like a moth to a flame

I don’t know if we’ll be.. lucky enough to keep him. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, but until his parents are on our doorstep, I’m not wasting any time.

Right. Right, that’s what we wanted. Find his parents. Get him home.

Yeah. Yeah, he does.

Robert—

I know this cause is important to you. It’s important to me, too. But you’re more important to me. You’ll work better with one— all I’m asking is one— night of sleep. Have the whole bed to yourself I don’t care, but… please.

One more time and then you have to promise you’ll get ready for bed so Daddy can tuck you in, Max. Ready?

Charles, where the hell'd we get hot water from?

“Robert,” he whispered, soft and chiding, warning him to back down. Half of him wanted to kiss him right then and there for saying what he had—for referring to the shivering child as theirs in Charles’ rouge, but half of him wanted to slap his fat head for getting involved so quickly. Deep down, he knew it was his fault. He absolutely knew he shouldn’t have rushed out so impulsively, but he wasn’t about to let this child be beaten for absolutely nothing.

Charles bent down to come face-to-face with the simpering boy; blue meeting blue for the first time since Charlie had ran out in front of them. He smiled, small and sweet and comforting like he would when Rachel had a nightmare.

“Are you okay?” The boy nodded, a slight gleam of fear and uncertainty in his eyes before he wrapped his arms around Charles’ neck. Chuck, hearing Rob growling again, straightened to stand behind Rob or even step between him and the policeman, but the child’s arms only tightened when Chuck moved to leave him. In one quick move, Charles scooped the child into his arms, carrying him on his hip. It could have been odd that Charles did not feel strange carrying someone else’s child in his arms, feeling him burrow closer into his neck. He thought it felt natural; so much so that he may have tightened his hold, supporting the underweight child even more.

He turned just in time to feel Rob push him back and to watch his face fall down with the force of one harsh blow.

“Rob!” he shouted, moving to catch the giant, already catching sight of scarlet dripping through the dirt stains along his lip.

The boy tightened his arms as he watched Rob stumble to the ground. Charles’ heart fell to the pit of his stomach; in the empty hole, a fire was lit, evident in the angry spark behind the usually loving blue eyes. He shifted the child into one arm and rummaged through his bag with the other, nostrils flared and cheeks growing rosy with the unbarred anger tightening his chest and constricting his throat as he strode dangerously close to the officer.

“Charles Thomson-Armstrong,” he declared proudly, voice resonating deep from within his chest as he shoved a perfectly folded piece of paper into the officer’s chest, “Armory Superintendent.” He hadn’t exactly told Rob he’d filed himself under Rob’s last name, but now was as good a time as ever. In another swift move, Charles was impatiently pulling out both his driver’s license and an expired one of Rob’s he had been tasked with shredding. In retrospect, both acts could have been a little creepy, but, hey, look what use Charles’ obsessive behavior is now, right?

“Unprovoked use of force,” Charlie growled, eyes gleaming with loathing as he stood eye-to-eye with the police officer, “that’s police brutality. Neither this child nor Robert Armstrong, both human, showed any element of disord’ly public conduct and I can and will test’fy to that.” A total bluff said in a ridiculous Tennessee accent he couldn’t control when worked up so badly, but he needed to at least spook the officer out of asking for Rob’s or their child’s papers. For once in his miserable life, Chuck was happy his father was a pretentious asshole of a lawyer.

Chest puffed and shoulders squared, Charles didn’t breathe the sigh of relief he wanted to when the officer’s face flashed fear in a glance to his partner. He shoved the papers back into Charles’ hand with a burning glare before turning away, scowling, his partner following close.

It didn’t take long at all before Charles was at Rob’s side, tucking the papers into his backpack and shrugging it off altogether. The boy, eyes glistening, though no longer crying, looked on as Charles carefully put him down and unlatched his arms from his neck. He half expected the boy to take off running, and he wouldn’t blame him, but another half of him desperately wanted the child to stay for some reason he couldn’t recognize.

“Babe,” he choked, hand reaching out to cradle the bruise he could see already forming on Rob’s cheek.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said, eyes knit and shoulders slumped in that guilty way Charles had about apologizing. It was his fault and he knew that, but he wasn’t sorry for anything but the fact that Robert got hurt in the fray. Had it been Charles who had received the blow, he wouldn’t regret a single moment of it.

