PART TWO

There were certain things Artemis knew. He knew, for instance, that the average distance between the Earth and the Sun was about 149,597,890 km and that there were only really approximately twenty-three hours, fifty-six minutes, and 04.09053 seconds in a day. He told himself that there was a logical explanation for everything, and that any problem could be solved given the adequate amount of time, patience, and reasoning. It was that sort of mindset that he had lived by all his life, that sort of mindset he had repeated to himself this morning, and that sort of mindset he had promised himself he would retain, no matter what. As Domovoi's mouth closed over his, all the things Artemis knewevaporated faster than a morning fog under the light of dawn, and for once in his life, he couldn't have cared less.

"Domovoi…"

"I regret," admitted Domovoi, "many things…" and there was a subtle, buried pain in the words, but it slid by almost before it began, "but going to bed with you last night…" Large, impossibly gentle fingers brushed Artemis's cheek, "and waking up with you this morning…are not among them. Understood?"

Artemis swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe. "I-"

Before he made it any further, there was an sharp, glassy shatter at the kitchen entrance, followed almost immediately by a startled call of, "Arty?" and then, half a moment later, "Domovoi Bozidar Butler!" and both parties nearly tripped over each other in their haste to spring apart and face their unexpected guests.

"Mother," squeaked Artemis.

"Juliet," croaked Butler.

"Artemis," accused Angeline, and Juliet's face was pinker than a valentine.

"You're home early," said Artemis unnecessarily. "How was the trip?"

"Mama," Beckett whined, "why was Butler eating Arty's face?" From across the room, Artemis shot his younger brother a very potent death glare. The younger of the twins paled instantly and shut up.

"Because, dear," Angeline replied thinly, "he has a lot of explaining to do… Now, be a good boy and go upstairs with your brother and play, alright? Arty is about to have a very long…awkward conversation with his mommy."

Artemis visibly winced. "Now, mother, are you sure now is really the best-"

"Juliet," said Angeline, instantly commanding the room once more, "take your brother for a walk, and yes, Arty, dear, I'm afraid there is no time like the present."

It has been said, with some degree of accuracy, that there is no such thing as a "good" or "convenient" time to have The Talk. However, as times go, Artemis was prone to believe that 'after being caught in the kitchen making out with the butler' was bound to be among the top ten "Worst Possible Times Ever"—if not the top five. Thus, Artemis watched with no undue trepidation as all others fled the premises.

Once the room fell silent once more, Angeline let out a soft sigh. "Tea?" she asked calmly, heading for the kitchen counter, and the question surprised Artemis into a moment's silence.

"I…no," he declined. "I'm not particularly-"

"Sit," she said, putting water on to boil. Artemis obeyed. "Would you like to start? Or should I?"

"Oh…" Artemis frowned, cheeks reddening. "Erm…" He never had problems with articulacy.

"Is there anything in particular you have to say for yourself?"

For a moment, the temptation to begin with something along the lines of, 'Well you see, mother, when two people love each other very much…,' but somehow Artemis figured that might backfire rather nastily, and he resisted. Instead, he sighed. "If you wish for me to formulate some lavish excuse for unbefitting behavior and implore your forgiveness, this conversation is already a waste of time."

Angeline raised her eyebrows.

"I refuse to apologize for something I do not regret," continued Artemis, "nor will I seek forgiveness where I have done no wrong. Saying anything along the lines of 'never again' would be a boldface lie, seeing as I have every intention of repeating my actions, though I can promise you that we will, in the future, make a substantially greater effort to ascertain privacy beforehand. I must admit I would prefer your acceptance of this…development, if not your blessing, however if these are things you feel bound to withhold, I cannot say it will affect my decisions."

"I see," said Angeline softly. "Well…" She removed the now-boiling pot from the stove and carefully poured a small cup full. "I was going to ask if you sure of yourself…but it seems that you are." After giving it a gentle stir, she took the cup in her palms and moved to the table, sitting with all due grace for a lady of her stature, and a soft silence filled the room, perfect if not for the whispered rustle of an outside breeze, the muted hint of distant bird-chatter. Eventually, she broke it with her own soft sigh. "Matters of the heart…are a tricky business, Arty," she cautioned, "not something for experimental study."

