Work Text:
Every morning, but especially on the mornings when Claire had bad dreams, she would sit up and look around her room for a moment to remember that it was real.
And every morning, the life she'd had in Hemet, California seemed further and away. Thank goodness for that.
The low-cost housing in the rougher area of town had been small, the walls flimsy, the rooms drafty, and difficult to keep cool in the summer. The tiny bedroom had been very plain, with a twin sized bed shoved into the corner almost as an afterthought. The bare metal blinds had been bent up before they'd moved in, and most days, it felt more like a cell than a girl's room.
This was different. Her father had made it perfectly clear upon arrival that this was her room. Really hers. She'd barely stepped foot in it, and he'd offered to let her change it to suit her. The two windows were large and bright, there were curtains, and the bed was big and comfortable. At first she'd wished for a lock on the door, but after a few days it had become apparent that Cas was not the type to open doors without an invitation, and she relaxed somewhat.
When Charlie had taken her shopping at Cas' request, she'd picked out a couple of posters. Gory things, to be honest, but she liked them, and no one had questioned her on them. They were small, but they marked the room as hers. The bookcase had been light enough that she'd moved it across the room, and with a small allowance, she'd started to fill an empty shelf.
Her clothes, more than she'd had in some time, nearly made it into the hamper in the corner every time, and the resulting mess was left to her to care for.
She was getting comfortable, and she was starting to relax.
Claire had had some concerns, or what it would be like to live with a man without her mother around. She hadn't had time to think it through. All she remembered from phone conversations as a small child had been her own voice prattling on about the things in her daily life that concerned her, school, some odd dream she had had, and whether her teacher was nice to her. He would say during the parting of those phone calls that he loved her, but she hadn't really understood it. She'd been expected to say it to Amelia occasionally, especially if someone else was around to hear it, but she didn't understand it.
In an attempt to understand Cas better, she'd asked him a few questions each evening when they'd sit down for dinner, which was more often than not, cooked in the kitchen, and occurred every day, as Cas was never lazing around in too deep a haze to walk. That had been a change. In an effort not to seem nosy, she'd regulated herself to three questions a day.
So far she'd learned he didn't have a girlfriend, because he was gay. Her mother knew, but hadn't told her, and he found it odd that Amelia wouldn't mention it. He didn't have a boyfriend, because he'd just stopped seeing someone, and he thought it would be best to be single for a while before meeting anyone new. He didn't have any other kids. He didn't have any pets. He worked at an elementary school, but he wasn't a teacher... He was boring, actually. Except for the gay thing, that was different. And after asking if it made his life any harder, if he was treated rudely for it, he'd explained that no one seemed to care.
Television had painted things so differently. She'd expected some sort of drawn out example of homophobia he'd suffered, but none came.
Starting school had been rough. Cas had had to help her set an alarm, and even with it, she was having a difficult time waking up at the right time. The middle school she'd attended had put up something of a fuss in faxing over her records, but Cas had kept a copy of her birth certificate, so the high school did what they could to let her attend in the meantime.
It had been about two weeks in, that day, as Claire was watching out the window that Cas had raised the question gently, "Are you making any friends at school? I've sure the summer, without any neighbors your age, has been a bit lonely for you."
Claire shrugged, "Kind of. There's a couple of girls who I sit with at lunch, not a big deal."
"It's very important at your age to remember, it's not about how many friends you have, but that the friends you do have are a decent sort of people. I hope you'll keep that in mind," Cas said quietly.
"Right. No hanging out with people who practice witchcraft."
"Witchcraft is fine, sacrificing animals is not."
Claire turned to look at him, "What?"
He repeated himself, "I have no objection to alternative religions, or mainstream ones, so long as they don't incite violence. If a Wiccan chooses to pray to a tree, that is none of my concern, but I'd rather you didn't kill anything to do it."
"I-... is this a joke?" Claire asked.
"No, it's all true. You'll find decent, caring people in all walks of life. Don't judge too harshly before you get to know someone. There are plenty of people in the world that would assume I'm some sort of deviant, and I'm sure you've heard enough blonde jokes to find them offensive."
"So, like that MLK thing, right? That thing about judging a person's character?"
"Yes, exactly," Cas answered, "And remember, what others think of you doesn't matter nearly as much as what you choose to be. If you choose to be a kind person, good friends will find you."
Claire wasn't sure if it had been a pep-talk meant to give her a boost, or if her young mind was grasping at the edge of some sort of adult ideas about life that it was simply to small to comprehend yet, but the ideas Cas had posed that morning cycled in her mind.
She'd had a few minutes between classes, and stopped into a bathroom to check her eyeshadow, certain she'd smudged it.
