Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A Break in Routine

Rayleigh always woke up first, not out of routine but purely out of necessity, his husband doubled as a furnace most nights. He’d wake always slightly too warm, always a little squashed beneath a large hairy arm grappling him to his husband's side. Roger was too warm, too clingy and snored like a backfiring truck all night. Even so Rayleigh had to spend a few minutes each morning considering his own mental wellbeing as his heart spluttered in his chest at the sight of the man drooling into his pillow. Eventually however he’d gain enough willpower to wiggle out from his grip and out into the cold of the house.

Coffee first, then breakfast.

Roger would eventually wake to the sound of plates or the smell of cooking, sort of like a rabid starved dog. Normally Rayleigh would hear heavy footsteps on the stairs before the strong arms that had held him through the night were wrapped around his waist and tugging him back into Rogers chest.

Bare Chest.

Roger was allergic to clothing, also kind of like a rabid dog. He’d strut around the house bare-assed and smug, wandering from room to room like some oversized, half-domesticated animal. If Rayleigh didn’t physically intercept him and force underwear onto his hips, Roger would spend the entire morning roaming free, blissfully unaware of how completely distracting he was. Not that the view was always a problem, his husband was built like a bear and the only issue with that was that if he didn’t put the man in clothes Rayleigh really would never get anything done.

Some mornings had music once Roger was awake, he’d spin his husband around the kitchen, a ballroom of cold tile and terrible singing. Others had coffee and quiet chats at the table. At least once a week the morning looked like Rayleigh getting bent over the kitchen counter after failing to fend off his very own aforementioned rabid dog. Those mornings usually left him late and disheveled for work but the pink on his cheeks and small smile on his lips would last through the morning. No matter what the day looked like the very walls of their home were bursting with love.

Rayleigh knew happiness, he got to love happiness himself.

Rayleigh also, however, had the misfortune of knowing despair. His job often led him into dark homes where there was no love to be found. White knuckled he’d face down monsters, soft eyed he’d crouch to reach the level of the children who feared them. If he was lucky he would get to bundle them into his car and take them somewhere nicer, somewhere safer.

His friends would say he suited his job, he was responsible, kids often liked him and he wasn’t afraid of angry parents. Being an emergency social worker wasn’t for the faint of heart but the lives he was able to change outweighed the bad, terrible days that often ended in tears in the safety of his car. He still remembered walking into a flat so silent it felt hollow, a little boy curled under the kitchen table with tear tracks dried onto his cheeks. The kid hadn’t spoken a word, just pressed himself into Rayleigh’s coat like it was the first safe thing he’d seen in days. It was those nights he’d value the strong arms of his husband even more as he whispered the horrors of the world into his hairy chest receiving only mumbled agreements and kisses to his head in response.

The day that would flip his routine on its head was on track to be like most others. He was running a little late, the slight limp in his step the only testament to that morning’s debauchery- though if he was honest, the warmth blooming low in his spine made it very hard to be properly annoyed about it. When he finally arrived it was emails, a phone call and then straight into a meeting, it was all very mundane. Then his phone rang again, he picked up without checking the screen.

“Silvers Rayleigh, how can I help you?” Realising his mistake he went with a standard greeting instead of pulling back the phone to see who was calling.

In the quiet of his office he could hear the small ragged sound of breathing but a complete lack of verbal response was baffling.

“Can I help you?” The sigh in his voice was unmistakable, patience thin after a long meeting he had better things to waste his time with than spam calls. It was only when he was about to end the call that he got a response. 

“Purple coat man?” The voice was small, tinny through the mic of his phone. Rayleigh, who spent lots of time with children, would place it at no older than 6 with the way that ‘purple’came out a little jumbled.

He leaned forward in his chair, elbows against his desk, the hand not holding his phone to his ear placed on his temple to prop up his head. “Yes, that’s me sweetheart, can I help you?” He spoke carefully, already racking his brain to place the voice. He must have been on a visit but he had no idea how the child could have obtained his number, he dealt mostly with professionals and acted on referrals or whistle blowers.

