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Unlike the rest of them, Sips actually had blood relatives with whom he was on speaking terms with.
It was only a couple, but they were nonetheless relatives. He had a sister who lived in Vancouver with her husband and their two children. Sips would call her every other week and when there was a birthday, entertaining her and the kids with wild (and occasionally untrue) stories of his life in the big city.
Before joining the Garbage Court and becoming its king, Sips had regularly flown out and spent the holidays with his sister. But with his new responsibilities and three mother hens glued to his side, he had cut back on those trips considerably. It wasn’t about the money that came with having three new mouths to feed and having to buy a new apartment, even though it put a decent dent in his wallet (before the three fae stole the money back for him). It wasn't even about getting the time off work--he was between jobs right now, but reigning over a court of miscreants and dangerous beings was enough to keep him busy, thank you very much.
No, Sips’ newly grounded state wasn’t because of any of that.
“Sips, you can’t be seriously leaving.”
It was because of this .
Sips sighed and turned around from the stove, unsurprised that Ross and Smith had him cornered against the counter. Smith’s eyes held tinges of inhuman wildness, and Ross’ tail was swishing from side to side violently.
“Hey, careful with the tail, buddy!” Sips exclaimed, craning his neck to look at where Ross’ tail was thwacking against the side of the kitchen island. “You’re gonna break that.”
Ross had the decency to look sheepish, and his tail lowered, choosing instead to twitch agitatedly on the floor.
“Sips ,” Smith whined loudly to get the human's attention, face scrunched in frustration.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Sips huffed, throwing up his hands. “And I’m pretty sure you heard me when I told you months ago that I was going to Vancouver.”
“But—I thought you would’ve changed your mind!” Smith spluttered. “Do you know how dangerous it would be for you to be alone ? You’re—you don’t know anything about fae, or what to do when you're in another court's block."
“Smiffy does have a point,” Trott chimed in from the couch. “Now that you’re apart of our court, other fae will notice when you're there. I don’t know many of the courts over there, but I know they all won’t appreciate having a foreign court’s king all over their territory.”
“So I’ll avoid them,” Sips responded, shrugging. “Sis lives in a pretty neutral area, but I’ll just look for the signs and sigils and stuff.”
Ross made a pained noise in the back of his throat and Smith banged his head against the counter.
“What ? I know what to do!”
“I hate to sound rude, but you’re really quite shit at doing that,” Trott said bluntly.
“I am noooot.”
“How many times have I had to bail you out of situations that’ve gone tits up, hm?” Smith jumped in angrily. “Or how many times have you insulted some fae and Trott had to go smooth things over?”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. I-literally-banged-a-king’s-daughter-to-near-death-and-started-a-blood-feud,” Sips said sarcastically.
“I didn’t know who she was,” Smith said defensively, scowling darkly at him. “ You , on the other hand, are constantly starting fights--”
“Smith,” Trott interrupted, giving him a warning look.
Smith bit back his words, his jaw clenching with restraint. The kelpie always struggled with staying respectful to their king, and Trott was the one to rein him in (pun intended), even if it didn’t really bother Sips. Respecting the king was one of the few rules that they tried their hardest to follow as a court.
“What Smith was trying to say,” Trott continued, “is that there a lot of new rules you have to follow, now that you’re the king of our court.”
“Maybe one of us could go with you,” Ross piped up. “Just to make sure you're safe.”
“A gargoyle on a plane? It wouldn’t be able to take off with your stone arse on it,” Smith taunted, dodging out of the way before Ross’ tail could hit him.
Trott shook his head, crossing his arms. “We need to stay in the territory,” Trott said. “It’ll be bad enough when people realize that the king’s gone. We don’t need our numbers thinned out even further. Plus, I think if more of you left it would just cause more trouble.”
“Alright, alright, settle down, all of you,” Sips said over their voices, holding out his hands. The three fae turned and stared at him. “I’m just gonna be gone for a three days, alright? The world isn’t gonna end in the meantime. And all three of you are staying here. As your king, I’m ordering you to shut your faces about the trip.” Satisfied, he turned back around and flipped his half-burnt omelette that had been sitting neglected on the stove.
***
Ross had been sulking all day.
Smith had been sulking, too. But the kelpie took out his frustration on other things, like roaming their streets with a baseball bat for fae trying to move in on their territory or going to the clubs to hunt unsuspecting humans. Ross, though, preferred to internalize everything and mope around the apartment, tail swishing anxiously and floorboards creaking in distress under his weight. He often went to his perch on the roof, spending hours and hours alone and coming back so cold that it took hours to completely warm up his stone skin.
When Ross disappeared onto the roof for the third night in the row, Trott decided it was time to intervene.
Trott climbed up the rickety fire escape, grimacing at the way it shuddered and groaned, and made a mental note to recharge the sigils and spells on the rusty iron. The sigils that had been put on them to keep them sturdy and safe had been put on decades ago, and were dangerously close to rusting completely off. How Ross managed to get up to the roof constantly on these stairs was a complete mystery to the selkie, but he refused to trust them for much longer; he wasn’t about to to pick up shards of broken stone and blue gems if Ross fell.
He finally reached the roof, and sure enough, he could see the silhouette of Ross against the lights of the city, crouched on the edge of the roof and looking every part the gargoyle that he was.
