#send an ask that says cheesestick if you made it this far

[azucanela]

SOME WORDS ARE BETTER LEFT UNSAID

SUMMARY: In which there is an unspoken agreement between everyone not to discuss the clear chemistry between the manager and the captain of the Nekoma Volleyball Club. Until one day one of them gets tired of the silence.

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: trust issues, denial, insecurities, everyone needs a hug, angst? 

A/N: please excuse any errors made i wrote this at 4AM, but hey creative juices are flowing during the oddest hours of the day so. also our king kenma makes an appearance so its worthy reading i swear

There was an unspoken agreement between the notorious manager of the Nekoma Volleyball Club, and the Captain. Though her beauty rivaled that of the Karasuno manager, no one addressed it purely because they knew the way Kuroo Tetsuro looked at her. No matter how many movies there are about unspoken feelings, none of them could compare to these two. The shared looks as they sat in class, bored. Kuroo would make sure she was eating properly, she would ensure he was staying hydrated when staying after school for Volleyball. Kuroo helped her pass any and every science class by tutoring her when necessary, she helps him pass his foreign language class. The texts, the late night calls, the times when one would ask the other to come over and they would, no questions asked. Taking care to slip out of the other’s bed at 4AM to make sure they didn’t get caught. Silent, intimate moments.

Kuroo was sitting on the couch, flicking through channels, moving between Netflix and Hulu in search of something good to watch. She was making popcorn when he got bored and left his seat on the couch to enter the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the wall to watch her movements. She was slicing fruit, and a block of cheese waited next to the cutting board as she did, waiting for the popcorn to finish. Her hair was down, and she was wearing one of his shirts. It was oversized on her, covering her thighs. He was smiling as he moved from his spot against the wall up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head into her neck. She hummed in response, leaning back into him as she continued to cut the fruit.

For a moment, he could pretend that they weren’t just friends. Because this definitely is not something friends do. Friends don’t hold hands, much less hold each other, they don’t look at each other the way Kuroo looked at her, they don’t care for eachother, not like this.

“Are they dating?”

He’d get asked this question constantly. Kenma would always shake his head, tell them no, they aren’t. Though they are most certainly two of the most in love people he knows. His best friends weren’t even dating, and yet he still felt like the third wheel. How ironic. Now Kenma wasn’t one to interfere with the lives of others, but it was getting ridiculous, so he tried to get involved, once. 

He didn’t bother looking up from his game as he asked, “Why don’t you tell Kuroo how you feel?” Pausing only once to gauge Y/N’s reaction.

She didn’t seem startled, or shocked, in fact, she laughed, “I don’t like Kuroo, silly.” Y/N had told him. “He and I are just close friends, besides you know I’m not looking for a relationship.” She had mentioned this in the past, most people assumed it was because she had feelings for Kuroo. Smart people knew it was because she had feelings for Kuroo.

Kenma raised a brow, “you both act like you two are in a relationship.” Was his response, putting his game down, “and it hurts him because he knows it's not real. If you really don’t feel that way for him, don’t lead him on.”

This statement seemed to hurt her as she became defensive, “I have told him countless times to consider the offers from all the girls in this school, believe me. I agree with you, he shouldn’t wait for someone who doesn’t feel the same.” She paused, hand tapping the table anxiously, “good thing he doesn’t feel anything beyond platonic feelings for me.”

Kenma knew she wasn’t dumb, not by a long shot. Top of her class, heading off to an amazing college, no doubt. Yet, her words seemed so stupid. “You must be blind.” Came his blunt answer. Anyone could see how Kuroo felt for her.

She scoffed, “there’s simply nothing to see. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him. Why would he like me?” Y/N was staring at her hands, trying to ignore the discomfort Kenma was causing with his prying. Her tendency to overthink doing her no good as she sighed, “I do hope he finds someone, he deserves it.”

It took Kenma a moment to realize that Y/N was trying to convince herself, not him, and it took him another moment to realize that she was truly wondering why Kuroo would like her. And he knew she was being honest, she had tried to get him to go for other girls, but he never had out of loyalty to her. She had even been in one relationship during their first year, the two were going strong for a while.

Until they weren’t. And Kuroo ended up punching the guy in the face. 

When Kenma asked Kuroo if he liked her, he just sighed. They both knew the answer. Kuroo had slept around a lot in their first year, but that had come to a halt more recently. At one point he even tried for a long term relationship with one girl.

She didn’t like Y/N. So that didn’t last.

And now that Kenma had just turned into his neighborhood, bidding you two goodbye as he headed home, just like he did everyday during the walk back from Volleyball practice, the atmosphere felt awkward. Something felt different today as Y/N and Kuroo walked down the path together, his eyes following her figure as he stayed practically glued to her side.

