Chapter Text
Lexapro’s a fucking miracle drug. Robbie has no idea why he ever stopped taking it. He’s one milligram away from becoming the nicest man in New York. Y’know, saying hi to strangers on the subway. Offering flowers to passersby and shit.
He is sailing through the day. Kaitlyn is strapped to his chest with her little puffer coat, and a knitted cap, complaining mildly, because it’s cold, even for January. The slush lining the streets has turned into an ugly smear of gray against the curbs since their last snowfall, but he is glowing with color.
All the same, he keeps his jacket zipped up all the way to Kaitlyn’s nose when he walks, because hypothermia exists. She makes a little squeal of annoyance when she’s awake, that she can’t see very well past the fabric so he zips it down. The noises stop while she looks around, taking in the scenic view of the subway. Then, despite his better judgment, he zips it back up.
Kaitlyn flails in confusion. Squeaks.
He unzips it again, and she flaps her arms in glee that the world has decided to reappear. He’s in public, but it’s really hard not to laugh under his breath.
The ladies are predictably enamored with Kaitlyn, when he gets to the church. He walks out of the dim gray weather into warm wooden architecture and stained glass windows, and when one catches sight of him, she makes a very obvious, deliberate effort not to skip through the pews at him.
“Hello,” she says cheerily. “Robert, right?”
The boys told him they were known among the nuns here, whether they had met them or not, and it feels- well, it feels awful, because Robbie doesn’t know any of them. At all. Like, he could probably pick out Sister Elaine, because she’s supposed to be pretty short, but the rest of them are a tossup.
But they’ve got to make an effort for more open communication, and this lady seems nice, so he extends his hand.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure-?”
“Emma,” she says. Her eyes squint really hard when she smiles, in a way that reminds him of a particularly content cat on a window sill. “It’s nice to finally meet you. And who is this? ”
She raises a finger at Kaitlyn, who decides she wants to hold it, for no discernable reason.
“Yeah, you know, I, uh. I think we’ve probably put off introductions for long enough,” he agrees with a friendly, nervous kind of laugh. “This is my daughter, Kaitie.”
He grabs a chunky little arm and waves it at Sister Emma, who is just. She’s not even paying attention. There’s a baby in the room, who cares about the guy she’s strapped to.
“How old?” she coos, allowing Kaitie to examine her hand with all the curiosity of someone who has never seen one before.
“Six months.”
“She is adorable. My goodness! That little button nose. Is it cold outside? Yes, it is so chilly! You’re so lucky you’ve got these tiny little mittens, yes you are!”
“Sister Emma.”
A new voice interrupts Emma while she’s half-squatted and cooing at Kaitlyn. Robbie glances over at his savior and sees a prim little lady with dark eyes and good posture. His first thought is that she might be Sister Elaine, but even if she’s on the short side, it’s not the first thing he picks out about her.
Sister Emma glances up, and for half a second, she looks confused. Then she makes eye contact with Robbie, goes a little pink, and sits up straight, chastised.
“Sorry,” she says, feigning composure. “She’s very cute.”
The new lady sets her hand on Emma’s shoulder. There’s a muted smile on her face that says this is not the first time this has happened, and she’s not particularly upset about it.
“She is,” she agrees, and then looks to Robbie.
He realizes she, too, is waiting for an introduction. He clears his throat.
“Right. Uh. Kaitlyn,” he says, motioning to his daughter. “And I’m Robert.”
He holds out his hand for a handshake, and she takes it gracefully.
“Margaret,” she replies easily. “You can call me Sister Maggie, if you’d like.”
“Sure,” he says. “Is Matty around?”
“Yes,” Maggie says, and motions him away. Sister Emma looks grateful to be dismissed from the interaction, bids one last finger-wiggle to Kaitlyn, and shuffles off. Robbie follows Maggie down the aisle.
“It’s a bit early for you to be here today, isn’t it?” Maggie asks. It sounds conversational, not accusatory.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’ve got some stuff to talk about.”
She leads him to a door leading outside, just a little ways behind the altar. It gives way to a prim, groomed little yard. Half of it is taken up by an opulent garden of dead roses and pruned fir trees, surrounding a statue of Saint Agnes herself. Just beyond the foliage, though, he can see a low brick divider with an old, aluminum playset and some monkey bars on the other side.
Maggie gives him a look that’s hard to discern. It’s carefully guarded, but he thinks he sees a healthy mix of curiosity and worry.
“Anything we should know about?” she asks plainly. Her eyes give a sparkle like she wants him to tell her anyway.
But the boys agreed, after Stick, right. Matty said he wanted to keep his senses between him and them, at least until he was ready, and it was impossible to tell him that was a bad idea. Robbie has no idea what it’s like living here, and the ladies all seem nice, but… Niel’s got some very good points, even if they come from his own hangups, about how people can seem really likable, and then turn around and act like monsters.
He doesn’t think anyone here’s like that, but at the end of the day, it’s not his secret to tell. He feels guilty for it, because they’re supposed to be communicating, but he knows he can’t just go around trusting people to give the same understanding that he has.
So he shakes his head, and tries to rationalize the decision he’s made.
“Guy stuff,” he says briefly. It’s not inaccurate, necessarily, if he’s referring to The Guys specifically, but it’s still a lie.
