Chapter Text
“We get a lot of visitors around the care home, who are interested in adopting the babies. They go out faster than we can cope with. On the contrary, the teenagers usually stay here until they age out of the care system. It’s hard on them. Seeing kids younger than you be taken in and shown unconditional love while you’re stuck unwanted. We try to engage with them as much as possible, so they don’t become entirely isolated from the world around them. But there is only so much we can do, time and finance allowing. If you feel that you two have the time and space and desire to adopt a teenager, we really urge you to consider doing so.” Ilya cast a glance at Shane, who squeezed his hand where they were resting on the shared armrests between their chairs.
It felt entirely abnormal to walk through a care home with the intention to adopt a child. As if they were shopping for children, rather than trying to do something good. Though Shane had had a long debate with Ilya about adoption, and his findings in his research about children who had been adopted. They’d spoken at length about whether to foster, or adopt. They’d decided that it didn’t really matter, so long as they could provide a child with a safe place to be, even if it was only temporary.
They’d been through the whole process of being vetted, trained, checked and approved before they could even consider fostering or adopting a child. Being here today felt like the very first true step they’d taken towards this goal.
“So, we have seven kids here, of varying ages. At the moment we’ve got two babies, but they are currently in the process of being adopted. The other five are between the ages of 4 and 15.”
“On the right here, we have Lila. She’s our youngest ward. She came into our care a week and a half ago, and since then has already been chosen for adoption. The parents-to-be are currently working on the legal papers. She’s only three months old.” Paula pressed open the door, letting Shane and Ilya peer in through the doorway where there was a little baby fast asleep in a crib. It was a rather sparse room, really. For what one may consider to be sparse for a baby who had no personal belongings. There was nothing personal about the room.
Paula closed the door again, leaving Lila to her slumber.
“Here we have Zion, who came to us only two days ago. He’s one and a half. We had some parents come in yesterday who are looking to adopt him, but nothing has been organised or signed yet. So, as crass as it sounds, he is still an option for you two.”
Once again, they peered into the bedroom, which was equally as sparse as Lila’s, par for a few additional personal belongings spread around the room, such as some toy trucks and some various stuffed animals, in the shapes of dinosaurs and dogs. The little boy looked up, making a soft babbling sound, reaching his hands out as he came running towards Shane and Ilya. The latter of which bent down with a coo and came back up with Zion in his arms. “Hi, little one.”
“He’s hearing impaired. He was found to be neglected by his parents, and therefore he never developed his speech properly. We’ve started him on a project with the local Deaf community, to provide him with a community and access to people with the same impairment. They’ll be on project with him to teach him sign language. We’re currently in talks about whether we need to get him hearing aids, or a cochlear implant. But, seeing as it is not our choice as wards, we run the risk that the people looking to take him in will not work in line with the people we’re working alongside with. Which puts him at risk of being deprived from his community if he has no access to sign language, the culture and the people. It’s complicated.”
Shane met Ilya’s own look which was torn into a sympathetic expression. Ilya looked back to the boy, stroking a big hand over his tanned little head. “Hi, malysh.” Ilya cooed softly, “I do not know any sign. But I do know little babies like funny faces, hm?” His face softened, his fingers dancing over the baby’s side. He held the baby to his chest, bouncing him occasionally while Paula redirected to the other kid in the room. “And this is our lovely Mila. Mila’s our residential big girl, aren’t you?”
“I’m a big girl!” The girl with pig-tails tied up with ribbons grinned at Shane. “Look, mr! I can do a handstand!” She pushed herself up from the floor, bouncing on her way towards the other side of the small room and Shane found himself looking at her upside down grin. “Wow,” he couldn’t help the small grin which had grown onto his face, “that is really impressive. Do you do gymnastics?” Mila came down from her handstand, her pink tutu falling back into place. “I do, Mr! I like tumbling all about and- and!” she bounced up and down in front of Shane excitedly. “I am like, the best! I have two gold medals from my competitions! Do you want to see? Come see, Mr!”
Her small hand found its place in Shane’s own, who was dragged out of the room across the hallway. He found himself being pushed down by Mila onto the bed, where she pranced about the room showing off her gold medals. Ilya and Paula appeared in the doorway, Zion still on his hip. Zion seemed to be enthusiastically pulling on Ilya’s curls, and then at his own. “Wow. Those are some proper gold medals. I am impressed,” Shane inspected them closely, “First on the beam, huh? That is very very good. I could definitely not do gymnastics.”
