Chapter Text
It’s pouring when Taako walks down to the school, and the wind is blowing his umbrella inside out so much that he gives up trying to use it at all. It’s a heavy, warm summer rain where the drops feel huge and thick — like it just seems to make you wetter than regular rain — and it’s not even doing anything to clear the hot, muggy air. He can’t even begin to imagine how frizzy his hair is going to be. Gross.
He’s soaked through by the time he gets to the school gates, earning him a few looks from the parents that he could either see as sympathetic or condescending depending on how he was feeling that day. Today, he feels sufficiently condescended to. He opts for sulking by the gates and muddling around on his phone to avoid getting roped into awkward small talk.
The bell rings, and a horde kids roll out the building like marbles, a flood of little umbrellas and plastic raincoats and squeaking welly boots. He spots his one in no time; it’s hard to miss the only kid who’s wearing a checkered blazer and bow tie. He had been feeling kind of bad about bringing a broken, largely useless umbrella on the school run, but he doesn’t know why he wasted the energy worrying about it when obviously his kid is the most prepared one in the playground, parents included, and has both his own umbrella and a waterproof poncho.
He waves. “Ango!”
Angus spots Taako and grins, running over to greet him. They fist bump. “Hello sir!” he says, “I didn’t realise you were picking me up today, but I’m happy to see you!”
Taako slips the little boy’s satchel off of his shoulder and swings it onto his own. He’s long since given up on asking Angus not to refer to him as ‘sir’; it makes him feel old, and like he should be getting paid a lot more than he is, but the kid was raised by his grandpa and some of these old-fashioned formalities just seem to stick to him. “Yeah, your grandpa called and asked if I could take you for tonight. That cool with you, little man?”
“Of course!”
“I was thinking you, me and Lup could bake some cookies, if you’re feeling it. You got lots of homework?”
“I’d like to bake cookies. I’ve just got some Science homework.”
“Lup can help you with that one, then. I don’t know shit about that. Watch the puddles.”
The rain is clearing, but the thick, humid air isn’t. Taako knows he is losing control of his hair without having to look at it; he can feel the frizz building, like he’s been rubbed on the head with an entire party’s worth of balloons. The sooner he gets home and away from all the hot dads, the better.
Taako has been babysitting Angus McDonald a few nights a week and the occasional weekend for almost two years now, and he’s constantly surprised by how fucking much kids grow. He’s only ten now, but he is definitely twice the height he was when he was eight, right? He is, however, just as precocious and as unnervingly self-possessed as he was two years ago. He also still holds Taako’s hand when they cross a busy road, which doesn’t really jive with how grown-up he tries to be the rest of the time, but honestly, Taako doesn’t feel needed very often these days, especially since his sister decided to personally attack him by getting a boyfriend, so he embraces it.
Angus chatters away the whole walk home, and Taako loves him and cares about his day, he really does, but there’s only so much he can hear about his Grammar lessons before his brain starts playing elevator music, so he’s glad when they get home and he can tag-team with Lup for a while.
He ushers Angus into the small apartment entryway and pulls his poncho over his head for him, then takes his umbrella and hangs it up to dry. “Get your shoes off and put ‘em outside the door, they’re definitely super wet,” he says, “And I guess you’ll need some dry socks. Lup’s around somewhere, if you wanna go say hi—“
“Is that my favourite fancy little boy?” Lup bursts out of the kitchen, smoke trailing out behind her, and rushes down the hallway to hoist Angus up into a hug. “How ya been, buddy?”
“Hi, Miss Lup!” Angus wraps his little arms around Lup’s neck as she scoops him up and squeezes him. “Do you have something you need to, uh, check on, in the kitchen?”
The kitchen does look decidedly murky, and now the door is open smoke is filtering out into the rest of the apartment at an alarming rate. Taako gives Lup a look that he hopes says I think Angus’ grandpa trusts me but he might stop if I send Angus back smelling like he’s smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, and Lup gently plonks Angus back down on the floor and slips back into the kitchen again. “It’s on purpose!” Taako hears her shout as she closes the door, “It’s just one of those recipes that— you know, it makes a lot of smoke. Uh.”
Taako and Angus look at each other. Taako doesn’t want to be the first to rip the shit out of his sister in front of a ten year old, and Angus would take Lup’s side anyway, so he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Right. Well, I’m assuming that’s dinner that Lup’s working on in there, so how about homework now and then we eat? Show me what ya got.”
