Title: Responsibilities
Fandom: Diablotin
Rating: Mature
Length: ~1100 words
Notes: On Friday I got let off from work early, after only 2 hours - this was not actually a good thing, as with the cost of gas and tolls it meant I barely broke even on work that day :/ But the silver lining (see what I did there?) was that I had more time to write, and came up with this. It goes along with my earlier story Unexpected, and I think now that they are both going to become part of a larger story, but it can be read on its own too.
Summary: Taz talks to his brother Xan about fatherhood.

Taz no longer had a room to storm to in this house. Instead he retreated to the rooftop, where he and his brothers used to spend time in their own little world, away from their parents. Now it bore traces of other childrens’ toys and pastimes, but he didn’t want to think about that. It was quiet at least, and that was what he needed. Some part of him thought he should probably be with Sabren right now, but he was too angry, and he didn’t want her to see him like that, or say things he might regret. Instead he sat down on the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing, his legs hanging over the side, and watched the people below until it made him dizzy. The sun was warm on his skin, and he closed his eyes, letting its unaccustomed heat and the light breeze start to ease away his tension.

He had almost forgotten how to tell time by the sun instead of the tides, but he thought maybe half an hour had passed when he heard someone else on the roof with him. Xan had climbed up the ladder, instead of teleporting or flying up like he always used to when they were small, leaving Taz to make the climb on his own. “Not being lazy today?” Taz muttered, but he didn’t really mean anything by it, it was just old habit.

Xan ignored that, coming to sit beside him. “I have Solange with me,” he pointed out, carefully lowering himself down. “I can’t teleport with her.” The baby was sleeping soundly in the carrier strapped across Xan’s chest. It looked strange to Taz, unfamiliar, and not only because he had never expected Xan to have children.

“You could give her to Mom or whatever,” Taz suggested.

“No, I couldn’t,” Xan pointed out. “One, she’s sleeping, and if I move her she’ll probably wake up. Two, Mom is busy taking care of your girlfriend. Three, she’s my responsibility anyway.”

Responsibility was just want Taz didn’t want to hear a lecture about, not from San, not from his brother, not from anyone. It felt like everything right now was designed to remind him what a failure he was. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, hoping to avoid more arguing.

Xan frowned. “I wasn’t trying to criticize. I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He paused. “We really are glad you’re here... even Father, I think.”

“Hah. So he takes the first chance he gets to point out - in front of Sabren - what a waste of space I am?”

“He didn’t say that,” Xan sighed, making a visible effort to keep himself calm. “You’re reading that into his words because that’s what you expect to hear from him.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t expect to hear it if he hadn’t made it clear that’s what he thinks of me!” Taz’s voice was rising, and the baby stirred, making a little whimpering sound. Xan patted her softly on the back and she soon settled down again. He made it seem easy, natural. “Did you just bring her to make your point or what?” Taz asked bitterly.

“No, asshole, I brought her to meet her Uncle Taz. And to give Mercy a bit of a break - she has her most of the time.”

Taz looked down at the baby - well, at the top of her head, since it was pretty much all he could see. She was blonde and little and pink-skinned, like Xan. There was a noticeable lump under the fabric of the carrier where her wings were curled up. He couldn’t see her ears or her eyes, and didn’t want to ask. The poor kid would already have enough reasons for people to stare at her - ears that came to a point or odd-coloured eyes would be the least of her problems. “So,” he said eventually. “Does she call you ‘Dad’, or what?”

“She doesn’t call me anything yet,” Xan said with a half-smile. “But yeah, when she’s older... I hope she will, anyway, even if I’m not always around.” He didn’t belabour the point, for which Taz was grateful. “It’s pretty amazing,” he said instead.

“Pretty amazing that you had sex with a girl?” Taz smirked, nudging his brother in the ribs just to watch him squirm.

“Fuck you,” Xan replied, blushing. “I meant being a dad. Even if it’s not what I expected, or what the rest of the world thinks it should be like, she makes me happy.”

“Yeah, well... maybe it’s great for you,” Taz shrugged. “Some people are just good at that sort of thing, and some aren’t. You must get that from Dad, because it’s sure not from San.”

“I don’t think it’s something I was born with, I’ve had to learn a lot. You don’t know if you’re good at it until you try...” Xan began.

“But what if it turns out you’re not? By then maybe you’ve already fucked up a kid’s life,” Taz retorted angrily. The last thing in the world he wanted to find out was that he was as bad a father as his own had been.

Xan frowned, struggling to his feet. “Once the kid’s born, and you have a choice of maybe messing things up, or definitely messing things up, it’s probably better to pick the first one.” He finally managed to stand up carefully without waking Solange. “Anyway. Dinner’s in an hour or so. Dez is coming over, and Justen and Mercy.” Taz imagined he could hear the ‘try not to ruin this too’ in his voice.

He remembered suddenly the time when they were kids and he had pushed Xan off the roof because he’d been angry about... something, he couldn’t even remember what. Apparently he’d been an asshole even when he was a kid, he thought bitterly. He’d gotten into deep trouble over it, even though Xan hadn’t been hurt. But afterwards, San had come and talked to him, very calm and serious. He couldn’t remember all the details of their conversation now, so many years later, but the upshot had been that he was going to be allowed to start training as a warrior - as long as he promised to always take care of his family, and never hurt them. He’d promised easily then, when it had seemed as simple as ‘no more hitting your brothers or throwing them off the roof.’ Now, though, not hurting his family seemed like a far more difficult task, one he didn’t know if he was capable of achieving.