Tayburn

by Biscuits_of_BagEnd

Summary:

Last week, recently-bereaved Roger Murray and his daughter Poppy moved to Scotland. Today it is time for Poppy to start at her new primary school. Neither she nor Roger are entirely in their element yet, and both are grieving the loss of their husband/father, Art. But Poppy's new teacher, Mr Smith, seems like he might be the sort of fellow who could really help some New Scots settle into life in the small rural town of Tayburn.

New chapters at least weekly but sometimes more.

Intended to be continuously on-going.

Notes:

First of all thank you bisexualcreature for the prompt 😊

Tayburn is a fictional place but I'm basing it on places like Strathaven, Dumfries, Peebles etc. Towns of about 10,000 people that have farms but not everyone is a farmer, quite near the motorway and bigger urban centres, generally also very near hills and/or lochs. Also the Tay is the longest river in Scotland and a 'burn' is a word for a small stream, so that's where I got the name from. There very easily *could* be a place called Tayburn but I had a quick google and didn't see one 😆

AU versions of more characters may pop up as and when and I'll add them to the story description when it happens. I've planned about 7 chapters but am only on writing the 2nd as of yet. Not going to be posting on a specific schedule, just a relaxed approach and chapters when I complete them. Also no intended end point and probably going to be quite slice of life.

Enjoy! 💙

Chapter 1: Captain Poppy

"But it's itchy!" Poppy shouted.

   "We cut off the label," said Roger, his brow pinched. The red cardigan really didn't suit his little girl, who had worn a tiny bomber jacket to her last day at her old school. But they were in the UK now, and that meant school uniforms.

   "I hate it!" Poppy glared at him. He was kneeling down in front of her, taking the full force of her ire.

   Roger shrugged and played with her frizzy black hair in the way she generally liked. Not today, apparently. She moved her head quickly out of his way and folded her arms.

   "You, Captain, are the one who wanted to move to Scotland," said Roger, playing the same card he'd been playing all week as he'd tried to get her settled in their new home.

   Poppy stared at him, but let out a loud sigh and said, "Fine."

   Roger did his best to suppress his own sigh of relief and stood up. "Come on then, cap'n. Let's go to school."

 

---

 

Poppy's first day at Tayburn Primary School did not seem to have gone well. She was one of the first kids out - well, at least the day hadn't diminished her boundless energy - and Roger watched as she stalked across the playground to the gates. Other children sometimes seemed to speed up as if they wanted to approach her, but she strode ever faster until she was out of their reach. Out of their reach, Roger tutted himself. They weren't hungry lions. And he shouldn't let Poppy think they were. If there was one thing he didn't want to pass onto his daughter, it was fear of school.

   He crouched down as she passed through the gate and arrived at the pavement on which he stood. She pushed straight past him and started walking in completely the wrong direction.

   "Poppy. Poppy. Pops!" he called as he caught up with her. "Sweetheart." He reached down and firmly took her hand. "The house is this way."

   "Whatever."

   "Oh, Poppy." He held her hand tight and crouched down again. "Do you need a hug, cap?"

   Poppy's arms twitched towards him, but then her eyes flared and she looked around. Roger followed her gaze, but could only see parents and kids talking, walking, occasionally running.

   "Okay, tell you what, I got the Switch set up while you were out. Why don't we talk about it over some Mario Kart?" said Roger, looking back to the trembling little girl.

   Poppy nodded, then started leading him away from the school. Well, at least she'd picked the right direction this time. He'd unpacked the Switch so that he could play Animal Crossing for a while, listen to the calming music. But there was almost nothing Captain Poppy loved more than Mario Kart, and Roger was absolutely not above bribing his child with videogames.

 

---

 

As soon as she got in the house, Poppy ran upstairs to her room and slammed the door. Well, so much for videogames, Roger thought. But then a moment later she ran back out, down the stairs, and bounced onto the couch in the living room - clad in a hoodie and jeans. Right, the cardigan. Roger had forgotten about that issue, in the midst of whatever had been happening at the gate with those kids sort of following her sort of not.

   Roger changed the game card and handed Poppy a controller. As soon as the music started and the bright colours washed over the screen, Poppy smiled. Roger smiled too, and sang along with her to the jingling music as he entered character selection. Poppy's Mii - was it called a Mii if it was on the Switch? - was immaculate. She had a little pilot's hat and a bright pink and yellow romper and her hair was collected into two big bunches that poked out from below her hat. She was every inch Captain Poppy. Roger, meanwhile, picked his favourite - Drybones.

   "No, Daddy! Play as Daddy!"

   Roger navigated the cursor over to his own rather boring Mii. He preferred playing as the characters so he'd never bothered to decorate the little brown-haired fellow very much.

   Poppy sighed, disgusted by his stupidity.

   "No. Not you Daddy. Other Daddy."

   "Oh."

   Roger swiped one to the right, which brought up Art's old Mii. There he was: brown skin, dark green hair, kind smile. How could a Mii have a kind smile? Only Art.

   "Baby, I don't know…"

   "Ooh! Or! What if I play Daddy? Daddy versus Daddy!"

   Ever since Poppy was old enough to realise not everyone had two Daddies (about four years old) she'd been delighted by the funny wordplay opportunities her situation afforded her. It looked as though tragic early death was not going to take that from her.

   Roger pursed his lips, swallowed and said, "Okay."

   They started the tournament, carefully hit the accelerator at the right times to get a speed boost, then they were off. Side by side on the couch, they drove together down Rainbow Road. After a number of red shell incidents a few years ago, which had resulted in Poppy getting stuck in the mid-table mêlée for the first two laps and dropping down to twelfth in the third, standard Yossarian house rules ensured a truce between players for lap one of any session of Mario Kart, so that everyone would be ready. Today, Roger decided to try to take advantage of this momentary stay in the chaos.

   "So, Pops, what was going on in the playground there?"

   "What do you mean?" Poppy spoke almost in a monotone, her eyes glassy as she focused on the turns.

   "I mean those kids who were following you. Some of them seemed like they wanted to talk to you."

   Poppy frowned, missed a ramp, and fell off the side of the track. "Daddy!"

   "Oops, sorry," said Roger. "But come on, while the cloud guy's lifting you back up, talk to me, cap'n."

   Poppy sighed, concentrated for a moment as her wheels hit the track after getting lifted back on by Lakitu, then said, "I didn't want to talk to them anymore."

   "Why not, sweetheart? Did something happen?" Roger had noticed that the population of this little rural Scottish town was quite white. Not entirely so, but as a new kid Poppy would already stand out. And with her dark skin and her big, tightly-coiled hair, it was always possible kids would just sit there staring at her, and that certainly wouldn't be fun.

   Quite quietly, Poppy said, "They kept laughing at me. They think I have a funny voice."

   "Oh," said Roger. "Oh. Your accent."

   "Yeah… They were like… They kept doing this funny voice at me. They kept telling me they thought I was grrrrrrrrreat. So I couldn't say anything to the teacher because they were being nice."

   "Oh, honey, do you think that was a Tony the Tiger impression? You know, the Frosties commercials?"

   "Ohhhhhhhhhh."

   "That must have been them trying to do American accents," said Roger. Then he shook his head. This was not the important part. "But honey, just because they were saying a nice thing doesn't mean the way they said it was nice. That's not the same. You can talk to your teacher about that if you like. You like your teacher, right?"

   Just as he said that Poppy passed the first lap chequered line and threw a banana backwards at him.

   "Oi! Don't we both have to cross the line for the truce to be over?"

   "You made me fall off!"

   "Okay, okay, okay." Roger smiled as her voice spiked high in indignation. "So what about your teacher? You can talk to me always, of course you can. But how do you like him so far? Can you talk to him about things that are bothering you, or would you like some help? I could come down after class tomorrow."

   Poppy shook her head. "That'd just make me look weird." She thought about his other question for a moment then said, "I like Mr Smith. He's funny. And nice. He's got a funny voice too but they don’t make fun of him."

   Roger had had a meeting with Poppy's new teacher, Mr Smith, last week. He was quite a young man, dark skin not a million miles from Poppy's, shorn hair and with the brightest, most exciting eyes… Perfect for engaging children in education. Roger agreed that he had seemed nice. In fact, talking to him in that meeting had been the most at ease Roger had felt since the move. His 'funny voice' was definitely Scottish, but with an inflection of something else too, though the meeting had very much been about Poppy and a little bit about Roger, so Roger hadn't learned anything more about that.

   "Well, if you're comfortable with it, maybe you could hang back when it's time to go to lunch and see if you can talk to him about the accent thing, if it's still a problem tomorrow."

   "Maybe… That's kind of a good idea, Daddy."

   Roger smiled. "Finally."

   He chose not to tell her that had been his own tactic for subtly talking to a teacher without drawing the attention of his bullies. Now that Art was gone, Roger was Poppy's guide for all this stuff. She didn't need to know how utterly crap at it he'd been.

   Accidentally drifting off into a haze of elementary school memories, Roger rather lost momentum in the race.

   "Daddy, you're letting me win! Stop it!"

   He thought about apologising and letting her think that was true, but that would only upset her more.

   "Sorry, just a little sleepy," he said, as the victorious Art Mii waved to the crowd from his kart. Only Art Yossarian could beat Roger at Mario Kart from beyond the grave.

   Poppy smiled sweetly up at him. "Did you have a big day, Daddy?"

   Roger smiled back and played with her hair - she let him this time.

   "Oh, pretty big. First I went fishing, then I went to the aquarium, then I stopped by the museum and the little café. Oh and then I went and got my hair cut and saw what was in the shop."

   Poppy frowned and looked sideways at his hair. Then she blinked and said, "Daddy, are you talking about on Animal Crossing?"

   Roger grinned. "Mr Blathers says hello."

Chapter 2: The Gatekeepers

Summary:

In which Roger feels deeply stressed and turns to the only person that can help, his imaginary Art.

Notes:

There are a number of references here to vlogbrothers/nerdfighteria/John and Hank Green and John's wife Sarah. If you haven't heard of them, I'll put an explanation in the end note. Just think internet community.

There had notionally been a multiplayer option on the latest Animal Crossing game. Roger and Art had hoped that with two saves they could have two completely different islands which would provide a) extra design space and b) plenty of chance to manipulate the turnip markets. Unfortunately, Nintendo were way ahead of them, and all the second player could do was pitch up a tent on the island that the first player had already established. You could work it into a second house eventually, sure, but it still wasn't what they were hoping for.

   Eventually, after the pandemic started to abate, Roger had gone out and bought a second-hand Switch Lite and a second copy of the game so that they could have a second island after all. It had been fantastic, and they didn’t have to fight over terraforming anymore. They could visit each other, drop off items that had been in each other's shops, see rare fish that they hadn't caught yet on their own island. But now, with Art gone, his island seemed so lonely, even if to visit it Roger did have to load up Art's copy of the game and thus wake his little Animal Crossing avatar from his slumber and stamp out all the cockroaches and shake out his bedhead.

   Was it morbid to have the two avatars stand side by side in the aquarium and watch the sunfish go by? Yes. Was Roger still on leave from work so that he could focus on Poppy before starting at his new office? Also yes. His posture had sunk into abominable couch potato loafing, his chin resting on his chest and the Switch on his stomach. The sun outside had passed all the way from one side of the living room bay window to the other and he still hadn't had lunch.

   His phone beeped with a twenty minute warning for Poppy's home time. He groaned and slid sideways off the couch. How could it possibly be 14:40? As he struggled to his feet he realised he was starving. He grabbed a bag of chips - it turned out Walkers here was really just Lays from back home - and ran out the house, stuffing the chips down his gullet as he went.

 

---

 

He was aware that he wasn't the only tired parent at the school gates. Parenthood was exhausting, whether your spouse had passed away five months ago or not. But somehow he still felt like everyone was looking at him, like he was particularly dishevelled, or like they could smell his couch day on him. Some of them seemed to be trying to make eye contact, but he was too sleepy to tell if it was threatening or friendly. It all seemed threatening to him.

   So he hung back, off to the side, half in half out of a little path that led between some high bushes around the edge of the parking lot. He was hidden from view now, so he did what all bereaved husbands did, surely, when nobody could see them. He turned to his side and spoke to his departed love.

   Hi.

   Hi, honey, said the imaginary Art. You doing okay there?

   No.

   What's the matter, darling?

   I'm scared.

   Scared of what, sweetheart? Art's eyes were wide as he stepped towards Roger, reaching a hand out to put it on his shoulder.

   Of messing up. Of being rude. Of making Poppy's life harder.

   Art nodded. I know. Don't rush it, sweetie, okay? You'll make a friend eventually, I promise. But don't stress yourself. One thing at a time.

   But what if they write me off as a weird loner and then they never talk to me? What if they think I'm a creep? What if they don't want me near their kids and then Poppy can never have any friends?

   Okay, first of all, you researched this area, and they were very in favour of equal marriage when polled in 2010 so if you're worried about that stop worrying. Second of all, what does John Green always say?

   Roger frowned. He wasn't sure what Art meant, but how could his subconscious be outfoxing him?

   Um, could you be more specific?

   The thing he says his wife says.

   Ohhhhh, right. Yes. About how people are always thinking more about themselves than they are about you?

   Nobody's thinking you’re a creep, Roger. In fact, nobody's thinking anything about you at all.

   Well, that's reassuring.

   You know what I mean.

   Yeah… I do, yeah.

   Okay, honey. You good?

   Yeah.

   And what do they say in our hometown?

   Roger smiled. Don't forget to be awesome.

   Don't forget to be awesome.

   Roger nodded, and waited at the entrance to the hedge-lined tunnel until the school bell rang.

 

---

 

The bell went; the kids streamed out. Roger calmly watched and kept an eye out for Poppy. She wasn't striding out ahead of the pack like yesterday, so that was a good sign. Roger looked at the straggling groups of children and tried to spot his daughter in amongst them. But he looked so long and so intently that he started to feel like a creep, and yet he couldn't find her. Dozens and dozens of kids, and none of them his.

   He stepped out from the tunnel. He was going to have to start searching her out more actively. But just as he was heading back towards the crowd of parents, he heard the unmistakable sound of a crying child. His eyes followed the tiny foghorn of noise, fearing the worst, but it wasn't Poppy crying. It was a little boy about Poppy's age who was looking up at his mum with red cheeks, tired from some earlier tears.

   "I don't like her, mum! I don't like her!"

   The mum, somewhere in her early forties and wearing a nice cardigan and skirt, looked up at Roger as he approached. Her visage darkened, brows drawing together.

   Oh no.

   He quickly looked away and set his sights back on the playground, now largely empty. Away over at the school building, standing on the corner of the path that led around to the side entrance, was Poppy, holding her teacher's hand. Poppy spotted him and pointed towards him. Mr Smith shielded his eyes with his free hand, and eventually seemed to spot him too. He waved at Roger, then gestured for him to come over.

   Roger, feeling the boy's mother's eyes on him, plus several more, decided that Sarah Urist Green's advice probably didn't apply to his current situation. Everyone was thinking about him.

   Don't forget to be awesome.

   Without much clue of how to follow this mantra right now, Roger gave a solemn nod to the other parents, then headed into the playground.

Notes:

Vlogbrothers explanation: Hank and John Green are old school youtube people who've been vlogging since the late 2000s and have since diversified into all sorts of projects including education content, podcasting and the continued success of John Green's books (and now Hank's too!). John is also very invested in the fight against tuberculosis and I hear Hank is big on tiktok 🙂‍↕️

Chapter 3: Mr Smith

Summary:

Roger talks to Mr Smith about the troubles she's been having in class, and Mr Smith realises that there's more to the situation than meets the eye.

"Hi, Mr Murray. Good to see you again," said Mr Smith, reaching out his hand for Roger to shake.

   Roger shook it quickly, anxious to get out of view of the watching parents. "Afternoon, Mr Smith."

   "Come on, let's head back inside for just a little bit, okay?" said Mr Smith.

   Roger nodded. He took Poppy's hand and the two of them followed Mr Smith around the side of the building, up a step, and through a heavy double door. There was a small flight of stairs leading to the upper floor, where Mr Smith's Primary 5 classroom was located. The door was covered with cut out and coloured in numbers with little smiley faces on them, being harassed by similarly card-based Romans in chariots.

   "Poppy, why don't you get started on your homework and I'll talk to your dad for a little while," said Mr Smith as they all entered the room. "Tell you what, you can use my desk if you like."

   Poppy had not looked enthused by the prospect of homework, but jumped eagerly up into Mr Smith's spinny chair and took her homework from her bag, laying it out on the metal desk before her. Mr Smith closed the classroom door, then led Roger up towards the back of the class, where they sat down at one of the child-sized desks, well out of earshot of Poppy if they kept their voices down. Roger noticed as Mr Smith smoothed his cardigan down - what was it with cardigans in this town? - that there was a tiny little rainbow flag pin on the lanyard holding his staff ID. One of the ones with the little chevron for queer POC and the trans colours and intersex flag.