Taako swears that either homework is getting harder, or he is getting stupider.
They’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table as Taako quietly swipes through Fantasy Tinder and Angus draws a graph, brow knitted in concentration behind his big round glasses. He’s changed out of his damp school clothes into a pair of flannel pyjamas that Taako keeps in a drawer for him. (With Angus’ grandpa’s health being as wobbly as it is, Taako has ended up being pretty well-equipped for any last-minute after-school babysitting. In the last year or so, he just gave in and cleared out a full drawer in his bedroom.)
On any normal night, Angus blasts through his homework before Taako even gets a chance to show himself up trying to help. Tonight though, his heart doesn’t seem to be in it.
“You good, dude? We can do this later if you’re hungry.”
“Oh. No, I’m okay, I’m just distracted. I was thinking about something that happened today. Maybe I can get your input on it, if you don’t mind.”
Damn, Taako thinks, this kid is one healthy communicator. Why can’t I just do that. “Uh, yeah, shoot, I guess.” he says.
“Well,” he starts, putting his pencil down, “My teacher asked today if I wanted to join the Rebound team. She said it would be good for my teamwork skills.”
Taako can barely remember what Rebound is, other than that it’s some kind of sport, and involves a… ball? “Wait, you? Angus? Angus McDonald? Sports?” he chuckles, and Angus looks embarrassed. “No, dude, that’s really cool. I mean, I don’t know anything about how Rebound works, you’re not going to get tackled and break your bones or anything, right?”
“Oh. No, they’re pretty strict about that.”
“Okay, because if I take you back to your grandpa with a broken nose I don’t know if we’d get to hang out anymore.”
Angus still looks kind of uncomfortable, which Taako isn’t used to. “Come on,” he prompts, and pokes Angus in the arm, “I know you’ve got something to ask. Spit it out, little man.”
“Well, I want to try it out. I think it would be good for me to develop the skills that come with learning a team sport.”
“Okay. Nerd.”
“But practice is two nights a week, and every second weekend. It would mean a lot more work for you, sir. You would have to pick me up at night when my grandpa can’t do it, and he can’t— well, it’s kind of late for him, and he’s not been so good at leaving the house lately. And I know you’re busy, with your job and everything.”
Taako feels himself soften a little bit. “Aw, Ango. Don’t worry about my job. If they have a problem they can suck it. If you’re cool to sometimes hang around in the cafe after your practice, then I’m cool to come pick you up. It’s no sweat, seriously. What did your grandpa say?”
“He said he would call you later and talk to you about it. He didn’t say no, exactly, but…”
“Well, it’s not that big a deal for me. I’ll talk to your grandpa, but,” he shrugs and makes a face, “I don’t see why it would be a problem. Just don’t turn into one of those super sporty kids and get really hench. I refuse to babysit a kid who can beat me up.”
Angus’ big brown eyes widen. “Really, sir? You don’t mind?”
“It’s no biggie—” Taako starts, and is cut off by an excited, slightly wet-dog-smelling ten year old cannonballing into him for a hug. He gives him a brisk squeeze back before working on loosing his arms from around his neck, where they’re tangled in his hair. “Don’t give me too much credit, dude.”
Lup pushes the door open with her hip and comes in, balancing plates heaped with pasta. “I was lying about the smoke thing, I had actually just fucked up what I was supposed to be making, so you’re getting this instead. Did I miss a big emotional moment here?”
Angus whirls around and starts to quickly pile up his homework and pencils, sitting them neatly on the floor so Lup can set his plate down for him. “Miss Lup, Taako said that he would start taking me to Rebound practice!”
“Did he?” she says, taking a pillow off one of the battered old sofas and sitting on it, joining them around the coffee table, “I’ll be real with you Ango, I don’t know what that is. Happy for you, though.”
Angus doesn’t sleep over that often, but his grandpa had called Taako earlier that day and said he would pay Taako double if he could take him and drop him off at school the next morning. Taako had groused about it a little when he got off the phone, but it was half-hearted grousing. He won’t easily admit it, but he likes having Angus around. He’s a smart, funny little kid who barely causes trouble if you keep him in books and puzzles, and having a kid in the apartment lends it a special sort of cosiness that’s hard to replicate. Blessedly, Lup adores him, so Taako doesn’t have to supervise round the clock.
