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”We can keep everything held together without you, Gabe, I promise.”
Gabriel had joked then, about how everything always seems to fall apart when he’s not around, but it had been far more for his own sake than for Jack’s. There is a level of worry that is impossible to dispel for a considerable length of time when you work an entire planet away from your wife and young child, which had been intensified when Gabriel received a call from the previously mentioned beloved spouse regarding the previously mentioned adored son mere moments after returning from a lengthy mission.
Martina is a very level-headed woman but she sounded on the verge of tears over the phone, and had barely been able to communicate what had happened. Gabe knows that she told him, he’s just so goddamn exhausted from flying for something like twenty hours straight that he can’t quite remember. No rest for the wicked, and all that. So, at around one in the afternoon on a Thursday in October, Gabriel feels suitably rattled as he drags himself to his own front door.
The place he and Martina had decided to settle into is nice without being excessive - standard driveway, garage, warm orange and brown colors on the outside walls and stone tile roof, two floors so they could escape from the guests if they wanted to (read: Reinhardt on his more robust visits), a modest, modern kitchen that they make very good use of, a backyard large enough to not get too bored running in circles within. Gabriel had made very good use of the massive “we’re giving you this in case you die horribly and painfully without anyone knowing the truth” money left over from joining the SEP.
Before he can reach for the handle to the front door, it retreats as Martina opens it for him. “Gabriel,” She mutters breathlessly, “What tried to eat you on the plane?”
“Have you seen the kind of people that are frequent flyers these days?” He replies easily, feeling slightly more alive thanks to it. “They’d rip me apart in thirty seconds if it got them to the next airport that much faster.” The fact that Martina can still tease him puts Gabriel slightly more at ease. It’s apparently an infuriating quality they share, according to most of their friends and family. After Gabriel steps over the threshold, he’s engulfed in a hug, and gladly reciprocates, finally able to rest for a precious moment. “You’re the best, Tee,” He breathes out quickly.
“That’s why you married me and not the other way around.” She chuckles for a moment, and it sounds about as tired as Gabriel feels.
Gabriel steps away just long enough to kick his suitcase through the door and shut it, then takes Martina’s hand. “What happened with Adrien? You told me,” He adds, when Martina develops a confused expression, “I just…”
Martina nods with a sad smile on her face. “I know, amor.” Her smile fades quickly, and she takes Gabriel’s other hand as well, simply holding them for a long moment. Eventually, she sighs, brow creasing, eyes squeezed shut with frustration. “He…had an altercation at school the other day.”
“I don’t like the word altercation,” Gabriel says quietly. It makes whatever happened sound dangerous, despite how well-behaved Adrien always is.
Martina rolls her eyes and half-growls under her breath. “I don’t like it either! That’s the word that the principal used, though.” Gabriel’s eyes narrow. Martina notices the expression immediately, laughing softly as she shakes her head. “I know, Gabi, I know.”
“So what actually happened?”
“Here, sit down, I’ll get you some food, and tell you while you eat.”
As if cued, Gabriel’s stomach rumbles, and he chuckles tiredly. “Good thing I’ve got you around to read my mind.” They part, Gabriel heading for the dark leather couch while Martina steps into the kitchen to make whatever she planned to.
As he waits, despite it being all of five minutes, Gabriel’s mind is racing. He hasn’t seen Adrien yet, which is odd on its own since his boy is as sharp as they come - Adrien can usually tell when Gabriel’s at the door before Martina, even if he’s playing in his bedroom upstairs, which caused many issues when he was a toddler learning to open doors, and always wanted to see Gabriel the moment he stepped into the house. It’s not impossible that he’s spending the day with one of his aunts or grandparents, but wouldn’t Martina have mentioned if he was?
Gabriel blinks hard when the warm, earthy smell of empanadas is suddenly enveloping him. A moment later, Martina offers a plate of them. Gabriel snatches it immediately and starts eating. He’s used to running on fumes, but the smell and taste of Martina’s food is to die for, even more after going without for over a day.
Martina plucks one of the pastries from the edge of the plate, earning her a scandalized look from her husband mid-bite. “You can spare one, Gabi,” She playfully scolds. She intentionally made the comment when Gabriel had his mouth full, and he glares with all his might because it’s all he can do. Martina bursts into laughter, and Gabriel follows suit after swallowing his next bite of food.
“Here,” Gabriel says, lifting the last empanada to his wife, “I’ll even spare two, just because I like you that much.”
Martina takes it and hums, as if deep in thought. “I bet I still don’t beat Jack on your little personal scale, though, do I?” They both laugh again.
It’s a common joke they share with each other that Jack is Gabriel’s “work husband”, due to how close they’ve been since SEP and long after. Martina is bisexual just the same as Gabriel so she takes it in stride, leans into it even at times, and Gabriel has always appreciated it. The handful of relationships he attempted before Martina had wound up ending because of some accusations that Gabriel was cheating on them with Jack - as if an unfortunately extended booty call took priority over the man who watched him writhe in a bed with mindless delirium and clammy skin and didn’t flinch away - so her embrace of it has always been nice.
