Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elio acted quickly. The moment he heard the screeches emanating from the boys’ room, he didn’t hesitate. In one fell swoop he reached for his earbuds, pushed them into his ears, and turned on some music, proud of his own ninja-like reflexes. He wasn’t able to bask in the moment for long, however, because he was promptly smacked in the face with a flying pillow. He glanced over to see Oliver with another pillow poised in ready, aim, fire position. Elio rolled his eyes and pulled out one earbud. 

“Go take care of your mini-you,” Oliver said. 

Elio responded with a wordless whine. 

“I didn’t say act like your mini-you,” Oliver replied with a small smirk that seamlessly transitioned to laughter. “Do you want me to go?” The ‘again’  hung in the air between them like the smell of burned toast— silent, yet impossible to ignore.  

Elio shook his head. “No. I’m going.” The screeching had stopped, but he swung his legs off of Oliver’s lap onto the floor and dutifully shuffled toward the boys’ room nonetheless. 

Once there, he found what he’d known he would. Ollie sitting on his bean bag chair with a small flashlight tucked tightly under his arm. Leo circling, vulture-like, hoping he’d drop it. 

“What’s going on, guys?” Elio asked— as if he didn’t already know. 

Ollie smiled pleasantly and shrugged in a whatever-do-you mean-big-brother-? manner, but Leo stated the problem plainly. Well. Somewhat plainly. 

“Lollie say I not can have Fashie.” The three-year-old stared longingly at the small flashlight Ollie had been guarding with an iron elbow.

“I’m using it right now,” Ollie said as he pressed his dear Flashie into his side so tightly his armpit tingled.

“It doesn’t really look like you’re using it right now,” Elio said, keeping his voice light. It wasn’t a judgment; merely an observation. 

Leo’s head swished side to side hard enough to leave his blonde hair looking wind-blown when at last he stopped. What his Papa said was 100% true. “Lollie not are use it! Lollie squish it!” Leo was accustomed to embellishing his words with motions in order to be understood, so he demonstrated this by flapping his arm and turning a circle in a kind of one-armed chicken dance. “Lollie squish it like DIS!” When his dance ended, he gazed up with big, sad eyes that made his Papa want to give him whatever he wanted. 

Elio knew he had to look away before he was bewitched, but when his eyes shifted to his little brother, the situation did not improve. Ollie sat atop the bean bag chair with absolute resolve, all furrowed brow and Elvis lip. “This is my super duper most favorite thing in the whole entire world,” Ollie explained, squeezing so hard he knew he would surely have a flashlight-shaped red mark pressed onto the skin of his inner arm. Again. This had been happening off and on for two straight days; ever since Dill Pickle’s stuffed giraffe had strangely disappeared into thin air. 

Elio sighed, uncertain what to do. He hated to see his little Sweet Pickle upset, but he couldn’t very well pry the flashlight out of his eight-year-old brother's grasp, either. And besides, he understood where Ollie was coming from. Last time he’d shared his flashlight, it had somehow ended up in the toilet. So he walked over and plopped down heavily on the edge of the bed with both of the boys’ eyes glued to him. He stretched out an arm and picked up Leo’s plush whale. It was one of the three-year-old’s favorite toys. He held it out and waggled it side to side. Olive, their dog, wagged her tail eagerly, but Leo's socked feet seemed to grow roots. He wasn’t taking a step away from the flashlight his brother held. “Come play with me and Splashy, Sweet Pickle,” Elio said.

Olive yipped, but Leo shook his head. “No, fanks.” He flapped his chicken elbow toward Ollie. “I not pay wis Spashy! I pay wis FASHIE.” 

Elio set the whale back down next to Leo’s pillow. If only they could find Leo’s plush giraffe, Elio knew he would be able to entice his young son. It was the only toy that Leo had brought with him from his foster home, and he still slept with it every single night. Or he had slept with every night until it vanished two days ago. 

Leo’s eyes filled with tears, and Elio began to wonder if perhaps prying the flashlight from Ollie’s grasp might not indeed be his best course of action. Fortunately for all involved, Oliver strode into the room at that very moment. When he sat down on the bed next to Elio, Elio was aware suddenly that he recognized the sensation of it. The comforting and familiar way the cushion changed shape beneath him when Oliver sat next to him. He thought it was a strange thing to notice and to love, but he did so anyway. Oliver hadn’t looked at all pleased when he entered the room, but when he saw the way Elio was looking at him, he smiled. 

I thought you could use some help, his smile said. 

“I can't share this because I’m using it right now.” Ollie shifted his steady gaze from Oliver to Flashie, and back again. 

Leo poked his lip out. 

I needed some help, Elio’s eyes said. And Oliver could certainly see why. It was a no-win situation. Ever since Leo's giraffe had vanished, he seemed to only want to play with whatever Ollie had at any given moment. Oliver puffed out his cheeks, elbows on his knees, and let out a long, low sigh. “Who wants to get out of the house for a bit?” he asked. Everyone in the room, including himself, was surprised by his words.

Some called it a bomb cyclone. Others had just been calling it the Big Freeze. But whatever the name and whatever the cause, the majority of North America had been faced with plummeting record-breaking temperatures that made both Elio and Oliver even more thankful than ever for their warm, dry home. A home which they had dictated to the boys that they must stay inside until the extremely frigid weather had passed. 

Ollie raised a dubious eyebrow. “But you said it’s too cold.” 

Leo nodded. Ollie spoke the truth. Daddy and Papa had been telling them for two days that it was entirely too cold to go out. 

And Oliver knew that it was. But when the children were fighting over a tiny flashlight and his young husband looked as tense as a wound spring, the benefits of getting out of the house became greater than the benefits of staying inside. 

“We’ll just go for a drive. We can look at the holiday lights.” The lights would still be up. No one took them down until after the first of the year, and no one would take them down in this weather anyway.

“And we’ll bundle up,” Elio agreed. 

The room itself was a cyclone then. Ollie sprang up from his bean bag chair, grinning from ear to ear and yelling, “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” as he bounced and pounced around the room like a frolicking baby goat. Leo resumed his rotating chicken dance, this time with both arms flapping and a small flashlight in his hand. In the still eye of the storm sat Elio and Oliver, holding hands and beaming at one another. Another small crisis averted. 

“I love you,” Elio said.

His words had been lost in the noise of raucous celebration, but Oliver read his lips. Instead of calling back to Elio over the noise, he placed a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. It said the same thing. It said even more. 

By the time everyone had located their woolen socks and mittens, clambered into their coats and scarves, and laced up their winter boots, the excitement had for the most part worn off. Still, they waded through the snow toward the car. Oliver opened the back door for Ollie as Elio made his way around to the passenger side with Leo on his hip. 

“There’s a blanket on the floorboard. Be sure to cover him up,” Oliver said absently. He knew Elio didn’t need his coaching, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He wondered how Elio tolerated him at all, but he only nodded his agreement in that mellow Elio-ish way of his. 

“And I don’t even NEED covering up,” Ollie said as he climbed into the car. “Because I’m wearing my BIG coat!” The little boy in fact looked like the marshmallow man in his puff coat. Could he even put his arms down all the way, Oliver wondered briefly. He was still deciding when he noticed the fierce struggle that was happening on the other side of the car as Elio attempted to buckle Leo into his car-seat. 

“Hey. Cool it,” Oliver said to Leo. “You know better than that.” He mentally ticked down the long list of car-riding rules just to be sure. Yes, he decided. Leo definitely knew he had to be fastened into his car-seat. He aimed a raised eyebrow at his errant, squirming child. 

“He’s getting away,” Elio laughed as he struggled to keep his hold on Leo’s leg, the only part of their toddler that was still within his reach. 

Oliver reached over Ollie in his big coat and fished out Leo, placing him on his hip.

Elio tried to straighten his hair, but his woolen mittens added so many electrons that his hair only stood on end. Ollie was staring wide-eyed and blinking from Elio to Leo wondering if one or the other of them might just spontaneously combust. 

“Not okay, Leo,” Oliver said. Even though he’d put every ounce of his parental authority into his words, the corners of Leo’s lips were turned up. His bright blue eyes were twinkling. It would be difficult for a child to look any more delighted, to be honest. Oliver cleared his throat and tried again.  “You know you have to be in your car seat.” 

Leo's head bobbed up and down. “I be in my car seat all, ALL, ALLLLLLLLL by myself!” 

“No. You have to let us help you. We have to fasten you in.” 

Leo again nodded his enthusiastic agreement.  

Oliver squeezed one eye closed in an effort to blink away the small twitch in his eyelid. 

“Anyway,” he said sternly. He was unable to think of anything further to say, and it was cold outside, so he abbreviated his lecture to a simple, “You need to cool it.” He closed Ollie’s door and walked around to put Leo in his car-seat himself. There would be no more of this crawling-all-over-car nonsense. “I’ve got him, honey,” he said to Elio who was already sliding into the front passenger’s seat. 

“I think he just got excited because of this,” Ollie said as Oliver placed Leo into his seat, and pushed his son’s joyfully flailing arms gently beneath the straps that were meant to hold him in place. 

“Because of what?” Oliver asked as he felt around for the strap that would come up between Leo’s gleefully kicking legs and fasten to the top strap. When Oliver finally followed Leo’s gaze and saw for himself what Ollie was holding, everything became crystal clear. 

Elio was only going in to kiss the boys goodnight. A triangle of light appeared as he pushed open their bedroom door. The triangle slowly stretched across the dark floor until it reached the bed, like an arrow pointing the way home. “You could turn the light on, you know,” he said, leaning against the door frame. 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said as he flicked Flashie's light from the book he was reading to Elio, and back to the book once more. 

“Nuh uh,” Leo agreed, shaking his head and looking very serious. “Flashie do it!” 

“Oh. Okay.” He really was only going to kiss the boys goodnight, but Elio found himself drifting toward the bed and climbing in next to Ollie, who immediately snuggled into him, all soft and warm and smelling of soap. With his arms around Ollie and Leo like this, it felt like they were a trio of nesting dolls. “What are we reading?” he asked. 

Ollie marked his place with a finger and deftly flipped to the title page so that Elio could get a look. 

“The Neverending Story,” Elio said. “That’s a good one.” 

“Will you read to us?” Ollie yawned. “My throat is tired.” 

Elio nodded and tucked one of his little brother’s wayward curls behind his ear. “I’d read to you even if your throat wasn’t tired.” And that is what he did. 

Ollie leaned into Elio and pointed Flashie at the page. Splashy the whale was squeezed between the boys. And next to Leo’s heart was his long lost friend, Stretchy, who must have been left in the car just before the Big Freeze. He was finally home again where he belonged. 

As Elio read, he felt the mattress change shape beneath him. He didn’t need to look. He would know that feeling anywhere. 

“Daddy!” Leo squealed as he snuggled into Oliver and the family redistributed their weight until at last Elio felt the warmth of Oliver’s hand over his. 

“Do you want to read a bit?” Elio offered. He was surprised and even a bit puzzled when Oliver shook his head, because Oliver loved books more than just about anything. 

“You go ahead,” Oliver whispered, unable to take his eyes away from what he loved more than books. 

Thank you, Elibabette! These are just gorgeous! To see more of Elibabette’s amazing art, check out her Instagram!

Chapter Text

Before Elio opened the bedroom door, he forced in a deep inhale then slowly blew out a warm, calm exhale. It didn’t help much. He was still irritated when he pushed the door open to find his little brother lying on his stomach atop his made bed, writing in his “top secret” notebook without a care in the world. 

“Haven’t you been packing?” 

Ollie paused in his writing and smiled up at him, tapping his bottom lip with his eraser. Elio felt the corners of his own mouth curve upward and sighed. Why did Ollie have to be so impossibly endearing? “You’re supposed to be packing.” Any trace of impatience had left his voice, which he thought was both good and bad. Good because he didn’t want to say goodbye while they were upset with one another; bad because it didn’t seem to do much to create a sense of urgency. Ollie actually yawned. 

“I’m going to pack… Right after I finish this.” Ollie tapped his notebook with his pencil. Elio raised an eyebrow, so he added, “Don’t worry because I’m almost already finished.” Elio’s eyebrow climbed higher, so Ollie clasped his hands together under his chin, careful not to poke himself with his pencil. He recognized the exact moment that his big brother caved. 

“Five minutes, Ollie. I mean it. Or I’m packing for you.” 

Ollie’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. That was a pretty serious threat his big brother was levying, because Elio was basically the worst packer in the world as far as Ollie was concerned. He always packed the most arbitrary items, like extra socks, and he always forgot the most important things, like Ollie’s third largest arrowhead. 

“What are you writing anyway?” Elio asked, suddenly interested. 

“I’m just making a list of the things I resolute.” He thought of another one and stopped talking long enough to write it down. Otherwise he might forget. 

“What do you mean?” Elio stepped over to have a look. He was used to employing some degree of imagination to decipher Leo’s efforts to communicate, but Ollie was usually fairly easy to follow. “The things you what?” 

“You know. For 2023.” Ollie turned his notebook so that Elio, who was now sitting beside him, could see.  “This is all the stuff I resolute to do or not do.” 

Ollie had apparently used his left hand, so the writing was illegible. Elio pressed two fingers to his own tense forehead and rubbed a gentle circle. They didn’t have time for this. Finally he rose and headed over to the dresser. “I’m just going to pack for you.” He would have to look through everything anyway. He couldn’t risk his father-in-law calling them to find out why they hadn’t sent a toothbrush with him. Does he typically go five days without brushing his teeth?

“This is important though,” Ollie whined when Elio opened his dresser drawer and began pulling out random underwear. “Mr. Slinger said we should resolute some things!” Ollie hated to name-drop, but he’d found that Elio would tolerate a lot more if it was required by the teacher.

“What?” Elio asked again. “Ollie, I don’t understand you.”

“I think he means that he’s making his New Year’s Resolutions.” Oliver stepped into the room, crossed over to Elio and placed his hands on his shoulders. “And you’re much too tense, honey.” He felt Elio’s muscles soften almost instantly beneath his fingertips as he gently rubbed. “This is supposed to be fun, remember? Our honeymoon?”  Oliver’s hands slid down and around Elio’s waist, eventually coming to rest on his stomach. 

“I don’t want your parents to think I don’t—” 

“—They won’t. They love you. They love the boys.” Elio glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure this was actually Oliver speaking. Oliver caught the look and laughed. “They might even love me. Who knows?” 

Ollie’s tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth. He wrote as fast as he could in an effort to scrawl down the last of his resolutions so he could pack before Elio created a bona fide four-alarm packing catastrophe. “Don’t forget my third largest arrowhead, ELLLIIIOOOOO,” he said as he wrote. 

Elio turned to face Oliver. His mouth was set in a certain crooked smile that always reminded Oliver of a broken halo. “See? It’s stressful,” The younger man said. “I almost forgot his third largest arrow—”

Oliver interrupted his words with a kiss. “Why don’t you go play with Leo? He is sad because no other matchbox cars are chasing his new motorcycle.” Elio’s eyes brightened and Oliver grinned. He loved Elio’s enthusiasm for toy cars. “Go on. I’ll help Ollie pack.”

“AFTER my resolutes,” Ollie said without bothering to look up from his notebook. 

“If you want your third largest arrowhead to be in your suitcase, you’d better come help pack. You can finish your resolutions at your grandparents’ house.” 

Elio’s eyes narrowed when Ollie slapped his notebook closed and galloped over to help. He, Elio, had been trying to convince Ollie to do this for an hour, but for Oliver he would do it immediately and with a positive attitude. He could hear them discussing the pros and cons of packing a second pair of shoes as he dropped down next to a delighted Leo and reached for his favorite toy car. 

“I can’t believe we’re leaving late,” Elio teased as Oliver backed out of the driveway. The man was nothing if not prompt. 

“Packing is serious business,” Oliver said. They could have packed anything they wanted really, but Oliver wanted the boys to learn how to travel with only a carry on. It was a necessary life skill. Therefore every item had to be carefully considered and deemed worthy before being placed in the suitcase. In the end they’d packed the extra shoes, but they made sure he was wearing the heavier pair. They’d skipped the shampoo, deciding that Ollie could make do with ‘old people shampoo’ since it was for only five days. They hadn’t packed all of his books, but they’d included his iPad, which had hundreds of books on it. His notebook and arrowhead both made the cut, but Ollie decided he could live without his Lego set since Grandpa Richard still had the wooden Lincoln Logs that Oliver had played with as a child. The painstaking care they’d taken to pack did, indeed, make them run a little late, but to Oliver it was worth it. They weren’t in danger of missing their flight. 

“It was really nice of your parents to keep the dog, too,” Elio said. 

Oliver pulled his visor down to block the sun and nodded. “Yeah. I was shocked they offered.” The few times he and Elio had taken weekend trips, they’d gotten their babysitter and friend, Kate, to dogsit. Oliver’s parents had always adamantly refused his childhood requests for a pet, so it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask. “I especially can’t believe it was their idea.” 

Elio reached across the console and placed his hand on Oliver’s leg. “People do change, you know.” 

It had taken Oliver a full year to decide that that was indeed the case. That his parents really had no secret agenda. That they weren’t going to revert to the cold, distant people who’d raised him. They’d been there for him and especially for the boys, consistently, for over a year now. And Ollie absolutely adored them. “I guess they do,” he admitted.

“They probably resoluted it,” Ollie chirped from the backseat. Elio twisted in his seat to smile at his brother, who they should have known was listening.

When they finally arrived at Oliver’s parents’ home, Elio was suddenly tearful about saying goodbye to his brother and son. Oliver was cool and rigid, as he still always was around his father even if he had changed. Leo was cranky about being woken from his car-nap, which every toddler knows is the very best sleep. But Ollie was completely happy as he galloped up the sidewalk and allowed himself to be hugged and kissed and fussed over. He barely even shuddered when Grandma Susan pinched his cheek. 

But he did point out the obvious. “Leo has better pinching cheeks. Because he’s a baby.” 

Leo, in Oliver’s arms, shook his head and put his hands over his cheeks. “No fanks.” 

“Well. Come in. Come in,” Grandpa Richard said. “You didn’t bring much.” 

“That’s because Daddy wants me and Leo to know how to travel with only a carry-on.” 

Richard made a noise in the back of his throat. “Nonsense!” he guffawed. Elio and Ollie grinned at one another. “This is just a visit to your grandparents’. You’re not backpacking across Thailand for crying out loud.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes but smiled when Elio turned to silently check on him. 

“Backpacking across Thailand! That’s what we should have done, Oliver.” Elio teased. Not that they wouldn’t love such an adventure; but they were only willing to be away from their children for five days. 

“Thanks for watching the dog for us, Mom,” Oliver said as Olive pranced around their ankles, absolutely determined that someone break a hip. “I know you don’t care for animals in the house, but she’s really a good dog. She’ll calm down.” 

“It’s fine, darling. I told you we are delighted to do it.” 

Oliver doubted that delighted was the right word, but he wasn’t going to argue. He ruffled Ollie’s hair. “You sure you’re going to be fine?” he asked, though he didn’t know what he would do if Ollie were to say no. Time was of the essence and they were already getting a late start.

He was relieved when Ollie said, “Uh huh. Me and Leo and Olive and Clover are going to have super duper much fun!” 

“Okay. We’ll call every day. And we’d better hear that you’re behaving yourselves.” 

Ollie nodded. “We will,” he promised. 

“Ollie?” There was a tension in Elio’s voice that got Oliver’s complete attention. He turned to Elio as if he were the one being addressed. 

“Hmm?” Ollie asked, kneeling down to pet Olive who was still dancing excitedly. 

“Did you say…. CLOVER?” 

Oliver’s heart might have stopped. As Ollie reached into his coat and pulled out the small green parakeet, Oliver’s brain became its own version of Google Maps. RECALCULATING ROUTE. RECALCULATING ROUTE. He couldn’t even lecture Ollie for bringing along an unsanctioned pet because his mind was calculating how many miles it would be back home and then to the airport, traveling at the speed limit, taking into account traffic. 

“Ollie Hal Perlman,” Elio said. 

Ollie’s eyes were large circles. “It was one of my resolutes. Spending more time with Clover.” Ever since Clemmy the walking stick bug had passed away —gently, of old age, in her sleep, Elio had promised— Ollie had been devoting more time to his little parakeet. “I thought it would be fine.” 

“You thought it would be FINE?” Elio gasped. 

At fifty-five miles per hour, just over thirty miles. The traffic shouldn’t be too heavy… unless they were still doing road construction… 

Ollie nodded. 

“You and Oliver debated for ten minutes over whether or not there was room for your third largest arrowhead but you thought bringing a PARAKEET would be FINE?” 

Ollie nodded. “Because he wasn’t going in my carry-on bag,” he pointed out. 

Richard grumbled in the back of his throat again. “There’s no bag limit for your grandparents’ house. Utter nonsense.” 

It was Saturday, so they probably would be doing road construction. But if he took the West Bridge he could bypass it. 

“It’s fine,” Susan said. “Clover is welcome to stay, too.” 

Elio and Oliver took a deep breath in unison. “Thanks, Mom. I don’t think we would have made it.” 

“What about food? And the cage?” Elio asked.

“Kate was going to be going over to look after Clover. I’ll see if she can bring those things over.” 

Ollie was frowning. He hadn’t thought of that. He unzipped the outer pocket of his bag and pulled out his notebook and pen. 

Leo had woken up and scrambled out of Oliver’s arms only to be picked up by Grandpa Richard. Oliver ran through a few last-minute rules for staying at grandparents’ house. Elio leaned down to hug his little brother. “Sorry I got upset. I was a little stressed. Are you okay?” he asked. 

Ollie nodded absently. He was focused on writing in his notebook. I resolute to bring food and stuff next time I take Clover to stay with me at Grandpa Richard’s and Grandma Susan’s.

“I love you,” Elio said, hugging him tighter. 

Ollie put down his notebook so he could focus on comforting his big brother. “I love you, too. Me and Leo are going to have fun. Don’t worry.” He kissed Elio’s cheek, which always seemed to calm him down when he was stressed. 

“We need to go, honey,” Oliver said as one last round of hugs and kisses were passed around. 

“Have fun in Amsterdam, boys!” Richard called after them as they walked to the car hand in hand. 

Chapter Text

Elio sighed as he touched the end call button and straightened his leg to slide his phone into his pocket. He felt Oliver smiling at him, so he smiled as well. It was a tired smile.

“They’re doing okay,” he reported. 

Oliver glanced over but very quickly put his eyes back on the road and nodded. 

“Leo’s been crying a little, Ollie said.” 

The only sound was the clicking of the turn signal as Oliver switched lanes. Finally he said, “I’ll talk to him.” 

Elio closed his eyes and yawned. Travel was exhausting. “Maybe he didn’t understand that we were leaving.” 

Oliver reached for Elio’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. “He understood just fine.” They certainly had talked to him enough about it, and Leo was smart. “He just doesn’t like things outside of his routine. It’s like when Ollie went to summer camp.” 

Elio shrugged as if to say he neither agreed nor disagreed. There was a pause before he continued. “Ollie also said Grandpa Richard isn’t a good hair ruffler like you are.” Elio stole a glimpse at Oliver when he delivered this little bit of news. He knew Oliver would be pleased, and sure enough his smile spread to his eyes.

But it didn’t stay there long. “Well Grandpa Richard hasn’t had much hair-ruffling practice, I can assure you.” Oliver’s father hadn’t gotten much practice showing any type of affection, but that was water under the bridge. 

“Yeah, that’s what I told Ollie. I told him he’d probably be a master hair-ruffler by the time we get back.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. The next mile ticked by in silence. 

“Aren’t you going to ask what they’ve been up to?” Elio asked, eyes narrowing. He looked out the passenger side window and caught his reflection in the side view mirror and cringed. Traveling was hard on even the best hair. He fluffed it with his fingers which made it even more disheveled. There. Much better.   

“What do you mean what they’ve been up to?  It's only been ten minutes since we dropped them off.” 

Elio snickered. “Well if you must know, they’ve been playing in the snow.” 

Oliver frowned. “They aren't even wearing their snow suits.” He shook his head wearily. No snow suits. Subpar hair-ruffling. “I’m this close to turning back.” 

Elio’s mouth fell open. “But this was my birthday present!” 

It was Oliver’s turn to snicker. “I’m just teasing you. We're off to Amsterdam!” 

“To Amsterdam!” Elio echoed in his Here, Here voice. 

“Hopefully they’ll still have their fingers and toes when we get back.” Oliver tapped a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel.

Elio placed a hand on his husband’s leg and gave his thigh a slight squeeze. “They’ll be fine. If anyone’s going to get frostbite, it’ll be us. Tell me again. WHY are we going to Amsterdam in WINTER?” 

Oliver had been wondering that himself. When he’d suggested they take their trip over winter holiday, he’d been envisioning Australia, or maybe a nice little island in the Caribbean. Some snorkeling or scuba diving. He’d been shocked when Elio had said that he wanted to go to Amsterdam. But he always loved to give Elio anything he wanted; even if that meant a winter getaway to Amsterdam. 

“Well. Elio. It will be great. We'll do, you know, winter things. It’s just like anywhere else. There are some things we can only do in winter. And it won't be as crowded.” He was pulling into the airport parking lot and following the signs to the terminal. When he saw the signs with prices for long-term parking, his eyelid didn't twitch; it contracted. He pressed his closed eye with the palm of his hand.  

“Like what?” Elio asked. He already knew; he’d helped plan the trip. But he was so much like his little brother at times. He just loved to hear stories, especially the way Oliver told them. In fact, he loved the sound of Oliver's voice and would happily listen to him read the dictionary.  

But Oliver wasn’t in a story-telling mood at the moment. He was all business. Soon enough, though, after he’d found a place to park. And after they’d made it through the ticket counter. And through security, where he got to laugh good naturedly at Elio in his bare feet, even though he had reminded him several times that he should wear socks in case they had to take off their shoes. Elio hadn’t minded his laughter. He didn’t even think Elio much minded the feeling of his bare feet on the icy tiles of the airport floor where hundreds of other sweaty bare and socked feet had been. Oliver was shuddering slightly when Elio came waltzing over with a stride perilously close to a gallop. 

“I passed!” he boasted. “I passed security!” 

He sounded like he'd just passed the bar exam and looked genuinely pleased with himself. Oliver hooked a pinkie around Elio’s and smiled. Elio looked so beautiful just then. His hair was a mess. His skin was winter-pale. His lips and cheeks were flushed pink with cold or exertion or nerves. The specks in his green eyes seemed to dance as the light from the window hit them. Being private people, they didn’t typically show a lot of affection in public. But in that moment, with Elio looking like he did, Oliver couldn't help himself. He placed a finger beneath his young husband’s chin, leaned down, and kissed him. It was very quick. But there was so much warmth in it, and so much love, that to them it felt like it happened in slow motion. Elio was smiling up at him, running his finger lightly over his own lower lip. 

“Put your shoes back on, honey, before you get pneumonia.”

Elio looked like a flamingo as he slid on his boots while they walked to the gate. "That's not really how you get pneumonia though," he said as he hopped and teetered, fussing with his second boot.

Oliver stopped walking for two reasons. The first reason was so Elio could attend to his shoes. The second reason was so he could decide if Elio was serious. He decided that he was. "I know that's not how people get pneumonia, goofball." 

Eventually, Elio got his boot on and they made it to their gate. Eventually, their turn came to board. And eventually, they found their seats and crawled over a very nice lady who, upon seeing Elio’s disappointment, moved to the aisle seat so he could have the window. Once settled, Oliver checked his phone. He had no missed calls and had only one text telling him that of course Kate would get Clover’s cage and accouterments delivered to the Kaines’ house, no problem. Have fun and she hoped they wore their winter coats. 

Oliver smiled and rolled his eyes at that last part. It reminded him that Elio had asked him earlier what they would do in Amsterdam in winter. But when he turned to tell Elio, again, about their plans, about all of the things that would make visiting Amsterdam in winter wonderful, he discovered that his young husband was leaning –eyes closed and softly snoring– against that window he’d wanted so badly to sit by. 

Amsterdam in winter; here we come, he thought. 

Chapter Text

Forlorn sniffles filled the blanket fort. Ollie sighed. How anyone could be sad in a blanket fort defied logic.  

It was their second day at Grandpa Richard and Grandma Susan’s house, and though there had been brief reprieves, Leo had for the most part been relentless in expressing his dissatisfaction with his current plight. 

“Pickle, Daddy and Elio are just over there in Amsterdam,” the eight-year-old explained with a wave of an arm and  exaggerated patience. He knew the three-year-old missed his parents, but it wasn’t as if they’d left the planet. He gave his most persuasive nod, but Leo frowned and poked his lip out even farther.

“Daddy and Papa not are in Ammerstand!” Leo complained before popping his thumb into his mouth. Denial was the little one’s home address at present, and he was a homebody.

Ollie grimaced. “They are still on Earth though.” He tried to sound reassuring but —inexplicably— this information seemed to upset his little brother even more. Ollie wrinkled his nose; his little brother must have misunderstood. “I said they are still on EARTH,” he emphasized.  

Leo removed his thumb from his mouth in order to wail properly, but Ollie managed to get it back in for him. The younger boy gave another sad sniffle instead. 

“Everything okay in there?” It was Grandpa Richard’s voice just outside the blanket fort. 

“Yes,” Ollie said, uncertain whether or not he was telling the truth. “I think so,” he added for good measure. He wasn’t surprised when the flap-door to the fort was suddenly lifted, but he was taken slightly aback when Grandpa Richard shuffled in on his hands and knees and sat on the floor next to them. Ollie loved Grandpa Richard, but hair-ruffling and fort-building were simply not among his skill set. 

The man rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin while studying Leo’s tearful face. “This is a fine blanket fort you’ve built, Ollie,” he said. “Who taught you to build such a structure?” 

“Elio,” Ollie said. “He teaches me lots of fun stuff.” 

Richard nodded, but there was a look in his eyes that Ollie couldn’t place. Maybe he didn’t think blanket forts were super duper fun.

Leo exhaled a shaky breath.

“He's sad because Daddy and Elio are in Amsterdam.” Ollie wiped a tear from the younger boy’s cheek, which for some reason only seemed to provoke his younger brother, who stifled a small sob. 

“Daddy and Papa not are in Ammerstand,” he whined. 

Ollie blinked, hoping Grandpa Richard would have something comforting to say. But, “Nonsense. Of course they’re in Amsterdam, remember?” was all he said.

Ollie cringed. That wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for. “Could we maybe do something fun?” he suggested. 

“Well. Like what?” Grandpa Richard sounded like he had passed his maximum fun threshold a while back. Probably when he’d crawled into the blanket fort. 

“Maybe we could make snow cream?” Ollie proposed. Leo’s face brightened as deep crevices formed across Richard’s forehead. 

“Snow cream?” 

“Uh huh. Snow cream. It’s when you make ice cream out of snow!” Ollie nodded fervently, and beside him Leo bobbed his head up and down, too. “I know how to make it!” 

“I like it,” the three-year-old put in. 

Richard looked dubious. “We have some ice cream in the freezer,” he said reasonably. 

Leo’s huge blue eyes filled with tears as if being offered ice cream was something deeply tragic. Richard coughed nervously. “And besides, I don’t think Oliver would be very pleased to find out I let you eat snow.” 

Ollie and Leo shook their heads in unison. “Daddy lets us make snow cream! He even likes to eat snow cream, too!” Ollie promised. 

Richard smiled at this.  “Then snow cream it is!“

Soon they were gathered in the kitchen with Leo sitting on the counter watching as Ollie —standing on a stool— stirred together snow and sugar and cream. “Now just a splash of vanilla! Just a tiny splash!” Ollie directed. 

When Richard spooned the unappealing mixture into bowls for the boys, curiosity got the better of him and he stole a quick bite for himself. He was surprised that it actually tasted good. It reminded him of the homemade vanilla ice cream he remembered from his childhood. “Who taught you how to make this?” he asked, pulling down another bowl and scooping himself a serving, too. 

“Elio did,” Ollie said, carrying Leo’s bowl over to the table and helping him into his seat before galloping back over for his own bowl. 

“Elio teaches you a lot of interesting things,” Richard said. He had that look in his eyes again. Though Ollie couldn’t place the expression, it was taking a more solid form, something that carried some meaning, however unfamiliar. 

“Elio’s a good brother,” Ollie said, placing a knee on his chair and then hoisting the rest of himself up as well. “He teaches me lots of fun stuff.” Richard cleared his throat, which startled Leo who then dropped his spoon. The toddler gazed down at it sadly, but Ollie jumped up before he could cry. 

“It’s okay, Pickle. I’ll get you another one,” he said, sliding out of his chair and running over to pick up Leo’s spoon, which he smoothly deposited into the dishwasher before retrieving another and hopping back over to deliver it to Leo. 

Leo perked up after the snow cream, which was as much fun to eat as it had been to make. In fact, the toddler remained relatively content throughout the remainder of the day thanks to Ollie, who kept him busy. They colored in coloring books, played with the dog, and taught the parakeet to say “Ammerstand.” The three-year-old was also happy while they baked cookies with Grandma Susan, and he was most especially happy when Daddy and Papa called to check on them, at which time he informed them both that they were definitely not in Ammerstand. 

It wasn’t until after dinner and bathtime that Leo began to get pouty again. Bedtime was fast approaching, and he needed bedtime kisses from Papa and Daddy. The fact that he couldn’t have them seemed like a great injustice. 

Richard and Susan exchanged weary looks over the toddler’s head.

“Don’t worry! Elio packed a book in his suitcase. I’ll get it,” Ollie said as he bounded out of the room. He was back a moment later. He climbed up onto the sofa next to Leo and opened the book so that they could both see it. When Leo smiled behind his thumb, Richard and Susan sighed with relief, which made Ollie giggle. “It’s his favorite book,” he explained. “Elio got it for him.” 

Richard blew out an exhausted exhale. He was wearing that strange expression again. It was almost like disappointment, but Ollie didn’t think that could be it. There was nothing to be disappointed over, after all. “Of course he did,” Richard said. “That Elio is a pretty great brother… A pretty great father.” 

Ollie and Leo nodded that it was true. “He’s the best,” Ollie said. 

“A bess,” Leo agreed around his thumb. “Read me, Lollie.” He patted the book to remind Ollie that they had an agenda to keep. 

So Ollie read the book, infusing the story with all of the drama he could muster, He even did all of different voices for all of the different animals. Leo giggled and laughed and yawned throughout the story and was nearly asleep when it was finally finished. 

“You’re a very good reader,” Susan whispered as Richard scooped up Leo to carry him to bed. 

“Thanks. Elio taught me to do all the voices.” 

“That’s nice, dear,” she said, but Richard said nothing as he carried Leo out of the room. Ollie wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow or not, but Leo wasn’t fully asleep yet and he would need Ollie. It was hard and scary to fall asleep in a different room. 

“Goodnight, Grandma Susan.” Ollie hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the cookies.” 

“Goodnight,” she called after him as he galloped out of the room and down the hallway. 

By the time Ollie reached the bedroom that was temporarily his and Leo’s, Leo had changed his mind about being sleepy. He was fussing and flopping around while Richard looked on helplessly. 

“It’s okay, Grandpa Richard,” Ollie said as he leaped up onto the bed and scampered under the covers. “Here, Leo. Look. You can use Flashie.” He pulled the small flashlight from underneath his pillow and flicked it on and off.

Leo beamed brighter than the flashlight as he reached for it. “I can seep wis Fashie?” he asked, hardly able to contain his delight. 

“Yup,” Ollie said, handing it over. “But you have to leave it off because the battery will die.” 

Leo shook his head. “It are not will die!” 

Ollie narrowed one eye. On second thought he snatched the flashlight back, popped out the battery, and then returned it to Leo. “There. Now it are not will die.” 

Leo nodded. That’s what he had said.  

“He certainly seems to like that little flashlight,” Grandpa Richard said, relieved that Leo was once again happy, snuggling into his covers with his plush giraffe, his whale, the flashlight, and with Ollie next to him. 

“Yeah,” Ollie yawned. “Elio got me that when I was seven. I used to be scared of the dark.” 

Richard had that look again. Disappointed? Melancholy? “Of course he did,” the man said, but the words weren’t sour or unkind. They sounded like a rainy day. 

Richard leaned down and kissed Leo’s sleepy forehead. Then he reached down and ruffled Ollie’s hair… or tried to.  

“You’re a good caregiver, Ollie,” Richard said. 

Ollie felt his head tilt. “I’m just a kid,” he yawned. 

“You are a kid, but you’re a good caregiver,” Richard said. “You built that little boy a blanket fort. Made him some ice cream out of snow. Got him a spoon when he dropped his. Cleaned up after him. Read him a book. Even let him use your little Flashie there.” 

Ollie grinned, pleased with himself. 

“Your brother would be really proud of you,” Richard said. His voice was worn and tired. 

Ollie shrugged. “But mostly Daddy would be proud at me,” he said. 

Richard rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin in that way of his. “Well. I’m sure he would be pleased. But these are things Elio taught you.” 

Ollie yawned again, turned onto his side, and draped an arm over Leo. “But Daddy is the one who mostly taught me how to take care of Leo.” 

Richard swallowed hard. “He did?” 

Ollie nodded. “Of course he did.” 

The strange look that Richard had been wearing on and off all day fully lifted for the first time. The relief on the man’s face was so complete, even an eight-year-old could recognize it. 

“Daddy is a very, very good taker-carer-of,” Ollie whispered. 

“He is?” 

Ollie nodded again. “He takes care of Leo. And me. And Elio. He’s the one who takes care of all of us. Mostly.” 

Richard opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. He rubbed his chin again, clicked off the lamp, and ruffled Ollie’s hair.  

Ollie smiled, touched his head where Richard’s hand had been, and closed his eyes. “You did it. Just like Daddy,” he said as he sank off to sleep.  

Chapter Text

Ollie gulped in a breath so deep, he felt like a bullfrog with a bubble in its throat. He held it for a moment and counted to five in his head like Daddy always told him to do. Finally he whooshed out the warm air in a long, slow exhale—taking care not to ribbit. 

“You can do this, Ollie,” he said to his own reflection. He was standing in the locked bathroom, staring at the floppy brown waves that lay limply on his forehead. He took a few more breaths and then scrubbed his fingers through his hair, hoping to fluff some life into it. Finally he let his hands slap uselessly back down and stared at himself. He’d only managed to make it worse. “I need Elio,” he whispered. Ollie was old enough to fix his hair himself, most of the time. But on those days when it just wouldn’t cooperate — for example, when the weather was especially balmy or when, let's say, he’d used old people shampoo for several days in a row— Elio always knew just what to do. They had the same hair, after all, and Elio had had a couple of extra decades to master it. A bang sounded just next to his ear and Ollie jumped, startled by the sudden knock on the door. 

“Um. Just a minute, please,” he sang in his very politest voice. 

“Are you doing okay in there? Do you need some Milk of Magnesia?” It was Grandma Susan. She was using her helpful voice. 

Ollie frowned. “No thanks!” He decided to open the door, ready or not. He had no idea what Milk of Magnesia was, but he did know Grandma Susan’s helpful voice was not to be trusted even if her heart was in the right place. 

“Oh!” she gasped. Ollie had opened the door so quickly, he saw her face change from worried to relieved. “There you are, dear.” 

Ollie nodded. He could see his lifeless bangs lying at the edge of his peripheral vision like a taunt, but he smiled sweetly anyway. “I was just in here,” he explained. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I was just going to tell you that your brother is on the pho—”

“ELLLIOOOOOOOOO!” Ollie screamed as he ran past her, making a mental note to apologize later. 

“Hey Lollipop!” Ollie could hear the smile in his brother’s voice, so he smiled, too. “Are you and Pickle having fun with Grandpa Richard and Grandma Susan?”

The call wasn’t on speaker, but Grandpa Richard gave the newspaper he was holding a little flick as if on cue. “We’re having super duper much fun!” For his big brother’s sake, he’d injected his tone with a little more enthusiasm than he actually felt, but it wasn’t a lie. Not really. He and Leo were having fun. “I just… you know,” Ollie loudly whispered. 

“No, I don’t know, Ollie. Is everything okay?” Elio’s voice was heavy with concern. “Ollie?” 

Ollie grinned. His brother could go from peaceful to panicked in the blink of an eye. “I’m fine, I’m just having a little trouble with the,” the eight-year-old paused while his eyes found Grandpa Richard. The man seemed to be really focused on that newspaper he was reading, but Ollie didn’t want to take any chance of hurting his feelings. He lowered his voice a little more. “I’m just having some… you know… hair problems.” He could tell by the long pause that followed that his big brother would need further elucidation. “You know, with the O.P.S?” He waggled his eyebrows even though he knew his brother couldn’t see him. 

“Oh,” Elio sounded relieved. “The old people shampoo, huh? What kind is it?” 

Ollie told him about the shampoo and described the symptoms he was having. “My hair is just plopped on my forehead like dead worms!” he concluded. 

“UGH. Dead worm hair is the worst,” Elio laughed. But of course he knew just what to do.

In fact Elio explained the solution in the kind of painstaking detail that had Oliver snickering and rolling his eyes until he could take no more and swiped the phone from Elio.

“So what else is going on?” Oliver asked. Ollie could hear Elio laughing in the background. “Are you guys having fun?”

“We’re having soooo much fun!” he said before catching Oliver up on all the snowball fighting, blanket fort building, cookie making, and all of the other grandparently shenanigans they’d been up to. 

“You tell Grandma Susan I said you can’t have any Milk of Magnesia, Lollie,” Oliver said when he’d finished his play by play. Ollie giggled. “And Elio says to call him back if you have another bad hair day.” 

“Check!” 

Chapter Text

“Snow cream?” Elio’s lip curled up on one side. On the opposite of his face, his eyebrow shot up. “HOW?” 

Oliver laughed and kissed him as they lay tangled together in bed. Judging by the dismay in Elio's voice, you'd think Ollie had managed to make the Statue of Liberty disappear into thin air.  “So much drama, honey,” he whispered. Their lips were so close, they brushed together when he spoke.  

Elio’s smile grew until their teeth touched. Feeling playful, he bit Oliver’s lip a little harder than he intended. “Sorry!” he cringed.

Oliver kissed his lips apart, unconcerned. Eventually he said, “Now we know where Leo gets it,” just so Elio wouldn’t think he’d gotten away with it entirely. But the younger man only grinned, rolling onto his back and stretching cat-like beneath their bedding.

“But seriously,” Elio said, tucking his hands behind his head as he did when he was ready to have a serious discussion.

“You’re the one who taught Ollie how to make snow cream.” He poked Elio’s freckled nose; his smile button. 

“Right. But it hasn’t snowed since they got there.” 

Oliver’s fingertip traced the line of Elio’s cheekbone. His jaw. “I don't want to talk about snow cream.” His thumb caught Elio’s chin and their lips were together again. He wasn’t sure who initiated it, but Elio’s breathing changed and for a long time, there were only the sounds of heartbeats and breathing. Of lips and rustling fabric. 

They hadn’t gotten away together for more than an overnight trip since they’d adopted Leo, and they had both had mixed emotions about the trip. But the moment their flight took off and there was no changing their minds, they knew how much they needed this time alone together. They’d almost forgotten what it was like to lay in bed all day, never having to worry about someone having a nightmare or needing a drink of water. In fact, the two spent much of their first day in bed, and they had no regrets about it. 

On their second day, though, Elio woke to find Oliver’s side of the bed empty. He pressed the heels of palms into his eyes and rubbed until blue and purple splotches danced behind his eyelids. When he blinked his eyes open again, the situation had not improved. 

“Oliver?” he called. 

Oliver was there immediately, perched on the side of the bed, tucking Elio’s unruly brown hair behind his ear. “Are you ready to go exploring?” he asked. 

“I’m lukewarm on it,” Elio said with that special smile that meant he’d rather Oliver climb back into bed with him, but Oliver leaned down and kissed his forehead instead. 

“Come on. Time to get up.” And there was nothing much for Elio to do then but get up. 

Oliver pulled Elio’s hat down over his ears for what felt like the hundredth time. His young husband looked particularly lovely when he was cold. His pale skin flushed in all of the right places. His green eyes sparkled. His smile brightened. But even as beautiful as a cold Elio was, Oliver still didn’t want him to actually be cold. “I’m getting you a new hat,” he said, giving the hat another merciless tug. 

Elio’s hands jumped protectively to his head, which was shaking in objection. “Ollie got me this one,” he said. 

“Yes and Ollie will love it when you pass it down to him." This was the truth. Ollie loved anything that had been Elio's, and hand-me-downs didn't happen often because so many years were between them. "It’s too small, honey.” 

Elio opened his mouth to protest, but Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the boss of me,” Elio laughed. Oliver crossed his arms and considered that for a very brief moment before turning and walking into the store they happened to be standing in front of. 

“Etos?” Elio whined as he shuffled in after him and followed him toward the dedicated aisle for one-bag travelers who inevitably found themselves without some essential item.

Oliver was digging through a bin of cheap knitted beanies. Though he was trying to ignore his husband’s whining, he felt his smirk change to a smile and then a bigger smile the more Elio complained. Eventually a snicker escaped his lips. “Are you too good for an Etos hat?” he teased. 

Elio frowned. “I mean… if I have to get a new hat, it could at least be a cool one. Maybe something made with wool from a local sheep?” 

Oliver laughed aloud. “You want a hat made from the wool of a local sheep, or nothing?” 

Elio shrugged and suppressed his smile. “Kind of.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. He might have managed not to spoil his children, but his handsome husband had him wrapped tightly around his long, elegant finger. And he absolutely knew it. “Fine. Let’s go find a local sheep,” he said, feigning exasperation.

Finding a local sheep turned out to be impossible, of course, but they did find a local yarn store that sold some knitted items that they claimed were locally sourced. Elio was so delighted with the find that Oliver decided to take them at their word. Annnnd, he also decided to ignore the sticker shock he felt in his twitching eyelid when he saw the price. When they left the store with Elio in his new hat, a cool, inky indigo that looked even more striking against his skin than it had on the rack, he was glad he’d splurged. And as they spent their day walking the canals, eating oliebollen, visiting the van Gogh museum —where Elio kept sneaking photos even though the rules clearly stated that there was no photography allowed— and later, walking among the Amsterdam Light Festival, where lighting became a kind of art itself, Oliver was even more glad he’d made the purchase. At least his ears were warm. 

In the years that followed, that hat —well, Elio in that hat— would be one of the most enduring and vivid of his memories. 

“Next time someone’s dropping us off at the airport,” Oliver grumbled as he swiped his card to pay the exorbitant parking fee. 

“Or we could take an Uber,” Elio said, grinning. 

Oliver’s eyelid twitched. Why hadn’t he thought of that? It would have been much less expensive! “Why are you smiling, Elio?” he asked. He was smiling himself, but only because Elio was. It certainly wasn’t a time for smiling. The parking fee had been outrageous. The trip to Amsterdam had used up a nice chunk of their savings. And they would now have to transition from being together 24/7, doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, to real life. Work. Responsibilities. There was even a saying for this. The honeymoon’s over. But Elio was beaming from one ear to the other as he stared out the passenger’s side window. 

Elio shrugged in reply, his smile not fading in the slightest. In fact, the closer they got to Oliver’s parents’ home, the wider and sillier the grin got until Oliver could hardly keep from laughing. “Are you just a little excited to see your brother and son?” he asked, reaching over and placing a hand on Elio’s thigh. Elio nodded, still staring out the window, but his hand came down to rest on top of Oliver’s. 

“Me, too,” Oliver said. And he was. He’d loved every moment of their time in Amsterdam, but he had missed the kids. And perhaps even more, he’d missed seeing Elio like this. For as fetching as the man was as he walked the lighted cobblestone streets of Amsterdam’s festival of lights in his new indigo beanie made from the wool of local sheep, Elio was infinitely more beautiful like this. As a father. As an older brother. “I love you,” Oliver said. When Elio at last looked over at him, Oliver’s heart fluttered just as it had that first day their hands had touched. That day they met in Italy. Elio, Oliver. Oliver, Elio.  

They’d gotten an earlier flight, but they didn’t call when they landed. They were hoping to surprise the boys by arriving a few hours early, but they were the ones surprised because Ollie and Leo were standing on the porch with their bags packed, jumping up and down and waving both arms as if trying to wave them down. 

“Oh man. Your parents kicked them to the curb,” Elio laughed. The laugh was because Richard and Susan were standing behind them looking exhausted, but they were smitten with being grandparents. Anyone could see that. 

Oliver didn’t reply, because he and Elio were both out of the car the moment he shut it off, running to Ollie and Leo who were also running to them. 

Oliver swung Ollie hard and threw him over a shoulder, jostling him a few times before finally setting him down and ruffling his hair as Ollie clung to his waist.

"How did you know we were coming early?" he asked.

Ollie giggled, but Richard answered. "Apparently he can track your phone on his iPad. He's been checking it since the moment he woke up."

Oliver tousled his hair again. There was a brief shuffling as Elio passed Leo over and knelt down to hug Ollie. The moment Leo was in Oliver's arms, he laid his small head on his shoulder and cried. 

Oliver softly patted his back. “What’s wrong, Sweet Pickle?” he whispered. He felt Leo’s head shake against his neck and knew he was saying that nothing was wrong. Everything was perfectly right. “Daddy and Papa brought you a present,” he said. It worked. Leo raised his head and smiled. Oliver thumbed the tears from his cheeks. 

“You get me and Lollie a present?” His blue eyes were still glistening, but there was nothing but joy in them. 

“Uh huh,” he said. “Should we get it from the car?” 

Leo nodded, so they made their way to the car to retrieve the gifts. Elio, Ollie, and the Kaines were so busy talking and hugging and laughing, they didn’t even notice their absence until Oliver passed out the gifts, feeling like Santa Claus. “It’s not much, guys.” he warned. “There wasn’t much room in our suitcase.”

But when Ollie saw his gift, he jumped up and down and ran around in circles, waving his Amsterdam T-shirt around like a pom pom while screaming, “OH MY GOSH!!!!!!” and “AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!” until Oliver gently caught his arm and gave him another hug to calm him down. 

“I know you’re not really T-shirt people,” Oliver said to his parents. His cheeks felt too warm suddenly.

“Nonsense,” grumbled Richard, holding his shirt out and looking at it carefully. “We need more T-shirts.” And it was true. “When we keep the boys, these are just what we need. With all that climbing around in blanket forts and eating snow cream.” 

Ollie had already put on his bright yellow Amsterdam shirt right over the one he was already wearing, and Leo was trying to do the same, wobbling around with his head covered. 

Oliver reached down to help him, ignoring the three-year-old’s adamant, “No fanks, Daddy! I do it by myself.” 

When the T-shirt was finally on, time seemed to pause for a moment before everyone broke into laughter. 

“We had his specially made,” Oliver said, nodding toward Leo’s shirt which was almost like Ollie’s. It used the same font and had the same bicycle outline drawing, but his was smaller, and blue, and said, of course, Ammerstand rather than Amsterdam. 

“Gampa Richard Gamma Suze gave me present, too!” Leo said, running toward the porch where their bags were still sitting. 

Oliver looked at his father with narrowed eyes and an inquisitively raised eyebrow. Richard cleared his throat and said, “Well. He liked Ollie’s so much and we had an extra one just sitting there in the garage.” He looked almost embarrassed that he’d done something so soft, and Oliver’s smile shifted to one side and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. 

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. 

Leo was wobbling down the sidewalk toward them, looking like a drummer in a parade. A drunk drummer, teetering back and forth. It was hard for him to balance while using both arms to lug a huge flashlight. “I got a Fashie, too!” he said. Ollie was snickering behind his hand as Leo carefully, almost reverently, placed the flashlight before them and searched for the button, his face very serious. Even in the daylight, the light emitted was so bright, it looked like he was trying to summon Batman. 

Oliver and Elio both cringed. 

“Thanks a lot, Richard,” Elio said, an impish quality to his voice. 

“I got a BIG Fashie!” Leo said as he struggled to get his arms around the flashlight to pick it up again. 

“You sure do, Sweet Pickle,” Oliver said, clicking it off and helping Leo get a grasp on it. 

As they drove home, their car filled with bags, everything was noisy and chaotic. Leo was strapped into his carseat, wearing his Ammerstand shirt and holding his ginormous Fashie. He was singing happily and loudly about how its batteries would never die. Elio was mildly lecturing his young brother about the rules of making snow cream, but he could barely be heard over Ollie's own voice. The eight-year-old was firing off questions so quickly, the brothers sounded like popcorn popping. 

Did you see the real van Gogh?

—No. Van Gogh died over a hundred years ago. And using snow from the ground is gross, Ollie. You have to put out a fresh container and catch the snow as it falls.

Did you learn to speak Dutch? 

—No. And did you really think van Gogh was alive?

Did you take lots of pictures? 

—Yes. But Ollie, you never know what might have happened to snow after it's been on the ground a while.

Can I have your old hat since you got a new one?

—Yes, but are you listening to me? 

Kinda. Did you get to pet the local sheep?

—No.

Can we get a sheep? 

—NO!

As Oliver listened to the noise and chaos of his life, he was as happy as he’d ever been. Yes, the honeymoon was over as they say. But there was another saying he’d forgotten about earlier, and it was now at the forefront of his mind. There’s no place like home. 

Oh. My. Gosh! Elibabette made a gorgeous drawing of Elio in Amsterdam!! I love it so much; please go check out her Instagram to see more of her lovely cmbyn art! 

Chapter Text

When Elio heard the familiar sound of footsteps coming through his classroom door at 3:30 on the nose, he smiled to himself without looking up from his laptop. He didn't need to look up; he knew exactly who it was. Ollie. Also known as Old Faithful. “I saved you some paper towers if you want to do some stapling." It was Ollie's favorite job, but there was no reply. “OR you can dust the ukuleles if you'd like.” It was Ollie's other favorite job, but still there was no reply.  

That’s when Elio noticed that something hadn’t been quite right about the sound of the footsteps he’d heard. They weren’t galloping, he eventually realized. Sure enough, when he looked up, there was his little brother standing in his doorway as expected. The scowl on his face, however, was not expected. “What’s wrong, Ollie?"

“Leave me alone, ELIO.”  

Elio blinked, stunned, as his little brother’s nostrils flared. “Why don’t you just sit down and do your homework. Take some breaths.” 

“I don’t even have homework.” Ollie crossed his arms, scrunched his nose, and tried unsuccessfully to shoot laser beams out of his pupils. 

Elio’s hands floated up from his keyboard and he crossed his arm in an identical manner. “I’m not a fan of your current attitude, Ollie.” 

A tiny hint of a laser beam might have flickered in the eight-year-old’s eyes. “That’s because you’re the meanest teacher in the whole entire SCHOOL. And in the whole entire TOWN. And in the whole entire—”

“Okay, I get. Geez,” Elio tried to intercept any similar titles.

“WORLD.” 

Elio was not successful. He closed his eyes and pressed his tense forehead as he contemplated whether he should ask Oliver to come get the grouchiest fourth-grader in the world, or whether they should just head home. 

“UNIVERSE!” Ollie growled. 

Elio closed his laptop with a snap and set about packing up his things. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ollie’s mouth open, and he shot the kid a few daggers of his own. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you should quit while you’re ahead, Ollie.” 

Ollie didn’t really think he was ahead, so he muttered, “Multiverse,” almost –but not quite– under his breath. 

“Ollie Hal Perlman.” Elio’s voice was a little too calm as he threw his heavy bag over his shoulder and swiped up his keys from his desk. “I don’t know what this is about, but we will figure it out. For right now, though, you need to calm down.” 

“It’s about THIS!” Ollie said. The slip of paper he swished back and forth was hot pink— the color of betrayal.  

Elio cringed. Suddenly things were coming into focus. “I’m sorry, Ollie. Those weren’t supposed to be handed out until tomorrow and I was going to talk to you about it first. I didn’t want you to find out this way, but Ollie, you know the rules.” 

Ollie glowered. Rules or not; this was unforgivable! 

“He said what?” Oliver could hardly believe his ears as Elio relayed the story about his afternoon. 

Elio shrugged with only one shoulder and stirred the pasta he’d added to the boiling water and waited for Oliver to process his words. It had been difficult enough to rehash the afternoon’s events the first time. 

“Well good grief. How did you respond to that, honey?” Oliver returned the jar of spaghetti sauce Elio had pulled down to its shelf and took out some cream and Parmesan instead. He’d whip up some Alfredo sauce. Make some garlic bread. His sweet husband needed some comfort food. 

“I didn’t get a chance to respond. He just kept telling me I was the meanest teacher ever.” Elio’s voice was soft and thin. “Maybe I am.” He shrugged again. 

Oliver turned Elio toward him and took his face gently in both of his hands, kissed him with every ounce of the tenderness he felt for him, and then reassured him as emphatically as he could. “You are not the meanest teacher in the world, honey.” 

“No. In the multiverse,” Elio reminded him. But Oliver's lips were on his forehead, and it was hard not to feel better when Oliver’s lips were on his forehead. 

“Can you take this off the heat for me when it bubbles?” Oliver gave the sauce a stir, and handed off the spoon to a startled Elio without waiting for an answer. 

The boys’ bedroom door opened with a squeak and two sets of eyes were on him. The blue set squinted as the child they belonged to beamed until there was no longer sufficient room for them on his face. The green eyes, though, were huge, round orbs lined with long, flapping lashes. 

“Daddy!” Leo reached for him, hands opening and closing in the universal gesture for pick me up. Oliver obliged, groaning playfully as he scooped up the toddler from where he’d been playing on the floor. 

“Are you having fun playing with your cars?” he asked. 

Leo’s smile fell away and his lips poked out, fish-like. He shook his head. “Papa not will pay with me and Lollie not will pay with me!” he reported. 

“Papa wants you to help him in the kitchen,” Oliver said, kissing his chubby pink cheek. 

“I’ll help him” Ollie offered, scrambling down from his loft. 

“No, you won’t,” Oliver said, resting his palm heavily atop the youngster’s head. “We need to have a chat.” 

Leo didn’t like the sound of that any more than Ollie did so he zoomed out the door making motor noises with his fish lips. 

Ollie crossed his arms and puffed out his cheeks. This was pretty much the worst day EVER. WORSE than the WORST. 

With his hand still on Ollie’s head, Oliver directed him over to the small sofa that was nestled beneath the loft. 

He sat down and waited for the eight-year-old to do the same. When he didn’t, he prompted him. “Sit.” 

Ollie scrunched his face. “You always take Elio’s side,” he complained as he plopped down next to him. 

“Yes, of course I do. Always, always. I’ll always take Elio’s side,” Oliver said. “And yours. And Leo’s. But we don’t have sides against each other. We’re on the same side.” 

“That’s false,” came Ollie's heated objection as he slid off the couch and marched over to his backpack. He returned a moment later with the hot pink PROOF that Elio was definitely not on his side. “Look!” he said, presenting it to Oliver who took it and set it on the arm of the sofa without looking at it.

“I know all about that.” He did. Elio had been fretting over it. He, Oliver, had been the one to reassure Elio that he was doing the right thing. He knows the rules, Elio. You can’t give him special treatment. 

“Elio’s the meanest teacher in the whole entire–”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Oliver said mildly. 

Ollie’s eyebrows sank into a deep vee. “But you don’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“Elio’s not the meanest teacher in the multiverse, universe, world, or school,” Oliver said. 

Ollie sighed. Elio had gotten to him first. GREAT. 

“Elio isn’t even the meanest teacher in this house, Ollie.” 

Uh oh. This wasn’t going quite like Ollie had thought it would. He flexed his forehead muscles in a Herculean effort to force his eyebrows back up where they were supposed to go. 

“What is the rule about the recorders?” Oliver asked. 

Ollie rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. He moaned and groaned and sighed and gave a final wordless whine before answering. “Bring it to class.” He sounded kind of like a zombie, which might have been cool in better circumstances. 

“Why do you need your recorder in music class?” Oliver asked. He was apparently not afraid of zombies. 

“Because we can’t practice without it and it affects the whole class,” Ollie groaned again. 

“And what is the consequence for repeat offenders?” 

Ollie pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I don’t know.” 

Oliver actually laughed and roughly tousled his hair. “Yes you most certainly do because we’ve both reminded you about it again and again. Almost as often as we’ve reminded you to put your recorder in your backpack when you finish practicing.” 

The rule was that the third time you came to class without your recorder, you got lunch detention. “But I’m his BROTHER.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times because he liked the way his jaw and teeth snapped when his chin was resting on his knees like this. 

“That’s probably how Elio feels when you show up without your recorder three times.” 

Ollie closed his eyes, which were suddenly all blurry and stingy. He hadn’t thought about that. 

“I know it’s really fun having your brother as your teacher, Ollie. And you two do a lot of special things—”

“Like Found Family Feast Fridays?” Ollie interrupted. Every Friday Oliver and Leo brought lunch and they ate together in Elio's classroom. Ollie was even allowed to bring some of his friends. 

“Exactly,” Oliver said, smiling. “And you get to do a lot of special tasks for him before and after school. And you get extra reminders at home about not forgetting your recorder.” 

“Yeah. But still,” Ollie said. He sounded whiny, even to himself. 

“The other kids in your class know you didn’t bring your recorder, Ollie. Three times. How would they feel if you didn’t receive the same treatment as everyone else?” 

“Bad I guess,” Ollie admitted after a pause. He glared at the pink paper that still sat on the arm of the sofa. 

“Can I come in?” Elio asked from the doorway. Leo darted around him and ran to Oliver, who picked him up and then stood to stretch. Ollie didn’t answer, but Elio came in anyway and sat in the seat Oliver had just vacated. He picked up the pink detention slip and glared at it. He didn’t like it any more than Ollie did, truth be told. 

“I’m sorry you found out this way, Ollie. I was planning on talking to you about it tonight. They usually don’t pass these out until the next morning.” 

Ollie shrugged. “It's okay.” 

“Leo and I are going to go set the table.” Oliver leaned down to kiss Elio and then patted Ollie on the head before slipping out of the room. 

“I’m sorry I said you were the meanest teacher,” Ollie said after the door was closed. “I didn’t mean it.” 

Elio grinned and bumped him with his elbow. “Yes, you did.” 

Ollie smiled at him. “But now I don’t. You’re the nicest teacher and especially the nicest brother.” 

“Yeah well,” Elio said, bumping him with his elbow again. “Remember that when you’re sitting at lunch detention tomorrow.” 

Ollie rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “I’ve never even had lunch detention before, you know.” 

Elio felt a pang of guilt over that, but he tried not to let it show. “At least it won’t be Found Family Feast Friday,” he pointed out. 

Ollie’s eyes grew three sizes. “That would have been way more worse!” 

Elio put an arm around him, pulled him toward him, and kissed the side of his head. “Agreed,” he said. 

“Think Daddy will bring us sushi Friday?” Ollie asked with a sneaky grin. 

“Let’s go ask him.” 

Chapter Text

“Where’s Leo?” Elio asked when his little brother stumbled sleepily into the kitchen.  

Ollie’s answer was swallowed by an immense yawn. He shuffled over to Elio wearing his Spiderman pajamas with matching Spidey slippers and leaned against him in the way he always did when he needed a hug. Elio closed the freezer door and turned toward him, giving the little boy a tight squeeze. “You okay?” he asked. 

Ollie yawned again and nodded against his brother’s stomach. 

“Where’s Leo?” Elio asked again without letting go. He wouldn’t let go, Ollie knew. Elio would stand there with his arms around him for however long, until Ollie was eventually sated with comfort and took a step back. Elio was like that. Generous with his love. 

“He’s just still asleep,” Ollie said. He wasn’t sure if Elio would understand his words because they were muffled by Elio’s sweatshirt, into which he’d spoken them. 

“Want to help me with breakfast?” Elio asked, ruffling his hair with both hands. Ollie gave him one final –very tight– squeeze around his middle and groaned in a failed attempt to pick him up. He tried to pick up his big brother at least once a day and it never failed to make Elio laugh. But one of these days, he would be the one laughing and Elio would be the one lifted! He was certain of it!

Today wasn’t the day though, because Ollie suddenly found himself hovering with his feet several inches above the ground. He kicked and squirmed and laughed and complained until Elio set him down and then he scrambled away, finally sated. 

“What are you making for breakfast?” Ollie asked, glancing around the kitchen for any evidence that such an endeavor was taking place. There were no cereal boxes. No yogurt cups. There was absolutely no granola in sight. There was nothing Elioish at all about the kitchen. He asked a follow up question before Elio could answer him. “And why isn’t Daddy making breakfast?” Oliver always made breakfast on the weekends. It didn’t even feel like the weekend without Oliver in one of those large T-shirts Elio always “borrowed,” scooting around the kitchen explaining his every move to Ollie and Leo –and Elio for that matter– never giving up his dream that at least one of them would learn to cook.

“Well, you know his birthday is Tuesday,” Elio said thoughtfully. He had opened the pantry and was staring into it as if it were the eighth wonder of the world. “So I thought we should make him breakfast in bed.” 

Ollie gave a small squeak of excitement and bounced in place at least five times until Elio laughed and shushed him, even though his bounces were exceedingly quiet thanks to his Spidey slippers. He knew, of course, that Oliver’s birthday was Tuesday. Elio had already taken him and Leo shopping for just the right gift. But Elio hadn’t let on that they would celebrate today! “Want me to help you make some pancakes again?” he offered. That’s what they’d done the year before. 

Elio shook his head. “I thought we’d try something… different… Oliver doesn’t really like sweets that much.” Elio had abandoned the pantry and was now opening the refrigerator and staring blankly into its abyss. 

Ollie scrunched his face for two reasons. First, because the fact that someone would not like sweets was incomprehensible to his eight-year-old brain. Second, because: “But he makes waffles every single weekend. And those are sweet.” 

Elio smiled down at him without closing the refrigerator. “That’s because we like sweets, silly,” he said with hearts in his eyes. 

Ollie looked dubious, but he took a side step so that he, too, could see what was in the fridge. It was common knowledge that Elio was useless in the kitchen. If there was any breakfast to be made, it was up to him to make it. Elio seemed to know this, too, because after a moment he asked, “So? What’s it going to be?” 

“Omelets,” Ollie said with a matter-of-fact nod. Elio didn’t question him; he simply grabbed the carton of eggs at the same time that Ollie opened the produce drawer and pulled out the mushrooms, a pepper, and a small bunch of spinach. “We need the cheese, too,” Ollie told his brother, who was relieving him of some of the things from his arms and setting them on the counter. 

When Elio turned back around with the cheese, it was just in time to see Ollie taking a knife the size of his arm out of a drawer. As large as the knife was, though, Elio’s eyes were larger. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He dropped the cheese onto the counter with a heavy plunk and then carefully took the knife from his little brother. 

“We need that,” Ollie sighed. “To cut the vegetables.” He sighed again, exhausted. How on earth Oliver had the patience to narrate his kitchen adventures in their entirety was beyond him. 

“I’ll cut the vegetables,” Elio said. Ollie didn’t bother to argue. Instead he lugged over the cutting board and then opened one of the lower cabinet doors and disappeared inside of it. He reemerged a moment later, dragging a metal mixing bowl out with him. 

“I’ll crack the eggs,” he said decisively. When Elio hesitated, he added, “Cracking eggs is not even dangerous, ELIO.” 

“I know it’s not dangerous, but isn’t it kind of… I don’t know… tricky?” Elio laid the first mushroom on the board just so and began whacking it inexpertly with the knife. 

Ollie cringed, thinking the knife would have been safer in his own small hands. “It’s not super duper tricky.” Elio raised a doubtful eyebrow; Ollie responded with another laborious exhale. “I know basically everything about how to not get eggshells in it and all that stuff. Daddy taught me.” 

“Fine,” Elio said after a pause. Ollie decided to use this moment —while his big brother’s eyes were glued to him— to show off his expert egg cracking skills. He gave the first egg a mighty smack against the edge of the bowl. Inexplicably, the entire shell fell into the bowl while most of the egg rolled down the outside of the bowl and onto the countertop. 

The two brothers looked at one another, blank-faced. At last Elio burst out laughing so Ollie did, too. 

“That was my warm-up egg,” he said. “And that was your warm-up mushroom,” he added.

Elio looked very undignified with his mouth hanging open. “There’s nothing wrong with that mushroom,” Elio said. He leaned down to get on eye level with the mushroom, studying it closely. Ollie stretched up until the two were cheek to cheek. Together the two brothers stared at the mushroom with enough intensity that Ollie couldn’t help but wonder if it was scary for the mushroom. “What’s wrong with the mushroom?” Elio eventually whispered.

“It’s more chunked than sliced.” Ollie popped it into his mouth to put it out of its misery.

 It took twice as long as it should have, but at long last Elio got the vegetables sliced. (More or less.) And Ollie got the eggs cracked. (To some extent.) They each inspected the other's work and gave slight nods of approval. 

“Most of the egg went into the bowl,” Elio said, picking out a piece of shell. 

“And the vegetables are… in smaller pieces,” Ollie said, popping another piece of mushroom into his mouth. “That piece was too big,” he said with his mouth full.

Leo toddled in just then, wearing the red and green striped pajamas that made him look like an elf and which no one could convince him were seasonal. Seasonal!? I laugh in the face of seasonal! Leo's pajamas seemed to say. It was of no matter though, because they were topped with the flowery robe he had  outgrown but refused to part with. Leo was sucking his thumb, but he still managed to impose an expression of immense disapproval on the room at large. 

“What’s wrong, Sweet Pickle?” Elio asked, leaning down and scooping up his sleepy son. He wrapped his hand around Leo’s cold bare foot. 

“A kitchen is messy,” Leo said. There were deep creases across the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “I not like it.” 

Elio gave him a little bounce as Ollie giggled. Suddenly, Oliver appeared in the doorway as if summoned. He took Leo from Elio pleasantly enough, but the words, “Did someone say messy kitchen?” hung in the air so silently they made Ollie’s ears ring. Leo wrinkled his nose again and repeated his observation for Oliver. “It’s messy. A kitchen is messy.” He shook his head to show how displeased he was, but surprisingly Oliver didn’t look unhappy in the least. He leaned down and kissed Elio and then patted Ollie —who was hugging him around the middle— on the head. 

“You’re supposed to stay in bed,” Elio complained, feeling an unpleasant warmth in his cheeks. Elio knew, of course, that Oliver had been awake for a while. And he also knew, obviously, that Oliver was aware of the fact that they were preparing breakfast for him. But it was a tradition —an unspoken rule, if you will— that he would stay in bed. AND, he would, naturally, pretend to be asleep when they marched in with his food. He would then further pretend that he was in equal parts astonished and moved by their thoughtful gesture. He would then test the entire family's suspension of disbelief by going so far as to pretend the food was gourmet-level-delicious. Elio ran through these rules with Oliver silently with his eyes, but Oliver was kissing Leo's cheek, apparently set on feigning innocence. 

Ollie, for reasons understood only by himself (and perhaps other eight-year-olds), chose that precise moment to dump the egg mixture into the scorching hot skillet that Elio had forgotten he was heating. The resulting sizzle was loud and startling. Ollie let out a shrill scream as he jumped back, sloshing the remainder of the egg mixture onto the floor. 

Elio rushed over to the skillet and waved his hands uselessly. He was trying to summon some never-learned-muscle-memory that might help him decide what the appropriate course of action would be, but he only looked like he was trying to stay upright on a broken skateboard. Oliver smiled and kissed Leo again before placing him on the floor with a stern look that made clear he should stay there. He gave Ollie the same look, and the eight-year-old skittered over to stand by Leo.

“Is it ruined?” Elio asked as Oliver turned down the burner while at the same time lifting the skillet to remove it from the heat. “I mean. Other than the ugly vegetables and the eggshell?” Elio asked sheepishly. 

“And the eggs on the floor?” Ollie added, also sheepishly.

Oliver laughed and shook his head. “No. Everything is perfect.” Then to the children he said, “Ollie would you help Leo get on his slippers or some socks? The floor is cold.” He felt like he told them this same thing every morning, but someone always forgot. 

“CHECK!” Ollie said, taking Leo’s hand and leading him out of the room. He was clearly relieved to let someone else take charge of Elio and his ridiculously inadequate kitchening skills.

As Oliver worked on finishing up the omelet, Elio finally noticed the chaos that was their kitchen. Eggshells lay drying on the counter-tops. Dishes were piled in the sink. Oil spatter and egg splatter covered the stove as well as the adjacent counters. 

“I was going to clean this up,” he said softly. “I mean I am going to.” 

Oliver shrugged, lifting the edge of the omelet so that some of the uncooked egg could roll beneath it. “It’s not that bad, honey.” 

Elio breathed out a laugh, but there was a sad sound tucked inside it. “Riiiiiiight,” he said. 

“It’s really not.” 

Elio wasn’t buying it. “I wanted to do this for you, though. For your birthday.” 

Oliver started the vegetables sauteing in a pan Elio hadn’t even noticed him take out. “Well. What if I want to help you? For my birthday?” 

Elio hopped up on the counter-top and gave a crooked smile with just a hint of teeth. “That’s not how it works,” he said. 

“Who says?" Oliver asked as he gave the vegetables another stir. "We’ve never been exactly traditional.”

Elio didn’t have time to object, because Leo came stomping in, trying his best to hold up one foot for his parents’ inspection. “Lollie got me his sippers,” the three-year-old boasted, showing off a Spiderman slipper that was at least two sizes too large. “Lollie got me his Spidey sippers!” He gripped the edge of the counter-top to keep from falling as his parents admired his foot. His grasp was so tight that his fingernails blanched, but he stayed upright.

“Then what’s Ollie wearing?” Elio asked. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Ollie! The floor is cold!” he called across the house. He thought that should have been clear when he asked him to put something on Leo’s feet. 

“I know,” Ollie said, sliding into the room with Elio’s fuzzy grey bunny slippers on. They were at least two sizes too large. Oliver closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, but it did no good. When he opened them again, Elio’s feet were bare just as he'd deduced they would be. “The. Floor. Is. Cold,” he said, punctuating every word with a kiss to his young husband’s widely grinning lips. “That’s it!" he lamented dramatically. "All I want for my birthday next year is for everyone to wear their slippers. Or socks,” Oliver announced as he took off his own slippers and put one of them on Elio's dangling foot. They were at least two sizes too large. “Something to keep their feet warm.” Everyone giggled. "Warm feet. That's all I'm asking for."  

As Oliver slipped on the second shoe, Elio and Ollie smiled covertly at one another. “Who says we aren’t traditional?” Ollie sweetly cooed. (His hearing was impeccable!)

“Traditional is in the eye of the beholder,” Elio added. Oliver rolled his eyes.

“And I got my Spidey sippers all by myself!” Leo said, finally putting down his foot. 

“Someone set the table,” Oliver playfully groused. “I’ve got to go put something on my feet. Because. The. Floor. Is. Cold!” His voice trailed off as he disappeared out of the room. 

“You’ll have to wear socks!” Elio called after him.

“Leo’s slippers will be at least two sizes too small!” Ollie called. 

Oh my goodness, Elibabette made this moment so cute! I love this; please check out her work on Insta! 

Chapter Text

The stakes were high so Ollie lay still as stone, not daring to so much as breathe when his brother’s voice wafted in from his bedroom doorway.

“Stop pretending to be asleep, Ollie. It's time to get moving. I’ve asked you three times already.” 

It seemed like forever before the eight-year-old finally heard his brother’s retreating footsteps; time grinds to a halt when you’re holding your breath. The moment he was certain Elio was gone, Ollie opened his eyes and sucked in a cool gulp of glorious Saturday-morning air. 

“Ah HAH!” Elio gloated from the doorway. “I knew you were faking it.” 

Ollie frowned. Elio had pulled the old retreating footsteps ploy! Again! “It’s mean to trick people, ELIO.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“ME?” Elio giggled. “I’m the tricky one?” Elio’s giggle changed to something more like a guffaw. “I’m not the one lying in bed pretending to be asleep, LOLLIPOP!” 

Ollie’s frown changed into something more like a scowl.

“All right, All right. Enough arguing, Perlmans.” Oliver –always the peacemaker– stepped up behind Elio, wrapped his arms around his waist, and kissed him lightly on the shoulder. “It's not a competition. You’re both sneaky and deceptive.” 

Ollie fell back dramatically onto his pillows but not before he saw Elio turn his head sharply up and back to give Oliver a look that he usually reserved only for him, Ollie. But then Oliver kissed him, and Elio’s sharp look melted into a goofy love-face. Ollie rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway,” Elio crossed his arms in that very grown up way that he did that said playtime was over. “You need to stop pretending to be asleep when I’m telling you to get up.” Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to be shocked to hear he’d done such a thing.

Ollie sat back up. His forehead was suddenly tight and lumpy. His lips were protruding. The adults' solidarity was both palpable and slightly irritating. “I only did that because I don’t want to get up,” he explained sensibly. Why was this so difficult for grown ups to understand??  

“I think you just don’t want to clean the house. That’s what I think.” Elio had uncrossed his arms, but now he crossed them again. 

“My part’s already CLEAN!!” Ollie waved an arm, palm up, to indicate his room, which was, in fact, mostly clean. Still, every Saturday for the past three Saturdays he’d been woken up and forced into child labor which, as he'd explained to his brother, was literally illegal. 

“Your part is straightened.” It was Oliver’s voice again. “It’s not cleaned.” 

“Those are the exact same thing!” Ollie groaned. 

Oliver made a throat-clearing noise that reminded Ollie a little of Grandpa Richard, but he somehow knew better than to say so.

“And besides," Oliver continued, "as we’ve explained... You live in the entire house, so you can help clean more than just your bedroom.” 

Ollie swished his head side to side. “Nuh uh! That’s false! I don't live in the entire house. I’m not allowed in the study!” 

Oliver blew out a long, loud whoosh of air. After a pause, he gave a curt nod. “You are hereby excused from cleaning the study,” he decreed. 

Ollie was about to think of the perfect rebuttal, but at that very moment Leo toddled in waving Ronald McDonald’s wig on a stick— otherwise known as the dusting wand. Hopefully this distraction would, at the very least, spare Ollie yet another stern lecture about how he needed to be learning how to do some basic household chores and it would be irresponsible of them not to teach him these things. The eight-year-old knew from recent experience that this was the next part of the conversation. 

“I do it!” Leo said with a grin. He swiped the wand across the bed’s footboard, then over the blankets all along the side of the bed. He was just about to dust Ollie himself, but Elio rushed over and picked him up. “No, Pickle.” he said. “We don’t dust people, remember?” 

Leo made a disgruntled noise. “I dust Lollie!” He waved the dust-filled wand, causing Elio to sneeze and take it from him. Leo was deeply aggrieved by this loss, which he made tearfully clear, so Elio toted him out of the room to find something he could dust. 

“Come on,” Oliver said once it was just the two of them. He sounded much more pleasant now. “If a three-year-old can learn, so can you.” 

“Okay,” Ollie muttered. Resistance was clearly futile, so Ollie climbed out of bed and scrunched his feet into his –formerly Elio’s– grey bunny slippers.

“So which chore do you want to learn today?” Oliver was eating breakfast, drinking coffee, and studying his to do list, which Ollie had begun (not so) affectionately referring to as his syllabus for Housecleaning 101. “So far you’ve mastered sweeping, laundry, and dusting.” 

Leo’s eyes were huge and round. “I are the duster!” He sounded stricken.

Oliver and Elio both turned toward him with indulgent smiles on their faces. “You’re dusting today,” Oliver reassured him. Leo smiled so wide that Ollie got a good look at his most recent bite of waffle. 

“And I do it allllllll by myself.” Leo tried to spear another piece of waffle but it had gotten soggy with syrup and fell off his fork. Leo was nothing if not a problem solver, so he picked up the waffle with sticky fingers and shoved it into his mouth. “ALL by myself,” he tried to say but his mouth was too full. 

Oliver was studying his list again. “I think today you should learn mopping the floor or polishing the furniture. Which one do you prefer?” 

Ollie let his head fell back against his chair, too exhausted to hold it up any longer. “Those things take super duper long. Can I just learn to run the dishwasher instead?” Last weekend he’d learned to do a load of laundry so the dishwasher seemed the logical next thing to learn. But Elio was shaking his head.

“Ollie, you already know how to load and unload the dishwasher,” Oliver said. 

“Yeah but I don’t know how to run the dishwasher,” Ollie countered with a nod that turned out not to be nearly as convincing as he hoped. Elio piped up immediately. 

“I’ll show you how to push the start button, Ollie. Nice try, but you’re going to learn a real household chore,” Elio said, waving his waffle-laden fork in the air like a conductor’s baton, a habit that had really solidified since he had become a bona fide music teacher. 

“Polish furniture,” Ollie groaned, because it was probably better than mopping.

Something very strange happened next. It had happened the previous Saturday when Ollie had learned to sweep. And it had also happened the Saturday before, when he’d learned to do a load of laundry. It had even happened the Saturday before that, when he’d learned to properly use the duster. In each instance, regardless of how much Ollie dreaded the task, he ended up actually enjoying it. The pattern held true for polishing the furniture as well. In fact, it was probably his favorite chore so far. There was something wholly satisfying about the sharp, sweet scent of lemon oil filling the house. Something gratifying about watching the wood transformed from something dull and unloved to something shiny and cared for. There was something, too, about the way Oliver put his large hand over Ollie’s smaller one and guided it a few times to help him get the hang of wiping with the grain in long, even strokes. In those simple, fleeting moments, Ollie thought he knew how the wood must feel. Nurtured. Looked after.

As much as he didn’t like being woken up to do chores, Ollie knew that they really did have his best interests at heart. It would have been quicker and easier for them to tidy up on their own as they always had, but they wanted the boys to know how to do these things. 

Truth be told, it was even kind of fun. Elio put on his old Psychedelic Furs record. Leo danced about with his dusting wand, spreading more dust than he picked up. And Oliver coached him until he was confident in his new skill. It honestly didn’t seem long at all before Elio announced that he and Leo needed to go to the supermarket to pick up a few things.

Oliver shot to his feet like Jack's beanstalk. “We’ll go with you. We’re about finished, aren’t we, Ollie?” He and Ollie smiled at each other. They both knew what a "few things" meant to Elio. 

