Chapter Text
As the sun rose over the hills, Caine kept his gaze on the road. In the back seat of the car, his daughter, Zara, slept soundly. He always preferred doing these drives at night when she could sleep through them. In the daytime she would get bored and kick the seat or try to let Bubble out of his carrier so he could terrorize the car for the entire drive. But at night he could just turn on some music and go.
They’d been on the road since long before sunrise. He thinks he might’ve woken in their hotel room around two AM, but it was a bit of a blur getting her into the car as well as the cat and the suitcases. Now he was three cups of coffee in and knew they would be arriving soon. A new house, a new place, new school for her, new job for him. He can feel the exhaustion in his bones, but this had to be it. Maybe this time it would finally stick.
He turns up the music, tuning it in to a local radio station playing some overly catchy pop music. It bounces in his chest and he hums along half heartedly. The GPS on the dash speaks softly and the sky turns from starlit purples to deep blood red before fading to orange and gold and finally blue. Around them the houses turn cookie cutter, all with the same paint and trim, the lawns are neat with not too many decorations. But this isn’t his neighborhood. He wasn’t about to be bound by the leash of an HOA. He turns a corner and into a space with a little less conformity. The buildings are still more or less the same, but the lawns are a little messier. Kids toys litter the grassy spaces and chalk runs into the street.
The price difference had really been the selling point for him. Sure, the other place had better reviews, but something about this space felt more like home. He turns down a street, watching as twin boys run out of a house, pushing each other over as they race to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Three houses later, he pulls in. Finally.
He climbs out of the car and smiles. It’s a little house, nothing more than what the two of them need. He opens the back door of the car, shaking Zara’s shoulder gently.
“Zee,” he says, his voice soft as he attempts to wake her, “Zooble-y Zara girl, we’re here!”
She blinks, opening one eye at him. It’s her gold one. She’d inherited his heterochromia, but unfortunately got the color from her other parent. She yawns and stretches. “Here?” she asks, head tilting as she blinks away the sleep.
“Yup!” He reaches over, undoing her seatbelt for her. She’s more than capable of doing it herself, but she’s still half asleep and he’d rather she naps inside while he gets the car unpacked. It should have the essentials at least and the rest of the furniture would arrive later that day. He scoops her out of her seat, letting her wrap her arms around his shoulders as her weight settles onto his hip.
She buries her nose into his shoulder, murmuring half-heartedly, “Can I carry Bubble in? I-” she’s cut off by a yawn, “Wanna explore together..”
“Only if you can walk on your own,” he says, his hand sliding under her rear to hold her in place while he digs around for her blanket and her favorite patchwork doll.
She grumbles and shakes her head, just clinging to him tighter. He can feel the way her nose scrunches up and her arms tighten around him, not willing to be put down just yet. He finally gets a hold of her things and straightens to head inside.
It’s difficult to get the door unlocked with a ten year old on his hip and her blankie in one hand, but he manages. He shoulders it open and steps in. The walls are bare and white, and the living room is open. With the lights off, everything is quiet. It doesn’t scream home yet, but he’s sure it will. It has to. They both need it to. One of the windows presses out, creating a neat little nook with a bench seat that’s the perfect size. He carries her over and lays her down with a fair bit of effort. Her arms don’t particularly want to unwrap from his shoulders, but he finally gets her to release him. He drapes the blanket over her and tucks her teddy under her arm. Before stepping away he presses a kiss to her forehead. He only has about thirty minutes until she wakes up again, and there are some important things he needs to do before that happens.
His first order of business is to open his phone and order breakfast to go. Something fast and easy for himself and some pancakes for her. And a coffee for himself. Four cups before seven might be a new personal record, but he hasn’t been keeping score. After that, he goes to collect the cat.
Bubble had been a stray when they found him. He’d been a mangy little white kitten lurking in their trash bin. Zara had insisted that they keep him. He was a finicky creature, but he was family, and thus had to go wherever they went, even if travelling meant giving him enough anti-anxiety medication to take down a small elephant. Caine slipped out to the car and lifted his carrier, only to see the creature looking back at him with pupils blown so wide that his eyes seemed to be nearly solid black. He sighs and brings him in, setting the carrier in the bathroom and opening the door. He’d let him explore the rest of the house once the car was unpacked so that he didn’t bolt.