The wait this time was a little shorter, “I was bad. I-” The boy cut himself off, Rayleighs phone was ringing against his desk. It took his brain a second to comprehend that he was staring at his work phone vibrating next to his laptop on the table in front of him, connecting the dots- his private cell was still pressed against his ear. This child hadn’t called a social worker, they’d called Rayleigh, and he had no idea who this was.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you’re a perfectly good boy.” His words gentle as his fingers drummed against his head. The entire conversation was now beginning to feel a little surreal now he was staring at his work phone sending a different call to voicemail.

His words did not have the desired effect and the sniffling down the line was a bad omen for tears to come. Getting sense out of a crying child was borderline impossible. When he was about to do damage control there was rustling down the line, Rayleigh couldn’t begin to make out anything that was being said but there was another person there. That's when he pulled his phone away from his ear.

Roger.

The sight of his husband grinning at him in the photo lighting up his screen was a little jarring. He was definitely not talking to Roger now.

“We want m-money. If you want the phone back, gotta p-pay.” The voice was different but no less little. Rayleigh was frowning so hard that he felt the creases between his brows. Years of training snapped into place; his voice dropped to the soft, careful tone he used with frightened children, even though he was ninety percent sure this was the strangest safeguarding situation he’d ever been pulled into.

Had his husband been robbed by toddlers?

The new boy had a small stutter but an edge to his voice, he was defensive but no less emotional than the first one when Rayleigh asked his name there was a squawk before he panicked and hissed a threat to break the phone. At times the other voice was unclear in the background as they were clearly plotting together at his questions.

The call ended on the children's side after Rayleigh agreed to their terms, yes, he would pay them for the phone. Yes, he would be alone. Yes, he could come to the train station nearest him to ‘swap’. When he asked for a time he was met with silence, then he realised that it was unlikely that either of the boys could tell the time at all. When he brought this fact up the second little boy hissed again and responded with a sharp, ‘now’.

Rayleigh allowed himself just a moment to gather his thoughts together, staring at the white of his office wall. Roger didn’t have a password on his phone because he barely used it at all and said he would forget it, he did however use it frequently to take photos of Rayleigh. Well, him and animals, which Rayleigh often received in sporadic text messages throughout the day. The purple coat in question was likely the photo Roger had currently as his caller I.D along with a frankly embarrassing contact name. Rayleigh just hoped he had changed it from ‘Angel love of my life’ or whatever weird combination it had been last time he checked, though he was probably better off hoping for pigs to fly.

He received a text from Gaban whilst he was packing up his things to leave for the station, with not much plan in mind. The text read- ‘Your idiot left his phone in the bathroom at the station. Hope he didn’t have your nudes on there lol.’ Rayleigh sighed and replied, ‘Hope you get crushed by an unusually large steel beam falling from an extraordinary height x’. The reply from Gaban was immediate, ‘Kinky!’ and Rayleigh snorted, shoving his phone into his pocket before grabbing the last of his belongings and heading towards the door.

Roger got the train to work most mornings which meant he’d lost it before he journey, likely one of the boys had found it. It didn’t explain what two young children were doing in a train station bathroom at 9 in the morning when they came across the phone. It really did not explain where they learnt to threaten someone for money either. Belatedly he realised that he never asked for the amount, and the boy had never said- he had been frankly a terrible negotiator.

Not even lunchtime and he decided it would be quicker to walk the couple of blocks to the station, not interested in dealing with traffic or parking when a very concerning mystery was waiting for him in the centre of town. He arrived 10 minutes later, windswept and just as lost over the situation as when he left the office. As he stood under the large screens displaying departure and arrival times he realised he had no idea where to begin looking for the phone-nappers, considering his options for just a moment he pulled his phone back out to dial Rogers number. Originally he was worried about them choosing not to answer, and the entire trip would have been for nothing at all. Rogers' phone would have been gone for good but more importantly he would never understand what was happening with the boys on the other side of the call. Turns out, he needn’t have been worried at all, the sound of his husband's obnoxious ringtone was obvious and as annoying as the day he worked out that he could change it and Rayleigh spun round to find the thieves.

