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“Alright, okay, why don’t we, um... Get that outta your mouth. Huh, lil’ guy? Chew on something else, maybe?”
Rome was only trying to help. It may have been a silver spoon, but all day long Shiv had been trying to get Kenny to use the pacifier that was clipped to his shirt to occupy his mouth instead of every inanimate object that crossed his direct line of sight. His slobber had already claimed her nice sunglasses (well, every material thing of Shiv’s surpassed nice in make and model) and the cake that sat patiently in the oven was nowhere near ready, so the spoon was of no use to Kendall right now other than to satisfy his infantile urge to masticate on some inconvenient article. They realised that getting a grown—albeit regressed—man to listen to reason is easier said than done, though.
The annoyed look painted on Kendall Roy’s face is one of unbridled, babyish annoyance. He’s definitely pouting as soon as he acknowledges the fact that Rome’s trying to redirect his present interests—can’t he just leave him alone? More than anything, it’s comedic considering he’s a newly forty year old man, but Little Ken is cute as a button and it takes everything in Roman not to lose his cool.
He bends down to remove the aforementioned utensil from his big… little… whatever, his brother’s mouth, putting the thing back on the table and away from Ken’s grip. “Jesus, it’s like—like anything that’s vaguely shiny this kid shoves in his puss.” Raising his eyebrows, he realises his unspoken innuendo and Shiv shoots him a warning glare over her shoulder. Her Don’t try it, Rome, is read loud and clear.
Kendall knows his brother is talking about him, but is in his own little world and quickly finds a new makeshift toy to entertain himself with on the play mat Shiv set him up on when she arrived. It wasn’t a real play mat, of course; Kendall didn’t even technically have any “real” toys. She literally just took one of the fluffy throw blankets from his couch and doubled it up so he could have something soft to sit on instead of the hardwood floor, but whatever. The kiddo didn’t care—he had some cool wooden blocks with letters on them. Life was pretty fucking stellar.
Shiv walks out of the kitchen, abandoning her previous task. Rome had showed up to Kendall’s apartment maybe three-ish hours ago with a box of Betty Crocker cake mix, number candles, and bottle of red (2017, some French name she pretended to care about) in frazzled hand. All she needed to do to get Rome’s attention was send a simple text: the predetermined, totally-nonchalant word they’d decided upon long ago for whenever Kendall regressed hard and one of the two needed the extra help.
Dropped.
And like that, Romulus made himself present. Really present, especially since he’s now wiping drool off the almost-named CEO of Waystar/Royco’s scrunched-up face with some oversized bib bought from the depths of Amazon under a fake name. Ken clearly isn’t enjoying being mopped, whining like he’s on the brink of tears the entire time, but Rome knows he’ll be alright. Knows that whenever Ken is... like this , he’s a more of a Grade A Drama Queen than his adult self, only fussy because his playtime was so rudely interrupted. When he’s done, Roman heads to the bathroom and throws the bib into the hamper under the sink, making sure to smooth out his hair before meeting Shiv by the oven.
Their brother was a good Little. He never threw tantrums or caused any other such trouble for them. He slept a lot and didn’t have a pension for sophisticated communication. Poor thing is just so fucking starved of genuine attention and loving touch in his day-to-day life that he’s clingy as a koala cub on coke, always needing to be in perfect view of at least one of the two “adults” he’s comfortable around. They can’t even piss in peace without the baby whimpering for ’Om or ‘Ib. (Don’t even get them started on the set of lungs this kid has). They’d always thought it was too bad there weren’t really honorifics for caregivers who happen to be siblings, but Ken makes Rome and Shiv’s hearts melt every time he calls out for them, rain or shine.
“Gee, Rome. Not like he’s, I dunno. One? Two?” She grins, shifting her right hand from side-to-side in estimation of a number that’s probably closer to one, considering they can clearly hear their brother babbling up a storm of nonsense syllables a few feet away. Taking a sip from one of the obnoxious wine glasses she snagged from Kendall’s cabinets, she somewhat wishes now more than ever that she could take a few pictures of him. Kendall can’t fully recall what goes down in his headspace: in recollection, the events of the sibling’s time spent in the company of one another is altogether fuzzy. Not to mention, if you’d told her a year ago where she was today—cooing down at her big brother sitting flat on his ass, kicking his feet excitedly out in front of him, chomping down on his fingers—Shiv would’ve told you to get fucked from three different holes before she shoved you out of her way. That Kendall was pathetic, so it made total sense. “He’s in diapers. In… headspace. Lay off.”
