He dropped into a plastic chair, straightening his shirt again. His hair was still a little damp after his 30-second shower: Convincing his coach to leave practise early was never easy, but he was one of the few teammates with a kid. And the only one of that small group who parented alone. He probably had a few more concessions than the rest, but he couldn’t afford to spend them on shit like this. 

Opposite him was a broad-shouldered man, staring at him. Unimpressed. Did he recognise Neil? He hoped not. He wasn’t in the mood for a facade. The staring continued. Neil elected to ignore him in favour of looking at the ceiling. 

When Robin was shuffled out by her classroom teacher, Danielle Wilds, she gave Neil a sheepish look. He stood up and offered his hand, which she let rest on her head. Touch was still incredibly unfamiliar to both of them. “What’s this all about, Robin?”

She pointed to the bruise on her jaw. “I pushed him after he called me bad things. Then he punched me back!” 

Neil glowered. It didn’t explain why his adoptive daughter was getting in trouble. She could sense that he knew she was omitting details of the story, and hid behind his hip as they followed Danielle Wilds down the hall. 

Behind them, the blond man stood. He was shorter than Neil - a feat in itself, really - but it was as though Neil could feel needles stabbing into the back of his skull. He took Robin by the hand as he lead her into the headmaster’s office, and immediately observed his surroundings: The enormous glass window looking out over the school’s courtyard, where kids were dressed for phys-ed and playing with skipping ropes, the mahogany desk, the shelves of books, the trophies and certificates of achievement on the walls. Boyd had a picture of a young girl with wild, curly hair by his computer. The man in question was sitting relaxedly in his chair, tattoos visible through the white button-down, his cuffs loose and rolled to mid-forearm. His hair was spiked with gel, and 

There was a young boy, sitting opposite him. He had black hair and green eyes, looking nothing like the blond man who sat next to him. The son was probably getting close to his father’s height. Both of them wore distasteful sneers. Like father like son, Neil supposed.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Neil asked, when there had been too many moments of frigid silence. “Robin? Anyone? I’d like to know exactly why I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Josten --”

“Neil.” 

“Neil.” Boyd cleared his throat. “Robin and Kevin have been having some serious disagreements over the past few weeks. Neither seem willing to compromise, or come to an impasse. We usually like to guide students to conflict resolution, but this is getting out of hand. Isn’t it, Kevin?” He looked at the boy. “Robin?” Neil’s daughter withered under his look of disappointment. 

They both pointed at each other. “They started it!” 

“Kevin always tells me that I’m dumb and get all the answers wrong.” Robin wailed. “And he hides my pencils!”

“Robin scribbled in my maths scrapbook.” Kevin huffed. “Then she hid my completed spelling homework --”

“Wasn’t me!” 

“And then she put grapes in the bottom of my bag, and they’re all squishy!” 

“Are you sure that your own grapes didn’t spill, Kevin?” His father implored. 

“You’re very good at losing pencils, Robin.” Neil shook his head. “Maybe you’ve lost them?”

“No!” Both of them cried. 

Momentarily, Neil looked to the other father, and recognised the look of pure frustration furrowing the man’s brows. 

Boyd rested his elbows on his desk, clasping his fingers beneath his chin. “But is that why we’re here today?”

Both of the children quietened. 

“What the supervising teacher told me was that she saw Robin push Kevin, who hit her on the face.” He gestured to the bruise on Robin’s chin. “The other children said that Kevin was calling her names. I would like to reiterate that there is a strict, no-violence policy at this school, and would like you both to go home and think about the way you have behaved. Neil, Andrew: You should help them reflect and compose apology letters to one another. I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.”

Andrew glared daggers, standing abruptly and ushering his son out the door. Neil grabbed Robin by the shoulder and dragged her out. 

When they caught up to the other pair, Neil sniped: “Really appreciated being dragged in here, thanks.”

“Maybe butchering is a hereditary thing, hm?” Andrew examined his car-keys. They were sleek, an expensive model that Neil couldn’t possibly name. “Such a shame.” 

Neil fumed. Sensing Neil’s irritation, Andrew turned a blank look on him; Neil wondered how someone with such a void-like gaze could be a parent. 