After dinner is eaten and the dishes are done, they finish up the homework, bake some cookies — nothing too complicated — and then Taako tidies up a little while Lup puts a movie on and settles down on the couch with Angus to wind down before his bedtime. Taako and Lup are near-identical in some ways, but she’s more easily affectionate, more tactile, and it comes more naturally to her to tuck a blanket over both their legs and let Angus snuggle up at her side.
He takes a call, quietly and in the other room, from Angus’ grandpa, and together they agree that he’ll get paid time-and-a-half for the days that he picks up Angus from practice. It’s going to take a bit of juggling, but his cafe shifts have been cut recently and it makes sense to take whatever extra money comes his way. Besides, maybe he’ll get to know some cute dads.
Angus has dozed off on Lup’s shoulder by the time the movie is over, so Taako wakes him up to go and brush his teeth, then unfolds the creaky sofa bed and layers it up with blankets and pillows. He slips his finished homework into his bag for him, fills up a bottle with water, and feels weirdly grown-up and responsible.
Angus comes out of the bathroom, shiny and clean and smelling like bubblegum hand soap.
“You got everything you need, little dude?” he asks, and Angus nods sleepily. “Good, no reading by torchlight until 3am or whatever it is little nerdy kids like you like to do, then.”
Angus wraps himself up in the heap of blankets that Taako scavenged from both his and Lup’s bedrooms and every soft furnishing in the apartment (without the blankets to hide how beat up they all are, they all very much now look like they were pulled off the side of the road, which they mostly were). “Goodnight, Miss Lup!” he shouts, to a muffled response from another room. “Goodnight, sir. Love you.”
Angus always says he loves Taako, before bed or after a babysitting session or before hanging up the phone. At first, he didn’t really know how to respond, before remembering that actually, as much as Taako is aware that he can be a dick sometimes, Angus is literally a ten year old, and needs that reassurance in his life lest he end up invoicing Taako for therapy in ten years.
“Love you too, Ango,” he says, and clicks the light off.
The next morning flies by in a stressful flurry as both the twins sleep through their alarms and Taako momentarily forgets that he’s responsible for a child. Work clothes, dry shampoo, braid hair, toast and peanut butter for Angus, check he has everything he needs for school, where the fuck did he leave his shoes last night?, coffee, clean the smudges off Angus’ glasses for him at the sink, phone wallet keys, and out of the door. Late, but only by a few minutes, which is basically early.
Speed-walk to school, adjust Angus’ satchel straps at the gate, fist bump, wave him off, sprint to work before he gets a written warning.
Killian rolls her eyes good-naturedly when Taako stumbles in fifteen minutes after his shift is due to start, and when he opens his mouth to explain she holds her hand up and says, “Your kid, I know. Don’t worry about it.”
She’s just switched on all the lights and finished wiping down the tables and display cases, and the cafe smells like pine disinfectant and freshly-brewed espresso. She slides a mug of coffee along the counter to Taako as he ties his apron.
“Ren’s already here, she’s been baking since seven so we’re on track.”
“Nice. I texted her this morning so I think we’re on the same page already. I was thinking…” he opens up his phone, scrolling through his notes app, “Honey and camomile cake, vegan cinnamon and walnut muffins, white chocolate marble banana bread, cannoli.”
“That sounds killer. How’s little Agnes doing?”
“He’s joining some sort of sports team thing, can you believe it? His first practice is tonight.”
“Ugh, that’s so stinking cute.”
Killian flips the sign, the cafe opens, and Taako downs the rest of his coffee and joins Ren in the back. She’s checking on the muffins that Taako had texted asking her to start on first thing, and they smell beautiful — like a kitchen on Candlenights morning. He claps her on the back in a gesture of approval.
In a word, Ren is solid. Taako hired her himself. She’s diligent, chipper, and — even by Taako’s standards — easy to work with, and between the two of them the morning goes by without a single hiccup.
He’s just about halfway through piping the cannoli when Ren comes back from her break and says, “Taako, Killian says she wants you to say hi to someone out there.”
“Really? Now?” he says, holding up a sagging piping bag of pistachio paste, and she just shrugs.
“Dunno man, maybe they’re a fan of yours,” she winks at him and ties her apron back on.
