The Curran Sea

Orla/Orlaigh

"My sister did warn me that the Curran men are... not ordinary," Orla said slowly, after she had heard his story.
   "Saoirse is your sister?"
   She nodded. "Twin."
   He grunted. "Makes sense. What worked for one should work for the other, eh?"
   The first cloud marred her gaze. "You have borne many twins. Are they all so similar in personality, then?"
   He relented. "Touché. Apologies, Orlaigh. I am a clone, thus very nearly the same man as my brother. Ah, see, there is another similarity. Could you hand me that green thing there? Yes, thank you. I'll trade you for... You know, I haven't asked their names. Shame on me! Well, if you don't mind burping..." He checked the ankle, saw a pink monitor. "Her, you can do that. Otherwise, if you could just move her to my shoulder while I do this, I can handle it."
   Orla took the infant carefully, though it seemed quite foreign to her, put her over one shoulder. He showed her how to burp the baby, using the odd green object as a model.
   And then, he stabbed himself with it!
   She shrieked.
   He looked up in surprise. "What? Oh, I suppose you don't use medicine injectors. Look, see? Not a mark. Just vitamins, and some other things he never tells me about."
   Jamie knocked on the door. "Are you okay in there, Puppa?"
   Both adults blushed.
   "Almost dropped something, that's all. You go back to your show, now."
   "But you sounded like a girl!"
   Orla covered her mouth, to smother a giggle.
   Judah fought back his own smile. "That was your sister, Jamie. She's fine. I think she was just startled."
   Their smiles vanished, when not-so-little Jamie Smith cracked the door, just enough to see Orla, in his Puppa's nightshirt.
   The door flew open, which got all three remaining kids' attention.
   "Well, shit," he growled.
   "Language!" They all cried, jumping on the rare occasion.
   It was Jonah, bless his heart, who walked to his father's bedroom door and said "We can talk about this later, but that'd be his fiancée, and they look sort of dressed, so leave it be. Jamie? Leave it. We'll talk when they're dressed, and the twins are settled."
   God love him, he even tried for a Dad Stare at Judah as he closed the door.
   "They didn't know?" she asked, trying not to grip the newborn too tightly.
   "Only Jonah. The others..." He leveled a Look at her. "They don't know he's alive. That stays, you hear me? We don't know if he'll survive his wound, and even with the plan we have..." He sighed. "I just don't want to get their hopes up, in case..."
   She put her briefly freed hand on one thick forearm, kissed his tears away. She was uncertain of her hold on the babe, so she kept it brief, but she could not see him suffer in silence.
   "You take much on your shoulders, husband."
   He nearly dropped the infant; did drop his medipen.
   "Come again?" He nearly matched Ibrahim's rumble, at long last.
   A small line formed between her brows. "If you wish, but there are babes--"
   The hand that had held the medicine grabbed her arm. "Not what I meant!" he hissed.
   Her wide, gold eyes blinked up at him. He saw no malice, or guile. He sighed, smoothed her arm where his fingerprints showed, white against her peaches and cream skin.
   "I fear that I have missed a step somewhere. When, so that I might treasure the memory, did we wed, Orlaigh?"
   She blushed. He didn't know how she could, given what they'd shared in the waves, but she did. "If ever a mer comes to you without a tail, you should turn her away." Her golden eyes, so like the image of her sister's, glowed possessively. Nearly literally. "You are spoken for."
   It was his turn to find a blush that he didn't know he still had lying around. The hand that rested on her arm smoothed down to her hand, lifted it to his lips. She giggled when his beard tickled it.
   "Were we on land, there would be a ring on this finger." He kissed it.
   Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks.
   "I would craft you such a ring, you would be the envy of every mer in the sea," he vowed.
   When she could speak past the lump in her throat, she admitted that it would be simpler to identify who was wed to whom.
   Then she spoiled the moment by saying that she would ask Halcyon for permission.
   Judah would make the rings anyway. Whether she wore hers, or he wore it around his neck, he would make the rings.
   And then, there were babes to finish tending, a wife to teach how to do it, and youngsters to enlighten.
   She was mesmerized by his chestfeeding mod.
   "Any male can do it," he explained. "With enough hormones and supplements, any humanoid can lactate. Ibrahim just... accidentally made ours permanent. Every clone except Liam can. Actually, I wonder if Pierre can. I didn't ask, when the twins were babies."
   "So you are... part woman?"
   His lips thinned. "As I said, any humanoid with mammaries can, with help. Even women who have not given birth need hormones, much of the time. Our bodies just... want to do it... any time a baby cries."
   Her brow cleared. "That is why you rushed in to feed them!" She poked one depleted pectoral. "Does it... hurt?"
   He laughed. "No, wife. Not if you've got the hang of it."
   Shawn, through the door, yelped "Wife?" 
   Judah sighed. "Eavesdropping is in poor taste, Jackie boy. We shall be out momentarily." He nailed Dad Voice so well, her knees clamped together tightly.