It wasn’t until they were pulling out of the driveway that he remembered. “Daddy! Stop! Wait!” 

Oliver stopped the car abruptly, alarmed eyes snapping up to the rear-view mirror. Elio twisted around in his seat, also looking quite concerned. “I’m okay but I forgot my money!” That was another benefit of the extra housework. He’d been earning a small allowance so he could work on his budgeting skills as well. “I want to buy some Twinkies! PLLLEEEASE!!??” 

“Sure,” Oliver said, turning off the car and opening his car door. 

“You don’t have to come. I will just be one fast minute!” 

Without much thought, Oliver passed the keys back. “Be sure to lock up,” he said. 

“I will!” And he did. As promised, he ran in just as fast as lightning, ran to his bedroom and retrieved ten dollars from his sock drawer, and was almost back to the door when an idea struck him. He should start the dishwasher. Elio and Daddy liked to start it when they left so that they didn’t have to hear the noise. And Ollie had noticed when he put his breakfast dishes in that it was completely full. In fact, Daddy had had to move some things around just to fit the plate in.

Man, oh, man! They would be so super duper pleased that he’d not only remembered to start the dishwasher, but had also taken the initiative to actually do it! And Elio had said himself that it was as easy as pushing the power button. So Ollie took an eensy weensy detour to the kitchen, filled the the little compartment  inside the door with dish washing goo, and then closed the door and pushed the button. Voila! It really was as easy as Elio had said it was! He couldn't suppress the grin on his face as he visualized how surprised and overjoyed everyone would be when they returned to find that he’d done an extra chore without even being told!! 

“I think this will about do it,” Oliver said as he pressed his eyelid in that way he did sometimes. “Not much more will fit in the cart.” This was true. Elio had filled the cart so full, Leo had been displaced from the child's seat and was now on Oliver's hip. Ollie shrugged as he galloped along beside them clutching a box of Twinkies to his chest. As long as he had these scrumptious golden sponge cakes, they had everything they needed as far as he was concerned. 

But Elio shook his head. “We still have to get dish detergent. That’s the whole reason we came.” 

Oliver gave his eyelid another press. “Of course. The rest of this stuff was just superfluous.” 

Leo shook his head. “No fanks. I not like spurflusses,” he said around his thumb. 

Ollie was excited to deliver some good news on top of the big surprise that awaited them at home. "Don't worry, Daddy. We don’t even need dish detergent,” he reported, still galloping. “We have an almost full bottle at home!” 

Oliver shifted Leo's weight so he could drop a hand down to ruffle his hair. “Nope, Elio's right,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s why we couldn’t run the dishwasher. We’re completely out. Haven’t you noticed how full the dishwasher is?” 

Ollie stopped galloping. Then he stopped walking. “But…” 

Elio stopped walking, too. “What’s wrong?” he asked. The family's collective mood suddenly shifted entirely. Ollie could see the way his big brother was anxiously gripping the cart's handle. "What is it, Ollie?" he asked again.

“But we have a big bottle of dish detergent. I saw it right before we left,” he said, but the doubt in his voice was a living thing, quickly growing. This was so... so... confusing. Daddy and Elio had to know it was there. It was nearly a full bottle sitting right there by the sink in the same place it always sat. It would be hard not to know this.

Ollie saw his own confusion reflected on Elio's face, but Oliver smiled at him. “That’s dish soap. For when we’re washing dishes by hand. It’s not the same as the detergent that goes in the dishwasher.” 

For the second time that day, time seemed to stop. Ollie reminded himself to breathe.

“Are you okay, Ollie?” Elio asked, placing a cool palm on his forehead. “You feel a little warm.” And then to Oliver, “He feels a little warm.” 

Oliver pressed his eyelid again. “Why don’t you take the boys out to the car, Elio. I’ll check out and meet you there.” Elio nodded his agreement, but Ollie was frozen in place. 

“Um. Daddy?” he asked. 

“Hmmm?” Oliver’s eyes were slowly narrowing, but there wasn’t enough else in the expression for Ollie to determine what it meant. 

“What would happen if, um. Well.” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Tears welled in his eyes. Elio’s arm came down to his shoulder and pulled him toward him for a side hug. This gave him the courage to go on. “It would be fine if someone used the dish soap in the dishwasher, right? Because they are both for dishes. Right?” 

“No,” Oliver said. “They aren’t interchangeable. One is for the dishwasher and one isn’t. Soap foams. Detergent doesn't. And...” Oliver was still talking, but to Ollie he sounded like one of the teachers from Charlie Brown. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Elio said back at the house. He was putting the groceries away as Ollie and Oliver sopped up suds from the kitchen floor with towels. Ollie gave a little sniffle. Whose fault was it if not his? He’s the one who had done it. 

Leo stomped barefoot through the foam, eyes crossed in an attempt to see the soap bubble that clung to his nose. 

“Elio's right. Don’t be upset, Lollie,” Oliver said, looking up from the sodden towel he was wringing into a bucket. “This is how we learn. You probably learned more from this than you have in the last three Saturdays.” 

If learning more meant that he would never again put dish soap into the dishwasher, then yes. He had. It was a lesson that hardly seemed worth the monumental MESS he'd made. 

“And just think of how clean the kitchen floor is now,” Elio said as he stretched to place the paper towels in a high cabinet. 

“I’ll get that, honey,” Oliver offered.  

Elio smiled adoringly at his tall, handsome husband, but he managed to get the paper towels put away himself, thank you very much.  “Besides, I’m the one who told you it was as easy as pushing the power button.” 

Ollie nodded. That much was true. 

"If anyone's to blame, it's me," Elio said.

Ollie wouldn't be cheered up, though. He wanted to do something good, and he'd done something bad instead! Oliver's bent finger was under his chin, gently nudging his head upward so he could see his face. “Everything is fine. Stop worrying,” Oliver said. After a moment he began swiping up more bubbles with a dry towel. Ollie knew they weren't upset with him, but he was upset with himself. They'd been cleaning the mess for a half hour and it seemed to be no better than when they'd begun. It was as if the more they cleaned, the more bubbles there were. The bubbles just kept multiplying! It was a zombie apocalypse of bubbles!  

“I like it,” the three-year-old giggled, kicking up a ball of foam with his toes. 

“I like it, too, Sweet Pickle,” Elio said, tapping the tot lightly on the head with a bag of popcorn. 

“I like it too,” Oliver said, reaching over and squeezing Elio on the back of the thigh where he was unusually ticklish. Elio collapsed onto the floor in a fit of laughter, a cloud of bubbles rising around him. This made Oliver laugh and tickle him more, which made Leo laugh, and finally even Ollie couldn’t help but laugh. The laughter just kept multiplying. It was a zombie apocalypse of laughter. 

“I like it, too,” Ollie said. And he did. He liked all of it. 

Chapter Text

Ollie came galloping into Elio’s classroom just before the bell rang. Elio knew he should probably remind him, yet again, that he was supposed to wait for the bell like everyone else. But it was Valentine’s Day. He and Oliver had a romantic evening planned, and nothing would spoil his good mood, not even his little brother’s blatant disregard for school rules. 

“Hey there, Lollipop,” he said after the bell rang and it was safe to acknowledge the little boy’s presence without appearing to condone it. “What are you so excited about?” Ollie looked like he’d just eaten a handful of sugar cubes. The eight-year-old was bouncing enthusiastically, but before he could answer, Elio’s phone rang. Elio’s insides turned to mush. It had to be Oliver. Only it wasn’t Oliver. He held up a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said to Ollie. Then, “Hello?” he said to the phone. 

Ollie was a bundle of energy as he waited through the uh huhs and the Oh, I sees. He waited patiently through the No, no, it’s fines and the don’t worry about its. But the moment Elio hung up, Ollie answered his previous question, because there was a LOT that had him excited and it would take a good while to list it all.  

“I’m just so super DUPER excited about going to Kate’s! Me and Leo and Kate are probably going to finish writing our script!!” Kate had studied drama in college, and she pulled out all the thespian stops, so to speak, when the boys were over. Hair. Makeup. Costumes. And recently, they’d delved into some simple skit writing. Ollie was all about it. 

Elio knew this, so he really hated what he had to say next. “About that.” He watched his little brother deflate like last year’s pool floaties. “That was Kate.”  

“NOOOOOOOoooooooooooo,” Ollie whined. He plopped down heavily onto a chair and dropped his forehead onto the desk with a thunk. He’d been looking forward to this all day. All WEEK. All MONTH!!  

“I’m really sorry, but she has the flu. It can’t just be helped. You can do it another time. Okay?” 

Ollie nodded without raising his head. Elio puffed out his cheeks and snapped his laptop closed. His little brother wasn’t the only one disappointed. “What do you say we go on home?” He was no longer in the right headspace for grant writing. 

Ollie suddenly jerked his head up and gasped, realizing that his weren’t the only plans that had been spoiled by the flu. “What about yours and Daddy’s date??” 

Elio shrugged. “We’ll do it another time.” He stuffed his laptop and a few more things into his bag, stood, and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

“But it’s VALENTINE’S DAY!” 

Elio said the things he was supposed to say. About the flu not caring about Valentine’s Day. About how every day with Oliver felt like Valentine’s Day anyway. About not needing a special day to celebrate the person you love. But Ollie saw the sadness hidden in his brother’s smile, and it simply wouldn’t do. 

“Hi, honey,” Oliver said. He was trying to step out of his shoes and hang his keys on their key hook while practically wearing Elio, who had greeted him very enthusiastically at the door. He ended up having to drop his keys, bag, and jacket on the floor, but he did manage to get his shoes off. “Someone’s in a mood,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. He was barely able to finish his sentence before Elio’s lips were on his. They remained there for quite a long time. “I’m sorry about our plans falling through,” he said when at last Elio released him. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” It was easier said than done, though, and they both knew it. They’d been planning this night for weeks. An evening at the theater, followed by a late dinner at the Inn where they’d had their wedding. The tickets were nonrefundable, and the reservations had to be rescheduled for a date at least a few weeks out. He’d been wracking his brain ever since Elio had called with the news. He’d thought that there surely must be some way he could salvage the evening, but it hadn’t worked out that way. While his parents would normally have been more than happy to help with the boys, they were traveling at the moment. He’d tried calling some of their friends, but he didn’t trust the boys to just anyone. And besides, it was Valentine’s Day. Everyone would have plans. In the end he’d realized it was a problem without a simple solution; he would have to make it up to Elio another time. Once these thoughts finally quieted, he noticed that Elio’s smile changed into something almost impish. 

“What?” Oliver asked. There was hesitation in his voice because an impish Elio was an unpredictable thing indeed. 

“Oh nothing. It’s only that Ollie and Leo have been working feverishly since the moment we got home.” 

Oliver’s do-tell eyebrow jumped up quizzically.

“They have a very romantic evening planned for us.” 

Oliver laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Ollie? And Leo?” 

Elio nodded. 

Oliver shook his head wearily. “Ollie and Leo have a romantic evening planned for us?” 

Elio giggled. “So I’m told.” 

“What do an eight-year-old and a–” Oliver interrupted himself with a fit of laughter. He was laughing at Elio’s face more than anything. “What do they know about romance?” 

“Beats me, but we have been ordered to just stay out of their way,” Elio said. 

“Oh my.” Oliver covered his mouth with his hand to try to stifle his laughter. 

Elio was going to say ‘Oh my’ as well, but instead he gave a high-pitched squeak as Oliver scooped him up and carried him into the living room where he deposited him onto the sofa and leaned down to kiss him. 

Ollie marched in then. He was carrying his notebook, which he was tapping with a pencil. “Wait guys!” he said. “Wait!” He sounded like a director calling, “CUT!” 

Oliver was sitting on the edge of the sofa and both men looked to the boys.  

“Kissing isn’t until after dinner,” Ollie said without looking up from his notebook. 

Oliver didn’t dare look at Elio. He could feel his young husband quivering with suppressed laughter. If he looked at him, they’d both start laughing and Ollie was all business. 

“Oh, okay. Let us know when it’s kissing time,” Oliver said. He felt Elio holding his breath in his strenuous effort not to laugh, but Ollie nodded oh-so-seriously. 

“Okay, but right now it’s almost time for dinner, so you need to go get dressed up!” 

Leo nodded his agreement. 

“Wear whatever you were going to wear to your date! And you better hurry because dinner’s almost ready!” 

“Thanks for being a good sport,” Elio said as Oliver straightened his tie for him. For whatever reason, this meant a lot to Ollie and therefore it meant a lot to Elio, too. 

“I’m not being a good sport,” Oliver said. “I’m having fun.” 

“I know it’s not kissing time yet, but,” Elio said, stretching up on his toes and looping an arm around Oliver’s neck. He placed a very tender kiss on his lips. 

“AHEM!” Ollie said from the doorway. The men looked over just in time to see him give little Leo a rather aggressive nudge with his elbow. Leo took a step forward, bowed –kind of– and held out a folded piece of paper. “Your menus, Good Sirs,” Ollie said. “Follow me!” 

“Follow me, too, Daddy!” Leo said. “Follow me and Lollie!” 

Elio headed down the hall after them, receiving constant warning jabs to the ribs from Oliver. These did absolutely nothing to help him swallow the laughter that was stuck in his throat. 

In the kitchen, Elio could no longer contain himself, but Oliver actually lost the urge to laugh. It was actually quite touching what the boys had done. Beneath the plates and paper napkins, the boys had draped the table with beach towels. 

“We couldn’t find the tablecloth,” Ollie said. He looked shy suddenly. 

“This is better anyway. More colorful,” Elio said, pulling Ollie to him for a small hug.  

Ollie nodded his agreement that the beach towels were indeed a better option. 

The little boy first pulled Oliver’s chair out for him and then pointed to Elio’s chair with a jerk of his head. Leo –oblivious to the emphatic head jerking– stood sucking his thumb. Ollie moved to plan B, clearing his throat. Next he tried giving a suspicious cough. But still Leo stood sucking his thumb. 

“Dill Pickle? CHAIR?” Ollie prompted in his we-practiced-this-five-thousand-times voice. Leo looked slightly startled behind his thumb, but then he grinned and gave Elio’s chair an ineffectual tug. “Help me, Papa,” he groaned. “You help me do it all by myself!”  Ollie had his hands on his face, shaking his head slightly, but Elio helped his small son pull out the chair. Eventually he sat down.

The men sat awkwardly for a few breaths as the boys stood staring at them, but finally Ollie said, “You can tell me your order. This is a very fancy restaurant so I don’t even need to write orders down. I can just remember it.” He tapped his temple. 

“Okay then. I’ll have the PBJ with a side of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos,” Elio said, pointing to each item on the handwritten menu. 

“And to drink?” Ollie asked. He added in a whisper, “I forgot to put drinks on the menu but we have… um… all the stuff we have.” 

“Just water for me,” Elio said. 

“And for you?” Ollie asked, stepping toward Oliver, who was studying the menu carefully, as if there were more than four things on it. 

“I think I’ll go with the ham and cheese sandwich with a side of applesauce,” Oliver said. “And water for me as well.” 

“Certainly, Sir,” Ollie said. 

Once he plunked the sandwiches on the table, Ollie whispered, “I’ll be right back!” He galloped out of the room and returned a moment later with Flashie, which he clicked on and placed on the center of the table. “I can’t find any candles but this is just as good,” he said. 

Elio giggled, but Oliver thanked them and agreed that it was not only perfectly adequate, but it in fact provided just the right ambiance. 

No one noticed Leo leave until he returned lugging the Extra-Heavy-Duty-Batman-summoning-Flashlight he’d gotten from Grandpa Richard. 

“I do it!” he said, blinding them all with the light of 1,000 suns. 

Oliver and Elio sat at the table staring at one another as their two children made a mess of the kitchen just mere feet away from them. Watching it without intervening was exhausting, but they held their tongues. It seemed important to the boys, particularly Ollie,  to do this for them. Just when they’d finished their sandwiches and dessert (popsicles) and were finally beginning to relax, Ollie stepped over to the table, his eagerness apparent in his widened eyes. 

“Are you ready for the entertainment portion of your special date?” Both boys were blinking adorably so what could they say other than…

“Absolutely!” 

The next forty-five minutes felt like forty-five days. The half-written play the boys had been working on with Kate was partly performed but mostly improvised. Next, Ollie treated them to a recorder concert. After that, Leo entertained them with a variety of acrobatic skills which included such impressive feats as jumping jacks, stretches, and a thwarted attempt to jump on the sofa. Leo’s grand finale was a series of half-somersaults in the middle of the living room floor– he couldn’t yet manage a full one. 

“Guys, thanks so much. That was really awesome,” Elio said eventually. He was still hoping to get the boys in bed early so that they could celebrate their Valentine’s Day properly. 

“Yes, you really outdid yourselves,” Oliver added before kissing Elio on the side of the head. 

Ollie shook his head and darted over to the shelf where he’d placed his agenda. “It’s not kissing time yet,” he said. 

Elio’s smile was too large –and WAY too patient– to be real. 

“What time is it then?” Oliver said. 

Ollie didn’t look up from his paper. “Well, lucky for you, today was my library day at school and I checked out THIS,” he whipped out his library book. Elio choked when he saw the title: 100 of the World’s Silliest Knock Knock Jokes for Kids.

“Knock, knock,” Ollie said, knocking on an imaginary door. 

“Whooooooo iiiiiiiis iiiiiiiiit?” Leo sang. 

Ollie frowned. “Not like that,” he said, shaking his head. “Like this. Who’s there?” 

Leo popped his thumb in his mouth. 

“Like we practiced, Dill Pickle,” Ollie prompted. “You say: Who’s there?”

Leo sucked his thumb. Ollie blushed and smiled sheepishly at the grown ups. “We didn’t get that much time to practice,” he said through his exaggerated smile. “Leo. KNOCK, KNOCK,” he tried again. 

“Whoooooooooo iiiiiiisssss iiiiittttt?” Leo said, finally taking his thumb out of his mouth. 

Ollie grimaced like he was in pain but answered half-heartedly, “Little Old Lady.” 

“Who Lady Little?” Leo said. 

Ollie stared at the ceiling and with the patience of an absolute SAINT prompted his little bitty teeny tiny baby brother, “You’re supposed to say “Little Old Lady WHO?” 

Leo shook his head. “I not are a little old lady.”  

“You say ‘LITTLE OLD LADY WHO’ and then I SAY ‘I didn’t know you could yodle.” 

Elio and Oliver laughed jovially, but Leo shook his head. 

“I not can yodle,” he said. 

Ollie’s eyes were huge green saucers. “Well I KNOW but if you would say LITTLE OLD LADY WHO like we PRACTICED then you would be able to yodle!” 

Leo yawned and put his thumb back in his mouth.

“Ollie, it’s okay,” Oliver said. “He’s only three and it looks like he’s a little tired.” 

“But I have ninety-nine more knock knock jokes to do!” Ollie said, waving the book. 

Elio looked like he might faint. 

“Ollie, just do some of your favorites,” Oliver said. “For Leo’s sake.” 

“But it’s VALENTINE’S DAY!” Ollie whined. “And I need to give you the super duperest most best Valentine’s Day of your LIFE!” 

Oliver felt Elio quivering with laughter again, so he pushed through quickly. “Well try another joke. He’ll get the hang of it.”

Leo did not get the hang of it. The next half hour was filled with knock, knocks and who isssssssss its and botched punchlines. But once Ollie got over his perfectionism, there were plenty of laughs to be had by all. When the 100th joke was finally told, Elio had had all the fun he could handle. “Bedtime!” he declared. 

Ollie shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said, studying his list. “We still have more stuff to do for your Valentine Date. Right now you have to watch PBS Newshour.” It was the boringest thing Ollie could think of, and every kid knows how much grown ups love to do boring things. 

“PBS Newshour?” Elio asked. 

Ollie nodded. “And THEN it is kissing time.” 

Elio and Oliver glanced at one another. They actually DID watch PBS Newshour most nights. And it was just one more hour. They’d endured their sandwich dinner and their popsicle dessert. They’d endured a long play, a gymnastic competition, a recorder concert, and an hour long stand up comic routine. Surely they could make it through the news. The fact that it was kissing time afterward also made it a little more bearable. 

“Where are you going?” Oliver asked after the news was on and the boys headed toward the hallway. 

“We don’t want to watch the boring news,” Ollie said. 

“I not like it,” Leo agreed. 

For the first time all day, Elio and Oliver finally had a bit of time alone. Oliver draped a blanket around himself and Elio, pulled his young husband close to him and wrapped his arms around him. Elio threw a leg over Oliver’s lap and rested his head on his shoulder. Oliver pressed his lips to his head.. 

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing Elio again, this time behind his ear. “I’m sorry, honey. This wasn’t the Valentine’s Day I planned for you.” He could feel Elio’s smile. 

“It’s okay. Thanks for letting him take over our day. I could tell it meant a lot to him,” Elio whispered. Oliver kissed him again. 

“It makes me happy to see him happy. And you.” 

Elio turned his head, inviting a kiss. Oliver gave it and said, “I’ll call tomorrow and reschedule our reservations. Maybe we should plan it for a weekend,” he said. That would be better anyway, really. 

Elio nodded against his chest. He thought so, too. “And maybe we could even spend the night at the Inn.” 

“That would be nice,” Oliver said, gently twirling a finger through Elio’s curly hair. After a while, he whispered, “Elio?” 

Elio didn’t answer. 

“Elio?” he whispered again, a little louder. 

Still no answer from Elio. Oliver sighed and kissed Elio’s sleeping forehead. Sometimes it still amazed him that in a world so large, they’d found one another. 

“Okay guys!” Ollie announced as he and Leo marched into the room precisely one hour later. “NOW it’s kissing time!” he said without looking up from his checklist. “Me and Leo already brushed our teeth.” 

There was no reply. 

“Guys?” he said. When he finally looked up from his list, Leo put his fingers over his lips. “SHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” the baby of the family yelled. “Daddy and Papa are wuhseep.” 

Ollie put a finger over his lips without making the loud shushing noise. “They probably had too much fun so they are exhausted,” Ollie hypothesized. “Here, help me.” Ollie carefully lifted a corner of the blanket that had fallen off of their shoulders. “You get that side,” he whispered, pointing. 

Leo climbed up onto the sofa and took the other side of the blanket. 

Quiet as little elves they covered up their parents and then crept out of the room and off to bed. Ollie fell asleep that night feeling very pleased with himself. “That was probably way better than their plan A,” he said aloud to himself once he and Leo were in bed. 

After a long stretch of silence, Leo said, “Knock, knock.” 

“Who’s there?” Ollie whispered. 

“It Leo,” Leo said. 

“Goodnight, Pickle,” Ollie said with a yawn. 

“Goodnight, Lollie.” 

Thank you, Elibabette, for inspiring me again and again! These are gorgeous!

To see more of Elibabette’s amazing art, check out her Instagram!

Chapter Text

Oliver did not think Ollie was a perfect child. The little boy could be called many things that Oliver would be unable to contradict. Exuberant. Energetic. Loquacious. Persistent. But Ollie was not and had never been –to Oliver’s knowledge– a vain child. Convincing him to simply brush his hair and wear clean clothes could at times be a laborious task. So when Oliver passed by the opened bathroom door to see Ollie staring at himself in the mirror –the same thing the eight-year-old had been doing ten minutes ago– he knew what the problem was. He leaned against the door jamb, crossed his arms, and offered a sympathetic smile. 

“Still won’t come out?” he asked. His face was set in that very authoritative expression and his tone of voice was the one that both Ollie and Leo knew meant they should cease and desist whatever they were doing immediately. Ollie wondered to himself why the tooth didn’t just jump out of his mouth in response to it. But it didn’t. 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said, shaking his head. Ollie wasn’t overly attached to his baby teeth. Truth be told, he kind of looked forward to having a full set of bona-fide grown up teeth. His baby teeth –and this one in particular– were quite attached to him. In fact, this one was downright clingy. “I think it just really loves my mouth a lot.” It made sense, with all the teeth-brushing that both his brother and Oliver insisted he do at least twice each and every day. It created a habitat any tooth would love to call home. So in a way, the tooth’s dogged insistence on staying put was their fault, but Ollie was too kind to say so. 

Oliver cringed as Ollie turned his attention back to the mirror and continued wiggling his tooth back and forth and back and forth. “Do you want one of us to pull it for you?” Oliver offered. He steeled himself against the strong rebuke he knew he was about to receive from Elio. They’d discussed this for days. They’d discussed it with each of Ollie’s loose teeth. Elio was of the mind that the teeth would fall out when they were good and ready. Oliver was of the mind that it would be best to get the tooth out sooner than later so his favorite eight-year-old could eat popcorn again. 

“NOT IT!” Elio yelled from the den. He sounded a little cross, but he did not offer the strenuous objection to the proposal that Oliver had been expecting. Apparently this particular deciduous tooth had outstayed its welcome even by Elio’s standards. 

Oliver looked over his shoulder and smiled in an Elio-ly direction even though he wasn’t in sight. “Fine. Do you want me to pull it for you?” Oliver revised his question. Ollie didn’t answer, but his face did. His shoulders jumped up toward his ears. His eyes were wide and round and filled with anxiety. Oliver was slightly hurt over this reaction. “Ollie. You know I wouldn’t pull it unless you want me to.” At these words, Ollie’s shoulders crept back down to their usual position. 

“I can do it,” Ollie said. 

“Ollie do it by hisself,” Leo buzzed as he ran by, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. 

Oliver and Ollie grinned at one another. Oliver at last uncrossed his arms, pulled Ollie to him, and gave him a fierce hug before leaning down and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “Just let me know if you need me.” He felt Ollie’s nod against his stomach. 

Leo couldn’t sleep. He needed darkness to sleep, but Ollie was sitting up against his pillows, his face illuminated by the bright glow of his iPad. 

“Daddy and Papa say, ‘ No iPad at bedtime.’” Leo said that last part in his broccoli voice. 

“They say no playing games.” Ollie countered. “And I’m not playing games.” He turned his iPad toward Dill Pickle so he could see that he was only using the front-facing camera. 

“You take a shellfie?” Leo’s eyes lit up and he scurried out from under the covers to sit by Lollie. “Take me a shellfie, too” He put his face next to Ollie’s and stared into the camera making a series of his most adorable faces. 

“I’m not taking a selfie,” Ollie said. “I’m just using the mirror.” 

Leo’s eyebrows snapped together above his narrowed eyes. “Dat’s a iPad,” he said. An iPad was not a mirror, and Leo was pleased with himself for knowing something Ollie didn’t. 

“I’m pretending it’s a mirror,” Ollie said. He was no longer looking at Leo. Instead, he was wiggling his wobbly tooth. “I’m trying to pull out my tooth.” 

Leo’s narrowed eyes exploded into huge, blue orbs of shock. “No, Lollie,” he said, shaking his head. He grabbed Ollie’s wrist and tried to pull his hand away from his mouth. “You not pull your tooth out! NO!” Leo’s voice was as insistent as he knew how to make it, but Ollie completely  ignored him!  He just continued trying to pluck his tooth from his mouth. Leo couldn’t stand by and let that happen. “I go get Papa! I go get Daddy!” Ollie didn’t have time to object before Leo was on his tummy, shimmying toes first over the side of the bed and then disappearing into the still quiet of night. 

Elio and Oliver lay in bed, not sleeping. They were nose to nose, foreheads together, Elio’s knee tucked between Oliver’s thighs. Oliver’s fingertips traced circles ever so lightly over the sensitive skin on the lowest part of Elio’s back. The two were still mostly dressed, not-so-patiently waiting until they were sure the boys were asleep. It wasn’t as much that they wanted to keep their nighttime activities a secret so much as that they didn’t want to be interrupted. Oliver slid his hand beneath the waistband of Elio’s pajamas and his young husband gave a slight moan. They hadn’t heard a peep from the boys in a long time, and Elio wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer. Not with him doing what he was doing with his hand. 

“DADDY!!! PAPA!!!” Leo bolted through the door, ran over to the bed, and patted Oliver’s back. “DADDY!!” 

“Sorry,” Oliver whispered, placing the briefest brush of a kiss on Elio’s whimpering lips. When he turned over, he saw Leo standing beside the bed with his chin resting on the mattress. “What’s wrong, Sweet Pickle?” he asked. “Did you have a bad dream?” He hoped not. That would take a while. If he was lucky, it would be something simple, like needing a glass of water. 

“LOLLIE! LOLLIE!” Leo said, grabbing fistfuls of comforter and trying to kick a foot onto the bed so he could climb up and explain to his parents how Ollie needed their help. 

“Okay,” Oliver said in a tone that calmed his young son. “I’m coming.” He heard Elio whine as he left the room. 

“What was wrong?” Elio asked a few minutes later when Oliver slid back into bed and pulled Elio over to him. The younger man’s desire had ebbed somewhat, or there was less urgency to it at any rate. 

“It was nothing. Ollie was trying to pull his tooth. Leo doesn’t quite understand.” 

“Oh,” Elio said. “What did you say?” 

Oliver’s hand was on Elio’s hip, and already he could feel Elio responding to his touch. 

“I told Ollie to go to sleep and I told Leo not to get up again,” Oliver said. 

Elio’s breath hitched. They weren’t interrupted again.  

The tooth removal effort was renewed first thing the following morning. 

“Ollie, please don’t pull your tooth at the table,” Elio said over pancakes. Oliver had made pancakes instead of waffles because Ollie could only eat very soft food without wincing in pain. 

“NO, LOLLIE!” Leo’s admonishment was much more forceful than Elio’s had been. The toddler honestly didn’t know what to make of his parents’ lackadaisical parenting style recently. They seemed entirely unconcerned that their eldest child wanted to pull a perfectly good body part right off his body. 

“It hurts though,” Ollie said. He was answering Elio, not Leo. He’d given up on making Leo understand about loose teeth. 

Oliver set his fork down and shot a look in Elio’s direction before setting his gaze on Ollie. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pull it for you? It would only take a moment.” 

Ollie replied by clamping his hand over his mouth and shaking his head. It was the standard response to this question. But after swallowing another bite of pancake, he asked, “Would it hurt?” 

Elio jerked his head up from where he’d been cutting his pancakes and offered Oliver a pleading look. 

“It hurts already, doesn’t it?” Oliver pointed out. 

Ollie considered that. It did hurt already. “But would it hurt worser?” he asked. 

Oliver didn’t know whether he was irritated or amused as he took in the three sets of huge, frightened eyes that were glued to him. “If it does, I’ll stop.” 

Elio and Leo’s eyes remained large and unblinking. It was like watching anime. But Ollie blinked and swallowed hard. “You’ll stop?” he asked. 

Oliver nodded. “Of course, Ollie. I wouldn’t hold you down and pull your tooth out. If you ask me to stop, I will.” 

Ollie’s finger came up to tap his chin. His gaze drifted up and to the side. It was his contemplative look. Both Leo and Elio shook their heads, but Ollie nodded. “If you promise to stop if I say so.” And so the agreement was made. 

The rest of breakfast was uncharacteristically tense. Leo and Elio were the most panic-stricken. Ollie was not far behind. Even Oliver himself was, for the first time, slightly apprehensive. He’d never pulled a tooth. Ollie’s previous loose teeth hadn’t been as persistent and Ollie had managed to remove them himself. If he hurt Ollie, he would feel terrible. Just as bad, perhaps even worse, Elio would be upset with him.  

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked. He was sitting on the side of the bathtub, squirting some Orajel onto a cotton swab and trying to look not the least bit unsure of himself. 

Ollie nodded confidently, and Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if he was faking it, too. 

“Okay. First I’m just going to rub this on your gum to numb it. It won’t hurt,” he said. “I’ll tell you before I do anything else.” Ollie took a deep breath and then opened his mouth much wider than necessary. It made him look like something vulnerable and fragile. A baby bird. Oliver’s shaking hand dabbed the base of the wobbly tooth and the surrounding gum with the analgesic gel. Ollie made a face. “Does it taste yucky?” Oliver asked. 

“Pruh uh buh,” Ollie said. Probably. But he couldn’t know for sure because his tongue was practically glued to the roof of his mouth. 

“That part is done,” Oliver said, wrapping the swab in a tissue and handing it to Ollie to throw away. He thought it would give him something to do besides standing there worrying. It wasn’t long at all before Ollie screwed up his face. 

“My tongue feels funny,” he said. 

Oliver felt his heart pounding in his chest, but outwardly he remained calm and confident because he knew Ollie needed him to be. “That means the medicine is working. You ready to get that pesky tooth out of your mouth?” he asked, taking another tissue out of the box. 

“Check,” Ollie said. But it was the weakest check he’d ever checked. 

“Okay,” Oliver said. “Open your mouth, and I’m just going to pull it out. You shouldn’t feel it with the numbing gel. But if you do want me to stop, just tell me.” 

Ollie nodded. He opened his mouth baby-bird style, and Oliver took a deep breath. He placed the tissue on Ollie’s tooth, and… that’s when all hell broke loose. 

Ollie let out a loud yelp, which was immediately followed by the sound of Leo’s running footsteps approaching from down the hall. Elio’s were not far behind. 

Oliver yanked his hand out of Ollie’s mouth, feeling like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

“Okay, okay. I stopped, see?” He held up both hands, one of which still held the tissue. With his hands in this position and Elio’s hard eyes on him, he half expected Elio to read him his rights. It was very unsettling. “See?” he said again. He was speaking to Ollie, who had both hands clamped over his mouth. But he was also speaking to Leo, who stood in the doorway looking as horrified as he ever had. Most of all, he was speaking to Elio who looked as angry as a riled hornet. 

Oliver felt about an inch tall. Even though he was only doing what he thought was best. And even though both Ollie and Elio had agreed to it. And especially even though he’d stopped the moment Ollie yelped. Stopped wasn’t even the right word, because he’d really never started. Which was just what he was about to say when he noticed Ollie was smiling. He was still trying to figure out why Ollie was smiling when he noticed that Elio was smiling, too, any sign of anger gone from his face. 

Ollie turned back toward him and wrapped his arms around his neck– he was still sitting on the side of the bathtub. 

“Thanks, Daddy,” he said. And this time when the little boy smiled, Oliver saw what Elio had already noticed. A blank spot where the irksome upper incisor had been. He didn’t understand at first. Not even when Ollie took the tissue from his hand and grinned that toothless grin. Not even as Ollie showed it to Elio, who made a big fuss about something that really was perfectly normal. 

“Thanks, Oliver,” Elio said, looking nearly as relieved as Ollie that the ordeal was finally over. “You’re the best.” 

That’s not what you thought a minute ago. But Oliver was too relieved to be in everyone’s good graces to say so. Although, he wasn’t quite in everyone’s good graces.

Leo was on his tiptoes, staring at the tissue in horror. His eyes darted over to Oliver, back to the tissue, and then to Oliver again. “You make Lollie beed.” The disbelief in Leo’s voice was palpable as the three-year-old stared at the tissue which was indeed spotted with just a tiny bit of blood. Elio quickly tucked the tissue into his pocket, hoping that out of sight would be out of mind. But Leo’s disapproval only grew because that’s when he first noticed the tooth Elio held. 

Elio handed the prize to a proud Ollie. Then he picked up Leo, and gave him a little squeeze. “Ollie’s loose tooth just came out, Sweet Pickle. It’s a good thing.” He kissed Leo’s confused pudgy cheek. 

Leo craned his neck and stared at Ollie, who smiled wide enough to show off his new gap. 

“Lollie’s toof go bye bye?” Leo asked. 

Elio nodded. “Yes. It’s normal. One day, your teeth will come out, too.” 

“ELIO!” Oliver and Ollie admonished at the same time. 

Elio cringed, realizing too late that he’d said the wrong thing. Leo didn’t cry, but his lip was protruding pitifully as he gave a wordless whine. 

“But that will be years from now. You don’t need to worry about it,” Elio said. Leo was squirming out of his arms. 

“And it won’t hurt because Daddy will use THIS,” Ollie said, holding up the tube of Orajel. 

Oliver stood, rubbing his sore knees. He was really too tall to sit on the edge of a bathtub for so long. He was almost afraid to reach for Leo, but he did. Relief washed over him when Leo let him pick him up. When Leo laid his head on his shoulder. 

All was forgiven… but not necessarily forgotten. Leo kept diligent watch on the situation for the rest of the day. As they watched The Wizard of Oz together that night, Leo’s eyes kept drifting toward Ollie. His big brother did seem a lot happier. AND he was able to eat popcorn again. “Lollie’s toof go bye bye?” Leo asked several times. Once or twice, the smallest family member reached over and pulled Ollie’s lip up to see for himself that the shocking thing he thought he’d seen happen had, in fact, actually happened. Each time his eyes widened in disbelief at the empty place where Ollie’s tooth had been. 

And though Leo held no real grudge against his Daddy, there was some caution there. He sat in Oliver’s lap, but anytime Oliver moved –to reach for popcorn, to tousle Ollie’s hair, to kiss Elio– Leo’s hand would jump to his mouth. 

“My toof not go bye bye!” he said. “No fanks.” He shook his head. 

“I’m not going to pull your tooth, baby,” Oliver would say each time. 

It had been a long and uncharacteristically stressful day, so there were no complaints from the boys when Elio announced that it was bedtime. Ollie bounced around, downright giddy about it. Leo thought that was strange. Once in their room, Ollie produced the gruesome white thing that looked more like a bone than a tooth now that it wasn’t in a mouth. Leo shuddered. Ollie slid it beneath his pillow as Elio and Oliver smiled at him. 

Leo shook his head again. “I not like it,” he complained. He wanted that disgusting body part to be as far from him as possible, but Ollie apparently wanted to SLEEP WITH it now?! “No, fanks, Lollie.” 

Ollie’s eyebrows shot up as he gave a fervent nod. “It has to go under my pillow so the tooth fairy will come,” he explained. 

Leo scowled. 

Ollie adopted his story-telling voice. “The tooth fairy will come in the middle of the night while we’re sound asleep and take my tooth and leave me a dollar!”

WHAT?? Leo shook his head. It was bad enough that Daddy had pulled a body part from Ollie on purpose and had made him BLEED. But now a stranger was going to sneak into his room while he slept? Nope. Leo climbed out of bed and scampered over to Elio, the only person in the family he really trusted at the moment. 

When Leo woke the  next morning, it was to Ollie’s whoops of joy. The three-year-old sat up and rubbed his eyes a few times before popping his thumb into his mouth. As his vision cleared, he saw what Ollie was so excited about. His older brother was bouncing on the bed on his knees, waving a dollar bill in each hand like a pair of pom poms. 

“You get moneys?” Leo  asked around his thumb. 

“Look!” Ollie said. He stopped bouncing and held out the two crisp one dollar bills for Leo’s closer inspection. Oliver and Elio appeared in the doorway, Elio first, Oliver standing behind him with his arms wrapped around Elio like he might never let him go. Ollie was fairly certain that would be fine with his brother. 

“The tooth fairy treated you well, then?” Elio asked. 

Leo yawned, deciding he liked this tooth fairy person. 

“The tooth fairy treated me super DUPER nice! He gave me TWO dollars!” The little boy returned to his bouncing, which Elio couldn’t stop because Oliver wouldn’t release him, preferring instead to nuzzle kisses into his neck and shoulder. “I guess the tooth fairy pays double if you have your tooth yanked out,” Ollie said.

Oliver smiled against Elio’s shoulder. Eventually he had to release his young husband, though, because Leo toddled over, demanding to be picked up. Oliver didn’t consider refusing; he was just glad to be in Leo’s good graces. 

“I love you, Leo,” he said, rubbing his nose against Leo’s until his smallest son broke into a fit of giggles. Elio had stepped across the room to retrieve his little brother who was fully jumping on the bed. “What are you smiling about, Sweet Pickle?” Oliver teased. For even when Leo’s giggles had subsided, his grin remained— and it was unnaturally large. Oliver’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you okay?” 

Leo nodded and pointed to his tooth. “Pull my toof, too, Daddy! And I get moneys from the toof fairly!”

Oliver rolled his eyes, kissing Leo on the cheek. “You’re too little for the tooth fairy,” he said. 

“Because you’re a little, bitty, teeny, tiny baby,” Ollie said, galloping over with his money clutched in his fist. 

“Slippers,” Oliver said, nodding at Ollie’s feet. He set Leo down and ruffled his hair. “You, too. The floor is cold.” Leo scampered over to retrieve his Spidey slippers, dreams of dollar bills dancing in his head. 

“And as for you,” Oliver said, taking Elio’s face in both of his hands. 

“I know. Slippers. The floor is cold,” Elio sighed, pretending to be annoyed even though he wasn’t. 

“That’s not what I was going to say.” 

“What were you going to say?” Elio’s eyebrow was quirked up adorably. 

“I was going to admonish you for paying him double, but I guess I won’t.” He kissed Elio again, finally dropping his hands from his face to his waist. “You’re a lousy tooth fairy though. You know, now we’ll have to pay double every time.” 

Elio snickered. 

“He’s still got sixteen more baby teeth to go. And Leo has all twenty,” Oliver said, kissing Elio again. 

“I thought you weren’t going to admonish me?” Elio laughed. 

“I’m not, honey.” He kissed Elio one last time and then released him. It was a school morning and they needed to get the show on the road. “I’m just saying you’re a lousy tooth fairy.” 

“Fine. You can be the tooth fairy from now on,” Elio teased right back. 

“Fine,” Oliver agreed. “And you can be the tooth-puller.” 

Elio made a scoffing noise. “You didn’t pull that tooth. It fell out into your hand and you know it.” 

Oliver smiled, took Elio’s hand, and kissed it before leading him away from the boys’ room. “What are you grinning about?” Elio asked. 

“I’m just glad you know it, too,” Oliver admitted. 

"If you know, you know," Elio said.
He was still teasing Oliver, but Oliver barely noticed. All he really felt was the warmth of Elio's hand in his own. “And go put on your slippers. The floor is cold.”

Elibabette has outdone herself lately, spoiling me with the beautiful art for this series! Please check out her Instagram and until then, take a look at these masterpieces! 

Chapter Text

Oliver stared at his phone screen and then set it back down on the coffee table. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, watching Leo scribble in his coloring book. Leaning back and getting comfortable felt like too much work. Only a moment passed before he picked up his phone again and typed out a message. He studied what he'd written and then deleted it with a heavy sigh. He tossed his phone back down on the table pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. The very air in the room felt wrong. Cold, despite what the thermostat said. And heavy. Damp. He'd service the furnace on the weekend. When he opened his eyes again, the first thing they fell upon was his phone, which suddenly looked about twice its usual size. He almost couldn't resist typing out another message, so he straightened a long leg in order to slide it into his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. Elio would be in his last class of the day. This could wait until he got out, though Oliver could still hear soft sobs coming from Ollie’s room. Leo heard them too and looked up at Oliver, apparently needing some reassurance about the state of things. 

“He’s okay,” Oliver promised. 

Leo tapped his page with his crayon and said, “This for my Lollie.” He then began scribbling with a purpose. 

“That’s very kind of you, Pickle,” Oliver said. “Can you make it really pretty while I check on Ollie?” He’d checked on Ollie several times already to no avail. Leo nodded without looking up from his paper. Oliver figured the worst that could happen would be that his toddler might chew another crayon or decorate the coffee table again, and Ollie’s needs were more pressing.

The bedroom door was only partially closed, and from the hallway he could see Ollie’s still form as he lay on top of the bed with tears still rolling freely down his cheeks. 

“Can I come in?” he asked. 

“I…gu… gu… guess,” Ollie sniffled. 

Oliver took a deep breath and stepped over to sit on the edge of his bed. He pushed back the dark brown curls that clung to the eight-year-old's damp face. 

“You need to drink some water, Ollie,” he said. Ollie didn’t say anything, but when Oliver lifted the cup that had been sitting on the bedside table since his last visit, Ollie shook his head and let out another little sob. Oliver returned the cup to its waiting place. 

“Ollie, I know you’re very sad right now. And that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with being sad. But I do think you should come out to the living room with Leo and me. Lying in here is only making you more upset.” His voice was as gentle as he knew how to make it, but still Ollie squeezed his eyes closed and began fully sobbing again. Oliver heard Leo’s hasty footsteps. At only three, he was too young to understand death, but he certainly understood crying and did not like seeing his big brother so upset. 

When he toddled into the room, he was waving the paper he’d been coloring. It was now a triangular shape due to his attempt to tear it from the coloring book, but he didn’t seem concerned about it. Oliver hoped that Ollie could find the ability to be kind to the little boy, even through his own grief. Maybe he should text Elio after all. 

“For you, Lollie!” Leo chimed as he placed his scribbled, ripped up, half-of-Alberto coloring page on the bed in front of Ollie.

Oliver held his breath, but Ollie looked at the page, however briefly, and said, “Thuh…thuh..thank you. It's really... pretty." Ollie squeezed his eyes closed, but it did nothing to stop the tears.

Leo looked near tears himself, so Oliver picked him up and placed him on his knee. He sat and patted Ollie’s leg until his breathing began to even out again. 

“I… nuh…nuh…need,” Ollie began.

“I know, buddy. You need Elio. I’m going to try to get him on the phone, okay?” 

Ollie shook his head. “I… nuh…need a … tissue.” 

“Okay,” Oliver said, leaning down and kissing his clammy cheek. “Come with Daddy, Leo,” he said, letting Leo slide off of his leg and follow him out of the room. On his way to the closet to retrieve a box of Kleenex, he pecked out the message he hadn’t wanted to send. 

“Not an emergency, but please come directly home after class if you can. Ollie needs you.” Then, because he knew Elio would panic even though he’d said it wasn’t an emergency, he added, “Prepare some kind words for Clemmy’s eulogy.” He followed that with a string of sad face, broken heart, and insect emojis. 

Elio began typing a reply immediately. Teacher-Oliver disapproved of his checking his phone during class. Parent-Oliver had never been so happy to see those three little dots. 

“Tell Ollie I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

Oliver couldn’t find it in himself to tell him not to leave his class early. 

When Elio got home, it was as if his very presence had fixed the furnace. The house was warm again. And comforting. Oliver could breathe again for the first time since Ollie had discovered Clemmy’s lifeless body lying on the bottom of her habitat. 

“Is he okay?” Elio asked as he hung his key and Oliver helped him off with his coat. 

“Depends on your definition of okay,” Oliver said. Elio smiled, which surprised him. He was protective of his little brother, fiercely so, and usually did not cope well when he was upset. “He’s pretty upset, Elio.” He thought maybe he hadn’t made that clear enough. 

“I know,” Elio said, stretching for a kiss before heading toward Ollie’s room. 

Elio didn’t bother asking if he could come in. He just walked in and lay down facing Ollie, draping an arm over him. 

“Clem… Clemmy…” Ollie tried to say.

Elio shook his head. “I know. Oliver told me. I’m so sorry.” 

Ollie squeezed out a few fresh tears which were quickly whisked away by his big brother's fingers. 

“But did you know that she was really old in insect years?” Elio asked. He thought he might have detected an almost imperceptible shrug of his little brother’s shoulders. “You had her for almost a year, Ollie. And she was already an adult when you got her. Their maximum life span, under the very best of conditions, is only one year. So she lived longer than she was expected to.”

Ollie didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes darted around the room before settling back on Elio’s face. “Really?” 

Elio nodded. “Definitely. If you hadn't taken such good care of her, she probably would have died in just a few months. Or weeks, even.” 

“I tried to,” Ollie whispered. He had. He'd done his research and had done everything possible to make her life a happy one. 

Elio kissed his forehead. His lips were still lingering there when they formed a sad smile. "Papa and Mother would be so proud of you." His voice cracked. He almost didn't get the last words out. "So, so proud." 

"Why?" Ollie asked in the voice children use when they just want to hear something they already know spoken aloud. He pulled his head back slightly and titled his head so he could see his big brother. 

Elio took a slow, shaky breath. "Because of how hard you work at school. Because of how well you adapt to change. Because of how funny you are." 

Ollie smiled for the first time since he got home from school. 

Elio continued. "Because of how much you love everyone. Every animal." Elio thought of the sunflower Ollie had grown over the summer, whose seeds waited to be planted again soon. "Every living thing, you love." 

"And non-living thing,"  Ollie added with wide-eyes, clicking Flashie on and back off. Elio hadn't even noticed he'd been holding the small pen light, but it didn't surprise him. It was a comfort object for Ollie, as much as Leo's giraffe was for him. 

"Yes. And non-living thing," Elio whispered his agreement. "And they would be proud of you because of how gentle you are with Leo. And patient. Because of how you see the good in every single person." 

Ollie's breathing changed, and Elio thought he might be falling asleep so he stopped speaking. For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but breathing. 

"I need to write Clemmy's eulogy," Ollie said, sitting up and wiping his eyes.

Elio narrowed an eye. "Did you just dismiss me?" he asked, smiling. 

Ollie's grin turned true. "A little bit." 

Elio rolled his eyes, patted Ollie's leg a little rougher ---more playfully--- than Oliver had. "Okay. I'll see you in a while?" 

Ollie nodded. Elio had reached the door before Ollie spoke again. 

"Elio?" 

Elio turned and looked back at his little brother, who was already writing in his favorite notebook.

"Papa and Mother would be super duper proud of you, too." 

Elio couldn't speak for a moment, but then he managed a breathy, "You think?" 

Ollie nodded. "Because of all the reasons." 

"Because of all the reasons," Elio repeated. 

Awww. This story reminded Elibabette of an artwork she did recently. It wasn’t created for this story but we both think it’s fitting.  Such a beautiful image of the brothers drawing comfort from one another! ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Chapter Text

Though the calendar refused to acknowledge it, spring was already in the air as far as Elio was concerned. He couldn’t help thinking that his life was pretty much perfect as he sat on the steps leading down from the deck into the backyard. Oliver sat behind him, one step up, playing with his hair, kissing his shoulder, and otherwise lavishing him with more adoration than anyone really deserved. His elbow was on Oliver’s knee, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on the bare skin of his handsome husband’s inner calf. The fragrant, earthy smell of freshly mown grass scented the air. Pops of yellow –daffodils– lined the fence. The temperature was like the baby bear from Goldilocks-- just right. The kind of weather in which a person could wear whatever they wanted. Short sleeves or long. Jeans or shorts. A tank top or a light sweater. There was simply not a wrong way to dress on a day like this. 

The sky, the same blue as Oliver’s eyes, was dotted with puffy white clouds like something on a postcard. And, as a cherry on top of this perfection Sundae, he and Oliver delighted together as they watched Ollie and Leo sitting in the grass looking like two little angels entertaining themselves with some made-up game that seemed to have them completely transfixed. Elio leaned back into Oliver with a satisfied sigh, wondering yet again how he got so lucky in life. 

“No, no, no,” Ollie said, shaking his head. “That’s not even one single bit lucky, Dill Pickle.” They’d been sitting in his —Ollie’s— very own, personal, most private and secretest clover patch. And everyone well knows that clover patches are the luckiest places on earth. AND it was March, which everyone also well knows is the luckiest month of the year. Ollie had even convinced Oliver to spare his beloved clover patch during his morning’s massacre of the lawn. (Ollie didn’t really understand the whole concept of lawn-mowing. Why would anyone want to cut down perfectly lovely flowers? And who decided that dandelions were just weeds but daffodils were flowers? And where did all the grasshoppers go?) “It has to have FOUR leaves. See? Like this.” Ollie held up a four-leaf clover and touched each leaf with a gentle fingertip. “One. Two. Three. Four. Four leaves.” 

Leo’s nose was practically touching the clover, wide eyes crossing one another as he grappled to comprehend what Ollie was saying. What made Ollie’s clover superior to the one he was holding? It made no sense, so Leo swished his head vigorously side-to-side. I reject your assertion with my whole heart, the headshake said. “I not like it,” Leo said. 

Ollie’s mouth fell open. “You have to,” he said once he’d regained his composure. “You have to like four-leaf clovers. They’re the luckiest clovers!” As everyone well knows.  

Leo held up his clover next to Ollie’s and touched each leaf. “One. Two. Free. Free Weefs.” He looked at Ollie to see if his big brother was following. 

Ollie’s palm came up to cover his face as he gulped in a few deep breaths. “I know, that’s what I’m trying to say,” Ollie groaned. “Three-leaf ones aren’t lucky.” He gave his own clover a little shake. “Four-leaf ones are lucky!” 

Leo looked from his clover to Ollie’s and back again. 

“See?” Ollie asked. Some understanding seemed to flitter across Leo’s face, and Ollie thought he was finally making some headway.

Leo nodded. “I see it,” the three-year-old whispered. 

Ollie felt his shoulders sinking back down where they were supposed to go. Finally. 

“I not like it,” Leo said, pushing Ollie’s clover away. 

Ollie’s nostrils flared. His eyebrows snapped together. He tilted his head back as he howled, “EELLLIIOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” 

Elio’s perfect spring day imploded when he heard the wolf howl his little brother was making of his name. He groaned slightly, and Oliver kissed the back of his head. “Do you want me to check on it, honey?” Oliver offered. Elio spent all day working with small children; Oliver thought that he needed a respite in the evenings. 

“Nah. I’ll do it,” Elio said. He smiled before trotting across the lawn. Oliver decided in that moment that he could live without food. Without water. Maybe even without air. Elio’s smile could sustain him. 

“What’s up, Lollipop?” Elio asked, plopping down on the grass next to the boys. 

“I’m feeling a teeny tiny bit upset and annoyed because LEO thinks three-leaf clovers are as lucky as four-leaf clovers.” When Elio didn’t say anything, he added, “Which they’re not.” 

“Who says?” Elio asked, plucking a clover and twirling it between his index finger and his thumb to make it spin. 

Ollie took a deep, DEEP, breath. “Everyone says. Even leprechauns.”  And leprechauns are the experts on luck. As everyone well knows. 

Elio tapped his chin and then looked over his shoulder. He was relieved to see Oliver striding over. 

“It looks like a serious discussion is happening,” Oliver observed as he sat down on the grass next to Elio. “Fill me in.” 

Leo popped his grassy thumb into his mouth which made everyone in the family grimace. It was too late to do anything about it so no one said a word. Ollie waved a hand in Elio’s direction indicating that he had the floor. Ollie didn’t think he could muster the patience to explain it again. 

“Leo likes the three-leaf clovers, but Ollie says only the four-leaf clovers are lucky.”
Ollie frowned at the knowledge that his ten minute argument with Leo could be summarized in a simple sentence. “It’s not just me, who says that, ELIOOOO.” 

Elio shrugged. “Ollie speaks on behalf of leprechauns everywhere.” 

“Here, let me see your clover,” Oliver said to Leo, holding out a hand. When Leo held out his clover, Oliver took it and carefully tore one of the leaves in half so that it looked like two separate leaves. Feeling as wise as Solomon he said, “There. Now you can have the clover you like, but it’s a four-leaf.” 

Everyone in the family objected at once, but Oliver couldn’t understand them because they were all speaking over one another. That’s not how it went for Solomon. “Cool it,” he said, holding up a hand. “One at a time.” 

“I was just saying it’s not really a four-leaf clover. It’s just two and two-halves leaves which is still only three leaves,” explained Ollie in his I-love-math voice. 

Oliver nodded his silent acknowledgement and then turned to Elio for his objection. 

“That’s what I was going to say, too,” Elio said. 

Oliver smiled and then leaned slightly to kiss his husband’s know-it-all lips. “Of course you were.” They smiled at each other for a moment, and finally Oliver turned to Leo. Handing him the two and two-halves leaf clover he asked, “And what was your objection, Sweet Pickle?” he asked. 

Leo stared at the clover with a wrinkled nose and curled lip as if he’d been asked to eat it. He shook his head and dropped it to the ground. “I not like it and so I say I not like it!” 

Ollie and Elio snickered. So much for the wisdom of Solomon. Oliver picked a new three-leaf clover and handed it to Leo. “My apologies,” he said. Then to Ollie, “Ollie, Leo likes the three-leaf clovers better. Enjoy it while it lasts. That just means more four-leaf clovers for you and leprechauns everywhere.” 

Ollie looked at Elio to see if he thought this was a good deal. Elio smiled, so he smiled, too. “Fine. I don’t know why anyone would love three-leaf clovers more than four-leaf ones. But so be it,” he said with a nod.  He then turned his attention back to the clover patch where he began combing carefully through, looking for more four-leaf clovers. He wanted to give some to his less-lucky friends. Things were quiet for a moment. When he looked up, Elio and Oliver were smiling dopily at one another like they always did. That was no surprise. But Leo was lying on his stomach, scouring purposefully through the patch, examining each and every clover. 

“What are you doing, Dill Pickle?” he asked. “You can just pick any handful of clovers and they’ll all mostly be three-leaf ones.” Which, as everyone well knows, is why they aren’t super duper lucky. 

“I find Lollie a eight-weefs clover,” Leo said without looking up. 

“A what?” Ollie shook his head wearily. 

Leo plucked a clover. “One, two, free. Like me. Free!” 

“Oh,” Ollie said. 

Leo tucked the clover into his hair behind his ear. “I like it,” he said, pointing. “I find Lollie eight-weefs clover!” 

“But there’s not such a thing as–” Ollie started to explain. 

Oliver winked at the eight-year-old and nodded toward one of the four-leaf clovers. For a moment, Ollie’s features were contorted with confusion. But then he grinned and wagged his eyebrows. With Leo nose-deep in the grass, Ollie picked up a four-leaf clover and carefully tore each leaf. “Look Leo!” Leo looked, naturally. Ollie pointed to each of the leaves. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, EIGHT!” 

Leo jumped up and took the clover, spun and danced around the yard for a moment, and eventually presented it to Ollie. “One, two, Free, Seven, EIGHT-WEEFS CLOVER for you! I give it all by myself!” 

“Thanks, Dill Pickle,” Ollie said, taking it and tucking it behind his ear to match Leo. He started to explain about eight-halves being four, but Leo was too delighted with his gift and Ollie didn’t want to spoil the magic with facts. 

The boys continued looking for clovers for just another moment until Elio lay down in the yard with his head in Oliver’s lap. 

“I love this, Oliver,” he whispered. 

“What?” Oliver asked, tracing a finger over Elio’s lower lip. 

“Everything,” Elio said. 

“Me too,” Oliver said. He stared down at Elio who had closed his eyes, smiling like the Cheshire cat. Oliver’s own smile faded a little. He pressed Elio’s cheek, then his nose. “Did you put on sunscreen?” he asked. 

Elio made a noise that was a sort of amused objection. 

“All right, everyone,” Oliver said, pushing Elio into a seated position and then standing up himself. “Time to go in before you all get a sunburn.” He strode toward the house without waiting to see if the boys would follow him. They would. They did, galloping and hopping as fast as their legs would carry them. 

Elio walked behind them all, twirling between his thumb and finger the four-leaf clover he didn’t realize he was still holding. As it spun, he thought…

Spring is here. 

How lucky we are. 

Oh my heavens. Elibabette made the most beautiful art for this chapter. Look at those sweet faces! Look at those clovers and daffodils and dandelions?!  I'm flabbergasted! Please, if you haven't yet, check out her Instagram. She's just amazing. Thank you, Elibabette! 

Chapter Text

Ollie’s eyes moved slowly up and down, then up and down again, carefully scanning every inch of his little brother. Leo held out both arms and turned a circle, because that’s what Ollie had already made him do three times. 

“I like it,” the three-year-old said with a wobble as he completed his spin.

Ollie tipped his head to one side and moved his chin in a tiny gesture of apprehensive approval. “Here, put this on, too. Just to be on the safe side,” he said, pulling off his very own brand new light-up shamrock necklace and placing it over Leo’s head and around his neck. “But don’t use all the batteries, Dill Pickle.” 

Leo beamed with delight as he immediately began clicking the power button furiously, giggling as the light flashed rapidly on and off, essentially turning his new necklace into a green strobe light. Ollie closed his eyes. It was easier to be patient when he couldn’t actually see the battery dying. He knew from experience, though, that it would be futile to tell Leo to stop. Dill was the kind of pickle who had to push a button if there was a button to be pushed. There was really nothing to be done about it. Farewell, sweet battery, Ollie thought. But at least his little bitty teeny tiny baby brother would be protected. 

“Come on, guys!” came a cranky voice from elsewhere in the house. "Hurry!"

Ollie could just tell by the sound of the yell that Elio was standing near the front door. This ability to locate something by sound alone made Ollie feel like a bat, and he wondered when he’d developed this spectacular ability. He flapped his arms-slash-bat-wings as he galloped out of the room, feeling a little sorry for Batman for not being given any superpowers, not even echolocation.

When he reached Elio, Leo was already bouncing around, beaming up at him and clicking his new shamrock necklace on and off as fast as he could. “Look, Papa! Look! Lollie give me! Lollie give me THIS!” he squealed. 

Ollie smiled to himself. Sure, he had been looking forward to wearing the super cool light-up shamrock necklace he’d bought with six of his very own hard-earned dollars. (That chores nonsense did come with some perks!) But it was worth it to see Leo so happy. And besides –he looked down at his feet– he had these brand new bright green Converse sneakers that Elio had taken him shopping for the previous weekend. Elio. Otherwise known as the super duper best big brother in the whole entire world. 

Elio was tapping his foot impatiently. “We’re going to be late,” he complained as Ollie slid one arm and then the other into the backpack Elio was holding for him. 

“Sorry,” Ollie said dutifully. Ordinarily, this blatant disregard for patience would have moved Elio down a notch on the best-big-brother-list, but it was hard to take him seriously with that huge Leprechaun hat on his head. Ollie’s apology was lost in the noise of Oliver’s laughter. 

“Well it looks like someone isn’t going to be pinched today,” Oliver said as he scooped up Leo, who was dressed from head to toe in every shade of green. 

Leo’s forehead was bumpy with disapproval at the very idea. “Lollie say everybody not can pinch me.” He shook his head several times before remembering his prize. “Lollie give me!” he said, clicking the shamrock on and off repeatedly as Oliver kissed his cheek and told him what a good brother he had. 

“And as for you,” Oliver said as he shifted Leo’s weight to one arm and pulled Ollie into him with the other, hugging him and patting his back. “No pinching anyone today, even if they aren’t wearing green. Got it?” He regretted giving the directive the moment he heard his gasp and saw the way he bent his neck to stare up at him with huge, shocked eyes. 

“Remember, Daddy? I brought everyone in my whole CLASS a four-leaf clover,” Ollie said, wiggling just enough to make his backpack swish side-to-side as a reminder of the treasure inside. “So no one can pinch ANYONE in my class.” Ollie was on a mission. There would be absolutely zero pinching if he had anything to say about it. 

“I know. I was only kidding,” Oliver lied, fluffing Ollie’s hair until the little boy laughed and jerked his head away. 

“Guys,” Elio said, arms crossed and foot still tapping. “Can we table this discussion so I’m not late for work?” 

Oliver and Ollie snickered at one another. Elio. The one who couldn’t get Ollie to school on time to save his life the year before, had magically transformed into Mr. Responsible now that he was a teacher at the school. 

Of course it helped that Oliver was there in the mornings to help speed things along, but he teased his young husband anyway by lightly pinching his cheek and cooing, “Awww. My baby is all grown up.” Elio laughed and jerked his head away in a very Ollie-like manner. The eight-year-old giggled and bounced a few times where he stood. But Leo shook his head disapprovingly and said, “No pinching.” Papa was wearing a tall, green Leprechaun hat, so there could be no pinching. Those were the rules of St. Patrick’s Day, which Lollie had explained to him several times.

“Papa and I are only playing,” Oliver said, setting Leo down and taking his hand. The four marched and hopped and skipped and galloped across the lawn in their green attire, looking like a miniature St. Patrick’s Day parade. Eventually they made it to their vehicles, where they parted ways as they unfortunately must.

Lunch was usually a time to unwind, but Oliver couldn’t help the surge of adrenaline he experienced when the words “Bright Beginnings Montessori” flashed across his phone’s screen. There could be any number of reasons for a call, the vast majority of them completely innocuous, he reminded himself. But still, his mind filled with images of illness and injuries.

“Hello?” He could hear the borderline terror in his voice. 

Apparently the caller could as well, because she laughed nervously. “Mr. Kaine? Everything is okay. It’s Meg, at Bright Beginnings Montessori.” 

“Hi, Meg. Thanks for leading with that,” he said, setting down his sandwich. He waited for her to continue, but the pause on the line was a little too long for his comfort. “I’m still bringing the cupcakes,” he said. A lot of parents, he knew, dropped off the goodies they’d agreed to bring when they dropped off their children, but he had decided to bring them when he came to the party so Leo wouldn’t ask his teacher every five minutes if it was "cake-cake" time yet. 

“Oh, of course. It’s not about that.” Another uncomfortable pause. 

“What is it about?” he finally asked. He did have a lunch to eat, after all. 

“I was hoping you could have a word with Leo. He has been pinching students all morning. We all know how fun special days are, but surely you understand that we can’t allow him to… well… you know.” The rest of her sentence hung in the air like something R-rated. 

Oliver clicked his phone off speaker with lightning speed and put it up to his ear, rubbing his tense forehead with his other hand. “Yes. Of course. Put him on the phone,” he practically whispered, glancing around his office to make sure the door was closed so no one could witness this humiliating phone call. 

“Hi Daddy!” Leo sang. Oliver didn’t hear Leo’s voice over the phone very often, and he was always taken aback by how cute it was. “You bring me cake-cakes?” The three-year-old obviously wanted to get the most important business taken care of first. 

Oliver cleared his throat nervously. “Yes, I’m bringing them later. But Leo,” he said. “Mrs. Meg told me you have been pinching people this morning.” 

“I pinch people!” Leo bragged. He knew the rules of St. Patrick’s Day! Oliver could almost hear the nod in his voice. “Lollie say I pinch people if they not are wear green!” Leo knew his colors very well and his pride at this fact was evident in his tone. 

“No, Sweet Pickle,” Oliver said, and then rolled his eyes at himself. He was supposed to be having a serious talk with his son. It was not the time for calling him Sweet Pickle. His cheeks burned like fire. “I mean… No, Leo... Ollie only meant that some kids might pinch. Kids who don’t know any better. But you know better.” 

There was a pause.

“I not know better,” Leo said.

Oliver could almost hear the disgruntled head shake in his son’s voice. He could no longer feel his cheeks. He hoped he was not on speaker phone. “Leo. No pinching,” he said, deciding to keep it simple. 

“No pinching, Daddy?” Leo asked. 

“Right.” Oliver massaged what he could reach of his tense shoulders. “No pinching.” He could almost see Leo’s lip poking out. 

“I not bite my friends,” Leo reassured. 

“Right. But no pinching, either.” 

Leo sighed into the phone like a road-weary traveler. Life made absolutely no sense half the time. Why had his entire family dressed in green if there was no pinching? And why would Lollie deceive him? He clicked his shamrock necklace on and off a few times but finally acquiesced. “I not are pinch.” 

“Good boy,” Oliver said. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours for your party, okay?” 

“And you bring me cake-cakes?” Leo reminded. 

“I’ll bring you cupcakes,” Oliver promised. 

Leo clicked his shamrock button a few more times and then frowned when it would no longer light up. He gave it a shake, but it did no good. Life made absolutely zero sense. But at least there were cupcakes.

Elibabette has made art for another chapter! Ollie might think he’s the luckiest, but I’m pretty sure it’s me!! Check out her Instagram!  

Chapter Text

“Ollie.” Elio batted his little brother on the head with Leo’s stuffed whale because it was what happened to be lying nearby on the bed. “This is supposed to be fun. If it isn’t fun, just don’t do it.” 

Ollie’s mouth flopped open, his eyes closed, and his throat squeezed out a dismayed squeak. “That’s not the solution, ELIO!” he said before disappearing under the bed. Elio lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He could probably fall asleep right there on top of the bedding if given half a chance. 

“Papa!! Papa!! Papa!! Papa!!” the broken record –also known as Leo– said as he toddled into the room. Elio reached out an arm and pulled his young son up onto the bed with him the moment he was within arm’s reach.

“I do it!” Leo boasted. “I do it, Papa!” 

Eio wasn’t sure what Leo had done; his three-year-old was more than willing to take credit for anything and everything, up to and including the weather. 

“That’s amazing, Pickle.” Ollie’s disembodied voice called from beneath the bed. 

Leo turned to Elio and stared longingly at his plush whale. “Spashy,” he whispered. At three, he’d heard enough about sharing and taking turns to know that he should not grab the whale like he would have liked to. He did, however, snatch it with great urgency when Elio held it out for him. He wrapped his thumb-sucking arm around the small whale and popped his thumb into his mouth to keep his treasured toy securely in place. 

Elio closed his burning eyes and had finally slipped into some sort of waking dream when the sound of screaming filled the room. He was sitting upright with his eyes opened before he was fully awake. 

“DADDY HOME!!” Leo screeched again. He was carefully shimmying off the bed with poor Spashy still pinned beneath his elbow. “DAAAADDY!!!” 

Elio helped him down and got up himself. Ollie was doing some sort of desperate reverse centipede move, gradually reemerging from beneath his bed. Elio grabbed his ankles and yanked him the rest of the way out. “Thanks, Eliooooooo!” the eight-year-old said as he ran out of the room. 

Elio smiled and shook his head. By the time he reached Oliver, the man was covered in children. Elio stood back just a little to give the boys their moment, but Oliver took his thin wrist in his hand and pulled him into an embrace. He sometimes forgot how long Oliver’s arms were. Leo was bouncing around, telling Daddy about all the things he’d done by himself and all the things he wanted more of, please. But Ollie was uncharacteristically quiet. 

“You okay, Lollipop?” Oliver asked once Leo’s excitement began to subside. 

Ollie nodded against his stomach, and Oliver raised an inquisitive eyebrow toward Elio. 

“He’s a little stressed because he doesn’t know what to take for show-and-tell tomorrow,” Elio explained. 

“Ahhhh,” Oliver said, patting Ollie on the back. “Show-and-tell. That’s an important decision, isn’t it?” 

Ollie sent Elio a mildly disapproving look and then bent his neck to look up at Oliver, who was still rubbing his back. “It’s not show-and-tell,” he said. Show-and-tell was low stakes. You just take something and show it. And tell about it. This was different. “I’m the STAR STUDENT.” It wasn’t just every day that you got to be the star student. It only happened once per school year– if at all. On that special Friday, the star student got to wear a special pin on their shirt. You got a magnet for your parents to put on the refrigerator when they hung up your star student certificate. You got a certificate. AND you got to take something special to school. It was supposed to be something important. It was supposed to be something that told people something about you. It couldn’t just be any old thing, as Elio very well knew. 

“How cool! You should take your Lego Millennium Falcon,” Oliver suggested. Elio’s eyes grew three sizes and he shook his head ever-so-slightly. The warning came too late. 

“My Lego Millennium Falcon isn’t even amazing!” Ollie groaned. 

Oliver’s eyebrows snapped together. He’d spent the better part of a weekend helping Ollie with that particular Lego build. The box said it required 30 hours, but they’d completed it in 25. That was amazing in his book. 

“And plus Leo ate one of the windows.” 

Leo frowned. “I not eat a winnow.” He shook his head. “I lick a winnow!” 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie shook his head disagreeably. “Elio had to take it out of your mouth and it still has your teeth marks on it!” Ollie was suddenly feeling a little huffy, remembering. 

Leo was feeling a little huffy as well, remembering the huge fuss that was made over his decision to give the plastic a tiny taste. Apparently, according to Papa, he could have DIED. But he had tasted lots of plastic, and he had never died!  

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect thing to take,” Oliver said, patting Ollie on the head. 

But Ollie wasn’t so sure. “It can’t just be a toy,” he said. “Or a book.” 

“Okay,” Oliver said. “You have other things.” 

Ollie’s lower lip poked out. “It can’t be Converses.” 

“I didn’t say anything about Converses,” Oliver said. 

“It has to be something that reflects my Ollieness.” 

“Your Ollieness?” Elio asked with a snortle of laughter. 

Ollie frowned. “Yes, ELIO. Because MR. SLINGER SAYS… it has to be something that says something about me as a person. And that’s my Ollieness.” 

Elio rolled his eyes, but Oliver leaned down and kissed the top of the child’s head. “I’m sure we can find something around here that highlights your Ollieness just fine,” he said. But, truth be told, Ollie still wasn’t convinced. No one knew as much about his Ollieness as he himself did, and he’d been looking all afternoon with no success. He was planning to make this a bit more clear, but the grown ups were busy kissing each other like always. 

“Come on, LEO. You can help me,” he grumbled. 

Leo grinned and followed his big brother out of the room as fast as his toddler legs could carry him. 

“How did the search go?” Elio paused in his salad tossing to get an update from small son and little brother who were hopping and moping, respectively, into the kitchen. 

Ollie pulled Leo’s chair out for him and held it steady as the smaller boy climbed up. Then Ollie climbed into his own chair and poked his lip out. 

“Not good, huh?” 

Ollie crossed his arms and shook his head. Elio looked pained to see his little brother so unhappy, but Oliver took a measured breath and said, “Ollie, you have lots of things. You could take any of your books and explain its lasting impact on our life. You could take something from Italy, and talk about how your life in Italy made you who you are. You could take one of your toys and talk about the person who gave it to you and why they are special. You could take a photo of your family. Or of Joey. Or you could take a photo of us doing something fun together.” 

“Oh. I know! You could take in a photo of you and Oliver bowling together!”  Elio suggested. “Or that one from when we all built the treehouse together, even Oliver’s parents and sister!” 

Ollie smiled, remembering all of those special events. “But I don’t want to take a picture of something. I want to take a real something.” 

Elio sighed, but Oliver held his ground. “Then you can use one of the previous suggestions I gave, or that Elio gave you. Or you can call Joey and see if she has an idea. But I think Elio and I have exhausted our suggestions.” 

Ollie’s lower lip looked like it had been stung by a bumblebee. 

Once the children were in bed —hopefully asleep—  Elio and Oliver were at last ready to enjoy some much-needed alone time. Things were going along quite nicely when Elio suddenly got distracted. 

“That was a little harsh,” he said between kisses.

“Hmmm,” Oliver hmmmed in his sexiest voice. “Which part? Did you like it? Should I do it again?” Oliver whispered against Elio's neck. Elio giggled and Oliver made a frustrated noise in his throat. He slid his hand to a more neutral spot, resting it on the inside of Elio’s arm, which was supporting his head. “What was harsh, honey?” he asked. 

Adorable crinkles formed beside Elio’s eyes and Oliver knew exactly what they meant. He was forcing back a smile. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. Carry on,” the younger man suggested. 

Amusement escaped Oliver’s nose with his next breath. “Oh, you want me to continue what I was doing then?” he teased. 

Elio nodded. The creases beside his eyes were gone. His eyes were now piercing, his eyelids heavy with want. Oliver had a choice to make. He could either satisfy his young husband, and thus be satisfied himself, or he could further prod to discover what harsh thing he’d done and to whom. 

He could do one or another, but he could not do both. The two were mutually exclusive. Elio’s breathing was shaky, so Oliver let his hand slide to his back and slid his fingers beneath the hem of Elio’s shirt. He decided that he could find out why he was a jerk later. 

“Just, you know. You were a little impatient with Ollie about his Show and Tell thing.” 

Oliver fell onto his back and sighed. “It’s not show and tell, ELIOOO.” He said the last word in Ollie’s voice, which made them both laugh. “And I don’t think I was too harsh with him. He wasn’t going to listen. It was written all over his face.” 

“But he is star student,” Elio said. 

“And we both gave him several viable options of things to take, Elio. I mean, think about it. There are kids right there at his school who really don’t have anything to take. I’m not going to feel sorry for him —or let him feel sorry for himself, for that matter— just because nothing he has is Ollie-ish enough for him.” 

Elio's sigh was long and low. 

“Are you upset with me?” Oliver asked. His voice was so soft it almost disappeared. 

Elio came up onto an elbow, wrapped his leg around Oliver, and leaned down to kiss him. It was a long, deep kiss. When it ended the younger man lay back down and snuggled into Oliver. “You’re kind of hot when you’re all filled with sage wisdom, you know.” 

Just a breath a laughter from Oliver, and then he kissed Elio in return. “So. You’re not upset with me then?” he asked eventually. 

Elio shook his head. “Not. Even. A little.” They were more breaths than words. 

Oliver knew what this meant. He kissed Elio’s neck and positioned his young husband in exactly his favorite way. They were both more than ready, but he asked anyway, just to hear his young husband's voice. He loved the way Elio sounded when he was all eager and impatient. 

“Are you ready?” he whispered. 

Elio’s reply –which Oliver was certain was very sensual and sexy– was drowned out by the loud ringing and vibrating sounds emanating from his cell phone. Oliver almost expected to see it throwing confetti from its home on the nightstand. Both men complained, each in their own silent way, but reluctantly Oliver stretched a long, frustrated arm toward the table and picked up the obnoxious device.  

“Hello?” He tried to sound normal but couldn’t. “Oh, I’m fine.”

“Uh. I was just, um, vacuuming.” 

Elio giggled and Oliver wrinkled his nose at him. “Well we have a lot of carpet.” 

Elio tsk tsked because they had no carpet, other than a few area rugs. Oliver blushed, and Elio didn’t know if it was because of his sexual frustration or because he was caught in a lie. “Anyway, Meg, you were saying?” Oliver obviously wanted to get this phone call back on track.  Oliver’s mood during the rest of the call changed. He sat up and crossed his legs in front of him, holding a wait-a-minute finger up at Elio. 

“Oh.”

“Oh no.”

“How many?” 

“Oh yes, of course, Leo has had all his shots.” 

“Sure, no. We completely understand.” 

“All right then. Thanks for letting us know, and good luck with everything.” 

By the time he hung up, Elio’s beautiful ivory skin had gone fish-belly white. 

“Everything’s okay, honey,” Oliver said, realizing too late that he should have put the call on speaker. He leaned down and softly pressed a kiss onto Elio’s lips. It was so different from their earlier kisses, it felt like it should have a different name entirely. 

“Who was it?” Elio naturally wanted to know. 

“Meg. At Bright Beginnings.” 

After a pause, Elio said, “AND?” almost frantically. 

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Elio. I already told you everything is okay. Just give me a second. I want to get the facts straight.” 

Elio’s forehead stretched and smoothed in the way it did when he was forcing himself to be patient. Ollie was the family member most familiar with this particular facial expression, because it was most often directed at him. 

“Anyway,” Oliver tried to pretend that Elio didn’t look like he’d just had Botox injected into his forehead. “They’ve had a case of measles. So they’re going to close for tomorrow just to clean and to be advised by the powers that be.” 

The implications of this weren’t missed by Elio. “So we have nowhere for Leo to go tomorrow?” 

“Right. That’s what I’m trying to work out. I could probably get someone to cover my classes in the afternoon, but first thing in the morning I have a department-wide meeting that I’d hate to miss.” He’d hate to miss it because all of the tasks no one else wanted to take on would be delegated to him. “I guess I could take him to the meeting with me.” A three-year-old in a stuffy meeting with a bunch of academics didn’t rank high on Oliver's things-he-wanted-to-do list, but it did land well above the tasks he was sure he would be assigned otherwise.  

Elio didn’t miss a beat. “So you can take off in the afternoon, and we just need something for the morning?” Oliver gave a nod of confirmation, so Elio continued. “Never fear! I have an idea!” 

Oliver’s nostrils flared. Nothing put fear into him like Botox-Elio with an idea that required a never-fear warning. “Let’s hear it,” he said. 

“Ollie, come on! I want to get to work a little early today!” Elio called. 

“OoooooKaaaaaay,” Ollie drug the word out almost as dramatically as he was dragging his feet. 

When he finally got to the door, he looked up at both grown ups and poked his lip out.

He was trying to garner some sympathy, but Oliver’s expression instead became almost stern. He did not like last minute changes. “Ollie, Elio told me that you would be able to help him with Leo this morning. But you don’t look like you’re in a helping mood. If you don’t think you can do it, then now is the time to speak up.” 

Ollie slowly inhaled at least half of the air in the room. Then he very, very slowly let it whoosh out of his mouth, carrying with it a small, “I'll help.” 

Elio and Oliver looked at one another.

“You’ll be in my class first period anyway, Ollie. You know I wouldn’t disrupt your school day,” Elio pointed out. 

Ollie sucked in the other half of the air and then sighed out a forlorn, “I knoooooow.” 

Oliver’s almost stern look sharpened a little more. “Ollie, Elio doesn’t ask very much of you. And we actually thought you would enjoy helping with Leo while he’s in Elio’s music class. By the time that class ends, it will be his planning period, so it really isn’t going to affect your day at all.” 

Ollie frowned. He was very rarely fussed at. And when he was, it was very, VERY, rarely a multi-sentence situation. And when it WAS, it was almost NEVER Oliver, the (usually) nicest and patient-est person in the world.  

Oliver’s voice had become echoey white noise during Ollie’s reverie, but it came back into focus just in time for Ollie to hear his conclusion. “So I want you to stop sulking like this. Okay?” 

Ollie smiled, suddenly relieved. Oliver’s eyes narrowed. Elio’s forehead got all smooth. “I think we had a miscommunication,” Ollie explained. Elio’s forehead got smoother, Oliver’s eyes got narrower, but Ollie pushed on. “I’m not sulking about helping with Leo.” He patted Leo, who was standing by Papa, trying to understand why the heck he wasn’t going to his normal school. When Ollie patted his head, he smiled behind his thumb. 

“I’m sulking because I don’t have anything very special to show my class. And I won’t get another chance until next year. IF EVER. And I have to explain to Mr. Slinger all about how there’s nothing in this house that can show my Ollieness. I might even get in trouble!” Ollie was fairly certain that was worthy of a small smidgen of sulking and he hoped his family did, too. 

Elio’s face softened first, he pulled Ollie over and gave him a side hug –with a jostle. “It’s okay, Ollie. We understand.” 

From his place inside Elio’s side hug with jostle, Ollie let his gaze drift up to Oliver. His face had softened too, but not dramatically. “There are plenty of things around here you could take. You chose not to.” 

Ollie shook his head. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I know it’s not your fault. Grown ups just don’t really know that much about being Star Student because it was so long ago since you were one.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes, pulled Ollie away from Elio, threw him over his shoulder and tickled him. “I’ll show you Star Student!” he teased. Ollie kicked and giggled and squealed until he at last released him. “And now I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve got a meeting to get to.” He kissed Elio. “I’ll pick up Leo right after my meeting, honey. I love you.” He was going to tousle Leo’s hair, but the toddler was reaching up for him, fingers wiggling. 

