Chapter Text
Ezra Fell dared glance up at the sullen boy sitting across the room at him once again. His green eyes met the boy’s blue ones and instantly flicked back down. His bit his lip.
“I’m sure this is a surprise to the both of you, but the instructions for Adam were very clear. In the event of the untimely demise of his parents, such as in this terrible fire, he is to be placed with his closest living relative,” the stern looking woman behind the desk explained. Her dark hair was cut severely straight at her jaw. The nameplate on her desk read “Mary Hodges.”
“Closest living relative,” Ezra repeated, frowning.
“Exactly. Given that you live in virtually the same town he grew up in, that would be you. Such a tragedy about your…”
“Third cousin, twice-removed,” Ezra replied.
A cousin he hadn’t even known existed.
“I don’t think that’s what the phrase ‘closest living relative’ means,” the boy sitting across the room interrupted. “Seriously, what kind of a lawyer are you?”
The woman looked offended. “I’m an excellent lawyer! Just passed the bar recently, and I’ve been placed in charge of your parents’ will and will execute it to the best of my capabilities as a lawyer. Now, Mister Fell, there’s a few things I need you to sign, and there will be more shortly, but this will just clear everything up for the time being. You understand that you are to become Master Young’s legal guardian, and will therefore be responsible for his health, wellbeing and education?”
Ezra glanced back at the boy sitting on the chair, who didn’t look up at him. “I… well, I suppose I do,” he agreed, nervous.
“Excellent! Let’s get the paperwork filled out, and you two can be on your way.”
Ezra picked up a pen out of the cup on the desk, and set about reading the papers, including the fine print. One could never be too careful with legal documents.
“Well, Adam, shall we be off? I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve often found that a nice cup of cocoa and a cozy seat at home can help,” Ezra offered, holding out a hand to help the boy up and out of his seat.
“My home burned down.”
Ezra bit his lip. “I’m sorry, it was a slip of the tongue. I do hope someday you will come to view my home as yours, but for now, it can be a safe place for you.”
Adam stared up at him with intense blue eyes. “Safe place? I don’t even know you!” He cried, ignoring Ezra’s offered hand and getting to his feet.
“Well- yes, you’re quite right. I suppose we haven’t met before. My name is Ezra Fell, dear boy,” Ezra said, undeterred by Adam’s cold front. “I understand that my distant cousin Arthur was your father.”
Adam didn’t reply. Ezra sighed. “Come, dear boy, let’s get back to my home and we can get you settled in for the evening. Tomorrow we’ll go out and get you your essentials.”
Adam still didn’t reply, but followed Ezra when he made for the door of the lawyer’s office. Ezra could hear the boy’s footfalls behind his own as he headed outside.
“I’m truly sorry about your parents, dear. I’m sure they were lovely people,” he said as he approached the taxi he had called to bring them home. “You must miss them very much,” he continued, opening the rear door for Adam. The boy got settled in the back of the car without Ezra’s assistance.
Ezra sat down beside the driver, gave him the address. The driver nodded and sped off for Ezra’s cozy little cottage.
Adam didn’t speak the whole way home. Ezra tried not to take it as a bad sign. He simply settled into his seat, and waited until they arrived home to approach the boy again.
When the taxi stopped in front of Ezra’s cottage, Ezra paid the driver and gave him and gave him a generous tip, and then walked out to let Adam out of the vehicle. “Here we are, Adam, do follow me? There’s a spare room that I’ll move you into, I’m afraid I don’t have much in the house for children, but that will surely change. It’s a bit small, but I do hope you’ll like it, and you may feel free to read any of the books inside,” he offered, walking up the small, yellow-painted front porch, and unlocked the front door. “Just do use the proper precautions when handling some of them, they’re far older than you or I.”
He walked Adam inside, past the bookshelves lining the walls and into the spare room. The boy sat down on the bed.
“You will tell me if something is not to your liking? I want you to be as comfortable as possible,” Ezra said, looking around the room. “I know it’s fairly empty, like I said, we can go out and get you some things tomorrow. In the meantime, is there something you would like for dinner? I’m not a particularly good cook, I prefer to go out to eat, but I can’t imagine you want to go out again today.”
Adam didn’t reply. Ezra sat down on the bed next to him. “I know this is a lot, dear boy, and I’m not trying to overwhelm you. If you would prefer, I could simply let you be for the rest of the evening. You can eat dinner in here, I won’t bother you. We can try this again in the morning.”
“What am I supposed to call you?” Adam asked. “You’re not my dad, you’re not my uncle, I don’t even know you!”
