Private The Long Talk...

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen had been standing in front of the door to his own house for a couple of minutes now, the night blending around him as he held a bouquet of purple roses in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Offerings to the dark god of this temple so that he might live... and even then, he knew it was a slim chance if he disrupted Aren's sleep this late at night. But he had no choice... It was either enter the villainesses' lair or be homeless for the night. And as he typed in the security key and opened the door, Omen half expected Aren to be there in a robe with that judging stare of hers, tapping her foot as she waited for some explanation about his midnight arrival. As he imagined that image, he wondered if being homeless was really that bad.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

The house was quiet when the front door finally opened.

Aren had intended to stay awake. That intention had lasted right up until the point where she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed reviewing the same schematic for nearly twenty minutes without actually reading it. The next thing she remembered was waking to the sound of the lock turning downstairs, disoriented enough that she needed a second to remember why she had fallen asleep fully dressed.

For a brief moment, she simply sat there listening. The house settled around the sound of someone entering, followed by the faint scrape of the door closing and the unmistakable silence of a person who had expected a very different reception. That alone was enough to narrow the possibilities considerably.

By the time she stepped out onto the upstairs landing, one hand trailing along the railing as she looked down toward the entryway, Omen was still standing there with a bouquet of purple roses in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other, looking very much like a man preparing to negotiate terms of surrender. The sight was absurd enough to nearly distract her from the more important detail.

He was home.

Not coming from somewhere dangerous. Not overdue by another several hours. Not injured. Not missing.

Home.

The tension she hadn't fully acknowledged, carrying all evening, eased before she could stop it. Her gaze drifted over him automatically, performing the same silent inventory it always did after a difficult day. No obvious injuries. No fresh blood. Nothing smoking. By Omen's standards, that qualified as remarkably successful.

"Those must have cost a fortune," she said at last, her attention flicking briefly toward the flowers before returning to him. There was no accusation in her voice, no irritation, only the faint amusement of someone beginning to realize exactly what sort of scenario he had imagined during the trip back. "How much trouble do you think you're in?"

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The sight of Aren looking down at him from on high took his breath away like it always did. Enough that the Tier One operator almost dropped the items in his hands as goosebumps ran over them. Her attempt of a joke though was enough to help her relax though. "Not a fortune... I built a mini green house on the ship for a few small plants. I just needed to buy the seeds. I think you are pointing to the cost to hide the fact that you like them." His work boots made the stairs creak as he came up to meet her, giving her a gentle kiss hello. "Sorry for waking you, though knowing you, I came at the perfect time to tape you to the bed so you can't escape to your desk."

As he cupped her cheek, he could see in her tired eyes was more than just fatigue. It was enough for a smirk as for he commented. "Huh, I never thought I see the day when you would be openly missing me." Guess marriage really did do things to people, even hard nosed Aren. He pulled her into his side, letting her rest his head on his shoulder before he gave her the bad news. "As for how much trouble, from you... Lots... I decided to help make something out in the Unknown regions for us, incase things really going south here. Its a communtuty full of..." the term Jedi didn't come out of his mouth as a word but more of a cough. "Its a refuge camp... for people who have been pushed out by the Sith. I'm trying to help set up more." The long sigh that came from his mouth told her that he was trying to make adult choices. And Aren knew how much he hated being an Adult. "I'm not saying we have to move out of here right now but your shop getting raided... That was enough to convience me we need a bolt hole if we need to get out of here quickly. Preferably one with tuborlaser towers for defense." Whether Aren liked it or not, the Farworlds Alliance was their best chance at a good life for them and for others. Now the Clone just had to let her convience herself it was too.

Before Aren could utter a word, Omen gently pushed her in the way of the bedroom. "Come on, lets get these clothes off of both of us and get into bed. You can explain to me all the ways you hate this idea in the morning." It was the best way to defuse her, letting her actually think about something before telling him it was still a bad idea. Atleast he would get to see her undressed before she did.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren took the stairs with the stubborn momentum of someone who had been awake far too long, humming faintly at his kiss while the talk of greenhouses and flowers drifted through her half‑dreaming mind. The roses earned a tired glance because he was right, which annoyed her more than she had energy to express. "I liked them before you started weaponizing them," she murmured as they moved toward the bedroom, leaning into his arm without pretending she didn't need it. Thoughts of the Unknown Regions flickered through her in fragments: refugees, settlements, escape routes she would normally interrogate until he regretted mentioning them, but tonight she was too tired to do anything but walk.