   "So, I think I saw you meet Jonathan a moment ago," said Mr Smith. "One of Poppy's classmates."

   "I did, yes," said Roger. "He… seemed upset."

   Mr Smith nodded, but not vigorously. He didn't seem too ruffled by the situation. He'd probably seen it all before. He said, "He and Poppy didn't get off on the best foot today."

   Roger felt a surge of protectiveness rooted in his chest. "Was he one of the kids making fun of her accent yesterday?"

   Mr Smith hesitated for the slightest moment, but then said, "I don't know. This is the first I'm hearing of this."

   "Oh. I thought Poppy might talk to you about it today. We talked last night about whether she felt comfortable enough to talk to you, and I suggested she hang back before lunch." Roger held the leg of the table, running his thumb up and down the metal, the paint job on which was bumpy from age - hopefully those weren't teeth marks.

   "Unfortunately it would seem she didn't quite feel up to that," said Mr Smith. "Look, Mr Murray, I didn't keep her behind to give her into trouble. I just don't want this to spiral out of control."

   "What happened? Did she hit him? Oh God, she didn't slap him, did she?"

   Mr Smith, finally caught off guard, squinted at him. "Why would she slap him?"

   Roger sighed, pleased that she had done no such thing, but annoyed with himself for the absurd story he'd just got himself into telling. "Okay so, my husband, Art. He really, really liked the show 'How I Met Your Mother.' Like, more than it deserved, frankly." Emotion pierced him then, which was highly inconvenient. "There's this running gag in that show called the slap bet. And when Barney or Marshall wins a slap bet they get to slap each other a set amount of times, decided on and officiated by-"

   "The slap bet commissioner," Mr Smith finished. "They showed 'How I Met Your Mother' here too."

   "Poppy made us call her slap bet commissioner for a month when Art let her watch one of those episodes with him - he checked beforehand to make sure none of the innuendo was too heavy. It occurred to him later that even slapstick, over the top, silly violence should also have been under consideration when it was between two actual humans."

   Roger took a breath, and wished he had a glass of water. Why was he infodumping about a stupid old sitcom to his daughter's teacher?

   "But you're saying she didn't slap him?" he said eventually.

   "No, she didn't slap him," said Mr Smith. Those bright eyes were so wide as they watched him, but it was different from the eyes that had been on him in the playground. Mr Smith wanted to know.

   "What… what did she do?" said Roger.

   "She sort of shouted at him. You know, like, right in his face. Now that you say that about the accent, it makes more sense. Because she shouted something about how she hated cereal anyway. I couldn't figure out what the hell Jonathan and the others had been saying before, but it was that Frosties tiger, wasn't it?"

   "That's our theory, yes."

   Roger's shoulders sagged and he put both hands over his eyes. But he quickly drew them away again and glanced towards Poppy. She seemed to be absorbed in her homework, whether out of genuine interest or because she knew she wasn't supposed to be listening to this conversation, Roger wasn't sure. Either way she hadn't seen his body language, of which he was glad.

   "Mr Murray, please don't worry. Everyone has teething issues when they start at a new school. All I need from you is for you to help me help her, and you're already doing that by encouraging her to talk to me. So she didn't go ahead and do that the very next day, so what. She's eight. She's got all the time in the world."

   The emotion was putting Roger seriously in danger now. If he wasn't careful he'd end up bawling like Jonathan.

   "Mr Murray, are you alright?" said Mr Smith.

   Roger swallowed. "I'm… I'm going through some things myself right now. I'm trying to be there for Poppy as best I can though."

   "Of course you are," said Mr Smith. "But if you have anyone you can talk to… You'll be your best self for Poppy if you're your best self for yourself."

   Roger tried to raise an eyebrow at him but ended up just furrowing his brow. "I bet you say that to all the crying dads."

   "Oh, I've got a million of those. You'll learn this about me. I'm at my happiest when I'm speaking in rhyme or alliteration."

   Roger smiled, and followed Mr Smith as he stood up.

   "Okay," said Mr Smith. "I think this is enough for today. I've put an exercise in with Poppy's homework for her to complete this week. We call them Punishment Exercises, technically, but feel free to drop that when you're talking to her. Now that I know the story a bit better, I'll see about talking to Jonathan tomorrow and some of the other kids that I now realise may have been bothering her. I'll get to the bottom of this then we'll figure it out from there. Sound like a deal?"

   Roger shook his hand again, his warm grip as good as a hug in the formality of the classroom.

   "Deal."

Chapter 4: Tuesday Gymnastics

Summary:

Captain Poppy is off to gymnastics practice! Meanwhile Roger finds himself with an unexpected opportunity to make friends with another parent.

The upside to all this happening on a Tuesday was that it was now time for Roger to drive Poppy to gymnastics club, which meant she'd be a captive audience in his car for the next twenty minutes. No running away to play Mario Kart now! It also meant that after whatever tough conversation they had now, she'd have something to look forward to.

   They'd literally had to check there was a gymnastics club somewhere vaguely in the county before Poppy would consent to move here. In the end, it had turned out there was one in the next town over, which was good enough for Poppy as long as Roger would always drive her. Which of course he would. What would Poppy Yossarian be without gymnastics? She had been captain of her old club for her year group and the nickname had stuck. Captain Poppy without a balance beam to practice her handstands on would have been simply wrong.

   "Can we listen to the song?" said Poppy as she clicked on her seatbelt.

   Roger turned on the stereo before he started the car. "Of course." His phone was plugged in, so he navigated through the Spotify menu into his downloads and put on 'Friday Night' by The Darkness. He started the car and pulled out of the now deserted parking lot.

   At first, Poppy was too busy singing along for him to start a conversation.

   Oh, Monday, cycling

   Tuesday, gymnastics

   Dancing on a Friday night

   But after the song had looped around for the second time, her attention drifted to the trees and bushes sliding past outside as they headed out of Tayburn towards Mossbridge.

   "You know, it's fun that we don't have to try to fit Wednesday in where he says Tuesday anymore," said Roger, trying to open the conversation neutrally, maybe even fun if Poppy took to this line of thought.

   "It's weird that it's not the middle of the week anymore though," said Poppy.

   "It is?"

   "Yeah. Gymnastics is the middle. School is on either side of it."

   "Oh. Huh. Yeah, I suppose that makes sense." Or at least, it would, if you had been going to gymnastics class on a Wednesday evening practically since you were old enough to walk. Poppy had got a bit competitive on a climbing frame, Art had seen a poster for a gym on the way to work one day, it had been a no-brainer.

   "There's five days in a week though," said Roger. "And gymnastics is in the evening. So there's always three on one side and two on the other. It's just the other way around now."

   Poppy thought for a moment, then saw the wisdom of what he was saying. "That’s weird."

   "Math is weird sometimes," said Roger. "Or should I say maths."

   Poppy didn't say anything.

   "I understand the Frosties thing didn't stop today?"

   "Uh-uh." Poppy shook her head, and folded her arms.

   "Baby… I thought you agreed you would talk to Mr Smith about it. What happened to waiting behind before lunch? I had a good idea, of all things, remember?"

   "It was a good idea," Poppy said quietly. "I just got scared."

   Roger winced inwardly and had to slow the car to a stop at the side of the road.

   "Daddy, what's wrong?" said Poppy, looking round at him. She frowned and her legs started kicking slightly. "I don't wanna be late!"

   "Sorry, pal." Roger quickly wiped his eyes. It would seem there were downsides to doing this in the car too. He took a deep breath and set out again.

   "He's really, really nice, Pops. I promise," said Roger. "I had a good talk with him today. He's going to talk to Jonathan and the others tomorrow."

   "But-"

   "No buts, captain!" said Roger. "I know you're worried about how it'll make you look, but if it's going to wind you up so much that you end up raising your voice, then we need to do something. Poppy, think about it. I'm your Daddy. Am I going to sit here and let some kids make you so upset that you shout at them?"

   "… No. I guess not."

   "Of course not. Because I love you, so much. So, so much."

   Poppy was quiet for a while, staring out the front window. Eventually she said, "Okay. Mr Smith can talk to the others."

   "That's great. I'll let him know his orders, cap'n."

 

---

 

Mossbridge was a bit bigger than Tayburn, with about double the population and a nice, relatively new leisure centre just off the high street. They parked at the leisure centre, but backtracked on foot to the high street and popped into a fish and chip shop for dinner. Roger had a feeling he and chips were going to become firm friends before long. Obviously, to him 'crisps' were chips and 'chips' were fries, but you just could not look at these chunky strips of battered potato and call them 'fries.'

   "Shouldn't this be for after gymnastics?" Poppy said, liberally pouring vinegar all over her poke.

   "How come?"

   "We usually go to McDonald's after."

   "Ah, like a reward." Roger shrugged, and looked down at the junk food he'd provided for his growing daughter. "I've always heard you're meant to carb up before sports. Protein after."

   "What can I have for protein after?"

   Roger tried to picture the contents of their fridge, and cringed at himself. His plan had been to take a look around the leisure centre and the rest of the town while Poppy was busy, but maybe he should do some grocery shopping instead.

   "I'll go to Tesco and get you a ham sandwich," he said.

   "Okay." Poppy shrugged and skewered another chip on the little wooden fork.

   When they were finished their meal they walked back to the leisure centre and in through the humming automatic doors, across the blue linoleum floors to the big sports hall at the back of the ground floor.

   "You must be Poppy," said the gymnastics instructor, coming towards them as Roger ushered Poppy in the door. She was tall, with short blonde hair and a clear, perceptive countenance. Kate, her name was. Roger had spoken to her on the phone last week when he registered Poppy for the club.

   "That's me!" said Poppy.

   Roger watched her in awe as she walked over to Kate and started talking to her. He could not have been more different from her as an eight-year-old.

   We did that, said Art at his side.

   Yeah, I guess we did.

   After all, if Poppy felt confident meeting new people, especially after the day she'd just had, surely that must have meant she felt safe and secure at home. In their home. The home he and Art had built together. Roger just hoped he could replicate that here when he was all by himself.

   Seeing that Poppy seemed to be settling in okay, he called goodbye to her and waved his thanks to Kate, then headed out the hall, back along the corridor, and upstairs to the café. There was a banked window in there, all the way along one wall, that let him look down on the sports hall. He'd spotted it when he was down below, and thought he'd wait there a little while as the class got started to make sure Poppy was definitely going to be okay.

   As he entered the café, he saw someone else had taken the same tactic. And then, as he approached the window, he saw who it was.

   "Um, hi," said Roger.

   Mr Smith looked round, and smiled when he saw him. "Hi there."

   Roger felt the flicker of a smile on his face. "Poppy loves her gymnastics." He looked out the window to see where she was and found her jumping up and down on top of a crash mat, clearly with a lot of energy to burn from her stressful day. "She was captain of her team, back home."

   "Does she know they don't have captains here?" said Mr Smith. "In fact they barely have teams."

   Roger nodded. "I could tell the vibe was a little different. The gym she went to before, it was… You know when a soccer team has like a junior soccer team attached to it?"

   Mr Smith leaned against the banister and looked at him. "I appreciate you trying to put it in UK terms, but I'm not much of a sports guy on either side of the Atlantic. I think I know what you mean though."

   "Fair enough. Well, Poppy's gym was like that. There was a really big Olympic-level gymnastics base in New York, and their associated youth wing was out our way."

   "Do you think she'll adjust well to the difference?"

   Roger smiled grimly. "I prepped her. She promised she'd try her best not to be too competitive… We'll see how it goes. So, what brings you here? Is there a school tie-in or something?"

   "Oh, I'm here with Eric."

   "Your son?"

   Roger hadn't pictured him with a son at all, though he couldn't have said why. Maybe because he was imagining the 'parents' outside at the gates.

   "I'm a foster-carer," Mr Smith explained. "Eric's been with me for five months, which is one of my longer assignments. In fact, he's started calling me Johnny lately. I think he's been with me so long he wants to call me something different from what other people call me, but just, you know, not Dad."

   "What do other people call you?"

   Mr Smith caught his drift and reached out his hand once more. "Just John."

   Roger smiled and shook his hand again. "Roger." As he turned back to the window he said, "So, which one's Eric?"

   John turned to the window too and had a look. "Ah. Well, he's the one currently chasing Poppy around with a skipping rope."

   "Oh dear."

   "I swear he's a nice kid. He's just a bit insecure because he's the only boy his age here."

   "Well, it looks like Poppy's getting away. See, look how fast she can run. Who wouldn't make her captain?"

   "There are no captains." John said, but he was smiling when Roger caught his eye. "Look, Roger, Kate's really good with the kids. Why don't we take a break and go get a cup of tea. There's a Costa not far from here."

   Roger looked around. "We're in a café."

   "Yeah, with a view to a worry about our kids." He gestured with his head towards the window. "I promise it's a really nice Costa."

   Roger took a look at Poppy, who had lost interest in her emerging feud with Eric as soon as the balance beam had been set up. She was currently standing on her head right on top of it, with kids around her looking on in awe.

   "Alright," said Roger, taking a deep breath. "Let's go for a coffee."

Chapter 5: Coffee With The Competition

Summary:

Roger fraternises with the foster-father of Poppy's new gymnastics rival.

"So, what do you do?" said John, sitting down on a big, dust-red couch.

   Roger sat on the one opposite, with a lacquered wooden coffee table between them. John had a large peppermint tea and Roger a decaf cappuccino.

   "I'm a bounty hunter."

   "Hah."

   "I'm only half kidding," said Roger. "I work for an external body that monitors banks for irregular activity."

   "You hunt bad guys?" John's eyes widened.

   "Yeah, but, like, on a laptop," said Roger. "It's mostly American banks, but I'm pretty good at what I do and the company was like, hey, we don't want to lose you, and everything you do is digital anyway, so why don't we just assign you to our partner firm in the UK? Long story short I'm driving to Perth in two weeks' time to check out my office space."

   "That is… so cool."

   Roger felt a rush of pleasure. "Really?"

   Taking a sip of his tea, John nodded. "Hell yeah."

   Roger decided not to tell him that it was mostly just staring at a screen and filling out mountains of paperwork.

   "How about when you're not at work? Any hobbies?"

   "Well, would it ruin your image of me as cool if I told you I spent most of my time playing video games?"

   "Hmm… Depends on the game."

   "At the moment the top two are Mario Kart and Animal Crossing."

   John gasped as if he'd just remembered something, and Roger worried he was about to leave to deal with whatever it was.

   "I've not thought about Animal Crossing in years!" he exclaimed instead. "I had it on the DS when I was about twelve."

   Roger mentally placed his age, maybe early to mid-thirties. Roger was turning forty this year, so he was a little older, but in terms of making a friend he could absolutely work with this. Especially if the guy had ever played Animal Crossing.

   "Art's sister's kid had that version," said Roger. "Actually, you know the bit at the start where you arrive in the town, and there's that cab driver talking to you?"

   "Uhhhh… Oh! Yes. Cap'n. I remember him."

   "I shorten Poppy's nickname to cap'n sometimes, because of him."

   John smiled. "That's adorable."

   Roger smiled too. "Yeah… So, how've things been with Eric? Do you get along?"

   John smiled even wider. "Eric's brilliant. He's a genius wee child and he's three steps ahead of me every second of the day. It's really hard to keep up with him though, sometimes, and I end up having to give him into trouble because I just haven't seen his chaos coming in time to stop him."

   "Wait, is he in your own class?"

   John nodded. "We're not a big enough town to have more than one P5 class, so needs must. It's a bit weird but everyone knows that if you break the rules it's off to the Calm-Down Corner, foster-kid of mine or no."

   "Calm-Down Corner?"

   "Told you I like alliteration."

   "No but what is it?"

   "Poppy didn't mention it? I put her in it today, after the shouting thing with Jonathan. She was actually in there at the same time as Eric. I thought they might be getting along well, but that was before the skipping rope incident just now."

   Roger sat forward a little. "Will you please just tell me what the Calm Down Corner is so I don't start picturing things from 'Matilda'."

   John laughed. "Okay, yes, sorry. Nothing like that. No glass, no standing. Basically I have these two really tall bookshelves that I've positioned in a V together at the back of the class. They screen a little corner off from the rest of the room. If you've, for example, shouted in another kid's face, I might send you to the Calm-Down Corner to do your work by yourself until you've calmed down and can rejoin the rest of the class. It works as a punishment, because you're basically on a naughty-step, but it's shielded from view so it's not too humiliating. So what do you think? Do you approve, Mr Wormwood?"

   Roger took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "That sounds good. So what did Eric do to land himself in there?"

   "Oh." John put his hand over his eyes and sighed, but was still smiling. "He threw a girl's jotter on the ground because she wouldn't talk to him. She had been talking to him, but then he started badgering her, just asking question after question about whether she liked this, disliked that, what she was having for dinner. It was endless. So eventually she just stonewalled him and then that's when the jotter-throwing occurred. There was also stamping."

   "Oh, bless," Roger said, sticking out a sad bottom lip. "The things kids do to try and make friends."