“Right. Well, can’t disappoint a fan, obviously,” he passes her the piping bag, which she takes it carefully with both hands. “Remember, pipe from middle to outside on both sides.”
She says, “Gotcha,” just as Killian shouts, “Taako, get out here!” and Taako resigns himself to some manager-enforced uncomfortable chat.
The man standing at the counter definitely looks like a friend of Killian’s; he’s massive, in a very unimposing sort of way, and looks like he could have a popular fitness Instagram, or be hired for bachelorette parties. He’s wearing worn jeans and a green flannel shirt, and is holding a leash with a very large wiry deerhound on the end of it.
Taako blanches. “Killian, we agreed no dogs in here. Its tail could take out one of the display cases. Dude, can you tie your dog up outside?”
“Don’t worry, Taako, Fisher’s a good girl.” Killian says, giving Taako one of her best ‘keep in mind that I’m actually your boss’ looks, which Taako fully ignores.
“She could still wag her tail and take out half our stock, so I’m gonna have to ask that you—“ he looks at the man, “Tie her up outside.”
Killian opens her mouth to argue, but the man holds up one (huge) hand and says, “No, he’s got a point, she’s super big. Back in a sec.”
He talks softly to the dog as he takes her outside and ties her up by the door, crouching down to her level to make sure she’s not tangled in her leash, ruffling her ears lovingly while he’s down there. Taako has never fully trusted a man with a big dog. What are they trying to prove, you know?
“Come on, man, he’s really nice. He’s my wife’s best friend.” Killian hisses under her breath.
“Why did you get me out here to meet this guy? I don’t even like dogs.” Taako whisper-hisses back.
“You’d know by now if you hadn’t tried to antagonise him.”
“I did not—“
The man bursts back into the cafe, does a strange little half-walk half-jog back up to the counter, rubs his hands on his jeans (presumably, Taako thinks, to get the dog smell off) and then offers a hand to Taako to shake. “Magnus Burnsides,” he says, “I think I might be your kid’s new coach?”
Oh.
Taako reluctantly takes the hand in front of him and gives it one up-and-down shake before letting go and tucking his hand into his armpit. “Oh, he’s not my kid.”
“Right, of course, sorry. You’re his— nanny, or something, right?”
“Babysitter.”
“Gotcha.”
“Since he’s not going to introduce himself, Mags, this is Taako,” Killian steps in, “He’s my extremely rude head baker. I thought I’d introduce you two since you’ll be seeing each other out on the playing field when he’s dropping off and picking up Angus, but honestly I expected it to go better than this.”
Taako rolls his eyes and hopes Killian sees him do it.
“No, I get it, no one likes to be disturbed in the middle of the work day. I can leave you alone if you’re busy.”
“Do I look like Angus’ dad?”
“Uhh—“
“Like, do I— me—“ he gestures to his ears, poking out of his hair and studded with rows of crystal earrings, then more generally to the rest of his body (which he believes speaks for itself), “—look like I have a ten year old human kid? Because if you say yes, I think I’m going to need to seriously re-evaluate all my choices.”
Taako doesn’t expect Magnus to laugh at this, but he does. He laughs with his chest, deep and rumbly. “Yeah, that’s a fair point,” he chuckles, “Look, all of this aside, I’ve heard that your banana bread absolutely kills. That’s what I’m actually here for. I’d like to think I’ve tried a lot of banana breads in my time and I’m still on the lookout for the best one ever.”
Killian is already behind the counter, wrapping a slice up in wax paper and sliding it over to him. He goes to take his wallet out of his pocket and she holds her hands up in front of her and shakes her head.
“So are you going to be taking— uh, Andrew—“
“Angus.”
“—Angus to all his practices? Even the weekend ones?”
This is just pointless small talk now. Ren is all alone back there, potentially fucking up the cannoli’s visual consistency by piping it weird. “Not all of them, probably, but I’ll be there a lot.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing more of you, Taako.” Magnus says, smiling widely, seemingly oblivious to Taako’s lack of interest in whether or not they see each other at all. He takes a bite of the banana bread, folding down a corner of the wax paper, as he walks to the door. “Also, Killian was right. This is really fucking good. You’re really good!”
Taako watches him untie his dog and break off a piece of cake to share with her, and silently resents Killian for putting him in the position where he has to stand around at Angus’ practices and make conversation with this huge, strange man when he could be lurking in the corner and staring at his phone.