Across the lobby was a boy, a tiny boy, Rayleigh might not have noticed him at all if not for the shock of messy blue hair tangled around his red face. He was currently shaking the phone in his hands, likely trying to quiet the noise that had others turning to look too. Rayleigh cleared the gap between them quickly and by the time that the small boy had noticed it was too late for him to run, his feet squeaking on the tiles as Rayleigh gently placed a large hand on the top of his head.

“I believe we had a deal?” Rayleigh asked, voice coming out surprisingly even and calm despite his inner panic at the fact he really did need to come up with a plan now.

Not nearly calm enough it seemed, at his words the little blue boy burst into messy tears, phone clattering to the floor.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Plan B - For Brilliant

The station was loud, voices travelling in echoing waves that scraped at Rayleigh’s already frayed patience as he tried not to come across as a threat. Though the meeting place at first seemed difficult it was easy to see how a busy place might help a child who wished to hide blend into the thousands of coming and going faces. Rayleigh felt tired down to the bone all of a sudden looking down at the little boy, he regretted folding to another of his husband's whims and staying up well past his bedtime to watch a new show that had Roger bouncing in place on the couch. In all honesty he had spent most of it watching his partner instead, drinking in the enthusiasm and wonder on his face as he enjoyed what was essentially superpower slop.

The phone lay where it fell, face down on the hard tile, the boy was only short and it really shouldn’t have been a far enough distance to crack the glass. Rayleigh knew better, knew that Roger ended up idly picking at the edges of the screen protectors he bought till they were limp at the corners and he had to pull them off. He knew there was a chip at the bottom from keeping it in his pocket whilst he worked, a chip that was starting to spindle into a crack.

He didn’t need to see the screen to know the impact was probably enough to shatter it.

The small blue haired boy's hands were trembling as he ducked from under Rayleigh's hands and bent to pick up the phone from the ground, whimpering then sucking in a wet breath to try and hold back his tears. Seems neither of them had good plans in place for the hand off.

Rayleigh used the boy's moment of distraction to scour the crowd again, there was a second boy somewhere, likely nearby but he hadn’t seen anything of him. He couldn’t go anywhere without confirming the first caller's whereabouts, and clearly little Blue had decided to brave the meeting alone.

Plan A was dead before it got off the mental drawing board, before it even got to live. It was a stupid plan to begin with, and Rayleigh was forced to blame the impulsive nature of the people he chose to spend his time with for infecting his perfectly rational planning process. Plan A- Grab and Go was as simplistic as it sounded, locate children, confirm they are small enough to carry, grab and go.

Plan B was regrettably half formed but Rayleigh had decided he was not above handing out bribes if the situation called for it. He’d realised that he could not spot a second child in the sea of people and he refused to linger on it too long and risk losing the one he had eyes on currently. Plan B- Food Bribery.

The little boy had pulled back up to his full height, clutching the phone in his little hands, fingers white and pink at the tips as he stared down at it in horror. His massive pale blue eyes flicked between Rayleigh and the device as fat tears rolled tracks down his cheeks voicing his misery to the station. Rayleigh was about to make a move to do something, say something to try and ease a little of the heavy atmosphere, still finding his comforting voice that was lost somewhere in his confusion. This was fast turning into a situation that required damage control over any plan at all.

The boy spoke first, in person the stutter was more pronounced, the gap in his teeth adding an airy whistle to the panicked words. “IS-S your fault! I wasn’t g-gonna drop!” The tremble in his hands had infected his whole body now and he was shaking like a leaf, the phone threatening to drop from his grip a second time as if to prove his own words a lie. Rayleigh moved, knees protesting slightly as he dropped down into a crouch in front of the boy. The strain in his thighs reminded him of that morning's activities. The second time had been frankly excessive and his husband was not getting anywhere close to under his clothes for the foreseeable future, Rayleigh cursed him out in his head.