Charlie had tried very hard to help her learn to do makeup, but it had been difficult, especially when it came to lipstick. She'd picked out a brilliant red shade at first, and then Charlie had helped her find a more muted tone. The color made her happy, and Charlie had agreed it was acceptable for school, but once applied, it never took more than a minute before Claire was wiping it off.
It was too red. It was slutty. She felt awful just looking at it, and in the back of her mind, her insecurities murmured to her that everyone knew... Everyone knew. She was disgusting inside, a special kind of filthy that cold never wash away, and no one would ever want anything to do with her...
At the same time, her dad had triggered a chain reaction when he'd put certain thoughts into her head. Thoughts that triggered a few very different thoughts, about who she could choose to be. She could choose to wear the lipstick, or not. She could choose how people saw her. She'd been denied so many choices, and it took having her hand forced to get her out of there.
She'd been about to attempt another go with the lipstick, well aware she'd likely wipe it off again, hoping she'd get used to it slowly. But with her hand raised, something made her pause.
All at once, the door of the bathroom burst open, and a boy just as skinny, and an inch or two shorter than herself was shoved violently into the room. He hit the wall hard, and once he'd regained his balance to find her watching him with strange interest, he began apologizing immediately and hurrying back toward the door to leave again.
"Sorry! Sorry, I'm not- Just, I'm gone, really-"
"Wait!" Claire said firmly, even as the sound of the boys outside echoed several foul slurs that had to be directed at him. There was a pain in his eyes she recognized easily, and could almost feel.
He stopped in his tracks, reaching for the door handle, nervous, and she pinpointed What had caught her attention, his eyes were tearing up. "What?"
"Well, if you go out there, aren't they just going to shove you back in here? Or kick your ass, right?" she asked.
The language from the other side of the door had put him down in many ways, and although some of it was feminizing, she realized that in spite of his small size, he was clearly masculine. The other kids were just assholes.
"That's going to happen anyway, it's been like this all through middle school, why stop now?"
Claire pointed to the closed door, "They aren't about to come in here because they're chicken. They're picking on you and calling you gay because they're jerks. Meanwhile, my dad actually is gay, and nobody cares. If you roll with it, you'll confuse them, and they won't know how to pick on you, they'll have to find something new, or give up."
He scratched his head, his actions somewhat bouncy as he turned her advice over in his mind, "Introduce a new variable, and the meatheads won't be able to cope? Makes sense..."
"Here," Claire held out the tube of lipstick, "I can't stand this color, you can have it."
"You think embracing the derogatory crap they're implying is going to help?" he asked.
"Either they'll kill you, or they'll leave you alone."
He shrugged, and turned to the mirror, "Either way, it ends."
Claire found the cryptic remark dark, and it didn't sit well with her. She waited until he'd applied a thick layer of red to his lips, badly, if she was being honest, and then motioned to the door as he tucked the lipstick into his pocket.
"I guess it's not too bad," he commented.
Claire shrugged, "I doubt those guys would have the guts to be seen like that... I'm Claire, by the way."
"Kevin Tran," he answered, "So, if we walk out of here with me wearing your lipstick, these guys might think-"
"I don't care," Claire replied, "I know what's really going on, and so do you. All set?"
Kevin nodded and started for the door, "Here goes nothing."
Right behind him, too close to be ignored by the boys crowding the door, Claire answered in a manner he'd later find to be very true, "I've got your back."
Pulling the door open wide, Kevin didn't step out of the bathroom immediately, half daring them to set foot inside to continue the tirade of abusive language. He held his head up, meeting their eyes in turn as he stepped forward, but seeing a look of confusion as the very red lipstick had to have been noticed was proof enough for him that Claire was right.
Will huffed, "Wow. It finally happened. He turned into a girl."
Stepping closer, Claire linked her arm through Kevin's as she narrowed her eyes, and pushed through the group with him, and hurried off down the hall, only stopping when they'd reached a corner.
"Holy crap, that was weird," Kevin said quietly, turning to face her, "You're new here, aren't you?"
"Yeah. I just moved here from California."
"Is that where they taught you to be a badass? ...I gotta go, I'll see you around," Kevin said, hurrying away, "Thanks for the lipstick!"
It wasn't until she was outside, several hours later, waiting to be picked up that it crossed Claire's mind that she had chosen kindness.
Piling into Cas' car, he waited until she'd buckled her seat belt and pulled away from the curb, "How did today go?"
"I think I made another friend," Claire said softly, "He seems okay, but he's getting picked on."
Cas nodded, "That is usually the type of person who needs friends the most."
