Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pull off here, coach.” Grian said, looking out the bus window as they passed by buildings and homes he recognized. 

The bus driver nodded, sending one quick look through the mirror to the oddly dressed man. The driver didn’t match the bus at all, but that was only because he normally drove the carriage for another. His hair was white as snow, and topped with a light blue captain’s hat. His hair was tied up in a light blue ribbon, one that would match his employer. He wore a darker blue tailcoat with silver pants, and high top white boots. Everything about him was spotless. 

Still even with the spotless presentation of the man he could never match the ornate coach he was driving. 

The bus was made of red metal that not only looked expensive, but was. Grian wasn’t even sure what the metal was made out of but he knew it was not the normal ingredients. This coach was specifically his afterall. 

Why the coach had five rows of booths on either side, he wasn’t sure. The bus was not only made of shiny red material but the detailing on both the outside and inside was spiraled and swirled with silver and gold trimmings. The detailing spiraled into different birds and flowers that Grian personally loved. 

The inside of the bus was completely empty of people except for Grian and the coachman. Each booth was covered in red velvet, and had its own personal window. While Grian never had a specific space on the bus he sat in, he always ended up in the very middle of the bus. His legs crossed patiently as he waited to arrive at his destination. 

The bus pulled off the road exactly where Grian had advised and he kept his eyes on the vacant bench station that waited for him. He uncrossed his legs as the bus pulled to a stop. 

The blonde stood up, gripping the booth in front of him to keep himself stable. He brought two fingers to his mouth and whistled, something high and practiced. When the sound finished, he looked up where the gold trimming carefully jutting out and creating a small perch for a single bird. 

The bird, a parrot specifically, raised both its wings to push air below him and enter the air. The bird flew down to Grian’s shoulder, chirping happily that the destination was reached and they no longer had to wait in the coach. 

Grian ran a finger over the parrot’s head, while using his other hand to grab his cane. He took the old wooden staff, and tapped it on the floor of the bus, something that was just as beautifully detailed as the rest. 

The noise of the staff hitting the ground gained the parrots attention, pulling it from the pets Grian was offering. The bird hopped off of the man’s shoulder and landed on the top of the staff, sitting purposefully before becoming still. 

The coachman stood as the bus stopped. The man stepped out from his place at the front seat and placed his hands behind himself. “Your destination, Goose.” The coachman stated, as the doors opened by themselves. 

Grian’s head shot up at the name, he huffed and rolled his eyes. “Thank you, coachman.” He knew there was no use correcting the man, after he’d tried to do so for so long. 

He laid his hand and some of his weight on his cane, where his parrot had become one with his staff, a simple colorful statue at the very top. He bent down carefully, grabbing his bag from the seat and placing it over his shoulder. He limped his way to the front of his coach, before exiting the bus. 

“Shall I assist you to your destination?” He asked, as the very edge of the bus’s stairs. 

Grian rolled his eyes, quite annoyed with the constant hovering he got ever since his injury. He had begun to understand what Scar meant by the babysitting and worrying. “I’ll be fine, thank you, now get back to Cinderella before she has my head for keeping you for too long.”

The coachman bowed, stiffly, before turning around and marching himself back to his seat. The coach’s doors closed and Grian was left to watch his ornate carriage leave exactly as it came. 

Grian saw as many people stared in awe at the coach, pointing and gawking at the driver wondering who in the world could afford such a thing. It made Grian smile just a tad knowing he’d never had to pay a dime for the thing, in fact it rather just showed up at his doorstep. 

It was only as the bus left that the points and awes moved to him, as he was left the only person at the bus stop. Even if there’d been a hundred others, he’d still stand out. 

It didn’t matter if the avian hid his wings away, he still stood out like a sore thumb among humans. How Kristen did it always impressed him. 

He wore a red steeple hat, one that resembled something of a witch. A ribbon tied around his hat with a black bow in the back that tied parrot feather to his hat. It covered his blonde hair, so only a few tufts peaked out. He wore a bright red vest with a white button up, and surprisingly a darker red cape covered the two slots in his vest that would showcase his wings. His black pants had silver swirls and detailing that matched his coach. His shoes were red with gold buckles.

He looked like he’d stepped right out off some completely different world. He couldn’t blame the people he saw for gawking at him. Humans had always been so boring to him. If he’d lived a life without magical, mystical and beautiful things, he’d be just as shocked to see someone like him walk the streets. 

He, however, paid no attention to the humans and rather placed his attention on the walk he was in front of him. While the bus stop had gotten him close to his destination he still had a bit to walk. He began his small journey down the sidewalk that passed many large houses. 

The homes weren’t mansions but they were large enough for two stories and many bedrooms. He walked with a visible limp that others soon noticed, whispering about him as they walked past. 

He could only roll his eyes and continue. He stopped once he came to a certain house. 

The house was across the street, with a nice green garden that split for a path straight to the front door. An iron fence separated the path from the sidewalk, and the house from the street. The home was two stories, built from brick with moss covering half of it as it sprawled up the side hiding windows. 

Grian waited a moment before crossing the street, and stepping in front of the cold iron gate. He carefully unlocked the gate like he remembered and closed it behind him once he entered the garden. 

He took one last moment to take in the house, sighing to himself as he walked up the path. He stepped up the stairs to the porch and knocked on the door. 

He waited for a moment hearing the ruckus of his nephews arguing over who could open the door. He brought his cane to his middle, letting both his hands rest on it as he waited for them to come to the conclusion they could both answer it. 

“I want to open it!” Grian heard Tubbo shout through the wooden door. 

“You don’t even know who it is!” He heard Ranboo counter, “You’re not even tall enough to look through the peephole yet! It could be a stranger.” Ranboo reasoned. Grian sighed, knowing neither of the two boys were tall enough to reach the peephole. 

“I can see through the window, dumbass.” Tubbo countered, and Grian huffed. 

“Then who is it?” Ranboo asked.

“Lemme open the door.” Tubbo said, and even without seeing him Grian could hear the smirk. 

“Boys, it’s your Uncle, open the door.” Grian announced, growing tired of the arguing. He was going to have to deal with enough of that with the boy’s dad, he didn’t need the two of them giving him a headache first. 

Within the second the door was opened, and revealed the kids grinning happily. 

Ranboo had just recently turned thirteen, but were still shorter than Grian. In fact neither of them reached his elbows. 

Tubbo had curly brown hair that flopped over his face. The brunet wore his regular green flannel. However, instead of his normal jeans he was wearing black shorts, and his legs were dripping with water. 

Ranboo was in the same boat, his shorts a little more wet and his legs dripping, meaning the two had been playing out in the pond all morning. The raven haired boy wore the same white shirt and black sweater. Grian cringed at the idea that both boy’s dripping water all over the house, “Go grab some towels and dry off.” Grian laughed, stepping inside the house. 

“Uncle Grian!” Tubbo shouted, the eleven year old hugging the man tightly. Grian flinched as a shot of pain went through his back and leg. 

He winced slightly, before patting the kid on the head, “Yeah, careful there, kid.” Grian opted, as Tubbo let go with a grin. 

“Sorry.” Tubbo apologized, before grabbing Ranboo’s arm and pulling him with him as they ran off to get towels, presumably. “Dad’s in the kitchen!” Ranboo yelled as Tubbo dragged him down a hallway.

Grian smiled, waving to the quieter of the two and he walked into the isolated kitchen. Grian took a deep inhale before turning the corner, knowing what he was about to walk into. 

He immediately sighed, when he saw Phil standing in the center of the kitchen arms crossed and glaring at him. 

“You for once you could at least pretend like you’re happy to see me.” Grian huffed, leaning on his cane. 

“I thought I heard the boys call your name. Although I was hoping they were just delusional.” Phil huffed, glaring at the other. 

“And I was hoping this would be the visit where we finally get along, but I guess we’re both wrong, hm?” Grian shrugged.

“You get one visit per year and you chose today to use it?” Phil huffed, as Grian walked forward and sat on one of the barstools. Phil huffed again, when Grian sat down, he turned around and started working on dinner once again. 

“I know, it's a bit unfair isn’t it.” Grian joked, before frowning and turning serious, “The once a year thing.”

“I find it's rather fair, actually.” Phil smiled, turning to the stove and focusing on whatever he was cooking. Grian watched boredly, one hand holding up his head as he waited. 

“Fair to you, possibly, to him not at all.” Grian muttered, eyes glancing over to the fridge where pictures and papers were hung up. 

“It’s a good thing he’s got no idea.” Phil replied, not even looking up. 

Grian rolled his eyes, pulling a picture off the fridge to look closer. He flipped it over, seeing the scribbled name on the back large and plain in crayon. “He drew this?” He smiled

Phil looked up seeing what the other was holding. He nodded.

Grian smiled, wider as he flipped it back over. It was a picture of the youngest in the household and one of his favorite characters. It was a little difficult to make out just who the character was but Grian could tell easily who it was supposed to be by the large goose in the background. 