He hums, agreeing at the very least with his sister’s comments. “Yeah. Y’know, honestly never would’ve guessed that today of all days he would be young as shiiii—” Roman coughs, making sure he doesn’t curse in front of the baby. “—take mushrooms!” His eyes widen, and he makes haste bouncing back over to the blanket their brother tenanted, ruffling his non-existent hair with gusto. “Little ankle biter. Look at those cheeks!”
Shiv scoffs, proud of Rome for at least trying to cover up his foul language. It’s nothing Kendall hasn’t heard before, but they had certain rules they needed to uphold if they wanted to keep The Baby from crying his lil’ eyes out at the drop of a hat. While Big Kendall is no stranger to cussing a bitch or two out, the two quickly learned that even a small slip up in the language department could make him think he’d done something wrong, and they’d have buckets of tears and a very unhappy Little to deal with.
“‘Om’n! ” Ken giggles, every bone in Shiv’s otherwise desolate body turning maternal with each peel of Roman-incited laughter. The man in question is planting kisses on every inch of his brother’s (newly clean) face, emphasising each smooch with a loud mwah. Kendall tries to fondly push him away, but they both know they are never this affectionate with each other when he’s Big, so… what happens in Littlespace stays in Littlespace. “N-nuuh, no!”
Roman pulls away, a look of faux shock gracing his countenance. “No?!” He exclaims, bringing a hand to rest over his heart. Rome loved to play up the dramatics. “Whaddaya mean ‘no,’ ya stinker! Are my kisses not good ‘nough for you, ya brat?”
“Leave him alone, Ro. Just let him play,” Shiv nudges, but she knows he’s completely harmless. She can hear him mumble something about Kendall’s ungratefulness under his breath, the gag still going strong. “Besides, I'm basically done over here, and then. Then we can sing and eat.”
She’d never admit it to anyone, but Ken’s smaller days were a cherished currency between the trio. After every shitty thing they’d ever put each other through in adulthood, and the newest stake being driven between their collective ribcage, it felt good to lock themselves behind a door that didn’t require one of them to emerge the most triumphant. Where the three of them could escape the abusive blows that carrying their family name dealt out. They had finally reached a comfortable medium where Ken could really, truly let go and be as Little as he needed to, the anxieties of their first few “sessions” now a thing of the past. Yes, these were the times where Kendall needed them just as much—if not more than—they needed him.
Roman almost doesn’t hear the oven beep a couple times until Shiv is shutting it off, placing the tray on the granite countertop. Her gaze drifts just beyond it, Kendall eager to get her attention by waving a block up at her. “‘Ib! P’ay, ‘Ib?”
Oh, what the hell, Shiv thinks to herself, eventually kicking off her heels and sitting next to him, her knees drawn to her side. She brings a hand to his back, drawing soothing circles in a clockwise motion with her beautifully sculpted nails. Were he still Big at this particular moment in time, every mental wall Kendall Roy had worked so hard to plaster around him in his maturity would come crumbling down with each brush of Shiv’s delicate fingertips. He enjoyed the comforting movement, humming contentedly as he built up another tower of blocks just to knock down and start all over again.
They give the cake a couple minutes to cool down before Roman frosts the thing and manhandles Ken into a seat at the kitchen island. They didn’t think to get him some kind of high chair because that would just be nothing short of humiliating. Maybe for a gag gift at his next birthday they’d do something like that. Or, maybe that was too on-the-money for everyone else in the room with even the smallest suspicion. Kendall had enough bodily control to (hopefully) not fall out of the chair he sat in now; the adults would have to wait and see.
Naturally, the cake is double chocolate: it may have been Ken’s special day, but they’ve met on the same page about this since childhood. Rome beats his sister to the punch by sticking a single candle into the top of the lopsided loaf, the lighter he ordinarily used for joints would now be given the new job of igniting a particular birthday-boy’s taper. The two know he’s going to end up a huge mess of icing one way or another when all is said and done—leaving him in the shirt with the company logo spread across the chest is the best option for a semi-easy cleanup. Not like any of them cared about it anymore.
“Siobhan,” Roman croons, voice low and alarming as he fishes for the mentioned lighter. “If I find so much as a single eggshell in my slice, consider yourself the proud new owner of the same pixie cut every ex-politician girlboss would jizz their girlfriend’s sensible shoes to rock.”
She rolls her eyes, cupping her hands over Kendall’s ears swiftly just to mouth a breathy fuck you in the direction of one Roman Roy, who proceeds to scratch his nose with his middle finger before the candle on the cake comes alive with flame and the elder siblings find themselves on the other side of the island to watch their brother as he’s given the performance of a lifetime.
