Chapter Text
It was a dull, grey day.
It hadn’t started that way. When Anthony awoke at six am, the sun just rising, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. Indeed, it seemed to be a promise of a beautiful day that morning.
Not that Anthony was paying much attention.
That morning, just like every morning for the past six months, he woke up at six, an hour and a half earlier than normal, made himself a cup of tea, and sat by his window, waiting.
Ah, at 6:07, on the dot, a man ran by his window. Tall, probably about Anthony’s height, with silver hair that gleamed in the early morning light, a moustache to match, and a wonderfully strong build. Anthony had spent months dreaming about those thighs wrapped around him.
The man suddenly paused and pulled his mobile from his pocket. With a frown, he began to turn round, suddenly catching a glimpse of Anthony watching him. Anthony panicked and ducked away from the window, face burning. When he looked back, the man was gone, running in the opposite direction.
But that was hours ago, and now Anthony was forced to deal with his coworker’s teasing. Thomas was a nice enough man, but lord could he be tiring.
“And now he’s actually seen you! Oh, how the tables have turned. Now romance may bloom like…” His voice trailed off as the wannabe poet struggled to find a poetic finish.
“There’ll be no romance to be had, Thorne,” Anthony said, rolling his eyes. “Now, isn’t the first meeting of your writing club meeting today? Don’t you want to talk about that?”
Getting Thomas to talk about himself was a guaranteed distraction for a good half-hour, giving Anthony time with his thoughts. Thomas had stayed over at Anthony’s flat a couple of months ago while his was fumigated and had caught Anthony in his early morning routine. Since then Anthony’s little crush had been the subject of much teasing. That didn’t worry Anthony.
No, what worried him was that it wasn’t a little crush. Anthony got plenty of those- his postie, the receptionist at his doctor’s, hell, even Thomas when they first met (though that died when Thomas opened his mouth), but they fizzled out after a few days, weeks at most. It had been half a year and Anthony was just as attracted as ever. He was pretty sure it wasn’t healthy to have such a big crush on someone he’d never even spoken to. Hell, he’d once even said no to a date because the runner had worn very short shorts that morning and Anthony couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Vaguely, Anthony realised Thomas was still talking about his club and figured he better listen. Their new boss was trying to push an initiative that the librarians each start their own clubs to try and encourage patronage. Thomas had jumped at the chance to run his own writing club, though Anthony had qualms. Thomas was… very passionate about poetry, but passion didn’t always equal talent. He’d sat through enough readings of “Hermione and Roger” to know that. But he wasn’t one to put out someone else’s fire, so to speak.
As the day wore on, the clouds grew darker until they finally began to flow, effectively killing Anthony’s hope for an easy day. Rain brought in larger crowds, most of whom had no sense of library etiquette. As two kids ran past him, screaming, he sighed to Thomas, “Christ, can this day get worse?”
Thomas, who was putting away some mis-placed horror, smiled knowingly at him. “Maybe. Though it may get better. Look at who just walked in.”
Anthony looked over at the door and gasped, ears pinkening. It was the runner. Now he was dressed in an argyle-patterned cardigan and tan slacks, carrying a dark green umbrella. And he wasn’t alone. Holding his hand was a young girl of maybe five or six, her dark hair pulled into two curly ponytails, dressed head to toe in burgundy. Slightly ahead of them walked an older girl with brown bangs and paint-splattered overalls.
“Ooh, he has kids? You’ve been lusting after a dilf this whole time?” Thomas said, not quietly. Anthony turned bright red.
“Shut it, Thorne,” He said, hiding behind one of the shelves as the man passed them. Internally, Anthony’s thoughts were going a mile a minute. Kids likely meant the man was married. Which meant he and Anthony couldn’t get together. Not that they were going to get together in the first place. They’d never even spoken. It just still hurt. And there was the problem that the man was much more handsome in real life.
“Excuse me,” Came a voice behind him. Anthony turned and nearly fell over in shock. Because of course it had to be his runner. Up close he was even more handsome, his eyes a uniquely dark shade of blue, crow’s feet just etching at their corners, a few moles on his cheek Anthony decided would make excellent targets for a kiss. He also noted that where a wedding ring would be is a tan line. “We were wondering if you had any art books.”
