It's like, 12:13 AM or something


Flynn had been drinking with Jules at his neighbor's new bar, when they saw the family of a patient that had died in the poisoning. It had dampened her mood, so in order to cheer her up, he decided to bring Jules to his place to see the newborn kittens. Flynn was incredibly proud of being a cat-grandpa, even if Mildred was an evil little shit.

Flynn and Cass shared a flat together. It was much more spacious than the homes they had previously been residing in at Dorothea's. In fact, the spare bedrooms had been converted to a greenhouse and a weird bug collection room, respectively. Both those rooms were their individual offices. In the corner of the living room was a potions lab, with an invisible barrier that only permitted Cass and Flynn access.

In the other corner of the living room was an old Christmas tree that had not been taken down. Wizarding holiday lights floated near the ceiling, and with their lifestyles it was unlikely that they would ever take them down. At least the take out food containers had been taken out recently, and the garbage and kitchen sink were empty.

Mildred was curled up in a well-cushioned box against the wall, nursing her five kittens.

Although Rachawadee usually closed at either 10:30 or 11, they were open for the holiday in order to get the drunk business. They were quite busy-- so Flynn felt lucky to grab some pineapple fried rice, panang curry, and samosas for him and Jules to share. He opened up a bottle of sweet wine to go with the meal.  Mildred seemed largely uninterested in Jules' presence.

"Look at how cute the kittens are." Flynn cooed, accioing some plates to the coffee table so that they could dish up and feast. "Would you like one?"

Having worn the wrong shoes for an evening out, Jules had been putting on a brave face and dealing with it for several hours. The tragic thing about the pointy stilettos that were Jules’ signature shoes was that they had the tendency to pinch and rub in all the wrong places. Like teenagers having sex. And as excited as those imaginary teens might have been, in actuality they were a bad pair of shoes.

Jules wasn’t a frequenter of Flynn’s apartment. Jules didn’t really love going to other people’s houses. There was just too much judgment that could be done, and she knew it was a bad habit. She always wanted to clean them, reorganize, don’t you know it’s so much easier if you…
But seeing as she was rather tipsy,  any attempts at feng shui were to be taken with caution.

Flynn and Cass’ flat was bizarre, but so were the two of them, so it worked. Best of all, they had chairs. Jules’ throbbing heels were grateful for that, her feet already swelling a bit from having been constricted for so long. “Wrong size, I think,” Jules thought out loud. She turned her attention back to the take-away they'd gotten, which never failed to taste better when intoxicated.

“Look how cute the kittens are… Want one?”

Normally Jules wasn’t much of an animal person; she had her puff-ball of a dog-cat thing called Monkey, but he was on his last leg. (Unless he’d only had one all along??) Jules didn’t know. But as she looked at Flynn’s cat’s new kittens she couldn’t help but excitedly clasp her hands together and put on a huge grin. “Awww!” -- such an ultra-girly response was not a common one for Jules, and she quickly realized what she was doing and recomposed herself.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat. “Anyway - I don’t know about a cat, I…” Many types of liquor coursed through her veins and she was losing track of why she couldn’t have a pet. “I don’t really know, should I get a kitten?” Then she remembered the very important question that had been on her mind lately.

Jules' uncanny ability to walk for hours in stilettos never failed to impress Flynn. It was the epitome of hardcore, though he wouldn't say that out loud. Unless he was drunk. But for now, he was fairly sober.

Her reaction to the newborn kittens was, well. Adorable. He hadn't seen Jules this completely smashed, and he would be sure to ask her again when he saw her sober if she actually wanted a kitten. "Ah, perfect! You'll be first in line, then." Flynn smiled, "You'll have to wait eight weeks." If he could remember correctly. That was about when it was safe to separate a kitten from its mother. The kittens were all grey-- which only made sense. Mildred and Lizard were both very grey cats. Lizard was a bit scraggly and kind of pathetic looking, but Mildred, despite her cruel nature, was fluffy and majestic.

"You should get a kitten. They're bastards, they are." Flynn nodded enthusiastically, as if that was the way to convince someone to get a cat.

Admittedly Jules had made only slight efforts to imagine herself having the life of a pet-owner. Monkey pretty much took care of himself; to this day Jules wasn’t entirely sure what it was that he did eat, and for that matter whether or not he was actually a he. The kittens were cute, but they’d grow up to be cats, who had the tendency to be nasty snobs, and there was already enough of that in Jules’ home.

Cute to Jules was the face of one little Josie, the two-year-old who had been Jules’ patient. She had been Jules’ patient during the horrific loss of every single patient she’d had in one day. The precious face still haunted her, loomed in the back of her mind like an eyelash stuck in her eye.

“You should get a kitten. They’re bastards, they are.’

Jules had only been half-listening, having gotten herself wound up in thoughts of that tormenting adorable face she’d lost. The only part she heard of what Flynn had said included the word ‘bastards,’ so in traditional Jules fashion she jumped to conclusions.

“I don’t care if it would be a bastard!” Jules defended herself, confident that she was less tipsy than she atually was. “As if I need a husband.” Jules flashed her fingernails and admired them, then rubbed them on her dress and looked back at the cats, apparently not realizing the information she’d let slip yet.

M- Language

Flynn froze, head turning slowly as he faced Jules. He didn't hide his surprise, his jaw hanging. What? Where did that come from?

He came to his sense and closed his mouth.