Ezra contemplated that for a moment. “I suppose Ezra would make the most sense,” he decided, “given that you don’t know me. Perhaps someday it can become Uncle Ezra, but for now, Ezra will do just fine. And I am sorry that you’ve been handed off to a stranger. Perhaps, if you give it a chance, I won’t always be one? I do wish for your time with me to be as pleasant as it can be, all circumstances considered.”
True to form, Adam didn’t answer him. Ezra stayed seated on the bed for a few more moments, and then stood.
“I’ll bring you some dinner up here. There are books, well, all around, the bathroom is down the hall, and there is a computer in my room and I am sure you would be able to convince the old machine to allow you a game of pinball or two. Do make yourself at home, and if you need anything, just call. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he told the boy.
He would make some nice pasta, nothing that would take too long, but something nice and warm and easy to eat. He couldn’t imagine what the poor child was going through, and some pasta and cocoa did have the power to make Ezra feel better, so maybe it could help just a bit with what Adam was experiencing.
He had to be honest, he had never met his distant cousin, Arthur, or his wife, Diedre, nor this child before today. He had a feeling that the lawyer had misinterpreted their will as well, but he was just going to have to make the best of it. There was nothing else to do about it.
He busied himself in the kitchen, filling a pot with some water and salt and setting it to boil. He liked to make his own pasta sauce, so he pulled down a can of tomato paste and various other spices, and placed them in another pot on the stovetop. Soon, the kitchen smelled strongly of tomatoes and oregano and basil, and Ezra barely noticed Adam walk in.
He whirled around, wooden spoon in his hand, grinned at the boy. “Is there something you need, Adam? I’m just making some pasta, it will be done soon.”
Adam frowned. “I’m just looking for the bathroom.”
Ezra nodded. “Come with me, dear boy, it’s just back down the hall near your room.”
He led the boy back down the hallway to the bathroom, then returned to the kitchen in time to finish up the sauce and strain the pasta. Quite pleased with himself, it smelled delicious, he mixed the pasta with the sauce and dished out two portions.
Sat one on the dinner table, carried the other back to the spare room. Adam was back on the bed, sitting and staring at the floor. He knocked gently on the door. “Adam? I have some dinner, do you want it?”
“No,” the boy said sullenly.
Ezra wasn’t sure what he was meant to say to that. “Shall I keep it warm for you?” He offered, still standing in the doorway. “You may feel better with some food in you,” he continued, “I’ll make some cocoa and bring that over as well-”
“I don’t want any pasta, or cocoa, Ezra. I just want you to leave me alone!” Adam snapped.
Ezra ducked his head and left the doorway.
The shop was dark, once the curtains were drawn closed and the lights flicked off. Breathing a sigh of relief, the owner pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of his black blazer.
The owner, known as Anthony J. Crowley of Fleurish Flowers, blinked a couple of times as his eyes adjusted to the faint light still coming into the shop, but was relieved to find it was dark enough not to start to gnaw at his temples and cause a migraine.
Then he looked around the room.
Crowley smiled to himself, plucked a fuschia from a nearby display that clearly wouldn't make it until Wednesday when the shop reopened and tossed it into a waste bag on the side of the shop.
The shop may have been closed, but there was work to be done, still. Carefully, the man went through each of the floral displays, picking out imperfections and flowers that were beginning to droop, despite his best efforts and most sincere threats.
Then he cashed out and closed up the till, locking the contents of the float in the safe under the counter.
Finally, Crowley pulled out his phone to order in some food, because business today had left him tired and he didn't feel like cooking supper for himself and the child upstairs.
He waltzed back into the living space of the building that housed himself, a soon-to-be eleven year old boy, and his flower shop, sat down on the counter as he examined the fast-food menu to see if there was something he had forgotten to order.
There wasn't. Perfect.
The food would be there in about half an hour, so Crowley set down his phone and walked into the sitting room.
The shop was cozy, but the apartment behind it was not. A large kitchen, a dining room and sitting room was on the main floor, as well as a bathroom that was large enough that it doubled for a laundry room. Above the shop, there was another bathroom that Crowley mostly let Warlock run amuck in, two bedrooms and another, although slightly smaller, sitting area. That one was mostly full of boxes of things Crowley always said he would go through and never did.
Crowley flicked on the television, found a channel running Golden Girls in syndication, and settled down onto the couch to wait for dinner to arrive.
The credits were just starting to roll when there was a knock at the door. Crowley sprang up, put his glasses back on and opened the back door to the delivery man.
He quickly paid for the food and sent the man on his way, set the food on the dining table.
“Warlock! It’s dinner time, get down here!” He shouted up the stairs.
“One minute, Anthony!”
“One minute and it might all be gone!” Crowley said, beginning to unpack the meal.