“Can’t believe you let him put it up.” Grian smirked, feeling as if he’d won an argument already. Phil huffed, turning and snatching the paper away from him and hung it back up on the fridge. 

“It wasn’t me who let him. Tubbo put it up after he showed him.” Phil answered.

Grian huffed, “How nice of him.” Grian rolled his eyes, although he held no ill will towards his nephew. 

Before Phil could spit something else out, he was shut up by the entrance of the brothers again. Both of them running into the kitchen, happily. 

“Dad! You didn’t say Uncle Grian was coming over for dinner.” Tubbo said, grinning, as he ran over to the bar stool next to Grian. He clambered up to sit next to the older, sitting up straight once he did. 

“He’s not.” Phil answered, back sharply. 

Tubbo frowned, “But he’s here.” 

“And he’s leaving.” Phil said back, as Tubbo pouted silently. 

“Why can’t he stay, you always make extra food. And we have an extra chair. It’d just be a waste of time for him to leave. And it’d be rude to eat without him.” Ranboo reasoned, from behind Phil. 

“Yeah!” Tubbo agreed, loudly. 

Phil looked over to Grian, waiting for the man to make an excuse to leave. Instead grian just smiled as Tubbo and Ranboo helped him without any knowledge. 

“You see when they put it that way, Phil, it just seems inconvenient to leave so soon.” Grian smirked, earning a dark glare from Phil, “In fact, I haven’t even seen Tommy, yet!” Grian announced, knowing that would be the last straw. 

Tubbo seemed giddy at the mention of their youngest household member, the burnet tried to stand on his knees on the barstool pointing to the fridge. “Did you see his drawing! I put them up!” He asked. 

Grian nodded, smiling at the brunet. 

“Fine.” Phil decided, “You can stay for dinner but you’re not staying the night.” He huffed, grabbing a towel from the counter and wiping his hands. Tubbo muttered a hooray, and Ranboo looked between the two confused. Grian nodded, easily, as Phil seemed to be growing in agitation, “Both of you go wash up.”

Tubbo and Ranboo nodded, exiting the kitchen a lot calmer than they had entered. Grian watched as the two left, before turning back to very angry Phil. 

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut, could you?” Phil spat, leaning his elbows on the counter Grian sat in front of. 

Grian smirked, “Couldn’t just give my son back, could you?” He countered, his own glare darkening his gaze. 

“You gave him to me.” Phil replied, “Could you not have changed before you got here? I don’t need reporters coming to my front door wondering why a circus ringmaster showed up to my house.” Phil continued, grabbing the younger man’s hat and taking it towards the door where his own bucket hat was hung up. He hung the man’s hat of the farther hook away from his own hat and closest to the door. 

Grian reached for his hat, but he wasn’t fast enough and only landed to grasp his hair. “I gave him to Kristen until I could make sure it was safe. I never entrusted you with him.”

“And Kristen gave custody to me.” Phil replied, walking back over to the kitchen and opened a cabinet to pull out plates. 

Grian’s glare darkened, as his grip on his cane tightened. “Kristen didn’t have custody to give away. He’s my son, Phil. Just make this easier for the both of us and-and just tell the truth.” 

“The truth that you couldn’t protect him so you gave him away, like that won’t crush him.” Phil scoffed, moving to set the table. Grian stood up, his grip on his cane wobbling. 

“His safety was my number one priority. I worked myself to death trying to save our home. It is finally safe, finally somewhere I can take him and raise him, and you won’t let me. You cannot control him and you cannot control me, Phil.” Grian reminded him, he leaned on the table and gripped his cane to hit Phil in the side. 

Phil huffed, rubbing the spot where Grian had hit him, “Don’t get petty, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m still his father in his eyes and that’s enough to keep him away from the likes of you.” Phil placed down a few cups at each chair.

“‘The likes of me’,” Grian scoffed, “And you call me petty.” 

“Grian.” Phil spat out the name, “I’m being nice in letting you see him as often as I do, at all even. Do not test that.” The older blond, leaned on the table, as Grian shifted his weight back onto his cane. 

“Nice? Nice ? You call this nice? Phil, what on earth did I do to you to make you hate me and my son?” Grian asked, anger growing in his bones as he spoke. 

“I do not hate him.” Phil declared, squinting his eyes shut as he shook his head. 

Grian scoffed, gesturing to the stairwell upstairs, “Well it sure seemed like it!” He announced in Phil’s face. “All I want is my son back! How would you feel if this was Ranboo or Tubbo?”

Phil shook his head, pushing himself away from the table and walking away from Grian. 

“Well?” Grian asked, darkly. Phil didn’t answer, standing behind the counter glaring at Grian. The younger man scoffed, “nothing.”

As the two glared at each other, many feet apart in different rooms Tubbo turned the corner into their argument. Tubbo peeked his head around the corner, before walking into the room. His confusion rose as he watched both of them glare at each other, but he shrugged it off. 

He turned to his father, “Uh, dad, Tommy won’t come out of his room again.” 

Both of them broke the contest at the mention of the boy’s name. Grian’s fingers on his cane flinched a tad, but he swallowed down anything he wanted to say. Tubbo should be telling such a thing to him, not Phil. 

“Is he still reading?” Phil sighed, running a hand down his face. 

Tubbo nodded, “He just shoved his white board in my face and it said ‘go away’.” 

Phil sighed, “Alright, give me a-”

“I’ll get him.” Grian spoke quickly, looking at Tubbo as he said it. 

“Grian.” Phil warned, as he glared at the blond at the same time Tubbo said, “Oh really? Okay.”

Grian nodded to Tubbo, already walking over to the stairwell, knowing exactly where Tommy’s room was. Tubbo grinned as Grian walked up the stairs, he turned back to his dad who was darkly staring at the ground, his jaw tense. 

Tubbo raised an eyebrow, “What?” He asked, poking Phil in his side. 

“Nothing, Tubbo.” Phil answered, waving it off. Tubbo huffed, tired of being left out of the loop of whatever hatred his Uncle and father had with each other. 

_______

Grian walked up the stairs as he saw Ranboo walk out of the bathroom, his attention focused on wiping his hands. 

Ranboo barely took any notice of Grian, walking right past him, his eyes staring at his hands. Grian nearly laughed to himself as he watched Ranboo walk down the stairs without noticing him.

Grian shook his head, turning to the cracked door at the end of the hallway. He nudged his cane a tad on the door, listening silently. 

“The Piper’s face fell, and he cried,” Tommy’s voice squeaked from disuse, but he sounded as if he was trying to figure out the words as he read aloud. Grian listened intently as Tommy continued, “No…” Tommy paused. Grian heard the boy let out a small sound that was close to a whine, “Tri-trifling?” Tommy pondered. 

Grian huffed out a laugh as Tommy tried to word for the first time. Then he heard another huff from inside the room, as Tommy whined again and a small thud. Grian’s brow furrowed at the sound of the thud and he used his cane to knock on the door. 

A little concerned, he opened the door and looked into the child’s room carefully. 

He saw Tommy in the middle of a circle of stuffed animals all sat around him. The boy’s back was to him, but Grian could tell he had his arms crossed and was pouting as he glared at his bed. He also noticed that the book Tommy had been reading from had been thrown across the room and was laying splayed out near the wall. 

Grian tapped his knuckles on the door, hoping to gain the boy’s attention.

Tommy’s head whipped around, a frown still present on his face as he looked up to see his uncle.

Grian smiled, before looking at the book tossed to the side, he clicked his tongue, “No way to treat a book, truly.” He joked, shuffling over to where the book was. He bent down, picking up the book and dusting it off. 

Tommy scoffed, quietly, rolling his eyes. He turned away, although Grian noticed when Tommy continued to glance his way in nervous fits. 

Grian dusted off the pages, running his hand over the cover of the children’s book. He recognized his friend from the cover, even if it was shrouded in the tinted views of others he’d rather not name. He could always recognize the green eyes and scarred face of one of his best friends. 

He turned back to the blond, Tommy shuffled away from the circle of toys and grabbed the whiteboard from his bed. The white board was the size of the book, maybe a tad bigger. He shoved the white board under his arm and plopped down on the floor before grabbing his marker and writing. 

It’s stupid

A long time ago, Grian would hear Tommy's voice constantly. Tommy would always try to babble about when he was younger. Even when the kid couldn’t actually make real words and just new sounds. It wasn’t until he went to stay with Kristen that he went silent. Grian knew the kid could speak, he had in the past and he read aloud to himself when he thought no one could hear him. But Grian had no idea why he would no longer talk around anyone. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to get him to talk. Both Kristen and Phil had tried for a long time to get him to speak again. Tubbo would try and play games with him to try and coax any word out of him, and Ranboo would even encourage conversations with himself if he needed it. But nothing worked. 

Eventually they just gave in, the whiteboard was bought and Tommy started learning sign language. However, Tubbo and Ranboo were the only ones he could communicate in sign with. 