If she was honest, yes, she liked Kuroo. Loved him even. But there were several issues with that, one being that Kuroo is her best friend. She had found someone she could talk to, about any and everything. No filter necessary. No matter how gross, or sad, or weird it was, they could discuss it. She knew she could trust him 100%. Yet, each time he broached the possibility of a relationship she shut him down. She was scared of losing this comfort they had, they would break up eventually. Even if they didn’t things would be different. And in the back of her mind she wondered if he’d leave her. The one constant in her life, gone.

She didn’t like change.

Another issue was that they would graduate at one point. And then head off in what would likely be two very different directions, literally. She had her sights set on a prestigious American college, he just wanted to study Chemistry. Maybe they’d stay in touch, maybe they wouldn’t. Potential time differences caused by living in different countries would make it a struggle and so would conflicting schedules, and stress. And even now, he already had volleyball and school to worry about already.

It would be easier for them both if they just didn’t get together. Which is why, when she realized how comfortable they had been getting, she tried to slow things down. A lot. She started sitting next to Kenma during lunch instead of Kuroo, and began hanging out with the other Volleyball boys far more often. She had been far less physical with him, avoiding most contact with him in general. Taking a rain check each time he asked to hang out, avoiding his calls as often as she could without seeming off. She had been distant, to put it simply.

She missed her best friend, but she knew she couldn’t call him that at this point.

Kuroo had noticed. He always noticed. He noticed the way she got quiet when someone commented on how she was a little too passionate about something, so he asked her about it. He noticed how she’d forget to eat during lunch sometimes, so he would give her a protein bar. He’d notice how when she was nervous, she would bite her nails, or tap her foot at a ridiculous speed. He noticed how when she was sad, she tried to feign joy and boost the morale of those around her, but she still seemed more reserved in a way.

He noticed her. In all her glory, the smell of her shampoo, the scent of her perfume, the glow of her skin in the sunlight, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed her real laugh. How her eyes seemed to shine when she talked about her dreams, the crease in her forehead when she was concentrated. The tears that brimmed her eyes when she talked about certain scenes from her favorite shows and books.

Which is why he got scared when she stopped sharing these things with him, when she stopped giving him hugs, when she stopped calling him at 2AM even though he knew she was awake because of her messed up sleep schedule.

So, as they walked together, he decided this needed to end.

“We need to talk.” He said, eyes on her.

She raised a brow, “what about?” God, she hoped playing dumb would work, but she had tried that with Kenma, and it hadn’t ended all that well. Then again, Kenma did end up dropping the subject, though it took a few tries. 50/50 success rate. What could go wrong?

She watched as Kuroo rolled his eyes, “you know what.” He replied, “also you have been avoiding me.”

She shrugged, “I’ve been busy. I do have things to do, a life. Outside of you.” She held her backpack straps significantly tighter as she spoke, “sorry if you’re feeling neglected.” The words came out meaner than she had expected, and Y/N suddenly found herself feeling guilty as she continued down the street.

“Y/N.” He came to a stop, and she walked a few more steps before stopping as well. Taking a deep breath as she looked upwards, towards the sky. Turns out a lot could go wrong with a 50/50 success rate.

“Kuroo.” Her voice sounded a lot like a warning. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

Thought the finality in her voice hurt, he couldn’t help but scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. I mean, look where that’s gotten us-”

“Kuroo, please.” She turned around to face him, “don’t.”

His eyes locked with hers as he replied, “I’m in love with you.” And now it was out in the open. The thing she had so desperately tried to hide. The feelings she wanted to pretend didn’t exist. 

Y/N inhaled sharply, fidgeting with her hands impatiently, she just wanted to get home. She had always hated confrontations, perhaps that was the reason why she said it. It could’ve been one of the reasons she’d been repeating to herself since their second year. Or maybe the words that left her mouth were true.

“Too bad I don’t feel the same.”

No, they weren’t true. She just wished they were.

[sher-soc-the-famder]

Miraculously Their Own- Chapter 7

Not Every Card’s A Trump Part 6

Word count: 6223

Pairings: Romantic Royaltiy, Platonic LAMP

Warnings: Child abuse, Homophobia, Violence

Notes: *Slides in right before midnight* This counts as posting on Friday right? Right. The Violence you have all be waiting and call for is here. No need to thank me. It will only get worse I promise. As always huge thanks to @wisepuma23!!

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He hurt.

Logan wanted to blame the mottled bruises and cuts hidden by his shirt, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Because for all the bandages he had wrapped around his arms, it wasn’t there that ached. His chest felt tight, a steel band wrapped around it that had nothing to do with Trumpbull for once.

