Chapter Text
When you had adopted Luke three years ago after the death of your best friend and her partner in a fatal car accident, you never thought you would get a phone call telling you that he had bitten another student at school.
Well.
That wasn't entirely true.
There were only really three things one needed to know about your little Lukey.
1) Luke loved basketball. He spent all of his allowance on basketballs, all of his spare time thinking about basketball, and all of his free time playing basketball. Sometimes it would be with friends, during recess or gym class. Mostly, it was by himself on the makeshift court you had painted for him on the driveway. Morning, noon, or night, come rain or sleet, you would bet that if Luke wasn't in the house brushing Mephisto’s coat, slipping on Mephisto’s drool, or dutifully doing his homework, he was outside dribbling his little worn basketball.
2) Luke loved to cook. One of his favourite things in the world was when you were running late, and you asked him to make you both dinner, texting him a new recipe to make. He loved the challenge, his overactive mind picking apart every ingredient, analyzing what could go wrong in a recipe, and how he could improve it for next time. For him, cooking was a puzzle, a process, a way to create something better with each attempt.
3) Luke was only eleven. He was a good boy; he looked after Mephisto when she was scared during thunderstorms, holding her head in his hands and whispering nonsensical reassurances until she calmed. He distracted her when she was impatient during dinner time, pulling funny faces or telling her stories about what happened that day at school to make her turn her attention away from you as you tried to plate her food without stumbling over her. He even did his best to look after you when you were too tired after work; bringing you blankets and poorly made, slightly soggy, oddly salted sandwiches.
But, he was only eleven.
Which meant he had a hard time managing his emotions.
“Okay, walk me through what happened again?”
Currently, you were pinching the bridge of your nose in Mr. Cosgrove's classroom fighting the urge to laugh as you struggled to understand exactly why you were called into Luke school today.
Principal Francis sighed and started again.
“Alright,” you started. “So, you’re telling me that after my son promised to work with Kieran, at the last moment, Luke decided to work with Justin instead, which led to a fistfight because—”
“Because he's a liar!” Kieran interjected.
“At least I don't get mad when my friends don’t do exactly what I want like a control freak!” Luke fired back.
“At least I don't bite—!”
“Enough! Both of you!” you said. They both glanced at you before turning their gaze to their laps, ears red, shoulders hunched, each of them fighting the same losing battle against tears.
You let out a slow breath and forced yourself to unclench your jaw.
Luke’s hands were balled into fists in his hoodie sleeves, knuckles white, knee bouncing against the leg of his chair like he was trying to shake the anger out of his body. He looked small like this. Smaller than eleven. Curled inward under the weight of adult eyes and consequences he didn’t fully understand yet.
Principal Francis cleared his throat. “We understand that emotions ran high. However, biting is—”
“—not appropriate conflict resolution,” you finished, a bit harsher than intended. You softened your gaze, and, thankfully, Luke understood your silent apology.
“Yes. I know,” Luke said, a bit too glum for your liking. His eyes dropped to the scuffed floor, voice small and rehearsed, like he’d already been lectured twice before you even arrived. It made your heart ache in the worst way.
Across from you, Kieran Qin’s father, Sylus, shifted in his chair. You had seen him from afar a few times at dropoff, and up close, he was exactly as advertised: tall, dark, broad-shouldered, and wearing the expression of a man who had never once had to explain himself to anyone in his life. His jaw was tight, lips pressed thin, one arm draped protectively over the back of Kieran’s chair. The boy leaned into him, smugness already creeping back in now that Luke had been reprimanded.
Maybe you had imagined that last part.
“Perhaps,” Sylus said coolly, “if Luke hadn’t gone back on his word—”
You snapped your head up. “He’s eleven.”
“So is my son.”
“Yes,” you said, voice tight but measured, “and that means neither of them are fully equipped to navigate disappointment without losing their minds. My son chose words. Your son was the one who started the fight in the first place!”
“With his fists, not with his teeth.”
Luke winced, and you glared at Sylus who was glaring right back at you. You reached out and rested your hand on Luke’s knee, steadying both of you. The last thing this situation needed was for you to lose your temper.
But Sylus was making it so easy for you to.
Mr. Cosgrove leaned forward, attempting diplomacy. “The school’s recommendation is that the boys spend some time apart for the next week. Separate group assignments. No shared recess activities.”
Luke’s head shot up. “But basketball—”
“I know,” you said gently. “I know.” You could already see the disappointment settling in, heavy and unfair, the way it always did when adults decided consequences were easier than listening.
“Wait, we can't play basketball together?” Kieran asked, more to his father than to the adults who had any actual say in the matter.
Sylus shrugged noncommittally and addressed the teachers through answering Kieran’. “Maybe if you were to apologize to each other and promise not to do... this again, we can avoid separation?”
“I agree,” you said, finally sitting down for the first time since you had gotten there a half hour ago. You slumped immediately into the chair, but scrambled to fix your posture as you realized the importance of looking like a responsible parental figure. “Luke, it sounds to me like Kieran was upset because he really just wanted to do the project with you. He just wanted to spend time with his friend, is that right, son?” You turned to Kieran as you asked.
Kieran nodded, a blush creeping up to cover his entire face. He was pointedly avoided eye contact with Luke, who was still trying to piece together what was happening.
“But... He punched me," Luke said. "In the face.”