He checked the time, twenty minutes until Zara’s usual wake up time. He starts gathering her bags. Her morning supplies for her wake up routine, her suitcase with clean clothes so she could get out of her pajamas if she wanted, and the bag of stuffed animals that she’d insisted could not be sent in the moving truck. Once those are in her room he gets his own bags.
The breakfast food arrives and he brings it to the kitchen, getting everything set just as he hears the groan from the window bench. “Da-aad,” her voice is grumbly and confused. It makes sense. She’d never been fond of waking up in unfamiliar places. Not even as a newborn.
“In the kitchen,” he calls back, “I got breakfast. Do you want to brush teeth before or after?”
She grumbles again and he can hear her moving around in the other room. She appears in the doorway, blinking up at him with her blanket in one hand and teddy in the other. She looks like she’s definitely going to be in a bad mood today. She’s already pouting, her curls looking far more wild than usual. Her Rainbow Dash pajamas have one leg hiked up and the collar of her shirt hangs off of her shoulder.
“C’mon,” he says, scooping her up, “Bubble is hiding in the bathtub while I get the car unpacked.”
She settles on his hip, rubbing her eye sleepily. “He’s gonna angry puke when you let him out,” she says, “He always does.” She lays her head on his shoulder. She’d never been a morning kid, which was something he’d always been thankful for. That said, getting her to sleep had always been an absolute nightmare.
“Yeah, and I’ll clean it up when he does,” he says, walking with her to the bathroom to get her teeth brushed and hair combed.
Despite the rush of getting moved and settled, he was desperate to keep her routine. He’d always made sure to do that much no matter what he needed to do. Even when his own problems got the better of him, he made sure that she was okay. He braids her hair as she brushes her teeth and when he looks at them in the mirror, it’s odd.
She looks so much like who he used to be, yet nothing like him at all. His hair is bright red, and straight, though he usually keeps it trimmed short and tucked neatly back. She has dark, wild curls. His eyes were blue and green, hers were a honey golden hazel and deep dark brown. But the similarities were there. His nose, the way he smiled, his ears that stuck out just so. With both of them ready for breakfast he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“Pancakes?” he asks, nuzzling up to her one last time.
“Pancakes,” she agrees, having perked up significantly now that she’d had time to wake up, “Is today a pajama day?”
He thinks for a moment about that, weighing his options. They probably wouldn’t be leaving much, though grabbing groceries was certainly on the agenda. And there would be movers in the house all day. “No.. I don’t think today is a pajama day. Why don’t we have a pajama day tomorrow. With an unpacking party.”
She crinkles her nose at that. “Will there be cake at the unpacking party?”
“I’ll level with you for a cupcake each when we go to town today,” he smiles, ruffling her hair, “Now go get dressed. Your room is gonna be the one on the left. I’m in the one on the right.”
She huffs, and turns to her room to get dressed. He heads to the kitchen, getting her pancakes plated so they could eat cross-legged on the floor. He did feel guilty for the constant moving, but it was necessary. He wanted to keep her safe. She walks in wearing an oversized t-shirt that he knows she stole from his suitcase and striped leggings. It also seems she’s added some clips to her hair for extra color.
She sits next to him and together they eat. He asks the questions he’s supposed to ask. If she’s excited for a new school and making new friends. She gives non-committal shrugs and half answers. It’s part of the routine. But the last school hadn’t been good. There had been issues that they just couldn’t work past. This one might be better. He says he saw some boys who looked like they might be her age down the street. And she crinkles her nose, making the face at the notion of being friends with boys at all.
After breakfast she does her best to help with the unpacking, but she’s definitely more interested in getting her room set up and deciding where her bed and dresser will be. He works on getting the important things set up while they wait for the moving van to arrive.
It does around noon, and once Bubble is safely shut away in the master bathroom, he starts directing the movers. It’s a busy day, and the two are moving non-stop until late in the evening. Take out sounds nasty though. They’d been practically living off it for several day. He’s starting to gather himself for a grocery store run and frozen pizza when there’s a knock at the door.