Roman was supposed to be here days ago.

Logan took a shuddering breath, and glanced out the window again.

Maybe if he stared long enough they’d arrive. Maybe then he’d forget the endless wait from the past couple of days. The way his heart still pounded because any moment now, any moment, Roman was going to walk in through the door and apologize. Roman would grin and laugh and rub the back of his neck awkwardly. Logan would scoff and hug him and-

Logan swiped at his eyes, curling a little tighter into the window sill that overlooked the courtyard entrance.

He didn’t want them to be like the others. He didn’t want to give up on them. He didn’t want them to give up on him.

But he never got that choice.

Logan wasn’t the one in control of his own life. Not in the slightest. All he could so was tighten his sails and batten down the hatches as he waited for the storm to abate. He could hope that Trumpbull hadn’t scared them off. That they really did love him as much as they said and would come back.

Only the growing lonely days said otherwise. The broken schedule, one that Roman had kept almost religiously despite Patton’s joking that he could never get Roman to follow a deadline for anything else, also said otherwise. The shut doors, the waiting in an empty room, the staring out a window without there ever being a hope of thinking they were coming.

It had only been a week. Not even a week, Logan tried to remind himself. Things happened. Something had happened and it wasn’t that they were leaving him behind. There was no proof- There was-

There was years of being returned. There were visits that turned sours. Visits that didn’t but the adults never returned anyways. Loneliness and broken hope clawed at his back to reach his heart, all of them screaming otherwise. Experience had taught him that.

Hope did nothing to change reality.

Logan longed for a book, for a distraction. Only he had tried that. He had tried to bury himself in different worlds and experiences, tried to find the rush of learning and figuring out something new. But the fear and pain wouldn’t let him focus. He had read the same pages over and over again. He couldn’t even remember what book he had picked up.

Logan blinked and focused his attention outside the window again. A couple of the other kids laughed, chasing each other around the long grass and over the bench. Logan tore his eyes away, the memory of sitting there with Roman nothing but painful. He resisted the urge to reach out and trace the edge of the window.

Not only would it be unsanitary but it would be useless as well.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut and slipped away from the window, ignoring the spike of fear that came with the action. He didn’t want to miss the moment they came back for him. He wanted to wave at Patton as the man approached the building. But Logan couldn’t just sit there any longer without feeling like he was going to go mad.

He shuffled over to the bookshelf, running a hand along the spines of the closest shelf. He tried to take comfort from the worn edges and familiar words. Laughter echoed from down the hall. Warm and welcomed unlike him.

Logan eyed the different titles, knowing that he had almost cleared out the shelf he was standing at. There were only so many books he could read without being able to visit the library. His fingers close around the most battered book there, and he hated how much of a child he felt like by tugging out the one book he could never stop reading. The Ugly Duckling He knew that he wasn't a swan, but there had always been hope. The 'duckling' had never learned different until he had grown up. Maybe it was the same for Logan. Maybe he just had to wait and things would get better. No matter what the evidence piling up said. He clutched the book to his chest, the familiar weight helping to calm him slightly as he made his way back to the window. He didn't want to miss the moment when Roman or Patton or both of them came back. He could wait for them. He would. Because they would come back. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying just as hard to shut out the memory of waiting and waiting and for the first time, no one appearing. The way that the earth had seemed to shake under his feet when Ms Hudson had quietly told him that it looked like the Sanders wouldn't be by that day and led him to the dining hall. Something had been off in that moment, but Logan didn't want to think about what. Maybe Roman had called to cancel and Ms Hudson simply hadn't had the heart to tell him. She was one of the nicer matrons like that. Thinking she could protect them from pain. Even when it was impossible. Logan ran a finger over the illustration of the Ugly Duckling in front of him. He sighed. Logan looked up, glancing out the window. He didn't have much hope that they would come back if he was honest with himself. They had lasted longer than anyone else in a way, but they hadn't ever taken him home. A fascination and nothing more in the end, as Logan always was, something to leave behind the moment they got bored. He blinked. His heart skipped a beat. Logan went so far as to rub at his eyes to make sure that he hadn't fallen asleep at the sight of Roman and Patton hurrying down the street towards the group home. He held his breath, chest aching with the hope that Logan tried to hold back as he waited for them to turn into the courtyard and head towards the door. The book flew from his lap after he had watched them enter the facility. Logan scrambled to get out of the windowsill, his heart pounding as he ran towards the door. They had come back. Logan almost wanted to cry at the thought. Hope bloomed, dangerous and oh so sweet in his chest, as he glanced down the hall, trying to gauge which way they would come from. He picked a direction and ran. This time was the time. He'd ask- no, he'd beg if that was what it would take for them to take him home with them. He'd offer to do all the chores he could at the moment. He'd be the best in school. He'd do anything, if it meant that he could walk down the street between them, Roman's hand on his head and Patton's hand in his. Logan wanted, for the first time that he could remember, he wanted to impress them with his smarts. He wanted them to love him as much as he loved them. To listen to Patton's memories more, hear tales of older kids in high school learning English, eat slightly burnt cookies. Logan wanted to figure out what Roman did, he wanted to make up stories, watch movies, tilt his head back to enjoy the sun-