“You’re getting close.” Gabriel takes a moment to breathe, then clears his throat for attention. “So… Adrien? School?”
The way Martina instantly deflated makes Gabriel hate that he even asked, even if he really needs to know. “Right. Like I said, the principal called it an altercation, but from what I could get from her, the other parents and kids, and the little bit Adrien told me, some older children were picking on him, and he tried to push them away, and…” She trails off, suddenly looking unsure.
Gabriel takes her hand and pulls it into his lap, squeezing gently. “And?”
Martina glances at her hand in Gabriel’s, then away, then grunts and throws her head back. “It doesn’t make sense!” She exclaims suddenly, “Because the two who were leading it have broken bones now, but-“
“What?!” Gabriel straightens in his seat. “He’s fucking seven, how would he-“
“I know! I don’t understand how, but they do!” Martina leans forward again and shakes her head. “Those people from the program,” She starts, “They came and they did all those tests on him when he was a little baby, we hadn’t even been home for a full day, and they said he didn’t have any of those enhancements like you and Jack.”
Gabriel rubs his temple, wishing desperately to reach into his skull and physically sort through his fatigue-addled thoughts. Maybe it wouldn’t help, but it might make him feel better. “Didn’t they come back right after his third birthday, too?”
Martina nods. “And they said the same thing then. They said he wouldn’t have any genetic enhancements.”
Well. That declaration has now been thoroughly blown out of the water.
Gabriel exhales heavily through his nose, thinking, as he tends to. He doesn’t feel terrible about the little brats getting injured - see if they ever get the courage to pick on another classmate after this - but Adrien is a child. He’s seven years old. And Gabriel can tell just from Martina’s description, every other adult except for her had put blame on Adrien, like he was some kind of wildly out-of-control monster and not a kid that shouldn’t have had to resort to physical force to get away from that shit in the first place. It’s not even his fault, Gabriel thinks with a soft noise of exasperation as he rubs his eyes.
“Is he…?”
“Upstairs, yes. Are you going to talk to him?” Martina asks as Gabriel stands up.
Gabriel shrugs. “I’ll try.”
He definitely hadn’t expected to have any of these heavy, life-relevant talks so early into parenthood, but Gabriel is nothing if not ambitious. It occurs to him, after making it halfway up the stairs, that maybe he should’ve tried to rest a bit before going to talk with Adrien, since the dark circles that build up under his eyes after going without sleep for a while make him look even more intimidating than usual. Gabriel just shakes it off; Adrien is terrified enough, he needs someone.
Gabriel tries to politely knock, but Adrien’s door creaks open as soon as he touches it. His room is a bit of a mess, more than Gabriel knows Martina allows while he’s gone. There’s the giant teddy bear that Reinhardt had brought for Adrien on his first birthday sitting patiently in the corner. The drawers of the small dresser under his window have been carelessly yanked open, clothes half pulled out, some piled at the foot of the dresser and others tossed on top of Adrien’s backpack, which itself is emptied on his bed. And his bed is strangely stripped clean.
Gabriel looks around the room for a moment. There’s the barest squeak to the right, and Gabriel looks over to the motionless closet door. A rumpled corner of a blue fitted sheet peeks out from the tiny gap between the door and the wall.
Gabriel steps around the clutter to stand in front of the closet door. He can barely hear the quick, anxious breaths coming from within. As gently as he can, Gabriel knocks on the closet door. “Hey. Mijo. You in there?” Silence. “Can I come in?” He tries again.
The closet door creaks open a few inches. Gabriel crouches, staring into the shadowed closet. Deep brown eyes just like his own peer back from under dark bangs. “I’m a little big for your closet, mijo,” Gabriel says quietly. Adrien still doesn’t say anything. Now that he’s a touch more visible, Gabriel can see that his eyes are red and puffy, wet tracks still visible on his cheeks. Wetness gathers in his eyes again as he stares silently at Gabriel.
Gabriel sighs and smiles gently. “Alright, alright. Better be ready to squeeze in here like your abuela’s tamales, though.” As Gabriel slides the closet door open further, he can see that Adrien has stuffed all of his bedding into the closet, along with all his more regularly-sized plushies and toys. Buried under the concern and worry, Gabriel is intensely furious with all of the people who made his son feel like he has to hide like this. A seven year old child.
Something to vent to Jack and Ana about later. They’ll be just as pissed, too.
Gabriel crouches, removing his boots, then his customary hoodie. It takes some struggling and shimmying to squeeze into the narrow space, and some rearranging that he tries to avoid, for Adrien’s sake, but eventually he fits into the cramped closet, Adrien sitting comfortably in his lap, still curled into a ball. After a moment of thought, he drags his hoodie in, and shuts the closet door once again. Gabriel drapes the soft fabric around Adrien’s shoulders; both he and Martina love Gabe’s hoodies just as much as he does.
