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Peter Nureyev works alone. That is an immovable fact. The twinge of irony coating that fact, however, still stands; that the very alias he has determined for himself as a reminder of that commitment, is now in a family. A "team player", as Buddy called it.
Aliases are easy. He can craft them however he pleases. All the little quirks and opinions that make up a person are so easy to fabricate. Adhering to a routine is simple when he can tailor that routine to suit his needs; adhering to the routine of a crime family, not so much. And so he has added another course of study to his daily preparations, one that will show him the shape of this family, so he can divine exactly where he will fit in it.
"Peter, something you want to share with the class?"
Nureyev stills his pen. "Apologies, Captain. I tend to take notes quite loudly. Call it a bad habit."
"I'd call it rather a good habit," returns Buddy with a wry smile. "If it helps you to concentrate, the volume is merely a small con at the end of a long list of pros. I'm glad someone is paying attention." She shoots a very pointed look at a very distracted Juno Steel. He looks up when Rita pokes him in the ribs.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. What'd you say?"
"Never mind, darling." Buddy clears her throat. "As I was saying, our meals will be a 800, 1200, and 1800 ship time every day. The exception to this is on Friday, where our evening meal will be taken along with whatever stream we are viewing."
"I got a WHOLE back catalog!" Rita chirps. "First we're gonna do pizza with Lord of the Things: Return of the Hoarders From Earth, and then we're gonna make a Sharp-coo-teary board while we watch Space Pirates of the Carribean: We Can't Kill This Franchise Because There's Even More Zombies, and then we're going to do an ice cream bar while we watch Attack on Titanic: Ships Eat People Now and then I don't know what comes after that cause I ain't decided yet." She draws a long breath and sits back down. Nureyev half-expected Buddy to cut her off, but instead the captain gives a fond smile.
"Thank you, dear. It is just as Rita said. Our family bonding movie nights will take place on Friday evenings. Vespa will post a weekly chores list on Saturday morning."
"What time?" Nureyev asks.
"Whatever time I damn well please," Vespa snarls, "and if you rush me you get extra cleaning."
"Vespa, dear." Buddy lays a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "It is important to several people on this crew that we uphold a schedule. You can accommodate that, surely?"
"Yeah, yeah." Vespa sighs. "Okay. I'll try to post the chore sheet around breakfast time. Though I can't promise anything. Sound good?"
It does, so he adds a note to his time table.
At first he assumed that Buddy suggested "Several people" appreciated a schedule so Vespa wouldn't single him out. He's proven wrong the very next morning, though. The bathroom has usually been empty before breakfast, and it has better lighting than his room. So he lugs his makeup compartment in and knocks on the half-closed door, only to be surprised with a deep-voiced, "Come in."
Jet is standing before the bathroom mirror, one long salt-and-pepper braid slung over his shoulder. Rita stands on the toilet behind him, presumably so she can be nearer his towering height. The other half-twined braid is in her hand. "Hi Mistah Ransom!" She waves with the hand not clutching Jet's hair. "We're just about done in here."
"What are you doing exactly?"
"Buddy braids my hair at this time each morning, once I have completed my daily workout," Jet explains. "However, she is not feeling well today."
"Oh." Nureyev hasn't had long hair in years. Not since Mag chopped it off with a knife in a back alley on Brahma, anyway. I don't care how pretty you feel, long hair is going to get in the way. "Can you... not do it yourself?"
"I can, however I prefer not to. I am not good at making it symmetrical; thus, I requested that Rita assist me." He accepts the hand mirror that she holds out to him and studies his profile. "Hmm. Yes, this is excellent. Thank you, Rita."
"No problem!"
"If you like," Nureyev offers meekly, "I used to do hair on Venus. I could help you sometime." It's not even a lie. He took a course to keep himself occupied and found it enjoyable. At least, for three months before he bored of the planet.
"Thank you, that is generous. However I am afraid that is not possible." He pauses to put the mirror back under. "I do not doubt your skill, but I do not allow anyone to touch my hair unless they have earned my trust."
"Oh." Well, all right then.
"But then, we are not yet well acquainted. Now, I must prepare breakfast. Thank you again, Rita."