Logan fell back as he collided with a larger body. He hissed as he hit the ground, jostling all of his bruises and cuts. His warmer thoughts cut off at the sight of the familiar boots in front of him, his heart sinking as his eyes traveled up the matrons body to lock on the worst person he could have run into at the moment.

"Well, well, well," Trumpbull clucked her tongue at him, and Logan's breath seized in his chest. He scrambled to remember if running was against the rules, and if it was one that Trumpbull felt the need to enforce. his thoughts fled as fast as he wished he could as he stood shakily to his feet, eyes dropping to the floor. "If it isn't young Logan. I assume I'm not wrong in thinking you're running off to see Mr. and.. Mr. Sanders."

Her nose wrinkled at the words. Her tone managed to convey the same emotion that Logan felt peeling something off the sidewalk, just with none of the underlying excitement and fascination in learning about it.

Logan dropped his eyes again, and shrugged. Fear kept his mouth shut, even when he wanted to yell at her. Wanted to stamp his foot and scream that they were better people then she would ever be. That at least they could love someone other than themselves. But darkness pressed at him from the back of his eyes and Logan said nothing instead.

Trumpbull's hand landed on his shoulder, a weight he would never escape.

"I should hope you're not," Trumpbull said gently as she turned him back towards his room. "Seeing as they've made no requests to see you at the moment."

"You don't get a say in that," Logan managed to whisper, trying to dig his heels into the hardwood floor and sending a glance over his shoulder.

"Not only do I, but they've actually requested to see someone else today," Trumpbull said, her voice still as soft as before. "Someone a little less work I believe was the words they used. I hate to crush your spirits, but they've simply moved on. Or perhaps they've finally started to see what I knew all along. Ah well, we'll never know now seeing as they're likely never going to re-"

"No!" Logan shouted. He trembled under her hand, but even burdened by his fear, Logan tried to duck out of her grasp and run back the way she had came. The direction that Patton and Roman were in. "You're lying! They would never-!"

"Never give up on you like so many others," Trumpbull interrupted. She sounded like his last tutor from his last home. The one who told him that hope would only be crushed, that it was a fantasy and someone with Logan's brain had best be living in reality. "How many is it now Logan? Fourteen, no sixteen. Sixteen different families didn't want you."

Logan's eyes burned. He knew exactly how many people had given up on him, how many had did it because he scared them, because he had angered them, because he was too quiet, too short, too much work, too much and too little all at the same time.

"I would plan for the future young Logan. Seeing as you're going to be facing it alone," Trumpbull said with finality as they came to a stop in front of his room.

Logan blinked rapidly as she shoved him in. The door clicked shut behind her, and Logan reached up with a shaking hand to touch the place she had placed her hand on to drag him along. Everything ached. From his now bruised shoulder to his throbbing cuts, from his mind to his heart.

He swiped at the tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he shuffled back to the window.

Trumpbull was- she had been- It was all lies. Patton had said that Logan was their son. Roman had told Logan that he loved him. They wouldn't just-

Logan sobbed at the window, hand reaching out for the book he had left laying there. He grabbed it, curling around the worn pages as if it were a stuffed animal made for comfort.

If he waited, they would come for him. They hadn't promised but they always had before. Trumpbull wasn't anything compared to them. Patton has almost yelled at her. Patton had stood up to her, with dark eyes and honey sweet words that Logan wanted to be able to wield one day. Happy, kind Patton had gotten mad.

Which meant that he wasn't scared of Trumpbull.

But also meant that Logan didn't know him that well. Which meant that maybe Trumpbull could be right. Maybe Patton had gotten mad that Logan hadn't said anything about Trumpbull hating people like him.  Or maybe Patton would be mad that Logan hadn't helped stand up against Trumpbull. Maybe Patton just hated him now.

Logan sniffled; his grip on The Ugly Duckling tightened. He leaned against the window, planting his forehead against the cool glass.

"He- he-he now felt glad at having suffered sorrow- sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so- so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him," Logan whispered to himself. It felt like such an empty line, except when Logan held onto it so tight he thought it might be enough to keep his cracked heart from bleeding out.

