LANCASTER AND MAXWELL ( ✔ )

chapter eight.

Chapter Eight.

 ARTHUR is the first face that the slightly shorter brunette sees first, and a divine force makes the corners of his lips pull with a small but genuine smile that practically belongs to the blonde now.

"Greetings to the Lancaster household," Artie says, "It's nice to see you in something different than all black, for once." 

Stepping inside, Sullivan snorts and takes a leisure glance down at the ensemble he (his little sister) set out for himself. By all means, it's nothing more than a white henley with a few of the buttons undone with jeans and his sneakers, but it must be a good thing if it's got Arthur commenting. "I don't always dress in black."  

"Oh please, you always look like you're heading off to someone's funeral. It's dreadfully indecent of you," he retorts, knocking his shoulder into his counterpart.

Sully returns the lighthearted gesture with a shove and replies, "Me, indecent? That's hilarious, coming from the guy who wears his shirts halfway done every single day." 

"I don't like being confined. Also, don't hate on my aloha shirts. It's disrespectful, especially in my own house." 

"Hate to break it to ya, but it's intertwined in my DNA. Bein' a hater is as natural to me as breathing."

They turn a corner, and the first thing Sully notices when he knocks on the door and it swings open are the stray stuffed animals and different colored blocks scattered around the staircase (or one of them, the size of the estate is much larger than one should assume). It wouldn't be a strange case if it were anybody else's household, but it's not. This is the estate of the Lancasters, and they didn't have any young kids running around the place. Or, so he thought. 

Arthur opens his mouth but two small voices sound off instead of the husky voice he's grown accustomed to, and two kids climb unto him like spider monkeys. "Ah, there you are, my terrible two!" He exclaims teasingly, cradling them close to his chest. He looks back over and holds the two toddlers up so Sully can take a good look at them. They favor him, yes, but not enough to be fully related. 

"They're biracial," he concludes for himself. 

"Yep; these are the devastatingly beautiful carriers of the household name. This is Darren and Dahlia Lancaster. Can you guys say hey to my new friend?"

"Bonjour," says the gentle, timid voices that greet him, and his heart swells.

"They know French?"

"Daddy thinks that them knowing another language will make them smarter. Wait ... please tell me you don't know French." 

He replies seamlessly, "Non, bien sûr que non." Sullivan winks, and Arthur rolls his eyes in response, allowing him to talk back to the kids. "Bonjour, pour les enfants."

Their eyes are wide with wonder, and Artie quickly fills in, "Sully can speak French, too." It's game over after that. They hurl themselves into his arms and chatter away in his ear for as long as they can before the voice of a woman comes from behind him.

"Now kids, don't kill our guest before he even has his dinner." They all look up, and the boy can't help but marvel at her beauty. Though, it's not in a sensual way. These days, even though he hasn't realized quite yet, he views beauty in people the same way he views a painting or a brilliant sunset: with a well intended, but distant feeling of satisfaction. Nothing can ever be as beautiful as his Arthur.