“You show me Star Student, too!” Leo begged, grabbing Oliver’s hand and trying to climb up his leg. 

Elio and Ollie laughed as they ran to Elio’s car. Oliver walked down the sidewalk with Leo over his shoulder. The three-year-old was laughing and screeching even though Oliver just barely tickled him. Oliver finally set him down and opened Elio’s back door so his toddler could scramble into his carseat. 

“Daddy show me Star Student, too!” Leo informed Papa and Lollie. 

“I’ll see you guys later. Love everyone,” Oliver said. 

“Love everyone,” Ollie, Leo, and Elio said back as Elio started the car. 

“Well Ollie, believe it or not, we made it,” Elio said as pulled into his parking spot. “After all that piddling around, I thought I was going to be late to work for the first time.” 

He got out of the car and started unbuckling Leo. Ollie got out, too, and walked around to help with his bag. “We weren’t piddling, ELIO,” Ollie pointed out. “We were talking about me not having anything for Star Student. And that’s an important thing to talk about.” 

Mr. Slinger was getting out of his car at the same time. He smiled and greeted the family and then paused. “Elio. Do you have migraines? I’ve heard those Botox injections really help. Are they working for you?” 

Elio laughed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s a long story. I’ve got to get inside and get Leo situated. He’s going to be with me for a while this morning.” 

Mr. Slinger walked with them up to the building. “That’s some brother, you’ve got there,” Mr. Slinger said to Ollie as they entered the building. 

“Which one?” Ollie asked. 

Mr. Slinger laughed. Leo was awaiting the answer, too, sucking his thumb very seriously. “Both of them, of course.” Mr. Slinger was nothing if not diplomatic. “But I must say it was nice of your brother Elio to bring your other nice brother Leo for you to show for Star Student show-and-tell.

Ollie opened his mouth to explain that this isn’t what had happened, but it was really hard to say much to Mr. Slinger because of how he didn’t like being interrupted. (It seemed to Ollie like the people who most don’t like to be interrupted are also the people who most like to talk, and sometimes an entire day would pass before he could even say one thing to his teacher.)

“I must say, it’s a first,” Mr. Slinger continued. “I can’t recall anyone bringing a person to share with the class, but I like it. You think outside the box, Ollie."

“Do you think Leo shows my Ollieness?” Ollie asked. 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Slinger said. “As much as you talk about and write about your family, I can’t imagine any show-and-tell that would be more appropriate.”

They reached the place where the hallway turned, and Ollie hugged Elio around the waist. "See you in a few minutes! At first period!” 

“See you then.” And then, after Ollie had vanished, he whispered to Leo, who was still in his arms. “I told him it was show-and-tell.” He poked Leo on the nose, making the little boy beam. “And you get to be Ollie’s show-and-tell.” 

Leo looked shocked at this. His thumb fell out of his mouth. “I are a showy tell?” 

Elio nodded, and for a moment he was afraid the little one would get stage fright, but Leo just clapped his hands and squeaked excitedly, “I ARE A SHOWY TELL!!” 

Chapter Text

The problem was this: Although teaching 24 six-year-olds to play the maracas took 100% of a person’s attention, Elio only had 40% to offer. Another 40% of his attention was on his toddler, who was currently meandering around the room pleading with each student to give him a turn. (Elio had, of course, given his young son a maraca of his own, but it was yellow, which was absolutely unacceptable.) The remaining 20% of Elio's attention was on his little brother who was standing in his classroom doorway bouncing urgently while wagging both eyebrows.

Teaching kindergartners an instrument, Elio had discovered, was a bit like conducting a derailing train. Once begun, there was really no getting it back on track, so he tried with all his might to push through. He shot his little brother a look that he was intended to communicate that he should come in and wait quietly. He had long known that the kid had selective hearing, but he quickly discovered that he had selective understanding of body language as well, because he began calling, “ELLIIIOOOOOOO!!!” over the arrhythmic sounds of the kindergartners.

At that point, the train wreck could no longer be held off. Elio made a T formation with his hands as the noise in the room crescendoed. It was the signal he used with his students to indicate that everyone should stop whatever they were doing and look at him. It was, for the most part, successful —eventually. Unfortunately, it took longer than an overly eager Ollie was willing to wait. 

“CUT!!" the eight-year-old yelled in his movie director voice. 

A hush fell over the room, except for an insistent echo declaring that, “LOLLIE SAY CUT!” 

The sheepish grin Elio flashed his students became forced when it reached his brother. “Can I help you with something?” Elio asked, jaw tight. 

Leo thrust an innocent thumb into his mouth and then said casually around it, “Lollie say cut, Papa.” 

Twenty-four six-year-olds thought that was hilarious, but Ollie was blinking his large green eyes. “Don’t worry, Elio,” he said. “I’m just here for my... Showy Tell.” He put Showy Tell in air quotes because this was not show-and-tell. This was his very important, once in a lifetime, Star Student presentation. 

Leo beamed behind his thumb. "I are Lollie Showy Tell." In case anyone had forgotten. 

“Ollie,” Elio said ever-so-patiently. “I told you that I would bring Leo to your class after the kindergartners went back to their class. Remember?” 

Ollie tilted his head dubiously, one eye narrowed.

“What?” Elio wanted to know.

Ollie took a deep breath. “You’re a tiny bit of using your teacher voice at me.” 

“And?” Elio’s voice was more serious than he usually employed, and he did feel bad about it. But he could actually feel his street cred plummeting among the six-year-old crowd. 

Ollie’s feelings weren’t hurt. “And... Remember how you promised not to use your teacher voice at me anymore?” 

Leo’s head bobbed up and down in solidarity. It was true. 

“I promised not to use it at home. But we are at school. Where I’m literally your teacher.” 

Ollie scrunched his face. “But you’re only my teacher one hour a week and Mr. Slinger is my teacher ALL THE TIME.” 

The first graders were beginning to play swords with their maracas. Elio held up his hands in the T formation.

“And Mr. Slinger SAID I can come get my Showy Tell.” He said these words like they were a period at the end of a sentence. 

“Mr. Slinger doesn’t know that I told you that you had to wait for me to bring him.” His hands were still in their T shape, and yet his students’ swordsmanship was steadily improving. 

Leo was getting a bit stressed. “Misser Slinger SAY—”

“Okay fine.” Elio grumbled. “But you need to hold his hand all the way there.” 

“CHECK!” Ollie said. 

“And you,” this was directed at Leo, “Need to listen to Ollie.” 

“CHECK!” Leo was already hopping over and grabbing Ollie by the hand. As the two boys bounded out of the room, they heard Elio yelling, “CUT!!!” 

“Come on, Pickle,” Ollie said. They were standing right outside his classroom door when Leo suddenly put on the brakes. Ollie gave his hand a small tug. 

With his enormous blue eyes, Leo could see Ollie’s classmates through the glass in the door. “It’s a big kids,” he whispered. With his free hand, he attempted to prise Ollie's fingers away from his hand in an effort to escape. 

Ollie followed his little brother’s gaze and shook his head. “Nuh uh. Those aren’t big kids,” he said. “Those are normal-sized kids.” 

Leo shook his head. “No fanks. I not be a Showy Tell.” 

Ollie’s eyebrows shot up imploringly. “You have to, Pickle.” 

“No fanks,” Leo said, shaking his head even more adamently. 

Ollie’s heart was pounding like he'd recently finished PE class. “Pleeeeeeeease, Leo. You have to!” 

Leo’s eyes were shiny and terrified. 

Fortunately, Ollie knew exactly what to do. He snatched his little brother's hand and forced his thumb into his mouth. “There. Suck your thumb. It’s soothing.” That’s what Daddy had said to Elio when Elio tried to make him stop. Ollie waited a moment for the soothingness to kick in. “Okay, ready?” he asked. 

Leo shook his head. “No fanks, Lollie,” he said around his thumb. 

Ollie didn’t know what to do. He wanted to get Mr. Slinger, who he was certain could help him. But that would involve either dragging Leo kicking and screaming into the room OR leaving him in the hallway. He had promised Elio not to let go of his hand, so option B was eliminated. As unappealing as Option A was, Ollie gave Leo’s hand a hard, steady pull. “Sorry, Sweet Pickle.” 

Leo removed his thumb from his mouth and tossed his head back in order to voice his objection properly, but before he could work up a screech, he found himself floating in mid-air. He thought he had learned to fly, but then he was sitting on Papa’s hip. 

“Do you need some help?” Elio asked his little brother, working his fingers through is hair. 

Ollie nodded. 

Elio wanted to say I told you so, but it went without saying. 

“I not are be a Showy Tell,” Leo said, popping his thumb back into his mouth. 

Elio smiled and kissed his cheek, still fluffing Ollie’s hair with his free hand. “Can you just be a Leo while standing next to Lollie?” he asked. 

Leo nodded. That was simple enough. He was so good at being a Leo, he could literally do it in his sleep.

“Thanks, Dill Pickle,” Ollie said, reaching up to squeeze Leo’s hand. “Thanks, Elio.” He nuzzled his face into Elio’s side as if he were a pony, but Elio didn’t mind. 

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

“And here is our Star Student now,” Mr. Slinger was clearly relieved to see them all. He’d been filling the time with a game, but the students were losing interest. “Come on up, Ollie. And tell us who you have with you today.”

Elio set Leo down, and the small child immediately grasped Ollie’s hand. 

“Well,” Ollie said. “You said to bring something that reflects my Ollieness, so I brought my little brother Leo.” 

Elio’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and when he snuck a peak he found a text from Oliver: Don’t forget photos. And maybe a video. Elio smiled and opened the camera app.

“Nothing shows my Ollieness more than Leo,” Ollie was saying. “Because he is basically me, but with blond hair. And smaller. Right, Leo?” 

Leo nodded and mumbled, “Check,” around his thumb. 

“And so for my Star Student presentation, here are five things great about Leo."

Every eye in the room was on Ollie, and he actually started to feel a little nervous himself even though he had practiced this with Daddy for an hour the night before. No worries, because Daddy had prepared him for such a contingency. Ollie plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper which he unfolded as he cleared his throat a few times.

"Okay, Great thing about Leo, number Five," he began. "Leo is funny. My proof of this is that my family and me laugh all the time ever since he came. Even if he is just yawning in his flowery robe, he makes it funny." He glanced up at his audience like Daddy told him to do. Daddy didn't tell him how long to stare intensely at his classmates, so he kept doing it until Elio patted his head. "Great thing number four. Leo has very, very good manners for a baby. My proof is that he never says plain old no. He always only says no fanks. And if he wants more of something, he always says please. And great thing number three about Leo is that he has perseverance. My proof of this is that he colors in coloring books all the time even though he can only scribble. He always keeps trying to color anyway! And my other proof is this. When we adopted him, he was almost three years old and he could only say zero words. And now he can say probably a million or so words." Ollie realized that one needed a qualifier, so he looked up from his paper and added, “In English. He still only knows zero words in Italian.”

Leo frowned and shook his head. “Yes uh huh I say Italy words!” 

Ollie twisted his neck and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his small brother. “What is your proof? 

“Ciao.” Leo said.

Ollie’s other eyebrow popped up to match the inquisitive one and he tipped his head to the right in concession. “Leo knows one million English words and one Italian word.” 

Leo gave a satisfied nod, and Ollie continued. "Great thing about Leo, number two. Leo is fun to play with. Here is my proof of this. He likes to play with Matchbox cars best, but he will play with almost any toy. Like my dog, Olive. And great thing about Leo number one. Leo is adorable. For proof, just look at him." Ollie waved a hand toward Leo and smiled at his classmates. A few people begain to clap, but Ollie raised his voice and continued. "And last but not least, great thing number zero. Leo likes to be exactly like me. My proof of this is one time he drew blue freckles all over his nose because I have freckles and so he wanted them, too." He folded the paper and smiled at the class. "And that’s five things about Leo that are very great. And I know that’s actually six things, but I was writing with a pen so I could not renumber them. That’s why I used number zero. Because Daddy says to be a problem-solver."

Elio clapped his hands, thinking that surely now the presentation was over, but Ollie was fishing another paper out of his left pocket. After practicing with Daddy, he had decided his presentation wasn't long enough, so he'd jotted down a few more notes. 

"And now it is time for the things that are not great about Leo." He cleared his throat again.

Leo frowned and said, "I not like it."

"Not great thing number one is that he eats Legos. Windows are his favorite ones to eat."

Leo shook his head. “I not eat winnows.” 

"Not great thing number TWO—"

Elio made the T formation with his hands at the same time that Leo demanded, "CUT! Lollie say CUT!"  

Ollie giggled. “And that is another proof of great thing number zero. And a little bit of proof of great thing number five.” 

Elio took one last photo and then picked up Leo. “Sorry to cut this short, but someone is here to pick up Leo, and I have another class coming in a few minutes.”

The class was clapping, but Ollie barely noticed. He was too busy hugging Elio and jiggling Leo’s hand. “Thanks for being my Showy Tell, Leo,” he said. 

Leo smiled and laid his head on Elio’s shoulder, turned shy by the applause. As Elio carried him out of the room, Leo gave Ollie a small wave and called, “Ciao, Lollie!” 

Ollie wanted to point out that this was more proof of great thing number three, but he couldn't because everyone was still clapping.

I spent most of yesterday MESMERIZED by this beautiful art from Elibabette!! Thank you!! 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter Text

“DON’T COME IN HERE!” Elio called from the kitchen the moment he heard the front door open. He and Ollie flashed panicked looks at one another as the sound of Oliver’s hasty footsteps approached. “Stop! It’s a SURPRISE!” Elio’s desperate plea was almost a lie, but not entirely. He hadn’t, after all, said what kind of surprise. And the disaster that was their kitchen would most assuredly surprise Oliver. 

“All right,” Oliver said hesitantly, his voice just around the corner. He wasn’t one to spoil surprises. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“No. We’ll just be a minute!” Elio sounded a little too angelic.

“Yeah! Just one teeeeeeeeny. Tiiiiiiiiiny. Liiiiiiiiittle. Minute.” Ollie’s voice was strained. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth. The eight-year-old was putting most of his body weight behind his effort to wash the table, but it wasn’t doing any good. 

“And I do it ALL by MYSELF!” Leo said before shoving an entire hard-boiled egg into his mouth. “UH BUH MUH SUH!” he reiterated with his mouth full. 

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked.

Leo frowned –as much as he could frown with the bottom half of his face shaped like an egg. The toddler did not like having his independence questioned. If he said he could do it by himself, then he could. Before Ollie or Elio could stop him, the chipmunk-cheeked three-year-old darted out of the room to show his Daddy exactly how he could fit an entire egg into his mouth. 

Elio and Ollie’s respective gasps were nothing –absolutely nothing– compared to Oliver’s. Because Leo’s egg-shaped mouth was the least striking thing about his appearance at the moment. 

“Holy guacamole, guys,” Oliver said as he traipsed in with his fingertips on Leo’s head, mostly to keep him at arms’ length. His dismayed expression intensified ten-fold when he saw the rest of the ‘surprise.’ “Oh. My. GOD.” 

Elio looked up pleadingly from his spot on his hands and knees where he was scrubbing the floor. “Sur… prise?” he said hopefully. 

Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Surprise!” Ollie was much more convincing, jumping back from the table and snapping his arms out to the side in a “tah dah!” manner. Pink dye from the cloth he was holding splattered onto Elio’s face. For a moment, time stopped.

“Oh,” Oliver momentarily forgot the chaos that was his life and knelt down next to Elio, wiping ineffectually at the pink spatter. “Are you okay, honey?”

Elio smiled sheepishly and nodded. Ollie stared at his washcloth, trying to figure out what happened. Leo swallowed his egg and reached for another one. 

“No more eggs, Sweet Pickle,” Oliver said without looking away from Elio. He didn’t bother to ask how many eggs his son had already eaten. He didn’t really want to know. 

Leo poked his lip out, hand still holding the bright blue and yellow egg he had his heart set on. 

“No more eggs,” Oliver repeated, shaking his head. 

“I do all by myself?” Leo offered helpfully. But when Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, he returned his beautiful treasure to the carton along with all of the other eggs they’d dyed that afternoon. 

“Me and Elio dyed some Easter eggs for you,” Ollie said. Leo made a small, disgruntled sound, so he added, “Me and Elio and a little bit of Leo dyed some Easter eggs for you!” 

“I see that,” Oliver said, standing and rubbing his knees before holding out a hand and helping Elio up. Once they were both standing, he saw for the first time how upset his sweet husband was. “Oh,” he said, quickly pulling him into a hug and kissing his tie-dyed cheek. “Don’t be upset, honey. It’s okay.” 

Elio shook his head. “It’s not okay. I’ve been cleaning these tiles for an hour. It’s stained.” 

Oliver tightened his arms around Elio, nice new work shirt be damned. “We will get it cleaned up. Don’t worry.” 

Ollie hadn’t realized his big brother was upset about the mess, either. He quickly slid over and joined the group hug, Oliver’s nice new work shirt be damned. Leo took the opportunity to steal the egg and began peeling off the pretty shell, shimmying over and leaning against Papa’s leg. He kind of liked the floor like this.

“Leo Perlman-Kaine if you put that egg in your mouth, no Easter candy until tomorrow.” 

Leo looked at the egg as if it were very naughty, then he looked up at his parents. “Eat dis egg? No Easer candy?” Had he heard that correctly? 

“Not until tomorrow.”

He had heard that correctly. With a heavy sigh he trudged over to return the egg again. After a few stealth glances all around the room, Ollie followed his little brother and returned the egg he’d hidden in his pocket, just in case this no-candy-nonsense applied to him. He gave his egg a little pat. He was pretty sure no one would notice its squished and cracked appearance. 

Oliver decided to forego his traditional Saturday morning waffle breakfast in favor of something more healthy. His boys –all three of them– would get quite enough sugar during the neighborhood egg hunt to give Halloween a run for its money. He glanced over at the two expertly decorated Easter baskets on the counter and then reached over to hold Elio’s hand. “You’re so talented,” he said. “Don’t laugh. It’s true. You made their awesome Halloween costumes. Then Leo’s Turkey costume. You did all the winter holiday decorations. And now this…I had no idea you could make an Easter basket.” 

Elio blushed. “I didn’t really know I could either. I just did it.” It was the first time their neighborhood had held an egg hunt, and so he’d whipped something up for the boys. 

Oliver patted his hand and then released it so they could finish eating. “Well. They look fabulous.” 

“Yeah, Elio!” Ollie said. “Me and Leo love our Easter baskets! Right, Leo?” 

Leo nodded. He tried to smile, but it is difficult to smile with an entire egg in your mouth. 

“Well, thank you,” Elio said. “But it was nothing, really. What I can’t get over is the floor.” Talk about talent! Mr. Clean himself couldn’t have gotten the stains off the tile.

“AND the table,” Ollie agreed. He had already been online shopping for a new table. 

Oliver shrugged and flashed his small, humble, it-was-nothing smile. “It’s amazing what a little lemon, some baking soda, and a  splash of vinegar can accomplish.” 

Ollie shook with excitement, recalling the unexpected foam that this concoction had created. 

Elio’s eyes fell on Leo. “Too bad we couldn’t use it on that one.” 

Oliver laughed slightly at his toddler, who looked like an Easter Egg himself. His pudgy hands and arms were every shade of pastel. His face was dotted with the freckles he had always wanted. Even his blond hair was a mixture of pink, purple, and blue. They’d soaked him and scrubbed him, but they’d only managed to make the colors run.

“Maybe everyone will think we decorated him on purpose,” Ollie said as he popped his last bite of toast into his mouth. 

“Maybe,” Oliver said, standing and snapping a bunny ear headband onto Elio’s head before clearing the table. “Boys, go wash your hands. It’s almost time to go.” 

Ollie called, “CHECK!” and brought his plate to the sink before disappearing toward the bathroom, but Leo lingered in his seat, studying his hands. Usually they would be covered in sticky syrup, but since there had been no waffles, he saw no need to wash them. Instead, he held up his green and purple hands for Daddy and Papa’s inspection. 

“I are clean,” he said. 

When Elio laughed, his nose crinkled. Combined with the bunny ears, even the Easter Bunny himself couldn’t have looked more the part. Oliver tossed him a damp cloth to wipe Leo’s hands. 

“Let’s GOOOOO GUYS!!!” Ollie yelled from the door. So they loaded up their arms with baskets and babies and chocolate bunnies and went. 

Elibabette made this precious Easter art! I can’t get over it. She captures each one’s essence so perfectly. And look! There’s Stretchy, Billowy! I love all the details and love in this, Elibabette! Check out her Instagram!

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Chapter Text

Oliver had barely gotten the door open when Leo charged at him and began what Elio sometimes referred to as The Great Ascent. Oliver had discovered that one of the benefits –or not– of being tall was that your children tended to view you as something to be scaled. A tree, perhaps. Or a jungle gym. Today, though, little Leo would not summit. Before the toddler had even reached the halfway point, a carelessly placed foot to Oliver’s kneecap brought the excursion to an unsatisfying end, moreso for the parent than the child. In fact, Leo was far from disappointed; secretly the little miscreant couldn’t have been more delighted by this, because it meant that he was promptly picked up and tossed around, eventually becoming a human airplane. This was a far more thrilling conclusion than the climb itself would have been. 

“You’re lucky you’re not wearing shoes,” Oliver teased before blowing on his three-year-old’s tummy until he lost his breath laughing. 

“I think you’re lucky he wasn’t wearing shoes,” Elio pointed out. He was waiting patiently at the boundary between the entry way and the living room; that no man’s land that was at the same time both places and neither. Over his faded Talking Heads T-shirt and thin, sloppy jeans, Elio was wearing a frilly peach-printed apron that his little brother had gotten him ‘with his own money’ and insisted he wear from time to time. In his hand Elio held a spatula, warped and bubbled from one of his cooking misadventures. The humidity from the kitchen had done a real number on his hair, so it was even more disheveled than usual. Oliver let his eyes slow dance over this person he loved so much and was glad he was the only one who could feel the magnitude of his inner swoon. He gave Leo one last jostle and toss before depositing him gently on his feet and pulling Elio to him. 

“Are you trying to burn down the house again, honey?” The whisper was deep and breathy, and his lips brushed Elio’s ear in the way Oliver knew would set the tone for an early bedtime. He smiled to himself when he felt Elio’s barely there nod. “The correct answer is no, Elio.” 

Leo was wedging himself between them, forcing Oliver to reluctantly relinquish his young, handsome husband. The man took a certain satisfaction at how flushed Elio’s cheeks were as he absently patted down his wild hair. 

“I meant no,” Elio said, smiling. 

“A nod means yes though,” Oliver pointed out. Their afternoon routine was nothing if not predictable, and this was the comfortable stretch that came after the children’s assault. After their sensual greeting. The period that was marked by playful banter and merciless teasing as the necessities of day-to-day life were dealt with. When homework was checked and book fair fliers were examined. When the day’s grievances were aired and advice given– more or less forcefully depending on the circumstances. But on this day, there was a hiccup in this transitional stage, because the primary homework-haver, advice-needer, and flier-wielder was conspicuously absent. “Where’s Ollie?” Oliver asked. 

When Elio raised one shoulder in a half shrug, a dot of something brown and gelatinous fell from the spatula and plopped onto the floor. Elio looked down at it with a puzzled raised-eyebrow, as if he had no idea how it got there. 

“LOOOOLLIE!!!!!! DADDY SAY WHERE LOLLIE!!!!!” Leo helpfully screeched, resuming his after-school climb. 

Oliver promptly peeled the boy off of him and set him back down on the ground, slightly concerned about the missing-eight-year-old. “Elio?” He laid a hand on each of Elio’s bony shoulders to prevent another globule-splattering shrug. Elio came up onto his tiptoes and kissed him. Fortunately the mystery of the missing Ollie was solved almost immediately as a miniature Elio came sock-skating into the room and wrapped his arms around Oliver’s waist, squeezing hard. 

“Sorry! I was looking for….” Ollie paused for dramatic effect, took a step back, and held out a closed fist in front of him. His eyebrows bounced up and down to add even more drama to the moment. When the tension reached the perfect level, the eight-year-old opened his hand and finished his sentence. “THIS!” When the little boy saw what he himself was holding, his own excitement was renewed. “OH MY GOSH!!!!” 

Oliver laughed and waited patiently for him to stop bouncing and then took the small object he was being offered. He inspected the star shaped magnet with all the attention he knew Ollie thought it deserved. At the same time he used his other hand to attempt to smooth Ollie’s hair. He made it worse, but no one cared, least of all Ollie. 

“This must be your Star Student magnet.” Oliver knew he was stating the obvious, but he also knew how much Ollie relished even the smallest amount of praise, particularly when it came from him. 

Ollie’s head bobbed up and down several times. He couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s for my Star Student certificate.” He abruptly stopped nodding, eyes wide. He held up a single index finger before bolting out of the room –no doubt to retrieve his certificate. 

Leo was tugging Oliver’s hand, walking both feet up his leg again. Oliver looked down at his beaming toddler. “Did you have fun being Ollie’s Showy Tell?” he asked, moving his leg an inch back so that Leo’s feet fell to the ground where they belonged. Leo smiled and nodded and then promptly grabbed the magnet from Oliver’s hand. 

“I a star student, too!” he squealed. “It’s mine’s!” He clutched the glittery star magnet to his chest. 

“Of course you’re a star, Sweet Pickle… but that’s Ollie’s.” Oliver broke the news as gently as could and Leo didn’t seem overly upset. In fact, he didn’t flinch when Oliver took the magnet from him.

“Dis is Lollie’s?” the three-year-old asked, studying the star magnet very carefully. He looked skeptically up at Oliver, then at Elio, and finally back at Oliver. This information did not compute. “Where’s mine’s?” he asked. 

Oliver glanced towards Elio and saw what he knew he would. A pained expression. He  shot his sensitive young husband a smile that he hoped was comforting and reassuring while at the same time encouraging him to be tough. They’d discussed this before. Their three-year-old would not always share every experience that Ollie did, at least not at the exact same moment. And of course the reverse was also true. Oliver thought it was important for both boys to understand this simple, if unpleasant, fact of life. As many times as he and Elio had discussed it, he felt certain that his raised eyebrow was enough to communicate this reminder.  

But he was wrong, of course. “Um, I think yours is…” Elio’s eyes darted madly around the room as if they might have a long-forgotten glimmering star magnet lying around. 

Oliver cleared his throat. He’d handle this. “Leo,” he began matter-of-factly. Leo popped his thumb into his mouth, waiting to hear where his magnet was. “You know, Mr. Slinger chose Ollie as his Star Student for April. That’s why you got to go into his classroom. Understand?” 

Leo nodded. He understood. Oliver was relieved; he was on the right track. “So this magnet is Ollie’s. He got it for being the Star Student. Okay?” 

Leo’s head bobbed up and down so hard his bangs fell onto his forehead. He smiled behind his thumb, and Oliver and Elio’s eyes met. Relief passed between them. Their youngest child was able to understand this simple fact.

“But where’s mine’s?” Leo asked behind his thumb. 

Elio gave Oliver a pleading look. Do something, the look said. But Oliver didn’t know what to do. Even if he wanted to make the world an artificially fair and perfectly even-steven place for his toddler, he couldn’t. They didn’t have another star magnet. 

Just then, the waters got even muddier, because Ollie came galloping into the room waving his certificate over his head like a lasso. Oliver smiled at him, but inwardly he was bracing himself. If Leo was disappointed about the magnet, the certificate was almost certainly not going to improve his feelings. 

“Here it is!” Ollie said, beaming. He held the certificate up for all to see. 

“That’s fabulous,” Oliver said, holding up his fist for a fist bump and promptly receiving it. 

“Good Job, Lollie,” Leo said, holding up his own small first and receiving a gentle tap from Ollie. 

Elio had already seen the certificate, but he wrapped an arm around his little brother and gave him a squeeze. “I’m really proud of you.” And that was true. He’d always been proud of Ollie, but never more so than since he went to work at his school and saw what a caring, sweet child he was across all settings. Except when he forgot his recorder. Keeping up with things on his own really was not his brother’s strong suit. “It took you so long to find it, I thought you might have left it at school.”

Ollie giggled at this as if it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Of course I didn’t leave this at school!” He gave it another big wave. “It’s my Star Student Certificate!” 

Elio’s head bobbed playfully side to side as if this needed serious consideration. 

“This,” Ollie said, giving the certificate a jiggle, “means I’m certified.” 

“Well let’s go put it on the fridge. I’m tired of standing here in the entryway,” Oliver said. 

“Me, too,” Elio agreed. “But this is the living room,” he also disagreed. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “This is obviously the entryway.” Banter resumed, they all headed toward the kitchen. For a moment, it felt like the mini-crisis had been circumvented.

But it hadn’t. “Where’s mine magnet?” Leo asked again, and Oliver felt his eyelid twitch. He had hoped the little one had forgotten about his magnet, or lack thereof. 

“I think Daddy has it,” Ollie said without missing a beat. “Don’t you, Daddy?” 

Oliver held up the magnet as the four stood staring at the fridge, which was covered in photos, school work, spelling bee medals, Valentine’s box ribbons, and scribbled up coloring pages. 

“That’s really sweet of you to offer him your magnet, Ollie. But we need this to attach your certificate,” he said as he rearranged some of the artwork to make some space. 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said. “We can just use the peach magnet for mine. The star magnet is for Leo’s certificate.” 

Oliver’s eyes were narrow. He realized that Ollie must have heard that the youngest member of the family was coveting his magnet, but what was this about his certificate? 

“That’s what took me so long,” Ollie explained, wagging his eyebrows. “I had a little trouble remembering where I put LEO’S certificate.” When he handed Oliver his Star Student certificate, another one was hidden behind it. It wasn’t store bought. It was even computer printed. It was just a paper ripped from Ollie’s journal that said, “To Leo Perlman-Kaine. World’s Best Showy Tell.” 

Oliver’s heart melted. Elio’s eyes watered. Leo bounced excitedly and took his certificate.

“So we need to use the star magnet to put his certificate on. I already have this, remember?” Ollie tapped the shiny star shaped pin that was still affixed to his hoodie. 

As Oliver and Ollie hung up both certificates, Elio smiled. How did he get so lucky to have such loving, generous, kind people in his life? He would never stop being amazed by this. 

He smiled down at Leo just in time to see him eyeing the spatula in his hand. Before he could stop him, Leo leaned down and gave it a lick. 

“Leo!” he said, pulling the spatula away, laughing. 

His laughing intensified when Leo made a face and started buzzing his lips. “Is yucky,” he said. 

Ollie and Oliver started laughing, too. 

“That’s not a fair assessment!” Elio protested. “It’s cold and dry. It’s been on the spatula for a long time!” 

Leo wiped his tongue with his hand and shook his head. “Is yucky!” 

“I’ll finish dinner,” Oliver said, taking the spatula from Elio. It was not an offer, but a statement, and it suited Elio just fine. 

“I’ll set the table!” Ollie said. 

“I’ll help,” Elio said, pulling the plates down from the cabinet. 

Leo pushed a chair over next to Oliver and struggled to climb onto it. “Do you want to be my sous chef?” Oliver asked as he helped his toddler make another great ascent. 

Leo nodded. 

I’m smitten with this art! Elibabette, I have been glued to your Instagram!

Thank you for bringing these characters to life! 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter Text

Some people talk about finding a “new normal,” but Oliver knew the truth. Life would never be normal again. 

He glanced at the empty passenger’s seat next to him. Normally, he would see Elio there, probably smiling about something. Or possibly staring out the window with that look he gets when he’s so lost in his own thoughts that he might as well be on another planet altogether. Or even asleep, with his neck bent at a terrible angle, crimping muscles that Oliver would have to smooth out for him later. But not today. Today that seat was empty. Oliver glanced into the rear-view mirror to see Elio there, his perfect porcelain skin turned thin and sallow, deep bluish-purple smudges beneath his closed eyes. In Elio’s arms lay his little brother, who was also asleep. Ollie’s seatbelt was on, but only in the most technical sense of the word. Was it even safe to lie down with a seatbelt on? It certainly wasn’t normal. But they’d both needed the comfort the other provided. Oliver had felt words bubbling in his throat. Words like… You guys need to sit up. But he hadn’t been able to push them out. Was that normal? Was that his life now? Not saying what he knew he needed to say? He stared at the open road before him, took a deep breath, and tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. 

“Do you have toys at your house?” It was Ollie’s voice, small and sad. He was sitting up now. 

Oliver cleared his throat, hoping he could force some air over his vocal chords. Form some words. “We’ll go to the store tomorrow and buy you some, okay?” 

The whites of Ollie’s eyes grew large, his eyebrows taut, and for a moment, Oliver didn’t know whether he was about to throw a temper tantrum –or worse– cry. But the child’s eyebrows sank back to their usual position and he nodded. “That’s okay. I think Elio packed some of my toys.” 

“He did. We’ll get you some more things,” Oliver promised. He was trying to remember where that toy store was where he’d bought his niece's birthday gift last year. Downtown somewhere. He remembered being shocked at how expensive everything was. Was that normal? How much money would they need to shift to the toy budget? And from where would they shift it? Certainly not from the food budget, which was about to increase by roughly a third. Well, maybe not. Ollie didn’t eat much. But Oliver wasn’t sure if that was normal, either. He thought it was more likely because he was deeply grieving and if so, when would he start eating normally again? And how? Were they just supposed to make him? And again, if so then how? 

When he finally pulled into the driveway, the house he and Elio had bought together and shared for the past two years – the house that they had lovingly decorated and landscaped, the house in which they’d made love in every room. The house that was something they’d loved together, nurtured together, and knew intimately– seemed strangely unfamiliar. It seemed small. There were a few cracks in the sidewalk, a small weed poking through one of them. The house he had loved a week ago now seemed inadequate when he tried to see it through Ollie’s eyes. 

“Is this home?” Ollie asked. 

Oliver forced a puff of air out his nose. “I know it’s smaller than the villa, Ollie, but–”  

“It’s okay,” Ollie said immediately. “The villa is too big anyway. Sometimes when you want to talk to people in other rooms, your throat hurts because you have to yell.” 

Oliver tried not to think about what life would be like having a child yelling across the house. Was that normal? He and Elio had made a quiet life together. 

Ollie was studying Elio who was still deeply asleep, his head tipped back, his mouth slightly open. 

“You want me to wake him up?” Ollie whispered. 

Oliver shifted the car into park and began tucking things away, back into consoles and door pockets, hidden if not forgotten. “Sure,” he said. 

“ELLIIOOOOOOO!!!!!” Ollie yelled. 

Oliver jumped so hard he dropped the phone charger he was twisting into a figure eight. Elio jumped so hard his seatbelt locked across his chest. 

“Ollie!” On any other lips, the word would have sounded fine. But it sounded sharp on Elio’s, who was usually so soft spoken and kind. Ollie’s lower lip poked out, quivered, and then a river of apologies filled the car. “I’m sorry, Ollie. You just scared me.” And, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

Oliver hopped out and opened the back door for them, but they didn’t seem to notice him. “Are you okay?” Elio was asking and, “Are you upset at me,” Ollie was asking. Was this life now? Overreactions and apologies and the constant need for reassurance?

“Let’s go in,” Oliver said. Both brothers looked at him with these sad, hope-filled eyes. But Oliver didn’t know what they were hoping for. He didn’t know how to help them. “Come on,” he said. His voice was gentle, and the boys filed out. 

“Can I see my new bedroom?” Ollie asked as they trudged along the sidewalk, lugging twice as many bags as they had left with only a couple of weeks earlier. And it still wasn’t enough. They’d need to go shopping. Toys. Clothes. And… 

Ollie stood in the doorway staring at the guest room that was now his room. Oliver stepped up behind him and saw the room anew. It was an assault of taupe. The kind of place someone could sleep for a night or two. The kind of guest room that wouldn’t tempt a guest to overstay their welcome. That wasn’t by design, of course. They just didn’t have overnight guests very often and hadn’t felt the need to do much with it. 

“We’ll buy some things to decorate it, Ollie,” Oliver said. “Whatever you like. We can get some new bedding. Curtains. Maybe some posters?” 

“It’s okay,” Ollie said. “I like it,” he said. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. There was nothing to like about it. Oliver should have called someone and asked them to do something with it. Why hadn’t he? Regret socked him in the stomach, leaving him breathless and wordless. Was this normal? Was this what life was going to be now? Guilt stacked upon guilt stacked upon guilt? 

Ollie’s hand slipped into his and then he felt the slight weight of him leaning into his leg. “Don’t be sad, Oliver. It’s a nice room.” 

Guilt did a few more cartwheels in his chest. Not knowing what else to do, he patted Ollie’s head like you might a puppy or a cat. His cheeks burned, but Ollie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the child nuzzled into him like a cat might. A cat who’d been left home alone too long and was seeking some attention. His hand slid down and patted the little boy’s back. 

“Elio?” Oliver said, realizing that he was standing silently beside him, staring at one of the four beige walls. “Elio?” 

“Yes?” Elio came back to them, but not completely. He wasn’t his normal self. Or was this his normal self now? 

“Do you want to help Ollie unpack?” he asked. He thought it might be good for the two brothers to have some time alone together. They were both so clearly overwhelmed. But Elio was staring at the wall again. “Or do you want me to?” He didn’t mind. Not at all. 

When Elio didn’t reply, Oliver smiled down at Ollie who was still leaning against his leg. “Ollie, I think Elio is still sleepy. He hasn’t been sleeping enough. I’m going to get him into bed and then I will help you unpack. Would that be okay with you? If I helped you?” 

Something in Ollie’s eyes seemed to suggest that it would not be okay, and for a moment, Oliver panicked. This wasn’t the life he planned. He had no idea what he was doing. But then the look in Ollie’s eyes spread over the rest of his face, and became clear that he was only confused about something. “What’s wrong?” Oliver asked. 

“Where’s your Mafalda?” Ollie asked with so much sincerity Oliver made a noise that was both a laugh and cry. He followed it up with an almost inappropriate amount of laughter. Ollie blinked at him, so he cleared his throat and continued. “We don’t have a Mafalda, Ollie. Our house is small, so we don’t need any helpers. But I will help you unpack, okay? I’ll help you with whatever. With everything…As soon as I get Elio situated. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ollie said. 

“You can look through the drawers and closet and be thinking about where you want to put things. I will be right back,” he said. Ollie walked into the room, and Oliver took Elio’s hand. “Come on, honey,” he whispered, leading Elio to bed. He looked so frail and fragile. When was the last time he’d eaten? Was that a normal part of grief? Elio didn’t have much body mass to spare. He might need to see a doctor. 

Oliver returned a moment later. Ollie had found his window and was looking through it, out into the backyard. Oliver stepped up behind him and rested his hand on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have fruit trees in the United States?” Ollie asked. 

“We do,” Oliver said. “We have an orchard not far from here. And when we’ve gotten you settled in a little, we can go. I’ll show you. We can pick fruit there, or we could buy fruit they’ve picked for us. Would you like that?” 

Ollie nodded. The backyard looked so empty to Oliver when he saw it as Ollie must. They’d planted flower beds in the front of the house, but the backyard had gotten no such attention. It was just a patch of grass to mow. He noticed for the first time that there was a particularly sunny section of the yard that would be just right for planting a garden. And a swing set would look nice under that tree. They could put some lawn furniture on the deck. And maybe some potted plants. Or some herbs for cooking. Then it would smell nice when he and Elio sat outside, watching Ollie play on summer evenings, among the fireflies. 

That would be… That would be a nice sort of normal. It might even be lovely. Someday. When hearts had healed just a little. 

When he turned toward the room again to take in how much drawer space they had to work with, he didn’t see the wood and beige he’d seen before. He did, of course, but over that, in flashes, he saw a brightly colored comforter on the bed. They could put a small lamp beside the bed for evening reading in bed. And maybe even a small sofa just the right size for one of them to sit with Ollie, reading to him or helping him with homework. And maybe a beanbag chair. Right over there, in the corner. A spot just for Ollie, for those times he needed to decompress after a bad day. Because there would be bad days ahead. Bad days happened. That was normal. 

Ollie pulled open the closet door and smiled. “It’s another room,” he whispered. 

Oliver walked over, smiling, too. “It’s called a walk-in closet. It’s big so that you don’t have to store your clothes away each season. Everything will fit.” 

Ollie giggled. “I know that!” he said. “I just didn’t think you would have a big closet in a small house. It’s silly,” he said, giggling again. 

Oliver shrugged. “Americans are silly,” he said. 

Ollie nodded. “Super duper silly,” he agreed. He walked over and pulled out the dresser drawers one at a time. 

“Are you ready to unpack?” Oliver asked. Ollie was. 

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since Elio was woken up by small fingers lifting his eyelids, but it turned out, he hadn’t missed it. He wrapped his fingers around Ollie’s wrist and moved it away from his face. “Stoooop,” he whined. 

“That’s rude, ELIO,” Ollie complained, sticking his tongue out because Elio couldn’t see it with his eyes still closed. 

Elio opened his eyes and laughed. “Oh, really?”

Ollie nodded matter-of-factly. 

“I’m rude? Are you sure I’m the rude one? Not you, the one sticking your dirty fingers in people’s eyes at the crack of dawn?” He’d been kidding about the dirty fingers, but when Ollie started giggling, he looked over to find his little brother’s hands were actually covered in dirt. That woke him up. Ollie climbed up onto the bed and commenced bouncing around on his knees. “It’s time to wake up! Daddy says so!” 

Elio had assumed Oliver was lying next to him and the sudden realization that he was absent left him almost aching with missing him. He didn’t get to savor the missing for long, though, because he suddenly remembered what day it was. And if he hadn’t remembered, he would have figured it out because Ollie was steadily yammering now. 

“And three kinds of lettuces. And six tomato plants. NO. Seven! Seven tomato plants. And some SQUASHES. And even some green beans! And the beans are going on this ginormous-–” Ollie finished his sentence nonverbally, holding his arms out in an approximation of the teepee trellis that would support the green beans while also acting as the garden’s focal point. 

“Is Leo still asleep?” If he was lucky, he would get a transitional period in which he’d get Leo up and dressed, but he wasn’t that lucky. 

“Nope. Leo is helping Daddy! And I’m helping him, too! Except for right now. But only because he told me to get you. So I’m still basically helping him.” 

Elio yawned and sat up. “You’re a real hero.” 

“Thanks,” Ollie said with such sincerity that Elio felt bad for teasing him, even if Ollie didn’t realize he’d been teased. He climbed out of bed and picked up a shirt from the chair that served as a stopover for clothes that weren’t dirty enough for the hamper but weren’t clean enough for the closet. Oliver not-so-affectionately referred to this chair as his laundry purgatory. Oliver had no such temporary landing pad for his clothes. They went from the closet, onto his body, and then into the hamper. Elio teased him that he saw things in black and white when there are really so many shades of gray. Then Ollie effectively ended the argument for them by pointing out that the real world was neither black and white, nor gray, but was instead a bright and colorful place. There’d really been no way to argue against that, but Oliver still preferred the hamper for clothes that had spent the day on his body, and Elio still preferred the chair for worn-only-once clothes with no spilled coffee. 

Ollie was bouncing around the room like he had flubber on his shoes, so Elio dressed in double time and swiped the toothbrush across his teeth a couple of times before sauntering out to help his handsome husband plant their annual vegetable garden. Oliver had first planted the garden for Ollie shortly after he arrived, back when smiles were both scarce and hard-won.  But now, though it was called a family project, everyone knew the garden was Oliver’s baby. This year he'd decided to plant it on Earth Day, because what better way is there to celebrate Earth Day than digging around in the dirt? 

“Elio!” Oliver called to him the moment he stepped out onto the deck. Even after all these years together, Elio’s stomach still turned warm and fluttery when he heard his name on those lips, said in that way. “Come see!” 

Elio trotted across the lawn and Oliver secretly wondered whether it was strange that, for him, it sometimes felt as if nothing really existed until Elio had seen it. 

Elio was laughing by the time he reached them, because Ollie’s dirty hands were nothing compared to what was going on outside. Oliver was on his knees digging in the freshly turned soil, Leo was teetering around unsteadily over the spongy earth, falling after every fifth step but not caring. The youngest family member reached for Elio, and he didn’t hesitate to pick up the filthy child. He didn’t even cringe. 

“Sorry,” Oliver said, cringing enough for the both of them. “He’s getting you all dirty.” 

Leo giggled mischievously, pleased with himself. But Elio only shrugged. “It’s a chair shirt, anyway.” 

“Ahhh... The laundry purgatory finally serves a purpose,” Oliver conceded. 

Elio tried not to gloat. “What can I do to help?” he asked, setting Leo down and kneeling next to Oliver. 

“Keep me company?” The help me with Leo was implicit. 

“GUUUUUYS?” 

They looked toward Ollie’s voice to see Leo rubbing dirt in his blond hair. Elio and Oliver shuddered in unison, but made no real effort to circumvent it. 

“GUUUUUYYYSSS?” Ollie repeated even more emphatically. 

“It’s okay, Ollie,” Elio said. If Oliver was okay with it, then he was, too. They recognized a losing battle when they saw one.

Ollie looked dubious. “I know it’s Earth Day and all that but I don’t think he should bathe in it.” 

“Lollipop, I think Sweet Pickle reached the dirt saturation point at least a half an hour ago. He simply can’t absorb anymore,” Oliver explained.  

Ollie looked even more dubious. “I’m pretty sure he can, though.” 

“I not are can,” Leo giggled, scrubbing another handful of dirt into his scalp. 

Ollie frowned. When Elio sprinkled a bit of soil onto the eight-year-old’s head, Ollie gasped as if it was ice water rather than dirt. 

“We’re planting a garden. It’s literally a dirty job.” Oliver said. 

“But somebody has to do it,” Elio finished the phrase, but neither Ollie nor Leo was familiar with the saying, so Oliver was the only one who laughed. 

“I’ll hose everyone off before we go inside.” Oliver was getting back to work, patting some loose soil around the roots of a tiny tomato plant. That got everyone back on track. Elio started digging a hole for the next plant, and Ollie galloped over to retrieve it. 

It didn’t take long after that to get into a groove with Ollie fetching the plants, and Elio and Oliver planting them. Olive ran around the yard chasing grasshoppers, and Leo played in the dirt. The weather was warm without being hot. Breezy without being windy. Smells of cut grass, fresh soil, and new life scented the surrounding air, and they finished their work just in time for lunch. Sure, they were tired. And dirty. And they would probably be sore the next day. And yet Oliver was fairly certain that this was the perfect way to spend Earth Day. Clean up was easy. Oliver gathered the small shovels and cultivators while Ollie set about picking up all the small shovels and biodegradable cardboard containers that had held the plants. With nothing else needing to be done, Elio picked up his small son. “I’m going to go throw this one in the bathtub,” he said. It appeared that there was actually no saturation point for soil. 

Oliver shook his head. “I’ll get the water hose,” he said. 

“You were serious about that?” Elio asked. It was a little cool for playing in the water just yet. And they hadn’t used the hose since fall. “Do you even know where it is? We stored it–”

Oliver grinned at that. “Of course I know where it is? Don’t you?” 

Elio rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Of course I know where it is.” 

Oliver leaned down, laughing, and kissed his mumbling lips. “I’ll be right back. I know just where it is.” He’d put it in the attic in the same exact spot he put it every year. It was those small things that kept their life orderly in a way that Elio would never understand. And he was thankful that Elio wouldn’t. He might be the one who brought order to their lives, but Elio brought the spontaneity. The chaos. The fun. All were necessary, and both men loved and appreciated what the other brought.  

“Of course, he knows where it is.” Elio said to himself as he watched Oliver disappear around the corner of the house. Of course Oliver knew where it was. Because Oliver was the kind of person who took care of everything and everyone. He was the oil that kept things running smoothly in their family and the glue that kept things together. Obviously he knew exactly where everything was. 

But for someone who knew where it was, it seemed to be taking a little longer than expected for Oliver to fetch the water hose. Still, no one minded. Leo was weaving through the rows of the garden, telling each plant, “I wuv you. I wuv you. I wuv you.” (Except for the poor okra bush, to which Leo instead said, “No fanks.”) Meanwhile, Ollie was rubbing a little more dirt on his arms just to make sure he wasn’t excluded from being hosed off before going in. For his part, Elio was taking in the beauty of what they’d accomplished. By simply burying the roots of a few baby plants in the dirt, they’d have fresh vegetables all summer. And the green bean teepee was going to look amazing, besides being fun for the boys to play in. Sure, he was tired and dirty and sore, but this had definitely been worth getting up for. He was glad Ollie hadn’t let him miss this. He was about to say so when they heard the loud crash. Immediately followed by an anguished yell. Immediately followed by no sound at all. 

“Oh my God,” Elio said with icicles in his voice. 

“Daddy!” Ollie yelled. 

“Daddy!” Leo cried. 

The three darted toward the garage to find Oliver lying lifeless at the bottom of the pull-down ladder that led to the attic. The water hose was lying beside him like a coiled snake. 

“Daddy!” Ollie cried. 

“Papa!” Leo cried, pleading with Elio to pick him up.

But he couldn’t. He was down on his knees over Oliver, doing some silent pleading of his own. Please wake up. Please be okay. “Ollie, go get my phone. Right now.” Ollie didn’t have to be told twice. He dashed away while Elio pulled Leo onto his lap and did his best to comfort him even though he needed to be comforted just as badly. By the time Ollie returned with the phone a moment later, Oliver was blinking his eyes open. 

“Elio? What happened?” 

Tears of relief sprang immediately to Elio’s eyes. Oliver was okay. Well, okay might be a bit of a stretch. His speech was slurred. He definitely had a concussion. And his foot was turned at an inhuman angle that could be nothing less than broken. And those were just the obvious things that were noticeable at a glance. 

“You fell. Off the ladder I think,” Elio cried. “I’m calling 911.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Oliver said. When he reached up and wiped tears from Elio’s cheek, the dirt on his hands turned to smudges of mud on Elio’s face. “I’m fine. Don’t cry, honey.” He didn’t ask him not to call. He knew he was badly injured. 

But the kindness of Oliver’s words, or the tender way in which he spoke them, only made Elio cry harder. Even grievously injured, Oliver’s first instinct was to comfort him. “You’re not fine,” Elio cried, dialing his phone with shaking hands. Leo was bawling loudly now, and Oliver was holding his small, chubby hand and saying gentle, comforting words that Elio couldn’t process as he gave the 911 operator their address. 

“An ambulance is on the way,” Elio sobbed a moment later. He felt bad for crying. He needed to be the one comforting Oliver, but instead Oliver was comforting him while also trying to console their distraught toddler. Thank God for Ollie, who was kneeling on the other side of Oliver, holding his other hand, and saying the things that he himself should be saying.

Things like, “Don’t worry."

Things like, "It’s going to be okay."

Things like, "We will take care of you.” 

Elibabette, you captured all of the emotions in such a beautiful way. I love this. 💔❤️🩹❤️
Check out Elibabette’s insta for everything  Lollie,  CMBYN, Timothée, Armie! 

Chapter Text

The color scheme of the small room was white with chrome accents. The fluorescent lights, the chemical scent of disinfectant, and the echoey sound of distant intercom voices all added to the ambiance. Elio was pacing nervous circles around the room. Ollie was pacing nervous circles around him. He felt like a planet in orbit with its moon.

“Guys, please sit down. You’re making me dizzy,” Oliver said.

Elio stopped and Ollie froze at the exact same time, directly in front of him. If Leo, who was sleeping in a chair behind them, were the sun, they would have created an eclipse. Elio shook his head to try to clear his racing thoughts. 

Ollie galloped over and stared at Oliver. “Sorry,” he whispered. “We didn’t mean to make you dizzy.” 

Oliver was immediately filled with remorse. He poked the little boy on the nose, but Ollie’s smile button appeared to be broken. “Don’t be sorry, Lollie. It’s probably just the medication making me dizzy.” 

Ollie’s eyes fell on the plastic tube snaking up his arm, so Oliver poked his nose again. Ollie’s smile button had turned into a yawn button. It had been a long day for all of them, several hours spent working hard outdoors, followed by several more in an emergency room. Followed by a few more in the hospital room to which he’d eventually been admitted.

“Elio?” Elio was there before he’d finished speaking his name. “Why don’t you go ahead and take the boys home?”

“No!” The tone Elio used was the same one he used when Leo was about to bite someone. Adamant. Urgent. “No, Oliver.” He used his normal voice the second time. 

Oliver clasped gentle fingers around his wrist and pulled him down so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Once there, he lifted his hand to caress Elio’s cheek and then tucked a rogue curl behind his ear. 

Elio was already sulking. Because he knew that Oliver would insist. And because he knew as well that he would ultimately relent. Because Oliver would be right. 

“The kids are exhausted. They need you right now.” 

“YOU need me,” Elio objected. 

Oliver sighed and ran a thumb lightly over Elio’s pouting lips. “Of course I do. But what I need most is for you to take the kids home. Feed them. Get them to bed. Please? That’s what would make me feel better.” 

“But–” 

“But nothing. Just look at them, honey.” Oliver pointed to Leo with his eyes. Elio followed his gaze and sighed deeply at the pitiful sight of his small son. He’d done his best to clean him up, but the wet paper towels from the hospital restroom were really no match for the level of dirt he was dealing with. So the baby slept with smudges of dirt on his cheeks, in his hair, in his shoes. He was sucking his thumb, curled up like a cat, his face still splotched and speckled from all the crying he’d done. Exhibit A, Oliver’s eyes seemed to say before moving to Ollie, who was still standing nearby. Elio looked down at his little brother. His eyelids were drooping. He was swaying, teetering right where he stood. Ollie perked up when he felt their eyes on him though. 

“I’m not even tired,” he said with another huge yawn. 

Oliver’s eyes met Elio’s. Exhibit B, they said. “Please, Elio. Do this for me.” 

“Okay,” Elio said because he had no choice. 

Hugs and kisses were given. Tears were shed and wiped away.  But as Elio carried his sleeping toddler in one arm while using his other hand to help his little brother somnambulate across the parking lot, he knew that Oliver was right. He needed to get the kids home. Richard and Susan were coming to get the boys in the morning, early, so that he could be there for the surgery, which Oliver kept assuring him was not a big deal, even though it was. That’s why it was called surgery. 

 Elio called Oliver to check on him before he’d even made it home, but he could tell by the grogginess in his voice that he’d woken the man from the first decent sleep he’d had so he made up his mind not to call again. 

“Help me,” he said as he unfastened Leo from his carseat. The directive was unnecessary though, because Ollie was already gathering the discarded toys and snack wrappers from the floor board and putting them in the cloth shopping bag they kept tucked underneath the seat for quick dashes into the grocery store– also for emergency hospital stays, apparently. 

Once they were inside, Leo woke. He picked up exactly where he left off with the crying. “It’s okay, Little Leo,” Ollie cooed as Elio frantically set about making dinner. His specialty– frozen pizza. When the stakes were high, he didn’t dare attempt anything fancy. “I love you, Sweet Pickle,” he heard Ollie saying. Tears bit Elio’s eyes because Ollie never used that particular term of endearment with Leo. He used his own version of it. Dill Pickle. He steeled himself though, blinked a few times, and unwrapped the frozen pizza. There were important jobs to do. No time for crying. 

“Elio?” At the sound of his name, Elio looked over to see his exhausted little brother standing there tenderly holding his toddler’s hand. “Elio?” 

“Yes?” Elio asked, keeping his voice measured. He wasn’t a good cook. He wasn’t good in a crisis. He wasn’t good at many things, when he really thought about it. But one thing he knew for sure –knew from watching Oliver– was that children felt secure when they knew (or falsely believed) that they were in the care of a competent adult who knew exactly what to do and had everything securely under control. “What do you need, Lollipop?” 

Ollie shook his head slightly. “I was just going to ask if me and Leo can take a bath while you cook dinner?” Elio’s cheeks tingled at the word dinner but he tried not to reveal his shame. “Because he likes to play in the bathtub and maybe he would feel better?” When Elio didn’t reply, Ollie tried again. “And all the hospital germs? You know?” 

“Of course. Sure,” Elio said. His lips were tingling now, too. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That would be great. Just don’t let him splash water out of the tub.” Don’t let Leo splash water out of the tub? If he’d asked him not to breathe, it would have been more attainable. 

But Ollie just said, “Check,” as if Elio hadn’t asked the impossible of him. 

“You don’t like the pizza?” Elio asked.

Ollie stopped nibbling the pepperoni he’d picked off. “This pizza?” he asked, pointing to the pizza on his plate. 

Elio nodded. 

“It’s super duper yummy” Ollie said these words as if he were describing the taste of wet cardboard. 

Elio would normally make a self-deprecating joke about how even frozen pizza was now outside of his skillset, but he didn’t dare say anything. He didn’t say anything because if he did, there was at least a 50% chance he would cry. And he couldn’t cry. 

“I like it,” Leo said with his mouth full. “I like zeetsa!” 

“Thank you, Sweet Pickle.”

“I like it, too!” Ollie said, cramming in three bites worth of pizza. “I like it super duper much,” he tried to say. 

Elio’s lips smiled without his consent. “You don’t have to like it, Ollie.” 

“I do!” the eight-year-old insisted after he swallowed his food. “I just… you know…Daddy.” 

“You’re worried?” 

Ollie nodded. It was difficult to eat when your stomach had balled itself into a knot the size of a peanut. 

Elio tried once again to summon his inner Oliver. “It’s okay, Ollie. We can just put it in the fridge and if you get hungry later, we’ll heat it up. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Ollie said. 

Leo reached for his pizza and chimed, “More zeetsa, please!” 

Ollie giggled. Even Elio laughed as he placed another slice of pizza on his plate. 

The clock insisted that only a few short hours had passed before Elio was tucking in the boys, but Elio was pretty sure the clock was a prevaricator if not an outright liar. No. Elio was sure that at least three lifetimes had gone by. “Can I sleep with you?” Ollie asked as Elio tucked him in. 

Elio shook his head. “You need to sleep in your own bed.” It was an automatic reply rather than a thought out one. It’s what Oliver would have said. Ollie was too tired to argue. It had been a long day for him, too. At least eleven lifetimes. “Besides, Leo needs you.” 

Ollie glanced over at his baby brother with his eyes lightly closed and his thumb in his mouth. “Okay,” he yawned. 

Elio snugged the covers around him, leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I love you. Goodnight.” 

“‘Night,” Ollie said. 

Back in his own room, the first thing he noticed was the mound of unclean clothes he kept in the chair even though he knew Oliver didn’t like it. His throat tightened as he stomped over, angrily snatched up the clothing as if it had done something deeply offensive, and shoved them into the hamper. He stood over the hamper, staring at his handiwork. He didn’t feel as pleased with himself as he thought he would, so he carried the hamper out to the laundry room and started the wash. Of course there were wet clothes already in the washer because it was his week. So they had to be removed first. And of course there were wrinkled clothes in the dryer because it was, after all, his week. So he had to take those out and shake out the wrinkles as best he could before folding and hanging them. He was bone-weary by the time he finally slid into his pajama pants and one of Oliver’s shirts, trying not to think about the fact that when he woke, the clothes in the washer would have been there overnight and the clothes in the dryer would be wrinkled. When it was Oliver’s week, there was never this problem. How did he do it? Elio stood in front of his bedroom window. The moon was bright, splashing his room with light and color that seemed inappropriate for night time. It was an easy problem to fix, though, even for him. And yet when he held the fabric of the curtain in his fist, he noticed the moonlight on his skin, or perhaps he only imagined it there. He could imagine, almost, that it was warming his skin, like a caress. There was something comforting about it; he felt a little less alone. He pushed the curtains to the side, opening them as much as possible, and then he climbed into his bed. Their bed. His and Oliver’s. He lay facing the window, with Oliver’s side of the bed behind him. Partly it was because this was how he often fell asleep, and partly because he was trying not to think about the fact that Oliver's side was empty. That there were no warm legs behind him for him to put his cold feet on. No one to say, Jesus, honey, when he did. No one was going to roll into him and wrap his arms around him, breathe into his hair and tell him he loved him. Finally alone, just himself and the moon, he let the tears he’d been fighting all evening flow freely. As if a dam had broken, he put his face into his pillow and sobbed. And that was fine. His pillow, after all, didn’t need him to be strong. The moonlight didn’t need him to take care of it. He could cry as much as he wanted, and that’s what he was going to do. 

But then he felt the weight of someone behind him. An arm did come around him. Someone did breathe into his hair. Someone did tell him he loved him.

“I love you, too, Ollie,” he whispered. 

Elio tried to stop crying. For Ollie. But he couldn’t. In fact, he cried harder. Harder than he had in a long time. Some part of him knew that his tears were not proportionate to the situation. Oliver had broken his foot, after all. He wasn’t critically injured. He wasn’t paralyzed. He hadn’t–

Yet he couldn’t stop crying for a long, long time. “I’m sorry,” he said when he finally could.

“Don’t be,” Ollie said. “Me and Leo have been crying today, too. Right, Leo?” 

Elio looked over his shoulder to see that his little brother wasn’t the only one who’d climbed into his bed. Leo nodded his agreement. Ollie spoke the truth. 

Elio plopped his head back down on the pillow and wiped at his eyes. “But I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you.” It’s the one thing Oliver needed him to do. 

“You are taking care of us,” Ollie said. 

Elio turned over and wrapped his arms around the boys. “Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s just get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.” Tomorrow Oliver would have surgery to fix his ankle. Tomorrow, Oliver would come home. Tomorrow, the real fun would begin. 

“Goodnight,” Ollie whispered, closing his eyes. 

“Goodnight,” Leo said in his normal voice, because he thought whispering was overrated. 

Olive jumped up onto the bed and curled up behind Ollie’s legs. And finally, Elio could breathe again. Everyone he needed to take care of was right here with him, and for the first time since, possibly since ever, Elio thought he could do it. He could take care of the boys. And Oliver. 

He was almost asleep when his phone rang. He twisted around and pulled it from his bedside table and whispered into it. “Oliver?” 

“I just wanted to tell you goodnight, honey,” Oliver said. 

Elio smiled and closed his eyes. The planets had all aligned, and he was in their orbit. And that was enough.

Chapter Text

“I’LL GET IT!!!!” Ollie yelled. 

“Me AWSO!” Leo had recently taken to saying also instead of its quotidian counterpart: too. 

“I’ll get it,” Elio said, making a shooing motion with his hands. Ollie’s lip poked out until Elio added, “Do we need to revisit who can answer the door and under what circumstances?” 

At that point, Ollie lost interest in answering the door, making a U-turn toward the kitchen instead. “I’ll set the table!” he yelled as he galloped out of the room. 

“Me awso!” Leo yelled, following Ollie out of the room with his own approximation of a gallop; an awkward movement that fell somewhere on the spectrum between skipping and hopping. 

“You can do the silverware,” Ollie said in Elio’s do-we-need-to-revisit-who-can-answer-the-door voice.  

Elio smiled at the sounds of dishes clanging and his little brother dictating orders– orders which were being promptly disregarded if the I-do-it-by-myselfs were any indication. 

“Um…Dinner’s ready?” Elio hesitantly poked his head into their bedroom. Oliver was lying in bed looking for all the world like a princess enthroned upon a fluffy cloud. This was, of course, because Elio had propped nearly every part of him up with a variety of pillows. “Do you want me to bring you a plate?” 

Oliver’s smile became a grimace as he tried to sit up. Elio rushed over with his crutches. “Let me bring you a plate,” he said with a little more conviction.

“No. I want to eat in the kitchen. With you and the boys,” Oliver said. It was true. He’d been lying in bed so long, it was starting to feel as if the walls were covered with yellow wallpaper. Elio leaned the crutches against the edge of the bed and placed a hand behind Oliver’s back. Clearly he wasn’t able to physically lift him, but it was a gesture of moral support. 

There was some groaning. A bit of moaning. And a good bit of pain-induced wincing. But eventually Oliver was standing by the bed, leaning heavily on his crutches. Just when he had convinced himself to take those first few painful steps, he noticed Ollie standing in the doorway, squinting and nibbling at his fingernails. 

“I’m okay, Ollie,” he said. He’d employed his most reassuring tone so he was a bit surprised when Ollie shook his head in adamant disagreement. “Yes, I am. I’m better than I was yesterday.” That wasn’t saying much, and Ollie must have felt the same because he shook his head again. Oliver didn’t know what to do. He didn’t dare begin the agonizing journey across the room in front of his small, exceedingly sensitive audience. Seeing no viable option, he resigned himself to eating his meal in bed. Again. With the yellow wallpaper. But Elio spoke before he could. 

“Ollie, could you go pull his chair out for him?” the younger man asked. Both of them knew that he could have done it himself, but Ollie needed to be doing something, even if it wasn’t truly helpful in the traditional sense of the word. It was moral support, which might be more beneficial to the supporter than the supported. 

“Check!” Ollie said as he darted out of the room and down the hallway. There were sounds of a slight scuffle from the kitchen. “I’m pulling his chair out for him!” Ollie said. 

“Me awso!” Leo said. 

“Nuh uh!” Ollie said. And then, “You get that side, Dill Pickle. I’ll get this side.” It was a double helping of moral support. 

When the men eventually completed the slow, painful journey to the kitchen, Oliver’s chair was pulled out so far from the table that it looked as if a poltergeist had assisted. Both children were sitting in their chairs, waiting patiently. Elio scooted Oliver’s chair into a more reasonable position, and Oliver was able to drop himself into his seat without too much fanfare. The moment he did, everyone buzzed around him. 

“Here, Daddy,” Ollie said, scooting his plate closer to him. 

“Here, awso,” Leo said, grabbing his silverware and waving it around for him. 

“Thank you, boys,” Oliver said, taking the silverware from Leo and nodding to Ollie. He could have reached the plate and the silverware himself, but it was a sweet gesture. Before the boys could say you’re welcome, Elio was dishing food onto his plate. 

“Thank you, honey,” he said. “This looks delicious.” And surprisingly enough, it actually did. When Oliver poked it with his fork, his surprise turned to shock. “Is this… lasagna.” 

Elio nodded nonchalantly, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sure it’s not as good as yours, but hopefully it will suffice.” 

Oliver cut into the lasagna with his fork and his shock turned to dismay. It was stuffed with tons of cheese and vegetables, including mushrooms, his favorite. “Honestly, Elio. It looks fantastic. It smells fantastic.” 

That was enough for Leo. He shoveled a bite of lasagna into his mouth. He rubbed his tummy and licked his lips. “Yummy!” was his final verdict. 

Elio’s cheeks pinkened and his smile turned shy. Oliver reached over and held his hand, gave it a small squeeze, and then took a bite of his food. “Oh my God, Elio.” He was genuinely awestruck by the explosion of flavors and textures in his mouth. It honestly was better than his lasagna, which he considered one of his specialties. 

“You like it?” Elio’s voice was hesitant, like he was afraid to get his hopes up. 

“Yes, very much. It’s wonderful; I’m not just saying that.” For a moment, he forgot how much his leg hurt. All of his senses were busy dealing with the gourmet meal before him. “I need this recipe!”

Elio cocked a stern eyebrow. “You don’t need any recipes. Not for a while, you don’t.” 

Oliver laughed. He was already ready to get back into the groove of daily life, but Elio and the boys seemed set on pampering him as long as possible. And he supposed it was kind of nice, being doted on a bit. “Fine. But when I get back to my regular activity, I want this recipe.” 

Elio shrugged his reluctant acquiescence. “Fine. But you’ll have to get the recipe from Vincent’s then.” Elio giggled mischievously. “If it’s not proprietary.” He could hardly get the last words out.

Ollie burst into giggles, too. He had been wondering if Elio would reveal his secret. 

Leo just said, “I like it. I like Viccent lah-lon-ya.” 

Oliver laughed hard, but had to dial back his laughter because it somehow hurt his foot, though he didn’t understand how that was possible. Everything was connected to everything, it seemed. “You got this from Vincent’s?” 

Elio laughed harder and flapped his napkin at him. “You didn’t really think I made this myself, did you? Geez! How much pain medicine are you on?”

Oliver snatched his napkin away from him and held it out of his reach, laughing as Elio stretched and struggled to reach his napkin. Eventually he had to get out of his chair to retrieve it. 

“Well, whoever made it, it’s divine. Thank you, honey, for taking care of dinner.” 

“You’re welcome,” Elio said oh-so-seriously as he sat back down and put his napkin in his lap, feeling like a domestic guru of epic proportions. “And I’ll have you know that there’s NO laundry in the washer and NO laundry in the dryer, either.” 

Oliver’s eyebrows danced up and down to show how impressed he was. 

“Really?” Ollie asked, flabbergasted. “But how? It’s your week?”  

“Yes, really.” Three sets of dubious eyes were on him. “I can do stuff, you know.” 

“Of course you can,” Oliver said, reaching for his hand again. 

“You can do LOTS of stuff,” Ollie agreed. 

“And me awso,” Leo said– but it was hard to take him seriously when his face was covered in red sauce. 

I know this isn’t to do with the story but Elibabette posted this for May the Fourth day and I can’t get over it!!!

And this is the very first sketch she ever did for the series. I’m the luckiest!! Thank you Elibabette! (Check out her Instagram here!)

Chapter Text

“Hey.” 

It was a startled sound more than an actual word coming from his big brother, but Ollie pretended not to notice, instead responding with the traditional, “Hey.” 

Elio put his hand on his hip, which was short for a whole bunch of words such as:

You know what I meant.

Mixed with a little, I don’t have time for this right now.

Topped with a dash of, don’t make this difficult. 

But it was the pleading look in Elio's eyes that finally got Ollie out of bed, however reluctantly. 

“It’s not fair,” the eight-year-old whined at breakfast. 

“Everything isn’t always perfectly fair,” Elio said. He’d heard Oliver say those words a hundred times, but for Elio it only brought more whining. 

“It should be, though.”

Elio took a deep breath and tipped the cereal box over Ollie’s bowl. The sound of shredded wheat tumbling into the bowl was loud in the shadow of Elio’s silence. 

“And why do I even have to go to school if you don’t have to go? It makes zero percent of sense!” 

Elio closed the cereal box and poured some oat milk, steadfastly refusing to say anything more. He’d already tried the because I said so maneuver and that had gone over like a lead balloon. 

“Why, though?” Ollie asked again. He was familiar with Elio’s I’m-not-going-to-argue-with-you silence and the only cure for it was to keep asking until Elio forgot about his dedication to not arguing. Ollie didn’t like to argue any more than Elio did, but he knew that the only chance he had of winning an argument was to actually engage in an argument.  “Why do I have to go to school if you don’t have to?” He could see by Elio’s twitching jaw muscles that an argument was imminent. This should have been good news, but it didn’t feel like good news. 

“Ollie.” Elio said it like his name was a sentence unto itself. This was a fairly unfamiliar tactic, and Ollie wasn’t sure how to proceed. He decided to return like for like. 

“Elio.” It was the only strategy he could think of, but Elio’s eyes got very small. Ollie decided his counterattack had been unwise, so he tried to hide his one-word sentence in a sea of other words. “The only thing is that I want to stay home and help take care of Daddy, too. And you might actually need my help because you yourself have even told me ‘Thank you for your help, Ollie,’ a whole bunch of times.” He ended his argument with what he hoped was a convincing nod. 

Elio’s face softened, which Ollie knew was both good and bad news. Good because he probably wasn’t going to get in trouble for all the arguing. Bad because he was definitely going to school. He could tell by the way Elio sat down in the chair next to his and then slouched forward so that they were on eye level. Ollie looked at the ceiling and groaned, the taste of defeat coating his tongue like cough syrup. 

“Ollie, Oliver is going to need our help for quite a while; you understand that, right?” 

Ollie nodded without looking away from the ceiling. 

“I had to take what’s called medical leave this week. It’s something grown ups can take from their jobs if they are really sick, or if they need to care for a loved one.” 

“He’s my loved one, too!” Ollie snapped his eyes back to Elio’s and crossed his arms across his chest in a tight, much-needed self hug. 

Elio smiled and pulled him off of his chair and hugged him, too. “I know that, Ollie. But listen. There’s no medical leave for children to care for grown-ups. It’s not your job. And besides, Oliver and I both want you in school, learning everything about everything. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing at your age. When you’re old, you won’t learn as easily. So you have to learn all you can now, while your brain is still growing. Okay?” 

Ollie wanted to remain angry, but he couldn’t. He was basically immune to anger while being hugged. 

“And when you get home from school, I’ll probably be so tired from taking care of Oliver all day, I’ll really need you and Leo to help out. So you boys will go to school and when you get home, then you’ll help out. Okay?” 

Ollie’s eyes drifted up to the ceiling again but he nodded. 

Across the table, the baby of the family gave an enthusiastic, “CHECK!” He liked going to school. And he liked coming home. And he liked helping. So as far as he was concerned, Papa offered a win-win-win proposition. Papa smiled at him, so he said “CHECK!”  again just because it made him so happy the first time. 

Elio put a hand on each side of Ollie’s face and gently guided it back down so that they were looking at each other. “We love you. And everything is okay,” he said before he kissed his brother’s forehead. “Okay?” 

“Check,” Ollie murmured. 

Elio studied his little brother’s face closely for a moment and decided that was as close as he was going to get to acceptance. “Good enough. Eat your cereal before it gets soggy and then go say goodbye to Oliver.” 

Leo was having a Pop Tart, which couldn’t get soggy, so he scooted out of his chair with a fluidity that made it appear that he’d been poured out onto the floor and then disappeared from the kitchen in a sticky, screeching blur. “DADDY! I SAY GOODBYE TO YOU!” The all by myself was implied. 

When Ollie got to school, he was fully committed to having a bad day no matter what. And he thought he could manage to stay angry all day long since no one would be around to hug him. His first big challenge came during science. They were studying the rock cycle which, as everyone well knows, is super duper interesting. Still he was determined not to learn a single thing. And it was as if Mr. Slinger totally agreed with him on this, because he gave everyone one crayon and told them it was an igneous  ROCK. And EVERYONE (even LEO!) well knows that crayons are NOT rocks.

But then things got even more challenging because they got to use a craft stick to grate their crayons into little bitty teeny tiny pieces to demonstrate the weathering process. And IF Ollie wasn’t so angry at Elio (which he was!) he probably would have thought this was fun because they got to make a mess and tear stuff up, two things Mr. Slinger was usually not in favor of. 

And then, to make matters worse, they got to work with a parter, and his parter was Joey, so it was a little bit fun, he couldn’t help it. They put their different colors of weathered crayon bits into a sandwich bag and squished and squashed them together any way they wanted to. Mr. Slinger even let them go wherever they wanted to in the class to do this, and Ollie was the only one who thought about the extinct encyclopedias that no one ever used because of Google, but they were PERFECT for smooshing weathered off bits crayon igneous rocks with. When time was up, Ollie and Joey had pretty much the best sedimentary rocks in the whole class and Mr. Slinger even said so (with his eyes.)  

But even this wasn’t enough to make Ollie forget how unfortunate he was for not being at home with Daddy and Elio. And the more he thought about it, the demonstration was super duper wasteful, because he couldn’t color with his sedimentary rock crayons. They were too fragile. He was very relieved to discover that his terrible day was still within his grasp.

But then, the unthinkable happened. They got to make a awesome little boat thing out of real aluminum foil and Mr. Slinger actually let them LIT-ER-AL-LY ALMOST MELT (!) their sedimentary rock crayons over a light bulb. They had to listen to a very long talk about being very careful AND they had to wear gloves AND they had to be supervised, which was a little bit of annoying. But when it was said and done, Ollie had a bunch of super duper cool and awesome and amazing little disc-shaped  metamorphic rock crayons!! They weren’t all soft and crumbly like the sedimentary rock crayons. In fact, these were even better than rather original igneous rock crayons because they had swirls of different colors in them and made swirls when you used them!! Mr. Slinger said that they had to be careful not to melt them all the way to liquid or the colors would mix together and they would become boring old igneous rocks again! That was so amazing that Ollie finally gave up on having a terrible day. There was always next time. 

“I’m now actually kind of glad Leo loves breaking crayons so much,” he said to Joey as they cleaned up from their project. “Because after school you can come to my house and we can make THOUSANDS of metamorphic rock crayons out of all the crayons Leo has broken!”

Ollie couldn’t help but think about how strange it was that sometimes things that seem really bad can actually turn out to be really great. Like when your little brother breaks a whole bunch of your fabulous crayons, even your macaroni and cheese colored crayon which is now discontinued, but then you get to make them into even better crayons. And it was the same with even really, REALLY bad things, like when you had to go to school when your big brother got to stay home, but then you’re glad because you get to do a fun crayon experiment with Joey. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” Oliver whispered before kissing his sweet husband’s lightly freckled nose. Elio had crawled back into bed with him the moment he returned from dropping the kids off. While they weren’t able to spend their bedroom time in the way they normally would have chosen, it was still very nice. Lying together. Like this. Between clean –unwrinkled– sheets. With their bare stomachs brushing together and gentle, curious fingers exploring one another with the enthusiasm of a traveler revisiting a favorite destination. The only minor imperfection in their day was not Oliver’s ankle, but the worried expression that kept appearing on Elio’s face every now and then. 

“Ollie was so upset with me this morning,” Elio admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Oliver poked his own lip out in a sympathy pout which made Elio giggle and kiss him. “You know he probably forgot all about it the moment he got to school and saw his friends. You’re the only one still thinking about it. So why don’t you just, I don’t know…” His voice trailed off as he ran his fingers through Elio’s hair. 

“Why don’t I what?” Elio asked with the kind of close-lipped grin that Oliver knew meant he was trying not smile. 

Oliver shrugged. “Why don’t you just, you know. Stop worrying.” 

Elio sighed. “Just stop worrying, huh?” 

Oliver trailed his finger tips down Elio’s arm, down his waist, and eventually rested his hand on his hip. 

“I’m not worrying,” Elio said, closing his eyes. His voice was soft. His breathing was slow. 

“Good,” Oliver said, sliding his hand to Elio’s lower back. When Elio opened his eyes and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, Oliver flashed that impish smile Elio loved so much. 

“What are you doing?” the younger man asked with that same lips-pressed-together smile. 

“Nothing that involves my ankle, I assure you.” 

Elio had been certain that he couldn’t take care of Oliver and the boys by himself. Not in the way they deserved to be cared for. Not in the way Oliver so easily cared for all of them. Especially him.

And it was true that the weekend had surely been difficult. Yet in that short time, he’d already made some startling discoveries. He’d discovered that although he might not do things the same way Oliver did, he could still hold down the fort so to speak. He could take care of the boys. The house. And Oliver, too. He relied more on convenience foods and delivery, but they still ate together every night. While he wasn’t successful using Oliver’s one-load-per-day laundry approach, Elio discovered that if he let the laundry accumulate until he had enough to do a few loads, setting aside a chunk of time to complete it, he could avoid that whole mildewing-in-the-washer and wrinkling-in-the-dryer cycle he always had going. Oliver had even graciously pointed out that because Elio washed larger loads, his method was actually more Earth friendly –using less water and electricity.  Elio had even remembered to care for Oliver’s fragile seedlings, and it looked like they were thriving. So already Elio had decided the week wasn’t going to be the tragedy he expected it to be. In fact, if this first day was any indicator, Elio was wondering if they shouldn’t just take the rest of the school year off. That’s what he was daydreaming about when Oliver reluctantly reminded him that he had to go pick up the boys. 

Picking up Leo was always fun. Parents had to go inside to sign out their children every time, and Leo always wanted to take him on a tour as if it were the very first time. The toddler pulled him around by the hand, showing him everything he’d done that day. He pointed out his masterpieces that were hanging on the bright bulletin boards. He showed him all the things he’d played with and cleaned up all by himself. He even introduced him to all the friends he hadn’t bitten that day. But as Elio drove to Ollie’s school he knew he would not receive the same warm greeting. To prepare himself, he practiced his reactions in his head, trying to figure out how best to handle the whining he knew would commence the moment his little brother climbed in the car. 

He would simply remind Ollie that he and Oliver had decided he had to go to school and that was that. 

He would be kind and understanding. Yet firm. 

Perhaps he would assign him some jobs to keep him busy when they got home. 

And he would definitely tell him how boring it was, just lying around all day. 

Yes. It was settled. Those were the things he was going to say… as soon as he could get a word in edgewise. Though he was starting to wonder if he would ever actually get a word in edgewise, because Ollie was prattling off word after word after word at a rate that left Leo blinking and sucking his thumb and Elio just nodding and saying, “Cool,” every now and then. 

“And Mr. Slinger said I could bring home my metamorphic crayons –NO!– my SEDIMENTARY crayons. Because I can turn them into METAMORPHIC crayons! Because it just takes super duper much PRESSSUUUUURE,” Ollie stretched out the word, straining his voice and making tight fists to demonstrate the immense amount of pressure it would take, “AND-OR just HEAT and that’s what we will have to use because only the EARTH can make enough pressure! BUT I can use HEAT from the STOVE or a LIGHTBULB and allllmost melt the sedimentary rock and when it gets HARD,” he SLAPPED his hands together, “BAM. We will have super duper cool metamorphic rock crayons!! And you don’t even have to SUPERVISE me because I already know how to do it.” 

Elio was having trouble following. “Are you speaking metaphorically?” he asked.

Ollie’s eyebrows took a dive. Elio was actually right about how hard it is for grown ups to learn cool stuff. “Nuh uh,” he explained. “I’m speaking meh-tuh-MOR-FIC-ly!” 

Leo fell asleep, Elio tapped the steering wheel. Ollie stared wide-eyed into the rear-view mirror for a long moment before adding, “And don’t worry because Joey’s coming over to help me! Okay?” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about, but when you say I don’t have to supervise you, the one thing I know for sure is that this requires supervision.” 

Ollie tapped his chin, considering. “I guess you can help us, but you have to use hot-thing-holders on your hands.” He moved his hands like crab claws to demonstrate. “And Leo can help, too, by breaking crayons. He will love that because it’s basically his favorite thing to do.” 