Artemis examined the tabletop. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm not…" A long, hanging pause. "This is not an experiment." Unready to meet his mother's gaze but unable to continue staring down the table, Artemis lifted his gaze to the kitchen curtain, watching the morning breeze catch the light cloth and wondering what words Juliet had for her brother. "I realize my track record where honesty is concerned is far from perfect," he continued, "but this is one field in which I not only fail to excel but feel…" He searched for words. None seemed adequate. "Blind," he said finally, "as if every step is little more than a hazard guess towards an uncertain goal and yet I…couldn't begin to guess how to retrace my steps even if I were so inclined." Finally, forcing himself to look back, he met his mother's gaze. "But I am very much in love with him."

"So young…but then, that always has been your habit, hasn't it?" Angeline smiled slightly, almost sadly, then sipped her tea. "Well, you needn't have feared, Artemis. I have and always will love you…no matter what choices you make…or what choices life makes for you."

When she leaned over, kissing his forehead, Artemis blinked stinging eyes and looked away, because Artemis did not cry—certainly not in front of his mother—and his, "Thank you," was barely above a murmur, but thick and heartfelt. When in control of his voice again, another thought struck and he looked up sharply. "You won't tell father…will you?"

Angeline rose from her chair, eyebrows going up again, fully composed once more. "Why of course not," she said, allowing him only the briefest moment of relief before adding simply, "You will."

…

"Tell me you didn't, tell me you didn't, tell me you didn't…" Juliet begged as she walked out together with her brother into one of the many winding gardens that lined the Fowl estate. At her side, Dom said nothing. She groaned. "Brother…if this is another of that boy's awful experiments-"

"It's not," Domovoi assured.

"Dom…"

"It's not," he repeated, catching her wary, concerned expression, and he sighed. "Juliet-"

"I know you love him," she interrupted softly, and Domovoi blinked, surprised. She caught it and narrowed her eyes. "And don't you play innocent, either, it's painfully obvious. You've loved that boy since the moment you laid eyes on him…" She held up a hand to silence his protest, amending with, "Not always that way, but…there's never been a time when you didn't care about him." Domovoi conceded, shutting his mouth, and a pause ensued, stretching between the siblings as they walked. "You know," Juliet admitted finally, "I never could live by those bodyguard rules…not enough life…freedom…too much many rules and too much pressure, but you…"

"Jules…"

"I'm not disappointed in you, brother. It's not that at all. I've always looked up to you, amazed at what you could do, what you could take…what you could live without…but it was hard too, because there are some things…some things no one should have to live without, and in that respect damn every rule, Domovoi, I'm so happy for you but…him? Did it really have to be that skinny, gold-thirsty, bloodsucking, little vamp-"

"Juliet-"

"I don't trust him-"

"I trust him."

"If he hurts you…"

Domovoi raised his eyebrows, almost amused. "If he hurts me?"

Juliet scowled. "Don't give me that look, brother. Tell yourself whatever you like about your age, size, sense, or experience, but you know just as well as I do that he's the one holding the cards…he's the one with nothing to lose, and he has the final say. No matter how many reinforced steel doors you crush, your heart will always be twice as big as any muscle in your body, and if he changes his mind-"

"-then it is just as much his decision to make as it would be were he in any other relationship," filled in Domovoi seriously. "Juliet-"

"If you were going to break his heart, you would have done it before anything even began. He-"

"-would have made his intentions perfectly clear from the beginning if his goals were impersonal," finished Domovoi, and silence filled the gap. It stretched, hung in the air. Eventually, Juliet dipped her head.

"Fine," she conceded softly, "but mark my words," She looked up, meeting her brother's eyes and narrowing hers meaningfully, "if you're wrong and he fucks up-" Domovoi opened his mouth to make a 'language' comment, but Juliet barreled on, shaking her finger, "One false move, Domovoi, one…and no one will be able to protect him from me, do you hear? No one. Not even you."

Domovoi shut his mouth and eyed his sister—arms folded now, eyes steely and jaw set. He almost believed her. "I'll pass that on, if it makes you feel better," he said.

"Do," said Juliet.