   "I know." John sighed. "Technically I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but you're a spy so I figure you're good at keeping secrets."

   Roger laughed quietly and saluted with his cup of coffee. "Roger that."

   "Hah."

   They were quiet for a little while, working on their drinks.

   Then John said, "So, listen, no pressure. But you've mentioned your Art a couple of times. I know the basics of your situation, but nothing about the man himself. If you would like to talk to someone about him, I'd be happy to listen."

   Roger put down his coffee and steepled his hands over his mouth. His eyes pierced instantly and his whole body felt hot. He looked into the distance, hoped desperately that a clear thought would pop into his head to tell him what to do, but nothing came. He already knew. With a rapid little nod to himself, he looked to John.

   "You don't have to," said John.

   Roger shook his head. "He'd kill me if I turned down an offer like that. I just… don't know where to start."

   "How about I start?" said John. "How long ago did you lose him?"

   "Five months," said Roger. "It sounds like nothing but…"

   "Hey, I know time dilation. Obviously having a foster-kid isn't the same thing as losing a husband, but the five months I've had Eric have felt much, much longer than usual."

   Roger nodded and shifted on the couch. "Yeah… It's like it's not even a measure of time. It's like the old time ended and the new time started. And Art's not here in the new time. At least, not standing in front of me."

   Nope, just here beside you on the couch, watching you try to flirt. You're doing surprisingly well, I gotta say. The imaginary Art took a sip from an imaginary takeaway cup.

   "And um, Poppy, you two had had her for her whole life?" said John.

   "She's technically my step-daughter," said Roger. "But Art and I got married when she was two, so she's known me as her Daddy all her life."

   "And is her… mother…?"

   Roger smiled at his awkwardness. "Art didn't realise he was gay until he was an adult. Martha's nice. And actually British originally. But her job's more location-based, and she has another kid over there too, so she's going to visit Poppy here a lot but she hasn't moved with us." Roger took a deep breath. He hadn't talked about Art to another adult in months. "John, what you need to know about Art is that he was a cheeky little shit. He liked to make up board games and invent the most random contraptions you didn't know you needed until they were in your hand. He knew how to stay calm under pressure, but sometimes he didn't realise that he was burning himself out. He was the kindest, funniest, most hilariously gullible man I've ever met and the only way I'm getting all this out right now is because I've scripted these words and said them over and over again in my head until I know them off by heart and could say them in my sleep."

   Roger had to stop and gulp in a breath. Unsurprisingly, it came back out choked. He held the ceramic coffee cup tight, hoping his grip wouldn't shatter it.

   When he looked at John, he saw his mouth was hanging a little open, his eyes wide. He said, quietly, a little hoarse himself, "What were you scripting for?"

   Roger shook his head and eventually managed to get out, "I don't know."

   John's phone, sitting on the table, lit up with a call.

   "Uh-oh. That's Kate," said John.

   "Answer it."

   John looked at him with a concerned frown, but picked up the phone, cleared his throat and said, "Hi, Kate. Everything alright? … Ah… Oh? No, wait, he's right here. I'll tell him." He put his hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Roger, Kate says Eric and Poppy have been fighting a little. She wants us to come back when we can."

   Roger shot to his feet, downed his coffee, pocketed his own phone and picked up his jacket.

   "We can go now."

   John dipped his head and spoke into the phone again. "We're on our way, Kate." In solidarity, he threw back the rest of his peppermint tea, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and pulled on his own jacket. They had paid at the till as they came in, so they headed swiftly outside and started power-walking back to the leisure centre.

Chapter 6: Mutiny and McDonald's

Summary:

After some diplomacy at the leisure centre, the Smiths and the Murrays decamp to the local retail park for some nuggets, and Eric asks all the questions John was too polite to ask.

It turned out that Poppy and Eric had been fighting together against another kid. So at least if the afternoon in the Calm-Down Corner had been the start of a beautiful friendship, it wasn't dead before it got started. That was the bright side. The downside was that Poppy and Eric were currently sitting in a little office near the front of the leisure centre, cut off from the rest of the class. So if they were friends, it seemed that it was them against the world.

   "And then Mary said Eric couldn't be good at the balance beam because the balance beam is for girls and she saw on TV that boys don't do the balance beam but I saw Eric on the balance beam and he was really good," said Poppy, gesturing her frustration in Kate's direction.

   There was a plain white table in the middle of the office, at which Eric and Poppy were sitting on one side, Kate on the other, Kate having left her assistant Shirley in charge while she stepped out to deal with this. Roger and John were standing in the corner watching their charges explain themselves.

   "She's right," said Eric. "I'm really good. I can go upside down already because I'm really brave."

   "Yeah! But Mary kept saying oh he's a boy he has to use the rings."

   "But I'm not old enough to use the rings yet!" Eric shouted. "You have to be twelve!"

   Kate could barely contain a smile. "I know that, Eric." She took a breath and forced her mouth back into a straight line. "So, is that when you pushed her?"

   Eric put both hands on the table. "I didn't. Push her. Amy was doing a tumble and she hit me from behind and I fell."

   Kate raised an eyebrow. "Directly into Mary?"

   "Yes."

   "And you couldn't have stopped yourself?"

   Eric opened his mouth, closed it again. Then said, "Yes."

   "Yes, you couldn't have stopped yourself."

   "…Yes."

   Poppy folded her arms. "I saw it. He couldn't have."

   "Hmm… Well, Mary very much seems to think you pushed her, Eric. She says your arms were out before Amy came anywhere near you."

   "Well she's wrong!"

   "Eric," John called. "Don't shout at Kate."

   Eric frowned. "Sorry."

   "Think we could do with the Calm-Down Corner right about now," Roger mumbled to John.

   "Where do you think we are?" John whispered back. Roger smiled.

   Kate took a deep breath and set her shoulders. "Right. I have a proposal. I don't think I can let you two back in there because I have a very bad feeling that it's all going to set off again very quickly."

   "Woah, hang on a second there, Kate," said John. "That session was fully paid for and Eric-"

   "Wait a moment, John," said Kate, putting a hand up. "My proposal is that the two of you come for a one-off advanced session later in the week. Eric, you're getting better and better all the time. And, Poppy, I'm getting the impression I don’t know the half of what you can do. Are you free Thursday? Same time?" She looked up towards the parents.

   Roger had no life, so his answer was an easy yes. John grabbed his phone and checked his calendar, but then also looked up with a smile and answered that he was indeed free. They agreed to this plan and the two kids reunited with their adults, then headed out to the parking lot. The kids were excited about their special session at first, but as they left the building and they heard the noise of all the various activity going on inside echoing out of the air vents, their shoulders sank.

   "Can I have my ham sandwich now, Daddy?" Poppy said.

   "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. I totally forgot," said Roger. He felt a stab of guilt that he'd been off talking to a nice, funny and not un-handsome guy while his daughter had been getting into a fight. But then he felt John's presence beside him and he remembered what he'd said back at the school.

   You'll be your best self for Poppy when you're your best self for yourself.

   He put his hand on Poppy's shoulder and said, "Would you like one now, Pops? We can drop by a grocery store on the way home if you like."

   Poppy shook her head and just started looking around the parking lot, trying to see their car.

   "Hey, kids, cover your ears," said John. "Roger, come here so I can whisper the super-secret only for grown-ups word to you."

   "What the hell does that mean?" Roger mumbled, but he stepped closer to John.

   John rested one hand on his shoulder as he leaned in and whispered in his ear, "McDonald's?"

   "Wait, there's a-"

   "Shhhh. Super-secret grown-up word that's not for children's ears unless we're definitely going to go," hissed John. "Do you think Poppy would like to?"

   "She'd love that. I just didn't know there was one."

   John stood up straight and grinned first at him then at the kids. "Just follow my car."

   Roger didn't tell Poppy where they were going for the whole journey. They followed John north out of Mossbridge (Tayburn was to the east) and along a winding road. Eventually low buildings started to pop up, and not long after that a huge square of tarmac ringed by fast-food outlets and homeware stores. When Poppy saw the big yellow M she nearly jumped out of her seat, checked only by her seatbelt as it yanked her back down. She shouted at Roger to hurry up until he got them parked, then undid her seatbelt and burst out of the car.

   "Careful!" Roger shouted, following her out. He ran round to her side of the car and took her hand before she could sprint out into the middle of the parking lot. Then they caught up with John and Eric and went inside with them.

 

---

 

"So how's your protein?" Roger said to Poppy as she ate her chicken nuggets.

   "So good," said Poppy. She took a huge slurp of her milkshake. "It's just like at home."

   Roger laughed slightly and looked to John. "Yay for global homogenisation, I guess?"

   "Homo- what?" said Poppy.

   "Never mind," said Roger, rubbing his hand on the top of her head.

   "So are you gay like Johnny?" Eric said.

   "Eric," said John.

   "What?" said Eric, looking over the top of his fries container to see if there were any left. "He's the one that said homo."

   Roger couldn't stop smiling. "That's not what- Oh, never mind. Yes, I'm gay."

   "Do you have a boyfriend?" said Eric. Oddly enough, he asked it in the same teasing way an adult might say it to tease a child.

   "My Daddy died," said Poppy. "He was Daddy's husband."

   "Aw… I'm sorry," said Eric. "My Mummy died when I was wee. My Dad can't handle me right now."

   Roger met John's eye as the kids continued their conversation, his heart aching. John pressed his lips tightly together and then bit down hard on his cheeseburger.

   "At least you've got Mr Smith," said Poppy. "He's nice."

   "Yeah," said Eric. "How did your Daddy die?"

   John nearly choked on his burger. "Eric, I swear to God."

   "It's okay," said Poppy. "Is it okay, Daddy?" She looked up at Roger.

   Roger nodded. "You can tell them."

   "There was an accident at the factory Daddy was at. He inspected things. And the factory he was at that day had a big explosion."

   John looked to Roger, and Roger gave a slight nod. That was more or less what had happened. Art had died in hospital of acid burns.

   "That’s horrible!" Eric cried.

   "That it was, Eric," said Roger, putting his chicken burger down. He looked at the little boy for a moment. He had pale white skin and his dark hair was cut short, and his eyes often looked around the room as if he was worrying about something. But in the leisure centre office and here Roger had seen such intense focus come over him when something had sparked him. Right now he seemed to be trying to process what Poppy had just told him, and judging by the way both hands gripped the edge of the table, he wasn't finding it easy. Roger tried to catch his eye. "It was very difficult, and we're still very sad, but we still love him very much. Does that make sense?"

   Eric screwed up his eyes and opened his mouth, but then looked up to John.

   "He can ask," Roger said. John nodded to Eric.

    Eric looked back to Roger and said, "But how come you moved here? Aren't you further away from him now?"

   Roger shook his head. "Never. He's with us, always."

   "It was my idea to move," said Poppy.

   "Oh, really?" said John. "I didn't know that."

   Roger smiled and let her tell the story.

   "Uh-huh. See, because Daddy was really sad. I mean, so was I, but Daddy like, couldn't get out of bed and stuff. So I said, why don't we go home? And Daddy said we are home, but then I said no like why don't we go where your family were from. Daddy's got Scottish family," Poppy explained.

   "Oh, do you?" said John.

   "Not living," Roger clarified. "I actually… Well, fun fact, I grew up in care. What Poppy means is that I have Scottish heritage. But as far as I know my particular Murrays came over to America about a hundred and fifty years ago. But I don't know, there was just something about this plan, it seemed like a really good plan, like something we could do."

   "A new place for the new time," said John.

   "Exactly." Roger looked down at Poppy and put his hand on her shoulder, lightly tickling her neck. "And you hadn't asked for a thing in all that time since Daddy died so I wasn't going to say no, was I?"

   Poppy giggled at the tickling.

   "And now you're New Scots," said John, smiling at them.

   "Yup," said Roger. That was what the Scottish government called people who came there to live.

   "My family were New Scots, way back," said John. "They came here in the 90s, from Rwanda. I was just a baby."

   "Oh, the-" Roger cut himself off, not wanting to get into too much detail around the eight-year-olds. "They were refugees?"

   John nodded, pursing his lips. "Yeah. That's what you can hear in my voice."

   "You have a nice voice, Mr Smith," said Poppy.

   Roger, very much in agreement, smiled and shrugged at John. "I mean hey, she said it."

   John chuckled. "Thank you, Poppy."

   They finished their food before long, then headed back out into the parking lot. Roger followed John's car back to Mossbridge, then they parked next to each other in the road so they could all say goodbye for the evening. Finally, Roger and Poppy got home and bundled themselves into the living room to watch a little Scooby-Doo before bed - Poppy promised it didn't give her nightmares anymore.

   As Roger tucked her in - she was a little too old for it, but she was also quite old for calling him Daddy and for holding her teacher's hand at the end of the day, but who the hell was going to judge her for it - he watched from the doorway as she drifted off to sleep. He felt the familiar tug of the urge to clamber in beside her to sleep rather than head off to his own bed. But as always, he flicked her light off and crossed the hall. He lay down on his bed, looked up at the featureless ceiling - no need for fans in the middle of Scotland - and closed his eyes.

   Hey, whispered Art, as sleep crept towards him. I think you might have made a friend.

   Yeah.

   And you know what else I think?

   What?

   I think… HE is fucking HOT.

Notes:

I have been informed that there's about two McDonald's in all of Perthshire and they're both *in* Perth, so I guess there's a good reason Roger didn't know they had one 😆

What can I say, the Doctor's magic in any universe 😌

Chapter 7: Almost

Summary:

Roger finds himself feeling more comfortable with John than he's felt with anyone since the move, maybe even since Art died...

"Oh my God, your daughter's a ninja," John half-sang, half mumbled as he and Roger stood at the window.

   "Yeah, they trained them up well at that youth centre. And Poppy took to it like that." Roger snapped his fingers.

   It was Thursday evening and they were currently watching Poppy and Eric's make-up gymnastics class after the kerfuffle on Tuesday. John had had some conversations with some children and some parents and the accent-copying had stopped. Unfortunately they were now in the cold-shoulder phase, which Poppy had been afraid of, and she was finding it difficult to get some of the kids to talk to her. But then, at least there was Eric.

   Currently, Eric was wrapped around a rope, about two metres above a thick, heavy crash mat, and Poppy was swinging back and forth on the uneven bars. She could let go of one at will and fly to the other, swing herself all the way around one of the bars until her toes were pointed towards the ceiling and her steady, straight arms kept her upright.

   "Still, that's wild for an eight-year-old, right?" said John. "Should she be training for the 2032 Olympics, like, immediately?"

   "John, come now, she just lost her father," said Roger, but he smiled at the praise for his little acrobat.

   "You make a good point," said John. "Alright, watching them is making me dizzy. Let's sit down for a bit."

   They grabbed a tea and a coffee respectively from the leisure centre café and sat down at one of the little tables. At first, there wasn't the flock of parents that there might be on a day with a proper class, but then a swimming lesson ended and suddenly the place was packed. As all the parents and kids sorted themselves into their family units, however, the crowd thinned, and soon enough it was just Roger, John and a few people who'd been in the gym using the workout equipment.

   "You sure about this sleepover?" said John. "Poppy's only been at school for four days. Do you really want to throw off her routine already?"

   Roger shook his head. "She loved a sleepover at home. And she's got so many things she keeps saying she wants to show Eric. You know, like her inflatable obstacle course and whatnot. I promise, John, this is more likely to settle her than disrupt her."

   John raised his hands. "Hey, I mean, you obviously know your girl better than me."

   Roger tilted his head to the side. "I wonder which of us has mathematically spent more time with her the past four days."

   John shook his head but smiled. "It's you by miles, you dope."

   Roger grinned into his coffee. Nobody had made fun of him in so long. He couldn't get over how comfortable he suddenly felt, how little his brain was trying to run ahead of him to think of what he'd missed, how infrequently it jumped forward into imagining the future without Art and how much harder it would be than a future that had him in it. Art had been right. He'd made a friend without even pushing it, and he was all the better for it.

   "So how about Eric, does he like sleepovers?"

   "He's not had many in the time I've had him," John said. "I don't know if you've noticed but he can be a tad abrasive. Doesn't always think before he speaks. Or does think, and comes to completely the wrong conclusion."

   "He and Poppy have definitely spent a significant proportion of this week arguing with each other."

   "And that can be good for kids! But it's not everyone's thing, and that's fine. So, yeah, he's not been invited much. I have no idea if being the teacher's kid is helping or hindering either."

   "Well, are you a cool teacher?" said Roger, sitting up a little.

   "Of course. What do you think this dinosaur tie is for, Milan?" John put his hand underneath his tie and lifted it so that Roger could see. It was covered in cartoon dinosaurs, well-shaded in greens, blues and oranges, and contrasting with his lilac shirt.

   "I mean I can't see why any child wouldn't want to be associated with such style," said Roger, as John let the end of his tie drop back down.

   "Well, either way, he's found things a little difficult. So I guess I'm just trying to say thanks to Poppy, via you, for giving him a chance."