“Let’s go home.” He murmured. Robin tucked herself into Neil’s side and they hurried out of the administration building together. 

Here’s how it goes:

Neil was almost 24, and coached Exy teams in Couth Carolina’s little league. He’d got out of his family’s criminal history through his Exy scholarship, but never taken it further. He hadn’t even really liked kids, but it was something to do.

Then, because Neil’s tragic existence seemed to be catastrophic for those around him, a car t-boned into a van outside his apartment. Neil, always running in the early hours of the morning, immediately rushed over. The sedan’s driver was a crumpled heap, blood splattered across the windscreen -- he most likely dead, so Neil ignored him. But there were screams coming from the back of the van, so he yanked the damaged door open. 

Bruised and bleeding, curled into the corner of the van, was Robin. She was thrown into the foster system as an infant, and was then kidnapped at the age of three. No one cared about a foster kid going missing. Her missing person’s file was practically non-existent, especially after 2 years. Robin had clambered into his arms as he pulled her out of the back of that van, and he hasn’t had a full night’s sleep since. 

Four years later, he’d set up a scholarship program in the little league, his daughter was making enemies at her new school, and Neil still didn’t regret a thing. 

Andrew sat in the car and thought about the best way to approach this. For Kevin’s sake, he would be a role-model. But every inch of that Josten had him wanting to clench his fists. Of course he knew of him: Exy had gotten him through college. The Josten scandal was everywhere: Leaving the Ravens for the Trojans, Jean Moreau quickly following suit, the Butcher of Baltimore, the Moriyamas, the FBI; Then, settling down to coach kids. That drama had to be almost a decade ago, though. Didn’t matter. Exy had never mattered to Andrew. His degree had also been second thought: His occupation was satisfying, but never thrilling. 

Having a kid, though. Jesus. 

Kevin was a handful and a half. He was brimming with energy and emotion, repressed anger and competitiveness creating a volatile reaction to most situations. Andrew had taken Kevin in after his mother’s death, his old exy coach, Wymack, being the father but being unable to, you know. Father. 

Andrew didn’t understand how the fuck he was meant to be any better. 

“I’m sorry, Andrew.” Kevin didn’t look that apologetic. “She’s just super annoying! And she wouldn’t shut up about how her dad’s team is the best, and she loves her dad, and he’s the best, and how she’s going to play Exy too. Exy, exy, exy. All the time! It drives me insane! She talks so loudly, too. And so much. She never shuts up.”

Andrew could read his son. “Usually people aren’t this successful at getting under your skin, Kevin.”

“I hate her!” He frowned, his lips puckering. It was stupidly adorable. Andrew hated the word adorable. “I really do, you know. She’s always teasing me about liking history and reading my books. She can’t even do maths!”

“Remember what I tell you, Kevin.” Andrew switched on the ignition and swerved out of his car-parking space. He searched for the flash of an expensive sportscar, of which would be presumedly Neil’s, but he couldn’t find one. 

“Be the better person so you can shove their own failures up their asses, I know.” Kevin drew his feet onto the dashboard but Andrew swatted them down.

“No feet on the dashboard.” He pointed at Kevin but the brat pushed his hand away, promptly sticking out his tongue. 

God, why did he decide to have kids?

Oh yeah. He didn’t. Right. 

(Still didn’t believe in regret, though.)

i hope this made sense! 

Frederick: He’s only a natural at this. After raising both Chrom and Lissa on his own, one spiteful little tactician would not prove a challenge.

Or so, he initially thought.

It is now, that he learns, that your wily ways had begun at a rather remarkably youthful age. He’s already been a victim of several traps, and he’s sporting bruises to show for them. And by Naga, he fears he has back pain! Of all the--

Ahem.

Eventually, you and him come to a truce. Should he win a battle of tag, you would behave and take a nap. And he knew that Frederick’s Fitness Hour has yet to fail his stamina. How you have so much energy now, and not during training is a mystery he will solve once he’s set you right again.

Though you dart back and fro, he intercepts you at just the right time, and grabs you by the scruff of your shirt. “Aha!” he says with great triumph. “I win!”

