selkiesaoirse | (no subject)

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people: mum

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They're in the kitchen, because they're always in the kitchen, now, unless it's bedtime. Greta is getting ready for that show she's in, which is exciting! But it also means that cuddles on the couch are seriously reduced.

But it does mean that Saoirse is learning a lot about baking, which she doesn't mind. She likes that she has something to talk to her about.

But now, Saoirse has something different to discuss. Something very important.

"Mum? Would you ever get married?" She's trying to be subtle, but she's not very good at it.

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It's a testament to how distracted Greta is by this practice run of her signature dish that she absently corrects, "Again, you mean?" Her eyes are still fixed on the combination of spices she's carefully measuring out, brow furrowed in concentration. It's only once she's dumped them into the bowl that the implications of Saoirse's question sink in, and she blinks down at her in surprise.

Surprise that she might not have much of a right to, now that she thinks about it. She and Thomas have been together for going on a year, and he's been living with them for three months. Marrying him would be the natural next step, especially from a child's perspective.

Greta's own perspective is a little different. "I suppose that would depend on who asks me," she says. It's a breezy dodge, and one she doesn't really expect to work. But this is a stickier conversation than she anticipated having, and it feels a little backwards to discuss it with Saoirse before Thomas has dared to broach the subject.

... At least, not with her. She gives the lass a shrewd look. "Why?"

She's forgotten that Greta was technically married before she'd come to Darrow. They'd talked about it, once. How she'd come to be a baker, how she'd taken the name once she'd come to Darrow, and things of that nature. But it was long enough ago now that it hadn't mattered.

Her answer is a brush off. Saoirse's young, but she's smart enough to know that. She narrows her eyes at it, but she doesn't have time to argue.

Saoirse's eyebrows shoot up at her question: she'd thought she'd been a bit more subtle than that!

"No reason, I'm just wondering." She doesn't even believe herself, really, but maybe Greta will. Though, she's not distracted by baking anymore.

"Just wondering," Greta repeats dubiously. She tries to bite back a smile as she leans against the counter, now giving Saoirse her undivided attention.

The lass will be eight by the end of the month. It's easy to forget -- she's such a wee slip of a thing -- but eight is definitely old enough to start getting ideas and taking initiative and other such things one wouldn't expect of a kindergartner. This might be the first time Saoirse's broached the subject of marriage with Greta, but it may not be the first time she's broached the subject at all.

"Did Thomas put you up to this?" she asks, eyes narrowing in a playful imitation of suspicion. She's certain he did not; he might be cautious, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't stoop to using a child as his go-between. Still, she's very curious to see how Saoirse responds, and her voice drops to a more conspiratorial pitch. "Send you in here to test the waters?"

Her chin sticks out stubbornly and she shakes her head. "No," she insists. But her cheeks go a bit pink, because Greta is sharper than Saoirse had hoped. She Crosses her arms over her chest.

"i was just wondering," she adds. "With everything going on. And you've been together forever." Well, only a year, but it seems like a long time.

Greta's expression softens at Saoirse's defensive posture. Perhaps she shouldn't tease. She's rather content with the way things are. Their current arrangement is indistinguishable from a marriage, anyway (functionally, if not legally). And she'd expect Thomas, of all people, to recognize that there's no link between a marriage certificate and the legitimacy -- or longevity -- of a relationship.

But Saoirse's view is probably a little less nuanced than that.

"With everything going on, a wedding is a bit much to add to the pile," she points out, reaching over to brush Saoirse's hair back, tuck a stray lock behind her ear. Not that she's dismissing the idea out of hand, but, well. Between the ongoing contest and Thomas's worrying visions, she has more than enough on her plate.

Still, she finds herself asking, "Would you like that? If we made it all official?"

Greta's hand sliding through her hair has the calming effect it was meant to. She turns to look at her more straight on.

"Yes," she says, more seriously now. "I've been asking him. I want him to be my dad. And I want him to be your husband. But... If you think it's too busy right now, then you should wait." She doesn't want Greta to be more stressed out, after all. She just wants her to be happy.

That's where all of this is coming from.

Her eyebrows tick up when Saoirse admits that she's been asking Thomas about it -- and that she wants Thomas to be her father. Not that there's anything shocking about the latter; Saoirse had already confessed as much to her before Thomas moved in.

But it's not something Greta ever told him. It hadn't seemed like hers to share. She almost regrets that now, because if Saoirse has told him as much, it means Greta missed what must have been a truly priceless expression on the poor man's face.

"I will take that under advisement," she promises, her tone and expression as solemn as she can make them, before curling an arm around the lass and pulling her close. "And you know we both love each other -- and you -- very much. Even without a pair of rings and a piece of paper saying so."

"But, papers saying so are important," she reminds. She's thinking, specifically, of her adoption. Greta is her mum because a piece of paper says so. Without it, she wouldn't be able to go to hospital with her if she got hurt, or sign her up for school activities.

She doesn't know if marriage is the same, but she wants to make sure that, if it is, they have everything covered.

"That's true." She'd wanted to make sure Saoirse understood that they were still a family, whether they went to the courthouse or not. But the lass has a point. An unromantic point, but a sensible one. Thomas won't be her father in the city's eyes if they don't get everything squared away -- and on paper.

It's a conversation they should probably have in the near future, but not until things have... settled, a bit. "I hope you haven't been pestering him too much," she says, sounding more amused than upset.

"I haven't!" she insists. "I just wanted to ask him about it, and I did." She shrugs her shoulders. "He didn't seem upset, though, I promise. He even smiled when I asked him about it!"

Saoirse's a perceptive girl, but then again, Thomas is rather good at maintaining an inoffensive veneer. Greta can't be certain whether he was genuinely unbothered, or if he just masked it well for Saoirse's sake.

But when Saoirse says that he smiled, Greta can't help but smile in turn, her gaze going distant as she picks up a spoon and starts to stir. "Did he, now?"

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