“He could not. He is not flexible enough. Cannot do a split.”
Shane rolls his eyes at the sight of Ilya’s cheeky grin. “I bet Mr could! You can do anything you put your mind to!” Mila sounded so much older than she must have been, as though reciting a mantra which was familiar to her like the back of her hand. “That is true. Maybe I’ll give it a go later, how about that?”
“Very good idea, Mr!”
When they left the two of them to their own devices again, Paula continued down the hallway, stopping in front of another door. “So,” A soft sigh sounds from Paula, who runs a hand through her greying hair. “This is Bowie. They were placed under our care about four months ago. We have had at least fourteen visitations within those four months. Every single ward we have had has had relative turnover, and been placed either with a foster family, or been adopted. Bowie’s situation is a little more unique, and we believe that to be the reason why they have not yet been in contact for a new placement, or adoption. You may want to bear this in mind. Bowie is 13, and has had a very rough childhood. Their reason for being placed away from home is-”
The door pulled open suddenly, and Ilya and Shane stepped back on instinct.
“You know I can hear you, right? The doors aren’t made of fucking steel.”
Ilya looks like he’s sucking on a sour lemon. Shane isn’t sure why.
“Apologies, Bowie. I don’t mean to make you feel like a spectacle. I just wanted to explain to Shane and Ilya that-”
“You don’t have to explain anything to anyone. I don’t want to be adopted. Or fostered. I’m just fucking fine here, thanks.”
The door slams shut in their faces, leaving only a stunned silence and a heavy gust of wind.
“Right. I think we’ll leave them be for a bit. Apologies for that.”
Paula steers them away and through the other rooms and children to visit. The remaining four children are all hanging around in the living room, watching what looks to be despicable me. Some of them are consuming popcorn at a scary rate, while one of them is curled up and dozed off in the corner of the sofa. The rest of the visit isn’t bad either.
It isn’t until they’ve sat in the car in silence for about three whole minutes that they look at each other. Ilya starts the car, pulling out of the car park. He drives much calmer than he usually does. Takes the bends with caution. He doesn’t even rev the car before the light can turn green. They don’t need to speak like they usually do.
Their communication had always been a little stiff outside of sex and physical touch, and with Galina’s help, Ilya had started opening himself up, which had coaxed Shane into asking more.
But Ilya and Shane both knew they were thinking the same thing.
Ilya and Shane found themselves back at the care home the following week.
This time Bowie was sitting in the corner of the care home office, arms crossed over their chest. The chair they were sitting on swivelled as they used their legs to push them from side to side. Paula was sat behind the desk, typing away on her laptop. Shane and Ilya settled down into their own respective chairs, turned just so they could look at Paula and Bowie at the same time.
One thing could be said for certain. Bowie was not happy.
“Thank you for coming, Shane and Ilya. I appreciate your prompt response to the meeting. So, we got your message last time that you would like to get to know Bowie better, in potential prospect for fostering, or adoption. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Shane said, his eyes flicking over Paula and then Bowie.
“I don’t want to be adopted,”
“Bowie. Please.” Paula cast a look at them, eyebrows raised. A silent conversation happened between them, resulting in a defeated huff. Bowie tucked their knees up to their chest, wrapping their arms around it, looking for all the world pouty. “Fine,” it came out mumbled and muffled by their knees, where they had tucked their face away.
“We would like to set up some scheduled visits with you two, to establish whether both parties are on board with a possible fostering, or adoption occurring. We have a few rules which will need to be strictly followed to ensure the safety of both Bowie and the baby, however, we can-”
“Baby?”
“Ah. Yes. I suppose we didn’t fully get to that part last time, did we?”
Bowie seems to shrink further into their seat, face turning away.
“There is a child involved here. Bowie is six months pregnant.”
Ilya and Shane met each other's eyes, equally as surprised. They hadn’t noticed when they’d seen Bowie last time. But neither of them could explain the connection they’d felt with Bowie, even though , especially because the interaction had been short and a little crass.
“Okay. So, what would you need to see from us?”
Bowie’s head shot up so fast Shane worried they’d get whiplash. Their wide eyes met Shane’s. They flicked from Shane to Ilya.