You giggle and shake your head all too confidently, your nose now smudged with dirt after running around so much. “I had my fingers crosseddddd,” you said gleefully. With a sharp smack to his head, you wriggle away. Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose before going in pursuit of you once more.

Gaius: You bellow with power that Gaius did not know you had. “YEAH CANDY!!!”

“AAARGH NO!! BAD!!”

Gaius should have realized that he is a child’s wonderland. Furious little hands grab at you from every direction possible, and you have no mercy in you. You’re crawling over him, tugging his hair, a foot in his mouth, with little regard to the thief rendered helpless by little you. He has to resort to using his stealth skills to roll out from under you and somehow fend for himself. “Here! Demon child!!” He shoves a handful of lollipops to you as an offering.

You are yet displeased.

“Chocolate?” You furrow your brows. He has given you no chocolate.

“Erm...I haven’t--” “CHOCOLATE?!” “Ah hell--” He reaches into the recesses of his pockets for a treat that might have gone a bit stale, but he’d rather give you the runs than deal with this tantrum any longer. Even this sacrifice isn’t enough.

By the end of the day you’ve utterly robbed the man of sweets.  He whimpers softly, never remembering being this selfless in his life. He has no time to spare to lick his wounds for, as expected, you now have a tummyache for which he will have to find a remedy for.

He’s never appreciated (grown up) you more in his life. You would, at least, know what to do with, well, you.

Lon’qu: He was a very frustrated man. He did not think child rearing would come so early. And that he would at least have some help. Nay, the task of feeding the tiny tactician is a matter he would have to deal with on his own. He’s already fashioned a leash to the collar of your shirt to at least keep you seated in one place (though he’d received some glares, it is the most suitable solution, he’s decided). But good gods..would you at least have a single bite. “Must you turn away at everything I offer?”

“Veggie yucky,” you growl at him, and shove a palm in his face. With your pinky jammed up his nose, you deem it an adequate way of expressing your distaste for greens.

“I...see,” he says nasally, and calmly removes your finger. “Carrots?”

“Blegh.”

“Broccoli…? He tries.

“No!!” He dodges another one of your attacks.

“Very well...P-potatoes?” They didn’t offer the nutrition that the others did but--

“Po-ta-to!” You bounce up and down, finally gratified. “Potatoeeees,” you demand. “Potato man!!”

He sputters. “Potato man?? I am a warrior--”

Warriors are useless in your book, it appears. Lon’qu releases a very, very weary sigh and decides to adopt the mantle of ‘potato man’ to satisfy you, his greedy little tyrant.

Inigo: “Well come now! You’re an absolute mess!” Inigo holds you up by your scruff, and you blow a raspberry in his face. Somehow, you’ve managed to roll in every dirt pile in camp and look like you belong in a bird’s nest. In fact, he expects you to be swooped away at any moment, as a lost child of the wilderness. “I won’t have that. We need to get you to a bath.” You sniffle. “No…..No bath….” Inigo must close his eyes, to avoid sight of your watery ones. “No. You are...quite smelly. It is not becoming.” You do not care, if it is becoming or not, and begin to wail.

He says a word that perhaps he should not in front of a child such as yourself. “I-it’ll be fun! We can play together!” You regard him with suspicion, as snot dribbles down your mouth. “Urgh,” he mutters, and wipes you clean. He carries you to the bath tent, even as you’re kicking and whining and pounding your fists against him. “Yes--we can play.” “Dance?” you say suddenly, as if just recalling this skill.

“Eh?” “Dance!” You demand as he deposits you right into the steamy tub. Before you can begin flailing again, he acquieses and does a flourish and a spin just for you.

“See, I’m dancing!” He says hurriedly. “We can dance together if you behave like a good child, and finish bath time quickly. O-okay?” Was this the right thing to say? He eyes you nervously, awaiting your decision.

Finally, you give him a toothy grin and clap your hands. “Dance dance!” You splash around and wet him entirely.

Matthew Boyd looked pleased, sitting back in his chair. “Okay? Are we all happy?”