Adrien snuggles into Gabriel’s hoodie, pulling it tight around himself. Gabriel exhales softly, waiting for Adrien to settle again. “Hey. You ready to talk yet?” In the dark, Gabriel can see Adrien shake his head for ‘no’. “That’s okay, kiddo. You mind if I talk a bit?” Again, a head shake. “Can I talk about what happened to you at school?” Adrien is still for a long time. He clearly doesn’t want to talk or hear about it. But it has to be done eventually. Gabriel thinks for a moment, fingers drumming on his thigh. “I can tell you about what’s been going on at Zurich for a few minutes.” Adrien quickly nods. “Okay. But not for very long, alright? I want to talk about this before we get out of here. I’m not mad at you,” Gabriel adds, because he has no doubt that that is something swimming around in Adrien’s head, “We just need to talk about it.”
Adrien nods hesitantly, which Gabriel takes as a sign to ramble about whatever he can think of for the ensuing ten minutes. Everything from Fareeha’s self-defense teacher walking out because she was too good, the stain on Jack’s Strike Commander uniform he got from falling asleep at his desk and knocking over a mug of coffee, Reinhardt scaring the new recruits before they got used to him, his own Blackwatch recruits moaning about being made to learn sewing, Ana’s new collection of tea, Torb’s suggestions to put turrets all over Zurich HQ and the rest of them besides, whatever popped into Gabriel’s head. As he talks, he can feel Adrien slowly relax, until he’s eventually laid in a more comfortable sprawl against Gabriel’s torso.
“…and Fareeha keeps whining about a puppy, even though animals are a pretty strict no-no on base. Apparently her dad’s neighbor has a big dog called an American Akita, and she and Fareeha are impossible to get away from each other.” Adrien giggles, and it’s the first sound he’s made since Gabriel’s seen him. Gabriel rubs his shoulder, and listens to Adrien’s far more even, steady breathing. “Hey.” Adrien tilts his head to look at his father. “Feel a little better?”
He still doesn’t say anything, but he nods, which is progress.
Gabriel gently pulls Adrien more upright against him. “Your mom told me a bit about what happened the other day, at school.” He feels Adrien’s little body tense up against him.
“They kept yelling at me…” Adrien murmurs. His hands curl into Gabriel’s undershirt. Gabriel wraps his arms more securely around his son. “I didn’t mean to hurt them.”
“What’d you do?”
“I just…pushed them. Not…hard. I didn’t think I pushed them hard. They wouldn’t stop pushing me, and poking me, and calling me names, and…” Adrien sniffles. His eyes are watering, and he’s whimpering quietly, clutching Gabriel’s shirt tighter. Gabriel shifts his grip to pull Adrien solidly against his chest, rubbing soothing circles into his back while the kid sobs.
Gabriel tries to be subtle as he shifts, grabbing one of Adrien’s plushies to push into his hands. It’s one from Jack, a little barn owl he’d picked up from some mom-and-pop in Bloomington the last time he went. One of Adrien’s favorites. He grabs it and crushes it against his chest, heaving with dry sobs. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Gabriel repeats, softly and insistently.
Somewhere, Gabriel’s phone vibrates, muffled by whatever soft things it’s buried under. He hopes Adrien doesn’t notice.
Adrien’s sobs slow, breath stuttering, rubbing snot and tears into Gabriel’s shoulder. Gabriel runs his fingers through Adrien’s hair. “Feeling better?” Adrien nods between shaking breaths. Gabriel nods as well. “Good. That’s good.” He returns to rubbing Adrien’s back. “You know, me and your Tío Jack did the same thing a few times.”
“You and Tío…hurt people? By accident?”
“Yep. Whole lot. Put a lot of people in the hospital without meaning to.” Adrien quiets down, looking to the soft barn owl in his hands. “I’m sorry you have to go through the same thing, mijo,” Gabriel continues, “But, you’ve got me, and your mamá, and Tío Jack, and Tía Ana, and Reinhardt and Torbjörn and Fareeha and everyone else to help you figure it out.”
Gabriel presses a kiss to Adrien’s head and wills the soreness in his legs away. He doesn’t have any intention of leaving until Adrien gives him the okay, even if it is quite the squeeze to stay tucked into the little closet.
“Papí?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t go back to school, can I?”
“Probably not, mijo.” Adrien lets out a little sigh. Gabriel rubs Adrien’s arm. “You wanna get out of here? We can go bug your mamá to take us to In-N-Out, and you can watch TV while I leave the land of the living for a few dozen hours.”
Adrien giggles at that, which in turn makes Gabriel smile. “Milkshakes this time?” He asks hopefully.
Gabriel chuckles. “Of course. The neighborhood isn’t gonna survive if we don’t get any.” Adrien giggles again.
Despite the exhaustion, it is relieving to pull the closet door open and slide out with Adrien. The poor kid looks like he’s done enough crying to last him a decade, but he’s smiling. Gabriel can’t help ruffling his curly black hair as they step out of Adrien’s room.
His kid, alright.