On a construction site, a short train ride away, Roger shivered, feeling suddenly a little less jovial than he did a moment before.

“It’s not a problem now, who is to say that it was not like that when you found it. How good you were to call me when you found the phone.” Rayleigh managed, pulling the gentle words out of his ass. He reached out slowly not to frighten the skittish boy and gently supported the hands with his own, guaranteeing that the phone could not clatter to the floor a second time. In his large palms the hands felt tiny, cold and slightly sticky, nothing new unfortunately. The boy did not pull back right away which was always promising and Rayleigh gave those small hands a gentle encouraging squeeze.

The boy's head jerked up to blink owlishly at him through his tears, the frown on his face wobbling with confusion, probably considering how dumb this grown man was to give him an out like that. He nodded anyway, slow and then a little faster, tangles of blue flying around his face. Rayleigh offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile with no traces of the panic flushing through his system.

“I was thinking, as thanks, I could get you something to eat, there’s a place down the street. It’s a little loud here. How will we discuss your reward?” Rayleigh tried, Plan B was brilliant, how could it fail?

“I-I didn’t mean t-to steal,” the boy sniffed, pulling back a hand to wipe his nose with the back of his sleeve. “We, I- just need the money.” Rayleigh bit his tongue before he could say something unhelpful like yes, that is generally what stealing is, however he didn’t think that it would help his current situation. Plan B couldn’t fail, he didn’t have another one.

“That's quite alright sweetheart, how about if I get the phone then you get lunch AND the money you want? He tried again with an encouraging nod of his own head. The boy seemed to consider his proposition, big eyes searching Rayleigh's face for any sign of lying. He must have seen something he liked because as the remaining small hand pulled away from him, the phone was left behind.

“Can I have this?” He asked gently and the boy nodded, eyes still huge. Rayleigh lifted the phone in his grip, studying the spiderweb pattern across the screen. It seemed Rogers' phone was not blessed with whatever stupid indestructible energy his husband carried through life. He drew his thumb across the splintered glass and was greeted with a photo he had not seen before of him sleeping, hair splayed over Rogers chest in their bed.

Perfect.

He resisted the urge to punt the thing into the nearest wall and instead shoved the damn thing in his pocket out of the way so he could focus on just the boy alone. He needed to tempt the other little one out of hiding somehow, or get Blue to give it up, as it was looking like he was only taking one child to lunch which wouldn’t do.

“C-Cake?” The small voice asked, wet and raw, he seemed hopeful at the prospect of sugar. Rayleigh couldn’t even begin to consider a no, he’d scrounge the money to buy the little guy a whole bakery at this point if he could. Maybe he still would.

“Cake sounds like a good idea, sweetheart. But don’t you think that your friend might want some too?” The push was worth a shot if he could get what he needed out of it. It was sort of like trying to coax a stray cat into letting you pet its ears, a slow process of trust. Boys like this were all skittish whiskers and big eyes, one wrong noise and they’d bolt under the nearest metaphorical sofa.

The boy didn’t answer him, just staring with those bug eyes until the intense gaze flickered sideways for a moment.

There. A movement behind a row of benches. Rayleigh caught a glimpse of small fingers and a mop of red hair disappearing behind one of the train station pillars. He knew there were two, had heard the squabbling on the phone, but seeing it made this whole thing a little more real.

“Is he scared?” Rayleigh asked gently, still not rising from the crouch despite the small ache in his thighs, choosing not to point out that the little blue boy was also still pretty scared himself.

“N-no,” The wild-haired boy said immediately, confidently, but he wilted soon afterwards, sighing like all the bluster had been drained from his body just as fast. “Yes.”

He would ask the difficult questions when these boys had food in their bellies and they were surrounded by less crowds to disappear into if he hit a sore spot. He needed to ask about parents, about why they were out here alone. From his work he knew that the story wasn’t likely simple or pleasant but if there was anything good left in the world, maybe at least one of the boys had something kind or warm waiting for them.