Leo’s eyes fluttered open briefly at the sound of his name, but he couldn’t fully wake up. Preschool was exhausting. 

“Daddy maybe can help with the weathering if he feels like it,” Ollie said, tapping his chin. 

Elio smiled. He had only the vaguest idea what his little brother was talking about, but clearly it was going to be a busy evening. And that was fine with him. He could ebb. He could flow. He pulled into the parking lot of their favorite Pizzeria. 

“Extra cheese!” Ollie happily squeaked. 

If his life was a cycle, Elio was on the upswing. 

Chapter Text

Oliver had no idea what time it was. He had been in bed so much that time seemed to come in and go out like a tide rather than marching by in its usual, reliable manner. Still, there were a few things he could deduce which helped him get his bearings. Without opening his eyes, he knew that it was dark outside. He knew as well that the house was still and quiet in a way that only ever happened at night. So he reached for Elio the same way he had done on so many nights over the years -thousands of nights. He didn’t have to open his eyes. He didn’t even have to think about it. Like birds flying home, his fingers knew the way to Elio. So it was a bit jarring when, instead of finding some warm curve of Elio’s body, his hand instead came to rest on something unfamiliar. Soft. Fuzzy. But not warm. Not living. He reluctantly opened his eyes and found that his fingers were lying on top of the slender neck of a plush giraffe. 

“He wanted you to sleep with Stretchy,” Elio whispered. If Oliver had lengthened his arm an inch more, his fingers would have hit their target, for there was Elio, lying in bed next to him just as he should be. “AND Splashy,” Elio added, picking up Leo’s stuffed whale and swimming it slowly through the air. 

“Awww. That’s really sweet.” Oliver took the whale and gave it a kiss before placing it next to the giraffe. His eyes narrowed then. “But what’s Leo sleeping with?” He knew his toddler well enough to know that Elio couldn’t have gotten him to sleep without an acceptable substitute. 

Elio’s shrug was casual, the slightest movement of his shoulder. “Ollie let him sleep with Flashie.” 

“Ahhhh,” Oliver nodded.

“And Thor. And his old Avenger’s blanket. And of course Leo also thought he needed to sleep with the majority of his Matchbox cars.” 

Oliver gave a soft laugh and scooted toward Elio, resting his hand gently on his cheek. “Of course he did… But is there enough room left for Ollie? Is he comfortable?” 

Oliver was genuinely concerned for his favorite eight-year-old, who he knew wouldn’t think twice of giving up his own space in the bed if it would make his baby brother happy. Oliver’s concern was quelled a bit by Elio’s impish giggling. He raised a quizzical eyebrow in reply. “What?” He was almost afraid to ask, but he did so anyway. 

Elio opened his mouth to answer, but Ollie’s voice came out.

“I’m okay. I was a teeny tiny bit of cramped back here, but it’s better now that you scooched over.” 

Oliver wanted to give Elio a serious look, but his mischievous husband just grinned and tried to bite his thumb. Oliver was used to such shenanigans and didn’t miss a beat. Not only did he avoid being bitten, but he pinched Elio’s smiling lips together. “So Sweet Pickle is in bed all by himself?” he asked. “What if he wakes up? He’ll be scared.” 

“I are not will be scared,” Leo popped up behind Elio like a little cherub-in-the-box. 

Oliver laughed and rolled his eyes at the same time, which Leo interpreted as an invitation. He tumbled over Elio with very little regard for Papa’s oofing and owwwing, eventually nestling himself comfortably between his parents. 

Oliver sighed. “We aren’t doing this every night,” he said sternly as he wrestled the covers out from under Leo and laid them on top of him instead. He didn’t mind their overnight guests from time to time. In fact, he cherished these quiet, tender times. Still, he thought it best that they remain special times, and not every night events. “I mean it.” 

Leo popped his thumb into his mouth and shook his head.   

“Do you want Splashy or Stretchy?” Oliver asked. 

Leo reached for his giraffe with one hand as he yawned around his other thumb. Oliver lifted the covers and tucked in the giraffe and then tossed the whale toward the foot of the bed. “Well. Are you coming, Lollipop,” he asked, scooting back still holding up the covers. 

“Yesssss,” Ollie hissed, climbing over him with a great deal more care than Leo had shown Elio. “Everyone comfortable?” he asked when the shifting and repositioning had mostly stilled. 

“Check,” whispered Ollie. He was more than comfortable, snuggled into Oliver with his head tucked securely beneath his chin. 

“Check,” agreed Leo as he kicked one foot out from under the covers, resting it on Papa’s side. 

And finally came Elio’s quiet, “Check.” The moon provided just enough light for Oliver to see the contented smile his sweet husband wore. 

“Good,” he said. He laid his arm across Ollie, squeezed Leo’s small foot, and then rested his palm on Elio’s cheek where it had longed to be all along. 

They definitely weren’t doing this every night. But on this particular night, everyone was exactly where they should be. 

Chapter Text

Oliver had been treated to room service more often than not that week, but on the first lazy Saturday since his accident, the family apparently felt the need to go all out. Elio was the first one to file into the room. On a tray he carried a plate piled high with pancakes. As the syrup dispenser and a mini butter dish slid drunkenly around the tray, Oliver could barely stand to watch –but neither could he look away. “Careful, honey,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying. He had to give Elio credit; he didn’t take offense. It took a lot to offend Elio, who generally assumed the best intentions in any situation. 

“I’m being careful,” was all he said, and he even smiled when he said it. 

“Me, too! I’m being careful, too!” Ollie chirped as he galloped into the room –not in the least bit carefully. In his hands he was brandishing about a small vase containing handfuls of small yellow flowers. “And don’t worry! I picked you some flowers from the garden!” 

Oliver rubbed his forehead. “Are those flowers from the tomato vines?” 

Ollie’s grin widened as he nodded. “‘Cause I know how much you LOVE tomato plants!” He was so proud of himself, Oliver decided to save the flower-to-fruit lesson for another time. 

“I are… careful… awso!” Leo said, and of the three of them, he was the only one being honest. His approach was like a tightrope-walker-in-training. Heel, toe, heel, toe. His tongue was poking out of his mouth just like Ollie’s did when he was concentrating. And in front of his face, so close his eyes were nearly crossed, he carried a huge glass of milk. “I. Are. Careful. Wif. A. Milk.” 

“Elio,” Oliver pleaded the moment Elio placed the tray over his lap. Elio’s smile did not dim; it was light and indulgent. Oliver thought he could read his handsome husband’s mind. So what if our three-year-old splashes a little milk? It can be cleaned up. It’s not as if he would be spilling it on carpet. But Elio said none of that. He just turned around and said to their small son, “Here. Let me help you, Sweet Pickle.” Leo seemed more than willing to relinquish his burden, which Elio placed on the tray next to the syrup. Everything on the tray had slid to the left, so Oliver stealthily nudged one item at a time back into place. He noticed Elio noticing, but again the younger man didn’t take offense. He just sat down on the edge of the bed next to Ollie, who had already bounded up and was now asking questions with impressive fluency. 

“Do you like the flowers, Daddy?” the eight-year-old asked, waving flowers beneath Oliver’s nose like smelling salts. He laughed, took the flowers from him and held them out so he could actually see them. “They’re lovely,” Oliver said. Ollie had his hands clasped hopefully beneath his chin like he was waiting for the rest of it, so Oliver added, “They’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.” When Elio laughed, he knew he’d taken it too far. Thankfully, Ollie didn’t notice. He was too busy nodding his agreement. 

“You like a milk?” Leo asked, his voice strained as he clutched fistfuls of bedding. It was a struggle, trying to catch the edge of the mattress with his heel so he could climb up. Still, he strenuously objected when Papa hoisted him up the last few inches. Once he was on the bed, however, the three-year-old forgot how disgruntled he was. “You like a milk?” he asked as he crawled over to Oliver and blinked expectantly. 

Oliver took a dutiful sip and nodded. “It’s great, Sweet Pickle,” he said. He realized belatedly that his energy hadn’t quite matched what he’d shown for Ollie’s flowers, so he infused his next words with gusto. “Very refreshing.” This was met with another slight snicker from Elio. 

“I do it by myself,” Leo said with a nod. 

Ollie’s eyebrows popped up as he flapped his head side to side. “You just carried it. And a little bit of poured it!” Elio had his hand on the bottom of the carton. He’d seen it with his own eyes!

Leo frowned. He might not have personally milked the cow, but the rest of it he did by himself, thank you very much. And it had not been an easy task, what with Papa’s ongoing attempts to steal the carton from him. 

Oliver cleared his throat, deciding it best to begin his breakfast before a squabble broke out. Immediately, all eyes were on him. He almost regretted setting such a high bar for his enthusiasm. He wasn’t used to giving a full breakfast performance in front of an eager audience. There was really nothing to do about it but to carry on. And carry on, he did. He put on such a show that he soon felt ridiculous. Sniffing the maple syrup. Smiling foolishly at the butter as he slathered it on. Making a big production of swirling the syrup and butter together over the top of his pancakes until they looked like something fit for Van Gogh himself. 

“This is amazing, guys,” he said as he carefully cut into a pancake with the edge of his fork. “Mmmmm. Fluffy.” He seemed to be the only one who felt he was taking things too far. Now that he was getting down to it, even Elio’s eyes were glued to him. The stakes had never been higher, and suddenly Oliver felt he’d been smiling for the camera for a moment too long. He felt his smile veering off into grimace territory even though he was just as happy as he’d been a split-second earlier. He quickly stuffed a forkful of pancake into his mouth with a close-mouthed, overly dramatic, “MMMmmmmmmmmmmmm   mmmmmmmmm  MMMMmmmmmm.” But when the pancake actually hit his taste buds, he was silenced. The pancake was probably the most delicious he’d ever tasted. It was so fluffy it seemed to melt in his mouth, and the flavor was perfect as well. A little eggy, almost salty, balanced perfectly with the warm, sweet notes of the maple syrup. 

“Oh my,” he said after he’d swallowed, sipped some of his milk, sniffed his flower again, and was already cutting his next bite. “I think this is real maple syrup. Not that flavored corn syrup stuff,” he said as he plunked another forkful into his mouth. 

“It is,” Elio said, smiling. 

“Well, I’m impressed. Did you and the boys eat yours yet? These are delicious. I’m serious.” The ‘I’m serious,’ wasn’t necessary. He was no longer performing, and it showed in his delivery. “IHOP outdid themselves today.”

Leo shook his head. Elio’s mouth fell open. Ollie burst into giggles. 

“They didn’t come from IHOP,” Elio said eventually. 

Because his mouth was full, Oliver could only tilt his head. No one offered any further elucidation, so he swallowed hard and then asked, “Well? Where did they come from?”

“I made them,” Elio said with a chuckle that was just this side of offended.  It took a lot to get him there, but it was possible. 

“You did not,” Oliver said confidently. He’d been fooled by the lasagna, but he was off the pain medication now and there was no way he was falling for it again. 

Elio’s jaw dropped even lower. Leo shook his head even harder. Ollie stopped giggling. “Yes. I did,” Elio said. 

Oliver set his fork down and stared at all three of them. They suddenly reminded him vaguely of the No Evil monkeys. “You mean… in the microwave?” He’d heard of some frozen breakfast foods that were microwavable, but he hadn’t imagined they’d taste as good as a restaurant. 

Leo gave up shaking his head and popped his thumb into his mouth. Elio crossed his arms. Ollie made a noise that sounded like he’d swallowed a frog. 

“You literally made these?” Oliver asked, picking up his fork and pointing to the pancakes in question. 

Elio quirked an eyebrow. “YES. I literally made them.” 

“Out of ingredients and whatnot?” 

Elio laughed, God love him.

 “YES. Out of flour. And sugar. And salt. And baking powder. And baking soda…” he let his voice trail off to make it clear that this was not an exhaustive list of the ingredients. He’d need to look back at the recipe for that. The recipe he’d struggled, sweated, and toiled over all morning and which he’d had to make three batches of before finally getting it right. “And why in the world are there that many white powders needed in one recipe, anyway?” He bristled a little, thinking of all the little cups and spoons he’d needed, not to mention the mess that awaited him in the kitchen. “Why can’t they just put them all together or something?” Looking off at a point in the distance he added in his voiceover voice, “White Powder Magical Kitchen Mix.”  

“They do. It’s called pancake and waffle mix,” Oliver said with a snicker. 

The room was quiet and still, except for the scraping of silverware across the plate as Oliver took another bite. 

Elio’s eyes were almost impossibly narrow. “Are you messing with me?” He would have been using his Clint Eastwood voice if he had one.

Oliver smiled. “No. We have some in the cabinet above the stove. It’s what I use to make waffles with.” 

Elio looked at Ollie who shrugged innocently. “I thought it was just for waffles,” he said. 

“It not for floffles, LOLLIE!” Leo really didn’t understand their conversation, but he argued anyway because he was still salty about the not-doing-the-milk-by-himself thing.

Elio looked up at the ceiling and groaned. Oliver gently caught his chin between his thumb and his index finger, bringing his sweet, sensitive husband’s lips to his own and kissing him. “They wouldn’t have been half this good with the mix, honey,” he said. 

Elio rolled his eyes. 

“Honestly,” Oliver said. “They’re the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted.” 

“They really are, Elio,” Ollie agreed, even though he hadn’t had any yet. He was much better at putting on a performance than Oliver was. 

 “In fact, I think this needs to become a thing. Elio’s pancake Saturday.” 

“You might want to see the kitchen before you decide to make this a regular thing,” Elio laughed. 

Oliver pressed his twitching eyelid. “Um. No fanks,” he said. And for the first time, he was almost thankful for his cast. 

I love literally every siffle detail of this. Thank you, Elibabette! 

Chapter Text

When the kiss finally ended, Elio’s sheepish grin was bested by Oliver’s raised eyebrow. “Don’t think you can just kiss me and make this situation magically okay.” 

Just a hint of Elio’s teeth appeared, and Oliver found it almost impossible to be upset. Still, he tried. 

“They wanted to, Oliver,” Elio said. He walked over and sat on the floor in front of their closet to put on his shoes. It always amused Oliver to see him do this; it was exactly the same routine that Ollie followed every time he put on his shoes. Just as Elio was tying his pale yellow Converse, Ollie yelled, “BLUE CONVERSES!” from the other room. Oliver smiled, knowing that the eight-year-old was sitting on the floor in front of his closet. Elio sighed and rolled his eyes at this slight inconvenience, but he tugged off his shoe nonetheless. He leaned to the side and stretched an arm into the closet like Plastic Man, eventually retrieving the blue sneakers one after the other. “What was I supposed to do, tell them no? I can’t even tell my eight-year-old brother no!” It was an exaggeration, but he was making a point. Oliver’s parents could be a little… extra. 

“Yellow CONVERSES!” Oliver called toward Ollie’s room. 

“Check!” Ollie yelled back. Followed by, “YELLOW CONVERSES, ELIO!” 

“See?” Oliver said pointedly. “It’s not that hard.” 

Elio groaned, pulled off the blue sneaker, tossed it into the closet, and slipped his foot back into his yellow one. “Fine. You’ve made your point,” he said, smiling up at Oliver. “Is it safe to tie this?” He tipped his head toward the shoe. “Or are there further lessons to be imparted?” 

“Tie your damn shoe, but I’m still upset with you.” 

When the shoes were at last securely fastened onto his feet, Elio stood, walked over, and sat slowly down on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward so that his face was very close to Oliver's. “You don’t really look upset with me, though,” he whispered.

The harder Oliver tried not to smile, the more impossible it was to accomplish. “Yes. Well. Looks can be deceiving,” he grumbled in an exaggerated curmudgeonly voice. 

Elio kissed him very softly on the lips. “Are you sure? Because it doesn’t feel like you’re upset with me, either.” 

“That’s soooo not fair,” Oliver said breathily after the kiss ended. 

Elio smiled. “Would you rather I play fair? Or kiss you?” 

Oliver gave up on being upset with this sweet man with the beautiful angles, the soft lips, and the elegant fingers that were still playful and curious even after so much time together. Those fingers were beneath the covers sliding slowly up his thigh when the doorbell rang. 

Oliver groaned audibly for oh-so-many reasons. At least Elio had the decency to look pained over the interruption. 

“OH MY GOSH!!” Ollie squealed, scuttling down the hallway and appearing bouncily in their doorway. “It’s GRANDPA RICHARD!!!” 

“I know,” Oliver said. 

“And Gamma Suze,” Leo said, poking his head to the left of Ollie, then to the right of Ollie, and finally squeezing past him. 

“I know,” Oliver said, closing his eyes and collapsing back onto his pillows. This was really happening. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and answer it?” Elio said to his little brother. Ollie’s green eyes brightened and bulged so that they looked like they might pop right out of his head. He was rarely allowed to answer the door. “Go on,” Elio said with a snicker. He could almost hear the zoom as his brother darted away with Leo a cloud of dust on his heels. 

“This is so unnecessary,” Oliver said. “I’m not a child.” 

“I know,” Elio said. 

“I can get around perfectly fine on crutches.” 

“I know,” Elio said, even though he thought perfectly fine might be a bit of a stretch. 

“If I would have known you were going to get me a babysitter, I would have just gone back to work!” Oliver grumbled. It was Elio’s first day returning to work, but Oliver had arranged to teach his classes virtually for a few weeks, just to make things easier. 

“I didn’t get you a babysitter,” Elio sighed. How many times would they have to go over this? The Kaines had come by nearly every day to check on their son, always with their hands full. Of flowers. Gifts. Snacks. Meals. Groceries. Of course they wanted to be there for Oliver when Elio returned to work. They had nowhere else they needed to be. Nowhere else they wanted to be. 

“Did someone say babysitter?” Richard grumbled in a very Oliverish way as he appeared in their doorway with Leo in his arms and Ollie velcroed to his waist. When the man's gaze fell on his son and his husband, he didn’t flinch at their closeness. At the intimacy between them as they sat with their fingers intertwined, eyes locked, hearts on the outside rather than in. Richard’s acceptance might have begun as a decision he’d made, but over the past two years it had grown into something felt rather than thought. Surely that was worth something, Elio thought. “Nonsense,” the man muttered. “It’s not babysitting when they’re your grandchildren.” 

Elio was relieved that the meaning of Oliver’s words hadn’t been understood. “Of course it isn’t,” Elio said with a smile. “But the boys have to go to school.” It had been a struggle at first, but the two men had been united in their firm insistence that Ollie not miss school. Leo had followed suit, easily accepting that whatever happened to Ollie should naturally happen to him, too. 

Now Oliver was giving him a pleading look. The two usually excelled in their nonverbal communication, but Elio was having difficulty interpreting the expression. “Maybe Leo could stay home today, honey.” Oliver said.

Ahhhh. Now it made sense. Oliver wanted Leo there as a distraction to keep his parents busy. Fortunately Elio's back was to the Kaines, because the eye roll he gave was glorious. “I thought we agreed that the boys needed to go to school. Honey.” Elio said. But Oliver was looking at him like Ollie did when he wanted something desperately. They'd already established that it was hard for him to say no.

“Absolutely, we did,” Oliver said. “And I stand by it. Ollie doesn’t need to miss school. But Leo, remember, is only in preschool.” 

Ollie nodded, watching things play out. “That’s not even real school,” he put in. “Pre means before and that means it’s just what you go to before you go to school.” Ollie nodded and waited for someone to pat his head. Richard obliged. 

Elio sucked in a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at Richard, Susan, Ollie, and Leo, all of whom were eagerly awaiting his decision. Then he turned back to Oliver, who looked so hopeful. 

“Fine,” he said. Turning back to Richard and Susan he added, “But you’ll really have to watch him. Oliver can’t.” Oliver might have been able to get around the house well enough on his crutches to take care of his own needs, but he couldn’t possibly chase after their active toddler who was still known to, on occasion, partake in such illicit activities as drawing on the furniture with crayons or cutting his own hair if given the opportunity. “And he has to teach a couple of classes online later,” Elio added. Then, to Oliver, “Are you sure you feel up to that?” Elio had tried to convince him to take a little more time off.

“Of course I do.” Oliver was ready to see his students. He was ready to step back into his life, even if he needed crutches to do it. 

Elio sighed heavily, kissed him briefly, and stood. “All right, well… Ollie and I need to get going. I love you.” 

Oliver agreed that he loved Elio, too, and Ollie also had to exchange quick hugs and kisses and loving sentiments. Once Elio and Ollie left though, the house, to Oliver, felt more crowded instead of less. He felt vulnerable. In his pajamas. In bed. With his parents standing in his room. It was only Leo in their arms that kept the situation from feeling absolutely surreal. Thank goodness Elio had agreed to let him stay home. 

“Has he eaten, dear?” Susan was smiling at Leo, but the question was clearly for Oliver. 

He bristled slightly. “Of course he has,” he said. Did they think that they were so inept at parenting that they would fail to give their children breakfast? Food was at the very bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The absolute bare minimum requirement, along with water and shelter. Sleep. Air. “Elio fed the kids this morning. Good grief.” 

His mother’s smile wilted. “Of course. I didn’t mean–”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Oliver said. He could see by the look on her face that she hadn’t meant any harm. They’d just been words meant to fill an awkward silence that was now even more awkward and more silent. “My ankle is making me grumpy, I think.” This wasn’t true. His ankle didn’t hurt at all until he tried to walk on it. Oliver still wasn’t certain whose bright idea it was for his parents to come stay the entire day with him, but whoever’s idea it was was an idiot. 

“I are like ABBLE SLOSS!” Leo chimed in. 

Richard and Susan smiled at Leo and then at his interpreter. 

Oliver returned their smile. “Leo would never turn down some applesauce,” he explained. 

Leo nodded his approval. That was correct. 

“Well then.” Susan held out her arms and took Leo from Richard. “Let’s get you some applesauce,” she cooed. 

Oliver wanted to tell her that Leo was three years old and could walk to the kitchen on his own; would probably prefer to traverse the house in that awkward hoppy-skippy way he thought was a gallop. But he didn’t. She would figure it out. 

Richard didn’t know what to do with his arms now that they weren’t full of Leo. He tried crossing them, but he wanted to be open. This chapter of his life was about opening doors. So he dropped his arms back to his side. That felt strange to him, like having two limp noodles dangling from his shoulders, so he put his hands on his hips. Oliver looked away from him then, staring out the window. Richard let his noodle arms dangle. He wished, absurdly, that he was a marionette. That there was someone who could work his arms for him. Show him where to put them that was open, not closed. That was comfortable, not awkward. Someone who could work his legs; show him where to go. Someone who could work his mouth; give him the words he needed. 

“We feed the kids. Elio and I,” Oliver said to the window. 

“We know that,” Richard said. Of course they knew it. He and Susan were absolutely convinced that there weren’t two healthier or happier children in the entire world. It was they, Susan and himself, who hadn’t met their children’s needs. And now it was too late, apparently. “I’m going to go help your mother,” Richard said. “Just let us know if you need anything.” 

After a pause Oliver turned and said, “Thank you, Dad.” But he said it to his closed bedroom door. 

“Oh!” his mother gasped. His father jumped up from the sofa and scrambled over to him, holding out his arms in an awkward way that might have been meant as support, but to Oliver it felt more like a basketball player guarding the ball. 

“I’m okay,” he said. The words were gentle, for Leo’s sake. Leo was looking up at him from his place on the floor where he was lying on his tummy, scribbling in Ollie’s favorite coloring book. Oliver cringed slightly, and made a mental note to text Elio to take Ollie to pick out a new one on the way home. The kid didn’t ask for much. He should at least have one coloring book of his own that wasn’t scribbled in. When Leo smiled at him, Oliver’s heart melted like it always did when he saw that big, toothy grin. But then he did a double-take. Leo’s teeth were flecked with blue. Oliver closed his eyes, supported his weight with the crutch under his armpit so he could press out his twitching eyelid. “Leo, what did Daddy and Papa tell you last night about eating crayons?”

Leo looked down at the blue crayon in his hand and seemed genuinely flummoxed as to why it was covered in bite marks. He shook his head very sternly and echoed what he’d heard the night before. “Nooooo,” he told his crayon. 

“No eating crayons,” Oliver said. 

Leo shook his head again, wagging the mischievous wax stick at him. “I not eat dis,” he said. 

“Right,” Oliver agreed. 

“It not yummy,” Leo said. 

“It’s not food,” Oliver pointed out. 

“It yucky,” Leo said. 

“Right. So don’t put it in your mouth,” Oliver said. 

“I color wif dis!” Leo said, giving the coloring book a demonstrative scribble. 

Their serious conversation was interrupted by a very strange sound that Oliver eventually realized was his father laughing. It was a sound so rare and elusive, he thought it should probably be added to the critically endangered species list. 

“What?” he asked his father, but he was laughing, too. 

“You two,” Richard said, as if that explained it. 

Oliver tilted his head, still smiling. 

“You sound like you’re arguing. But you’re agreeing with each other.”

Susan laughed, too. She hadn’t noticed it, but it was true. 

“I don’t argue with toddlers,” Oliver said with a grin. 

“I not argue with Daddy,” Leo put in. He hop-skipped over and reached for Oliver to pick him up. He understood on some level that Daddy couldn’t pick him up, but it had only been just over a week since the accident, and he still reached for him sometimes out of habit. Richard intercepted, picking up the child. That’s when they all remembered that Oliver was standing painfully, leaning heavily on his crutches. “Let me help you back to bed,” Richard said, setting down the toddler who ran to Susan. “Why did you get up? We would have brought you whatever you needed. It’s why we’re here.” 

“I need to get up,” Oliver said. “I’m going to get blood clots from lying in bed so much.” His parents both looked so alarmed, he felt a pang of guilt. “I’m kidding. I just need to get things set up for my class.” 

“You’re in your pajamas,” Richard pointed out. 

Oliver looked down at himself. “Pajama pants and a T-shirt,” he counter-pointed. 

Richard looked dubious.

“This is a T-shirt, Dad,” Oliver assured him. “And my pants won’t be on camera.” 

“But you’ll feel more professional if you’re dressed more professionally,” Richard said. 

Oliver consciously unclenched his jaw. “Dad. I know what I’m doing. I know my work culture. I know that when I’m teaching from home, online, sick, it is fine for me to wear this T-shirt.” 

“Fine,” Richard said, holding up both hands in surrender. “Do as you please, of course.” 

“I’m going to,” Oliver said. “It’s my life.” 

“Of course it is,” Richard said. 

“I can wear what I want,” Oliver said. 

“By all means,” Richard said. 

“My students will think I’m cool for wearing a concert T-shirt,” Oliver groused. 

“I’m sure they will,” Richard said. 

“And Elio gave me this shirt!!” Oliver’s words were nails in a coffin. 

“And it’s lovely,” Richard said. 

Their conversation abruptly ended when Susan began laughing. It was a light, twinkly sound almost as elusive as Richard’s seal bark of a laugh. It probably wouldn’t make it onto the critically endangered list, but it definitely deserved a spot on the threatened species list. 

“What?” Richard and Oliver said at the same time. 

“You sound like you’re arguing, but you’re agreeing with each other.” 

“But he’s being sarcastic,” Oliver said. 

“No, I’m not,” Richard said. 

“You are.” 

Richard shook his head. “Nonsense. I think I’d be the one to know the intention behind my words. I was simply agreeing with you. You know your university. Your students. Your situation. In my day, we wouldn’t show up to work in a T-shirt, not even online, but–”

“There was no such thing as online back then!” 

“That’s what I just said!” 

“That’s not what you said, Dad,” Oliver said, a weariness seeping into his voice and into his body. 

“You need to get off your feet,” Richard said. 

The two men almost-smiled at each other. “I really do,” Oliver agreed. “I’ll be about an hour.” 

“Do you want us to feed Leo?" Susan asked, quickly clarifying the question. "His lunch?” 

Oliver considered this. It was nearly lunch time. “No. He had that applesauce and toast for snack, and I’d like to eat with him. With you. With you all.” 

Richard felt soft, tender words in the back of his throat like phlegm. He couldn’t cough them up even though he so badly wanted to. “All right,” was all he said. 

“Just… keep him from eating crayons and don’t let him come into the study,” Oliver said. Though he would never admit it, the T-shirt was not what he would have worn to work. He had every intention of changing shirts after making sure all of his technology was set up and functioning properly, but he’d wasted too much time arguing with his father (about something his father was right about, no less) that now he couldn’t change. The last thing he needed was a toddler running around the room during class. 

“Of course, dear,” his mother said. 

“Obviously,” Richard agreed. 

Oliver turned his attention to Leo, who said, “I not are will do it.” 

“He’s rather fond of verbs, isn’t he?” Richard noted. 

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh.  His own laugh, he realized, –in the presence of his parents– was almost as rare as theirs. 

It wasn’t the best class he’d ever taught. He didn’t have the actual artifacts he’d wanted to show his students. Those were in his office at work. He had found some pictures of them online, but it was a poor substitute. The T-shirt had been awkward for him, but he was correct in his assertion that his students would appreciate seeing this side of him. Just about the time that it was time to wrap things up, he was beginning to feel comfortable with his decision to teach from home for a while.

“And I shouldn’t have to say this, but I will anyway. Please make sure you are using the CHICAGO MANUAL OF STYLE. If you turn in something with APA, I’m not reading it.” This was true. With his undergraduates especially, he always turned to the citation page first. He had a reputation for being a stickler about this, but to his way of thinking, he had to be. Mastery of the citation style was the most basic level of what a student must know. If there were a Kaine hierarchy of needs for students, the Chicago Manual of Style would be at its base. No student of  his was going to leave any of his courses without this barebones instruction upon which all further study was built. And furthermore–

His students were giggling like children. Oliver crossed his arms, self-conscious all over again about his T-shirt. A few students stopped laughing, but there were still more snickerers than non-snickerers. He gave them a look, because he couldn’t ask what was funny. He was the one who was supposed to know what was and was not funny. He checked his face in the camera. Did he have something in his teeth? Oh God. In his NOSE? But he looked fine from what he could tell in a covert, cursory glance. The students were all laughing again, and that’s when he realized they weren’t really looking at him. They were looking past him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to see the problem. He could see it there on his screen, right behind him: his adorable toddler in his Stegosaurus hoodie, complete with a line of scutes running from the top of his head down the center of his back, spinning in slow circles with a blue crayon clamped between his teeth. 

Oliver’s lips were numb. His cheeks were hot. He was thankful he was wearing a T-shirt so he didn’t have to loosen his tie. “Um. I, uh. Apologize. For this,” he stammered. He couldn’t even hop up and sweep Leo out of the room because moving was still a major ordeal. He didn’t think calling for his mommy and/or daddy for help would be any better, so he just smiled sheepishly and shrugged. 

“That’s Leo,” he said, because what else could he do? 

“Hi, Leo!” one of the students called. Several other students waved. This got Leo’s attention. He stopped spinning and scampered over, making dinosaur noises. Oliver took the crayon from his mouth and set him on his knee. “Can you say hello to my students?” 

Leo nodded. He was perfectly capable of this, yes. 

“Well. Say hello,” Oliver rephrased the request because Leo was still quite a literal thinker.

“Hello!” Leo said, waving. He grinned, showing off the blue specks on his teeth. Oliver sighed. 

“He’s so cute!” one of the students said. Several other students agreed. Oliver rubbed his thumb over Leo’s teeth, but the only result was Leo buzzing his lips in protest. 

“We’re still working on not eating crayons,” he said sternly. 

“That’s okay, Leo,” one of the students called out. “We’re still working on citation styles.” 

“We feel you, Leo!” another student interjected. 

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. Really laugh. “Everyone’s ganging up on me.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his students or to Leo. Actually, he was pretty sure he was talking to Elio. Elio would have appreciated this moment more than anyone. 

“And on that note, I’ll see everyone Wednesday. Same time, same place. CHICAGO MANUAL STYLE!" 

He clicked off the camera and squeezed the child on his lap, kissed the top of his dinosaur head, and breathed in the comfort that came only from having someone you loved in your arms. 

“It’s honestly fine,” Oliver said over lunch. “It really is.” 

Richard and Susan had both been absolutely mortified when they realized Leo was no longer coloring. He’d been so quiet for so long, they’d decided to catch the family up on their laundry. Poor Elio was running himself ragged trying to do everything by himself. 

“We were watching him. I swear,” Richard said. “We were only gone for a minute.” 

“It only takes a minute,” Susan said somberly.

Oliver set his fork down and gazed at his parents. “It is fine.” He waited for that to sink in. “Our house is childproof, and you know that. You know we don’t keep them leashed to us every moment of the day. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Leo shook his head disagreeably. “I are not do somefing wrong awso.” Why was he not getting any credit for this?! Three sets of eyes were suddenly on him, so Leo popped a carrot into his mouth. It just felt like the thing to do. Good kids eat carrots. It was written somewhere. 

“You asked us for one thing,” Susan fretted. “Not to let him come into the study to disturb your class.” 

Leo swallowed his carrot and smiled that blue-flecked smile of his, but Oliver didn’t mention it. “You did the best you could,” he said gently. The words swam around the room a while like they didn't want to leave. He cleared his throat and said lightly, “And besides, it worked out. It was good. The students loved it; I think it was a great way to connect with them. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about the logistics of introducing Ollie to my class as well.” 

Richard and Susan seemed to breathe a little easier. Richard held up his glass of water. “To happy accidents then.” 

“To happy accidents,” everyone agreed. 

“They’re just saying goodbye to the boys,” Elio said. The moment he got home, he’d crawled onto the bed next to Oliver, fully clothed and lying on top of the covers. At least he’d remembered to take off his shoes. 

Oliver kissed his forehead. “I missed you. I love you.” 

Elio bent his neck back and smiled, a question in his eyes. “So you’re not upset with me anymore?” 

Oliver shook his head. “I’m not upset with you.” 

Elio’s eyes darted to the right in the way they did when he felt guilty. Oliver growled deep in his chest. It had been a long day. “You invited them, didn’t you?” 

Elio nodded. “I didn’t think you were ready to be alone all day," he admitted. "But they WANTED to come. That part was true!" He held up one finger like an exclamation point. 

Oliver growled again, but it was a lighter growl, higher in his throat. “You’re a royal brat, you know.” 

Elio’s mouth fell open. Oliver placed an index finger beneath his chin and pushed it closed again. “It’s okay. It worked out. It was good.” 

“Really?” Elio propped himself up on his elbow. This, he wanted to hear. 

Oliver could only nod, but his eyes were shiny and as was so often the case between them, words weren’t necessary. Elio understood perfectly. He lay back down with a very pleased-with-himself smile on his face. Oliver didn’t kiss it away as he usually would have. Elio probably deserved to be pleased with himself for a minute. 

“Um, we’re going to head home,” Richard said from down the hallway. Elio and Oliver snickered at each other. 

“You can come in you know,” Oliver called. 

Ollie galloped over and explained in Elio’s teacher-voice. “If the door is open, you can come in. But if the door is CLOSED you have to KNOCK.” 

Even Leo nodded at this. 

Oliver’s mother blushed and patted the side of her hair as if testing whether her hairspray really had held all day as the bottle promised. She should be satisfied with its performance, Oliver thought, for not a hair was out of place. Some things never change. 

Richard stood in the doorway looking like he didn’t know what to do with his arms. He crossed them and uncrossed them. Placed them on his hip and dropped them back to his side. For the first time Oliver saw how hard he was trying. How unnatural it was. And yet how hard he was trying. 

“We’ll see you in the morning then?” Richard asked. 

Oliver took a deep breath and smiled on one side of his mouth. “You don’t have to. I’m fine.” 

“We want to,” Richard said. “If it’s okay with you.” 

Oliver nodded and smiled on both sides of his mouth. “It’s okay with me,” he said. 

And then, miraculously, Richard seemed to know exactly what to do with his arms. He walked over and wrapped them around Oliver and held him like he hadn’t in years. In decades. Maybe ever. 

Some things never change. 

But some things do. 

Chapter Text

Elio could feel the fine muscles in his fingers twitching even though his hands were still. After watching Oliver struggle for another moment, he couldn’t take it any longer. He slid wordlessly onto the floor and tied his husband’s shoe for him.

“Elio!” Oliver erupted. “I told you! I’m never going to get better if you keep doing everything for me.” Elio patted the shoe he’d just beautifully tied and then smiled up at Oliver, who he could only see in part because of the brown wavy hair that had fallen over his eyes. “I’m serious, Elio. I wanted to do it by myself!” 

Elio poked out his lower lip to send a puff of air toward his unruly hair. “You’re worse than Leo.” 

“I told you no,” Oliver said grumpily. 

Elio sat back on his heels, placed his hand on Oliver’s knees, and quirked his perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well. Maybe if you’d said no FANKS,” he teased. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Thank you, honey,” he sighed eventually. 

Elio was glad to do it. He wished Oliver would let him do it. Give the man a few physical therapy sessions and suddenly he thought he was Superman. Elio agreed that Oliver did need to gradually begin getting back to normal, but the keyword as far as he was concerned was gradually. Yet somehow here they were, getting ready to leave for a full-fledged, four-alarm family outing. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Elio asked the question very quietly. Hopefully. Like he might be able to slip it in unnoticed. 

But it didn’t work any better than it had when he’d tried it the day before. Or the day before that. And fine; on Wednesday, too. Oliver answered in the same way he had each time. “They’re children, honey. They’re our children. We can’t just keep them in the house for weeks on end,” Oliver said with a dramatic flair that, to Elio, seemed out of proportion to the situation.

Elio grinned up at him. “It’s not as if I’m suggesting that we lock them in the dungeon with only bread and water,” he said with a snicker. Then he continued speaking in the same soft, smooth tone he’d used all week. “Even waiting just one more week would make a huge difference in your mobility and endurance. The PT said so herself.” Elio slid Oliver’s knees apart and scooted toward him, kissing the inside of his thigh even though they were both fully dressed. “Come on. Let’s wait until next weekend.” 

Oliver could feel the warmth of Elio’s breath through his pants. It was quite a nice sensation, even though he knew it couldn’t go any further. Not right now. Because they were about to leave. “Next week will be too late,” he whispered. “They’ll be gone.” 

Elio reluctantly left his place on the floor and slouched onto the edge of the bed next to Oliver. The man did have a point. Some things just wouldn’t hold regardless of illness or injury. “I could just take them on my own,” he offered. 

Oliver rolled his eyes again and made a sound like a steaming tea kettle just before its big whistle. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I miss out on the Tulip Festival.” 

“I didn’t even know Holland was in the USA,” Ollie said as he stared out of the car window even though there wasn’t much to see yet. 

“We aren’t going to THE Holland, Ollie,” Elio said. “Just A Holland.” 

Ollie frowned at his reflection in the window. “So they just copycatted from THE Holland?” Ollie asked. 

Elio sighed. “Can you explain it to him, Oliver?” Elio was driving through traffic, looking at the GPS, and glancing around at the road signs. He didn’t have much attention to spare for explaining Dutch immigrants and the traditions they kept alive in a variety of ways, one of which was through the annual Tulip Festival. As it turned out, Ollie would have to wait another hour to learn about this, because in the passenger’s seat was Oliver, eyes huge, one hand gripping the console, the other one squeezing the door handle looking like he was on the Tilt-a-Whirl rather than on a leisurely Saturday afternoon drive with his family to see the annual Tulip Festival.

As Elio glided effortlessly into a parking spot, Ollie was bouncing around in the backseat as if he were made entirely of rubber. “OH MY GOSH!!!!” the eight-year-old squealed as Elio shifted into park. “Look, ELIO! Look, DADDY!!” When the adults failed to reply within the exceedingly generous .00025 second time limit, Ollie gave his sleeping baby brother a good shake. “LEO!! LOOK!!!! IT’S FLOWERS!!” 

Leo scowled and yanked his thumb out of his mouth with enough force that it made a menacing popping sound. This popping-sound-of-doom usually meant that a tantrum was imminent. Fortunately, while the toddler was sucking in all of the air within a five mile radius in order to wail properly, he saw what Ollie was so excited about. He was strapped into his car seat, so there was a limit to how much bouncing he could do. Still, he did his best, waving both arms, wiggling his fingers, and kicking his legs. “I see a FOWLERS!!” 

Elio twisted around in the seat and waited patiently for the boys to bring it down a few notches. “They aren’t flowers,” he said when he could squeeze a word in. “They’re tulips.” 

Ollie pressed his nose and forehead to his window and squinted. He trusted his big brother a lot, but this sea of color looked an awful lot like flowers to him. 

“They’re a specific kind of flower, Ollie,” Oliver explained. “Called tulips.” 

Ollie unfastened his seatbelt and pushed his door open. Flowers. Tulips. Whatever they were called, they were beautiful. As far as the eye could see, there were rows and rows of pink and red and yellow and orange and purple. It was like a rainbow had fallen to the ground and taken root. AND– he was almost certain that these were the kinds of flowers that fairies loved to nap in. 

“Hold up,” Elio said. “Wait for us, Lollipop.” 

Ollie’s face crumpled. Wait for them? What brand of torture had his brother devised for him now? Had Elio not noticed that it took Oliver fifteen minutes to make the trek from the bedroom to the living room?

“Why don’t you let Ollie help you with the trunk, honey?” Oliver suggested. Normally, he himself would be the one unloading everything, making sure everyone knew the rules, slathering sunscreen, and helping to hang on to whichever child most needed hanging on to. But in his current state, he couldn’t even get out of the car without Elio’s help. For the first time it occurred to him that this might be the real reason Elio had been opposed to the outing. “I’m sorry, Elio,” he said. But Elio didn’t hear him. He and Ollie were out of the car, pulling the day’s required accouterments out of the trunk. 

“Daddy!” Leo whined, tugging ineffectually at the carseat straps. “Out me, Daddy!” the baby of the family pleaded. 

“We’ll have to wait just a few minutes, Sweet Pickle,” he said, feeling nearly as constrained as his toddler seemed to. Fortunately, Elio opened the car door before Oliver could dwell on that unfortunate fact for very long. 

“Out me! Out me, Papa!” Leo complained from his captivity. 

“Get him, first,” Oliver said, feeling guilty as Elio set about trying to help him out of the car –not an easy thing to support someone much larger than yourself. “Elio. Get Leo first,” he said again. 

Elio looked toward the back seat and shook his head. “You have to wait just one more minute, Sweet Pickle,” he said. And then to Oliver, he added, “I need to get you out first. Get you situated on your new knee scooter. That way Leo’s not running around unsupervised in the parking lot.” 

“I’m sorry, Elio,” Oliver said. “I shouldn’t have put all of this on you. I wasn’t thinking.” 

Elio smiled and pressed a very quick, very sweet kiss onto his temple. “Don’t be like that. We’re here. Let’s just have fun.” 

There was one dear family member who was already having the time of his life. “Look at me! Elio! Look at me! Daddy! Look at me!! Look!” 

Elio and Oliver looked over at the same time, and both of their expressions shifted in synchrony. Eyes widened. Nostrils flared. Chins dropped. Mouths fell open. 

“OLLIE!” They both yelled. 

But Ollie just waved at them as he sped by again yelling, “LOOK AT MEEEEEEE!!!”  It was his first time to try out Oliver’s new knee scooter, and he’d found it quite easy to get the hang of. He was zipping up and down along the sidewalk with the wind in his hair. 

“GUYS!! Looooooook!!!” he said as he sailed by a third time. 

Elio dashed over with impressive speed, apologizing profusely to the people who’d been run off the sidewalk by Ollie, who remained blissfully unaware. The little boy dragged one foot on the pavement and skidded to a stop when he heard Elio saying his name. "Ollie, that isn't a toy."

“I know!” Ollie said, beaming. Of course it wasn’t a toy. It was a real knee scooter! He’d been asking for a foot scooter –formerly known simply as a scooter– for six months and had been told it would have to wait until he was ten. But as fate would have it, a knee scooter had suddenly fallen into his life. POOF! And after taking it for a spin, the kid was fairly certain a knee scooter was just as good as a foot one. 

Elio’s head was swimming with reprimands. His little brother had just committed so many infractions, he didn’t know which one to address first. Using the medical equipment improperly? Taking off without permission? Running people off the sidewalk? Not wearing a helmet!? He said that last one out loud. 

“So when we get home and I have my helmet, I can probably take this for a ride to the park?” he asked, nodding hopefully. 

“Ollie Hal Perlman,” Elio said. 

Fortunately, Oliver called then. “Can you bring it over here so I can finish getting out of the car?” he asked clutching the door to keep his balance. 

“CHECK!” Ollie kicked off, swishing hastily to Oliver to deliver his scooter. 

“Out me! Out me, Papa!” Leo was near his frustration threshold by the time Elio finally got him out of the car. 

“I’m sorry, Pickle,” he whispered, bouncing him in his arms and kissing his cheek. “You had to wait a long time, huh?” 

Leo popped his thumb into his mouth and nodded. 

“It wasn’t super DUPER long,” Ollie begged to differ. He’d gone fast on the scooter. He’d felt the wind on his face. 

“Down me,” Leo said, looking longingly at the ground. “Down me, Papa.” 

Elio tilted his head with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure about that, Pickle,” he said. But Oliver gave him an encouraging smile as he was situating himself on his new knee scooter. “He’ll be okay. He’ll stay with us. Won’t you, Leo?” 

Leo nodded. 

“And once we get out of the parking lot, there won’t be any cars to worry about,” Oliver added. 

“Yeah, but there might be some eight-year-olds zooming around on scooters,” Elio pointed out. Ollie beamed, proud of himself.

Ollie thought the day would involve walking (or scootering, in Oliver’s case) around the grounds to look at all the different varieties of tulips –over 500,000 bulbs had been planted in October and would now be in bloom according to the signs. And that would have been more than enough reason to come. Flowers were basically pretty much his favorite things to look at. But to his dismay, Ollie soon discovered there was a lot more to do at a tulip festival.

“Shall we start with the klompen hunt?” Elio asked without looking up from the map and schedule of festivities he held. 

“Sure,” said Oliver.

“Sure,” echoed Leo around his thumb. He didn’t know what a klompen hunt was, but if Daddy wanted to do it, so did he. 

“What’s a klompen?” Ollie asked, slipping his hand into Elio’s. 

“Klompen are the traditional Dutch wooden shoes, see?” Elio said, moving the pamphlet down so his little brother could see the photo. 

“OH. MY. GOSH!!” Ollie gasped. “Someone lost their klompens?” He was already scanning the sidewalks. If someone lost their shoes, they HAD to help them find them. 

Oliver laughed and tousled Ollie’s hair with the hand that wasn’t gripping the handle of his knee scooter. “Not klompens. Just klompen. The singular is klomp. But it’s not that kind of hunt, silly.” 

Ollie smiled up at him and waited for an explanation. “It’s kind of like the Easter Egg Hunt, remember? They’ve hidden 15 klompen among the walking paths. We just have to see how many we can find. It’s a game.” 

Ollie bounced excitedly. Games were basically pretty much his favorite things to do! And it didn’t take long to find one, either. A yellow wooden shoe was lying almost out in the open, just next to a pot filled with tulips. Elio marked it on the map, but Ollie was still scouring the area. 

“Come on, let’s keep going,” Elio said. 

“But where’s the other klomp?” Ollie asked. He was already daydreaming about stomping around in his new wooden shoes. He was to be disappointed a moment later when he was informed that they didn’t get to keep the shoes. They had to leave them for everyone else to look for, too. “That’s not how the Easter Egg hunt was,” Ollie pouted. Still, it was impossible to stay unhappy for very long, because after they’d found all the shoes and marked them carefully on their map, visited the learning garden –in which they’d learned everything about growing tulips and had even bought some bulbs to take with them to plant in the fall– and explored a real Dutch windmill, Oliver declared that it was time for lunch. After a quick trip to the car, Elio returned with a large quilt in one arm and their picnic basket in the other. It was nice, sitting together on a blanket, surrounded by tulips, eating their simple lunch of sandwiches and salads. “You know what we need now?” Elio said as they were finishing. 

“What do we need?” Ollie asked eagerly. He couldn’t imagine needing anything more!

“Come with me. You can help me,” Elio said. 

For the next few moments, Oliver was overwhelmed. If he looked to the left, he could see Elio walking toward the waffle trucks with Ollie galloping along beside him, hand in hand. If he looked to the right, he could see Leo in his bright red overalls, spinning among the tulips and butterflies like some sort of fairy prince. And of course no matter where he looked, there was spring. The flowers, of course. But also birds singing their mating songs. Bees buzzing around the flowers. Even a small rabbit rested nearby, seemingly unconcerned by his presence. It was as if the whole of nature realized he couldn’t travel and had instead brought spring to him. 

“What’s that sound?” Ollie whispered, sitting up a little straighter, ears perked. 

Leo sat up, too. They looked like a couple of rabbits, alert and upright. “I not can hear it,” Leo whispered. 

“I can’t hear it either,” Oliver said as he did his best to wipe the syrup and waffle crumbs from Leo’s fingers. 

“I can,” Elio said. “It’s music.” 

“Ohmygosh,” Ollie whispered excitedly, as if music was not something he heard every day. 

“I are can hear it,” Leo whispered with a grin. 

Elio was already packing up the remnants of their picnic in order to set off in search of the music. It didn’t take them long to find it, for just over a rolling hill there was a live band playing near a large amphitheater upon which were women in dresses and bonnets and men in suits performing a traditional clog dance. The family all enjoyed sitting and watching the demonstration, but Elio was soon distracted by something he saw nearby. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and slipped away before Oliver could ask him where he was going. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I splurged a little,” Elio said when he returned carrying two boxes. 

Oliver didn’t bother to answer that. A splurge by Elio’s standards was never a big deal. “What did you get?” he asked. Ollie and Leo were still entranced by the performance and didn’t notice when Elio opened one of the boxes to reveal a pair of tiny blue wooden clogs just Leo’s size. In the other box, of course, was a yellow pair for Ollie. 

“He was so into them on the klompen hunt,” Elio explained. “Is it okay?” 

Oliver smiled and bumped his shoulder gently with his own. “They’re perfect. I’m so glad you saw them.” Ollie and Leo were glad Elio had noticed them, too, as was evident a few moments later as Ollie bounced around in his new wooden shoes and Leo stomped around in his. 

As if on cue, several of the dancers filed off the dance floor, leaving only a few dancers behind, all of whom were inviting everyone onto the stage to learn a simple clog dance. Ollie looked at Elio and Oliver pleadingly, and they nodded together. Ollie and Leo were gone in a flash.

“You should join them,” Oliver said. 

Elio raised a shoulder and shook his head. “I’ll stay here with you.” 

Oliver leaned and very briefly kissed his shoulder. “I want you to, honey. I’m fine. Dance with the boys.” He could see how torn Elio was. He wanted to join in the festivities with the boys, but he didn’t want to leave Oliver all alone. “I’ll be the photographer. You go. I’d hate for you to miss this because of me.” 

Elio looked from the boys to Oliver and back to the boys. “Just for a few minutes,” he said. 

“For as long as you want,” Oliver called after him. He was relieved when Elio ran onto the stage and began dancing alongside the boys. He laughed lightly to himself as Ollie and Leo’s excitement ratcheted up by at least 200% when they realized Papa was going to come dance with them. By the time they ran over for a break, giggling and out of breath, several minutes later, Oliver was grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“What?” Elio asked, gulping some water. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I splurged,” Oliver said. 

Elio giggled. “What have you done now?” he asked with an air of suspicion in his voice. Sure enough, Oliver pushed a box toward him and Elio rolled his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute.” But to be honest, he was thrilled with his new wooden shoes . He pulled off his Converses and slipped on his new orange klompen in what must have been record time. “We’ve got to get you some of these,” Elio said, clicking around in his new shoes, looking every bit as overjoyed as Leo and Ollie had been with theirs. 

Oliver laughed. “I can’t exactly dance at the moment,” he pointed out. “And besides, what would we do with some size 15 wooden clogs after today?” 

Elio snickered. “We could plant some of these tulip bulbs in them,” he suggested. They’d already bought more tulip bulbs than they had room for in their yard.

“Or we can leave them out on Christmas Eve!” Ollie put in. “That would be LOTS of candy!!” 

Leo nodded his agreement, still pacing around in his shoes. “I like it,” he said. “I like a lots of candy!” 

In the end, Oliver didn’t have a choice because Elio darted toward the table where they were selling the shoes, knowing full well that Oliver couldn’t catch up with him. 

“Put them on,” Elio said the minute he returned with the bright green shoes. 

Oliver looked down at his feet. Putting on shoes was something he’d always taken for granted, but now it was quite an ordeal to accomplish it. And he was sore and tired from their fun day. “I can’t dance, anyway,” he said. But Elio was already sitting on the ground in front of him, changing his shoes for him. 

“At least these don’t have laces, Daddy,” Ollie said, standing stork-like so Oliver could get a closer look at his klomp. “No one will have to help you tie them! You can wear these every single day all by yourself!” 

Leo nodded. “You do it by yourself.” 

“And besides, who says you can’t dance?” Elio said, rolling his knee scooter a little closer to him. An invitation. 

“Yeah! Come on, Daddy!” Ollie said. “It’s fun!” 

“I can’t,” Oliver said, but he was outnumbered. Soon he was on the edge of the dance floor, doing a silly, improvised, one-legged clog dance while Elio and the boys danced nearby. 

When they returned to their car, everyone’s arms were full. They were filled with the shoes they'd worn, the tulips they’d cut, the bulbs they’d purchased, and the last minute trinkets they’d picked up at the gift shop– a birdhouse shaped like a windmill, magnets for Oliver’s parents. 

Their camera was full, too. Filled with photos and videos. Of the boys, some posed, some candid, playing among the fields of tulips. Of their picnic. Of their clumsy but delightful attempts at clog dancing. 

And of course their hearts were full, as well. Filled with the laughter they’d shared. The love they felt. The memories they’d made. The bulbs they’d planted today would bloom again and again for many years to come. 

Elibabette shocks me again and again. It’s like she can see inside my head. This is just stunning. Thank you, Elibabette! Check out her insta for lots more lovely art  

Chapter Text

“No, no, NO, Dill Pickle,” Ollie said, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “You can’t wear that to the wildlife refuge!” 

Leo grinned around his thumb and gave a slow spin to model his Stegosaurus hoodie —the one that he was most definitely wearing to the wildlife refuge. “I like it,” he commented. “I like a segasore hood!”

Ollie raked his fingers through his hair and took a few deep breaths. “But you CAN’T! It’s too hot outside! You’ll be HOT!” Why was this so difficult to understand?

Leo’s smile stretched a little wider. “No fanks, be hot!” He said it in the same authoritative tone someone would use to say, “Hold the mustard.” 

Ollie put one hand on each of Leo’s shoulders and leveled a very serious look at his little bitty teensy tinsy baby brother. “Dill Pickle. You will be SUPER DUPER HOT if you wear that.” 

Leo yawned around his thumb. 

“You might catch on FIRE!” Ollie didn’t want to traumatize his little brother, but desperate times, and all. 

Leo giggled, untraumatized. “I not will catch it on!” 

Ollie’s nostrils flared. His throat tightened. There was nothing left to do but toss his head back and howl, “ELLLIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” 

“This had better not be about his hoodie again, Ollie,” Elio said when he appeared in the doorway. 

Ollie removed his palms from Leo’s shoulders and slapped them down to his side. “He’s going to be HOT though.” 

“And your feet are going to hurt in those klompen,” Elio said for the fiftieth time. 

Ollie’s lip lifted on one side. He gave a frustrated little growl. But Elio carried on as if his brother hadn’t temporarily morphed into the feisty little green-haired kid from My Hero Academia. “Ollie. You don’t listen to me about the shoes. He doesn’t listen to you about the hoodie. Do you see the pattern here?” 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks. He loved math; obviously he saw the pattern. But his only reply was the twitch of one shoulder. 

“That’s just what little brothers do, Ollie; you’d better get used to it.” 

Ollie gazed down at his feet which were clad in his beautiful, clickity-clackity, yellow klompen. If he had known that Elio would think it was the end of the world, he never would have told him about the teeny tiny blister the left one was creating on his pinkie toe. It barely even hurt! And yet Elio had decided the shoes should only be worn around the house for the time being! What a waste! “Fine.” Ollie relented, only because he knew that not to do so would mean changing shoes. Life was so complicated. 

Elio smiled and placed a hand lightly on each of his shoulders. “You’re a good brother for worrying about him. Just try to remember what I told you.” Elio waited to see if Ollie remembered, and of course he did. He’d heard it a bazillion times. 

“If Leo gets hot, he can just take off the hoodie,” Ollie groaned in his bored-zombie voice.

“That’s right,” Elio said, moving both of his hands to Ollie’s head and giving his hair a good rumple. “Too bad it won’t be that simple for you when your feet are killing you. It’s not like you can just run around barefoot. Not with all those animals around.” 

Ollie inflated like a bullfrog in response to his big brother’s theatrics. After all... How much trouble could one little pinkie toe be? 

Ollie had been looking forward to this day for weeks. He loved visiting the wildlife refuge, galloping along the boardwalks, learning about all the native plants and animals. But once a year, each spring, a magical thing happened. On that one day, they allowed a small number of guests to interact with the baby animals in their care. It was one of their biggest fundraisers, and this year, he –Ollie Perlman– was going to be there for it. AHHHH!! 

“I hope I get to pet a BEAR!” Ollie squeaked. 

In his carseat, Leo’s eyes swished side-to-side. Bears? No one had mentioned BEARS. 

“Don’t worry, Leo! They’ll be baby bears!” Ollie explained, clicking his klompen together just because he liked the hollow sound they made. 

Leo’s head swished side-to-side in an adamant headshake. “I not pet a baby bears,” he said. To be honest, there was really only one animal that Leo was looking forward to petting, fank you very much.

“Oh. My. GOSH,” Ollie breathed as they walked up the boardwalk to the visitors’ center. The first time they’d visited, he had been expecting something more zoo-like, but this place was more like someplace Oliver would like to take them camping or hiking. The area was wooded, with a boardwalk winding through, periodically shooting out to little alcoves, or lookout points, where the guests could read about the habitat and the wildlife they might see from that point. But on this special day, a volunteer was waiting in each area to greet guests with a few young animals that could be safely handled without endangering the person or stressing the animal. Some of the critters, they learned, would be released in this very refuge when they were able to be. Some, though, would have to be taken to a more suitable habitat to be released. Ollie was fascinated by how all the different wildlife rehabilitators worked together, coordinating their efforts for the benefit of all. 

“Have you ever seen a real raccoon before?” asked a young woman with kind eyes, a high ponytail, and two baby raccoons wrestling playfully at her feet. 

Ollie nodded. “But I never touched one,” he whispered reverently, crouching and smiling sweetly at the playful furballs. 

“Would you like to pet one?” the woman asked, kneeling down and scooping up the first one to scramble into her arms. 

Ollie nodded but then hesitated. Elio put a hand on his shoulder and then wiggled his own fingers through the tiny raccoon's fur. The baby immediately flopped onto its back in the woman’s arms, making everyone laugh. “She likes tummy rubs,” she explained. 

Ollie’s grin was as wide as his face. “My dog, Olive, likes tummy rubs, too,” he said, finally getting up the courage to pet the raccoon. As he ran his fingers through the downy soft fur of its belly, his smile somehow grew even wider. Oliver laughed, but Elio almost worried that his little brother might pull a cheek muscle. 

“What about you, Sweet Pickle?” Oliver asked. 

Leo shook his head. “I not like tummy rubs. No fanks.” 

Again everyone broke into giggles. Everyone except Leo, who had both hands on his stomach just in case Daddy or Papa got any bright ideas. 

“No, Pickle,” Ollie explained. “Do you want to pet the baby raccoon?” He moved his own hand so that Leo could have a turn. 

And Leo did seem to be thinking it over, one hand hovering mere inches away from the creature. Finally, though, he shook his head and said, “I not are touch it.” 

Ollie gasped. He couldn’t, just couldn't, stand silently by and let his small brother make such an egregious mistake. “But Pickle! You might never have this opportunity again!” 

Leo’s eyebrows sank as he crossed his arms across his chest. 

“It’s okay if he doesn’t want to, Ollie,” Oliver said gently. “He’ll probably pet the next one, right Leo?” 

And with that the family thanked the woman and made their way down the boardwalk. Ollie thought if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, this place must be it. Leo, however, was less impressed. 

Ollie got to feed a baby fawn from a baby bottle, but Leo declined. In fact, the toddler barely seemed to notice the little thing; his bright blue eyes were busy scanning the surrounding area. 

Ollie got to hold not one but two baby bears, but Leo kept wandering away as if looking for something. 

Soon Oliver was concerned about what was going on with his toddler. “What wrong, Sweet Pickle? What are you looking for?” he asked as Elio and Ollie watched a passel of baby opossums playing together, rolling small tennis balls around with their long, whiskered noses. 

Leo didn’t hear Daddy's question. His attention was on the surrounding forest. “There aren’t any bears here,” Oliver said, following his son’s gaze. And then, because he and Elio had agreed to always be as truthful as they possibly could with the boys, he amended that. “No bears are going to hurt you.” There were black bears in the area, but only a few, and they would be doing everything possible to avoid the festivities. 

Leo shook his head dismissively. He wasn’t worried about bears, then. 

“Are you getting hot in your hoodie? Is it bothering you?” Oliver asked. They were at a higher elevation, and farther north, so the hoodie hadn’t been the problem that Ollie thought it would be. Still, Leo’s cheeks were a little red. When Oliver pinched the scutes on the hood and began to tug it down, Leo batted at his hand as if it were a pesky mosquito. “Hey.” Oliver was surprised to be so thoroughly dismissed by a three-year-old. “Cool it.” 

“Where a segasore?” Leo asked, unconcerned. Clearly Daddy was telling someone else to cool it. He was the baby, after all. 

When Leo’s question registered with Elio, he looked away from the playful possums for the first time in several minutes. He looked at Oliver, then at Leo, and finally back to Oliver.  “Did he just ask–” Elio didn’t have to finish the question because Oliver answered with a bewildered shrug. 

“Where a segasore?” Leo asked again, his hopeful gaze shifting back and forth from one parent to the other. He’d waited patiently as they rubbed raccoon bellies. He’d endured the lengthy feeding of a baby deer. He'd stood by while Ollie played with twin bear cubs. But this opossum play session seemed to be stretching on forever. Surely it was his turn, now. 

“Um,” Elio said, looking pleadingly at Oliver who picked up Leo and set him on his knee scooter. 

“Leo,” Oliver said. Ollie and the young man monitoring the opossums were staring over now, too, so they had a full audience. “We aren’t going to see a stegosaurus today, Sweet Pickle.” 

Leo’s eyebrows sank into a small vee. His lips jutted out. “We see a baby segasore,” he clarified, holding his thumb and index finger a couple of inches apart. After all, this is what Daddy and Papa had said. They would see baby wild animals and they would get to pet them and play with them. And segasores are wild animals. (As everyone well knows.) So it stood to reason that he would pet a segasore today. He’d even worn his hoodie for the occasion! 

“I’m sorry, but we won’t.” Oliver hated to break the news, but they’d agreed to always be honest with the boys, and even though it might be unpleasant to hear, this was the truth. “There are no stegosauruses here.” 

“No segasores?” Leo asked with a whimper. He studied the eyes of all present, looking for some sign of hope. The possum man shook his head. Papa shook his head. Ollie raised his eyebrows almost to his hairline and shook his head extra hard, adding, “Because they’re dead, Pickle.” 

Elio cleared his throat, but it was too late. Leo’s eyes had already filled with tears. “A segarsores are died?” 

Ollie nodded. “It’s called extinct. That means they’re all dead.” 

Elio cleared his throat again and shook his head slightly, but Ollie just said, “What?" 

“Elio, why don’t you and Ollie go get a snow-cone?” Oliver suggested. “Get us one, too. We’ll be right behind you.” 

“A segasores are all died?” Leo asked, a fat tear streaming down his cheek. 

Oliver rolled them over to a nearby bench so they could talk in private. Even though he certainly would have broken the news much more gently, he wasn’t upset with Ollie. Ollie was doing just what they’d always tried to do. Tell the truth. So even though he wanted to tell Leo that maybe they’d see a stegosaurus next time, or at another park, he knew he had to give their toddler factual information to whatever level he was able to understand. 

“Leo,” he said, wiping the lone tear from his cheek. “Stegosauruses were really amazing creatures that lived long ago.” He paused there. The words he needed were caught in his throat. Extinct. Dead. He took a deep breath and tried again, “And you see… Well–”

Just then, the sound of a thousand galloping goat hooves –otherwise known as Ollie in his klompen– came thundering down the boardwalk toward them. 

“Daddy!! WAIT!!!” he panted, out of breath from running. 

Oliver pressed his eyelid and smiled at Ollie, who was pushing a curtain of messy curls off of his forehead. “Me and Elio found the baby dinosaurs!” 

Oliver blinked a few times. 

“We did!” Ollie insisted, wagging his eyebrows. “They’re just a little bit up toward the snow-cone stand!” 

“Why don’t you take Leo to see them? Walk slowly. We’ll follow you,” Elio said casually. 

Leo looked at Oliver hopefully. “Go with Ollie. Hold his hand.” 

“Wait for me, LOLLIE!” Leo said, even though Ollie was already waiting for him with his hand outstretched. 

“I can’t believe you let them go ahead of us,” Oliver said, situating himself from the bench back onto his knee scooter. 

“Eh, they won’t get too far ahead. Ollie can hardly walk in those shoes,” Elio said. “Besides, we can see the 'dinosaur' area from here.” He used his hands to make air quotes as they walked a few paces behind the boys, one of whom was limping considerably. 

“Dinosaurs, huh?” Oliver said. 

Elio chortled. “They’re iguanas I think. Or maybe bearded dragons?” 

Oliver bumped Elio affectionately with his elbow. “So much for always telling them the truth,” he teased. “We’re educators, for crying out loud!” 

“Well you told him all that Easter Bunny and Santa nonsense,” Elio countered. 

Oliver raised an eyebrow, bobbed his head from side to side as if there might be a retort rattling around in his head somewhere. If there was, he couldn't find it. 

“And we’re Jewish, for crying out loud!” Elio added in his Oliver voice.   

“Fine,” Oliver conceded. Elio’s hand came to rest on the inside of his arm, discreetly. Warmly. Comfortably. “I was teasing you anyway, honey. It’s not going to hurt him to believe in dinosaurs for a little while. He’s only three.”

By the time they reached the reptile area, Leo was on his hands and knees, chin mere centimeters from the ground, trying his level best to pet an irritated gecko. A white-haired gentleman sat down next to him and picked up the gecko so he could touch it. Elio and Oliver smiled at the man, and he smiled back. “Tell Leo I’ll be right there,” Elio said. 

“Was I right?” Elio asked his little brother, who was sitting on the grass nearby, peeling his sock off and studying his toe. 

Ollie looked up at him and nodded glumly. “Super duper right.”

Elio knelt down next to him and ran a finger very lightly over the angry blister. “If I wasn’t the nicest big brother in the world, I might say I told you so.” 

Ollie looked up at him. With his lower lip poked out, he looked suddenly five years old again. Elio tucked a piece of hair behind the little boy’s ear. “Fortunately for you I am the nicest big brother in the world.” 

Ollie smiled at him and for some reason, both of their eyes fell on Leo, who was giggling with delight as a lizard crawled up his sleeve. “Well. ONE OF the nicest big brothers,” Elio said. 

Ollie grinned at him almost shyly, using his hand as a makeshift sun visor. Elio put his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. “Also fortunately for you, I’m one of the smartest big brothers because I brought your Converses.” 

Ollie’s chin dropped an inch or two. “You did? Even though I said I didn’t want them?” 

Elio nodded. “They’re in the car. Shall we go get them?” 

“YESSssssss,” Ollie hissed, sliding his sock back on and easing his foot gingerly into his klomp. 

“Actually, I’ll just go get them. You wait here,” Elio said, sliding the other klomp off so he could put them both in the car when he got the sneakers. On his way by, he stopped to tell Oliver where he was going. “Will you be okay?” he asked. He still didn’t like leaving Oliver in charge of the boys when his mobility was so limited. 

“Of course,” Oliver said. “That one's not going anywhere,” he said, nodding toward Ollie, who was stuck without any shoes for the time being. “And this little wild thing is having too much fun to wander off.” 

Elio stooped down and kissed the top of Leo’s scuted head. “Are you having fun with the cute baby dinosaurs?” he asked. 

"Rawr!" Leo said with a nod. 

Elibabette came up with this sweet drawing in record time! It is precious and exactly what I imagined! Thank you, Elibabette! You can see more of Elibabette’s art here.

Chapter Text

“Everything okay? You look a little… frazzled,” Oliver said when Ollie practically collapsed into a cross-legged position on the floor and heaved his coloring book onto the coffee table as if it weighed as much as he did. 

“I’m fine. Fourth grade is just a teensy tinsy bit of exhausting,” the little boy said, carefully opening his crayon box. 

"Well, maybe a little coloring will help.” Oliver was sitting on the sofa with his foot propped up on a pillow on the coffee table next to Ollie’s workspace. He supposed Ollie didn’t mind it being there or he would have chosen one of the many other flat surfaces around the room. 

“Coloring usually calms me down,” Ollie agreed. One at a time, he pulled out each crayon, inspected it carefully, and then slid it back into the box. Leo had his own Tupperware container for his crayons; what was left of them, anyway. They were missing their papers, rubbed down to nubs, broken into pieces, and many of them had a few teeth marks. Oliver and Elio regularly purchased new crayons for both of the boys, but Leo’s returned to this condition almost immediately. They assumed it was normal for a three-year-old. Ollie, on the other hand, treated his crayons reverently, as if they were made of some precious substance that deserved constant care and maintenance. He even made sure to rotate the crayons as he colored with them so that the tips remained sharp.

Both children’s approaches amused Oliver to no end, but Ollie was especially comical this afternoon as he looked down his nose at every single crayon before beginning. Once he had completed his inspection, he set the box down and began flipping through his coloring book. The kid was almost as meticulous with his coloring books as he was with his crayons. He colored every page systematically —very neatly, even the backgrounds, and he always completed the pages in order, even when he came to a page that wasn't necessarily his favorite. On those occasions when he needed to remove a page from his coloring book to give as a gift –this happened frequently because he looooooooved to give gifts–  he used scissors to do the job as neatly as possible. In this, too, Leo was his opposite. The three-year-old’s coloring book strategy involved, for the most part, scribbling furiously on whichever page he happened to open to and then ripping the pages out with the care one would expect of a toddler, so that part of the page —sometimes the largest part of the page— remained stubbornly attached to the spine of the book. 

So when Ollie gave a sudden, dramatic gasp, Oliver didn’t have to wonder what was wrong. “Let’s see it,” he said, leaning forward as best he could without pulling a hamstring. 

Ollie held up the coloring book for his inspection.  Just as Oliver had expected, one of the pages was covered in heavy scribbles. 

“Awwww,” Oliver said. He wasn’t being patronizing. He really felt for Ollie because the kid didn’t ask for much and rarely complained about anything, yet this kept happening again and again. “I’m so sorry, Lollipop.” 

Ollie stared sadly at the page in a moment of silence before saying, “That was my very most favorite page because I was going to make Belle’s dress BLUE instead of yellow.” 

Oliver ruffled his hair. “We will get you a new one,” he said. 

Ollie crossed his arms. “But I already colored a bunch of pages out of this one.” Very rarely did Ollie sound petulant, but he was fairly talented at it when the occasion arose. 

“Oooooh my goodness,” Elio said as he sauntered into the room with his eyebrows lowered into a look of deep disapproval. “What on earth is all that whining about?” 

“Fourth grade is exhausting and Leo scribbled in his coloring book,” Oliver summarized. “Again.” 

“Oh.” Elio’s eyebrows lowered even more, but his lower lip jutted out sympathetically. “We’ll get you another one, Ollie.” 

“He already colored a lot of the pages in that one,” Oliver said before calling, “Leo Perlman Kane!” 

Leo whirled and twirled into the room like a miniature tornado. He froze when he saw everyone’s eyes on him. He popped his thumb into his mouth when he noticed how unhappy everyone was. He shook his head. “I not are do it,” he said around his thumb. 

Oliver crooked a finger at him, so he toddled over for a closer look at the book his Daddy was holding out for him. When he saw what it was, he changed his mind. Smiling behind his thumb he said. “I are do it!” He patted his beautiful artwork. “I are do it for Lollie!” 

Oliver pressed his eyelid. “Leo. Papa and I told you no,” Oliver said, shaking his head. “You color in your coloring books.” 

Leo’s forehead was lumpy and bumpy. “No fanks,” he said. “Lollie like DIS color book.” It was Ollie’s favorite coloring book, so naturally this is where he should put his gift.  

Elio looked sharply away to hide a giggle and was thankful that at least one of them –namely Oliver– had a good poker face at times like this. 

“Ollie likes to color in this one himself,” Oliver said. “Okay?” 

Leo nodded. “He do it by hisself?” 

“Yes. Exactly. Ollie wants to color in this one all by himself. Understand?”

“Check!” Leo said. “I are-der-stand!” 

Oliver gave Elio a can-you-please-back-me-up look, but Elio clearly couldn’t. He was literally trembling with suppressed laughter. Oh well. The man had other gifts. Oliver continued on his own. “Papa and I have told you this many times already. If you understand, you need to stop doing it. Okay?” 

“Check,” Leo said. “I do it!” 

“Good boy, Sweet Pickle,” Oliver said, pulling him close and giving him a tight squeeze.

After Elio performed a procedure to remove the page very neatly from Ollie’s book, the rest of the day went more or less smoothly. It wasn’t until after the boys were in bed that the issue came up again. 

“Oh, NO,” Elio cried from the kitchen. 

Oliver couldn’t exactly run to check on him, so he called, “What’s wrong, honey?” Elio appeared, his face a duplicate of the one Ollie had worn earlier. He was tapping his palm with a small stack of papers. “Leo strikes again,” he said, dropping down heavily onto the sofa next to Oliver and shoving the papers at him. 

Oliver frowned and unfolded them. He wasn’t surprised, of course, to see more of Leo’s artwork. “Are these important?”

Elio’s eyes went round. “It’s only my end-of-year eval!” 

“Ohhh,” Oliver said, cringing, trying to look past his son’s scribbles. “Well. You got an excellent rating.” 

Elio’s frown deepened as he took the papers back, glowered at them, and then set them down. “I was supposed to sign these and turn them back in. How embarrassing.” 

As if summoned, Leo appeared in his flower-printed robe and his Spider-Man slippers. “I are sirsty,” he said. 

Elio hopped up immediately. “I’ll go get you some water,” he said. Leo was going to follow him, but Oliver caught the sleeve his robe, pulled him over, and placed him on his lap. “Leo, you colored on Papa’s work papers,” he said, showing Leo the evidence he had in his possession. 

Leo smiled. “I draw Papa a picture! I draw him a picture for work!” 

“We told you to draw pictures on your paper, remember? You have your very own notebook with paper made just for drawing.” 

Leo’s eyebrows shot up. Daddy didn’t understand. “I make dis for Papa’s WORK,” he explained oh-so-seriously. Obviously it needed to be with all of Papa’s work papers. 

“No, Leo,” Oliver said. “You only color in your coloring book. You only draw in your drawing notebook. I don’t want to have to talk to you about this again.” 

Elio returned with Leo’s water. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s all on the computer. I’m sure my principal can just print another copy,” he said. 

“No, it isn’t okay,” Oliver said. “Because we have both told him no about this. Several times.” 

“Lollie not say me no,” Leo thought everyone should bear in mind that this had not been a unanimous decision. 

“Lollie is not in charge,” Oliver said. “Papa and I are in charge, and we don’t want you to draw on or color on anything except your own coloring book and your own notebook.” 

Leo frowned. He so loved drawing and coloring on things. And, like Banksy, he loved having a plethora of choices upon which to express his creative vision. He poked his lip out farther than it had ever been poked before. 

At that point, Elio quickly intervened. “And… LLLLLet’s get you back to bed, Pickle!” he said, picking up Leo and leaning him down for hugs and kisses from Oliver.

For the rest of the night, there was peace. Throughout the following morning, the peace continued. The school day passed without incident as well. It wasn’t until the two men were watching the evening news that they heard Ollie’s angry wolf-howl. 

“ELLLLIIIIIOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” 

Elio took off at once, even though he had learned that these incidents were rarely worthy of such a high degree of protest. “What is wrong, Ollie?” he asked.

“What was wrong?” Oliver had followed Elio with the help of his knee scooter. 

Their mutual question was met by a toddler innocently sucking his thumb and an eight-year-old who looked for all the world like one of the original Angry Birds. In his hands, Ollie clutched his brand new coloring book –the one Elio had bought him that very day that was cover to cover Beauty and the Beast. 

“Leo,” Elio gently chided. 

Leo blinked. 

“Did you scribble in Ollie’s new coloring book?” Elio asked. 

Leo shook his head. “I color. I color Lollie a picture!” 

“Leo, we just talked about this,” Elio began. 

Leo poked his lip out. Ollie groaned and flopped back onto his bed. Leo was apparently fine with it, but Ollie himself was tired of hearing this same conversation again and again. 

Oliver was, too. He rolled over with his knee scooter, took Leo’s hand and scooted them both over to the bean bag chair. “Time out for you,” he said. 

Ollie popped back up and nervously chewed on a fingernail. 

“Oliver,” Elio said. “Are you sure he understands?” 

Oliver looked calmly over at Elio. “He understands just fine. He has verified for me several times that he understands.” 

Elio nibbled nervously on a fingernail, so Oliver turned back to Leo. “Where are you supposed to do your artwork?” 

“I do it in my color book! I do it in my book book!” 

Oliver turned back to Elio. “See?” 

Elio stepped over and sat on the bed next to Ollie. The two were slumped over and smileless. They were parodies of sadness. The one person in the room who wasn’t upset in the least, was Leo. Oliver picked him up and plopped him gently down on the bean bag chair. “You have to stay there for three minutes. You have to listen to Papa and me when we tell you not to do something.” 

Leo smiled. He loved the beanbag chair. 

Oliver walked over and sat next to Elio. 

Leo smiled at the three of them. He waved. He sucked his thumb. He would have been having a great time except for the fact that everyone in his family looked so forlorn. He jumped up and toddled over, patting Ollie on the leg. “You sit on a bag bag chair!” he offered, hoping it would cheer him up. Ollie looked pleadingly at Oliver, but he shook his head. “No, Leo. Ollie isn’t in time out. You are,” he explained, sliding back onto his scooter and scootering them both back across the room. “You have to stay here for two and a half more minutes.” 

Leo sat back down and smiled. Oliver scooted himself back over and transferred himself quite laboriously over to the bed so he could sit by Elio. 

“I don’t think he understands?” Elio whispered. 

Oliver squared his shoulders and gave a confident nod. “He understands.” 

At that moment, Leo noticed one of his Hot Wheels hiding underneath the bed. It was the purple one he’d gotten in a kids’ meal last winter; it had been missing ever since. 

“I find it!” he squealed waddling over and crawling underneath the bed. 

Oliver frowned and struggled to retrieve his small child. He was determined though, so eventually he wrangled him from beneath the bed and once more scootered them across the room. Leo plopped down immediately onto the orange bean bag chair. Satisfied, Oliver began scootering back toward Elio. Before he got there, though, he was passed by a flying toddler who jumped onto the bed and took his seat. 

“For crying out loud,” Oliver said. He looked at Elio, then at his scooter, and back to Elio. “Can you please help me out here?” 

Elio grimaced as if he were having a tooth pulled, but he picked up his small son and carried him back over to what had somehow become the time out bean bag. “Stay here, Leo, for one more minute.” 

“I’m considering adding another minute because he isn’t staying there,” Oliver said. His ankle was beginning to throb from all the movement. “That is not listening. And that is why he’s in time out to begin with.” 

Elio hadn’t taken two steps away from the bean bag when Leo chased after him and wrapped his arms around his legs. Elio sighed and headed back toward the time out bean bag. Walking with a toddler around your legs turned out to be quite difficult, but with small, Geisha-like steps he made it. Prying Leo’s fingers off of him was another story. Leo giggled and held on as tight as he could. He loved roughhousing with Papa. 

Ollie had bitten one fingernail almost to the quick. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he had an idea. He marched over and sat in the bean bag chair himself. It had the result he had known it would. The bean bag chair was now Prime Real Estate. Lakefront Property. Leo released Elio and ran over and fast as he could and plopped down on Ollie’s lap. 

Elio smiled sheepishly at Oliver, who was pressing the twitches out of his eyelid. 

“I don’t think he understands,” Elio said. 

Oliver shook his head, conceding the fact that Elio was right. Just then, his phone sang a merry tune –the three minute timer he’d set. 

“HOORAY!!” Ollie said, giving Leo a squeeze. 

“Hooray!” Leo said, not knowing why. 

Oliver stood and got his sore leg nestled back onto his scooter. “Well. That was ineffective. Let’s go,” he said, taking a step toward the door. 

“Read me! Read me Daddy!” Leo called, waving a book that was lying on the floor near the bean bag. 

Oliver gave up and smiled. Who could say no to story time? Certainly not him. Laboriously he scootered back over and, with Elio’s help, managed to seat himself on the bean bag chair with Ollie on one knee and Leo on the other. Elio curled up on the floor beside them. 

“No coloring in Ollie’s coloring books. Or on Papa’s work papers,” Oliver said for good measure. Leo nodded his agreement and popped his thumb in his mouth, leaning back into Oliver’s chest and yawning. 

Oliver kissed his head, then kissed Ollie's temple. Ceremoniously he showed the boys the cover art. 

“No, David. By David Shannon,” he began.

The four enjoyed the impromptu story time. Leo loved it primarily because No, David was the greatest book ever written. (As everyone well knows.)  Ollie loved it because Leo wasn’t in trouble and everyone was happy. Elio loved it because to him there was nothing better than watching Oliver being a father; and he was pretty sure that Oliver was the best dad ever.

And Oliver? Well, he loved it because he had all the people he cared for most in the world right there with him... AND because the bean bag chair didn’t burst under their combined weight. 

Epilogue: The following day on the way home from school, Elio pulled into the Home Depot and bought some chalkboard paint so they could give their little Banksy more space for his art. 

