Chapter Text
The scent of freshly baked bread pierced the winter air, greeting passing potential patrons with a bit of warmth in their hearts as they shivered through the sub-freezing temperatures. The heavenly smells also pierced the nose of a certain nine-year-old orphan boy hiding around the corner, but they weren’t meant for him. He rubbed his mittens mischievously.
The orphanage, of course, didn’t intend for this to happen when they let all their older boys out for free time on the town. It made them look bad that their orphans were poorly fed enough to need to scavenge any crumb that fell off any plate in the entire city. Of course, none of the orphan boys cared about the orphanage’s image, and scavenging is what they spent all day doing. Some did it for themselves, wanting a tasty treat to fill their bellies besides the nasty helpings of gruel they were otherwise treated to all week.
Yakko didn’t do it for himself. Unlike most of them, he had family at the orphanage. Family that depended on him. When the next dining couple stood up from their seats, leaving small chunks of bread uneaten on their plate, Yakko dug his toes into the snow and waited. He knew there were ten other orphan boys, at least, hiding in their own places, ready to rush in and grab whatever they could before the waiter could clear the table. As soon as the couple took one step off into the street, he dashed off towards the table, spotting three similarly dashing figures moving along with him in the corner of his eye.
Sprinting as fast as he could, Yakko reached the table first, grabbing three pieces of bread that were small enough to fit in his palm. A horde of boys descended upon him. Many were older, taller, bigger, stronger, but he was faster. Quicker. He swiped all the bread he could and took off, running all the way back to the only home he had. Later, he would encounter many of those same boys he beat at the orphanage, and might suffer some irritating taunting, but he knew they wouldn’t try anything rash. It was the rule they all abided by- whoever got away with it, got to keep it.
Yakko pushed through the heavy, wooden orphanage doors. Yes, this was the only home he had. He didn’t like to call it that. Most of the boys didn’t, dreaming instead of their ‘real’ homes, the ones where they were meant to live, either with their past or future families. To Yakko, though, home was wherever his siblings were. While most of the orphans yearned to be adopted, presenting themselves eagerly to the rare couple or two who stopped by for a look, Yakko avoided the process with disdain. The odds were just too high that some prospective parent would fall in love with only one of the Warner three, wanting to take just that cute little girl or that loquacious little boy. He couldn’t risk it. So, yes, the orphanage was his only home, and his sibs were his only family. That would be the case until the day he reached age 18 and took his sibs to a real home out in the city or the woods, doing all he could to give them an actual life.
As soon as he stepped inside the main hall, he was greeted with the sight of pink and blue blurs sprinting towards him. One of them yelled his name.
“Yakko! Yakko!” Dot screamed and jumped in joy. “Didya bring the bread?”
“I sure did, little sis.” He chuckled, handing her one of the three chunks, which she eagerly started to nibble on. He then looked down at his other side, where his other, taller little sibling was gripping tightly onto his slacks, not saying a word. Wakko stared up at him with big eyes. “And for my brother sib.” Yakko smiled and patted his brother’s head lovingly before handing him the remaining two chunks of bread. Wakko swallowed one down whole before starting to nibble on the second like his sister. His tail wagged excitedly, but his face remained expressionless.
When his little sister was born, a little over a year after Wakko, Yakko could never have expected that she would be the first of his little siblings to say her first words. He certainly couldn’t have expected that she’d be running around saying full sentences before Wakko even spoke once. Now she was 4 going on 5, and he was 6, still never having said a word in his life. It concerned Yakko. It made him wonder if he had done something wrong in raising his little brother over the years.
Instead of speaking, Wakko just stared at the world with those big round eyes of his, his tongue lolling out idly. He rarely smiled or frowned. He kept the same blank face at all times. The other kids called him dumb. Well, they used less kind words than that. It made Yakko’s blood boil even feeling the thought briefly flash through his mind.
He knew his little brother wasn’t dumb. When he looked in Wakko’s eyes, he saw the exact same curious intelligence he saw in his sister, the same intelligence he felt in himself. He caught Wakko staring out the window at birds and other animals, staring across the room curiously as other kids ran around and played. He saw his little brother’s incredible spatial intelligence as he obsessively disassembled every complex object around him and put them back together perfectly, every time. He saw Wakko’s strange inventions, Rube Goldberg machines that didn’t do much useful but were unbelievably complex. No one who didn’t see it happen would ever believe a six-year-old could put something like that together.
Yakko saw more than that, too. He saw the absolute depth of love Wakko had for his little sister, for him. He saw how Wakko looked at her, so protectively, with so much admiration. When his eyes were pointed at Dot, they might as well have been stars in the night sky with how much they sparkled. Wakko had so much emotional depth and intelligence. Whenever Yakko was around, Wakko stuck to him like a magnet. Every second of every day. It killed Yakko to have to leave his siblings alone, to leave Wakko open to the merciless jeers of his so-called peers at the orphanage, with no big brother around to protect him. He wouldn’t do it if he had a choice.
While Dot ran back to her bed, Wakko tugged on Yakko’s slacks. Even though he didn’t talk, Yakko could always tell what Wakko was trying to say. He bent down and let his little brother climb on his back. As he stood up, walking through the noisy orphanage, he began to sing.
“Twinkle twinkle, Wishing Star, how I wonder where you are…”
Wakko peered over Yakko’s shoulder, his face still blank but his tail wagging rhythmically with his big brother’s singing. Yakko was capable of singing much more complex tunes, of course, but he knew Wakko preferred simple, calming melodies. He could happily listen to the same song for many hours straight, and so that’s what Yakko sang him. It drove the other kids mad. As long as Yakko was around, though, everyone knew not to mess with his family.
Later that night, after Yakko had already tucked his siblings in and laid down to sleep, he sensed a silent pair of eyes staring at him in the darkness. Opening his own eyelids, Yakko could see the shadowy silhouette of his little brother peering at him. It was a violently cold and windy night, the rickety boards of the orphanage swaying and whistling with every gust. To anyone else, the expression on Wakko's face might not have appeared any different than any other time. Yakko, though, could see the look in his eyes. He was scared.
“Hey, bud.” Yakko yawned, a thin smile on his lips. “Wanna sleep with me?”
Wakko gave no response, physical or verbal.
“Go get your sister, and I’ll let you in.” Yakko continued. After staring at him for a second longer, Wakko suddenly turned around and walked off to Dot’s bed. When he returned, he was holding her in his arms, her face resting on his shoulder as she drooled in her sleep. It was a funny sight, since they were so similar in size, but Yakko knew Wakko could be trusted with their baby sister. Dot continued to sleep soundly as Wakko put her down under Yakko’s blankets, and then climbed in after her. Snuggled in tight, basking in each other’s warmth on the bitterly cold winter night, the siblings easily fell asleep.