He’s not sure what he expects, but it’s certainly not the young woman who’s standing there. She’s tall, though definitely no older than sixteen, and holding a tray in front of her, though what catches his eye is the patch that covers her right one. It looks like a bright purple button. “Oh! Hi!” she says, red curls bouncing every time she moves, “I’m um.. I’m Magdalene. I live down the street.” She gestures down to a blue house with a figure pressing their face against the window. Her eyes narrow at the figure in a very older sibling way, but she immediately brightens when she turns back to him. “I just- I hope I’m not overstepping or anything but- We were having lasagna tonight and um- well, I saw how busy you were and so I asked dad if maybe we could.. I dunno- make some extra for you guys as a kind of.. Um.. welcome to the neighborhood?” She offers the tray to him with both hands. “I understand if you don’t want it. I don’t know if you have food allergies or- or special diets-”
Caine cuts her off by taking the tray. “Thank you,” he says, “That’s incredibly thoughtful Miss Magdalene.” He smiles, turning to see if Zara is peeking around his legs yet. She is, with her arms looped under Bubble’s forelegs and the cat looking rather upset with the situation. “What do you say?” he prompts, nudging her for a response.
“Thank you,” she says, burying her nose into the fur on top of Bubble’s head.
Magdalene immediately waves away the notion of thanking. “Oh it’s no trouble. Moving is hard work and mom always told me to be a helper so-” She laughs awkwardly, “And you can just call me Maggie. No need for formalities.”
Caine lets out a soft laugh. “I’m Caine Am. And this is my daughter, Zara,” he looks down the street to see another figure has joined the first in the window. It’s too far to get a good look at the pair, but it certainly makes the neighborhood seem safer.
“It’s so very nice to meet you both,” her fingers twist in her dress and she looks down at her home, “Well.. It looks like dad is waving me back for dinner. Feel free to drop by any time!” She turns, starting down the front steps.
He watches her go before his gaze travels to the house she’s walking towards. Someone opens the door, but the light behind them obscures them from view. He steps back in and looks down at Zara with a smile. “Well, it certainly looks like we’ve got dinner sorted,” he smiles, making his way to the dining room with his little girl at his side.
The following days are busy. He occasionally sees Maggie and her little sister riding their bikes down the street, and the boys from down the way with their dog, but the neighborhood is otherwise quiet. It’s a far cry from the apartment they’d been living in before. The sun shines so brightly here, and Caine believes they might actually be able to stay.
Yet there’s that call deep inside himself. He needs Zara to make a friend so he can have a night. A proper one where he can disappear and restock the locked freezer in the garage. It’s nowhere near as bad as it had been when he’d needed to deal with stomping neighbors and loud music. But he can still feel it chewing at the lining of his stomach, desperate to be freed.
It’s worse at night when Zara’s gone to bed and he’s alone. The house is just so quiet, and he finds himself sitting with a glass of bourbon or whiskey. Sometimes he’ll put an old record on and try to read, just for a distraction, but the teeth are there. They chew and bite and tear pieces from him as he does his best to not think. He hasn’t had a chance to restock is all. Once he can get a night where he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught he’ll be able to do what he needs to do. Until then he just needs to ignore it.
They do a bit of exploring, finding the local supermarket and a corner store that’s close enough for Zara to be allowed to walk to. There’s even a park just a few blocks away where they can spend the mornings and she might be able to meet a few kids her age.
The big breakthrough comes after the first couple of weeks. He’s at the local elementary school, getting her enrolled in their fifth grade class. He was filling out the paperwork at the front desk when someone steps into the office. He doesn’t look up, not thinking much of it when the other person speaks up.
“Oh! Mr. Am was it?”
He turns, head tilting at the stranger. He’s tall, standing a good head above Caine, with a neatly styled mustache and beard that matches his blond hair. Even what he wears is composed despite being casual. A purple button down t-shirt and well-fitted khakis. Then there’s his eyes. They are the brightest blue Caine thinks he’s ever seen. Like cut glass shining in the sunlight on a summer day. While Caine is sure they’ve never met, he can’t help but feel there’s something familiar in the way the man holds himself, the awkward confidence and the curve of his smile. He just can’t place it.