“‘Stupid?’” Grian faked a gasp, smiling as he moved to sit next to the boy. “How could you say such a thing, Tommy?” Grian joked, hoping the boy could hear his fake offense. “Why, you must not have gotten to the part where the Piper takes all the childre-”

Grian stopped, as Tommy covered his ears, standing up and walking away from the older. The younger could’ve crushed his ears with how hard he was pressing on them. Grian laughed to himself as Tommy glared at him. 

When Tommy was sure Grian had promptly shut up, he grabbed his marker and wrote.

No Spoiling!!!

Tommy picked up the white board and showed him, with a deep glare. Grian laughed, nodding. “Okay, okay, I won’t. I promise. I guess you’ll just have to finish…” Grian prompted, holding out the book for the boy to take. 

Tommy huffed, turning on his heels away from the book. He crossed his arms, pulling his chin up so he didn’t have to look at the book even with his eyes closed. 

“Oh, come on, I guess you’ll never know what happens when the Piper gets rid off the-” Grian stopped as Tommy stomped his foot on the ground and clamped his hands over his ears again. Grian giggled, he placed his hand over the boy’s and pulled his hand away from one of his ears. “I’m done. I’m done. I promise.”

Tommy glared at him, and let go of his ears, but he only did so to hit Grian in the arm. His punch was about just as much as someone would expect from a seven year old, and Grian only smiled at the try. 

“Why don’t you want to finish it, bud?” Grian asked, looking over the story. His attention switched from messing with Tommy to understanding why the kid didn’t want to finish the story he’d given him. 

Tommy always read the books he gave him. He always had. Just about every time he came to visit them he brought Tommy a new book or many new books. And by the time he came for the next visit the kid had read them all more then one time over. On his last visit he’d gifted Tommy five new stories, one of which was The Pied Piper. 

Tommy had never refused to read a story, so whatever was the matter with this one he needed to find out quickly and fix it.

Tommy grabbed his whiteboard, erasing his last message and writing something new. 

As Tommy scribbled, Grian inspected the book himself. He lifted the book, looking at the cover and the back; he checked the spine, everything seemed to be in order. He flipped through the pages, seeing all the beautifully drawn illustrations. Still though he couldn’t find anything different upon first glance. 

Tommy tapped his arm and showed him the white board. 

I don’t get it

Grian’s brow furrowed. He sat down on the boy’s bed, flipping to a random page. He quickly began scanning the words and the passages that floated about the pictures. 

Tommy scribbled out a different message, showing it off. 

It’s all rhyme-y. I don’t get it.

Grian hummed, reading through quickly. He started to notice the patterns of sentences and the confusing longer words and strands of information. He flipped to the next page and it was just the same, words that he’d only find in an old dictionary fell off the page. The sentences rhymed and followed a rhythm that would be hard for any kid to follow.

Grian’s brow furrowed more as he recognized the constant rhyming. He ran his hand over the page and felt the moment the page indented with a familiar symbol at the very bottom. He ran a thumb over the rectangular symbol and shut the book with a snap. 

Tommy jumped back at the sudden shut of the book, but looked up to Grian confused. Grian shut his eyes, letting out a sharp breath. 

He sighed, opening his eyes, “Sorry, bud. I don’t know how this one got in with the others. The others-” Grian paused thinking to himself for a moment, “The others weren’t like this were they?” He asked, pointing to the book in his hands.

Tommy tilted his head to the side, but turned back to one of his bookshelves. 

Tommy’s room was a rather small square. In one corner sat his bed, with dark red sheets, three pillows and many many blankets. At the foot of his bed was a small chair, cushioned and well used. The chair ran right up against the first bookshelf. The shelf wasn’t tall, it barely reached Tommy’s height, but it held only a third of the boy’s books. Not only did the shelf hold some of his books, but it also held a few random item and trinkets the kid collected. 

The other side of his room was made up of the two other bookshelves and a tiny desk. He didn’t have many actual toys to play with, any he did own were tucked away neatly in his chest under the desk. He had a circular rug that was placed in the middle of the room, where his stuffed animals were all lined up for reading time. 

Tommy walked up to his first bookshelf and pulled off three different thin hard covered books. He stacked the three together and placed them on his bed sliding them over to Grian. 

Grian picked up the first one, looking over the cover of another one of his friends. This time though he could make out the yellow letter hidden on his lapel. HIs friend didn’t look much like he should’ve, and Grian huffed, wishing the books would accurately depict them for once. He could at least be happy the chocolate factory behind his friend’s face looked relatively similar to the one he’d built. 

He flipped through the book and let out a sigh when the rhyming was nowhere to be seen.

He picked up the other two, looking through and saw that once again the rhyming was missing. 

“Just this one then…” Grian mumbled, looking back to the first story. As he looked back he found Tommy relooking at the stories cover. Tommy’s hands clamped around the cover, searching for whatever had shaken Grian up. 

Tommy squinted his eyes at the edges of the papers, shaking the book as if it’d make some secret message fall out. 

Grian quickly grabbed the book from the boy who was slightly abusing the pictures and papers inside. “Careful.” Grian chided, taking the book away diligently. 

Tommy stared at him with squinted confused eyes, he grabbed his whiteboard, scribbling some new message on the board. Whats wrong with my book?

“Nothing!” Grian squirmed, hoping Tommy wouldn’t question his odd behavior. “Absolutely nothing,” Grian lied, “I just thought you might want one you could understand better.” Grian offered.

Tommy shook his head. 

“No?’ Grian questioned, “You don’t?”

Tommy shook his head again, he raised his whiteboard, writing something down. I like the rhymes. But it’s confusinger.

Grian snorted at the poor grammar, but sighed, “I know you like the rhymes and stories but I have a feeling this one got misprinted or something.” Grian tried to play off. “I’m sure I could find you one you might like better.”

Grian hoped that for whatever reason Tommy would just let him take this book back. 

Tommy shook his head.

“Why not?” Grian asked.

Tommy wrote down his words onto his white board. Because I like the rhymes. They’re fun! Like Mother Goose!

Tommy turned the board towards the older blond, and grinned happily. Grian read the words, slightly bristling at the mention of the character. He rolled his eyes, “Those are nursery rhymes, Toms.”

And?

Grian rested his cheek on his hand, smiling as the younger wrote. He smirked to himself, “You must really like Mother Goose, then?” He exaggerated, as Tommy climbed up onto his bed next to the older. 

Tommy grinned, nodding expertly as he climbed over his bed and grabbed something from behind Grian. He pulled the item out and sat himself down next to Grian showing off the toy. The older sat a bit confused as he looked at the stuffed toy in the boy’s hands, before Tommy grasped his marker and started writing. 

I got a goose just like her

Grian had to stifle his laughter as he read it, seeing as the boy most definitely did not have a goose stuffed toy. Instead, in his hands was very much a swan. 

“I hate to break it to you, Toms, but what you have there is not a goose at all.” Grian said, poking the stuffed animal on the beak. Underneath his other hand, he felt the statue of his parrot try to move. He tapped his fingers on his cane, causing his bird to fall back into place rather than escape to see the other bird. 

Tommy’s eyes widened as he stared at his toy, he brought the thing to his eyes and scanned it over. It took him a few seconds but eventually he gave up on trying to prove it was a goose. Instead he fell back onto his bed, the back of his head hitting one of his pillows.

Grian giggled to himself, carefully picking up the stuffed toy from Tommy’s hands. Tommy’s head looked up but he didn’t sit up, and watched as Grian looked over the toy. 

“You know even if you had a goose you still wouldn’t be quite right. Now just yet at least.” Grian announced, tapping a finger on his chin as he looked it over. “Oh well,  I do think a swan fits you better anyway.” Grian shrugged, not needing to look at Tommy’s face to tell he was intrigued. 

Tommy snapped up, looking at Grian with wide amazed eyes. He scribbled his next sentence down, showing Grian quickly. “ What do you mean?”

“Well, haven’t I told you not to believe everything those stories tell you?” Grian said, tapping his fingers on his cane, he smirked. “All those stories have been told for years, and yet when someone goes to put pen to paper they always seem to change a bit. Stories change by word of mouth and then the altered versions get told as the truth when someone writes a book.”

Tommy nodded, leaning forward so his head rested on his hands.He sat criss crossed staring up at the blond. He nodded for Grian to continue. 

“ I remember the story a tad differently, but what do I know?” Grian shrugged, before leaning forward and standing up off the bed. 

Tommy grabbed his arm before he could walk too far out of reach. Grian turned back to see Tommy staring at him expectantly. Grian smirked, leaning forward as if he was going to whisper a secret, “What me to tell you?”

Tommy nodded, excitedly, sitting back and grasping his toy tightly. 

Grian smiled, and started pacing the room, “Oh well, let me see. How to start…” He paused, he looked around the room for something to start with before his eyes landed on the bookshelves. He hummed, “Once upon a time…”

Tommy rolled his eyes, tossing one of his pillows at the older when he began.

