Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Bro-Bro going So-Lo, YOLO.” Having gotten in the last word, John went down on his grapple, barely stopping it before he hit the ground, and releasing it with years of practiced ease.

He begins to angrily walk off before he freezes, the encounter washing over him. Oh sweet Comp what the heck had he just done. He had just blown up at his brothers and blamed them for his screw up, and worse he had told them he didn’t need them! He had left them alone, he needed to go back, to apologize, to-...

…He had left…He actually left. A sense of numbness flooded over him, he left, and suddenly the world wasn’t balancing on his shoulders.

Turning around, John slowly looks back up at their pod, he could just barely make out a flash of Purple crashing out of it, followed not long after by a crazed streak of Yellow, both scampering higher up into the tree. Oh, so they stormed out together, that’s good, that they're not alone. He’s glad for once that they never follow his lead, afterall, this would be the worst time for his brothers to start taking after him.

A wave of calm washes over John as he turns back around, his brothers would be fine without him. Afterall, the band was his idea, and it was making them miserable…Meaning, he was making them miserable. Might as well remove himself from the equation then. Brozone - John Dory = Happy Family, or something like that, he was never very good at math.

Walking away, John hears someone begin to croon a lullaby, and recognizes it as Floyd’s quiet voice up above, he must be singing Branch to sleep.

Little did he know that if he had waited just a bit longer to turn around, he would’ve seen a streak of Pink leave the pod, without the tell-tale blur of blue that usually occupies his arms.

Instead of losing one brother and gaining a “happy” family, Branch lost four, and his troubles were only starting.

Chapter Text

John Dory wants to cry as he stares up at the tree, it’s been three years since he left, and he missed it every second. The first few nights he couldn’t sleep, terrified that his brothers would be eaten by a bergen all because he wasn’t there to protect them. His first instinct would be to rush back, but then he’d remember the fight, remember how he hurt them, and he’d turn back around, continuing on. He still couldn’t sleep all that well, his only comforting thought being that they’d have Grandma to watch over them, and Spruce to protect them, and Clay to think up exit strategies, and Floyd for comfort, and sweet baby Branch’s smile and laughter to give them hope. It hurts his heart to think about, but serves him right for making them put up with his need for perfection for so long. They’re not the ones that needed improvement, he was.

But he’s back now, he’s not so worried about being perfect anymore, the scars and tattoos dotting his skin being proof of that, not to mention his hair. He’d given up on products after the first week, leaving it natural, spiky as it was. He hopes Clay got to go back to his natural green, forcing a trolling to dye their hair had been a stupid decision on his part.

As he sneaks his way up to the tree, he thinks about all the stories he can share with his family, and all the ways he can make it up to them for storming out. They probably won’t let him back in right away, and if Grandma will allow it he probably won’t even be allowed back into the pod, but that’s okay. He’s eighteen now, he’s old enough to live in a pod of his own, he can drop off the gifts for them and get started on it. So what if they hate him for a while? He can handle it, all he needs to do is talk to them. They’re family, so they’ll have to forgive him eventually, right? Staring down at his greying hands, John feels sick before looking away. Even if they don’t forgive him, at least he’ll know they're safe, and hopefully that’ll be enough to get back some color.

Stepping through the bars of the cage, he throws caution to the wind and starts sprinting. A bergen might’ve noticed a troll running around outside the cage, but he doubts anyone will notice a greyed troll running about in the middle of the night, inside the cage. Besides, a grey troll is a rotten troll.

Huffing, John slowed down as he reached the trunk of the tree, looking up to try and spot the pod. It didn’t take long to find the periwinkle pod of his childhood, nostalgia burning in his chest. The lights were off, makes sense with the time, but he can’t help but feel put-off by it, Spruce and Clay were sixteen and fifteen respectively, shouldn’t at least one light be on?

Shaking his head, John starts searching in his bag for his grapple, when he hears it. A muffled sound coming from just around the corner of the tree, a high pitched one too. Before he realizes it, he’s creeping closer to the sound’s source, angling his ears to hear it better. It sounds familiar, like something he’s heard before, but where? Creeping closer, he listens for the noise, hearing it again. Whatever is making the sound, it’s young. Funnily enough, it almost reminds him of when his brothers used to have nightmares and he’d wake up to a-

~A Sour Note!~

All the way down here?! They must be hurt! Did a trolling fall off a branch? Why hadn’t anyone found them yet?! Better yet, why was no one looking?! Almost all the lights are off!

Questions flooding through his head, John Dory quickly rounded the corner to see a small grey trolling with a hand clamped over their mouth, and an ankle twisted the wrong way, but it wasn’t until they looked up at him that he felt his stomach drop to his feet.

...

“Branch?”

Chapter Text

Branch doesn’t know how long he’s been on the ground. His cheeks hurt, not in a, ‘I’ve been smiling too wide’ way, or a ‘scraped up’ kinda way, but in a stinging way, he thinks he’s been crying.

For a while, he just stared up at the pod, waiting for Grandma to look down and see him, before remembering that she can’t. His ankle hurts too, a lot more than his face, he doesn’t wanna look at it…He needs to look at it so he can help it. Clay always said that the easiest way to make something worse, is by not saying it’s happening.

Steeling himself, forces one eye open to peek at his left leg, and immediately screws both shut. He can’t do it! What if he twisted it? Or worse, broke it? What if it’s all green and oozing puss? What if it’s bleeding? What if there’s a bone sticking out?! What if-

His train of thought is cut off by a shrill sounding noise escaping his throat, what? His voice squeaked again, and then he heard the sound of brush moving. No. No, no, no. No! Had he alerted a bergen? He didn’t wanna die, no, no no!

Slamming a hand over his mouth, Branch desperately tried to stop the shrieking sound from escaping, and instead listened for the sound moving closer. Curling in on himself, Branch tucked his head into the shoulder of his vest, Floyd’s vest. He missed him, when was he coming back? As the thing got closer, Branch curled up tighter, hoping it would just pass by him, when the sound stopped.

Pausing for a bit, Branch slowly poked up his head, to see a strange looking troll. They’re wearing brown shorts that seem to be covered in pockets, a black shirt that covers their arms and neck, and a threadbare puffy vest that just barely fits and is so discolored Branch can’t even tell what color it is. Their fur is a dull shade of blue, matchy their murky teal hair. Said hair is spiked out and messy, it doesn’t look like it’d been brushed in a while. Finally, Branch looked at the other’s face, and saw the horrified expression they were giving him...

...

“Branch?”

Chapter Text

As Branch stared at him like he was a stranger, a million thoughts were flooding through John’s head.

Where’s everyone else? Why wasn’t Spruce here to carry Branch home? Why wasn’t Clay here to patch him up? Where was Floyd to comfort him? Where was Grandma to watch over them all? Why was Branch down here in the first place? Why has no one else responded to his distress calls? Why is he Grey? Why is he hurt-

Hurt, Branch is hurt, he should probably take care of that first. Getting onto his knees, he ignored the way Branch flinched away at the proximity and slowly reached into his hair to pull out a medkit. Branch seemed to be tracking every movement like a hawk, but his confusion was evident.

Choking on the hurt, John opened the kit to look inside. Branch had every right not to trust John, to be confused on why he’s helping him, to be wary of his help. John had abandoned him and their brothers, for Comp’s sake, he wouldn’t be shocked if Branch never trusted him again. It may have only been three years, but years to a child means so much more than three years does to an adult.

As he wallowed in his guilt, he sorted out the materials he would need, bandages, a compression wrap, and some salve to make it hurt less. He debates taking out the ice pack before shaking his head, won’t do any good without a freezer. Swallowing the lump in his throat, John reaches for his brother’s leg, stopping when he flinches back. Right, he hasn’t seen Branch in years, he can’t just fix his boo-boos without asking. Maybe he can tell him what he plans to do? That usually calmed Clay down when Grandma treated him.

Clearing his throat, John began to talk, “Branch, you twisted your ankle. It doesn’t look like it was hurt too badly, but I won’t know for sure until I look at it. Even if it’s not bad, I’ll still need to treat it to stop it from getting worse, that way it can heal properly, okay?”

Branch, despite still eyeing him warily, opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak that sounded painful and stopped before it became anything comprehensible. Okay, getting Branch water was added to the priority list, right after patching him up and getting to the pod.

Humming, John got an idea, “Okay, Branch, nod if you understand, and shake your head side to side if you don’t, okay?”

Trolls so rarely used nonverbal communication, so he has no idea if Branch would’ve been taught those gestures this early, it’s been so long since he was in any kind of schooling. Thankfully, he has nothing to worry about, because Branch nods and rolls his eyes with such sarcasm that Floyd would be weeping.

Carefully, he takes care of Branch’s leg, explaining the process step by step, and keeping an eye on the younger's face for any pain.

“Okay Branch, one last step,” He pulls out a collection of ribbons to tie off the splint, “What color?”

The smaller boy reaches out a hand before pulling it back, as though he’s afraid to grab it, afraid to get any closer. Yeah, still hurts.

Trying to be gentle, John keeps his voice quiet, “It’s okay, just, just point to the one you want Bit-, Branch.”

He mentally scolds himself for the way Branch flinches, you have to earn the right to use nicknames again moron! Still, the trolling points at the pastel rainbow ribbon, it’s John’s favorite actually, which means it’s almost empty.

He hates to part with it but, “You want the rainbow one, right?”

His baby brother nods, and John forces himself to smile, “That’s a good one! And I think, there’s just enough to tie it off with a bow! How’s that sound?”

Branch gives a small smile back, nodding his head, so John does just that. If it makes his little brother happy, it’s worth it. Besides, he can always get more.

Okay, that’s done, now he has to get Branch to the pod, without making him uncomfortable, or hurting his leg, should be easy right?

______

It is decidedly, not easy! Because the second he gets up to move towards his brother, he lets out a high pitched whine. Not quite a Sour Note, but close enough to it that he feels his heart squeeze. Shuffling back, John raises his hand in a placating manner, but that only makes Branch let out another panicked squeal, his ears flattening to the side of his head.

Okay, okay, okay, okay. So, your youngest brother is scared of you, what are you gonna do JD? Well first, he should probably stop thinking to himself in third person. Okay, okay. First course of action, find out why Branch is scared. How does he do that? Ask? No, no that won’t work, too complicated an answer. Unless he can write it down? Wait, can a four year old write? Can a four year old read? Is he even four? What month is it? Not important! What did Clay always say? Something, something, plans are calming? Or was it that having a plan keeps you calm? He’ll have to ask him once he gets Branch back to the pod, but it’ll have to do for now.

Alright, uh, first step of the plan, is to find out why Branch is scared, might not even be of him, it’s dark out, and you never know if a bergen could be around, and he’s hurt, plenty of things that are scary, yeah.

Then, step two, get Branch to go up with you, somehow…

Uh, step three, get Branch water, or, maybe hand Branch off to Grandma? He’ll figure that out after step two.

Step four, find out how many birthdays and, post Trollstice ‘Happy you aren’t dead!’ anniversaries, and give family the corresponding gifts. Or at least find a calendar.

Okay, that’s…Not the best plan, but it’s a start!

Okay, so now he’s just gotta pick Branch up and…Oh he’s a complete idiot. He was talking to Branch so he wouldn’t be scared, and then he went to pick him up without asking him. Sweet Composer in the sky, he really is stupid.

Face-palming, John slowly kneels down, “Hey Branch, I’m sorry if I scared you. I was being a bit of a dummy trying to pick you up without asking, wasn’t I?”

The trolling still looked spooked, his hair all puffed up, and his tail had wound itself around his waist. Slowly though, he nodded, eyes fixed to the ground.

“Yeah, I should’ve figured. How about this, from now on, I’m gonna ask before I do anything to you, unless we’re in a life or death situation or something, deal?” He slowly held out a hand for Branch to shake, kids know how to shake hands, right?

He narrowed his eyes, looking between John and his hand, before holding out his own to mirror John’s, and nodding. Okay then…Guess kids don’t just shake hands, to be fair it’s been a while since he’s been around other Trolls.

Retracting his hand, John gets up on one knee, “Alright, now that we have that settled, am I okay to pick you up so you don’t have to try and walk with that splint?”

Branch scrunched his face back up, looking like he’d swallowed something sour, before slowly raising his arms and nodding.

“Alright! I’m gonna pick you up now, feel free to smack me if I hurt you, okay?”

Branch’s face smoothed out a bit, the ghost of a smile forming as he gave a hard nod.

Getting Branch situated in his right arm, he digs his grapple out of his hair with his left, and gets ready to fire, “Do you still live in the periwinkle pod?”

From his arm, Branch starts to nod, before frowning and starting to shake it side to side, before stopping, and giving John a confused look.

“Uh…The Light Blurple one? Is that where you live?” He says, still trying to figure out how much the kid knows.

Again, Branch shrugs, sugar!

“Okay, you, don’t know colors yet, that’s, okay, that’s fine, um, okay,” John says more to himself than Branch, trying to figure out how to word the question in a way his brother can answer, “Do you still live in the same place as you did three years ago?”

This time, Branch nods enthusiastically, okay, finally some headway.

“Thought so! Okay, I’m gonna take us up there with my grapple, alright?”

Branch looks confused again, but nods anyway. Well, the means he probably knows his directions at least.

Looking around, John finds a clear patch in the tree, probably where Branch fell through, and shoots upward. He takes them up slowly, not wanting to risk dropping his brother, and gently lands on the branch.

Almost subconsciously John looks for his tag, not even expecting it to still be there, when he spots it. A fish carved into the trunk of the tree, the head pointing him towards the pod. He’d carved dozens of them along the bark over the years, as a way to point them towards an escape route should they decide it was time. Staring at it, he felt himself tear up. He was so close to being home, all he had to do was round that corner, and he’d see the pod. He could apologize to his brothers and Rosiepuff, he could hug his family. He was going home.

He could feel tears welling in his eyes, he was really going home.

Chapter Text

Branch didn’t know what to think. This stranger had appeared, taking care of him, and knowing his name, and even knowing how to get back to the pod. And they knew things, things no one else in the tree seemed to know but Grandma or his brothers, but his brothers had left, and Grandma…

This stranger wasn’t any of them, so, who were they?

Branch struggled to look at the older troll, they were holding him so his back was against their chest, an arm holding him up. He managed to wiggle around a bit, just enough to look at their face. Their nose had a wide triangle shape to it, like Clay’s and Spruce’s, but their ears were lopsided like Grandma’s. They seemed tall too, maybe even taller than John Dory, and his biggest brother was the biggest person he’d ever met, he was even taller than Grandma.

He felt something wet hit his shoulder, was it raining? But it was small, raindrops were big. Maybe some leftover morning dew trickled off a leaf? But, wouldn’t it have happened by now? He frowned, trying to look up at the leaves.

“Well, someone’s got his thinking face on, you look just like Clay when you do that.” The stranger’s voice sounded sad, like Floyd’s would when he was lonely.

Why was this stranger so much like his family? Why did they know his family? And why did they feel so familiar?

Branch so badly wanted to ask, but his throat hurt so much, he didn’t think he’d ever talk again. Maybe the stranger knew how to fix it? They knew how to fix his leg, and they had that big kit in their hair. So there should be something to fix his voice, right? He really hoped so, because if he couldn’t practice, then he’ll never be ready for when his brothers come back!