   Roger smiled, feeling his mug warm in his hands. "As far as I can tell, it's her pleasure."

 

---

 

An hour and a half later, both children and both adults were in John's car and headed home to Tayburn. Poppy introduced an intrigued Eric to The Darkness and when Roger's Spotify continued on to Greenday then My Chemical Romance, entirely of its own accord, John glanced over at Roger, who was in the passenger seat.

   "Please, please, tell me you were an emo when you were a teenager. Please, it would make my day."

   Roger pulled his curls down flat over his eyes. "I used to straighten all of this until about 2009, by which point I was twenty-four."

   "Oh, honey," John said, his brow furrowing in mock-pity.

   Roger smiled and sang along to 'Sugar We're Goin' Down' by Fall Out Boy, which had come on next.

   Once they were in Tayburn, Roger directed John to his and Poppy's house and John parked just up the hill from Roger's car. Then they unloaded the gymnastics bags and Eric's overnight bag, as the kids raced each other up to the front door. Roger dug into his inside jacket pocket for his keyring and eventually managed to balance it against his hip to get the right key in his hand. A moment later and the door was open, releasing both children like coiled springs as they ran into the house. Roger heard the sound of Mario Kart before he'd put the bags down.

   He took Eric's bag from John and put it with Poppy's in the hall, then stepped back onto the porch. It occurred to him all at once that it was time for John to go. He hadn't thought that far ahead. But obviously, that was the whole point of a sleepover, staying over at a friend's house without your parents.

   But then, it wasn't that dark yet, and they weren't going to be going to sleep any time soon. And how often did they have a full complement of four players for Mario Kart?

   "Would you like to hang out for a bit?" he said.

   John thought about it for the slightest moment but then said, "Sure, I can hang out for a bit."

   "Great." Roger smiled and ushered him inside.

 

---

 

Five Mario Kart tournaments, several goes around the obstacle course and a mini-Swing-Ball tournament later, Poppy and Eric crashed out half asleep on the living room floor. Well, at least it was carpeted. Roger glanced at the clock: nine-thirty.

   "Alright, you two, you can stay up a bit longer but I want teeth brushed and jammies on, okay?" he said.

   Poppy lifted her head from the floor and yawned.

   "You're welcome to sleep if you want, but teeth first," Roger insisted.

   The two children dragged themselves to their feet, then in a sudden renewal of energy they ran up the stairs and into the bathroom. Somehow, they were re-energised and chatting away above Roger and John's heads as if the energy failure of a moment before had never happened. Roger smiled at John, both of them amused by the ineffable currents of children's moods.

   John hadn't said anything about going home yet, but they were nearly finished the bottle of wine they'd shared, so Roger figured he would probably head off soon. It wasn't a big town, and even though Roger wasn't sure exactly where John lived, it would probably be a half hour walk at most. And a strapping young man like John should be able to take that in his stride, even half a bottle of wine to the wind.

   They chatted for a while longer as the children pattered around upstairs, taking turns to get changed in Poppy's bedroom. John had brought an inflatable mattress and put it on Poppy's floor for Eric to sleep on and they both seemed happy enough with this arrangement, but were firm about being too old to get undressed in front of each other.

   "Hey, I've been meaning to ask all night. That picture above the fireplace, is that Art?" said John.

   Roger stood up and crossed to the fireplace, lifting a silver-painted frame from the mantelpiece. It was  a photograph of the three of them - Roger, Art and Poppy - at their local playground back home. They were framed very tightly by the photo, and Roger smiled as he remembered the strain on his arm as he held out his phone to get them all in shot. He could just make out the chain of the swings in the corner above Art's smiling face.

   He brought the photo over and handed it to John.

   "Oh my word, he's gorgeous," said John.

   !!!!!!!! said Art

   "Yeah," said Roger, quietly.

   John turned to look at him. "Sorry, didn't mean to trigger anything."

   Roger shook his head. "It's just the wine. And also he's going to be so smug." He tapped the side of his head, indicating where Art lived.

   John grinned and carefully put the photo down on the side table. He turned back towards Roger. "Well, he's very welcome. I wish I'd met him."

   "For what it's worth, he thinks you're handsome too. He's very annoying about it."

   John laughed. "Yeah, well, his taste wasn't so bad either."

   All of a sudden Roger realised that their hands were very close on the cushions of the couch. As John had leaned back over from putting down the picture frame, his fingertips had landed within an inch of Roger's - whether by accident or on purpose, Roger wasn't sure. His train of thought was hazy from the wine, and he lost the thread as he stared down at their hands, and by the time it occurred to him to say something, he realised that their heads were closer together than they had been before too. And they were getting closer, closer, leaning down, down-

   John sucked in a breath and sat up straight. He put his hands on Roger's shoulders and levered him upright too.

   "Roger, we can't do this-"

   "It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, John. I was being so stupid. Please, just forget it. I know you're Poppy's teacher and it would be a bad idea and those two kids have both been through so much and I don't want to cause any more chaos for them. I've not actually had any alcohol in a while because, y'know, who would I drink it with. So I think it's just hit me super hard and I'm really-"

   "Wait, wait, slow down." John squeezed his shoulders hard. "We can't do this drunk. If we're going to do this - and you're right, there are questions we need to answer before we can go ahead - we need to be sure. Those two up there, who probably aren't even asleep yet, they're both in the midst of such turbulent lives right now. We need to be sure we won't make things worse."

   Roger nodded vigorously. He tried to smile. "And we've only really known each other for three days."

   John smiled back. "That part I don't really care about."

   Roger blew a little air through his nose. "Fair enough. So… what do we do?"

   John took his hands off Roger's shoulders and sat facing forward again. They'd left the TV on mute with the subtitles on and it was currently repeating an old sitcom on E4, probably The Big Bang Theory.

   "Well, first we sober up. I'll walk home in a moment, so the cold air should do it for me. You make sure to drink plenty of water."

   He used his teacher voice then, but Roger wasn't up to joking about it.

   "Let's say Saturday, maybe we take the kids to the park, and we talk. We decide what we want to do. If we want to go any further, maybe I talk to my boss, see if he has any advice. He's been head teacher at several different schools, so maybe he's had some experience with parent-teacher relations. Have you met Mr Cornish?"

   Roger shook his head. "One of the deputies gave us a tour of the school, then handed us over to you."

   "Ah, fair enough. Well, I think you'll like him. He's very sensible, doesn't speak in too much jargon."

   Roger nodded. "That sounds good."

   John nodded and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Then he stood up and went out to the hall to get his jacket. Roger sat staring at the TV, watching the nerds be misogynists to their neighbour. John came back into the room before he headed out and Roger twisted around to look at him over the back of the couch. John crouched down so he was level with Roger and rested his hands on the backrest.

   "And you're not being stupid, okay? When you wake up in the morning sick with regret, remember that I do like you. Don't let that husband of yours give you any grief."

   Roger smiled slightly. "He knows when to reel it back."

   "Good." John hesitated for a moment, then gave him a lightning-quick kiss on the cheek, and stood up. "Okay, see you soon, maybe Saturday. I'll text you."

   Roger nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, then kept watching the shadowy hallway as the front door opened and closed and John started his windy walk home.

Chapter 8: The Spark

Summary:

Roger and John catch up at the park and evaluate where they ought to go from here.

"I feel like we're spies," said Roger. "Like I should be clandestinely slipping you a little manila envelope right about now."

   "Hmm, and what's in this envelope?" said John.

   "A picture of me trying to kiss you," said Roger. He lowered his voice, "They're trying to blackmail me!"

   John chuckled. "I told you, we tried to kiss each other."

   Roger sighed. "I know, but you know how brains are."

   "Yeah."

   They were sitting on a black metal bench at the edge of the playpark, watching Poppy and Eric race each other around the climbing frame. At one point Eric fell off and landed in the woodchips and John started to his feet to go and help, but Eric sprang back up and argued that it wasn't fair and that Poppy had given him a fright by starting to climb so fast, before jumping back onto the wooden planks covered in plaster hand-holds and foot-holds and scrambling back up to her level.

   "So what have you been thinking?" said John. "You know, other than cringe-attacks and persistent but unnecessary guilt?"

   It was Saturday, so two days since Poppy and Eric's sleepover. Roger had spent the first twenty minutes after John left staring at that photograph of Art, aching for a simpler time. But finally he'd dragged himself to his feet, brushed his teeth, and gone to sleep. He'd woken up with a slight hangover, but mostly the problem had been a cloud of dull grey hanging over his mind. There'd been two children to feed and entertain for the early part of the morning, then he'd shepherded them both out to school.

   So that had given him all of Friday to think over what he wanted, to try to come up with an answer to John's question.

   "I think I would like to try," he said now. "I know Art would want me to. He's not been quiet about that. The bigger question was Poppy. And I know, she's right in front of me, I don't have to imagine what she would say. But I didn't want to ask her about it. I just… can you imagine throwing in a wrench like that and it coming to nothing? That would have thrown off her routine much more than a sleepover."

   "What settled it, then?"

   "She sort of… came to me. In the same way Art does. But much older than she is now, more like Art's age. And I asked her, I know you want me to be happy, but would you really want me to date your teacher? Right now?"

   "And she said…?"

   "She said 'Dad'- She called me Dad instead of Daddy because she was about thirty-five."

   "Sure."

   "She said 'Dad, two days ago I locked myself in the bathroom because I lost to you in Mario Kart three times in a row. However much my world seems to be ending, I'll get over it. And besides, I don't like you being alone, so I might be happy about it anyway.'" Roger paused, putting his thumb and forefingers to his eyes. "She's not like other kids, John. Not anymore. I think… I almost think that temper tantrums are like play for her now. She gets to exercise those feelings of anger but in the security of knowing that whatever the problem is it doesn't really matter. She knows what matters. She's seen what matters. And nothing will ever be so true and so terrible as that, God help us."

   John was quiet for a moment, breathing steadily. "I hope nothing so awful will ever happen to her again. So… You're in?"

   "I'm in."

   John let out a long breath through his nose. "I'm in too. So, here's a fun story, I actually talked to Eric's social worker about it last night."

   "Oh good Lord," said Roger. "That sounds awkward."

   "Indeed. Well, the first thing she did was tell me off for letting Eric have a sleepover when I'd only known you properly for two days. But I'm a teacher with a good fostering history, so I think she gave my judgement the benefit of the doubt, and then we moved onto talking about us."

   "And?" said Roger. Now that he'd stated his intentions, he could feel the distance between them keenly, wanted to cross it sooner rather than later. But that was only half the puzzle.

   "She understood why I was worried, but she also said that I shouldn't put my life on hold, especially when I could still have Eric for months yet. She said it wasn't as though this was the first time this had ever happened and there's resources and precedents I can turn to if I need some guidance."

   Roger turned to face him, which he hadn't done up to this point. "That's fantastic! So, like… we can do this?"

   John moved his hand a little closer to Roger's on the bench. "If by 'this' you mean talk to my boss about it, sure."

   "Oh, that's right," said Roger. His shoulders slumped.

   "Deep breaths, Roger," said John. He looked around the park, at the lake (or 'loch') and the path that ran alongside it, at the patches of forest that backed onto the other side of the path. Then he looked back towards the playpark and said, "You know, I did have some of my own concerns too. Would you be in a fit state for romantic contact? Would it be too much pressure? Were we going too fast, contrary to my first instinct?" He looked back at Roger. "Be careful, Roger. You're in as vulnerable a place as Poppy. You can't… You need to make sure that whatever this is, it's not rescuing you from the depths."

   Roger shook his head. "It's not that. It's not… You wouldn't be saving me."

   "Then what is it?"

   "It's like… I lost myself. I was Poppy's Daddy and I was a man who'd lost his husband and that was all."

   "And now, four days later, you're back?"

   "A spark of me is."

   John smiled. "That's good. That's really good. But please don't put that all on me."

   Roger shook his head. "No, of course. You're right. In fact, I'm happy to take all the credit."

   "I mean I'm sure I helped," John chuckled.

   "Nope, all me, seeing an opportunity and taking it," said Roger, crossing his arms and looking resolutely out over the water. John kept laughing, and a smile tugged at Roger's mouth. He said, "Of course you helped. Thank you. As a mark of gratitude, I promise not to lay all my happiness at your door."

   "That's all I ask," said John. He stretched his arms and crossed one leg over the other. "What a lovely Saturday afternoon at the park."

   "Idyllic," Roger agreed.

   "Hopefully the first of many," said John.

   "Hopefully."

Chapter 9: The Boss

Summary:

The head of Tayburn Primary tries to help the boys navigate teacher-parent relationships.

Notes:

If you don't know who Ralph Cornish is - first of all hi, we must not have spoken before, here's a link to a discord server for talking about the Doctor and Rogue https://discord.gg/Fyzprezrpj, and where they kindly let me talk about blorbo to my heart's content - I'll explain in the endnotes. He is a Doctor Who character though. And "Andy" is the Third Doctor, again, will explain.

"Mr Cornish?" said Roger, knocking on the open door to his office.

   Mr Cornish looked up from his desk. "Ah, you must be Mr Yossarian. Hello."

   A tall, slim man with dark brown hair stood up and gestured for Roger to take a seat on the other side of the desk, shaking his hand before he sat down. He had a firm presence, but not too imposing. He put his hand to his stomach as he retook his seat, ensuring his shirt didn't rumple.

   "Oh, sorry, just a moment." Mr Cornish picked up his phone and answered a call. "Hiya, Dandy. No, yep, I’m just with a parent just now. I’ll call you back in a moment. Okay. Okay, yep. Talk soon. Love you too." He hung up and put his phone in the pocket of his jacket, which was hanging on the back of his chair. "Sorry about that."

   "Did you just say 'Hi, Dandy?'"

   "Oh, yes, that was my husband. His name's Andy, but people call him Dandy. You’d understand if you saw him."

   Roger blinked. "Is anyone in this town straight?!"

   Mr Cornish chuckled. He said, "Yes, you’ve had quite a good strike rate so far, haven’t you. Speaking of whom, where's John got to?"

   His voice and his laugh were both very deep, but smooth too. Roger could easily imagine him at the front of a school assembly. He did, however, have a pretty old-fashioned English accent. Roger wasn't an expert, but he did wonder if that would be an impediment up here.

   "He got stuck behind a caravan on the way back from Mossbridge," Roger explained. "He shouldn't be long. I guess I could have waited for him but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long, since it's so late."

   "Fair enough, fair enough," said Mr Cornish. He took a drink of water and offered a jug and glass to Roger. Roger nodded, and as Mr Cornish poured for him he said, "Remind me why you went all the way to Mossbridge and back?"

   "Poppy and Eric go to gymnastics on a Tuesday. Since we don't know yet whether this conversation is going to go well we didn't want to tell them about it, so we needed a window where they'd be occupied," said Roger, sipping his water.

   "Quite the Catch-22, Mr Yossarian," said Mr Cornish.

   "Very good," said Roger. He chose not to roll his eyes, though he'd heard this many times before. "Roger's fine, by the way."

   Mr Cornish nodded. "I'm Ralph."

   "So, yeah, as far as the kinds know we're in a café down the street from the leisure centre. It's a bit of a risk, I'll admit. Hopefully I don't get a call from Kate tonight. But with any luck it'll all be worth it."

   "That's the plan," said Ralph.

   Just as the conversation was tailing off, John appeared at the door and breezed into the room, taking the seat beside Roger.

   "Sorry about that," said John. "The caravan stopped and unhitched from its car. It was a whole thing." He flapped his hands and took the glass of water Ralph had poured for him. "Thanks, Ralph."

   "Not a problem," said Ralph. "So, how are you both? How are the children?"

   "I've had quite an intense week…" said Roger. "I think Poppy's doing well though, so it's worth it."

   "And I've been having a great time," said John. "Just suddenly got some new folks to worry about, so that's given the ol' heart a few things to tick about."

   Roger looked at John and smiled. John winked back at him.

   When Roger turned back to face Ralph, he found the very corners of his mouth turning subtly upwards. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, I have some handouts."

   John sat up in his chair. "You made romance worksheets?"

   "Well." Ralph chortled. "I'll leave the romance part to you." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out two sets of papers, each held together with a large clip at the top. "This is everything I could find about teacher-parent romance on the council websites." He passed the papers across to them and looked at his monitor, clicking his mouse a few times as he navigated somewhere. "Right, the top page should be the same as what I'm looking at, protocols from the 1996 establishment of the Perth & Kinross council. As you can see, their very first suggestion is that I move you, John, to a different year group for the remainder of the term. I have a feeling we'll all wish to rule that out straight off the bat."

   "Yes, please," said John. "That sounds like chaos."

   "Then everyone would really, really be looking at me," Roger added.

   "Indeed," said Ralph. "Okay, there are some Education Scotland recommendations next. They think I shouldn’t let Poppy's work be marked by you. But…" He sighed. "How often do you set an exercise over the course of a day, John? This just sounds unworkable."

