Chapter 80 Install.

Chapter 80: 80 Install.

Clementine cocked her head as though in confusion. "Why? I just call you that because I wanna fuck your face," she explained. "Like, sit on it. I never got to do that when we hooked up that one time, so I guess I’m like, manifesting or whatever."

The table went silent, and into that silence I nodded slowly, while somewhere deep in my chest a warmth bloomed that I truly hadn’t expected. A single, dignified tear threatened the corner of my eye, and I cracked a gentle smile. Frankly, I felt a lot better about the nickname all of a sudden.

Elsa opened her mouth, closed it, then turned to look at me. "Oh," she said, and after a pause she turned back to Clementine. "Well. Carry on, then."

I cleared my throat, willing Grey Junior into a softer state. "Anyway." All the women looked at me. "Nobody here chose this situation. Not entirely. So we’re going to figure it out like adults, starting now."

The room went quiet. Even Ayra’s tail paused mid-wag.

"Rule one," I began. "Bathroom schedule. Elsa, your forty-five minute bath monopoly is over. At least until I upgrade our water heater. Or just install multiples."

The sound she made could have shattered glass in the right acoustic environment. "Darling, you wouldn’t dare—"

"Twenty minutes max for morning showers. Anyone who needs a long soak can do it in the afternoon when nobody else is waiting. And before you say it, yes, this applies to royalty, too."

Elsa’s mouth opened and closed. Her lower lip started to quiver, and the full puppy-dog eyes deployed in record time — enormous, glistening, devastating enough to make lesser men crumble.

I held firm. Barely.

"Fine," she whispered pathetically, and you’d think I’d just told her Black Lazarus released an epic diss track about her. "Twenty minutes. Under protest." She traced a small, mournful circle on the tablecloth with one finger. "Will you at least brush my hair after breakfast? My braids are in a state."

"Sure. That’s fine, brushing your hair is therapeutic for me too."

Clementine snorted in disgust. "Simp."

I blinked. "Ma’am, I am trying my goddamn best."

As for Elsa, the puppy-dog eyes immediately dried up, replaced by a serene, satisfied smile. As it so happened, Elsa’s emotional range had an express lane from devastated to smug, and it ran right through the land of ’got what I actually wanted.’

"Noted. Rule two: kitchen rotation. I can’t be the only one cooking for five people every meal. We all take turns, but some of you will need to learn how to cook."

"I will prepare any meal Master desires!" Ayra bounced in her seat. "Breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snacks, post-spanking sustenance—I will even glaze his pastries with my release!"

"That is fucking epic, but let’s stay on track. For now, I just want you each to learn one meal that can be your specialty. I suggest microwaveable macaroni and cheese for you, Ayra." I pointed at her, watching as she nodded emphatically.

"Yes, Master! I shall not disappoint you! And if I do displease you, you may discipline me in whatever way you see fit, though the very thought fills me with terror and resentment! Pah-tooey!" She spat at the ground for emphasis.

Clementine stared at her, brows knitting together. "Is the carpet like forty percent dog spit at this point?"

"Rule three," I continued. "Nobody goes outside when we have visitors. Workers, contractors, delivery people, anyone. I don’t care if the house is on fire. You stay hidden until I give the all-clear. That goes for you too, Constantine."

"I’m not mad about that one. Constantine was badass."

"The emperor?" I asked. I didn’t know she was a history buff.

"No, the Keanu Reeves movie. They named an emperor after him? Anyway, what if the house is literally on fire?" Clementine asked. "Can we go out then?"

"As long as this isn’t you plotting to burn my house down just to go outside when there are contractors here, sure. We may have to use magic to mindwipe them or something, though."

Juniper sighed and clicked her tongue. "That will be troublesome, but I can manage if I must."

"And rule four." I made eye contact with each of them, wagging my finger. "We’re a team. That means we have each other’s backs. No sabotaging each other’s food, no hiding each other’s stuff, no bullying each other. You don’t have to be best friends, but you do have to be on friendly terms. Elsa, no!"

The princess’s hand, which had been inching maliciously toward Clementine’s coffee mug, retreated to her lap.

"I believe these rules are reasonable," Juniper said from her coiled position at the table’s end. "I would add one more: all strategic decisions regarding the portals, Black Lazarus, and external threats go through a full party discussion. No unilateral action can be taken."

"Seconded," I agreed. "Good add, though we have twenty years to worry about that."

Clementine had been quiet through most of this, jaw working as she chewed and processed the whole scene. Now she set her fork down and leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed.

"I want my own shelf in the fridge. Top shelf, left side. Nobody touches it."

I nodded in agreement. "Done. I’ll get a bigger fridge soon too. This one can’t shit out those cool shredded ice cubes and that nags at me each and every day," I confessed.

"I get the TV for two hours every evening after dinner. My shows, my volume, nobody talks." She looked around the table as she said it, making sure the message landed on everyone individually.

"We can probably work around that," I said.

"I want a lock on my bedroom door."

"I’ll install one today."

"And I want to sleep alone with you once a week, fuckface." She said it nice and slow that time, and with the recently added context, I understood exactly what she was getting at.

My buttcheeks clenched defensively, and I did not dare to look at Elsa’s face at that moment. "We’ll... talk about that later."