Andrew Minyard - all it’d taken was a quick search for articles to flood Neil’s feed - said nothing, watching Neil from under his eyelashes. Neil had no clue what he wanted from him, and had stubbornly avoided looking in his direction as both kids read their apologies. Kevin was brooding, looking out the window. Robin’s hand was tugging on Neil’s sleeve. 

“Thank you for your time, Neil, Andrew.” Boyd stood. “I hope both of you will continue to remind both Kevin and Robin how important civility is.”

Neil was sure that all four of them grimaced at the idea of civility. If Andrew was going to use Neil’s past to degrade his worth as a parent, he’d have to try a little harder than that. Besides: He was being hypocritical. Neil had never been arrested, let alone sent to court and convicted - Andrew had. Twice. 

Shuffling Robin out, they stood next to one another on the pavement, Robin holding his hand. The whole ordeal was over now. Time to forget Andrew Minyard and his arrogant son. 

"Off to class?” He tipped Robin’s chin up carefully. 

She nodded, but tears were welling in the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill. Neil knelt down immediately. 

“Robin, what’s wrong.” He took her cheeks in his hands. 

“I didn’t really mean to push Kevin.” She blubbered. “Is that why you’re going away tonight?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He drew her in, letting her head rest on his shoulder. 

Tonight, Robin would stay with Allison Reynolds. She was the parent of Laila and Jeremy, who’s daughter had long moved on from Exy, but who’s son remained on Neil’s A-Grade team. They were close friends. Robin had grown to adore Laila, doting on her like a little sister, taking time to teach Robin to bake, play backyard Exy, or even help with homework. She stayed with them when Neil had to travel out of state with his team. 

“I don’t want to.” She sniffled. “Why don’t you take me with you, like you normally do?”

“Because they’ve skewed the scheduling, Robin. I don’t want you to miss school.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead whilst she was being unresistant, revelling in the affections that Robin had grown comfortable with. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, I promise. Allison has your things, and your nightlight: The guest bedroom always has its locks. Laila will keep you safe, okay? Maybe she’ll bake you those brownies that you love.”

She perked up slightly, nodding and taking off: Her glittery backpack bounced on her back. “Bye Dad!” She called over her shoulder, waving. Neil closed his eyes as his chest squeezed. 

It always pained him to see Robin go. 

With shaky hands, he drew out his pack of cigarettes and shook out the lighter. His fingers were trembling, making it difficult to spark one. Frustratedly, he threw the lighter into the bin on his left and rubbed his eyes, letting out the breath he’d been holding. 

“Want a light?”

Slowly, he peeled his eyes open. 

Andrew Minyard was stood to his right, offering a sparked lighter.

Andrew watched Neil Josten light his cigarette and take a slow drag, hollowing his scarred cheeks. His eyes were the same spectacular blue of the sky, his hair almost the colour of blood. Fitting, for the Butcher’s boy. It would be shocking, if Andrew wasn’t incapable of being shocked, that Neil would be here. It was always strange to see people you heard of in the news when you were younger. 

What a quiet life he’s arranged for himself, here. 

Andrew could say the same. Only moments ago had he carted Kevin off to class, books under his arm and a sullen set to his frown. His son was a miserable nerd. It was hilarious. 

“I know about you.” Neil offered. “I don’t want your son near my daughter.”

“And I know about you.” Andrew rebutted. He couldn’t deny he didn’t appreciate the honesty. Most parents at this school were conniving fuckwits. “I don’t want your daughter near my son.”

“Good.” Neil huffed. “That’s settled, then.”

Andrew wasn’t finished. “What do you do?”

Neil rose a single eyebrow, keeping his gaze on the stagnant carpark in front of them. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon: Andrew hated the humid, electric storms of South Carolina’s summers. “I coach the junior state Exy teams. You?”

“Criminal prosecutor.” 

At least Neil had the audacity to laugh. Andrew hid the twitch at the corner of his mouth behind his hand, watching as Neil dropped his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with his heel. He looked at Andrew one last time, and really, fuck him for looking like that. “Keep your son away from my daughter, Minyard, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Shove your attitude up your ass, and then we’ll have no problems.” Andrew left with his mocking salute, walking towards his car. He was sure Neil continued glared at him until he’d driven well out of his range of vision. 