"Oh, sure thing!" She gathers up her supplies and beams at Nureyev as he steps into the bathroom. "Want me to do your hair now? Don't make that face, I was just kiddin'. See ya!"
After he finishes his own hair and makeup, Nureyev stops by his room before breakfast. He makes a note in the time table.
6:30 - Buddy braids Jet's hair.
The entries grow, slowly, overlapping and crossing on his time table. He separates the crew by different colored pens - Green for Vespa, Red for Buddy, purple for Jet and pink for Rita and for Juno...
"So, I'm not trying to be super forward or anything. Like, I know we just got back together after the Zolotovna heist - uh, if you call it getting back together, I mean we haven't made this an official thing, just kind of... ya know... anyway. But I noticed you're always scribbling in your little notebooks, plus you like to doodle, and so I thought maybe it would be cute to get you a present for them. If you don't like it you can give it to Rita or something, but here."
The box Juno holds out is a neatly-wrapped stationary kit. Inside he finds a gold pen that matches Juno's gown. There's also paper with matching envelopes, a set of stickers, and a roll of washi tape. "This is all lovely, dear," he says as Juno blushingly avoids his gaze. "I'm afraid I don't have much experience journaling, so you'll have to teach me."
"Really? You've never done journaling before?" Juno grins. "Okay, well, Rita and I can show you. We do a lot of it while we're hanging out. I'll have her bust out the good snacks for you, none of that salmony stuff you hate."
"Ah, so that's where you go in the evenings."
Juno crosses his arms. "Not my fault SOMEBODY takes hours to take off his makeup and do a skincare routine. A lady's got to keep himself entertained."
"But I entertain you so thoroughly once I'm done."
"Yeah, yeah," Juno grumbles, and Nureyev chuckles fondly. "Just hurry it up tonight and then you can come hang out with us. And we'll help you make a scrapbook page or something."
"If you wanted me to keep my makeup on in the bedroom, you could have just said so."
"Shut uuuuuuuup, someone's gonna hear you - dammit are you laughing at me?"
20:00 - Juno and Rita have evening snacks in Rita's room. Sometimes journaling is involved.
21:00 Jet goes to his room and begins to wind down.
22:00 - Buddy goes to bed.
23:00 Jet goes to bed.
00:00 - Juno and I go to bed.
2:00 - Rita goes to bed. Judging from the amount of streams she purports to have watched, it is unclear whether she actually sleeps.
He doesn't know what Vespa's sleep schedule is. Like most of what she does, it is wildly inconsistent. Some nights she's in bed before anyone else, sometimes he'll bid her goodnight in the rec room and find her still there the next morning. One night as he's headed towards the bathroom, he runs smack into her. She glowers, intimidating even when she's wearing boxers and Buddy's shirt. "What are you doing awake?"
"Brushing my teeth...?"
"Why? Dinner was hours ago."
"Yes, but I've been busy since, you see."
She blinks, then rolls her eyes. "Ew."
"You asked."
"Whatever, asshole. You're in the way of my pacing."
"Your..."
"My goddamn pacing, idiot. Brush your hair, it's a mess." She shoves past him and continues her trek down the hallway. Pacing. Interesting. Everyone copes with night terrors differently, he supposes. Perhaps Vespa finds it easier to physically walk away from hers.
He's quieter the next time, and makes it to the bathroom without incident. Then he veers towards the kitchen; Juno asked if Nureyev could "maybe bring him a glass of water?" and who is he to deny his goddess such a small request? As he passes the next corridor, Vespa's voice rings out. "FUCK!" And a slam. Nureyev pauses and turns in the direction of the shout.
"Do not be a sore loser," returns Jet, gruffly. The sound is coming from Buddy's room, and he can hear her peals of laughter. Curiosity gets the better of him and he peeks around the corner. The three of them sit on the floor, facing a small screen that he recognizes as Jet's. They're... playing video games. At midnight. Buddy gets up to retrieve the controller that Vespa threw and starts when she sees him.
"Oh, Ransom. Don't give this old heart such a fright." She chuckles as she scoops up the controller. "My Vespa is not exceptional when it comes to racing games."