The mention of her shop drew a faint crease between her brows, softening when she understood why he had brought it up. She rested a little more of her weight against him and said quietly, "You were worried," not accusing, simply recognizing the truth of it. By the time they reached the bedroom, her eyes were already closing, and when he spoke again, she stopped with the weary patience of someone who had agreed to marry a menace. "I don't need to get my clothes off," she said calmly, then added, "But you do. You're still wearing boots," which to her was apparently the more urgent problem.

She climbed onto the bed, intending to continue the conversation for another thirty seconds, and immediately lost the fight against sleep. The last thing she managed was a sleepy glance in his direction. "We'll talk about your apocalypse bunker tomorrow," she murmured, already disappearing beneath the covers. "And the flowers are staying." For Aren, that was as close to a thank‑you as anyone was getting before morning.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The Clone couldn't help but shake his head at her weaponizing line. "You are making it out like our whole house is a weapons factory." Omen stopped them before the bedroom's doorway, just to look at her for a minute. Her ill-kept hair, that face that wanted to atomize him, all that made her beautiful. Just spending a moment with her before letting her go to get into bed. "I'm not worried... Just... preparing for the worst." If the Sith did bust their door down while they were here, he would give them a warm welcome. But they were in one last stand mode, not yet at least. And Omen would rather make plans to keep her and their future alive while he still could.

Shaking head as he took his boots off, Omen couldn't help but chuckle as he got into bed with her, not even bothering to take his clothes off. "I know, I'm not a complete savage, unlike what you think." He gave her one last goodnight kiss, looking into her eyes as he said softly. "Just a man in love with you." It was the last thing he said as he put the flowers and chocolates on the side table, shut off the lights, and slid his arm around her as they both drifted off to sleep.

Aren would be woken up by loving kisses along her shoulder blades in the late morning. She could smell coffee in the air as Omen lay back to let her sit up in the bed. The easy smile was still on his face while he said. "Well, let's hear it... You are going to look at me with daggereyes for the rest of the day. I mean... You normally do that anyway, but at least it has some love attached. So please, rain on my parade." And he just sat there, waiting for the "no, no, no" to come out of Aren's mouth. And he listened, seriously listened. As she finished, the Clone would take one of the chocolates out of the box and placed it in her mouth, letting her swallow it. "There, now all the bitterness is out of your mouth. You can replace it with some sweetness." Menace, a menace to the core.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren surfaced from sleep slowly, the warmth beneath the blankets and the smell of fresh coffee conspiring against any immediate desire to open her eyes. For a few long moments, she stayed exactly where she was, aware only of the familiar weight beside her and the faint trail of kisses along her shoulder. It was pleasant enough that she seriously considered pretending to remain asleep.

Unfortunately, Omen eventually started talking.

That ruined everything.

A quiet groan escaped her as she pressed her face into the pillow before finally rolling onto her back. Morning light filtered through the curtains in pale stripes, and somewhere nearby sat a cup of coffee that immediately became the most important object in existence. She reached for it without a word, took a long drink, and only then looked at him. No dagger glare. No murderous stare. No indication that she intended to launch him through a wall. Just a woman who had not yet consumed enough caffeine to deal with the enthusiasm currently occupying her bed.

The second sip was slower. Then she lowered the mug slightly. "You know," she said, her voice rough with sleep, "for someone supposedly preparing for the worst, you seem remarkably determined to create additional problems." There was no heat behind it. If anything, she sounded thoughtful. She settled back against the headboard, hands wrapped around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers as she considered the conversation they had left unfinished the night before. The chocolate ambush earned only a faint narrowing of her eyes. Not disapproval. Recognition. He was absolutely impossible.

"The problem isn't the settlement," she said, gaze drifting briefly toward the window before returning to him. "The problem isn't even having somewhere to go if things become dangerous." A small pause. "It's that every time you start talking about backup plans, they somehow turn into projects." The corner of her mouth twitched. "Large projects." Another sip disappeared. "I know why you're doing it." And she did. She always did. The concern. The preparation. The instinct to stand between disaster and the people he cared about. She had long since stopped mistaking that for recklessness. Most of the time.

