#I just realized that both Link and Allen are really young fathers o well

[howardlinkedin]

Group Project: Part 4

Running Title: Group Project. Part 4 Part 3: Here Part 5:  Here Sequel to Shelter Summary: Link starts a food fight and Cross is really good at his job, but at the same time isn’t. Featuring: Phantom Thief G and how Kanda went to the dogs. 

The second time little Timothy tried to help his Papa bake, he dropped the entire bag of flour on the kitchen floor.

Link took one glance at his son, who was near to tears, to the pile of white on the floor and smeared a handful of flour all over the boy’s face.  

Lala wandered in then, taking in the scene of her stunned little brother and the floor, to her Papa, and started laughing.

“Shut up!” Timothy retaliated by throwing an egg at his sister, which crunched right onto her front.

Silence.

Lala reached for the milk.

---

Daisya Barry gaped at his youngest brother, mouth full of potato chips.

Kanda, who was scowling up at him, thought his brother looked damn disgusting. “Swallow your food idiot.”

Quickly, Daisya gulped down the half eaten chips and wiped the salt from his face with his hand. The young teen scowled further. Use a napkin, damnit!

Noise, like the archangel he was, rounded the corner and shoved a paper towel in his brother’s stunned face, and continued on his way. Thank fuck for Noise Marie, Kanda thought.

“Wait, wait. So you want me. ME.” Daisya pointed to himself in reiteration. “To help you get a job?”

At 14, Kanda Yuu was a lanky, awkward teenager. And like every teenager, he came to the point where he wanted money of his own. He let out a “che” and turned his usual glare on full force.

“Yes.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Holy shit, you’ve never asked me for anything!”

“Never mind.”

“NO WAIT COME BACK!”

---

The red haired Colonel was in the cafe again.

Since Anita was working the counter that morning, and there were no other customers at the moment, Cross decided to make himself more late to work than usual and strike up conversation. Chaoji wiped down the same table for the fifth time, staring arrows into the man’s back, while his aunt laughed at whatever flirty nonsense the officer was saying.

He just didn’t see it. What it was about the man that stuck his aunt’s fancy so much.

There had been others. Men who held themselves the same way, sultry smiles and arrogant words, that tried to get Anita’s lovely attention. Only for her to dismiss them without so much as a hello, and the men were left with ice burn on their ego and pride.

Yet here he is. Always barging in on his phone, rough voiced and obstinate. He never left tips, and was out like a whirlwind (usually).

“Come over for dinner.” Anita offered, adding more coffee to the man’s mug. Her voice filled with that hum she always got when she was particularly interested at something.

The nephew walked into the next table, “What?!” he squawked.

Marian, ignoring the young man and his crisis, grinned, salacious and downright lewd. “Alright. I’ll bring the wine, Madam.”  He always called her Madam when flirting. Anita seemed to like it, as she practically glowed under the attention. To be fair, the Colonel also basked in her attention as well.

Taking his coffee, Cross bowed and bid farewell. “Until tonight.”

Once he left, Chaoji hissed at his aunt. “Just what do you see in that guy?”

“Oh Chao.” His Aunt sighed, giving him a look as though he had missed something important. “You simply don’t know him like I do.”

The nephew made a face at the nickname, and squinted at his aunt. “How long have you known him anyway? When did you two even meet?”

Anita tapped her chin in thought. “Oh, a few years.”

“He arrested me once!” She actually sounded damn pleased at the statement.

“WHAT?”

---

Hours later, after an interview, Allen came back to their temporary home-away-from-home to the sight of his family covered in food, eating cereal at the counter.

“Man, I miss all the fun.” He lamented, as though being a singing sensation and performing live for adoring fan’s was bread crumbs compared to a food fight with his family.

Lala, who was closest to him, smeared her frosting stained had over his cheek. “Welcome home Daddy.”

The young father suddenly had stars in his eyes as he practically vibrated with delight. “Link-”

“Yes?”