…He really hopes Floyd’s not mad at him for not taking care of Grandma.

~~~~~~

Turning the corner, John could barely see. He’d gotten by just fine when he could still see the moon, but the leaves were so thick here that none of the light got through. Grumbling, he reached into his hair and dug around until he came across what he was looking for, the party light. He pulled it out and flicked it on, flipping between the colors before it landed on purple, easy on the eyes and dark enough a bergen probably wouldn’t see it. He’d prefer his lantern, but that was in his bag, and he really didn’t want to put Branch down if he didn’t have to. He slowly moved the beam around, before it landed on his childhood home.

John could only stare at the pod, despite only being gone three years, it looks so different. There’s no Brozone signs in the yard, no postings about their next concert, no royal sign offs by their biggest fan, Princess Viva, and no glittering decorations hanging off the roof.

Clay had spent months on those streamers, cutting out the individual shapes to make accurate constellations, and John had done everything to preserve them throughout the seasons. Was that why they were gone? Did they really hate the reminder of him that much?

Shaking his head, John mentally scolded himself. Now is not the time for pity dangit! You have an injured little brother to attend to.

He squinted at the pod, still not seeing any inside lights, was it later than he thought? But, then why was Branch outside? He scowled, confused, when he noticed the front door was open. Had they gone looking for Branch and left it open in their rush? But, then why hadn’t they found him when he was making distress calls? Unless they were further up? And why wasn’t anyone left behind in case Branch came back? None of this was making sense!

He continued moving the light around, when he spotted something. An overturned laundry basket? Had it been knocked over when they realized Branch was gone? But they wouldn’t be doing laundry at night, so had Branch gone missing much earlier than he thought? Shouldn’t they have found him by now then?

Sighing, John slowly moved towards the basket, before his foot caught on something. What? Looking down, he saw a string, with, shirts on it? The clothesline? Why was it on the ground? Did it come undone?

John slowly shined the light along the rope, and when he found the edge, his stomach dropped. It hadn’t fallen, it was torn. The other end of the clothesline was still safely secured on both ends with the same knots they always used, while the middle looked like it’d been ripped apart…

Slowly, John looked back up at the pod. Something had felt off when he’d looked at it. It hadn’t been the lights being off, or the decorations being gone, or even the door being open, no.

No, it was because the pod was completely silent.

———

John ran into the home, trying to be as quiet as possible. He quickly checked through every room, frantically checking every bed, nook, and cranny, for the sign of any other trolls, for his family, and he found none. John began to panic, more and more, the longer he went without seeing another troll, until he felt something squirm under his arm, and he remembered just who he had with him.

“Oh Sugar! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” He whisper-yelled, setting the trolling down on the softest thing he could find nearby, which happened to be the kitchen bay window.

~~~~~~

Branch was officially confused. One second they were outside looking around at the pod, and the next they’re inside and the stranger was looking around at his family’s empty beds. Don’t they know they’re gone? Are they looking for Grandma? But, why would she be in his brothers’ rooms? Branch is the only one that goes in there anymore, mostly because he forgets they’re gone…Is he gonna do the same with Grandma? Go looking for her, only to remember she’s, she’s…

He doesn’t wanna think about it anymore. He’s scared, and everything hurts, and he’s tired! He just wants his family back!

“Oh Sugar! Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

He’s being set down, what’s going on? Branch looks up at the figure, are they leaving too? He tries to curl himself up without hurting his leg.

He doesn’t wanna be alone…

~~~~~~

John rushed to shut the curtains, before whirling around when he realized he’d left the door open. He turned one of the lamps on before quickly going back to Branch’s side, kneeling down to be eye level with him, and feeling his heart wither at the sight of his baby brother tearing up.

Ah jeez, he’d really messed up again. Why was he so bad at being a good big brother?

Chapter Text

As he watches the stranger, Branch can’t help but think they’re acting like Grandma. They had fussed about, getting him seated at the table, and grabbing one of the big cups.

They filled it with water, before setting it down in front of him.

“Okay Branch, do you think you can promise to sip this slowly,” They held up their left hand, pointing at the cup, before lowering it and raising their right, “Or do you think you need a straw?”

They held both up after, like they were holding weights, Branch smiled, and pointed at the right.

The stranger smiled back, before plopping a swirly star straw in the cup, “Alright, now remember, drink, slowly. Okay?”

He nodded, and carefully pulled the cup towards himself, happily tracing the wavy lines that stuck out.

~~~~~

All John Dory can do at the moment, is mentally scream as Branch drinks his water. He’s not sure if it’s because Branch is drinking from Spruce’s cup, while using one of Clay’s crazy straws, and wearing Floyd’s leaf vest, or if it’s just because the last time he’d seen Branch the kid needed help holding a sippy cup and now he’s holding the, very full, cup with just one hand. Maybe it’s a combo of the two, or maybe it’s because of how easily Branch is doing it. As though none of their brothers would go crazy at the sight of another one using their item, items John had to religiously color code to them, less they get into tumbling brawls over who it belonged to.

Maybe it’s because they aren’t here? No, he still has a scar on his leg from when Clay came home to John using his pen because he couldn’t find his, and the little gremlin had decided the best course of revenge was to sink his teeth into his leg.

Was it because Branch was the youngest? No, not that either. Floyd had thrown a hissy fit when Branch wouldn’t stop taking his hair clips. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wear them and that Branch only ever took them so he could watch them catch in the light. Nope, Floyd would still make a big deal out of it, because they were his plastic flower clips, and since they were pink, they were his. They eventually just ended up getting Branch his own blue butterfly ones, which he had thankfully found much more interesting than the flowers.

Maybe he was doing it in secret? Nope, no way to hide anything in the pod, especially with Grandma watching. John knows dang well she won’t hesitate to throw someone under the bus to keep the peace, not even Branch. She’d made that clear when Spruce hadn’t been able to find his hairbrush and she told him flat out that Branch had taken it. Of course, he’d forgiven Branch almost immediately after getting it back, but he’d kept everything on a higher shelf after that. Because y’know, he had a reasonable reaction to an infant taking his stuff.

So if it’s not any of those, then how? John hums to himself, lightly, before going to the fridge to dig around for something to eat. He supposes he can get some answers, after he gets the kid some dinner.

———

John had, evidently, not much experience with cooking or, Muses help him, baking, but he was pretty good at making pasta. Not the healthiest thing, or even very convenient, but it was a good way at sneaking the more nutritious fruits and veggies into his brother’s food, as opposed to the ones so syrupy sweet it was like eating candy, or so starchy that you might as well just eat a loaf of bread. Course, they all had ones they hated or loved, like Spruce loving sparkly melons but hating creamy swamp moss to the point of it’s smell alone makes him gag, or Clay loving brussel sprouts, but hating any and all melon with a fiery passion hot enough to singe the clouds themselves, etcetera, etcetera…

The point being, he’d gotten pretty good at it, but he hasn’t had to do it for the past three years, and the kitchen is fairly empty. Thankfully, there’s enough to scrounge together some veggie pasta with cheery glo-mato sauce, and prays to the grand Lyricist in the sky that Branch hasn’t become a picky eater in his time away.

Sighing, John reaches for Branch’s blue baby bowl, before hesitating. Branch, probably eats more now, right? So…

He reaches for Floyd’s instead. They may have a nine year age difference, but it was the second smallest size they had, he’ll just fill it half way and see if Branch wants more. For himself, he just grabbed one of the wider mugs to put the pasta in. He wasn’t really hungry, and honestly… He didn’t want to try and look for his bowl only to find it gone. Besides, looking at the mug, the orange lizard print is kinda fun.

~~~~~

Branch knows it’s rude to stare, he knows that! But, he’s never seen that mug before. He’s never seen anything with those shapes on it, never in the pod, and never anywhere else, and he’s seen a lot of shapes.

JD always had fish, Spruce had waves and twists, Clay had stars, Floyd had flowers, and Grandma had diamonds.

Staring at the rose covered bowl, Branch can’t help but think of more questions. Did the stranger bring it with? Did they have more stuff? What did it mean that they had stuff? Were they staying? Did someone send them to look after him? Is that why they know his name? But how did they know about Grandma?

Every time he gets another piece of the puzzle, less things make sense. He wishes he could just ask but his throat still-

…

Hm… His throat, doesn’t actually hurt right now. Branch looks at the cup, he’s pretty sure it was full of water. Hmm… Branch looked at the stranger, who’s eating out of their weird mug, thinking. Hmmm… Randomly showed up, knew his name, knew how to fix him up, and came with an odd cup. Hmmmm…

“Are you a wizard?”

The stranger choked on their food.

Hmmmmm…

~~~~~

John choked, desperately trying to dislodge the food from his throat. Out of all the things Bitty B could’ve said, that is nowhere near what he’d expected, “What?!”

Neither of their voices sounded particularly, good, at the moment. John was choking on food, and Branch was getting his voice back, so they both sounded a bit croaky. That does not negate, the blatant flinch that went through Branch when he spoke. Right, yelling, sensitive ears, not a good mix.

“Sor-,” John coughed, “Sorry k-,” He coughed again, before holding up his hand, and taking a sip of his drink.

Branch looked, really startled.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Sorry kid, I didn’t mean to shout. I know how harsh that can be with sensitive ears. And no, I’m not a wizard.”

His ears stuck out the side of his head, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. I think I’d know if I was a wizard.”

“But how did you-”

“Uh, buh bub Branch. I am not a wizard, anything I know is because I grew up here, and lived in the mountains for around three years, okay?”

He nodded, brow furrowing like Clay again. Actually, that gave him an idea.

“How about this? We’ll play twenty questions, for every ten you ask, I get to ask ten back, alright?” He knows that’s not how most people played it, but Clay had been so annoyed by the name as a kid, and no one had the patience or time to play ‘Forty Questions’ but Grandma, so they changed the rules to make Comet happy.

Branch looked excited, making a happy humming sound.

“Okay, since you started, it’s my turn to ask a question. Do you like the food?”

~~~~~

“Okay, since you started, it’s my turn to ask a question. Do you like the food?”

Did he like the food? They could ask any question, and they asked if he liked the food?

Branch nodded, confused, and they smiled, “That’s great! I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

Why do they care if he likes it? Why do they care if he’s hurt? Why do they care about his questions?

“Why do you care?”

They look stunned, like they’ve been hit. Their hair and fur gets darker too.

They look away before answering, “Getting straight into the heavy topics, you’re just like Floyd with that y’know. Um, I care, Branch, because,” They swallow, hard, before meeting Branch’s eye, “I care, because I should’ve been here, and I wasn’t, but I am now. I care, because we’re family sweetheart.”

Sweetheart, the only person that calls him sweetheart is… was, Grandma Rosiepuff. Why do they know that? Maybe it’s a family thing? What other family has left and come back?

“So,” They coughed, their voice sounding tight, were they choking again? “My turn, right? Um, why, why were you outside bud?”

Branch can feel his ears flatten against his head, he had forgotten they were still playing. “Grandma, she, she pushed me outta the way.”

That should work, right?

~~~~~

Outta the way? Outta the way of what? Trollstice is in Fall, and it’s still warm outside, so probably not a bergen…

Right?

~~~~~

Desperate for a subject change, Branch asks his next question, “Where’d you get that mug?”

“Oh, this?” They raised the offending cup, “Found it in the cupboard, and thought, eh, why not, lizards are fun, and I haven’t used it in a while.”

So… They’d used the mug before, which means it did belong to someone in the family, but they weren’t here while Branch was here. Maybe it’s Grandma’s wife? She talked about his Nona when they played cards, always said she was caring, and nice, but that she had to go where Grandma couldn’t follow. But… Looking at the stranger, they look old, but not Grandma’s age.

“Alright, uh, my turn. Where are the others? Are they with friends, or…at a concert, or…?” They trailed off, smiling weirdly.

Branch frowned, crossing his arms, he hated having to explain this, “They left.”

“Left?” They looked so confused now.

“Yeah, they left and I don’t know when they’ll be back,” But then Branch smiled, remembering Floyd’s promise, getting excited, “But they’re coming back! I just… Don’t know when. But when they come back, I’ll be ready! I’ve been practicing!”

The stranger slowly got up from the table, before taking their empty dishes to the sink, and started washing them, their face blank. Had he said something wrong?

~~~~~

They all left? They all fudging left? The one time, the one fudging time he’d actually encourage them, and be happy for it, to not follow his dang lead… And they follow his fudging lead?! Are they fudging serious?! He cannot believe this malarkey! He left so they could be happy! Not make their baby brother more miserable! And they left him with a sick old woman! Are they fudging idiots?! Those truffle-loving donut holes! As he aggressively scrubs at the dishes, he can’t help but wonder where they ended up.

~~~~~

Branch couldn’t help but feel like he’d done something bad, but he’s not really sure how to fix it. From the way they’re standing, they look kinda, mad. He doesn’t think they’re mad with him though, just, mad. But why would they be mad his brothers left? Did they want to see them too? Are they mad they didn’t get here sooner? Clay used to be mad all the time when they were late anywhere, and John Dory would be really twitchy if they weren’t at least a little early when they went places. And they’re washing the dishes like Spruce and Grandma do when they mess something up, like it’ll help them do a better job next time they try. And they aren’t telling him they’re mad either, their face was blank, kinda like Floyd’s, when he needs to be alone…

Huh. The stranger acts like all his family, don’t they? So, they must’ve been around them a lot.

So, the stranger is someone that’s been gone for a while, cares about him, is his family, and acts like all the family he already knows…

~~~~~

John Dory grumbles, putting the dishes on the drying rack, and feeling a lot calmer. He hums, before reaching into the fridge to pour some more liquid into his cup. He takes a deep breath, inhaling its scent, before looking back at his brother.

Branch had looked down at his water, seeming to ponder what question to ask next, before getting a look on his face. John knew that face, honestly he thinks everyone in the troll tree had. He’d seen it on Floyd’s face when someone mentioned Therapy, on Clay’s whenever anyone commented on the stars, even on Spruce’s when people asked about his diet, and he’s definitely seen it on his own face while discussing shows. He’s positive everyone in the tree had seen that face at one point or another, it’s the face a Timberlake brother pulls before they latch onto a subject, regardless of who wants to listen.

When they were asked, they’d always said it was the blue of their skin and eyes that marked them as brothers, but really? It was that face, and anyone who’d seen it, dang well knew it.

Sighing, John Dory braced himself for what was to come. He said he’d answer any question, and he meant it. Besides, he’s had to deal with three younger brother’s worth of fixations, and his own. Whatever Branch asked, he could handle.

He took a sip of his drink while he waited for Branch to catch his bearings, enjoying the subtle flavor of the fluffleberry.

“Are you my dad?”

John spat out his juice.

Chapter Text

John coughed, for the third time that night, trying to get air back into his lungs. Of all the things he could’ve asked, that was not what he expected. He expected questions about where he’d gone, about why he’s back, heck, about why he’s gone dark, or sugar, even the tattoos!

This has to be a joke, right?!

Staring Branch in the eye, John’s fully prepared to see a mischievous grin, or puppy eyes with an evil glint, but he finds neither. Branch is just staring at him, eyes wide and innocent, and a small hopeful smile on his face. Oh sugar, he’s actually asking. He actually thinks he’s their dad.

…

Oh sweet Composer and Lyricist in the sky, how in the triple-decker, sprinkle covered fudge, does he deal with this?!

“...Branch, I’m not your dad.”

“Are you sure?”

Oh comp, not this again, “Yes, I am sure, just like I’m sure I’m not a wizard.”

“Really?” Somehow, despite being a child, his tone sounded a lot like an exasperated Grandma Rosiepuff when she didn’t believe them.

“Yes, really.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Yeah, not buying it.”

“Wha-, not buying what? The truth?!”

“If that’s the truth, then where’s your proof that you aren’t him?”

John sputtered, completely thrown on what to do, “Why do I need proof?! Why would I have proof against a lie?”