And they stood that way. Domovoi watching and Juliet standing her ground, their eyes locked. Only a fraction of a second before her, he took a half step, barely reaching out in time to catch as she fell forward, burying her face in his chest and sweeping her arms around his middle, clinging. Gently, he returned the embrace, catching a hand at her back and in her hair, and simply holding as she shook—stubbornly silent. Minutes passed before her body gradually stilled, and her hold relaxed, but didn't break, when she sniffed.

"Why couldn't I just have been wrong…"

At that, Domovoi, too, pulled back slightly, catching her eyes with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you saw this coming…"

"Okay," she agreed sulkily, "I won't tell you." Domovoi stared. "But this means you can't complain about anyone I pick up, okay?" He frowned. "Anyone," she insisted, poking his chest, "promise."

"I…" he started. Her eyes narrowed, and he swallowed. "Alright," he agreed, "I promise…but if someone hurts you," He caught hold of her shoulder, returning her gaze solidly, "don't think you'll be able to protect them either."

She managed to hold a straight face for all of three seconds. Then, her calm broke into a hapless grin, and she laughed as she withdrew, wiping her hands quickly over her eyes and nodding in concession. "Okay," she said, "deal," and Domovoi smiled, bending to place a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, returning the smile in spite of herself, "just…don't go thinking I'm ok with this for his sake…and he better realize how lucky he is it would upset you if I started using him for target practice, because otherwise…" For a moment, a dangerous glint sparked in her eyes, but before Domovoi could comment, she broke off with an, "Ah, speaking of neck-wringable target dummies…" and tilted her head towards the house, "looks like Prince Charming survived the 'long awkward talk' with his mommy after all."

Domovoi glanced where she indicated, and sure enough, there stood Artemis, hands in his pockets, leaning against the garden gate fence, obviously waiting to let them finish. After a moment, Juliet gave him a gentle nudge.

"Alright, go on, then," she said. "I'll let you two alone and go off to…beat something up for a while." And with that, she trotted off. Once she'd rounded the corner, Domovoi turned attention back to his charge, already approaching.

"Well?" asked Artemis upon arrival, getting straight to the point, and Domovoi frowned considerately.

"I think…she's taking it reasonably well," he said. "I would avoid a fifty foot radius for the next week or so, though, just to be safe."

Artemis quirked an eyebrow. "Warning heeded."

"You?"

Artemis grimaced tellingly.

"That bad, eh?" inquired Butler.

"Actually, it went…better than expected," admitted Artemis.

"Except…" Butler led him in.

"Except," Artemis accepted the lead in, "given that I braced myself for the worst and left the room happy not to have been disowned…'better than expected' means relatively little in the grand scheme of things. "

"I see. So the good news is…?"

"The good news," said Artemis, "is that, as I said, I am not disowned. In fact, mother seemed surprisingly…accepting of the matter, all things considered. She expressed no interest in firing you or attempting to send me off to a redevelopment school…for an 'awkward talk' I'd consider it a reasonable success."

"Alright," Butler returned warily, "forgive me for failing to see the downside so far…"

"The downside," said Artemis, taking a preparatory breath, "…is that I am to inform father. Immediately upon his return, preferably, I believe…or so she implied." He tapped his chin pensively. "I was thinking a brief getaway to the Caribbean. I hear it's lovely this time of year. We could heist the learjet…make a very clean getaway…it wouldn't make for a long distraction, but…"

Butler raised an eyebrow, more amused than anything else. "You can't be serious." Artemis blinked up at him, expression deadpan. Butler resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm missing the tragedy behind this duty your mother's set forth. What, precisely, is so awful about having to inform your father?"

"Oh, well, if it's so simple…be my guest!" invited Artemis, throwing his hands histrionically skyward. "I'd love to see how you approach the matter of informing Artemis Fowl Senior that you're now sleeping with his gay eldest son. To me, that sounds almost as appetizing as a freshly rank, still steaming heap of Diggums' 'recyclables,' but perhaps you're of another opinion?"

Butler—slightly paler than a moment ago—swallowed awkwardly. "Now that you mention it, I'm beginning to see the appeal of that Caribbean getaway," he admitted. "How formulated, exactly, was that learjet plan of yours?"

Artemis smiled wryly. "Impressively unformulated, actually…" He flicked a glance Butler's way. "You were right…I wasn't serious."