“Okay,” he said, gentle but steady, “listen to me. I’m going to help you. Both of you. But I need you to bring your friend over so I can talk to him too. Can you do that?”
The boy hesitated, shifted from one foot to the other in an odd little nervous dance, but then he nodded before scurrying away towards the pillar. Rayleigh watched, nerves bubbling up in his chest as he watched carefully to see if they were both going to bolt. He took the moment alone to finally stand up, feeling old with the way his knees creaked in protest of crouching for so long. Why was it that kids were so small?

A moment later Blue returned, dragging a second child by the wrist. This one looked angrier, cornered, cheeks bright red, eyes darting between Rayleigh and every potential escape route. He slipped behind his friend like he could hide behind him. A matching set, Red and Blue, both a little dirty, both small and too scared to be on their own.

Rayleigh gave his best warm smile, scratching a hand through his beard. Channelling all his experience into the next few hours of his life was going to be tiring, having to be so diplomatic and careful with everything was never easy when it was much easier to want to scream, cry and curse the world for putting kids in these situations.

But, for the first time he wasn’t with these kids for work, wasn’t around for a job, and he didn’t have to do it the proper, exhausting way. His professional smile slipped into something wider, full of teeth and scrunched laugh lines. It was a genuine thing built from years of having a husband whose love felt like sunshine and laughter. Maybe a dose of that kind of love wouldn’t be so bad for these kids.

“I’m Rayleigh, you must be the diplomat I spoke to on the phone?” He addressed the red-head trying to make himself small enough to hide himself behind his friend's back. In response he received two twin head tilts of confusion that struck his heart like lightning.

“Diplosplat?” Red repeated, completely incorrectly. Rayleigh nodded anyway despite himself, now didn’t seem like the best time for a grammar lesson. It could wait for now. “I’m not one of those, I’m Shanks.” He added after a moment of consideration. In response Blue whirled round hissing curses at a child that size shouldn’t know, apparently Red had forgotten they’d agreed previously to anonymity for this endeavor. Amusing considering their unique little colour schemes made them memorable enough as it was.

“Ah, ah, enough of that. It’s my pleasure to meet you Shanks.” And Rayleigh felt something that had been stretched thin for a long time snap with those words. It really felt special to be trusted with even a name. “Both of you.” He spoke with a confidence he hoped wouldn’t frighten them off, “Come here.”

Shanks flinched backwards, “No!” Separating himself from his brother a little with a startled look clouding his young features.

But the blue-haired boy took a step forward, just an inch, biting down into the soft pink of his bottom lip. Soft blue doe eyes locked with Rayleigh's and he offered an encouraging nod. As if he had been given the permission he needed he stumbled the rest of the way until he collapsed against Rayleigh with a small, shuddering sob. Rayleigh wrapped an arm around to pull him closer, already feeling the wetness as he moved his hand to pet gently at the tangle of long hair on his head.

Shanks was watching, and Rayleigh raised his other hand offering the space there, he hesitated a second more, then followed like gravity itself was pulling him in. A small ‘oof’ escaped his chest as the boy practically threw himself the rest of the way into his legs. He wrapped the other arm around him and tugged them both closer. Children didn’t cling like that unless they were starved for safety. And Rayleigh, God help him, had never been able to turn away from that.

“It’s alright, yeah, that’s right.” He soothed in a whisper, “I’ve got you now, you’re safe. I promise.”

A promise he had no intention of breaking. But looking down at the tops of their scruffy heads he found himself feeling a little out of his depths for the first time. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Yet this feeling in this exact moment was something he wouldn’t shake for an awfully long time.

He just stood, letting them both tremble and whine into him like he could absorb up all those negative feelings and take them away.

“I was thinking cake sounds good right now, what do you guys think?” He prompted and was not surprised when he felt nods of affirmative and small happy sounds from both boys. So he took that as the cue to pull back, unwinding his arms and instead holding them out. He was stared at, then both boys looked at each other as if they could communicate something between them with no words. In unison he felt two smaller hands on his own and he felt winded all over again when Shanks smiled and pressed himself into his side. Not to be outdone little Blue pushed against his leg squeezing back with what Rayleigh could only assume was all of his might.

