. “That’s not what I saw.”
“That-” Luke stutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “That was a one time thing. And either way, I don’t want that shit in my house. It smells awful.”
Aemond hums again. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were such a stickler for the rules.”
“For the rules of my own house?”
Another shrug. “Yeah.”
“Mother above,” Luke mutters under his breath. “You can go now.”
Aemond takes a long drag, pulling the smoke into his lungs and holding it there before turning just enough to let it out opposite Luke. He holds the stick out between two fingers in offering. “You want a drag?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure?” Aemond asks, holding it out further. “I roll ‘em myself. Add cloves and shit to it so it doesn’t smell so bad.”
The smoke coming off of it does smell sweeter than it should. Luke looks the cigarette over, how the paper isn’t quite uniform, the seam where Aemond had sealed it.
“That’s so fucking pretentious,” he says under his breath, plucking the cigarette from between Aemond’s fingers anyway and holding it to his lips. “I kinda figured for you, but still. Really, really pretentious.”
Aemond seems not to have a retort. He watches as Luke wraps his lips around the stick and breathes in, pulling sweet, earthy smoke into his mouth before pulling it into his lungs, holding for just a second before breathing it out. It goes smoother than his own cigarettes, barely makes him want to cough at all.
“Muña?” Comes a shocked voice from across the yard. Aerys stares at him with his two friends by his sides, mouth agape. His little violet eyes flick between Luke’s and the cigarette in his hands and the smoke billowing between him, caught in the wind.
“Shit,” he says, forcing the cigarette back to Aemond, nearly burning him with it. “Gods damn it.”
“You said we’re never allowed to smoke!”
“And you’re not!” Luke calls back, waving his hand in the air to dissipate the smoke faster. It hardly works, and earns laughter from Aemond still in front of him, sucking on the cigarette himself as he watches. Luke’s cheeks burn. “It’s terrible for you!”
“But you just-”
“I know! It was stupid!”
“But Aemond is!”
“And he is also very, very stupid!”
He looks, and Aemond is laughing harder, looking between the two. The four. Aerys’ friends are just as shocked as he is, looking between each other like they’d never seen someone actually smoke a cigarette before, let alone someone’s mother.
“I will see you tomorrow, Aemond,” he says, taking him by the bicep – it’s firm, very firm, and he tries hard not to notice too much – and steering him to the steps until he descends the first. “Try not to corrupt my children too terribly.”
“I’m not!” Aemond defends terribly, descending the rest. He turns to the three at the sidewalk. “Hey, it’s really bad for you! He’s not lying!”
“But you look really cool doing it,” Aerys’ friend calls.
Aemond laughs. “No, I know.”
“Aemond!”
“Just kidding, no I don’t!” He makes a show of stopping halfway down the sidewalk, one hand raised in surrender as he drops the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. He turns to Luke with a look as he squats down to pick up the butt. “Smoking kills! And so does littering.”
“You’re like the Father himself,” Luke says, more to himself, but he knows Aemond catches it.
He points to Luke with a grin. “Too true. Until tomorrow, mandianna.”
He gives Luke one last triumphant look before he pulls his car door open and lowers himself inside, the slam of the door echoing against the other houses as it closes. The engine gives a low rumble as it comes to life and Aemond peels off, too quickly for the neighborhood he’s in.
Luke sighs. Aemond is twenty-one. Luke is not. He needs to get himself under control.
“Come on inside, guys. I’ll get you some real food.”
***
Luke’s house is overrun by chaos.
With his kids grown older, he forgets at times what it means to have several tiny children at once. But Rhaena has many – six girls, ages fourteen to three. They tear through his house with his younger two in tow, and after so many years, Luke knows better to think he can keep the mess and the insanity at all reigned in.
So instead, he sits at the breakfast nook with his sister, watching as padding feet dart in and out of the kitchen, and up the stairs, and underneath the table. Rhaena’s youngest, Daella, wraps herself around his foot, clinging to his pant leg. He leans around the table top every so often to check on her, but with her favorite lovey in her hand and pressed close to her face, she hardly notices anything else.
“I just think you two would get along!” His sister says, sipping clumsily from her wine glass. A droplet dribbles to her chin, and she’s quick to wipe it away with the pad of her thumb. “He’s a sweet guy, really.”
Luke hums into his own glass, and finds it empty faster than it should be. He sets it down and reaches for the bottle, pouring himself more. “I don’t know, Rhae. I just don’t think right now is the right time for a relationship. With the kids, and work, and-”
“-And when are you taking any time for yourself?” She cuts him off. She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand in hers. “It’s been years since you and Qyle split. There’s nothing wrong with moving on.”