"You were worried after the shop." Not a question. She remembered the damage. She remembered him seeing it. She remembered the way his mind had immediately leaped three steps ahead. She studied him over the rim of her mug for a few quiet seconds before sighing—not frustrated, just accepting reality. "I don't hate the idea." The admission cost her something, not because it was difficult, but because she knew exactly what would happen next. Omen's optimism would seize those five words and refuse to let go.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't. Whatever expression you're making right now, stop." She took another sip, and warmth crept into her voice despite her best efforts. "I just think we should decide whether we're building a refuge, a settlement, or a fortress before you accidentally volunteer us to construct all three."

She set the mug aside and leaned against his shoulder, the movement casual enough to look unconscious, though it probably wasn't. "And for the record," she added quietly, "the chocolate was a cheap tactic." A beat. "It worked." Only then did she allow herself the smallest smile.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Yeah, running his big mouth usually does ruin everything. The Clone hoped he could solve that with his hands moving over her back and the coffee in her hand, but it was clear that still wasn't enough. And so, the chocolate. The narrowing of Aren's eyes told him that it had the desired effect. "Well... Pleasing you is the only problem I can solve right now, so here I am, trying to do the impossible and make you happy." Though the smirk on Omen's face told her his problem-solving wasn't only for her.

The smirk didn't stop as he combated her narrative, whispering honey in Aren's ear. "So, are you telling me loving you is a large project? That, despite how difficult we both make it at times, it's still worthwhile. Because other than helping people, this is all this. Another place for me to come back to you, over and over again." Okay... Maybe he did go a little bit overboard sometimes. Omen still thought the escape tunnel in the backyard was necessary, though, even if Aren didn't think it. But left alone, Aren was vulnerable, even if she didn't think so. It only took one lucky bolt to end her life. And if he hadn't been there, it would have been far, far worse...

Omen waited as he watched Aren think it over, having that infuriating smile on his face as she finally decided that he was right. Trying his best not to be too smug as she glared at him, he coughed his smile away, told her what exactly was being built. "Basically, we are trying to build a city with the infrastructure behind it and the ability to defend itself. That's it." It didn't sound as massive a task as he thought it was going to be. But with their help, the Jedi might make a little faster progress.

As Aren leaned up against him with that cute little smile, Omen's hand came up to cup her chin as he looked at her with... intent. "So... if I keep you occupied in this bed for the rest of the day...? Give you something else to think about as I share my pent-up desires with you after such a long trip...? What will that get me?~" Because Omen had missed having her nearby while he was away, and he was prepared to show her how much. Maybe it would even buy him Aren's good mood for the rest of the day like this."Unless you have something else to talk about...?"

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren looked up at him over the rim of her coffee cup and immediately regretted it. Not because of anything he had said, but because she recognized that expression far too well. The one he wore whenever he became convinced he was being charming. The one that usually meant trouble. By the time he finished speaking, she had already accepted that arguing would only encourage him. Experience had taught her that some battles were unwinnable, especially when he was already leaning in with a hand beneath her chin.

"You're impossible." The words lacked any real conviction. She set the mug aside and narrowed her eyes at him, though the faint smile threatening her mouth ruined the effect. "And a pervert." That part sounded more genuine, but not enough to matter. Unfortunately. Because for all her complaints, he knew perfectly well she had missed him too. The long trip, the empty house, the quiet evenings spent working long after she should have stopped. All of it had felt slightly wrong in ways she had never bothered putting into words.

She sighed and rested her forehead briefly against his shoulder. "You disappear for weeks, come home with flowers, chocolates, construction projects, and contingency plans, and somehow your first instinct is still this." The observation carried the weary affection of someone who had long ago accepted that the man beside her was unlikely to change. Not that she truly wanted him to. Most days. Her hand found his and gave it a small squeeze. "I think you've already gotten enough concessions out of me for one morning."

A pause followed before she lifted her eyes toward him again. "That wasn't a no." The warmth in her voice arrived despite her best efforts. "Don't make me regret clarifying that." She shook her head softly and settled a little closer, the movement quiet and familiar. "For someone who claims to be preparing for the future, you spend a remarkable amount of time being distracted by the present." The accusation would have landed better if she had not sounded quite so content about it.

