Work Text:
Henry gets the text halfway through his workday. He’s elbows deep in paperwork to open the third shelter in Manhattan, the numbers and the statistics swimming in his head - he’s been at it for barely an hour and he already wants to give up and crawl under his desk. He picks up his phone to text Alex, seeking sympathy for his woes, but there’s already a text waiting for him.
Did you see the email from daycare?
All Henry’s worries and frustrations with the shelter fly out of his head, as he scrambles to pull up his personal email account on his laptop. A million things are flying through his head - there’s an issue with Arthur at preschool, he’s hurt and needs to get picked up, someone tried to kidnap him. His inbox finally loads and once he reads the subject line, his heart slows a little bit.
Police Visit Next Week
More curious than worried, Henry opens the email.
Good afternoon families!
We’re happy to announce that we have just scheduled Officer Jacobson to come next week to talk to the students! It’s a highlight of their year, and all the preschoolers really love seeing an officer in full uniform! We have him visit our preschoolers every year to talk about calling 911, and understanding that all police officers are here to help! The best part is they get to tour the squad car and meet our K-9 Unit! If parents would like to attend with their child, don’t hesitate to reach out!
Henry’s initial panic dissolved completely by the time he finished reading the email. As usual, it’s Alex making trouble where no trouble should be. He’s going to text Alex, telling him not to worry - it’s not like their son is a criminal, after all - but the intercom on his office phone beeps telling him that his 2:00 meeting is here.
It doesn’t cross his brain again until he’s home again, shedding his jacket and his shoes at the door. Alex is waiting for him in the kitchen, chopping peppers while Arthur makes a mess on the kitchen table with his painting set. Henry tries not to wince, imagining the tempura paint ruining the finish of the nice oak table.
“We should have just bought him one of those that just use water,” Alex says, reading Henry’s expression. “I had one as a kid - that shit’s magic.”
“Creativity deserves to be expressed.” Henry steals a pepper strip from the bowl, munches on it. “So what was all the to-do about the email from school?”
By the way Alex slams the knife down on the kitchen counter, Henry knows that he is gearing up for one of his long-winded rants. Arthur really doesn’t need to hear his father go off on the dangers of police, so Henry wraps his hand in Alex’s sleeve and tugs him into the living room.
“It’s just,” Alex says, rubbing his hands through his hair. “It’s bullshit propaganda for children - trust the cops. They should be teaching them that they don’t have to speak to the police without a lawyer present. Innocent until proven guilty, and all that shit. He should be wary of the cops because so often they won’t have his best interest in mind. And it’s just -”
“Alex, woah.” Henry says, reaching out to squeeze his shoulders. “Slow down, love. I understand what you’re saying, but our son is four. He should trust the police enough to find them when we’re not around.”
“But he can’t, Henry. Sure if he took after your side of the family but he so clearly takes after mine.”
Henry closes his eyes as it hits him like a freight train. “Ah.” he says and drops down next to Alex on the couch. “I see.”
“Yeah! Why couldn’t they fucking have some firefighter or some shit come and talk to them about 911 and stranger danger and all that shit. It’s literally the same but it’s not teaching them to trust an institution that is corrupt and fucking awful to the people who aren’t wealthy and white.”
“You do realize that’s about 90% of the families at our daycare,” Henry points out. Not to mention himself, who didn’t even get why Alex was worried about the police until it was clearly pointed out to him.
“Yeah, I know.” Alex tugged on his hair again. “I just don’t want Arthur, and all those other kids in there to say shit to cops and incriminate themselves or their family. It’s against the law for cops to talk to kids without an adult present and they should know that. I told the director just as much today when I picked Arthur up, because she should know that too seeing as she’s the fucking director of the place and has to have our kids best interests at heart.”
“You, wait. What?”
“I happened to mention it as Arthur was going back in to grab his sweater, and then, well. She asked me if I wanted to have a talk with them about the law, and what I was concerned about and I may have said yes.”
“Yes to giving a talk. To children. About their 6th amendment rights.”
“Fifth amendment, and it’s something they should learn - it goes hand in hand with stranger danger. Don’t tell anyone anything if you’ve only just met them - that goes for cops too.”
Henry stutters out a few vague vowels, but words fall short of describing everything that is going on inside his head. “You’re such a lawyer, Alex.” he finally says.
Alex preps for his talk at Arthur’s preschool harder than he’s ever prepped for any court case or speech. He’s constantly asking Henry to read it and make sure that it would make sense for four year olds to understand, and then asking Arthur the same thing. Henry thinks that Alex is planning on using their son as some sort of prop for his demonstration and he’s considering getting time off of work to watch this whole spectacle go down.
The night before, Henry has to drag Alex to bed at close to 2am. “This is getting ridiculous, Alex.” He says before laying on top of him to prevent him from escaping once Henry falls asleep. “Go to bed.”
He wakes up late the next morning, planning for a lazy day of running errands before popping over to school to watch Alex’s presentation. Henry is actually really excited to watch what exactly his husband has planned, but he’s keeping that fact to himself. Alex’s ego is already big enough.
He stops dead when he comes into the kitchen for coffee.
“Arthur, love,” Henry says. “What is that on your shirt?”
“It’s Ruth Bader Ginsberg!” he says, adorably butchering the name.
“That’s right it is, baby!” Alex says, sweeping into the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. “And what does Ruth Bader Ginsburg say?”
“I dissent!” their four year old yells, banging his fist on the table. “I want a lawyer!”
“Jesus wept,” Henry mutters under his breath. But he wants to be supportive and encouraging, so he grins at Arthur. “That’s so good, love! I’m so excited to see your presentation today with Dad.”
“Which, speaking of, we gotta get going, if we want to get to the craft store in time. We need to pick up our props that I ordered.”
“Props?” Henry asks, fear churning in his gut. “Alex you’re kidding-”
He comes back for one final kiss from Henry. “I’m never kidding about putting on a show, baby. Can’t wait to see you later.”
The presentation is, of course, an absolute masterpiece. Somehow through both skit and presentation of facts, Alex clearly delivers his information to the four year olds. Henry’s visited their class before and he’s never seen such a large group of such very small children’s attention be held so raptly by another human being. (That wasn’t on a screen.)
He’s also entranced by the spectacle Alex has created. It’s elaborate and ridiculous, Alex playing the pretend police officer, and Arthur playing a child who demands to see both his parents, and a lawyer. Alex peels off the costume he’s wearing to give brief discussion on the facts of what they just learned, followed by Arthur cheerfully teaching his fellow students how to recite the preamble to the constitution.
It’s the most wonderful, horrifying Alex thing that Henry has ever witnessed in his life. He can’t wait to send Norah and June the video he took of the whole spectacle.