Chapter Text
Fig watches Fabian pace the hallway -- his Badidas are so pristine that their firmness clicks on the tile floor.
She’s known the kid for four years. Fabian is a bit of a rich idiot, a warped gay jock archetype without the gay and without the jock, who talks like he’s got a silver spoon stuck in his throat or has never worked a day in his life. His hair is too important to him and he wears the same letterman jacket every day, he nitpicks little things to whine about and curls his lip at the diner food Fig likes.
But he’s also the coolest guy Fig’s ever fucking met -- he’s eternally selfless and protective; a Fabian stamp of admiration means the world to the few people who get one. He loves with everything in him and he knows things about you because he pays attention. His bit may be that his head is in the clouds, but it is firmly on his shoulders, looking at you and seeing you for who you are.
Who Fig is, is Fabian’s stepsister…officially, any minute now.
She leans against the wall with her arms crossed, Fabian’s pacing exhibiting an anxiety she clearly isn’t feeling. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Dude, chill out.”
Fabian whips around and looks at Fig with a vigor never before unleashed upon mankind. “‘Chill out’?” Fabian asks in fury. “No, I cannot ‘chill out’, Figueroth. A blasphemy is happening just down the hall!”
Fig looks at her best friend of four years, the person who has saved her life in endless ways, her soon-to-be stepbrother, and quips “Don’t Figueroth me. We’re not there yet.”
Fig thinks it's funny, but she gets another death glare from Fabian.
She sighs. “Fabian, your hot mom is going through pain literally invented by gods to punish humans for sinning, and you somehow found a way to make it about you.”
Fabian shakes his head. “Fig, you can’t call my mom hot anymore; you’re about to be kind of related to her.”
Good point. Fig shuts her mouth.
Fabian runs his hands through his locs, fidgeting with one of the jewelry pieces in them. The two had gotten the phone call from Gilear while at a party -- Fig had planned on going by herself but Fabian insisted on coming, leaving the other Bad Kids to keep the party going. Both of them are still in their cute party outfits, makeup smudged and both a little buzzed, but waiting it out nonetheless.
Fig checks the time. It’s nearing one in the morning, but she’s not really feeling it yet, though she can’t speak for Fabian. She has a text from Gorgug in the Bad Kids groupchat, speaking for everyone when he asks to keep them updated. There’s also an offer from her mom for a ride home if she needs it (knowing that Fig is a bit under the influence) and a reply from Ayda to Fig’s alerting text.
She doesn’t feel the need to answer any of them right now, but she admires them softly, like they’re physical manifestations of the sense of family Fig’s created for herself.
So, she can’t really say she minds that she and Fabian are going to be, legally bound, family. Hallariel and Gilear aren’t married yet, but they will be soon, and Fig and Fabian will be pretty much out of their houses by the time that happens, but it’ll be one of those things that is always true.
Fabian has always been her brother, even before they met, even in cosmos that are centuries away from this one. It’s just that the Council of Chosen will know that too.
Speaking of which, Fabian is still pacing. The hospital is mostly empty today, but there is a woman a little ways away in a chair who keeps giving Fabian a side eye. Fig cringes, hesitant to alert Fabian, but not really wanting to be anyone’s burden for the night.
“Fabian, dude, seriously,” she chastises. “Just sit.”
Fabian sighs overdramatically and obeys, flopping into the chair and half-sliding out of it. His legs are the longest part of his body and splay out across the floor; Fig would be worried about him tripping someone if this hospital wasn’t totally barren other than them.
“Are you okay?” she asks, a bit of humor in her voice.
“No,” Fabian drags, his voice stretching the final syllable into a wuh . “This child is going to be my nemesis, Fig.”
“You don’t know that! What if it’s, like, perfectly adorable and sweet? And you’re, like, bonded for life?”
Fabian is unamused. “Alright, Nemesis Watch literally told me it would be.”
He has her there. Fig blubbers for a response. “Well, it’s- the whole ‘nemesis’ thing goes both ways! It’s not even sentient yet! Maybe it's a one-sided nemesis-ry. I mean, it’s literally a fetus.”
Fabian’s lip curls. “It’s distinctly not a fetus anymore, Fig, that’s how birth works.”
“Well, okay.”
Fabian puffs a breath out that knocks one of his locs to the side. He crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief.
