Work Text:
“I’ll do it.”
Kevin jumped on the cushions. It was almost imperceptible, with his body lunging forward as if preparing to stand, and yet something pulled him back – like string on his shoulders – as he barely restrained his youthful exuberance. Alisa smiled. He sat cross-legged on the armchair, with his expression so stoic and reminiscent of Nikolai, but there was also something more . . . the passion and determination of Robin behind those blue eyes . . . eyes like hers.
The smile pulled at the corners of her lips and eyes, emphasising the lines that deepened with each year, and yet the smile faltered when she found two faces moving in her peripheral vision: Nikolai and Robin. They both stared with equal intensity, as they sought to ‘subtly’ gain her attention without alerting Kevin between them. They sat on opposing sofas, with Kevin on one armchair at one end and Alisa on the other armchair at the opposite side, and the perfect square was made perfect with a low coffee-table between them littered with various hot drinks.
Nikolai stared at her with an impressive expression, completely devoid of emotion, and yet his eyes were fixed and cold, as if issuing some silent warning to his mother-in-law. Robin took a different approach, as his face – free from its mask – delivered a rapid succession of wild expressions and mouthed ‘no’ over and over. He gesticulated wildly with one hand, while the other held up a cushion to hide the gestures from their son. Alisa lifted an eyebrow in response.
“Er,” said Alisa. “Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Kevin glared. The look was intense at first, but momentarily softened by the widening of his eyes, and – in a moment of pure realisation – he cast his gaze from husband to father, while each visibly jumped and attempted to appear as innocent as possible. Nikolai stared at some rather ‘interesting’ spot on a faraway wall, while Robin fumbled with the teapot on the table. It spilled slightly over the edges of the porcelain teacup, catching the attention of Kevin, and – with a heavy exhale – Kevin turned to him and glared with all his might. He spat out:
“Did he say that I can’t dog-sit?”
A silence overcame the living room. The birds chirped outside, while a clock ticked in a regular rhythm from its place upon the mantelpiece, and yet no one dared to be the first to speak, even as Robin hunched his shoulders and dropped his chin to his chest. He soon scooted along the cushions, so that he was as close to Alisa as their separate places would allow, and she reached out her hand for him to take with a gentle touch, until both were held midair between the armchair and sofa. He squeezed. She squeezed back, and – never once looking away from her husband – spoke to Kevin with as soft a voice as she could muster:
“Your father didn’t say anything to me, actually.”
“So why can’t I watch your new puppy?”
“Well, you’re not exactly . . . hmm, how do I put this?” Alisa sighed. “You’re not exactly good at – ah – keeping things alive. Do you remember when we asked you to water our plants on our last vacation? We came back and they were all dead.” Kevin made to speak, but Alisa continued: “We were only gone for four days, too! I’m not even sure how you did that.”
“Oh, come on! That was one time and –”
“Even the lilies in the greenhouse were dead, and those were left in the charge of the gardener. I went around the whole house and even the cacti in the bedroom were dead. How do you kill a cactus, Kevin? Your father thought maybe you’d purposely fed them petrol or perfume or something other than water, but . . . I know you’re not petty like that. It’s just like you don’t so much have a ‘green thumb’ as the ‘touch of death’. It’s . . . scary.”
A pout crossed his lips. It made him look so much more youthful, like the small boy scalded by his mother for leaving muddy footprints on the living room floor, and he hunched forward to hold onto his feet with firm hands, while turning his head to avoid her gaze. The lack of a mask highlighted each wince and fidget, and made obvious every roll of his eyes and flush of his cheeks, but he remained impervious to her critique in his petulance. He bit into his lip, where he gnawed with enough force that the skin threatened to break, before he finally snapped:
“Again, that was one time!”
Robin scoffed. He squeezed again on Alisa’s hand. It took time for him to turn his attentions fully to Kevin, but – when he did – he did so with such blazing intensity that Kevin momentarily reeled and opened his mouth wide with no sound. Robin quickly softened his expression, but that did little to ease the rod that kept his back perfectly straight. He assumed a hard position, one with tension in every muscle, and even his grip on her hand ground her knuckles together, until she hissed and he loosened his hold with a mumbled apology, which was followed with:
“We used to ask you to mow the lawn, son.”
“So what?”
“The lawn was dead within a week,” said Robin. “You were adamant that it was just a coincidence, so you asked to mow your grandfather’s lawn . . . that died, too . . . you even mowed your other grandfather’s lawn, but that also died. It’s awful coincidental.”
“Oh, fine, so assume the worst of me, then! You always do.”
“I’m not saying that, but I am saying you carry around some awfully bad luck.”
A low hiss of breath escaped Kevin. The flare to his nostrils combined with a flick of his long hair, and his eyes rolled to such a degree that Robin squeezed again at her hand. It sent a sharp wave of pain flooding down her wrist. Alisa gasped. There followed another apology, which was quickly followed by dozens of kisses to her palm and wrist, and – with a blush – she leaned into his space to deliver a kiss to his cheek, as she whispered: ‘it’s okay’. Alisa turned again to Kevin. He made a show of a loud yawn; in response, she folded her arms across her chest.
“You had a puppy as a child,” chided Alisa. “We said it ‘went to live on a farm’, but the truth is that – by some fluke – it had an undiagnosed heart condition, and no one knew until it spent the night in your room and . . . well . . . it just didn’t wake up. We thought it was just bad luck, until we got you the hamster and you forgot to lock its cage one night and –”
“Daddy sat on it,” muttered Kevin.