   John frowned as he looked through his pile of papers. "Ralph, how much have you already read through this? Do you know already that the whole situation is unworkable? I'd rather just know now if that's what you're going to tell me."

   "No, there are some options. I'm starting with the least likely so we can rule them out. So, me marking all of Poppy's submissions is out?" said Ralph.

   John nodded. "Out."

   "Alright. Next you'll see a variant on the previous recommendation. It was struck down for being too difficult to enforce but I think it might be plausible if we all put the work in," said Ralph. "It suggests that for 'subjective assessments' Poppy is evaluated by a third party, preferably either a senior member of staff, like me, or a teacher she's previously had. Obviously, she hasn't previously had a teacher here, so it'd be me or one of the deputies in that case."

   "What are subjective assessments?" said Roger.

   "Music, art, writing, that sort of thing. Marks where there isn't a right or wrong answer that can be given a simple tick or a cross. All this documentation is worried about bias, or in the case of it not working out between the two of you, petty vengeance."

   John's brows drew together again. "Do you… Do you really think this is necessary, Ralph?"

   "I think you're neither petty nor vengeful, for sure," said Ralph. "But… To tell you the truth, I'm not certain how seriously I should be taking this issue. We've been working together for what, three years? I trust your judgement. But there is something to be said for personal feelings clouding objective judgment, even when you don't think it will. And… I don't know, maybe I'm old-fashioned, or projecting, but when it's two men… sometimes it just feels like we're walking an even tighter tight-rope with parents than a heterosexual couple would be."

   Roger felt a pinch of tension. This was a safe area, right?

   Ralph looked at him and pursed his lips, nodding. "I know, I know, it's 2025, not 1970. But if strain were to arise, and if push came to shove… Alright, tell me now, am I letting my posh childhood cloud my judgement?"

   The tension released within Roger at the bluntness of his question.

   "I get you," said Roger. "I know pushy parents. And as much as Poppy's mum is great, some of her friends were… Well, let's just say they thought campaigning for equal marriage gave them a free pass to say some interesting things."

   Ralph nodded. "So, external examiner (me) for subjective assessments is on the table?"

   "Unless you're too embedded in the gay mafia," said John, sticking out his tongue.

   "Please, John," said Ralph, frowning round the side of his monitor. "You know I'm bisexual."

Notes:

Ralph Cornish: space controller from the Doctor Who serial Ambassadors of Death (3rd Doctor, 1970), who I ship with the 3rd Doctor.

3rd Doctor being called Andy: I didn't want every incarnation of the Doctor to be called John Smith (or Joanna? in Jodie's case?) so I asked for some ideas in the Timerogue server and DragonsAreEpic came up with the idea of Andrew, shortened to Andy, nicknamed as Dandy. Dandy because, well, look at Three, he's incredible.

Chapter 10: Setting a Date

Summary:

Single dads Roger and John try to find time to go on their first date.

Notes:

I named the Maria here after Maria Friedman, the director of Merrily We Roll Along on Broadway last year, which Jonathan Groff starred in. Here is an absolutely wonderful video of the two of them where Jonathan interviews Maria: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K9Rk7ueI9Aw&pp=ygUdam9uYXRoYW4gZ3JvZmYgbWFyaWEgZnJpZWRtYW4%3D

I'm very much not inserting real people into this fic, and the Jonathan and Maria here are definitely fictional characters, but I think their respective vibes probably have influenced me in this chapter.

The problem with working out the protocols with Mr Cornish - though of course there were many benefits, now that they'd agreed on some solutions with him - was that after that uncertainty was resolved, it felt silly to stop proceeding with caution now. What if the first date went terribly? Why get the kids' hopes up? And, also, when the hell were you meant to go on a date if the only free time you shared was an hour and a half on a Tuesday night?

   To be fair, it's not really the first date. It's more like the fourth, Roger texted, in response to John's question.

   Pardon?

   Date 1: Costa. Date 2: Leisure centre café, then McDonald's. Plus my house. Date 3: The park. Date 4: …?

   … I'll give you Costa… at a push…

   John I haven't been on a date in over 5 months. Give me this.

   Fiiiiiiine. So, how and when should we do our NEXT date? Shall we squeeze in a romantic dinner on Tuesday? Or try holding hands at the park while the kids are busy?

   I suppose we COULD tell them. I just…

   No I know. I understand.

   I don't suppose they've shown an interest in a THIRD friend at school? Someone else we could arrange a playdate with?

   Maybe… there's one I can think of. I'll keep an eye out

   Okay. So I guess uh, I'll see you next Tuesday either way?

   Sure will <3

   Looking forward to it <3

   Given that it was currently Wednesday, the week spread out very long and far before Roger. He put his phone down on the arm of the couch, rubbed his eyes to try and wake up, then went to the kitchen to make Poppy's dinner.

 

---

 

ROGER! Rog rog rog my man are you upppppp????

   Roger sat up quickly in bed, looking around for the source of the beeping. Then he realised it was the sound of a thousand notifications coming through on his phone.

   Did you seriously just u up me?

   Sorry sorry I only just finished marking

   It's - Roger glanced at the time on his phone - 1am

   Teachers are overstretched, big news. Anyway in BIGGER NEWS I think there might be a THIRD FRIEND

   It was Thursday night, well, early Friday morning, so a day had passed since John had promised to be on the lookout for new social interaction.

   The funniest thing, and you're not gonna believe this, is that it's Jonathan.

   The crying kid? The one Poppy shouted at?

   The very same. I think she won him over

   Already bleary from waking up and staring straight into his phone's backlight, Roger's eyes started to sting. She what?

   She, completely unprompted, apologised again for shouting at him (I made her do it originally, on the day of the incident) and said she was going through a lot right now but that she still shouldn't have done it

   Oh jesus

   I know, how amazing is that!

   No I mean, I think she's copying me. I've said that exact sentence on the phone to Martha before.

   I mean, it's no less true of her than you?

   Of course, of course. Just one of those moments where you remember they're always listening

   Ahhh I see I see

   But anyway, it worked?

   Yup, her and Eric were telling him about an imaginary character they made up together by the end of the day

   You reckon Jonathan's mother might want to take them for a sleepover by say, tomorrow evening?

   Think that might be pushing it a tad. But still, good progress from both of them right?

   Amazing

   Alright, you go back to sleep now. Night <3

   Good night <3

 

---

 

"Excuse me, um, you're Jonathan's mother, right?" said Roger, edging his way towards the forty-something woman with the nice cardigan he'd seen comforting a crying Jonathan after Poppy's second day at the school. Roger hadn't plucked up the nerve to talk to anyone at the school gates ever since, and the looks were only getting more intense, but if Poppy could do it, then so could he.

   "I am," she said. "And you're Poppy's dad."

   Roger reached out his hand. "Roger."

   Looking more into his face than at his hand, she shook it, and nodded. "Maria. I hear there's been something of a truce."

   Roger nodded quickly. "That's the word on the street. I just thought, maybe, we could clear the air too?"

   Maria's face was still and serious as she looked at him, but she wasn't too stern. "I think that could be a good idea."

   "I'm really sorry Poppy screamed in his face like that," said Roger.

   "Ah, straight to the point," said Maria.

   "Sorry, I-"

   "No, I like that," said Maria. "I gather Jonathan wasn't entirely blameless in the matter."

   "That still doesn't excuse her."

   She frowned slightly quizzically. "Do you and Poppy sing off the same hymn sheet? That's what she said to Jonathan, almost word for word."

   Roger pointed to his ear. "She has a knack for copying what I say. Goes in one ear and stays there."

   "Whose face did you shout in?"

   "…It was down the phone."

   "Ah, been there," she said.

   "The move's been pretty stressful," Roger explained.

   She nodded. "Of course. Crossing the pond, that's no mean feat."

   "Yeah."

   The school bell rang and children started to stream across the playground. Roger hadn't been having such a horrible time of it since that first Tuesday, because at least Poppy had had Eric. Today though, he let out a small gasp. There was a third friend indeed! Now Poppy and Eric formed a little pod with Jonathan and ambled across the playground deep in conversation, chatting and laughing as if everything was forgotten.

   As the trio arrived at the gate they headed straight for Maria. Poppy in fact looked a little startled to see Roger standing right next to her.

   "Um, hi, Daddy," she said. "I don't need a lift today."

   "You don't?"

   "Jonathan invited me and Eric to his house for dinner!"

   Roger looked at Maria. There he was on that tight-rope Mr Cornish had talked about, and maybe all his progress was about to tumble to the ground.

   Instead, Maria briefly smiled at him, then looked down to Jonathan and said, "Jonathan, how many times. Ask me first."

   "But you said it was good that Poppy apologised." Jonathan looked up at her, blinking, a picture of earnest innocence. Roger was not at all sure whether to believe it.

   "It was good, but what if we were having fish tonight and I didn't have enough for your friends, hm?"

   "Are we having fish?"

   "No, we're having burgers."

   "So they can come?"

   Maria regarded her son for a moment, and Roger realised that she too didn't quite know whether to trust this eight-year-old logic.

   "Yes, they can come," she said, rolling her eyes.

   "Yessss!" Jonathan held both hands up and Poppy and Eric hi-fived one each.

   "Wait, wait. Eric," said Roger. "Does John know about this?"

   Eric frowned. "He doesn't mind me going to Poppy's after school."

   "Yes, but that's called a childcare arrangement, so that you don't have to sit around in the school waiting for him anymore," said Roger. "Just hold on a sec, I'll let him know."

   He took out his phone and called John.

   "Hiya, everything alright?" said John.

   "Yeah, yeah, all good. Eric just has a question for you."

   "Oh?"

   Roger passed the phone to Eric.

   "Johnny, can I go to Jonathan's for dinner? … She says it's fine … Uh-huh, she does. He did ask … Fine."

   Eric passed the phone to Maria, who confirmed it was indeed okay for Eric to come over. When she was done she handed the phone back to Roger.

   "Hi, me again," said Roger.

   "Tell him that's fine then, I guess. Wow, kids work fast, huh," said John.

   "They sure do," said Roger. Then he lowered his voice and turned away, raising a hand to put the others on standby for a moment. "But um, speaking of fast, is this okay? What about the social worker?"

   "Nah, it's fine. Jocelyn was only worried because you were so new. I've known Maria for years."

   "Okay, awesome. You um… you realise what this means, right?"

   "Um… I'm not sure I follow?"

   Roger lowered his voice further to a full-on whisper. "Get your butt out here and do your paperwork later, dumbass. It's Friday night and we are going on a date!"

Notes:

And Jocelyn is of course Nan-E (aka Jocelyn Sancerre from Space Babies) 😁

Chapter 11: Dancing on a Friday Night

Summary:

IT IS FINALLY TIME FOR FIRST DATE!!!

Notes:

No wonder this took me so long to finish - it is 2434 words! I didn't notice that happening as I was writing but yeah, it was a long one. So grab a cup of tea or beverage of your choice and settle in as the Tayburn boys go on a well-earned first date <3

"Afternoon, John. I've got disability services on the phone about - what are you doing?" Ralph looked up from the file he'd carried through from his office and blinked at John.

   John was halfway through a quick touch-up of make-up before he went out to see Roger. He'd balanced his phone against a pot of pencils and was looking in the front camera to apply a whisper of blusher, a dash of eyeshadow and a smack of lip gloss. With a mascara brush halfway to his eyelashes, he froze and looked at Ralph.

   "Jonathan invited Poppy and Eric for dinner," he explained. "Maria said yes, before you ask." He put the brush down in its case. "But I can stop- I mean, I'm sure Roger will wait. What did disability services want?"

   Ralph closed the file and tucked it under his arm, leaning against the doorframe. "It'll keep, John."

   "Just give me the headlines."

   "Alright, well, it’s about Ryan Sinclair and his new support assistant. They want to know why exactly the last assistant didn't work out. Then they'll know who to send us as a replacement."

   "Ah, I see. I mean, Chris's heart was clearly in the right place, but-"

   "John." Ralph raised a hand. "Go. Go make that sad man smile. We can talk about Ryan on Monday. It's not as though they're going to find a replacement at half past three on a Friday afternoon."

   "But-"

   Ralph held a hand up to silence him. "No back-chat."

   "Sorry, sir."

   Ralph smiled. "Have a good evening, John. You work hard. I'll leave you an email about Ryan."

   John relaxed and lifted the mascara brush back up. "Okay, see you Monday."

   "Good man." Ralph stood up straight and nodded. "You look fantastic, by the way. You're going to give him a heart attack." He grinned as he left the room.

   John smiled, then finished off his make-up, packed up his bag, and hurried out into the playground.

 

---

 

Finally, Roger heard footsteps hurrying across the asphalt towards him. He looked up and saw John half-running as he pulled on his jacket, the strap of his shoulder-bag bunched up and held in one hand. Roger was confused - he'd taken quite a while since their phone call, but he also seemed to be going as fast as he could. But when he closed the distance it made sense. His face was glowing, dazzling. He was gorgeous and clearly ready for date night.

   "Hi," said Roger, suddenly feeling a little underdressed in his jeans and hoodie.

   "Hi," said John, looking into Roger's eyes with a shade of giddiness in his expression.

   "So, where should we go?" said Roger, as they turned and started to walk out of the school grounds.

   "Well, it's Friday night, so that means the ceilidh band are on in the town hall," said John. "Or we could go to Dino's, or Ploughman's. That's a restaurant and a pub."

   "Hmm…" said Roger. "I do want to go to a ceilidh at some point. That's definitely on the living in Scotland bucket list."

   "But it's too soon?"

   Roger nodded as they passed out of the grounds and into the street. "Might be a bit intense for a first date. Don't know if I want so many eyes on me, you know?"

   "Does that not sort of rule out a restaurant too?"

   "Well, we could blend in, right?"

   "Most restaurants in this town have about five tables."

   "Oh."

   John stopped walking and turned Roger around by the waist. "You know what, we don't need to go out at all."

   "What? No, I didn't mean-"

   "Not we don't need to go out. We don't need to go out."

   "Huh?"

   "Give me like, forty-five minutes, then come to my house."

   John's car was parked nearby, and he started to head for it. Roger followed, once more confused.

   "John, what?"

   John turned around and met his eye. "Trust me, Roger. Okay?"

   Roger swallowed his rising heart rate and nodded. "Okay."

   "I'll see you soon." John kissed him on the cheek, then got into his car, giving Roger a wave as he drove off.

   Roger stared into the empty air for about thirty seconds, then slowly put his hand to his cheek and wondered if he had any hope in hell of keeping up with this human meteor shower.

 

---

 

Roger took advantage of the forty-five minute margin John had requested and returned home to change his clothes. He found some nice black trousers and a light blue shirt, then put his navy dress jacket over the top. He decided he looked too much like a casual Friday businessman and grabbed a tie. But then that was just going to make him look like a Monday morning businessman, so he tied it loosely, as if he was in an indie band. He was fairly sure he was overthinking this as he looked in the mirror in the hall, but he cut himself some slack. Like he said, he hadn't been on a date in over five months, and he hadn't been on a first date in many, many years.

   Thought you said it was the fourth? said Art.

   You know fine well I was bluffing, said Roger. How do I look?

   Hot as fuck, sweetie. Art smiled at him, leaning against the wall. Knock 'em dead.

   Roger's eyes widened. Not funny, Art.

   Clearly you disagree.

   Roger rolled his eyes and brushed past the spot where he was picturing him. He headed into the kitchen, pressing his hands together and furrowing his brow in concentration. What could he bring? That bottle of wine they'd shared had been a housewarming present from one of his new neighbours and he didn't have another. Chocolate? Candy? Did he have anything Poppy wouldn't immediately notice was missing?

   He gasped as the answer came to him. There was something Roger had bought that they hadn't tried yet because Poppy was confused by the name. Roger opened the cupboard, took out the shortbread, and tried to put it into his jacket pocket. It didn't quite fit though, so he had a dig around upstairs and found a small black bag with a thin leather strap to go over one shoulder. The pack of shortbread fit in perfectly.

   Ready, honey?

   "Yeah," Roger accidentally said out loud. He nodded to himself and to Art, then headed out into the fresh air, hoping the twenty minute walk to John's would calm him down.

 

---

 

Forty-five minutes after parting, as requested, Roger stood on the porch of John's house and rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps promptly in the hall and at the last moment he reached up and undid the top button of his shirt. Then the door swung open, and the (joint) most beautiful man he'd ever seen was before him.

   He'd added some more flourishes to his make-up and he'd exchanged his work shirt and stripy tie for a yellow vest with a loose green blouse over the top, the sleeves pushed up to the elbows so that the material bunched and billowed. On his lower half he wore a pair of pinstriped trousers that could have looked like they were from a whole other outfit, but he wore them high on his waist with the vest and blouse tucked in, which left a gap between the bottom of the trousers and his cute little plimsolls and ankle socks.

   How was Roger still underdressed?!

   "Wow," said John.

   Roger opened his mouth, then closed it. That had been just what he was about to say.

   "You scrub up well," said John, leading him into the house. "Come on, burgers are on."