Grian squawked as the pillow hit him, he huffed raising his cane a tad off the ground to threaten the child, “Tommy!” Grian shouted, shaking his cane at the younger. Tommy grinned silently, laughing to himself. It was odd seeing the boy complete the action of laughing but no sound exited his mouth. Grian huffed, barely even annoyed with the kid, he was never fond of the constant repeating four words either, “Alright, alright, you want me to tell the story or not…hm?” 

Tommy covered his mouth with his hand, nodding. 

“Well, I remember before everyone started calling them ‘Mother Goose’ they went by a different name. It was quite a drastic change when they did it too, changing such a character the way they did. Well enough dramatics, I think the name was-” Grian started again, before he was cut off by the door opening suddenly. 

“What are you doing?” Phil glowered, his arms crossed as he glared at Grian directly. 

Tommy jumped from the sudden entrance, a tiny squeak exiting his mouth. Grian’s mouth stayed frozen open like he was about to finish his sentence when Phil barged in. Grian snapped his jaw shut, glaring at the other man. 

“We were just about to share stories.” Grian said, calmly. His hands fell back onto his cane, from where he’d been dramatically setting up the story. 

“It’s time for dinner. If you’d like to eat with us, I’d suggest doing it now rather than later.” Phil stated, plainly, before looking at Tommy. His expression was blank when he looked at the kid, and nodded for him to leave the room, “Go wash up, Tubbo and Ranboo are already downstairs.”

Tommy nodded quickly, setting his swan down on his bed carefully. He jumped off his bed and almost rushed out of the room if it weren’t for him quickly snatching one of the books he’d stacked on his bed. Grian noticed as the kid stole one of the books from his bed, and Grian had to check and make sure it wasn’t the story he was blaming on taking back with him. 

Tommy ran out of the room without any other word or notion, his feet pattering on the floor as he jumped down the stairs. 

Grian huffed, dropping his shoulders and glaring at the other, “Really?” He asked, rather tired of this petty competition. 

“You were going to tell him!” Phil accused, pointing a finger at the dapper young man. 

Grian mocked him as he spoke, mouthing the same words and shaking his head. “He asked.” Grian said, curtly. 

“Oh? He asked you to tell him what the real name of Mother Goose was without knowing that Mother Goose wasn’t the real person?” Phil scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring at him. “You’re positive you had nothing to do with that?”

Grian blew a tuft of blond hair out of face, “All I did was mention that the Goose part might not be completely true.” Grian shrugged. 

“That’s all you did?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow. “You see this, this Grian, is the reason you visit once a year.” 

“Because I want my son to know the truth?” Grian scoffed, 

“Because you try to start things!” Phil shouted, “You bring in these stories and candies trying to bribe the kid to follow you into some kind of fantasy land!”

Grian gripped his cane tightly, wishing he could just use it to smack some sense into Phil. “I start things?” He blanched, “You’ve been sitting here for the past three years keeping my son away from me. Which I just don’t understand!” Grian sighed, pacing the room, making sure he didn’t step on any of the stuffed animals on the ground. “I don’t get it, Phil. Why? Why do you hate him?”

“I don’t hate Tommy.” Phil said, plainly, he leaned against the door frame. 

“Then why do you hate me?” Grian asked, stopping his pacing to stare at Phil for his reaction. The man just stared at him blankly, the answer was obvious but neither would say it. “Why do you feel the need to keep my son away from me?”

“You can’t keep him safe.” Phil answered.

Grian’s grip tightened, the idea that he couldn’t keep his son save after everything he’d done to make sure everyone would be safe was insulting. He fisted his one free hand, trying to calm himself down. He’d spent a full year working tirelessly, he went weeks without sleep, days without eating just to be pulled away from Mumbo or Scar. He spent years afterwards making sure things stayed safe, he never once would put any of the characters in danger. 

He did everything for Tommy. He wanted things to be perfect when Tommy reunited with the town, but things had gone sideways real fast when he came back to collect his son. 

“You have no idea what I have done to keep him safe.” Grian threatened, his glare turning dark. Both of his hands went to grip his cane, the statue at the top cracking just a tad as his parrot tried to come out once more. 

“I know what you didn’t do,” Phil said, barely phased by Grian’s change in demeanor. While to any other Grian’s change in personality might have been scary or slightly frightening, it meant nothing to Phil. He’d seen it many times before, in fact he knew Grian could be much worse. “And that’s enough for me.”

“Kristen’s death was not my fault.” Grian snapped, sharply, the words barely making it through his teeth. 

Both men froze at the mention, and neither said a thing for a moment. 

Phil stared off into nothing, his face blank as he looked off. He seemed remorseful, his brow slightly furrowed and eyes crinkled. His arms fell from their crossed position and landed at his sides pitifully. 

Grian seemed to have surprised himself when he spoke. He flinched at his words, his hand raising to his mouth for a second. But he didn’t regret his words, he meant them just the same. He knew Kristen’s death wasn’t his fault and never had been. It had taken him years to come to terms with that, and many talks with his friends but he knew it was true. Still, he knew Phil hadn’t been prepared to hear that nor did he want to. 

Grian shook off the feeling that had showered over him since Phil had insulted him. 

“Do not talk about her.” Phil demanded, pointing a finger at the other. His face had darkened a bit, but Grian could see the sorrow beneath his rage. “Not under this roof, not near the kids and absolutely not to me.” 

Grian’s stare hardened as Phil continued, “Are you serious?”

“You have no idea what her death did to us.” Phil continued, and Grian flinched again. 

This time the blond didn’t calm himself down, “To you?” He asked, hoping he’d heard the man wrong. Grian bit down on the inside of his cheek, his hands gripping his cane. If he hadn’t only visited to see Tommy he would’ve left the home right then and headed back to his bus stop. Instead he just shook off the heat rising to his cheeks, as he bit back tears, “She was my sister, Phil.” He whispered sharply, through gritted teeth. 

“You were supposed to protect her.” Phil argued, sharply. 

“I couldn’t make her decisions for her.” Grian replied, knowing it was the truth. Even if he was older than his sister by only a year or so, he could never have made her decisions. She would never have even listened to him, she was stubborn and did what she thought was right. It was something he admired about her, but he knew the trouble it got her in. “She chose you, Phil.” Grian continued, “But she never would have agreed to any of this.”

“I’m doing what needs to be done. What should have been done for her: keeping them away from you.” Phil fumed, “Now if you’d like to,” Phil plastered on a fake smile, “we’re eating dinner downstairs, you can join us or leave.”

Phil nodded curtly at Grian, turning and walking back to the stairs. Grian watched as Phil walked to the stairs, heading to eat dinner with the three boys that were already downstairs waiting. 

Grian let out a breath, one of a mixture of exhaustion and relief. He looked back to Tommy’s bed, noting the three books still on the bed. He stepped closer, grabbing the boy’s ‘Pied Piper’ book and slipping it into his leather bag. He snapped his bag shut, enclosing the book safely in his clutches. 

He’d get the boy a new one, but he couldn’t let Tommy keep this one. That would be a  mistake he wasn’t willing to make. 

He placed the other two books back in their slots in Tommy’s bookshelf, and exited the room. He quietly shut the door, heading down the hall to the stairs. He could hear already Tubbo’s loud voice as he spoke about something to Tommy and Ranbooblade. 

Grian was barely at the bottom step when he could hear Tubbo’s voice clearly. 

“So I told Jack to go ahead across,” The boy cut himself off by taking a bite of his food. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, “but Jack’s not one for that kind of stuff, so he didn’t want to jump.”

Grian looked into the dining room, seeing Tubbo sitting across the table from Tommy. Tubbo had almost finished his plate, he was using his fork to punctuate his sentences. Tommy however was sitting across from him with his nose deep into the book he’d stolen from his own room. 

With Tommy nose deep in his book, Tubbo was trying to keep his attention on himself. “So Niki had to push him in!” Tubbo announced with a laugh, “You should’ve seen him, he fell bottom first into the creek.” 

Tommy nodded, something slow and careful, as if he wasn’t sure if he should nod to it or not. Tommy looked up over the edge of his book to Ranboo.

Ranboo shrugged, “We got him out with a log.”

Tommy smirked, liking the idea of Jack having to climb out of the creek, his pants wet and being humiliated by Niki and his brothers. 

Grian walked into the dinning room, trying to get past whatever conversation the boys were having easily. He was interrupted by Tubbo noticing him, “Uncle Grian, what’s your opinion on fireworks?”

Grian paused, turning to his nephew, “What?”

“Not this again.” Ranboo muttered, sinking into his chair as he played with his food on the other side of Tubbo. Tommy just shook his head, taking a small bit of the food on his plate. 

Grian’s brow furrowed as he kept walking into the kitchen where Phil was serving himself a plate. Grian grabbed himself a plate, thinking about the question, “I don’t have any strong opinions on fireworks.”