"Mm," Butler pursed his lips, "a fine time to start with the jokes," he muttered—but it was a light-hearted enough jibe and Artemis took it without comment. "So, when does your father return?" he queried, and Artemis drew a hand from his pocket, glancing at a misleadingly old-fashioned looking wristwatch.

"Approximately…one hour. Eighty minutes, tops," he assessed, and Butler winced at his side. "But-" Something—Artemis's cell-phone—hummed mechanically, and Artemis took a moment to frown before digging again into his pocket and retrieving it. After sparing a sidelong glance at the number, he raised his eyebrows and flipped it open to his ear. "Bonjour, mon ami…ça fait trop de temps," he greeted pleasantly—"Hello, friend…it's been too long."—"À quoi je dois cette honneur?"—"To what do I owe this honor?"

On the other line, Butler heard a rapid flurry of what might have been French, but he doubted he could have picked out the words, English or otherwise, at that rate without the phone to his ear. As it was, he read Artemis's deepening frown with trepidation. At long last, Artemis uttered some form of concurrence, and then neatly flipped his phone shut. He spared Butler a sardonic smile.

"Well, mon cher," Artemis began with a thin veil of optimism, "it would appear as if we may have our getaway vacation after all…"

"But not in the Caribbean?" Butler guessed, folding his arms, and Artemis's smile became genuine—small, but genuine.

"No, dear…ehm…" Given that 'friend' was no longer an entirely fitting title, Artemis's cheeks pinked lightly, and he met Butler's raised eyebrow with a tiny smirk. "No…" he repeated, this time leaving the statement free of a classifying pronoun, "I'm afraid not. Minerva is calling in a favor."

Butler sighed. "I hear France is frigid this time of year."

"Ah, yes, well…" Artemis's tiny smirk grew a size. He even dared to venture a wink. "I'm sure we'll manage to stay warm somehow."

Newly on top of Butler's list of Skills to Hone: not blushing—or at least, certainly not as much. Surely it wasn't becoming on a man of his age and stature? One never would have guessed given the way Artemis's smirk grew again when he did. Unfortunately, just when Butler turned to inform his charge of just how annoying that smirk really could be, Artemis caught the lapel of his shirt, tugged down and leaned up on tip-toe, cutting him off with a sweet, chaste kiss that silenced him with one hundred percent efficiency—with the side effect of doubling his determination to work on the blushing problem.

"Artemis-"

"Have I ever told you how cute you are when you do that?"

"Cute?" responded Butler, duly horrified. "I didn't even know you used that word…you do realize I have a reputation to uphold, do you not?"

Artemis rolled his eyes, exasperatingly unconcerned. "Alright, how's this…" He fixed Butler with a dangerous smile, "I promise I won't tell anyone that my hulking, two hundred pound Eurasian bodyguard capable of single-handedly downing a rampaging troll and manipulating reinforced steel by way of might alone also happens to tout a wide variety of other skills including, but not limited to…" Artemis began doling out the talents his fingers, "…cooking, housekeeping, baby-sitting, ballroom dancing, knitting-"

"Artemis-"

"-oh, and he looks positively adorable when he blushes." If there was to be a gold medal awarded to the person most capable of providing a defining expression for the word 'smug'…

Butler grunted unintelligibly. "Next you'll have me riding bareback on unicorns through daisy fields and rainbows, Artemis, really…"

Artemis chuckled. "I'd think you might rather have a conniption fit."

"And I think you'd be right."

"I usually am. Next stop, France?"

"Anything for you, Master Artemis."

A/N: Right, so, my appologies for being a butt and taking this long to post this despite having it written already; I honestly sort of forgot…I tend to do that when I'm not actively working on a piece. *guilty* Anyways, now you all can see how, at first, I was considering making L'Homme Fatale a mere continuation of this. It does fit. But eh, oh well. I originally edited out the tail end of this (in the version on AFF, that is); I cut it off after "I'm sure we'll manage to stay warm somehow…" I suppose because I felt a little torn about the rest (whether it was in character; whether it was fair make fun of Butler in such an effeminte way despite the fact that he is obviously the farthest thing from effeminate). But then, I thought it was cute, and figured this time around, I'd leave it in there, sacrificing perhaps a little bit of dignity for the sake of humour. *shrug* Wish me luck on my English exam tomorrow!