#( 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘚 ) ── * . ˚ ( 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘺 )

[introvrt]

── you'd think after so many years, darcy would be better at this kind of thing. running on maia's schedule, helping her with the history homework (or trying to, typically failing to), getting her to and from whatever extracurricular activities she'd decided to take up that week, that day. but somehow, with maia now at age ten, he hadn't managed to get any better; he's still scrambling to keep up, to remember what day it is, really, and to then remember that, oh yeah, today is the day her class partner is coming over to work on their project. he's only reminded of said fact when there's a knock at the door, one that he answers in surprise, and then confusion, and then... realization. "oh." that's all he says, at first, an eloquent greeting, before he takes a half-step back and pulls on a smile that he hopes is convincing. "hi, hi you must be... mattie? mattie's dad?" he'll admit, the short brunette on his doorstep that looks hardly any older than him is not what he'd been expecting. "come in. she's getting set up at the table, i think." at least the place wasn't a total wreck. @dialsdrnk

[introvrt]

── darcy laughs, really laughs, at the look on mathias' face. and it's not in a way that's insulting, in a way that makes it seem like he's laughing at mathias ─ even though he is. darcy isn't really capable of something like that, making fun at someone else's expense; he's laughing at the joke, at his own joke, already sending the re-made drink (egg whites exempt) across the counter, plucking the gin fizz from mathias' hands. "should ask what a drink is before you get me to make it, matty." this is a light scold, no true scolding to be found in it, as he dunks the gin fizz down the drain (clearly unafraid to waste it), tipping back around to face mathias again as he answers. as mathias sips his new drink darcy takes a sip from his own, a large one, not for the same reason ─ mathias wants to loosen himself up, and darcy is just ready to unwind. "mm... just haven't been interested, really. and it's not like i'm not already busy enough, with maia and work." this isn't a total lie; he is busy, and he has, really, not been all that interested in trying to find new dates. "i'm happy with what i've got." this is closer to the truth, what he's got being a whole lot more than just his sister and his job, including also the man at his side, who he's nodding to follow him back into the living room. he doesn't say anything to mathias' own reply until he's dropping back down onto the sofa, a little closer to the middle cushion than he'd been earlier, not giving mathias' as much free space to sit away from him, legs spread just enough so their knees'll be forced to bump. "why's that?" he asks with an arched brow and a tilt of his head, arms folded over his middle as he slouches back, drink abandoned on the table. "why're you turning them down, i mean?"

it never failed to shock him - the ease with which darcy seemed to move around with, how he always seemed to have something clever to say, how he was always so easily handsome, without having to pay any attention to himself. compared with himself, mathias couldn't begin to bridge the gap between how he felt about darcy (there was more than a little bit of idolization) and how he felt about himself; he could rarely even begin to understand why darcy would do something as simple as this - making him a drink. "that i am - a lucky man, i mean." he never would have referred to himself as such before darcy; luck had never been something that he had known or expected. he's really... barely paying attention to the movements that darcy's going through as he makes his drink, too caught up in the fact that he had called him sweetheart, rolling the word around in his head, committing it to memory like its something he would never hear again, "yeah, thanks." its mumbled idly, not really meant to be responded to. though confusion takes over his face when darcy gets out... egg whites? his face is one of utter confusion as the egg whites are frothed and added to the drink, still frozen when darcy slides the drink to him, looking from the glass to darcy's face, "i don't want a drink... with eggs." he hates to ask for another drink right after, but darcy was already making new ones (because of course he was). this drink, mathias took much more eagerly, bringing the glass to his lips almost immedaitely, needing to feel a bit looser, especially as their conversation continued, "no - don't need any tips, not really." his eyebrow raises, "not looking? why?" he clears his throat, his bright eyes settling on darcy's dark ones, "no, i've been... turning them down lately." since i met you.