“I can tell you what I think about them.” Tubbo said, as if that would help him come to a conclusion. 

“Tubbo, now’s not the time for your list.” Phil advised, finishing serving himself and moving to sit at the head of the table on the other side of Ranboo. 

“Wait, you have a list, Tubs?” Grian asked, a little confused. He quietly served himself some of the food Phil had prepared. Part of him wished for his friend's cooking but he didn’t voice his thoughts. 

“Yes. Yes, I do. Ninety Nine reasons why I hate fireworks and why you should too.” Tubbo recited, proudly. 

Grian hummed, walking around the counter to sit down. He sat next to Tubbo and Tommy at the opposite end of the table. The only empty seat being one next to Phil and Tommy. “Well, if you have enough reason for ninety nine points, I’m sure I can agree with at least one.” Grian smirked, giving Tubbo a curt nod. 

Tubbo grinned back, happily, tapping his shoes against the floor.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Ranboo interrupted, leaning forward to look at Grian better, “Most of them are just him repeating that they’re dumb.” 

Tubbo huffed, crossing his arms, “Sometimes you have such a good point it deserves to be listed twice.”

“But your point is literally just ‘They look dumb’.” Ranboo said, adding air quotes, “If that was a truly good point that would I’d have to hate you.” 

“Aw!” Tubbo cooed, “You like me!” Then the other boy’s words finally caught up with him, “Wait! Hey! I don’t look dumb!”

Tommy looked up from his book, leaning it against the table. He brought his hands up to sign to the two. Both Tubbo and Ranboo turned back to the younger waiting patiently for him to finish signing to them. 

Grian watched intently as Tommy signed to the two, and as he did he saw as Tommy smiled, mischievously. When he was done, Tommy went back to his book. 

“Rude.” Tubbo scoffed, looking ready to throw a piece of his vegetables at the boy. 

“I hate that you actually made a good point.” Ranboo muttered, under his breath.

“What did he say?” Grian asked, his words coming out before he could actually think. He looked to the brothers for an answer. The kids looked back at him slightly surprised, but they shrugged to one another. Tommy even looked up from his book once again shocked by Grian investment in their tiny argument. 

“He just said we’re siblings. If one of us looks dumb both of us do.” Ranboo answered. 

“We’re off topic!” Tubbo screeched, hitting his hands on the table, “Fireworks.”

“When did you start hating fireworks?” Grian asked, confused by the odd pick of thing. “Have you even ever seen one?”

“Of course!” Tubbo answered.

“He’s always hated them.” Ranboo replied, “It was a weird baby thing, too.”

“You hate water.” Tubbo accused, looking to his sibling. “That’s a weird baby thing.”

“I think you both need to redefine the word ‘hate’ in your vocabulary.” Grian chuckled, as the conversation lulled to a silence. Grian anxiously tapped his fingers on his parrot statue as they ate. Phil didn’t say a word to any of the kids or himself, in fact the silence had both the boys on edge. 

While Phil and Grian were silently locked in a staring contest that would only break when one of them chose to eat some food, the siblings would try and start up other conversations. 

Tubbo’s leg bounced anxiously under the table, while Ranboo’s eyes danced between both grown men. 

“Is that the chocolate factory one, again?” Tubbo asked Tommy once, pointing to the book in the kid’s hands. Tommy looked up a little unsure why they were speaking to him so directly. The blond just nodded, pulling the book up to show the cover off to the two.

“You’ve already read that one.” Ranboo pointed out.

Tommy nodded, he raised up three fingers to showcase how many times he’d reread it. When the silence started again, Tubbo urged out another sentence. 

“Dad, can Niki, Jack and Fundy come over soon?” Tubbo asked.

“We’ll see.” Phil said, shortly. 

“Tubbo’s the student council president.” Ranboo blurted out once, surprising even himself when he spoke. Tubbo snapped his head over to Ranboo, before looking back to Grian and nodded proudly. 

Grian hummed, absentmindedly, nodding, “Cool. I’m not entirely sure what you do as such, but I’ve got some experience leading a group.” Grian blinked, a bit unsure of what to say. However, whatever he said seemed to make the boys happy and Tubbo grinned. The brunette smiled, pointing to his brother. 

“Yeah! And Ranboo’s the captain of the fencing team.” Tubbo prided, shaking his brother’s shoulder a tad.Ranboo shoved off his hands quickly. 

Grian smiled, knowing exactly what to say to that. “Fencing?” He asked, instead. “Are you enjoying that?”

Ranboo nodded, shyly, “Yeah, it’s fun.”

“It’s really no wonder you’re the captain.” Grian shrugged, earning a questioning look from all three kids. Even Tommy looked up from his book interested in whatever Grian was about to say. 

“What? What do you mean?” Ranboo asked.

Grian smiled, he looked directly at Ranboo when he answered, “Your mother loved fencing. She was absolutely wonderful at it.”

In a moment the room felt completely different. Kristen was one topic the boys knew never to bring up. They only spoke about her in the quiet of their rooms. In fact they’d barely heard any stories of her from Phil, but they knew enough that Grian was her brother and knew plenty about her. 

Phil snapped up to glare at Grian, he cleared his throat catching the other blond’s attention. However, Grian only gave him the tiniest bit of attention before turning back to the wide eyed stares of the three boys. Phil frowned, trying to gain Grian’s attention to tell him to be quiet but failed when Grian ignored him. 

Tubbo was the first to recover from the bit of shock that had gone over him. His wide brown eyes, blinking to recover, before he opened his mouth wider to speak again. Still he seemed to be in a mixture of shock and excitement that his mother was brought up. He almost jumped in his seat, ready to hear more if Grian would so speak. 

“She fenced?” Tubbo asked, admiration in his voice. Grian nodded.

“Plenty, she had a wonderful teacher after all. It’s how she got so good at it. She got bored easily. She’d pick up a random hobby from one of my friends, when she did and in days she’d have it done. Fencing was just one that stuck for a while longer than a month.” Grian explained, waving it off like it was something completely boring and normal to speak of. In all honesty, Kristen had many more talents than just fencing, if anything that was one of her tamest. 

“Who? Who taught her?” Ranboo asked, as Phil cleared his throat once again in an effort to get Grian to stop. 

Grian waved off the question, “You wouldn’t know him.”

The brothers looked at each other silently, a quiet conversation passing between them. Then in a second Tubbo had turned back to Grian. 

“But you said mom took hobbies from your friends. So he was your friend, right?” Tubbo asked, watching Grian intently for any sign of lying. 

Grian only nodded, he looked over to his side to see Tommy watching him over the edge of his book. He could tell the kid was intrigued by the way his sharp blue eyes were focused on him and he’d lowered his book to the table more. 

“He’s a close friend, yes. If you were really serious about learning, which I’m sure you are as captain, Ranboo. I don’t see why I couldn’t talk to him for you.”Grian shrugged, pushing his food around his plate with his fork. 

Both Tubbo and Ranboo gasped, slightly, turning to each other with wild grins. 

Phil coughed this time, gaining the attention of all three boys. Tommy’s head snapped over to him, his focus dodging from Grian to Phil, his confusion growing as he looked at the two of them while they glared at each other. 

“Got something in your throat, Phil?” Grian asked, snidely, a growing smirk on his face. 

Phil glared at him, feeling as though he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“I think what Grian is trying to say is that it's a long way from where he lives, and this friend of his would have to travel quite a while to come here.” Phil said, looking at both Tubbo and Ranboo, and sending a side glance to Grian. 

Grian laughed, “You must have heard me wrong Phil, because I’ve said nothing of the sort. In fact, it’s really no problem at all. My friend’s been dying to get out of town for a while now.”

The three boys looked back at Grian, trying to  figure out which to believe. 

“But he can’t because,” Phil sighed, “we live so far away.” Then he added, “That’s why Uncle Grian can only visit once a year.” Phil stared at Grian as he spoke hoping his threat got through the man. 

The three boys looked back to Phil a bit more confused. 

“But I’d love to visit more often.” Grian continued, sharply, staring at Phil rather than looking at the boys this time. 

“Yet, you’re always so busy.” Phil tried once again, earning the boy’s attention. 

“It’s quite easy to make time.” Grian chuckled.

And Phil snapped, the man stood up sharply, hands slamming down on the table. Tommy jumped in his seat, his book falling off the table and onto the floor. Both of the siblings flinched a tad, but looked to each other more confused than before. 

“Grian. Kitchen. Now.” Phil demanded, grabbing his plate and walking into the kitchen. 

Grian watched as Phil walked into the kitchen, and he waited a second to let the man calm down, before standing up. He sighed, letting his cane take the brunt of his weight as he stood up. He moved to leave to the kitchen, ruffling Tommy’s hair as he left, earning an odd look from the kid. 

However, Grian only winked at the three boys before disappearing to the kitchen. 

