In Which Sparron Laughs When It's Not Funny

August 22, 1177

Friends put up with their friends' children--or so Sparron had to remind himself as Searle's son munched away on the doll's wooden foot. Arkon would grow out of the oral fixation, and it wasn't as if he was at an age where such maturity was expected yet anyway. Besides, it could have been much worse. Lettie was out visiting at her brother's place and she'd taken Rennie with her; if Arkon was all Sparron had to deal with during this visit, then it had been well-timed. He was a shy boy and not yet verbal besides. He wouldn't ask questions or repeat anything he heard if he was even paying attention at all--not at all like his sharp, curious, outgoing sister.

"This'll be the sixth figure to lose his feet since the teething started." A fond sort of smirk on his face, Searle shook his head; Sparron tried not to notice the way his hair bounced about. "At least he's not gnawing on the furniture."

If that was a joke, it wasn't much of one, but Sparron gave a half-hearted chuckle anyway. Friends did that. "The furniture. Maybe that's what I should tell Camaline to make her stop sniffing around the brothels."

"She's still on that, then?"

He sighed. "She's been on it all week. It's ridiculous. She doesn't even like kids. She just wants to get her asshole father off her back."

"Well, as someone who's met Camaline's father, I can't blame her." Searle laughed, even though that one hadn't been funny at all. Sparron compromised with a grimace. "I think you're right, though. Even if she found a girl who was pretty much you with tits and she got herself knocked up and was willing to sell it, there's no accounting for the father."

"Exactly." Now he was smiling for real. He'd forgotten that Searle could be clever if all the feelings were out of the picture. "Thank you for that."

"Don't mention it." Another of his grins taking hold of his lips, Searle lightly kicked at the side of Sparron's boot. Did friends do that? He'd certainly never gotten a kick from Jadin or Isidro, or at least one that hadn't aimed to hurt. Come to think of it, he'd never even gotten one from Camaline. "You know what might work, though?"

Sparron swallowed. There was some odd spark in Searle's eye that told him he was better off not asking. He knew he'd go home later and wish he'd listened. "What?"

"If you have a three-way with me and Lettie."

He'd been wrong. The regret hadn't waited for him to get home. "That might just be the dumbest thing that's ever come out of your mouth."

"No, I'm serious." And for once, he sounded like he was. Sparron found himself suddenly grateful for Arkon's presence; he'd promised himself that he'd never yell at Searle again, but if the baby hadn't been around, he wouldn't have had an excuse not to do so. "Your father is a first cousin to both of Lettie's parents, and Camaline's mother was one to Lettie's father. If you were in our bed one night and you just happened to be a little careless, and Camaline took to stuffing her dresses like she was planning to anyway... well, who's to say that the little red-haired, ice-eyed baby isn't hers?"

If only this had been a joke. This one... this one might have been funny. Only not. "I don't know. All the people wondering about Lettie's baby, maybe?"

Searle shrugged. "So we'll dig an empty grave and fake a stillbirth. That shouldn't be too hard."

Faking a stillbirth wouldn't be hard? Dear God--was he even listening to himself? "Searle, I am not having sex with your wife!" Or you again, if that's what this is really about!

"Oh come on, please?"

Oh dear Lord. Sparron hadn't seen eyes that wide since the whole love thing had still been an issue. Why didn't Searle get it? Any of it? It was over. It was never going to happen again, not ever. And how dare he use Camaline's problems as an excuse to bring it up again.

Besides... "Why the hell would Lettie agree to that anyway?"

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