Chapter Text

Ollie prided himself on being a fairly adaptable kid; he could go with the flow about most things. But somewhere down deep in his Ollieness, he did not like being shaken awake by his big brother. He, Ollie –younger brother extraordinaire– was the one who was supposed to be the shaker-awaker. That was the natural order of things, as everyone well knows. Nevertheless, Elio was standing beside his bed, jiggling his shoulder and telling him to wake up. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yawned extravagantly, just in case Elio hadn’t noticed he was still enjoying his sleep. “Meet me in the study,” Elio whispered. “Top secret brother meeting to commence in ten minutes.” 

There was really no meeting in the study, though, because Ollie scrambled out of bed and followed Elio out of the room at a rate of 20 questions per second. It wasn’t until they were in the study with the door closed that Elio finally spoke again. 

“We need to plan something fun,” Elio whispered. “For Oliver.” 

Ollie could see his wayward curls from all angles of his periphery. He imagined he looked like Albert Einstein before his hair turned all white. It was okay, though. Maybe he could actually channel his inner Albert. His eyes gazed upward, his finger floated up to tap his chin. He really didn’t need any additional information. Like all kids, he was basically pretty much an expert at having fun. But Elio gave him the details anyway. 

“You know he was supposed to do that 5k.” 

Ollie nodded. “But he can’t because he broke his ankle,” Ollie said, limping a few steps to demonstrate the current state of things. 

“Right,” Elio said. “And he’s really disappointed about missing it. He used to run all the time when he was younger, but now–”

“When he was a kid?” Knowing that grownups often lived in a topsy turvy world, Ollie thought some clarification for the term younger was in order.

Elio frowned. “When he was in his twenties.” 

“That’s not super duper–”

“ANYWAY…” Elio cleared his throat, determined to push through. “He’s really too busy to run regularly these days, but he always makes it to the lavender run.” 

“Twenty isn’t super duper young,” Ollie was used to his brother’s shenanigans and didn’t miss a beat, squeezing in the rest of his thought at the first opportunity.

“Ollie,” Elio said, more serious now. “This is important. Stop being silly.”

“I thought we were planning fun stuff. Because silly and fun are basically synonyms. That means they are the same thing.” As everyone well knows.  

“Just listen a minute.” Elio was familiar with Ollie’s shenanigans as well, so he tried to push the rest of his thought out without pausing for a breath. “I don’t want him to be sad today, Ollie. So we need to distract him with something fun. And by fun, I mean that it needs to be fun for him. Not just something fun for you.” 

Ollie’s mouth shifted to the left. “But I don’t know that much about planning boring stuff.”

“Ollie, please?” Elio thought he’d stooped to a new low, begging an eight-year-old for his help. But Oliver had been through so much these past few weeks, and missing the lavender run was really hitting him hard.  It was more than just a run to him. It was an event to raise money for cancer research that had been started in memory of one of his students. He had never missed it. 

“Hmmmmmm,” Ollie said, scrunching his mouth to one side of his face and tapping his chin. “Something Daddy likes and that we don’t like…” 

Elio nodded, but then laughed and shook his head. “Well, it’s okay if we like it, but–” 

“But mostly Daddy has to like it,” Ollie said, tapping very seriously. “I know!” he beamed. “We could go to that museum! Not the fun one with the science experiments, but the super duper boring one with all the old paintings.” 

Elio shook his head. “He does like the art museum, but they’re getting a new exhibit next month, so we should wait on that one.” 

Ollie nodded and muttered a quiet, “Check.” Tap, tap, tap. “Oh! Oh! I know! What if we go to that bookstore, you know, the one that always smells like dust and where you’re not allowed to touch any of the books because they’re all old and crumbly?” 

Elio cringed at the very thought of trying to keep up with Leo in a small room filled with glass cases filled with rare first editions, so he proposed an idea of his own. “You know, the orchard just opened; a couple of hours south of here? We could drive down and pick some peaches?”

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said immediately, shaking his head. “That’s not even selfless.” He and Elio both loved peaches, probably more than Oliver did. 

“Okaaaay,” Elio said. He hadn’t used the word selfless, but whatever. “What about a movie then?”

Ollie gave his chin a few taps, considering, but eventually he shook his head. “I can’t think of any super duper boring movies.”

Elio crossed his arms. “Ollie, Oliver isn’t boring, you know.” 

Ollie’s eyebrows darted upward. “I didn’t say he was boring,” he gasped. 

“You keep trying to think of boring things to do,” Elio pointed out. 

Ollie took a deep breath. “Daddy is not boring, but he is a grownup, and grownups love to do boring things,” he explained (with the patience of a SAINT.)

Elio’s chin fell an inch or two, but before he could say anything, Ollie held up the finger that he’d been using to tap his chin. “Don’t worry, Elio! I know the perfect thing that will make Daddy happy and that me and you and Leo will hate! It’s 100% selfless!” 

Elio reached back and kneaded the tension out of one of his shoulders. “100% selfless might be overdoing it,” he said. “Can we maybe find something in the 80% selfless range?” 

Ollie shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said, and then proceeded to lay out his plan. 

“I don’t know about this, honey,” Oliver said. “I’m kind of tired.” 

Elio smiled indulgently. “The only thing you’re tired of is being in the house 24 hours a day.” 

Oliver grumbled something in reply. 

“I know you don’t normally enjoy surprises,” Elio said. “But you’ll like this. I promise.” 

“Me, too!” Ollie piped up from the back seat. “I promise, too!” 

“I are promise, too!” Leo chirped from his carseat. 

Ollie scrunched his face. “I promise a teensy tinsy bit more than Leo does, though, since it was my idea.” 

Elio shot him a look in the rearview mirror. “Is everyone ready?” he asked with his hand on the shifter. 

Two CHECKS sang out in the backseat, but from the passenger side there was just another low grumble. Elio couldn’t help but giggle. 

“OH!” Ollie gasped, bouncing around in the backseat like he’d just sat on a bumblebee. “Oh! OH! OH!” 

“What’s wrong?” Elio whipped around to check on him with a haste that made Oliver check that the car was still in park. It was. 

“We forgot… the… THING. Remember? The THIIIIINNNNG?” He tried to wink, but it looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.  

Leo shook his head. “No fanks, fing.” He didn’t know what this THIIIINNNNG was, but Lollie was using his scary voice and making a crazy face, so he wanted no part of it. 

Oliver looked a little anxious, too. “What kind of THIIINNNNG?” he asked. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” Ollie grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at the same time. 

 Elio was fishing around in the door pocket and finally pulled out a black leather blindfold. “Almost forgot the blindfold!” he teased, reaching over and snapping it onto Oliver’s face. The man’s cheeks turned scarlet.

“Elio,” Oliver said through clenched teeth. “This is our special blindfold.” His whisper was so low, it was little more than a breath. 

 “Sorry, it’s the only one we had in the house,” Elio whispered back. 

Oliver probably would have taken the blindfold off, but he was so embarrassed by the unexpected appearance of their little bedroom toy that he quite appreciated the privacy it provided. 

“Where are we going again?” Oliver said about twenty minutes into the drive. 

“It’s a SURPRISE!” Ollie reminded him. “That means you don’t even get to KNOW!” 

Leo shook his head. “You not can know a suppize!" he said sternly.

Elio, decided they’d tortured him enough; especially since this was supposed to be a day for him. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said. 

Everyone in the car got very still and quiet. No one can resist the intrigue of a good hint. “Roll down your window,” Elio said. 

Oliver sighed. “Give me the hint first, and then I’ll roll it down.” 

Ollie and Elio both laughed. “That is the hint,” Elio said. “Roll down your window.” 

Oliver patted his way around the door until he found the button and buzzed down his window. Warm air blew around the car, whipping everyone’s hair in every direction like thrown confetti. 

“It smells so good!” Ollie said, rolling down his window, too, and breathing in the lavender scented air. 

“I smell a flowers!” Leo said, wrinkling his nose and sniffing like a puppy. “I like it!” 

Oliver took off the blindfold and stared at the rolling, purple-carpeted fields. Tears stung his eyes. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to come as a spectator—” 

Oliver reached across the console and rubbed his thigh. “No, honey. I’m glad you brought me. I was just feeling sorry for myself, but I’m glad I’m here, even if only as a spectator.”

Elio placed his hand on top of Oliver’s and gave it a squeeze. 

“Well. You’re not JUST a spectator,” Ollie said from the backseat. “You’re a cheerer!” 

Oliver twisted around in his seat to smile at Ollie, but when he saw the eight-year-old, he broke out into cheerful laughter. Ollie was in full running gear, complete with a sweatband around his forehead, running shoes, and where a running number would be pinned, he had a sign he’d made saying, “I walk/run for Daddy because he broke his ankle.” Leo was wearing a coordinating outfit, complete with sweatbands on his head and on each wrist. His homemade sign said, in Ollie’s handwriting, “I do it by myself!!” 

“You guys are too much,” Oliver said with a smile as Elio pulled into a parking spot. 

“I know it’s not the same as running yourself,” Elio said, pulling another sweatband out of the console and putting it on. “But hopefully you’ll have fun cheering us on.” 

“He will,” Ollie said with all the confidence in the world. “It’s mostly what he always does anyway.” 

“Do you want to leave that in the car? Or are you planning to wear it?” Elio asked with a sly smile on his face. 

It took Oliver a minute, but then he reached up and felt the black leather blindfold that he'd pushed up on top of his head. He laughed and pulled it off. 

“I think you should leave it on! You look like Batman!” Ollie said. 

Elio wagged a seductive eyebrow at his husband, whose cheeks flooded with color again. “I agree. You should wear it, Batman,” he said. 

Oliver turned every shade of scarlet and shoved the blindfold underneath his seat. “Just go get me my knee scooter, Robin."

"You mean the BATMOBILE?" Ollie giggled.

"Out me!" Leo said.

Chapter Text

“And Elio said I can invite as many people as I want... And Elio said it’s up to me if I want balloons or not and I DON’T… And Elio said I can have whatever kind of cake I want... And Elio said I can have 8 candles or just one candle shaped like an eight... And Elio said I can maybe even have more candles if I want because he thinks it’s not a rule about how many candles.” Ollie paused, but only because he had to inhale. On the exhale, he continued where he’d left off. “Is it though?”

Oliver smiled down at the very excited and extremely chatty little boy who was following him around the house as he put away laundry. “Is what what though?” 

“Is it a rule about candles? Do I have to have either eight candles or one candle in the shape of an eight? Or can I have however many candles as I want?” he asked, eyelashes flapping pleadingly. 

Oliver considered this as he tucked away the last of the towels and headed to the kitchen. Rules were his forte, so he needed to get it right. “I don’t think it’s a rule per se. It’s a tradition, but–” 

“Yeeesssssss,” Ollie hissed under his breath while giving a little karate punch with his formerly broken arm. “So technically, I could have FIFTY candles? If I want? Right?” Ollie asked. He had the most earnest look on his face and was nodding emphatically as if to prompt Oliver with the correct answer. 

Oliver’s eyes narrowed a bit. He was more than happy to indulge the soon-to-be birthday boy, but he didn’t want things to get completely out of hand, either. “We’ll see, Ollie,” he said as he rummaged through the mail that had been accumulating on the kitchen counter for the last few days. 

Ollie nodded contemplatively. “I probably won’t use fifty candles though. Because then everyone would probably think it’s your birthday party.” 

Part of Oliver’s attention had been on the Pizza Hut flier that had arrived that day, but now his eyes were on Ollie, who was scrutinizing the mail alongside him. Oliver expected to see a mischievous smile on the kid’s face. Something to indicate that he was only teasing him. But Ollie merely licked his lips and pointed to one of the pizzas. Oliver tapped the boy lightly on the head with the junk mail. “Go throw this away, please.” he asked, holding it out. 

Ollie took it and dashed toward the garage, yelling, “CHECK!” 

Elio had been invited to Boston to perform with the orchestra three times over the past few months, and a representative had recently contacted him again. This time, there was a permanent position that they would like to discuss with him. He had explained that a move to Boston wasn’t possible, but they’d insisted that others also lived far away and had found ways to make things work. Elio was entirely unwilling to be away from Ollie, or Oliver for that matter, for weeks at a time, but with the understanding that they wouldn’t change his mind, he had agreed to go meet them for dinner.

He had requested an early dinner in order to be home before Ollie went to bed, though, so he was surprised when it was only Oliver who met him at the door. 

“Where is Ollie?” he asked after hugging and kissing Oliver, hanging his keys on the hook by the door, and then sliding out of his shoes. 

“He’s in bed,” Oliver said.

“Why is he in bed so early? It’s only seven-thirty,” Elio pointed out. 

“He thought I was fifty, so I sent him to bed without supper,” Oliver said as he turned and began the short trek to the living room.

Elio’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t follow Oliver when he left the entryway. Finally, Oliver noticed Elio wasn’t with him, and paused, waiting. Elio then began taking a few hesitant steps. “Did you really?” he asked, as he took a few steps to catch up. 

“Did I really what?” Oliver asked, sitting on the sofa in his usual spot at the end. 

“Send him to bed without supper? That’s harsh. And he’s pretty skinny already, Oliver,” Elio said. Oliver felt guilty when he noticed the alarmed look on Elio’s face. 

“No. Honey, no. Of course not. That was a joke.” When relief washed over Elio’s face, Oliver wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse. “You know better than that. Don’t you?”  

Elio smiled and nodded. “Of course, sorry. I’m just a little stressed. But why did he go to bed so early?” Elio wanted to know next. “Was he feeling okay?” 

Oliver wanted to know how the dinner had gone, but it could wait. He leaned down and kissed Elio, a brief but lovely kiss. “He was fine. A little excited, but fine.” 

“Excited?” Elio asked. “Excited about what?” He snickered, visualizing his excited little brother chasing Oliver around the house while chattering incessantly. 

Oliver sighed. “About his impending birthday. Apparently his big brother promised him he could have as many guests as he wanted, could have any kind of cake he wanted, could have any candles he wanted, could have any present he wanted–” 

“That’s FALSE,” Elio interrupted, adamantly shaking his head. 

Oliver raised an appraising eyebrow. “Yeah, right,” he concluded. 

Elio chuckled, blushing. “Fine. I said some of it,” he admitted. “I didn’t say he could have any present he wanted though.” That would be simply outrageous. 

Oliver only kissed him again. “I’m teasing you again.” He just couldn’t seem to stop himself. “He fell asleep on the floor while he was coloring, and I carried him to bed. You can wake him up if you want. I’m sure he’ll go back to sleep.” 

Elio wasn’t too sure about that. “Doesn’t that go against The Code?” he asked. 

Oliver laughed. “What code?” 

“The parenting code. It feels like it should be sacrosanct to let a sleeping child sleep,” Elio said.

Oliver studied him for a moment but was unable to discern whether or not he was teasing. “I think that’s only true for sleeping dogs. I guess it just depends how badly you want to see him,” Oliver said, kissing Elio lightly on the nose. Elio jerked playfully away, wiping at his nose. Then he tilted his head back just the right amount, and Oliver placed a tender kiss on his soft lips, just as he knew Elio wanted him to. 

“I really want to see him,” Elio whispered when at last the kiss ended. 

Oliver nodded encouragingly toward the hallway. Go on, then. 

Once in Ollie’s room, Elio sat down on the edge of the bed. Though his conversation with Oliver had been playful, he wasn’t convinced he should wake up his little brother. He might not be able to fall back to sleep. But then again, it was summer, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? As he gazed down at Ollie, who looked absolutely angelic when sleeping, the little boy’s eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t at all startled to find Elio sitting on the edge of his bed. Instead, his mouth formed a sleepy smile. Elio pulled his Avengers blanket up a bit for him, returning the smile. 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Elio said. 

Ollie shook his head. “Sono felice che tu mi abbia svegliato.” I’m glad that you woke me. 

Elio’s heart was suddenly so soft and warm, he couldn’t reply at first. Ollie rarely spoke Italian anymore unless he was very excited or very upset. Apparently also if he was very sleepy, Elio realized. “Ti sono mancato?” Did you miss me?

Ollie nodded sleepily. “Sì.”

Elio patted Ollie’s leg through the blanket, leaned down to kiss his forehead, and apologized again for waking him. “I will see you in the morning, okay?”

Ollie nodded. “Did you get the job?” 

Elio considered the question, unsure of how to answer it. “It wasn’t a job interview. It was just a meeting. We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” 

Ollie’s mouth widened into an enormous yawn, which made Elio laugh and then yawn himself. 

“Will you lie down with me ‘til I fall asleep?” Ollie asked. 

Elio wished, not for the first time, that he could clone himself. He’d love nothing more than to lie down with Ollie. Yet he also really wanted to spend some time with the man whose kiss he could still feel on his lips if he closed his eyes. It was as if Ollie could sense his dilemma because he amended his request. “Will you sleep with me for five minutes?” he asked hopefully. 

Elio answered by crawling over Ollie and lying down next to him. There wasn’t room for him on the edge, and for some reason, Ollie hated sleeping in the middle of his bed. “Five minutes,” he agreed, watching Ollie’s hopeful expression morph into one of complete happiness. “Chiudi gli occhi,” he said to Ollie. Ollie closed his eyes obediently, but his grin remained just as wide. Elio knew Ollie would not be asleep in five minutes with a grin like that, and was already dreading the begging that would happen when the five minutes had passed. But then Elio heard familiar footsteps entering the room, and he knew his face probably mirrored Ollie’s. Oliver walked around the bed to lie down next to Elio, but Ollie shook his head, still with his eyes closed and wearing a grin. 

“Sleep by me,” he said. 

“But then you will have to sleep in the middle of your bed,” Oliver reminded him.

Ollie scrunched his face. He really did not like waking up in the middle of the bed. But he opened his eyes to see the two people he loved most. The two who loved him most. “Scooch over, ELIO,” he said, and Elio did. Ollie rolled two complete rolls until he was next to Elio, and the rolling made him giggle. But when Oliver lay down next to him and once more straightened his Avenger’s blanket, he began to relax again. 

“Close your eyes,” Oliver whispered. Ollie did. Oliver and Elio each reached an arm over the little boy, entwining their own fingers together, and it was as if the connection of their fingers formed a circuit. And through that circuit flowed all the love and care, all the fun and laughter, all the worry and concern, that people who love each other could ever hope to share. And right between them, was Ollie. Oliver had worried not so long ago —though it felt in some ways like a lifetime ago— that having a child in their household would divide them. But he had been wrong. He’d been wrong about so many things. Because Ollie had only strengthened their connection. He hadn’t broken their circuit, but had closed it. It wasn’t the life he would have chosen, but was much better than what he would have chosen. Now he couldn’t imagine any other life than Life with Ollie. 

Chapter Text

Ollie didn’t understand it. He knew he should be excited, but secretly –down deep in his Ollieness– he was a little… stressed? No. Troubled? Maybe. 

Perhaps this was because there were so many decisions to be made all at the same time, and every single one of those decisions seemed to belong to him. Elio and Oliver were spitting them out like popcorn in recent days.  

What did he want to do? 

What games would he like to play? 

What snacks should they serve? Or should they serve a meal? 

What kind of cake did he want? 

And the most pressing question of all at the moment… Should the cake have eight candles, or just one candle in the shape of an eight?

“So? What do you think?” When Elio asked this question, Ollie stared at all the candles –shelves and shelves of them– until his eyes glazed over and he thought he might faint. 

“Can we save the candles for last?” the seven-year-old asked. 

Something flashed in Elio’s eyes, and for a moment Ollie thought his big brother might faint, too. They’d been in the party store for a very long time. But Elio just said, “Of course. Should we choose the plates and napkins then?” 

Ollie nodded somberly. Elio and Oliver exchanged looks that said something very grown-uppish. Elio dropped a hand onto his little brother’s head and worked his fingers through his disheveled curls, then pressed his palm against his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked. 

Ollie nodded again, but Elio got a little dent between his eyebrows that meant he was worried. Ollie smiled at him to demonstrate his okayness. 

The moment they left the candle aisle, Ollie did feel a little better. The party supply store was super duper interesting. It was filled with all things shiny, bright, and colorful. It was as if the store itself understood the magnitude of turning eight and was making a big deal of it. By the time Oliver turned down the paper goods aisle, Ollie was galloping along beside them, feeling almost chipper. But then Oliver asked…

“So? Have you decided what kind of party you want to have yet?” 

Ollie gazed at the rows and rows and rows of plates and napkins. There were so many different kinds, all he could do was stand there with his mouth open even though no words were coming out. 

“He means what theme, Ollie,” Elio explained. 

Ollie snapped his mouth closed and frowned slightly. He was about to tell his big brother that he very well knew what Oliver meant. It wasn’t as if he was only seven and a half years old! He was almost eight. But then Oliver gave him a teensy tinsy bit of a cool it look over Elio’s head, so Ollie just said he didn’t know what theme to use. 

“They have Avengers ones.” Elio picked up a package of paper plates with the Avengers all over them. Ollie tapped his chin. They were just the right size for a ginormous piece of cake. They should have been perfect. 

Ollie shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “My Avengers blanket might get jealous.” 

Elio’s head dipped dubiously to one side, but he put the plates back on the shelf and tapped his chin along with Ollie. “All right then. How about Legos?” He pointed toward the Lego themed plates. “We could do a full-blown Lego theme!” Ollie could tell by the sound of Elio's voice that he was really getting excited about the prospect of having a Lego party. Ollie zoned out briefly, and when he zoned back in, Elio was still talking about it. “And we could even set up a Lego table for your friends to use if they get bored of the party games.” 

Ollie’s shoulders sank. “I don’t want to have boring party games though.” 

Another unspoken conversation happened between the adults. This one was complex and involved a series of ever-shifting facial expressions. 

“What Elio means is that at parties, there are transition times between the activities. A Lego table would give everyone something to do during those times.” 

It sounded better when Oliver said it, but still, Lego plates and napkins felt like a big commitment. This whole birthday party thing was overwhelming. “I don’t know if I like the Legos ones.” 

Elio gazed wistfully at the plates before putting them back on the shelf, and Ollie made a mental note that Elio’s next birthday should have a Lego theme. “A Lego cake would be really cool,” Ollie said to himself. He was thinking of Elio, but the problem was, he had said it out loud. Just like that, in a flash of lickity-split lightning, the shopping basket was filled with all things Lego. Oliver and Elio had both gotten so into it — not only plates, napkins, cups but also banners, games, and party favors– Ollie didn’t have the heart to stop them. Soon he was helping to carry in bags and bags of things for his Lego party. 

And that, he would soon learn, was only the beginning of his problems. 

“Oliver, LOOK!” Elio plopped down on Oliver’s lap, holding his iPad so both men could see it. 

Oliver hadn’t been expecting a lapful of Elio so there had been a little oof followed by a grimace as he set the book he was reading down on the side table. His mood changed, though, when he saw what Elio was there to show him. “Wow, honey. That’s awesome. How in the world did you find that?” 

“RIGHT?!” Elio practically squealed the word. “I just googled Lego Pinata and BOOM.” Elio twisted his body so that his legs were on the sofa. He was clearly planning to stay awhile. “And there’s more. Look at THIS.” He swiped the screen with an elegant index finger.

Ollie didn’t look up from where he was writing in his notebook until Oliver said his name several minutes later. “Come look at all the cool stuff that your brother found for your party!” 

Ollie put his notebook down and trudged over, climbing up next to Oliver. Elio’s feet were on him a little, but he decided to endure it since everyone was so happy. Besides, he hardly noticed it because Elio was saying about one thousand words per second while flipping through different pictures of Lego-themed party paraphernalia. Just when Ollie thought it was over, Oliver took the iPad, deciding he needed a turn, too.  “One of my friends at work also told me about some great finds.” So there were a lot more pictures and lots of excited chatter from both men. Ollie had to admit that it sounded like pretty much the most funnest party ever. But for some reason, he didn’t feel as happy as a kid who was about to have the most funnest party ever should probably feel. In fact, he didn’t feel super duper much happy at all, even for a regular birthday kid. Honestly, he didn’t even feel super duper much happy for a regular kid whose birthday it wasn't. His eyes were stinging. His cheeks were wet. He heard himself say, “Get your dumb feet OFF ME, ELIO!” as he stomped out of the room without glancing back. Once he was safely nestled in his beanbag chair, he was glad he hadn’t glanced back. Because if he had, he knew exactly what he would have seen. Oliver looking very worried. Elio looking very sad. And that would have made everything feel worse. Way worse.

“Maybe it's hormones?” Elio proposed that night as he and Oliver lay in bed. 

Oliver smiled and kissed him briefly. “He’s only turning eight. Surely we have at least another couple of years before we have to discuss hormones.” He had practically choked on that last word.

Elio giggled and said hormones as many times as he could. This was in part because he liked the way Oliver’s cheeks flushed when he said it, but the larger part was that he liked the kisses he kept earning in return. 

“Are those punishment kisses for saying hormones?” the younger man teased. “Or are they reward kisses?” Oliver rolled his eyes, but Elio carried on as if he hadn’t. “Are you rewarding me for saying… HORMONES?” 

Oliver blushed deeply and this time the kiss was long, slow, and lingering. “They’re kisses meant to keep your lips busy so you’ll stop talking about… those things… that we don’t need to worry about… for a couple of years… at LEAST.” 

Elio just grinned, and after more kisses of all sorts, he spoke again. “I don’t think that’s it, though.” He didn’t say hormones again because the moment had passed and Elio prided himself on his impeccable sense of comedic timing. 

“Well. Something’s definitely bothering him,” Oliver stated the obvious. They’d known the moment the almost always sunny, happy, and kind little boy had shoved his brother’s feet off the sofa and stomped to his room that something was bothering him. And they had tried valiantly to find out what that something might be. They’d questioned him, of course. Both formally and informally. Each of them separately, and both of them together. But for all their questioning, they’d gotten few answers. 

Nothing’s wrong. 

I’m sorry I said that. 

I’m sorry I pushed your feet. 

I’m not upset. 

I’m not angry. 

I like Legos. 

And the strangest thing was that he did. Ollie absolutely LOVED Legos. They were basically his favorite thing. So he was as confused as anyone about why he was upset. That’s what he explained to Elio the next night when he lay down next to him after tucking him in and questioned him yet again. 

“Ollie, this has gone on long enough. Oliver and I are both tired of you moping around the house. We’re tired of your short temper. And most of all, we’re tired of you feeling so sad and not letting us help you.” 

Ollie yawned. He couldn’t help it. He yawned because it was exhausting being upset all the time. He wondered how chronically upset people managed it! He also yawned because it was relaxing when Elio worked his fingers through his curls as he was doing now. 

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me,” Elio said, poking Ollie on the nose. 

Ollie shrugged because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say--and because he didn’t really want Elio to leave anyway. 

“Is it because you changed your mind about having a Lego themed birthday?” Elio asked. 

“I never made my mind say I wanted a Lego themed party so I can’t really change my mind,” Ollie said. 

Elio’s hand stilled and grew heavy on his head. 

“Oh my gosh. We pushed you into having a Lego party,” Elio said, but somehow Ollie knew he was talking to himself. “Ollie, we haven’t opened anything. There’s nothing we’ve bought that we can’t take back. And we still have plenty of time.” In their excitement about Ollie’s first birthday with them, they’d gotten a little ahead of themselves with the planning. They just wanted his first birthday with them to be special. 

“No, I don’t want you to,” Ollie said with enough urgency in his voice that Elio knew he meant it. “I love Legos. And I love all the stuff we’re having for my party. I’m going to have the most extra special birthday of anyone ever!” 

Elio’s fingers moved again, loosely twirling a curl around a finger. “Then why are you sad?” 

“I don’t know,” Ollie said. “I really don’t. But I do love Legos and I do want a Lego party. I promise. And. And. And… I’ll try to be happier. I promise.” 

“Did you tell him he didn’t have to be happier?” Oliver asked when Elio relayed the conversation later. They were sitting on the deck gazing at a starless sky while smoking a cigarette, something they were doing less and less often. 

Elio shook his head. “No, should I have?” 

Oliver sighed and raised one shoulder in a little half shrug. 

“Don’t we want him to be happy? Isn’t that basically the point of… everything?”   Elio asked.

Oliver took a long drag off his cigarette and then snubbed it out. “My question is... Do we want him to pretend to be happy just to please us? Or do we want him to actually be happy?” 

Elio rolled his eyes. “Semantics,” he muttered. 

Oliver’s response was immediate. “Not really, Elio. Those aren’t the same thing. You might have been lucky enough to be happy all of the time as a child, but I certainly wasn’t. And I always had to play the part of the perfect son. The perfect student. The perfect boyfriend. I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on Ollie. If he’s happy, we love him. If he’s sad, we love him. If he’s angry, we love him. It’s that simple. Isn’t it?” 

Elio turned his head and stared at Oliver. They’d been together a long time. They loved each other. It was rare to find someone you loved this much and even rarer to have them love you back just as deeply. And it was more rare still for both people to know how lucky they were to have each other. To feel lucky for having the other. For how deeply they loved each other, and for how well they showed it. 

This was probably why it was such a rare and surprising thing for Elio to see Oliver anew. But occasionally it did happen, and this was one of those occasions. “I’m sorry, Oliver,” he whispered. He had been lucky as a child. He had been happy most of the time. Oliver’s hand came to rest on his leg in a gesture as comforting as it was familiar.

“So what do you want to do? Lego party? No Lego party?” He took Elio’s cigarette from him, took a drag off of it, and snubbed it out with his own, and then stood and stretched. 

Elio took the hand that Oliver held out for him and let himself be tugged to his feet. He took a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. “I don't know. I just don’t know, Oliver.” He didn’t complain about Oliver stealing his cigarette, only because they were kissing again. 

It was a long night. Nobody slept much as each person separately worked through their problem and how to solve it. Elio spent his time lying still as a mouse, his feelings chasing each other around in his chest. Oliver lay next to him, eyes wide open, his thoughts spinning ‘round and ‘round in his head. Down the hall, Ollie sat on his bed in the dark, writing in his notebook by the light of his new pen-sized flashlight. 

LEGO PARTY GOOD AND BAD LIST

In the “Good” column, there was a long list of things, including all the fun foods they could serve, all the fun decorations they’d bought, the super-cool LEGO table they would set up so that no one could ever get bored even in transitions. How much his friends would like his party. And how much Elio would. Ollie probably could have added more things to the good column, but he’d made his letters too big and had run out of room. In the “Bad” column, there were no words. He drew a sad face there. 

“It’s awfully late.” Ollie jerked his head up, startled to see Oliver’s tall silhouette filling his doorway. He loved Oliver, he did. But he was used to somewhat smaller silhouettes. 

“Sorry,” he said, clicking off his pen light and sinking back down beneath his covers. But Oliver was walking over anyway. 

“You don’t need to be sorry for not being able to sleep,” he said, carefully lowering himself so that he was seated on the edge of the bed. Ollie wondered if it was because he was tall that he had to be so careful with all of his movements. Elio would have just plopped down, probably squishing him, and it would have been fine. Oliver, though, had a carefulness about him almost all the time. “I couldn’t sleep either,” the man said. 

“Because of my party?” Ollie held his breath. He’d already upset himself. He’d already upset Elio. And now he was upsetting Oliver, too. 

Oliver pushed a clump of brown wavy hair off his forehead. The cool air on his face felt nice. “No. It’s not the party.” 

Ollie’s nod seemed loud in the dark, quiet night. “Because of my birthday?” The whispered question was somehow quieter than the nod had been. 

Oliver shook his head. “No. It’s not that.” Ollie didn’t say anything, and he definitely didn’t nod. He didn’t even blink. “Is that why you can’t sleep? Your birthday?” Oliver asked. 

It was a strange thing, when crying started in the middle. Crying was supposed to have a bell curve. But this time, it didn’t. Oliver’s hands were underneath his arms, pulling him out of bed like a lifeguard pulling a drowning child from a pool. He held him tight, close to his chest. “I’ve got you,” Oliver said in his tall voice. When Ollie tried to stop crying, Oliver placed his hand gently on the back of his head and told him to cry. That it was okay to cry. That it was okay feel sad. That it was okay. To hear Oliver tell it, everything was okay. And the way he said it, so sure of himself, Ollie started to believe it. And so he finally put words to the sad face he’d drawn in his notebook. 

“What if...I don’t want…to have... a… birthday?” he sobbed. 

“That’s okay, too,” Oliver said, squeezing him tight. “We can exchange all of it.” 

Ollie shook his head. It wasn’t only the Lego party that he didn’t want. “I don’t… want… a birthday,” he tried to say, but the words didn’t fit right around his tears. Oliver understood them anyway. 

“That’s okay. We can return it. We can return all of it. You don’t have to have a party.” 

Ollie shook his head again. It wasn’t the party he didn’t want. “I don’t… want…” He paused between every syllable, trying to get it out.  “…a birth…day.” 

“That’s okay, too,” Oliver said. 

“I’ve never been a new age without Papa and Mama,” Ollie said into Oliver’s shirt, which was now as soaking wet as any lifeguard’s would have been. “I don’t want to. I don't want to be eight.” 

“Death stops time,” Elio whispered. The window was already glowing a dim, opalescent light even though the sun wouldn’t rise for at least another hour. Oliver’s fingertips were tracing curved lines along his arm and up to his shoulder. They were touching as much as they could with a seven-year-old sleeping in between them. “They’ll never be older to us. And I guess we’ll never be older to them.” 

“Try to go back to sleep, honey,” Oliver said, running his thumb gently over one of Elio’s eyebrows. He didn’t know if he had done the right thing, waking Elio. But Ollie had needed him, and so had he. 

When Oliver opened his eyes again, the light streaming in through the window was bright as midday. Elio was still asleep, sprawled out on the bed with one leg out of the covers and an arm slung over his head. But Ollie was no longer in bed with them. Ollie was no longer in the room with them. And within five seconds, it was confirmed that Ollie wasn’t in his own room, either. The panic Oliver felt in that moment was enough to rival any he’d ever felt in his life. “Ollie!” he choked out. 

“In here!” Ollie called from the kitchen. 

“You scared me,” Oliver breathed as he strode toward the kitchen where he found Ollie, sitting at the table with his notebook, drawing feverishly with his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. When Ollie looked up from his notebook and smiled at him, Oliver felt like he could breathe for the first time in days. 

“Sorry,” Ollie chirped. “I had to be in here to draw it.” 

“To draw what?” Oliver asked, sitting down next to Ollie who turned his notebook so that Oliver could see it. 

“It’s how the decorations can be for my super duper fun LEGO PARTY!!!” He bounced in his seat as he squeaked out the last words. 

Oliver brushed his fingers lightly over the page as if they might carry some secret message written in something like braille. Something that would tell him the right thing to say. The right way to act. The right way to care. The right way to love. 

“Do you like where I have the Tallest Tower game?” Ollie asked, tapping the paper thoughtfully and then gazing at the part of the dining room that he thought was perfect for the narrow table they were using for the tallest tower competition. 

“Yes,” Oliver said, his fingers brushing over the bottom edge of the page and finding no magic words there, either. 

“I was going to put the Pinata there,” Ollie pointed toward the living room, “but then I remembered Elio said we have to do that one outside.” 

Ollie was smiling –truly grinning– for the first time in two weeks. It would have been easy to pretend that the night before had never happened. To pretend that Ollie’s embarkation on a new chapter of his life without his parents was not a big deal. That Ollie was always happy. That he was as lucky as he thought he was to have a Lego themed birthday party. It would have been so easy to pretend that this was real. 

That’s what Oliver’s own father would have done. Push aside anything disappointing or unpleasant. Pretend everything was exactly as he wanted it to be. 

“Ollie?” The tone he used, broke the spell. Ollie’s smile changed, but it didn’t vanish. If anything, it grew, because Oliver could see the small blank space where he’d lost a bottom tooth last week. 

“I want to have a Lego birthday party,” Ollie said with a nod. 

“Okay,” Oliver said. 

“I want to have a birthday,” Ollie said. His smile was gone for a moment, and then it returned like a twinkling star. 

“Okay,” Oliver said, smiling, too. Together the two looked up to see Elio standing there with his eyes barely open. Barely awake. Barely clothed. “We’re planning a party,” Oliver explained. He watched Elio very closely for any signs of distress. Ollie wasn’t the only one who had lost his parents almost exactly one year ago. Ollie wasn’t the only one struggling. 

“Good,” Elio said with a smile. He stepped over and made mechanical sounds as he picked up his giggling little brother, sat down in his seat, and then placed Ollie on his lap. “I’ve always wanted a Lego party.” He tickled Ollie lightly on the ribs, causing the little boy to throw his head back and squeal. 

“It’s not your Lego party,” Ollie giggled. 

“Hmmm. Are you sure about that?” Elio asked, bouncing Ollie so that his voice vibrated and shook. 

“It’s my LEGO party!” Ollie said with his funny new Jell-O voice. 

“Fine,” Elio said. He stopped fidgeting, cleared his throat, all serious, craning his neck to get a look at Ollie’s sketches. He pulled the notebook closer to him, reached for a pencil, and drew a large square behind the house. “YARD” he wrote. He scribbled a few stick people, a stick tree, and a very sloppy Lego pinata.

Oliver and Ollie smiled at each other. “You are most excited about the pinata, aren’t you?” Ollie asked his brother. 

Elio gave a maybe kind of shrug. 

“Leave it to Elio,” Oliver said, leaning over and kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “He’s like a bulldozer. We throw a party where the entire theme is BUILDING stuff, but your big brother is obsessed with the one thing that gets torn down.” 

Ollie giggled again and made bulldozer noises. 

Elio rolled his eyes. “I feel like I should say something really deep. Something about how sometimes you have to tear something down to build it up again.” 

Oliver raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, conceding. “Well, I only meant that you’re an overgrown child, but the way you say it, it does sound kind of deep.” 

Ollie was sketching feverishly in his notebook trying to fix Elio’s horrible drawings. “You don’t tear down a pinata,” he said, rubbing his eraser over the tree and redrawing it. “You open it up, and it rewards you with gifts.” 

Elio made the same conceding raised eyebrow, head tilt gesture that Oliver had given him earlier. “Now that’s deep. For a seven-year-old.” 

“He’s definitely Samuel Perlman’s brainiac kid,” Oliver said with a chuckle. 

“Seven and ELEVEN AND A HALF-TWELFTHS.” Ollie corrected.

“What the heck is eleven and half-twelfths?” Elio asked, tousling Ollie’s hair roughly. 

“Because I will be eight in two weeks, and there’s twelve months in a year. And so that’s–”

“Yeah, I get that, goofball. But why don’t you just say 23-twenty-fourths?”

Ollie stopped scribbling and looked at Elio. You could almost see the lightbulb over his head, party plans temporarily forgotten. “Say that again?”  

“It’s confusing to have a fraction as a numerator, so why not just–”

“–double the numerator AND denominator!” Ollie said dreamily. “Oh. MY. GOSH!!! That WORKS!!!” Fractions were basically the super duper funnest math! 

“Good grief. You are both Samuel Perlman’s brainiac children,” Oliver said, standing and stretching. “Who wants waffles?” 

“ME!” Ollie said.

“Me!” Elio said, before adding, “Hey Oliver?” 

Oliver looked at him over his shoulder as he pulled the waffle mix out of the pantry. “Hmm?” 

“What’s the etymology of the word apricot?” 

Brainiac, indeed. 

Chapter Text

Elio had grown accustomed to the fact that with parenthood would always come some degree of worry. A polite hum of anxiety buzzing around in the background seemed appropriate when you were responsible for the well-being of small humans who weren't able to care for themselves. As long as the hum didn’t get too loud,  Elio had learned to make space for it. When he felt his little brother’s small hand slip into his, that gentle hum became a rattle. He gave Ollie’s hand an affectionate squeeze and smiled down at him. Ollie didn’t smile back. 

The eight-year-old had been a bundle of joyful energy mere moments earlier, but now his eyes were darting about like the eyes of a ventriloquist’s dummy.

A nervous ventriloquist’s dummy.

Or would it be a ventriloquist’s nervous dummy?

Well, it would all depend on who was nervous, he supposed.

Could dummies actually be nervous, though? Being inanimate?

Wait. WERE they inanimate? They did move, after all. 

“Are you lost in another one of your inner dialogues, honey?” Oliver teased as the family slowly snailed their way across the parking lot. It wasn’t easy traversing a parking lot with a man who was lost in his own head, an eight-year-old who looked like he was trying to summon the courage to jump off the diving board for the very first time, and a three-year-old who wanted —no, needed— to crouch down and thoroughly inspect every ant, every piece of gravel, every blade of grass that had somehow managed to push its way through a crack in the asphalt. And of course Oliver wasn’t exactly speeding things along with his broken ankle. 

Elio smiled up at him. “You know me too well,” he confessed. “But would it be a dialogue? Or a monologue? Since it’s just me?” 

The fact that this appeared to be a sincere question made it all the more endearing. All the more amusing. Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess that would depend on whether it’s a back and forth conversation you’re having with yourself.” And then to Leo, “Put it down, please.” 

Leo carefully returned the leaf to the pavement. “Fank you,” he said to the leaf, so Daddy wouldn’t have to say it. Leo had recently noticed that fank you always followed immediately after please. It was probably its little brother. The toddler was pleased with himself for solving another of life's mysteries. 

“Thank you, Sweet Pickle,” Daddy said anyway.

Just when he thought he had it all figured out! Nettled creases appeared across the bridge of Leo’s nose, but he just said, “I are welcome,” because that was fank you’s little brother. (At least he thought it was.)

“Wait, Ollie,” Elio pulled his hand out of Ollie’s and rubbed his throbbing fingers. “You’re holding on with a vice grip. Either you’re angry or you’re turning into the Incredible Hulk.” He thought this would make his little brother laugh, but Ollie was just waiting patiently for Elio to give him his hand back. Once he had done so, Ollie said, “Maybe BOTH because that’s how the Hulk changes. He gets angry.” As every Avengers fan well knows. 

Elio raised an appraising eyebrow at him. “What’s bothering you, Lollipop?” 

Ollie looked up at his big brother with enormous green eyes. “I made the wrong decision,” he finally admitted. He was glancing around again, and everywhere his eyes landed, there was a carpet of purple flowers. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that, tucked around the edges of the lavender fields, were things Ollie hadn’t anticipated. There was live music in one area, a large group of people doing come-and-go yoga in another, rows of booths where artisans were making (and selling) nearly anything that could be made (and sold) of lavender– lotion, soap, candles, tea, wine, beer, cupcakes. There were even real artists painting lavender flowers, fields, and scenes on everything from faces to pillow cases. To make matters worse, tables were set up between the artisans’ booths for kids to try their hand at making a variety of cool crafts. And on the east end of the field lay the biggest problem of all. Tons of super duper amazing inflatables made just for jumping on! They wiggled and jiggled seductively in the distance like the Pied Piper. No kid worth his salt would be able to resist; and Ollie was worth his salt! His will was weak. It was an absolute nightmare! “I made a really bad decision, Elio. This place isn’t even one teeny tiny BIT of boring!” he groaned miserably. He squinted his eyes to try to squeeze away the start of a stress headache, so his eyes were smaller now. Leo made up for it though. The toddler’s eyes were at least double their usual size. 

“I jump!! I JUMP!!” The toddler was pointing frantically toward the bounce houses and other inflatables while demonstrating a series of impressive practice jumps.  

“No, Leo,” Ollie gasped. “That’s not even selfless.”

Leo either didn’t hear Ollie’s words, didn’t understand them, or didn’t care. He was pulling Papa’s other arm while pleading with him to, “Jump me! Jump me, Papa!” 

Elio was thankful that Oliver usually did the driving for their family because, somewhere on the way, he himself had apparently taken a wrong turn and had unexpectedly wound up in Dante’s Ninth Circle of Hell.  He was hot. He was carrying a heavy bag filled with accessories they didn’t even need over his shoulder. His small son was pulling his arm out of socket on one side, and his little brother was squeezing his other hand like a constrictor, all the while lamenting and woe-is-me-ing over the fact that the lavender run had family-friendly activities. AND WORSE, that Dill Pickle wanted to partake of the forbidden fruit. Elio didn’t even have a free hand to wipe away the droplets of sweat that would have been stinging his eyes if not for his sweatband. 

“Everyone, cool it.” From behind them came the calm, steady voice of reason that always kept everyone moving in the same direction —more or less. Everyone cooled it. Leo and Ollie turned around and waited for some directive to be given. Meanwhile, Elio used the hand Ollie had crushed to rub the shoulder Leo had pulled out of socket. “Did you all forget I was back here? I can only go so fast, you know.” 

Elio and Ollie both blanched, but Leo just popped his thumb into his mouth and waited to find out which of these lucky dogs would get to take him to the bounce houses.  

“Sorry,” Elio said. Oliver gave a slight head shake and smile to remind him that the mild admonishment was obviously not intended for him. 

“Want me to drive you on your knee scooter?” Ollie offered. “I’m super duper fast at knee scootering!” 

Oliver declined, but eventually they made it to the east end of the field. 

“Almost finished,” Elio promised as he slathered sunscreen onto Ollie’s puffed out cheeks and scrunched up nose– his little brother looked like an adorable puffer fish as far as he was concerned. The moment he capped the sunscreen, Ollie was whooshed away by the forceful gust of hot air that finally escaped his cheeks —transformed from puffer fish to cephalopod. 

Elio was still giggling at his little brother when Oliver took the sunscreen from him and squeezed some onto his own palm. Elio closed his eyes, scrunched his nose, and puffed out his cheeks. “Hold still, you little puffer fish,” Oliver said, swiping a white line of goo down the bridge of Elio’s freckled nose. 

As Elio in turn slathered Leo, Oliver noticed Ollie sitting sullenly in the grass. His legs were crossed, his elbow was on one leg, his cheek was resting so heavily on his fist that it was forcing one side of his face into a smile. The other side of Ollie’s face, though, was not smiling. Oliver scootered over to investigate. It took some work, but using his scooter for stability, he managed to lower himself onto the grass next to Ollie. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

Ollie’s eyebrows formed a deep vee. 

“You know what we always tell you. We can’t help if we don’t—”

“I’m a little bit of upset because this was my idea and it was just supposed to be a run and it was just supposed to be for YOU but instead there’s everything FUN here!” he complained. 

Oliver pressed his eyelid. Since becoming a parent, he’d had many bizarre conversations, but this one might just take the cake. “So you’re unhappy? Because it’s fun?” 

Ollie nodded. 

“Ollie only wants to do boring things,” Elio was walking over to them with Leo still yanking on his arm. 

“That’s FALSE!” Ollie crossed his arms and gave himself a tight squeeze. “I don’t want to do boring things!” 

Leo shook his head. “No fanks, borlng sings! Jump me!” 

“I only wanted us to do boring things for DADDY because he LOVES boring things!” Ollie was fully scowling now. 

Oliver blinked. “Well," he cleared his throat. "I do occasionally enjoy partaking in activities that aren’t boring,” he said at last. 

Ollie’s face softened a little. 

“And I always enjoy watching you and Leo having fun.” Oliver ruffled Ollie’s hair and let his hand linger heavily atop his favorite eight-year-old’s head. 

Ollie’s face softened the rest of the way. He twisted his neck and stared up at Oliver with a very serious expression on his face. “So you’re not disappointed?” 

Elio rolled his eyes hard, breathing out an exasperated, “Oh, good grief.” 

“I’m not disappointed,” Oliver promised. “I’ll even tell you a little secret.” 

Ollie wasn’t quite ready to smile, but he did lean in indulgently. Everyone likes secrets, after all. 

“One of the best parts of becoming a parent is finally getting to do all the fun kid stuff that I would feel silly doing by myself.” 

At last Ollie smiled. “You weren’t by yourself, though. You had Elio,” he pointed out. 

Oliver smiled up adoringly at his sweet husband, who was still holding a heavy bag and trying to keep Leo from running ahead of them. “Pfffft. Elio? That old thing?”

Ollie tossed his head back and giggled. 

“What?” Elio had been too distracted by his toddler to listen to the conversation, and now he wanted to know what was so funny.  

Ollie and Oliver beamed at each other. “Noooothing,” Ollie giggled. 

“I was just telling Ollie that you’d have to bounce on the inflatables with them since I have a broken ankle.” 

“Yesssssssssss.” Elio pumped his fist. 

“Yesssssssssss!” Leo and Ollie both squealed. 

“Guys?” Oliver said to their backs. “Wait up?” It took him a while to get up and get himself situated on his knee scooter, but he made up the time by zipping across the lawn with a speed that rivaled Ollie’s at the Tulip Festival. He caught up to them by the time they were pulling off their shoes. The line was short, so he had to talk fast to get out all of the safety rules before it was their turn. 

“And don’t lose your sweat bands!” he called, fishing out his phone to take pictures of his happy family. They were having so much fun, Oliver almost wondered whether they’d get to participate in the actual run. 

Ollie knew basically pretty much everything about races. He’d watched the Olympics on television. All the runners lined up, crouched down, and waited for the signal. He thought he was well-prepared for this event. But the Lavender Run? It was nothing like the Olympics. It was just a bunch of people crowded together, taking a few steps at a time while bumping into one another like a large herd of cattle. 

“When can we go? When can we go?” Ollie kept asking. He thought a flag would wave or a starting gun would sound, but in this sea of tall, noisy grown-ups, he wouldn't have been able to see or hear even if such a signal had happened. 

“We are going,” Elio laughed. 

Ollie looked down at his feet, which were just barely inching along. “It already started?” He trusted Elio, who knew basically pretty much everything. But he trusted himself, too, and what they were doing now? It wasn’t running. It wasn’t even walking. It was more like they were shuffling in place. He could practically hear moos. 

Elio dropped an arm around his shoulder and gave him a jostle. “The runners are in the front, Ollie. We’re back with all the—”

“Shufflers?” 

Elio gave him another jostle. “The non-runners. The people who are not worried about their time. The ones who are just here to support the cause.” 

“Support the cause?” Ollie asked. “What’s a cause?” 

Elio had to weave back through a few people to retrieve his toddler. The three-year-old might have looked like someone who should be at the front of the pack in his little running shoes and sweat bands. With his, “I do it by myself” sign pinned to his chest. But looks could be deceiving. “Sorry,” Elio muttered to everyone and no one as he pushed his way back to Ollie, pulling his small son along by the hand. Ollie took Leo’s other hand. Leo beamed from ear to ear, unaware that he was their captive.

“A cause is when you’re doing something charitable.” Elio could see that Ollie was about to ask him what charitable meant, so he continued. “Doing something for someone else. For someone or something besides yourself.” 

Ollie nodded. “Something selfless.” Like he’d been saying all along. 

As the ‘real runners’ began crossing the finish line, the crowd finally thinned enough for Elio and the boys to walk normally. Leo thought it was quite fun marching along between Papa and Lollie. Now and then he could raise his feet, and they would swing him. It was perhaps more fun than the inflatables had been! But as the crowd thinned even more, something very strange happened. 

Ollie let go of his hand and started running! Leo looked over his shoulder to find out what was chasing them, but all he saw was other people. And THEY were running, too. He couldn’t see what was chasing them. 

“Hold me!” He reached up with both hands, but his papa only smiled at him. 

“I can’t hold you right now, Sweet Pickle,” he said. “Come on, let’s catch up with Lollie! Let’s go!” He made the motions of running without actually running, hoping it would entice Leo. Leo was not the type of toddler to be easily enticed. 

“Hold me let’s go!” Leo said. 

“ELIO! Come on!!” Ollie had noticed that the rest of his family was falling behind. 

“I’m trying,” Elio said as people passed him on the left and right. 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks and trudged back over. “Leo, come on! It’s a run! We’re supposed to run!” 

Elio took Leo’s hand and gave it a gentle tug, but Leo dug in his heels. 

“You can do it, Dill,” Ollie said. 

“I not can do it!” Leo whined. 

Oliver watched helplessly from the sidelines as Elio hoisted Leo onto his back. “Elio, don’t hurt yourself,” he said. But of course Elio couldn't hear him. It was too noisy. 

The next few minutes were 100% selfless for all involved. Ollie watched miserably as one person after another ran past them as he ran circles around Elio and Leo. Elio was struggling with the weight of Leo on his back; the three-year-old seemed to grow heavier with every step. Leo was uncomfortable because Papa wouldn’t put him on his shoulders–his preferred way to be carried long distances– like Daddy would have done. And Oliver was probably the most miserable of all, watching Elio struggle with the weight of Leo and being unable to trot out onto the field to help him. 

Just when Elio didn’t think he could make it another step, a woman jogged over to him. “Excuse me! Sir?” she called. Elio stopped, relieved by the interruption. It would give him a moment to put Leo down. 

“Yes? Can I help you with something?” he asked. 

The woman looked confused and then laughed. “Actually, I thought I could help you. It looks like the fun run isn’t much fun for your little one.” 

Leo was crouched down, looking at a tiny cricket. “Thank you. I think he’s okay. Me, on the other hand?” Elio finished his sentence with a laugh. 

“I can take him for you, if you want,” she offered. 

Elio’s hand automatically came to rest on Leo’s head. The woman seemed nice and she was obviously one of the race organizers, but he wasn’t going to turn over his child to someone he didn’t know. 

“You’re almost at the finish line,” she said. “I can just put him on my cart there,” she nodded toward a small golf cart. “And meet you at the finish line? He can come, too,” she said, smiling at Ollie. 

Ollie shook his head. He was suddenly having a blast. His adrenaline had already kicked in and he was on a full runner’s high. The only thing he wasn’t too thrilled about was stopping for this discussion. “Daddy’s right there, Elio.” He pointed to Oliver, who had been scootering along the sidelines. Oliver waved the "Go Elio, Go Ollie, Go Leo" sign he was holding. (There was no question about who made the sign since the GO OLLIE was written in ginormous bubble letters.)

“There,” the woman sounded resolved. She held out her hand, and Leo took it. 

Elio and Ollie smiled at each other, each with a raised eyebrow. “Want to race?” Ollie asked. 

Elio pinched his chin, pretending to really give this some deep thought. Then, all at once, he said, “You’re on!” He dashed across the field with Ollie giggling behind him. He slowed down when he approached the finish line to let his little brother pass him. He almost regretted it when he heard Ollie's maniacal laughter. "Whoosh!" the little boy said as he zipped past him, holding both arms over his head in a V for victory! They'd have to have another sportsmanship discussion soon. 

Ollie glanced over his shoulder just to make sure that his big brother was noticing his big win, but something was wrong with Elio's face. He didn't look sad about losing. Nor did he look happy for Ollie for winning. He looked surprised. And then he gave a full body cringe. Ollie thought he might be about to run into something, so he whipped his head back around just in time to see the golf car bumping past him and over the finish line. Oliver was in the passenger side, his knee scooter was in the back. And in Oliver's lap was Leo, bouncing around so much that Oliver could barely keep his grip on him. 

"I DID IT!!" Leo squealed as Oliver let him out of the cart. "I DID IT! I WINNED!" 

Elio unloaded the knee scooter as fast as he could and pushed it over to Oliver, hoping to get to Ollie. In his mind he could already hear Ollie crying. Or complaining. Or declaring that Leo had cheated. He wasn't fast enough, though, because Oliver kissed him the minute he was out of the cart. "I love you," Oliver said. "Thank you for this day." 

Elio blushed and touched his lips. "I love you, too," he said. All around them were cheers and chaos as the last of the runners crossed the finish line and the live band's rendition of, "We Are the Champions" blared over the sound system. Oliver kissed his forehead. "I need to check on Ollie," Elio said. 

Oliver tilted his head. "I can see them both; they're fine." 

Elio looked like he'd gotten botox injections in his forehead. It was smooth, and tight, his eyebrows lifted. "Pfffftt. Well Ollie is a little bit of competitive," he said in a dead on impersonation of Ollie's voice. Oliver laughed and then pointed. Elio followed his gaze to see Ollie and Leo sharing a celebration dance. 

"I DID IT! I WINNED!" Leo said when the boys ran over a moment later. 

"Did you now?" Elio said, scooping up the toddler and winking at Ollie. 

Ollie tried his best to wink but it just looked like he had dust in his eye. "You did it ALLLLLL by yourself, Dill Pickle," the eight-year-old said. 

Elio decided that he might not have to have that sportsmanship discussion after all. 

Chapter Text

“Are you forgetting something?” Elio asked as he plopped down onto the sofa next to his little brother. 

Ollie shrugged without looking up from his book. 

“The dishes?” Elio prompted. "I asked you an hour ago." 

Ollie turned the page. 

Elio plucked the book from his hands and smiled wearily. “Come on, Ollie. It’s your turn to start the dishwasher.”

Ollie was staring longingly at his book, so Elio wedged it behind his back for safe keeping. “The dishwasher is full, Ollie. There are dishes in the sink and I can't even fit them in. It’s your turn to start it.” 

“I can’t,” Ollie calmly explained. 

“You can’t?” 

How does one answer affirmatively to a question that is posed in the negative? Ollie wasn’t sure whether he should nod his head or shake it, so he just repeated his previous explanation. “I can’t.” 

“Why can’t you?” Elio was perplexed. “We have detergent. In fact, I already put a pod in the dishwasher for you.”

Ollie took a deep, cleansing breath. Sometimes his older brother could be so taxing on the nerves. “I can’t because I’m on strike.” 

“You’re on strike?” 

The eight-year-old gave a ginormous nod, hoping that the movement would distract Elio as he inched his hand along the sofa cushion. If he could get close enough, he might be able to catch him off guard and take his book back. He was reading A Wrinkle in Time and he was just getting the part about the tesseract, and tesseracts are math. So it was basically school.

“Why are you on strike?” Elio wanted to know. 

Ollie walked his fingers toward his brother very, very slowly. “Because Mr. Slinger says that it is illegal to make kids have jobs. And I barely even get paid.” 

“Good grief. It’s not like we’re making you work 18 hour shifts in a factory. It’s pushing a button, Ollie.” Elio closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids. Ollie took the opportunity and plunged his hand behind his big brother’s back in an attempt to retrieve his book. Elio leaned back against the sofa to hold the book into place, which meant he was holding Ollie’s hand in place, too. 

“Let go,” Ollie complained. 

Elio held up both hands as if he were under arrest. “I can’t let go. I’m not holding anything,” he teased. Ollie tickled his brother’s ribs with the hand that wasn’t pinned between Elio's back and the sofa. It had the desired effect; Elio pulled into himself like a turtle into its shell. He hated to be tickled. Ollie grabbed his book and scampered over to the chair in front of the window. Take that! But he’d barely gotten seated when Elio chased after him with his tickle fingers wiggling. 

“You didn’t think I was going to let you get away with that, did you?” Elio said. Ollie was already laughing hysterically in anticipation despite himself, even before Elio reached him. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” 

But Elio ignored his pleas. And the worst part was, Elio was basically pretty much a sorcerer at tickling. When he tickled, even the boring body parts, like arms and legs, magically became ticklish. 

To Ollie, the next few seconds felt like minutes –if not hours. He kicked and screamed and laughed and cried, but he was really no match for his big brother. “I surrender!” he squawked. “I surrender!” That usually worked, and this time was no exception. Elio stood stiff-spined with his arms crossed, practically daring him to cross him. “Are you going to be good?” he asked. 

Ollie tried to frown but he was still dealing with some residual laughter. “Yes,” he promised. 

“And you’ll start the dishwash–”

“YES!” Ollie squealed with laughter. It was like his body still thought it was being tickled. 

Both brothers froze when they heard a familiar squeaking sound coming down the hallway. 

“Well now you’ve done it,” Elio whispered. 

Ollie’s green eyes were huge. “Nuh uh,” he whispered. “You did it,” he mouthed. The squeaking was louder as it grew nearer. The two smiled sheepishly in the direction of the squeaking sound, waiting for Oliver to roll into the room on his knee scooter. 

When he did, Ollie stayed as still as stone, but it was Elio’s turn to snicker. Oliver’s hair was flat on one side while sticking straight up in the back. He had lines pressed into cheek– from the creases in his pillowcase no doubt. 

“Sorry,” Elio said, sounding only slightly sorry. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ollie said, sounding slightly more remorseful. 

Oliver yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m glad you’re having fun, guys. But maybe you could go outside to roughhouse? Leo and I are napping.” 

“We’re finished,” Elio said. 

Leo toddled into the room with the same flat-but-sticking-up hair. The same creases on his face. The same droopy eyelids. He was nothing if not a thumb-sucking waist-high version of Oliver.

“No fanks, wake up,” he muttered. 

Elio stepped over and scooped up his young toddler, who laid his head heavily on his shoulder and seemed to melt into him. Elio rubbed his back. “I’m sorry, Sweet Pickle. Did mean ole Papa and Ollie wake you up?” 

Leo nodded.

Elio stretched onto his tippy toes and kissed Oliver. “Go back to bed. We’ll be quiet.” 

“Yeah,” Ollie agreed. “We’ll be super duper quiet.” 

Oliver said nothing. His face was blank and unreadable, even for Elio. 

“It’s just that Elio wouldn’t let me do my school work.” Ollie held up the book he had somehow kept in his grasp throughout the tickling torture he'd endured.  

“Pfffft,” Elio rolled his eyes. “We got that at the library last week, and you know it.” 

Ollie’s chin tipped to one side. “But it has math. AND science.” 

Elio looked up at Oliver, hoping he would intervene. He was to be disappointed, though, because Oliver just said, “The world is his classroom, Elio. Why are you attempting to thwart his education?” 

Elio set his heavy toddler back down.

“I asked him to start the dishwasher because it’s full. There are dishes in the sink that won’t even fit in there and I don’t want the kitchen to get messy.” This, Elio knew, was his Ace in the hole. 

Oliver was not a friend to messy kitchens. He turned a stern eye toward Ollie, who blinked a few times.

“That’s just because I’m on strike.” The eight-year-old hoped that would put an end to it, but Oliver crossed his arms. “Like Mr. Slinger said.” That would put an end to it, surely. Both Oliver and Elio thought anything a teacher said was law. But for some strange reason, this time Oliver didn’t seem impressed –though it was a bit difficult to take him too seriously with his hair sticking up like it was. “You know? A strike?” Maybe Oliver didn’t know about the Industrial Revolution or labor laws Ollie was studying in school. 

“He knows what a strike is, Ollie.” Elio was slightly defensive, but Ollie remained dubious. 

“Do you know what a strike is?” Ollie needed to hear it from Oliver. 

“I know what a strike is,” Oliver said. Leo was leaning heavily against his leg, still sleepy. “Do you know what three strikes you’re out means?” 

Leo yawned around his thumb and walked away, apparently tired of this nonsense. He didn’t know what any of this strike business meant. 

“You're on strike one,” Oliver said. 

Ollie frowned. 

Leo toddled back into the room and surveyed each family member. “I do it,” he said. “I wash a dishes by myself.” That’s when they noticed the quiet hum and slosh of the dishwasher doing its thing. 

Ollie’s smile was small and lopsided. 

“I guess since Leo did your job, he should get part of your allowance,” Elio said. 

“Excellent idea,” Oliver agreed, picking up his toddler and setting him on his knee scooter. “And with that settled, we’re going to finish our nap.” 

“I’ll join you,” Elio said with a smile. 

“I’ll join you, too!” Ollie said, galloping along in a naptime parade. “And about that allowance thing,” he said as they disappeared into the bedroom. “Did you ever hear of striking a deal?” 

“Strike that from the record,” Elio said. 

“Behave yourself and maybe you'll strike it lucky," Oliver said as the four climbed into bed and flopped around until they all four found a comfortable position, arms and legs tossed lazily over one another.   

Chapter Text

For the last fifteen minutes, the only sounds had been the rhythmic hum of tires over asphalt and Leo’s soft snores from the backseat. 

Finally a voice broke the silence. “Now remember. It might be a little scary. It will be a little noisy. And you might feel some pressure. You might feel it vibrate a bit. But it WON'T HURT... If anything, it will be like a little tickle.”

There was no reply.

“Just be very still. Be very brave. And when we are finished, maybe we’ll get ice cream.” 

There was still no reply. 

“Right, Elio?” Ollie prompted. 

“Right,” Elio said from the driver’s seat. He certainly wasn’t adverse to the idea of getting ice cream.

Ollie stretched his arm and with the tips of his fingers, he patted Oliver's tall shoulder. It was the best he could do while confined by his seatbelt. Thank goodness he was out of school for summer break and could accompany them on this momentous occasion because he, Ollie, was pretty much the family expert on the whole cast removal process, having broken his arm the year before. He still remembered in vivid detail the whole terrifying ordeal. There had been lots of crying--from Elio. Lots of whimpering--from himself. Some screaming--also from himself. But Oliver had held him in his lap, and Elio had held his hand. And in the end there had been lots of giggles because all of the drama had been for nothing. It hadn’t hurt at all! And he’d still gotten the promised ice cream, even though he hadn’t been brave,  per se. 

Oliver smiled at him over his shoulder. “Thanks, Ollie.” Then, to Elio, “I’m holding you to that ice cream deal.” 

“If you’re very brave,” Elio teased. In the rear-view mirror he saw Ollie’s wide eyes blinking hopefully at him; the eight-year-old loved ice cream. He gave his little brother a covert wink. The small, fox-like smile he received in return nearly melted his heart. The only thing Ollie loved more than ice cream was sharing a secret, especially with him. 

As Elio chased a cranky Leo across the waiting room of the orthopedist’s office, it occurred to Oliver yet again how exhausted his sweet husband must be. For the past several weeks, Elio had done the lion’s share of the child care responsibilities. He’d done almost all of the chores around the house. And the yard. He’d even managed to keep Oliver’s beloved garden alive. He’d cooked or fetched takeout every night after working all day. He’d done all of the driving. He chased the boys around on every outing. He’d done all of the roughhousing and wrestling. And he’d done all of this without complaint. He’d done all of it out of love. Still, Elio was weary to the bone, and it showed in his slumped shoulders as he led their toddler back over and collapsed into the chair next to his and began rubbing calming circles on their small child’s back.

Oliver always loved Elio, but sometimes the feeling swelled into something almost uncontainable. He rocked into the younger man ever-so-slightly, bumping their shoulders together. “I love you,” he whispered and watched Elio’s smile slowly appear like sunrise. 

“I love you, too,” Elio said. The surprise in his voice tugged at Oliver. He didn’t say those words as often as he probably should, but this was only because they showed their love so well in other ways. Their love was felt, shown, demonstrated, and proved over and again, so often that to put words to it seemed almost redundant. The smile on Elio’s face, though, made Oliver silently resolve to do better at telling Elio how much he loved him, even if he was just stating the obvious. 

“Oliver Kaine?” A nurse’s head appeared hesitantly around a partially opened door. 

Oliver made eye contact, smiled, and hopped onto his knee scooter with all the speed and agility he could muster, lest they change their mind about removing his cast. 

“Do you want us to wait here?” Elio asked.

Ollie gasped in horror at the same time that Oliver shook his head. “Of course not. Come back with me.” 

Once they were placed in an examination room, the small family settled in for another long wait. Elio held Leo –sleepy and bleary-eyed– on his lap and scanned the room for a Highlights magazine. Every doctor's office had a Highlights magazine, didn’t they? Leo began to whine. 

“Here, I’ll take him,” Oliver said as he tugged the squirmy, tearful youngster onto his own lap. “You’re sleepy, aren’t you, Sweet Pickle?” 

Leo frowned and shook his head with a wide yawn. Just then, the door was flung open with the air of confidence one would expect of an orthopedic surgeon. “My, my. You brought yourself an audience, Mr. Kaine.” The woman in the white overcoat and high ponytail was young; about the same age as Oliver himself. But she had already earned a reputation as being one of the most excellent doctors in her field. “Are you ready to get that cast off?” 

Oliver made a noise that was laughter drowning within a sigh of relief. “A little bit,” he admitted, passing Leo back to Elio. 

The doctor rolled across the small room on a stool and then pulled over a large, beige machine. She looked at Elio and raised an eyebrow. “And I’ll bet you are really ready for him to get this cast off?” 

Elio’s cheeks flushed as he lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I guess.”  

“Elio’s super DUPER ready,” Ollie giggled. 

Elio scrunched his nose and poked his brother in the tummy. “Stop telling my secrets.” 

Ollie flicked his tongue out. If he did it very quickly, he could get away with it without receiving a cool it look. 

On the surface, the doctor was engaging in a cordial conversation with the family, but actually she was already deeply involved in her work, carefully studying the cast from every angle. Finally she lifted the beige cutting tool from the upright device she’d pulled over. “Okay. This is going to sound like loud vacuum cleaner, okay?” She was looking at the two children, the smaller of whom didn't look like he was the mood to hear loud noises. 

“Check,” Ollie said with a nod. “I know everything about having casts taken off because I broke my arm before.” 

The doctor turned her attention to Leo. “Do you like the vacuum cleaner?” 

Leo thought this was a strange question. He had no particular affinity for vacuum cleaners. He would put them, along with coffee tables and salad forks, on the long list of things he could take or leave. He croaked out a raspy, “Check,” though, because it was what Ollie had said. 

“All right then. Here we go,” she said. She flipped a switch and the machine roared to life. Ollie leaned against Oliver and watched with round, unblinking eyes. He was very interested in seeing a cast removal from this vantage point. Leo, though, stiffened in Elio’s arms. 

When the doctor applied the tool to the fiberglass cast, the noise in the room intensified. In fact, it was so loud that it took a moment for them to hear Leo’s wails. When they did, the doctor turned off the machine and waited patiently. She’d take her lead from the parents. 

“It’s just loud, Pickle,” Ollie said. “It doesn’t hurt.” 

Oliver wiped a crocodile tear off of Leo’s cheek and then moved his gaze to Elio. “Why don’t you–”

“I’m just going to take him out,” Elio said at the same time. All three adults were visibly relieved by their shared agreement on this, but Ollie remained stoic. 

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” he said. “I’ll stay with you.” He took Oliver’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll stay with him, Elio.” 

Elio leaned down and kissed the top of Ollie’s head. “Thanks, Lollie,” he said before carrying the youngest family member out of the room. 

“It was a breeze,” Oliver said, licking the top scoop of his double scoop strawberry ice cream cone. “Especially since I had this one, looking out for me. He was very brave.” He bumped Ollie with his elbow. 

Ollie beamed and licked the chocolate ice cream that was dripping down his wrist. Elio cringed and flapped a napkin at him, but Ollie just giggled. 

“I are brave, too!” Leo interjected. He had ice cream dripping down both wrists, but he didn’t bother to lick it. He was too busy trying to lick the ice cream off the tip of his nose.

Ollie’s eyebrows danced around on his forehead, but before he could point out the fact that Leo hadn’t even been one single bit of brave, Elio gave him an almost imperceptible head shake.

“You were super duper brave,” Ollie lied.  Under his breath he added, “In the waiting room.” There. That probably wasn’t a lie.

Leo was thrilled to hear his bravery acknowledged. He leaped up from his seat and did a little happy dance. He was astonished when his sandaled foot was suddenly freezing. He looked to see a huge glob of partially melted vanilla ice cream on his foot. Where had that come from? He gave his foot a kick, splattering ice cream all over the place. When he looked up, he was astonished yet again because in his hand, he held an empty cone. His ice cream had vanished into thin air! “Where it go?” he asked. When no one answered him, he took matters into his own hands. “I find it!” he said before darting away.

Elio smiled and shook his head wearily. When he went to stand, though, Oliver put his hand over his caressed it softly with his thumb. 

“I’ve got him, honey,” he said and then hastily followed after his son. 

Elio sat back down, closed his eyes, and sighed, appreciating Oliver in the way he should have all along. Oliver returned a moment later carrying Leo, who was happily licking a strawberry ice cream cone. 

“Did Daddy give you his ice cream?” Elio asked with a smile. 

“I like it,” Leo said with a sticky grin. 

Elio and Oliver smiled at each other. 

“I love you,” they said at the exact same time. 

Elio held out his own ice cream cone, and Oliver licked it.

I love you, they said again, this time without words. 

Chapter Text

They did try not to play favorites, but if they were completely honest… sometimes it was impossible not to show at least some degree of partiality. Since they all lived squarely within the realm of academia, summer would always be the preferred season at the Perlman-Kaine home. Not even the relentless heatwave they were currently experiencing could change that.

After a busy school year in which everyone always seemed to be pulled in a thousand different directions, in which all comings and goings must be carefully orchestrated around deadlines and due dates, summer was the time when things slowed down. It was the season for beach getaways, trips to the pool, splashes in the lake, and days at the water park. It was the season for lemonade stands and stargazing. On the hottest days, it was the season for turning the living room into a blanket fort in which to tell stories or read books together.

The only bad thing about summer, as far as the family was concerned, was the speed with which it flew by. They had only one more big trip planned. Other than that, they would use these last glorious days of summer vacation to lounge around. Yes, whatever else, they fully intended to enjoy these final lazy days of summer. 

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon when those intentions melted away faster than Ollie’s favorite crayon —which Leo left on the back seat of Oliver’s car the day before— by a screaming blur tearing through the living room. Oliver was sitting on the end of the sofa. Elio was stretched out with his head on Oliver’s lap. Leo was lying on Elio’s stomach, dipping slothfully in and out of sleep. They only recognized the blur as Ollie when the screams slowed enough to be discernible as, “OH. MY. GOSH!!!” Followed by a long string of quieter Ohmygosh, Ohmygosh, Ohmygosh-es.  

“Calm down.” Elio said to no avail. The fact that he was laughing didn’t really help the situation. 

Oliver reached out a hand —the one that wasn’t playing with Elio’s hair— and lightly caught the eight-year-old’s wrist. “Woah. Take a breath.” 

Ollie nodded agreeably, pushed a few damp curls off his hot, red face, and took one, two, three very cooperative breaths before squealing one last time. “OH MY GOSH!!!!” 

Oliver pressed his twitching eyelid. “What do you have there?” he asked. 

This got everyone’s attention. Leo popped his head up and tried to focus his bleary eyes. Elio twisted his neck in some unholy way so that he was looking behind him. Oliver briefly wondered if everything was upside down for Elio, or whether his brain automatically righted the image. 

“I don’t know,” Ollie said, squeezing like a contortionist into the nonexistent space between Oliver and the arm of the sofa. “But it’s to ME.” He held out the envelope for their inspection, his fingers keeping a firm grasp on it. “It says OLLIE PERLMAN. See?” 

“I see,” Oliver agreed. Elio nodded that yes, he could see as well. 

“And I’m Ollie Perlman!” Ollie quivered like an overly excited chihuahua. 

“Why don’t you open it?” Oliver suggested. 

When Ollie hesitated, Elio reached for the envelope and was reprimanded in triplicate. 

“Geez,” he said, laughing and jerking his hand back. “Open it then. I’m dying from the suspense.” He sat up, swung his legs around, resting his bare feet on the coffee table, and situated Leo so that he was lying next to him.

Ollie opened the letter so slowly that Elio considered trying to take it again, but eventually a bright pink letter was revealed. Oliver held it so that they could all three read it.

“What?!” Elio gasped. “That can’t be right! That’s… That’s…” His eyes were enormous, the muscles of his jaw were twitching. “That’s LUDICROUS!” 

“Hmmmmmmm,” was all Oliver said. 

“Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!” Ollie hissed. 

“What are it?” Leo raised his head and reached for the paper, which Ollie snatched  from Oliver and held just out of his grasp. 

“It’s a invitation for a super duper fun WORK day at my school!” Ollie bragged. “And it’s for the whole family!!!!” 

“Hmmmmmmm,” Oliver said again. 

“Ludicrous,” Elio muttered under his breath. 

“No fanks,” Leo said, wrinkling his nose. 

Ollie didn’t seem to hear them. He was studying his super cool invitation. “I’m putting this on the fridge!” he said before jumping off the sofa and running out of the room. 

“Don’t they know it’s like a bazillion degrees outside?” Elio complained later that night as he and Oliver lay in bed. The air conditioner had been running all day and still they had to drag down large oscillating fans for each bedroom. 

Oliver smiled and kissed his forehead. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be a good memory for the boys, later on.” Elio snorted in reply, so Oliver tried again. “They scheduled it for early in the morning. So it shouldn’t be too hot yet.” 

Elio poked his lip out and scrunched his nose. After a moment he said, “And these are children. Don’t they realize these are children?” 

Oliver rested his hand on the bare skin of Elio’s side and gently kissed his pouting lips. “It’s not the kids I’m worried about,” he teased. 

Elio was too annoyed to recognize sarcasm. “Right!? Think of all the grandparents that are going to feel obligated to go out in this heat.” 

Oliver decided not to say anything more since he was inadvertently egging his husband on. Instead, he kissed his forehead again. Then his nose. Then his lips. “It will all be fine,” he whispered later, after Elio had grown heavy and loose in his arms and his breathing had transitioned into that steady, shallow rhythm of new sleep. 

“GET YOUR LEMONADE!! GET YOUR WATER!! GET YOUR ICE PACKS!!” Ollie yelled in his Newsies voice. He himself was already in the kitchen, haphazardly throwing said items into his insulated lunch box. “GET YOUR HATS! GET YOUR SUNGLASSES!” he screamed as he ran toward his room, dropping his lunchbox twice on the way. “GET YOUR–” 

His directives stopped abruptly when he ran into Oliver who was standing in the hallway— where he shouldn’t be because none of the items Ollie had mentioned could be found in the hallway. 

“Ooof,” Ollie said, tipping his head back and staring up at Oliver. 

“Are you all right?” 

Ollie nodded. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking down at his clothes and imagining how they would look splattered with paint. He gave a little nod of approval. They might look even better. 

“Yes,” Oliver said, smiling.  “But would you be disappointed if I took you?” 

Ollie’s head tilted to the side, clearly flummoxed.

“I mean, just me?” Oliver ruffled Ollie’s hair. 

Ollie tapped his chin. “You mean without Leo? And Elio?” That seemed a little mean. 

“Right,” Oliver said. “It might be fun. Just the two of us.” 

There was more chin-tapping from Ollie but finally he puffed out his cheeks and said, “If Elio’s okay with it.” 

“I guess I’m okay with it!” Elio yelled from his and Olver’s bedroom, where he was still lying in bed with a pillow over his head. “But you owe me one, Oliver!” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Shall we go?” he asked Ollie, whose answer was an emphatic head bob. 

“MR. SLINGER!” Ollie yelled as he bounced around on the sidewalk, waiting for slow-poke Oliver to catch up. Maybe they shouldn’t have walked after all. “MR. SLINGER! IT’S ME! OLLIE!!!” 

Mr. Slinger was planting seeds around one of the fence posts, but he looked up, waved, and yelled, “Hi, Ollie! Hi, Mr. Kaine!” 

It took about five years, but eventually Oliver managed to catch up, placing his palm on Ollie’s head, and guiding him toward the playground. “Hi, Mr. Slinger. How has your summer been?” he asked in his grown up voice, meaning, the voice he used with other grown ups that he didn’t know very well. 

“Oh, it’s been fine. Just fine,” Mr. Slinger said, patting the soil around the post. “Ready to get back to school though. What about you?” 

“We are too,” Oliver said. Ollie raised his eyebrows because this, technically speaking, was false. But since it was in his grown up voice, it was probably okay. Grown ups pretty much love to lie to each other, Ollie had noticed. “Sorry Elio and Leo couldn’t make it. Leo’s been a little cranky. We didn’t think it would do to let him get too hot.” 

FALSE again!

“No worries. We understand. We’re just glad you and Ollie were able to come.” 

“What do you want me to do first?” Ollie was already all business, eyes darting all over the playground. People were planting flowers, installing edging around different play areas, raking pea gravel. And finally, his gaze found what he was searching for. 

“Let’s see—” Mr. Slinger began. 

But Ollie was running away, calling over his shoulder, “Sorry, Mr. Slinger! They need help painting! Bye!” 

Oliver and Mr. Slinger watched him go and then smiled at each other. “I guess you’re painting then,” Mr. Slinger said  with a sigh. 

Oliver shrugged. “Unless you need some help with something,” he offered. By the wooden jungle gym, Ollie was all business again, standing with his hands on his hips, talking with an adult, nodding agreeably. “It looks like he’s got everything under control.” 

Mr. Slinger squinted and adjusted the brim of his sunhat. “Mr. Independent already,” he said. 

Oliver gave a loud chuff of laughter. “That’s nothing. You should see my three-year-old.” As if summoned, the blond little boy appeared at the crest of the hill leading down to the school. He was furiously pedaling his bright orange tricycle down the sidewalk with Elio running behind him, trying to keep up. When at last he reached the grass at the edge of the playground, he climbed carefully down from his trike and ran, helmet bobbing, toward Oliver. He was still too far to hear his words, but it was easy enough to read his lips: And I do alllllll allllllll ALLLLLLL by myself. 

“Speak of the devil,” Oliver laughed, holding out his hands for Leo, who grabbed them and began the great ascent, walking his feet up Oliver’s legs until Oliver managed to get a hold of him and hoist him onto his hip. 

“Hey, Sweet Pickle,” he gushed, kissing his cheek. Then lightly elbowing Elio who was now standing breathlessly beside him. “Leo talked you into it?” he asked. 

Elio smiled and shrugged. “You didn’t really think I was going to miss Work Day, did you?” 

“Of course not.” Oliver somehow managed to keep a straight face. “Your doppelgänger is already painting,” he added with a nod toward the jungle gym. 

After a friendly exchange with Mr. Slinger, Elio trotted over to his little brother, who was in deep concentration, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh my!” Elio said when he reached him. Ollie sprang to his feet, but Elio held him at arm’s length. “You are covered in paint, goofball!” 

Ollie giggled and looked down at his clothes, which were indeed splattered with paint. “That’s just because I’m doing this—“ he waved toward the jungle gym with the paintbrush he held, slinging green paint on the grass. 

Elio took the paintbrush, rolling his eyes. “Look at your Converses. Geez, kid!” Ollie laughed and clicked his heels together. “You couldn’t have worn your flip flops?!”

Ollie tossed his head back, giggling so hard his baseball cap fell off. “Then my feet would have paint on them! Silly!” 