Cake it is.

Plan B worked. Miraculously. Brilliantly. Disastrously. He’d figure out which one later.

Chapter Text

Let Them Eat Cake

Rayleigh had underestimated something incredibly important; turns out no matter how small two traumatised boys looked, they were not nearly as light as he imagined. He was suddenly incredibly jealous of his husband's raw strength as he was certain in this situation Roger would probably be able to lift them both with one arm alone. No matter how incredibly attractive that mental image was, all Rayleigh felt in the current moment was rage that he was just walking around not using that raw strength for good. That good being carrying two boys he’d never met down the street to a cafe, obviously. His legs were certain to bruise where little feet in little trainers kept kicking and his arms burnt from supporting the weight on both of his hips.

He only had himself to blame, when Blue had spotted a dog across the street and broken from his grip to run himself straight into the road he had scooped him up to avoid having a second heart attack. He hadn’t considered this meant that both arms had to be full to avoid Shanks feeling left out.

Rayleigh took a slow breath.
He needed to call Roger.
He also needed to not do it while holding two trembling children, one of whom kept twisting the fabric of his coat like he was trying to wring water out of it. With the muscles of his arms burning the way they were it was really only a matter of time until he fucked up and dropped one of them onto the pavement.

He relented. Pausing at a street corner, to bounce both of them for a second, bending down to place them both on their feet. They both immediately clung to him like a mismatched velcro set. Shanks gripped the side of Rayleigh’s coat so tightly the fabric might never recover on one side. The blue-haired boy, meanwhile, stuck to his leg like a shadow, occasionally sniffing in a way that made Rayleigh wonder if he was fighting the urge to cry again or if that was simply his idle setting.

“Alright, loves,” he murmured, guiding them toward a quieter patch of wall off the main street. “Nobody moves from this spot. Deal?”

Little Blue scowled, stomping his feet, “You said cake!” The temper came on quick, out of nowhere, like he couldn’t quite manage the size of his own tidal wave emotions. Rayleigh placed a hand on that little matted head again in what he hoped was a grounding motion.

“Cake is still on, but I just need to make a phone call first.” He replied, scratching at the blue hair.

On his other side, he heard Shanks clear his throat, wriggling, “adults are always making phone calls.” He was looking up at him with a question in his eyes, but behind that there was a hint of mistrust.

“Yes,” Rayleigh said with all the dignity of a man who had been threatened by two kids under the age of 6 not even forty minutes ago, “and it is rarely fun.”

The boys seemed to accept this, leaning round him to share that weird, wordless communication between each other again. Once the discussion of intense eye contact seemed to come to a close, they both nodded their little heads at each other before turning back to look up at Rayleigh, giving him his very own nod. He’d been given permission then, good.

He fished his own phone out of his coat pocket, stifling a laugh at the fact that he was now walking around with three different phones like some wannabe drug dealer. He couldn’t call Roger, on account of the third phone in his pocket, but luckily enough he knew of an equally large annoyance that was never too far away from his husband during working hours.

The phone only had to ring once, of course the bastard wasn’t actually doing any work, he had to pull the device from his ear a little bit at the volume.

“Hello! This is Gaban speaking, if you are calling about that pipe explosion, that was not my fault! Please direct all further enquiries to 090347578XX.” Yeah, of course that was Roger's number, realistically Rayleigh was just impressed he’d committed it to memory.

“Gaban. Why are you like this?” He sighed, feeling even more exhausted all of a sudden.

“Oh! Rayleigh!” Gaban said brightly over the drilling in the background, as if Rayleigh was an unexpected treat in his day rather than a man desperately trying not to commit a crime. “It’s good to hear from you!”

Rayleigh pressed his lips together. “I need to talk to my idiot, I have two children here who were holding his phone for ransom.” Cutting right to the chase seemed like the best way to deal with this, Gaban would talk his ear off if he let him.

There was a long pause.

“Is this a sex thing?” Gaban asked finally.

