Work Text:
Month 2
“So that's the situation. What do you think?”
Tanwa concluded his speech with an eloquent smile, that was what he did best. Too bad that if there was anyone in the world who couldn't be fooled by that smile, it was his father.
Padoem's relationship with Tanwa hadn't always been easy, Trin knew it, but when Tanwa had hit rock bottom, it was his father who had lifted him up, and it couldn't have been otherwise. He had gone from being physically violent to understanding that his son was afflicted by something greater than him, and this, in Trin's opinion, spoke volumes about the kind of change one is willing to make for children. Better late than never.
That's why he was at his father-in-law's house, along with his husband, explaining why in a few months he would become the grandfather of an adopted child.
Too bad that despite their enthusiasm, Padoem didn't seem impressed at all. Quite the opposite. He stared at them with blank eyes, as if to say, I have an idiot son who married someone even more idiotic than him, and yet he is supposed to be a professor.
Those exact words.
They waited in vain hope for him to say something, anything to break the awkward silence that had fallen, but a full minute passed before Padoem rose from his old armchair and said,
“Can you excuse me for a moment? I have to make a phone call.”
With that, he disappeared into another wing of the house.
“Well, I think he took it well,” Tanwa commented cheerfully.
“Oh, that— that’s taking it well?”
“He didn’t tell us we are fucking morons, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And how do you know he’s not calling the police to report us?”
Tanwa burst out laughing. “Honey, it’s official, you read too many detective stories. They’ve fucked your head up.”
“I don’t read too many detective stories,” Trin retorted, pouting.
“Of course, you’re always with your nose in those Pierrot’s books or whatever his name is.”
Trin cupped his face in his hands, exasperated and laughing at the same time, then scolded him: "Poirot, darling, his name is Poirot!"
"It doesn't matter, your mind is still messed up."
Just then they heard Padoem return to the room. They sat back down—or at least, Trin did—and waited for him to return to his seat, sunk in his chair, like the king of the castle.
He looked them over, especially Trin, since he knew every inch of his son by heart, and it made him feel tiny, as if he were about to be scolded.
Finally, Padoem said:
“I've always approved of you being an unconventional couple, right?”
“Yes, sir,” he said naturally, with the grace and elegance that had always distinguished him.
“And I don't think I said anything when you insisted on having that sort of wedding, am I right?”
He wasn't wrong. He had stayed at Tanwa's side as Trin walked down the aisle, and the latter had only pretended to believe that the man was allergic to the flowers in his son's hair, and that was why he was tearing up and constantly blowing his nose. There was something tender about that man, and it was all for Tanwa.
“But now there's a child involved,” he continued. “And let me be blunt.”
He pointed at them with an accusatory finger.
“The only thing I didn't have to worry about with a son that is in love with a man was unexpected pregnancies, and yet you two managed to do that. You suddenly dump news of a baby on me and expect me to do nothing?”
He didn't seem to be taking it well.
“You don't know what a child needs. I do. Now you're coming with me.”
With that, he stood up and walked toward the door.
Trin and Tanwa stared at each other, their eyes engaging in a small argument that, briefly, revolved around Tanwa's father's possible and incipient madness; in the end, they decided to follow him anyway, if only to see what he had in mind.
Outside the door, the family chauffeur was waiting for them, ready with the car running to take them wherever Padoem had ordered. They got in the car, in the back where Padoem was in the front. He gave the driver an address they didn't know, and off they went.
Tanwa looked at him with a small smile, probably trying to think about the adventurous side of things. He was undoubtedly thinking: we're going who knows where to do who knows what, let's enjoy the journey without worrying about the worst. And Trin decided to let it rub off on him. He took his hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it, making him smile even wider. Tanwa, in response, pinched his chin with two fingers. These little gestures were their daily bread, little things that, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't contain within the confines of their own home. Now that he thought about it, it was probably one of those little things that made Kri realize he and Tanwa were in love, and not just friends. They were two fools, two pathetic sentimentalists, and soon they would become parents. They would become even more sappy.
Some time passed, and they realized it was taking longer than they had expected: they were on a remote road, very close to greenery and quite far from the city. Even Tanwa had lost his smile, replacing it with a confused expression. Where was his father-in-law taking them?
When the car stopped more than twenty minutes later, they didn't immediately understand. They had to get out under Padoem's command to understand. They just had to walk a little further to see.
It was a house.
It was huge, and it was beautiful.
It had two floors, plus what looked like an attic, a sloping roof, and was surrounded by greenery. However, it had plenty of space outside, and its fairly isolated location guaranteed a certain amount of privacy and tranquility.
Both were left speechless. They didn't even dare imagine why Padoem might have brought them there, because that would have been too much.
