Chapter Text
If anyone had ever thought to ask, you’d know that the happiest day of Dutch’s life was when he got the adoption letters in the mail. Admittedly, it took quite sometimes and a lot of heartbreak watching Arthur crumble over his dead mother and dead father but he knew. That if he was the only person this kid trusted to come to, then he was his now. He’d raise him as his own, he’d be the father that his own father could not be. He also knew that people in his building and people he knew would look at him weird now, make nasty remarks, and say things unprompted but he honestly could not care less. What were a few nasty comments from nasty people in exchange for this kid’s happiness really? Which is what Dutch was determined to do, he’d give this kid a family even if it was just the two of them. He’d give him the life every kid dreamt of.
27th May 1942
A funeral is not the celebration of life it should be when the deceased only ever had one son and dead parents. So, instead, Hosea and Dutch had a quiet day. A private burial where it was just them, Arthur and Copper. Which Hosea has come to learn is the name of Arthur’s agreeable golden retriever, it has taken the oddest liking to Dutch, despite Arthur’s insistence that Copper was decidedly not super friendly to strangers. After the coffin had been lowered, and they all threw dirt over it which Arthur had asked of them. It’s hard to deny a grieving boy. After all had been said and done, and they stood by the grave and listened to Arthur give what was his version of a eulogy they took him to the park. Following behind carefully, as Arthur and Copper ran around, despite the cheeriness of the sun and all the other kids around. Arthur had a gloomy disposition about him. With nothing else to do, they went home, they baked cookies and a cake. They decorated it and ate enough sugar to send them into a coma. A government official knocked on Dutch’s door that day, asking about Arthur.
If we’re being completely honest, Dutch was told to not to speak to him. His general demeanor and his anger at someone trying to take Arthur away had clouded his judgment and the first words out of his mouth were to essentially tell the social worker they were not welcome here. Hosea took charge then, explaining, very calmly, the situation at hand. It was only when the social worker left for the night that Arthur had decided to change the trajectory of Dutch’s life. Because that’s what it was, Dutch’s life, and Hosea had no part in it. Sure, he was his friend, but he wasn’t going to raise a child with him. That would be absurd, what would it look like. Two grown men, playing house, raising a child they have no connection to as their own. And so, he decided he’d let Dutch do what he wanted. It was none of his concern, his sympathy for the boy was just that, sympathy for an orphaned boy. His growing affection for the boy didn’t suddenly mean he was going to accept him as a son, that would be absurd!
It was then, that Arthur had uttered five very simple, very childish words.
“Are you my father now?”
Hosea and Dutch exchanged looks, wondering who exactly it was he was talking to. Despite it being painfully obvious, as he pointed his timid looks at Dutch. Wondering if this kind man, who had for some inexplicable reason opened his home up to him, allowed him in, allowed him to grieve and be a child, was kind of enough to become his father.
To say Dutch wasn’t scared would be a blatant lie, and I, dear reader, am not a liar. Dutch was in fact rather terrified. He’d never thought he’d become a father. What if that had turned him to his father, what if he was cruel and vicious? What if? What if? What if? However, he did care for the boy. Doesn’t that count for something? His fear, did that not count for something? Sure, he wouldn’t get everything right, but he’d try. He’d love Arthur, the way his own father hadn’t. That should be enough at least. This is not to say, that Dutch adopted Arthur out of pity. He did not adopt him simply because he felt bad that his parents were dead. There were plenty of capable parents, families, out there that would do a much better job at offering up a typical life. But he understood Arthur, he knew what it was like to need a father who decided there were more important things to do. He knew what it was like to have a mother who cared too much for her love and herself to look at the child between her hands. He understood. He couldn’t offer Arthur the picture perfect family, which would soon be his downfall, the source of most of his shortcomings, and the feeling of inadequacy, but he could offer love and understanding. He could offer Arthur what some of those other families can’t. They were a family now.
17th August 1942
Soon after, once they had settled into this new picture of life. Arthur, now moved in with Dutch and Hosea still at his own place but spending most nights at Dutch’s place, and if he didn’t always sleep on the couch then that is no one is business but theirs. They had found a peaceful life, a nice one. However, all good things must come to an end. An excess of time on their hands led to petty squabbles, Hosea taught Arthur how to read and write, and Dutch made sure Arthur’s homework was complete every night before bed.
Before long, it was decided they needed jobs. They needed work, they needed to spend at least some time apart. A dream that was put on hold, still continues to live on, and how could a child possibly make this worse. Hosea would continue his life as intended, and Dutch would do the same, and leave a legacy behind for his new son to be proud of. They looked and looked and looked, and applied and applied to as many jobs as they possibly could. In multiple newspapers, and though journalism may not be the end goal they had to start somewhere, A start somewhere is better than no start at all.
“I don’t know Dutch,”
“What’s not to know Hosea? We can both work in newspapers here, maybe even the same one if we’re lucky and build a life, write a book, anything!”
“No! Not just anything! If we’re going to do something we might as well do it right!”
“What do you propose then? We sit at home doing nothing all day and making it Arthur’s problem too?”
“Arthur is not my problem! Never has been, you’re the impulsive one who decided to take on a child without thinking of the repercussions! Do you even know how to be a father? Just because you had a shit one doesn’t make you and expert, it just sets the bar low enough that you can’t fail!”
Hosea’s voice echoed in the quiet dining room, newspaper ads sprawled all over the table. Dutch’s hair falling over his eyes, head in hands in a way that could only truly be art. Infuriating and ugly, yet somehow it made Hosea want to snatch him by the collar and kiss him senseless. Though he’s learned from his mistakes by now. The silence that befalls them now is sickening, Hosea regrets his words. Wants to swallow every syllable back until he can regurgitate it elsewhere.
“That was low, Hosea.”
Hosea picks up his coat and walks out, slamming the door behind him. Leaving Dutch to the quiet of his own apartment. At least until Arthur returns from playing with his friends. They’d already applied to as many places as they could within the vicinity. Hosea wanted this too, but there’s not much else they could do outside of calling and threatening the editors.
Or maybe …
Just maybe …
Hosea could apply elsewhere. Outside of New York.
Leaving the city wouldn’t be so bad, getting away from Dutch and the temptation that being around him entails. Away from this sudden entrance of responsibility in his life. Maybe, just maybe.
That night, Hosea had inexplicably changed all of their lives. Dooming them to a future unplanned and ruined.