“Well, if you don’t have proof against my claim, then I’m gonna assume you’re lying and I’m right. Check and mate!”

How the fudge is he arguing like Granny Vidalia? She died before Floyd was born, there is literally no way for him to be able to argue like her, what the heck?!

“Why do you think I’m your dad?” He was honestly feeling more confused than angry the longer this went on, and it’d only been happening for a few minutes.

Branch huffed, before holding out his hand to start counting down his reasons. “One! Grandma said my dad had a wide triangle nose and was tall, both of which describe you. Two! Only parents know how to fix everything. Three! You know where things are that I’ve never seen before. Four! You’re old.” He huffed again before slapping his hand down, “Which means, you’re my dad!”

John felt, so many emotions all at once. For the most part though, it was horror at being called old, and pride at how well his baby brother had defended his argument, Granny would be proud of him. Wait, Granny Vidalia used to keep scrap books, detailed ones at that. Maybe one of them would be enough to convince Branch.

“Okay, I have proof,” Branch tilted his head to the side, looking confused, “But, I need to go grab it, will you be okay alone?”

The trolling huffed, before pointing to his leg, as if to say, ‘What else will I do?’. Such a sassy little baby, they definitely left him alone with Floyd too much.

He quickly sprinted off to Grandma’s room, pausing at the closet covered in allium flowers, Granny’s scrapbook closet. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

Immediately, John started looking around for any book that possibly had to do with his parents, before he spied one that looked like it was covered in moss, bingo! He carefully pulled it from the stack, before dropping it, grimacing at the mossy texture. Dang, she really did go all out. Shaking his hands out, John pulled a pair of gloves out of his hair before slipping them on, and picking the book back up.

There’s gotta be some kinda picture of him in this one. Flipping to the first page, John saw the words, ‘Moss, throughout the Years’, in Granny’s neat handwriting. He’d seen this book before, every other page would be a different year, and a list of how much he’d changed from the prior year. So if he flips towards the middle, aha!

John grinned, triumphantly at the top of the page reading, ‘Age seventeen’ before looking at the actual page and feeling his face drop. The bottom read, ‘Moss with baby John Dory!’ It showed a picture of his father holding him in one arm, he’s maybe a year, less, and a glass of what was definitely not juice in his other. He quickly flips back to age sixteen, not being able to take the distant look anymore.

John looks at the photo, before looking at himself. His father had dark green hair, and more vibrant blue skin, like Branch doe-, did. His ears were more downturned, like Granny’s, and his hair had a wave to it. The only things he had in common with the guy was that he was tall, or at least above average, his nose was in fact a wide triangle shape, and his eyes were the same light blue.

This, this should be enough, right?

Photo album in hand, he runs back to Branch, ready to present his ‘proof’.

———

“...Yeah, still not buying it.”

Are you freaking kidding me?! He had proof, like, real proof! Why?! Staring at his youngest brother’s face, a blank expression on his face, devoid of doubt. Why did this kid have to inherit the family cynicism?

John took a deep breath, before restating his argument, “Branch, this is a picture of your dad, labeled with his name, in a book made by your Grandmother Vidalia. It’s even covered in moss to signify it was his book, because his name was Moss. If you look at the photo, you can see where the similarities end, just look at the hair!”

At the end of his tirade he was getting exasperated, desperately trying to hold onto his temper. Still, Branch shook his head, like he didn’t believe a word he was saying.

“Nuh-uh! Not enough proof! Hair can change with age, and this guy is wayyyyy younger than you!”

This little-, ”Branch, he’s only two years younger than me in this photo.”

The toddler raised a brow, clearly not believing him, “Reallllllyyyy?” He dragged out the later half of the word, doing a perfect impression of Floyd when he judged stage outfits. Composer help him.

“Yes, Branch. I’m eighteen, only three years older than when I left.”

That seemed to confuse him, his eyes widening, “Three years? But, you weren’t here three years ago.”

Oh shoot, had, had he been gone longer than three years? He’d been pretty sure only three years had passed, well, three Autumns, and he’d left in Summer. It had to have been only three years…right?

…Unless the seasons were different in the mountains?

…

How long had he been gone?!

Chapter Text

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a croaking sound trying to crawl out of his throat as he starts to panic. No. No, no, no! He cannot start having one of his freakouts right now, Branch needs him!

John breathed in, deeply, trying not to freak out. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay! This, is…fine! So, so what? If he’d been gone longer than he thought? So what, if he has no idea how old he is, how old Branch is, he’ll figure it out! And who cares, if three out of four of his younger brothers are missing and he has no way of knowing if they’re alive or dead?! Who needs them!

From the way his heart seems to jump out of his chest, and tears fight to prick at his eyes, that train of thought isn’t helping. Okay, just, okay, one step at a time. Step one, should be…ummm…Sugar! What should step one be? He hadn’t planned this far, what’s he gonna-

“Dad? Are you okay?”

His head immediately snaps to the side, to see Branch, his youngest brother, his baby, looking worried, for him. No, no, no, Branch shouldn’t have to worry about him, Branch shouldn’t have to worry about anything, he’s a baby.

“I’m fine sweetheart! Just, uh,” He scrambles for an excuse, before settling on the truth, well, partial truth, “Just, just trying to figure out exactly how long I’ve been gone is all.”

Branch’s face darkens slightly at the nickname, before scrunching up, his little brows furrowing, was angry, or confused? Maybe both? Clay got that way a lot until he understood.

“What’s on your mind kiddo?” Hopefully helping Branch with his problem will distract him from the lake of panic threatening to submerge him.

“But, John Dory said you had to leave before I was born.” And just like that, everything seemed to freeze.

Oh. Oh no. No. No, no, no. He, cannot be, this stupid. There is no way he forgot to tell Branch his name, there’s just no fudging way. He slowly turns to Branch, and sees the same, hopeful, wide eyed expression he’d made when he asked if he was his dad. Oh, so he is that dumb, sweet composer in the sky, how has he made it to eighteen?

Slowly, getting his knees to be eye level with Branch, he puts his hands on the younger’s shoulders. “Branch, I am John Dory.”

Branch’s little face seems to go through a million emotions at once, and then all John sees is a flash of blue and feels the trolling launch himself at him, “JOHNNY!”

Holding his baby brother, who’s still so, so tiny, John can only stare forward at the wall. He can feel Branch nuzzling into his neck, his tiny arms scrambling for purchase on his larger form, and John relaxes. If he needed any proof that at least one of his brothers didn’t hate him, this was it.

As he holds Branch, he notices color crawling down his hands. They’re still muted, and the tips of his fingers are still darker, but he’s got some color back.

He smiles, holding his Baby Blue just a little tighter, and blinks away the tears building up at the corners of his eyes. He was home, he was finally home.

———

Branch can’t believe one of them is finally home! If Johnny came home, then the others will be home soon, right? Johnny’s their leader, so they gotta follow him. They followed when he left, so they’ll follow when he comes back too! He wonders who’s coming back next! Will they come back in the same order they left? Or will it be random? He doesn’t know and for once that excites him!

Even as he tries to burrow his way into his brother’s chest, Branch can’t help but rub the soft fabric of John’s black shirt, his worn down puffer vest nowhere in sight. Was that their Brozone vest? If John’s eighteen now, he’s probably too big for it to really fit now, and Branch had been too small to have one before. Does that mean they’ll need a new band look? He’s never gotten to help design one before!

Branch can’t help the little squeaks he starts to make with how excited he is. He’s gonna have a hand in the next outfits! Maybe he and John can practice together before the others come back. He never got to practice with John alone before, the other three always hogging the eldest’s attention.

Branch is so happy planning that he doesn’t even realize his eyes are drooping.

–––

John can’t help but smile at Branch as he feels the other slowly drift off, comfortably cuddled in his arms. Unfortunately, now he’s scared to move. Branch was always a pretty sound sleeper, but unfortunately with his sensitive ears it was always super easy to wake him. It’d be less of a hassle if he wasn’t stuck in this weird, half kneeling, half laying position on the ground.

Okay, he could maybe sleep like this, probably be easier to get his legs out from under himself, or…

He could, in theory, slowly get up and try to put Branch to sleep in an actual bed. Worse comes to worse he risks waking Branch up in the process.

So…

His options are to A, sleep on the kitchen floor, or B, risk waking up his emotionally drained little brother while trying to put him to bed…

…yeah, looks like he’s sleeping in the kitchen tonight.

Oh well, probably better not to leave Branch alone, and he honestly wasn’t sure just which room Branch would be sleeping in. The Nursery off of Grandma’s room still? Or had he moved to Clay and Floyd’s room? Or jeez, had he snagged John and Spruce’s room all to himself? Despite looking through every room, he hadn’t actually checked what state they were in outside of empty. Furthermore, he has no clue just where he’s supposed to sleep, the couch maybe?

Shaking his head, John slowly moved his legs, before settling more on his back, letting his hair shape into a kind of pillow. Those were tomorrow John Dory problems, right now he just needs to focus on Branch, and making sure he feels safe.

Slowly rubbing his hand along Branch's hair, John drifts to sleep, eyes fixed on the constellations dotting the ceiling.

Chapter Text

When John wakes up to see, not a cloudy sky, the pitched fabric of a tent, or even a cave, but rather a wooden ceiling, he’s confused, opening and closing his eyes a couple times to make sure he’s really there, before settling them closed once more, exhaustion still heavily weighing on the lids.

At first, he writes it off as maybe having fallen asleep underneath someone’s house, or camping out under a deck. He's not ashamed to admit he’s done that before, but he can feel wood beneath his back, squishing his tail between himself and the floor. Had he broken into someone’s house? Again not a first, but he never usually slept in them, just waited out on the harsher nights when he couldn’t charm himself into shelter. And sure, the mountains are never really warm perse, but even early Spring is warm enough with the sun rising earlier and earlier each day, he can feel light on his face even now.

That’s when it hits him that the lights are on. Sugar!

Any tiredness that remained quickly disappears as John attempts to scramble for purchase and push himself up, when he realizes he’s only using one hand, the other, is holding something to his chest. In his confusion, he forgets to panic about the lights.

The first thing he can process is that it’s warm, had he fallen asleep with a hot water bottle? But he’d punctured his last one, having used it as a barrier between himself and a nasty pair of teeth. Maybe he was borrowing one? Or maybe the owners of the home he’d broken into had one, but if he’d collapsed on the floor out in the open, where would he have had the time?

Unless he’d crashed with Dickory again? The Yodeler troll was only a couple years older than him, and John Dory had signed up for the same odd job as him, both needing the spare pocket change. Dickory had offered John some first aid afterwards, and John had somehow ended up crashing on the floor, waking up to Dickory’s younger brother looming over him, a young boy a couple years younger than Floyd. Dickory and John Dory hadn’t exactly been friends, but they’d always allowed the other shelter and materials when they’d needed it on their respective jobs. They’d also agreed that, once John went back and earned the right to, set up a meeting between their younger brothers-

Fudge, his brothers!

John abruptly shot up, still holding Branch, because he was holding Branch, not a hot water bottle he absently remembers, to his chest and gets up from the floor.

As he slowly looks around the kitchen and living room space, his baby brother to his chest, John can’t help but get a twisted familiar feeling in his gut. He’d done this before, everytime his parents had left, he’d done this.

He’d fall asleep in the kitchen, just waiting for them to get home, only to disappointedly wake up and realize they weren’t coming back. All but one of those times, the first, he’d had an egg in his hair, the weight heavy on his skull. And in the morning he’d have a trolling clutched to his chest, whether he’d fallen asleep holding them, or they’d gotten there in the middle of the night, or even had simply woken up to them settling themself under his arm and falling asleep.

And then, one time, only two weeks after they’d brought home a brilliant bright blue egg, they came home and stayed. And for one month, they were home. And John should’ve been happy, ecstatic even, except…

They didn't know how to be parents. They stayed up late, slept in, ate nothing but sugary foods, and drank foul smelling things that made Clay gag and Grandma frown. What was worse, was they were encouraging them to join in. Clay would be staying up til sunrise studying the stars, Spruce would sleep til half past noon, and he’d even caught Floyd taking small sips from his parents’ flasks. And they kept scolding John, not for anything bad, but for ‘trying to parent their kids’, as though he hadn’t been doing that his whole life.

It was awful, John and Grandma Rosiepuff were doing everything in their power to try and keep some semblance of their normal, while working around all the bad habits Moss and Cove were introducing. They’d finally managed to get some kinda balance going on, getting his so-called parents to actually act responsible, only for them to say they were going to leave again. Talking about how they hadn’t realized just how much work went into raising a kid, and how long the waiting really was, and how they wanted to enjoy what youth they had! It hadn’t mattered to them that Rosiepuff was sickly and John Dory was only thirteen, that she was wasting the last years of her life to watch over her grandchildren and that he was throwing away his youth while they enjoyed theirs, it just didn’t matter to them.

What was worse, was they hadn’t even been planning on telling his brothers, they were just going to leave them with the egg and come back in a few years when they thought they were ready. When they’d told him that, he’d just about thrown a fit, before making them promise to stay until after his birthday, and then they’d be free to leave. Afterall, he hadn’t celebrated a birthday with them since his first. They’d relented, and a week after the dreaded discussion, they’d all gone on a picnic as a family, relaxing on the roots of the tree.

It was nowhere near Trollstice, they should have been safe. Should, being the operative word.

That day, the Timberlake brothers became orphans, and their little stage shows for pocket change had skyrocketed into sold out venues with high paychecks due to the tragedy of it all making them more appealing. That night though, as the freshly turned fourteen year old stared up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but think of his parents. Even then, they hadn’t kept their promise.

He’d fallen asleep with the egg in his hair, and Floyd against his chest, his pink rosebud hair tickling his nose. When he woke up, he saw Spruce flopping onto his side next to him, before tucking himself under John’s arm. He also noticed Clay on the other side, seemingly wrapped around John’s other arm, while Floyd remained flopped on his chest. The egg still sat heavily in his hair, at least, it had until Grandma had appeared over him, huffing, before pulling it into her own hair, and draping a blanket over the four of them.

Standing in the living room now, John couldn’t help but smile at the memory now. They’d spent quite a few nights like that, in the first few months before Brozone really took off, before John got so obsessed with being perfect, before they all left Branch alone. John slowly bounces Branch up and down, still holding the trolling to his chest, before deciding to idly walk around, rather than stand in place.

———

John Dory is using all the restraint in his body to stop himself from losing it as he gently rocks Branch back and forth. He’d decided to walk through the rooms, try and figure out just where Branch was sleeping so he could maybe lay him down and wait for him to wake up, and what he found had him floored.

He’d started with the nearest room, his and Spruce’s, the largest of the three bedrooms. It had green walls from when it was their father’s room and a simple floor plan. There was a bed in each corner, with John’s near the door, a shelf over his bed, a table by his brother’s, a dresser between the two, and various items spread throughout the room. It looks no different than it had the night of that concert, practically untouched. He makes the short distance to his bed, and grimaces at the visible dust on it. On everything, actually.

Huffing, John looks around before he spies the empty clothes basket, and promptly drags it over to the bed, before piling everything in. He pauses, looking over to the other bed, and decides to pile that in too. A lot harder to do one handed, but honestly he doesn’t know how Branch would react if he plopped him in his hair. He leaves the basket in the middle of the room, determined to go back and wash it later, and moves on to the next room, Floyd and Clay’s.

The next room is only a little smaller, but with the way they set it up it looks bigger. The walls are a soft pink color, having long been repainted from the vibrant yellow it was back when it was still a guest room. A bunk bed sits on the far corner of the room, a shelf parallel to it, and a clothing rack with drawers at the bottom. He turns to the left, expecting to see Clay’s dance pad, but there’s nothing.

