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Fox doesn’t know what to think about this—about Senator Riyo Chuchi standing in his meager kitchen cooking for them. Fox hates cooking, it reminds him of when—
“Fox?” Rex tugs on his hoodie. “I’m hungry.”
Fox’s throat constricts and he looks at the empty cabinets. There is a half a loaf of bread and a can of corn. He already knows that the fridge is empty save for the ketchup and mustard. “Okay,” Fox says.
“When is mom coming home?” Rex questions, tugging a little harder on Fox’s hoodie.
“She works tonight. You know this.” Fox lifts him up and sets him on the counter. It used to be easier, lifting him up and tossing him around. Rex is half his age now, and is nothing but lanky limbs and a bottomless stomach. “But that’s okay,” Fox says, putting on the front of confidence. “I’ll make us something.”
“Where do you keep your saucepan?” Riyo asks, drawing him from his thoughts.
He clears his throat, the rest of the memory dancing in his periphery, and says, “In the drawer under the stove.”
A smile curves her lips. “Did you know you’re actually supposed to keep cooked food in there? It’s a warming drawer.” She retrieves the saucepan and sets it on the stove.
“I didn’t—” he stops the insult before it leaves his lips and takes a deep breath. He knows that he and Riyo had different childhoods, it’s through no fault of her own that her experiences are different from his. They are different people. “We’ve always kept our pans there.”
“Oh, so have we, but it was designed as a warmer. Interesting, right?”
He nods and she turns back to chopping vegetables and setting them aside while the pan warms. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We can just order dinner.”
“I enjoy cooking. It’s a great way to end the day. Besides, how else would I show you my favorite dish? My mother made it all the time growing up and I have a feeling you'll love it.”
He gives her a smile when she tosses a glance over her shoulder, but has nothing else to say.
“Do you have a favorite dish from your childhood? One that your mom always made?”
“It’s called catsup-eu-de-toast,” Fox says and sets a plate in front of each of his brothers. “It’s a delicacy in France.”
“Woah, really?” Bly says and picks up his toast smothered in ketchup.
“No, it’s—” Cody stops abruptly when Fox kicks him under the table.
“Yes,” Fox explains, shooting a glare at Cody. “It has been served to all the kings and queens of France.”
“Woah! So does that make us kings now?” Ponds asks.
“I wanna be a knight!” Rex chirps and takes a bite of his toast, ketchup smearing across his round cheeks.
Fox looks around the kitchen and grabs an empty paper towel tube. “Okay, so I’ll be the high king since I am the oldest.”
Cody rolls his eyes.
“Cody Fett, I dub thee King of the top bunk,” Fox says and taps each of Cody’s shoulders with the paper towel tube. He continues on this way, declaring each of his brothers as the King of their bunks. Except for Rex, who would rather be a knight, even after Fox explained that knights aren’t as important as Kings—
Fox shakes his head. “Once I was old enough I did pretty much all the cooking.”
“Oh,” Riyo says. “What did you like cooking?”
His grip on the counter tightens as he beats back memories of trying desperately to find something while Ponds or Rex whined about being hungry. “Mostly just butter noodles or frozen pizza.”
“Sounds very nutritious.”
“Things were tight,” he snaps. “My mom did the best she could because my father sure as shit didn’t care about us. She worked three jobs and the responsibility fell to me. Something is better than nothing, you don’t know—” he cuts himself short when he realizes that he’s yelling and she’s looking at him like he’s crazy. “I’m sorry,” he blurts. Here he goes, letting his temper get the best of him, pushing people away because he can. It’s easier keeping people at arm’s length like this. It hurts less when they leave.
“Fox, no.” She steps closer to him and takes his hands into hers. “I had no idea that… I didn’t know. You don’t have to apologize,” she says.
He looks away. “My dad left us when I was five; Rex wasn’t even born yet.”
She squeezes his hands. “And because you are who you are, you helped in any way you could.”
He scoffs. “I didn’t do a good job of it, that’s for sure. There’s a reason my brothers don’t come around.”
“You were a child, not an adult. You had too much responsibility from the start, but you did the best you could. Look at your family, all of your brothers are doing wonderfully because of you, because of who you are.”
“I’m no better than my father. I should have done a hundred things differently.”
“I don’t know him, but I’m certain that you are twice the man he could ever hope to be because at the age of five you stepped up when he didn’t. You are a good man, Fox.”
He doesn’t have anything to say to that, either. All he did was yell at his brothers for breaking the rules and pressure them into joining the military. Great thing that was, now Wolffe is missing an eye and Rex is barely keeping it together.
“Do you truly find it so hard to believe that someone could like you for who you are?”
“You’ve spent enough time around me, don’t you?” he grumbles, finally pulling his gaze to her golden eyes.
She shakes her head. “I think you’re remarkable and I think that if you let yourself open up just a little you will see how many believe the same.”
He shouldn’t say anything, he doesn’t have any right to say the words to her. He shouldn't say anything because no one has ever stayed when he has, but he can’t help it when he whispers, “I love you.”
A brilliant smile blooms on her face and she eases up onto her toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you, too. Believe me when I say this,” she says and cups his cheek, “you are very loved by so many people and you are deserving of such.”
“I’m sorry I’m ruining dinner,” he murmurs.
“There is no such thing,” she says, turning back to the stove. “A burnt dinner is just an opportunity for something else.”
“I’ll grab the takeout menu,” Fox says and feels his soul lighten just a little at the sound of her laugh.