He swallows, then nods. “Oh! Yes.. Um. Have we met? I uh- I only just moved here.” He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“No,” the man says, stepping up to the counter and taking a form, “But you have met my oldest. Uh, Maggie. She brought you and your daughter the lasagna.” He smiles, and offers a hand, “I’m Anthony. Anthony King, but my friends call me Kinger.”
“Kinger?” Caine raises his brow at the nickname, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, “Well, I’m Caine. It’s nice to finally put a face to such a masterful cook.” He steps to the side, giving the taller man the space to fill out his paperwork.
Kinger smiles, taking a pen. “If I may ask, do you know which class your girl will be in? My Christine is going into Mrs. Mildenhall’s.”
“Let me check,” Caine says, perhaps a bit too quickly as he glances down at his own forms. He smiles, noting the teacher's name. “Well, what do yah know? Seems Zara and Christine will be sharing a teacher.” He looks up at Kinger, noting the way his nose has a bit of a bump in it and the sharpness of his jaw. He shoves that down, remembering the mention of Maggie’s mother from her visit.
“Fantastic!” Kinger looks down at him, tucking his papers under his arm, “This may be a bit forward of me, but do you think it would be too much to ask if we could.. I dunno, organize a day for the girls to meet? Christine can be a bit shy and I really don’t want her to feel alone when school starts.”
Caine swallows and nods, once again perhaps a bit too quickly. “That sounds absolutely wonderful! Zara had a bit of a rough go at her last school, so maybe it would be good for her to have some friends before things start.”
That light in Kinger’s eyes somehow gets even brighter. It makes something in Caine’s chest twist in a way that feels wholly unnatural. He almost feels sick from the mere sight of something so purely kind. He really hopes he manages to keep his face neutral, but he can feel a heat in his cheeks that he definitely hasn’t felt in many years.
They agree to meet in the park the next morning, and Kinger even offers to invite some of the other dads in the neighborhood. Caine isn’t so sure about that, but something makes him agree to it. He doesn’t know what. He doesn’t want to deal with the questions about his lack of a wife or Zara’s mom. He really doesn’t want to have to explain the long story there. They exchange numbers, and as the other leaves, he crosses his arms over his chest, instinctively hiding what’s no longer there.
He doesn’t want to explain anything. But they might not even ask. He really hopes that no one asks. His thoughts are interrupted by the secretary's return, which he’s more than thankful for.
The rest of enrollment goes smoothly. Another thing he’s more than grateful for. It isn’t his first time moving like this. He would really like for it to be the last, but with his impulses, he can’t guarantee such a thing. He’ll never be able to guarantee it.
With everything done, he goes to the playground behind the school. He stands for a moment, looking down at Zara sitting on a swing. She’s alone, there’s no other kids here today. She’s not even swinging, just sitting with her curls tangling in the breeze. She deserves so much better, so many things that he’s not sure how to give her. He takes a deep breath and calls out, waving to get her attention. She looks up, and stands before running to meet him. Tonight they’ll have dinner and talk about something silly. She’ll ask about his work and he’ll talk about it as if advertising is some grand adventure beyond her imagination. He’ll ask about her day and she’ll say that it was beautiful and fantastical even if she was just sitting in her room drawing all day. It will be their same routine, even if the place is now somewhere different.
They decide to walk to the park the next day. She’d asked for two braids that morning, and he’d done his best to get them done so that she could decorate them with all her favorite hair clips. She’d decided on bright colors for herself. He’d settled on something far more subdued. He wouldn’t admit how long it took him to choose his outfit. He needed something masculine, something that said he was a man. A very manly man. But not too manly. He didn’t want weird questions, but nothing he wore felt right. In the end he’d settled on a loose red t-shirt for an old dad rock band and some jeans. It wasn’t cool enough for shorts, but it was certainly too warm for full sleeves.
As they walk, he wonders if Zara is as nervous as he is. He shouldn’t be nervous. He’d seen Christine around the neighborhood and she seemed like exactly the tough kid that Zara would like to hang out with. They would get along great. And his nerves were definitely because he wanted his daughter to make friends. There was absolutely no other possible reason with the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen to be nervous.