Puzzled, he slowly bent down to look at the floor, making sure to keep a firm hand on Branch’s back, and swiped his free hand across. It left a visible mark in the dust.

Had he moved it before the concert? Or had Branch grabbed it? He did say he’d been practicing. But if Branch was sleeping in here, why was it so dusty? John slowly moved over to the beds, fully planning on washing the bedding on those too, when he froze.

Clay’s bed was empty. It still had the soft blue sheets all their beds did, but the pillow, the blankets, they were all gone. Swiping his hand across the mattress, it was as dusty as the floor. Quickly checking Floyd’s bed led to similar results. What the heck?

He moved onto the clothing rack next, about half of Clay’s clothes were gone, the only thing remaining being the stuff associated with his ‘Fun Boy’ persona. No Sweaters, no pants, not even the funky socks left behind. He couldn’t find anything of Floyd’s, desperately turning out the drawers onto the beds to avoid making noise, and still not finding even the slightest bit of pink clothing. He moved to the shelf next, and found similar results. About half of Clay’s stuff was gone, and all of Floyd’s stuff was, not even a stray hair band remained. What was worse, was that everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

Had they been planning on leaving? If what Branch said was reliable, they’d left not long after him, that means he’d probably watched them leave that night. He’d had a bag, of course he’d had a bag, he was in charge of foraging at night, getting fresh food, keeping track of everything, of course John Dory had had a bag prepped to go, did they have one too? But he’d only taken enough to last a night, he had to make do with what he’d impulsively grabbed. There’s no way they could’ve done this in the short time it’d taken him to leave and them to follow, no fudging way!

And Spruce! His stuff was completely untouched, all his clothes remained, he hadn’t even taken his recipe book! Had Clay and Floyd been planning to leave but Spruce hadn’t? Had Floyd known they’d break up over not being able to do the Family Harmony? Had he only been able to warn Clay? Or had Clay seen Floyd being squirrelly and decided to pack up himself?

Okay, nope, not the time to freak out, okay, what did Floyd always talk about, uh, how to calm down, how to calm down, uh-

Okay, okay, okay. Breathe, breathe, and compartmentalize. Okay. At least one of his brothers, his rosebud, Floyd, had been planning on leaving for a bit. Another brother, his little comet, Clay, had either picked up on that and decided to leave too, or had come to his own decision to leave for other reasons. And a different brother, his waverider, hadn’t planned on leaving at all, and had left on impulse.

Had things really been so bad that Floyd was ready to pack up and go? How had he not noticed? Was he really planning on coming back? Or had he just said that to make Branch feel better? And the other two, Spruce and Clay, oh gosh, what’s he gonna do?

John quickly makes his way to Grandma Rosiepuff’s room, not wanting to dwell on what if’s and maybe’s any longer. Heading into the room, it becomes clear Branch is staying in here, there’s a dark green woven blanket laying on top of Grandma’s diamond print quilt, a pillow tucked towards the middle. They were probably sharing because Branch felt alone at night and Grandma is always quick to indulge him.

Was.

She, was, quick to indulge him.

For some reason, it’s only now setting in that his grandma is dead. That he won’t ever be able to play rummy with her again, or listen to her complain about market prices, or talk about the days before the cage, tales passed down to her from her parents. He won’t ever get to hear another story about what his Dad used to be like, about how she misses Granny Vidalia, about how she misses her own parents, how she misses her friends. She’s gone.

John quickly sets Branch down on the bed, having almost forgotten he was holding him, tucking him in. He makes his way to the nursery, shutting the door behind him, and sinking to his knees. When he feels the tears start to trickle down his face, he doesn’t bother to hide them, the nursery always was the most soundproof room in the house.

Sobbing, John curls up on himself, letting himself mourn not only his Grandma, but the life his family could’ve had, had they just made better choices.

Chapter Text

Branch woke up to the sound of knocking. Confused, he blearily looks around. He’s curled up in Grandma’s bed, but there’s no Grandma. Is she the one knocking? Had she forgotten her keys? Branch tries to get up, but finds himself caught under the blanket, what the-?

Had she swaddled him? Only babies get swaddled, he’s too big for that! He already outgrew hair nesting, well, he likes to think he has, he doesn’t need to be babied! He struggles for a bit longer before getting his arms out, it’s not hard to push it off after that, but that’s when he notices the color. They’re, Grey. In a rush he pushes the rest of the blankets off to look at his feet, only to yelp in pain at the way it tugs on his foot. Right, right he’d hurt his foot after…after…after-

Johnny came home!

“Johnny!” His first reaction is to call out for his big brother, if only to make sure he’s really there.

After hearing no reply, he calls again in a more whiny voice, “John-ny!”

Still no reply, Branch is starting to get worried, had he left? He wouldn’t just leave right? He just came home! Was he mad about not being recognized? About Grandma? About their brothers? Branch felt the panic start to build, a whine leaving his throat as he started to call out for Johnny again.

“JOHN-”

“I’M HERE!” He slammed the nursery door open, panicked, “I’m right here!”

He’s picking Branch up and holding him, a calming hand running down his back and tail.

As much as he wants to tuck his face into his big brother’s neck and fall back asleep, he wants to see him! Struggling, Branch uses what strength he has to push against his brother’s chest to look at his face. He immediately feels his ears droop because his big brother’s been crying, his skin looks greyer too.

He reaches his hands up to the others face, trying to wipe them away, “Johnny! Why are you crying?”

Johnny just hummed back, before tucking Branch back into his chest, holding him tightly like a teddy. They stayed like that for a bit before he really responded.

“I’m okay Caterpillar, I’m just a little sad that I’m the only one home with you. Missed everyone else too, y’know?”

Branch lightly headbutted his brother’s chin, humming in response. He did know, he missed them all too. He missed Grandma. But he doesn’t want Johnny to be sad.

Humming again, Branch tries to remember how he’d cheer his family up before. Normally they’d just hold him for a bit and feel better, but he didn’t want Johnny to feel better, he wanted him to be happy! Maybe he should be thinking about what they did to cheer him up? It didn’t happen often, but normally they’d tickle him. But, Johnny’s a lot bigger than him, and Branch can’t even move his arms like this, how’s he gonna tickle him and cheer him up?

Frowning, Branch nuzzles into his brother’s neck and he hears him huff. Confused, he slowly repeats the action, and JD does it again, his arms shaking a little. Was, was Johnny laughing? Branch does it again, more earnestly, and John snorts, his arms shaking again. This is it! This is how he can tickle his big brother and cheer him up!

Branch starts rapidly tickling his brother with his hair, a grin breaking out across his face as Johnny’s quick breaths quickly turn into small chuckles, before growing into loud cackling.

“Heh! Alright, heheheheheh, alright, en-heheh-ough!” Branch was swiftly moved away from his brother’s chest, the elder’s arms suspending him in air, even as he fought against the laughter still making him shake.

Branch was ecstatic, he’d made his brother laugh, and even Clay had a hard time with that!

~~~~~

John breathed, trying to stop laughing. He doesn’t think he’s laughed that hard since…huh, he can’t actually remember how long it’s been.

He huffed, looking Branch in the eye. The trolling had a wide grin, and a smug face. Son of a florist, that little trouble maker knew darn well what he was doing. John playfully glared at him, causing the younger to stick his tongue out.

“Why you little-” John Dory pulled Branch into a noogie, being careful with his scalp as he started squealing with glee.

“John-ny! Hehehe! Stop! Hehe!” Branch’s giggles kept getting louder and louder, and John didn’t even realize he was laughing too.

Somehow he ended up with Branch on his back as they both laughed up a storm.

Branch tugged on his hair to get his attention, “To the bed!”

John prepared to set Branch on the bed, before getting an idea, “Oh? To the bed? Are you sure?”

Branch tugged again, as if to say, ‘duh’.

“Well, if you’re sure~.” He grinned slyly despite Branch not being able to see it, walked slowly over to the bed, before taking Branch off his back and throwing him onto it. The younger giggled up a storm as he landed, and that’s when John noticed it.

Branch was blue. He was still darker than he used to be, but he was a lot bluer than when he found him at the roots of the tree, and even bluer than when he found out who John was. Staring at the permanent dark marks on Branch’s ears and fingertips, he can’t help but stare at his own hands. A brighter color staring back, he wonders what his hair looks like.

Humming, he decides to get Branch’s attention, “Alright Caterpillar, it’s a new day! What do you say I make some pancakes?

He can’t help but smile at the delighted little squeak Branch makes in response. Today…today is gonna be a good day for Branch if he has any say in it.

~~~~~

Branch can’t keep the smile off his face as he watches Johnny hum to himself some melody or other. His big brother was making hot chocolate to go with the pancakes and fluffleberry syrup, even if he wishes they had some fazzleberry syrup, he knows Johnny loves that stuff!

Digging into his pancakes, Branch remembers what woke him up. Who had been knocking?

~~~~~

John Dory hums to himself, slowly eating his plain pancakes, and frowns. They have so little groceries, and he has no way to pay or even barter for more, and he can’t bring himself to dig through the house to try and find more. Right now they have enough food to last them maybe a week, a week and a half if he rations his portions out, but that’s a hard maybe. He has two options, attempt to go job hunting, something he has no experience in, or forage for supplies.

He knows what option he’d prefer, he also knows that only one of them requires Branch to stay home. He’s just not sure if he can safely bring Branch foraging with him at night, and he’s not sure if he has the courage to do it in broad daylight.

He’s all Branch has now, what would he do if John Dory left him all alone again?

Chapter Text

Branch, honestly, isn’t quite sure what Johnny’s doing. He’s digging through a hall closet grumbling about…something? Whereas Branch is, very reasonably, just sitting and watching him. Mostly because Johnny fussed at him when he tried to stand up and help, so he’s sitting on the floor instead.

Unless he’s Spring cleaning? Grandma doesn’t really participate in Spring cleaning, but her friend Mister Sky said it’s when you get rid of stuff no ones gonna use anymore. He said you can dump it, or give it away, or sell it. He said that’s why he sells party stuff, because his daughter wasn’t using it anymore. He wonders what happened to Dawn, Johnny got pretty sad when she stopped showing up at the market.

Except, what Johnny’s doing doesn’t really look like what mister Sky described.

Johnny’s just setting stuff aside as he digs, some to the left, some to the right, and some he just lets drop down the middle between his feet. Or, well, most of the stuff he drops, and some of the stuff he just kinda, throws. Hard. Branch is pretty sure he heard stuff break, but it doesn’t seem like Johnny cares if that stuff breaks, so…Maybe that’s the stuff he’s getting rid of? He hasn’t been home in awhile, so maybe he just wants to see everything he missed?

Branch quirks a brow as his brother digs through the left pile, yeah…he’s not buying that excuse. Maybe he’s crazy? He was in the mountains for three years, alone probably. Yeah…Branch is gonna bet on crazy, fun crazy like Floyd or Grandma, but crazy nonetheless.

~~~~~

John can feel the stare burning its way into his back. It’s such a familiar feeling that, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was Grandma Rosiepuff’s judgemental stare and not Branch’s.

He spent so much time with Floyd in that first year, and no doubt a lot with Grandma these past three or so, he’s gonna be a force of nature when he grows up. John is not looking forward to the kids' teen years.

Going back to the task at hand, he can understand why Branch is confused. He was sorting through his parents' old stuff to see what of it was actually usable, and maybe see if he could sell any of it come market day. Whenever that is, he needs a calendar.

He’d made three piles, stuff that was fine, stuff that needed fixing, and trash. A good chunk of the trash pile was just useless junk they’d brought with them for the seven week period they’d been home, and some of it was just malarkey they already had but never bothered to take with, like clothes, or common decency.

And while a solid chunk of the clothes they’d brought home with them went straight to the third pile, their older stuff was still salvageable, maybe even wearable. So far the only thing in the fine pile was Moss’s clothes, and he may hate it, but they’re the closest thing he’ll have to something that fits until he can rangle up enough money to buy more. As for what little there was of Cove’s clothing, had no fudging chance of fitting him, but it could probably fit Branch with some adjustments. So, to the second pile it went. He hopes Branch doesn’t mind sequins, or it’d be a pain to take those off one by one, and Cove seemed to LOVE sequins.

It doesn’t take him long to work through everything, they didn’t really have much here. John has no clue what they did when they would go to, wherever it is they went, but based on the clothes he’s finding, he’s not sure he wants to know.

He pulls a bag from his hair and shoves the trash into it before shoving it in the closet. He can deal with that later.

John scoops the rest of the stuff into his arms and starts to walk off to his old room before he hears the sound, “Ehem.”

He stops and turns to look at Branch, who’s still looking at him with that oh-so familiar judgemental look.

“What are you doing?” And yeah, that eyebrow raise is all Rosiepuff.

“I’m just going through some old stuff, nothing big.” John shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Then why were there three piles?”

“Well,” John floundered, trying to find the words, not his strong suit, “because they had different purposes. The pile I bagged is stuff I’ll throw out later, then I had a pile of stuff I have to fix before we can use them, and I had a pile of stuff already good to go.”

Branch cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing like Clay, “Then why’d you combine those two?”

That, that’s a good question, why had he? He knows he had a reason to combine them, but it has escaped him. He made two piles for a reason, so why didn’t he just move them one by one? There was no point in combining them, why did he do that?! C’mon think JD, there had to be a reason you did that, c’mon! He debated smacking himself in the head to try and remember, why the heck had he done that?!

“-nny! JOHNNY!” That’s when he noticed Branch calling.

“Woah! Woah, woah, woah! What’s wrong?” He dropped the pile and got down on his knees, becoming level with his brother’s watering eyes.

The trolling wiped at them, his fur darkening a bit, “You, you weren’t answering me! I kept calling your name when you didn’t answer, you just stared at me, but it was like you couldn’t see me! Your eyes looked scary!”

Ah shoot, he must’ve zoned out while trying to remember. He pulled Branch to his chest, trying to comfort him with reassurances and rubbing his back. He needed to get better about not making Branch deal with so many big emotions, trollings shouldn’t have to deal with this much stress.

As Branch seemingly tried to bury himself in his collar, John could feel his brother’s tail attempting to wrap itself around his wrist, but not being able to reach. John smiled into the other’s hair, his butterfly always did have such a stubby little tale. It reminded him of photos of their grandpa Oz. They’d never actually met the man, but when their mother had just enough of her ‘happy juice’, she’d show them pictures of him, talking about how he’d been kicked out by the king for ‘not being the right kinda music’ and such.

Humming at the memories, he noticed Branch’s tail wasn’t moving anymore, and he was no longer attempting to suffocate in an effort to be closer, he decided it was time to lay Branch down for a nap.

Slowly getting off his knees, he moved to the living room to lay Branch down on the couch. He’d like to put him in his hair, but for one, he doesn’t want Branch to wake up confused, and two, he doesn’t actually have a clue of what’s inside it or even when he properly washed it last. Tucking Branch in, he slowly walks back to the hallway to try and remember why he’d combined the piles.

There had to be a reason. Staring at the lump on the floor, he just couldn’t understand why he did that. He’d need to altar at least half the stuff he’d found that was still salvageable, so why would he pile them together? Sure, he needed to scrape together supplies to fix the stuff, and find out what fits and what doesn’t, and he still needed to wash-

“LAUNDRY!” He immediately slapped a hand over his mouth before glancing back into the living room at Branch.

He stirred a bit, but didn’t wake up, thank the composer!

He sighed in relief before facepalming. He’d been taking the now combined piles to the dirty laundry basket! How had he forgotten that?!