In all honesty, their singing isn’t half bad, considering it’s all heart and no classical training. Kendall fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, biting the inside of his cheek the entire time with his gape glued to the flame the entire time. Shiv could’ve sworn he gave a small smile towards the end of the tune, but she just couldn’t be sure. They feel the air in the room immediately turn sour, watching in slow-motion as a red-orange blaze becomes reflected in the newborn tears that welled up in their regressed brother’s eyes.
"Yikes," Rome whispers. "Didn't think we were that bad..."
“Oh, honey,” Shiv pleads seriously, reaching her hand out to him in hopes that he would seek comfort from her grasp. “What’s wrong, baby?”
His bottom lip begins to wobble, and it’s like the entire catalogue of his adult memories from the past few months come flooding in with no remorse. “Bir’day’s icky… D-don’ wanna.”
They hear a hitch in the baby’s breath before the hot tears come rolling down his sunken face and he’s not even crying into his hands to muffle the sound. Roman is already by his side while also keeping his distance, prophesying exactly which well his brother’s pain is being fished from. Shiv stands tall like a tree, a look of obvious concern sewn into the knit of her eyebrows.
“Con m-made me feel stup’d! A-an’ ‘Ib didn’ wan’ anythin’ to do w-with me! ‘Om’n push’d me a-an’ my face h-hurt an’ I was bleed in’! An’ Dada, he—he… I w-was all 'lone.” Kendall weeps, stunning his siblings into utter silence. They didn't want to interrupt, but he was breaking their hearts piece by piece. “Don’ like my bir’day 'nymo'e.”
It was legitimately the most he’d said all evening long. And, what hurts even more is knowing that this is the first time Kendall’s spoken about that night at all, regressed or not; it probably meant he had aged up a small amount just to be able to articulate his hurt. The fact that he was even capable of mentioning Logan like that, calling him, well… something he hadn’t in under forty years was enough for Shiv and Roman to almost grasp the kind of hell the kid must mentally be going through. His siblings hurt him that night. It was only fair that Kendall was honest—Lord knows they’d stabbed one another in the back more times than any family should.
Kendall’s siblings silently consider their options in the one glance shared between them. Roman inches closer, finally erecting the courage to place a timid hand on the back of his brother’s neck. His thumb caresses the little hairs along the nape as he thinks of a non-humorous way to validate his suffering while also staying sane on his own part. Rome almost weeps himself when Shiv reaches for Kendall’s hand, tired of waiting for him to make the first move.
“Sweetheart, we… we know. At your party, that we… intentionally weren’t being very nice, and that’s not… not, uh, okay. At all.” Her lips pressed together in a small frown that illustrated just how foreign the concept of a genuine apology was to them. The things she did for love, right? “Rome and I have zero excuse for what we did—to you.”
The candle burns faithfully as Kendall listens, softly breaking the hold Shiv’d placed on him to wring his hands anxiously together under the table: a habit he only exhibits whilst really submerged in his headspace. They had no idea when it’d initially started—maybe after he almost drowned?—but a few months back it’d gotten so bad that his left palm had slightly bruised from the routine kneading he’d taken up.
“Okay, so. Like, we really could’ve been soooooo much worse—” Rome starts, before Shiv flicks him hard in the temple, raising her voice at him to get serious before she throws him out of Ken’s apartment. He cries out before going right back into his usual flowery language in some bullshit cover up. “Alright, alright, alright, I take it all effin’ back! We were insanely dipping our toes into the D-O-U-C-H-E pool. Olympic diving into that thing.”
More tears pitifully stream down their baby bro’s cheeks, his eyelids already red with irritation. Shiv doesn’t know what next to do until she observes Roman rolling down the sleeve of his previously-bunched, expensive button-up to pull the cuff over his thumb and begin drying every last drop of wetness that found itself on Kendall’s face (even the snot under his nose, requesting Ken blow into it, too). No matter how many times in the past year they’d watched over him as a team, it often surprised Shiv how the spirit of fatherly love took over whenever Ken regressed this young. She often wondered if with every offspring Logan Roy bore, that the nurturing gene was dished out to the last bead, leaving not one iota of the stuff for her to claim as her own.
“Kenny, you want Scout’s Honour?” Rome asks while rolling up his sleeve again, Kendall finally broken from his trance to look over at Shiv uneasily taking off her jewellery and placing it on the marble countertop. “We got nothin’ goin’ for us right now, yea? We’ve pretty much lost everything that’s been handed to us always and forever, since, like, birth. We wanted to do this for you to, um, make amends. Make, uh, up. For everything. We can’t even skim the surface to get our hands on a legitimate apology, but, shit, um… y’know, the difference between us and, King fuckin’ Lear is that,” Roman breathes, looking at Shiv before sealing his sentiment in Kendall’s lacquered eyes. “We recognise when we fuck up, and are willing to—at the very least—try and take the first steps of… mending ‘ye olde Shakespearean trauma.’ And the best part of it all?”