Grian leaned on the counter the moment he could, waiting for Phil to stop pacing as start his arguing once again. 

Phil paced the room, his feet stomping on the tile. He turned towards Grian in smooth motion, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Grian looked at the man with a blank look, “Absolutely nothing.”

“Really?” Phil asked, scoffing, “You just bring up Kristen because you can?”

“Yes.” Grian shrugged, “Someone has to talk about her.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Phil argued, crossing his arms. 

“One moment all you can talk about is her, the next she has nothing to do with any of this? Which is it, Phil?” Grian asked, tilting his head to the side like the bird he is. 

Phil huffed, “Why can’t you just leave it? The boys are happy. We’re happy-”

“Tommy’s not.” Grian interrupted.

“You-” Phil paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You don’t know him. You can’t say he’s not happy when you don’t know him.”

“I know he won’t speak.” Grian began, moving away from the counter to stand right in front of Phil, “I know he barely raises his nose out of the books I give him. I know he’d rather stay in his room all day than play with his so-called brothers. I know he rarely eats the food placed in front of him. I know he’s desperate for the attention you barely give him. But most importantly I know he absolutely adores just about everything you try to ban him from.”

Grian jabbed a finger at the other, anger pulsing in his words. “You want to tell me I don’t know about him, I knew him before you, Phil. I knew what he was like when I had him. So tell me Phil, do I know my son or not?”

“You knew him.” Phil said, “But he is not the same anymore.” Phil side stepped away from Grian. He pulled out the bin hidden away and trashed his plate, leaving the bin out. 

“And whose fault is that?” Grian asked, as Phil stood in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. Grian could vaguely hear the boys whispering in the dining room to each other. 

Phil sighed, “One day you’ll thank me for keeping him safe.” 

“Over my dead body.” Grian fumed, glaring at the back of the man’s head. Phil nodded, and walked out the doorway. 

Grian sighed, shutting his eyes trying to calm down. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought for a moment. He looked around the kitchen, a bit boredly. His eyes caught onto the bin that Phil had pulled out. 

More specifically, his eyes caught on the white spec that piqued his interest. He took a step forward, looking closer to see whatever it was. He checked the bin to see if what he saw was correct. 

A white feather.

His eyes widened just a tad, before he looked closer to see more and more white feathers, downy and fluffy had been thrown away. He turned his head to the doorway where the boys were sitting in the dining room. 

He hadn’t seen any feathers anywhere else in the house, and he certainly hadn’t seen any near Tommy. So then why?

Still a flash of anger sparked through Grian’s head as he thought about the lies and falsities Phil continued to spin. Grian huffed, his grip on his cane tightening as he kicked the bin away. He limped his way back into the dining room where he saw all three of the boys leaning over the table to whisper to each other in a huddle. 

Tubbo was whispering something to both Ranboo and Tommy over the table, he was standing on top of his chair to reach. The brunet had his hand covering his mouth so Grian couldn’t read whatever he was saying. 

Ranboo nodded along, his focus on whatever Tubbo was saying. Tommy was standing on his tiptoes to reach the brothers and hear whatever they were saying. The boy still held his book in hand, however it was closed and held tightly to his chest. 

Grian stood in the doorway, a little confused, as he watched the three huddle together. Ranboo noticed him first and smacked his brother on the back of the head, catching Tubbo’s attention and pointing at him. 

Tubbo perked up a bit, hopping off his chair, “Uncle Grian!” The boy gave a smile that was desperate to hide whatever the boys had been doing before hand. 

“Tubbo?” Grian asked, wondering what the boy would say next. When Tubbo didn’t say anything back, he just continued, “Where’d your dad go?”

Tubbo shrugged, that same shit eating grin on his face. 

Ranboo huffed, and jumped off of his own chair, “He said he was going up to his office. You would know that if you listened.” Ranboo said the last bit to his brother, glaring at him playfully. 

Tubbo shrugged, boredly, “I was busy.”

This time Tommy hopped off his chair, which was considerably a different height seeing  as he was seven and his brother’s were eleven and thirteen. Grian had to keep himself from grabbing hold of the kid before he reached the ground. 

Tommy landed, with a stumble, his feet tripping him up a bit. He walked up to his brothers, and gave Tubbo a confused look. 

Grian sighed, a chuckle escaping his lips, “How do you three feel about a game?”

The three boys looked back at him quickly, all three with a wide grin and even wider eyes. And Grian had a feeling he was going to have his hands full. 

__________________________

The four had gathered around in the living room, cards had been dispersed and they’d been playing a few different games for the past hours. They’d switched from Go Fish to Old Maid to Blackjack. Overall they’d spent a good while playing a few rounds of each, and Grian teaching the three of them a few tricks to each. He’d even introduced his own rules a few times, causing complaints from all three. 

Still Tubbo and Ranboo were both incredibly competitive in each game. The two always tried to beat each other, and in the small case they couldn't, they'd get Tommy to try and help them. 

The siblings had been exiled to the floor after a little tussle during a game of Crazy Eights. Which left Grian and Tommy with the couch to themselves. Tommy had left to grab his stuffed swan at some point and was now sat hugging it as they played. 

“Go fish!” Tubbo shouted, as Ranboo was left with only one card. Ranboo frowned, glaring at his card. 

Tommy looked up from his own two cards confused, before looking at Grian who was just as confused. Grian just shrugged to the youngest, “Tubbo, we’re playing Blackjack.”

Tubbo looked up, now he was confused as he looked back to his cards.

“I thought we were playing Old Maid?” Ranboo said, showing his card was a queen. 

Tommy smirked, a silent laugh erupted from him, as Grian sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. He glanced at Tommy’s laughing form, even as no sound came out he still smiled at seeing him laugh. 

Still Tommy tapped him on the shoulder and he looked over to see Tommy show him his two cards. Grian looked at the two cards and saw the kid had an ace and a king. Grian grinned, a laugh erupted himself. 

“Nicely done, kid.” He grinned, handing over the coin they’d bet on. He flipped the coin over with his thumb and Tommy caught it with two hands. He smiled, adding it to his pile which was ironically larger than both Ranboo and Tubbo’s. 

“Can we play another round, when we all know the game?” Tubbo asked, leaning on his elbow. 

“If you paid attention you’d know the game we were playing.” Grian advised. 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “It’s confusing.”

As Tubbo was about to continue he was cut off by footsteps coming down the stairs. The four looked up to see Phil standing at the edge of the stairs staring at their game of cards. 

He locked eyes with Grian, who just looked at him blankly as if he was expecting him to lash out once again. 

“I thought you would’ve left by now.” Phil said, one hand still on the railing off the stairs. 

The boys looked between the two carefully, waiting for some big eruption. 

“I thought we’d play a few games before I headed out.” Grian said, before adding, “And I didn’t want to leave the boys alone.”

“Well, it’s the kids’ bed time now.” Phil replied, earning a few groans and complaints from the brothers. Tommy just let out a silent huff, glaring at Phil. 

Grian’s face slowly fell into a frown, as he sighed. He nodded, reluctantly accepting the defeat. He nodded, “I guess I should head out then.” He said blankly, daring Phil to deny him. 

“Aw!” Tubbo pouted, “Can you stay a little bit longer?” Tubbo pleaded. 

“Do we get goodbye candy?” Ranboo asked, eyeing Grian to see if he had any of the normal candy he’d give them when he left. 

Grian smirked, “I don’t know, Tubbo.” Grian shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Tommy pulled out his white board, he quickly scribbled out something and pulled it out so everyone could see what he wanted to say. Tubbo and Ranboo quickly read the two words and cheered, obviously agreeing with their younger sibling.

“Bedtime Story?”

“Hell yeah! Story! Story! Story!” Tubbo began chanting. His brother slowly and reluctantly joined him in chanting along. Grian looked over to Phil waiting for some sign to show him what the man was expecting. 

Phil just sighed, and stepped off the stairway, gesturing for the boys to go ahead. 

The boys grinned, and darted up the stairs to get ready. 

With the boy’s up the stairs and out of earshot, Phil turned back to Grian, “Just don’t do anything stupid. And I expect you gone afterwards, alright?”

Grian stayed silent but nodded. He grabbed his cane that had been leaning against the couch and stood up. He quietly made his way past Phil, and nodded at him as he passed before heading up the stairs to see where the boys had ended up. 

Apparently the three had decided to come together in Tommy’s room. Tommy was already under his covers and hugging his stuffed toy. Tubbo was sitting on Tommy’s bed, his back against the wall and in his hands was one of Tommy’s other stuffed toys. Ranboo had found himself a spot on the ground, but did have a blanket covering his legs, and was listening to Tubbo whisper about something new. 

Grian knocked on the door, before opening it to see three wide grins. 

He chuckled to himself, “Ready?” He asked, trying to think of a good story he hadn’t told before. Most of the ones he knew had been written down in the story books that painted Tommy’s bookshelves, but he knew what the three expected. They expected something completely different and weirder. Something that was utterly and completely their Uncle Grian’s story and no one else’s. 