“Yeah, and you bit him! On the arm!” You sighed, and turned away from Luke, struggling to contain your laughter once more. You hid a chuckle unsuccessfully behind a cough, and you turned to see Sylus outright grinning. You broke eye contact with the man before you completely lost your composure.
“Luke,” you tried again, “how would you feel if I promised we were going to get Sammy's for dinner, and right before we were about to leave, I decided to take Mephi instead of you?”
“But you wouldn't do that!” he said immediately.
“Because when I make promises, I follow through on them?”
“Oh.”
You smiled as you saw the realization settle over his face. His shoulders sagged, the anger finally draining out of him now that he understood why Kieran was so upset.
Luke turned to face the other boy, taking Kieran’s hands in his as he bounced up and out of his seat, pulling him to stand as well.
“You should've just told me, Kie!” Luke said. “Well, I mean, you did, but you—wait, no.”
Luke moved, forcing himself into Kieran’s line of vision as the boy continued to avoid his gaze. “K, I’m sorry. I made a promise and I didn't make good on it. I really am sorry. Is that why you got so mad? I didn't know it mattered so much to you...”
“It’s okay, L. I guess... I might have overreacted. It was just one project." Kieran's voice was still thin from crying. Gravelly and coarse. You thought about how angry you would be if that was Luke's tear-stained face looking up at you instead, and suddenly, Sylus' attitude made a lot more sense.
"But still," Luke said. "I made a promise. You're right to be upset with me."
"... I'm not upset anymore."
Luke smiled as he forced Kieran into a hug, which Kieran immediately settled into. On the other side of the room, you sent Sylus a look that said ‘crisis averted.’
Sylus smiled something crooked and bowed his head in shared relief.
“So,” you started to Sylus, looking at the two boys in front of you as you made your way out of the school and into your respective vehicles.
Sylus turned to you with a raised eyebrow, amusement still clearly dancing in his eyes.
You'd never seen the stoic man smile before today. You weren't even aware that he had teeth.
It took your breath away.
“So...” you tried again.
“So,” he mocked lightly, still grinning from ear to ear. You rolled your eyes. It seemed that all Qin’s were punchable.
You briefly wondered if they were all bitable as well.
“So,” you said harder, ignoring how Sylus only beamed brighter the more he got under your skin. “I was thinking we should arrange a play date? It’s long overdue. I feel like I already know Kieran myself from how much Lukey talks about him at home.”
Sylus blinked, clearly not expecting that. “A... play date,” he repeated, testing the words like they might bite him back.
“Yes,” you said, squaring your shoulders. “You know. Two kids. One shared interest. Supervised social interaction so they don’t resort to violence or... cannibalism the next time someone changes group members.”
Beside you, Luke huffed. Kieran covered his mouth to hide a smile. Sylus looked down at his son, who was now clinging to Luke’s sleeve like nothing traumatic had happened at all. Something in his expression softened a fraction before he looked back at you.
“I suppose,” he said slowly, “that would be reasonable.”
You resisted the urge to look smug. “Great. I have a dog by the way. A very large one. She’s friendly. Mostly.”
Sylus paused. “How mostly?”
“Emotionally supportive,” you clarified. “Physically intrusive.”
Luke brightened instantly. “Mephi’s the best! She drools a lot and she sits on people she likes.”
Sylus’ eyebrow twitched. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
“She’s a Great Dane,” you added. “Her concept of personal space is... theoretical.”
Behind you, Principal Francis cleared his throat pointedly. “If the matter is resolved, I’ll let you all get on with your evening.”
“Yes, thank you,” you said quickly, ushering Luke out the door before anyone could reconsider this fragile peace treaty.
Out in the parking lot, the boys immediately resumed their animated conversation, already arguing about hockey teams like the last two hours hadn’t happened. You stopped beside your car and finally exhaled.
Sylus lingered a step behind you, hands in his pockets. “You handled that well,” he said. “Most parents would’ve—”
“Yelled?” you offered. “Threatened to ground their kid until retirement? Fantasized about punting another child into the sun?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Something like that.”
You hesitated, then held out your phone. “Here. I’ll text you my address. We can... ease into it. Maybe this weekend. Low stakes.”
Sylus took his phone out, brushing your fingers briefly as he typed his number in. “Fine,” he said. “But if your dog eats my son—”
“She won’t,” you interrupted. “Not everyone bites in my family. Just the kids, apparently. Worst case scenario, she’ll slobber on him and they’ll emotionally bond until they can't live without each other.”
“That’s almost worse.”
You smiled despite yourself.
You felt something grow in your chest as you looked at Luke, who was now holding up an earth worm for Kieran to retch at.
Something warm.
Something fond.
As Luke climbed into the passenger seat, he leaned out the window. “Can Kieran come over tomorrow?”
“Slow down, buddy,” you said. “One miracle at a time.”
Sylus opened his car door and paused. “Tomorrow might be ambitious,” he said. “But... soon.”
Soon, then.
As you pulled out of the lot, Luke buckled in and sighed happily. “I’m glad we didn’t get in trouble forever.”
“Me too,” you said. “Try not to bite anyone on the way home.”
“No promises,” he said solemnly, then grinned.
You shook your head, smiling, already bracing yourself for the trouble that a play date—with a Great Dane and a man you absolutely did not want to find attractive—was sure to bring.