Work Text:
Isaiah:
The day he was fired was the first time Isaiah sobbed for the first time since he was 8 and Hugh Elman pushed him down the slide.
He never planned to work for Tobias Hawthorne forever, and planned even less so to have a fling ( or conversation as she called it) with his boss’ daughter, Skye. But here he was, dropping his resume off at the third mechanic shop of the day.
He wasn’t even sure Tobias hadn’t blacklisted him. But he did know Mr. Hawthorne would do anything to keep him from his child.
Mom had listened with barely concealed rage when he called her. His nose was still stuffed as a teddy bear and his eyes were still rimmed with red.
He pitied Hawthorne if he ever had to meet his Mom. She was usually a bright and cheerful woman, but she was fierce when it came to her family. High standards of decency for them and anyone they brought into the fold.
He found out months later that Skye had a boy named Alexander.
He’d begun to laugh hysterically, his shaking hands pouring tea to calm his nerves before he clocked in at the shop. Alexander. She’d named him after Isaiah’s last name.
At least his boy (even if Alexander never knew) would have a piece of Isaiah with him.
(He hoped he knew his dad loved him.)
(He wondered if it was the same for the other boys. He wondered what Misters Nash, Grayson and Jameson thought.)
(He wondered if Alexander knew his name.)
Isaiah would probably be considered a stalker by how many times he searched up Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne. It was worth it though. It was worth it to catch glimpses of who his son was.
He went by Xander now, and seemed to be a STEM whiz. And Isaiah knew by then it was fruitless to love the boy like a son he’d raised, but love never listened to logic quite like machines could. (And some of the cars that came into the shop treated logic as a suggestion.)
Few knew about the string between him and Xander that twisted around his heart.
No one but Mom, Dad, and Ms. Kusaki, who lived in the bungalow next door.
It was a blistering day when Mom came to visit; Xander was 6. His house had been deep-cleaned for the first time in months. He’d even got out the nice dishes Aunt Babs had gifted him when she moved in with his cousin Aimee.
She came with a jug of the sweet tea he remembers vividly from summers spent running in the fields and the cornbread she’d likely made using Granny’s recipe.
She’d taken one look at the scattered newspapers of the Hawthorne grandson’s lives and sighed.
“Zay-Love, I know you love him, but you can’t go on like this. I hate to see my baby hurting.”
He nodded.
He brought all the clippings to dinner the next time he went up. Dad was delighted to have more fuel for the bonfire he planned.
Isaiah watched them burn into charcoal and glowing embers, turning off every news notification for his son.
(He kept the letters he’d written to his boy through the years though. He locked them up tight in a box and added them yearly on every Christmas and Birthday.)
Isaiah thought less of Xander in the years that followed. He had a job, a family, and Ms. Kusaki to help.
But sometimes, he still saw Xander.
He was in Mom’s eyes, the same dark cacao, and Dad’s nose and tall stature. Xander shared his dad’s full lips that matched that of Isaiah’s sister Miriam.
Xander is in his niece Aaliyah’s science experiments. Her boundless laughter and watermelon juice on her periwinkle sundress are both a blessing of his brother’s joy and a curse of what he’s lost. Xander seems so contained yet so bursting from the seams with energy in the few interviews he’s watched as of late.
Would his son get his hair braided? Xander’s hair was less coily than curly compared to Isaiah’s family. But he could see him shifting with restless energy like how Ali did as Elijah’s wife Lauri braided careful cornrows.
His kid, even if they’ve never met, would fit in here, Isaiah thinks, watching Hugo chase Daisy around Miriam’s expansive backyard.
But Xander wasn’t here.
And Isaiah had just accepted it as it was.
Xander feels like an apparition. Isaiah hopes he isn’t being too awkward or unfriendly.
But after 17 years of living with the nagging absence, his son being in the room with him, smiling nervously at him; it doesn’t feel real.
Xander is energetic and flitting with anxious twitches. The girls with him seem to radiate protectiveness and encouragement.
He tells his boy to come back soon.
(He wishes he said he loved him.)
His son is in love.
Isaiah knows it the moment Xander’s head and eyes perk up when a young woman walks into the shop as Xander is finishing up in one of the cars. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and she carries a brightly coloured tote while fiddling with a cross hanging from her neck.
Maxine Liu is exactly the kind of girl Xander needs, and he’s the boy she needs. They’re equal levels of chaotic that somehow seem to balance each other out, dorky and sophisticated and sappy in a way that Isaiah first saw when Dad made Mom’s famous pecan pie for her when she broke her arm.
The normal ‘Dad’ thing to do would be to be sceptical of anyone his child dates.
But Isaiah doesn’t exactly have the normal ‘Dad’ experience.
“Xander, your Gramps is holding a barbecue. If you two wanna come…” Was what came out of his mouth instead.