Elio ruffled his sweaty hair and then held out the paintbrush. “Oh well. It’s too late now. Show me what to do.” He put Ollie’s hat back on for him and then looked toward the fence to see Oliver digging in the soil with Leo. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with gratitude. That he’d come after all. That he was here to share in this memory. There wasn’t much in life that he loved more than watching Oliver plant seeds. He picked up the paintbrush Ollie was holding out for him and began planting seeds of his own.

Oh my! Our amazing Elibabette has outdone herself!! Please check out her Instagram if you haven’t yet! 

Chapter Text

“Ollie!” Elio called as he marched purposefully toward his little brother’s room. “Your laundry is still in the—” But when he finally reached Ollie’s room, he burst out laughing. “What in the world are you doing?” 

Ollie was sitting on his bedroom floor with a look of deep concentration etched onto his features. He looked up from his task long enough to give his big brother a withering look. “I’m trying to pack, ELIO.” 

Elio cleared the last of his laughter from his throat and stepped over, ruffling Ollie’s hair before dropping down next to him. “I can see that much for myself,” he said as he opened the suitcase. 

Ollie literally face palmed. He hated it when his brother ‘helped’ him pack. Because Elio inevitably removed all of Ollie’s best and most important things, leaving only the boringest things, like underwear and socks. “No, no, no, no, infinity NO,” Ollie was shaking his head, eyes large, jaw set, stretching his entire body in an effort to close the suitcase before his brother could do any damage. “I need all of this stuff!” 

Elio held up a large plastic Etch-a-Sketch that had been Oliver’s when he was a child. “Really, Ollie? You need this?” Ollie bobbed his head up and down several times, making Elio snicker. “It barely even works,” Elio pointed out. Lines still appeared on the screen when the dials were turned, but they didn’t erase fully, making it nearly impossible to discern Ollie’s marks from the ones Oliver had made in his childhood. 

Ollie nodded adamantly. “Yeah. And barely means it works!” the eight-year-old insisted. “That’s what barely means, ELIO!” 

Oliver suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking dumbfounded. “I hope it’s not Elio that you’re speaking to like that,” he said. 

Ollie flapped innocent eyelashes at his brother hoping he would intercede on his behalf, but Elio only shrugged. Ollie scrunched his face. “He won’t even let me take this!” he complained, holding up the Etch-a-Sketch as if it were the tablet containing The Ten Commandments. “And it’s my hobby!” 

“You don’t need to take that,” Oliver said immediately. 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks. Kids need hobbies. As everyone well knows. 

“He need it!” Leo put in. “Lollie need it!” Elio might be unpredictable, but Dill could almost always be counted on to come to Ollie’s defense. 

When Elio suddenly groaned and rubbed his temples, the Etch-a-Sketch was forgotten. Ollie set it aside and leaned into his brother, patting his arm. Oliver walked up behind him and gently kneaded his shoulders. Leo supervised, sucking his thumb. 

“Are you all right?” Oliver asked after a moment. His sweet husband’s head had been bothering him all day. 

Elio nodded. 

“He’s better now.” Ollie said this with more confidence than he felt because of the power of positive thinking. “Sorry, Elio.” 

Elio smiled at him even though his head was still clearly hurting him. 

“He’s fine, Ollie,” Oliver said.

Ollie noticed that he was still rubbing Elio’s shoulders, so he must not think Elio was super duper fine. 

“Why don’t you go lie down, honey? The boys and I will go outside and work in the garden. I think the squash is ready.” 

“Yesssssssss,” Ollie whispered under his breath. He adored squash. 

“All right?” Oliver asked. He was still speaking to Elio, who nodded. 

“Maybe for a little while,” he agreed. “And Ollie, you still need to put away your laundry that is folded in the laundry room.” 

“Check,” Ollie said, giving his overstuffed suitcase some serious side-eye. 

“We’re only going to be gone for a week. Not even that,” Oliver said as he examined the squash plants to see which ones were ready to be “chosen” as Ollie liked to call it. “So you don’t really need to pack that much.” 

Ollie was crawling along in the dirt, picking the chosen ones that Oliver indicated. Leo supervised, toddling over the uneven ground while eating a sun-warmed tomato he’d picked himself. Leo had perfected his own method for eating tomatoes, which the family called the Sweet Pickle Tomato Eating Technique —patent pending. It involved chomping into the tomato as if it were an apple as juice squirted everywhere. All over his face. Down his arms. Down the front of his shirt. In his hair. It was glorious. Delicious, yet fun. “Dat one, Lollie!” the toddler said, pointing to one of the squash plants with his eyes. Ollie looked to Oliver for a second opinion. He nodded so Ollie plucked it from the vine and plopped it into the basket —even though they both knew it wasn’t really ready. Oh, the perks of being the baby of the family. Probably if Leo wanted to take the Etch-a-Sketch, they would find a way to make it happen. 

“Remind me to show you a new hobby when we go inside, Dill,” Ollie said casually. 

Oliver chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Nice try, kiddo,” he said. Ollie tried to frown but he started giggling instead. Oliver was basically a mind-reader. 

“Why didn’t the oyster share his pearl?” Ollie asked a little later as they used the water hose to rinse their feet. And legs. And hands. And, in some cases, faces. 

“I don’t know, why doesn’t the oyster share his pearl?” Oliver asked indulgently. Ollie was going through a joke-telling phase.

“Because he was shellfish. Get it? Shellfish?” Ollie burst into a raucous belly laugh. Leo and Oliver both started laughing too— more because of Ollie’s contagious giggles than his punchline.

With Ollie, it didn’t matter if anyone got it or not. He was the kind of kid who would not hesitate to laugh at his own jokes. Oliver hoped he’d always be so joyful. 

“You think Elio’s head feels better?” the little boy asked, suddenly somber once the laughter died down.

“He’s fine, Ollie. We told you that,” Oliver said, holding the hose so that Leo could get in a few bonus splashes. “He just got too hot, I think.” 

“But me and you and Leo didn’t get too hot,” Ollie pointed out. “And we were out here way more longer than Elio was.” 

“We weren’t outside in the hottest part of the day.”

Ollie nodded. “But we’re for sure going to Tanglewood?” 

Oliver turned off the water, winding the hose around a metal loop. “Definitely,” he said. 

“And Elio is for sure going to play piano?” Ollie asked. 

Oliver sighed. “Yes, Ollie.”  

“By himself? In a solo?” Ollie asked. 

Oliver narrowed his eyes very dramatically and held them that way until the corners of Ollie’s mouth began to quirk up. “That does it,” Oliver said. Ollie giggled as Oliver picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder, spinning around a few times while Leo hopped around in circles squealing, “Me too!” over and over again until Oliver somehow managed to scoop him up with his other arm. “You boys are going straight into the bath tub!” he declared as he returned them to the ground. 

Leo frowned and shook his head, holding out his dripping hand and arm, then grasping Oliver’s shorts for support as he similarly displayed his foot and leg. “I are clean!” he insisted. 

“No,” Oliver said. “You’re wet. There’s a difference.” 

“And you’re a teensy tinsy bit of muddy,” Ollie added. 

Oliver crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around Elio, who immediately rolled over and smiled at him. Oliver kissed his smiling lips and pushed the disheveled curls off of his face. “I wish you’d eat something,” he whispered. 

Elio shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” 

“What if I bring you something? You could it eat it in bed?” 

Elio raised an eyebrow. His lip curled up on one side. “Oliver Kaine, did you just offer to let me eat in bed? At night?” 

Oliver made a pfft sound. 

“Let me get this straight,” Elio teased. “You, Oliver Kaine, are agreeing to let me, Elio Perlman, get crumbs all over the sheets? At bedtime?” Breakfast in bed was a thing at the Perlan-Kaine household, but this was generally followed by changing the sheets. Oliver loved nothing more than fresh, clean sheets. (Nothing but Elio and the boys, of course.) 

“Fine. You talked me out of it,” Oliver said before kissing him again. Smoothing back his hair again. Pulling the covers up over his shoulder. 

“I’m okay, Oliver. I really am. I think I’m just…maybe a little nervous.” 

“Nervous?” 

Elio nodded shyly. 

“Not about Tanglewood?” Oliver couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. 

Elio shrugged with the bare shoulder that had escaped the neck of Oliver’s oversized T-shirt. It looked so pale and vulnerable, Oliver couldn’t resist placing a few soft kisses there, too. 

“You are nervous about your performance?” That couldn’t be right. That was about the most un-Elio-ish thing imaginable. 

Elio shimmied even closer to Oliver, closing his eyes as Oliver draped his arm over his side, slid his fingers beneath the back of his T-shirt, and traced light circles on his soft skin of his lower back until his breathing shallowed. 

Oliver kissed his forehead. His freckled nose. His soft, sweet lips. “You have nothing to worry about, honey. You’re a gifted pianist. You know that.” 

“I haven’t been playing enough,” Elio whispered. 

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but then he closed it again. Elio was right. He  hadn’t been playing as much as he used to. When he was in college, he had to play all the time as part of his studies. But now Elio spent his free time working on things for his teaching job. When had that happened? And how had he, Oliver, let that happen? How had he not even noticed? 

“I think maybe…” Elio’s voice trailed off, but Oliver prompted him to continue. “I think maybe I just shouldn’t go. It’s Tanglewood. The summer program is run by the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Oliver.” 

Oliver let his fingers skate along the curve of Elio’s lower back. “You’ve performed with them before. That’s why they invited you. They know how you play. They wouldn’t have invited you to perform at Tanglewood if you weren’t exactly what they wanted.”

“That was two years ago.” 

Images of an analog calendar flipping pages flickered on the insides of Oliver’s closed eyelids. Had it really been that long? Had they really changed that much? Had they gotten… off track? 

“Go to sleep, honey,” he whispered. But he knew by Elio’s breathing that he was already asleep. As for himself, he lay awake for a while longer, studying the beautiful man in his arms as the moonlight kissed them both goodnight. 

Ollie stood with his ear pressed firmly to the door of the study. Beneath him, Leo did the same.  

“Why don’t you go in?” Oliver asked as he walked by with a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie whispered. “Elio said he needs his ‘privacy’” He put air quotes around the last word. 

Oliver raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think that this,” he made a figure eight with his index finger, “is how privacy works.” 

Ollie blinked innocently. Oliver rolled his eyes and stepped over, pressing his ear to the door. 

“He sounds fantastic,” Oliver said. He was talking to himself, but Ollie nodded his agreement. After a long moment, Oliver cracked the door open to see Elio slumped over the piano, playing his heart out. Oliver’s own heart pounded in his chest. He loved to hear Elio play, but he loved watching him play even more. The music crescendoed and decrescendoed in intervals like ocean waves pounding against cliffs, leaving the three of them still and silent. Elio was something to behold when he played like this. 

“Can we come in?” Oliver finally asked at the end of a most opportune decrescendo al niente.   

Elio remained absolutely motionless; he was still playing the music that existed between the notes. He raised both hands, paused… And then placed his hands gently on his lap. He turned and smiled over his shoulder at them. “Of course,” he said, turning back around and running his fingers playfully up and down the keyboard. Ollie plopped down on the bench beside him, Leo scrambled into his lap with only a tiny boost, and Oliver stepped up behind him and… ruffled his hair.

Elio laughed and batted at his husband’s hand. “I’m not eight!” he playfully protested.

Ollie sat up a little straighter. “Fine. You can do it to me,” he said with an indulgent sigh. 

Oliver laughed and ruffled Ollie’s hair. “You’re taking one for the team,” he said. 

Leo leaned in and pointed to his head with the thumb he wasn’t sucking, so Oliver scrubbed his fingers through his blond hair as well. Then he placed his palm on Elio’s head, tipped it back, and kissed him. “You sound so good,” he said. 

“You really do,” Ollie agreed. 

Leo yawned around his thumb and said, “Good job, Papa. Good job, pinano.” 

Elio gave a slight shrug. “I guess,” he said. But Oliver could tell Elio was feeling better about his playing. He was relieved that the ding to Elio’s confidence seemed to be nothing a little practice couldn’t remedy. “Did you get your suitcase packed?” Elio asked, bumping Ollie with his elbow. 

Ollie gave one quick, emphatic nod. “CHECK!” he said. Elio narrowed his eyes and Ollie widened his. “I DID!” he insisted. “Daddy helped me!” 

“Okay,” Elio said. 

“And I finished packing for Leo,” Oliver said. 

“I do it by myself,” Leo mumbled. 

Ollie’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead as he silently mouthed, “THAT’S FALSE.” 

Elio just smiled. “I guess we’re ready for Tanglewood then,” he said. 

“We’re absolutely ready.” Oliver was using his most reassuring voice, but still Elio harbored just a flicker of doubt. 

Chapter Text

Ollie had been excited about the plane ride to the Berkshires, but shortly after takeoff he remembered that plane rides were a teensy tinsy bit of… boring. And this plane ride? It was especially problematic. (Problem A being that Elio and Leo were both asleep. Problem B being that Oliver insisted that he be super duper quiet because of Problem A.)  When Ollie rested his bored chin on the curve protruding beneath the window and pressed his nose against the glass, Oliver poked him. 

“There are germs on the window, Lollipop,” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly.  

The eight-year-old yawned and sat up in his seat. The window view was nothing but clouds anyway, and clouds were only interesting when Elio was awake to play what-shape-is-it with him. 

“Help me with my puzzle?” Oliver offered. Ollie leaned heavily into Oliver’s arm and stared at the boring newspaper with its smudgy print and its tiny boxes and its fancy words penciled in all over the place like the letters were playing a crazy game of hopscotch. Ollie’s eyes glazed over, but Oliver didn’t seem to notice. “I need an eight letter word for happy, starting with the letter e.” 

“Elio?” Ollie suggested. 

Oliver scrunched his nose at him and tapped the newspaper with the eraser end of his pencil. “There are so many things wrong with that guess, I don’t even know where to begin, Ollie.” 

Ollie grinned. “Elio DOES start with an E though,” Ollie pointed out. Always best to start with a positive, as everyone well knows. 

Oliver smiled. “True. Elio does start with an E.” 

Ollie tipped his head, feeling vindicated. “And Elio IS always mostly happy,” he pointed out. 

Oliver’s smile widened. “You win,” he said, penciling in ELIOELIO and raising an eyebrow at Ollie, who nodded his approval. Unable to continue his crossword puzzle for the time being, Oliver folded the newspaper and placed it in the seat pocket. “Do you want to listen to music or watch a video on my phone?” Oliver asked. “I brought the Air Pods.” 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks. He’d already listened to music and he didn’t like watching videos on tiny phone screens. “No thanks,” he said glumly. “Too bad I don’t have my hobby.” He gave a long, wistful sigh. 

When Oliver put his finger over his lips, Ollie wasn’t sure if it was because the sigh was too loud or because Oliver had a secret. His eight-year-old heart began to pound when Oliver slid Elio’s old Invicta backpack from beneath the seat and pulled out his old Etch-a-Sketch.

“Yesssssssssss,” Ollie whispered, giving a silent fist pump. Oliver covered his lips again and shook his head just slightly, handing over the device, which was way more funner than an iPad. The rest of the plane ride seemed to ‘fly by.’ Ollie giggled to himself. He would tell that joke to Elio when he woke up.

“We are at Little-ly?” Leo asked, blinking. The baby of the family was having a hard time waking up, and the only other time he’d woken up in an airport, they’d flown to Italy, so Oliver supposed it was a reasonable question for the three-year-old in his arms. 

“We’re in Massachusetts,” he explained, knowing he might as well have said Mars for all Leo knew.

“Mallachumis are at Little-ly?” Leo asked. 

Ollie giggled. “We’re still in the USA, Dill.” 

Leo poked his lip out. He loved Little-ly. 

“Elio!” Ollie said, crossly. “Wake up!” 

Elio opened his eyes and had to shorten a couple of his steps to avoid tripping over his little brother. “I’m awake, Ollie,” he said, also crossly. “Obviously.” They were walking through a busy airport. Not like he could not be awake.

“You keep walking on my heels though,” Ollie groused.

Oliver wanted to press the twitch out of his eyelid, but he had Leo in one arm and Ollie’s hand in his other hand. “Let Elio sleep,” he said to Ollie. He said it so often that it slipped out automatically. When Ollie’s mouth fell open he realized his mistake, cleared his throat and nudged Elio with his elbow, whispering, “Wake up, honey.” 

“WAKE UP, PAPA!!!” Leo helpfully screeched. Then, to make sure all bases were covered, he kicked his foot toward Ollie with a loud, “SSHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” There. That should do it. 

“Are we sleeping in a tent?” Ollie asked dubiously from the back seat of their rented Prius. All he had seen for miles were trees and hills, and Oliver loved sleeping outside among trees and hills –and mosquitoes.

“No,” Oliver said the word as if it were a retort; which it was.

Ollie rested his chin on the base of the window and stared at more trees. “A cabin then?” he guessed. Cabins were all right, he supposed. 

“Nope,” Oliver said. But, Ollie was out of guesses. 

“We’re staying in a cottage,” Elio said. His window was down halfway, the wind blowing his hair about. He looked rested and carefree in a way that lightened Oliver’s heart. Oliver reached for his hand. 

“Like the cheese?” Ollie wasn’t so sure about that. Cottage cheese was just okay at best. 

Elio snickered and reached back between the seat and the door, grasping at Ollie’s shoe, which he eventually managed to untie. “Not like cottage cheese, goofball.” 

Oliver flicked on his blinker and turned into a bumpy driveway. “That’s a cottage,” he said, nodding toward the small storybook house just ahead. 

When the car had stopped, Ollie clicked off his seatbelt and rested his chin on Elio’s shoulder, which Leo found very unfair indeed as he kicked his legs and splashed his arms about in his carseat. “We get to stay in that adorable little house?” Ollie asked. 

Elio nodded. 

“Why don’t they just call it a adorable little house?” Ollie wanted to know. “Why do they call it a cottage?” 

Oliver cleared his throat and began in his teacher voice, “Well, Ollie, you see. The word cottage —Medieval Latin cotagium — derives from the Old English word cot. Or cote. In other words hut. Also the Old French word cot, which, of course, is also hut, or cottage.” Ollie’s eyes were very large and brimming with boredom, but Oliver carried on, undeterred. “And also from the Old Norse kot as well.” 

Elio grinned and squeezed Oliver’s hand playfully. This did nothing but encourage him. “And it is even related to the Middle Low German kotten which, as you can probably deduce by now, means cottage. Or hut.” 

Ollie, in fact couldn’t deduce any such thing, but he knew better than to admit it. “Everything basically means hut,” he said, borrowing Oliver’s teacher voice. It seemed to work, because Oliver was out of the car, unfastening Leo from his carseat. 

“Tie your shoe, Ollie,” Elio said with a satisfied smile as he got out and shut the car door. Ollie tied his shoe, but not before sticking his tongue out at his brother, who did the same to him. 

“They could each have their own room,” Elio pointed out. He was lying, stretched out, on the made bed, listening to the squeals and giggles of two delighted little boys exploring the room they’d chosen. 

“They could have, but I guess they didn’t want to,” Oliver agreed, knowing they were thinking about the same thing —how sweet it was that their boys adored one another. 

“What are you doing?” Elio asked. The surprise in his voice in turn surprised Oliver, who paused and looked at him, a stack of folded shirts in his hands. 

“What do you mean, what am I doing?”   It should be fairly obvious, he thought. 

“You’re unpacking?” Elio said with a snicker. 

Oliver narrowed one eye. “Yes,” he said. He was waiting for Elio to explain what was funny, but the younger man only laughed again. “What?” Oliver asked, not entirely sure that he wanted to know. He put the shirts in the drawer, slid it closed, and traipsed over to the bed and plopped down next to Elio. “What are you giggling about?” he asked, tickling him. 

“You know most people don’t actually unpack when they are away from home?” Elio said with a raised eyebrow that seemed to dare anyone to question him on this. 

It was Oliver’s turn to laugh. “Of course they do. Good grief, honey,” Oliver laughed and kissed Elio. “You don’t expect me to live out of my suitcase for a week like some sort of animal. Do you?” 

Elio shrugged, and Oliver kissed him again. 

“That’s why they put furniture in these places. So people can unpack.” 

Elio was no longer laughing, but he was still smiling. Oliver liked kissing him when he was smiling and happy. “We’re going to be here almost a week,” Oliver whispered between kisses. “I’m unpacking. And so are you.” 

Elio started laughing again, hard enough to end their kiss. “That’s a level of adulting I simply don’t aspire to.”  

Oliver tickled him again. Kissed him again. “Don’t make me boss you around,” he teased. 

“Hmmmmm,” Elio said, kissing him like he might be okay with that. 

“What did the janitor say when he opened up the broom closet?” Ollie asked as he galloped around the small living room. This time, he didn’t wait for a reply before jumping straight to the punchline. “Supplies! Get it? SUPPLIES?” 

“I get it, goofball,” Elio said. He was sitting on the sofa with his legs tossed lazily over Oliver’s.

“What are we gonna do next?” Ollie asked, still galloping. 

Oliver knew his next words wouldn’t be well-received, so he tried to infuse some positive energy into them. “You, Leo, and I are going to find something to eat, and Elio is going to rehearsal.” 

Ollie sighed, forlorn. “Already?” he complained. 

Elio’s smile fell a little. “Ollie, we talked about this. You know I’m going to be very busy this week.” 

“But I thought that the busy-ness would start tomorrow,” he whined. 

Elio was visibly pained, but Oliver patted his knee in that reassuring way that made him feel like everything would be fine. “Sorry, Lollipop, but Elio’s busy-ness starts tonight. You’re stuck with me.” 

Ollie had crossed his arms and scrunched his face, but he wanted Elio to give a great performance. His big brother had been practicing around the clock; what was a few more days? And besides, by the way they were both looking at him now, it wasn’t up for debate. “Okay,” he said, the corners of his lips tipping up slightly. “I call sushi!!” He galloped out of the room before anyone could dispute him on this. Leo clomped out of the room after him in his own clumsy skip-hop. “Me, too! I call soosie, too!” he called as he chased Ollie down the hallway and into their room. 

In the sudden quiet, Oliver patted Elio’s thigh again and smiled at him. Elio returned the smile, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Leo’s almost got that gallop down.” 

“Meh,” Oliver said dismissively. “He’s three. He’s got a ways to go.” 

“He’s going to grow up,” Elio said. Oliver caressed his cheek. “And… my little brother is growing up, too.” 

With his thumb, Oliver traced a delicate line on Elio’s lower lip. “They’re just one day older than they were yesterday.” 

“And they’ll be another day older tomorrow,” Elio said almost before Oliver had finished his sentence. 

Oliver leaned in to kiss Elio, but the angle was awkward. He used a gentle finger on Elio’s chin, tipping his head until their lips were together. “If you spend too much time pining for yesterday, you might miss some really wonderful thing that’s happening right now, honey.” 

“Like Leo’s first gallops?” Elio whispered. 

“Like Leo’s first gallops. Like Ollie’s joke telling phase.” 

Elio laughed and rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind missing Ollie’s joke telling phase,” he said. 

Elibabette surprised me with this amazing art for this chapter!! It really warmed my heart!! Thank you, thank you! Please check out her Instagram! 

Chapter Text

“What’s a witch’s favorite subject in school?” Ollie chirped from the backseat. 

“No fanks,” Leo frowned and shook his head. He held up his palm as if he were directing traffic, but Ollie just kept going. 

“SPELLING!!” the eight-year-old cackled. “Get it? SPELLING?” 

Leo’s scowl deepened as he popped his thumb into his mouth and sucked. But Oliver laughed, so it was fine. Even though Elio had been busy with rehearsals and meetings and run throughs and special dinners, Ollie was still having fun in the Bershires. 

Oliver had taken them for a picnic at the lake. They’d visited the Norman Rockwell Museum, where Ollie and Leo had spent a giggle-filled afternoon posing in front of their favorite paintings, trying to recreate the image while Oliver laughed and took photographs to share with Elio. One of the highlights was their day trip to WAM Theater, where they enjoyed a wonderful performance of Rapunzel, after which Leo ran around the house with a towel over his head and trailing down his back as he yammered on about his “long hair.” 

“How did it go?” Oliver asked late one evening as he lounged on the sofa with an exhausted but deeply contented Elio in his arms.

“Amazing,” Elio sighed, smiling. 

Oliver squeezed him. “I told you so,” he said because he just couldn’t resist. 

“I know.” There was a dreamy quality to Elio’s voice that made Oliver sad somehow. This. This is what Elio should be doing. There was nothing wrong with teaching music at an elementary school. And Elio was great at it. But he didn’t come home like this in the evenings. Loose. Practically floating from the sheer joy he felt. Oliver thought he knew the feeling, at least somewhat. It was probably similar to the one he felt when delved into his research, published a new article that he knew was going to be meaningful to the world of academia. There was a kind of buzz or hum that resonated throughout every part of your life when you were doing what you knew you were born to do. And he could feel that hum coming off of Elio now. He squeezed him again and kissed the side of his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered into Elio’s hair. Elio smiled at him, pressing his lips to his, almost playfully.

“You’d better,” the younger man teased. 

“I want you to be happy,” Oliver said. He’d never meant anything more. 

Elio’s eyes narrowed slightly as he searched for the message between the words. “I am happy,” he said. “I couldn’t be more happy.” 

“I know,” Oliver said. There was more to say, but he was suddenly unsure what it was. “I know we’re happy. And so lucky. But–”

“But what?” Elio interrupted. He seemed almost insulted, so Oliver kissed him. 

“What would you say if I said we should stay here?” he asked. 

“Here? At Tanglewood?” Elio sat up and turned so that he was facing Oliver. 

Oliver shrugged. 

Elio groaned and rolled his eyes. “See?” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “This is the kind of nonsense that happens when you unpack!” 

Oliver laughed, but only because he felt obligated. 

“That’s why I don’t do it,” Elio continued. “You unpack and suddenly you never want to go home.” He’d been teasing, but his voice softened when he spoke again. “And we have a great home. And a great life.” 

“Of course we do. I know we do. But, Elio. There’s no way for you to pursue your musical career there. Not really. Not the way you should be.” 

Elio turned his head sharply, looking away. 

Oliver waited a long time for Elio to turn back around, but he didn’t. “Don’t be upset with me,” he murmured against Elio’s shoulder. “Don’t be upset with me for wanting you to have everything you deserve.” 

Elio shook his head wearily and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. “Deserve,” he sighed. “I hate that word. I already have more than anyone really deserves to have.” 

“Okay,” Oliver said. “Fine. I want you to have everything, period. Whether you deserve it or not. I’d give you the entire world if I could.” 

At last, Elio smiled. And after that? There wasn’t much left to say after that. And even if there had been, there seemed to be no words with which to say it. 

“I told you to get your jacket.” Oliver’s voice wasn’t sharp, but it was infused with a little more urgency than he usually employed. The big day had finally arrived, and Oliver and the boys would be there front and center. He couldn’t wait. 

“It’s hot, though,” Ollie pointed out. 

Oliver meant to explain that they were farther north and at a higher elevation than Ollie was used to. He meant to say that it was going to get chilly soon. But instead he felt a cool-it expression hijack his features. When Ollie opened his mouth to protest further, Oliver cut him off. “I think CHECK is the word you’re looking for?” 

Ollie giggled. He couldn’t help it. It was funny to hear Daddy say CHECK. “Oh all right. But Leo has to wear his jacket, too, if I do!” He nodded several times to emphasize the necessity of this. 

About that time, Leo came waddling over looking quite perplexed. He had been putting on his jacket, but once he got his arm in the sleeve, for reasons the three-year-old couldn't understand, there wasn’t a sleeve for his other arm. And to make matters worse, a random sleeve had sprung out on the far side of the jacket –nowhere near an arm!– and it was dragging along the floor, trying to trip him! He held both arms up in the universal appeal for assistance that any toddler parent could recognize. 

“You look like you could use some help,” Oliver said as he knelt down on the floor. 

“I do it by myself,” Leo said. 

“Almost,” Oliver said as he pulled the jacket off. “You just put your arm in the wrong sleeve. It goes this way.” He helped Leo into the jacket and zipped it for him, then he smiled up at Ollie. “You were saying? Something about Leo wearing his jacket?” 

“Check!” Ollie said as he galloped away to retrieve his jacket. 

By the time he parked the car, Oliver’s heart was racing. His palms were clammy. He felt like… Like he had that first summer in Italy when he met the person who was going to change everything for him, forever. And they’d never looked back, not really. Oliver had returned to the States. He didn’t have the means to stay in Italy, and he had things he had to wrap up, even if he’d wanted to stay. Leaving Elio that day at the train station had been one of the worst days of his life. His heart was so heavy he almost couldn’t breathe, and yet he’d had to be strong, for Elio. They were both so young then, so uncertain of what lay ahead. He still sometimes woke in the middle of the night, gasping for air, feeling Elio’s hand clutching the back of his shirt.
He’d known as the train pulled away from the station that the biggest part of heart was standing on the platform, watching him go. When he got home, he was busy. Defending his thesis. Defending himself. Defending his choices. It had taken until Hanukkah to get everything taken care of. Everything included mostly breaking hearts. He’d broken his girlfriend’s heart, of course. He hated himself for it at the time, but looking back he realized it was the kindest thing he could have done. He’d broken his parents’ hearts as well. They’d made that perfectly clear every chance they got. The worst, though, was knowing he’d broken Elio’s heart. He hadn’t called like he said he would. And he wouldn’t take Elio’s calls, either. He couldn’t, because he thought Elio deserved better than half-truths and vague promises that lay perpetually on the horizon. No. When he spoke to Elio, he didn’t want to waiver. He didn’t want to bring sadness and waiting and drama and tears. When he talked to Elio, he wanted to be able to say what Elio deserved to hear. And so he waited. He waited so long that as the phone rang, it occurred to him that it might be too late.  The moment he heard Elio’s voice though, he knew it wasn’t.

“Hi. How are you?”

“Good. I’m good.” 

“How are your parents?” 

“They’re fine. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too. Very much.” A pause. “I have some news.” 

“News?” A pause. “Oh. You’re getting married? I suppose?”

“I might be getting married.” A pause. “But can we start with dinner?”  

“What?” Elio had been confused. 

“Actually can we start with you picking me up? I’m at the train station.” 

And just like that, everything changed from what could be to what was. He thought they would have to work out the logistics of a long distance relationship. Elio had only turned 18 the month before. But when he’d brought it up that night in bed, Elio had scoffed at the idea. “I’m going with you,” he had said. 

Oliver thought that either Elio or himself had misunderstood something, but he didn’t know which of them it was. “You’re what?” 

“When you leave,” Elio whispered. They were lying naked in the same bed where they’d first made love not so long before, back when he was someone else entirely. 

“I’m going with you,” Elio said in that almost obstinate tone he used when he thought he might not get his way.  

Oliver had kissed his forehead. “But what about—”

Elio had pinched his lips together so that he couldn’t finish his sentence. “Home is wherever you are.” 

And as Elio was someone who was accustomed to getting his way, that was exactly what happened. Years passed. Life happened. Children came. And now, as he walked across the lawn with his arms and heart filled to overflowing, he couldn’t help but wonder if he'd made the right choices for Elio.  

“Right, Daddy?” Ollie’s voice pulled Oliver from his thoughts. 

Oliver squeezed the small hand he held and smiled down at the little boy who’d become the center of their world without even trying. “I’m sorry. What, Ollie?” 

“I said Elio is happy. About performing. Right?” 

Oliver nodded. “Very happy,” he said, stopping and setting Leo down. “Think this is a good spot?” 

Leo studied Ollie and only after the eight-year-old nodded did Leo nod as well. 

“I think it’s a super DUPER good spot!” Ollie squeaked, bouncing a few times while Oliver shrugged out of his backpack, removed its contents and began spreading a blanket on the ground. 

“I think so, too,” Oliver said. They were front and center, exactly where they should be. 

Chapter Text

“I think Young Bach is getting more lemonade in his mouth than you are, Dill Pickle,” Ollie said with a giggle, nodding toward the T-shirt Oliver had had made for the toddler just for this occasion. It featured an imagined version of Bach as a child, replete with the somber expression and powdered wig. Beneath that were the words Young Bach. And Ollie was correct. Young Bach was absolutely drenched with all of the lemonade that had dribbled down Leo’s chin in the last few minutes. 

Leo looked down at his shirt, patted his wet belly, and beamed proudly. “He like it!” he said. “He like a lemidade!” 

Oliver somehow managed to grab the cup just before Leo poured the rest of its contents onto his stomach. “I didn’t pay for Young Bach to have a lemonade, Sweet Pickle,” he said, looking around for some stable place to set the cup. They were sitting on a lumpy quilt spread upon a grassy slope, so the options were extremely limited. He decided to hold the cup, which contained a few more sips of what could only be liquid gold for the price he’d paid for it. 

Ollie chugged the last few sips of his own lemonade and then smiled proudly down at his own shirt —which said simply He dedicated it to me!— to find that it didn’t have a drop of lemonade on it. (Fine. Maybe just one drop.) He glanced around for a trash can and poked his lip out when Oliver reached for his empty cup. “There’s a trash can right over there,” Ollie said, pointing. Oliver squinted and indeed, in the distance, there was a trash can. But the venue was already bustling with excited visitors and he didn’t want Ollie wandering off by himself. Especially not this close to start time. 

They’d waited for over an hour by this point. It hadn’t been too bad; they’d filled that hour with Etch-a-Sketch creations, coloring book art, crossword puzzles, snacks, and a fiercely competitive game of Go Fish. It had been a fun hour, but an hour was still an hour nonetheless. Soon, though, the wait would be over. Oliver had already taken the boys on one last snack, drink, and restroom break and had made clear the fact that from this point forward, no one was going anywhere until after Elio’s performance. It had been over two years since Oliver had seen him perform for an audience, and he would not miss a single moment of it. Not for his life. 

“I don’t care if there’s a trash can over there, Lollipop,” he said, stacking Leo’s cup into Ollie’s empty one. “I already told you, no one is leaving this blanket until after Elio’s performance.” 

Ollie grinned. “Check!” he said. “I can’t wait to see Elio!” The pitch of his voice climbed incrementally higher with each word until the last one was more like a squeak than a word. He bounced excitedly where he sat, fists balled beneath his chin.

The mention of Papa’s name got Leo’s attention. The toddler craned his neck, stretching so much it added a good inch to his height. “I not can see Papa!” he said. While Ollie had not been actively happy with Elio’s nearly constant absence, Leo had been at times downright distraught over it. The three-year-old didn’t understand things like important performances. He didn’t care about special opportunities. All he knew was that he usually saw Papa for hours each day, and now he saw him only in passing. 

Oliver offered him his lemonade as a distraction, but Leo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. He would not be so easily placated. “I not can see Papa,” he whined. 

“Soon,” Oliver promised, drinking the last few sips of Leo’s lemonade to free his hands so he could pull his youngest onto his lap. “Papa will be on soon.” 

“Want me to take him for popcorn?” Ollie offered, eyes once more searching the surrounding grounds. He’d seen other people eating popcorn, so they must sell it. 

Oliver shook his head. “No. No one is leaving this blanket until after we see Elio's performance. Remember?” 

Ollie nodded. 

“Why don’t you just color another picture?” Oliver suggested to his young son. “And by the time you finish it, you will see Papa. Okay?” 

Leo’s teeth appeared behind his curved lips. He slid off of Oliver’s lap and crawled over to the corner of the blanket, which he’d set up as his art studio. Oliver watched him as he lay on his tummy, furiously scribbling a blue face onto one of the seven dwarves. With any luck, that would keep him busy for these last few minutes. 

Ollie scooted close and looped his small arm through and around Oliver’s, letting out a contented sigh. Oliver placed his hand over Ollie’s and sighed in agreement. The setting sun was painting the sky one hundred shades of pink and purple. A breeze was gently pushing their hair off their faces. When Oliver gazed down at Ollie’s adorable, freckled face, his heart filled with that strange feeling that occasionally came over him on those occasions when, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, an ordinary moment morphed into something extraordinary and he could actually feel a shared core memory take root. “Are you excited?” he asked. 

Ollie smiled adoringly up at him but he didn’t get to answer because the noise of the crowd swelled as a few people scurried onto the stage like little mice, making their last minute checks and everyone rushed to finish their conversations. A hush fell over the crowd when they scampered off the stage again. 

This was it. It was time. Oliver kissed the top of Ollie’s head and then reached for Leo. 

“Leo?” he said, temporarily unable to process what he was seeing. Or not seeing, as the case may be. “Leo?” 

All at once, Oliver realized that the gentle breeze had turned to a lashing wind. The sun had sunk away. The temperature had dropped. “LEO?” 

“Where’s Leo, Daddy?” Ollie asked, panic already creeping in his voice. 

Oliver swallowed hard, but he managed a smile for Ollie. He pulled Ollie’s hood up and held it there. “Ollie, it’s okay. I will go get him. Can you stay right here for me?” 

Ollie nodded. 

“Stay right here, in case he comes back. Promise me.” 

Ollie nodded again. Oliver squeezed the edges of his hood before letting go and smiling. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” 

Oliver wasn’t as much breathing the cold air as swallowing it. The crowds of people who had been wandering about a moment ago had all taken their seats, staring at the stage, waiting for the performance of the gifted, unknown pianist everyone had been buzzing about since a few of them had heard him in rehearsals. But Oliver didn’t have time to be proud of him; he didn’t have time to feel upset about missing his performance. His mind was focused on one thing only, and that thing was three feet tall with blonde hair and a penchant for thumb sucking. 

“Leo!” he yelled. “LEO!” Ordinarily, the child would be swallowed by a crowd this size. But with everyone seated on blankets, Oliver could see over the crowd. He was certain he would spot his young son teetering about among this still, quiet crowd. “LEO!” 

When he reached the edge of the crowd, someone stopped him. 

“Sir, can I help you with something?” the woman asked. 

“Have you seen a little boy? About this tall,” Oliver held out a hand. “He has blonde hair, Looks kind of like me?” The blank look she gave him tied his stomach in knots. “He’s wearing a Young Bach shirt?” 

“Young Bach?” 

The woman looked confused, but he didn't have time to explain. And besides, how many misplaced children could there be? 

“Sir, the performance is about to begin,” she said. 

Oliver’s heart sank. He was going to miss Elio’s performance after all. Just then, he caught sight of the back of a small, blond toddler skip-hop-galloping along the sidewalk ahead. “Never mind,” he said to the woman, running toward his little boy. It didn’t take long to catch up to him. He scooped up a startled Leo and squeezed him tight. “Leo!” he said, kissing his cheek. “What have we told you about wandering off?” He squeezed him even tighter. 

“I find him!” Leo chimed. “I find Papa!” 

“You what?” Oliver asked, following his gaze. 

“I find Papa!” Leo said, sounding extremely pleased with himself. “I find him! PAPA!! PAPA!!” 

Just ahead was a man about Elio’s size. He had brown, wavy hair. He even had Elio’s slouchy, carefree way of moving. It was easy to understand how Leo would mistake him for Elio, especially since they’d told him he would see Papa soon. 

“PAPA!!!!” Leo screeched. When at last the man turned so they could see his face, Leo wore the same expression he had when the sleeves on his jacket started moving around. Sometimes the world made no sense.  

A few concert goers nearby were tossing displeased looks in their direction, and Oliver really couldn’t blame them. This wasn’t your typical concert-in-the-park. This was Tanglewood. This was the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he turned and practically flew back toward their blanket, front and center, where Ollie waited for them. 

He ran so fast, Leo didn’t have time to complain about his capture. Once he’d made it to the front, he had to weave his way in front of the other concert-goers, muttering more apologies along the way. Finally he plopped down next to Ollie, who slid over, leaned into him, and wrapped an arm around Leo. 

“You scared us, Dill Pickle,” he said. 

Leo shook his head disagreeably. “I not are scare you!” 

“Uh huh,” Ollie said with a nod. But that’s all he had time to say before Elio slunk onto the stage looking carefree and confident. He sat on the piano bench and stared at the keys. Time stopped when he raised his hands and let them hover, frozen, over the keys. Oliver held his breath and savored the silence that wasn’t really silence at all. Because he knew Elio as intimately as he did, he heard something that others could not. He heard the music between the notes, and it was beautiful. I’m happy. I love you.

Whatever regrets Oliver had been feeling seemed to have vanished with the sun, leaving in their place promises as infinite as the stars above them, each star another sun itself. 

He rested his chin on Leo’s fluffy head and breathed in the scent of him. He wrapped an arm around the little boy who was leaning into him and squeezed him tightly. He was suddenly, keenly aware that on that stage, and in his lap, and in his arms, were all the things that mattered. As if in reply, Elio’s hands at last fell onto the keys and music swept away the silence. Elio played in the manner Oliver loved, with his whole body, his whole heart, as if all the world were music. 

There was a moment then, when Oliver thought he saw Elio turn his head ever so slightly toward them. And in that moment, as the night breeze kissed his cheek, he knew that if they were given the opportunity to live 100 different lifetimes in 100 different ways, they would choose exactly this same life —exactly this same way— 100 times, forever.

Oh my goodness I CANNOT handle this level of tenderness. I love you, Elibabette!!

Chapter Text

“Elio.”

There was no answer.

“ELIO.”

There was still no answer. 

“ELIO!”

He waited as long as he could; he really did. But sometimes as long as he could wasn’t all that long. 

“ELLLIIOOOOOOOO!!!!!” 

That did the trick. Elio bolted upright and looked frantically around the room. The elder brother thought he’d gone blind until he realized his eyes were still closed. He managed to lift his eyelids eventually and was not surprised by what he saw. A younger, smaller, more adorable version of himself sitting criss cross next to him on the bed, blinking innocently, practically daring him to be upset with him. 

“What, Ollie?” he asked while yawning and rubbing his eyes.

Ollie’s eyebrows were raised — as was a single finger, which he held in a wait a minute gesture. “Do not panic.” 

Elio shook his head, trying to wake up. “I told you not to lead with that anymore.” He sounded less grumpy than he felt and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. 

“You also told me not to wake you up any more,” Ollie pointed out. 

Elio’s nostrils flared for only a moment before he grabbed his little brother and flopped back against his pillow, pulling Ollie with him and holding him tight. 

Ollie giggled and wiggled and snorted and kicked and yelled and flung himself about, but there was really nothing he could do when Elio got it in his head to show off about being bigger. The small-for-his-age eight-year-old had learned that the only way to put an end to this particularly unpleasant brotherly interaction —which he was not allowed to do to Dill, he’d learned the hard way— was to lie very still in complete submission. It didn’t take long for Elio’s arms to relax around him, but Ollie didn’t scurry away like he thought he would. It was nice, snuggling with Elio in the morning (when he wasn’t pretending to be a boa constrictor). 

“Now,” Elio said, smiling. “Do you want to tell me what I am not panicking over?” 

Ollie nodded his head, which was lying on Oliver’s cold pillow. 

“I think Daddy forgot what today is,” Ollie whispered. “And someone is going to have to break it to him.” 

Elio just smiled, which confused Ollie. He decided to add further clarification. “And I call NOT IT about doing it.” 

“NOT IT, too,” Leo said around his thumb as he ran across the room and stood, waiting patiently to be lifted onto the bed all by himself. There was a lot about the world that Leo hadn’t figured out yet, but one thing he did know was that when one person said NOT IT, everyone else had a race to say it also. And in this case, he’d won. He briefly hoped for a prize of some sort –preferably candy– but none was forthcoming. Papa did tug him onto the bed for morning cuddles, though, so that was just as good. 

“Now,” Elio said, almost alert enough by this point to deal with the extreme misfortune of being awake. “What are you not it about again?” 

Ollie’s chest puffed up like a bullfrog and then very slowly deflated as he pulled forth the inner strength of his saint-like patience. “As I already said,” he began, taking another deep breath. “I think Daddy forgot what today is and YOU are going to have to go break it to him.” 

“Break what to me?” Oliver asked from the doorway. 

Ollie blinked and waited for Elio to deliver the news, but nothing happened. He cleared his throat and said with a ventriloquist’s smile, ”I already called not it.” 

Oliver was far more concerned about this than Elio was. He’d been leaning casually against the door jamb, but now he stood a little straighter and crossed his arms. “What’s going on?” 

Elio shrugged sleepily. “I have no clue, ask him.” 

Ollie closed his eyes and grumbled something under his breath. 

“Ask poor, long-suffering, Ollie,” Elio said with a snicker. 

Ollie sat up and sighed again. “I called not it,” he whined. 

“NOT IT,” Leo echoed immediately. 

Elio just shrugged. 

“Would someone —I don't care who— just tell me what the problem is?” Oliver’s face was only one notch below his cool-it face, so Ollie waved an arm toward the doorway.

“The problem is that I smell WAFFLES.”  There. He’d said it. He waited for Oliver to faint or something, but he didn’t. “WAFFLES!” Ollie said again, flapping his eyelashes.  

No one said anything for a moment, but finally Oliver shook his head slightly. “Well if you don’t want a waffle, you’re welcome to have a bowl of cereal, Lollipop. I’m sure Olive would happily eat yours.” 

Leo was sitting up now, too, shaking his head. He took his thumb out of his mouth long enough to say, “I eat it! I eat Lollie floffle!” He spoke with such urgency that Oliver half-expected him to follow up with, “I volunteer as tribute!” 

Ollie sighed again, but Elio crawled out of bed and slid into yesterday’s clothes, which were still puddled on the floor beside the bed. “You’re being really weird today, Ollie. I don’t know what’s wrong, but Leo and I are going to go eat waffles.” 

Ollie scrambled out of bed at warp speed, galloping hastily past both Elio and Leo. “No one can eat my waffle!” he said. “It’s just that DADDY only makes waffles on the weekend and in the summertime!" The as everyone well knows, went without saying. "So that means he FORGOT about today.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes and pulled Ollie into a side-hug-with-jostle. 

“I didn’t forget, Lollie.” He squeezed him almost as hard as Elio had, but for some reason, it wasn’t annoying when Oliver did it. “I just wanted to make waffles to celebrate our first day back at work and school.” 

“Oooohhhhhh.” The relief in Ollie’s voice would be impossible to miss. 

“Ooooohhhhhhhh, too!” Leo said (just in case it worked the same as Not It.) 

“Oooohhhhhhhhh,” Elio whined, looking down at his wrinkled T-shirt and holey jeans. “Ooohhhhhhhh, nooooooo.” 

Ollie looked at Elio, then at Oliver, and back to Elio again. “You have to change into real clothes,” the little boy said. For some reason, it was easier breaking bad news to his big brother. 

Elio rubbed his eyes and whined wordlessly. 

“It looks like I’m not the one who forgot what today was,” Oliver said to Ollie, finally releasing him and ruffling his hair. “Go pack your lunch and set the table. I’ll help Elio get ready and then we'll be there to eat.” 

“CHECK!” Ollie said, galloping out the bedroom and toward the kitchen with Leo hopping along behind him. 

Alone at last, Oliver closed the door, stepped over, and cupped Elio’s face with both hands before kissing him. “How could you forget something we’ve spent all week getting ready for, honey?” he asked with a smile. 

“I didn’t forget." Elio's cheeks were suddenly warm, and he knew he was blushing. " I just didn’t actively remember.” 

Oliver loved the way Elio looked when he blushed, so he kissed him again, very tenderly. “I think that’s the same thing as forgetting.” He helped Elio out of his T-shirt. 

“Well. Ollie came in, waking me up out of a deep sleep,” Elio complained. 

“Hmmm. That does sound... Very... Jarring,” Oliver commiserated between kisses. His voice was little more than a breath as he dropped Elio’s shirt and then began unfastening his pants. “But you still forgot.” 

Chapter Text

He clicked the button, but the garage door remained motionless –tall and stoic, just to the left of a taunt. He didn’t trust tall people. He didn’t trust tall things either. He frowned, tapped the gadget against his palm a few times, tried again, and got the same result. If he were a superstitious person, he might have thought it was a bad omen. But Oliver, being Oliver, simply thought it was a normal day, albeit with a garage door opener in need of a battery.

As he approached the front door and was greeted with the smell of smoke, bad omens were still the furthest thing from his mind. Elio, being Elio, had probably burned something –it was a day ending in y, after all. And sure. There were also the sounds of squealing. And something layered beneath the squealing that could have been either laughter or sobs, but there was still Ollie being Ollie and Leo being Leo to keep in mind.  

It wasn’t until he found the front door not only unlocked (an old pet peeve of his) but also ajar (a newly born pet peeve), that Oliver started to worry. 

“Elio?” he called as he pushed the door open. “Boys?” He took a step inside. “You didn’t even close the door?!” He was already trying to think of an appropriate response to such an egregious oversight.

When Elio stepped through the arch that divided the living area from the eat-in kitchen, looking ravishing wearing an apron and a sheepish grin, Oliver almost forgot about the smoke. He might have forgotten it entirely if not for the coughing.  

“Good grief, honey,” he said, turning to open a window. 

“Sorry.” Elio blushed when he said it. 

The man was irresistible when he was shy and blushing. Oliver raised another window before walking over and wrapping his arms around Elio. “It’s all right.” And it was. He thought he felt Elio nod against his shoulder. “I’ll finish cooking dinner,” he whispered into Elio’s hair.  His sweet husband tensed slightly in his arms and Oliver slowly closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What did you do?” he asked, laughing. 

“Nothing,” Elio said a little too casually. “But you don’t have to do that because I didn’t actually cook anything.”  Oliver waited for the rest of it. It was a short wait. “We were all exhausted from our first day of school, so I just picked up a pizza.” 

Oliver kissed the top of his head and silently counted to three again. He almost hated to ask the next question. 

“If you picked up a pizza, then why is the house filled with smoke?” 

“Um…About that.” Elio looked up at him and smiled, and Oliver couldn’t even pretend to be bothered. He just laughed and raised an inquisitive do-go-on eyebrow.

So Elio went on. “I didn’t want the pizza to get cold. To warm it, you just put it in the oven at 350. It said so right there on the box.” 

Oliver tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t. In fact, trying made it worse. He burst out laughing. “You burned a restaurant pizza? You’re burning restaurant pizzas now??” 

Elio frowned. “No,” he retorted. “I didn’t burn the restaurant pizza.” His frown deepened before he added a sullen, “Thank you very much.” 

Oliver tried unsuccessfully to blink the twitch out of his eyelid. “So, you didn’t burn the pizza?” 

Elio shook his head and coughed. 

Oliver released Elio so he could press his irksome eyelid. 

“Elio didn’t burn the pizza,” Ollie gleefully reported as he galloped into the room. “He just a teensy tinesy bit of burned the BOX.” 

Oliver rubbed his eyelid roughly with the palm of his hand. “You burned... The box?”  

Elio raised one shoulder almost imperceptibly. 

Oliver kissed his forehead. “You burned the box?” He couldn’t make sense of it. ”Dare I ask how?”

Elio’s eyes narrowed. His eyebrows lowered. “Well the directions said to warm on 350! There was absolutely nothing about taking the pizza out of the box!!” 

Oliver hugged him again. Kissed his pouting lips. “Well. It’s not your fault, then. Clearly they need to rewrite the instructions.”

Elio nodded slightly. 

“But the pizza isn’t burned,” Ollie reminded them with a nod. “If Elio hadn’t left it in the box, the pizza would be burned. So it all worked out.” The eight-year-old couldn’t get over how unbelievably lucky they were, time and again. 

“That’s the silver lining,” Oliver agreed, kissing Elio again. He was happy to see Elio smiling, and to see Ollie beaming up at the two of them. There was one smile he hadn’t seen yet, however. “Where’s Leo?” 

The way Elio and Ollie looked at one another made Oliver’s eyelid twitch again. “Just tell me.” 

“Leo’s asleep,” Ollie said.

That didn’t sound too bad. Oliver looked at Elio to see if there was more.

“The first day of preschool is not for the faint of heart, apparently,” Elio said. 

When Oliver looked quizzically toward the hallway, Ollie piped up. “Don’t do it, Daddy!": He chased after Oliver, loudly whispering advice. “Let sleeping toddlers lie.”  

Oliver took a breath. “Toddlers have to eat dinner.” 

Neither Perlman brother had anything to say about this. 

“I’m going in,” Oliver said, heading toward the boys’ room before he could be dissuaded. 

When he pushed the door open, he chuckled at what he saw: Leo, spread eagle on the floor. He’d looked so cute when they took their first day of school photos that morning. He’d looked absolutely adorable when they dropped him off at Bright Beginnings Montessori. But now he looked like a different child entirely. His wrinkled shirt had red splatters that were (hopefully) remnants of the ravioli they’d packed in his dinosaur thermos. His hair was sticking out in all directions and fluffed up so that he resembled a dandelion gone to seed. His hands were blue –his favorite shade of finger paint. He was sprawled out on the floor with his legs spread out, his arms over his head, also spread out so that he looked like a human X. The only thing missing was the chalk outline. 

“Aww. My poor baby,” Oliver said as he walked over and scooped up his three-year-old, who was warm and heavy in his arms. He kissed his sleeping forehead and patted his back a few times until Leo finally raised his dandelion head and looked around, trying to figure out where he was and why he was floating. “Did you have a good day at school, Sweet Pickle?” 

Leo’s head fell heavily against Oliver’s shoulder, but Oliver felt a small nod. 

“I like it,” Leo said, his voice raspy with sleep. 

“Are you ready to eat some pizza?” he asked. 

There was another small nod. Another raspy, “I like it.”

When they reached the kitchen, Ollie was setting the table as Elio poured a bag of salad into the wooden salad bowl. They’d picked it up at the lavender run and it had real lavender flowers circling the top, sealed beneath a shiny glaze. Oliver deposited Leo into his chair. He glanced around for something to help with, but Ollie was climbing into his chair, Elio was plopping into his, and suddenly all the craziness of the day seemed to settle. It was nice. So nice, in fact, that Oliver really hated to launch into a lecture, but he felt like he had to. They lived in a safe area, but it was important to develop safe habits. 

“I’m not upset.” He began, pausing to let that part sink in. “But when I got home, the door was ajar.”

“Oh,” Elio said as he dropped some salad on Leo’s plate with salad tongs. “I did that,” he said. 

His nonchalance did nothing to make Oliver feel better. “We really need to be keeping the door locked. We have two children we’re responsible for, honey.”

Elio smiled and dropped a piece of pizza on Leo’s plate –Ollie had already helped himself. “It was locked,” Elio said in a dismissive tone that made no sense, given the situation. 

Oliver was trying to find some way to explain to Elio, without sounding condescending, that whether doors were locked or unlocked was of little consequence if they were ajar.

Elio continued speaking before he’d come up with one. “I opened it when I heard the car door and saw that you were home and didn’t hear the garage door. I figured you were coming through the front.” 

“Oh,” Oliver said. 

“But I had to get back to the kitchen to open the window. I was trying to avoid the smoke detectors going off and scaring L-E-O.” 

“Oh,” Oliver said, smiling. 

“Me and Elio and Leo know basically pretty much everything about keeping the door locked,” Ollie said. Most of the toppings had slid off his pizza with his first bite, so he shoved them into his mouth with his fingers. He nodded with chipmunk cheeks. 

Leo probably would have had something to add, but he was staring disapprovingly at his empty fork. Eating salad was hard. Delicious, but hard. 

Oliver smiled at Ollie. Then at Leo. But the smile he gave Elio was different. Though the boys were the center of their lives right now, the day would come when they would leave. For college. Or for work. Or for love. But there would always be Elio and him. “Thank you, honey,” he said to the man who was patiently showing their three-year-old –again– how to use a fork. He should have known that Elio, being Elio, was just looking out for him. Just trying to make his own long, tiring first day a little easier. He should have known that, if anything, it was a good omen. Like a dandelion gone to seed. 

~fin~

If that tummy doesn’t make you want to poke it, I can’t relate!  Thank you, Elibabette.  You did this so FAST and I love it.  (Check out her Instagram!)

Chapter Text

“What do you think?” Oliver asked the little boy who’d been practically glued –or at the very least velcroed— to him for the past forty minutes. He didn’t want to rush him, but he needed to get home. He needed to check on Elio. 

Ollie nodded against his leg and he wondered if he was supposed to hug him or something. Hold his hand? Rub his back, maybe? What would Elio do? He had no idea, so he floated his hand down and rested it on his head. It was a strange sensation. Ollie’s hair felt for all the world like Elio’s. Wavy and soft and filled with air. Ollie leaned even more heavily against his leg, so he wiggled his fingers and cleared his throat. 

“Are you sure? If you don’t like it, we could always order something online,” he said. 

Ollie shook his head. “Papa says—” The just-turned-seven-year-old didn’t finish his sentence, and although Oliver wanted almost nothing in the world so much as he wanted to hear what Dr. Perlman had said, he didn’t press. To press would be a risky thing, and he’d never been accused of being a risk-taker. 

“What if we take it home and set everything up. And if you don’t like it, we can just bring it back and exchange it. How does that sound?” The store had a risk-free return policy, as long as they kept the receipt. 

For a long time Ollie stared at the zippered plastic bags that lined the shelves. “Would Elio come then?” he finally asked. Oliver couldn’t breathe for a moment. He waited for the words he needed to come to him, but instead he watched helplessly as they floated out of reach. 

“It’s okay,” Ollie said. “I like these.” 

Oliver didn’t know what to do. They’d come to pick up a few things for the guest room, which was no longer a guest room. Guest rooms were for guests, and Ollie was here to stay. Oliver had taken a systematic approach to the room sprucing-up project, breaking it down into logical, progressive steps that would eventually lead them to the desired outcome. And today, the focus was on bedding. They’d searched aisles and aisles of children’s bedding in a wide assortment of colors and with characters that should appeal to a seven-year-old boy —in theory. It would have to do, because the only knowledge Oliver had about children was theoretical. He’d pointed out dozens of comforters and sheet sets featuring characters from Cars. Minions. Monsters University, all of which Google promised were popular choices. But Ollie had instead stopped here, choosing a simple yellow comforter and a set of blue plaid sheets. Oliver glanced around. Were they even in the children’s section any longer? He didn’t think so.

“But… Are you sure you don’t want Lilo and Stitch?” he asked. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought him. Maybe this was a mistake. He’d done it to try to make Ollie feel at home. But maybe feeling at home wasn’t something you could make. Maybe it was something that had to happen. Oliver pressed his eyelid. He much preferred things over which he had at least some modicum of control. 

“I like these,” Ollie said with a solemn nod. 

“All right.” Oliver tossed Ollie’s choices into a shopping cart. He was confused for a moment when he felt some foreign object suddenly in his hand. It took him longer than it should have to realize Ollie had slipped his hand into his. He wasn’t used to holding a hand so small, but there was nothing to be done about it. Not really. 

It was nearly midnight by the time Oliver climbed into bed. He’d tried to be as quiet as he could, but Elio had rolled over and curled into his chest. Oliver pushed his hair off his face and kissed his forehead. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered. 

“You didn’t,” Elio said. “I was awake.” 

It did occur to Oliver to wonder why, if Elio was awake, he hadn’t gotten up. To help them with Ollie’s room. To help him with Ollie. These wonderings were immediately chased away by guilt, so he didn’t say anything about them. He placed a hand on Elio’s cheek and kissed him softly, smoothing more hair off of his face. “Did you know Ollie doesn’t have a bedtime?” he asked, yawning. 

Elio almost smiled at that. “Sorry,” he said. “Our parents weren’t big on things like bedtimes.” 

Oliver yawned again, thinking that Ollie needed a bedtime. And even if he didn’t, Oliver needed him to have one. He couldn’t be up until midnight every night. But he didn’t say anything about that, either. It was strange, filtering his thoughts like this. He didn’t usually have to do that; not with Elio. 

Something in Elio’s face softened. Something in his eyes dimmed. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you,” Elio whispered. 

“It’s all right,” he said, even though they both knew it wasn’t. Ollie needed him. Oliver needed him. And Elio’s own grief did not change his being needed.

“Did he find something he liked?” 

Oliver’s nod was barely there, and again Elio almost smiled. “What?” the younger man asked. 

“He found something he liked, but I am not too sure about it.” 

Elio raised an eyebrow and he looked more like himself than he had in a while. “He's seven. I don’t think we’re supposed to like what he likes. But remember, you yourself said it’s his room and he could choose.” Elio slid his hand beneath Oliver’s T-shirt and let it rest on his warm stomach.

“That’s the thing, though,” Oliver said, placing a hand over Elio’s. “I do like it. It doesn’t look like anything a seven-year-old would like.” 

“How do you know what a seven-year-old would like?” Elio asked after a pause. 

Oliver thought about that. “I don’t know, Elio. I never claimed to be an expert.” In fact, he’d asserted the exact opposite on more than one occasion. “I just want him to like his room. I want him to be happy here.” 

Elio closed his eyes and bowed his head as if in prayer. His forehead came to rest against Oliver’s chest. Happiness, Oliver knew, was too much to ask for right now. He shouldn't put that much pressure on anyone at any time. Least of all Ollie. Least of all now. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the universe, because the man in his arms had finally drifted to sleep. 

When he woke the next morning and reached for Elio, he thought for a moment that he was dreaming. It had to be a dream because, in real life, Elio could not have shrunk and age-regressed over night. Of course it did not take long for him to understand his mistake. 

“Ollie,” he said. 

Ollie yawned and smiled. 

“Where’s Elio?” Oliver asked. 

“He left,” Ollie whispered. 

Oliver sat up and rubbed his eyes. “He left?” 

Ollie nodded. “He said he will be back later.” 

“All right,” was all Oliver could think of to say. “You don’t know where he went?” 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said, shaking his head. After a pause he added, “Thank you for my new bedding. I slept super duper good.” 

“I’m glad. And you're welcome,” Oliver said. Ollie was smiling at him like he was a better person than he actually was, and he wondered briefly how long it would be before he disappointed him. He cleared his throat and climbed out of bed. “I think I’m going to try making some waffles,” he said. Elio had bought him a waffle iron for his birthday nearly a year ago. He kept intending to try it out, but he and Elio were always so reluctant to get out of bed. At least they had been before. 

“Can I help you?” Ollie asked as he half-rolled-half-jumped off the bed and chased after him. “Wait! Can I help you?” 

Oliver was surprised by this. “You can cook?” he asked. Had he found a way in which the two brothers differed? Elio certainly couldn’t cook and had no interest whatsoever in learning. 

Ollie tossed his head back, cracking up at that. “Noooo,” he said through his giggles. But the laughter ended as quickly as it had begun. “You could teach me though.” 

Oliver felt the tips of his ears burn. “All right,” he said after a pause. He had actually never made a waffle before, but surely they could figure it out together. “Step one is that you have to wash your hands.” 

“Check,” Ollie said with a nod.

As Oliver took up the last waffle, it occurred to him that he was worried about Elio. He had hardly been able to get the man out of bed for days; not even to eat. And now he’d been gone for who-only-knew-how-long for who-only-knew-why. “Can you set the table?” he asked as he reached for his phone. 

“Check!” Ollie said. “Where are the plates?” 

“Oh,” Oliver mumbled. He pulled down two plates and then quickly added one more. "And that’s the silverware drawer," he said, pointing with his eyes. He was about to dial Elio’s number when he heard the front door open. “Elio?” he called, rushing out of the kitchen. “Where did you go, honey? Are you okay?” 

Elio blushed, looking shy suddenly. “I’m all right. Sorry. I just… um…” He finished his sentence by holding up a shopping bag. “I got something for Ollie.” 

Ollie came galloping into the room then with his hands full of forks. “You got something for me?” 

Oliver took the forks so Ollie could attend to the bag. 

“Oh. My. GOD!” Ollie gasped as he pulled out the softest, coziest blanket he’d ever touched. Elio took it from him and held it up so he could see it better. “AVENGERS!!!” Ollie squeaked.

Elio smiled. “Do you like it?” he asked. 

“I super DUPER like it!” Ollie said, bouncing around the room. When he finally stopped bouncing, he scrunched his face. “But Oliver got me new blankets and sheets last night.” 

“I know. I saw them this morning. I love them.” He was looking at Oliver when he said this.  “But I felt bad that I didn’t go with you to get it. So I got you this. It’s just a throw blanket. You can use it when you’re on the sofa. In a chair. Or even in bed if you want.” 

“I love it,” Ollie said, wrapping his arms around Elio’s waist. “It’s perfect.” 

Oliver hugged Elio, too. Ollie made a noise and Oliver stepped back immediately. “I’m sorry. Did I squish you?” he asked. 

“You super duper squished me,” Ollie giggled. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” he asked, looking him over. Before Ollie could answer, Elio did it for him. 

“He’s all right,” he said, squeezing Oliver even tighter, making Ollie squeak and groan and giggle. “It’s an Ollie sandwich.” 

“I’m not a Ollie sandwich!” Ollie giggled. 

“Pffft,” Elio said. “By the way… What smells so good?” 

“Waffles,” Ollie reported. His eyes grew two sizes, remembering the deliciousness that awaited him. 

“You finally broke out the waffle iron?” Elio stretched up on his tiptoes to kiss Oliver, who shrugged and blushed and said they should all eat before they got cold. 

“So?” Elio said once they were all seated and eating. “What about you? How was your morning so far? How are you?” 

Oliver closed his stinging eyes. He breathed in the warm, comforting scent of maple syrup, and savored the giggling that came from the side of the table that would normally be empty. “Oh,” he said with a smile. “I think I’m all right.” 

Chapter Text

Ollie was worried. He was very, very worried. He was terribly, visibly worried. 

“What’s wrong, Lollipop?” Elio asked. 

Ollie flinched, blinked a few times, and finally forced a smile. “Noooothing,” he sang. 

Elio narrowed an eye and, after a few more rapid blinks and a hard swallow from his little brother, he snapped his laptop closed. “Out with it. What’s wrong?” he asked again. There was a pause before he added, “You know you’re going to tell me in the end, so why don't we save all the arm twisting and tell me, Ollie.” 

Ollie frowned. After an even longer pause he said, “You aren’t allowed to twist my arm, ELIO.”  

Elio rolled his eyes. “I meant that figuratively. Obviously.” 

“You can’t figuratively twist my arm,” Ollie huffed and crossed his arms –the ones that were not allowed to be twisted.

Elio grinned. “Actually, I can. Figuratively.” 

Ollie huffed and puffed and huffed some more until Oliver closed his book and looked over. He had a cool-it-face hidden just below the surface of his regular face. “Does Ollie need another lesson about the difference between figurative language and literal language?” 

Ollie’s eyebrows shot up in anticipation of the impending boredom.

“I think he does,” Elio said.

“I don’t!” Ollie said. 

A long, still moment passed. “I really think he does,” Elio teased. 

Ollie’s head swished back and forth. 

Leo lay on his tummy playing with blocks, but he paused long enough to give the entire room his very own cool-it look. “No, he not need it! Lollie not need it!” he intervened on his brother’s behalf. He had no idea what they were talking about, but if Lollie said he didn’t need it, he didn’t.

Leo had not had a nap that day, so this put a quick end to the discussion. No one in the family dared provoke an un-napped toddler. 

Oliver knew that he needed to revisit the topic, but it was difficult to find the perfect time. It needed to be a time when things were quiet. When no one was busy or hungry or overly-excited. When they could have some time alone. He’d almost given up for the day when, late in the afternoon, an opportunity arose. Elio and Leo had made a Jurassic scene out of cardboard and were now completely absorbed in the task of creating pop-up dinosaurs, so Oliver slipped out the back door, strode across the lawn, and climbed the sturdy ladder that led to the upper level of the treehouse. 

The look on Ollie’s face when he saw Oliver at an unexpected time or place never failed to melt the man’s heart. His mouth opened slightly as he smiled out some silent words. His eyes changed shapes like the moon. His neck lengthened. He leaned slightly forward. Oliver never had to wonder if he was happy to see him, because he wore his delight on his whole body. 

“Daddy!” Ollie cast his book aside without bothering with a bookmark. 

“Hey, Lollipop,” Oliver said, crouching to avoid hitting his head. It wasn’t an easy thing, folding himself into such a small space but by bending this body part and curling that one, he managed to settle in, cat-like, onto the cushion next to Ollie. Ollie immediately leaned into him until their arms were touching. It was the most natural thing in the world; they were opposing magnets that had entered the same space. “What are you doing out here?” 

Ollie looked at his book, wrinkled his nose, and smiled up at Oliver. “Nothing,” he said. “Do you want to see my coolest thing?” Ollie didn’t get much company in the upper level of the treehouse since Leo wasn’t allowed up, but he was a good host. He twisted around and retrieved a shoe box that was lying against the wall. With the box on his lap, he slowly lifted the lid, eventually pulling out what appeared to be a triangular piece of glass about half the size of a deck of playing cards. “It’s special.” His voice was a whisper as he slid the glass into Oliver’s cupped hand.  

“Wow.” Oliver turned the cool, smooth object over in the palm of his hand. “Where did you get this?” 

Ollie’s smile turned impish. 

“Where?” Oliver asked, nudging him lightly with his elbow. "Don't make me figuratively twist your arm." 

“I traded two lunch Twinkies for it,” the little boy admitted with a giggle. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You traded two lunch Twinkies for a piece of glass?” 

Ollie giggled again and then nodded.

“Why?” 

“I just like it. It’s cool. It’s a glass triangle.” 

Oliver sighed. 

“Do you think I made a bad trade?” Ollie asked, studying his treasure anew.

“Do you think you made a bad trade?” Oliver asked.

Ollie tapped his chin. Finally he shook his head. “I really like it. So I think it was a good trade.” 

Oliver smiled. Grasping the glass lightly between his thumb and index finger, he held it up so that the late afternoon sunlight shone through it, casting a colorful spectrum of light on the wooden floor. 

Ollie gasped and then smiled almost as brightly as he had when Oliver had appeared a few minutes prior. “Oh my GOSH. A rainbow,” he whispered, catching the light in his palm. 

“It’s a prism,” Oliver said. 

Ollie nodded. He knew basically everything about prisms. He just didn’t know he had come into possession of one. It was probably the luckiest thing he owned, aside from his clover patch. He waved his hand slowly back and forth through the light. “I need to take it inside and show Elio. And Dill.” 

Oliver placed the prism on his palm and Ollie’s fingers closed around it. “Do you want to tell me what was bothering you? Earlier?” he asked. 

Ollie tilted his head. “Nothing is bothering me.” And it was true. His life had already been basically perfect, even before he knew he had a prism. And it was 10 times better now. 

“You sure?” he prompted. A very long moment passed before he saw understanding light the child's eyes. 

“Ooohhhh,” Ollie said, smiling slightly, shrugging one shoulder. Oliver could see him thinking it over. “It doesn’t really matter.” 

“It matters to me,” Oliver said.

Ollie smiled and held up his prism, tilting it until a rainbow burst out. “I was a little bit worried about something, but now I’m not.” 

Chapter Text

“Because I said so.” The indignant face his eight-year-old brother made when Elio spoke these words made him burst out laughing. “Okay, fine. Because it just doesn’t make any sense, Ollie.” 

“That’s false!” 

“It’s not false,” Elio insisted. “We go to the same school. It would make no sense whatsoever for you to ride the bus.” 

Ollie gave his most persuasive, patent-pending triple-head-nod. “I want to ride the bus with all my bazillions of friends who also ride the bus!” he pleaded.

Elio sighed. “By the time I waited for you to leave on the bus and then dropped Leo off at school, I’d barely make it to work on time.” 

“Barely means you would make it, though! That’s what barely means!”

“I know what barely means, Ollie,” Elio said with forced patience. They’d already covered this topic six ways from Sunday, which was why he’d eventually resorted to because I said so. It was a phrase that worked for Oliver, but never for him –Oliver told him this was because he lacked conviction. That's when Elio had a sudden flash of inspiration. “At any rate, you can’t ride the bus today. It’s something that would have to be arranged in advance. So let’s just talk about it tonight.” When Oliver is home to help me persuade you. 

Ollie grimaced as if in pain. 

“Go on. Just put your shoes on,” Elio said, raking some of the tangles out of his brother’s hair with his fingers.

Ollie rolled his eyes in resignation. “Purple Converses,” he said before turning and galloping out of the room. 

Elio looked down at his clothes. “Why purple?” he called after him. It wasn’t as if either of them were wearing purple. 

“Because I said so!” Ollie’s distant voice trilled out. 

Elio shook his head slowly and smiled down at Leo, who was wobbling around with his legs in the sleeves of his jacket. “Pfft. Because he said so,” Elio muttered under his breath. 

Leo wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. “No, fanks. He not say so,” he said. “And I say no fanks he not say so!” 

Elio felt the start of a headache. “And I say that jackets are not pants, Sweet Pickle.” He picked up his three-year-old and tugged the sleeves of his jacket off of his legs. “Jackets are for arms. And torsos.” 

Leo grinned. 

“Because I said so,” Elio said, even though Leo hadn’t asked. He figured he could always use the practice. “That’s why.” 

Elio was glad it was not Mr. Slinger’s day to come to music class, because he knew Ollie was going to start up immediately with the bus nonsense the moment he saw him. The kid was nothing if not persistent. And he was correct in this assumption, because two seconds after the dismissal bell rang, Ollie galloped into his classroom saying, “Did you think about it? Did you think about if I can ride the bus like a normal kid?” 

Elio held up a finger. “Stop.” he said. “I said we’d talk about it at dinner.” That place where Oliver will be. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any tacos in here.” Diversions were usually successfully, especially if the diversions involved tacos. 

It worked. Ollie’s eyes grew two sizes. His pupils practically morphed into the shape of tacos. “OH MY GOD! It’s TACO TUESDAY!!!” 

“Exactly,” Elio said, pleased with himself for this successful redirection. “So give me ten minutes to finish prepping for tomorrow, and we’ll head home.” 

“CHECK!” Ollie said, eyes darting around until he found a paper tower to staple. 

Elio was relieved when Oliver finally got home. He was always happy to see his handsome husband. And he was always, to some degree, relieved to see him, too. Oliver had an air of confidence that just made it seem like everything was, and always would be, fine. Sometimes, on days that were especially crazy, when dinner was burning and the boys were bickering and the house was in shambles, Oliver’s arrival was an almost magical thing. He didn’t have to do anything. His calm, caring, and capable demeanor was enough to make everything fall into place. “Even the smoke detector is silenced at your presence,” Elio had joked one afternoon. “You’re like some Mary Poppins Man.” 

Oliver had hugged him and kissed his nose. “Mary Poppins Man?” It was clear he wasn’t offended, but flattered. “Nanny McPhee Man, maybe.” 

And Elio had giggled at that. He’d giggled even harder when Oliver had opened his hand to reveal the smoke detector battery he’d removed just long enough for the smoke to clear. 

That was so often how Oliver’s arrival felt to Elio, and this day was no different. The man had waltzed in and been absolutely tackled by children. He’d rolled around on the floor with them for a few memory-making minutes before sending Ollie off to do his homework and Leo to pick up his toys. “And as for you,” he said to Elio with a sly smile and a raised eyebrow. “I need you to be my sous chef.” They had so much fun making tacos together and even though phones rang and UPS came and Ollie needed help three times with his homework and Leo created five separate artworks that needed their immediate feedback… even with all of this, it was still the best part of both of their day. And the best part of their day was made even better by the fact that they both knew it was the best part without ever needing to say so. They decided to eat outside on the deck; the weather was cooler. And a breeze was blowing. And the sky was every shade of orange and pink. And…

“And Elio said we’d talk about it at dinner!” Ollie was saying between crunches as an avalanche of lettuce fell from his taco onto his plate. “And now it’s dinner! Right, Elio?” Elio smiled at his little brother, completely unconcerned. He didn't need to be concerned, because Oliver was here, and he would know just what to say to put a quick end to this ridiculous bus business. He didn’t get to hear what Oliver's response was, though, because just then Leo decided to put on a dinner theater for them. 

The toddler picked up his taco and turned it upside down, delighted beyond measure at the mound of meat and cheese and vegetables that was now on his plate. He pressed a finger into the center to create a "small-cano," and around this he walked his taco shell, making loud dinosaur noises. 

Elio laughed. “It’s a taco-saurus, Sweet Pickle,” he said, breaking a few pieces off of the shell to give it a spiky spine reminiscent of a dinosaur’s scutes. Leo clapped his messy hands at this result, saying, “Good job, Papa! Good job!” 

“Hooray!!” Ollie said.  Naturally, Elio thought this was just more praise for his brilliant taco-saurus creation. But then, the world seemed to stop turning on its axis, for Ollie went on to say, “I can’t wait to tell Joey!! I can probably call her after dinner, right?!” 

“I don’t see why not,” Oliver said, smiling at Ollie, then at Leo whose taco shells were now in a Jurassic battle of epic proportions. “Is that a dinosaur you’ve got there? Or Godzilla?” 

Leo frowned without pausing from his game. “No fanks, Godvilla!” 

Elio had stopped playing with his taco-sauras. He’d stopped eating his taco-saurus. He must have missed something vital. “Call Joey? About what?” he asked. There was hesitation in his voice, but he didn’t know why it was there. Because deep down, he knew what had happened. Of course he knew.

“Daddy said I can start riding the bus!!” Ollie squealed. 

Elio narrowed his eyes and settled his gaze on Oliver, who looked nothing like the absolute traitor he was. In fact, he was using his phone to shoot a video of Leo’s show. “Smile, honey,” he said to Elio. 

But Elio didn’t smile. 

“Elio.” The word was a complete sentence when Oliver said it in the tone he was currently using. It was a tone not unlike his because I said so tone, whose next of kin was obviously his cool it face. “You need to take a breath.” 

Elio had kept it together through dinner, if you didn’t count the miniscule amount of teeth clenching and nostril flaring. But once the boys were in bed, he wasted no time in sharing his feelings about Oliver’s absurd decision to let Ollie ride the bus despite the fact that it made NO SENSE whatsoever.  “I need to take a breath?” 

Oliver nodded and took a deep breath himself, as if to demonstrate how it was done. 

Elio felt the tiny muscles in his jaw dance around. “Are you kidding me right now?” 

Oliver pressed his eyelid. It was like a reset button, because after that, he went in a different direction. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know that you had been telling him no. I wish you had communicated that to me–”

“So this is my fault now?” Elio crossed his arms. 

Oliver pressed his eyelid again, and again he seemed to reset. “Well, I don't want to point fingers, Elio, but don’t you think you bear at least some of the responsibility here? You didn’t mention any of this to me. And you apparently left it for me to deliver some news that you knew was going to go over like a lead balloon.” 

Elio’s eyebrows did a deep dive, but his jaw relaxed some. Oliver was right, of course. “I didn’t think it was something that required a pre-conference, Oliver. If I’m literally going to his school, what sense does it make for him to ride the bus?” Saying it aloud irritated him anew. “That’s so wasteful. It’s so—” he stopped himself, but only for a moment. “So American!” 

Oliver smiled. He couldn’t help it. Elio had covered his mouth like he’d said something truly vile, but Oliver wasn’t offended. He stepped over and wrapped his arms around Elio and pulled him to him. 

“It’s not like the bus is making a separate trip for him. It’s coming right by here, as well. Like it does every single day." The two men looked at one another. "Think about it. By your own logic, what sense does it make for Ollie to ride with you when the bus stops in our driveway anyway?” 

Elio let his forehead fall heavily against Oliver’s chest, and Oliver rubbed his back in that very comforting way of his. “But I’m barely going to make it to work after waiting for the bus and then dropping off Pickle,” he whined. 

Oliver pressed his lips to Elio’s forehead. This was nonsense, of course. Elio was consistently out the door at the very last possible moment, usually well after the bus had come and gone. “Elio, he wants to ride with his friends. Can we pause just for one minute and be thankful that he has friends? It wasn’t that long ago that he arrived in a foreign country without a friend in the world.”

Back then, Elio hadn't been home in the afternoons to see how upset Ollie often was when he climbed off that bus. There had been stretches of time when Oliver had picked him up from school because he couldn’t bear to think about him all alone somehow, drowning in the sea of kids who filled the bus. “If it would help, I can wait with him for the bus and you can go on to work whenever you’re ready.” He felt Elio shake his head against his chest. He placed a hand gently on the back of Elio's head and kissed the top of his head. “And I can drop Leo off, too.” Another small head shake from Elio. Oliver took a deep breath. “You just need to communicate with me. We’ve never had a problem with this before. If you want me to give a certain answer to Ollie, you know I will. Of course I will. But I have to know what it is you want me to say. And if you need help getting the kids to school, you know I will help you. You just have to–”

“I know,” Elio whispered into his chest. “It’s not that.” 

Oliver tightened his arms around him. “Then tell me what it is.” If I don’t know, I can’t help. How many times had he had this same conversation with Ollie? Too many to count. 

“He used to think riding with me was… he thought it was the best thing ever.” 

“Oh, Elio.” Oliver could tolerate a lot of things, but Elio’s feelings being hurt was not one of them. “Do you want me to tell him no? It’s not like it was some irreversible mandate.” 

Elio looked up at him and smiled. Then laughed, wearily. “Of course not. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine.” 

“It really will,” Oliver promised. “I’ll call transportation tomorrow. It’ll take a few days to set it up. So if you change your mind, just–”

Elio cut him off with a nod, then a head shake. 

“EEEELLLLLIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Ollie yelled as he hopped toward the door on one foot while trying to get his other shoe pulled up over his heel properly. “Don’t let them leave me!!!”

“No, fanks,” Leo said, buzzing his lips like he had the day before when he’d tasted a small a dandelion. “No, fanks leave Lollie!” 

Elio patted Leo on the head and then held out a hand to support Ollie so he could get his shoe on. “Calm down,” he said. “No one is leaving anybody.” 

“Check,” Ollie said as he picked up his backpack and lunch box and hugged everyone. “See you at school! Bye!” 

“See you at school,” Elio said as he watched his little brother bound across the yard. As the bus opened its door, Elio saw Joey and a few other kids waving animatedly at Ollie. 

He picked up his small son, kissed his cheek, and waved at the bus as it pulled away. Oliver stepped up behind him, wrapped his arms around both him and Leo, and kissed them both. “I love you,” he whispered. 

Elio nodded. He had been sad about this change, but when he saw how happy Ollie was, and how happy his friends were, too, he really couldn’t be sad. He could only be happy. It wasn’t like the kid was moving out. He was just riding the bus. And it was fine. It was totally fine. 

“No one is leaving anybody,” Oliver repeated Elio’s words with a smile. 