Almost casually, the man blurted out, “Well, what do you think?”
“Dad, tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing,” Tanwa gasped, never taking his eyes off the house.
“My plan was to sell my house and buy this property when I retired, but you need it much more than I do. Let’s just say you’ve stolen a great investment from me,” he explained, as if it weighed heavily on him.
Trin turned to look at him. “We can’t afford it.”
“You don’t have to. It’s a gift.”
“We can’t accept this, sir.”
“Stop it, young man, it’s not for you,” he interrupted abruptly. “Do you really think I’d let my grandson see the light in that dump you dare call an apartment?”
Although their apartment was far from a dump, the important thing didn’t escape Trin. My grandson. As gruff as he was, even Tanwa's father already considered himself a grandfather, just as they already considered themselves parents. Only then did he realize that his fake indifference was the only thing keeping him from being moved, and in the end, Padoem was just a future grandfather who no longer thought he would have the chance to see a grandchild come into his life.
Tanwa, overcome with enthusiasm, threw his arms around his father and pulled him into a spontaneous hug, which Padoem reciprocated simply because his son had an overwhelming affection that Trin knew quite well. "Do you know I adore you?"
"Sure, sure, when I give you nice things," Padoem quipped, patting him on the back.
When they parted, his father-in-law explained to them how the deal would go. If they accepted, which Padoem took for granted, the house would officially be theirs starting next month; it was only partially furnished, missing two of the three bedrooms, which they could use as a nursery and guest room. They could spare Kri from giving birth in a dirty hole like the doctor's "special room": she would give birth at home, without fear of the neighbors hearing her screams and in complete privacy. There was room for a child to play, and they could do what they wanted with their family without fear of others' judgment. It was a perfect situation, a little Eden on earth for their future family.
"And you'll come visit us, and I'll name the baby after you," Tanwa said, all enthusiasm and smiles.
"Assuming he's a boy," Trin said with a conviction that surprised him.
However, Tanwa dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "What do you know?"
"Boy or girl, you're still two people who know nothing about raising a child," Padoem scolded them.
Trin turned to him with a smile. "Then I hope you'll be sure to visit us, and often. We'll need you."
The man nodded, as if that was exactly what he expected—or hoped—to hear from them. There was appreciation in his gaze, perhaps even gratitude. One thing was certain: the baby hadn't arrived yet, and it was already changing everything, people and balances. But what was changing, more than anything else, was the way people perceived themselves. Padoem was no longer just Padoem, he would be a grandfather. Trin would be a father, and so would Tanwa. Kri would become part of their pack, somehow, without being forced to do anything she didn't want to. And that would make them, at the end of the day, a family.
Month 3
“I'm home!”
“Professor, come right now!” Kri called.
Trin ran to the guest room, which was currently Kri's room, but she wasn't there. All he found were empty boxes and the chaos of the recent move.
“I'm in the nursery,” she called again.
The new house was still a labyrinth for them. The voices echoed, and the rooms were as large as dépendances. It was beautiful, but it was still new and not yet home.
Once in the nursery, Trin understood the reason for all the commotion. And the reason was Tanwa.
“He did it again,” Kri accused him.
By he did it again, the girl intended to rob a baby store. The first time it had happened, his husband had had a shopping fit and bought home three strollers, and Trin had ignored them. The second time, it was the changing tables—plural—and Trin's complaints had been mild but persistent. Now, however, Tanwa had really gone too far.
He had bought four cribs.
Four.
One blue, one pink, one yellow, and one moon-shaped. Just in case.
“Tanwa!” he scolded him.
“Sweetheart!” he smiled, trying to assemble the pink one. “Aren’t they gorgeous? They gave me a discount because I bought four, and while I was at it, I also got some free pacifiers that…”
“Professor, tell him something because I’m out of words,” Kri interrupted, touching her barely visible belly.
“Don’t get upset, it’s hurting the baby.”
“I’m perfectly calm!” Kri shouted.
Trin had a moment where he regretted coming home from work that day.
He took a deep breath and smiled at Kri. “My dear, can you leave us alone for a second?” he asked. “And I already told you to call me Trin, not professor. I'm not your professor anymore, and besides, you're family now.”
“Yes, no, I don't think I'll ever be able to call you anything but professor” she replied, more relaxed. But she did as she was told and retreated to her room.
Trin's attention was entirely on Tanwa, who realized he was in trouble. He trotted happily toward his husband and put his hands behind his back.
“Okay, maybe I got a little carried away,” he admitted. “But don't you want our son, or daughter—or whatever—to have everything they need?”