His breath and tears fogged up the glass and Logan leaned back to wipe it away. He took a shuddering breath, wiping at his own glasses as well. He leaned forward again, and felt sobs climb up his throat once more. Patton and Roman left the building below him; Roman's arms wrapped around Patton's shoulders.

They hadn't even said hello.

Logan pressed a hand to his face, wanting to slam his hands against the window, to catch their attention. He wanted to demand why they didn't just tell him like everyone else. At least the others had the guts to say they didn't want him to his face.

One of the younger girls caught Patton's sleeve, and Logan turned away. He didn't want to try and make out the gentle smile that Patton had always directed at him, now given to someone else. He didn't want to hear Roman laugh at something another child said. Logan sobbed, looking down at the book on his lap.

The grown swan, happy and accepted, mocked him. Logan's breathed deeply, and felt his heartbreak shatter into shards of anger. He hurled the book as hard as he could at the wall. It hit with a heavy thunk, falling to the floor with a flutter of papers.

Logan pressed his hands to his face, sobbing even hard. He didn't care for once about the papers being bent out of shape. He didn't care if someone heard or saw him. He almost wanted someone to come in, to have an excuse to shout all that he wanted to scream at the world. He peeled his hands from his face and glared at the book lying awkwardly on the floor.

He staggered to his feet and snatched it from the ground. He gripped the pages, breathing hard as he tensed, ready to tear the whole stupid thing apart. To tear the lies and the hope and the future apart until it reflected his heart.

The slightest tear echoed through the empty room, and Logan sobbed again.

He couldn't do it.

He glanced around, head turning wildly before landing on his bed. He strode over to his, bending down to reach under the rickety frame and shoved the book back as far as he could. It thumped against the back wall, and Logan wriggled out as fast as he could.

It was stupid. He was stupid. His whole life was a stupid, messy, unwanted thing, just like him.

Logan felt his spine press against the bed frame as he didn't bother to get up from where he was. Dust floated from his hair into his eyes as he shook, and that was the only reason he cried. Because he had other things to worry about than a pair of dumb mean morons who didn't want him.

Like making sure no one would ever hurt him this way ever again. Logan hated them. He hated himself. But most of all, he hated emotions. They didn't make sense and he never wanted to feel another one again.

Never again.

Ana Marie narrowed her eyes at the mirror, smacking her lips. She hummed before reaching down and wiping the lips stick on her face off. It wasn't quite the shade of red she wanted to match her dress. Her fingers hovered over the selection on her counter before plucking a darker shade from its place. She leaned forward and applied it carefully, judging the difference carefully.

She settled back, eyeing her eyeliner and contouring before deciding that she looked as flawless as she could make herself. Ana Marie ran a hand over her chin, checking for any left over peach fuzz or shadow. She let out a deep breath when she found none.

Her lips quirked up in the mirror at the sight she made, and Ana Marie reached out to put on the business coat that matched her dress. She smoothed down the fabric and reached for her phone. Her notifications buzzed with possible cases from her boss, replies from the other lawyers at her firm, and texts from the rest of her family.

She scrolled through them as she strode out of her bathroom, nudging the door closed with the stiletto heels that she wore. Linda wanted advice on gender confusion and Mother wanted her to check up on Patton again. Ana Marie made a note to herself to visit her little brother once she had finished the appeal that she needed to do that day, on top of preparing for the current case she was on.

Ana Marie paused just long enough to pull up her calendar app. A quick flick of her finger checked off the Thursday that had passed. She slung her purse over her shoulder, adding another reminder for Roman's play that weekend, and eyed the note she had only added a couple days ago.

She had told Patton not to go to the group home alone, but there was something about this Logan kid that had turned her little brother into a stubborn bulldozer. That was usually Roman's job. It wasn't a bad look on Patton, but when it left her brother in tears every night, Ana Marie felt a need to step in and do something to stop it. Big sister's prerogative and all that.

Honestly, she would have preferred if they just chose a different kid altogether.

If this was any sort of signal it said that Logan wouldn't be easy to take care of. He came with problems attached, and the last thing either of her little bros needed was more trouble.

She sighed, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. But it wasn't her choice to make.

Ana Marie locked her door, rattling the doorknob to make sure that she had done it correctly and that it would stay that way. Satisfied, she made her way to the elevator that would take her to the garage and her car.

There was a group home that she needed to talk to. Professionally.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Ana Marie said smoothly, holding her hand out for the matron to take. Ms. Wilson looked a little pale at the sight of her but took the hand regardless. "It's my understanding that you had an altercation with my clients, and I'm here on their behalf to dispute that claim."

"Oh, yes of course Ms...?"