[introvrt]

── "yeah, you're right, it shouldn't." if he's starting to sound a little frustrated, that's because he is; and this is a rarity for someone like darcy, someone so understanding, so slow to outbursts. and this isn't an outburst, not in any technical sense, but it's definitely a way he isn't accustomed to feeling, especially where robin is concerned. his eyes haven't strayed from robin's face through the entire conversation, from the moment they'd ducked into the back of the cab until now, but all of that changes as robin continues. voice softer, downcast, a rhetorical question directed at his lap. a rhetorical question that is then followed by a very real one, one darcy is meant to answer, one that has his hand pushing up from his lap to instead wipe over his face, card through his hair. "of course i do." he says it very matter-of-fact, earnest, head ducking forward a little as if pressing the words into the air between them, tighter. "you... i mean, you know that. you know i do. don't i show you?" he's doing that thing he does, where he over-worries, trips into the territory of thinking that maybe he'd been disappointing robin for far longer than he'd realized. "keeping our shit private doesn't suddenly mean i'm not serious about you. i am." eyebrows knit, lips pressed, he repeats the words. "i am."

"it shouldn't matter," he murmurs then and only whilst under the influence would he ever find the confidence or drive to admit to those fears that fill his abdomen, often lying there; unstirred, unmoving. yet now - he finds that they are attacking every inch of his system. nipping and biting and threatening to rip him apart inch by inch. robin hadn't ever had a real relationship before, he hadn't ever liked anyone the way he liked darcy. he didn't know what was normal or expected, but he figured it wasn't this exactly. "but it does matter, doesn't it?" it's spoken gently, barely above a whisper. he doesn't want to rock the boat and cause a fight or a scene, but he can't help the thought that it must matter a bit, or a lot, for them to have to shy away the way that they do. he understands the reasoning of course, he wouldn't want their break up to cause any collateral damage for anyone else, least of all darcy's family, but he doesn't see how dancing in the middle of a crowded room will cause that. how his family will find out about that. "do you even like me - like that?" he mentions then, referring to the idea of them being more than what they are; on being an open couple, a relationship he is able to talk about.

[introvrt]

── "maia does that." this comment interrupts their already-in-progress conversation, the words leaving darcy's lips unintentionally. his gaze has drifted away from regan's face and down to his hands, instead, eyeing the way he's arranging the fruit gummies across the counter, color by color. he doesn't know the exactly logic behind it (if they're in order of preference, backwards preference, or some other system), but the similarity has him smiling anyway. "purple's last for her, though. best for last." he continues as he tears open his own packet and plucks one of the gummies from its confines, popping it in his mouth; a purple one. he takes a sip from his glass after their cheersing, his sip a little longer than regan's had been, listening as the brunette answers his questions. he doesn't mean to pry (despite being a naturally curious person), but he does really want to know about their situation, how someone else came to be in the same position as him ─ or, he soon realizes, the same situation times two. ...times two, plus. "how many more?" is the first response he offers, attention now completely removed from the gummies and returned to regan's face, swiveled on his bar stool to face the other man completely. it'd be a little intimidating, probably, someone of darcy's size, his entire focus set on you ─ if he weren't darcy. "ah... four years, now? or, four years we've been on our own, since we moved here. same as you, though, i've been raising her for her whole life." he nods, the motion a dip of his head, one shoulder shrugging. it's a little jarring, meeting someone who can relate to their circumstances so wholly, but jarring in a... good way? a way that gives him some acknowledgement he hadn't known he needed, before now. "do you live anywhere around here?" his eyebrows raise. "we haven't been here long, mai's not got that many new friends yet, figured i'd ask."

