Work Text:
Steven Grant could feel someone staring at him long before the woman entered his check-out line.
He didn’t dare look away from whatever customer he had in front of him. Donna was still watching him like a hawk these days, even though weeks had passed since he – well, since Jake, surprisingly – had appealed their case to the higher-ups. It had been his way of apologizing. Sorry again I hid myself for years and killed a bunch of people and also maybe fucked an Egyptian god while you guys were on the outs with him. Can I interest you in a customer service job?
The gaggle of kids, treats in hand, had barely cleared the mat when the woman stepped up to the counter.
Dark eyes, heavily shaded with deep yellow eyeshadow, pierced him more effectively than javelins. She had a strong, sharp nose that contrasted greatly with her round cheeks and soft chin. The faintest wrinkles scored her forehead. The imprint of deep red feathers designed her long dress. She stood a few centimeters shorter than Steven but carried herself with a ramrod straight spine and regal shoulders. A pale double circlet sat just below her dark hairline, disappearing into the curls on either side of her face.
She didn’t place anything down on the counter. Just looked at him. Like she knew him.
“Are you… here to talk to Donna?” Steven broached.
“Steven Grant.” Her voice was cool. Softer than Steven expected.
His heart stuttered. She wasn’t dressed like some woman who’d just wandered into a museum on her day off. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong enough to attract any attention from corporate. Maybe mislabeled a few products. Maybe gotten inventory a little off. Unless Marc or Jake had—
“I’m sorry about bothering you, I was just curious.”
Marc had picked up on his distress. Steven did his best to mentally bat him away without taking his eyes off the woman. It was a moment later that her words caught up to him and it did little to assuage Marc. “Sorry?”
‘Ask her how she knows you,’ Marc demanded.
‘Go away.’
“Do I know you?” Steven asked.
‘She’s weird,’ Marc insisted.
‘You said you wouldn’t bother me at work. You promised.’
That was enough to make Marc slink back. Just a bit. It made it a little easier to breathe, had his head feeling a little less full.
“It’s fine, love.” She had an easy smile, modest but warm. “I am bothering you at work, I know. I have to admit, I was curious about this place as well.” She cast a glance around. “Gummy scorpions? Don’t remember having those back then.”
“Yeah, no.” Then, “Remember?”
Her dark eyes, rimmed in that thick black make-up, widened. She had leaned closer and Steven could see the creases at the edge. “Oh, dear, I haven’t introduced myself. My bad. I’m Mut. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”
Before Steven could process that, she had reached across the counter to take his hand, resting on the glass, into hers. She had desert-hot skin, palms devoid of scars or callouses. A brilliant golden ring, thick and shining, weighted her finger. A silver charm bracelet jingled on her wrist. The tiny charms clicked against the counter, sterling silver against flecked grey – one feather, one curling horn, one crescent moon.
“Mut,” Steven echoed.
‘A goddess?’ Marc said. Steven could feel Jake rousing, the smallest flick of consciousness in the back of his skull. It would only take him a moment, a single blink, to push his way to the front and call Khonshu down. ‘The hell does she want with us?’
“You’re Khonshu’s mother.”
For once, his head felt incredibly, absurdly silent.
‘…Mother,’ Marc finally said. ‘Khonshu has a mother?’
A brilliant smile overtook Mut’s face. She had such warm, human features, a matriarchal air about her; it was hard to imagine she had any relation to Khonshu. “You know! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, working in a place like this. You probably know all about us. Well, some of it, at least.” She leaned in a little more. “Let me tell you, the family dinners are really something else. Probably best that none of that ends up in the textbooks, yeah?” And then she winked.
Jake hadn’t said anything, but Steven could feel him at the edge of his consciousness. He was still working on not freaking out whenever Jake crept forward. He was still in control. Khonshu had not appeared in a flurry of wind and sand. And he knew if Jake had called, Khonshu would be there in an instant.
“Family… dinners?”
If his voice sounded a little more like Marc’s, then Mut didn’t notice. “Of course, dear! I try to get everyone together for a bit whenever I can, but it’s hard these days. Everyone just has so much going on, you know? No time to come ’round Mum’s temple for dinner anymore.”
“Sorry about that?” Steven offered.
Mut waved a hand. “Oh, it’s no fault of yours, love. Really, I’ve been waiting for Khonshu to just mention you for a while now, but he’s still smarting about being grounded, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
Exiled, Khonshu had said. Cast out, he had said. Grounded, his mother said.
‘That overdramatic fuck,’ Marc said.
Steven cleared his throat. Tried not to think about how red his face must be, because Marc had said that thinking about it only made it worse. “Yes, well, I imagine Khonshu has had quite a few avatars over the millennia. Probably not worth going through all those introductions for a few humans.”
Mut gave him a severely unimpressed look. “Dear, I’m the matriarch of my entire pantheon. You think I don’t know when my only son is seeing someone?”
‘You lie like shit,’ Marc said.
‘Maybe Khonshu lied like shit!’ Steven retorted.
‘Khonshu is a shit,’ Jake stated.
Aloud, Steven could barely muster, “You know about that?”
Mut’s face softened in an instant. “I know my son better than he knows the night sky. He can scoff and sneer as much as he wants, I know a front when I see one. He tries, but he’s as transparent now as he was when he was knee-high.”
That piqued Marc’s interest. ‘Steven. Steven. Gods gotta have some sort of baby album set up. I need that baby album.’