Mom insisted Xander bring his entire family. Isaiah would worry about her and Dad being overwhelmed by all the additional people, but Mom had been a hostess since the day she was born.
His siblings, nieces and nephews, great aunts and their kids were all clustered around the tables, chattering over piles of food placed on checkered cloth covered tables. Hugo, Daisy, and Aaliyah were still the chaos demons, even at 17-20 years old.
He ended up chatting with Xander’s half-brother, Nash and his wife Libby, the latter of whom had brought a massive tray of cupcakes.
Isaiah packed away the left over brisket, Elijah’s steady surgeon hands working alongside him. Xander, his brother’s and all three of their girlfriends (including the Hawthorne Heiress herself) were off with his nieces and nephews. He would be forever grateful to his family for greeting Xander and his family with open arms (or an aggressive hug-tackle on Daisy’s part.).
Watching them play what seemed to be a very intense game of leapfrog (which was hilarious to watch considering Xander and Aaliyah’s heights), Isaiah could feel the warmth blooming in his chest like a sunflower.
They were all here, laughing and eating under the Texas sun.
This was the family he grew up in, loud, kind, and warm.
And now his boy got to be a part of it too.
He shouldn’t have been nervous approaching Hawthorne House, but he was. He had a tray of brownies Ms. Kusaki had insisted he took over when she learned he was invited over for Thanksgiving.
He’d nearly declined when Xander asked, but his puppy eyes that were also skillfully deployed by Max had caused Isaiah to keel.
So here he was, following a woman named Alisa down the ornate hallways. The house was a masterpiece, even if Isaiah hated the creator. He knew Xander loved the hidden passages, and Isaiah was already finding slight cracks in the wood paneling he was sure denoted a hidden door.
(One of) The dining room was warm and bright, squeals of laughter and the soft hum of classical music drifting through the air. Isaiah’s shoe crunched on a rich carpet the colour of Merlot. The contrast between it and the colour of his best shoes was noticeable.
Isaiah Alexander wasn’t exactly the type of person someone expected (or even maybe wanted) to be in this mansion of a home.
But here he was.
“Welcome!” Avery Grambs greeted, she was dressed far more comfortably than any of her TV appearances had shown. Her brown hair in twin dutch braids that fell over her knit sweater that looked suspiciously Jameson’s size.
“Dad!” Xander called out, already rushing forward.
If you had told him years ago that his son would be calling him ‘Dad’ and going in for a hug, he’d would’ve told you to stop fibbing.
But here he was.
Isaiah had made his son cry. Not just small, pretty tears that were perfect for ‘emotional’ press coverage, but massive sobs that wracked his gangly frame.
Xander wiped his face with a mustard yellow sweater paw, leaning his head back against the quilted duvet of the guest bedroom bed (Isaiah had always mentally referred to it as Xander’s room).
His son was sitting crisscrossed in front of the bed, a box long stashed away open at his feet. Letters for every birthday, Christmas and more scattered around his feet. The one that was clutched in his hand at the moment was from the day Isaiah found out about Xander’s first patent.
He remembered writing it, full of pride he knew he shouldn't feel and grief for not being there. And love, so much love it had made his heart ache with relentless drumming.
“For every time-you wrote…” Xander trailed off, pulling his legs up to hug them.
Isaiah knelt in front of him, running his hand through neat curls he knew were cared for with products Max hand-picked.
“Of course I did. I love ya kiddo.”
Xander broke into a watery smile, reaching his arms out like Hugo did when he was little and wanted Aimee’s attention.
Hugging his son was healing, just like Mom and Dad’s were. It was like the kintsugi Ms. Kusaki had in her house and showed off to every new neighbour with joy. He pieced his son’s thoughts and trust back together, a quiet reassurance that he was always wanted and that he was worth it no matter what.
It felt like an apology for years missed and time lost.
It felt like love grew in harsh weather but love that thrived.
It felt like home.
Xander:
Xander had lived his life in halves.
He was always only half-paying attention. (Even if he swore he was giving his all.)
Half-picked. (It was fine, he’d rather observe his brother’s play instead.)
The world would always see him as half a Hawthorne, half as worthy of the life his older brothers shared with him.
But surrounded by letters earlier that day…he was whole.
He wasn’t the half of himself that wasn’t Hawthorne or the half that was, he was just Xander. A boy with a messy family but one that cared.
He had a dad that loved him all the same and was practically a father figure to his brothers.
(Xander would have committed some….offences if he ever got his hands on Jamie and Gray’s sperm donors.)
Max kissed him softly that night when he told her, her hand small but gentle as she cupped his chin.
“And I love you wholly.”
Xander picked up the semi-circle battery and clicked it into the indent in his nightlight. He’d designed it himself, a semicircle battery being placed in the indent would turn it on, completing the circle.
It flickered on, spreading a sea of stars across his bedroom ceiling.
It was whole, and so was he.