"Sanders," Ana Marie said smoothly, and quirked an eyebrow up as Ms. Wilson paled further. Interesting. Roman had been certain that there was only one matron who had been the problem, but it wouldn't be the first time he was wrong either. Ana Marie would keep an eye on it.

Ms. Wilson cleared her throat, "Well, Ms Wilson, I admit we never thought that it would get this serious but we do have a room prepared for you. The owner isn't here at the moment, but I'm hoping that we can handle the issue between ourselves first. There's no need to call him after all."

"I certainly hope so," Ana Marie agreed with a slight dip of her head. One of the kids ran past and Ana Marie tracked their path, wondering if she'd catch a glimpse of Logan during this visit. It wasn't her intention or plan at the moment, but finally putting a face to the name she had been hearing would he nice. "And I assume this room is secure?"

Ms. Wilson nodded.

"Excellent," Ana Marie said, falling in step next to the matron. She normally walked behind, but right now it seemed like Ms. Wilson would be nervous if Ana Marie loomed over her from behind. This was not the place for fear or anger. Not only would it be useless, but it would reflect badly on her abilities as a lawyer. "Now, as we head over, would you perhaps fill me in on the issue?"

Ms, Wilson shot her a startled glance, eyes darting upwards to meet Ana Marie's for a brief moment. "I thought you would already be aware of it?"

"I am," Ana Marie conceded, "But it's from my client's perspective and I find that in unofficial cases like these, having both stories, and sometimes even an outside one helps clarify things that were unclear before. It helps me come to a conclusion that allows both parties to be satisfied with."

Ana Marie took note of the way that Ma. Wilson's shoulders relaxed at the word 'unofficial'. Good. It meant that her problem was with the issue as a whole. Someone like that would be much easier to work with and Ana Marie bit back a pleased hum. It was likely they had someone pushing the issue from the inside enough that they simply needed an outside party to testify in order to allow Patton and Roman back into the facility.

Ana Marie could appreciate an easy case almost as much as she loved a challenge.

"Well, to my understanding, Mr. and Mr. Sanders were behaving in an unacceptable manner around the children. They have yelled at one of our workers, cussed around the children, and according to the matron that witnessed it, they were performing rather...inappropriate acts." Ms. Wilson coughed, and came to a stop in front of a door.

Another gaggle of children ran past, and Ms. Wilson watched them, a tired but fond look in her eyes. Her head tilted up to look at Ana Marie, and Ana Marie felt her lips quirk up into a smile at the look of fire she received.

"I understand that you have a job to do, but understand that I have one as well," Ms. Wilson said, shoulders thrown back in challenge. "I may not be mother material but there is nothing I wouldn't do for these children. And I can assure you that all of the matrons here would do the same. No matter what words you use or how you frame it, if I have the slightest thought that the Sanders would be a danger to these children then they're never going to set foot here again."

Ana Marie nodded again. "Understandable. It's a commendable commitment. I assure you, my clients mean no harm, and share the exact same sentiment as you. I am not here to attack your establishment or how you run it. We would just like to clarify the position of two men who hope very much to become fathers.”

Ms. Wilson looked her over again and Ana Marie straightened her back as best she could. The blemish of her foundation sprang to mind as well as the stretch marks that her dress didn’t quite cover. She resisted the urge to smooth down her top  and jacket over the marks her surgery had left her with, hoping that it wasn't obvious despite them being hidden by their placement already.

"Alright," Ms. Wilson agreed, her head coming down in a sharp nod before eyeing the door behind them. "And one question, if you don't mind me asking, for my own curiosity."

"Of course," Ana Marie said, knowing that building a rapport with the woman would make working things out easier. She had nothing against these women in particular.

"Your parents, where were they from? We don't get much diversity here I admit, and it's always something that interests the kids." Ana Marie did her best not to breath in sharply at the words. She bit down on the defensive retort that sprang to mind, smiling at the matron instead. Ms. Wilson didn't mean anything by it unlike others.

"Looking to entertain the children?" Ana Marie teased and grinned even wider at the sheepish look that crossed Ms. Wilson's face.

"Exactly that in fact," the matron admitted.

"Well, I'm afraid to disappoint, but my parents were American. Born and raised," Ana Marie said gently. "Both sets. My birth parents were of Persian descent but they lived and died here in America. My adopted mothers lived here as well, though Ma does miss her Latina family at times."

Ms Wilson's face softened, easing some of the exhausted wrinkles on her face. Ana Marie echoed the action, her worry about the meeting easing as Ms. Wilson spoke. "That's wonderful for you. Adoption into a family that they can be happy with, such as yours, is what I hope for with all the children here. And truth be told, when I heard about Mr. and Mr. Sanders I almost couldn't believe it. They were always so patient and kind with Logan, and well-"

Ms. Wilson cut herself off, and Ana Marie raised an eyebrow. Ms Wilson glanced down the hall and then at the door behind them.