“Link, I’m Daddy!”

“I heard.”

“Papa and Daddy!”

Link ignored his ecstatic husband while their son gave Allen a look that clearly said ‘I think you are a really weird adult.’

---

“Lala’s a music box.” Allen whispered to Link during the night.

Link put his book down, and attentively looked at his husband. The white haired musician had already told him of their son’s likeness to an organ - all high notes and enough personality to take up a room.

“She’s meant to be heard, the people around her will influence her song and they’ll be influenced by her in return.”

“Well,” The baker began, rolling to his side and crowding the musician with his arms. “Good thing she’s our daughter then.”

Allen bubbled up a laugh, heart full of joy.

Their daughter. 

---

Day’s later, Kanda Yuu became the community dog walker. Every day, after school and every morning on the weekend, the long haired youth would corral a team of dogs around the neighborhood.

It paid decent, and eventually dog owners learned he was good at training also.

Daisya, who was the manager of the Teen Community Center, took several pictures every time his brother passed by, happy, yipping puppies at his heels.

Frequently, Alma would tag along, cooing at the several dogs, who basked in the attention. They often laid on the grass of the park and let the canines lay and crawl all over them. Kanda would frown down at them and say, “Alma I’m working.”

“But they’re so cute Yuu!” They would fake pout, all a sparkle.

You’re the cute one, Kanda wanted to say, but instead he would scoff and usher the pups away. Alma would turn pink and roll around tittering, because of course. They always heard what Kanda didn’t say.

---

Once upon a time, a red haired Colonel arrested a Queen.

At 19, Anita Han was a feared name on the streets. She appeared one day, with a loyal gang of followers. They stole, vandalized, but Anita drew the line at violence against another human being.

(She grew up around violence.

As a little girl, who had become immune to fear after watching the man who was supposed to love and protect her mother, slam his fists and bruise with words. Anita despised it, but was not above using her fists to protect herself.

Only hurt if they hurt first, she taught herself.

Trust was a hollow and weak thing, when she had no one to trust but herself.)

She was the unsung Queen of the back allies. She was also young, rash, and thought she was invincible.

Anita and her team had outwitted police, chased off other gangs who tried to push their way forward, and those of her ramshackle team - her family - only grew.

Until one night, when the sky broke in a torrent of rain, Anita found herself in the middle of a gang war that became too much too soon.

Mahoja, her greatest friend, was struck by a crowbar to the head, and all Anita could see was blood and rage. With a yell, she tackled the one who hurt her friend, not noticing others rallying their way to her, intent dark and black. Her hand had just stolen the bar from her offender, and hands were a graze away from her back when it happened.

There was no thunder with the rain that night, but the gunshot that echoed seemed to make the entire ground shake beneath her feet.

“Alright, break it up.” The voice was firm, but held a mockery of boredom with inflection.

How he got to the center of the mob, Anita never could figure out, but she would always remember him as he was that night. Tall and brooding, with a cheshire grin and red, red hair that caught the rain.

“Time for angry children to go to bed.” He continued to mock, and there was a part of her that was angry at him for it, despite how distracting he was. How dare he? Who was this man to come and nose his way into her business?

Two clicks and well delivered punch to the right person, and those surrounding Anita and Mahoja fell.

Those clicks? Handcuffs.

“Hey, you’re under arrest, congratulations.”

Anita had never felt more rage burn through her heart than that moment.

---

“I am the Phantom Thief G!”

Allen, who was pattering about in his pajamas with bed head and a mug of coffee, stared at his son who was standing on top of the kitchen table. The boy had his green bed sheet tied around his shoulders and what looks like a giant blue oval markered on his forehead.

“I see.” Was all he could say, and took a sip of his morning beverage.

“Woosh!” The boy leaped off the table and began running around the borrowed suite. It may be time to consider enrolling Timothy into school, Allen thought. When did the school year start again?