The three nodded.

“Alright, let me think.” Grian muttered, trying to piece together a story in his head quickly. 

However, Tommy seemed to have a different idea. The boy grabbed his whiteboard from the floor and scribbled something out quickly turning it towards Grian. The kids turned their heads to read it, a little confused. 

“Can you do the one from before? The mother goose one?”

“Mother Goose?” Tubbo pondered, “Tommy, those are just old nursery rhymes.” He grimaced. 

Tommy shook his head, looking back to Grian for an answer. 

Grian just smiled, he looked behind him to see if Phil was watching. He wasn’t. He turned back, and sighed, “Alright, I will.” Tommy grinned, while Ranboo and Tubbo deflated a tad, “But you can’t tell your dad I told you this one.”

That piqued Ranboo and Tubbo’s interest again. 

“What? Why?” Ranboo asked.  

“Yeah, why?” Tubbo echoed. 

“You just can’t tell him, alright?” Grian whispered, raising a finger to his lips. 

The three boys nodded in agreement. Grian smiled, pulling out the small desk chair to sit in while he talked. He sat down facing the boys and leaning on his cane, “Well, let’s start with what I hope all three of you know. You two know the story of Mother Goose, correct?”

The two nodded a little unsure of themselves.

“Well, you also know that before any of the stories I tell you or I give you are written down they’ve been passed along for a long long time. Generations of telling the same story over and over again, always changing one or two words when they recite it once again.” Grian continued.

The three boys nodded.

Grian smiled, deeper, “Then you should know the story I am about to tell you is the truth. The only truth there is, for there can only be one true story. This is the story that happened years ago, before any of the changes or adaptations were made. The true story of Mother Goose.” Grian spoke, dramatically, reeling the three boys closer to his story. He could see the moment Tubbo got invested, the single spark in his eyes that brought on his intrigue. 

“For starters, Mother Goose was never the true name of your favorite character, Toms.” Grian said, looking at the youngest. Tommy tilted his head, an eyebrow raised as he looked on confused. 

Tubbo looked back to Tommy for whatever his reaction was, once he saw it he turned back to Grian, “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Grian nodded, “Over the years the name changed and evolved until the old one was completely erased from the story. They were never a mother and they were never a goose. Instead, they were a father to a young boy and instead of that large gander the story includes it’s rather a smaller parrot. Much like this one right here,” Grian said, pointing to his cane where the parrot statue sat. 

The three boys leaned forward looking at the cane with more curiosity than before. Ranboo’s brow furrowed before he asked, “Wait, so the name would’ve been Father Parrot? But I don’t remember ever hearing about a son.”

Tubbo looked from the cane back to his sibling, before slowly nodded, “I don’t-I don’t remember.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at the two, before just continuing to listen to Grian. 

Grian chuckled, “What did I tell you, years of changes does a lot to a story. In fact, the only reason either of you two know of this character is because of their stories and nursery rhymes. You really only ever see them on the cover.”

“Oh,” Ranboo mumbled.

“Now, the real story begins a bit farther back, so let’s just call him Parrot.” Grian advised, before he continued, “He lived in a small cottage with his sister on the very edge of a village full of people we don’t need to characterize. Well in this cottage lived him and his sister. He was only a few years older than his dear sister, and after their parents left he was there to care for her.”

“Why did their parents leave?” Tubbo asked, hugging the stuffed animal closer. Ranboo snapped over to his sibling and shushed him quickly. Tubbo quickly stuck out his tongue to his brother before they both turned back to Grian. 

Grian sighed but continued, “That is a part I’m afraid even I don’t know, Tubbo. Over the years it became quite apparent to Parrot that he loved telling his sister stories. He’d recite them just about anywhere he could, and she would always be there to listen. Parrot adored many things, between creating stories in his head he also loved just about everything outside of their little cottage. Every story he made incorporated the animals he met just outside their front door.”

“However, even after telling his sister every story he could create he still didn’t think he’d done enough. There was still a whole town outside their door that had no idea about the library of wonderful ideas and tales they’d had hidden away. It was when his little sister gave him the idea to go to the town and tell his stories to the children there that he felt like he had a purpose. You see,” Grian continued, “the village had no daycares, schools, or libraries.”

“Awesome.” Tubbo awed, earning a hit to the head from a stuffed animal being thrown at him by Ranboo.

“Shut up.” Ranboo glared, “You’re literally the student council president.”

“Doesn’t mean I like school.” Tubbo retorted, but before the two could argue any more Tubbo had earned a kick to the stomach from Tommy who was laying down. Tubbo doubled over, a spew of curses from his mouth, earning a laugh from Ranboo. “What the hell, Tommy!”

“Boys.” Grian sighed, getting the kid’s attention back. The three looked back at him innocently, waiting for him to continue again. Grian pinched the bridge of his nose, with another sigh, “You say you don’t like school, Tub, but imagine having none of it. The kids spent every day on the streets as their parents worked, there truly wasn’t much else to do. They played a few games every now and then, but boredom was a true curse over the town.”

“And here came this boy, journals stacked high in his hands of stories, rhymes and tales of wonderful lands and characters to keep people interested.” Grian smiled, almost in remembrance of something. 

“Did they like them?” Ranboo asked, hugging his knees as he leaned forward. 

Grian smiled, before answering in a short, curt, “No.”

“What?” Tubbo shouted, “But they were bored! How did they not like them?”

Grian laughed under his breath a tad, almost a bit sadly, “Well, you see, there was a reason these two lived on the edge of town. There was a reason they lived alone. There was a reason people didn’t listen to his stories. They were different, no one knew how, yet, but they could feel it. They saw how different they were to all the other kids, between the stacks of books the boy stole away to his room. Or the way the girl would steal matches from shopkeepers or start fires in the backyard.”

“Arson.” Ranboo awed, with a grin that matched his brother. Tubbo had a spark in his eyes that Grian only remembered from someone else. That same spark he knew meant he was going to have a fire to put out very soon. 

“Please don’t start making fires. Your father would kill me.” Grian tried to play off quickly. Both boys huffed sadly. Grian turned to Tommy to see the boy smiling happily as he listened to the story quietly. 

“When the boy went back home that night, sorrow in his mind that he had failed to bring stories to those children, he saw something fall. As he walked down the path to his home, he saw a bird unceremoniously hit a tree and fall to the ground sadly.” Grian said, tapping his cane almost petting the top of the bird’s head. “As Parrot walked closer to the bird, he noticed that the bird was not one native to his forest. The bird had bright red feathers, mixed with yellow and blue at the tips. He was quite a large bird, and quite far away from his home. Parrot took the bird home, after noticing the broken wing on one side and hid the bird away in his room.”

Grian waited for one of the boys to interrupt him but none of them did. He smiled, knowing he had the kids stuck and the three wouldn’t be moving until he finished. “Well, Parrot hid the bird away from his sister, quietly nursing his bird back to health. It took days, weeks but eventually the bird was flying around his room once again. But over the weeks the two had become friends, and even when Parrot tried to let the bird go, to set them free, the bird didn’t leave. So Parrot kept the bird, the two becoming great friends and eventually Parrot showed the bird off to his sister. Who loved the bird from the moment of seeing him.”

Grian sighed, knowing what happened the night he showed the bird to the younger girl. He still remembered the pain in his back and the fear he had before he knew what was happening. “Well, the next day Parrot had a surprise for himself when he woke up. When he looked into the mirror that day he saw two extra limbs,” Grian raised up two fingers, “upon his back. A pair of wings had grown from his back, two wings matching the pair on his bird.”

He saw the amazed look on all three of the boys' faces. Tommy’s grin was growing and growing as he watched the entire thing play out in his mind. His mind playing the scenes in front of him in colorful and moving pictures. 

Grian just shook his head fondly, continuing to tell the story, “His sister was just as shocked to see them herself, but while the two of them found it utterly confusing and miraculous, they both knew the looks they’d get the moment he stepped foot in the village. So for weeks, his sister went to town, she did everything she could for the both of them but she soon fell ill. With his sister sick, Parrot was left with no choice but to go into town for money and medicine. He left with his parrot one day and had come up with a plan to make some coin.”

“He’d tell his stories.” Grian finished, his silence after he finished shocked the three boys. 

“That’s it?” Tubbo asked, dumbstruck. 

Grian smiled, “The end.” 

“But what happened to his sister?” Ranboo asked, “Did they listen to his stories? What was the bird? What did they do to him once he got in town?” Ranboo rambled, staring at his hands in confusion, before he pointed a strict finger at his Uncle, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Grian just chuckled, pushing Ranboo’s finger away, “Those are all stories for another day. I think that was a perfect place to leave off.” Grian nodded to the youngest of the three. 

Tubbo and Ranboo looked over to their younger brother to see he had fallen asleep. He was still clutching the swan stuffed toy tightly, but he was smiling. Neither sibling spoke or moved just trying to let their younger brother sleep. 