"god, i know. tell me about it." if there's one crowd regan never knows what to do about, it's PTA moms. it's difficult enough being a sibling who stands in as a parent — and totally ostracizing when you have nothing in common with a bunch of older women giving you the eyes, be it lustfully or suspiciously ( in his case, usually the latter ). regan follows suit and copies him, lifting himself onto the bar stool next to him and laughing two more times — once at the remark about class, to which he mumbles a "class. please. you're funny," and rolls his eyes light-heartedly; but in a way that's very clear that he found it funny, charming even — and then a little heartier at the poptart inventory recollection. "you never know what exact flavor you're gonna need, right? i respect it," he's saying half-absently as he's pulling open the fruit gummy snack, then arranging them in a line on the counter in front of him, in the order he wants to eat them: purple, purple, red, red, red, orange, orange — best for last. he's got them all in a row and he's popping that first grape and chasing it with the wine handed to him. he does, however, pause to clink his glass with darcy's. the question that comes next doesn't surprise him, and it really doesn't bother him either; as finicky as he can be about certain information about himself, this is a scenario that poses little threat. and... yes, he did pause to think about it and acknowledge that mentally before deciding to answer, but darcy's demeanor is enough of a green light that it doesn't require too much suspicious staring. "oh, just her whole life." it's a quick answer at first, followed by a long sip. this wine is good, man; a sentiment that his face says in a reactive expression before he continues to talk. "i was... eighteen? when she was born. twenty-eight now. got official guardianship of her and our fourteen year old brother, sawyer, that same year but i'd been his not-dad since he was born, too. just way less officially." from the way he's saying it, it sounds like he's explained it a thousand times. he has. he's even swishing his drink a little, looking into the red liquid with pursed lips. "...and i have more siblings, but same-ish story for 'em all. what about you guys? how long's it just been you two?"

[introvrt]

── mathias gets more comfortable and so darcy does too, the two of them slumped closer together, in one another's space despite the over-sized sofa. mathias says those three magic words, i can stay, and the smile that breaches darcy's face is instant, and unabashedly wide. he parts his jaws to say good, or ask what he wants to drink, but then mathias is continuing on, and darcy's brown rise. more than one drink, and offer to not just stay longer but to actually stay, stay the night. he's surprised but he doesn't show it, and as mathias' gaze drifts self-consciously away from his, darcy's stays right on target. "no, no way," he starts off, head shaking, just to poke at mathias a little bit, before his lips are curling into a smile that has at some point turned teasing. "no way you're staying on the couch. we have a spare room." a sly smile grows into a full-on grin as darcy pushes back up from the couch and waves his way back towards the kitchen, some rummaging through a liquor cabinet able to be heard in the moments after. "i've got... beers, in the fridge? whiskey, gin, tequila. i can mix you something." his head pokes out from around the corner, a wide glass of whiskey already tipped to his own mouth, a smile against the rim. "since you're making me waffles, i mean."

a fond smile tugs at the corners of his lips, allowing himself to believe for a moment that darcy was right; that maia preferred him, that somehow he had worked his way into having a family, something he had given up on so long ago that it was a strange feeling now that he had it in his sights. but he let himself hope, because maia did get excited when she saw him, darcy was asking him to stay longer, they both wanted him here. and when his head tipped to face darcy, it felt like the weight on his chest was lifted, so yeah, he let himself hope for a bit, "oh, you know that's not true. she couldn't love anyone more than you." his torso tips closer, head pressing back into the cushions as he looked up at darcy, "i can stay - i'm off this weekend." and he knew that this was pushing his luck because his heart started to race, scared that darcy would turn him down, scared that he would change his mind about wanting him to stay, "maybe... more than one drink? i can crash on the couch." he cleared his throat, eyes shifting away nervously for a moment before returning to darcy's, "i make some mean waffles."

[introvrt]

── darcy has a habit of humming while he does the dishes, but only on these particular nights of the week. his mind is somewhere else - somewhere just one room over, nestled in the cushions of a too-new-to-be-worn-in couch - as he tucks the last plate into the rack and clicks the dishwasher door closed, moving back through the apartment to reach said couch. he's got that same soft smile on, the one he's been wearing since mathias had shown up right on time, maia squealing like she hadn't just seen him last weekend. his jaws part to say something but he's stopped, mathias beating him to it, darcy's mouth shifting to curve down at the corners, and then his head shakes. "you know she likes you better than me, right?" he asks, rhetorically, that frown quirking right back up into something playful as his elbow gently nudges the other man's ribs. "if anybody's intruding, it's me. seriously - no thanks needed." there's a small pause, and he slouches a little, pressed back into the cushions. "you need to head out soon? or, i could grab us drinks if you've got time to stay?"