“We got you the rabbit next, but somehow it also escaped. We would never have known, except a neighbouring farmer was shooting rabbits one hunting season . . . we bought a few for the freezer, as good rabbit is hard to find, but one looked exactly like your rabbit. We got you a beautiful bird next, but that flew away the next day . . . we sometimes see it roosting with pigeons in Trafalgar Park! A bright feathered friend among dreary grey birds.”
“Wait, you told me he flew away to start a family!”
“We thought telling you the truth might give you a complex, honey,” said Alisa. “Grandfather Knight used to have a saying: ‘that boy could drown a fish’. It used to be just a saying, but one day we actually found your fish floating, even after being properly fed, kept, and cleaned. One time, we saw a fish jump out of its tank! I’ve never seen a suicidal fish before . . .”
Alisa softened her expression, when she saw his expression fall at once. The peevishness was all but gone, and instead replaced by his body nearly bent in two, as he fell forward with limp limbs and drooping head, with the sheer exertion of staying upright now too much to endure. The glint in his blue eyes was erased, instead replaced by a thin shine of tears. Nikolai caught the moment of vulnerability, as he slid along his sofa to take the hand of Kevin, and the two interlocked their fingers, with each feeling the pulse of the other, as Alisa continued in a quiet voice:
“What about that plant I gave you for Christmas?”
“What do you mean by ‘plant’?”
“Green,” mumbled Robin. “It has leaves? Needs water? It photosynthesises?”
Alisa kicked at Robin. It was harsh for a human, but painless for a chojin. There would be no bruise or mark, and likely no pain or discomfort, but he would feel that kick and he would know that his response was an incorrect response, and one that would hopefully be rectified by silence. Indeed, he pouted at her with an expression identical to Kevin. For a split second, it was as if she were seeing two versions of the same man . . . before and after, young and old . . . a smile broke across her face even as she strove to remain stoic and serious in the face of such a topic.
“It was a small plant,” said Alisa. “I think it was around three-feet high? It was supposed to require very minimal effort, merely a watering every week or two, and I was told it should be impervious to any damage or death. It was recommended for all novices.”
“I don’t have a plant,” insisted Kevin. “I don’t own a plant. I can’t look after what I don’t have!”
“Kevin, honey, I’m telling you that I gave you a plant.”
“What’s the plant called then? Hmm?”
“I didn’t ask; to be fair, there’s usually little point investing in plants around here . . .”
Kevin rolled his eyes, as he pulled away from Nikolai. He planted his feet on the ground, before leaning forward as much as the table would allow, and locked her so firmly in the eyes that she was forced to lock gazes back, until the two were fixed in an effective staring contest. Alisa leaned forward. He slid to the edge of his seat. She moved to the edge of her seat. He lifted his chin high. The two engaged in tit-for-tat in mirroring each other’s body language, until – finally – he said something with such a high-pitched tone that he was almost a teenager again:
“I’m telling you, you didn’t give me a plant!”
Alisa uttered out a loud: ‘right’. Kevin remained petulant and pouting, as she abruptly stood and marched around the sofas and armchairs. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, while pretending to avoid looking in her direction, and she marched with such speed that her skirts billowed out behind her with every step. She stopped only at the window, where she threw back one of the curtains and pointed to a far corner of the windowsill, and shouted:
“What’s that then?”
He said nothing. It took time for him to turn around . . . one minute . . . two, three . . . eventually, he craned his head to look in her direction, and finally followed her finger towards a potted plant upon the wooden windowsill that made ‘dead’ look ‘alive’ compared to its state. It was barely even recognisable as a plant, with its wilting leaves falling from crackling branches, and a few insects congregated in its dried ‘soil’. Kevin looked back. He shrugged and mumbled:
“It wasn’t there before . . .”
Alisa ran a hand over her face, as she returned to her seat. He continued to simply stare at the floor, while Robin sighed and Nikolai remained silent, and Alisa – muttering barely audible complaints – dropped back into her armchair and crossed her arms once more. The silence spread, but this time she became a part of the problem and remained silent in turn. Nikolai was the one to bring back communication to their family unit, as he reached out to Kevin, and – placing his hand upon a broad and muscular forearm – adopted a passive tone with his following speech.
“What about starting with a pretend animal?” Nikolai suggested. “You can get electronic babies, which will cry and wet themselves and need to be fed, and I am sure we could get one in which they were a dog instead of a human . . . we could build your confidence that way?”
Kevin slouched again. He looked almost half his size, as he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, and – with a sniff – looked between his husband and parents, before biting into his lip to hold back inadequate words. Alisa played with the hem of her blouse, while Robin poured a fresh cup of tea in search of distraction, and the steaming liquid brought with it a delicious scent, as he brought the cup to his lips and took in a deep sip. He was midway through his appreciation of the beverage when Kevin spoke again, as he finally replied.
“I did actually get given a little robot puppy once . . .”
“Oh?” Nikolai exclaimed. “What happened?”
“. . . its battery died.”
Robin choked. He coughed and spluttered, as the tea released itself in a spray, and – as Alisa and Nikolai wiped at their faces and clothes with loud complaints – he burst out into such loud and sincere laughter that it was contagious to hear. Alisa smiled despite the mess. Nikolai tilted his head with a curious blink of mechanic eyes. Robin simply stood and walked around the sofa, until he was behind Kevin, and – with a playful slap on his back – chirped out:
“You really could drown a fish!”