   "Burgers?" said Roger. He closed the front door behind him and looked down at a shoe rack, full of John's dress shoes, trainers and a couple of pairs of heels. "Are we taking shoes off?"

   "Whatever's most comfortable," said John.

   Roger nodded. "I'll keep them on for now." He had a pair of long boots that he thought went well with these trousers. Without them, he'd look like he'd just come in from work for the evening.

   "Yes, burgers," said John, as he led Roger into the living room and sat down with him on a soft blue couch. "I was thinking about what Poppy said, about McDonald's tasting like home. And I know you're nervous, so I wanted to make you something familiar. Except frankly burgers are boring so I've spiced them up just a smidge. I've got some tom-ay-to soup for a starter on the go."

   Roger looked sideways at him but smiled and over-egged his accent as he spoke. "Sounds amazing. I can't wait… Oh my God, I've just recognised the music."

   John had a big black stereo that sat beside his television, with his phone currently plugged into it. It was quietly, unobtrusively, singing away to itself.

   In the car, I just can’t wait

   To pick you up on our very first date

   John grinned. "Just a little Blink-182 for my precious former-emo."

   A sudden burst of nervous energy went through Roger and he curled his fingers into a tight fist, then bumped the fist against his chest.

   "You okay there, Rog?" said John.

   In answer Roger could only shake his head and yank John in for the mother of all hugs. He wrapped his arms, hands still in fists, around John's back, feeling the slight gauziness of John's blouse beneath his chin as he tucked his head over his shoulder. After a slight pause, John collected himself and hugged back, taking in a long, satisfied breath.

   "I had a feeling you'd be a good hugger," said John.

   Roger bit down on his bottom lip, unable to speak. After a little while longer, John levered him up and looked in his eyes.

   "Hey, I'm going to go check on the soup - it should be ready soon. Why don't you see if you can find something else for us to listen to because this song has been on for half an hour in case you were early and it's driving me just a little bit mad."

   Roger laughed a little and nodded. They both rose to their feet and John headed through to the kitchen. Roger crossed the room to the speaker and picked up the phone sitting on top of it. He'd been a little bit worried he wasn't going to be able to speak for the rest of the date, but the specificity of a question he needed to ask did something to jumpstart his brain, and he managed to call through to John.

   "Hey, John, your phone's locked!"

   "One nine six three!" John called back.

   "You give out your passcode on the first date?"

   John leaned around the doorway from the kitchen. "I thought you said it was the fourth."

   "And I thought you said I was being desperate."

   "Hey, I never said it."

   Roger smiled and unlocked the phone as John ducked back through. He opened Spotify and immediately forgot every song he'd ever heard in his entire life. In the end, after quite some time of staring at the phone screen and at least one more run-through of 'First Date', he decided on 'Welcome Interstate Managers' by Fountains of Wayne. Partly because it was a certified banger of an album, and partly because it was also on the long side, which meant he wouldn't have to do any more thinking for a while yet.

   Not long later, the soup was ready, and John brought two bowls through to a little wooden table by the living room window.

   "So," John said as they both sat down. "Tell me about where you grew up."

 

---

 

"You were not kidding about spicing up these hamburgers," said Roger, pressing a knuckle to the corner of his eye.

   "Oh no, is it too much?" said John.

   "Oh, don't get me wrong, it's delicious. I can just feel my face getting redder by the second."

   "You don't look so bad," said John.

   Roger looked up from his plate. "Thanks."

   John laughed. "Okay, okay, okay. You look beatifically handsome and it's taking all my willpower to keep my hands off you. Better?"

   Through a mouthful of hot paprika infused burger, Roger smirked and mumbled, "Much better."

   They finished their burgers, then it was time for dessert - an ice cream sundae of course. Just as John was about to take the plates back through and get the ice cream out of the freezer, the Fountains of Wayne album ended. Roger glanced at the phone, then back at John. He raised his hand to stop him going for the ice cream.

   "Hey, you got a second?"

   "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

   "Just stay there."

   John put both plates back down and stood by the table. Roger could feel his eyes on him as he went back over to the stereo, unlocked the phone, and chose a new song.

   "Hey you!" Roger exclaimed along with the song, reaching a hand out to John and dragging him into the middle of the room.

   John smiled, and joined their other hands too. They swung their arms back and forth, stepping towards and away from each other, jumping up and down. Roger knew all the words inside and out from years of singing it with Poppy and Art, and over the past couple of weeks John seemed to have picked up the chorus. As John began to sing, Roger's heart soared and he jumped so high his head bumped the ceiling. Art, who was over his shoulder boogieing away, laughed heartily at him. Together Roger and John sang the chorus.

   Oh, Monday cycling

   Tuesday gymnastics!!!

   Dancing on a Friday night

   I got Bridge Club on Wednesday

   Archery on Thursday

   Dancing on a Friday night

   Roger grinned giddily at John as they danced. Oh such goofy, uncool dancing. No romantic tango or swinging quickstep to be found in this suburban living room, no siree. Just dumb as hell lyrics and an excitable guitar filling them both with energy. But they were doing it. They'd made it. Several awkward conversations, a week and a half of waiting and one impromptu childcare arrangement later, here they were, dancing on a Friday night.

   As the song ended and some more glorious nonsense from The Darkness started playing, Roger felt like the king of the world. He pulled John close, looked in his eyes to check for permission, and John nodded eagerly. Roger smiled even wider and kissed him with all the energy of a man who's just come back from the dead.

Chapter 12: Changes

Summary:

Adults and children alike explore new relationships and new friendships.

They kissed and kissed, staggering around the room. Then one of them dragged the other to the couch (it was hard to say which one) and they landed in a heap, still kissing.

   "Wait, wait." Their lips smacked as Roger pulled away. He raised himself up, one hand one each of John's shoulders. "How fast do you want to do this?"

   John rested on his elbows, looking up at Roger. "You're asking me?"

   Roger shrugged. "Yeah. Just so, you know, I can know how much I'm going to disappoint you."

   John smiled. "Never, dear."

   "Hrrrrrrrrngh…"

   John laughed. "What was that?"

   "Nobody's called me 'dear' in forever," said Roger. He leaned down, lips hovering above John's collarbone, and tilted his head to the side to check permission was still in place.

   "Oh yes, as you were, absolutely," said John, stroking his hands through Roger's hair as Roger started to kiss his skin. "We can move as fast as you want, by the way." He kissed the top of Roger's head. "You're not the only one who's been waiting a while."

   Roger looked up and grinned, then got industriously to work on unbuttoning John's blouse.

 

---

 

They eventually made it upstairs to John's room with the big, firm bed and the pack of condoms in the nightstand. They held each other like men possessed until it was over, then collapsed beside each other and lay shifting, turning, trying to recover their consciousness. Roger ran his hands over his eyes, blinking rapidly to get his vision into focus. He had one arm draped across John's torso, and was lying on his front beside him. On the bedside table at John's side of the bed there sat a small alarm clock, which told him it was seven fifteen.

   He laughed quietly. "Oh, we're quite the party animals, aren't we?"

   John followed his gaze and smiled too. "Maybe in a moment I'll get up and bring you some warm milk."

   "And then we can turn in for the night with little nightcaps on our head, you know, like with tassels?"

   "And visions of sugarplums dancing through our heads?"

   Roger smiled and rested his chin on John's breastbone. "I'd like that very much."

   "Yeah, I can't wait to sleep beside you," said John.

   "Not tonight though, I'm afraid," said Roger, patting John on the chest and sitting up.

   "Indeed, yes." John dragged himself upright too. "We could get called out to pick them up at any moment, couldn't we?"

   "Yeah, probably."

   John rubbed his eyes. "Right, where did we leave the clothes?"

   "Well, my pants are over there, so I'll put those on then go have a look for yours. Sound good, sugarplum?"

   John grinned wide. "Sounds excellent."

   Roger got up and put his jeans on, then leaned over and kissed John's forehead. "Be right back." He backtracked on their frantic steps upstairs, plucking up a tank top here, a sock there, until he made it to the living room, added his own shirt to the pile of clothes in his arms, then turned and went back up to John's room.

   When he got there, he found John already half-dressed in jeans and a vest, and he was currently leafing through the shirts in his wardrobe.

   "Oh, right, that makes sense," said Roger, depositing the clothes on the bed.

   John turned to face him. "Sorry, yeah, I realised after you left that I didn't want to put the same clothes back on anyway. Because it probably won't be that long before the kids want us to pick them up and I don't want to wear date night clothes for that."

   "That's alright," Roger smiled. "You could wear a hoodie and capri shorts and I'd still be hopelessly into you."

   John stopped buttoning the shirt he'd chosen - a loose, pale yellow button-down - and crossed over to stand by Roger. He put his hands on Roger's waist and kissed him. Then he breathed a happy, satisfied sigh through his nose.

   "I think it's safe to say first date has gone well," he said.

   Roger nodded, and stroked his finger along John's forearm. "Agreed."

   "So, shall we tell the kids?"

   "Oh, boy," said Roger. He stopped moving his finger and rested his hand on John's arm.

   "Not tonight," said John. "I just mean, we don't need to gather any more data, right?"

   Roger took a moment, made sure his thoughts weren't running away too fast. "Yeah, I think that's correct. I'd like to tell Poppy by myself, if that's alright?"

   "Of course," said John, lightly squeezing where his hands rested on Roger's waist.

   Roger nodded, getting used to the idea. "Okay. Okay, I'll take tomorrow with her. Just me and her. And I'll tell her that… Christ, what am I telling her? Am I telling her you're my boyfriend? Already?"

   "Might be simpler than anything else," said John. "And besides… I like the sound of that." He kissed Roger again, more strongly than he had a moment ago.

   "That’s a very persuasive point," Roger murmured between kisses. "Okay, boyfriend it is."

   "Art alright with that?"

   Roger looked over his shoulder to the landing between the stairs and the bedroom. Art, thoughts?

   Art was leaning over the banister, but looked round at Roger's question. He thrust out his chin and said, I think you're a lucky bastard and I give you my blessing.

   John was looking at Roger quizzically when he turned back.

   "Well, I didn't bring him into the bedroom," he said. "Not without asking first, of course."

   "Hmmm… We can talk," said John. Instead of kissing him again he slid his hands further around Roger's torso and wrapped him into a hug.

   "He says it's okay," Roger said into John's shoulder. "He knows I'm ready."

   "Fantastic," John whispered.

 

---

 

They finished getting dressed and returned downstairs for their ice cream, relaxing on the couch as they waited for the call to pick up the kids. It turned out 'How I Met Your Mother' was on Netflix at the moment, so they put it on from the beginning. They'd had their fun, so it was only fair Art got to watch his favourite show. Halfway through the third episode, Roger's phone did indeed ring.

   "Hiya," he said. "How're they doing?"

   "They've both been lovely," said Maria. "If a little loud."

   Roger winced at John. "Yeah, we've noticed they tend to make each other even louder. It's a bit of a feedback loop."

   "It's all good," said Maria. "But could you come and pick up Poppy now?"

   "Of course," said Roger. "I'll take Eric as well, if that's alright. Save John the trip?"

   "If John would be alright with that, sure."

   Roger glanced to John who shrugged and nodded.

   "I think he'd be fine with that," said Roger. "Alright, I'll be right there."

   Roger hung up then yawned and got to his feet. John followed him up.

   "You don't want me to come with?" said John.

   Roger raised his index finger and pointed to the dining table. "You just clean up the two burger plates and soup bowls and ice cream spoons. Let's tell these kids in a calm and measured manner."

   John laughed and kissed him, holding him by the shoulders. "Alright, alright. See you in a moment."

   Roger nodded, checked his keys were in his jacket and headed outside. He half-jogged back to his house and got into his car. He certainly could walk Eric back to John's, but Eric and Poppy were probably both going to be bouncing off the walls and he'd just rather not take his new boyfriend's foster-kid near a road in that sort of state.

   Maria greeted him warmly when he got to her house. She ushered him into the living room and introduced him to her husband, Bobby, and the three of them could hear the kids all bounding around in Jonathan's room upstairs.

   "I'll go get your girl," said Bobby, a handsome, slick man with a silky smooth voice. "And you're taking the boy as well, right?"

   "I am, yeah."

   Bobby gave him a half salute then headed upstairs.

   Roger looked to Maria. "Hey, you're sure they've been alright? No more screaming?"

   Maria looked closely at him, then sighed and said, "Well, sort of. Nobody's shouted at anyone, as far as I could tell, but I really cannot overstate the volume level at times."

   Roger rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

   "I don't mean- It's not for our sakes," Maria said. "I'm in theatre and Bobby's a musician. We're used to loud noises. But Jonathan… Oh, it doesn't half make him cry."

   Roger sat up straight in his armchair. "Has he been crying tonight?"

   "I've seen his eyes a little red, couple of tears lodged in the corners, yeah. But Roger, wait, listen to me. He does cry, a lot. I know, I know, crying is good, boys do cry, all that. I don't have a problem with him crying so much." Maria looked at him very seriously, and Roger nodded to affirm he understood absolutely. "But I just worry sometimes that it's going to cause him problems. I worry it'll be hard for him to make friends. So that's why even if Poppy and Eric are very different from the kids Jonathan usually spends time with, I think perhaps it can be good for him. Even if he is a bit weepy as he tries to talk about ninja turtles with them."

   Roger smiled. "He's stepping outside his comfort zone - pretty cool for an eight-year-old."

   Maria's shoulders relaxed and she nodded along with him. "Exactly, exactly. I was thinking of asking you to bring a toothbrush and pyjamas for Poppy since it's a Friday night. But, well, you only want an eight-year-old to push himself so hard at once."

   "For sure," said Roger. "I completely understand."

   Bobby finally managed to wrangle the children down the stairs and into the living room. Jonathan had got changed into a white t-shirt and joggers and his dark hair was sticking up in tufts around his head. Eric and Poppy were still in their school uniforms, but Eric had rolled up his sleeves and Poppy had wrapped her itchy cardigan around her waist. They were all sweating profusely, which, Roger was promptly informed, was because they were trying to defend the barricade from evil Javert.

   "Like I say, I work in theatre," Maria explained. "Jonathan picks things up very quickly."

   Roger grinned and told them all that was very good work, then bundled his two charges into his car and drove back to John's. When he knocked on the door, John called out that the door was open, and on leading the two children inside Roger was pleased to find that John had indeed managed to tidy up all the evidence of their date, and was chilling on the couch catching up on Bake Off. He got up and gave a very excitable Eric a hug, then thanked Roger for bringing him home and waved goodbye to both him and Poppy.

   It felt bizarre not to be giving John a hug after all that, but Roger didn't want to give anything away, not yet. The next time they were all together, he'd hopefully be able to give John a kiss on the cheek without Poppy batting an eyelid. Or at least, looking no more disgusted and embarrassed than when he'd kissed Art in front of her, but that was just regular kid stuff. Nobody liked to see their parents kissing.

   This way would be better, he thought, as he drove them away from John's house. He would have all of tomorrow to talk Poppy through it and broach it however felt best in the moment. Everything would be under control.

   "Hey, Daddy?" said Poppy.

   "Yes, Captain?"

   "How come you're wearing your fancypants?"

Notes:

Reminder in case you've forgotten or not read previous chapters: Poppy is American so pants = trousers 😄

Chapter 13: The Middle

Summary:

Roger tells Poppy about himself and John, slightly ahead of schedule, and it seems that it's going take some time to set in.

Roger really didn't like brushing off questions from Poppy. When he was a kid, he often had no clue what was going on or why he was being sent where he was, and he'd hated that disorientation. So for something this big, and he knew it showed on his face that this was a significant fancypants wearing incident, he didn't like to leave her hanging. But there was absolutely no way he could have this conversation in the car. So he promised backwards and forwards and upwards and downwards that he would explain everything once they got home.

   So much for a calm and orderly fashion.

   He ushered her inside, waited as she took her shoes off, then sat her down next to him on the living room sofa.

   "Poppy, let's talk," said Roger. "I know you know there's a secret, and I don't want there to be a secret. So I'm going to tell you now."

   "Tell me what?"

   Roger took a deep breath. "Okay, Pops, here it is. After you and Eric went to Jonathan's this evening, John and I made plans to hang out together. And sometimes when grown-ups make those sorts of plans - or indeed teenagers - it's a particular kind of plan, called a date. John and I decided we wanted to go on a date with each other." He paused, checking for a reaction to the story so far.

   "Daddy," said Poppy. "I know what a date is. You and Daddy used to go on them."

   "Right, yes, of course. Well, this was the first time I'd gone on a date since Daddy died. And the date went well. John and I both had a really good time. So, to celebrate, we kissed each other. And now, Poppy, well, I'm afraid your teacher is going to be my boyfriend." Poppy didn't say anything, her face impassive, so Roger brushed her shoulder with his finger and went on, "I really, really like him, Pops. And he likes me too, and we make each other very happy. I haven't felt anything like this at all since Daddy died. So… what do you think?"