"You may join us, if you wish," Jet offers over his shoulder. "I have found that this is soothing, when one cannot sleep."
"Don't invite him," Vespa snaps. "He's gonna beat me." Buddy smiles fondly at the remark.
"I'm afraid I can't. Juno is waiting for me."
"Ah, I see. Well, best not to keep your lady in suspense." Buddy winks. "Good night, darling."
"Good night."
Nighttime - Vespa has trouble sleeping, as does Jet. They've offered to let me play video games with them... well, Jet and Buddy have. Perhaps I'll take them up on it.
And it continues. Saturday morning, new chores are posted. Vespa usually gives him armory tasks; polishing their knives, restocking ammunition. Mostly stun blasts; they don't want to kill their way to a lifesaving artifact. He overhears her talking to Buddy: "what? He IS good at it, okay?" and feels a swell of pride.
Fridays are official family movie nights. Saturdays have become unofficial family board game night. He still can't quite wrap his head around this. He's sitting on Juno's lap, at a table of the most infamous criminals in the galaxy, and shuffling playing cards. They use sugar cubes because no one has a set of poker chips. When she loses her third hand in a row, Vespa starts eating the sugar. "You're not getting my goddamn money," she grumbles with her mouth full. "Fold."
"It's not real money, darling."
"It's the principle of the thing! Dammit, how did Ransom win AGAIN!"
"Because I'm cheating. You ought to try it."
"To counter." Jet lays down his hand. "A full house."
Juno snickers. "Babe. You might wanna stuff the right card up your sleeve next time."
"HA!" Vespa throws the remaining sugar cube at him. Juno catches it and feeds it to him. "Oh, gross. Now I wish I hadn't done that."
Sunday mornings, Juno sleeps in - "it's ONE damn day a week, okay? Let a lady get his beauty sleep, jeez" - and Buddy has her weekly check-up. Once he gets out of bed, the two have their shooting practice. He likes that Juno has this time to practice something so important to him. His eye lights up every time he has a new story after practice, of some trick-shot he's made or bulls-eye he's hit. Buddy tells him to be proud, and Juno's smile could light entire star systems.
That's their weekend. It's interesting, having a life with this much structure. His former life of bouncing star to star required flexibility - especially since most planets have different timezones and calendars. Whereas their calendar aboard the Carte Blanche is so precise that Vespa's birthday is marked, and Buddy makes them all celebrate accordingly. Rita puts a triangular hat on Vespa's head that the assassin doesn't remove immediately. "Whatever," she says. "But if anyone cares, BUDDY's birthday is September 23rd earthian time, so you'd BETTER put that on your calendars, okay?" He knew that already. She was, after all, his childhood hero. But he notes it anyway:
Buddy's birthday: September 23rd. Juno's birthday: December 24th. Jet's birthday: April 28th. Vespa's birthday: November 20th. Rita's birthday: unknown. I'm not sure Rita ages. My birthday: also unknown.
"Can't believe I'm gonna be forty soon," Juno murmurs, studying Nureyev's notebook over his shoulder.
"How does that make you feel?"
"Like..." The lady shrugs. "I dunno. It only took four decades, but I've finally found something worth having."
He grins and pulls Juno close. "A boyfriend?"
"A boyfriend," Juno agrees with a smile, "and... a family." He kisses the tip of Nureyev's nose. "You're cute."
"You're cute."
"You're cuter." Juno's smile grows. "What, you are. C'mere."
Nureyev thinks about that, sitting on the edge of Juno's bed the next morning while the lady snores. A family. When Buddy Aurinko thrust that title upon their group, he didn't quite believe it. He saw this collection as a challenge to overcome; a role to tailor, and a bunch of idols to ignore. But he knows them now. He can't say whether they care for him, or even whether they care to know him in return, but... they've welcomed him. Showed him their routines, even. Their lives. And -
A knock on the door jolts him from his thoughts. He slips on his robe and goes to answer, so as not to wake Juno. It's Jet, hair damp around his broad shoulders. "Ransom," he says. "Buddy said she is tired this morning. Do you think, perhaps, you can assist me?"
And, well, it turns out that for all their routines, this family can still surprise him.