"If I'm completely honest," Ms. Wilson said, "The fact that it was Ms. Trumpbull that brought it up is what concerns me. She doesn't quite connect with the kids, though she's a wonderful influence on them! They're always on their best behavior when she's around and with how understaffed we are it can seem like a miracle."

Ana Marie's lips thinned at the words, before she settled her face back into its bland professional mask. It wasn't the time for that, and she didn't have the authority to look into that situation in the first place. Appealing for visiting rights for family was one thing, and even then she was pushing the envelope on being professional with it.  Abuse of a family member, or hopefully-to-be-family-member would be leaping right off that line.

"Well, let's see if we can't get this sorted out," Ana Marie said smoothly, "Shall we get started?"

"Right yes of course!" Ms. Wilson chuckled sheepishly, "Look at us, getting distracted, right this way."

Ms. Wilson held the door open and Ana Marie took a deep steadying breath, giving in to the urge to smooth her dress down before striding into the meeting room with her head held high.

For Patton, she would do this.

But even more so, for herself, Ana Marie would be the best lawyer she could be.

Roman grit his teeth, smoothing down the ruffles of his costume and trying to tilt his head back farther so that Lauren had better access to his face. He flinched as she pressed the eyeliner to his face again. Lauren frowned.

"You're too tense Ro," she chided, "You're needed at the doors in ten, and I need to get this done before then. It'll be thick but that's stage makeup and you know it." She grinned at him, "Come on, you know I don't need Rachel to show me up, and I would like some extra time to spend with Kai before the show starts."

Roman forced a grin, “Come now! Surely you know that your makeup game is the best in all the land! My deepest apologizes for making your job even harder than it already is.”

Lauren giggled and tilted his face towards the light so she could go back to applying the eyeliner. “No need to apologise, Roman. You may not have told us everything, but we do know that you and Patton have been going through a rough time.”

Roman’s grin dropped and Lauren clucked her tongue. “Relax your face- yeah just like that, thank you. You don’t have to tell us anything that you don’t want to, but know that we’ll be here for you no matter what alright? Pirate crew forever!”

Roman smiled weakly but softly at that. “I still insist that theater crew is cool enough on its own!”

“Yes well,” Lauren said breezily, setting the eyeliner down. She reached for the eye shadow neck and adjusted his face once more. “Seeing as Kai was voted the Expert of Being Cool last Christmas party, I think we have to concede to his expertise.”

“We only voted that way so he would think he was cool-!”

Roman choked as the brush Lauren was using froze dangerously close to his eye.

“Are you saying that my boyfriend isn’t cool?” Roman held his breath at the way that her voice didn’t change in tone or volume, a simple steady threat. “Because really Roman, Kai is the coolest, most capable, amazing person-”

“Alright, alright!” Roman conceded, bringing his hands up in surrender, “Kai is the coolest! ...person who isn’t in theater. And isn’t Patton. Because Patton is truly the sun and the stars the most beautiful, sweetest, patient person on this planet.”

Silence sat between them for a long moment before Roman snorted. They met each other eyes and burst into laughter. Lauren grinned brightly at him, “Agree to disagree. Kai’s the best person in the world and you’re never going to convince me otherwise.” “Ah, but you see,” Roman said grandly, “Patton is the best in the universe.”

Lauren let go of his face, staring at him intently for a moment before nodding to herself. “Alright you’re good to go!” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “And Roman? You’re a lucky man, to have someone like Patton in your life. Whatever you’re going through I hope you don’t forget that.”

Roman felt his face flush. He smiled, soft and loving. “Yeah,” he whispered, thinking about Patton’s grin and promise to be there for his performance, “I really am the luckiest.”

He shook his head and stood up from the chair. “But come! We have a magnificent story to bring our adoring fans tonight! Our talents to be shared with a public who shall be blown away by how amazing we are!”

Lauren giggled, tucking all of her supplies away. “You’re heading for the door right? To collect the tickets? Do you mind if I come with, I want to meet Kai when he comes in. He said he’d come to watch how much my makeup skills have improved.”

“You two are adorable,” Roman declared, the cape of his costume swirling around his heels. Lauren handed him the plastic crown that finished his ensemble for the night. Fairy tales were his favorite to act out. He had gotten the lead role over Dillan again, to which Dillan had declared that Roman owed him some of Patton’s cookies for.

