Daemon stared at the note on the counter with a mounting sense of foreboding. In his brother's messy scrawl, it read simply,

Daemon,

Get your ass over here as soon as you can.

Lucivar

And Daemon had a vague suspicion he knew what this was about. "Jaenelle?"

She poked her head out of the bathroom, looking wet and tousled and beautiful. His heart did a little skip, as it always did when looking at her. "Were you doing anything today?"

"Yes, I'm going to Dharo with Marian. Why?" He couldn't help it. He moaned, a little bleakly, and looked back at the paper. He'd been right.

"Daemon? What is it?" She appeared at his shoulder, scanned the note, and then started to grin.

"If you laugh…"

"You'll what?" She asked, archly, and he growled. "Oh, Daemon. It can't be that bad."

"You've never had to babysit him."

"I've had to spend an afternoon with Lucivar. It's almost as bad." Daemon couldn't help a laugh, which, of course, was what she wanted. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "It'll be all right. You'll have fun, you'll see."

"I'd have about as much fun if I tried to steal something from Mrs. Beale's kitchen without asking."

She laughed, lightly, like little bells. His heart did a little jump skip again. "Go do it, Daemon. That note's even almost polite. For Lucivar."

Daemon scowled. "I'll go." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, on the lips this time. He moved his hands to her waist, drawing her closer.

"Don't muss my hair," she warned him, a little wicked purr in her voice. "We're going to the theatre this evening."

"I won't muss your hair," he assured her, before leaning down and kissing her again.

How he'd ever gotten out of that bedroom, Daemon didn't know. But as he landed on the web outside his brother's house, he rather wished he hadn't left, ignoring the fact that Jaenelle had promised him that if he behaved they could go to the theatre in a week, just the two of them. And stay out of town. And that she'd let him fuss.

He really didn't want to go.

But here he was, so he lifted a hand and knocked on the door. Lucivar opened it, a young wolf gnawing on one ankle and an Eyrien toddler fluttering about his head, looking understandably harried. "You're late," he growled.

Daemon almost grinned. "I was delayed."

"Damn you," Lucivar said amiably. "I've had to deal with this pair all morning."

"I'm sure you did just fine, Prick."

"Prick!" Exclaimed Daemonar, and giggled, tugging at Lucivar's hair.

"Bas-" Lucivar cut himself off a moment too late.

"Bastard!" Daemonar agreed cheerfully.

"Marian's going to kill you when she hears that," Daemon noted.

"I'm going to kill you for teaching him that first one."

Daemon assumed an innocent face and Lucivar just scowled at him. "So what did you want me for, anyway?"

"Ash, stop that!" Lucivar said sharply to the little pup gnawing his leg. Ash stopped. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Where's Marian?"

"With Jaenelle. I promised her the day off."

"Why'd you do a stupid thing like that?"

Lucivar just Looked at him. It was not a happy expression. Daemon couldn't help it. He started laughing. "Mother Night, Lucivar."

Sourly, Lucivar said, "I wish you a child of your own someday. A really obnoxious one."

Daemon grinned, a bit. "It'll be a while, Prick."

"Prick!" Said Daemonar again.

"That's not a good word, Daemonar," Lucivar told his son, sternly. "We don't say that, remember?"

Daemonar blew a very polite raspberry. "He really does take after you, doesn't he?" Daemon commented, dryly.

"Shut up. Daemonar, come down here, get off the chandelier and say hello."

"So why me? Why didn't you ask Merry?"

The first sign of a bit of a grin. "Punishment?" Daemonar tugged on the chandelier. "Daemonar!"

A slight growl. "Lucivar."

He turned his head, eyes a peculiar warm golden color that Daemon didn't see very often, and smiled. "Just wait and see." Daemonar gave up on the chandelier and flew down to hop from foot to foot and look up at Daemon with an adorable little grin.

"Say hello," Lucivar said, gently.

Daemonar beamed. "Unka Daemon! Unka Daemon!"

Daemon felt a little warmth suffuse from his head to his toes. Lucivar was grinning fit to burst as he fuzzed Daemonar's hair. "All right, go outside. But don't go far from Ash, okay?" Daemonar grinned, nodded, and took off flying, followed by a lolloping wolf pup. Lucivar watched him go, golden eyes glowing. "Marian'd kill me if she knew I was letting him do that. But he needs to learn to fly. And to make mistakes."

"How long've you been teaching him that?"

Lucivar looked, suddenly, a touch embarrassed. "A while."

Daemon felt himself smile. "'Uncle Daemon?'"

Lucivar gave him a Look. "It's true, isn't it? I couldn't teach him to call you 'namesake' very well, could I?"

Daemon laughed, and at his brother's scowl he took two rapid steps forward and tousled Lucivar's hair. "Prick, sometimes I could swear that marriage is making you sentimental."

Lucivar shook out his hair with a little grin. "Maybe just senile. Don't think this means you're getting off the hook for helping out today."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Daemon said. "Besides, Jaenelle offered me bribes."

Lucivar groaned. "Lucky bastard."

"Yes," Daemon said smugly, "I know."