“What? No!” Rayleigh hissed, covering the speaker hoping that the young ears weren’t sharp enough to catch what was being said in the call.

“Okay, okay,” Gaban said, offended that he even had to clarify, “only the last time you called sounding this stressed it WAS a sex thing.”

Rayleigh glared at nothing in particular because Gaban was not here to strangle to death. “I’ve just left the train station with two small, terrified children who attempted organised crime, Gaban. Please, focus.”

“Oi, Spence, cut that shit off a sec.” He heard in the background, rustling and then the drill in the background silenced. “Oh, yeah, I’m focused,” Gaban hissed. Then, after a beat, “Impressive negotiations I’m sure, Rog would’ve given them the phone, then his wallet and then probably the clothes off his back.”

Rayleigh scoffed, petting both of the boys like they were big cats that might calm him down and give him the strength to get through this day. “Just go and get Roger, please.” He spoke through his gritted teeth, jaw clenched.

He heard Gaban roar for Roger over the line as per the normal civilised nature of one of his husband's construction sites. Not even 60 seconds later the deep boof of Roger’s voice in the background of the call as he questioned why his work had been interrupted.

A short conversation took place between the two men and then- “Tell the kids Uncle Gaban says crime doesn’t pay unless you’re very committed!” Louder into the mic until the phone was yanked from the man's hands followed by a yelp.

“Angel, baby, sunshine, love of my life.” Roger crooned, it was less effective muddled behind the tinny speakers. The normal flood of relief from hearing his husband's voice after a long day was circumvented by the small bodies clutching to him.

“I’ve got two children with me,” Rayleigh said quietly. “Alone, no guardian in sight. I need you to come here.” He tried not to sound as pathetic as he felt, which was ridiculous, he was a grown man who had seen the worst of people. All he wanted right now was to not feel so alone in this, and maybe not have to carry another child.

Oh he had never been more grateful for his stupid husband, a man who didn’t question him, just jumped without question. “I’m coming, I’m coming now.” Roger agreed, right away.

“When’s your next train?” Rayleigh asked instead of explaining anything further.

There was a clatter. Some rustling. A distant, muffled coworker asking why Roger was running.

“Three minutes!” Roger shouted, clearly already taking off towards the station nearest to the worksite he was on.

“Baby, it’s not your phone.” He warned, pretty convinced Roger would run with it all the way to the station if he wasn’t told.

“Aw hell, Fuck GABS! CATCH! Bye love, wait for me!” Roger rushed before the call disconnected, the beeps signalling the end of the chaos.

Rayleigh sighed, resisting the urge to collapse to the ground. “Alright then,” he murmured, “we wait.”

Blue tugged his sleeve, reminding him that he had more important things to do than a breakdown, “Cake?”

“Yes, sweetheart. But cake only after Roger gets here, he’d be sad if we got cake without him”

Shanks huffed at this from his side, tugging on the other sleeve to get the attention. “Is he weird?”

Rayleigh considered lying. He really did. “Yes.” He decided on, defeated. Though both boys surprised him, accepting this and nodding like it explained everything. Fueled by the fact the boys were still here despite being told they would have to wait for the promised cake he risked the next question, “Will you come with me to meet him?”

“I ‘pose” Shanks spoke and it sounded something like sweet relief to Rayleigh's ears.

So like that they backtracked, this time with an important lesson learnt and he was not letting go. Two small little sweaty hands in his he walked back down the street, only stopping once to snarl at a man who had the nerve to comment on Blue’s hair.

It wasn’t long after they arrived at Platform 4 that the next train screeched into the station, brakes hissing. Commuters spilled out in waves and Rayleigh tugged both boys a little closer as office workers and tired students came spilling out of the carriages. Shanks pointed at a particularly tired looking man who seemed to be searching for something, “did I find him?” Like he was playing a really strange game of Where’s Waldo where he had no idea what Waldo looked like.

Rayleigh was just about to tell little Red how wrong he was when the very topic of conversation came barrelling through the crowd.