“But you are going to tell us one day, right?” Tubbo whispered.

“Along with how you learned about this one?” Ranboo whispered.

Grian nodded to the best of his ability, “I’ll try.” He nodded towards the door, “Now come on, let’s let your brother sleep.”

The brothers nodded. Ranboo stood up and quickly and quietly exited the room, taking the blanket with him as he left for his own room. Tubbo shuffled off of the younger’s bed as silently as he could before tiptoeing out of the room to follow the sibling. 

Grian watched as the two left, before looking back to Tommy. He smiled seeing the tiny smirk on his face as the kid slept. Grian pushed on his cane, standing up and sliding the chair away. He was about to leave and turn off the lights when he noticed something white in the boy’s hair. 

Curious, Grian took a small step forward looking closer to the white fluffy thing in his hair. He carefully peeled back a blond curl to see a white feather poking through golden hair. There wasn’t just one feather either, there were multiple all hidden underneath blonde curls and slowly falling to the floor and onto the pillow. Grian picked up one of the feathers that had fallen onto the pillow.

He swallowed as he looked closer to the wilting feather, the pure white tufts bleeding into blackened char. 

He gripped the feather tightly, turning on his heel to leave the room. He had one last thing to do before leaving. Grian turned off the lights as he carefully shut the door behind him. 

He looked down the quiet hallway, seeing the brothers had in fact gone to bed as well. He placed the feather in his pocket, and walked to the stairwell. He was halfway down the stairs when he saw Phil sitting on the couch waiting for him. 

Grian tried to ignore the man as much as he could, he walked right past him and grabbed his hat off the hooks near the door. 

“I saw the feathers, Phil.” Grian muttered, as he stared at the hooks were his hat had been. He placed his hat on his head, turning back to Phil with a glare already on his face. He crossed his arms, ready for another argument. 

“I’m dealing with it.” Phil answered.

“I don’t want you to deal with it.” Grian stated, plainly, “I want him to see it. He needs to see it.”

“Is that what he wants though?” Phil asked, looking back to the blond.

“We won’t know unless someone tells him in the first place.” Grian retorted. 

“He’s lived as a human his entire life, you want to change that now?” Phil said, snarky, like he’d found a hole in Grian’s argument.

Grian’s face showed no fear or care for Phil’s words, “He’s been here for three years, that’s hardly his entire life. He’s seven, Phil.”

“He’s seven. He hardly has the ability to make this choice himself.” Phil shrugged.

“Then his father should be making it for him if that’s truly what you think.” Grian said, narrow eyes as he stared at the man. 

“And who is that?” Phil asked, with a smirk. 

Grian groaned, running a hand down his face, “I’m coming back soon, Phil. Whether you like it or not, I’m not waiting a year anymore. I’m not playing nice anymore.”

Phil didn’t say anything, he was silent, before, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Grian sent one last sharp look before, turning away and slamming the door behind him. He stomped out of the tall house, the path way looking more mocking than it had before. He locked the gate behind him as he left, walking the same path he had before to get back to his bus stop. 

The feather in his pocket felt like a rock with the weight of it making him walk slower and slower. The short walk felt like miles, between the pain in his legs and the weight in his pocket. 

When he finally saw his coach waiting for him, he also saw the odd cluster of people taking photos of the coach and staring at the coachman standing just outside the door. The cluster of people were only being held back by the glare of his coachman. 

Grian sighed, he really didn’t want to deal with this at this time of night. 

As he stood at the very back of the cluster of people, he loudly cleared his throat while slamming his cane down on the pavement. His noise caused the crowd to turn quickly and silent. 

The crowd erupted into whispers as they parted to create a path for the fancily dressed man. 

Grian rolled his eyes, walking quickly passed the parted crowd, to his coach. He nodded to the man just outside his coach, who gave a slight bow to him as he entered. Grian tried his best to ignore the whispers that just got louder as he entered his coach. The coachman entered the bus right behind him, closing the door himself. 

Once the door was shut, Grian watched as his bird erupted from his small stature on his cane. The bird flew up to his perch, cawing down at him in a form of conversation. Grian sat down in his regular spot, his legs crossed as the coachman began to pull away from the stop. 

He was silent as he watched the buildings disappear and they drove down the different roads until coming across a dead end. However the dead end didn’t stop them and the coachman continued down the road that stretched out for miles the trees changing from dark and uncared for to beautiful and lush. 

Not only did the world change outside of the windows, but the carriage itself formed back into the normal carriage with red and white trimmings. The ornate carriage, resembling one of Cinderella or Snow White’s, rolled down the now cobble roads past tall townhouses and shopkeeps. 

The coachman instructed the horses at the front carefully how to steer clear of the many characters going about their regular night routines. 

Grian knew exactly who they’d be running into and had no need to look out the window of his one room carriage. However he could hear a few of his friends wishing him a good night as he passed. 

“Have a good night, Griba!” He heard Red Riding Hood shout as she headed back to her grandmother’s home, even though she had long ago inherited it. 

“See you tomorrow, Grian!” He could hear Joel shout from below the carriage somewhere. 

Grian slouched into his booth, rather uncomfortable with the attention when he had once again failed to bring back his son to where he actually belonged. His parrot flew down to his shoulder from his perch. 

The bird cawed in his ear, trying to catch his attention. Grian smirked, “Pesky Bird.”

The carriage turned down a different street, the townhouses changing to large mansions and a few miniature castles. Each home was gated with fences designed for whichever character lived inside. 

The carriage pulled to a stop outside one tall townhouse that stood alone. The home stood at the top of a hill, the three story home was just as detailed as the carriage. The home was red with gold and silver trimmings and spiraling columns along the porch. Tall windows arched the center and middle floor. 

Grian sighed, sadly as he saw his home once again but he couldn’t help feeling a bit lonely. His failure to bring his son home weighed on him like the feather in his pocket.  The coachman opened the door for him, barely jumping when the parrot flew out first happy to get some wind under its wings. 

Grian stood up, stretching his arms and legs out as he stood. He shook his shoulders, letting his wings shimmer down and reveal themselves. He let out a tight breath at feeling his wings back on his back, it was a comforting weight now. His wings where something he couldn’t live without anymore, he barely could imagine what life was before he had them. 

Sure every time he hid them away to visit his family, they were always in need of a preening, but even with the uncomfortable feeling it felt more like home. 

He shook his wings out letting the magic of their invisibility fall off completely. Grian stepped out of his carriage, sending a glad smile to the coachman. 

“Send my regards to Cinderella. She has my thanks once again.” Grian said, in his most proper voice. If it was anyone besides one of the princesses he wouldn’t try so hard to be proper, but the princes and princesses were the exception. 

The coachman nodded, and began walking to the front of the carriage once again. 

Grian looked back to his home, seeing two people he was quite glad to have sitting on his porch. 

Mumbo hadn’t noticed his arrival just yet, he had his nose stuck in some project in his hands. He had a screwdriver in one hand as he worked with the object his other hand held. His thin glasses propped on the edge of his nose. He was sitting on the bench right outside the front door of Grian’s home on his porch. 

Next to Mumbo was Scar who was playing happily on his flute, his eyes closed. Grian noticed his parrot had flown straight to the music, perching on the railing of his porch. Scar’s tricorn hat was wopsided on his head, the feather falling in the middle of his face. 

Grian smiled, glad that his boyfriends were willing to wait so late in the night for him to get back. Still, Grian couldn’t shake the shame of coming home empty handed once again. 

Grian knocked on the porch column grabbing both of their attention at the noise. 

Scar grinned once he saw the parrot hybrid, “Songbird! You’re back!” Scar charmed, two deep green eyes squinting from a smile. 

Mumbo smiled, standing up from his spot when he saw the missing person, “Still?” He asked, sadly.

Grian didn’t look at either of them, rather finding the ground interesting. His parrot noticed and cawed at all three, before flying over to Grian and perching on his shoulder. Mumbo and Scar watched as the bird dug it’s head into Grian’s vest pocket and pulled something out. 

Grian didn’t stop the bird from pulling the white wilted feather from his pocket, just mumbling, “Pesky bird,” as the bird flew over to Mumbo and dropped the feather into his hand.

Mumbo and Scar looked at the feather, seeing the same white tufts and black char at the bottom. The two’s look of sober sadness turned into dark fear once they looked back. 

“We’re-We’re talking about this right?” Mumbo asked, holding the feather up, but he protectively held it away from the wind as if it was going to disintegrate. And honestly, Grian wasn’t too sure it wouldn’t. 

Grian nodded, sadly.

Scar frowned, “Come on, let’s make some tea and talk.” Scar grabbed hold off Grian’s free hand and helped the limping man inside his home. 

Mumbo silently thanked the parrot still on his shoulder and walked into the home, the wilting feather in his hands, right next to the toy he’d planned on giving to the newest character-if he’d shown up this time…