His husband, always the early bird, opened the entrance door with a bag of breakfast pastries when he became witness to his sheeted child. “Why?”

“He’s the Phantom Thief G.”

Link handed the bag to his husband, who began to dig through its contents. “And what does the Phantom Thief G do?”

“I!” Little Timothy took this moment to jump on the couch and pose like a superhero. “Steal from the rich and give to the poor!”

The blonde stared at his child, wondering what made him tick, and asked, “Isn’t that Robin Hood?” Scoffing, the boy crossed his arms, obviously insulted. “He’s English, I can’t be Robin Hood. I’m French and therefore clearly am a phantom.”

Right.

“Well, Mister Phantom.” Allen waved a chocolate muffin in the air. “Come get breakfast.”

“Muffin!” Cried the boy.

Lala shuffled in, bleary eyed and groaning. “Why is he so loud every morning?”

---

At seventeen, Kanda had a Crisis.

Alma hated rings. The things got in the way of their needle work and sewing for new clothing designs.

Shit, the teen thought.

“Shit.” He cursed out loud.

“Yuu, no foul language at the dinner table.” Chided his father.

Later that evening, Kanda was a pacing stormcloud in his bedroom. Froi stood in the doorway watching his son go back and forth.

“Can I ask now?” “No!”

A minute passed. More pacing.

“Yuu, I’m going to ask.”

“Wait damnit!”

The father waited some more. Eventually, Kanda stopped his moving about and faced his wall in a teenage, angst ridden brood. “Okay, ask.”

“Yuu, what’s wrong?”

Kanda mumbled and crossed his arms. “Yuu, I can’t hear you.”

“I SAID.” The teen started, loudly. “Alma doesn’t like rings!”

Oh, Froi thought. What a dilemma for a young mind.

Daisya, being the nosey brother he was, popped his head in. “What about something different?” “Like what?!” Demanded Kanda, now glaring at the wall.

“A bracelet.” Noise offered, walking past with his nose in a book.

The Tiedoll house was quiet as the fretful teenager in love mulled over the idea. He huffed out a “che,” which Froi long learned was Kanda’s way of agreeing with something.

Wait. “Yuu. Are you going to-”

“Shut up.”

“Oh Yuu!” The father’s eyes welled with tears. How his son has grown!

“Shut up!”

---

Strapped in the back of the red haired officer’s car, which carried the scent of coffee and nicotine, Anita seethed with rage. Which, the Colonel ignored and jammed a cigarette into his mocking mouth. “Damn rain makes it impossible to get a good smoke in.”

What nonsense. What rot. Anita’s tolerance for him shrunk with every passing second. “What about Mahoja?” She demanded. Did you just leave her there to bleed out and die?

Sharp eyes looked into hers over the rearview mirror. “Your friend? Yeager carted her off to the hospital.”

She did not know who this Yeager person was, but she doubted they even did anything. They didn’t know her or her friend, these officers. Why should she believe his word?

Seeing her twisted look, the Colonel snorted and started his engine. “You like rock music?”

“No.”

“Too bad, driver is the DJ.”

Instead of music, Anita heard a phone ring. The Colonel cursed and dug his cellphone out, one had on the steering wheel. “Why the fuck are you awake?”

Anita blinked.

“Don’t you ‘quarter’ me you brat, it’s late as shit go to bed.”

What was happening?

“Yes, I’ll be home soon, what are you, my mother?”

The car jerked as the office one handedly turned a corner. Anita wondered if officers could ticket each other for reckless driving. Last she checked, driving while on the phone was against the law.

“It’s almost midnight, go the fuck to sleep. Why isn’t that boyfriend of yours getting on your ass for this?”

The car parked. Anita looked out the window and knew instantly that this was not the police station.

The Colonel hung up and tossed his phone into the passenger side. “Damn brat.”

“Brat.” Anita repeated, staring hard at the officer. What was he doing? Much more, what was he thinking on doing?