for someone who felt like he had lacked a home for so long that he had forgotten what home could feel like, it was beyond easy to slip into feeling like he had one when he was with darcy and maia. it was another one of those nights - darcy had invited him over for dinner, maia had made some casserole that mathias had stuffed his face with even though he didn't particularly like it; now maia had gone to bed, darcy was finishing the dishes in the kitchen and he was lounging comfortably on the couch, the tv droning on in the background, but mathias wasn't listening to it. he was listening to darcy in the kitchen, the dishes clanging together as he put them away, the water turning off, the sound of his bare feet against the hardwoods as he joined mathias on the couch. it almost felt like something out of a movie, with the soft glow of the christmas tree in the corner, "thanks for invitin' me over - again. always feel like i'm intrudin' just a bit." @introvrt

[introvrt]

── at the question about judging, mathias gets a playful raise of hands in surrender, darcy's lips pulling at the corners. "you're right, you're right ─ you're a very lucky man, having me around to make them for you." he's all but grinning now, especially as mathias tips towards him (not deterring him from his position, by the way, despite how close they are) and makes his decision: a gin fizz. he wants to make a face, wants to grimace, but he doesn't, for the sake of the surprise. "coming right up, sweetheart," he says instead, and goes with pulling out all of the ingredients. he'll be nice, though, and go ahead and make two drinks ─ assuming mathias won't actually want the first one. he's making himself a vodka sour, which is what he'll give mathias too... after this. he makes a show of pouring things into the shaker, dumping in the ice, shaking, pouring into the cup, and then, well. he ducks into the fridge for the egg whites, froths them in a cup (without looking over at mathias to see his face, too afraid he'll laugh). he layers the froth on top and then slides it over on the counter, only then meeting his eyes. "one gin fizz." his eyebrows raise innocently, teeth biting into the inside of his lower lip to try and hold his expression. but then, of course, he laughs, and doesn't waste much time in preparing their vodka sours (essentially the same drink, substitute vodka, minus the egg). he pauses as he's pouring the syrup into the glasses to glance up again at mathias' question. "why, you need some tips?" he asks at first, a joke, before he's shaking his head. "no... no, no good dates. no dates at all, really ─ haven't been looking." that's almost honest; the full truth is that he hasn't felt the need to look. he's got just about everything he needs, right here. "you?"

"why do i feel like you're judging me?" he didn't and it was clear from the teasing in his voice, "imagine me working out six days a week and then wasting precious carbs on beer when i have you to mix a drink for me?" and there was the real reason. darcy was at his core a caretaker, and mathias had never had anyone really care about him - not since his parents passed away. his aunt had only cared as long as the money was around; wanting nothing to do with him after and while he no longer had issues with money - there was something about someone caring about him, no string attached, expecting nothing from him other than care in return, held a special place in his heart. his heart flutters in his chest as darcy dips closer in towards him and he dips forwards a little bit, teasing, balancing on his toes, until darcy pulls back, a tight smile on his lips, "oh - i've never had a gin fizz before. impress me." leaning casually (or an attempt to) against the counter, he (attempted to) smirk at darcy, "ah, i'd prefer to not have to lie to you, so maybe another topic of conversation. like...," he cleared his throat, gaze shifting away to the ground, "have any good dates or anything lately?" was this his way of asking if darcy was single? absolutely.

