Chapter Text
Leo sighs. “How can you escape boredom?” he mutters out loud, like the empty sidewalk might actually answer him.
It’s not that he’s really bored. Not fully. He lives with his younger brother and his brother’s Little, and they’re pretty chill. The little never causes problems, never throws fits, never asks for too much. In a lot of ways it’s easy.
And that’s kind of the whole problem.
Leo wants someone of his own. Someone to take care of. Someone who actually needs him. The quiet in his house has started feeling too quiet. He doesn’t want chaos, but he also doesn’t want everything to stay this soft and predictable forever.
He tries the little centers. The first one looks nice from the outside—bright walls, soft music, that clean laundry smell mixed with crayons. He walks in hopeful. Twenty minutes later he walks right back out.
Aww, hell nah.
Every Little in there is polished. Sparkles in their hair, matching outfits, perfect manners. They say please and thank you like it’s automatic. They smile when they’re supposed to. They sit still when someone asks. It’s fine. It’s good, even. But none of them stand out. None of them make him stop and think, *yeah… that one.*
So he keeps looking.
He checks every single little center in the state. Some are bigger. Some are quieter. Some have outdoor areas and sensory rooms and color-coded schedules on the walls. Doesn’t matter. Same result every time. Polite. Soft. Predictable. No one different. No one who feels real.
He wants someone different. Someone—
“Ahh—!”
His foot catches on something solid. The ground comes up fast. He hits the sidewalk hard, palms scraping against the concrete. For a second he just blinks at the ground, breath half knocked out of him.
“Ayy, watch it—” He pushes himself up, brushing dirt and little bits of gravel off his shirt. The person he tripped over doesn’t even look back. Just keeps walking like nothing happened.
Leo frowns. No manners. No sense.
Then he sees the bat.
It swings out of nowhere. Leo barely gets his arms up in time. The wood cracks against his forearm and pain shoots straight up to his shoulder. His vision flickers for a second—life flashing, the whole dramatic thing—and for one dizzy moment he thinks the guy might swing again.
But the stranger just stands there, bat still in his hand, face hard to read.
Leo doesn’t hit back. Doesn’t yell. The anger is there, sharp and immediate, but something under it keeps him still. Shock, maybe. Or the way the kid looks younger up close than he expected. Smaller. Less steady.
He stares for a long second, heart still racing, then carefully steps forward and takes the bat. Not yanked. Just takes it. The stranger’s fingers loosen almost right away, like he wasn’t fully holding on in the first place.
Leo lets out a slow breath. Then, without really deciding to be gentle about it, he closes his hand loosely around the kid’s wrist and starts walking him toward the police station. Not dragging. Not forcing. Just firm enough that there’s nowhere to go.
“Yes, um… I’d like to report an attack,” Leo tells the lady officer once they’re inside, still holding the kid’s wrist.
She nods and reaches for her clipboard. Her eyes move between the two of them, lingering a second longer on the bat Leo set on the counter.
“Is this the person who did it?”
Leo hesitates. Just half a second. Long enough to glance at the stranger’s face again—at the way he’s not quite meeting anyone’s eyes, at the tension in his shoulders. “…Yes.” He gives the lightest nudge forward.
“Okay. Take a seat,” the officer says. “We have to run some things before we let you go. And you, young sir, will come with me.”
She takes the kid by the wrist—gently, Leo notices—and leads him toward the back. The door clicks shut behind them.
Leo drops into one of the hard plastic chairs and immediately starts fidgeting. Fingers tapping against his knee. Thumb rubbing over the raw scrape on his palm. He looks at the clock, then away, then back again.
*So much for getting to work.*
The minutes drag. Twenty of them, maybe more. Long enough for the adrenaline to fade and leave a dull ache in his arm and a restless feeling under his skin. He keeps replaying the swing of the bat, the blank look on the kid’s face, the way he didn’t fight even a little when Leo brought him here. It sits weird in his chest. Not bad, exactly. Just unfinished.
When the lady officer finally comes back, she looks a little impressed.
“Thank you, sir. You actually helped us very much. You may leave now.”
She’s already half turning when Leo speaks up.
“May I ask what I helped with?”
The officer pauses, then gives him a warm, tired smile. “Well… you helped us find the person who’s been reported more than a few times. Trespassing. Minor property damage. A couple of scuffles. And he’s also a Little.” She tilts her head. “Anything else?”
Leo’s pulse does something complicated in his throat. “Does he have a caregiver?”
“Uh, no. Not on his record. Why?”
There it is. The opening. Leo tries—and mostly fails—to keep the hopeful edge out of his voice. “Is it possible for me to… I mean, adopt him?”
The officer’s eyebrows lift. She studies him for a second longer than is comfortable. “Yes. It is very possible. But are you sure you want this one? There are plenty of other joyful—and less aggressive—Littles available if you look at some of the centers—”
“No,” Leo says, softer than before but firm. “I’ve checked every center in this state. Please… can I try him? I know this is weird. I know how it looks. But he feels special. I can help him. I have a good record. I’m steady. I can be patient.”
The lady officer sighs. For a moment she looks like she might argue. Then her expression shifts into something almost pleading, like she’s already bracing for the paperwork and hoping Leo won’t make it worse.
“Alright, sir. Please go to the Little adoption center around back.”
Leo’s face breaks into a wide smile. “Thank you. Thank you!”