Fig likes to think she’s a good friend who takes her friends’ feelings seriously, but Fabian’s attitude today is so funny to her, and she can’t resist the urge to smile at him like an idiot. She knows of his overdramatic rivalry with Gilear, a long-running relationship that is nothing but a bit in Fig’s mind, though he assures her it is anything but. Even then, though, to be this butthurt about a half-sibling is either something Fabian is genuinely upset about for a deeper reason, or wants to be upset about, but isn’t.
And besides, if it was all anger, he wouldn’t have insisted on coming with.
So, when he stops looking in her general direction, Fig pokes him in the side and says, “Hey,” and he turns back around. “You’re not the only one getting a half-sibling here,” she reminds him.
Fabian blows raspberries, tapping his fingers rhythmically where they rest on his stomach. That would probably be a badass song idea, if I could figure out the beat , Fig thinks for a moment, before noting that it is, in fact, her own song, the last thing that the two heard at the party before leaving. B-B-B-Burn towns, burn towns-
“You’re not bothered by it?” he asks finally, a perplexing look on his face. “You’re an only child too. Don’t you feel like you’re getting…I don’t know, replaced?”
Fig cocks her head. “Do you?”
Fabian sighs. “I don’t know.”
The situation with Bill Seacaster is one of labyrinthine complexity that Fig was never one to understand, but she knows he and Fabian were close in his lifetime. Whether or not their relationship was a healthy one seemed like an argument that wasn’t totally Fig’s place to make, nor one that Fabian cares to look into. What has always mattered is that he isn’t in Fabian’s life anymore.
It’s worth noting that Fig also knows that Bill had many other children before he settled with Hallariel, though they’re all dead now, and Fabian had never met any of them. His relationship with the dead family he could’ve had must be confusing to navigate.
Fig knows a thing or two about that, though. Her family has shifted about twenty times over; four years ago, Gilear having a baby with some other Elven woman would’ve been an upset. She knows her adjustment to this specific change was a bit more stable than Fabian’s, but she sees where he’s coming from, even now -- somewhere in there is the scared fourteen-year-old Fig Faeth who had woken up one morning with horns growing out of her forehead.
“But it’s cool that we’ll kinda be, like, real siblings now. Don’t you think?”
Fabian glances over at Fig, and she knows he can’t resist it when any of the Bad Kids are sweet with him. He sighs begrudgingly, but there’s a smile on the edge of his lips. “I suppose if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
Fig grins. “See? Now just do that with the baby.”
And the moment is lost, Fabian groaning as Fig giggles. “How dare you?” he asks, though it kind of sounds like a blanket statement rather than an accusation.
Fig nudges him playfully. “It’s just a kid, Fabian. It won’t even be, like, functioning by the time you leave for college.”
Fabian sighs. “I suppose it’s just the principle of the thing.” He twiddles his thumbs. “My papa only died a few years ago, it just feels…” He shrugs. “I never thought my parents would be with anyone but each other.”
Fig twists her lips. “I know the feeling,” she offers, because she does, and Fabian knows that. “It’s kind of like…I mean, I’m here right now, but Gilear isn’t my biological dad. I never thought that would be a thing, but here we are!”
Fabian snickers a little, shaking his head.
“Basically, I’m just saying, like…whatever, y’know?” Fig says. “In the end, I know it’s a little painful, but isn’t it kinda great that we have all this stuff together now? So what if you don’t like Gilear? You like me, and you get to be around me more. You like your hot mom-”
“Can’t say that.”
“-and she’s happier now. They’ll probably get really into, like, experimenting with dinner and doing fun family events, and stuff. Just normal people shit, y’know?” Fig shrugs. “Normal people shit is pretty great, isn’t it? I mean, when do we get the chance to do that?”
Fabian laughs. “I suppose.”
“You know,” Fig corrects. “You know.”
He chuckles his way through a sigh, looking down. “I still think it’ll take me a while to get used to, Fig.”
Fig nods. “Understandably. Normal people stuff is hard when you’re used to traumatized people stuff.”
She gets a hearty laugh for that one. “Fair enough.”
Fig curls into his side -- she can’t resist the temptation to rip her heart out from her sleeve and put it in Fabian’s lap. “Love you, big bro.”
Fabian laughs bashfully, looking down in embarrassment. “Fig.”
Fig is smiling, but she’s really serious. “We’ll do it together, I promise. So, we can start here -- ‘I love you, big bro’, and you say…?”
Fabian suspires annoyedly, but Fig notices that he leans into her, pressing the fat of his cheek into her hair. “I love you, too, little sister.”
“There you go.”
“Shut up.”