[introvrt]

── darcy is playing translator to someone who is far too drunk right now, and so that statement, "not all the time," translates in his mind: "yes, sometimes." and he frowns at that, the idea that robin had been so unhappy and had somehow hidden it the entire time, only letting it come out now that he'd had too much to drink. robin clarifies afterward, confirms his thoughts, before pushing on, and darcy swallows, hard. he's a heartfelt person, an open book, but that doesn't make him any better at conversations like these. he's in touch with his feelings, sure, and he feels them hard, but commitment is still touchy for him. "it won't." he says this with certainty, squeezing the hand of robin's that he's taken hostage, head dipping a little closer to try and ensure that he keeps their eyes held. "it won't be forever. you mean more to me than that, too, yeah? i promise." what he doesn't promise is when this whole charade will end, when he'll finally be more open about this, and he knows that's wrong, keeping robin on his toes, desperate for something that isn't even in sight, yet. "i mean, does it... really matter? what other people think?" now he sounds defensive, his free hand rubbing over the back of his neck.

the touch is surprising yet disarming, his smile gentle and appreciative as he looks towards his secret lover. robin didn't want what they had to come to an end, it was the furthest from his wanrs or needs. yet, he struggled to conceal those concerns and thoughts that had twisted their way around his mind, his heart and ribcage. more often than not, he was capable of ignoring them, but the moment that alcohol touched his lips, it seemed as though it infected every last thought and feeling, causing a deep, visceral need to vocalise them. "not all the time," he frowns, his own gaze studying darcy's face, struggling due to the blur that seems to cover his eyes. "only sometimes," it's added on for further clarification. lips part, as if more is going to fall, then they purse - only to part once again. "sometimes it feels like it's going to be this way forever, and that - when i see other couples being all..." happy, proud, open, "...it scares me. you-you mean more to me than that, darcy..."

[introvrt]

── "right... right, too many carbs." darcy isn't really a beer drinker either, not because he doesn't like it (he does), but because he likes mixing drinks more. his years as a bartender through college (undergrad and and grad school) ended up sticking, and it's not only a skill but a hobby, one of the many small things he likes to do to show his appreciation for the people in his life. he has money now, which he often spends on other people too, but having grown up without it he's still money-conscious, conscious of throwing it around in the form of gifts. so he does things like this, instead - small, meaningful. "pick your poison then, hm?" he hums after mathias joins him in the kitchen, tipping his head over so they're closer to eye level for a moment or two, darcy tugging open his liquor drawer along the bar. "gin fizz? bloody mary?" his fingers tap over the different-colored lids of the bottles, one eyebrow quirked. "and then we can just... pile up on the couch for a while. turn on a movie, or talk. talk about how good maia's casserole of the week was." spoiler: it wasn't. at all.

the smile that is instantly on darcy's lips - thats the real reason that mathias had to quickly attached himself to darcy; mathias found that kind of happiness too hard to come by to be able to give it up. and tonight, it could feel it growing around him, wrapping around him, and making him feel safe. the atmosphere was too warm, too homey - and it was one hundred percent because of darcy's energy. he's home - the thought was instant, almost overwhelming, and one that he had so many times before, but had been able to ignore because he hadn't trusted him. mouth drops open, to cover up the embarrassment from darcy's initial refusal, "oh, i unde-," but darchy was instead offering him the spare room and he laughed, almost awkwardly, a hand rubbing over his chin, "well - who am i to turn down a bed over a couch." this time, mathias rises from the couch, following darcy into the kitchen once he pokes his head back around the corner, figuring he might as well put in some of the effort before the waffles that were definitely being made for maia, not darcy, "you know i'm not much of a beer drinker - too many carbs." he rubs his stomach, chuckling; it was only half true - he wasn't much of a beer drinker. the real reason? it never failed to make him feel special when darcy went through the effort of mixing a drink for him.