Wrapping his own giant arms around the incredibly tiny body, Robert brought the child close to him, tucking him into his chest, the boy curling up and fitting their perfectly, as if he had all his life. It was different, the sensations caused by the little embrace, as it was nothing like Rachel or Ralphs, but yet entirely the same. Filled with an innocence so pure that Rob's heart faltered, a trust so giving and unyielding  as if with a tiny hug he was simply putting his life in Rob's hand and trusting him to keep him safe.

Giving Charles a small peck on the lips, knowing just how much he hated when Rob smeared his blood over them after a nosebleed, he chuckled softly, needing to bring light to it all, the only thing he was good for besides brute strength, and even then, his strength was never of much use. His stomach fluttered at the radiance on Charles' face, a lightness in his eyes he hadn't seen in so long, and all thanks to the child curled up against his heart. 

Standing up with ease, towering over Charles once more he looked down at the boy, all blonde hair and dirty skin, finally taking him and noticing the soft fading bruises, the stark fresh ones and tiny cuts in between. It was clear he'd been alone for a long time, the information causing his heart to hurt while he brought a enormous hand under the tiny chin, raising the boys head so he could look into his impossibly wide blue eyes.

It was startling, how eerily similar the color was to both Rob and Charles', a perfect mix of both. The stark sparking blue from Chuck with the stormy gray inner ring that was all his, staring back at him from under a flurry of wheat blonde lashes.

"Hi." He started, soft and cooing, the way he used to talk to Ralph when he was trying to coax him out from under the bed. "I'm Rob, and that's Charles." Motioning to Charles with his hand he smiled, looking back down at the boy in his arms. "Can you tell me your name, please?"

He could see the boy hesitate, every child's instinct not to speak to strangers even if he was tangled up in the arms of one. After a moment he relented, soft and quiet, a little squeak of a word that would soon become the very reason Rob continued to fight the war.

"Max."

"Max." Rob repeated, slow and steady, a hint of soft laughter inflecting the name. "Such a cool name, I used to watch a show with dragons and there was a boy named Max there." He could see the childs eyes light up, arching his neck back to get a good look at Rob, his voice louder now in his excitement. "Dragon Tales?!" Rob only laughed for real this time, nodding his head and shifting the boy so he was sitting on his hip rather than cradled in his arms. "Dragon Tales! That's right! So, you know how in Dragon Tales, Max gets to go to a land apart?" He waited for the boy to nod before continuing. "Do you want to go to a land apart with Charles and I, Max? Out of the city?"

Watching and waiting Rob held his breath, Max looking into his eyes, all the way down and seeming to think about exactly what he was going to do. Rob watched as the boys eyes flicked to Charles, and nodded slowly, tearing his eyes away from the other man and back to him, suddenly rushing forward to wrap his arms around Rob's neck again. Rob hugged him close, expelling air from his lungs in a single woosh, only for it to be knocked away from Max's tiny whisper. 

"Don't leave me."

Rob closed his eyes, thankful that Max couldn't see them, his eyes locking with Charles once more. One of his giant hands moved to Max's blonde hair, gently massaging his head as he started to lead them away. 

He shrugged in response to that particular question as he always did. He’d tell Rob if anyone gave him trouble, but not when Rob looked so worn down and torn apart. It wasn’t uncommon for the little brats circulating through his tent to tease and make weak attempts at torment, taunting him about his wife waiting for him or his kids asking where their daddy was. No one there knew about Rob or about his position as a human for mutants, for that matter; he kept quiet. Silent, even. He could take their jeers and harmless teasing, especially when he had this unbelievably strong man to meet him just outside those bleached walls

“He is?” he asked looking up to meet blue eyes darkened since he’d fallen in love with them. Charles swallowed, knowing not much about Ryan aside from Rob’s stories. He hadn’t ever met the long-lost Armstrong sibling, unlike Ralph and Rachel, whom he’d played with watched over. A small pang in his chest alerted him to his hoping those two kids were doing alright. He squeezed Rob’s hand and nodded, thinking of how he could possibly split the dinner already barely feeding the people in the cabin to provide for another mouth, but he would do it. Ryan was family and Charles could manage it.