“I know. It's fine,” Elio said. And it was. He was absolutely certain of it. He was so confident, in fact, that he didn’t notice Danny sitting on the bus’s very last seat. 

Chapter Text

Oliver thought his life could be crisply divided into two parts. Life before Ollie. And life with Ollie.

Life before Ollie had been pretty close to perfect. It had been a slow, quiet life lived at a pace reminiscent of the summer they’d met. Long, quiet chats under the night sky. Silent nature walks in which the Earth itself seemed to carry the conversation and they were merely the words it spoke. There had been nights when they lay in bed, appreciating one another so much that sleep, when it finally came, felt like a thief. There had been mornings where they stayed in bed until they realized, grudgingly, that they actually could not survive on love alone and had to eat something eventually. All of these days and nights and mornings circled round and round until both men were completely convinced that the beautiful life they’d created would always continue in exactly this same way, with nothing ahead of them but an endless love for one another. 

And then along came Ollie. With Ollie, came chaos. No longer was the remote control always lying in exactly the same place ---on the side table next to the lamp--- as reliable and unchanging as the eastward sunrise. No longer did Sunday mornings in bed seem to stretch on for days. No longer could they decide on a Friday afternoon to pack an overnight bag and take off. But with Ollie, came love. Waking up with a small child lying between you, loving you so much that it almost hurt. You yourself loving such a small, new human an almost impossible amount, so much that it made your heart stretch and grow in ways that had been so far beyond your reach that it had never even occurred to you to aspire to such a thing. And with that expanded heart, you were able to love your partner even more than endlessly. With Ollie came joy and with joy came giggles and dinner shows and the passing on of life lessons you didn’t even know you knew.

And... with Ollie came noise. Lots and lots of noise. Dinner shows. Knock knock joke marathons. Puppy barks. Parakeet squawks. Giggles. Feet galloping, running, and hop-skipping around the house. Oliver had cherished his quiet life before Ollie, but he had learned to love the beautiful noise that was his life now. Wasn't even music noise if wasn't appreciated, and wanted? 

With Ollie, it was only when the noise stopped, that he began to worry. 

“What do you think they’re up to?” he asked Elio, who was sitting next to him on the sofa, leaning against him with his feet curled under him in a way that should have hurt his knees but apparently didn’t. “It’s awfully quiet back there.” 

Elio smiled at him so unexpectedly that Oliver’s lips were drawn to Elio’s like a wave to the shore. It always happened like that when his sweet husband smiled at him just so. “Maybe they fell asleep,” Elio suggested. 

Oliver laughed. “Ollie is not asleep.” Leo sometimes fell asleep before bedtime, but Ollie never did. They were lucky to get Ollie to sleep at all, often finding him awake long past bedtime, reading a book by the light of his beloved Flashie.   

Elio shrugged and stretched up for another kiss. He was greedy with kisses, once given. And Oliver loved this about him. 

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Elio whispered. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he uncurled his legs and stretched. “I’ll go check on them,” he yawned. 

In the boys’ room, Elio found what he expected to. Leo sound asleep on the floor with one hand still on the toy dinosaur he’d been playing with, the other hand attached to the thumb in his mouth. Ollie, however, was sitting on his bed, writing in his notebook. Over time, Elio had developed a bit of distrust for that notebook, which often contained elaborate ideas —not all of them good ones.

“What are you up to?” he asked his little brother as he scooped up Leo and placed him on the bed. 

“Basically, mostly nothing.” Ollie blinked a series of blinks that Elio had also come to distrust. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on his opposite bicep as Ollie continued, “Did you know wolf spiders aren’t poisonous to humans?” 

One of Elio’s eyes narrowed. “The correct term is venomous,” he said. “Unless you’re eating the spider.” 

Ollie shook his head. “I’m not,” he said, reassuringly. “I don’t even eat spiders.” 

Elio’s other eye narrowed. “What are you up to?” he asked again. 

Ollie flapped his head back and forth three times. It was a headshake Elio definitely distrusted. But Elio's lips were still tingling from Oliver's kiss and he would like to get back to that. And the boys were obviously fine. “Don’t eat any spiders, Ollie.” 

“CHECK,” Ollie promised. 

“Bedtime in a half hour." Elio pretended not to notice the heart eyes his brother gave his flashlight upon hearing these words. 

“Did I hear you telling Ollie not to eat spiders?” Oliver asked as Elio dropped down next to him and made his legs disappear again. 

“I was kidding,” Elio said and then paused. “At least I think I was.” 

Oliver pressed his twitching eyelid. Elio could be hard to follow. Ollie could definitely be hard to follow. But when they got together, they might as well be speaking a foreign language —and it was not only Italian. “I need more information, honey.” 

“I was just explaining to him the difference between poisonous and venomous.” 

Oliver brightened. “Well. Both words can be traced back to Old French,” he said in his professor voice. “But venom derives from Anglo-French while poison made the long journey from Latin to French. Both words—” He was suddenly silenced by Elio placing a finger over his lips. 

“Stop talking so I can kiss you.” 

Oliver stopped talking. 

“Did you know they’re good mothers?” 

By the following day, Elio had more or less forgotten about the etymology of poison and venom. He’d even forgotten about wolf spiders. So Ollie’s question made very little sense. 

“Who are?” he asked with a small amount of trepidation. “And pick up your things.” Ollie had dropped his lunchbox and backpack on the floor just inside the door and had apparently kicked his shoes off while galloping in, one shoe separated from the other by at least 10 inches. “Before someone trips.” 

Ollie did a U-turn and sock-skated back over. “Wolf spiders,” he explained as he picked up his shoes and backpack. The lunch box would require a separate trip. “They’re one of the most loving and nurturing arachnids.” 

Elio laughed and picked up his lunchbox for him. “I don’t really associate a spider with being nurturing.” 

“Don’t be mean, Elio!” Ollie said, following him as he carried the lunchbox to the kitchen despite the fact that his arms were full of items that needed to be taken to his bedroom. “They are nurturing! They care for a bazillion teensy, tinsy baby spiderlings on their backs for DAYS until they are ready to go off to make their own way in the world.” 

“Okay,” Elio said. “But get your shoes off the countertop.”

Ollie ignored this. He’d needed to set his shoes down so he could use his hands to demonstrate for his big brother what it looked like when a bazillion spiderlings scurried off into a bazillion different directions. He didn’t have enough hands and fingers to create the full effect, but he’d done a pretty good job if he did say so himself. Once that was completed, he picked his shoes up. 

“That’s not sanitary,” Elio said. 

Ollie wrinkled his nose. “Spiderlings don’t spread germs,” he said with more confidence than he actually felt. His research actually hadn’t involved the sanitary nature of wolf spiders, but it seemed out of character for such sweet creatures to spread germs, so he thought it was a good hypothesis. 

“I meant your shoes, silly.”

Ollie giggled. “Oh. That’s what sanitizing wipes are for.” 

Elio rolled his eyes. “Go put your stuff up. Then sanitize the countertops.” 

“Check,” Ollie said. “And then I’ll tell you a bunch of stuff about the amazing wolf spider!” 

Elio didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Ollie sock-skated out of the room. “What is he up to, Sweet Pickle?” he asked Leo, who was waiting (somewhat) patiently at the table for his after school snack. 

“Did you know wolf spiders can live for a year or even MORE?" Ollie asked. Oliver was busy raking the yard. Elio was bagging the leaves. Leo was spreading the leaves by playing in them. And Ollie was reading his library book, Spooky Wolf Spiders.

“I was wrong about their spiderlings, though,” he added thoughtfully, turning back a couple of pages in his book and holding it up for Oliver to see. He needed a little entertainment while raking, which was super duper boring. As everyone well knows. “They don’t have a bazillion babies. But they do have about one HUNDRED babies.” 

“Cool,” Oliver said, pausing to look at the picture Ollie was showing him. He made a face that caused Elio to crack up, but Ollie wasn’t offended. 

“That’s still a lot of babies and it takes a very loving and nurturing animal to take care of so many,” he said, finally turning his attention back to his book. “Did you know wolf spiders can make silk but they don’t even make webs?” 

“No, I did not.” 

Ollie nodded several times. “It’s true. They dig burrows. And they use their silk on the walls of their burrows to make them super strong!” He did a fancy spinning karate kick. He’d recently earned his blue belt. “That’s really resourceful of them. Isn’t it?” 

“Ollie, why don’t you make yourself useful,” Elio said. “You could hold the bags for me.” 

Ollie grimaced. It wasn’t that he minded helping; he didn’t. But his book was so super duper interesting! And he only had a few pages left. “There might even be a wolf spider in one of the piles of leaves.” 

“What do you think he’s up to?” Oliver asked while Ollie dashed into the house to put his book away. 

Elio smiled and shrugged. “Nothing. He gets on little kicks like this where he’s really interested in something. You’ve seen it.” 

Oliver thought about it. Elio was right. 

“It’s just part of his Ollieness,” Elio added as he flicked open another bag. 

“True,” Oliver said as he swept another heavy rakeful of leaves onto the pile. “And it’s October. He’s been excited about Halloween.” 

Elio giggled. Ollie had been looking forward to what he referred to as Spooky Month since early September. “I’m sure that’s what it is.” 

It was not until later that night that things got hairier than a wolf spider’s legs. That’s when Ollie said a little too casually, “Did you know that wolf spiders make really good pets?” 

“Absolutely not,” Elio said at the exact same time that Oliver said, “That’s really interesting.” 

Elio gave Oliver a hard look, and Oliver had the decency to blanch. “It’s interesting in a textbook sort of way,” he amended. 

Wrinkles appeared across the bridge of Ollie’s nose. “What’s a textbook way mean?” 

Oliver was beginning to lose feeling in his arm, so he redistributed his –and Elio’s– weight as they sat cuddling on the sofa. “It means that it is interesting information that I did not know, but—”

“But absolutely not.” Elio finished his husband’s sentence in a damn fine impersonation of a because-I-said-so voice. “No pet spiders, Ollie. No.” 

Ollie poked his lip out. “But–”

“But nothing, Ollie.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so,” Elio said with enough conviction to impress Oliver and to end the conversation —for a few minutes. 

“You should at least listen to my reasons,” Ollie said. When there was no immediate reply to this, Ollie darted off to retrieve his notebook.

“There’s no reason not to listen, honey.” Oliver’s voice was low and gentle. “He’s been doing a lot of research and he wants to tell us what he’s learned.” Elio’s face did not change. “Obviously we’re not actually getting a pet wolf spider. Don’t worry.” 

Elio slightly raised one shoulder as Ollie galloped back into the room. He stood before them, flipped to the page he wanted in his notebook, and cleared his throat. 

“These are my top ten reasons why wolf spiders make the greatest pets:

1. They are super duper low maintenance. You barely have to feed them (See reason 2) and you don’t have to play with them and you don’t have to take them to the groomers.

2. Wolf spiders give natural pest control. They will eat any bad insects that come into their habitat! And during play time, they will hunt for prey insects. 

3. No allergies. People might be allergic to Olive or Clover, but no one would be allergic to Wolfgang.”

At this point, Ollie’s presentation was interrupted. 

“Did you say Wolfgang?” Elio asked with a snicker. 

Ollie nodded indulgently, cleared his throat, and continued. “As I was saying with my ten reasons:

4. No noise. Wolf spiders do not bark or tweet or say words. They are very silent animals.

5. Cheap. Wolf spiders are super duper cheap. All they need is some dirt for their burrow and some prey insects. They don’t need groomers, vets probably, or toys. 

6. Educational value. Me and Leo could learn about arachnid behavior and biology. Life spans. And all that.

7. They aren’t even venomous to humans and they aren’t poisonous unless maybe if you eat them.

8. They are sweet, nurturing animals that are great parents and friends."

Ollie looked up from his notebook, snapped his notebook closed, and smiled eagerly. “So? Can I have a pet wolf spider? Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?” 

Oliver tilted his head. “I thought you said this was a list of ten reasons?” 

Ollie nodded. “It is. I’m just not finished yet.” 

Elio didn’t say anything because he was too busy laughing. Ollie took this as progress and turned his attention to Oliver who went with a pragmatic, “We’ll see.” 

Ollie’s forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows climbed upward. “I do have one more reason,” he said before running out of the room. 

He galloped back in a moment later carrying a small, plastic tank that had once been Clemmy’s. 

“THIS,” he said with a flair of drama, “Is Wolfgang the amazing wolf spider!” 

The room was silent save the sucking sounds coming from Leo’s thumb. “He or she is very, very nice. I saved his or her life on the bus when some mean kid wanted to squish him. Or her!” He paused, but the silence marched on. He smiled fondly at his little friend. 

Oliver pressed one eyelid, then the other. He didn’t dare say a word without talking to Elio, who was finally regaining his composure. 

“What do you think?” Ollie asked. 

Oliver looked pointedly at Elio. “What do we think, honey?” he asked. 

Elio coughed out the last of his giggles. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to get over a wolf spider named Wolfgang.” 

“Yesssssssssss,” Ollie hissed. Because Elio hadn’t said no, which was basically an affirmative answer in kid language. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to put Wolfgang Amadeus back in my room because she’s scared of heights. Or he. All non-web-weaving spiders are scared of heights.” He didn't know that from research, but it stood to reason. And with that, he zipped out of the room.

“Um. Do we have a pet spider?” Elio asked Oliver with a huge smile.

“Don’t blame me,” Oliver whispered. It’s all he was able to say, because he never could resist kissing those lips when they smiled just so.

Part two of his life –life with Ollie– was a lot of things. But it was never, ever boring. 

Chapter Text

The only sounds were the slight crunching underfoot, the gentle scurrying of birds or squirrels or other creatures, rushing around in preparation for the long months ahead. Ollie wasn’t sure why they were being so quiet. No one had mandated the silence. No one had so much as suggested it. But the wordless minutes ticked slowly by, piling up around them like fallen leaves. 

“Which ones do you think are the cutest?” Ollie whispered, breaking the silence –but just barely.

“Which what are cutest?” Elio asked, holding out his hand for his little brother, who clasped onto it immediately. 

“Which leafs?” 

“I don’t know,” Elio said with a smile. Ollie didn’t press him for a better answer as he normally would, but he tried to provide one anyway. “I guess I never thought of fall leaves as cute.” 

Ollie had no immediate reply to this. It wasn’t a surprising answer, coming from a grown up. “The orange ones are my favorite,” he said after a while. 

Elio looked up at nature’s canopy above them. The sunlight seemed to transform the oranges, reds, and golds into stained glass. “The orange ones are very pretty,” he agreed. 

Ollie beamed. In life, there weren’t many things better than nature walks on a perfect fall day, but Elio’s agreeing with him was close competition. The eight-year-old’s heart skipped a beat every time this happened. There was nothing quite like receiving the approval of someone you most admire.  “The red ones are also lovely,” Elio added. 

Ollie tipped his head back and then swiveled it left, then right. “They really are,” he had to admit. He might have to amend his favorite. “But don’t forget the yellow ones.” They might not be screaming for attention like the bright orange and red, but they provided just the right accent. They were little drops of sunlight among what would otherwise be quite sad. He tried not to think about that. 

The thing about trying not to think about something, Ollie had noticed, was that it was soon all you could think about. “It’s so sad.” He was whispering again, but now he thought he understood why. It was out of reverence. It was humbling to witness something so... so almost... intimate. He averted his eyes to give the trees some privacy, staring at the ground instead. His tie-dyed Converses and his brother's larger ones swished in time with one another. 

“What’s sad?” Elio's voice was gentle. 

Ollie didn’t answer for a moment. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. “The leafs are all dying,” he said. Elio’s hand squeezed his. He loved it when his brother squeezed his hand and jiggled his arm like that. 

“Not really,” Elio said. “The trees are just… sleeping. They’ll get their leaves back next year.” 

Ollie nodded. He knew this, of course. He wasn’t a baby. But, still...

“It’s good for them to have a rest. Some animals do it, too,” Elio tried. 

“Animals do it just so they won’t starve to death in winter,” Ollie said. “Not because they need the rest.” He wasn’t going to fall for his brother’s romantic ideations. No way. This spectacle with the leaves was sad, and they were here gawking at it, enjoying it. 

“The trees wouldn’t starve, though. They make their own food out of sunlight. And there’s plenty of sunlight in the winter.” It sounded very logical, Elio thought. “So it must just be that they need rest.” 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie responded almost before Elio had finished speaking. “It’s not that. Mr. Slinger said the leafs fall off because the water in them would freeze and make the whole tree die. They don’t just ‘need rest,’ Elio.” He threw up some one-handed air quotes, since Elio was holding his other hand. 

It was almost as if Elio knew he needed both hands, because he let go and ruffled his hair instead. “Is there anything you don’t know?” he asked. 

At this high praise, Ollie again felt the flutter in his chest, like his heart was skipping a beat. He smiled so widely that a giggle came out. 

“How was it?” Oliver called to them the moment the two brothers emerged from the line of trees that divided the wooded hiking trails from the playground and picnic area. Ollie full-speed galloped over and collapsed onto the blanket next to Oliver, staring at the blue sky overhead. He would have answered, but he was panting and out of breath. 

Elio didn’t have that problem, having taken his sweet time crossing the lawn, eventually sitting down next to Oliver and nuzzling his forehead and cheek into his arm briefly, like a horse might do. “It was great,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely certain it had been. The leaves were great; that much was true. Fall foliage was at its absolute peak. Autumn was such a fleeting thing, it was something that commanded a certain amount of awe and gratitude that one would be able to witness such a thing.

But Ollie had been sad, and Elio didn’t think anything he’d said had been particularly helpful. He never could find pearls of life lessons hidden in every moment like Oliver always seemed able to do. He just wasn’t wise like that. Like Oliver was. Like his own father had been. He supposed it didn’t matter, though. He had his own gifts and talents to be thankful for. And besides, his little brother was okay now. The sadness had come and gone faster than autumn leaves. “Ollie was a little sad, though. I wish you had come with us.” Though the hike was a short one, it involved some climbing, and much of the trail was over uneven ground. Someone would have ended up having to carry Leo, and the three-year-old was having so much fun on the playground equipment. Splitting up had been the most sensible thing.

“Sad?” Oliver was surprised by this. How could someone be sad on a gorgeous fall day like this? Ollie was still lying next to him, staring skyward. Oliver placed a cool palm on Ollie’s forehead and then placed the back of his curled fingers against his cheek. Elio smiled at this, both because of the tenderness of the gesture and because it looked like Oliver was checking for a fever. Like sadness was some sort of physical ailment. And maybe it was. It certainly seemed to be contagious, because Elio was feeling a little melancholy, too. “Why were you sad, Lollipop?” Oliver asked. Leo had noticed their return by now and was crawling all over Elio as if he were just another piece of playground equipment. Oliver kept a watchful eye as Elio oof’d and ugh’d. But the moment Leo had situated himself in Elio’s lap, his attention was back on Ollie, who seemed to be still considering the question. 

“All the leafs are dying,” Ollie said. “They’re changing into pretty colors, but only because they’re dying.” 

“Not really,” Oliver said. "That's not why."

Ollie closed his eyes, bracing to rehear all that the-trees-need-rest nonsense Elio had just told him. 

“And besides, they don’t really change into pretty colors,” Oliver added. 

Ollie’s eyes popped open. He sat up and leaned against Oliver, who was also sitting up, unpacking their picnic lunch. 

“What do you mean?” Ollie asked, holding out his hands toward Elio, who was dispensing squirts of hand sanitizer to all. 

“I mean that the leaves are always red and orange and gold, but in the summer we can't see it because they are having to produce so much chlorophyll, which is green. They need the chlorophyll to—”

“I know basically pretty much everything about photosynthesis,” Ollie interjected, hoping to spare a long science lesson and eager to eat the lunch he’d helped pack. 

“Then you know that that’s why the leaves appear green in the spring and summer,” Oliver concluded as he passed out sandwiches and scoops of fruit salad. “In the fall, they don’t have to make food, so the chlorophyll breaks down into starches and moves back into the twigs and branches. With the green chlorophyll gone, we can see the leaves just exactly as they actually are.” 

Ollie’s eyebrows arched, almost against his will. Though he didn’t see any reason to admit it out loud, the eight-year-old was realizing he didn’t know everything about photosynthesis. He looked toward the woods he’d just explored, and he wasn’t sad anymore. The leaves certainly weren't sad. He could see that so clearly now. After being overwhelmed by green chemicals all summer, they were finally able to just BE. And in those brief weeks when they were able to be themselves, they were at their most beautiful. A breeze passed by and bright red and orange and yellow —even purple and magenta— fluttered to the ground like thrown confetti. 

“I guess you could say that they’re showing their true colors,” Elio pondered aloud. 

“You’re very wise, honey.” 

Elio's heart skipped a beat. 

Oh my! Elibabette did some of the most exquisite art I’ve seen!! My heart melts!! Please check out her Insta for lots of Lollie/CMBYN/Charmie art. ❤️❤️❤️ 

Chapter Text

“What did you expect me to say, honey?” Oliver said as he polished the coffee table. “She’s family. Technically speaking, she’s family. It’s not like I could have said no.” 

Elio stopped sweeping long enough to smile at his handsome husband. “I know,” he said with an encouraging nod. If Oliver was trying to convince someone that this was a good idea, it was only himself. Elio had been nothing but encouraging since they’d gotten a most unexpected phone call the day before. “It’s going to be fine, Oliver.” And it would be. 

Oliver’s head moved just slightly in what might have been a very reluctant nod. He returned to the task he was busying himself with, running the soft cloth back and forth along the grain of the coffee table, buffing out a few stray crayon leavings. Elio wanted to laugh. It had never been a particularly nice piece of furniture. Like most of their furniture –like their house, too– it was all meant to be a starter version of the life they thought they wanted. Elio had been a college student, Oliver a just-starting-out assistant professor. They’d gotten lucky enough to pick up a few nice-ish vintage pieces at yard sales and thrift stores, but most of what they had were inexpensive department store items originally intended as placeholders for the glorious things ahead. And now they had young children. Leo liked to roll his Hot Wheels across any smooth surface he could find. And when he colored, he almost always strayed off the page– usually by accident, though not always. Ollie still occasionally forgot to use a coaster and he more-than-occasionally spilled or dribbled or dropped anything and everything that could be spilled or dribbled or dropped. 

Oliver didn’t want the boys to have to live in a home where items were so cherished that children weren’t allowed to be children. Anything that put up a barrier to their being able to raise the boys gently was unwelcome. Because the boys would grow up all too quickly. Soon enough they would be too old to play with Hot Wheels and coloring books and play dough. They would be old enough to eat and drink without spilling or dribbling or dropping. The coaster thing, they were working on.

So for Elio, watching Oliver polish a table that they’d picked up for $75 dollars at TJ Maxx six years ago was, in a way, amusing. But he didn’t laugh, because it was also somewhat sad to see Oliver so concerned about the impression they would make on some family member who was so far removed from Oliver’s life that Elio had never even met her. He was just about to try again to ask Oliver who this mystery relative was and what her story was in hopes that Oliver would do more than shrug him off. He didn’t get to, though, because Ollie came galloping into the room in his striped pants, purple Converse, and a bright purple T-shirt with a screen printed peace sign on the front. He looked for all the world like a Care Bear, but in the most endearing way possible. These were all of Ollie’s favorite pieces of clothing lately, and Elio wasn’t about to have him change. He knew a pick-your-battles situation when he saw one. The hair though? That was a battle worth picking.

“Come here, goofball,” he said. He shifted the broom handle so that it was in his left hand, freeing up his right. Ollie galloped over, a living, breathing, smiling, rainbow of a person. Elio touched his hair to find it nearly as hard as a helmet and all combed down on one side. “What did you do to your hair, Lollipop?” He rolled a crunchy curl between his finger and thumb until the cast cracked. 

“I gelled it!” Ollie said proudly. 

“He do it by hisself,” Leo said as he clomped into the room in his pajamas and Ollie’s yellow Converses. 

“I can see that,” Elio said as he tried to scrunch the crunch out of his little brother’s hair. 

“I just wanted to look amazing for my new cousin!” the eight-year-old explained. 

“You look like a Care Bear,” Elio teased as he attempted to rake his fingers through the fortress that was his brother’s hair.

Ollie looked down at himself and grinned. “Thanks,” he said. Care Bears didn’t wear pants, but if they did, these are probably the ones they would wear.

“She’s your second cousin,” Oliver said. He tightened the lid on the bottle of furniture polish, wrapped the cloth around the container, and stood on creaky knees. “I think she’s your second cousin… I don’t know. Maybe third. Or something twice removed?” He could never remember how that worked. She was his mother’s great-niece. He was certain of that. He was almost certain of that.

Before he could fully sort out his family tree, he was distracted by Ollie shaking his head like a wet dog would do. Oliver wasn’t sure if he was trying to shake away his words or Elio’s nimble fingers, which were still de-crunching his curls. 

“I love ALL my cousins,” Ollie said. Family was family. There were no second-place –much less removed– family members as far as he was concerned. 

Oliver frowned, but before he could say anything, Elio did. “I think we may have to wash it and start over,” he said. 

Ollie gasped in horror and batted Elio’s hand away. “I wanted it to look amazing, ELIO.” He was annoyed as he ran his fingers through his hair which no longer felt like gel. Thanks to Elio it now felt like normal hair, but curlier. “You messed it up!” he grumbled until Oliver gave him a cool it look. 

“You,” Oliver said, placing his hand on Ollie’s head. “Listen to Elio.” 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks and sighed. 

“You,” Oliver said, placing his hand on Leo’s head. "Go take off Ollie’s shoes before you fall down. It’s time to get dressed anyway.” 

Oliver could have sworn Leo’s cheeks puffed out behind the thumb he was sucking. 

“And you,” Oliver said, much more tenderly, catching Elio’s chin between his thumb and finger. "His hair looks fine,” he whispered, kissing Elio gently on the lips. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

Elio smiled inwardly. Making Oliver believe he’d thought of something on his own? It worked every time. “You’re right,” he said sweetly. “I’m sure it will be.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Oliver grumbled under his breath. 

Elio leaned over and kissed his neck. “Calm down,” he whispered in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I haven’t seen this person since she was a little kid. And I mean a little kid! We don’t even know each other. And she can’t even be bothered to show up on time?” 

Both men noticed Ollie noticing the exchange as he played in the floor with Leo. He looked like a Care Bear wearing a Bob Ross wig, but Elio hadn’t made him wash his hair. Elio gave his husband a somewhat chiding look, and Oliver gave a subtle nod. He would try to be a little more gracious about the interloper, even if she was over an hour late. He could see by the look on Elio’s face that he’d read his mind. It was amazing how he did that.  

“An hour isn’t even that late when you consider it’s a three day visit. One hour out of… what?” He performed some mental math, but Ollie got to the answer before he did.

“Seventy-Two.” 

Elio gave Oliver a lopsided smile. “See? She’s only one hour late out of 72. That’s barely even late.”

Oliver smiled. “Barely late is still late. That’s what barely means, ELIO,” Oliver said in a spot-on impersonation of Ollie.

Maybe Ollie would have laughed at this; maybe he wouldn’t have. They would never know, because that was when the doorbell rang and all proverbial hell broke loose. 

The dog was barking. The parakeet was squawking. All four Perlman-Kaines jumped up at the same time, one of the smaller ones spewing a long stream of “Ohmygodohmygodohmygods,” while bouncing around the room.

The doorbell rang again before they got the door opened, and what they saw next surprised them all. 

Leo was surprised, and none too pleased, to discover that there was a bona fide stranger on their doorstep. He held up both arms to be picked up by Daddy. 

Ollie was surprised, and none too pleased, to discover that his new cousin was not a child, which cousins were supposed to be –as everyone well knew.  All the plans he’d carefully outlined in his notebook would have to be scrapped and redone.

Elio was surprised that Oliver’s relative —whatever level cousin she was— was so young, possibly still a teenager. How could someone so young have already drifted so far from Oliver’s life? Wasn’t growing apart something that was supposed to happen over time? 

Oliver was surprised as well. That she looked exactly how she had as a child, only taller. 

“Hey,” he said, holding out the arm that wasn’t holding Leo in a gesture meant to say, “Do come in.” He was caught off guard when she instead walked right into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered, “Thank you for letting me come.” 

“I never said anything about drifting apart, honey,” Oliver whispered late that night as he and Elio lay in bed. “I’m sorry if you thought she was older. You didn’t ask or I would have told you.” 

Elio rolled his eyes. He hadn’t asked because Oliver had shut down all of his inquiries with ridiculous answers such as, “I don’t really know,” and, “I don’t remember,” and, “You’d have to ask my parents.” 

“How old is she, anyway?” Elio asked. Now that this person was sleeping on their sleeper sofa in the attic playroom it occurred to him that he had every right to know about this girl whether Oliver wanted to talk about her or not. “Seventeen? Eighteen?” 

“I don’t really know,” Oliver said, ridiculously.

“Oh my god,” Elio groaned, turning away from Oliver and flipping his pillow over to the cool side. “You don’t know how old your whatever-level cousin is? That’s messed up.” 

Oliver wrapped his arms around Elio and pulled them back together like lacing a shoe. “I don’t even know what level cousin she is, Elio. You know that my family is not close. This isn’t new information.” Sure, his relationship with his parents was slowly healing. But it didn’t change the fact that his entire extended family was so uptight that they changed any unpleasant thing that could be changed. Gray hair. Shirts with coffee stains. People. And any unpleasant thing that couldn’t be changed? Those tended to lopped off entirely. Skin tags. Warts. People. “I’m trying to heal generational problems here, Elio. It isn’t something that’s just simple to do. We don’t all have families like yours.” He felt Elio soften in his arms, melting into him. If forgiveness was a tangible thing, this is what it would feel like. “I love you so, so much, Elio. Don’t be mad at me.” 

Elio turned back over so that they were lying almost nose to nose. “I love you, too. And of course I’m not mad at you,” he said. They were lying so close, their lips brushed together as he spoke. 

Elio slept well, but he woke  way too early. He woke before the scent of waffles had worked its way into his Sunday morning dreams. He woke before the sun was up. He reached for Oliver only to find his side of the bed not only empty, but cold. “Oliver?” He rolled over and looked toward their bathroom door, but the sharp line of light he expected to see beneath the door was not there. “Oliver?” he whispered again as he climbed out of bed, slid into a shirt that turned out to be Oliver’s. At least the pajama pants were his own. With a resigned sigh, he padded barefoot out of the room and toward the study. 

“I knew I’d find you in here,” he said from the doorway. Oliver was sitting on the rarely used leather sofa they’d inherited when his parents had purchased new furniture. He was curled up in a very unOliverish way, with a cup of coffee on the table beside him and a large book in his lap. Elio stopped to appreciate this moment: the way Oliver’s hair was lying on his forehead, the way he was sitting, the lines and curves of his body, the contemplative look he wore. All of these things came together to make Oliver look as handsome as he ever had, but in a beautifully understated way. It looked good on him, but Elio knew better than to tell him so. If he told him so, Oliver would only become self-conscious and would probably sit up straight. He’d probably even go brush his hair. So Elio said not a word as he traipsed over and plopped down next to him. “You’re keeping it old school, I see,” Elio remarked, craning his neck to get a better look at the photo album Oliver was holding. 

Oliver smiled slightly and angled the photo album so that Elio could see it better. 

“Just looking at some old photographs,” he said, leaning to kiss Elio’s cheek. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“You didn’t wake me,” Elio said, wondering if Oliver would forever and always blame himself for any less than perfect thing that happened. “Do you want more coffee?” he asked, looking toward the cup that he somehow knew was cold. Oliver started to shake his head, but he stood and said, “I’m going to get myself some anyway.” 

Oliver hesitated. “You won’t be able to get back to sleep if you do that, honey.” 

Elio smiled and picked up his cup, pleased with himself to discover that he had been right. The cup was, indeed, cold, and had been for a while. “I’ll be right back and you can tell me about this.” 

“You’re going to be disappointed,” Oliver said. Elio pretended not to hear as he left the room with one cold cup and returned a few minutes later with two hot ones. 

“Careful,” he said as he passed Oliver his cup. Elio carefully folded himself onto the sofa next to him. He was thankful that he was wearing Oliver’s oversized shirt, because its cuffs made great oven mitts as he held his hot ceramic cup. “Tell me,” he said. 

Oliver tapped the page. “This is Kara,” he said, tapping a photo in the bottom left corner of a page toward the back of the book. 

Elio squinted. There were about a dozen children of all different sizes and ages standing in front of a fireplace, all dressed in similar pajamas. “I can’t tell them apart. Are they siblings?” 

This brought a single chuff of laughter from Oliver, who tapped the photo again. “No, but they’re related.” 

A smile lit Elio’s face like sunrise.  “Please tell me one of these children is you.” He was already searching the small, nearly identical faces. Someone was passing down strong genes in Oliver’s family. Oliver laughed and tried to pull the album away, but Elio gripped it with the strength he usually only employed when wrestling with Ollie. 

“Geez,” Oliver said with another brief laugh. “Calm down.” He released the book and smiled at the sight of Elio poring over the photo like all the secrets of the universe could be found there. 

“This one is you,” Elio said with absolute confidence as he pointed to a tall boy in the back. 

Oliver guided Elio’s hand to the left so that he was pointing to another boy; one who was slightly shorter.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Elio said, absolutely delighted by this unexpected jaunt down Oliver’s memory lane. He’d seen other pictures of Oliver as a child, though they were few and far between. But he’d never seen this particular photo. “I didn’t know you were short when you were a kid.” He reached up and pinched Oliver’s cheek.

Oliver caught his hand and moved it gently to his thigh. “I wasn’t short. My family was just very tall.” 

Elio thought about that. It made sense. “Your family is very tall,” he corrected. 

Oliver’s head tilted slightly to one side. “That’s what I just said.” 

“No, you said it was very tall. But don’t forget that you do have a family. And one member of your family is upstairs right now.” He ran a finger over the face that Oliver had shown him. She was a toddler in the photo. Oliver looked to be in his late teens. There were probably 15 years between them. “Instead of worrying so much about where she’s been and why she’s been there, and why she’s here now… why don’t we just get to know her?” 

Oliver sighed and raised Elio’s hand to his lips. He wished Elio could understand how complicated his family was. He could see Elio reading his mind again. “I’m not asking you to cure three generations of problems, Oliver. I’m talking about this one person. The one upstairs. And I’m not talking about the next three years. I’m talking about the next three days. Let’s just give things a chance.” 

Oliver kissed his hand again. “I love you,” was all he said.

Chapter Text

Back in their bed, Oliver was faced with a series of surprises, each larger than the one before it. First, he was surprised to find that Elio actually did fall back to sleep despite his firm, albeit unnecessary, warning about the coffee. Even more surprising was the fact that he, too, had fallen asleep. More than that, though, was that when he woke, he was alone in bed. The light streaming in through his east-facing was brighter than it should be. Whiter than it should be. He'd overslept. He probably could have slept longer, but he had his Sunday morning waffle responsibilities to see to. He sat up, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. That’s when he was met with the granddaddy of all surprises. The smell of waffles was already in the air. Oh no. ELIO strikes again!

Oliver bolted out of bed, threw on some loungewear, and dashed out of the room, pausing in the hallway only long enough to take the battery out of the smoke detector before practically sock-skating the rest of the way to the kitchen while murmuring to himself, “I’m up. I’m up. I’m up. I’m up!” When he entered the dining area of their eat-in kitchen, there was Elio, sitting leisurely at the kitchen table with a cat-like smile on his face. Oliver was still trying to process what he was seeing when Elio hopped up and looped both arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly on his confused lips. 

“You sound like Alice’s white rabbit,” Elio teased. 

Oliver did feel a bit like Alice must have when she fell down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. Not only was Elio up before him on a Sunday, but the kitchen was completely devoid of smoke. “I think the rabbit actually said, ‘I’m late, I’m late.” 

“Same thing,” Elio said, brushing their lips together again. When Elio spoke in that whispery tone… and when he touched their lips together like that, just barely enough to be counted as a kiss… Well, the man could say anything and Oliver would believe it. He was essentially hypnotized at that point. 

“Ahem.” 

The men jumped apart like naughty school children, Elio nervously tucking a curl behind his ear, Oliver pressing his twitching eyelid. “Good morning, Kara,” Oliver said. “I didn’t realize you were up.” He narrowed one eye playfully at Elio, “You certainly knew she was up though.” 

Heat flushed Elio's cheeks. He had known, but Oliver had a knack for making him forget that anyone else was in the room. 

“Perfect timing,” Kara said. “The boys are washing up, and the waffles are just about ready.” 

“I’ll set the table,” Elio said.

“Me, too,” Oliver muttered. Setting the table wasn’t exactly a two person job, but since his whatever-level cousin had taken his Sunday morning job, he wasn’t sure what his role was. 

“I see you met my very most favorite cousin IN the whole wide WORLD,” Ollie chirped when he galloped into the room a moment later. “I know basically pretty much EVERYTHING about her.” In case anyone doubted him on this, he provided some evidence. “Her name is Kara. With a K, not a C. And she is 19, which is in between being a teenager and a grown up,” Ollie paused, studying Oliver, then Elio, then Oliver. Based on their blank expressions, additional proof seemed to be in order. “That’s when you’re grown up enough to move out and vote, but you’re not old enough to drink beer or go to a casino.” 

When the blank looks continued, Ollie wondered if he had gotten it wrong. “Right, Elio?” 

“That just about sums it up,” Elio said, finally smiling. 

Kara cleared her throat. At the mention of casinos and beer, her cheeks turned bright red. She carried over the waffles and sat them on the table before sliding into the extra chair they’d pulled up to the table for her. “Sorry. I guess that was more than they needed to know,” she said. Leo ran into to room then, surveying the situation to see if they’d begun eating without him and then climbing into his chair, a kind of all-clear. Everyone helped themselves to a waffle as Kara apologized again. “I’m sorry. I think… well… I’m not really a kid person.” 

Ollie, gasped, giving the whole family a glimpse of his first bite of waffle —not yet chewed, thankfully— as his mouth fell open. Kara looked even more apologetic, wringing her napkin absently. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “I like kids.” Her eyes fluttered around the table as if looking for a safe place to land. “I actually really like kids a lot… I’m just not good with them.” 

Ollie closed his mouth but kept a narrowed eye on her for another long moment before seeming to decide something. “Well, you’re super duper good with me, and I’m a kid,” he pointed out. “And you’re even super duper good with Leo. And he’s just a baby.”

Kara took a deep, centering breath and placed her napkin on her lap. “Thank you, Ollie,” she said. Then, to Oliver, she added, “Ollie and I have been getting to know each other since about five o’clock this morning.” 

Oliver’s mind raced with questions. Wasn’t that just about the time he and Elio had gone back to bed? What had they said after going back to bed? Could she have heard any of their conversation? Would it have been bad if she did? He hadn’t said anything negative about her, had he? He couldn’t have, he decided. He couldn't have because he didn’t know anything about her, positive or negative. 

“Were you bothering her at five am, Lollipop?” Elio sounded chagrined. 

Ollie’s mouth flopped open again, but fortunately he was between bites this time. “Nuh uh.” He shook his head. “I was keeping her company and being a good cousin!” 

“He was,” Kara put in, immediately. “He is absolutely wonderful.” 

Ollie nodded his agreement. “But when Dill got up at six, I think he might have bothered her a teensy tinsy bit.” 

Leo gulped down his bite of waffle at warp speed in order to pop an innocent thumb into his mouth.

“Leo didn’t bother me, either,” Kara said with a lilt in her voice. “He was a lot of fun. He helped me make the whipped cream.” 

“I do it by myself,” Leo said around this thumb. 

Ollie noticed that Kara did not correct him on this. It seemed to be a conspiracy among all grown-ups and almost-grown-ups, letting babies think they had done things by themselves when they hadn’t. Grown-ups were so weird. Already Ollie had resolved that he wouldn’t be a weird grown-up. No way. He was going to be a perfectly normal grown-up. One who never lied to kids about whether they did things by themselves or not. One who still loved cartoons. And one who never stopped eating candy. In fact, Ollie thought he would probably even eat more candy when he was a grown-up, because he would be his own boss. 

“Ollie?” Oliver said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?” 

Ollie grinned. “I’m okay. I was just daydreaming.” And what a wonderful daydream it had been!

All day Oliver had looked for the right time to question Kara about the purpose of her sudden appearance in their lives. But the right time turned out to be a slippery thing —quite elusive really. It needed to be a time when things were quiet. A time when things were still. A time when they were all relaxed. A time when they could talk privately without being interrupted.

And times like that? In the Perlman-Kaine household, times like that were nocturnal. 

Elio was lying in bed with the boys trying to get them to sleep when Oliver finally slid open the back door and stepped out onto the deck. “Can we talk?” he asked.  There were chairs available on the deck; they often ate outside when the weather was nice. But Kara had chosen to sit on one of the small steps that led down into the yard, just as he often did. Her hair was a longer version of his own hair, a blond that had lightened in the summer’s sun but would begin to darken soon. Her eyes were his eyes, a shade of blue that Elio claimed reminded him of the wildflowers that grew along the berm. Her smile was his smile, careful and slow to make an appearance, but genuine when it finally did. 

She wasn’t smiling now, though. She was smoking and staring at the moon. Oliver took the cigarette from her and sucked in a long drag. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he said, flicking ashes into a small, secret ashtray they kept hidden inside a flowerpot. 

“They’re your cigarettes,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

“In that case…” Oliver’s smile was impish as he took one last drag and snubbed out the cigarette, placing the ashtray carefully back into the flowerpot so that it was hidden beneath a leafy part of the plant. 

Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m old enough to smoke, you know,” she sighed. “Ollie left that off of his list of things I’m old enough to do.” 

“It’s not good for you,” Oliver said again. She might be old enough to smoke, but she’d have to buy them herself. He still blamed himself for Elio’s smoking habit, though Elio had always insisted he smoked before they met. In any case, neither of them smoked much anymore. 

Kara didn’t argue. She just stared up at the moon and whispered, “Thanks for letting me come.” 

Oliver followed her gaze, wishing that the night sky was a Rosetta Stone. Wishing that, by seeing what she was seeing, he would understand something about her. But the moon was there, the same as always, doing its moonish duties. Reflecting light. Pulling the tides. “Most scientists think the moon used to be part of the earth,” he said. It wasn’t the most interesting scientific trivia he knew, but it was relevant to the moment. More importantly, it was a way to fill the silence. 

Kara closed her eyes. “I guess the moon and I have something in common.” She was quiet after that; so quiet that although they lived nowhere near the ocean, Oliver thought that he could almost hear the waves, moonchildren that they were. Eventually Kara finished her thought. “I used to be part of a family.”

Oliver slouched forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. So much for small talk. “Kara. I’m sorry if you’ve perceived my lack of communication as somehow personal. It has not been directed at you specifically. I’ve just… my life took me down a road that separated me from all of my family. And that’s the way things were for a very long time. Since you were still a kid.” 

“That road being Elio?” she asked, looking at him for the first time since he’d sat down next to her.

Oliver flashed his genuine smile, and Kara did the same. 

“Of course it was Elio.” He felt absolutely no shame confessing this. It wasn’t even a confession, really. It was a declaration. 

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by,” Kara quoted. She was gazing at the moon again. 

“And that has made all the difference,” Oliver finished her quote, bumping her gently with his elbow. 

“You love each other.” 

Oliver didn’t think it was a question, but he wanted to answer it. No, he needed to answer it. He needed to answer it like he needed his next breath. “I love Elio with all my heart. I’ll always take whatever road he’s on.” And he would, no matter how dark or moonless the night. 

“What about you?” he finally asked. “What road did you take?” 

She closed her eyes, but it wasn’t enough to stop the single tear that slid down her cheek. He wrapped an arm around her then, pulled her to him, kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he whispered. 

“It’s really not,” she said with a groan. 

“It is,” he said, immediately. Elio would have told him he had spoken too quickly. That he should just listen. That he should let her feel her feelings. But he wasn’t Elio, and he doubled down. “I know it might not feel okay right now, but no matter what it is, it will be okay. Eventually it will.” Finally he took Elio’s unspoken advice if for no other reason but that he was beginning to babble.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “It’s not the same. You took the way of love. That’s not what I did.” She made a noise that Oliver couldn’t figure out at first. It was a cough of laughter too small to hold all the sadness and bitterness she managed to cram into it. “The road I took was the exact opposite."  

Oliver didn’t know what to say. He tried to summon his inner-Elio but came up empty. “Okay,” he said, searching the sky for answers and finding none. "So your family?“

She shrugged. "They hate me. And they should hate me."

"I'm sure they don't hate you." 

"I did something unforgivable." Her voice was so quiet, Oliver had to fill in some of the words himself, but he was pretty sure that was what she'd said. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, her voice loud and clear that time. 

Oliver pressed his eyelid. "If we don’t know, we can’t help,” he said at last. Heat flooded his cheeks. That’s the best he could do? Those were the words he used with Ollie when he came home cranky from school with problems that could almost always be solved with a ten minute conversation over Oreos and milk. He was about to apologize, but she spoke before he could. 

“I have a baby,” she said. 

“Oh,” Oliver said, quietly. His mind was like a computer, processing many things at once. She was very young to be a mother. But it certainly wasn’t an impossible situation. If Oliver’s mother could come to terms with his being gay, Kara's mother could certainly accept this. It could happen to anyone. All it took was one careless moment. And if Kara’s parents refused to be reasoned with, she still wasn't completely alone. She had him, at least. His mind-computer glitched for a moment realizing the truth in that. She did have him. They were family. 

He was already working out a plan —along with plans B, C, and D— when he heard her say, “I mean, I had a baby.” 

“Had?” In his mind, he was converting the playroom into a combination bedroom/nursery for Kara and the baby (Plan E), so it was difficult at first to understand what she meant. 

“I gave him up,” she said. “For adoption,” she added, apparently sensing his confusion. “I was barely sixteen at the time. I tried. For a while, I tried. But I had no money. No matter how much I worked, it barely covered child care. And that was at the cheapest places... The not-great places."  

It broke Oliver's heart. For Kara. But also for a helpless baby, left for hours on end at a not-great place. He and Elio had made sure Leo was enrolled in the best early learning center in the area. “Your family wouldn't help you at all?" All sides of his family had money. Not that they were rolling in wealth, but enough to keep their children out of poverty. 

"They didn't know. God. Of course they didn't know. I could never let them know what I'd done. So I just kind of disappeared." 

Oliver rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the beginnings of a headache. "That's a lot," he admitted. 

“I know,” she said, covering her face with both hands. “What kind of person gives away their own kid?” Her voice was suddenly strong and bitter, like coffee that had been ground too finely and brewed too long. “That’s what you’re thinking.” Those last words were whispered. 

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” Oliver said.

“IT IS!” she wailed, sounding not a day older than the little girl she’d been last time he saw her. "I couldn't take care of him. I tried, but I couldn't! So I made a call and I gave him up."

Oliver didn't know what he could say that she wouldn't immediately disregard, so he just loved her hard and hoped she felt it.

Maybe she did, because her breathing seemed to be slowing and deepening. Oliver fished his phone out of his pocket. “You're not a terrible person," he said. "Let me show you something." He held his phone so she could see it as he clicked the side button and conducted familiar series of taps and swipes. 

“You say you didn’t take the…” he tried to recall the way she’d worded it. “The way of love?” He waited until her eyes were on the screen and then he slowly flipped through his favorite photo album. 

The lavender run.

The daffodil festival.

The wedding.

Their trip to Italy.

And he smiled at the smaller moments depicted, too:

The “mud fight” they’d had when it poured down rain after they’d tilled but before they’d planted the garden.

The hot cocoa stand they had one winter, Leo’s face all sticky with candy canes 

Bath times and bedtimes and first days of school

Finally Oliver handed her the phone where she continued to swipe through photos. 

“You were sixteen,” Oliver said to himself. “So your baby is about Leo’s age now, right?” 

She shrugged. "I guess. Somewhere close to that."  

“Just look at those happy faces. How could you possibly think you didn't take the way of love?”

She stopped on one photo and stared at it for a long time. “He does look very happy,” she admitted. 

Oliver nudged her with his elbow again, smiling. “Yes, but I wasn’t only talking about him. Look at Elio and me.” 

She laughed and sobbed at the same time. 

“Trust me, Kara, as someone who has been lucky enough to have adopted a child, I feel I can say this with full confidence on behalf of adoptive parents everywhere, including the ones who adopted your baby,” he hugged her to him again and kissed the top of her head again. “You are not a terrible person, Kara. You gave your baby and those parents the greatest gift. You took the way of love.” 

Chapter Text

“Not like that! Like THIS!” Ollie placed a hand on each of Leo’s puffy shoulders. He took a few breaths to prepare himself for the demonstration, opened his mouth as wide as a hungry hippo’s, and roared the loudest roar he could roar. It sounded something like, “ROOOAAARRRRRR!!!” But, even louder. 

Leo popped his thumb into his mouth and blinked his bright blue eyes. 

“Now, you try,” Ollie coaxed. 

“Roar,” Leo mumbled around his thumb. 

Ollie let his hands slide off of Leo’s shoulders, slapping sharply against his own thighs. Teeny Tiny Baby Brothers could be incredibly irksome. “You can’t just say the word roar!” 

“I not can roar,” Leo said.

“Everyone can roar!” Ollie insisted. 

“Roar,” Leo yawned.  

Ollie closed his eyes. He took a cleansing breath. He visualized rainbows and balloons and ice cream and all that stuff that Daddy and Elio always told him to think about when he was frustrated. When he finished his visualization exercises, he tipped his head back, flopped his mouth open, and roared again, but this time his roar sounded like, “EELLLLLIOOOOOOO!” But, even louder! He heard the distant sound of Elio getting off the couch and walking super, duper slowly down the hallway. “ELLLLIIOOOOOOOOOOO!” he yelled again, hoping to inject some urgency  into the situation, but the footsteps didn’t hasten. 

“What’s wrong, Ollie?” Elio asked in his most boredest tone. 

Ollie held out a palm toward Leo in a need-I-say-more gesture. 

Elio smiled at Leo, then at Ollie. “What? He looks adorable. You both do.”

Ollie shook his head wearily. “It’s not just about looks, ELIO.” Why couldn’t his brother understand that this was a family project and they were only as strong as the weakest link?

The weakest link yawned around his thumb again.

“DAAADDDYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!” Ollie screeched. The sounds of Oliver’s approach were much more hurried than Elio’s had been. At least someone cared. 

“What?!” Oliver was glancing around the room for any signs of danger. “What’s wrong? Did Wolfgang escape again?” 

Ollie did the palm up gesture again, but Oliver didn’t seem to understand. He would never win at charades.

“He’s frustrated because Leo won’t roar,” Elio explained. 

It sounded less serious when Elio said it, so Ollie put it in his own words. “But he is supposed to be a dinosaur! And dinosaurs are excellent roar-ers!” 

Oliver was crossing his arms and looking very serious, so Ollie flopped back onto his bed and groaned. It was meant to have a dramatic Nestea plunge effect, but his tail got in the way and pushed him onto his side before the full effect was achieved, creating more of a beached whale effect. Ollie tried to roll onto his back again, but his tail wouldn’t let him. He tried to roll onto his stomach, but his ginormous dino belly precluded that as well. Instead of a super awesome T-Rex doing the Nestea plunge, Ollie felt more like an upside down turtle. He wiggled and squirmed and rocked back and forth, but he wasn’t going anywhere. “A little help?” 

Elio stepped over and pulled him up so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Ollie, Leo doesn’t have to roar if he doesn’t want to,” Elio said. 

“But he NEEDS to!”

“Cool it,” Oliver said. “The only things Leo needs to be able to say are ‘Trick or Treat’ and ‘Thank you.’ Okay?” Oliver said. Ollie wasn’t sure if the face he was making was a cool it face or if he was just ‘in character.’ He and Elio were both dressed as dinosaur trainers from Jurassic Park. 

“Fine,” Ollie groaned. The grown-ups seemed content with the way things had worked out, but there was one thing they hadn’t taken into consideration. Fortunately, they weren’t going trick-or-treating for another hour. That meant that there were still sixty roar-lesson minutes remaining, after all. 

But the roar lessons did become a little trickier to execute after that, because the very next time Ollie said, “Roar, Dill. Like this. ROOOOOAAAARRRR!!!!” Elio yelled his name from the other room. 

“Ollie! I hope you’re not trying to force Leo to roar again!” 

“I’m not!” he called back. It wasn’t a lie at the moment. At the moment, he wasn’t roaring at all. He was answering Elio. 

“I hope you weren’t just trying to force Leo to roar again a moment ago!” Oliver added.

Ollie scrunched his face. Foiled again! “Check,” he grumbled.

“Let’s go outside, Pickle,” Ollie whispered, and Leo fell for it. Little bitty teeny tiny baby brothers were so gullible. But when Ollie slid open the back door, there was Elio, wanting to know what he was up to.

“What are you up to, Ollie?” He sounded very suspicious for some strange reason. 

“Us?” Ollie asked. 

Elio nodded. “Yes. You.” 

Ollie looked from his big brother, to the door, and back to Elio again. “Me and Leo are going to play in the treehouse.” 

Elio shook his head. “You don’t need to do that. You’ve got your costumes on already. Your tails are making you clumsy. It’s a bad idea.” 

“I have TONS of bad ideas! But I still do them!” 

Elio narrowed his eyes. He was going to be difficult to persuade, apparently. 

“You always say I should at least TRY things. So I think me and Leo should just TRY playing in the treehouse.” Ollie held his breath, hoping that would sway his brother. It almost worked. Elio’s eyes were going back to their normal shape when Oliver appeared behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and gazing at Ollie over Elio’s shoulder. 

“I think you and Leo should just TRY listening to Elio before I decide to ration your candy again.” 

Ollie scowled. 

“Don’t be grumpy, Lollipop,” Elio said. 

“I’d ruffle your hair but I can’t because of your costume,” Oliver added. “And besides. It’s time to go trick or treating anyway,” Oliver said. 

“Oh my GOSH!” Ollie gasped, bouncing as best he could in head-to-toe T-Rex garb. “LEO! It’s TIME FOR TRICK OR TREATING!” 

Leo tried to bounce like Ollie, but he toppled over. Fortunately he had plenty of padding in his costume, so the Earth continued spinning on its axis.

The minute he stepped out onto his spookily decorated front porch, Ollie was no longer concerned about the fact that his baby brother couldn’t roar. Honestly, in retrospect, it was probably for the best because Leo was just a baby velociraptor. The bottom half of his costume was still encased in an egg! 

Halloween had arrived at last. There was a chill in the air. The sun was setting. Crunchy leaves covered the ground in patches the perfect size for stomping through. Porch lights, also known as candy beacons, were glowing as far as the eye could see. Two little dinosaurs and their handlers tromped along the sidewalk among neighborhood spooks of all shapes and sizes.  When they stopped at the first house, Ollie was so enraptured by the magic of the night that he ran up the sidewalk with carefree abandon, visions of miniature candy bars dancing in his head. 

“Wait,” Oliver called.

Ollie froze mid-stomp. 

“Come back for a second.” 

So Ollie did an about face and dinosaur stomped back over to stand next to Leo. 

Oliver knelt down next to them. “I know you know this already, Lollipop, but let’s remind Leo.” 

“Check!” Ollie grinned. He knew what this was about. 

“Leo,” Oliver said. “Remember to say, trick-or-treat just like we practiced. Okay?”
“Chex!” Leo said with a nod. 

Oliver hesitated. “Let’s practice one more time. Say trick-or-treat.” 

“Sticker sweets!” Leo chirped. 

“Close enough,” Oliver nodded his approval. 

“And also say thank you,” Elio reminded. 

“Right,” Oliver agreed. “Let’s practice that again, too. Say thank you.” 

“Yes, fanks,” Leo said. 

“Close enough,” Oliver said again. Nodding toward the house he added, “Proceed.” That was all it took. Both boys took off. Oliver and Elio smiled at each other as they watched the boys make their way up to their neighbor’s door. 

“I think we have the world’s only galloping dinosaur,” Elio giggled. 

Oliver laughed as well, but only slightly. He was listening carefully to make sure both boys used the manners he’d been practicing with them. 

“Trick or treat,” he heard Ollie say. He smiled to himself. His hard work was paying off. His smile faded and his cheeks caught fire when Leo’s turn came.

“ROOOOOAAAAARRRR!!!!” Leo said. 

“Not like that,” Ollie said. “Like this. Trick or treat.”  Dinosaurs only roar at home! (As everyone well knows!)

“ROOOOOAAAAAARRRR!!!” Leo said. 

Oliver strode up the sidewalk, but the neighbor was smiling and waving. “You have an adorable dinosaur family!” She dropped candy in both of the kids’ buckets. 

“Thank you,” Ollie said.

“ROOOOOOOAAARRRR!!!!” Leo said.

“Say thank you, Sweet Pickle,” Oliver said. 

“ROOOOAAARRRRRRR!” Leo said. 

Elio was walking up, too, giving Oliver a reassuring look. “I think that he said thank you in dinosaur language.” 

Oliver smiled sheepishly. There was only so much he could do. 

“I are a dinoROAR!” Leo roared. 

“Thanks, again, Mrs. Stroud!” Ollie said as he galloped through a patch of crunchy October leaves with Leo stomping happily along behind him. 

This art from Elibabette is toooo cute!! 🎃💀🎃🦇🕷️🕸️

Chapter Text

Oliver arrived home to the usual fanfare. Ollie was dancing around him as if he were a human bonfire. Leo was attempting to climb him in what was affectionately known in the Perlman-Kaine household as the great ascent. Both boys were chattering so much that he couldn’t understand a word either of them were saying.

In other words, it was Oliver’s favorite time of day.

He snatched Leo with a playful growl and tossed him into the air. When he set his youngest gigglebox down, he picked up the bigger one –feigning a groan– and threw him over his shoulder, jostling him roughly until he, too, was drowning in his own laughter. There was one person who was conspicuously missing from the afternoon ritual, however. 

“Where’s Elio?” he asked, peeling Leo off his leg and wandering toward the kitchen. “Where’s Elio?” he asked again when no one answered. 

“I not know,” Leo giggled, grabbing his arm and trying to climb up his leg again. 

Oliver looked to Ollie for answers, but the eight-year-old only shrugged. “I think he’s in the study.” 

“In the study?” That was strange. “What’s he doing?” 

Another shrug from Ollie. “I think he’s doing something.” Ollie honestly had no idea what his older brother was up to, but the study just seemed like a place for doing things, so this was probably the correct answer. 

“Hmmmm,” was all Oliver said as he peeled his three-year-old off of his leg yet again. “I’ll check on him. Stay here and play with Sweet Pickle.” The kids must not have understood him, because when Oliver pushed open the door to the study, he had Leo attached to his leg like a cast while also wearing Ollie like a backpack. “Hey. Are you all right?” He shook Leo off his leg and pulled Ollie over his shoulder. “Go play for a minute.” He’d used the tone to which there was really only one appropriate answer, and they gave it. 

“Check!” Ollie said. 

“Chex!” Leo agreed. 

When the boys had scampered noisily away, Oliver closed the door behind him with a soft snick and walked over to sit on the leather sofa next to Elio. 

“What are you doing, honey?” he asked, looking over Elio’s shoulder at the paper he was reading. “Your homework?” 

He’d only been teasing, but Elio gave him a narrow-eyed look that made clear the fact that he didn’t want to be teased. Oliver kissed him, and all was forgiven. “I think Leo is failing preschool,” Elio muttered. 

“What?” Oliver pulled the paper out of Elio’s hand to get a better look at it. “What do you mean failing preschool?” How does one fail preschool? It isn’t even real school, as Ollie always loves to remind them. 

“See for yourself.” Elio closed his eyes and let his head fall heavily onto the back of the sofa. 

Part of Oliver wanted to comfort his sweet husband, but the larger part of him needed to know what was going on with his toddler. There was a chart with the uppercase and lowercase alphabet. At the top, it said 3/52. “I didn’t even know he had a test today,” he muttered, dismayed. 

“I didn’t know preschool even had tests.” Elio didn’t bother to open his eyes. He’d been staring at the paper for so long, he could still see the image as if it were burned into his retinas.

“What?? The only letters he knows are lowercase e, upper case L, and lowercase o?” Oliver’s cheeks were burning. 

“The letters in his name,” Elio practically whispered. He felt like such a failure. Ollie was essentially their first child. Their practice child. But Ollie hadn’t given them much practice in this area. He’d been so easy. He was smart, and he loved to learn. Other than the occasional prodding to do his homework, he hadn’t needed much support from them academically. Perhaps that was why it had not occurred to them that they should be concerned about Leo’s academic endeavors up to this point. “Should we get him a tutor or something?” 

Oliver shook his head, although truly he had no idea. “I’m calling Meg about this tomorrow.” He hoped that the director of Bright Beginnings Montessori could explain to him why his three-year-old had been given a test that they hadn’t even prepared him for. “And I guess we’ll go from there.” He pulled Elio to him and squeezed him tightly. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” But secretly, he wasn’t sure at all. 

Elio had been watching Oliver press his eyelid while scrolling his phone for the past half hour. “No luck?” The answer was obvious, but Elio asked the question anyway. 

“I am starting to think tutoring for three-year-olds isn’t a thing.” Since talking to Meg at Bright Beginnings earlier that morning, Oliver had spent every spare moment of his day perusing websites, networking with friends and friends-of-friends in education, and making countless phone calls. But he hadn’t found a tutor for Leo. He didn’t even have a lead. 

“I thought Meg said that it wasn’t for a grade?” 

Oliver set his phone down on the side table. Elio was right. Meg had assured him that not only was it not for a grade, it wasn’t even meant to be a test. It was just an informational screener that they had given before launching a months-long unit on the alphabet. “It’s absolutely nothing to worry about. We haven’t explicitly taught the alphabet yet. Consider it baseline data.” But when he consulted Google, he was horrified to discover that some three-year-olds could name half of the letters, or even more. Their child was —they had to face it— behind. If they didn’t get him caught up now, didn’t it stand to reason that the gap would only widen? By the time Leo started kindergarten, it might be too late. Oliver picked up his phone and continued scrolling as Elio leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. 

“Why don’t you just tutor him yourself?” Ollie asked as he snapped another piece of the 30 piece jigsaw puzzle he and Leo were working on into place. 

This question surprised Elio and Oliver for a few different reasons, one of which was the fact that they didn’t think he’d been paying attention as they discussed Leo’s potentially being retained into the “fish class” (the silly animal name they’d given the three-year-old class) for the foreseeable future. 

“What?” Elio asked. Leo was turning a puzzle piece clockwise, matching up the shapes and colors. It didn’t take him long to snap it into place along with the others. He was smart. How had this happened? Elio’s own father would be mortified at the educational neglect they’d inflicted on their small child. 

“I said why don’t you and Daddy just teach Leo his letters?”

Elio and Oliver looked at one another and both shook their heads at the same time. “We need to get a professional. We don’t want to let him fall behind.” 

“But you’re both basically pretty much teachers,” Ollie pointed out. 

Elio and Oliver looked at one another for a beat longer this time, but they still shook their heads in unison once more. 

“Elio, you could teach him his F-A-C-Es and his E-G-B-D-As at least!” Those were the musical notes, which his older brother had forced him to learn. “And Daddy could teach him about the CEs and BCEs.” Daddy knew mostly everything about old stuff and SUPER DUPER old stuff. 

“That still leaves a lot of letters,” Elio said. 

Ollie used his dramatic sigh to blow his bangs out of his eyes. Two birds, one stone. “Fine. I’ll teach him all the other ones.” 

“I DO IT!” Leo squealed as he popped in the last piece of the puzzle. “I DO IT BY MYSELF!” 

Ollie frowned. “MOSTLY by yourself,” he corrected. “I did the edge pieces.” 

Despite Ollie’s sage parenting advice, Oliver and Elio would have preferred to hire a tutor for Leo. If Leo didn’t learn his letters, how would he ever read? And if he couldn’t read, how would he ever learn all the things he needed to know? After another day of Google searches and phone calls, however, their hope of finding a tutor began to fade. Oliver arrived home that afternoon an hour later than usual, his arms full of alphabet toys, sandpaper letters, flash cards, and workbooks. Elio recognized it for what it was. 

“We ride at dawn?” he said, sheepishly. 

“We ride at dawn,” Oliver agreed. 

“What is this one?” Elio said, holding up a card with an uppercase and lowercase Z, along with a picture of a zebra. 

“W!” Leo chirped. It had been his guess for at least the last 10 letters.

“So close!” Elio said. “It’s a z.” 

“Z!” Leo agreed. 

“What’s this one?” Elio said, holding up an O card that sported a purple octopus. 

“W!” Leo giggled. 

Elio forced a smile. “Almost. It’s an O. For Octopus.” 

“O!” Leo agreed. 

“Let me try,” Ollie said, plopping down next to Elio. Elio hesitated slightly, but handed Ollie the cards. It wouldn’t be the first time that Ollie had taught him something after both he and Oliver had failed. Ollie was thumbing through the cards with a very serious look on his face. Finally he held up the card that had the W on it, along with a delicious-looking photo of watermelon. Clever kid, Elio thought. Give Leo the card with the letter he did know. Give him some success to build on. Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

“What is it?” Ollie asked. The entire room held its breath. 

“O!” Leo sang. 

Elio and Ollie looked at one another. 

“It’s W, Dill,” Ollie said. “It’s your favorite letter!” 

Leo frowned. “No fanks,” he said. “I not like it.” 

Elio took the cards back and held up the W. “Say W, Sweet Pickle. W. For watermelon.” 

Leo smiled. “Double-Me!” he agreed. 

For the love of PETE. “Not double-me, Sweet Pickle. Double U. W for watermelon.” 

Leo looked puzzled. Isn’t that what he just said? He pointed to the letter, then to himself. “Double-me?” he asked. 

“Close,” Elio said. “But it’s not me. It’s U. It’s double U.” 

Leo poked his lip out, and Oliver intervened. “I think that’s enough practice for tonight.” 

The next morning, Oliver couldn’t resist getting in a little practice at breakfast. He usually avoided buying the boys sugary breakfast cereal, but he’d made an exception, purchasing a box of cereal in which the pieces were shaped like letters of the alphabet. He thought the cereal’s educational value outweighed its sugar content. 

As Leo ate, Oliver lined up a few dry pieces of cereal. “What’s this one?” he asked, pointing to an S. 

“Double-me!” Leo said with enough conviction that Oliver had to take another look at it himself. 

“It’s an S,” he said. 

“S!” Leo agreed. 

But every letter after that was also double-me, until eventually they all needed another break.

That afternoon they made letters out of playdough. The next day they glued dried beans to paper in the shape of letters. After that, they squirted shaving cream onto the table and practiced writing the letters. They had worked very hard all week, so that weekend Oliver gave Leo the same test he’d taken at school. 

“How did he do?” Elio asked, hesitantly. 

Oliver held up the paper onto which he’d already recorded his score for Elio to see. 

“2/52?! How? Last time he knew three letters!” 

Oliver shrugged. “He no longer knows lowercase e, apparently.”

“Geez,” Elio said, handing back the paper. “Does this mean we’re going to have to start calling him Lo?” 

Oliver gave him a rather stern look. “That’s not funny, Elio.” 

Elio smiled at him, that impish, lopsided, irresistible half smile. “It was a little funny,” he insisted. 

Oliver laughed despite himself. “A teensy tinsy bit,” he said in his Ollie voice. “But barely.” 

“Barely funny is still funny, Oliver,” Elio said with a smile in his voice. 

“That’s what barely means!” They said together. 

The following week when Elio picked Leo up from Bright Beginnings, Meg waved him over. “Elio! Wait!” 

Fortunately Leo hadn’t spotted him yet, or waiting wouldn’t have been an option. 

“I’ve been trying to return Oliver’s most recent call, but I haven’t been able to reach him today,” she said. 

Elio thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “He’s on an interview committee for the university students who are wanting to enter the Classics department. Today they had…” he let his voice trail off because he could see by the blank look on her face that he’d already given her more information than she needed or wanted. “He was busy,” he summarized. 

Her smile returned. “Anyway, would you please let Oliver know that I got his message. And we think it’s wonderful that your whole family has been working with Leo on his letters.” 

Elio felt a sudden warmth in his cheeks. “We aren’t having much luck, unfortunately,” he admitted. “We worked every day for a week and all we managed was making him forget his E, I’m afraid.” Meg smiled a friendly, reassuring smile that made him feel better. It made him feel so much better that before he could stop himself, he’d said, “I guess we’re going to have to start calling him Lo.” 

Meg laughed more than she had in the entire year he’d known her. Put together. “That’s very funny,” she said as her laughter finally died down.  “Can I give you some advice?” she added conspiratorially. 

“Absolutely,” Elio said. “We could really use it.” 

Meg patted his arm. “I listened to Oliver’s message today, and I wanted to tell you both to remember that children really do learn through play. Leo is too young for flash cards and workbooks. Keep up the playdough. Keep up the fridge magnets. Name the letters with him when he initiates it, but don’t push too hard. He’s a smart little boy, and if you push him, he will probably push back.” 

Elio was surprised to feel his eyes burning. He must have rubbed some sunscreen into them on this cloudy day. “You really think that he’s… smart?” He and Oliver had always thought Leo was exceptionally smart for his age, but didn’t all parents think that about their children?

Meg seemed surprised by his question. “Yes. Of course. He’s very smart.” 

Elio didn’t have an immediate reply to this, and even if he had, he might not have been able to get it out. 

“He knows all of his colors. He can match his shapes. He can identify whether something is larger or smaller. He’s artistic. He’s musical. He’s got a wonderful sense of humor and keeps us all laughing most of the time. He’s a whiz at puzzles.” 

Elio smiled. “He has always liked puzzles.” 

Meg’s eyes went wide. “No kidding. We had to bring puzzles down from the “turtle class” because the ones in his class were too easy for him.” 

“Ooooh,” Elio crooned, only partially joking. “The “turtle class,” huh?” He knew that the turtle class was the class for four- and five-year-olds who were almost ready for kindergarten.

Meg nodded. “You have a wonderful little boy. Just let him be a kid. We won’t do another alphabet screener until the end of next spring. I think you’ll be surprised how much he has learned by then.” 

“Okay,” Elio said, but he was still doubtful, and she must have sensed it because she patted his arm again.

“I’m serious. No more pushing him. If you keep on at this rate, we'll soon be calling him not Lo, but Oh.” 

Elio would have laughed, but Leo spotted him then, and his heart melted. 

“PAPA!!” Leo called, holding up both arms to be picked up.

“Come here, Oh,” he said, scooping up his little boy who looked for all the world like Oliver even though there was no reason why he should. 

“I are not Oh,” Leo giggled as Elio blew a raspberry onto his neck. 

“That’s right, I forgot. You’re DOUBLE-ME!” 

Leo laughed and shook his head. “I are not double-me!” 

Meg and Elio nodded at one another as he carried Leo toward the door. They needed to get home to meet the bus for Ollie. “If you’re not a double-me, then what are you?” 

“I are a PICKLE!” Leo said as Elio opened the car door and fastened him into his car seat. 

“You’re a very Sweet Pickle,” Elio agreed. 

Chapter Text

When Oliver looked up to see a miniature version of Elio’s silhouette in the doorway of his study, his anxiety skyrocketed. “Ollie?” The seven-year-old didn’t reply. “You okay?” 

“Where is Elio?” Ollie croaked. When he took a step forward, he changed from a shadow into a person, and Oliver's anxiety climbed even higher.

“We told you he had to go out of town today.  Remember?” 

Ollie nodded reluctantly. “But when will he be home?” The need in Ollie’s voice was enough to break Oliver’s heart, but he did not let it show. He was trying his best to be —whatever he was— to Ollie. 

He was looking after him more. Helping him with his homework. Talking with him, or trying to. He didn’t expect Ollie to ever love him in the same fierce way that he loved his big brother, but he did hope that Ollie would one day love him, just a little. For Ollie’s sake, of course. Kids needed to be able to love and trust the people who were going to be his caregivers for roughly the next decade. In some ways, though, his attempts to build a relationship with Ollie felt like reaching for a glass on a high shelf. Just when he felt it was within his grasp, he somehow managed to push it further away. 

“He will be back late.” His voice was patient, even though he’d said this same thing several times already. “He will be here after you’re asleep.” 

Ollie poked his lip out. “He will be here when I wake up?” 

This, too, Oliver had already told him several times, but he said it again as if it were the first time. “Yes. When you wake up, he will be here.” Tears filled Ollie’s eyes, and Oliver borderline panicked. “We can call him. If you want to?” 

Ollie didn’t say anything, but his answer practically hung over his head in a visible thought bubble. 

“Come here,” Oliver said, taking out his phone, dialing, and praying that Elio was able to take the call. 

He answered on the first ring. “Is everything okay?” 

“Ollie just wants to say goodnight... Again... You’re on speaker.” In the brief silence that followed, Oliver could see Elio’s face in his mind. He was concentrating, trying to send his love and comfort to his little brother telepathically. 

“Hey, Ollie Wollie,” he said in the voice that was only for his little brother. “Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“I can’t sleep,” Ollie said, stepping gradually closer. He reminded Oliver of a scared animal being baited with food. If the phone call, namely Elio, was the bait in this scenario, did that make Oliver the trap? “I miss you super duper much.” 

Elio breathed heavily into the phone. “I miss you, too.”

Ollie looked longingly at the phone in Oliver’s hand. “I love you super duper much though.” Oliver smiled inside at how generous Ollie was with these words. In Oliver’s own family, love was surely present, but it was rarely voiced. But Ollie said them to Elio every time they spoke. He wondered, ridiculously, if Ollie would ever say them to him. He chased that childish thought away, relieved that no one could read his mind. 

“I love you, too, Ollie. Just go to sleep, and I’ll be home when you wake up.” 

A tear dripped down the child’s chubby, freckled cheek. 

“What are you doing right now, honey?” Oliver asked. If Elio was doing what he thought he was doing, he had an idea. 

“Just driving,” Elio said. 

Ollie was asleep in his bed fifteen minutes later, Elio still on the phone, which was lying silently on his bedside table. 

“You still there?” Oliver whispered into the phone as he stepped out of the room, pulled the door almost closed, and flipped on the light in the hallway for Ollie, who was scared of the dark. 

“I’m here,” Elio said. 

“He’s asleep.” Oliver headed to his own room and climbed into bed without getting undressed. He’d probably be up again soon to answer the same questions again. 

“Good.” 

Elio sounded so tired, Oliver suddenly wanted him home as much as Ollie did. “Please drive safely.” 

“I am. I will.” 

The silence that followed hummed with all the things unsaid between them. All the things that would never be said. Oliver was still awake an hour later when Elio finally collapsed into bed and rolled into him. Only when their arms and legs were tangled so tightly together that they might as well have been one person did sleep finally find him. 

“Sorry Ollie gave you a hard time last night,” Elio whispered the next morning. They were lying in bed, being as quiet as they could for as long as they could. Their days of sleeping until noon were over, it seemed. But Ollie had stayed up late, so they found themselves gifted with some time alone. 

“He didn’t give me a hard time,” Oliver said. “He just missed you. He loves you.” 

Elio smiled as if he could see Oliver’s most secret self. “He loves you, too, you know.” 

Oliver was surprised by how much these words stung, but he didn’t say anything. The last thing he wanted was for Elio to push things with Ollie. The little boy couldn’t and shouldn’t be expected to love him. Before the recent, tragic events, though they got along very well, the truth was that they’d only spent time together a handful of times in his young life. 

“Elio?” Ollie yelled from his bedroom. Oliver barely had time to kiss him before he sprang from their bed and ran out of the room. Oliver lay in bed listening to their joyful reunion. I missed you. I love you.

With a sigh, he rolled out of bed to see to breakfast. 

Although the logical part of Oliver —which was by far the larger part of him— knew better, he found himself reaching for that high-shelved glass again and again over the next few days. It was like an uneven fingernail or a sore in his mouth, something he just could not leave alone even though he knew his efforts were probably only going to make it worse. 

He thought they'd gotten close a time or two. For example, each night when he and Elio tucked Ollie in for the night, Elio would say those three words as he kissed him goodnight. And Ollie would say it back without fail, as dependable as sunrise and sunset. So one night, as soon as Elio had kissed his forehead and told him he loved him, Oliver leaned down and did the same. Ollie had yawned widely, closed his eyes, and said only, “Goodnight.” Oliver was as surprised and confused and concerned as anyone would be if the sun refused to shine, and he silently resolved never to push it again. 

So instead of saying the words, he did his best to show his love in every small way he could. He let him help make breakfast even though it took twice as long and was three times as messy. He rearranged his work schedule so that he could be home in the afternoons rather than hiring a babysitter. He found out what Ollie’s favorite snacks were and made sure to have them on hand. He bought him a nightlight. Every afternoon, he sat down with Ollie and had a snack with him. It was over these snacks that they had their best conversations. As the days turned into weeks, they grew closer and closer, but Ollie never once told him he loved him. 

Elio, however, tried to reassure him of Ollie’s love on a daily basis. “He loves you, you know,” Elio would say again and again. It was on one of these occasions that Oliver accidentally made a scoffing noise that was so slight, no one but Elio would have recognized it for what it was. “What’s wrong? What is it?” the younger man asked. “You can tell me.” His voice was almost impossibly tender, as it often was when they lay like this in bed at the end of a long, cold day. 

“I don’t think he does.” Oliver could only make this admission because it was a moonless night and the room was almost fully dark. He felt Elio’s arms tighten around him. 

“He does, Oliver. Why wouldn’t he? You’re the most lovable person in the world.” 

Oliver only sighed. Because I make him eat vegetables and do his homework and go to bed at 8:00? Because he lost the most wonderful parents in the world and got me instead? 

“Why do you think he doesn’t?” Elio asked even more gently. 

“He has never once said he does.” Oliver had to close his eyes to make this admission, regardless how dark the night. 

“Oliver.” Elio said his name in the same tone one would use with a toddler who’d thrown their spoon onto the floor during dinner. 

“He says it to you all the time, but he doesn't say it to me even if I’m standing there. It sometimes feels like he goes out of his way not to say it.” 

“Oliver.” Elio’s tone was the one he’d used before, but worn and frayed around the edges. 

“Every day he draws you a picture and writes you notes to say that he loves you, and have you noticed what he writes for me, Elio?” 

“What?” Elio asked. 

“Random letters.” 

Elio seemed to have no reply to this. 

“It’s true,” Oliver admitted. “Every day he gives me a note on the same paper he gives you, but instead of a nice picture or kind words, there are just random letters that say absolutely nothing. I have a whole drawer full of them. I’ll show you. It feels almost like it’s his way of saying–” Not even his closed eyelids provided enough darkness to say the rest of it. It feels almost like he’s making sure I know that he doesn't love me. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Elio could say to that. 

The next morning, when Elio plunked the papers down on the table next to Ollie’s cereal bowl, Oliver’s eyes were saucers. This was exactly what he didn't want. It was why he'd kept his feelings to himself as much as possible. He cleared his throat. He wagged his eyebrows. He shook his head. But there seemed no way of stopping this thing now. 

“What are these Ollie?” Elio asked. His voice was not accusatory. It was only gently prodding. “You know how to write real words, Ollie.” 

Ollie looked at the papers, then at Elio. He might have looked at Oliver, too, but Oliver wouldn’t know because he had a sudden, overwhelming need to organize the spice cabinet. 

“I don’t know how to spell that much words,” Ollie said.  

“Ollie Hal Perlman,” Elio said, and it was probably the first time Oliver had ever heard his  boyfriend sound even slightly displeased with his little brother. “You know how to write words that can be understood, even if they aren’t all spelled perfectly. You do it all the time.” 

Oliver had no idea what Ollie’s response to this was. The seven-year-old didn’t say anything. And Oliver couldn’t see his facial expression because he was closely examining the jar of cinnamon in his hand, searching for an expiration date. 

“What are these, Ollie?” Elio’s voice was soft again.

“I don’t know.” Ollie’s voice was closer to a breath than a whisper. 

“It’s okay. You can tell me. You're not in trouble.” Elio had completely changed course. “It's just that when you draw me pictures and write me notes and then give Oliver this... gobbledygook... we don’t understand, Ollie.” 

“It’s hard to say,” Ollie said. 

“Well, try.” After these words from Elio, time seemed to stand still. But Oliver heard the scraping sound of Ollie’s chair moving away from the table. He heard the sound of small, departing footsteps. He finally dared to look over his shoulder, but Elio wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the stack of papers. When Ollie’s footsteps returned, Oliver whipped his head back around. Didn’t they have some cumin? Why wasn’t it near the cinnamon? More importantly, why didn’t Elio respect the sanctity of alphabetical order? And when would he even have a need for cumin? He certainly never cooked with it. 

Behind him, the room was so quiet that Oliver could actually hear the pencil marks Ollie was making. Apparently he was trying to fix the situation by adding actual notes. Oliver was almost afraid to know what they would say. 

“Ooohhhhh,” Elio said behind him. 

There was the shuffling of paper, then another pencil scratch. Followed by another, “Ooohhhh,” from Elio. 

This continued several more times. Another paper moving. More pencil scratching. Another "Ooohhh," from Elio. 

“Can I be finished now?” Ollie asked. 

"Sure," Elio said. 

Oliver wondered, briefly, if Ollie wanted to be finished with the conversation, or with the cereal. He placed the cumin next to the cinnamon and appraised them both with narrowed eyes. What was missing? Coriander, of course. 

Elio stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his cheek against Oliver’s shoulder blade. Oliver froze with the spice bottle still in his hand. 

“Some things are hard to say, Oliver,” Elio whispered. Oliver could feel his breath through his thin T-shirt. 

“It’s fine,” Oliver said, setting down the coriander and turning to wrap his arms around Elio. “Don't worry about this at all. I should never, ever have said anything.” 

“No. I’m really glad you did,” Elio said, holding out the papers.

He apparently wanted Oliver to see what Ollie had added, so he reluctantly took the papers and willed himself to believe whatever niceties the small child had felt compelled to add. But as he slowly flipped through the pages one by one, he was surprised to see that they looked almost exactly the same. No words had been added at all. They were still just pages filled with letters. But now, Oliver could see that the letters were written in rows and columns, at least as well as a seven year old could write in rows and columns. And to the grid of letters, Ollie had added not words, not letters, but circles. Circles around some of the letters that had been there all along.  