Groaning, he picked up the stack and started walking to the bedroom. He should be able to at least get them strung up before Branch wakes up, and he knows he has some string in his hair somewhere. Maybe he can even go through his hair while the stuff dries.

~~~~~

Branch once again, wakes up tucked in. At least he didn’t swaddle him this time, but it still takes longer than he’d like to get up. The clock hands are different then they were earlier, the small hand on the three now and the big hand on the two. He doesn’t know what that means, but the small hand was on the ten earlier. All he can gather is that he took a nap.

Branch pouts, he’d hoped with Johnny back that he wouldn’t have to take naps anymore. He wanted to prove he was a big boy and not a baby anymore.

Huffing, Branch tried to look around for JD when the door opened.

“Okay, let’s hope these fi-, Oh hey Butterfly!” His brother dropped what he was holding to pick Branch up.

Looking at him, something was different. His colors, sure, but something else had changed. Wiggling back to get a better look at him, Branch noticed his hair looked, neater. Like he’d actually brushed it, shinier too. Looking down at his face, he didn’t see the dirt spots, Johnny actually looked more his age now.

At this point, Johnny seemed to notice what Branch was doing. He set him back down on the couch before stepping back to slowly spin in a circle with his arms out. He was wearing a dark shirt that cut off at the elbows, and had mismatched buttons down the front. He had on loose flowy pants that stopped at the knee, and looked like a color Clay would wear.

It reminded him of his birthday when they’d go hunting for sprigs of grass in the little snow they’d get through the branches. First with his brothers and later with his Grandma.

Caught up in surprise and curiosity, he’d failed to notice where John came in from. When he does, he feels his throat tighten around the breath, constricting it, as he stares at the sight of the open door.

The open door, that Johnny had just come through.

The open door he’d come through with a basket of clothes.

Johnny had, had gone to do laundry…John had gone outside…John had gone…

John had gone…

He can’t get the air in and out fast enough, he’s choking, he can’t see his brother anymore, he can’t see anything!

John was GONE!

He has to move, he has to get his brother, he has to go, he has to find him!

He needs to find-!

“-ANCH!”

He can barely breathe, but the sound of his big brother’s voice seemed to cut through the panic. Because it meant Johnny hadn’t left, that he hadn’t been left all alone, that his big brother was safe. He can feel his throat loosen, and his breath comes just the tiniest bit easier.

“Branch, can you hear me?” He tries to respond, but can only get out a broken sound.

“Hey, hey, shh, don’t try to talk, okay? Just, just, uh, shake your head, okay?” Branch nodded in response.

“Alright Butterfly, you’ve gotta breathe a little slower, or you’re gonna end up taking another nap. Just uh, try and follow my breathing, okay?” Branch nodded again, trying to follow along with him.

His brother started breathing in an exaggerated way, in and out. Branch could feel himself relaxing as Johnny seemed to make each one sillier and sillier, until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t even tell when his vision returned.

Of course when he did, he immediately threw himself at his older brother, “Johnny!”

“Woah! Glad to see you back to normal kiddo!” Branch just hummed, forcing his way under his brother’s chin.

He hopes Johnny never leaves again, and if he does he better take Branch with him!

~~~~~

Holding his brother to his chest, John comes to a decision.

If that’s how Branch reacts to John just stepping outside to do laundry in the middle of the day, then there is no way he’ll be okay with him leaving to go foraging alone at night.

Looks like he’s taking Branch with.

Chapter Text

John Dory has no idea what he should bring with foraging. If he was just going by himself, he knows exactly what he can bring and how easily he can take it in and out of his hair. However, with Branch along, he has no fudging clue what he can safely bring with a trolling in his hair.

The sun’s gonna go down soon, and so far the only thing he’s done is make two piles of what is and isn’t baby-proof. Well, technically he has four piles, because he has a pile of stuff he won’t need to bring, and a pile of stuff he can’t decide where to put…Not important!

He needs to be smart about this, and factor in environment, storage, bounty, and Branch. Since he’s bringing Branch, he’ll have to bring rope and a bag to carry what he grabs. And if he’s using rope he’ll have to figure out just how much he needs, and how far he’s scaling down for supplies.

And since he’ll have to propel down and climb up, he’ll need at least one hand on the rope at all times. Which means whatever bag he uses will have to be within easy reach on the smaller side so it doesn’t get in the way. So he’ll have to keep an eye on the weight and size of everything he grabs.

…And of course he hasn’t foraged at the tree in years so he has no idea what’s where anymore and what’s actually free game or claimed.

John groans into his hands, how is he gonna do this, much less with Branch in his hair. Sighing, he looks down at the baby-proof pile to see only a few items. The party light, a map, a compass, and a poisonous plant guide for Yodeler territory that he’d stolen from a tourist shop. It was more something for Branch to look at than anything else. Speaking off, he should probably see how comfortably Branch can sit in his hair with this small of a pile before he goes any further, the trollings only got a few more years before he’ll be officially considered too old to nest.

…Actually he should probably check to see if Branch even wants to come with first, more importantly he should check and see if Branch is comfortable going in his hair. Because if he isn’t, that could lead to some problems down the line. Better to ask him now than to try and deal with it later.

John quickly adjusted the piles just so, before going to the nursery room to try and figure out how to bring it up to Branch. Not only was it the most soundproof room in the house, it was also the safest from Bergen.

“Hey Bran- Oh.” He honestly hadn’t expected Branch to have fallen asleep again, but he supposed it made sense with how late it was. He’d almost forgotten how late the sun set this time of year, which he had confirmed was summer. Oh shoot, that means he missed Branch’s last birthday. Eh, he’d deal with that after putting Branch to bed.

The trolling was laying on his stomach, his face practically smushed into the floor. Paper and crayons strewn out before him, some blank and some with drawings. One of which was stuck beneath his head and looked like it had a growing wet spot from Branch’s drool.

Yeah…he should probably pick him up before the kid drowns in his own saliva.

Huffing, John tried to figure out how to move Branch without waking him. He could try and get his arms under and lift him from behind? Or, maybe he could just pick him up like he’s just a heavy stick? Should he roll him over first? Or what if he just…hmm.

John slowly got down on the floor to the side of Branch, quietly lying on his stomach, before reaching his hand over. Being careful to be gentle, he slowly slid his hand under Branch’s neck, and slid it up under his chin to lift his head up.

“There, that’s better.” He whispered, thinking aloud.

And then Branch suddenly moved and it took every bone in his body not to smack himself. Thankfully he just turned his head a bit, probably trying to get more comfortable. He was now facing John, his cheek resting on his palm.

John breathed a sigh of relief, before resting his own head on his shoulder. He’ll just keep watch over Branch while he sleeps, and wait for him to wake up. Yeah…

~~~~~

Alright, that’s it. He’s tried visiting three times now, Rosiepuff should’ve opened the door at least one of those times. She didn’t show up to card night either.

He can understand her hesitancy with the Bergen sighting in the area, but he’d hope she could at least make it to the door. Or maybe Branch could, it’s been a bit since he’s seen the little tyke, always so cheerful and practicing his singing or dancing. Not responding to the door is so unlike either of them.

Perhaps he’s just come too early?

Looking at the rising sun, the sky a lovely mix of pink, orange, and blue, he shakes his head. No, those two rose with the sun, they’d already be up by now.

Humming, Peppy knocks again. Maybe they just hadn’t heard him.

That’s when he notices the clothesline. It’s different…

Looking between the door and the line, he frowns, before stepping towards the rope. Getting a closer look, it looks like the rope was changed. No, not changed, but…
Fixed.

The rope is frayed on either side, and in the middle, a piece of scarlet ribbon is tied to the two ends.

Red…The warning color for a bergen sighting…Of a fresh kill…

NO!

Peppy frantically rushes back to the door, desperately trying to get the right key into the lock. Years. Years he’s walked past that rope and he didn’t notice it changed?! Heck, he didn't even notice it was still up past the usual laundry day! Rosiepuff, she can’t have lost Branch to those darn things, can she? She already lost her wife, her son, and four grandchildren that ran off to Composer knows where, she can’t lose him too! He doesn’t think her heart could bear it!

He finally gets the door open and immediately starts calling for them, for anyone.

“Rosiepuff! Branch! It’s me, Peppy! Hello?! IS ANYONE THERE?!”

He runs himself ragged looking around, until he comes to Rosie’s bedroom.

The Nursery! It was the most soundproof room in the house! Maybe they hid in there? Maybe someone else died and they just saw it? Peppy hates himself the moment he thinks it, but he really hopes it’s true.

Rushing into the room, he comes face to face with someone he thought long dead, a baffled look on his face.

“Your Majesty?!”

“...Moss?”

Chapter Text

John wakes up to the sound of shouting and doors opening. What the heck? Who was there? How’d they get in? He’d locked the door and none of the windows opened!

…He’d locked the door, right?

He’d have to have locked the door, he always locked the door!

Why wouldn’t he lock the door, he’d just come in from-

…Laundry. The line, he used red to fix it, sugar! Was someone coming to take Branch? Or were they going to take ownership of the pod? Did people do that now? He knows trolls have tried to take pods from families when the head of house was newly dead, but the King always put a stop to it. Sugar, was King Peppy even still alive?

The yelling gets closer and he decides to push the thought away. He can’t really hear what they’re saying, but it can’t be good. Panicking, John swiftly picks up Branch and moves him to his hair. They can take his baby brother and his home over his dead body!

If he can make it to the bed, he can make it to his machete. He hears the footsteps coming closer, now or never.

He bursts through the door and freezes, locking eyes with the intruder.

“Your Majesty?!”

“...Moss?”

For Lyricist’s sake, why does everyone think he’s Moss?!

“Wh-NO! It’s me, John, John Dory!”

The King looks floundered, opening and closing his mouth a few times before responding, “Wh-what?”

John doesn’t have a second to respond before he says, “You’re alive? More importantly, you came back? Why?!”

“Bec-” “You were out!”

He’s cut off before he can get a word in, he pouts and just waits for the King to finish.

“You managed to do what every troll has dreamed of! And at fifteen! No one’s even sure how you managed that, let alone how multiple of you did! Why on earth would you come back after managing the darn near impossible?!”

He pauses, seemingly waiting for an answer.

John raises an eyebrow to say, ‘Are you done?’

The King huffs a laugh and raises his hands in a placating gesture.

“Because,” He pauses in case he’s cut off, Peppy gives him a pointed look, “I was going Grey with worry for my family. I came back a few nights ago to find the house empty and the clothesline torn. Wasn’t hard to figure out what happened.”

He gets a somber look on his face, before lowering his crown to his chest, “I see. So what I feared has come to pass.”

John looks away, no longer being able to bear the man’s intense gaze. He swallows a lump in his throat, and ignores the stinging in his eyes.

“So where is she?” What?

The King continued on as though his sentence wasn’t nonsensical, “I’d hate for such a dear friend to be in mourning alone. I’ll make sure we give the boy a proper funeral, it’s what she would’ve wanted, same as we gave your parents, and almost gave you and your brothers, though we heeded at her request.”

What the fudge?

“Is she in the nursery there? It always was quite soundproof, almost to the levels of your boys’ studio, although that has been repurposed now.”

“Peppy, what in the Composer loving fudge are you talking about?! She who? Who are you having a funeral for?! Because it’s not gonna be my little brother because he’s not fudging dead!”

The King seemed to pause, confusion filling his face, “What? B-but the clothesline, the quiet, the ribbon! You-, you-, what?”

Why is he confused, John’s confused! Why would he think Branch’s dead? Who is he talking about comforting? And who would have the power to-! And just like that it clicks.

Oh…oh.

Of course he’d think Branch had been nabbed, he had no way of knowing John was here, and Branch was way too small to have put up the warning. He was planning to comfort his old friend in her time of mourning.

Sugar. How’s he gonna tell him?

John can barely look at the King now. The man looks so confused and lost, he had so few friends left, how’s he gonna take losing another one? One he’d thought was safe?

John sighs, before parting his hair to reveal Branch, safe and sound in his hair.

Peppy looks stricken, his eyes keep darting back and forth between John and the sleeping trolling. There’s pain in his eyes as he desperately mouths the word, ‘How’, unable to get the word out.

John lets go of the hair and gently puts a hand on his shoulder, “From what he’s told me, a ber-one of them, reached for Branch, and Grandma pushed him out of the way. He ended up falling to the base of the tree as she was grabbed. I’m sorry Peppy, she’s gone.”

The King had begun to shake the moment John tried to say Bergen, no doubt already guessing what had happened. Tears were gathering in his eyes as he desperately tried to force a smile on his face. Still desperately trying to keep the image of the, ‘Ever happy, can-do, do-no-wrong, Pep in his step King Peppy!’, his lips quivering and his breath hitching.

John carefully pulls the older man into a hug. He knows how hard it is to lose people, but he’s gotten pretty good at dealing with negative emotions over the past three years, at least better than just bottling them up like he did the first fifteen. Most Pop trolls just don’t know how to without going at least a little Grey.

He hopes he can help change that.

Chapter Text

Branch dreamed of many things when he sleeps. He dreams of his parents, and what they were like. He dreams of family he never met, like Nona Vidalia, or Grandpa Oz and Pop-Pop Silk Moth. Other times he dreams of his brothers and their friends, he dreams of the friends he might have in the future. Mostly he dreams of performing, of being on stage with his brothers in the crowd. But lately, he’s been dreaming of seeing the world, of getting away from the monsters, of a better place.

When Branch wakes up, he’s not sure where he is. Everything is soft, and warm. It feels like he’s being swaddled all over, it’s…nice. Kinda familiar actually. It reminds him of the months before his brothers started fighting, before he was a band member.

It almost feels like he’s hiding in someone’s hair…

…

Actually, it feels a lot like he’s hiding in someone’s hair…

…

NO! No, no, no, no! He’s too big for hair hiding!

Huffing, Branch forces his arms out and tries to push his way out of the hair. It’s fighting him every step, wrapping around his wrists. Grunting, Branch digs his good foot into his brother’s scalp, trying to get his attention.

The only warning he gets is the first sight of light as two hands part the confines of his hair prison.

~~~~~

John huffs, pausing his conversation with Peppy. Looks like Branch is awake.

“-ere are many different positions you could take, but in my opinion a young man of your build would be best fit for-”

He puts a hand up to stop the King as he discusses potential positions John can take and the different ways the tree has changed in his absence. The older man only raises a brow as John gestures to his hair before parting the murky teal cocoon for Branch to get out.

He doesn’t try to lift him out, Branch always prefered to leave on his own. Sure enough, the trolling crawls out on his own before using John as a ladder down, being careful of his ankle. He can’t help but smile as Branch scrambles down, something’s never change, he’s still a little gremlin.

Branch levels him with a glare from his position in John’s lap, seemingly unhappy with the egg treatment. He shrugs, before nodding his head at their guest.

King Peppy looks seconds away from collapsing into giggles as Branch whips his head around, a frown on his face despite his colors not dimming. John can feel giggles bubbling up his own throat at Branch’s face drastically switching from annoyance to embarrassment.

He watches Branch flush before sliding to the floor, pout, then seemingly come to a decision and butt scooting away. John can only huff at his brother’s actions, before turning back to the no longer giggling King.

Peppy composed himself, a broad grin on his face, “And here I thought Branch was the good one of you lot, although I suppose I thought the same of Floyd until he hissed at me over a cup. Same with Spruce before he was caught with all those love letters, or you John Dory before that incident with your ex girlfriend.”

He can feel his face flush at the reminder of Crystal Clearwater, before deciding to change the topic, “What about Clay? What was his defining moment?”