Another sigh escaped her, gentler this time. "You really are a pervert." The second time came out suspiciously fond, and she did not bother pretending otherwise.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen smirked as Aren half-heartedly tried to fend him off, knowing that she could never do it even if she tried. "You are making it sound like you hate my perverted affections. You would be just like me if you were actually brave enough." It was a challenge for her to actually show what she was feeling, not that she would ever fall into that trap.

Smiling, Omen commented as his eyes stayed on hers, "Yes, my first instinct is to show you how much I missed you. I don't see anything wrong with that." He pulled away from her, only to lean in and pull the blanket that surrounded them down, kissing lovingly down her curves. He knew that despite Aren's weak protests, she wanted the same thing as him. To show what love they had in their hearts for each other.

Coming back up to whisper in her ear, "I got you in front of me, all wrapped up nicely in bed. Why wouldn't I be distracted and lust after you? This seems like a "you existing" problem. You can't blame me that I can't handle your beauty~." Even though the clone was sure she would somehow. But as their lips pressed together again, they greedily embraced each other. Between their lips locking, he managed to say. "But for you... I am very much a pervert..."

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren was fairly certain Omen's greatest survival skill was his complete inability to recognize when he should stop talking. Or perhaps his greatest survival skill was that she loved him anyway. The distinction mattered less than it probably should have. She rolled her eyes as he continued making his case, though the gesture lost much of its effect given that she remained comfortably beside him beneath the blankets. "You have somehow convinced yourself that being shameless is a form of courage," she observed dryly. "I'm still waiting for evidence." Despite the criticism, her hand found his and squeezed it lightly before she lifted her coffee again. "You know, most people come home from a trip and tell their fiancée about what happened. You arrive with flowers, contingency plans, construction projects, and a detailed explanation for why you're incapable of behaving normally." The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. "It is a very specific personality defect."

The amusement lingered for a moment before softening into something warmer. Beneath all the flirting, all the nonsense, and all the ways Omen seemed determined to turn every conversation sideways, she understood exactly what he was trying to tell her. He had missed her. The simple truth of it sat underneath everything else, uncomplicated in a way neither of them often managed. Her gaze drifted toward the window as she considered the future he seemed so intent on building. "So what exactly is the plan?" she asked at last. "We get married, you accidentally build three cities, and I spend the next twenty years fixing everything people break?" She paused, considered it, then sighed. "No. Actually, that's exactly what would happen."

The realization seemed almost annoyingly plausible. Aren shook her head and settled back against the headboard. "And somewhere in the middle of all that, are we supposed to become responsible adults?" The skepticism in her voice made it abundantly clear what she thought of those chances. Her fingers traced absently along the side of her mug as she continued. "Because every time I think about the future, I realize we've spent an awful lot of time planning settlements, escape routes, workshops, ships, and backup plans. Somehow we've managed to discuss every possible disaster, every contingency, and every place we might end up."

A faint smile appeared as her attention returned fully to him. "Yet we've never actually talked about what happens after the wedding." The words came easily, carrying none of the uncertainty they might have once held. "Or whether you intend to inflict your personality on future generations." It was delivered lightly enough to sound like a joke, but not so lightly as to hide the question beneath. She studied him over the rim of her coffee cup for a moment before adding, almost casually, "Have you ever actually thought about that?" For once, she wasn't talking about cities, workshops, or survival. She was talking about children. About family. About a future that looked less like enduring the galaxy and more like living in it.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen leaned in and brushed Aren's hair back, his eyes totally focused on her as their bodies pressed against each other under the covers. "I thought the evidence was you wanting marry me after that dreadful proposal but think what you want." The look of love that he gave her as he resisted taking the cup from her hands was total and complete. Even when she turned to the window, his eyes couldn't look away from her. He guessed that was what love was.

When she asked what plan he had for the future, Omen thought about it for a second. Too be honest, just geting to this point, having Aren in his arms... That was a plan succeeded. If this is all he ever accomplished, it would be enough. "You forgot the part where I put a statue of you in each of them. But yeah, that's not happening. Being an Adult is too much hard work." He was bred to die young. Why not act like it just piss those fish baits that had created him by staying like one, even when the one he loved threated to kill him when he was.