Love

I love you

Thank you

Love from Ollie

Oliver smiled at the papers, then at Elio, who was grinning at him. 

“Word searches?” Oliver laughed when he said it, not because he thought it was funny but because he felt such immense relief. “He made me word searches?” 

“Some things,” Elio stretched up onto his toes to kiss him. “Are hard to say.” 

And in that moment, Oliver realized that while Ollie’s love was, to him, a glass on a high shelf, his was the same to Ollie. But for Ollie, tall things were much harder to reach. 

Still, he had tried. 

He went directly to Ollie’s room and was relieved to find that he wasn't upset. He was just writing in his notebook, lines and rows of letters. 

“I love you, Ollie,” he said. I love you, you brave and wonderful human, he thought but did not say. 

Ollie grinned at him and snapped his notebook closed before casting it aside to wrap his arms around Oliver’s neck. He kissed his cheek. 

“I love you!” Ollie said. 

It was their first exchange of these words, but it would happen again many, many times —countless numbers of times over the years— until eventually they weren't so hard to say. Until eventually, they came as natural as breathing. 

Chapter Text

“Well, someone’s in a good mood today,” Elio said to the empty space that his brother had occupied waaaay back when he’d begun the sentence. 

“CHECK!” Ollie called from his bedroom. 

Elio was motionless except for his eyes, which were blinking at a faster rate than usual as he tried to process what he was —or wasn't, as they case may be— seeing. “Oooookay,” he said to himself. “That wasn’t really a check situation, but it’s fine,” he said, also to himself. “Don’t worry about me!” he called over his shoulder in the general direction of the boys’ room as he toed off his shoes. The children did not come running with apologies, but Oliver appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around him, swallowing him in a giant bear hug, and that was just as good. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” Elio could feel these words as Oliver breathed them against his neck. 

Elio closed his eyes and smiled. “Thanks for coming home early.” He had called Oliver in a panic at lunch when he remembered he had to attend a mandatory staff meeting after work. He never imagined himself in a job that required mandatory staff meetings, but life was life. And so far, these ridiculous meetings had not been a problem; Ollie simply attended with him. Hell, Ollie might as well be the faculty’s unofficial secretary, for all of the furious notetaking he did in his notebook for the duration of their meetings. But now that the whole bus situation had happened, someone had to be home when the bus arrived. 

“It was my pleasure.” When Oliver said this, Elio felt a warm, familiar flutter in his stomach. Probably because he knew Oliver really meant it. He hadn’t felt put upon by Elio’s last minute plea for help. Rather, he’d been delighted by the opportunity. And of course he’d done all of his Oliverish things. The house was clean —or at the very least, Ollie’s mess was contained to his room. The tangy scent of lasagna and garlic bread made their cozy home (cozy was a nicer word than small, he thought) feel even more inviting. Elio knew without having to ask that Ollie’s homework was already finished and had been checked. His folder had been gone through and all relevant papers sorted and signed; Ollie wouldn’t be rushing into his classroom in a frenzy the next morning, frantically waving a permission slip or negative balance notice from the cafeteria. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” Oliver was asking. 

Elio stretched up to kiss him. “Not a thing. I was just thinking how lucky I am to still get butterflies in my stomach every time you touch me.” 

The corners of Oliver’s lips tipped up into a mischievous smile as he placed his palm on Elio’s stomach. “Are you sure you’re not just coming down with something?” 

Elio giggled and changed the subject before things got out of hand. “What’s up with His Ollieness?”  he asked in what Oliver referred to as his Grey Poupon voice. “He’s too busy to greet his brother?” 

Oliver placed gentle palms on each side of Elio’s face and kissed him again. But when he tried to reply, his eyes were flitting around the room, landing on anything and everything except for Elio. “I think… He’s just… Doing something?” 

Elio took a step back, crossed his arms, and smirked slightly. Oliver was by far the worst liar in the family. “Oh really?” he asked, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “He’s doing something, huh?” Oliver shrugged, blushing deeply.  “Doing what, pray tell?” 

Oliver tried to loosen his collar but since he’d already changed into a T-shirt, he accomplished nothing more than stretching out the neck of his shirt. He was crimson now. “Jesus, honey. I don’t know. Kid stuff.” 

Elio leaned in. “What kind of kid stuff?” It was a game now. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. Game over. Elio laughed and kissed him again. “Fine. I’ll go ask him myself.” 

The boys’ bedroom door would only open a few inches before it bumped against something large enough to stop its forward motion. Elio was about to give it a more forceful shove when Ollie gasped, “Elio! Be careful!” 

Elio cringed. He knew instantly by Ollie’s tone what –or rather, who– was blocking the door. This was confirmed by the sleepy whining that wafted up from the floor. Elio gingerly worked the door open a bit more and was able to slip into the room. “Sorry, Sweet Pickle,” he said, scooping up his sleepy son. “That is why Daddy and I tell you not to sleep in front of the door.” He kissed Leo’s pudgy pink cheek, which was imprinted with creases that had transferred from his shirt sleeve. 

“No, fanks,” Leo said to the door. “I not like you.” He kicked a foot lightly in the direction of the door, but Elio pretended not to notice. He just patted the three-year-old’s back and smiled at Ollie, who still looked a little worried. “He’s okay, Lollipop.” 

Ollie nodded. 

“What are you up to in here, anyway?” When Elio perched on the side of the bed, Leo climbed off of his lap and lay on the bed. He’d had enough of this being awake nonsense. Elio knew he probably shouldn’t let him sleep this late in the afternoon, but he didn’t have the heart to wake him. 

“Oh,” Ollie said, a little too nonchalantly –he was the second worst liar in the house, apparently. “You know. Just. Uh. Kid stuff?” 

Elio’s right eyebrow dipped. Had Ollie heard Oliver? Or were they just that alike? “What kind of kid stuff?” 

Ollie shrugged and closed his notebook with a speed that would have impressed the Flash. 

“I think you’re up to something,” Elio said. 

Ollie unsuccessfully tried to stifle his grin. 

Elio knew what his little brother was up to, of course. And, too, he knew that Oliver was in on it. The only family member who might not be complicit was currently snoring softly into his giraffe stuffy. 

“Well.” Elio was unsure what more to say. “Just behave yourself,” was what he went with. 

“Check!” Ollie promised. 

The next morning as Oliver helped Ollie fix the barely legible letters the eight-year-old had squeezed on the cake with shaking hands, he knew that Elio knew what they were up to. A person didn’t simply forget their own birthday, after all. But he also knew that Elio would play along. He wouldn’t spoil the surprise for them. And fortunately, Elio was the best actor in the family. Yes, Elio knew about the birthday cake they were decorating just as surely as he knew what gifts they’d bought him. There was one surprise, though, that Elio did not know about. It wasn’t something Oliver had bought at a store. It was something with which he, too, had been recently gifted by the universe. The only thing to do now was to share it. 

Elio put on a show that delighted Ollie and Leo, just as Oliver had known he would. He was absolutely shocked that they’d remembered his birthday. He couldn’t believe they’d made him a cake. And he didn’t know what Ollie was talking about, because the lettering looked perfect as far as he could tell. Every gift he opened was exactly what he needed and wanted. And when given the opportunity to choose whatever he wanted to do for fun, of course he’d chosen a trip to the amusement park, Ollie’s favorite destination for a day trip.

As they drove home in the early evening, giddy and exhausted at the same time, Oliver couldn’t help but feel that Elio’s birthday had been perfect not because of any effort on their part to make it so, but because Elio himself had made it so with his own tenderness, love, and generosity. 

It pained Oliver to put the boys to bed without brushing their teeth, but they were both sound asleep by the time they finally got back home. He and Elio had done well to get them into their pajamas. He would just make them brush their teeth one extra time tomorrow. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Oliver asked when they finally collapsed onto the couch. “You’re in charge of the remote, birthday boy.” 

Elio’s smile was as comfortable and familiar as home. In fact, to Oliver, that smile was home. He lived there in Elio’s happiness. “I don’t want to watch television,” the younger man whispered. It was a breathy whisper that was very well-known to Oliver. He raised an eyebrow, and Elio answered by slowly sliding his hand up Oliver’s thigh.

“There’s plenty of time for that, honey.” Oliver did so love to tease him when he was eager like this.  

“There’s never too much time for it, though.” 

Oliver laughed, just a breath of laughter really. He laid his hand over Elio’s and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You’re incorrigible.” Insatiable was the better word, and Oliver hoped it would always be like this with them. “But you have one more small gift to open first.” 

Elio appeared to be almost in pain, but Oliver laughed and took the warm, slender hand that was on his thigh, and brushed lightly with his lips. “You’ll be okay. And I really need to tell you something.” He’d been waiting three long days to give Elio this news. The timing was too perfect not to make it a birthday gift. But this special something came with an expiration date. An expiration date that was quickly approaching. “It will be worth it. I promise.” 

Elio rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he groaned, but he could not suppress his smile. Oliver kissed him one more time and darted toward the kitchen to retrieve the envelope that had been hidden beneath a box on the highest shelf in the kitchen –the one above the refrigerator that even he had to use a stool to reach. As he carried it back, he was overcome with emotion. Elio would finally have what he deserved. It was a gift not only for Elio, but for Elio's parents, too. Oliver had made them a promise when Elio was only eighteen years old; when he'd brought Elio from Italy to the United States to live with him. It was a fanciful promise, uncharacteristic of Oliver. A promise made without enough thought or planning. A promise they had never held him to. A promise they’d explicitly released him from. “We want you both to be happy. Living a life that makes you both happy; that’s the only promise that matters.” But Oliver had carried the promise in his heart all these years. Now, when he finally placed that promise in Elio’s hands, tears sprang to his eyes. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t cry,” Elio said, setting the envelope aside and wrapping his arms around Oliver. 

“I’m not crying,” Oliver said, wiping his eyes and picking up the discarded envelope. He slid off the couch, kneeling in front of Elio, who blushed and rolled his eyes.  

“You know we’re already married, right?” Elio was making a joke, and Oliver did try to laugh at it. But he couldn't. 

“Open it,” Oliver said, placing the envelope in Elio’s hands again. 

Elio’s eyes bore into him. It was a look Oliver couldn’t quite read, which was unsettling because he thought he knew all of Elio’s different looks. “Please. Open it,” he whispered. 

“Okay... I will... I am,” Elio said as he stared at the return address on the envelope. His face changed and then changed again, and these expressions Oliver did recognize. Understanding. Realization. Hesitation. “Oliver.” Elio lifted the flap on the envelope that Oliver had already neatly opened. He slowly unfolded the paper, which he could tell had been folded and unfolded, folded and unfolded, many times, despite the fact that it was postmarked a mere five days prior. 

Oliver held his breath. Elio’s face was still as stone as his eyes flitted back and forth across the page. He was reading. His eyes went back to the top and moved back and forth and down again, much slower this time. His face revealed almost nothing, though there was something in his eyes. “We don’t have to, Elio. It’s entirely up to you. I just thought… I want you to have this. I want it for you. If you want it.” 

“Brandeis's Department of Classical and Early Mediterranean Studies?” Oliver wasn’t sure if Elio was speaking the words, or reading them. Finally Elio raised his eyes from the paper and looked at Oliver. “It’s a job offer? When did you apply for a job there?” Oliver couldn’t answer, because Elio had only paused for a breath. “You didn’t tell me.” 

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, Elio. It was such a long shot. I never really thought it would… I…There wasn’t even an opening that I knew of." Oliver paused for a moment before continuing. "But I made some calls. And then some calls were made on my behalf. Some Zoom calls happened.” 

“But Brandeis University is in…” Elio’s voice trailed off. 

“Waltham,” Oliver whispered. “It’s a suburb of–”

“I know what it’s a suburb of, Oliver.”  Boston. Where Elio had a standing invitation to be a part of their symphony orchestra. Where he had standing invitations to perform in the best of the best concert halls. “But, I can’t, Oliver. We can’t. You love your job. You love it here,” After a pause he added, somberly, “Your parents are here.” Elio realized he already missed them. That’s how he knew they were going. 

“I love my job, but this isn't the only university in the country, Elio. Brandeis is a better university, with a top notch Classics department. And they have a house for us close to campus. It would come right out of my pay, which would be raise, by the way. I could ride my bike to work. And there is a great train service, so it would be a quick commute to the city for you."

"When did you—"

"Right after we got back from Tanglewood. Seeing you there, Elio? On that stage?" He could still see Elio at his piano, eyes closed. He could still feel the breeze that had swept over the crowd. 

“But what about the kids?”

“This would be a great place to raise them. I wouldn't be suggesting it if I wasn't certain of that.” Oliver’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it beating. Please let me give you this, is what his heart said. “They would have a house. Privacy. A yard. A suburban life not much different from what we have here. It’s a great school district.” 

Elio shook his head, not in the way that meant no. It was more like he was shaking a snow globe, letting all of his thoughts swirl freely around in order to see the entire scene. “But your parents?” 

“That’s what airplanes are for. It would be a short, easy flight, not a transcontinental journey." His knees were hurting, so he sat on the sofa next to Elio, took the letter from him, and set it on the coffee table. He took both of Elio’s trembling hands in his. An eternity passed between them. “Please say something, Elio. What are you thinking?” 

Elio smiled sweetly. “I’m thinking that I want this more than anything. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. But how can I uproot the entire family just to live my own dream? How is that fair?” His eyes fell to his lap. The next words he spoke were barely more than a whisper. "None of you deserve that.” 

Oliver pushed Elio’s hair off his face, tucked his most unruly curl behind his ear, and placed his fingers beneath Elio’s chin. “What you really mean is that you don’t think you deserve this, Elio.” Elio tried to look down again, but Oliver wouldn’t let him. “But you do deserve this. And I want you to have it. And Ollie will want you to have it." 

Elio smiled because it was true. Ollie would want this for him. And Ollie was no longer the sad, scared child he'd been the last time he moved. He was courageous and confident and adventurous.

“And what about Leo?” he asked. 

Oliver laughed and kissed Elio, still holding his chin. “I’m pretty sure Sweet Pickle just wants abble sloss.” 

Elio laughed then, too. And Oliver had his answer. 

Later, Oliver lay awake for hours, his mind racing with the best of the memories he and Elio had made together. His mind racing with all of the memories that lay ahead, just waiting to be made. He did not much mind being awake though, with Elio sleeping in his arms like this.

A nameless poem he'd read years ago danced just beyond the edges of his mind. It was obscured by exhaustion so that he could only half-recall a few of the words. Something about the night being lovely, dark and deep. And having promises to keep. And miles to go. And then he'd sleep. 

Chapter Text

“Is it bigger than my hand?” Ollie asked, demonstratively holding up a palm. The eight-year-old needed hints, and he needed them pronto. 

Elio laughed and pulled down his little brother’s rainbow striped beanie —Grandma Susan had knitted one for each of the boys, and Ollie had worn his 24/7 for the past week— effectively covering his eyes. Typically these types of antics would have annoyed the kid; which was, of course, Elio's goal. But today was not a typical day, and Ollie just pulled his hat back up as if it hadn’t happened at all. “Yes. It’s bigger than your hand.” Ollie gave a little squeak of excitement. “Calm down, Lollipop. You’ll see soon enough.” 

Ollie’s eyes bulged. His cheeks puffed. He felt like a tea kettle right before it whistles. His brother’s definition of soon enough differed from his own, apparently. “Is it bigger than both of my hands?” Ollie asked, holding up both hands thumb-to-thumb. Elio didn’t even look up from the book he was pretend-reading. “ELIO!!” Ollie prodded. 

Finally Elio looked. 

“Is it bigger than BOTH of my hands?” He waved his hands like a red flag —URGENT, URGENT! 

“Yes, Ollie.” Elio turned the page. 

“Oh my GOSH,” Ollie gasped. If it was bigger than both hands, it was a very big surprise indeed! 

Ollie was rarely given surprises. That’s not to say he didn’t have cool things. He did. He had everything he needed and a lot of what he wanted. But usually things were presented without a lot of ballyhoo. Here. I got you something. And of course there were winter holidays and birthday parties, but it wasn’t time for either of those gift-giving extravaganzas. Thanksgiving was this week, but Thanksgiving isn’t for presents. It’s for being thankful for what you already have. So it couldn’t be that. It made no sense, honestly. 

“Why did you get me a surprise, Elio?” he asked for the bazillionth time. 

Without looking up from his book, Elio pulled his little brother's hat down over his eyes yet again. And yet again, Ollie pushed it back up. “Why, Elio?” 

“I just did.” It was the same thing Elio had said each time he’d asked, but it still didn’t make any sense. 

“It’s not my birthday, though,” Ollie pointed out. 

“I know,” Elio acknowledged. 

“It’s not Christmas, either.” 

“I know.” 

Ollie sucked in a huge breath like he was about to go for a long swim underwater. 

“What’s wrong?” Elio set his pretend-book down for the first time in twenty minutes —the amount of time that had passed since he’d casually mentioned the fact that he had gotten him a surprise. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I sighed. That’s how I sigh, ELIO.” 

Elio laughed and pulled his hat down over his eyes. “If you’re going to sigh like that, I think you need a blow hole.” 

Ollie ignored this remark as easily as he ignored the intermittent blindness he was experiencing each time Elio decided to pull his super cool new rainbow beanie (with pom pom!) down over his eyes. There was too much on the line to let himself be sidetracked. “Is it bigger than both my hands AND one foot?” Ollie asked, contorting as best he could to hold his foot up next to his hands so his brother could gauge the size he meant. 

Elio tickled his foot and then said, “Ollie.” 

When his big brother used his name as a complete sentence, Ollie knew it was time to give him a break. That’s why the little boy let a good 90 seconds pass before asking if his surprise was bigger than both hands and both feet.  

“Yes, Ollie.” 

“Holy cow,” Ollie gasped in sudden darkness. He pushed his hat up again. 

Fortunately for all involved, Oliver and Leo finally arrived with a bagful of groceries not much later and wanted to know what they were waiting for.

“It’s not something that can be wrapped easily, so close your eyes,” Elio said. Ollie closed his eyes, but Elio pulled his hat down over his eyes anyway. He then placed a hand on each of Ollie’s shoulders to steer him. Ollie had an internal compass as well as a complete map of their small house in his head, so right away he knew where they were going. 

“The garage?” Ollie squeaked. The very best surprises in the entire world come from garages, as everyone well knows. 

“Are you peeking?” Elio moved his hands from Ollie’s shoulders to cover his hat-covered eyes instead. 

“I’m not peeking!” Ollie objected with a giggle.

Leo clomped along behind them as best he could in Ollie’s bright yellow Crocs. His journey required several pit stops to get the shoes back on, but the house was small and he couldn’t get too far behind here. 

“Ready?” Elio asked when they finally stopped. 

Ollie nodded eagerly. 

“First, you have to guess what you think it is,” Elio said. 

Ollie scrunched his face. He had no idea what it was. He wasn’t old enough for a car. And he already had an awesome bike. All he knew was that it was something bigger than two hands and feet, that it was hard to wrap, and that it was in the garage. “A donkey?” he guessed. 

“Stop torturing him, honey.” Oliver could always be counted upon to keep everything moving steadily in the right direction. 

“Oh all right fine.” Elio ran the words together while also yanking Ollie’s hat off like a magician flicking a silk scarf. Except that when Elio did it, instead of something disappearing, something APPEARED. And... It. Was. GLORIOUS! 

“Oh my gosh,” Ollie whispered. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He squinted. But eventually he had no choice but to believe his eyes. “OH MY GOD!!!” He screamed a scream that Joey could almost have certainly heard at her house, three blocks away. 

He was bouncing and squealing and a little bit of crying, but the happy kind. He wrapped his arms around Elio’s waist and said a lot of really nice thank-you-ish things into his stomach. Elio patted his back. Oliver ruffled his… hat. Leo patted his arm.

“You okay, Lollipop?” Elio asked. 

“Uh huh,” Ollie said, finally looking up at his brother, who he was absolutely certain was the best and nicest brother in the whole wide world. “I can’t believe it's really for me!!” 

“Who else would it be for? Go on. Check it out,” Oliver said. “It’s yours.” 

“Hole. Lee. COW!!” Ollie squealed and bounced and galloped around the garage for a quite a while longer before he finally stepped over and touched the shiny, cold handlebars of his very own brand new foot scooter. “It has a bell,” Elio pointed out, snapping a lever that caused a small bell to ping loudly. “And reflectors.” 

Ollie nodded. “Can I ride it?” 

“Of course you can. That’s why we got it,” Oliver laughed. Ollie almost asked him the same thing he’d been asking Elio. Why had they gotten it for him? But Elio was already strapping a helmet onto his head and going over one thousand safety rules. 

“Stay on the driveway at first, Ollie,” he said. 

Ollie nodded agreeably. Of course he longed to soar down the sidewalk and onto the cul de sac, but he wouldn’t push his luck. Instead he put a foot on his scooter, waved at his family, and scooted figure eights around the driveway to his heart’s content. 

“Ollie! Time to come in!” Oliver called. Ollie coasted up to the door and poked his lip out pleadingly, but Oliver shook his head. “It’s dark, kiddo.” 

“But I’m barely even tired!” Ollie whined. 

Oliver laughed. “I wouldn’t think you would be tired. It’s only five-thirty. But it’s dark and you have to come inside.” 

Ollie crinkled his nose. A couple of weeks ago, he would have another hour to play on his super duper amazing new foot scooter! But for some bizarre reason, everyone rolled their clocks back in the fall. It was a curse on all children that must have originated with vampires. 

“Besides, I made dinner. We’re about to eat,” Oliver added. 

Ollie sighed as he stepped off his scooter and engaged the kick stand. The only thing that cheered his mood was when Elio called from somewhere inside, “It’s Taco Tuuuuuuueesday!” 

Ollie wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve to have the best day of his entire life, but he galloped inside without further complaint. 

“And then, I kind of leaned like this,” Ollie leaned in his chair to demonstrate. “And then I leaned back like this.”  He leaned the other way. “And that’s all I had to do and I barely even hit the mailbox!” 

Elio’s eyes were round, and the tiny muscles in his jaw were jumping around like they did when he was working really hard not to say what he wanted to say. 

“And that’s why he has a helmet, honey,” Oliver said as he spooned more guacamole onto Leo’s plate. “We’re both really glad you like your scooter, Lollipop.” 

“You mean Axle?” Ollie said, pushing some rogue shreds of lettuce from his chin into his mouth. 

“Axle?” Oliver asked. 

“You named your scooter Axle?” Elio snickered. 

Ollie kicked at his brother under the table, but Oliver cleared his throat in a very cool it way. 

“Daddy?” Ollie’s adrenaline was finally abating enough for him to think about things other than his super duper awesome amazing foot scooter. 

“Hmm?” Oliver asked. 

“Why did you and Elio get me a scooter?” 

“Elio and I did not get you a scooter,” Oliver said. This was very confusing until he added, “Elio got you a scooter.” 

Ollie chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, and still this seemed impossible. “But Elio said I couldn’t get a scooter until I’m ten. And I’m not even nine. Yet.”  

Oliver shrugged and took a perfectly neat bite of his taco. He was the only one in the family who could eat a taco without everything inside the taco ending up outside the taco. Oliver also was not a talk-with-his-mouth-fuller, so when  he took another bite, Ollie knew he had nothing more to say about it. Ollie supposed that in the long run, the why didn’t really matter. He was a full fledged scooter owner, and Axle was basically his best nonliving friend —next to Flashie. 

The following morning, Ollie woke up with the sun and got right to scooter riding. He had a goal —a dream, if you will— of coasting freely in the cul-de-sac. And the best way to accomplish this was by increasing his scooter riding skills. And he was well on his way to accomplishing this because by the time Oliver made him come in to eat breakfast, he’d really tightened up his turns and he hadn’t even hit the mailbox once. 

After breakfast, he’d gone immediately back outside and practiced a trick that YouTube assured him was for novices. He’d given his scooter a bath with the water hose even though the cold water made his fingers red and numb and Elio had gotten a little bit of upset at him about it. After it was fully dry, Ollie remembered the sheet of star-shaped stickers he’d gotten out of the treasure box at school. He thought they added the perfect je ne sais quoi to his scooter, but then Daddy had gotten a tiny bit of upset about it and told him no more decorations unless he asked first. Ollie didn’t mind though. He and Axle would be inseparable friends from here on out, and that was all that mattered. 

“So. How’s Axle?” Elio whispered late that night, long after Ollie was supposed to be asleep. 

He smiled at his big brother and said, “Axle’s really great.” Elio lay down on the bed next to him, and as Ollie scooted over to make room, it occurred to him that it had been quite a while since his brother had gotten into bed with him like this, and he felt something strange in his chest, the ache of finding something that you hadn’t known was lost. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Elio was lying on his back with his head on Ollie’s pillow. He closed his eyes and pressed his thumbs into his forehead. 

“You have a headache,” Ollie said. It wasn’t a question. Elio got these from time to time, usually when he was upset or very stressed. “What’s wrong, Elio?” Behind him, a deeply sleeping Leo threw a leg out of the covers and wiggled his toes. Both Perlmans lay perfectly still and quiet for a moment, until they were sure the toddler wouldn’t wake up. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” Elio opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. He brushed the hair off of Ollie’s face in a way that made Ollie never want to get a haircut. “I do need to tell you something though.” 

Ollie had heard that somber tone from Elio only a few other times, and his stomach suddenly felt like it was filled with a thousand spiders. 

“What is it?” he asked even though he was almost certain he didn’t want to know the answer. His eyes were locked with Elio’s and it was like looking into a mirror. A very sad mirror. 

“We’re moving,” Elio said these words as if he’d been carrying them on his shoulders as long as he could, but he couldn’t take another step. As far back as Ollie could remember, Elio had only used this tone with him one other time in his life, and he tried never to think about that. 

“Far away?” Ollie’s voice trembled when he spoke. 

Elio nodded. “A bit,” he admitted. “Boston.” 

The new scooter made sense now. It was to soften the blow. They were moving away. Ollie had one thousand questions in his head, and in his throat he had a tear for each question. But he couldn’t ask a single question. He couldn’t shed a single tear. He only nodded into the mirror that was his brother’s face. 

“But it’s a short flight, Ollie. There’s not even a layover between here and there. We’ll come back to visit all the time. I promise.” 

The tears came then, and they wouldn’t stop no matter how hard he pressed his eyes with the heels of his hands. They didn’t stop when Elio wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. And they didn’t stop when he said all the nice, comforting things big brothers were supposed to say when their little brothers were hurting. 

“We have to do this, Ollie. It’s the right thing for us in the long run. Oliver got a really great job offer,” Elio was explaining with lots and lots of words, but his voice sounded far away, like it was coming to him through a tin can. “And I’ve already been talking to the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Remember? They invited me to Tanglewood? They still have a position for me.” 

Ollie remembered, but he was crying too hard to say anything. Leo, still sleeping somehow, was squishing him, and took a moment for him to realize this was because Oliver was getting into bed on the other side of Leo. Oliver laid his arm over all three of them and didn’t say anything at all. He always knew when just being there was enough.

“And our new house has a cul de sac, too. And an even bigger driveway Ollie,” Elio whispered. They were all exhausted now. “So you’ll be able to ride your scooter there, too.” 

Ollie shook his head. “I don’t want Axle anymore.” 

“Ollie, I know you are probably feeling surprised right now, but this is going to be okay. We would never do this if we didn’t know it was going to be okay,” Oliver said, moving his hand from Elio’s face to Ollie’s head. “It’s okay to cry, but we aren’t leaving until May, after school is out. And by then, I think you’ll actually be happy about this.” 

“HOW?” Ollie croaked. How could they ever think he’d be happy about it? 

“Well,” Oliver said. “Our house is in a beautiful neighborhood, practically on the campus where I’ll be teaching. There are so many trees there. I’ll show you pictures. And we’ll be flying up for a campus visit next month. We’ll get to see the house in person then.” 

“Can I go on the visit, too?” Ollie asked. He’d stopped crying, but he thought it was only because he was out of tears. 

“Of course you can.” There was surprise in Elio’s voice. There was surprise in Oliver’s silence. 

“How else will you choose your room, Lollipop?” Oliver asked eventually. “The oldest child gets to choose their room. And you and Leo won’t have to share anymore. Unless you want to.” 

Ollie was more confused, not less. “Me and Leo get rooms?” he asked. 

Elio and Oliver were having one of those silent conversations of theirs. Ollie could feel the words like radio waves passing silently above him. 

“Ollie, of course you’re going to have rooms,” Oliver said. “The house is actually quite a bit larger than ours here. It’s a really nice house. In a really nice neighborhood. With great schools. And lots of other kids.” 

“I hope you’ll give it a chance.” Elio sounded desperate when he said this. 

Ollie wriggled out from under Leo’s legs and Oliver’s arm. He sat up straight and crossed his arms. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Back up.” 

Everyone waited. 

“Did you say great schools?” 

“Of course,” Oliver said. 

“So, I'm moving, too?” 

The room was utterly still, utterly quiet. No one moved a muscle. Even the radio waves stopped their travel. 

“Ollie, good grief. Of course you’re moving,” Elio sat up, too. “Did you think we would go without you?” 

Ollie raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. “You said ‘we’ are moving. I thought you meant you and Daddy.” 

“How could you ever think that?” Elio sounded utterly dismayed. 

“Well you never would tell me why you got me a scooter. So I thought it was because you had to tell me this bad news.” 

Elio reached up and gave the bottom of Ollie's 24/7 beanie a hard yank. “I got you the scooter because it was on sale for Black Friday, Ollie. Are you serious right now?! You thought I got you a scooter because I had to tell you bad news?” 

Ollie pushed his beanie up, smiled, and shrugged both shoulders. Oliver grabbed his legs and pulled him back down into the bed and smoothed the blanket over him. “To be fair, Elio, that probably is why you got him the scooter.” 

Elio’s face practically exploded. Eyebrows shot up. Eyes went round. Nostrils flared. Mouth hung open. “It was a BLACK FRIDAY DEAL!” 

“Annnd you needed to tell him we’re moving,” Oliver teased. 

Ollie giggled. “That’s not even bad news though.” 

“Wait a minute.” It was Elio this time. “Back up.” Everyone waited. “It’s not bad news?” 

Ollie yawned. “Not if we’re going together.” He giggled when he saw Oliver mouth I told you so. Elio rolled his eyes and moved his lips randomly in return. Ollie loved watching the two of them love each other in all of their different ways. 

“What about your friends, though,” Elio said. “What about Joey?” 

Ollie smiled, thinking of his best friend. “That’s what Zoom is for. Me and Joey can Zoom. We’ll have to teach Grandpa Richard and Grandma Susan to Zoom.” 

“We will,” Oliver promised. 

“Elio?” Ollie said after a long pause. 

“Hmm?” Elio said. 

“You didn’t have to get me a scooter, you know. I will move anywhere in the whole wide world if it’s where you and Daddy are.” 

“Well,” Elio said in his teasing voice. “I guess we can take Axle back then.” He pushed Ollie’s hair off his face as best he could around the beanie. 

“No, thanks,” Ollie said. 

“No, fanks,” Leo mumbled in his sleep, making all three of them smile. 

“Elio?” 

“Hmmmm?” 

“What are you going to get Leo for his bribery? Because I think he really wants a new tricycle.” 

“Quiet, you,” Elio said as he pinched his lips together. 

Ollie giggled out of the sides of his mouth. 

“It was a black Friday deal.” 

“Go to sleep, guys,” Oliver said. 

And so they did, each with a headful of dreams. Of playing the piano on a grand stage. Of publishing new articles for a prestigious university in New England. Of riding a scooter on a new tree-lined street, with wind on his face and Daddy and Elio both there, watching him. 

And of abble sloss, of course. 

Chapter Text

Leo flapped his head back and forth with enough enthusiasm to make his blond hair slap angrily against Oliver’s wrists. “No, fanks!” he insisted. “No fanks, Daddy!”

“It’s okay, Sweet Pickle. I won’t let you fall,” Oliver promised for at least the tenth time.

Leo was both unconvinced and unmoved. He shook his head even more vehemently. 

The tips of Oliver’s ears burned when two older ladies who had been watching the drama unfold smiled sweetly at him. Apparently they thought the situation was just adorable. Oliver, however, found the situation slightly less endearing. His back was hurting from hunching over, holding both of Leo’s hands in an attempt to keep him upright. His leg muscles were quivering from the effort it took to balance so long on his ice skates without moving. He thought it was a very fortunate thing that the ice was not as thin as his patience. He scooped up Leo –careful to avoid another banged shin from his toddler’s flailing ice skates– and glided smoothly over to a bench with his small son in tow. 

He sat down and promptly placed Leo on his knee, pretending he wasn’t swishing his head back and forth and thrashing his feet about in an effort to kick the detested torture-boots off his feet. 

“Cool it.” When Oliver said this, Leo did stop momentarily, but only because he was looking for Ollie, who was the only person to whom Daddy would say such a thing. Oliver hadn’t realized how frazzled he was until he noticed that he could breathe again. His eyes drifted toward their previous audience to find that the women had lost interest in the show and had skated away. Relieved, he let out a huge whoosh of a sigh. Leo was apparently relieved as well, but when he tried to whoosh out a sigh like he had done, the little boy sounded like a horse blowing a raspberry. Thoroughly amused with himself, Leo smiled at him, a huge grin filled with teeth that were too big for his mouth. 

Oliver kissed the top of his head. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall, Sweet Pickle.” He didn’t really expect a reply and wasn’t to be disappointed, because Leo simply popped his thumb in his mouth and gave his ice skate another slight kick. 

There were so many things Oliver wanted to say to his son, but they probably wouldn’t be understood. Or they probably wouldn’t be helpful. Or both. Still, his mind raced with them. 

This was for you, Sweet Pickle.

I’m trying to help you.

I won’t let you fall. 

You would have so much fun.

All of it was true.

It all began the week prior, when they’d experienced an unseasonably early, unseasonably hard freeze. Ollie woke them up at the crack of dawn, pleading that someone take him to ice skate on a local pond; an activity that every kid in the world, except for him, had done. Finally, his day had come and as soon as they’d cleaned up, had breakfast, and bundled up, they headed out.

The pond was lined with bright red benches that had been cleared of snow. They all sat side by side like turtles on a log, clumsily struggling with their skates —except for Leo, who was content to wear his skates on his hands like gloves. And also except for Elio, who was, just a moment later,  gracefully gliding back and forth along the edge of the pond in front of them, waiting for them. He looked so elegant and beautiful that Oliver lost his breath at the very sight of him. 

“Daddy!” Ollie’s voice was urgent as he threw his socked feet onto Oliver’s knee. “Will you help me?” 

It was difficult to tear his eyes away from Elio, but he patted Ollie’s foot and took the skate the eight-year-old was waving around. “Of course. Anything for you, Lollipop.” Fortunately Leo was still content with his fancy skate gloves for the time being. When Elio noticed that Oliver was doing more than his fair share of the work, he started over to help. But Oliver smiled and told him to keep skating. He didn’t have to say aloud that he was enjoying the view; his eyes said it for him. Elio’s flushed cheeks were his thank you. 

It was a sweet moment, but it didn’t last because the second Oliver tied Ollie’s second skate, the kid clomped after his big brother on unsturdy ankles yelling, “ELLLLIIIIOOOOOO!!! Wait for MEEEEEEE!!!” After that, Elio’s demeanor changed. He was less elegant, less graceful, but no less beautiful when he grabbed his younger brother by the hand and led him onto the ice. 

As Oliver put on Leo’s skates for him, he enjoyed watching Elio and Ollie goofing off and having fun as the older brother taught the younger one the basics of ice skating. 

Ice skating. Unfortunately that was something Oliver hadn’t gotten to do much of that day because as soon as he’d gotten their youngest laced into his skates, he made a startling discovery about their usually fearless child.  Leo did not have the words to express that he was afraid of the ice, but it was apparent enough to Oliver due to all the screaming and crying that happened whenever they stepped onto it. Leo also did not have the words to explain what Oliver could do to help him feel safe, but he was able to make clear his thorough rejection of any suggestion that Oliver made. 

“I won’t let you fall, Sweet Pickle,” Oliver promised. 

Leo was having none of it. “You will fall me!” he cried.

This might have hurt Oliver’s feelings if there had been time, but Ollie was pleading from the edge of the pond while waving his hand in a come on gesture. 

“Come skate with us!” Ollie begged when he first noticed that they had come onto the ice. He was already fairly steady on his skates as he glided over. “Come on, guys!” 

“No fanks,” Leo cried, squeezing Oliver’s hand so hard that the man actually winced. 

Ollie blinked at Leo, then he blinked up at Oliver. “What’s wrong with Dill?” he wanted to know.

Oliver patted Ollie on top of his rainbow beanie. “He’s just a bit scared of the ice, I think.” 

Ollie’s eyes grew two sizes. “He’s scared of everything! ZOMBIES! BEEHIVES! And now  ICE!!” 

Elio slid up to them, and the conversation was repeated for his benefit. This time, Leo got a few words in edgewise. The words were, “I not like it.” 

Elio and Ollie both looked pained, so Oliver gave Ollie a side hug with back pats and squeezed Elio’s hand. “You two just go on and have fun. I’ll stay with Leo.” He knew a losing battle when he saw one. 

Ollie poked his lip out. Elio practically did the same. After a little more encouragement and promises that he and Leo would be just fine, the two brothers darted away, chasing each other, laughing, and arguing over who was fastest. 

Despite that one little snag, Ollie and Elio had so much fun that they immediately made plans to return the following weekend. The ice wouldn’t thin for at least two more weeks. At some point during that week, Oliver got an idea. An uncharacteristically sneaky idea! He would take Leo skating alone on a weekday when there weren’t as many people. Leo would probably feel more secure if it was less crowded. Oliver knew he wouldn’t have his three-year-old performing double axels, but he hoped that he could at least overcome his fear of ice enough that the family could all four enjoy the skating day they’d had in mind to begin with.

Now, though, as he sat on the bench with Leo sulking on his knee, Oliver had to admit that things weren’t working out as he had hoped. “Should we try again, Sweet Pickle?” he asked, giving Leo a bounce. Leo’s eyebrows dove down as he shook his head and sucked his thumb so hard his cheeks hollowed. Oliver pressed on. “Just think how surprised Papa will be when he sees you skating. And Lollie, too. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Oliver himself had been daydreaming about the big reveal. How excited everyone would be. How surprised. But Leo turned around in his lap so that he was facing him, wrapped his arms around his neck, and rested his head on his shoulder. Oliver twisted his neck and got a look at Leo’s eyelids sinking down over his eyes like blackout shades. He gave him a jostle, but Leo must have found it soothing. He slipped into sleep. 

“Maybe next year,” Oliver whispered, kissing the little boy’s cheek. 

“Are you sure about this?” Elio asked, but he was already winding his scarf around his neck. “I could stay here with him. There’s no reason that it has to be you missing all the fun.” They both glanced over at their three-year-old who was happily scooting his toy cars across the floor puzzle he’d put together. 

“Let’s go, Elio!” Ollie said while galloping figure eights around the living room. “We have to master our seven-in-a-row-forward-swizzles!” 

That settled any discussion that might have been on the horizon. Oliver placed his hand on Elio’s hips and kissed his adorably crinkled nose. “I’m positive, honey. You and Ollie have fun. Next winter, we’ll be in Boston, and it will be colder. They probably ice skate all the time there. We’ll have plenty of opportunities.” 

Elio’s mouth quirked up, but only on one side. “Yeah. In skating rinks, probably.” 

Oliver moved his hands from Elio’s hips to his lower back. Elio’s smile spread to the other side of his mouth and eventually to his eyes. “Stop sulking. You and Ollie go ice skating today and have fun. Work on your forward-blah-fuhshizzle-blah-blah, and don’t worry about us.” His hands were hidden beneath Elio’s coat, so he took the opportunity to slide them down a little lower, until the tips of fingers were beneath the waistband of his pants. Elio’s face softened. His breath changed slightly. His eyes closed. 

Reluctantly Oliver moved his hands back up, pulled Elio into a hug, and kissed him. “Tonight,” he whispered. “For now, go and have fun ice skating with your brother.” 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Ollie said without missing a gallop. “Our skates aren’t going to forward swizzle themselves, you know!” 

Leo set down his car and jumped up. His hair hadn’t been brushed. Some pancake syrup had dried onto his chin, and his pajama top was slightly sticky. His feet were in the Spiderman slippers Ollie had handed down to him. Still, he toddled over with raised hands, ready to be carried to the car. 

Oliver scooped him up and kissed his cheek. “Tell Papa and Lollie bye-bye, Sweet Pickle!” 

Leo frowned and shook his head. “I go wif you!” 

Elio took the hand Leo wasn’t using to suck his thumb and gave it an affectionate side-to-side shake. “We’re going ice skating, Pickle. You don’t like the ice, remember?” 

Leo shook his head with a look of deep disapproval, as if Papa’s assertion was absolutely preposterous. “I like it!” he said around his thumb. 

Oliver pressed his eyelid. “No, Leo, remember? You were afraid of the ice?” Oliver would love to join Elio and Ollie, but if he was going to be sitting with Leo in his lap for three hours, he’d rather do it from the comfort and warmth of their own home. 

Leo shook his head. “I like a ice! I like a skates!” He took his thumb out of his mouth to say it so his parents would understand how important this was. 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks. “You hate ice, Dill. It’s your most least worst favorite thing!” 

Leo shook his head bit and mumbled, “I like it.” He said it around his thumb — because Lollie was not the boss. 

Elio crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his arm. “Leo, no. Last time Daddy had to sit on the bench in the freezing cold because you would not skate. And that is not fair to him. So you’re staying here where it’s warm.” 

“And me and ELIO are going to go have a super duper fun day of ice skating!” Ollie squeaked. Both adults looked at him disapprovingly, and he blinked innocently. “Sorry. I wasn’t being mean. I just have too much trapped excitement and when I stop galloping, that excitement comes out as words. And that’s probably a scientific fact!” 

“It’s okay,” Oliver said at the same time that Leo plopped down and started trying to put his boots on over his Spidey slippers. 

Elio and Oliver smiled at each other. “Do you want some company?” 

Elio’s face softened. “Of course I do. I just don’t want you to be stuck on the—” 

“We would rather sit on the bench watching you and Ollie have fun than to sit here playing with Matchbox cars, wouldn’t we Pickle?” 

“I go on a ice! I go skate on a ice with Lollie!” 

The next few minutes were a blur. Ollie fetched a warm cloth to wash Leo’s face and hands while Elio got him dressed. By the time Oliver finished his own preparations, the three of them were waiting by the front door, bundled up and ready to go. 

This time, Oliver had come prepared for a long, cold morning on the sidelines. As Elio and Ollie tore out onto the ice with much more confidence than they had the weekend before, Oliver began to set up for his own day; his and Leo’s. He pulled out a thick fleece blanket and placed it on the bench before he sat down. Ahh. Much better, he thought. Then he pulled out some little packs of gel that warmed when you kneaded them. He and Leo could put these in their gloves or wherever they needed a little boost of heat. He checked the thermos of hot cocoa to make sure it was still tightly closed and upright in the bag. And finally, he pulled out a few toys he’d grabbed to keep Leo entertained. 

“Do you want to play with the Etch-a-Sketch?” he asked, holding it out. “It’s your favorite.” 

Leo shook his head and pointed toward Elio and Ollie, who were holding hands and spinning, clearly having the time of their lives. “We go wif them!” 

Oliver puffed out a small laugh. “You want to go with them, huh? Onto the ice?” 

Leo took Oliver’s hand with both of his smaller ones and pulled. “We go wif them! Yes, fanks!” When Oliver hesitated, he tried again, chirping, “More go wif them, please!”

Oliver pressed his eyelid and groaned. He’d just gotten everything all set up, but he knew Leo would not stop pleading until he remembered for himself that he was scared of the ice –it wouldn’t take long. So Oliver put the toys and hand warmers back into the backpack, and put on his and Leo’s skates. Thankfully, Ollie had insisted they bring them just in case he changes his mind, like babies love to do. As everyone well knows. 

“Let’s go,” Oliver said, taking both of Leo’s hands and walking him toward the pond. “You okay?” he asked when they reached the ice. 

Leo’s head bobbed up and down. 

“You’re not scared?” he asked. 

Leo’s head swung side to side. “You not fall me down,” Leo said with absolute confidence. 

“No. I won’t let you fall, Sweet Pickle.” And together the two scooted slowly onto the ice. Elio was there almost immediately, taking one of Leo’s hands and showering him with effusive praise. As the three moved slowly and carefully across the ice, Ollie skated circles around them while belting out his own cheerful rendition of, “Let It Snow,” which Elio had taught him in music class. 

“I’ll miss you being my music teacher next year, Elio,” he said casually between verses. 

“I’ll miss it, too,” Elio said. “But I’m thankful I got to be your music teacher this year.” 

Ollie grinned. “Am I your favorite student?” 

Elio winked at him. “Don’t tell anyone,” he stage-whispered. 

Ollie’s grin turned closed-lipped and impish. 

“You not fall me down,” Leo babbled to himself as he click clacked across the ice, walking more than skating. “You not fall me down,” he repeated, shaking his head at the ice as if in warning as to what his parents would likely do to it should it suddenly decide to jump up and trip him. “Daddy not fall me down!” 

“I won’t let you fall,” Oliver assured him as Elio joined Ollie in another verse of Let It Snow.

I won’t let any of you fall, Oliver silently promised, just as he always did.

Ahhh, Elibabette did this super cute art for the last chapter, but I'm going to put it here so more people will see it and since Ollie is still wearing his 24/7 rainbow beanie. Thank you times infinity, Elibabette! (Check out her Instagram.)

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Chapter Text

Oliver cleared his throat, but it didn’t have the effect he was hoping for. Ollie was too focused on writing something in his notebook,  and Leo was busy vroom-vrooming his cars along the arms of the furniture. At least Elio looked his way, but it was out of the corner of his eye. And he was wearing an almost mischievous smile, so it didn’t count. Oliver cleared his throat a bit louder. Elio had to cover his mouth with his hand to suppress his laughter, but neither of the youngest family members seemed to notice the not-so-subtle call for attention. Oliver narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat so loudly that it led to a fit of coughing. That did the trick. 

Leo looked over, slightly concerned. Ollie snapped his notebook closed, shifting his gaze to Oliver. It was a tense moment, especially when Elio started giggling behind his hand. 

Ollie narrowed his eyes in the same way that Oliver had just done. “It’s not very much of funny, Elio,” the eight-year-old admonished. “I might have to do the Heimlich maneuver.” Elio pressed his hand to his mouth even harder, but he couldn’t completely stifle his giggles. Ollie’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “And I barely even know how to do it,” he warned. He’d seen it done in a movie. Once. But he’d never personally performed it. In the movie version, the person performing the maneuver had been significantly taller than the one upon whom the maneuver had been done. So Ollie wasn’t even certain how he was going to pull off such a thing with Oliver. When Oliver coughed again, Ollie set his notebook on the coffee table and walked over with a grumbled, “Out of my way, ELIO.” 

Oliver grabbed the little boy when he approached, pulled him onto his lap and tickled him. Ollie was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe when he finally released him. He wondered if he might need the Heimlich maneuver himself. 

“I wasn’t choking, silly. I had a tickle in my throat,” Oliver said, ruffling Ollie’s hair so aggressively that he looked like a troll doll. “Thanks for your willingness to save my life, though.” 

Ollie smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said as Elio began to finger comb his hair back into place.

“You seriously don’t understand the woes of curly hair, Oliver,” Elio said with a grin when he’d finally gotten his little brother’s hair as situated as he’d be able to without water. 

“ANYWAY,” Oliver said, wondering how things had gotten so off track. With all three family members finally looking at him, he cleared his throat again. “I was going to say that I think I heard the mail being delivered. Ollie, why don’t you and Leo go check the mail?” 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said, but not argumentatively. It was just that he remembered something that Oliver apparently did not. “Elio already got the mail right after school.” 

Oliver pressed his lips together for a thoughtful moment. Ollie sniffed, because it was almost the same look he made when Elio tried to cook. But there was no smoky smell, so it was probably fine. Besides, Oliver was still talking. “I’m pretty sure I heard something mail-like going on in the general mailbox area. Why don't you and Leo go check?” 

“But–” it made no sense! 

“Just do it, Ollie.” Elio’s no nonsense voice made a rare appearance. “If we tell you to check the mail, just check the mail. It’s not a big deal, so don’t turn it into one.” 

Ollie shrugged slightly. He wasn’t making a big deal about it. He was simply explaining that there couldn’t possibly be mail since they’d already gotten the mail. But to make everyone happy he said in his most chipper voice, “Check!” 

As he galloped away, Oliver yelled after him. “Take Leo!” 

Things kept getting stranger and stranger. Why would he need Leo’s assistance to check the empty mailbox? But all he said was, “Come on, Dill! MAILBOX!”

Leo, who’d been mostly oblivious to the conversation, dropped his toy car onto the floor and ran after Ollie, squealing with excitement. He almost never got invited to check the mail. “I do it by myself!” he chattered as he disappeared out the front door. 

Once the boys were gone, Elio leveled a look at Oliver. “This is a terrible idea,” he said. 

Oliver placed a finger beneath his husband’s perfect chin and kissed him. “Don’t be a Grinch, honey,” he whispered. He felt Elio smile against his lips. 

“I’m not a Grinch. You’re a Grinch,” Elio quipped. 

“I’m not a Grinch. You’re a Grinch,” Oliver quipped back. 

Elio flopped back and slouched into the sofa cushions with a sigh. “This is a terrible idea.” 

“Why?” 

“For one thing, they’re high maintenance. And for another thing, they’re creepy, Oliver. They look creepy. And the whole concept is creepy.” 

“It’s from my parents, honey,” Oliver said. 

That pretty much ended the discussion. Elio was filled with remorse. “I really am a Grinch, aren’t I?” 

Oliver smiled and patted Elio’s knee. “Fortunately, I love Grinches.” 

“OH MY GOD!!!!!” came a shrill scream from outside. 

Oliver shifted his weight to stand and go check on him, but Elio grabbed his hand and held it. “He’s fine.” Until he opens that creepy present. 

“OH MY GOD!!” Ollie ran inside, leaving the front door wide open. “Me and Leo got mail from THE NORTH POLE!!” He was holding the box over his head and bouncing around in a way that made the adults glad the present wasn’t fragile. “THE NORTH POLE!!!” 

“Where’s Sweet Pickle?” Elio asked, sitting up a little straighter and craning his neck toward the door. 

A flicker of guilt crossed Ollie’s face –but only a very tiny flicker. “DILL!!!” he screeched. “COME ON!! NORTH POLE!!!” He looked toward the door with a silent, wide-eyed plea and waited with the patience of a saint.  

Elio walked over to find Leo still stretching and reaching, trying to open the mailbox. “Come on, Pickle,” he said, holding out his hand. Leo ran over and took it, looking up at him with an expression that clearly wanted to know where his present from the North Pole was. “It’s for both of you.” Thank goodness, the last thing they needed was two of the creepy things. Leo grinned. Getting to share Lollie’s present was almost better than getting his own because anything Lollie had was the best thing ever. 

When they got back inside, Ollie was sitting on the sofa, shaking like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm. “Hurry, guys!” he said. “Hurry!” 

Oliver had his phone out, ready to capture this moment on video for his parents. 

“We’re coming,” Elio said, sitting down next to Ollie on the sofa and situating Leo so he could help. 

“Now?” Ollie said. 

“N–” The rest of Oliver’s word couldn’t be heard over the sounds of ripping paper and squealing children. 

Once the package was open and they saw what was inside, things got remarkably still and quiet. After a pause, Ollie reverently whispered, “Oh my gosh.” 

“Take it out,” Oliver prompted. 

Ollie shook his head. “I can’t. Me and Leo can’t. Elio or you have to,” he said. He knew what this was. Some of his friends had them; and even some of the classrooms at his school had them. “Kids can’t touch him or he will lose his magic,” he whispered. He looked pleadingly at Elio, seeing as how Oliver was operating his phone camera. 

Leo had not seen an Elf on the Shelf before. He stared at the small boy doll staring up at him with round green eyes. It was dressed in red with red and white striped stockings on its legs and on its head it wore a green hat with a little bell on the top. Brown, painted on hair peeped out from beneath the hat.

“It Lollie?” he asked, patting Elio’s arm. 

Ollie burst into giggles. Oliver laughed so hard the video would almost certainly be shaky. And even Elio snickered, his grinch heart growing two sizes. 

“That’s not ME,” Ollie said when his giggles had subsided enough to speak. “That’s a ELF. From the North Pole,” he explained to his transfixed little brother. “It keeps an eye on us, makes sure we be good, and then it tells SANTA how good we are so we can get PRESENTS!” 

Leo looked at Elio with a very serious look on his face. This world was a crazy place; he’d figured that much out. But this just might take the cake. He needed verification from Papa or Daddy, and he needed it now. 

Elio smiled. He opened his mouth to tell Leo to ask Daddy. If someone was going to spend a month telling boldfaced lies to the kids, it would have to be Oliver. But Ollie was giddy with happiness. Oliver was narrating the video he was taking for his parents. And suddenly, the whole Santa ruse didn’t feel like such a harmful thing. They’d experimented with it the year before, and no harm had come from it. “You’d better be good,” he said to Leo. “So Peppermint will give Santa a good report.” 

Ollie squeaked. “Peppermint is the super duper cutest name!” he said. “I’ll bet he loves candy canes! Like me! Right Daddy?”

“I’m sure he does. We’ll have to get some,” Oliver said, finally clicking off his phone and sliding it into his pocket. “So kids can’t touch the elf, huh?” he said as he stepped over and took it out of the box. 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie’s voice was adamant. “Or he will lose his magic for a bunch of hours! And without its magic, it can’t even tell Santa how good we are.”

Oliver took it out of its box and set it on the edge of a bookshelf. “How’s that?” he asked. 

Ollie tapped his chin a few times before nodding. “It’s good. But it won’t stay there anyway because these Santa elves move all over the house and cause all kinds of mischief when kids aren’t looking!” 

Over Ollie’s head, Elio mouthed, “HIGH MAINTENANCE.” But Oliver simply sent him a small air kiss. 

Leo pointed to the new elf, still confused. “It Lollie?” he asked. He still wasn’t sure what the heck was going on, to be honest. 

“It’s Peppermint the elf,” Ollie said patiently. He was used to saying things a bazillion times for Leo since he was still a baby. 

“It Lollie?” Leo tried again, because the rest of the story he was hearing couldn’t possibly be true. 

Ollie sighed and pressed his eyelid. “Okay fine, it’s me,” he said. “It’s myself on a shelf.” 

Elio wrapped an arm around his little brother and gave him a shoulder jostle. “You’re a good sport, Lollipop,” he said. 

Ollie grinned. “At least it’s better than doing the Heimlich maneuver,” he said. 

Elio rolled his eyes. “At least that.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“And the SIXTH super most very important thing,” Ollie paused here to make sure he had Leo’s undivided attention. The toddler didn’t so much as blink, so he deemed it safe to continue. “The SIXTH super most very important thing is that at our new house, we will each have our own rooms.” He waited a long moment for this to sink in, but his little brother was apparently saturated. “You can blink now, Dill.” 

Leo blinked. He yawned. He sucked his thumb. 

“Are you ready to hear about the seventh thing?” 

The three-year-old nodded. He had figured out that this was always the correct response to any question that began with are you ready. 

“The seventh thing is we ALL have to learn a new accent. Isn't that right, Daddy?” 

Oliver was putting the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, but he looked up when he heard his name. “Well. Not really, Lollipop.” He placed the last plate in the dishwasher, closed the the door and swiped a dish cloth over the countertop. “English is English. The accents in different regions can sound slightly different, but we don’t have to change accents.” 

Leo puffed out his cheeks behind his thumb. Wonderful. If Lollie was wrong about the seventh thing, how was a Pickle to know what to believe about things one through six? 

Ollie frowned at his notebook and, with a flourish, produced a pencil from the puff of curly hair just above his ear. He tapped the eraser end against his notebook a few times but then tucked the pencil back behind his ear. “Well, I’m still changing mine,” he said decisively. 

“Changing your what? Your underwear?” Elio teased as he walked into the room to see if Oliver needed help with the dishes. Oliver shot him a slight smirk as he laid the dish cloth over the edge of the sink indicating that the job was now finished. 

Ollie stuck his tongue out at his big brother. “No. Not my underwear,” he said. “My accent.” 

Elio laughed, but Ollie ignored it. If you were going through life having a big brother, you had to learn to ignore some things. He flipped to the back of his notebook and jotted that down on the long list of original proverbs he was collecting for when he grew up and opened his own fortune cookie factory. “Do you think they have it on DuoLingo?” 

Oliver wrapped his arms around Elio and kissed him quickly, before he could rile his little brother up further. The moment the kiss ended, Elio flashed a troublemaking smile in Ollie’s direction. “I don’t know. Oliver, do you think they have a Bostonian course on DuoLingo?” 

A low, quiet growl came from Ollie, who flipped to the back of his notebook again and scratched out the proverb about ignoring some big-brotherly things. Oliver lightly pinched Elio’s lips together until everyone started laughing –even Leo, who had no idea what was funny. 

Oliver decided he should rein things in before they got out of hand. “No one needs to learn any new accents,” Oliver said. “That’s not how English works.” There. Done.

And it seemed to work if the energy shift in the room was an indication. 

Elio stood behind Ollie to get a look at his notebook. Ollie pulled his pencil back out of his hair and reluctantly scratched ‘CHANGE MY MOST BORINGEST ACCENT TO A BOSTON ONE’ off of his long list of things that must be done before they moved in May. 

“Here. Let me see your pencil,” Elio said. Ollie handed it over. If Elio knew of some preparations that needed to be made, better to get started sooner than later. At the bottom of the list Elio drew a little tick box like Ollie had done for every other item on the list. Beside the box he wrote, “Change underwear.” 

There was really nothing Oliver could do to stop the chaos that ensued after that. Even if he could have stopped it, he wouldn’t have. Both Perlmans were giddy with excitement about the trip they were taking this weekend, and this was often how excitement manifested with those two. Oliver pressed his eyelid. Chairs were loudly scraping across the floor. Elio was laughing. Ollie was screeching —and laughing, which only seemed to make him testier. Feet were running. Doors were opening and closing. More feet running. More roughhousing. More screeching. More laughing. Amidst this, Leo toddled over and held up his arms. 

Oliver picked him up and smiled at him before kissing his cheek. “Papa and Lollipop are silly, aren’t they?” he asked, giving his young son a bounce. 

Leo had no comment. 

“Are you ready to go play with them?” Oliver asked. 

“No, fanks,” Leo said with a big nod. 

Oliver cocked his head and raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Nodding doesn’t go with no, Sweet Pickle. You have to shake your head if you mean no.” 

Leo puffed out his cheeks behind his thumb. Daddy obviously did not yet know the universal answer to all are-you-ready questions, but that was okay. Life was complicated. He would figure it out eventually. 

“We should have flown,” Oliver groused as he checked the side mirrors again. 

Elio had been soothing his husband, who tended to get a little edgy when he was stressed, and driving in Boston definitely fit that criteria. At the moment, however, there wasn’t much time for soothing. Elio carefully compared the map on his phone screen to the lay out of the streets around him. “You need to get to the left. We’re going to exit to the left here,” he said. “LEFT!” he said again as they sailed past their exit. “That was our exit.” He clicked off his phone to let it cool off since Oliver would be spending at least the next ten minutes getting them turned around again. 

“Sorry, honey,” Oliver said as he took an exit. “It’s taking twice as long as it should to get there.” 

Elio smiled at him. “It’s not your fault. They shouldn’t put exits on the left like that. It’s weird.” 

Oliver laughed a soft, grateful laugh that sounded, to Elio, slightly sad. He reached across the console and rested his thin hand on Oliver’s leg. “I, for one, am glad we didn’t fly. This is an adventure.” 

“An adventure.” Oliver repeated the words slowly, as if trying them on.

Elio twisted around in the front passenger seat so that he could get a good look at both boys. Ollie was not above pretending to be asleep in order to eavesdrop, but his neck was bent at an unholy angle and his mouth was hanging open. Definitely asleep. Elio turned to Oliver and said, very gently, “It’s not too late, you know. We don’t have to do this.” 

Oliver didn’t say a word. Nothing about his face changed. But everything about him softened, somehow, as if he’d changed at a molecular level. “I want to do this, honey. I really do.” 

Elio sighed and shifted his weight so he was sitting comfortably forward again. “I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying and I appreciate it, but this move is happening. You’ve already told your work. I’ve told my work. We’ve told my parents.” 

“Right,” Elio said after a pause. 

Oliver sighed. “Elio. Please don’t. Okay? The rule is that only one of us can be stressed at a time. Can your turn hold until I’m not driving?” 

Elio smiled and jerked a thumb toward his shoulder like a hitchhiker. “I was just saying we needed to get to the right. You missed the exit again.” Oliver’s ears turned such a deep shade of crimson that neither man dared say another word until they reached their destination. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered after they’d finally reached the hotel. Also after they’d gotten the boys fed. And after they’d spent a few hours entertaining them because they’d slept the entire way and couldn’t sleep when it should have been bedtime. “I didn’t mean to be so grumpy today.” 

Elio closed his eyes and smiled. There were a lot of things he loved in life, but lying in bed with Oliver’s arms around him was one of the best. “Don't be. You were just tired. And I’m a terrible navigator.”

“You’re an excellent navigator.” Elio didn’t argue with him, so he added, “Let’s get some sleep, honey.” 

“Oliver?” Elio whispered several long minutes later. 

Enough minutes had passed, in fact, that Oliver could have feigned sleep. But he didn’t. “Yes?” he placed his palm on Elio’s cheek. Without even opening his eyes, his hand had found its way.

“What if the boys don’t like it?” 

They’d come all the way to Boston —to Waltham, specifically— to see the house in which they’d be living in just a few months’ time. They were trying to immerse the boys in the upcoming changes as much as they could to make the transition a smooth one. 

“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Oliver said. “They liked the pictures.” 

“It’s different in person though.” Elio flipped his pillow to the cool side. He’d actually been worrying about this for a while. “They’ve seen pictures of the house. But it's not just the house. The house is in a neighborhood. And in that neighborhood, there’s a school. And a park. And—” 

“Elio. Honey. Don’t.” Oliver's voice was both patient and exhausted in equal measure. 

“You’re not driving anymore,” Elio pointed out. “It’s my turn to be stressed. You agreed to this. It was your idea.” 

Elio turned over so that he was facing away from Oliver, and Oliver had to quickly assess the situation. 99 times out of 100 when Elio turned away from him like this, it meant that he should wrap his arms around him, kiss the back of his head, kiss his shoulder, and inhale the scent of the lavender and eucalyptus shampoo before falling asleep to the sounds of Elio’s rhythmic breathing.

Once in a rare while, though, when Elio turned away from him like this it was because he was angry or upset. Right now, it could go either way. Fortunately, the anecdote was much the same either way. Arms around. Kiss head. Kiss shoulder. Inhale. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Me?” 

Oliver smiled to himself. “Yes, you, love.” He felt Elio give a small, silent laugh in his arms. 

“Yes. Of course I’m fine,” he said. “I’m more than fine. I’ve never been happier in my life.” 

“That’s all that matters,” Oliver said. 

“I’m not the only one who matters,” Elio whispered into the dark. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Oliver said against the back of Elio’s head. 

“What did you mean?” Elio asked, smiling. 

“I meant that if you’re happy, I’m happy. And if we are both happy, then the boys are going to be happy. It really is that simple. You'll see tomorrow when they see the new house.” 

Having both taken their turns to be stressed, to be comforted, and to comfort the other, finally they fell asleep. When they woke again, they would be ready to face the big day, come what may. 

Chapter Text

Oliver had heard of newly married couples wistfully dreaming of the pitter patter of little feet. But until the unexpected arrival of Ollie and the subsequent arrival of Leo, Oliver himself had not spent much –if any–  time having such dreams.  But if he had?  If he had, he was fairly certain his dream pitter patters would have included precisely none of the running, stomping, and galloping he was currently hearing above him. “They need to cool it,” he said to Elio, who squeezed his hand and smiled at him in that calming way of his.

“They’re just excited,” Elio said. “Besides, It sounds louder than it actually is because the house is empty.” Oliver’s dubiously raised eyebrow made Elio giggle. “I’m serious. The empty space amplifies sound. It’s science... It’s probably science.” 

A large crash rattled the light fixture, followed by Ollie’s disembodied voice yelling,  “Don’t worry! We’re okay!” from somewhere above.  

Oliver pressed his eyelid. “I’m sure you’re right, honey.” But some new rules were already swirling around in his head. 

Elio had a point, though. Their current house –their starter home– was simply too small for the boys to get fully rambunctious. By the time the kids got up some speed, there was inevitably a wall or a piece of furniture or –at the very least a plant stand– to reign them back in. In their new house, though, the boys would have more room. They would definitely need to put some rules into place, otherwise chaos would ensue.  

As if to prove his point, Ollie came thundering down the wooden staircase at the speed of light with Leo right behind him. Fortunately their toddler had a healthy sense of self-preservation, which was apparent by how tightly he gripped the rail while keeping his eyes glued to his feet. Under his breath, the three-year-old muttered a syllable with every step. When the syllables were strung together, they said,

“I.

Do.

It.

All.

All.

All.

All.

AAALLLLLLLLL.

By.

My.

Self.” 

“What do you think, Lollipop?” Elio hugged his little brother so tightly that he lifted him off his feet and swung him back and forth like a pendulum. “Do you like it?” 

Ollie giggled and squirmed until Elio set him down. “I super duper like it!” he panted, pushing a clump of brown curls off of his forehead. “It’s amazing!!” 

After seeing that Leo made it down those last few stairs, Oliver smiled at the two brothers, one a smaller copy of the other. Seeing the joy on their faces made the back of his throat thicken. While this house was downright quaint compared to the villa in which Ollie had spent his first seven years, it was still a giant leap forward from their tiny starter home, and Oliver felt almost unreasonably grateful that they were able to give this to him. He ruffled Ollie’s hair, but the eight-year-old didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy tapping his chin while eyeing the wide, shiny wooden banister that ran along the stairway.

“You’re not allowed to slide down the banister.” Oliver said, mentally noting  this as rule number 1. Ollie poked his lip out, but before he could offer any objection, something else seemed to cross his mind. He pulled away from Elio and Oliver and stared up at them with a very serious look on his face. 

“You need to tell L-E-O the rule about you-know-what.” He blinked expectantly. He'd tried to explain the rule himself, but Leo didn't seem to understand.

Both adults tipped their heads to the side. 

“He needs to tell me what?” Elio asked at the same time that Oliver asked, “I need to tell Elio what?” 

Ollie laughed. “Not Elio. L-E-O.” The adults still didn’t seem to follow, so the eight-year-old jerked his head in the direction of the toddler, who was spinning around the empty living room, making himself dizzy. “The baby.” 

Elio still looked slightly flummoxed, but Oliver was following. Somewhat. “I need to tell L-E-O what?” 

Ollie’s eyes grew very large. His eyebrows climbed very high. His face became very still. “You know.” 

Ollie had said it so persuasively that Oliver was almost convinced he knew. But when he opened his mouth to tell Leo, no words came out. He closed his mouth and smiled at Ollie. “You’re going to have to give me a hint, Lollipop.” 

Ollie sighed his grown-ups-are-exhausting sigh. “About the r-o-o-m?” After a lengthy pause, his eyebrows bounced up and down as he added, “About who gets to choose their room first?” Another pause. “Which you said was me? Because I’m older?” He shook his head wearily. Grown ups were exhausting. 

“Ollie, I told you that’s an unspoken rule,” Oliver said while pressing his eyelid. 

“How’s he supposed to know the rule if you don’t speak it though?” Ollie wanted to know. It’s not as if his teeny tiny baby brother was a mind reader. 

Elio rolled his eyes. “You just pick the room you want and we assign Leo the other room. That’s how it works, Ollie. That’s how unspoken rules always work.” 

Ollie pressed his eyelid. How was he supposed to know that? Apparently the rules for unspoken rules were also unspoken. Why didn’t grown ups see the inherent problem with this vicious cycle? “Well I already spoke the unspoken rule and now Leo wants BOTH rooms.” 

Elio scooped up his dizzy toddler. “See? That’s why we don’t speak unspoken rules, goofball.” 

Ollie was really gearing up to explode, so Oliver took Leo from Elio, ruffled Ollie’s hair, and bounded up the stairs with a playful, “First one up the stairs gets to choose their room first!” Ollie had zoomed past him before he’d finished the sentence. Problem solved. 

After having established which room was the master bedroom and after having established that the unspoken rule was that this room should belong to the parents, Ollie walked back and forth and back and forth among the other three rooms. One was for him. One was for Leo. And one would be the guest room. The guest room was an easy choice. It would be the smallest room with the smallest window, since guests didn't stay too long. But having established that it was, indeed, entirely up to Ollie to choose between the other two rooms, it felt like a weighty decision. He stood in the doorway of one of the rooms and tapped his chin. “This room is mostly bigger,” he said. Then he stepped to the next room. “But this one mostly has bigger windows.” 

He looked up at Elio hoping for some guidance, but Elio just said, “Those are accurate observations.” Ollie frowned. 

“I do like light,” he said, staring at the windows. “But I also have lots of stuff,” he added, looking toward the other room. 

Oliver gave Leo a bounce to redistribute his weight. Strange how he was so much heavier when he didn’t want to be held –it was as if he was able to increase the pull of gravity on his body. “Well, it’s up to you, Ollie. Because you were first up the stairs.” He used the inflection of his voice to put air quotes around the second sentence.

“I think I want this one,” Ollie said, walking into the room and gazing out the large windows. Not only would there be more light, but he had a view of his new back yard and from upstairs he could see over the privacy fence. There was a lovely brook running behind the house that was probably perfect for finding tadpoles, frogs, minnows, spiders, turtles, and other pets. “I want this one,” he said with a decisive nod. 

“Perfect,” Oliver said. “It’s a very nice choice.”  Setting Leo down and taking his hand instead, he added, “Let’s go see your room now, Sweet Pickle.” 

Leo frowned and shook his head. “Dis is my room,” he said as he bounced over to Ollie and stared out his new window. “Dis is my room.” 

“No,” Oliver said. “This one is Ollie’s. Yours is next to Papa and me.” 

Leo shook his head. Tears filled his eyes. Elio looked on the verge of panic, as he hated for either of the children to ever be unhappy. Oliver pressed his eyelid. “Let’s go look at your room, Pickle. It’s even bigger than this room. So there’s lots of space for all your Matchbox cars and puzzles.” 

Leo flapped his head side to side. “No, fanks. I not like big rooms.” 

Oliver steeled himself for a battle by reminding himself that both children would love their new rooms, especially after they were filled with all of their things. It would even be a good time to redecorate if they wanted to. “This room is Lollie’s. And yours is next door. You’ll be between Lollie and us.” 

A tear dripped down Leo’s cheek, but before Oliver could say anything more, Ollie piped up. “It’s okay,” he said. “Leo can have this room. I need the other one anyway because I have more stuff.” 

Elio and Oliver looked at one another, having one of their silent conversations. “Are you sure?” Elio asked. 

Ollie nodded. “I’m super duper sure.” And he was. He was on the fence anyway, so if Leo really had his heart set on this room, he would happily take the other one. “I’m going to go look at it!” he sang as he galloped out of the room. 

He was standing in the middle of the floor of his new room, daydreaming about where the bed would go. Where his beanbag chair would go. Where he could put his small reading sofa. This room really was the best choice for him, because there was so much space for everything. When the rest of the family walked into his room, he smiled at them. “I love my new room!” 

Leo toddled over and smiled. “I like it,” he agreed. 

“And I like your room a lot, too,” Ollie said. 

Leo looked puzzled. “Dis my room?” he said. 

Anxiety played a game of freeze tag around them. Oliver cleared his throat. “Your room is next door, remember? Ollie said you could have the one with the big windows.” 

Leo shook his head. “No fanks,” he said matter-of-factly. “I not like big winnows. I like not big winnows.” 

Ollie took a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay,” he said. “You can have this room.” 

“Ollie.” Elio’s face finished his sentence. You take the room you want. He will be fine. 

Ollie shook his head. “I like the other one better anyway. Gotta go to my new ROOM,” he added as he galloped out of the room. 

Leo chased after him. “Gotta gotta my room!” he parrotted. 

Alone at last, Oliver and Elio shared a look that was equal parts exhaustion and apprehension. Oliver wrapped his arms around Elio and enjoyed the feeling of Elio’s arms around him, too. They shared a warm kiss. 

“Leo is just going to keep wanting whichever room Ollie chooses,” Elio stated the obvious. 

Oliver shrugged slightly. “That’s what happens when people start speaking the unspoken rules.” He’d meant it as a joke, but Elio’s laugh was weak. “It’ll all work out, honey” 

“Will it?” Elio asked, very quietly. 

“It will,” Oliver promised before kissing him again. 

“How?” Elio whispered. 

Oliver could feel how much Elio needed his reassurance. “Just the same way it always does.” 

Elio smiled. “Meaning you don’t know how?” 

“Meaning I know it will work out, and that’s enough.” 

“But—” 

“GUUUYS!!” Ollie squawked as he galloped back into the room, jerking his head to the side in a futile attempt to get his hair off his face. “I have an idea!” 

Elio finger combed his little brother’s hair into place. “Let’s hear it.” 

“Me and Leo could SHARE a room!!” He didn’t wait for an answer before he ran out of the room yelling, “LEEOOOOO, which room do we want?!” 

Oliver smiled at Elio. “See? I told you it would work out.” 

Elio rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, too. “They can’t share a room forever.” 

Oliver shrugged playfully and kissed his nose. “Is that an unspoken rule?” 

Elio giggled and wagged his eyebrows. “If so, I obviously can’t say it,” he said with a ventriloquist's smile. 

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Ollie knew without looking that it was Elio. He wasn’t sure exactly how he knew. Maybe it was the sound of the steps— Leo’s footfalls were quick and unpredictable, like sleet against a windowpane. Maybe the way the wooden planks of the deck he was sitting on kept their shape beneath him —Oliver was larger and heavier, and the boards curved slightly when he walked across them. Maybe it was the quietness of the approach. Elio didn’t need words as much as most people; he wore his heart on his sleeve and it so often did the talking for him.  

Ollie hadn’t noticed how cool the morning was until his brother draped a thin blanket over his shoulders. Elio sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around him.

"It shouldn’t be this cold in May," Ollie said.  

“Are you okay?” Elio asked. 

Ollie nodded. 

“Oliver said we could take it, you know,” Elio said. It took a moment for Ollie to understand that he was referring to the tree house. “We can have someone take it down, move it, and put it back together for us in our new backyard.” 

Ollie puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. “It’s cheaper to just make a new one.” 

Elio kissed the side of his head. “But it wouldn’t be this one.” 

A long, quiet moment lingered like still water. “If we make a new one, then the kids who live here next can have this one. Two treehouses are better than one treehouse.” It was your basic treehouse math.

“You make a good point,” Elio said, and Ollie’s tummy filled with fluttering butterflies as it always did whenever his big brother praised him. “Same with the garden. We’ll plant a new one, and someone else will enjoy this one.” 

Ollie nodded. “The peach tree, too.” 

They both looked over at the peach tree Oliver had planted for them two years ago. It had yet to produce any fruit, but now it was full of blossoms, each one a promise that this would be the year. 

“I’ll see if Mafalda can send some peaches to the new place.” 

Ollie smiled at that. “Italy peaches are better anyway.” As everyone well knows. 

The back door slid open behind them and tiny footfalls sleeted their way over while larger, slower ones curved the boards beneath them. 

“Are you two okay?” Oliver said as he placed his oversized cardigan on Elio’s thin shoulders and sat down next to him. 

“I think so,” Elio said. 

“We are super duper okay,” Ollie said with a reassuring smile. 

Oliver had barely gotten Leo’s jacket zipped before the three-year-old took off across the lawn, chasing after Olive.  

“The movers are here to finish loading the truck,” Oliver said. Ollie knew by the tone he used that he was talking to Elio. They each had a special voice they used only with each other. “Do we want to watch them pull away?” 

No one said anything. 

“Or no?” 

“Might as well,” Elio said, smiling. He looped his arm around Oliver’s and their fingers found each other, twisting together like loosely woven cloth. 

“Me and Leo do,” Ollie said with a nod. When he’d moved to the United States, it was with a suitcase and a few shipped packages. He was fascinated by the idea that their every belonging had been boxed up to be transported to their new home where it would then be unpacked and life would pick up again with barely a blip. 

Barely a blip, but still a blip. Though they had spent six months preparing for this move, and preparing their friends and family for it as well, tonight they were having a proper send off dinner. Out of everything, this is what unsettled Ollie the most. How would he say a final goodbye to Kate? To Mr. Slinger? To Joey? To Grandma Susan? To Grandpa Richard? 

“Goodbye is the saddest word," Ollie said. 

“Everything will be okay. Everyone’s happy for us. And you know we’re going to come visit, and people can come visit us. And we can video chat,” Elio said, even though they’d said these same things several times. 

“I don’t think I can say it though,” Ollie said, his voice trembling for the first time. "I don't think I can say it to them." 

Oliver reached across Elio, grasped Ollie’s hand, and tugged him over to him. 

“You’ll be able to say whatever it is you need to say when the time comes," Oliver promised. "You'll see."   

It was romantic, at least as farewell parties go. They’d reserved a table at the same venue where they’d had the wedding. The temperature had risen throughout the day, and as the sky began to glow pink and orange it remained warm enough for outdoor dining. 

The food was extravagant, and the champagne flowed freely. A string quartet played on the far side of the patio, but it was their storytelling and laughter that was the evening’s soundtrack. The sun set, then the moon rose. The stars appeared one by one, then the candles flickered out in the same manner. Leo danced and spun on the lawn and eventually he fell asleep in Oliver’s arms. No one seemed in any hurry to go, but when the check had been delivered, the last of the candles burned out, and the musicians began to pack up their stringed instruments, the inevitable could no longer be avoided. 

Oliver stood and smiled at everyone. “Thank you all for coming to send us off in style,” he said. “We didn’t want a goodbye party, but more of a fond farewell. And that is what we had. You know I never say goodbye to people. I simply say—” he held up his champagne flute. “Later.” 

“Later,” everyone agreed, holding up their glasses. 

Nervous laughter circled the table as everyone stood and began gathering their things between hugs. 

Kate pinched Leo’s sleeping cheek and then hugged Ollie. “I’m going to miss you boys so much,” she said. 

Ollie opened his mouth to say goodbye, but he couldn’t get it out. Elio was there immediately, swirling his fingers through his hair as if he were shampooing it. “We’ll see you soon. We’ll be back next month for the Kaines’ anniversary party anyway.” 

Kate smiled and kissed his cheek. “And don’t think I’m not going to take advantage of that guest room Ollie keeps telling me about.” 

“You’d better,” Oliver said. Ollie wasn’t sure when he’d stepped over, but he was glad he had. 

“And I want to hear you’re making straight A’s on your report card in fifth grade,” Mr. Slinger added as he hugged Elio, then Oliver, and finally Ollie. 

“Check!” Ollie said with a grin. “It feels like I’ve been in fourth grade FOREVER.” 

As Elio and Oliver continued their long-winded grown up goodbyes —which dragged on so long they had to take turns holding their sleeping toddler— Joey slipped through the crowd and glided over to him. Her hair had been in a ponytail, but now it was falling in wisps of brown silk around her face. 

Ollie opened his mouth to say goodbye, but instead the words, “You’re my best friend,” came out. 

She put a hand on each of his shoulders and gave him her patented no-nonsense look. “I’m not just your best friend. I’m your first best friend. And you only ever have one of those.” 

Ollie giggled. He couldn’t help it. 

“And you’re my first best friend, too,” Joey added. “And we’ll always be each other’s first best friends.” 

The moonlight played a mean trick on Ollie then. It made Joey’s hair shimmer. It made her skin brighten. It highlighted her freckles. She looked away from him just before she hugged him. “Later, Ollie,” she said. 

Ollie closed his eyes and whispered, “Later, Joey.” 

Joey squeezed his hand one last time and headed toward the parking lot with her parents. Just before she got into her car, she smiled back at him and he knew that he would carry that image in his heart for the rest of his life.  

When he turned his attention back to the party, Grandma Susan pinched his cheek. She was beaming, but he could feel a tremble in her hands. When she spoke, though, her voice was strong and unwavering. “I’ll see you next month, dear,” she said, kneeling down to hug him. “Until then… Later.”  

“Later, Grandma Susan,” Ollie said. 

“I need to get him in bed,” Elio said, his arms full of Leo. They’d booked a room for the night so they could leave the following morning. 

“Of course, honey,” Oliver said, kissing Elio on the cheek. “I’ll be right behind you. I just want to say goodbye.” 

“Take your time,” Elio said, exchanging hugs and kisses with the Kaines. “Do you want to come with me, Ollie?” 

“Nuh uh,” Ollie said, shaking his head. “I’ll come with Daddy.”

Elio looked to Oliver for guidance. He placed a hand on Ollie’s head. “He’s fine. We’ll be right up as soon as we say our goodbyes.” 

“Daddy?” Ollie said through a yawn after Elio had gone. 

“Hmmm?” 

“You said you never say goodbye. But then you told Elio you will say goodbye.” 

Oliver and Richard exchanged a soft look that Ollie did not understand. 

"I said I never say goodbye to people,” Oliver said, still looking at his father. “To people, I say later. To the past, I say goodbye." 

This is the extended version of the video I posted a few chapters back. That one was edited down to 1:30 for Instagram, and this one runs over three minutes and contains a lot more of Elibabette's lovely art. Elibabette, you have so often been the sunshine in this series! Forever in your debt! If you haven't already, please check out her Instagram! She might even be posting more Lollie art there in the future, as she does have some works in progress I believe!!