   Poppy shifted around at the question, making vague 'um' sounds and mumbling a little. Roger gave her time; he knew she'd want to find the right words.

   "Did you kiss John as a secret?" she said eventually. "Was it something bad?"

   "No, no, darling," said Roger, putting his hand more firmly on her shoulder and looking into her eyes. "It's not bad, I promise. We weren't hiding anything bad. We just know that you and Eric have both been through so much, we didn't want to give you anything big to think about it unless it was definitely going to come to something. Like, imagine the date hadn't gone well, and we'd decided to be friends instead. There wouldn't have been any point in mentioning it at all. We always meant to tell you. I was just planning on waiting until tomorrow."

   She nodded absentmindedly, still looking at the air in between them rather than actually at him.

   "Pops, how do you feel?" he asked eventually, worried she was starting to spiral.

   "Weird… It feels really weird… It's like… It's like everything's changed… I like hanging out with John and Eric and now hnnnnnhhhh I don't know and… and…"

   "Yeah, Pops?" Roger's heartstrings tugged sharply enough to snap and he reached both hands out to his now trembling child.

   "And I really really miss Daddy!" She started to cry halfway through the sentence and threw both arms across her face, hiding her eyes behind her elbows.

   "Oh, darling, me too." Roger choked up too and dragged her into his lap.

   She didn't resist, instead curling up tighter into his chest as the shaking that racked her ribs got more staccato and violent. Roger walked her through the breathing exercises they'd worked on together, holding her tight so she would know she was safe from the big scary world with its reality and its death.

   As the exercises did the job and her trembling calmed, he kissed her on the top of the head and said, "Poppy, there's something very important I need you to understand. Are you ready to hear what that is?"

   He felt Poppy's head bob beneath his chin.

   "Okay," he said. "It is very important you understand that just because I kissed John, that doesn't mean I don't miss Daddy, I don't love Daddy, or I don't wish he was still here."

   Poppy wriggled upwards in his grip so her head poked out from the basket of his arms.

   "But, Daddy," she said, "if Daddy was still here, you wouldn't have kissed John. And you… are you happy you kissed John?"

   "Very happy," Roger answered, though he knew that given the line of logic she was currently employing, it might not be what she wanted to hear. But she needed all the data if this was ever going to make complete sense to her.

   "But then how can you wish Daddy was still here? If you're happy about kissing John and kissing John would never have happened if Daddy was still here?"

   Maybe eight years old was the absolute worst age to have this conversation. Old enough to ask the tough questions, but maybe too young to quite understand the answers. Still, he'd do his very best.

   "Oh, darling, I know it doesn't sound like it makes sense," he said. He sighed and rested his chin on top of her head again. "But oh, life is so complicated, especially when you're a grown-up, and I wish that you hadn't had to learn that so young. But I'm here for you, I'm here. I'm here." He kept repeating the words, quieter and quieter, until he was near enough rocking her to sleep. Maybe it was the rhythm, or maybe it was how he'd intended to start his next sentence, but a wave of inspiration lapped over his mind, and he started to hum a song he knew Poppy liked. When it got to the chorus, he started to quietly sing to her. "It just takes some time. Little girl, you're in the middle of the ride, the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine. Everything, everything will be alright, alright."

   "Hey," Poppy sniffled.

   "Hey," Roger sang back.

   "Hey."

   "Hey."

   "Hey."

   "Hey."

   Poppy giggled, and Roger felt the hot tears run down his cheeks. Poppy moved to extricate herself from the hug and Roger let her, taking the moment to wipe away the tears.

   "So," said Poppy. "It's kind of like how I'm friends with Eric, even though I wouldn't have been if Daddy was still alive, because we wouldn't have moved here."

   "Hey, now, you're not to start feeling bad about being friends with Eric," said Roger.

   "I know, I know… I know what you said but… I don't want Daddy to think I'm glad he died."

   Roger immediately put his hand to his eyes to catch the tears he knew would be coming at hearing her little voice say that.

   "Poppy, I promise, Daddy is up there counting his lucky stars that you've found someone who makes you happy. Two someones now, if you and Eric are going to be friends with Jonathan."

   Poppy sat with that for a moment, clearly trying to reconcile it with what life would have been like if Art had never gone to that damn factory.

   After about thirty seconds, she said, "Is that how Daddy feels about John too?"

   Roger nodded eagerly. "Yeah, exactly. Daddy wants me to be happy, because he loves me."

   "Even though he died?"

   "Even though he died."

   "And you'll love him like, forever?"

   "Forever and ever and ever."

   Poppy smiled. Roger grinned. That had very nearly been a Secret Garden quote.

   "And you'll love him even after you die, someday?" said Poppy.

   "Even after I die. And I'll love you that long too."

   "I'll love you and Daddy forever and ever and ever too," said Poppy.

   This time she reached her arms out and hooked her hands around his midsection, indicating that she wanted a hug now. Roger was delighted to see her actively taking the initiative; he was sure that had to be a positive sign.

   Roger sighed into the hug and started singing again. "Hey, don't write yourself off yet, it's only in your head you feel left out-"

   "-or looked down on," Poppy joined in.

   They sang the rest of the song together, their voices ringing out like sympathetic tuning forks. Roger felt so relieved he could have fallen asleep, but he kept himself together until the song was over, then offered Poppy some ice cream for supper. She gratefully accepted and, somehow, despite everything changing, they managed to pass a night in relative peace. Well, Roger reflected, they ought to be good at that by now.

   "Can we go see Eric and John tomorrow?" Poppy asked as Roger settled her down to sleep.

   "Not tomorrow," said Roger, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom. "The original plan was each of us to take the day and tell you, so I assume John's still going with that. But maybe on Sunday, maybe we could go to the park. Sound good, Captain?"

   "Yeah," said Poppy. "Yeah, that sounds good, Daddy." She turned her head to the side, her face sinking into the pillow, and before Roger could say goodnight she was slipping away to sleep.

Notes:

If you don't know the song, it's 'The Middle' by Jimmy Eat World. Also 'The Secret Garden' is a novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett and I had never read it until this year and I love it so so so so so so much <3

Chapter 14: The Neighbours

Summary:

Roger and Poppy have the day to themselves and decide to try and get their garden in order. They’re going to need some help though, because the garden is currently an absolutely *mess*.

Notes:

My approach to Ryan and dyspraxia in this chapter is a result of a conversation I had with someone who has dyspraxia about the treatment of Ryan's in the show. However, if you are also a Doctor Who fan with dyspraxia, please feel free to add thoughts or suggest ways I could adjust my approach! I truly believe Chibnall's heart was in the right place but either he didn't have anyone to point out mistakes or he didn't listen attentively enough, and I would really like to learn from his mistakes. Also for some reason when I pictured Ryan as a child I saw him as quite small so I guess my headcanon is now that he had a mammoth growth spurt at some point, which I'm sure can't have helped matters.

Roger woke up the next morning with cool autumn sunlight drifting in through his window. He slithered off his bed and stood up to look outside at the garden. Currently, it was little more than a long rectangle of high, stiff grass and unruly ferns that cast dark shadows over the little aisles of shorter grass that should have been the paths down to the bottom. He'd been meaning to do something with it, but he hadn't a clue where to start. But today, on a day where all he wanted to do was spend time with Poppy, perhaps they could give it a go.

   He wandered through the hall to her room and knocked on the door.

   "Cap, you up yet?"

   She replied in the sing-song monotone children use with teachers. "Yes, Daddy."

   "No rush, pal," he said. He smiled at the stickers she'd arranged around her name on the door. "I was just thinking we could plan where to put your climbing frame today."

   There was a thump as Poppy jumped out of bed. He heard her footsteps tear across the carpet and a moment later she threw open the door.

   "My what?!"

   Roger crouched down and grinned at her. "You didn't think we'd come all this way and not get you somewhere to hang upside-down? Who would you be without a place to hang upside-down?"

   Poppy ran on the spot for a moment, then jumped up and down with big, giant claps.

   Once she'd settled down, Roger put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Alright. Breakfast, washed and dressed, then we'll head into Perth for the store I found."

   The trip to the 'store' in Perth (it turned out to be an older couple with a small office building and a big field) was a very fun one. Roger chatted to the proprietors as Poppy tried out all the slides, climbing walls, monkey-hangs, treehouses, fireman's poles and rope ladders on offer. It was also an important trip, because Roger was due to start work in the office on Monday, and he hadn't been into the city since before Poppy started at the school. It wasn't a big city, not too difficult to navigate, but still. He was pleased that he wouldn't be facing it near enough afresh in two days' time.

   Eventually Poppy made her selections and Roger settled the price. It turned out each item had a flat-pack counterpart stored in the office, so the couple helped Roger load what he'd purchased into the trunk of his car, then gave he and the little ninja a cheery goodbye as they headed back out to Tayburn.

   About an hour later, Roger stood staring at the wilds of his back garden, four large boxes piled up beside him, and absolutely no clue where to start.

   "You alright over there?"

   The voice came from over the fence on Roger's right, its owner presumably in next-door's garden. Roger looked round, and saw a short middle-aged man giving him a little wave. Roger crossed the tangles of grass and fern to meet him at the fence.

   "Hiya," he said. "I'm Roger. You're, um, I think I might have seen you at the school gate?"

   "That you have, son," said the man. "I'm Graham, and you'll have seen me picking up my grandson, Ryan."

   Graham tilted his head towards a little boy crouched down in the garden a little ways behind him.

   "That's right, yeah," said Roger. "I've seen you around. Nice to meet you properly."

   "And you, Roger," said Graham. "Now, you looked a little lost a second ago. Is there anything I can help you with?"

   Roger rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I'm trying to get a climbing frame built up for Poppy, but I need a flat space to put it on, and it's kind of chaos back here."

   "Ooh, a climbing frame," said Graham. "That sounds like fun."

   Roger nodded. "Poppy's favourite. And Ryan can come over and play sometimes, if he likes."

   Graham hesitated and glanced at Ryan, who didn't look up from where he was crouched over in a little muddy patch.

   A little quieter, Graham turned back to him and spoke. "Not sure about that one, mate, but thanks for the offer."

   Roger couldn't help frowning deeply at him, but then he shook his head at himself. "Sorry, little alarm bell went off. Usually a reaction like that to an offer of childcare rings of homophobia, but like, you're the one who spoke to me."

   Graham nodded vigorously. "Oh, absolutely, son. You'll get none of that from me. And if Poppy ever hears anything like that from Ryan just let me know. He's a lovely lad but God's teeth it can be hard to keep track of what they're watching on their iPads and that."

   Roger smiled, and nodded more calmly. "Fair enough."

   "All I meant was that a climbing frame might not be Ryan's thing," said Graham. "He has dyspraxia."

   "Ah, I see," said Roger. "Well, if he ever wants to try he's welcome to, once I get this dang thing up. My husband and I did a lot of rock-climbing, so if he needs a spotter I've got him covered."

   "It's not just about trying, you see," said Graham, leaning slightly forward on the fence. "That's what we had to explain to that disability services guy, Chris. He can try and try and try but sometimes something just isn't going to happen. It'd be like me trying and trying and trying to become an opera singer." He paused, closed his eyes, and stood up straight. "Sorry, mate. Bit of a raw nerve."

   "That's alright," said Roger. "I only meant to say he was welcome anyway."

   Graham nodded and stretched his arms out a little. "Much appreciated, mate. Much appreciated. Anyway, first it looks like you've got some work to do."

   "Yeah, I feel like I should have watched a youtube tutorial on gardening or something," said Roger. He waggled a rake he'd found in the shed and leaned his chin on the top of the handle.

   At this Ryan finally looked up. He stood up from what he'd been doing and Roger saw that he'd been huddled over a patch of well-turned dark brown earth. He left a little trowel in the spot and was still wearing some big bulky gardening gloves as he walked over to the fence. He was a little short for his age and skinny, with dark skin and hair shorn close to the scalp.

   He looked up at Roger and with a quite flat affect to his voice he said, "Did you say something about gardening?"

   "I did!" said Roger, startled by the sudden realisation of what the boy had been up to.

   "I like gardening," said Ryan. "My nan and Graham showed me how."

   "That's awesome," said Roger. "I never really got into it myself."

   "Can I help with your garden?"

   Roger's smile spread into a wide grin. "That'd be fantastic. Why don't you both come round and show me the ropes?" He glanced at Graham, who nodded once with a small but proud smile on his face.

   There wasn't a gate in the fence so Roger welcomed them round from the front of the house and down a little side passage where he kept the dumpsters. Ryan's face lit up when he first saw how much work there was to do, then dropped when he realised just how much it was.

   But then with pursed lips he looked up at Roger, as if he'd been assessing it for a quote, then said, "At least it's still the morning."

   Roger laughed a little, then rapped his rake against the ground. "Yes, indeed, we do have all day. I'll go grab Poppy and see if she's up for helping. Then we're all yours."

   Ryan smiled slowly, then turned back towards the tangled thorns and started conferring with Graham about how they should tackle the project. When Roger eventually dragged Poppy away from her cartoons the two of them made… adequate gardeners, under the expert direction of their neighbours. Roger seemed to have passed down his never-quite-taken-to-it attitude to his daughter and they were both a little hot and huffy and distracted by the time they started to make any noticeable progress. Roger got himself and Poppy through by reminding her how much fun she was going to have on the climbing frame she'd picked out once they were done.

   Eventually, and after a lunch break of turkey dinosaurs and potato waffles, they had cleared enough space for Roger to start erecting the flat-pack climbing frame, swing-set, monkey-hang and rope ladder. Roger, however, could barely feel his arms. He looked down at Poppy, who nodded.

   "Tomorrow," said Roger. "We'll build tomorrow. Tell you what, maybe that's what John and Eric could come over for. I'll text him just now."

   As Roger got his phone out, Graham offered he and Poppy dinner as a thank you for lunch and a fun day (Roger was deeply glad that at least the two green-thumbs had enjoyed themselves). Roger accepted his offer, typed out a quick message to John asking how things had gone with Eric, then headed inside for a shower.

   When he got out, after he'd dried off and got dressed in some clean clothes, he picked up his phone, spotting a reply from John.

   Not tomorrow, sorry x

   A few moments later, another message:

   Didn't go great today. Could do with another day just me and Eric. Can't wait to see the climbing frame though x <3

   Roger sat down on his bed, putting down the hoodie he'd got one arm halfway into. He held his phone in both hands and thought about calling him. But if John had texted rather than called, maybe that was what he wanted right now. He thought carefully, then texted back.

   Okay honey, you can come round another time. Hope Eric's alright <3

   John replied quickly.

   It was a bigger shock for him than I thought it'd be. I swear I'm not having regrets I promise I promise I promise, except that I wish I'd realised how big a deal it would be for him.

   What's the matter exactly? Roger asked.

   Honestly not sure. He's shut himself in his room and barely said a word to me.

   Roger put his hand to his heart, resting it softly against his t-shirt. Oh bless, poor thing. Okay yeah, take all day with him. Hugs <3

   I am playing back that hug from before dinner last night as we speak <3

   <3

   <3

   Roger put his phone down on the bedside table and finished putting the hoodie on. Then he sat back down on his bed, running his hand slowly down his face. It had been hard enough when Poppy had said all those things about Art and how confusing it was that good things could happen even after he was gone. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like if she'd stormed off and not spoken to him all night. He remembered what he'd thought about in the car on the way back from John's, how as a kid he had hated not knowing where he was going or why he was going there. By the sounds of things he had just done exactly that to Eric! All he wanted was to give Eric a hug, but he knew he was probably the last person Eric wanted to see right now.

   He breathed out sharply through his nose and stood up. After a quick wipe of his eyes, just in case, he headed downstairs to find Poppy and take her through next door. He'd warn her about Eric, but not right now. Maybe that could be what they did tomorrow.

Chapter 15: From the Beginning

Summary:

The gang plus head teacher Mr Cornish try to get to the bottom of why Eric is so unsettled by Roger and John's recent romantic developments.

"Hi, Roger," said Ralph. "Thanks for speaking to me. I was wondering, if you have a moment, perhaps you could come into school today."

   Roger grimaced, holding his phone to his ear. "What happened?"

   Ralph let out a small sigh, then said, "We've had an incident reported at lunch time. It's Poppy and Eric. They had a fight."

   "Oh no."

   "It's alright for now. I've got them both here in my office and as I'm sure you can hear I'm not getting a peep out of them."

   "That can't be good," said Roger, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. If Poppy and Eric weren't getting told off for using their outdoor voices indoors, something was probably wrong.

   "My thoughts exactly," said Ralph. "I know you're working today, but do you have any free time afterward?"

   Roger sighed and levered himself upward against the back of the couch so that he was sitting right on the edge. "Actually, I deferred my start day again. John warned me things hadn't gone smoothly with Eric, so, I had a feeling something like this could happen. My new boss was okay with it, as long as I filled out the requisite paperwork."

   "Well that's something at least," said Ralph. His voice was calm and even, as it had been for the entire conversation. "Can you come in?"

