Chapter Text
It was just another typical Bossard Brood Friday Night. Auruo hadn’t picked out the stupid name—and neither had Petra. It was voted and decided upon, unanimously, by most of their supposedly well-meaning friends and acquaintances.
“What else,” Nanaba had asked, expression quite serious, “could we possibly call your Friday night gatherings?”
“Right,” Mike had chimed in, followed by Levi and Erwin and Eld and Gunther and even Hange. “It just fits.”
“There are so many of you,” Hange said.
Auruo’d had to bite his tongue to keep from telling Hange to stay away from his kids. She was crazy and he was pretty sure her brand of crazy was catching.
Petra had shrugged it all off, of course. She’d said, “Calm down, Auruo. They’re just teasing.”
But Auruo knew at least two of them were just jealous they hadn’t managed to spawn five tiny versions of themselves. He almost felt sorry for them—and would have, quite genuinely, had they not nicknamed his Friday nights something as stupid as Bossard Brood Friday Nights. Its only saving grace was that it didn’t rhyme.
But this was the typical way he spent his Friday nights: at home with the family. Petra liked to joke that he was “domesticated” now, but Auruo didn’t look at it that way. While all of the stupid teenagers were getting shitfaced on Friday nights, Auruo stayed inside with the kids and his wife. It was nice and cozy and they usually had pizza for dinner and the kids were allowed to drink soda and there was a scoop of ice cream for dessert and instead of sitting at the kitchen table, they plunked down on the living room floor and let the kids decide what to watch.
It was always a Disney movie—sometimes two, if there was time.
Auruo thought it was a pretty goofy way to spend a Friday night, but it was a relief after a long day at work, and anyway, at least he wasn’t spending it alone with paperwork like Erwin, or with a crazy girlfriend like Levi.
Sometimes he was a little jealous of the freedom Mike and Nanaba shared; being relatively normal and childless, they could spend Friday evenings curled up together making out or whatever they wanted. His jealousy never lasted long. They weren’t childless by choice, after all.
Besides, Auruo loved his dumb kids. All freakin’ five of them.
He plunked down on the couch in the living room, followed quickly by Petra, who was holding baby Elliot—the quietest and most observant baby to ever be born. Peter, the oldest, tornadoed into the room and flung himself down next to the coffee table, fighting with second-oldest Flint for the right side of the table.
One look from Petra sent Flint to the other side of the table; last week he’d gotten Peter’s spot.
On Petra’s far side sat Marius, holding his favorite stuffed dinosaur, and between Auruo and Petra sat Aurora.
“We all situated?” Auruo asked.
A chorus of “yes”es rang out, as expected. Petra turned to Marius as Auruo set the pizza box on the coffee table and opened it up. All of the kids reached forward with their plates, waiting patiently to be served. That was definitely Petra’s influence; Auruo remembered his brothers squabbling endlessly, making grabby hands at any food that dared to present itself on his own dining room table.
“It’s your turn to pick the movie this week,” Petra said.
Marius always took movie nights very seriously. He would spend days before his turn to pick trying to decide what movie to watch. With a serious expression on his little face, he said, “I wanna see the shrunk kids movie.”
Auruo bit his tongue to keep from praising God at this fortunate turn of events. Even Petra smiled as she turned her head and raised her eyebrows at him. They were both ridiculously sick of watching Frozen, which the kids had picked in succession for weeks on end.
Auruo went to get the worn VHS tape off of the shelf while Petra opened Aurora’s can of soda for her.
It was a nice night. Not a quiet one, of course—it was never quiet in the Bossard household for long, not with five children and two oftentimes tired and exasperated adults. But Bossard Brood Friday Nights were a good kind of loud; the kids laughed at the jokes that weren’t even funny, and Marius spilled his soda twice (though Petra had been prepared for that with a towel thrown over the back of the couch). Aurora fell asleep ten minutes before the end of the film. Peter and Flint were wired from the soda and as soon as the credits rolled, asked to watch another movie.