His head leaned against the headboard, leaning gently against hers. As he listened to her talk about the future, he wondered about it himself. The Clone by neccisity mostly lived in the present, reacting. Future planning for himself... wasn't his strong suit... Things he planned usally got pushed aside or were destoried... Omen was still surprised Aren hadn't disappeared into the dark of the night at times. And yet, despite her past, she was a constant. When he finally spoke, it was that far-off voice he usually had when he was thinking about something too hard. "Well... We still have to have the wedding first... Your Parents are hammering me for the date." And they wouldn't stop till they got an answer out of them eloping. Her parents were generally nice to him but they could be... peresistent.

Shifting in the bed, Omen thought about actually having kids. It was a good thought and also a stressful one... Kids would either make them or break them through the stress they would bring. And the Clone knew he was the one going to being waking up and sleepwalking over to the kids crib whenever they cried in the middle of the night. It was a thought he was truely dreading. Turning to her, he managed to work up a smile. "You know, I'm surprised we don't already have a kid with how... physical we are. I guess I have the usual concerns... wondering if one more added layer to this tower is going to topple us. But if a little gremlin like me is what you want..." His hand squeeze hers before he took her by the hips and pulled her ontop of him so he could look her in the eyes as he said. "I want it too. I want to make a family with you." The grin on his face told her his was up to no good even before he started tickling her. "Even if you are just adding a co-conspitor for my shanagians."

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren endured approximately three seconds of being tickled before abandoning any illusion of dignity and attempting to shove him away. The effort was only partially successful, mostly because Omen had spent a while developing an almost supernatural resistance to consequences whenever they originated from her. By the time she escaped the worst of it, her hair was even more disheveled than before, and she looked thoroughly unimpressed by the entire experience.

Which was unfortunate. Because she was smiling. "You are impossible." The accusation lacked any real force.

Settling back against him, she let out a long sigh and rested her head against his shoulder while she considered the question more seriously than she had expected to. The future had always been a strange subject for her. Not because she never thought about it, but because for so much of her life, planning beyond the next problem had felt unnecessary. There had always been another job. Another project. Another crisis. Another machine that needed fixing. Somewhere along the way, she had gotten used to measuring her life in smaller pieces.

Now she found herself thinking in years. Decades. The realization still felt strange.

"My future wants aren't particularly complicated," she admitted after a while. "I want a home that stays ours for more than a few years. I want somewhere people can't casually shoot at us. I want a workshop that isn't constantly being rebuilt because somebody decided explosions were a form of communication." The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. "I want to wake up next to you without immediately checking whether you've accidentally adopted another project while I was asleep."

Her fingers found his hand and intertwined with it automatically, and after a brief pause, she added, almost casually, that yes, eventually she wanted children. The admission came far more easily than she would have expected; there was no dramatic revelation, no uncertainty lurking beneath it, just a simple truth she had quietly accepted somewhere along the way.

"I want all the normal things I spent years pretending I didn't care about." Her gaze drifted toward the window again. "Birthdays. Family dinners. Arguments about whose turn it is to clean something. Kids tracking dirt through the house and blaming each other for it. The sort of boring things people never appreciate until they don't have them."

The smile that followed was smaller. Softer. "And honestly, the shop isn't even part of that list. That thought seemed to surprise her enough that she sat up slightly.

"The shop matters because I like the work. Not because I need it." Her expression grew thoughtful. "If I wanted money, money stopped being a problem a very long time ago. I can build things. I can slice systems. I can get into places I probably shouldn't be able to get into." A pause followed. "Technically speaking, I could probably fund half your accidental cities by myself if I really wanted to."

Silence settled between them as Aren blinked and slowly turned her head toward him. "...I feel like I may have said too much." The realization arrived all at once, immediately followed by a desperate attempt to recover. "Not that I do that." Another pause. "Regularly." A third pause. "Widespread financial institutions are remarkably vulnerable." The moment she heard herself, Aren groaned and covered her eyes with her free hand. "Forget I said any of that." Which, unfortunately, was exactly the sort of statement guaranteed to ensure Omen remembered every word forever.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Impossible? Always. Or at least that's who Omen already tried to be 24/7 for Aren's entertainment. And that smile meant Aren was thoroughly entertained. "Just giving you the excitement you desire. You wouldn't want things to be boring, would you?" He certainly wouldn't.

Aren said what she wanted her future to be, and it made sense. It was her first time really admitting that she wanted an organic family. Omen couldn't say it any better, so he acted instead. Getting up without ceremony, he went into the bathroom. The next thing Aren would see is a box of her birth control flying out of the bathroom and sinking into the wastebasket. Wiping his hands as he came back and got back in bed to cuddle up to her.