Steven allowed a small laugh. “Hard to imagine that pigeon as anything but what he is now. ’Course, you raised him. Was that after Amaunet left? Or was there some sort of custody agreement there?”
She smiled. “Oh, I like you.”
‘Amaunet?’ broached Marc. ‘Is this you being a nerd? Should I know this stuff?’
“I consider myself his mother,” Mut non-answered. “Amaunet kept to herself when she was with Amun and she keeps to herself now. Khonshu, he’s always stuck close to me and his father. He was such a curious child. Heart-first into everything, my Khonshu.”
‘Heart-first’ wasn’t the descriptor Steven would have used, but, “That sounds like Khonshu.”
She laughed. “Oh, yes. Remind me, I have to tell you about him and one of the Ptolemy boys! He was so—”
“Stevie!”
Steven winced.
Mut’s eyebrows lifted as she turned around. She didn’t seem taken aback at the sight of Donna, with her hands on her hips, cheeks beginning to redden and jaw working tight in a way that warned Steven a real row was about to take place.
“Last I checked,” Donna said, stepping up to the counter, “you were meant to be ringing up the customers, not gossiping.”
Steven’s mouth had gone dry. He wondered if she could get away with writing him up for this. If the higher-ups would bother looking twice at the report once they saw his name on their desk again. If—
“Oh, that’s my bad.” Mut rested a hand on Steven’s shoulder. “I was just so pleased to see Steven here, I had to stop and speak to him for a moment. Such a wonderful lad, isn’t he?”
Donna’s lips pursed. “You know Stevie?”
Mut laughed. “Know him? My son is over the moon with Steven! I intended to finally wrangle him into a family dinner, since my boy seems to have forgotten to introduce him properly to his dear old mother.”
“Your son?” Donna looked at Steven, and Steven could practically see her lips forming the name Dylan.
“My only,” Mut said, “so you see why I’m so overbearing about it.”
“Mm-hmm. Last I heard, Stevie was stringing along some girl in tour guides.” One of Donna’s eyebrows twitched up.
Mut tutted. “Steven and my son have known each other for quite some time. Unfortunately, my son isn’t the best with words or feelings.” Mut cast Steven another wink. “That’s why he needs Steven to set him straight, right?”
“…Steven.” Donna’s voice was blank.
“What was it you called him? Stevie?” Mut looked between them. “That’s a sweet little nickname. What do you think of it, love?”
Steven never imagined he’d have the mother goddess of a pantheon asking him about what nicknames he’d liked to be called. All because they’d all three somehow gotten tangled up in a relationship with a moon god. How is one even supposed to respond to that? When a primordial goddess who could smite you without twitching her pinkie finger asks you about nicknames?
He mustered, “You can call me whatever you like, ma’am.”
Mut shook her head. “Please, love, just call me Mum.”
At once, Marc shrunk back, and Steven felt himself falter, and Jake surged in to fill the void, like this was something he could fix by punching away. There was an all-around sense of uneasiness. Marc was silent. Jake was just ready, but Jake was always just ready.
Steven cleared his throat. “That’s— very kind of you.”
And she did have a kind smile, and warm eyes, and a sweet voice, and all the other things mums are supposed to have. And for a moment, Steven wanted what Khonshu had. What he had gotten to enjoy for millennia. And he wondered if that could be possible, if Khonshu would share this, if Khonshu even knew about this talk or what it meant to their system.
Mut squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll have to get back to you about that family dinner, once I manage to corral the rest of the family. You’ll have to wish me luck, yes?”
“Um,” Steven said, while Marc sang a litany of ‘no, no, no, absolutely not—’, “yeah, I will.”
“Great!” Mut’s smile was contagious, despite Marc’s groaning and Jake’s seething.
“Right,” Donna drawled. She fixed a glare on Steven. “Don’t forget you’re on the clock.”
“Of course!” said Mut. “I didn’t mean to bother him for long. He’s a great employee. So focused! And just wonderful with the children. I always did hope for grandchildren.”
Steven spluttered. Donna, with a half-hearted snort, had turned away again.
“Sorry, dear,” Mut said, once she was out of earshot. “I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble.”
“No, no.” Steven shook his head. Curls fell into his face. He hoped it covered the still-present red of— well, his entire face at this point. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to do this.” He gestured between them. Her head tilted. “Talk to gods, I mean. Other than Khonshu. Well, even Khonshu sometimes, really.”
“Oh, love.” She grasped his hand again. “We’re family.”
He huffed. “I’m just some human. An avatar, at best. You, you’re— you’re Mut. I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent reading about you. You’re a goddess.”
She batted his hand. “Steven, you flatterer! You are most definitely my favorite. My Khonshu made a good choice, picking you.” Her tone, though jovial, came with an air of finality. Steven couldn’t dare to argue with it.
“He has his moments of brilliance,” Steven conceded.
“Every now and then.” Mut’s eyes twinkled. “I hope he has another soon. It’d be a shame if he let the best thing that ever happened to him slip away.”
The proximity sensor at the entrance to the gift shop buzzed as a group of families, fresh from tour, shambled in. Steven drew back from the counter. Mut straightened back into her regal posture, eyes half-watching the people prod at plushies and paperweights. She stepped aside as children rushed to peer through the bags of candy at the register.
Steven called, “If you tell him that to his face, I’ll owe you for the rest of time.”
“Owe me!” She laughed as she walked away. “Go ahead and clear the ledger, then. I intend to get those grandchildren, Steven Grant!”