Lauren nudged his shoulder with her own. They walked out to the lobby together, and Roman waved grandly at the crowd already gathered there. He let the familiar act of falling into character wash over him as he greeted people, taking playbills from a stand to hand them out personally to people coming through the doors.

He grinned at one of the younger kids who pointed at him in excitement, tugging at his mother’s pant leg. Roman waved at them, crouching down to hand the boy a playbill personally. He tried to ignore the way his heart twinged at the boy’s smile and the way that it reminded him of Logan. That wasn’t what he needed to focus on tonight.

“Oh,” the voice that echoed in Roman’s nightmares the past week said from above him, condescending and disgusted. “I should have expected one of your types to be here.”

Roman stood to his full height, meeting Trumpbull’s eyes as she glared at him. The old familiar fear and shame squeezed his chest. A hand tugged on his cape and Roman’s eyes dropped to the small child staring at Trumpbull with wide eyes.

Roman’s eyes darted to the woman standing next to him, her lips in a thin line of disapproval and face pale. He threw his shoulders back and reminded himself that he was in character. That he wasn’t Roman Sanders at the moment, and Prince Edward had nothing to fear from this woman. That Prince Edward had an heir standing next to him who needed guidance.

“You mean the Theater is only for the gays?" Roman gasped, hand coming up in the most dramatic motion he can make, "You must be right! The gays are taking all of the good things in life! I'm just furthering the queer agenda! Because I'm gay!"

His confidence grew at the scattered giggles and laughter that the other bystanders in the lobby produced at his words. He knew his audience, but more importantly he knew the surrounding community and they had never been less than welcoming to him and Patton. He winked at Lauren, who was making her way through the crowd towards them, Kai at her side.

“How dare-!” Trumpbull started and Roman was reminded of Umbridge from Harry Potter in the split second before he cut her off.

"Please forgive my gay rudeness, that comes from me being homosexual. To be confused with homosapien, or wait you don’t believe they’re the same. But I have to usher you gays- sorry I meant guys, along. Our very, very, gay production is about to start." Roman waved at the entrance grandly, reveling in the way that the kid at his side burst into peals of giggles. Kai nodded at him, a proud smug smirk crossing the man’s face.

Trumpbull’s face darkened to an angry red, and then the most satisfying shade of ugly puce Roman had ever seen. Adrenaline coursed through him, as well as a reckless satisfaction that made him want to reach out and pinch her cheeks condescendingly. He wouldn’t want to catch her “straight-ness” though, so he refrained.

Lauren laid a hand on his shoulder as she finally made her way to his side. Kai waved at him, more of a flop of the wrist than anything else. And looking more entertained now than he ever had been during one of their shows.

Trumpbull hissed at him, and Roman wondered if a quip about her being a cat would be taking it too far.

“Your type should never be parents.” An iron rod slammed down Roman’s spine, and any amusement he felt drained from his body. Almost as fast as the blood drained from his face. “All you do is corrupt them, lead to more disrespect and unhappiness and sin than anyone else.”

“Hey bitch-” Kai started with a scowl.

Trumpbull threaded her fingers together and spoke over Kai, “I’m going to make sure of that. You won’t be leading young Logan down the wrong path any longer. You’re never going to see him again–”

Roman had never been good at thinking things through. He reacted with his emotions rather than his logic, and it had only endeared him to Patton even more. It was what made his acting so visceral and realistic.

Roman punched her.  

He stepped forward, leading with his dominant foot. He put his whole weight and back into the action. A complete follow through just as Ana Marie had taught him.

His hand ached, and he worried more about whether he might have broken a knuckle on her eye and cheek bones than the way that the woman crumpled to the ground. He watched with dark eyes as she hit the floor, red blooming on the left side of her face like a rose in bloom. Roman thought it was almost just as beautiful. Shame about the plot it was planted in though.

He bared his teeth as he took another step forward, crown crooked on his head from the force of the punch he had thrown. Anger coursed through him. Bitter and dark between his teeth, and all he wanted to do was make her feel the pain. The same pain that came with a husband that still hadn’t stopped crying. The pain that came from years of shame dredged to the surface.

The same pain that she had brought to them, repaid tenfold.

Only there were arms on his, yanking him back before he could get too close.

“Woah man. She’s not worth it Roman. Roman, let it go.” Dillan pulled back on his arm again, and Roman blinked. He shook his head. “It is, come on, man. You’ll scare the kids.”

Roman nodded, breathing deeply through his nose. He pulled his arm from Dillan’s grip, smoothing down the front of his costume and readjusting the crown on his head. The anger still sat heavy against his chest, but he tried to breath it out with every exhale. Even then though, no matter what Dillan said.

Roman bared his teeth in something that could almost be called a smile, dark anger and even darker satisfaction.

It was worth it.