Paula shifted in her seat. “Well, we would need additional checks to ensure that you would be suitable to house not only a teenager, but also a baby. The baby would be Bowie’s responsibility, and you would not have any legal say in their care, or wellbeing. But you would be expected to house the baby, ensure they are fed and clothed. So, you have to provide financial and emotional support to both Bowie and the baby, and you have no say in any legal decisions in regards to the care of the baby. We will monitor the situation closely between both Bowie and the baby, and whoever is responsible for Bowie.”
When Ilya looked over to Bowie again, their eyes met and for a second he saw a glimpse into a thirteen year old who looked so alone. A scared, sad, lonely thirteen year old who was facing unimaginable fears, one thirteen year old he had been too.
“Okay. We would like to continue looking at getting to know Bowie.”
He didn’t need to look at Shane to decide. He knew what the right thing to do was.
“Do you agree with that, Shane?”
Shane gave Paula a nod, reaching over for Ilya’s hand. “Yes. We would like to proceed with getting to know Bowie. With further prospects for adoption. We understand what is required of us in that case, in regards to both Bowie and the baby.”
There was a weighted silence in the room for a drawn out silence, until the chair Bowie was sitting in squeaked back harshly and came to the floor with a clatter. They didn’t slam the door on their way out this time.
Paula gave an apologetic smile. “They have a habit of doing that. I apologise. This whole process has been hard for them. It’s not my place as of now to tell you anything personal about them, but things have been complicated, and hurtful for them. We’re trying to navigate getting them to go to therapy, but they are reluctant to do so.”
Ilya gives a little shrug, “Teenager, yes? Is to be expected. Nothing personal.”
An off season Sunday found Ilya and Shane in a park. Now, being outside in full daylight and proper clothing, the bump on the thirteen was much more obvious. It was far from a big bump, but it was extended enough to make the public cast offended glances at the teenager. Or, barely teenager, really. They were sat on a public bench, amidst the green parkland in Ottawa. Bowie’s ice cream in their cup was melting faster than they were consuming it. They were more like stirring it around, as though attempting to speed up the pace at which it was already melting.
“Do you not like ice cream?” Ilya spoke mid lick, making it come out more garbled. Their nose scrunched up, their shoulders rising into a shrug. “It’s fine,”
“That is not a yes.”
Bowie huffs slightly, fingers tightening around the paper cup. “I prefer gelato.”
“What! Why did you not say! Shane, up. We must get this deprived child gelato now.” He coaxed Shane up from his seat, where he was respectively eating his own ice cream which he’d reluctantly gotten when Ilya had given him a pointed glare. Bowie had argued that, ‘why should they be forced to get ice cream, if *he* wasn’t?’. And so Shane had reluctantly given in.
“What? No. I don’t want gelato. I’m fine. Thank you.”
“No, no. We must get you and baby gelato!”
Despite digging in their heels quite firmly, Ilya was set on it, and within fifteen minutes Bowie had gelato in a fresh paper cup. They grumbled about it, but the satisfied set of their shoulders told Ilya his determination had been correct.
They sat on a strip of grass they’d found under a tree for a while. It was comfortable. It was a warm day, but there was a cool breeze which carried through occasionally, preventing the atmosphere from becoming too suffocating. Once they’d all finished their respective ice-creams, and the cups had been discarded of, Bowie spoke up for the first time of their own volition.
“Why would you want to adopt me?”
Shane and Ilya turned to look at them at the same time. Shane looked bemused, while Ilya looked almost sad. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“No. I just mean, why me. I mean, you… know about the baby, now. So, why would you want to adopt me? Cause you’ll have double the financial burden, but no say over the baby. That’s just like, a lose lose for you.” They met Ilya’s eyes for the first time, scanning his face thoroughly before looking away again. Their hand came to rest over the soft round of their stomach.
“I do not know,” It comes out soft, spilling out unbidden. “I do not know why. I have no direct reason. What I do know is that I care. That I see a kid who is struggling, who we have the means to provide for, and help. And if I can, if you’ll let me, then I would. Shane and I would be really happy to be there for you.”
“We don’t know much about being your age, and having to deal with being pregnant.” Their nose scrunches up, face turning away. “But like Ilya said, we want to support you. To the best of our abilities. You might have to educate us along the way, or help us when we get things wrong, because we will. But we will do our best. And we will provide you with a good future, for both yourself and the baby.”