The Clone couldn't help but lean in to whisper playfully in his lover's ear, his soft breath trying to make her shiver."So what you are hinting at is you want to roleplay as a rich woman falling in love with her bodyguard, or a hacker finally getting caught." He was joking... mostly... But keeping their love fresh wasn't a bad idea. And the nibbles received on her neck told her that her pet clone was certainly hungry for some action.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

For several long seconds, Aren simply stared at him while the distant sound of her birth control landing in the wastebasket echoed through the house. Then she slowly lowered her coffee. "Omen." The warning arrived with all the calm inevitability of a storm front rolling across an ocean. "You do realize most people discuss these things before declaring war on pharmaceuticals." Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched. She tried very hard to keep it from becoming a smile and failed almost immediately. The problem with Omen had never been that he was impossible to understand. Quite the opposite. He loved with the same reckless enthusiasm he applied to everything else in his life, throwing himself into decisions so completely that hesitation rarely survived contact with him.

Her eyes followed him as he settled back beside her, and the expression she wore softened despite her best efforts. "For the record, I said I wanted children eventually." A slight emphasis was placed on the final word. "Not that I wanted you launching military operations against my medical decisions before breakfast." The accusation lacked any real heat. If anything, she sounded amused. When he began whispering nonsense into her ear about rich women and bodyguards, Aren let out a quiet groan and rested her forehead briefly against his shoulder. "You spend an alarming amount of time thinking about absurd scenarios," she observed. "And somehow they're always suspiciously specific." She lifted her head just enough to look at him before sighing. "Actually, don't answer that."

The smile finally won. Her fingers found his hand and squeezed it lightly. "As entertaining as your increasingly questionable fantasies are, that's not really what I was talking about." Her gaze drifted toward the window for a moment before returning to him. "When I think about the future, I don't really picture adventures or excitement anymore. I picture continuity. The same home. The same people. Knowing where we'll be next year." The admission came quietly, carrying more honesty than she usually allowed herself. "I had that once. Growing up. Then again, on Denon. A life that was stable enough, I never really had to think about whether it would still be there tomorrow." Her eyes settled on his. "I think what I want now is to build that again. Only this time with you."

The words lingered between them for a moment before a faint smile returned to her face. "Besides, if we're being honest, you're already the most difficult thing in my life to manage." She leaned forward just enough to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Adding children to the equation means I'll be outnumbered." The thought seemed to genuinely amuse her. "Which is a terrifying prospect, by the way. Because if they inherit your ability to turn every reasonable discussion into a completely different conversation, I'm going to spend the rest of my life losing arguments to tiny versions of you." The smile that followed made it abundantly clear she didn't consider that outcome nearly as terrible as she claimed.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen couldn't help but smirk back at his upcoming bride as he pulled her into him as they both rested on the bed. "I don't remember the eventual part anywhere in there, but I'll take your word for it. And before you ask, I'll put the pack back where it belongs later when I'm not so comfortable with you." He probably wasn't fully ready for kids right now either. Or the storm that would be Aren with pregnancy hormones. If he thought he was gonna die at points now, how was he gonna fare when her rage was actually fueled by something? "I'm guessing you want to get through this wedding first because you actually want to fit in your dress. Though I'm sure you would look beautiful either way." That he was sure of.

The Clone only chuckled before leaning in to kiss her forehead and whisper. "It was a long flight back home." It gave him a long time to think about various things, including how much he missed her. "Nice to know you find them entertaining" He certainly did. But as Aren went into what she wanted in the future, the Clone had to agree she was right. "Its been awhile for me too, especially with a soulmate like you. Its why if we do move, I want it to be the last one for a long time to come." Her dream was his but Omen didn't see how they could stay here. Not with the threats within the city's walls. He didn't want them always looking over their shoulder.

He didn't argue when Aren said he was the most difficult thing in her life. He was but he always had a purpose for it. To make her smile or just ro be completely be obstient. And yes, he would teach his children to do the same whether Aren liked it or not. "That doesn't sound too bad of a fate. At least they will unconditionally love you like I do." And in children, that's all one to ever ask for.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren let out a quiet laugh and shook her head as she settled more comfortably against him. "Kids only love their parents unconditionally until they're toddlers," she informed him with the confidence of someone who had absolutely no evidence to support the statement beyond observing other people's families from a safe distance. "After that, all bets are off. Then they develop opinions." Her expression grew more serious. "And considering who their parents would be, that's a deeply concerning possibility."