Kinger is already there, having claimed a picnic table when they arrive, and Maggie is with him, helping to lay out the tablecloth. He notes that she seems to enjoy the color blue, as she’s wearing short blue overalls with big purple patches on them and her red curls are pulled back with a blue bow. Today’s eyepatch is even a patch with stitching around the edges. Under the table is who he assumes to be Christine. If he didn’t already know the little girl was going to be in Zara’s class, he would’ve assumed she’d be much younger. She certainly is small for her age.
He waves to the group as they approach. “Hello!” he calls, “We brought snacks!” They aren’t particularly good snacks. Just a bowl of cut fruit and some cheese and crackers. Far less cheese than was originally intended though, due to Bubble deciding that he needed the cheese more than those gathering at the park today.
“Brilliant!” Kinger calls back. He steps out and Caine does his best to act completely normal about seeing him again. He’s dressed down, similarly to Caine. Old t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, “We’re glad the two of you could make it. Aren’t we?” He bends down, looking at the child under the table, who rolls her eyes in response.
Caine can’t help but laugh at the all too familiar response. Perhaps this was a dangerous idea and these two would be far too dangerous with their powers of ten year old apathy and imagination combined. “Zara,” he says, looking down at her, “This is Mr. King. He’s our neighbor. And we’ve already met Miss Maggie.”
The red haired girl smiles, taking the bowl of fruit so she can continue setting up the picnic. “It’s good to see you again Mr. Am.”
“Caine,” he says, “I don’t think all those formalities are necessary.” He lets her take the bowl, peering under the table at the blue eyed girl below. “So you must be Christine.”
“Chris,” the girl corrects in a rather matter of fact tone, “Christine is too long.”
“Chris,” he agrees, “Would you like to meet Zara? I’ve heard you two are going to be in the same class when school starts..” He glances back at Zara, who looks like she wishes she had Bubble to hold on to.
Christine thinks, her mouth shifting from side to side as she looks Zara up and down. She climbs out from under the table and stands in front of her, a head shorter and with her arms crossed. “Hm.. Five Nights at Freddies, Minecraft, or Roblox?” she asks, raising her brow.
Zara smiles at that, and Caine lets out a breath of relief. He watches as the pair take off across the grass to the nearby play structure as he settles at the table with Kinger and Maggie, who’s taken out a copy of Nancy Drew to read. It’s then that he realizes he’s not really sure what to say. He knows that others are supposed to be joining them throughout the day, but he’s really not sure who the others are.
Thankfully, Kinger picks up on this and lets out a laugh. “Well thank goodness that went well,” he says, “I know Oscar is bringing his boys and Kaufmo is bringing his little girl as well. So hopefully today goes well.”
Caine nods, letting out a breath of relief at the thought there will be others. It immediately switches to the nerves of not knowing. There’s those possible questions again. He pushes them down and smiles, hoping that it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “Wonderful to hear. Are the kids all in the same class then?” He tilts his head curiously.
“They should be. I think Gwenn is at least. Not so sure about Felix and Robbie,” Kinger says, settling into the seat next to him and looking out at the playground. The girls are tucked away under a slide, talking about something or other. Caine wonders what it is, and if they’re going to be okay.
“Well, at least they’ll have friends,” he says softly, “I can’t say how much I’ve worried about it.” He sighs, leaning back to get comfortable. He wants to ask where Kinger’s wife is, why isn’t she joining them. But that opens up the question of his own relationship status, so he leaves it alone. It’s not his question to ask anyways.
Oliver turns out to be a big man with broad shoulders. He has the air of a construction worker, and he walks with a twin under each arm. From the way he’s talking, it almost looks like he’s telling the boys that they’d better behave. From the way the boys are kicking and fighting, it certainly seems like they have no intention to do that. They break away before they even reach the table, racing off to wreak havoc on the playground and leaving their father with a distinct eye twitch.