Bowie shrugs softly, picking at the loose thread on their tshirt. “What if…it’s more than you can handle. Or want to handle. What if you change your mind? Or if I don’t… want to stay with you anymore. I don’t want to be adopted. It’s too permanent, and… I need to protect my baby. I can’t…-”
Ilya leans forward slightly, reaching over to rest his hand on their arm. “Hey. It is okay. We will not do anything unless you want to, okay? This is big decision and you do not know us. Think about it. No pressure. We are here if you want, and if not, that is okay too. We want the best for you, and your baby.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“And you… wouldn’t- you…-” Bowie chews at their nails, “You wouldn’t mind having a baby around? I mean, it might cry a lot. And.. it’d be messy.”
“We would not mind, малыш. We will look after you, and make sure you can look after your baby, yes? We will make sure you have a roof, and bed. We will do anything to look after you and your baby, yes? We have lots of money, and lots of space in our house. We are married. We both have Canadian citizenship. We are all good and-”
“Sorted.”
“Da, like Shane said. Organised. Sorted. If you want, we would be really happy to have you in our family.
“You don’t really know me. You- you don’t know that.”
Ilya gives Bowie a soft smile, something paternal which makes something in their chest wrench and crumple. “Then we will learn to know you, yes? When people have baby biologically, they do not know the baby yet. Or what it will do, or be like. Same thing. Just lots of love.”
They had a few more meetings, mostly sat in Paula’s office at the care home. A lot of hesitant signatures from Bowie, and nervous chewing came from the right of Shane and Ilya. They were both valiantly trying to reassure Bowie that things would be okay. It seemed to work somewhat, but the hesitancy remained. When Bowie excused themselves from the room for some air, Paula reassured them that if Bowie wasn’t sure about it, then they wouldn’t even be in the room discussing it. If there was anything Shane and Ilya had learnt in the short time they’d gotten to know them, it was that they were incredibly headstrong. If not more so than Ilya was. Which was saying something.
So when the final papers came back approved, Shane and Ilya were there to help Bowie move.
There wasn’t particularly a lot to move. There was about a suitcase worth of clothes, and one pair of disintegrating shoes, a few books, and a laptop. There was very little personal belonging there at all, which seemed on par with the other children in the home. But then one supposed that being somewhere that wasn’t home bode to a lack of personal belongings.
Choosing a bedroom seemed harder though. Ilya and Shane’s cottage bode itself three bedrooms, one of which was the master and was already occupied by Shane and Ilya themselves. The other two free rooms bode themselves as free choice to Bowie.
“You can pick whichever one you like most. And we can turn the other guest room into a nursery. Or if you prefer, the baby can sleep in your room with you. Whatever you want. We can paint the walls, change things. Put in new furniture. Your choice, bud.”
Shane stood in the doorway, thumbs in his pockets as he watched Bowie peer around the room. Their free hand was wrapped beneath the curve of their belly. The guest bedroom on the west wing had big windows facing out over the lake. “The sun sets on this side. So you get a nice view of the sunset from here.” The room had doors which could lead out onto the patio which was connected to the dock. It was a relatively nice decorated room, if not a little sparse and impersonal. It had a sort of bohemian, shack type feel to it.
The bedroom on the east of the house had similarly big windows, providing a view onto the corner of the driveway and out into the shrubbery. Both bedrooms had nice views. Bowie lingers in the hallway between the two rooms, giving a small shrug. “Wherever you would rather me be, I guess.”
Shane’s brow furrows slightly, “It’s really up to you, kid. Do you not have a preference?”
A shrug, “I guess. But it doesn’t matter. Wherever I’m less of a bother.”
“Hey. No. You’re not a bother. Look, we chose to adopt you, okay? You don’t have to do anything to appease us. Just do whatever you feel best about.”
Bowie chewed at their bottom lip, looking unsure. They moved between the two rooms a few times, looking deeply contemplative. “Maybe I’ll pick this one? Cause it’ll be less bright in the morning. And, then I can maybe sit on the dock, sometimes. If that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Ilya’s voice came from behind Shane who jumped slightly and turned around to glare at him, “Asshole.”
“Hey! No swearing in front of children, Shanya!”
“I don’t mind.”
“Good choice, малыш.” Ilya comes to stand beside them where they are looking out the window onto the lake. “Do you want to change wall colour? We can paint, or do paper for wall.”
“Wallpaper, Ilya.”
“Wallpaper, da.”
“... yeah, maybe. If that’s okay?”