She tilted her head back slightly to look at him. "You think I'm difficult? Imagine a child who inherits your inability to leave well enough alone and my tendency to argue with anyone who says something objectively wrong." A pause followed. "Actually, don't imagine that. I'd like to enjoy the rest of my morning in peace." The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. The truth was that the image didn't bother her nearly as much as she pretended it did.

For a few moments, she simply rested there, enjoying the warmth, the familiarity, and the increasingly rare luxury of having nowhere immediate to be. The conversation about the future lingered comfortably in the air between them, no longer something distant or theoretical but something that felt possible. Real. A wedding. A home. Eventually children. It was strange how naturally those things fit now, when years ago she would have dismissed them outright.

Then her stomach made the decision to remind both of them that they had been talking for quite a while.

Aren sighed dramatically.

"What's for breakfast?"

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen couldn't help but smirk as he commented. "You are sounding like you have personal experience. I can imagine you as a huffy kid ever so vividly now." Was she wrong? No. It's not like he had any experience with young kids to tell her wrong.

As Aren said, their child would be... interesting. Mandolarian/Soldier unbringing combined with... whatever Aren considered herself to be. The combination definitely would be a creative thinker and problem solver. And a pain in the ass. But that was the future; now was the present. And the present was resting with the one he loved.

Aren wasn't the only one who was hungry. The long journey had left him famished. "How about chocolate chip pancakes. I'll race you down." Before Aren could blink, he was running downstairs like the madman he was, the madman she loved. He hoped that she wouldn't love him any other way.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren stared at the empty doorway for a moment after he disappeared. Then she looked down at her coffee. Then back toward the doorway. The silence that followed was almost thoughtful.

"One day," she informed the empty room, "you're going to pull a muscle doing that."

The warning carried absolutely no authority whatsoever, given the smile threatening the corner of her mouth. Omen had the energy of a teenager who had discovered caf for the first time, and after all the time they had been together, she had largely accepted that this was simply how he existed. Trying to stop him would be like arguing with the weather. Occasionally satisfying. Ultimately pointless.

She took another sip of coffee and lingered where she was for a few moments longer, enjoying the quiet and the warmth of the blankets. The house felt different this morning. Not dramatically. Not in a way she could easily explain. Maybe it was the conversation. Maybe it was the future suddenly feeling closer than it had before. Wedding dates. Homes. Children. Somehow, those things no longer felt like distant possibilities. They felt like plans.

The thought followed her as she finally climbed out of bed and made her way downstairs at a considerably more civilized pace than Omen's reckless charge. By the time she reached the kitchen, she had already resigned herself to the fact that he was probably halfway through making breakfast and twice as far through making a mess.

"Just so we're clear," she announced as she entered, still carrying her coffee, "if you're racing me to breakfast, the winner is the person who doesn't have to clean the kitchen afterward." Her eyes swept across whatever chaos he had already created before settling on him again. "And if chocolate chip pancakes are involved, I reserve the right to be bribed into changing my position."

A pause followed. Then a small smile appeared.

"Good morning, by the way."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Yes, Omen probably would pull a muscle someday. But today, he got to put on an apron and get ingredients out. For all of the things they talked about happening in their future, Omen was still skeptical. Not that he doubted Aren, no... Maybe he still suspected that all of this was still just a dream, and he would wake up in his prison cell. Maybe he didn't feel like he was ready, that the soldier training wasn't enough to help raise someone right. And his personality wasn't exactly... kid friendly. Still, he wanted this family more than he had ever wanted anything in his life and Aren made him want it even more so. No it was only a matter of waiting till she was ready.

The Clone had just barely started to whisk the lumpy batter together when Aren finally came into the kitchen. Despite Omen's reputation, the mess had been kept to a minium. He wasn't even sloshing onto the counter yet. As Aren came up to him, he put the bowl down and hoisted her iup onto the counter, happy to see a smile on her face. "Good Morning to you too Beautiful" His hand came up to brush the stray strands of hair off her face as he smiled back at her. "And what bribes would you require?" The answer would hopefully be something he could easily give and would love to experience.

Aren D'Shade