The big man sits, running his hand through his thinning hair as he lets out a long breath. Caine learns that the boy with the purple hair is Felix, and the green hair is Robbie. They see where Christine and Zara are playing and run to join them, though their joining seems more like terrorizing. Since the other adults don’t seem too bothered, Caine decides that maybe it’s best to let the children figure out their dynamics themselves.
Conversation flows and he learns that his initial impression is correct, Oliver is in construction. And his wife is out of town at the moment on business. Kaufmo, a man with a belly laugh that could make even the sourest of folk smile, arrives with his daughter Gwenn, a wispy girl with tanned cheeks and long dark hair tied back in bright red ribbons, shortly after Oliver and the twins. She looks nervous about joining the others, but with some gentle encouragement makes her way over to where Zara and Chris are avoiding the boys.
The dads talk and Caine lets himself get quieter and quieter. It turns out they all have nicknames for each other. They’ve all been living in this neighborhood for a long time. Kaufmo and Oliver talk about their wives and crack jokes about the ol’ ball and chain. But Kinger stays quiet. Caine tilts his head at that. He wants to ask, but he doesn’t. Asking would draw attention to himself and the answers he's not really ready to give.
Maggie leaves the table at some point. She makes her way over to a shady tree, tucking herself into her book. It makes sense, she’s the oldest and the kids' interests don’t particularly interest her. Caine lets it go. It’s not his business to pry after all.
He turns back to the other dads who have turned to talking about something to do with sports. He doesn’t particularly follow sports though, so the conversation doesn’t make much sense to him. He makes a mental note to try to follow some of the scores so that he might be able to participate more in the future.
Lunch comes and the kids run over, grabbing the prepacked sandwiches and handfuls of fruit. They pile on top of each other as if they’ve known each other for years. Caine is happy to see that Zara, Chris, and Gwenn seem to be getting along like a house on fire. They sit together at the table, taking turns drawing on Gwenn’s sketchbook and giggling at their individual additions to the greater picture. He looks at Zara’s smile, just taking a moment to appreciate seeing her happy. He turns away as Kinger stands, and pauses his thoughts for a moment. He watches as the other man makes his way over to where Maggie is sitting with a plate for her.
There’s so much care in the way he kneels down in front of the young girl, making sure she’s properly fed and not left out. He watches how he tucks her hair back and kisses her forehead. Though he can’t hear the words exchanged, he can see the love between the two. It’s soft and sweet and gentle. He looks at Chris, who’s standing on the bench, leaning over Zara’s shoulder to see what she’s drawing. For the first time in a long time, he thinks it might all be okay.
The walk home has them exhausted. The few blocks between them and the park feel nearly infinite after the long day of socializing. Zara is chattering far more than she usually does, but he really doesn’t hear a word she’s saying. All he can think is that they made it through. The other dads didn’t pay him enough mind to ask awkward questions, and the kids had been too distracted to point out flaws. It made it just that much easier to say yes to a pool party at Oliver’s in a few days.
Zara goes to bed easily. She’s practically falling asleep on her feet through the entire bedtime routine and she’s out like a light the moment her head hits the pillow. He lets himself be relieved that she played hard enough for such a thing. He didn’t even need to read her a story or let her choose one to read herself. He slips into his own room, deciding to change into his own pajamas.
He tugs his shirt off, looking in the mirror. With clothes on he passes so completely it’s nearly impossible to tell anything is off. The second skin is revealed though, there’s no denying the scars running beneath his chest. Zara still wasn’t old enough to know. She hadn’t figured it out. To her, he was just dad. The thought of a pool party terrified him, but he could get away with a tank top.
The fear chewed at his gut as the cravings built again. He would be okay though. He could make it another week. He just needed to give Zara some time to plan a sleep over. Then he could hunt. He could tamp down this awful feeling when she was out of the house. He’d made that promise to himself a long time ago. Once she got old enough to notice things. He could hold off for another week. Even two if he had to. He pulls on something comfortable enough to sleep in. It would all work out in the end. He wasn’t going to do anything that would put her more in harm's way than he already had. He would maintain her routine like he always had, and eat when he could.
He climbs into bed, his mind racing. He just needed to hunt, so he could eat his fears. Then it would all be okay again.