[introvrt]

── regan catches his hand and darcy's smile tips a little wider, tongue poking at one of his canines. he shakes it, gently, before retracting his own and continuing is trek across the room as soon as regan flicks his gaze away. darcy isn't really someone that reads people (not that he can't, he just doesn't ever think to, not unless faced with some sort of serious situation) so the bashfulness is lost on him, the fact that he has that effect on people also lost. "yeah, me neither─ it's nice. puts me out of my misery with PTA moms." his tone's a little more teasing at that, eyebrows raising as he hears the girls caterwauling in the next room, though really, he hardly bats an eye. "not fruit and wine, fruit gummies and wine. he's got class." the teasing tone stays as he rummages around in his friends and does, in the next second, pull out a bottle of wine (cheap, weak, d'asti), and then reach up with the opposite hand to swipe two wine glasses out of the cabinet. he rambles as he pours, bottle tipped into one glass and then the next. "maia's that way with poptarts; we have like every flavor of poptart known to man, in there." his head nods towards the pantry before he's turning back around, now holding out a wine glass towards his guest─ regan. afterward he's shifting to sit on one of the bar stools, the two packets of gummies left on the counter between the chairs. "so... you been her not-dad long?" he asks, tone of voice hopefully betraying that he isn't prying, just trying to make older-brother-raising-a-preteen conversation.

— "oh." ... guess it's his turn to be a man of eloquence? maybe, maybe — it's just that regan expected darcy to say it was just the two of them even less than he'd been to meet someone his age at this door, and it feels like the wrong thing to smile at ( given the implications are anywhere from our parents are dead to our parents suck, like his do ), even though he kind of wants to. but the guy's smiling, so he mirrors it anyway. trailing behind him, regan keeps his head down as he walks and he's about to make a joke about how that's all he eats anyway — which is absolutely true, that is all he eats, kid-food garbage — when his footsteps stutter and a hand is held out to him. now he's smiling for real, reaching his hand to wrap around darcy's and shake it; firmly, good grip. "it's nice to meet you too, darcy. i don't think i've actually met another... brother-dad, so —" his head keeps tipping down as he talks, eyes scanning darcy's face for all of a few seconds before a bashfulness he doesn't claim takes over and he has to avert to the floor again. gaze still on the floor, his eyebrows raise. there's two more girl-screeches in the background, and he winces with a smile. "...i could go for a combo of wine, if you've got it, and fruit gummies, honestly. are they welches? i love those. the gummies. we have like, a nuclear bunker level of those stockpiled at home."

[introvrt]

── darcy wouldn't say he was angry (he rarely ever is), but he is frustrated, he is buzzed, and when robin opens his mouth, starts speaking, he's also confused. brows dip over slightly-bleary eyes and he shifts in the backseat of the taxi so he's propped more against the door, tipped to face robin. "you-" he starts, mouth opening and then closing again, giving himself a chance to try and straighten out his thoughts. his eyes are momentarily on his lap, and when he glances back up he sees the tears, his resolve slips. "we talked about this. we... agreed it was better to keep things just between us," he tries to reason, his head dipping to try and catch robin's gaze again. "you're changing your mind now?"

loosely based on: cruel summer ( closed starter for @introvrt ) our muses have been sneaking around together behind the backs of their friendship group/respective friendship groups all summer and robin had hoped that it would lead to a more serious situation - but that doesn't seem to be happening yet.

robin sawyer had always been a cheap date and complete lightweight. in this instance he'd allowed his sadness to overwhelm him and drive his decisions - downing more shots and spirits than he would on a usual night. somehow he'd found himself in the back of a taxi with them, drunk but not drunk enough not to recognise that they were probably more than likely angry at him. at least, that's what he'd concluded. "--i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you." he murmurs then, tears burning his eyes, even as he tries to bite down at his bottom lip - a futile attempt to keep them at bay.

[introvrt]

── darcy winces a little at the first words, the accusation, thrown back at him, partly because... it's true. keeping their relationship a secret is largely for his benefit ─ the benefit of his little sister, maia (who he's raising), not getting attached to anyone else; the benefit of not fully letting someone else in, just to end up pushing them back out again, as he so often does. he'd been under the impression that robin was reaping the benefits to, of keeping their situation hidden, but the sharp tang of bitterness to his words now brings darcy to believe otherwise. he's quiet, his brows knit in thought, when robin speaks up again and his reaction is instant. "no─ no, that's not it," he says quickly, one of his hands shooting out on instinct, grabbing robin's, holding it too tightly for him to tug away. "i'm not ashamed of us, or... you, or any of this." he's frowning. "i promise, that's not it." he studies robin's face for the next few beats, looking him over, trying to decipher how much of this was honesty and how much of it was just the booze. "...are you that unhappy? with this?"