It was a big enough school that he’d most likely never run into Neil Josten and his pretty eyes again. 

That was fine by Andrew - but oh, boy. He’d been very wrong. 

Neil was extremely uncomfortable. A big banner across the auditorium read Bring Your Parent To School Day with dozens of exclamation marks: Around him were a chaotic cohort of children and parents, gathered into small groups and chattering excitedly. Robin had disappeared five minutes ago, and he was anxiously looking for her to return. Allison was supposed to be here, but she was nowhere to be seen, and Andrew Minyard was across the room. 

Socialising wasn’t his thing: Everyone here was discussing their jobs, college, high school, reminiscing, all that shit. Neil had spent his elementary years home schooled, his high-school years running, his college years in perpetual fear and his occupation fighting the prejudice established against him. 

This place was a rumour gold-mine. 

“Neil! Neil!” Robin barrelled into him. “Look! These are my friends, Abby and Bee!” 

One was blonde and pink-cheeked, who looked very shy. The other was grinning madly, her chubbiness endearing. Their mother rushed after them, skidding to a stop before she could barrel into Neil head-first. They all wore matching silver necklaces, crosses hanging daintily at their necks. The mother’s silver hair, however, was streaked through with many colours. It was confusing. 

“I’m Renee,” She said apologetically. “You must be Neil.”

Neil shook her hand uneasily. “I’m sorry that Robin dragged your kids off.”

She waved off his concern. 

“Abby is my cousin.” Bee explained to Neil. “But she lives with me now. And Robin told me that she hasn’t always lived with you. Is that why she doesn’t call you Dad?”

“Or he’s gay,” Abby chided. “And it would be confusing to call both her dads Dad.”

Neil flushed, but the girls were all giggling. Renee mouthed an apology, hiding her face behind her hands. Neil shook his head. 

“Don’t worry. I get these questions all the time.”

“Which questions?” Allison’s familiar, chiding tone could be heard over the din easily. She appeared by his side, Laila and Jeremy in tow. Neil watched fondly as Robin hugged Laila hesitantly, and introduced her Exy friends to her classmates. 

“That I’m gay.” Neil provided. “Allison, this is Renee. Renee, this is Allison. Don’t mind her being a bitch: She can’t help it.”

“The children.” Allison hissed. Renee waved it off. 

“They’re not listening.” Momentarily, they watched their kids bonding together. “My daughter and niece were just being very invasive. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, Neil.” 

“Oh,” Allison snorted. “He gets asked if he’s gay all the time. It’s not your kids’ fault. He’s just an absolute twink.”

Neil shoved her lightly and she elbowed him back. 

Renee was about to ask her a question, but was promptly hooked by a middle aged man and his judgemental glares towards both Neil and Allison. She threw an apologetic glance over her shoulder towards them and the kids as she dragged her daughters off. 

“It’s not like you to introduce yourself to strangers.” Neil hedged. “What about your whole all parents are beneath me attitude?”

She examined her nails. “Can’t blame me for knowing when someone’s hot and eyeing me up. Not your fault you can’t read signals.” 

“She was what?” Neil shook his head. “Whatever. I want to get out of here. Can’t we just take them all to a diner?” 

Allison clucked her tongue, looking at where Renee was being introduced into a new circle. “Not tonight, blue-eyed boy. Go get some kids into that program of yours. Be productive. Find a single parent to complain with. Or flirt with.”

“You are a single parent to complain with.” He grunted, crossing his arms. “Alright. Fuck off with you, then.”

She grinned and pinched his cheek, before sauntering off. 

God, Neil hated school functions. 

“Neil, it’s loud in here.” Robin tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go outside for a bit?”

“Do you want to go home?” He hedged. 

She paused; then shrugged. “I want to play with Abby and Bee. But I’m not sure.” 

“Let’s make that decision outside.”  He conceded, and guided her outside. His anxiety was making him itch for a cigarette, but he never smoked around Robin. Instead, he crouched down next to her, letting her put her hands on his shoulders and hoisting her up onto his back. He grinned over his shoulder at his daughter. “Comfy?”