In response, Trin cupped his face in his hands and planted a kiss on his forehead, so Tanwa would know he wasn't in trouble at all. He was never in trouble with his husband, not really. “My love, is that why you do this? Do you think the baby might be missing something?”
He shrugged. “I'm a mess, but when I love, I give it all. I want the baby to have the best.”
“And the best is seven cradles?” he chuckled.
Tanwa rolled his eyes and snorted. “Only four.”
“Look at me.”
He looked at him from under his hair with black eyes, as if the dark side of the moon had split in two to pierce his soul. God, how he loved that man, even when he did stupid things like that.
“You will be, in fact, you already are, the sweetest father in the world, and you're not a mess. You're doing great, okay?”
Tanwa nodded, with a small smile.
“If you say so…”
“No, no. You have to say it.”
He blew his hair off his forehead and repeated, “I'm not a mess, I'm doing great.”
“Good,” and he earned another kiss on the forehead. “But you're buying too much stuff. Actually, you're nesting like a little bird, my love.”
“No,” he blurted out, almost offended. Then he thought about it. “Am I?”
Trin nodded. “The baby will sleep in a single crib, fit in a single stroller, and we'll change them on a single changing table, and they won't need a thousand pacifiers. They'll grow at the speed of light, and we'll realize that the things we thought were indispensable were just… things.”
Tanwa looked around, as if seeing that multitude of furniture for the first time in his life. “Okay, fine, maybe I got a lot carried away. You're right. I'm a bird and I married a man who is smarter than I am.”
With that, he smiled flirtatiously and wrapped his arms around his waist. He hugged him tightly, among that incredible pile of objects, a twin smile plastered on his lips.
“Do you know what matters to a baby? Not how many cribs they have. But the song you sing when you lull them to sleep. And you're perfectly capable of doing so without buying a single thing.”
He felt Tanwa hold him a little tighter, sigh softly, letting himself be cuddled by that embrace. Sometimes Tanwa got lost, but Trin existed to be an anchor, a safe haven in his life, to bring him home when he wandered aimlessly, sometimes physically, sometimes mentally. That's why he decided to lend him a hand.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," Trin said. "We'll take the things we don't need and donate them."
"Donate them?"
"Yes, for example... we could give them to families who have nothing."
Tanwa pretended to whimper and playfully punched him in the chest. "Smart and selfless, too, are you single?"
Trin feigned desolation. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm already married."
"I think," he began, leaning closer to his ear, "I have a way or two to convince you."
"Tan, not in the nursery."
"Oh my God, in the nursery!" He giggled, leaving a killer kiss on his neck.
Trin freed herself from his vampire husband and began sifting through the things he had bought. Trin had to admit, they were all gorgeous; there was so much to choose from.
He was especially enchanted by the moon-shaped crib. He studied it more closely. It was made of soft fabric, but with a semicircular wooden frame around it, carved with a few stars to further convey the idea. He imagined it with a few fairy lights hanging from it. It seemed truly perfect for the two of them, who had met during the moon landing.
"Woah, I really like this one," he whispered, touching it. "Let's keep it."
"I knew this one was the best," Tanwa said, satisfied.
They began discussing what to keep and what to give away. At one point they asked Kri, who greatly appreciated the idea; moreover, she admitted that it was difficult to choose just one of the things Tanwa had bought, they were so beautiful, but she made him promise that from now on he would make only one purchase at a time, one that was both thoughtful and equally refined. He promised, and in the end, they chose one of everything.
“I apologize for burying you in stuff,” Tanwa said in the end. “But you know how I am. When I love someone, I go big. You know, Kri, when I started dating Trin, I wouldn't leave him alone for a second.”
“That's true,” he confirmed. “He was everywhere.”
Kri smirked, amused. “Tanwa, you're a romantic!”
“I wasn't always like this,” he looked at Trin. “You'd never guess who changed me.”
The professor felt himself blush slightly and hid it behind a smile.
“We were both different before we met, let's put it that way.”
“Oh yeah? In what way?”
Kri was curious. She had never been curious before. Sure, she had softened towards them in the last few weeks, especially towards Tanwa, whom she was getting to know, but she was certainly not outgoing and still wary. This was the first time she had shown curiosity about an intimate aspect of their relationship, and it surprised Trin, who felt seen for the first time by the girl, rather than just looked at.
"How much time do you have?" he asked.
"I'm a single mother stuck in a house far away from the city. I have all the time in the world."
"Oh, you'll like this," Tanwa laughed, rubbing his hands together.
They sat in a circle on the floor, surrounded by useless objects that would almost all be donated to the less fortunate, and in that unlikely atmosphere, Trin lost himself listening to Tanwa tell a love story he knew very well. And he was never tired of hearing it, narrated with the very same words.
"It was the summer of 1969…”