“Well,” Petra said, glancing down at Aurora, who was half on Auruo’s lap, “it’s Aurora’s turn to pick. We’ll have to start with her next week… So that means it’s Baby Elliot’s turn, now.”
“Ugh,” Peter complained. “Mom, he’s too young to pick!”
“Nonsense,” Petra said. “He gets his turn, too.”
Elliot ended up picking Cinderella, which of course meant that Petra wanted to watch it. Auruo flashed her a smirk as he popped the movie in; she was probably hoping it would quiet the kids down before bed. Well, there was maybe a fifty-fifty shot at that. It wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he’d had a long day at work and he knew she was tired. They could both use an early evening to themselves.
The movie was half over before Marius fell asleep. Elliot fussed a bit but was carried off by Petra and brought back with a clean diaper a few minutes later; Auruo took him from her and he was asleep in minutes.
Peter was the next to fall asleep, face-down on the living room floor, snoring along to the songs. Flint pretended to the end that he was bored of the movie, but his eyes didn’t droop until the credits rolled.
Auruo turned to Petra. “Wake them up or just put them to bed?”
She frowned, chewing her lower lip. “Wake them up,” she relented at last, with a sigh. “They’ll just have to pee in a couple of hours and then they’ll be wide awake again.”
So Auruo passed Elliot back to Petra and picked up Aurora before shaking the boys awake. “Up, up,” he said. “Go get ready for bed, wash up, make your mom happy, give her a kiss goodnight—all that crap.”
They all complained a little except Aurora, who was practically a mini-Petra in personality; she was the little rule-following princess of the bunch, and Auruo was relieved. She had gone to the bathroom, washed her little face and she’d even changed into her Sleeping Beauty nightshirt before the boys had finished jostling one another in the other bathroom.
For the first time in a while, bedtime was pretty simple. The boys got into their beds—Flint and Marius on the top bunks—without a fuss. Auruo and Petra accepted goodnight hugs and kisses, and then turned out the light without having to warn them to converse quietly until they fell asleep.
Aurora was already asleep by the time they looked in on her. Petra smoothed back her hair and Auruo made sure her blankets were snug enough, tucking her favorite doll into her arms.
Elliot usually slept through the night, which Auruo was more than thankful for. They peeked into the nursery to find him sleeping quite soundly.
“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” Auruo said with a grin, but it was tired; he was tired, and he wished he wasn’t.
“I was thinking a nice long bath would be perfect,” Petra told him, taking his hand and leading him to their room.
“Yeah, you do smell pretty bad. Like pizza and orange soda.”
Petra elbowed him. “Shut up you tax nerd.”
“I’m not a tax nerd!”
“You do people’s taxes. For a living. And you like wearing a tie. All the time.”
He ignored that last part. “I’m damn good at it.”
“Mathlete.”
Auruo noogie’d her. “Former, and that makes you the wife of a former mathlete, you nag.”
“I’m not a nag,” she said as she rummaged through their drawers to find their pajamas.
“Sure you are.” He went into the bathroom to start the bathwater. “Always naggin’ me ‘bout making sure my tie matches. Matches what exactly? I’ve never understood it. Matches my eyes? Matches the room? The world? The little tuft of grass growing in a box in Eld’s office which I’m pretty sure is actually meant for cats?”
Petra threw his pajamas at his head, and she laughed as he peeled them off of his face. “Can’t I just want my hubby to look his best at work?”
“Why?” he asked. “You tryna help me find a new wife? A replacement for you?”
She rolled her eyes but grinned frighteningly wide. “Yes,” she said. “I was thinking of trying to replace myself with Hange. Imagine her sitting through movie night with the kids.”
“I can’t see it.”
“Yeah, well. Okay, her taking a bat—“
“No. First of all, I’m pretty sure she only bathes when Levi gives her some kind of ultimatum or bribe, and secondly, gross. No. No way. I’m not picturing that.”