She nodded into her shirt. They walked around the edge of the building, away from the entrance and the cacophony of noise. Cars were crammed into every parking space. Across the way was the administrative building, where Neil had last spoke to Andrew Minyard. Neil’d seen him only briefly tonight. Had he already left?

Why do you care? 

They both leaned on the brick wall of the auditorium’s exterior, Neil crouching to Robin’s eye-level. 

“Dad,” She said hesitantly. “Why are everyone’s families older?” 

Neil brushed an eyelash off her cheek. “It’s their choice when they have children, Robin. I was lucky to get you when I did.”

“But I don’t have a mom.”

“She’s out there, somewhere. We’ve talked about this, Robin.” Neil tapped her nose. “Did you want to find her?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. I don’t want to leave you.”

Neil’s heartstrings were being yanked in all different directions. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

She blew a raspberry at him. “Can we go home?”

“Fine, you rascal.” Relief released the tension that had curled his shoulders all evening. He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

He threw himself into the car with enthusiasm, after strapping her into the backseat, and put the keys into the ignition. 

And then: Of course. The car wouldn’t start. 

“What’s wrong with the car, Neil?” 

He was so tempted to whack his head against the horn of the stupid steering wheel. Instead, he gave Robin a reassuring glance and swung himself out of the car. 

It was probably just his battery: He’d get Allison to jumpstart his car and then they’d be sweet. Or she could just give them a lift home. 

Cranking open the hood, he checked that nothing was about to explode, before calling out to Robin: “Can you try turning the radio on?”

She scrambled into the front. He could see her little flushed cheeks shaking her head after she’d fumbled for a minute or so. He drew in a deep breath and reached for his phone. 

“That’s a shitshow of a car.” 

Neil’s eye twitched. He turned around. “Not all of us are lawyers.” 

“And yet, you could have been a professional Exy player.” Andrew - who else would it be, honestly - pointed out. “Seems slightly more lucrative than this.”

Neil seethed. “What do you want?” He could see Kevin, standing a little ways back with his arms crossed. Sullen brat. 

“To offer my jump cables?” Andrew rose his eyebrows. “Unless you want to walk home in the dark.”

“And you care, because?”

“Because I’m such a caring, affectionate person, Josten.”

Neil snorted. Right. “I have my own cables, thanks.”

“Always prepared, runaway.” Andrew rose his chin. “You’d still need a battery.”

Neil ground his teeth. Whatever angle that Andrew was attempting, Neil just couldn’t figure it out. “Fine. Fine. God, I’m going to hate owing you. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Neil, what’s happening?” Robin called. 

He leaned over the opened front door. “You’re going to have to wait a little out here, okay? Kevin’s father’s helping us start the car.”

She thought about it for a moment: Neil expected a fight, not wanting to be around Kevin, not wanting to stand outside in the cold and the dark. Instead, she merely said “Okay!” and shuffled out of the car feet-first. Neil watched as Kevin didn’t move from where he stood, even as she approached. 

Odd. 

Andrew swerved his car up as Neil unloaded his cables - its sleek exterior and leather lining screaming pretentiousness. Neil sat behind the wheel after they’d connected their engines. 

“Feel free to electrocute yourself any time.” Neil offered, before starting the car.  It revved to life with a rather guttural screech of protest. 

“Missed opportunity.” Andrew agreed. “Then I wouldn’t have to stand the sight of you any longer.”

“You offered to help.”

“Technicalities.” Andrew leaned his elbows onto the rolled-down window sill of . Neil’s car. “You owe me, Josten.”

“Thanks.” He gestured to his engine. “For that.” 

Andrew cleared his throat. “Don’t make a habit out of it.”

Neil almost smiled, rubbing the twitch at the corners of his lips away with his hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Bye, Kevin.” Robin waved to Andrew’s son as they drove away. 

“What’s that about?” Neil eyed her in the rear-view mirror. 

His daughter wriggled suspiciously, cheeks pinked. “Nothing.” 

Neil huffed. Surely a daughter of his would be better at lying than that.