“Robert,” Charles warned, silently asking him to stop tugging on that bun. He’d pull his hair out if Charles wasn’t around to distract him. Rob’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a frown like which Chuck had only seen so close once before. He almost felt the bruising on his neck reappear at the memory of that morning, but Charles quickly turned to look where Rob was glaring as his grip tightened and had stopped their brisk walk home.

Chuck’s eyes immediately fell on the child, terrified and alone, sobbing as he looked up to police officers yelling at him. The scene was like an ice-pick to Charles’ heart. The boy, barely reaching the officer’s waists, had bright blue eyes sparkling with tears and dirt-stained cheeks that were much to thin for a boy his age. It physically pained Charles to watch like he was.

“Where are your parents?” one officer cried, sneering down at the child. “We aren’t going to ask again!”

The child whimpered, shaking his head, though unable to speak.

“Maybe his memory needs joggin’,” the other said, lips drifting upwards in a sick grin that made Chuck clench his free hand.

Charlie squeezed Rob’s hand, reiterating it to him as he watched, helpless yet again. It wasn’t until a baton was raised high up into the air, over the officer’s head and well-over the child’s messy head of hair did Chuck spring from Robert’s side in a white-out of instinct that burst forward. Protect, protect, protect, like a litany within Charles’ head. He sprinted the few feet between them, yelling with a growl in his voice that surprised even him.

“Hey!” he called, catching their attention before they could bring the blunt stick down on the boy, already flinched and recoiled, bracing for the impact. Charles tucked the boy behind his long legs, one hand on his head and the other clenched at his side, ready to strike out should he need to, just as Rob had taught him. He almost anticipated the baton to come down on him and he visibly flinched in the automatic expectation, but that didn’t stop the word vomit pouring out of Charles’ mouth in the sudden onslaught of adrenaline. Chest heaving with the deep breath, he said the first damn thing that came to mind and, in hindsight, it might have been a really, really stupid thing to say.

They'd always called him the 'Gentle Giant' the big teddy bear of the group, but it was because no one saw the fierceness of Robert, the utter ferocity that bubbled and stewed under his skin, just waiting and watching, protecting those around him. Watching the small boy whimper and shake in fear, Rob had to let go of Charles hand before he turned bone to dust, hurt him by accident - blinking quickly he realized his hand was already free, Charles in a second having let go and rush forward.

Panic set in quickly then, Rob's heart leaping into his throat as the love of his life rushed to protect the child, flinching under the prospect of the baton. 

Seeing red it was Roberts turn to push forward, growling out a gruff 'hey!' before getting in front of them both, not balking or flinching at the words that slipped through Charles lips, Rob's peeling back to show his teeth like an angry bear. The sheer size of the man intimidated the police and he could tell, the widening of eyes and minute steps back enough of a tell that Rob stood up to full height, forgoing his usual slight slouch to rise to his unnatural six foot five and a half stature. Jaw clenched so hard his pulse was seen, Rob's fists clenched at his sides - just like he'd taught Charles - and looked down at the men.

"S'there a problem officers?"

The baton was no longer an issue, hanging limply at one of the mens side, and Rob could hear sniffling behind him, only adding fuel to the fire. Rolling with what Charles said he took a step towards them, awfully close and awfully dangerous, looming over them the same way they'd chosen to intimidate the kid behind him.

 "S'there a reason you're threatening our son?"

He'd specifically said 'ours' letting them know exactly what they were dealing with, waiting, daring them to say something against him and his words. One of the men seemed to find his bravery, trying to stand as tall as Robert and failing miserably, stuttering something about humans and registered papers, a check point of sorts missed a few blocks back.

It was the only thing they had against him and Rob's heart constricted a little, knowing he'd have nothing to show them, Robert all but unlisted in all databases, knowing his face and name would bare the tag 'traitor. He was no better than a mutant to them. Roberts jaw clenched tighter if possible, the man going to give himself an aneurism if he continued, one hand reaching up to fiddle with his bun quickly, and nervously, noting the other office flinch when he did so. 

"I don't need to show you my goddamn papers. You threatened a child, my child, and I'm ten seconds away from ripping your tiny little throats out."

“Come on, Chuck.” the grunt whined, leaning over on greasy elbows to smear Charlie’s already dirty table.