Ken and Shiv are enthralled. What orifice did Rome pull this authenticity bullshit out of just now?
“Is that, sure. No more yachts. No more parties, o-or crazy fuckin’ parents changing the terms of a divorce under our noses. But from the ash of that shitshow, we… we got each other. We chose each other, when Shiv, you n’ I could’ve been even bigger dickwads to you, Kenny, than we already have been. We will. Um, I mean in that, we’ll always pick you. From here on out.” Roman pauses to take in the smiles on his siblings’ faces. Why it took them so long to really choose each other, he’d never really understood. Until now. “And, it’s not all talk, alright? Gonna continue to act on this, o-or Logan didn’t name me after a wolf like the... secret furry that he probably is.”
Shiv’s agreement is given in a solemn nod—time to get real. “Kendall, look at us.” He obeys, his fists now balled up into his pant leg. “We don’t have to do the whole… birthday do-over if you don’t want to, hon. We are just. God, we’re so, so sorry.”
In silence, Kendall can only muster the strength to grab them both from their clothes and tug them towards each other, smushing himself in the middle of them. For once in his life, Kendall Roy allowed himself to be held. His pain was not only acknowledged, but effort was made in his favour to turn wrong into right, once and for all. Rome and Shiv tighten their grip on each other, Kendall enjoying the sensation of being protected on both sides by the only two people whose endeavours he really gave a shit about. Those thoughts were honestly just a bit too Big for him right now, so he made note to tuck those away for another day.
“Dude! ” Rome exclaims, in turn making Ken and Shiv jump a little. He breaks the embrace to run to the nursery. Their Little brother glances up at his caregiver who places two shielding hands on both of his shoulders, resting her cheek against the top of his head (which she assumes he must’ve re-shaved a few days ago, judging by the prickly sensation on her face). She probably should’ve given him a bath, too, but. Ah well. That can always wait ‘til tomorrow.
When Roman returns, his two arms are held behind him, a shit-eating grin dancing across his lips as he revels in the confusion of his siblings. Shiv just wanted Kendall to blow this friggin’ candle out so she could put him down for the night already. She raises one hand quickly, quietly asking him what was up with breaking the Hallmark moment so soon. “How on earth could I forget about… this lil’ guy!”
Rome whips out the last-minute gift he picked up from the FAO Schwarz back in the city. Well, paid someone to grab it for him is more appropriate, but the thing itself was Roman’s very own brain-child, thank you very much. “‘Every boy needs a dog.’ Ain’t that what the masses say to guilt people into buying, like, more dogs?”
It’s a Hush Puppy. Like, the ones from the eighties when Kendall would’ve actually toddled around his childhood home with a freshly manufactured one. It’s all brown fur with cream-coloured patches, a baby blue bow tied neatly around its neck. But those eyes… Oh, those eyes…
“Saw him and, hah, thought to myself,” he sighs, for dramatic effect, as always. “‘Wow. Who else do I know that rocks the same big, sad, Pillsbury Dough eyes as our lil’ bro?’ If I didn’t get him for ya, I dunno, I prob’ly would’ve started crying, too.”
When Roman gingerly hands him over to the regressed man, all Kendall can do is stare at it, like the thing is going to disappear if he looks away for even the shortest amount of time. He runs his fingers over the soft material of the dog’s ears a few times, taking it all in. “‘Ove h-him…” Kendall silently cries as he draws the plush closer to his chest, seeking approval in the faces of the caregiver at his shoulders. “Mine? Mine, ‘Ib?”
Shiv shoots a worried glance at her fellow caregiver, treading lightly. “Yea, sweetheart. Of course, no, yea, the puppy. He’s all yours, Ken-baby.”
When it’s Rome’s turn to confirm, it appears as if the smile on his face has only gotten bigger. “Happy Birthday, baldy. You’ll always be our favourite baby bro, FYI.”
Ken giggles and Shiv’s sure angels start singing somewhere. “On’y, Ro-Ro.”
“Yeah. Our only one, buddy-boy.”
And once they finally are able to wrestle him into bed that night, their bellies full of chocolate cake and good laughs, it’s only natural that Ken insists they climb right in on either side of him and his new friend, and that they sleep ‘til kingdom come.
Besides—Shiv and Rome just didn't have it in them to tell the little guy "no" anymore.