“She’d kill you anyway. So would Nanaba. What about Nifa—she’s pretty cute, huh?”
“She’s a high class broad.”
Petra smacked him. “Don’t say that! That’s horrible!”
“What?” he asked. “She’s way too high maintenance for me. Have you seen the kinds of clothes she buys?”
Petra sighed. “Fine,” she said, and moved into the bathroom, Auruo trailing behind her. “Anka. She’s pretty, right?”
“And firmly grounded on this planet,” Auruo agreed.
“That’s what I’m going for, then. I’m trying to replace myself with her.” She tugged her stained tee-shirt over her head and fiddled with the clasp of her bra before it finally came undone. She sighed happily and tossed both articles of clothing on the floor.
Auruo leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “Eh,” he said. “She’s not you.”
Petra grinned and leaned back against him. “Yeah. And don’t you forget it. You taxlete.”
Auruo’s kiss turned into a raspberry and Petra laughed, squirming away from him. “Taxlete,” he said, shucking his own clothes. “That’s such a dumb fucking word.”
“Language,” she corrected.
“It’s just us.”
“But it could bleed over, and you don’t want the kids to talk like that in school, do you? The last thing we want is a call from Principal Dawk about the deplorable behavior of our elementary school children.”
“Fine,” he said.
“I like it. Taxlete. It sounds cool. Like taxes are a sport.”
“Have you dealt with some of these pieces of shi—garbage?” he corrected himself. “It should be a sport. Olympic-level.”
“Well, now we can take a nice hot bath with soap bubbles and it’ll all be better,” she said.
“I’m going to fall asleep in the bath,” he complained, but he was the first one in the bathtub. Petra slipped out of her skirt and underwear while he was settling in and then joined him, back against his chest. He pulled her close, hooking his chin over her shoulder, running his fingers over her stomach. He couldn’t see the stretch marks, but they were there. For some reason she’d gotten huge with Marius. She’d been mildly horrified, but he’d found it endearing.
“You’re always touching those dumb scars,” she complained.
“I like them.”
“Because you’re weird, you weirdo.”
He blew a raspberry against her shoulder again. “It’s not weird to like your wife’s body,” he told her. “It’s normal. Or it should be. If I didn’t I’d be garbage.”
“You’re sweet in a strange sort of way,” she said, tilting her head back to peer up at him.
He stuck his tongue out at her.
She returned the gesture.
“Look,” he said, fingers trailing across her stretch marks again. “You’re beautiful and this kinda shit—I mean, this stuff… It’s good, not bad. People who think it’s ugly are idiots. It’s like a tattoo almost, you know? Like our life is written out on your body.”
“I spawned five watermelon-sized Bossards,” she teased.
“And I’m tryna romanticize it,” he scolded, kissing a freckle on her neck. “That okay with you, Naggy McNaggerson?”
She was quiet for a moment, and then settled back against him again, pulling his arms around her closer. “Yeah,” she said. “I just. Thank you. Today was… I wasn’t feeling so great. I tried to put on that dress I wore—you know, the one I wore on that one date?”
“The red one?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
He remembered it well: the short twirly skirt, medium neckline, cinched waist, thin straps. It hung at the back of Petra’s closet, now; she never wore it.
“It…. It didn’t fit.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Petra was usually self-assured and generally confident in her appearance, but sometimes things did get to her. After five children she was bound to have put on a little weight. He hadn’t really noticed; it had happened in between the birth of five children.
He hated that she was feeling down, though. He’d loved her since he first laid eyes on her, and that had never really changed much. He’d grown up and that love had matured. They’d started their family young, but he’d been prepared for it, and he loved going home to his family, Petra always at the center of it all.