It took Anthony a moment to remember that he was an employee of this library and as such should probably be able to answer such a question. “Aisle six. By the, ah, computers.” His voice came out embarrassingly squeaky and pre-pubescent, but the man tanked him anyway. The older girl affixed him with a strange look, like she could see into his soul and find the attraction for her father in there. All three of them, mercifully, headed over to the art books without a second glance.
“A budding romance, I see,” Thomas said, an impish grin on his stupid face. Anthony rolled his eyes.
“How’s it going with Isabelle?” He asked, hoping to once again deflect the conversation onto Thomas. It didn’t work this time.
“If you are to be wed, can I officiate? I have my licence, you know. And I could help you with your vows… Love, your beauty is beyond compare… Your voice is soft like summer rain…”
“Those are the lyrics to Jolene. I don’t need your help, Thomas, though I appreciate it.”
Thomas made a tutting noise as he sulked off. Truthfully, Anthony did not need any help because he wasn’t going to go after this man. Cute as he may be, Anthony knew nothing about him- other than he liked to run and he had two daughters- and besides, who had time for a relationship.
Certainly not Anthony.
…
The Captain was frazzled.
His morning began as every morning for the past six months: while the girls, five year old Katherine and eleven year old Alison, slept, he went for a quick run around nearby streets. Normally, after finishing, he’d take a quick shower, wake the girls, make their breakfasts, and drop them off at their day camps (now that school was out) before heading into his job as stage manager at a local theatre. Yes, routine, that was the ticket. He hoped that structure would help his daughters adapt to their new life post-divorce, in a new town, in a much smaller flat (all he could afford without Charles’ corporate lawyer salary.) And, if he were to be honest, help himself adapt as well. Towards the end of the marriage he and Charles hardly spoke, but it was still strange not having him in the same house.
Kitty seemed to be doing well. She and the Captain had always been thick as thieves, as Charles liked to tease, and hardly seemed fazed by the sudden disappearance of her other father from her life. Alison, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling. She and Charles had always bonded over their love of art, a subject the Captain never understood, though he was trying to learn now. He sometimes worried Alison resented him for the divorce.
This morning was different. Only a few minutes into his route his phone buzzed. It was Karlie, the day camp director, notifying him that she and two of her employees- her twin daughters- had come down with the flu and as such, camp was cancelled for a week. At least a week. What was he going to do? He didn’t know anyone in town well enough to ask them to babysit. Charles, who was supposed to see the girls every other weekend, was flaky at best, and probably wouldn’t drop everything to help the Captain out.
With a sigh, the Captain called the director of the theatre to let her know.
When he got home Alison was awake, watching cartoons and eating cereal blearily.
“You’re up early,” He said, taking off his shoes and depositing them on his level of the shoe rack.
“Couldn’t sleep,” She shrugged, not offering more. Right. The Captain sighed.
“Your camp was cancelled,” Said the Captain, “Ms Karlie has the flu, so I’m taking the day off of work. What would you like to do today?”
Alison just shrugged again, her eyes still glued to the tv screen. The Captain turned and went to wake Kitty. She seemed much more excited at the prospect of spending the day with her father and sister, and spent the whole time he was making her breakfast coming up with suggestions on how to spend their day.
“My friend Lily says her dad works on a farm with brown cows and I didn’t even know there were brown cows! Can we go, daddy?”
Seeing Alison’s look of apprehension, the Captain said, “Maybe not today. But I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” Kitty grinned.
“Why don’t we just go to the park? I want to practise on my roller blades,” asked Alison.
The Captain agreed, so after breakfast, they all got bundled up in their coats and piled into James’ auto. The nearest park was Crestwood, a newer build with a playground Kitty loved. The Captain pushed her on the swing set as he watched Alison skate round and round the playground. She was improving.
He’d planned on staying until lunchtime, but it began to pour rain. After ushering both girls in the car, they both agreed- Kitty nearly in tears- that they did not want the day to end, so instead of going home he drove them to the local library.
“Tinsy told me they’ve got beginner’s ‘How to draw’ books here,” Alison said, craning her neck to see. “I want to check one out. Do you know where they are, Dad?”