He shrugged. “My kid, he’s a brat.” He got out and opened the door. “Okay out.”

She stared at him.

The red haired man made hand motions to signal for her to move. “Let’s go, according to the bossy gremlin at home, I’m past curfew. Hup-to!”

He must be truly dumb if he believed Anita would listen to him at this point.

A door slammed open near where the police vehicle parked, and someone bellowed. “Marian what the fuck boy?”

Anita was startled, and caught sight of a small old woman, with wild gray hair and a scowl longer than a symphony. She had her boney hands on her hips, and a foot tapping impatiently.

“It’s raining piss out here, move it!” The old woman ordered as she turned to yell behind her. “Barba! Get some towels!”

Slapping his palm against his forehead, as though Anita was the one making his life difficult, he reached in quick as a sparrow and yanked the gang leader out of the backseat by the back of her shirt.

Anita kicked and began to fight. “You let me go right now you-”

Two clicks, and the handcuffs fell off her wrists; Anita as flummoxed. She gaped at the man before her, who just huffed and shoved her at the old woman. “Take care of her Mother. She’s wet.”

“I can see that idiot.” Mother spat, and proceeded to shove a warm towel over Anita’s water logged head. “Come, come, let's get you dry.”

Anita went inside, and the door closed. She heard the officer’s car leave.

“What?” Because, truly. What?

The elder woman “bah”ed ushered the younger down a hall. “Ignore him, he’s a dramatic bastard.”

---

Mother wasn’t the Colonel’s mother. She wasn’t even blood related to him. Mother was just Mother.

Morning came, and Mother’s phone rang. The old woman didn’t even bother answering, instead tossing the phone into Anita’s lap. “It’s for you.”

Weary, the female gang leader answered. “Hello?”

“Anita.”

It was Mahoja!

“Where-?” She tried to question.

Her friend cut her off, already knowing. “Hospital. A red haired officer gave me this number, saying you would answer.” At the revelation, her friend sounded just as confused and relieved as Anita felt.

---

Months later, Anita spotted the red haired Colonel leaving a corner store, a cheap can of coffee in hand.

“This damn place needs an actual cafe.”

“Quarter!” a little muffled voice demanded. Holding the Colonel's other hand was a white haired boy. The kid was stuffing his contented face with a donut.

“Yeah, yeah.” Conceded the man, crossing the street, not noticing her at all.

Maybe. Anita had thought. It’s a good time to change pace.

---

Kanda clasped the bracelet around Alma’s wrist. It was gold, with a simple embellishment at the rims.

Looking from their boyfriend to the bracelet, Alma let out a squeal and tackled him to the ground. “Yes!” They cried.

The other teen shouted, startled. “Why are you crying?!”

“I love you so much Yuu!”

Kanda did not understand why that warranted tears, but whatever. He accepted long ago that Alma liked to cry on him.

He loved them too, in any case.

---

After dinner and Chaoji conceded that Colonel Cross wasn’t entirely awful since his aunt enjoyed his company so much, the red haired man asked for Anita’s tablet.

“The brats want to meet you.”

Anita looked positively pleased. “Of course!”

Curious, Chaoji watched as the internet call was made, and a familiar face appeared on the screen.

He stuttered.

“Ah!” Exclaimed the white haired man. “Chaoji!”

“Who?” A blue haired boy poked his head under his father’s. A blonde teenager waved at them. “Hello grandfather.”

Cross’ shoulders twitched, not yet used to the title. “Hi.”

Seeing the usually suave Colonel so awkward in front of his family sent an arrow straight into Anita’s already smitten heart. She started to laugh. “I heard you wanted to meet me.”

“Ooh, she’s pretty.” The boy complimented.

Anita beamed.

“Hi Anita! I’m Allen! Thanks for taking care of this lonely old man.” His kid teased. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Little shit.” Cross seethed. “Quarter!”