Chapter Text
Bertholdt and Annie had a ritual. After he picked her up from preschool, but before Reiner got back from work, they would go to the den and, because neither of them could be described as touchy-feely, sit on opposite sides of the couch. Bert would catch up on his college reading and Annie would watch cartoons that Bert was sure were too violent for her.
It was comfortable, and Bert was thankful for this quiet time between them where he didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or maybe, somehow, breaking her. Annie was so much smaller than he was.
Reiner had his own ritual. When he came back from work, still smelling of gasoline, oil, and sweat, he would sit between them and with a warm laugh pull both of them into a tight hug that left Annie wrinkling her nose and Bert with thoughts that he was pretty sure were illegal to have within a square mile of a child.
It was a good life.
***
I have a good life, Bert reminded himself as he clenched his fists in his lap to keep from punching to woman on the other side of the desk. It’s not worth going to jail.
He wished Reiner were here instead of him. He would know what to say, how to smooth this over so they wouldn’t have to go look for another affordable preschool. Reiner was good with people in a way Bert knew he could never be.
“Mr. Fubar, I don’t think you fully realize how much of a warning sign your” - a disapproving hesitation - “daughter’s behavior is. For the safety of the other children we have no choice but to expel her.”
A sweat broke out across Bert’s forehead and fought to keep from trembling. He’d never done well with confrontation and could feel his anger break like a fever as anxiety rolled through him. It left him lightheaded and unsteady, and why wasn’t Reiner the school’s primary contact?!
In the chair beside him Annie glared at the floor with all the heat and fury she could muster. “I’m not bad,” she said stiltedly. Her lips began to tremble.
Bert drew in a long, slow breath, straightened his back, and looked the administrator - Rico was it? - in the eye. “I still don’t understand why Annie’s the one being punished,” he said. “The fight only happened because they were teasing her.”
“She should have gone to her teacher. We don’t tolerate physical violence at this school, and we have given you plenty of warnings.” She adjusted her glasses and continued to fill out Annie’s dismissal forms. “Please sign here,” she said as she pushed a paper towards him.
“She’s four!”
“I think it’s time for the two of you to leave, Mr. Fubar. We have plenty of children waiting to attend whose parents have taught them basic manners.”
“Fine,” he said, signing the paper sloppily in his rush to leave the office that was feeling smaller and smaller around him. “Let’s go get some ice cream, Annie.” He picked her up out of the chair and cradled her against his chest.
Annie held herself stiffly in his arms and he had to adjust his hold after they walked out the door. Bert realized with a start that this was the first time he’d carried her.
“Sorry,” he said, and lifted her up a bit higher. “That didn’t go very well.”
“I’m not in trouble?” she asked. Bert looked down and saw her face was scrunched in confusion.
Bert sighed and thought about how hard it would be to find a preschool with a slot open this late in the year. “Maybe a little bit, because you shouldn’t kick people.”
“But kicking works,” Annie said, and sniffed.
What was he supposed to do? Would a good parent punish her? Bert had no idea, but he didn’t have any delusions that he was a good parent material either. One certain thing, though, was that he had to let Reiner know what had happened.
“Let’s go pick up Reiner for ice cream, too. He needs a break from work,” he said.
***
“We’ve had her a month and she’s already been expelled from preschool.” Reiner relaxed into the old wooden bench the three of them were using and let out a sigh followed by a short bark of a laugh. “Yup, she’s my cousin alright.”
Bert sipped his strawberry milkshake and leaned his shoulder against Reiner’s. “Didn’t know your family was so colorful.”
“Why do you think I’ve never introduced you? They’d eat you alive, Bertl.”
“Nuh uh!” came Annie’s high voice from Reiner’s other side, distorted from a mouthful of something very rainbow and covered in sprinkles. “People taste gross.”
Reiner grinned widely. “So our little Annie’s a biter too, huh?”
The pleased sound Annie made worried Bert.
“You know what I think?” Reiner said, looking between the two of them. The look in his eyes made Bert worry more even as Annie caught his excitement and sat straighter. “I think Annie should take fighting classes.”
It took Bert almost a full minute to find his words. In the meantime Annie was bouncing in delight alternating animatedly between pleases and thank yous. He tore his eyes from her and looked at Reiner. “But her problem is fighting too much!” he said incredulously.
“Exactly,” Reiner said. “So let’s give her a place where she can do it and not get in trouble.”
Bert supposed it made sense, but there was still a problem. “You’ll have to pick up some overtime or I’ll have to find a second job. Maybe both since we have to find a new pre-school.” He sighed. “TAs get paid the same no matter how many hours they work.”
He felt sticky fingers on his hand and looked down (she was just so small) to see Annie sprawled across Reiner’s legs and staring up at him intently with her large blue eyes. “Please?”
***
Their ritual had changed a little bit. Three days a week when Bert picked Annie up from school they went to an MMA gym for classes. Both of them. Reiner had thought they’d be good for Bert, help him out with his confidence, and he’d been right. Well, maybe not exactly right about the confidence, but Bert found himself more eager to get into the boxing ring each week.
Annie was doing especially well. She was getting in less fights and she even had a friend now, a little girl named Mina.
When they got home they still sat on opposite sides of the couch, Bert with a text to read or the gym’s ledger to balance and Annie with her violent cartoons, because they would never be described as touchy-feely. And when Reiner got home, still smelling of gasoline, oil, and sweat, he’d sit between them and pull them into a tight hug that left Annie wrinkling her nose and Bert wishing her bedtime would come just a little sooner.
It was a good life.