The Captain didn’t, so he went to ask one of the librarians, a tall, lean man with warm brown eyes and a large scar on the left side of his face. He was rather handsome, the Captain thought. He seemed to be overheated, the poor man was red when they spoke.
“Can I get this one?” Alison asked, holding up a book that said The Fundamentals of Portrait. “Please, Dad, please!”
The Captain agreed, and so they went up the counter, where the same librarian was now working. “Can we sign up for a library card, please?”
The librarian- whose name tag said Anthony- startled when he spoke. “Oh. Yes, sorry about that, of course. We can get all three of you cards today, if you’d like.”
While the Captain was writing down his information, Alison showed off her book to Anthony and a curly-haired librarian who’d joined him. “My papa has these really cool big art books, back home,” She said, her eyes bright. “And he used to take me to art museums all the time. I love painting, especially. I’ve been wanting to join an art club since we moved here.” There was some disappointment in her voice, because the Captain didn’t have art books or take her to art museums. He simply didn’t have the time.
Though, with Karlie sick, maybe he’ll find some.
“Well, actually, I’m hosting an art club here at the library,” Anthony suddenly said in a rush. The other librarian turned and stared at him, confused. “It meets on Saturdays. At noon. In the conference room.”
“Ooh, Dad, can I join?” Alison said, practically jumping for joy.
“I don’t see why not. Saturdays, you said? That should be perfectly fine.”
The smile on Alison’s face made his heart soar.
…
“Idiot,” was Robin’s official declaration.
He and Thomas had gone out for a pint after their shift ended, meeting Thomas’ friend Robin there. Robin was- and Anthony met this in the nicest way- slightly hard to look at. His wild, uncombed hair, large teeth, and dramatic brow ridge gave a rather caveman-esque appearance. One would never have guessed he was an astrophysicist.
Thomas wasted no time in regaling Robin with tales of the day, giving Anthony no chance to defend himself. Though he didn’t exactly have a defence. God, what was he thinking? He’d just seen an opportunity to get closer to the man- whose name, he’d learnt, was James- and had blindly taken it. He didn’t know the first thing about art. He’d have to borrow some of his sister’s old university textbooks, if she’d kept them.
“What if he just drops his daughter off and leaves? Have you considered that?” Thomas asked.
“I- fuck, Thorne, that’s a good point.”
“Idiot,” Robin said again. Anthony glared at him. “Who else is coming to club?”
Great. Another thing he didn’t consider. It’d look bad if James’ daughter was the only one who showed. How was he supposed to explain that? Sorry, sweetie, I’m doing all this because I like watching your dad through my window. One of Anthony’s friends, Pat, had a son probably the same age as the girl. If he could convince Pat to bring Daley in (and it wouldn’t take much convincing), Pat would probably bring in a couple more people, enough to make it seem like a legitimate club.
“I have to go,” Anthony said, shooting up from his seat.
“Bye,” Robin called after him. “He left us with bill. Cheap.”
“Alas, Robin, love makes you do foolish things, like how a… err…”
Anthony practically ran home. It was Tuesday evening, which gave him a small cushion to plan everything out. He sent out a text to his sister first, asking after her books, then to Pat, which turned out to be a mistake, as Pat answered with a phone call.
“Ant, good to hear from you! What’s going on with ya, mate?” Came Pat’s chipperly northern voice.
“Nothing much,” Anthony said. “Listen, Pat, I was wondering if you could do me a favour. I’m hosting an art club at the library on Saturday and I was wondering if you and Daley would like to join.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ant,” Pat said. Anthony’s heart sank. “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to make it. Daley and I usually go birding on Saturdays.”
Knowing he sounded slightly desperate, Anthony said, “Please, Pat. Just this Saturday. I really need your help.”
He knew Pat could never deny a friend in need, and sure enough, the scout master went, “Oh, fine, you’ve convinced me. Maybe it’ll do Daley some good, getting into art…”
Anthony let him trail off, smiling. This plan could work.
“It’s not going to work,” His boss said the following morning. “We’ve no supplies. And besides, a bunch of kids, with paint , near the books? No.”