"What the fuck, Jules...?" Frankly he couldn't think of a response to her blatant admission to wanting to a child, bastard or not. And the implication that she thought he would think lesser of a bastard child. Clearly, his coworker could not hold her liquor well. Judging by the past few weeks, he imagined it would be hard for most of the healers to drink without it going to a weird or sad place.

Flynn cleared his throat, and quickly added, "Of course! No one needs a husband!" He assured Jules, hoping she would take that as solidarity. "My sister has a twelve year old, you know. Raised him herself. No father in the picture-- didn't need him or want him around." Having another partner certainly made things easier, but it was not required.

Jules realized her slip-up just after she said it and folded her lips into her mouth. She wanted to keep it shut before it let out any more deep secluded thoughts of hers. It had been a long while since her last boozing and paired with the significant lack of sleep -- the alcohol was definitely working on her.

Flynn responded first with shock, then was totally cool, just as Flynn would be. Now that the words had come out of her mouth she was letting herself think about it. In those moments where Jules could not distract herself from personal thoughts -- most commonly when she was trying to fall asleep -- she had been having small blips of motherly desire. She wanted a baby to smell and hold and be so happy with that  if anything were to happen to them, you just cried and cried. Jules didn’t think the tears of the toddler’s parents would ever stop. She didn’t care about anyone as much as they cared about this little person, who had been alive for such a short time. To Jules, it was fascinating.

"Of course! No one needs a husband!.... My sister has a twelve year old, you know. Raised him herself. No father in the picture-- didn't need him or want him around."

“Well, you do need a father for one crucial thing,” Jules pointed out. “Luckily it’s the part that they like best.” She couldn’t imagine the kind of man whose child she would have. Her genetics knowledge - and evolution - told her that she wanted someone with good, inheritable traits. Strength, health, mental stability. Jules  felt she didn’t have much to offer on her end, coming from a family of gilded youth and superficiality. Jules, at least, had gotten out of that loop, so maybe a child of hers had a chance.

"Well actually." Flynn added, "You don't technically need a father. I hear that there's some magic that women can use to--" He paused, "Nevermind." That wasn't important. That wasn't Jules' point. She didn't come over so they could drunkenly talk about the different methods in which witches and wizards could have a child.

He hesitated, "So... You want a child?" Flynn asked, "Have you always known that or is this a new thing?" He had no idea if he ever wanted children. Maybe, one day. In the future. He liked kids, he got along with them well enough. However, being a parent was a whole new responsibility. It wasn't like you could hand the kid off to someone else when things got to be too much. He wasn't sure he was responsible enough for a child. 

Jules was still in shock after realizing she’d just admitted her big secret wish, and now they were talking about it. As if it could really happen, Jules Deville becoming a mother. It wasn’t a role she had ever seen herself in, but there had been a few select moments that seemed to make parenting worth it.

“So… you want a child? Have you always known that or is this a new thing?”

Jules sighed and leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. “My childhood sucked. So I never really wanted to put a child at risk, plus I would hardly be able to take care of it, I’d make a terrible mother.” The sentences came out blitzkrieg style. She sighed. “It’s just… ever since that patient…” Josie’s face flashed in Jules’ mind and she closed her eyelids to try to catch it. The girl had such a sweet face, had so much trust in the people caring for her, and Jules had been the one to let that all fall to pieces.

“It’s just more important than I thought it was, family,” Jules shrugged. This was veering dangerously close to talk of Celeste and the gang, essentially Jules’ mortal enemies. They had only wanted children for the trend and the status. Or whatever. Jules had no idea where their minds were when it was decided; her parents didn’t even like each other.

"I don't think you'd be a terrible mother." Flynn replied. If Audrey could be a good mother, Jules certainly could. "It might not come easy, but I think you could do it."  He thought about Jules' patient. So seeing that child and the way her parents loved her awakened a desire to have a child.

What, did she want his sperm or something? Merlin, he hoped that wasn't the case.

Her newfound desire to become a mother surprised (and terrified)  him-- rather, experiences of that made him worry. What if he ever had a child, and they died such a premature death?  These were gloomier thoughts than he would have liked to have on New Year's.

"Family is important." He agreed. His family was close, he loved the Peppers and the Hughes dearly. "I'm glad to have mine." They were a ridiculous bunch, but things were rarely boring around them.

Jules stiffened when Flynn told her she would make a good mother, even as one of the kittens adorably rubbed his head against her hand, demanding to be stroked. Flynn's assessment made the confession feel all too realistic, and she hadn't really given more than a few passing thoughts to it. As a woman the topic had of course come up; it wasn't a common topic of conversation among Jules and her acquaintances. Most people could figure out that children were not part of Jules Deville's life plan. Not the original one, anyway. She clenched her jaw, but tried to ease up. If she could pass this off as a casual, random thought, then it was possible that Flynn wouldn't bring this up once she was fully sober.

"I am good at many things, Flynn," Jules eventually responded, slurs ever present. "But being motherly is not one of them." She picked at the take-away in front of her, no longer feeling as ravenous as she had been when she ordered the food. "Family is important. ... I'm glad to have mine." Jules' eyes remained focused on the fingers wrapped round the fork that was poking at the remnants of her curry. She wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to respond to Flynn's comment.

So she shrugged, then looked back up. "Not in my experience," she added vaguely. Jules' face expressed her deep discomfort with the sensitive conversation, showed that she was racking her brain for a topic change. Of course now was the time that she couldn't push this Baby Fever to the back of her mind.