One Month Later
Considering the age range, Cas had been fairly certain that allowing Claire to have four friends over to watch movies and loaf around all day, perhaps work on homework or trade clothes and accessories as girls tend to do, should have been no problem, and required no intense supervision. He was sure having a competent adult available was just a formality to ease the minds of the other parents who had to work Columbus day, while he had the option of catching up on some paperwork at home.
It had been an unfounded assumption.
Claire struck him as a very low-maintenance teen. She never asked for anything unreasonable, and she certainly wasn't spoiled. It had become apparent that she needed a computer for school, and Charlie had managed to get him the best possible price, although she'd changed a few things between him picking it up at the store, and getting it home, and Claire had been grateful to get it... There was supposed to be drama involved with teen daughters, and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
From the porch, waving to whichever designated mother had carpooled the children out to his home that unseasonably warm October day, his entire plan changed. Katie and Abigail, he had met, and Miranda, he had heard of, and was was aware of her address, having dropped Claire off there at least twice. He hadn't expected Kevin.
Silently he reminded himself to keep quiet, and avoid embarrassing his daughter, although he did wonder what Kevin's thoughts behind his attendance might be, and what interest Claire might have in the boy. He resolved to attempt the paperwork in the open dining room downstairs, where he would be able to monitor the situation a bit more carefully.
He had stocked the kitchen in preparation for a day full of rummaging by five teenagers, and Claire had figured out her way around the entertainment system in the living room, so after fetching his supplies from his office, he settled in at the dining room table, hoping for no more distraction than a slight insight at what his child's social life was like.
It didn't last.
He wasn't entirely certain how they had gotten to this point, but the kids had gone out into the back yard to get some air, and he'd spotted Kevin on top of the garden shed.
Heading outside to ask the boy to climb down carefully, he realized two of the girls were egging him on, Kevin had removed his shirt, and had a fanciful design of cheap pastel makeup with a gratuitous amount of pink glitter on his face.
"Hey, Mr Novak, do you have a shovel in this shed that is below us?" Kevin called across the yard.
"Uh, yes? Why?" Cas answered, coming down the steps. He was put off-kilter by Kevin's use of the word 'us,' despite being the only one of the roof of the small building.
"What about rakes? And trowels and stuff?" Katie asked.
Cas nodded, "That's usually where people keep yard equipment. Kevin, why are you-?"
"What about hoes?" Katie asked quickly with a chuckle.
"I-" Cas started, but he was quickly interrupted.
"See? We told you. We are now King M.C. Powder-puff of Hoe Mountain, and we will be addressed as such!" Kevin declared.
"Please come down from there, Kevin. That's not sturdy-" Cas began.
"Rap-battle us for the title, Count Novak!" Kevin proclaimed, "Winner takes all the hoes!"
A sharp jet of water hit Kevin in the side, making the boy squeal as Cas turned quickly to see where it was coming from. Releasing the spring-valved handle on the garden sprayer, Claire let her arm drop.
"The King regrets his decision to conquer Hoe Mountain!" Kevin said quickly, squeaking slightly, laughing, and shivering, as despite the warm air, the water had to have been cold. He moved carefully to the edge and swung himself down.
Soaked and sparkly, Kevin moved further away from the garden shed, and Cas did a quick headcount, turning around to find Miranda sitting on the grass closer to the house in a fit of laughter.
Cas was at a loss for any way to get the situation under control, but at Claire's minimal insistence, her guests headed inside. Kevin's shirt was located, and Claire had retrieved a pair of jeans that didn't fit her well - hips - to let Kevin change into something dry in the downstairs bathroom. During his time out of ear-shot, while the other girls were sitting down for another movie, and Claire was digging another round of snacks out of the pantry, Cas asked her quietly, "What did Kevin mean by 'Hoe Mountain?'"
She shrugged, "His idiot highness was being an idiot. I told him to knock it off. Sorry."
"No, you aren't responsible for his actions, just, if you have any concerns about this boy, or anyone else, I hope you'll tell me."
"Oh. No, he's okay, he just does this thing lately where the more he acts up, and the weirder it gets, the less the guys at school mess with him, because there's no way they can embarrass him anymore. And there's like, two or three girls that like him now, but don't worry, none of them are here. He's just being a dork," Claire answered.
Cas nodded and pulled a full six pack of sodas from the fridge ready to follow Claire into the living room, when Kevin exited the small bathroom and came through the kitchen fiddling with the waistband on the jeans.
"Check it out, Claire," Kevin said in a much too amused tone, "I'm literally in your pants."
"Just for that, I should have grabbed you a skirt," she replied, rolling her eyes at the glitter-smeared boy before heading to the living room.