“I can bring in the supplies myself,” Anthony said. He was pretty sure he still had canvases his sister had given him a few years back in a misguided Christmas present. “And as for the second part- I’ll keep an eye on them. Their parents will be here. And besides… now that it’s summertime, this could get a lot more kids interested in the library.”
Her interest piqued with that. Anthony did like her, honestly. She only wanted to help the library, and a part of that was community engagement, though he was pretty sure she’d disapprove of this if she knew the truth. “Alright, we can try it out. But young man, if any book gets damaged it’s coming out of your cheque.”
His nights that week were spent pouring over the art books his sister had mercifully saved, trying to learn the basics. He’d decided the first day was going to be a free-for-all, following a theme: “My favourite book.” He’d offer some help, but stay clear of anything too technical. His main goal was a conversation with James, though he kept that to himself.
When Saturday came, Anthony felt sick to his stomach. There was no reason to be, he reminded himself. After all, more likely than not nothing was going to come of this.
With a gulp, he left his flat.
The library was teeming with people when he arrived. Pat was already there, a group of boys about Daley’s age in tow. He’d encouraged the boys to help Anthony set up, something Anthony was grateful for. No James yet.
At twelve exactly, he gave the boys their task, feeling slightly disappointed. Not just for himself, but for James’ daughter too. She’d seemed so excited by the club.
At a quarter past, while he and Pat tried to break up an intense argument about whether Marvel Zeus or Percy Jackson Zeus was more powerful, there was a knock on the glass. Anthony turned and saw Alison, looking shy and slightly embarrassed. James wasn’t with her. Instead it was another man, so handsome it made Anthony do a sharp intake of breath, though underneath the beauty seemed to lurk something darker. His eyes were an icy blue. His dark chestnut hair- no way that wasn’t dyed- was slicked back but for a Clark Kent curl. His jaw was square and his cheekbones high. Anthony felt himself deflate a bit.
“Sorry we’re late,” Alison said quietly. He smiled sadly at her.
“It’s no problem,” Anthony said. “Take any seat you’d like and I’ll get your materials.”
“Are you staying, Papa?” Alison asked, tugging on the man's hand.
“I can’t, kiddo. I’ve a meeting at two. Your dad will pick you up, alright?” And with that, he was gone, barely sparing his daughter another thought.
If it bothered Alison, she didn’t let it show. She took a seat next to Daley as Anthony prepped her materials.
“Was that you father?” Daley asked her as he painted a minecraft character onto his canvas.
“One of them. I have two.” Then, Alison added, as if an afterthought, “They’re divorced.”
Daley nodded sagely. “So are my parents. It kind of sucks, but at least we get two Christmasses, right?”
Alison shrugged. “They’ve only been divorced for six months, so I haven’t had two Christmasses yet.” She paused for a moment, hesitating over what she wanted to say, but Anthony could tell she needed to get it out. “Papa- he dropped me off- he says they’ll be back together by then. He told me dad will miss him and come crawling back.”
Anthony felt bile rising in his throat and decided he hated James’ ex. Such a smarmy, self-important thing to say from the top, but to say it to your daughter? Anthony knew the man had something wrong with him from the moment he walked in, but that seemed especially cruel.
“You alright, mate?” Pat said, breaking Anthony out of his stupor. “You look ready to kill someone.”
“I’m fine, thank you Pat. Let’s check in on the kids.”
…
The Captain had awoken that morning at three am to Kitty standing close to his face.
“I threwed up,” She said, as if the Captain couldn’t see the vomit on her shirt. He sighed.
After he got her and her sheets clean, the Captain settled them on the sofa and put on a documentary of WWII planes, at the lowest volume so as to not wake Alison. Kitty threw up twice more before the sun rose.
This was one thing the Captain hated about having children. He loved his daughters, of course, and never regretted them for a moment, but he hated dealing with illness. In the old days, Charles was the one to do all that, while the Captain would just check in on them.
You’re a grown man, James, he thought. A soldier. Get over it.
He himself only emptied the contents of his stomach once that night.
By the time Alison awoke, six hours later, he’d forgotten about her art club. She quickly reminded him, wearing an old white tee perfect for painting. “Dad, can you braid my hair? I don’t want any to get in the paint.”