   "I'll be right there."

 

---

 

   "Mr Smith, is it true you're going out with Poppy's dad?"

   "Mr Smith, is that why Eric got sent out?"

   John put his fingertips to his forehead for a moment, then looked to his teaching assistant. Ruby was a young woman, only nineteen years old. She had short, wavy blonde hair and a pair of kickass Doc Martens.

   "I am so sorry," said John, quietly, so the tables of curious faces didn't hear him.

   Ruby waved it away. "It's fine. Exercises three to six, extra teaching advice in the book. I've got it."

   "Thank you," John whispered, then headed down the hall to the head teacher's office. He heard Ruby get them started on the next exercise as he closed the door behind him.

 

---

 

"A little help here, gents?"

   Roger and John arrived at Ralph's office moments after each other, and were greeted by the sight of the head teacher holding their children apart at very lanky arm's length. Though impressive under pressure and undeniably very tall, Ralph Cornish hadn't struck Roger as the physical sort, and so it seemed to be proving. Their little gymnasts were each pushing and twisting and turning against the hand that held them back. A moment later in arriving and they'd probably have broken free.

   Instead Roger and John rushed into the room and zoomed to the sides of their respective charges. Roger swept Poppy up and carried her to a chair by the window, while John knelt in front of Eric, hands on his shoulders, and tried to get him to stop screaming.

   "SHE LIED! SHE LIED! SHE LIED!"

   Roger wrapped his arms protectively around Poppy as she sat on his lap. He whispered into her ear, "Did you lie about anything, sweetie?"

   Poppy shook her head, her body shaking.

   "Okay." Roger craned his head around and kissed her on the cheek. "Okay, we'll just wait it out. But it's all okay, okay? I'm here."

   Poppy nodded and pulled her hand out from under his grip so she could wipe her eyes. Then they watched to see what John would uncover from Eric.

   "What did she lie about, Eric?" said John, leaning over so close to Eric's face that he had to be blocking out the whole rest of the office.

   "WELL IF SHE DIDN'T LIE THEN SHE'S EVIL!"

   "Eric," said John. "You surely can't be telling me your best friend is evil. Come on, why don't you sit down, and we'll walk Mr Cornish all the way through it from the start."

   "Please," said Ralph, who was straightening his shirt and jacket as he sat back down behind his desk.

   Eric reluctantly flopped back down on one of the chairs in front of Ralph's desk. There was another chair beside him, where presumably Poppy had been sitting.

   "You wanna go back over there?" Roger said quietly.

   "Not really," said Poppy.

   "Okay, no problem," said Roger. "We'll stay here." He looked at Ralph and John, who both nodded. John sat down in the spare chair.

   Before the adults could ask Eric to walk them through anything again, he shouted, "IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"

   Ralph didn't react, even though the words were screamed straight at him. He raised a finger to ask Eric and John to wait, then got up and closed his door. As he sat back down, he said, "What wasn't your fault, Eric?"

   "THE FIGHT."

   "Between you and Poppy, you mean?" Ralph continued.

   "YEAH." Eric twisted and turned, pressing his elbows against the arms of the wooden chair. "Would you all STOP ACTING LIKE NOTHING IS WRONG?!"

   "But what is wrong, Eric?" said Ralph. "You need to tell us. Or at least tell me, even if the others already know. Is it about John and Roger?"

   Eric stared at him. "Duh…"

   Ralph didn't say anything, just waited for Eric to do what he'd asked.

   "Johnny and Roger are going out and POPPY DOESN'T CARE. POPPY SAID IT DIDN'T MAKE HER SAD AND I THOUGHT SHE WAS LYING TO ME SO I GOT ANGRY BUT IF SHE REALLY DOESN'T CARE THEN SHE MUST BE EVIL. DO YOU GET IT?!"

   How Ralph was withstanding this absolute rinsing from an eight-year-old without flinching was completely beyond Roger. He had to hand it to him, and not just for not escalating things. He seemed to be getting to the bottom of it. Eric had a problem with Poppy not having a problem with her Daddy seeing someone other than her other Daddy. This seemed awfully judgemental for a child, whose primary focus ought to have been Crash Bandicoot and Scooby-Doo and the like. But Roger had a feeling there was much more to it than that.

   Suddenly Poppy wriggled in his arms and waved at Ralph to get his attention.

   "Mr Cornish, he won't listen to me!" she exclaimed. "I said that me and Daddy talked about it and he explained about how he can go out with John and still love Daddy. He said I was stupid for falling for my Daddy's lies. He said Daddy never loved Daddy!"

   Roger gasped. He'd been doing his best to stay calm like Ralph, but that piercing blow had come out of nowhere. He managed to recover himself, remembering there was no way Eric had come up with this by himself. It had to be rooted in something.

   But then Eric shrieked, "BUT HE DIDN'T!" He twisted around to face Roger. "SO WHY AM I GETTING IN TROUBLE FOR NOT LETTING POPPY HIT ME JUST FOR TELLING THE TRUTH?!"

   Roger buried his head in Poppy's shoulder for a moment. He murmured, "You started the fight? Because of what he said?"

   "Yeah," Poppy whispered.

   "Ai ai ai," Roger groaned.

   John turned Eric back around by the shoulders to face him and said, "Eric, I know you're angry, and we've let you get a lot of that out, but you cannot talk to Roger that way. You don't know the first thing about him and his husband. How could you?"

   Eric glared at him, but did lower his voice as he replied, "But I've seen it. Poppy hasn't seen it."

   "What have you seen, Eric?" said John, his hands holding the arm of Eric's chair as he turned fully towards him. "Is this about your Daddy?"

   Eric pushed John away and John nearly lost balance in his chair. He righted himself and shuffled back up to Eric.

   "Eric, you need to stop lashing out like this."

   "Then don't say it like that," said Eric. "Like I'm a baby! Of COURSE IT'S ABOUT DAD. DAD HATES MUM NOW AND IT'S BEEN EVER SINCE HE MET HELENA. AND YOU'RE ALL JUST DOING THE SAME THING BECAUSE YOU MUST BE EVIL OR SOMETHING!"

   Roger could see the skin around John's eyes pinch, but he pushed down whatever heartbreak he felt on hearing these angry eight-year-old words.

   "Eric," said John. "I swear to you, this is completely different. I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but this can be a good thing. There's even more love around you than there was before. And - oi, listen to me like I listened to you - none of us are evil. Not me, or Poppy and certainly not Roger. Come on, mate, you know us. Do we feel evil to you?"

   Eric looked straight at him. "You didn't."

   Roger was on the verge of going over to him and explaining what he'd told Poppy, about he could miss Art and also be glad to have John. He could see the veins in John's neck straining, and no words seemed to be availing their services to him. But that was when Ralph stepped in.

   "Eric, talk to me for a moment," he said.

   Eric turned around to face him. "What?"

   "Would you agree that I'm an impartial observer here? I'm not going out with aaanyone here."

   "Well, obviously," said Eric. "Your husband's called Andy. And he's still alive."

   A smile snuck through onto Ralph's face. "Yes, yes that's true. And touch wood will be true for a very long time. But you agree, then, that I come to this as a neutral third party?"

   Eric watched him carefully. "Okay…"

   "Well, then, let me share with you something I've learned in twenty years of teaching," said Ralph, regaining his composure and his cool, even facial expression. "Literally everyone is different. I know, I know, it sounds like something people just say. But as soon as you think you've got a handle on a child, or their parents, they do something that surprises you, and you remember that everyone is unique. Even if they might seem like they fit in a box, there's always going to be something that goes against what you think of them. I know these two situations seem alike, but they're completely different, Eric. What your dad thinks of your mum doesn’t change what Roger and Poppy think of Poppy's Daddy - Art, right?"

   Eric nodded. "Art, yeah."

   It felt bizarre to hear Art's name in Eric's mouth mere moments after Eric had accused Roger of never loving him. Roger quickly flicked his gaze over to the corner of the room, where he saw a stunned Art standing and staring, dumbfounded, at the scene that had unfolded.

   "So do you understand what I'm saying then, Eric?" said Ralph. "That Roger loved Art - or indeed still does - and going out with John doesn't change that, for him or for Poppy?"

   Eric looked down at the desk. "I understand."

   "And do you believe me?"

   Eric looked up quickly.

   Roger saw a hint of humour in Ralph's gaze as he met eyes with Eric. "I was eight once too, you know. I remember thinking grown-ups were talking nonsense just to calm me down."

   Eric frowned at him. "When did you ever need calmed down?"

   Ralph's façade broke into a laugh. "I told you, Eric! People surprise you!"

   Eric rubbed a tired hand against his eye. "I guess they do. Did you have like, tantrums and stuff?"

    "Yes, I did."

   "And fights with your parents?"

   "Yes, Eric."

   Eric considered this very carefully. "But you're the only head teacher who never shouts."

   "You've not seen me in meetings with board members." Ralph grinned at him. "Right, Eric, do you believe me then? People are more complex than good and evil, calm and angry. There might be more to this situation than you understand?"

   Eric paused for a moment, looking deeply lost as he tried to figure out the correct next words.

   But then he raised both hands to his face and started to cry.

   "Oh, bud, what's the matter?" said John, leaning back in towards him and putting his hand on his shoulder.

   Eric grabbed at him and pulled him into a hug. John wrapped his arms around his juddering torso, patting his back and gently sshhh-ing him.

   "It's alright, pal, it's alright," he said.

   Eventually Eric managed to get out a garbled, "You're not evil." Then he collapsed forward in what Roger realised was relief. Then, from within John's arms, he shouted to the room at large, "SORRY!"

Chapter 16: A Walk in the Woods

Summary:

After an intense week or so, the boys have a nice, relaxing Tuesday afternoon together.

AKA I write 1500 words of Timerogue fluff <3

Notes:

The car park and the woods are an amalgamation of the Stirlingshire town of Callander and my actual hometown which for obvious reasons I won't dox myself by revealing here 😅

Omg if this works I'm going to be such a genius.

   John glanced at the Teams pop-up as it appeared in the bottom right of his screen. Did that say Roger? He clicked open Teams and had a look at the new message.

   Roger Murray: Omg if this works I'm going to be such a genius.

   John stared at it for a moment longer, checking with a quick glance that his pupils were all working away at their art projects, then replied.

   John Smith: I see work is going well.

   Roger Murray: Oh it's fiiiiine, I've already spotted plenty of suspicious financial activity today. I've very much still got it. And then I remembered that you can message externally on Teams! So I had your email address, stuck it in the search bar, and ta-da! ✨

   John Smith: Are you trying to distract me from teaching your daughter about watercolours?

   Roger Murray: I just wanted to say hi ❤️

   John pursed his lips to keep down a smile.

   John Smith: Well hi ❤️

   Roger Murray: Are you still sure about the kids staying with you after class? I could ask Maria if they could go home with Jonathan for an hour or so.

   John Smith: Nah it's alright. It's nice having company while I do my paperwork. Besides I'll bring them straight to gymnastics and meet you there. You just head straight to Mossbridge when you're done there. How's the new boss?

   Roger Murray: Terrifying!

   Roger Murray: But I think very clever

   John Smith: That's great, hon. Alright, we've got a pritt stick in the hair situation over here. I gotta go. See you tonight ❤️

   Roger Murray: See ya ❤️

 

---

 

"Heya," Roger said. He greeted John with a hand on the arm and a kiss, then sat down with him at one of the tables in the leisure centre café.

   "Hi," said John, relaxing into a smile as he took Roger's hand across the table. He had on a light yellow shirt and a deep green tie with a pattern of long lighter green shapes - maybe leaves? Roger himself had removed his tie at the end of his work-day and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

   "Were they alright today?" said Roger, nodding his head towards the big window-wall that looked down on the sports hall. Poppy had been torn between worry and excitement before going to school today - looking forward to seeing Eric, but afraid he would still be upset.

   "They were brilliant," said John, still smiling. "A little awkward at first. I think they were both quite embarrassed. But as soon as Poppy suggested they go for a race, they were right as rain and screaming at the top of their lungs - but in a fun way, the way they usually do."

   Roger breathed out, squeezing John's hand. "That's awesome."

   John had brought both children over from Tayburn and dropped them off in the class, then come up to meet Roger in the café. Roger had grabbed them both drinks as he saw John and the kids enter the hall - he'd been watching from above - and now they sipped at their coffee and tea and sat looking at each other in giddy glee.

   "So now that all that's resolved, for now…" said John.

   Roger nodded, stroking his thumb back and forth across John's knuckles. "We get to be boyfriends."

   "Exactly." John leaned forward for another kiss, then said, "So, boyfriend, how was your day?"

   "Well, boyfriend," said Roger, grinning. "As you know, today was my first day at my new job."

   "It sounded like you settled in pretty quickly."

   "I suppose technically you'd have to ask my boss, but I believe so. I have an assigned desk, but I can work from home two days a week. It's the same software as I used to use, and it seems like a reasonable atmosphere for an office. Maybe a little highly strung, but that comes with the territory. If we don't catch these baddies quickly, they change their tack."

   "Oh, that's right." John curled forward over the table, bringing his face closer to Roger's. "You catch baddies for a living. You're a bounty hunter."

   "I can work from a sofa but yes, basically." Roger met John's gaze, butterflies dancing in his stomach.

   "God that's cool," said John. He leaned over the last of the distance between them and kissed Roger again. It was longer, harder, more intense, and when it was over they both blinked and dazedly came to, realising that they were still in the leisure centre café.

   "I suppose the coffee place wouldn't be any better," Roger murmured.

   "Tell you what," said John. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

   "Sounds lovely," said Roger.

   They got up, made sure their phones had the sound turned on in case Kate needed to get in contact with them, then headed out into Mossbridge.

 

---

 

They took each other's hands as they stepped out of the leisure centre and started to walk through the town. John seemed to have a direction in mind which took them along the main street, first past the coffee shop, then past the 'chippy,' as such places were apparently known. Eventually they reached the end of the shops and cafés, and kept walking as the street took them up a hill towards a medium-sized parking lot. Roger wasn't sure what the parking lot was for, but he did spot a public toilet block and it seemed like people were going up and down to their cars from all over the town, so it was probably just a way of keeping the main street clear of traffic. Beyond the parking lot, some trees were clustered, and Roger noted that although the road they'd come up had disappeared into the parking lot, it resumed as a small dirt track on the other side, heading for those trees.

   "You're taking me into the bushes?" he asked John.

   John chuckled. "If you like, babes, but I was thinking a walk in the woods first might be nice."

   And it certainly was. The fragrance of the pine trees hit Roger immediately. The ground was bouncy from their needles, which had fallen and landed on the path. There were other trees too, ones with big, bright green leaves that blocked his view so he couldn't see further than about ten feet in front of himself. He could hear running water, but it took them mounting a small rise for him to be able to see the stream below.

   "Psst," John whispered. "Look."

   Roger looked where he was pointing and saw a bushy tail disappearing behind a tree trunk.

   Roger gasped. "Was that the famous red squirrel?"

   John smiled, and hooked his elbow around Roger's arm so he could lean in closer as they walked along. "Afraid not, they're even rarer than that. You only find them in certain spots and this isn't one of those. The grey ones, like you have back in the states, are cute too though - even if they do spread squirrel plague."

   "Squirrel plague?"

   John shuddered. "You don't want to watch the documentary while you're eating, put it that way."

   There were also an assortment of tiny birds, sparrows and wrens and the like, and the cooing of pigeons was near constant. The pigeons were the only thing that reminded Roger he was anywhere near a town. Otherwise, he could easily have supposed he was walking through one of the valleys (or 'glens') between the hills a little further out. The whole wood felt unconcerned with gymnastics lessons, coffee shops, new jobs. It was like they'd stepped into a little pool of timelessness.

   Roger stopped walking and turned John around to face him. "I really love it here, John."

   John smiled. "Me too."

   Roger stepped forward, nudging John towards a nearby tree. John grinned at him and leant back against the tree as Roger kissed him. Roger closed his eyes, feeling John's hands run through his hair. He let the kiss spool out, going on and on, in this place where time was meaningless. At one point, adjusting his position, Roger happened to open his eyes.

   "Gah!"

   John opened his eyes and looked around. "What's wrong, babes?"

   Roger glared at the tree branch just above John's head, specifically at the spot which a grey squirrel had just vacated - admittedly a very cute squirrel. When Roger had opened his eyes, he'd seen the squirrel staring down at them in beady-eyed fascination. He and the squirrel had given each other such a fright that the squirrel had immediately scarpered up the tree and Roger's heart had skipped several beats.

   "You okay there, hon?" John placed his hand over Roger's heart, quirking one eyebrow upward at the rapid beating.

   Roger muttered, "You'd think we were making out at the school gates." Then he shook the tension out of himself and waved off John's concern. They settled back into the kiss, sinking into the bliss of each other's touch, of the chirping sparrows and the tinkling stream, and completely ignoring whatever schoolmarmy squirrels thought they should get a room.