A cold wind buffeted him and Trott shivered violently, hugging his jumper tighter around him. His slippers crunched in the snow as he approached the unnaturally still Ross.
“Christ, it’s cold,” he complained to announce his presence, coming up and standing by the ledge Ross was crouched on.
He felt a dizzying wave of vertigo when he looked down at the sidewalk and made a noise in the back of his throat, closing his eyes. He could never understand how some people liked heights. He was quite content with his feet firmly planted on the earth or swimming through the ocean, thank you very much.
“Are you coming back in any time soon?” Trott asked, staring at the living statue. “Sitting up here and getting back to your roots isn’t going to help the situation any.”
Ross finally moving, his eyes slanting towards the selkie. His back slumped a bit, and he moved from his crouched position to let his bare feet dangle over the edge of the building. Trott leaned against the ledge next to him.
“You know it’s just a short vacation,” Trott said. “He’s allowed to go home and spend time with his family.”
“We’re his family,” Ross grumbled. “And isn’t this place his home?”
“You know what I mean, Ross,” Trott retorted. “And he can have two homes. Him and his sister are close, and that place will always be a sort of home to him, even if he has one here with us, too.”
Ross looked like he wanted to protest, but bit his lip and sighed, seemingly defeated.
“But what if he doesn’t come back, Trott?” Ross mumbled, staring out at the city and letting his chin rest in his hands. “We don’t know anything about the fae in Vancouver. He could be killed. He could even be killed on the flight.”
“Hey.”
Trott wiggled his hand between Ross’ hand and his face to grab his chin, making him look at him in the eye. He quickly retracted his hand when he came into contact with the freezing cold skin, cursing and shoving his hands into his pockets and ignoring Ross’ snickering.
“He is not going to die or be hurt,” Trott said, more terse confidence in his voice than he actually felt. From the startled expression on Ross’ face, the gargoyle was surprised by it, too. “We’ll bloody put so many protection charms and sigils on him that anyone twenty kilometers away will be able to tell he’s off limits. And I’ll get Smiffy to steal one of Lomadia’s owls to watch him.”
Ross hung onto his every word, gemstone eyes refracting the city lights. “Do you really think he’s gonna be alright?” he asked.
“I’m positive,” Trott lied. Ross gave him a small smile, which Trott returned.
As much as Trott was pleased by the bonding moment, it was still freezing out and he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Come back inside soon, yeah?” Trott asked, biting back another shiver. “It’s fucking cold and the middle of the night. We have things to do tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’ll come inside soon,” Ross promised. “I just want a few more minutes to myself.”
Trott nodded and started his slow descent back down the fire escape, clambering back into the warm apartment through the open window.
Sips was shuffling across the floor from the bathroom to his bedroom, wearing his pajamas and pink slippers. “W’sup?” he yawned as Trott closed the window. “Ross up there?”
“Yeah, he’s in one of his moods again,” Trott said smoothly.
Sips watched the selkie as he shed his jacket and shoes and went back to his room to curl up around a snoring Smith. He watched him go but still stood in the hallway, a contemplative look on his face. After a few minutes, he turned around and headed back to his room.
***
Sips came out of his room at around noon, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his back. Smith was slumped on the couch, watching TV and looking half asleep.
“Wow, you’re up before sundown?” Sips asked in mocking awe. “Go call Lying and see if pigs are flying in hell.”
“Shut up,” Smith muttered, sitting up straighter. “I wanted to be up to see you off to the airport.”
Sips hummed. “You don’t need to do that. Just go back to bed.”
He went to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup, putting in liberal spoonfuls of sugar. He shuffled back into the living room and plucked the TV remote out of Smith’s hand, ignoring his cry of protest. The human sat down in his chair, reclining back and letting out a contented sigh. Smith stared at him the entire time.
“Don’t you need to pack?” Smith finally asked burst out when it became apparent Sips wasn’t going to move anytime soon.
“Nope,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“You can’t be done already.”
“I’m not.”
The look of incomprehension didn’t leave Smith’s face, and Sips sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“I’m not going home this year,” he said slowly. “I’m staying here.”
Smith started, eyes wide, and there was a startled noise from the hallway, signaling that Trott’s arrival.
“But— why?” Smith asked, aghast. “You’ve been talking about this trip for weeks.”
“Meh, decided I wanted to stay here,” Sips shrugged, not particularly concerned.
“What does your sister think about this?” Trott finally spoke up. He walked around the couch so Sips could see him.
“I talked to her about it, she understands,” he said casually, flipping through the channels. “The kids’ll be a bit whiny, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I didn’t think you guys would do well without me for a long period of time. Plus, plane tickets are expensive. And planes’re dangerous. Fuck planes.”
There was silence for a few minutes, a silence that surprised Sips enough to look away from the television. “Are you guys gonna say anything? I thought you’d be happy to hear I’m not goin’ home for Christmas.”
Trott’s face softened, an expression he rarely allowed anyone to see, and he smiled. “We definitely are,” he said. He touched a hand to Sips’ shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Aw, don’t get all mushy on me,” Sips complained, playfully waving the selkie off. “It’s creepy, I don’t like seeing you all emotional and weird .”
Trott snorted, rolling his eyes. “Ross!” he shouted towards the bedrooms. “Come out and help me make breakfast.”