“Oh, bally hell,” The Captain muttered under his breath, grabbing his phone. “Alison, love, your sister is feeling under the weather right now, so I’m going to message your father to take you. Is that alright?”
Alison nodded. After messaging Charles, he braided Alison’s hair carefully, making sure not to miss a hair. While Alison ate her breakfast, the Captain walked around the flat to make sure everything was clean. It was, of course- even the stress of the past few months couldn’t make the Captain messy- but it was the first time Charles would ever see the flat, and a part of him still craved Charles’ approval.
His phone buzzed. Sry, running late. Excited to see you :) and the girls. Charles. Of course now the Captain had him in his phone as a much more formal Charles Higham, FBA. Of course he was late. He was late to pick up the girls on all his weekends, the ones he bothered to show up for. When they were first dating, the Captain had thought that Charles’ general lateness would be good for him, help him unclench a little, but throughout their relationship and marriage it drove him round the bend. It’d been one of many things that led to the Captain leaving him.
“I’m going to be late, dad!” Alison called down the hallway. The Captain checked his watch- 11:37. He’d told Charles to be there by 11:21. “Can’t you take me?”
“I’m sorry, Alison, but Kitty’s running a fever,” The Captain said, placing his hand on Kitty’s forehead. “Good lord.”
Mercifully, the doorbell rang. He heard Alison open the door and yell out, “Papa!” He heard Charles’ warm, strong voice, then footsteps heading his way.
“James,” Charles said. “You look good. How are you?”
The Captain looked up at Charles. He was wearing an expensive navy blue suit and brand-new black shoes. His hair was combed back, not a hair out of place, and he was wearing the cologne the Captain had bought him their last Valentine’s together. He was smiling softly. The Captain was dressed in a ratty old robe over a t-shirt he belatedly realised was Charles’, plaid pyjama bottoms, and fluffy blue slippers. His hair stood up on its ends from him running his hands in it, and he was sure there were bags under his eyes. The Captain swallowed.
“Kitty’s sick,” He answered instead, cupping their daughter’s face. Then, begrudgingly, “Thank you for taking Alison. You two should probably leave now to be on time.” It wasn’t a request, but Charles still took his time out the door.
Kitty awoke at 12:33, looking brighter until she realised Alison was gone. “I wanted to go to the painting party, daddy! Oh, Alison wasn’t late because of me, was she?”
The Captain smiled. Katherine was such a sweet girl, always thinking of her sister. “Don’t fret, dear one. Alison wasn’t upset a jot. She was just worried about you. And your papa came and picked her up. He said hello to you while you slept.”
The lie made her smile, and made him feel guilty.
“Morally bankrupt man,” The Captain murmured under his breath. Charles had just texted him to let him know he wouldn’t be taking Alison back home, a mere ten minutes before her club was due to end. He didn’t want to take Kitty out, since she was still running a fever, so he called a good friend, Humphrey, to pick Alison up instead. Humphrey and the Captain had met back in university. He was one of the first true friends the Captain had ever had, willing to overlook his eccentricities, and they’d remained friends to this day. The girls loved him as well, referring to him as Uncle Humphrey. In fact, the only person in the family who didn’t like Humphrey was Charles, who’d always felt Humphrey’s calm demeanour was just an act. Humphrey worked as a physician at an office just down the street from the library, and the Captain knew he only came in on Saturdays to catch up on paperwork.
Twenty odd minutes later, Humphrey and Alison were back. Alison was talking animatedly about the club. “Dad, look at what I painted! Mr Anthony said I did a great job!”
Alison went off to show her painting to Kitty and find a place to hang it on her wall. The Captain invited Humphrey in for a cup of tea.
“Thank you for picking her up,” The Captain said, staring down at his mug. “I cannot believe Charles just- just left her there.”
“I can,” Said Humphrey. Charles’ dislike of him was mutual. “At least Alison had fun.” He studied the Captain for a moment. “How are you doing?”
The Captain’s shoulders dropped. There was no point in lying to Humphrey, but he still tried. “Perfectly fine. And you?”
Humphrey quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Out of everyone the Captain knew, Humphrey would probably emphasise with him the most- he himself recently divorced his French wife Sophie, though that marriage had been childfree. But he didn’t push the subject, and they finished their tea in silence.