Peppy’s eyes darken for a moment before lighting up again, “There wasn’t one, I knew he was trouble the moment I met him. The day he befriended Viva I knew would be the day I started getting grey hairs. Thick as thieves those two.”

John feels himself nodding at the sentiment, Viva may have been their number one fan, but she was Clay’s best friend, and like a sister to all of them. When they found out Viva wasn’t eligible for the throne, it’d been a combination of righteous fury, and desperate attempts to cheer up the poor princess.

Clay had been the only one to get through to her, whereas John had marched up to Peppy to try and give him a piece of his mind, only to find the King in a similar state to his daughter. His wife Loca was gone too.

He never did find out why she’d left, only that it had something to do with the former King Pappy.

“Now, as I was saying,” lost in his thoughts, John had forgotten they’d been talking still, “There are plenty of positions you could take up to help with the new escape effort, but with your build you’d be best suited as a digger for the tunnels. And with a village elder gone, maybe someone coming back to the tree could be the motivation people need.”

He looks so hopeful, but John can’t help but feel his stomach turn at the idea.

“I’ll gladly help out with the escape effort, anything to give everyone in the tree the chance to see the world and experience freedom,” he can feel himself hesitating, not sure how to say the next part.

Peppy unfortunately picks up on it, his face making an expression John had often wished to see on his parents’ faces, and one he’d seen on his own more times than he can count. That probing look filled with compassion and understanding. He gestures with his hands, as if sensing the ‘but’ coming.

“But, I…” John breaks his gaze and looks down in shame, “…I don’t really want to be, at the center of attention…”

As much as it pains and shocks himself, he got used to being alone with minimal interaction. It goes against his nature as a Pop troll, heck, as a troll. But if he’s being honest, he’d rather lose his voice forever than go back into the spotlight, in any way.

~~~~~

“…I don’t really want to be, at the center of attention…”

Peppy swears his brain stops working with that one sentence. John Dory, a Pop Troll, not wanting to be the center of attention?! It’s unheard of! Every Pop Troll wants the spotlight! It’s in their nature! The love of performance! The synchronous energy with your fellow Trolls as you share the spotlight and jive in unison along to the music produced by everyone around you! And John was a performer! Anyone can sing and dance, but not everyone can give a performance so good it makes someone cry! It just doesn’t make sense!

Peppy turns to say as much to the young man, when he stops, and actually looks at him.

John Dory looks like he’s about to cry, his shoulders are hunched up around his ears, his hair is drooping, and his colors are dimmed. He knows the boy had said he was going grey with worry, but he hadn’t thought it was literal.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Peppy turns John to look at him. He lifts the boy’s chin up and forces him to meet his eyes.

“It’s alright son, we’ll figure something out.”

He expects a lot of things to happen, but it’s not for John’s color to lighten up a moment before he feels the impact of the young man’s face connecting with his shoulder.

Peppy carefully brings his arms up to hold his back as he slowly begins to shake. It isn’t until he begins to feel a wet patch growing that he even realizes John’s crying.

Now, he hasn’t seen many Trolls cry, however he’s probably experienced more than most. Yet, in all the times he’s heard a troll cry, he’s never had one cry as silently as John Dory is. It’s concerning to say the least.

Peppy just holds the boy a little tighter, and tries to return the favor of being a shoulder to cry on.

He can’t help but wonder though…If all it took to set him off like this was heeding a simple request, what must his time in those mountains been like?

Chapter Text

John can’t help but lean into the older man even after he’s stopped crying. It’d been so long since he’d been comforted by someone like this, usually he was the one doing the comforting.

He knows Grandma had tried when he was younger, but she hadn’t had the time after more and more trollings had shown up, each one seeming to need more coddling than the last. By the time they were big enough to not need her constant supervision, John Dory was old enough to handle his own problems, or at least hide and bottle up the ones he couldn’t.

And Composer knows he never received any from his parents beyond the bare minimum before they left the first time. Heck, the last time he’d seen them he’d had to beg them to stay a week longer just so he could spend his birthday with them, and they’d died on it.

So yeah, he wasn’t used to asking people for things. Unless telling someone to do something counts, in that case he did that quite a lot the year following their death.

But that wasn’t the only reason he stayed where he was, he felt emotionally drained from not only the anxiety of possibly having to go back on a stage, but from the tears of relief he’d ended up crying when Peppy said he wouldn’t have to. He was exhausted! Is this what Branch had been feeling these last few days? Because if so, John really needed to apologize. Actually…where is Branch?

John squeezed Peppy’s back one more time before letting go and pushing himself up, he waves off the King’s questioning look and makes a heart sign with his hands before pointing in the direction Branch walked off.

He nodded before settling back against the couch, giving a thumbs up, neither feeling a need to break the silence. Peppy picks up his mug, the orange one Branch had been so curious about, and takes a sip of his water. He’d tried to offer the King some of the fluffleberry juice since they had an abundance of it and not much else to drink, but he adamantly reassured John that water was just fine.

JD turned around and lightly shook his head at the King’s behavior. Honestly, how long would it take that man to admit he hated the stuff? He knows not every troll likes fluffleberries, er, well, most trolls actually. But it’s not his family's fault they’d inherited the good fluffleberry gene and everyone else hadn’t. Whatever, more for them.

He stalked off towards the bedrooms, trying to figure out which one Branch had scooted himself to. John had an awful habit of leaving doors open, inside places at least. He’d always been pretty good at closing anything that led outside, and he’s positive he left those doors open so he’d remember to put the bedding back.

…Or, had it been so he’d wash the bedding in the first place? Did he need to put it back since he and Branch were probably gonna share Grandma’s bed? Didn’t they need to wash that stuff too?

Without realizing it, John had begun pacing back and forth on the left side of the hallway. It was a habit he’d done so often growing up that he’d worn a slight groove into the flooring. It isn’t until he notices Branch staring at him that he realizes what he’s doing and stops…and immediately trips and slams his face into the wall.

“Ow, Sugar-Snap Peas!” He brings a hand up to his face and tries to take a step back, only to slip again, and fall flat on his back…onto his tail.

The noise that leaves him upon impact is a sound he’d like to take to his grave, and potentially Peppy’s grave, because Branch is far too young to remember this in any vivid detail…he hopes.

He ends up on his back, leaning slightly on his left arm, face to face with Branch.

Branch gives him a bright smile, a look of pure joy on his face, “Hi Johnny!”

And he feels his heart squeeze, “Hi Butterfly…”

He gives a small smile before gently laying on his back, and staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t remember what he’d been pacing about.

He can hear Peppy walking around, probably grabbing an ice pack, he’s good like that, and potentially the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Looking at the ceiling, John can see the dried frosting, cake, thing, from the first time he’d tried to bake anything. They still had no idea why it’d only blown up after it was out of the oven and plated. They’d attempted to recreate the experiment once, taking it outside instead of trying to bring it to Grandma’s room to show her. Unfortunately it just turned into an oozing mess that time around, spilling out of the pan and overflowing it, somehow gaining more mass as it sat. After that he’d been banned from baking, or from trying new recipes without supervision.

Harsh, but fair.

Still staring up at the ceiling, he can’t help but wonder, do those rules still count if those people aren’t here? More importantly, would Branch want to try and recreate the chaos cake with him?

He could hear Branch trying to stifle his giggles, no doubt trying to follow Grandma’s rule about not laughing when people got hurt. It hadn’t been an easy one to enforce with Clay always insisting that it was okay to laugh if they were pretending.

Something must’ve piqued Branch’s interest though, because the muffled aborted giggles stopped, in favor of him humming to himself.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah sweetheart?” John didn’t turn his head to the boy, still trying to figure out just what color the frosting-cake was supposed to be

“What’s a Sugar-Snap?”

That got John’s attention, he got up on his elbows and turned to face the bluer sibling, “You don’t know what a Sugar-Snap Pea is?”

The trolling had a confused look on his face, as though he’d never heard of the thing, even in passing. Look, John was just using it as a substitute for Sugar, because he didn’t want Branch to have a potty mouth like Starling had. But Branch not knowing one of the most basic veggies on the troll tree? That was concerning.

Before he could respond, Peppy rounded the corner with an ice pack and a couple of numbing tablets. John pushed himself into a sitting position and quickly took them, not wanting Branch to try and grab one.

Peppy huffed, no doubt used to John’s antics. It was a tactic he’d used on Grandma too, offer medicine within reach of little hands, and you can bet someone will rush to take it.

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Branch.

“So, lemme get this straight. You don’t know colors, and you’ve never heard of a Sugar-Snap Pea is? What else do we need to teach you kiddo?”

Once again, he got that oh so infamous Timberlake look of infodumping on his face. Sighing, John shuffled around to get comfortable, and heard Peppy move to lean against the wall.

“Well-”

— — —

After Branch finishes listing what he knows and things he doesn’t, the latter being a much longer list, John contemplates slamming his head against a wall. He can’t believe just how much Branch doesn’t know. Did Grandma never take him outside? He loved the woman, may she rest in peace as one of the Eternal Ensemble, but it’s like he hasn’t learned anything since they left!

He thanks Branch for telling him and watches as he once again wanders off to somewhere in the house, probably to go color, hopefully in a book and not on the walls. John turns to look at Peppy in disbelief, only to find the older man guiltily avoiding him.

“Peppy…?”

The King continues looking to the side, ignoring him.

Well. Hmm. He’s not sure what he did, but it’s already after midday, and he and Branch haven’t eaten anything yet.

John Dory slowly pushes himself up from the ground. It’s not like Peppy can avoid talking to him forever, even if he can, John’s never minded the silent treatment. Some trolls think it’s the most horrible thing possible, but after spending up to three years in the mountains with little to no contact save for friendly strangers and not so friendly bounty hunters and people of that sort, he got pretty good at ignoring the silence.

Standing up, he starts to try and pick something to make from the ingredients they have left. Hmmm…they have some bread, french toast? Ehh, not a good lunch item. There aren’t enough veggies for a salad…Soup? No, not enough for that either. Maybe some jello? Hm, that could pass for a meal if it was just him, but Branch needs more sustenance, Peppy’s probably hungry by now too. He’ll have to ask him if he’s staying for lunch.

Jello and sandwiches? If he cuts the loaf thinly enough, he should be fine? Ugh, he’ll just make sandwiches for them and half of one for himself. But what flavour of jello? He could be mean and make it fluffleberry…or he could just use a flavour Peppy likes to try and butter him up so he’ll start talking? Or he could just use the sparkly melon jello packets Grandma always hid in the medicine cabinet to bribe Spruce with. Yeah…he’ll do that. Sparkly melon jello and cheery glo-mato grilled cheese sandwiches sounds like a decent meal plan.

Humming to himself, he starts to gather ingredients. Let’s hope he doesn’t burn anything.

~~~~~

Peppy can’t help but feel the guilt weigh on him. How could he tell John Dory that he’d stopped coming round to help teach Branch? It’d been bad enough when they had to stop schooling in order to not risk anymore dead trollings and that had been years before Branch had been born. But now, he can’t even go around giving personal lessons because he’s too worried about his daughter.

The day Brozone broke up, Viva had moved out to a pod of her own. When he found people gathering outside, he had hoped she was just starting her own group. In reality, she had been recruiting performers, but not for a band.

He’s seen nigh hair or hide from her in the past few months, too busy training her…distraction team with-

Oh, no! Don’t think about that! If he starts he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself from bursting. And he especially can’t say anything about the other part, it’d break the boys’ hearts. Or, it’d break Branch’s heart, it might just send Johnny Boy into a fury.

But now that he’s thinking about it he can’t stop. Oh! This is bad…Hopefully John will say something soon or else he’ll pop like one of Sky’s confetti balloons!

He’s so caught up in not talking about it, that he doesn’t even notice John Dory left the kitchen until he comes around the corner with some packets.

“Hey Peppy are you staying fo-”

“Viva created a suicide squad!”

And just like that, the boy’s good mood dropped, as did his color.

“...What?”

Hurriedly he began to explain before the younger became any Greyer, “I mentioned we’ve begun actually digging the planned tunnels, what with the new egg forming,” He quickly gestured to his hair, not daring to part it while it’s still so early in the forming stage, “And it’s a job I think, you’ll be rather good at with your build, yes, heh…”

He trailed off, desperately hoping John would make some kind of comment and interrupt him, but the young man just kept staring at him blankly so he continued, “Well, Viva, already being a great big sister and oh so protective, took it upon herself to…” Oh sweet Composer he doesn’t want to say this but in for a penny, in for a pound, “To form a distraction group that will stay behind and snag the attention of the Bergens to keep them away from the fleeing Trolls. All volunteers.”

Swallowing hard, he pauses again, but still nothing. Just blank staring.

“They, um, prefer to be nameless, and frankly no one wants to talk about those that they know are participating. I’m telling you because you have a right to know, especially considering…”

That got John’s attention, “What?”

He misses Pippi, she was always better at this stuff, she was raised to rule, not him. He misses Loca too, she was so good with the negative emotions, much better than Pop Trolls who just ignore them.

…

“Considering Clay’s a member too.”

Chapter Text

Staring down at John as he helps dig the tunnels, Peppy can’t help but be reminded of Rosiepuff. How she would channel her negative emotions into something productive, rather than wallow or bury them. And while he’d prefer the boy use a shovel, he’s actually making more progress with his bare hands than those using tools. He can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with his mixed heritage, but that’s a thought for another time.

Truth be told, the way John Dory had reacted to the news had made him think he was going to murder Clay. The way the boy had seemed to vibrate with anger before pulling a rather large knife out of his hair and stepping outside to do…something? He’s still unclear what John had done with it but he’d returned unharmed and a little less Grey so it’s probably fine.

Watching him work and make minimal small talk with other diggers is honestly making it cement just how much the boy has changed over just three years. He’d insisted on going by ‘Timber’ in order to avoid people looking at him too closely, but honestly Peppy didn’t think it was necessary. While he had mistaken the young man for Moss, that’s mostly been because he was in the Timberlake home. If he’d come across him in the tree he would have never made the connection that he was the same John Dory from Brozone, he would have just assumed he had a weird name and moved on.

He looks nothing like his younger self, and having gone Grey isn’t even half the reason why. He’s taller for one, and he’s filled out more, his torso broadened. Another thing is his hair, gone is the regulation generic Pop Troll hair shape, now it’s spiky and to a degree even shorter than most in the tree would keep it. The way he carries himself is another thing, he’s more jumpy and less social, but that’s expected from someone who left and came back. The most notable thing is his skin, and by that Peppy means the tattoos.