Maggie concedes easily, even if she doesn’t really seem to believe him.
“Let us know if we can help at all,” she says simply.
They escape the cold into another wing of the building; it’s well hidden among the buildings from outside of church grounds, but it’s also small. Only once he’s inside does he realize the place has three stories, successfully cramming an entire orphanage into the limited space that they have.
Matty’s already waiting to go. He’s got his backpack on, his cane unfolded, and his glasses on. He’s sitting in a chair that he’s pulled away from one of the tables in the little cafeteria in front of them.
He is, however, woefully underdressed. A long-sleeve shirt and jeans are not going to help him out in that cold.
“Hey, Matty,” he says.
“Hi Uncle Rob,” Matt replies. “Hi Kaitie.”
Kaitie doesn’t reply because she’s six months old. Rob puts his finger on her head and bobs it like she’s talking anyway, pitching his voice up.
“Hi, Matty,” he squeaks, and then drops back to his usual voice. “Wow! Matt, her first words. You hear that?”
Matt is not amused by him, but he is charmed. Robbie can tell by the way he rolls his eyes. Not nearly so much as Maggie, who flattens her lips in an attempt not to smile.
“Aren’t you going to be outside today?” she asks, instead of laughing at his (hilarious) bit.
“Yeah,” Robbie says. “Matty, you own any sweatpants or something?”
He shakes his head.
“Stick-” he starts, and then gives up on that, because nobody else in the room gives a flying fuck what Stick’s opinion is. “Doesn’t matter. No, I just have jeans.”
Robbie shows his palms.
“Jacket?” he prompts.
Matt narrows his eyes.
“I don’t need a jacket,” he declares. “It’s not that cold.”
Robbie looks at Maggie. Maggie looks at Rob.
“Hey,” Matt says, exasperated, and the look breaks off. “Quit it. I can’t see what you guys are doing.”
“Disagreeing with you,” Robbie explains bluntly. “It’s gotta be like, eleven degrees outside, Matt.”
“That’s in the double digits.”
Robbie looks back to Sister Maggie, who’s about to tell Matt that if he doesn’t put the coat on, he can’t go out.
“Just give it to me,” he murmurs, knowing damn well Matt can hear that. “Better safe than sorry.”
The look Maggie gives him says she knows exactly what he’s playing at, and thinks he’s making this unnecessarily complicated. She plays along all the same, shakes her head, and walks off to where he presumes the living quarters must be.
It only takes a few minutes. She comes back with the puffiest coat he’s ever seen in his life. It’s bright blue nylon and it probably weighs as much as Matt does. Maggie’s got the smuggest look he’s ever seen as she marches it down to them.
He bites down on his tongue. Not gonna laugh at the kid. He dug his own grave. Matt’s bristling like a cat at whatever he’s picking up from it. Like the coat’s fucking haunted.
“Thank you, Sister,” he says, managing to keep his cool.
“Of course,” she says with all the fake-humbleness she can muster. “Is your daughter staying out with you?”
Robbie cocks his head. Looks down at Kaitlyn, who is growing very annoyed with the fact that the inside of the orphanage is too warm.
“For a bit,” he says. They’ve got to go to the gym, anyway, and he was planning on leaving her with Keith, because even though he can be an aggressive ass-pain, if he is given a baby, he will direct that aggression towards anyone who tries to make a stupid decision regarding said baby’s well-being. He’s a guard dog of a man.
“We could keep an eye on her, if you’d like,” Maggie offers. It sounds genuine, which is probably the part that makes Robbie startle.
It’s not that he doesn’t trust them. Right, they run an orphanage, this is what they do here. It’s a show of good faith, if he’s ever heard one, but it’s just… He's gotta talk to Susie, at least.
“I know you’d take good care of her,” he says gently, “but we’ll be alright.”
Maggie quirks her lips at him.
“No hard feelings,” she says earnestly. “You already trust us with one of your children.”
That hits just a little bit harder. Mostly because she just looks so damn sad about it. And it’s not like she tears up, or crumples her face, but Sister Maggie’s been so composed up until now that even the little trace of sorrow that shows feels like a soul-baring moment.
It doesn’t really matter that none of the boys wanted to trust them with Matt. It doesn’t matter that they had no say. For the first time, Robbie considers the idea that… maybe the ladies here didn’t either. And they’re doing what they can to give Matt a home, when they all think he’d be better off somewhere else. And maybe they didn’t have the time they needed to figure that out before they got sat in front of a judge.
Maybe, if the boys decided to rehash that issue, it wouldn’t be an argument.
But Matt’s sitting five feet away at the cafeteria table, bristling at a coat, so it’s the wrong time to negotiate. Robbie buries the ax.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, we do.”
For some reason, that seems to make her feel worse. Robbie wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. He must have slipped up somewhere, or she wouldn’t be looking so damn solemn.
“Thank you, Robert,” she says, perfectly earnest. She takes her leave in a half-step away from him, and gives a convincing smile. “You three have a good time today. Curfew at eight.”
“Yeah,” Robbie says. Maggie dips her head and walks off, back towards the church itself, and the door clicks gently behind her.
“What was that about?” Matt chirps.
Rob looks at the door where she vanished.
“I dunno.”