"better for us or for you?" the question falls in earnest, but it's impossible to ignore the hint of bitterness that touches his tone. he winces over the sourness of it, shifting to face darcy a little better; cheek nestled against the carseat. robin has a list inside of his mind of pros and cons, as to whether keeping them a secret is a good, secure choice. the majority of the time, there's a balance between both sides, but after a night of downing bottles, and watching writhe bodies touching all night long, it's safe to say envy had taken control, wanting nothing more than a regular, average, known relationship within that moment. "if you're ashamed of this - us...." me. "---why'd you even want it to continue anyway?"

[introvrt]

── "oh, whoa, incoming." darcy says the words lightly, as a blur of a figure that he can assume is mattie shoots through the doorway and past his legs, shouting for maia soon after who can be heard just... well, screeching in reply. his attention shifts back to the man in the doorway as he speaks, apologizes, and darcy is already shaking his head before he's even finished. "maia's probably worse." this is his version of declaring that no apology is needed, that there's nothing he hasn't seen before; and that's close to true, honestly. the kid gives him a run for his money just about every day. darcy shifts behind regan and nudges the door closed with his heel, repeating his elegantly-put greeting in answer, here: "oh." at least this time he offers a little bit of elaboration, after. "brother, right, okay." darcy hadn't met very many of the other parents in maia's classes, and he definitely hadn't met any other non-parental guardians, so to say his interest was peaked is an understatement. "nope. no- brother too, actually. also a kind of dad, it's just us two." he offers a smile, a gentle one, and without asking any other prying questions, he moves past regan and deeper into the house, waving his hands. "maia's set everything up in the dining room? we can sit at the bar in the kitchen, if you want. you want a drink? or... most of my snacks are kids' snacks, so i've got cheezits and fruit gummies if you want those." it takes him a second, already halfway into the kitchen before he pauses and tips back around, holding out a hand between them. "sorry. darcy. nice to meet you, regan, mattie's kind-of dad."

— to say that regan is tense is an understatement, and it's one of particularly high caliber. here's the thing: he forgot about this, which is not like him. regan beauvais does not forget when one of the kids needs to go somewhere, because the second he does — the second he slacks at anything — everything falls apart. he stands with mattie fidgeting at his side, his hand reeling her in by the shoulder like she's a feral dog about to be unleashed ( this sounds awful but in his defense, she totally is exactly that, bouncing in place, shaking like a chihuahua ), and all he can think about is how now he's going to have to text his sitter to go pick up charlie from dance, and then beg sawyer to please, please, please feed her while they're out, and to forgive him, and to make sure they both do their homework, and — ... the door opening serves as a shift back to reality out of the worry dome. regan's eyes widen, not particularly expecting someone so his age to answer, and his mouth opens to give a quiet greeting back, a "uh, hey, ye—" that barely exits his lips before mattie is rushing out of his grip, into the house, and screaming maia's name as she runs to go find her. regan's mouth snaps shut and his gaze bores into his feet like he's staring into a thousand hells, but after a few moments, he just exhales. stepping into the place with far more ginger a demeanor, regan's eyes shift with worry to the direction mattie bounded off in, then settle back on darcy. immediately, his expression is apologetic, if not downright sheepish. "sorry, she's..." cue a gesture with his hand, vague, supposed to mean a handful without saying as much. "i'm regan, her brother. guardian, too... so, kind of dad, yeah." as he talks, his eyes don't quite meet the much, much taller man's; at least, not at first. somewhere around the last syllable of what he says, he peers up at him. " what about you, are you maia's dad?"