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witticasterOakverse makes it sound like they're going to get pogeymans, ngl. When in actuality, they're going to get heroin addictions and poorly planned melodramas.
Archie curls in on himself in their hotel bed that night, facing the wall. William's stretched out next to him, he knows from long experience, likely staring up at the ceiling in the dark; William's always been good about backing off when Archie needs space to fume at the universe, less talented at feigning sleep. Archie can tell by the sound of the breaths he takes that they're both awake right now.
He's glad of that. Unsure though he might be about everything else, Archie knows he wants to talk right now, and he wants an audience to witness. "He's so thin, William. Christ, I'm an awful father."
There's no answer, and Archie begins to wonder if he's wrong and, against all odds, William's asleep. And then, when he's about to give up, that quiet, even voice answers him. "I don't think you can be an awful father to someone you've only known six hours."
"I should've known," Archie mutters, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears threatening to escape them. "I should've kept in contact with her. I'd have taken him. I'd have--I'd have--"
He can't end the sentence, can't even begin to count all the ways he could end that thought. Less than a day into having a son, and purely by virtue of his absence, he's already failed irrevocably.
-
When they return to Dartmouth, Rosie presents her fathers with a fistful of flowers plucked from Ellen and Mohini's back garden. William swoops her up in a hug, Archie pecks her on the cheek, and looks questioningly at Ellen.
"She didn't pick them without asking," William's sister assures him, shrugging, then asks, "How're you holding up?"
Archie shrugs in return, knowing as he does that his face is neutral at best, grim at worst. "Everyone made it back to England alive."
-
They sit Rosie down after dinner, two days later, when jet lag has no chance of clouding their judgment. Archie does the majority of the talking; it being his fault they're in this mess in the first place, he supposes he'd be a damned coward to make William explain. "Rosie, we need to apologize to you," he says, trying to keep his expression pleasant. "We weren't entirely truthful about why we went to the States. We'll tell you why we went now, if you like."
After considering this for a moment, her legs swinging back and forth above the floor, she says, "Auntie Ellen said you went on a business trip."
"Auntie Ellen wasn't correct," William answers, shaking his head. A stage manager and a stay-at-home carpenter with a business trip? Only a five year old would believe it, Archie thought.
"We were doing something important." Archie realizes suddenly the benefits of Rosie's age; after agonizing over what to tell her for a day and a half, the sudden, should've-been-obvious knowledge that she'll believe whatever they tell her is a weight off his shoulders. The barest details, and she'll be satisfied, won't she? "We were getting your brother from America."
Rosie frowns. "I don't have a brother."
She sounds so certain--as though confirming the blue of the sky--that Archie can't help but smile, despite himself. "You do. His name is Sebastian. He's been living in the States, but now he's going to live with us."
Archie curls in on himself in their hotel bed that night, facing the wall. William's stretched out next to him, he knows from long experience, likely staring up at the ceiling in the dark; William's always been good about backing off when Archie needs space to fume at the universe, less talented at feigning sleep. Archie can tell by the sound of the breaths he takes that they're both awake right now.
He's glad of that. Unsure though he might be about everything else, Archie knows he wants to talk right now, and he wants an audience to witness. "He's so thin, William. Christ, I'm an awful father."
There's no answer, and Archie begins to wonder if he's wrong and, against all odds, William's asleep. And then, when he's about to give up, that quiet, even voice answers him. "I don't think you can be an awful father to someone you've only known six hours."
"I should've known," Archie mutters, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears threatening to escape them. "I should've kept in contact with her. I'd have taken him. I'd have--I'd have--"
He can't end the sentence, can't even begin to count all the ways he could end that thought. Less than a day into having a son, and purely by virtue of his absence, he's already failed irrevocably.
-
When they return to Dartmouth, Rosie presents her fathers with a fistful of flowers plucked from Ellen and Mohini's back garden. William swoops her up in a hug, Archie pecks her on the cheek, and looks questioningly at Ellen.
"She didn't pick them without asking," William's sister assures him, shrugging, then asks, "How're you holding up?"
Archie shrugs in return, knowing as he does that his face is neutral at best, grim at worst. "Everyone made it back to England alive."
-
They sit Rosie down after dinner, two days later, when jet lag has no chance of clouding their judgment. Archie does the majority of the talking; it being his fault they're in this mess in the first place, he supposes he'd be a damned coward to make William explain. "Rosie, we need to apologize to you," he says, trying to keep his expression pleasant. "We weren't entirely truthful about why we went to the States. We'll tell you why we went now, if you like."
After considering this for a moment, her legs swinging back and forth above the floor, she says, "Auntie Ellen said you went on a business trip."
"Auntie Ellen wasn't correct," William answers, shaking his head. A stage manager and a stay-at-home carpenter with a business trip? Only a five year old would believe it, Archie thought.
"We were doing something important." Archie realizes suddenly the benefits of Rosie's age; after agonizing over what to tell her for a day and a half, the sudden, should've-been-obvious knowledge that she'll believe whatever they tell her is a weight off his shoulders. The barest details, and she'll be satisfied, won't she? "We were getting your brother from America."
Rosie frowns. "I don't have a brother."
She sounds so certain--as though confirming the blue of the sky--that Archie can't help but smile, despite himself. "You do. His name is Sebastian. He's been living in the States, but now he's going to live with us."
