Work Text:
virgil is a good dad.
he goes to therapy to conquer his anxiety. he now knows how to verbalize his heavy emotions in a semi-understandable and healthy way (most of the time). he learned how to cook. he developed coping skills to deal with everything his own father planted in him.
virgil is a good dad.
except for the times he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong.
when patton needs quality time, he goes to logan. when patton needs a hug, he goes to virgil.
99% of the time, virgil lets out a simple love you, kid during or after the hug.
and, yes, it’s nice. it makes patton feel nice.
but some days patton just feels unreasonably defeated and requires far more than just a three letter phrase that he’s sure his dad is wired to say at this point.
and that takes us to finals week of patton’s freshman year.
“dad? dad with glasses? anybody home?” patton allows his slipping backpack to hit the ground, shoes sliding off with ease.
“dad with glasses at store,” he hears from the lounge, “emo dad is here. emo dad is on couch. come to emo dad, my child.”
patton internally smiles, he forgot, virgil had mondays off of work.
the teen speed walks into the lounge, catching sight of virgil flipping channels.
“father.”
“son.”
patton lifts a finger and points towards the floor, “drop remote.”
virgil raises an eyebrow, but nonetheless, drops the remote next to the sofa, “alas, remote hath been dropped.”
patton scurries over to virgil and takes a moment to gently grab virgil’s arms, opening them wide. he then crosses his own and huffs aloud dramatically, as if he wanted his dad to notice something.
“fetus.”
“papa.”
“can i ask what you’re — shit my ribs.”
patton had quite literally belly flopped on top of virgil, to which virgil wasted no time wrapping his arms snuggly around his son.
“school’s gross. i’m stressed and school’s gross.”
“i know, i know.”
they remain like this for a matter of seconds, before virgil presses a light but meaningful kiss to the top of patton’s hair, “love you, kid.”
virgil feels patton’s face screw up against his chest, “what’s up?”
“you — i don’t — nevermind. forget it.”
virgil’s own face screws up now, “you good?”
“y - .. no,”
patton turns his head, cheek now pressed against the torso of his dad, “no i’m not. i.. why don’t you put an i in front of the love you? and why is that the only thing you say when you hug me? and why do you say it so.. casually?
and why does — “
“ok. woah. slow down, mister. one question at a time. are you upset?” virgil interrupts, talking into the ceiling above him.
patton furrows his brows, “no.. i mean.. no i’m not upset at you. i’m upset about the day i had. and i want you to see that.”
virgil’s heart stops.
he did see that.
“how can i.. what can i do?” virgil’s chest falls with an exhale.
patton thinks for a quick second, biting the inside of his cheek, “can you.. i just wish you’d say more than that. i want you to tell me dad things like it’s gonna be alright son and i’m always going to be right here for you and i love you so much kiddo and stuff like that. i just want you to talk to me like a dad. like my dad. i don’t know.” his voice is soft, as if he was almost scared to admit all of what he just had.
virgil thinks on how to lighten the situation before responding to that hodgepodge of emotion, “.. if you really want me to talk to you like a dad, why didn’t you make your bed this morning?” he mocks in a way that patton will clearly take as a joke.
and patton does laugh, but only briefly, before he goes quiet again. he picks absentmindedly at a loose string on virgil’s tee shirt. virgil watches him, the way his fingers move slowly. and it urges him to use the three r’s that him and logan had gone over before they even fostered patton:
1: regard
2: reassure
3: respect
1: regard
virgi remembers that patton tends to overthink. and when patton overthinks it leads to a lot of other unhealthy emotional habits. in this particular moment, virgil can only assume that patton is thinking of all the ways he may have just messed up, all of the things virgil could say to make him feel unworthy of love. so the next step is to:
2: reassure
“well,” virgil starts, “first of all, thank you for getting that off your chest. i’m sure that was really hard for you. you feeling loved is my number one priority and i will listen until the end of the world to understand exactly how you need to be loved.”
“i just.. i don’t know. i guess i just.. my heart needs more.” patton mumbles shyly, staring off into the tv.
virgil’s lips downturn, “what is more, sweetheart?” he’s slowly realizing that this is very much a deep rooted thing, opposed to a surface feeling.
and he feels a single tear hit the left side of his shirt.
“it’s gonna sound selfish.. and stupid.”
“.. pat?”
“tell me that you’re proud of me,” he sniffs mellowly, “please.”
“oh,” virgil hugs his son tighter, “oh, pat, i am always proud of you. i’m proud of you for just being alive.”
patton doesn’t even try to hide his tears at this point, “you’re always the first one to let go of hugs. i love your hugs but they’re never long enough.” (after that slipped, virgil always waited for patton to depart from hugs first).
patton took a moment to inhale, feeling his binder hems press into his skin, and that only made him cry harder, “am i good enough for you?”
virgil’s eyes widened as if he’d just stepped into a room and saw a dead body, “patton cole sanders. look at me, now.” he bends his arms up to grab his son’s face and they make direct eye contact, “you are more than good enough. got that?” his face was emotionless but with eyes telling determination.
patton’s red, blotchy face, puffy eyelids, and no response did no justice to making his dad feel any better.
so virgil kept trying.
“patton you were more than good enough within the first ten seconds your dad and i met you. you were more than good enough when we knew you were trans, and you were more than good enough the night you told us you’re trans. we love you. and we care. and we support you,” virgil let patton’s head fall once more upon his chest, running a hand through his son’s hair, “and i am sorry i haven’t been giving you what you need from me, pat. i really am. but there is nothing you could ever do or say that would make me love you less.”
“thank you, i’m sorry.” patton chokes out as he finally begins to calm down. “oh, hush, sweetheart. you don’t have to be sorry for anything. i’m right here pat, you’re safe.”