Work Text:
Ray’s staring at his clunky computer, trying to figure out how to download his latest round of photographs, when there’s a knock on his office door.
“Come in!” he calls distractedly. The door opens and closes, but no one speaks. After a moment, he raises his head, frowning, and all thoughts of work fly straight out of his head when he registers Bobby hovering nervously across the room, his back pressed tight against the door to make himself take up as little space as possible.
“Lindo?” Ray stands but doesn’t come any closer, not wanting to crowd him. “What is it, are you okay?”
Bobby nods unconvincingly. His face is bright red, and he’s got one hand behind his back like he’s trying to conceal something from sight. Worry sparks hot and bright in Ray’s chest, but he doesn’t talk again, just waits for Bobby to gather his thoughts. As much as Ray wants to act quickly, wants to fix things whenever he can, he’s learned from experience that sometimes it’s better to just be patient, let Bobby get comfortable and come to him.
Finally, Bobby steps further into the room, still blushing madly, and brings his hand out from behind his back, thrusting a piece of paper into Ray’s hand. “I made this for you, we don’t need to talk about it,” he mumbles, and then is out of the room again before Ray can so much as blink.
Ray frowns into the space where Bobby had been, and then slowly looks down at the paper in his hand.
Happy Father’s Day, it reads. I know you’re not really my dad—it’d be stupid if you were—but. You’ve done more for me in the last year than my real dad did for me my whole life. And I love you. Or whatever. So. Thanks.
—Bobby
Ray stares at it, at the shaky handwriting, the scribbled out spaces in between words, the spots where Bobby clearly started to doubt himself and trailed off, only to press the pen down so hard the ink bled and force himself to keep going. Ray stares until his eyes get so blurry with tears he can’t read the words anymore, and then he sinks back into his chair, hugs the card to his chest, and cries.
True to Bobby’s wishes, he doesn’t talk about it. But he puts the piece of paper in a frame and sits it on his desk, for days when he needs a reminder that he’s done something right, that he’s better than his own father was, that there’s a kid out there who loves him.
And when he comes out of his office for dinner that night, he gives Bobby a big hug, and doesn’t let him pull away, no matter how much he grumbles. It’s the best, the only, way he knows how to say thank you. You’re welcome. I love you, too.
Father’s Day 2010 is one of the longest days of Ray Molina’s life.
He’s not sure what it is, but for some reason it seems that everyone and their mother is out to get him that day; some clients want something he can’t give them, others don’t want what he already made for them. He comes home frustrated, tired, and ready to spend a quiet evening with his family.
It seems Trevor’s had a rough day, too. When Ray comes through the door, he’s stretched out on the couch, an icepack melting on his forehead. He doesn’t look up, just raises a hand and rubs his first two fingers together, letting Ray know he’s okay. Relatively anyway.
Rose comes out of the kitchen to kiss Ray hello and explains in a soft voice that Trevor had a lot of meetings today and just needed a break.
“But if you’re feeling any better,” she continues, raising her voice just enough that Trevor will know she’s addressing him now, “the girls have something for the two of you.”
Trevor sits up, frowning, and exchanges a look with Ray; he shrugs, just as clueless. Trevor puts his ice pack on the coffee table and swings his feet around to the floor to make room. Ray sits on the couch next to him, and they both wait patiently while Rose goes to collect Julie and Carrie from the other room.
The two five-year-olds totter into the room, both holding elaborately-decorated sheets of construction paper, dripping with glitter.
“I made this for you,” Julie explains, handing one of her pages to Ray. “At school!”
Carrie climbs straight up onto Trevor’s lap, spilling glitter all over his clothes. “Miss Laney said we had to make cards for Daddy’s Day, so I made you a card, Daddy!”
Ray grins, and he sees just as wide a smile spread across Trevor’s face. “Thank you, baby girl,” he says, kissing her on the cheek, and holds the card aloft so that he can get a better look at the words Happy Father’s Day! written in the kindergarten teacher’s neat handwriting, and below that in sloppy pink marker, J U L I E.
“I made one for you too, Papi!” Carrie announces, crawling across her father’s lap over to Ray. She shoves another card into his face, almost identical to Julie’s except in different colors and with C A R R I E written across the bottom (the R’s are backwards).
Ray has to admit, he gets a little teary. “Wow, Carrie… thank you so much.”
“That was very kind of you, Carebear,” Trevor says proudly.
“You get another one, too, Daddy!” Julie says, and hands over a second card to Trevor.
Ray glances sharply at him, worried how he might feel about getting a father’s day card not only from his own daughter, but from Ray’s as well.
He shouldn’t have worried. Trevor takes Julie’s card like it’s something priceless, hugs both it and Carrie’s to his chest even though it gets glitter all over his $800 shirt. His eyes fill with tears, and he manages a watery, “Thanks, butterfly.”
A wide grin spreads across Ray’s face, and he looks up to see Rose standing in the doorway, watching all of them with so much love in her eyes it makes him tear up again.
It ends up being a pretty wonderful day.