“It won’t be, you never eat anything anyways!” Warlock retorted, running down the stairs.
Crowley supposed he was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Go wash up for dinner, Warlock. I ordered in chinese. Didn’t feel much like cooking, and I knew you weren’t going to.” He gave the boy a good-natured smile. They both knew he was joking. Although soon he would teach Warlock some basic culinary skills, Crowley wasn't likely to expect him to cook meals for quite a few more years.
“I’m only ten years old, Anthony. You can’t expect me to cook, it’s dangerous to use a stove!” Warlock reasoned, walking into the kitchen to wash his hands before sitting down at the dinner table and grabbing a box of takeout from the middle of the table.
“Leave some of that for me, Warlock!" Anthony warned, reaching into the fridge and pouring himself a glass of red wine before sitting down beside the young boy.
"I will, I will! Don't worry!" Warlock portioned himself some of the takeout chow mein, and passed the container to Crowley.
Crowley smiled at him. "I'm giving you a hard time, kid. Did you have a good day?"
"I did. Did you sell lots of flowers?" Warlock asked.
"Eh, it's not really flower giving season. Lots of people admiring, not a lot of purchases beyond a couple of roses for sweethearts. Business as usual," Crowley replied, taking a sip of his wine. "Got any plans tomorrow? I thought we could go to the zoo. The shop is closed on Tuesdays, after all. We could see some snakes!."
"Snake in here not enough?" Warlock asked with a laugh.
"There's more than snakes at the zoo, Warlock, you just know the snakes are my favourites," Crowley laughed, "and our particular snake will enjoy some time with us out of the house. You know how moody she is, and she's about ready to shed so she'll be even worse. But we don't have to go if you're not interested."
"No no, it sounds like fun, Anthony. We should go. Just so long as you don't pick a fight with the cobra again," Warlock replied, "I know you've got a stare like them, but it's no reason to go around challenging them."
"If I can win a fight with our python, I can win a fight with the cobra in the zoo. But, if you insist, I'll play nice," Crowley assured him with a laugh. "Keep my glasses on the whole time and everything. Was there anything you wanted to do tonight?"
"Honestly, I wanted to call a friend. Why, did you have any plans?"
Crowley shook his head. "Thought it could be an easy night. It is summer vacation, after all. No need to be hustling and bustling about all the time. And before you ask, yes, I submit those papers to your new school on time. You're all set to start there in the fall."
"Thanks, Anthony. I couldn't last another minute in that stuffy old private school!"
"Oh, you made that abundantly clear, don't worry. I hope you like this one better. It does seem like a nice place,” Crowley said, poking his chow mien around with a fork before taking a bite. “Lots of other students, a lot of teachers who won’t care who you are, all of that. Everything you wanted! The uniform is a little less strict, too.”
“I never had a problem with the uniform, it was the people around and how strict everything else was, Anthony.”
“I know, Warlock, I just thought you might like to know that this one allows hair dyes and piercings. That said, you and I are going to have to talk about anything beyond ear piercings, you’re still pretty young for anything else.”
Warlock laughed. “Don’t want any piercings, Anthony. At least not yet.”
“That’s a relief, I thought I was going to have to argue with you about which ones look coolest,” Crowley replied.
Warlock snickered and finished his supper.
“Don’t stay up all night on the phone, Warlock, I will be upstairs around ten to check on you,” Crowley warned. “It’s summer break and you know that I don’t really care how late you stay up, but by ten you should be being quiet.”
“I know, Anthony, that’s always been the rule,” Warlock reminded him, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to be exhausted if we’re going to the zoo tomorrow!”
“Exactly,” Crowley agreed. Gave the boy a hug before he went upstairs.
Still on the main floor, Crowley made a few phone calls, he was going to need some new stocks by Wednesday when the shop reopened, summed up some bills and once again found that he wasn’t nearing needing to worry about how the shop was doing. He was a good florist, and people in Soho knew it. When they wanted something nice, they came to him.
He’d just gotten out of the rush of proud parents and grandparents buying their graduates flowers into a bit of a break, but it was nothing concerning. He had a wedding coming up in two weeks that was going to need his attention. The grooms had this brilliant, neon green as one of their colours, much to Crowley’s distain, and were insistent on finding flowers that matched, so Crowley was being forced to make phone call after phone call, trying to find someone who could get him the closest to neon green flowers. So far, he had not had much luck beyond carnations, which everyone knew you could make any colour with a bit of food colouring and some patience.
After a few more fruitless phone calls, he had a message from a number that prompted him to delete it without listening and put his phone away. He could hear Warlock chatting upstairs, he opted to just go back to the Golden Girls marathon that was playing on the television.
Each time his phone rang again that night, he let it go to voicemail.