“It’s not about moving on,” he huffs, drinking still more wine. His head feels just a bit fuzzy with it, just enough to keep him loose. He should probably slow down. “I’m just busy! And, gods, the thought of trying to meet someone new, getting to know them, and their likes, and their interests, and everything wrong with them-”
“Come on, Luke, it’s not that bad-”
“-I mean, think about all the annoying habits people pick up. I don’t want to have to get used to somebody’s snoring, or talking to themselves, or dirty socks left everywhere, or-”
“You are being so negative!” She laughs, sitting back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other, the pink of her long skirt swishing with it. When she laughs, all of her curls bounce, glinting bright white even in the orange light of the pendant light above the table. “Think about how good it could be! Someone to spend your evenings with, and to listen to your woes-”
“My woes-?”
“Oscar is nice! I promise, you’ll like him. And he’s already friends with Corwyn, so you know they’ll get along if we ever want to stick them with all the kids so we can go out-”
“Rhaena, be serious.”
His sister huffs. “I just worry about you, Luke. I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” he insists, and Rhaena gives him a look.
He is. He’s very happy. He wasn’t… unhappy, when Qyle still lived there seven years before. They worked well enough, even if things got stagnant. Predictable. Comfortable. He just realized one day it wasn’t what he wanted, and maybe Qyle had too, because he didn’t put up any fight when Luke sat down with him and told him he wanted to separate, and might’ve even seemed happier for it.
“You really don’t want to date again? Even a little?”
The sound of the fridge door’s suction unsticking pulls them both away from the conversation. Whoever’s inside of it is hidden entirely from view by the large slab of stainless steel, but Luke can see their legs, and they’re too large and thick to be any of their kids’, and the large black boots are like nothing any of them would wear, either.
The door closes, and Aemond appears on the other side, a mountain of food held in the crook of his arm. He spares them a glance as he turns and deposits everything on the counter, and disappears into the butler’s pantry. He returns with a loaf of bread in hand, adding it to the mess.
“Don’t mind me,” he says as he works, laying out four slices of bread and piling sliced meat and cheese and lettuce and whatever else he’s stolen from the fridge on top of two of them. He piles it high, towering several inches from the counter top at least. He turns to look at them, his sapphire glinting where Luke can see a sliver of it over the bridge of his nose. He unscrews one of the jars and pulls open the drawer in front of his hips, grabbing a flat knife from within and using it to scoop the contents out. He gestures to them vaguely with it. “Keep talking. Pretend I’m not even here.”
The audacity is astounding. He’s only been over a few times, and already, Aemond feels like he can just waltz into his kitchen and take his food. He’d be appalled by the behavior if he weren’t so nearly amused by it.
“How much do you eat?” Rhaena scoffs a laugh, violet eyes widening at the sheer amount his uncle had managed to cram onto his plate. He takes the two bare slices of bread and puts them on the others, smashing them down to half the height they had been.
Aemond shrugs. “A normal amount.”
“It is not. Do you not have food at home?”
And Aemond sneers at that, his lip curling with it. He picks one of the sandwiches up and takes a large bite out of it pointedly, devouring almost a quarter of it in a single bite. “I have food,” he says through a mouthful, and swallows. “But I spent, like, a whole extra hour in the gym today. I need the calories.”
“An extra hour, huh?” She laughs, and she might be further gone than Luke is. She giggles into her hand.
Aemond’s eyebrows raise. “You can’t tell?” He asks her, but he looks at Luke as he says it. Luke’s cheeks heat at the eye contact, the way Aemond looks very briefly down at himself and the tight white t-shirt he wears, back up again. Another twitch of his brows, and another obscenely large bite.
“Oh, we can tell, qȳbor,” Luke laughs, and regrets it before it's even all the way out from between his teeth. His cheeks burn hotter, and he takes another sip of wine to cover it.
Rhaena makes a surprised sound beside him that ends in a laugh. “Luke!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” He defends, lifting his glass to hide his flush behind it. The drink is cold against heated cheeks and steadying. “I mean, look at him! He’s just- Aemond, you’re very obviously dedicated to… working out, or whatever. I meant it completely innocently.”
Aemond’s smiling, and has been since Luke uttered anything at all. “Innocently,” he repeats, his tongue grazing the point of his canine. “Right.”
“It was!”
“You’re ogling him!”
“Rhaena!”
“You are!”
“I don’t mind,” Aemond says, and his eyes flick down to the line of Luke’s throat as he swallows.
His cheeks grow hotter despite the cold glass against them. Drinking will be more effective, he decides, and downs another half of it. “Fuck off,” Luke grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Both of you, fuck off.”
Rhaena breaks into howls, doubling over where she sits to clutch at her stomach, the table shaking as her other hand grips the edge. It can’t be that funny, surely, but she’s laughing, and so is Aemond, and Luke starts to, too, if only because theirs is so infectious.
“Oh,” she huffs as her phone vibrates on the table in front of her. She picks it up and her smile turns sideways. “Corwyn’s here. We gotta go.” She stands and smoothes her skirt. She sticks out a hand to the underside of the table, and Daella crawls out immediately on hands and knees, scrambling up to take her mother’s hand.