He has a subtle Brozone tattoo on his left shoulder, though he’s not sure John knows that, that’s just the outline of a star with five differently colored points and the word perfect in the center. There’s another on his left leg that’s apparently not finished, but so far there are just two different fish seemingly swimming alongside each other. He’s not sure what kind they are, he’s never been very good at identifying animals. He’s pretty sure he saw part of one along John’s lower back when he bent down and his shirt rode up, but he didn’t get a good look at it. The only thing he is sure of is that it’s rather brightly colored. He wonders if there’s more.

~~~~~

It took Branch three days to calm down whenever John went near the door, much less actually step outside. It took five more for him to be comfortable with John walking away any distance without him. During that time, Sky Toronto had shown up with expired party products for Branch. Needless to say, he’d been surprised to see John.

— — —

“Hey kid I’ve got- Who the heck are you?!”

John turned around to see Mister Sky Toronto standing with a bag in one hand and in the other a lit sparkler-

“Oh sugar!” John ducked as the flaming item was thrown at his head, curling around Branch.

He looked up to find Sky there with a piñata bat pointed directly at his face.

“You’re gonna give me the kid, and then you’re gonna tell me exactly who the fudge you are, and then you’re gonna leave with all of your hair intact. How’s that sound?”

And honestly John’s not sure what happened next, but next thing he knows he’s got the guy pinned to the side of the pod with the smooth side of the machete on his neck. He can feel Branch still clinging to his leg, he’s shaking…

Slowly, not taking his eyes off of Sky, he lowers the machete before picking Branch up, and gently rubbing circles into his back. Branch clings to his shirt, his tail trapping his fingers.

He can see the moment it clicks who he is, “...John Dory?”

“Surprise…” He makes a jazz hand with the arm not occupied by a fussy trolling.

Sky runs a hand through his hair, baffled look on his face, “Where the heck have you been? More importantly, where did you learn to do that?!”

Sighing, John moves to go inside, he can already tell this is gonna be a long conversation.

— — —

Honestly, it hadn’t been nearly as long a conversation as he was expecting. Toronto had taken the explanation fairly easily, and had immediately offered to babysat Branch while he worked. Of course, Peppy had offered too, which of course had spiralled into the two bickering over it, until John had forced a schedule on the two that they’d both agreed would work.

Todays the first day, the first day of work, and the first day he hasn’t spent with Branch since he came back. It’s honestly pretty nerve-wracking, and he thought Branch had separation anxiety, but at least it works with his character. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched, even when he knows he isn’t.

Well…Okay that’s not exactly true. He knows there are people all over, most of whom he’s seen staring at him curiously in the past three hours at one point or another. A quick look around and a tensing of shoulders usually gets them to stop though, no one wanting to scare off the Troll that made it outside and came back for his kid.

Yeah, that’s the story they’d gone with. Originally he was going to be truthful and say he came back for his kid brother, but he kinda messed up. He hadn’t even thought about it at the time, but he was shopping for work clothes with Peppy and someone had asked him why his shorts were covered in doodles, and he’d offhandedly said that he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to what Caterpillar was coloring on. When they’d asked who that was, he’d just panicked and said his kid.

Really though, it’s not too hard of a story to believe. Grandma never really left the pod with Branch, moreso just inviting people over, and those she had were either in the know about the plan, or…Well, they’d covered their bases. Mr. Toronto had been pretty helpful with that. Even loudly calling him ‘Timber’ and welcoming him to the neighborhood when he’d come to watch Branch, reassuring him he’d be safe in his care.

He’s still pretty sure Branch resents the fact that his codename is Caterpillar, seeing as he’d wanted it to be ‘Sparkle’. The trolling had retaliated by deciding to call him by the name of every fish he could think of, a tactic Clay used to employ, which meant Branch knew quite a lot. He’s yet to hear Branch repeat one yet, and honestly he’s curious to see how many he can list before he either runs out or forgets why he’s doing it. And if anyone asks why he can always just gesture to the tattoos on his leg and say he’s suggesting the next fish he uses.

Humming to himself, John tries to come up with an idea for a new tattoo, he’s got a long shift ahead of him.

~~~~~

Staring out the telescope, he can’t help but be curious, who’s the new guy?

Looking around, he waves over Sequin, she and her sister know everything about anything.

She comes over with a raised eyebrow, “Spying on the diggers again are we? What does mister nosy need to know now?”

He rolls his eyes before gesturing to her to look, “Oh hush, do you know that guy? The one with the tattoos?”

She sticks her tongue out at him before taking his place, “Mmm, looks like the new D.I.L.F. my sister mentioned.” She makes an appreciative noise before turning back to face him, "What about him?”

He fake gags before answering, “Ew. What do you know about him?”

She holds out her hand, making grabby gestures, he huffs and hands over the holographic pen, not like he needs it. She hums, looking it over, before nodding and tucking it in her hair.

“So for one, like I said, he’s a new Daddy, has a super cute kid named Caterpillar and everything. And two, believe it or not, they’re both Greyed! Which brings us to three, he’s an escapee that came back, for his kid! Oh, and four he is, mmm, scrumptious, I mean look at that butt.” She trailed off biting her lip before snapping out of it, “Oh! And uh, five, his names Timber.”

“Wha-, he escaped?! And came back?! So he just, what, had a kid and decided to bring him into captivity?!” He has never been so disgusted.

She hummed, “See, you’d think that, but the kids like, four. So it’s more likely he left, found out he had a kid, and then came back.”

“...What?”

She huffed, getting exasperated, “Okay, so. He’s new to the neighborhood, but the kid isn’t, Sky Toronto can vouch for that. Anyways, working theory is that when he escaped he left behind his S.O. that was secretly carrying an egg, and that they wrote to him to tell him about it and they died during that Bergen sighting two weeks ago, so now he’s playing single dad and getting help from Mr. Toronto in exchange for working for him once they make it out.”

He groaned, about ready to pull his curls out, “Working theory?!”

She made a face, hand on her hip, “Yeah, ‘Working theory’, like I said he’s only been here a couple weeks, and unlike most people, he’s not very chatty. Oh, and he has a Brozone tattoo, so that’s six. Which is double my quota, which means you owe me a question.”

“What, no I don’t, literally all I needed was his name and why he’s here, and you know that!”

“Mhm, well, you didn’t specify that. Which means it’s my turn, unless of course you have another shiny for me?”

Ugh, this is why he hates working with Glitter Trolls, “Fine, fine, what’s the question?”

“Why do you care so much about this guy, because I already know he’s not your type.”

“Because, I dunno, he’s new? Can’t I be a little suspicious of some random guy showing up out of nowhere? That doesn’t happen here unless someone gets born or personally brought in by a Bergen looking for new ‘exotic’ flavours, ugh. And there’s nothing wrong with me being suspicious! For all we know he’s a spy of some kind working with the Bergens to find out if we’re planning something, or to fatten us up for an early Trollstice!”

He’s huffing by the time he’s done, but she just raises her brow, “Uh-huh, and what’s the real reason?”

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face, “He just, he just reminds me of my brother, okay? His face at least, there’s no way prim and proper perfect, ‘My Body is a temple and so is yours so you better take care of it’ John Dory would ever have a tattoo, much less allow himself to become Grey. No way, no how.”

She frowned at him before walking past, “You need serious therapy dude.”

Clay glared at her back before looking back at the diggers, what did she know anyway? John Dory was the whole reason their family fell apart, and rather than taking the fall, he abandoned them. If anyone needs therapy it’s him.

Still though, he’ll try his best and stay away from this shady ‘Timber’ character. Even if he didn’t look like John Dory, he’s not gonna risk going anywhere near a Brozone fan if he can help it.

Clicking his tongue, Clay grabs his notebook and walks towards the stage, they have new choreography to practice.

Chapter Text

Look. He is not a crazy stalker, he’s just a concerned citizen. Although only a crazy person tries to reason with themself. Arguing with himself, Clay walks down to the digger site, a care package for Peppy, courtesy of himself and Viva, in hand. In the end he concedes that he’s not a stalker but it is a little weird that he’s dressing for the occasion, there’s nothing weird about a Troll wearing shorts and a t-shirt with gloves. There is however something weird about him wearing it, everything is entirely too bright and childish for his tastes now that he’s Serious.

Still though, it does help him blend in, and maybe get the attention of the mystery Brozone fan. Sequin and Jewel are good, but you should always check your sources.

Coming to the official site, Clay looks around for one or both Trolls of the hour. If he spots Peppy first, he’ll just ask about ‘Timber’ and leave, if he spots the ‘John Dory’ look-a-like first, well…looks like he’ll just have to come up with something on the spot.

Spotting the greyed Troll seemingly struggling with something, he puts Peppy’s package in his hair and walks over. No problem with being helpful and neighbourly right?

~~~~~

It’s been about a week on the job and John has no fudging clue how this is working so well, but against all common sense, it is. He grew up with these people, most of them had seen him perform at some point or another.

…And all of them have seen him do something embarrassing in the name of family, granted more often than not his embarrassment was more of a byproduct of whatever hijinks his brothers got into, or the embarrassment came after the fact when he’d be caught nagging his brothers in public and dragging them home by their ears. The amount of times he got asked if he was their actual parent alone just kept going up the older and older he got, and Branch being a surprise nine years later certainly hadn’t helped.

But that’s beside the point, or actually, that is the point! Everyone in the tree at least four years or older has seen him do something memorable in some way, and no one has recognized him, the closest they’ve come is thinking he’s Moss! Like, he doesn’t look that different.

And the weirder, and arguably more concerning thing, is that none of them are even questioning where he’s from! The only information they have on him is that he left and came back for his kid, named Caterpillar, and that his name is Timber. That’s it! They don’t know how long he was gone, no idea where he went, where he lived before, they don’t even know his last name! He hasn’t needed to come up with one yet, because no one’s asked!

The most in depth conversation he’s had to have was about his favorite color! And he hadn’t even had to actually answer, he just said rainbow and that was it! No follow up, no questions of a second or third favorite, not even asking for clarification on what kinda rainbow! Natural? Cartoony? Pastel? Greyscale? Nothing! He spent three days coming up with possible answers for questions that no one has asked! It’s honestly starting to piss him off.

John knows he played up the shy and jumpy card on his first day, but seriously?! All they need is for Sky Toronto to vouch for him and they just accept that, at face value?! It’s a miracle Pop Trolls survived this long even before becoming Bergen livestock.

Huffing, ‘Timber’ tries to pull a particularly hard rock out. Ugh, this would be easier with thinner fingers. Just as he’s about to give up and scrounge around for a spare tool, someone slides next to him, thin gloved fingers begin to help pry it out into his hands. Holding it to his chest, he turns to thank them and looks up to see-

Clay…

He pulls off a glove and holds out his hand, a sharp smile on his face, “So, you must be the new guy. I’m Clay.”

And just like that he feels his stomach drop.

~~~~~

Clay’s honestly not sure what he said, but mystery guy’s color dropped completely the moment Clay introduced himself, before he flinched, and fell over backwards. He tries to help him up, but next thing he knows is he’s being herded back by three random Trolls cajoling him for scaring the poor guy.

“What’re you doing kid! We just got him to be comfortable ‘round us!” The red one shouts in his ear.

The shortest of them whacks the back of his knee, “Yeah, Timber is already jumpy after coming back, no need to make it worse by introducing more people!”

Clay huffs, pushing against them and making a last ditch attempt to look back at ‘Timber’ and sees him sprawled on the ground still. He’s clutching his chest, a look of absolute horror on his face. What the fudge? There’s a glitter troll kneeling beside him, placating hands raised, before they turn their head to glare back at Clay. What the fudge did he do?! It’s not his fault the guy reacted like that! And serves him right for being shady! He’s about to start yelling back at the attacking Trolls when the third one spins him around, and it’s Peppy, an odd look on his face.

The King tuts before putting an arm behind Clay’s back, a strong hold on his tail, and practically frog marching him away from the potential threat! Why’re they treating him like the bad guy here! All he did was be friendly! Any attempts to actually defend himself are just met with a click or a huff! Is he seriously getting the silence treatment?! He’s gotten way less for way worse! This is crazy!

It isn’t until they’re in Peppy’s personal headquarters that Clay’s let go and Peppy starts to berate him, “That was a very cruel thing to do, Clay Timberlake! I’d have thought that you of all Trolls, save for maybe Floyd, would know better than to approach someone that jumpy without any real warning! You’re lucky you just startled him!”

Clay huffed, not fazed at Peppy’s disappointed look, “Oh puh-lease! All I did was introduce myself! If he can’t handle someone doing that, then maybe he shouldn’t be here!”

Clay grew up with Peppy, the man babysat him, and he’s best friends with his daughter. He’s comfortable with him, maybe too comfortable, because he’d forgotten he was talking to the King until his frown turned into a glare.

“Child, I have been lenient with your family, you in particular with your connection to my daughter, but I will not have my words disrespected. I told you all to be gentle and compassionate with Timber, because not only is he a young man that has seen the horrors outside the cage and willingly made the sacrifice to come back into captivity, but he is also someone who has faced great loss and come into great responsibility within such a short amount of time. And don’t think I didn’t recognize that cruel look on your face when you introduced yourself. You came here with malicious intent towards that man because you have a hard time accepting change, and I can forgive that. What I cannot forgive is you being needlessly cruel to someone that does not deserve it! We are one being, fighting against a common enemy! I will not tolerate in-fighting while we are so close to freedom!”

He begins to huff, and Clay can’t help but stare, gobsmacked. He feels like he doesn’t recognize the man. His hair is spread out around him, an angry reddish-pink, and his skin is flushing a deeper orange. His golden eyes are wild and his pupils sharp. And then he seems to come back to himself, his hair and skin returning to their usual state, his roaming eyes focusing back on Clay.

He reaches his arm out before faltering, and taking a step back. “I, I am sorry, dear boy. I’m just quite, stressed.” He seems to deflate, before puffing his chest back out, “But as I said, I will not tolerate this behavior while we’re planning our escape. If you still have a problem with Timber after we succeed, then you are free to attack him. Right now though, he’s a rather good digger and is currently quite busy. If you’d like to talk with him and ask your questions, then you can come back in three hours when he’s off shift, whether he answers or not is up to him.”

The next thing Clay knows is he’s being pushed out of the room by Peppy with promises to chat and well wishes for himself and Viva, and then he’s just standing outside the door, staring at the diggers again. ‘Timber’ is standing back at his hole, he’s waving people off with a sickeningly familiar smile, and then he’s going back to work like nothing happened.

That’s John Dory’s smile, the smile he’d give to wave off creepy fans and even creepier Trolls offering to be their manager, or even just when they had to perform and he’d been up all night doing something or other. That fake, ‘I’m fine see?’ smile that they all hated, none more than Floyd, but Clay thinks he came to a close second. He hadn’t hated it when JD used it for fans or nosy neighbors like Floyd did, no, because they were strangers in the long run. No, he’d only hated it when John used it on them. Because, why the fudge would you lie to your family about being happy? What else would he be lying about? That’s what Clay hated.

But more importantly, why in the ever-loving fudge is this rando using his brother’s ‘fake-it-till-ya-make-it’ smile?! Sequin said he was a Brozone fan, had this guy been a John Dory fan? He’s way too old for his brother! Is he some kinda creepy brozone fan?! Did this guy know his brother? Does this guy have something to do with why John got so crazy?! He may hate John Dory, but no one deserves that!