Eld teased him about his office walls, but he wasn’t ashamed of keeping pictures of Petra all over the place. There were a few of his family, too, of course, but Petra was always at the center of it all. She always had been, even when he’d been that stupid awkward teenager trying stupid shit to get her to notice him.
He squeezed her tight. “It probably shrank in the wash,” he said. “The stupid piece of shit.”
She laughed at that. “You’re the one full of it,” she said. “I put on too much weight. I’ll never fit it again.”
“You’re ten times the woman you were back then,” he said.
“Ten times?” she asked, sounding horrified. “Auruo!”
“Gah! I mean—I meant—not ten times the weight, Petra! Ten times the woman!”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you’ve matured and I like you even more now than I did on that dumb date. Besides, you stepped on my feet in those heels of yours.”
“They were great heels though,” she said.
“Yeah, but you look hotter in sneakers.”
“With jeans?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Loading the kids into the minivan.”
“I never thought I’d be driving a minivan.”
They both paused after her words, thinking the same thing: Nanaba had sold them the minivan three years earlier, after it—after she’d decided she wouldn’t need it, after all.
Auruo swallowed hard. “Well,” he finally said. “I’m usually the one doing the driving.”
“And you do a marvelous job when you’re not driving like an old couple out for a Sunday drive.”
“I go slow ‘cause the kids are in the car,” he complained.
“Going too slow can cause traffic accidents, too, you know.”
“There you go, nagging again,” he said, leaning back and taking her with him. “Didn’t you draw this bath to relax or something?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Well get to it.”
The bath lasted maybe an hour before they both got tired of sitting in the water and washed up, giggling and snorting like idiot children as they finished rinsing off. Auruo dried Petra off and slid her nightgown over her head.
“You look sexy,” he told her.
She glanced down and then gave him a look of disbelief. “This is basically a giant shapeless shirt.”
He grinned as he dried his hair and pulled on his own pajamas. “Yeah, but I’ve seen what’s underneath.”
“You’re the worst,” she said.
He pointed to his shirt, a faded #1 Dad thing the kids had picked out for him a few years earlier, before Elliot had been born. “I think you mean the best.”
“No, I still mean the worst,” she said, and crawled into bed.
He joined her a moment later, trying in vain to stifle a yawn.
“Long day?” she asked.
He nodded, head falling back onto the pillows.
She turned onto her side and touched his hand. “We can talk about it if you want.”
“Nah,” he said. “Just boring taxlete stuff.” When she snorted in amusement, he gave her a smirk. “How was your day?”
“Pretty good,” she said. “I cleaned the house while the older ones were in school.”
“Yeah, you had the sink in the boys’ bathroom sparkling. How did you do that?”
“Lots of elbow grease,” she said. “I got a little writing done for that—that thing that Nanaba’s been bugging me about.”
“She’s right. If you wanna give it a shot, it sure doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Yeah,” she said. “So while Elliot was down for a nap I worked on that for a while. And then Aurora and I decided on what we’d make for lunch tomorrow.”
“I hope she said cookies.”
Petra chuckled and half-buried her face in her pillow. “She did. But she settled on cookies for dessert eventually. Pot roast and mashed potatoes and gravy for the main course.”
Auruo nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Yeah. It was a pretty good day. I wish I wasn’t so tired.”
She already looked half asleep. Only Petra could go from awake to nearly out in less than five seconds flat. Auruo tried not to grin, but failed. She hadn’t really changed too much over the years. She’d always had intense focus and sometimes it left her wiped out at the end of the day. He turned onto his side to brush her hair out of her eyes, and she made a dumb little sound at him that just made him grin wider.
“Go to sleep, you,” he teased, and pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Night,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for him to hear.
He made sure her blankets were pulled up around her shoulders and then settled in. He was tired—and it had been a long, boring day—but he didn’t mind spending the last few minutes of it watching his wife sleep peacefully. In fact, it was the best ending to it that he could have asked for. Something about it just—it made him feel kind of…safe.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, of course.