“Kids, let’s go!” She shouts as she walks through the kitchen, and it’s thunderous as the rest of her kids come barreling down the stairs and out of wherever they’d been hiding on the first level, slipping beneath her arm as she props open the door. “I’ll see you later, Luke!”
“See you!” He calls back. The last of her hoard fall out of his doorway and the door clicks shut, and silence falls over his once again peaceful house.
He loves her. He loves his sister. But six children, and three of his own, and a study group upstairs is all entirely too much. His head pounds rhythmically, his pulse evident in his temples. He stands and makes for the medicine cabinet, pulling the pill bottle out and popping two in his mouth, swallowing dry.
“Seven,” Aemond comments behind him. “Need something to wash that down?”
Luke waves dismissively, but picks his wine glass back up all the same and sips. He holds the bottle out. “You need some?”
“I’m good,” Aemond says, stalking closer. “I’d love some wine, though.”
Luke laughs, turning his head up to meet his uncle’s gaze. His head already feels better, even with the scent of Aemond’s ash thick on his tongue from the proximity. “You’re too tall,” he says instead of anything else.
Aemond’s mouth purses. “Can you be too tall?” He looks down at himself and up again. He’s close, a hand on the counter beside Luke, nearly touching skin to skin. He leans in closer, bowing towards him. “Is this better?”
When Luke laughs again, the air that leaves him huffs across Aemond’s face, sending locks of silver fluttering back. His uncle only smiles wider, leaning closer. His eye – both, it seems, with the way the wine is strong and Luke feels the buzz of it under his skin – flicks down briefly to his mouth and up again to catch his gaze.
“Maybe a bit,” Luke says, still smiling. His cheeks hurt from it, but there’s little he can do to help it. At least he doesn’t have to crane his neck so much. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs?”
As if he ever is when he’s over. He goes up for a few minutes when they all come over, but every time without fail, he migrates right back downstairs to pester him.
“I’ll go back up if they get stuck,” he says. Aemond reaches forward, plucking the glass out of Luke’s hand and turning until he can wrap his lips over where Luke’s had just been, drinking deeply. He watches Luke as he does, never taking his eyes away. Luke’s breath catches.
“You’re supposed to drive later.”
“It’s just a sip.”
“It’s-” Luke looks. “Half a glass. That’s too much.”
Aemond snorts. The sound is striking through the quiet of the kitchen. “Are you inviting me to stay over, Luke?”
His cheeks can’t seem to cool no matter how he tries to get them to. He wets his lips, and again, Aemond’s eye falls on his mouth, tracking the movement of his tongue.
“Maybe, if you can’t hold your wine. There’s a couch you’re more than welcome to.”
“The couch,” Aemond repeats flatly, unamused.
Luke nods. “Mhm. Or you can bunk with Aerys, if he’ll let you. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since you showed him that trick on the skateboard.”
“What can I say, I’m good with kids.” He inches closer still, until the heat of him radiates to Luke. The whole kitchen is too hot. He needs some air, but Aemond leaves no room for any.
“Right,” Luke says, and finishes his wine. The bottle is still on the table across the room. He’s had enough anyway. He’s not thinking clearly, and Aemond only makes it harder. “That’s because you basically are one.”
Aemond makes a face like he hurts. “We’ve been over this. I’m grown.”
“You’re in your third year of university. I’ve been graduated over a decade-”
“Fourth,” Aemond interrupts, defends. “I skipped a grade. I graduate this spring.”
Luke’s brows raise. “Wow. Humble brag.”
Aemond’s mouth twists and he quirks his head quickly to the side. “Maybe not so humble.”
And he’s closer still. The hand he has on the counter creeps closer until his fingertips are brushing Luke’s, the contact a burning jolt through his body.
He should pull away. He’s too old to be doing this.
“Hey Mister Velar- oh.”
Luke turns swiftly on his heel. If his glass had anything in it, it would’ve spilled all over the kitchen. As it is, a few drops leak from the rim and down his hand. One of the others from Laenora’s study group is staring at them with wide eyes, an open mouth. His eyes flick from Luke to Aemond, and back again.
“Steffan,” Aemond greets shortly, a sharp breath.
Luke ignores him. “Yeah, sorry. Is everything alright?”
The boy stares on a moment longer before seeming to regain his bearings. “Um. Laenora said you might have some highlighters we could use? She sent me down, uh, to see.”
“Of course!” Luke says at once, too loudly, setting his glass down too hard on the counter top. The glass clinks loudly too, but doesn’t break. “In my office. You can follow me.” He waves the boy on behind him, all but fleeing from where Aemond hasn’t moved an inch from where he’s bent low, crowding around him. His uncle’s jaw is tight as he stares at the other boy, his eye piercing.
Cool air rushes in when he steps away, sending a shiver up his spine. His heart beats painfully in his chest, threatening to break free and leave him to bleed out on the floor.
He looks back at Aemond only once as he heads for his office, his uncle still unmoved, still staring. He wipes a hand down his face over his mouth and jaw, and disappears as Luke rounds the corner.