Clay has half of a mind to go over and attack the creep, but he knows the second he takes a step towards him he’s toast. Huffing, he turns on his heel, but not before taking the care package out of his hair and dropping it on Peppy’s doorstep. Whatever, he can deal with the guy later, right now he has to plan.

~~~~~

Sweet Composer in the sky his heart is beating a mile a minute, he doesn’t know how much more stress he can take!

Huffing, Peppy brings a hand up to gently cradle his egg. He’d always wondered what egg nesting felt like, he hadn’t gotten to experience it when Viva was forming or even once she’d begun incubating. Loca had said it was something to do with Latin trolls and how the eggs needed excess heat and movement, but he now knows that it’s because she hadn’t wanted to risk being forced out without her baby. In the end, she’d been made to leave all the same, his father Pappy not wanting to risk another ‘impure’ egg.

Bringing his hand down to his face, Peppy fights down the urge to scream. There is a reason no Pop Ruler is supposed to take a spouse, there is a reason they are meant to be lonely. Old tradition states that only eggs born from a single troll are true eggs, pure ones. That eggs born from a union are to be cast aside lest another non-pure Troll result in worse punishment. It was a Troll born from a union that tried to steal the strings, and such cursed them to be livestock to Bergen.

…Peppy was not meant to be King. He was supposed to be free to love who he wanted, his sister was meant to rule, and a fine Queen she would’ve been. He misses Pippy.

…

He misses Loca too, he hopes she’s safe wherever she ended up. Peppy groans, lightly shaking his hair out, he doesn’t have time to be sad! There’s only two and a half months left until the egg hatches, and only a couple weeks until it detaches from his hair and he has to worry about not jostling it and oh sweet composer why was he excited for this?

No! No panicking, no being sad, no fretting over nonsense! He needs to focus up, and be the King his people need.

Seriously though, he cannot take anymore stress or secrets!

Chapter Text

His brother is such a donut hole, what the fudge Clay?! John Dory is desperately forcing himself to keep working and not freak out about just how Grey he is right now, because if he stops, he’ll probably break and Lyricist be darned he did not go through all that trouble just for Comet to mess it up a week into it. He’s not doing that!

Huffing, John can’t help but feel a little bit excited. Knowing Shooting Star, he’s probably planning to interrogate ‘Timber’ within an inch of his life, meaning John Dory gets to use his list of answers! Now who’s paranoid, Sky?!

…

Still him probably…

Regardless, he needs to practice answering in a way that doesn't sound like he’s reading from a script. Looking around, John starts to softly talk to himself to rehearse his answers, ignoring the bit of blue he sees creeping up his arms.

Speaking of his arms, he should let Branch doodle out some possible tattoo ideas, then he can take the design to an artist and let them fine-tune it, maybe even let them use him as practice for a technique or something, that’s how he got the other four tattoos. Heck, two of them had been inspired by his name, or at least, his name at the time. Looking down at his leg, he can’t help but chuckle at the fact that two different trolls got the same idea for a tattoo. Though, that’s probably his fault for just choosing a different fish as a code name while on a bounty with-

Ack, no! Quit getting distracted! Huffing, John shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts of Yodeler Trolls, tattoos, and betrayals. He needs to memorize his answers.

Okay, easy one, where’d you grow up? One of the pods higher up on the tree. Almost all the pods are lower down or tangled in branches, only those desperate live in the ones higher up, so it's not unheard of for someone to live in one of them and go unnoticed by anyone save the King and a local vendor.

He knows there’s a pretty pale green one up there that’s been abandoned since Crystal Clearwater moved out of it with her girlfriend. Something he’d have liked to know back when he started dating her, but that’s not important!

Next question, what’s his last name? Hmm, Pond? Or maybe Meadow? Sparkler? Oh Branch would love that, he’ll say it was his partners last name, and how it’s too painful to talk about. Clay always panics at emotions, eh. Well, to be fair John isn’t much better, at least with his own.

Okay, speedrun, uh…hmmm, what else would Lightning Bug ask about? His tattoos? Easy, he let practicing tattoo artists freestyle on him.

Or maybe why he’s Grey? Because he found out he had a kid and felt guilty he wasn’t there for them? No not enough, uh he faced some awful stuff out there and finding out he’d abandoned his family was the last straw? That could work…

Hmm, ooh, a good one, what are his parents like and what are their names? They, uh, died when he was young and he can barely remember them, yeah that works. Basically true.

Alright, now some silly ones. Favorite food? Fazzleberry muffins. Common enough fruit to not be suspicious, and who dislikes muffins? Hmm, uh what does he think about Fluffleberries? No flavor and bland. At least that’s what everyone else always says about them. What else, what else, hmmm.

He’s so focused on trying to account for every potential question, that he doesn’t even notice his shift was over until Starling Fisher claps him on the back to let him know it’s time to go home. He ends up chatting with the shorter troll about her wife and how they’re gonna try for an egg once they get out, he gets so engrossed in conversation that he doesn’t see her glaring over her shoulder as she walks him back home.

He’s not trying to get attached, but he can’t help but think it might be nice to have a friend or two.

As they part ways he can’t but chuckle as Starling joins hands with her wife Pearl. She’d said that since they’re both short trolls, and they’ll probably have a short kid, that she’s trying to convince her wife they should nickname the kid Smidge after they’ve hatched, regardless of gender.

And honestly that is just priceless, I mean come on!

Walking up to the pod John spots Branch through the window, enthusiastically waving at him. Heh, oh he’s gonna crack up at this.

He may not like performing anymore, but man does he love telling stories!

~~~~~

Clay can feel his blood boiling as the short angry troll from earlier glares at him as she leads Timber away, like she can tell Clay’s about to start interrogating the intruder. This doesn’t make any sense, why does everybody like this guy?!

Timber is quiet, standoffish, and Grey! Everyone should be itching to get rid of him or at least find out what his deal is! Huffing, Clay glares back at the woman before walking away. Whatever, he can talk to ‘Timber’ another day, if that is even his real name.

Mark his words he is going to find out what that guys deal is, and handle it personally!

Viva may not like it when he fixates like this, but she’s too busy making sure everyone's ready for escape day, and Peppy’s too busy making sure the escape is ready. While they’re planning for the future and what could go wrong then, someones gotta worry about the present and what could go wrong now. And Clay is not letting all their hard work go to waste just because one person got in the way of their freedom.

— — —

Finally back at the studio, Clay can’t help but throw himself into bed. Nothing went according to plan today. Not scoping out the situation with ‘Timber’, not talking with Peppy about the potential threat, not getting to even interrogate the intruder, and he didn’t even manage to drop off the care package for Peppy!

Slamming the pillow over his head, Clay resists the urge to scream. He’s too old to throw a tantrum over something like this, and he’s definitely too Serious to be letting this bother him so much. He’s fifteen, sixteen in October. He needs to grow up.

Although, he’s a fifteen year old that still sleeps in a bunk-bed, a bunk-bed he shares with his best friend and basically sister, but a bunk-bed nonetheless.

He should probably talk with Viva about it, but it reminds him too much of what it was like before the band broke up, before John Dory went crazy. He can’t help but wonder sometimes, did he make the right choice?

Sure, he left Floyd and Branch alone, but they were with Grandma Rosiepuff! And Floyd would be like, sugar, thirteen now? That makes Branch, four already holy trolly. Maybe he should visit them- No!

No. It’s better if they think he left, he’ll probably die being part of the Distraction team, it’s better if they just think he left. Right? Right. He needs to stop thinking about it, about them. There’s no point.

Rolling over, Clay can’t help but stare up at the top bunk. One of the gold constellation banners carefully hanging from it, the others tacked to the ceiling. Well, maybe he can keep thinking about parts of the good times.

He may be Mr.Serious now, but he still loves the stars.

~~~~~

Branch can’t help but giggle as Johnny tells him about his day, and he’s so excited to hear about a new trolling he’ll get to play with! Well, not yet, but soon! That makes two trolls that will be younger than him!

Branch liked being the baby of the family, but he’s always wanted to be a big sibling too! Johnny says he’ll have to be gentle with them because they’ll be really little, but Branch was really little when he joined the band! Maybe they can make their own band! Baby rockers? Baby popstars? Ooh! Baby Bottle Popstars! Like the candies! He’s gotta start drawing costumes!

Branch wiggles across the carpet, giggling at how John fell asleep on the floor reading, before crawling his way to the nursery. Crawling and nurseries are for baby’s, which Branch isn’t, not really, but he can’t really walk right now, and that’s where his coloring stuff is.

Making his way into the nursery, Branch carefully shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t wanna wake Johnny up if he gets too loud.

Moving over to his paper and colors, Branch flops onto his stomach to start drawing. He may be a big boy now, but it’s still fun to do more babyish things too.

~~~~~

Floyd wants to tear his own hair out in frustration. He got arrested, again! And now he’s being forced to attend court mandated therapy…Again. He knows he grew up different from most trolls beyond the cage, he understands that really. He’s just having such a hard time adjusting to the ‘real world’.

Sighing, he can’t help but look at the pamphlet he’d been given. ‘Learn how to be your best self, and how to teach others to follow in your footsteps’.

What a load of shit.

He’d always said he wanted to try out therapy, but this is not what he had in mind.

Whatever, he just needs to go through this again, and keep trying to find his way to Rock Territory. At least those guys know how to have fun, and he probably won’t get arrested for getting into a brawl with a stranger there.

Whatever, he can still give this mandated shit a shot. Who knows, maybe this time it’ll actually help. He’s not as much of a crybaby as he used to be, but he’s still pretty ‘sensitive’.

~~~~~

Spruce, no, Bruce has no idea how he ended up here. He’s not even sure how he’d gotten on a boat, just that he’d woken up there and now was exiting it with everyone else.

Looking around, the area is gorgeous. Vibrant colors, a sweet smell in the air, and gorgeous giants leisurely hanging around.

Oh yeah, he’s gonna like it here.

That’s when he spots a sign reading, ‘Vacay Island’ and ‘chill out man’ in smaller text. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to like it here

Bruce may not be an exercise fiend anymore, but he is still a massive flirt, and a teenager. Bring on the gigantic babes!

Chapter Text

John slaps a hand over his mouth the moment he wakes up, muffling the oncoming scream. Not again.

John Dory never remembers his dreams. He never has, and based on how he wakes up? He hopes he never will. The only thing he knows about his dreams, when they actually happen, is that he wakes up with this immense fear and need to run, and no other information.

And it looks like that hasn’t changed, getting up off the floor John stumbles to the bathroom to wash his face, slightly shaking. He doesn’t even bother to get the light before turning the faucet on, throwing cold water in his face to wake up.

Only after he dries off his face does he turn the light on, and yeesh, he looks rough.

Examining his face in the mirror, he can see the eyebags, his hairs a mess, and in place of the healthy blue last night, is now a sickly looking Grey.

Groaning, he dares a glance at the clock, and sees that it’s not even four in the morning yet. Alright, he’s got a couple hours before Branch wakes up, meaning he has time to fix his face before that and get ready for work. Shouldn’t be a problem, with how he tucks Branch in the little tyke will have trouble getting up on his own anyhow, especially with that leg of his-

Wait, hang on a minute. If he woke up on the floor, that means he never went to bed, meaning he never put Branch to bed, meaning-

“BRANCH!”

John quickly ran back to the bedroom and unsurprisingly didn’t see Branch in bed, but he didn’t see him anywhere else either.

Could he have gotten out? Maybe he’s hiding under the bed? Or maybe-

As he’s about to start spiraling, the doorknob of the nursery starts to jiggle, just barely, and he freezes.

It’s moving, and making noise, but it’s not turning. It’s almost like someone’s on the other side trying to open it, but they’re too short to do so.

He goes to the door and carefully opens it, only to catch Branch as he falls, a surprised look on his face.

“Branch?!” He exclaims before scooping up his brother.

“JOHNNY!” Branch giggles as he’s picked up before pulling John into a hug.

Carefully holding the giggling trolling JD takes a peek into the Nursery. Crayons all over the floor, paper everywhere, and what looks like glitter on the ceiling, that was definitely not there yesterday. How did he even-

Carefully prying his baby brother away from his neck, John gets a good look at him and his heart just about melts.

Branch is yawning and barely keeping his eyes open, the start of small bags under his eyes, and yet he’s still bright blue and laughing. Holy Trolly this kid is adorable! If the ‘Too Cute To Execute’ rule was still in place then his little brother would be able to get away with mercking the King without even a slap on the wrist.

That’s when he noticed that Branch seemed to be zoning out and looking at the wall, okay, nap time.

“Branch?” Branch continued staring at the wall.

He spoke up, “Bra~nch.”

Again, no response.

“Bitty B, you with me sweetheart?” Maybe a nickname would get a response?

It took a few seconds, but he slowly responded, “Hm?”

Success, “Hey baby bro, did you sleep at all last night?”

Branch turned to look at the nursery, before slightly shaking his head, his eyes starting to shut.

“Okay Caterpillar, since it’s still early and I don’t have to work until about lunch time, how ‘bout we get some more sleep, huh?”

Branch happily nodded, before resting his head against John’s chest. Again, too freaking cute!

He got them both situated in bed before reaching over to the nightstand for his alarm clock. It looked like a fish tank, fish included, emitted a soft blue glow, and played ‘Walking on Sunshine’ when it went off. He set it to go off around nine-ish.

Drifting off to sleep, he held his little brother close, and tried to think of nothing.

~~~~~

Grumbling to himself, Sky knocked on the door again before checking his watch, it was still only seven-thirty. John had invited him for breakfast, hadn’t he?

Well, what he’d actually done was invite Sky for a meal, he’d assumed breakfast since lunchtime was after the shop opened. Was he too early? Or did he mean dinner? Though, surely JD would’ve said if it was dinner.

Huffing, Sky continues to knock every couple of minutes, at least until he hears someone approaching.

Oh sugar, could that be someone looking to spy on the new guy?

He holds his breath, only to sag in relief as he sees the King round the corner.

“Oh, Mr. Toronto! I thought it was my day to watch over the little one, I even brought my usual supplies.” He did indeed have his usual paint splattered supply bag ‘Full of all the ways to entertain a Trolling of all ages!’, and whatever else he’d added after buying it from Toronto Supplies. Sheesh, the king bought that back when Princess Viva was still just an egg, he still has it?

Shaking his head, Sky points at the door as the King starts to turn to leave, “Nah, you’re right, I’m just here because he, uh, Timber, invited me over for a meal and I assumed he meant breakfast. But I’ve been knocking here for the last twenty minutes or so, and neither of them have answered yet.”

That got Peppy’s attention, and his panic from the expression on his face, “Twenty minutes? That’s not like either of them! Something could be wrong! Step aside, I have a key!”

Sky did not in fact step aside, but rather step closer to the King, trying to calm him down, “Woah! Peppy, there’s no need to panic. They just aren’t opening the door, for all we know they could be sleeping, or maybe they’re in that Nursery of theirs, it’s pretty sound proof, there’s no need to force an entrance.”

Unfortunately it seemed to have the opposite effect, “No need?! The last time one of them didn’t answer the door it was because of a Bergen sighting and the loss of one of my subjects to those beasts! So forgive me for being paranoid, and step aside!”

“Oh, is that an order?”

“It’s about to be if you don’t-”

Sky held up a hand, before beginning to walk around to the back of the pod, a waving motion towards the King.

From what he heard, the man followed along, if hesitantly.

“What are we-” The King spoke up as they stopped behind the pod, before Sky cut him off.

“Look, I get you’re worried, but in my experience, there are other ways to check on people, for instance, peeking through their windows.”

The King sputtered, “That is hardly appropriate!”

He raised a brow, “Oh what, and breaking and entering is?”

The King huffs before Sky waves him over to the window. Looking down, he smiles at the sight.

It’s the window right above what used to be Rosiepuff and Vidalia’s bed, but is now John and Branch’s. Speaking of the two, John Dory is laying splayed out across the bed, blankets half on him half on the floor, and Branch was splayed out, across John, no blankets on him but a pillow clutched in his hand for some reason.

These kids, his heart melts for them. He hears Peppy come up next to him and have a similar reaction.

“There, see? They’re fine, now let’s go and let them sleep.”

Peppy hums, once again following him, “Hmm, well, if you’d still like to join someone for breakfast, might I interest you in some? I have a new recipe to try out!”

Shaking his head with fondness, Sky slows down to walk alongside his old friend, “I’d be honored, your majesty.”

~~~~~

The second time John wakes from, thankfully dreamless, sleep, it’s with the rather distinctive feeling that he’s forgotten something. He turns off the fishy alarm clock before cracking his back and finally getting up for the day.

“Alright, two and half hours before work, just enough time to wake up Branch and make some kinda breakfast before Peppy shows up!”

Humming to himself, John got ready for the day, happy for a second chance to make it a good one.