“Charles,” Charlie corrected. Few people were allowed to call him ‘Chuck’ anymore. He glared with half-lidded, exhausted blue eyes devoid of the sparkle and shine he used to prance around with at the coffee shop or at home. The military jerks waltzing around Charlie’s armory wouldn’t recognize the strict, tight-lipped Charles taking inventory and organizing weaponry— the riot-breaking flash bombs and ammunition especially— as appointed by the Commander himself. It was smart, considering his pyrotechnics license, but it took the passion away from his heart and replaced it with cold, methodical calculation.

“And I don’t care what you think you need it for, I’m not doling out extra bullets to some trigger-happy punk in a uniform,” he scowled, gaze returning to the clipboard in his arm. All any of the boys who came through the tent daily saw was a man considerably larger and older than they organizing and reorganizing without so much as a second glance to them. Some might even catch the frown of disgust and loathing at any one of them coming in with new bloodstains. It wasn’t as if they weren’t used to civilians employed within the military system disapproving of their work, but something about the man in charge of the armory’s abhorrence that chilled blood and seemed just unnatural, as it was.

The grunt intelligently chose to leave Charles with a disappointed huff, barely taking a pause to glance down to the bruises on Charlie’s knuckles. The death and suffering around him tore the once happy-go-lucky, peaceful barista apart and left only the shell of him behind. It was only necessary Charles learn to fight back, especially when the stakes were no longer his own skin. He was protecting a home now— a home where he could return and give an honest smile despite the misery outside the window.

Soon enough, it was the exact time at which the human workers were allowed to collect the day’s earnings and head home, six o’clock every evening. He did just that, nodding a curt thank you to the polite, starved-looking young woman behind the counter as he gathered the bread and meat into his backpack that he wore on his chest. Less chance of being robbed that way.

Stepping out of the bigger facility where his tent was housed, sure enough, his gentle giant was waiting for him, looking as worn and tired as ever. As he walked briskly to Rob, he made a note to himself to save the rest of his shampoo for those blonde locks tucked neatly into a bun at the base of his head. He counted every new bruise as he neared and licked his thumb before reaching up and swiping away a stripe of dirt decorating that handsome face.

“Hi,” he said, voice noticeably softer from the command he demanded in his tent. Charles tip-toed up to kiss Rob quickly on the cheek before starting down the sidewalk. It was never a good idea to linger, even for that long, but he couldn’t resist, not after the sort of aching for Rob he had during work.

Words exchanged and Ryan settled in the cabin for now, Rob made his round across the city before making to pick up Charles, the firemen left having banded together to form a sort of militia  humans against humans against mutants. They had to hide of course, traitors that they were, Rob a now known deserter of the human force. But not even that would stop him from making sure Charles made it home safely every day, no one in their right mind really wanting to pick a fight with such a large man anyway.

Gentle giant he was inside, the outward appearance no longer matched, Robert dirty and blood stained from general fighting and picking up the city, his brow seemingly knit together permanently. He was tired, exhausted even and it showed all over, eyes pale and dull, the hulking man slouching against a telephone poll. Catching sight of Charlie he straightened, lips twitching up as much as he'd allow outside of the cabin, just wanting to go home and take a shower, go to sleep with the man curled around him. 

With a tiny sigh at the kiss, he wrapped his hand around Chuck's, not caring. Let them tell him something. Let them come up to him. Robert was passed caring. He was angry. Livid. they'd confined Scout to her boyfriends apartment, had confined them to a fucking cabin, had forced Charles to make weapons. Everyone had limits and the poor giant had been pushed passed his - and still they kept pushing. 

"How was work?" He asked quietly, though to be honest, all he cared about was knowing if they treated him okay. He didn't care about the weapons or the people. All he know was that Charles eyes had lost their sparkle and Robert was helpless to stop it. 

It's what he hated most of all.

"Ryans here." It was said even quieter, half mumbled through thin lips while his large hand tugged on his bun - a tell if there ever was one. It made him anxious Ryan being there, another person to look after when Robert was already at failing at taking care of those he had before. Eli was a desolate mess of grief and anger, the guys at the station no better - as angry as he was himself he was still human he thought, the only one not to have taken a life yet, the men boasting about the notches on their belts - he shuddered at the thought of when he might.

It made him sick, the thought of when and not if, the certainty of the situation making him sigh, clutching at the bun so hard he was gonna yank his hair off - but it was better than squeezing Charles hand - better than worrying him.