His high-vis vest fluttering behind him, helmet under his arm, boots untied, the picture of a blue-collar adonis. Oh, he really loved him, a warm gooey feeling eased the panic he’d been operating on since the initial phone call.

Roger grinned, rabid, when he spotted Rayleigh and the kids and swiveled in place to barrel towards them.

“BABE!” Roger boomed.

Blue flinched so hard he nearly climbed Rayleigh’s leg.

“Inside voice,” Rayleigh hissed, catching Roger by the front of his vest so he didn’t knock them both over.

Roger lowered his volume to something only slightly below jet-engine level. “Are these,” he gestured at the boys with a flourish, “the small criminals?”

“They are children, Roger.” Rayleigh snapped, and oh they really looked like babies now his husband was here further dwarfing them in size.

“Right, right, the small children,” he corrected immediately, bear paw rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hi.”

Shanks stared up at him like he’d just encountered a very large, very stupid woodland creature as Blue moved to hide behind Rayleigh’s legs, peeking out with huge watery eyes.

Roger softened instantly. He crouched slowly, big hands resting on his knees, helmet clattering to the ground by his feet. “Hey, little dudes.” Even crouched to their height Rayleigh couldn’t help but think how ridiculously large he looked, and yet the toothy smile and kind eyes would struggle to strike fear into anyone.

When he got no response Roger tilted his head up to Rayleigh, brows furrowed in concern, “They’re really small, why are they so small?” He asked, only neither of the men expected the reaction that followed. Shanks dealt a swift kick to Roger’s knee closest to him, clearly not holding back. His face screwed up and red as he scurried behind Rayleigh to join his partner in crime.

“Stop calling us small!” He hissed, clearly feeling brave again now he was stationed behind the blond man. Rogers' smile never faulted and immediately he made a show of rubbing at the spot dramatically.

“Hell of a kick you have on you li-” caught himself wide eyed and corrected- “big guy.”

Shanks wiggled at the sentiment and Rayleigh's shoulders dropped in relief. He should know by now not to doubt Roger, despite all his bluster, compassion ran thick through his blood.

“We were going to get cake.” Rayleigh explained, catching his partner up now he was less outnumbered.

Both boys perked up at the reintroduction of cake and so did his largest kid. “Ooh! Cake!” Somehow sounding more excited than either of the boys had at the prospect.

So they left the train station for the second time that day. Initially Rayleigh took each of their hands, one small palm in each of his much bigger ones whilst Roger hovered behind them like an overeager bodyguard. However not long after getting onto the street Shanks became bored with this setup and decided he was brave enough to poke the bear they’d acquired, probably feeling emboldened by his powerful kick earlier.

This turned quickly into the red head hanging off one of Roger's arms, being swung forwards and backwards like a fleshy swingset. Rayleigh had the decency to be concerned about health and safety, running risk assessments in his head but then the boy began to laugh. The giggle was followed by a squeal and an ear splitting smile as Roger grabbed him with his other arm and swung him up and round to plant him on his shoulders. The display of strength was nothing short of impressive but Rayleigh had other things on his mind now that Shanks was burying one hand in his husband's hair whilst the other was reaching towards a street lamp metres higher than him. “I’m so TALL.” He wheezed with another laugh.

Rayleigh didn’t let himself get distracted for long, turning to check on the other boy who was still gripping his hand, asking gently “Would you like a turn, Blue?”

The boy replied quickly, “B-buggy. I’m Buggy.” He stared as Roger ran forward, hands holding onto Shanks’ little knees to keep him secure, letting the boy tug his hair and turn him one way and then the other, snaking them across the pavement. Buggy’s complexion went practically white at the sight and clutched Rayleigh’s hand a little tighter, “D-do I have to? I don’t want to d-die.” He whispered, worrying his lip into his mouth.

“No. No. You can stay with me, that’s okay too.” Rayleigh answered quickly, a fond throb in his chest. Buggy nodded, pressing closer as they continued to walk together.

As they reached the cafe, Roger ducked and pulled Shanks from his shoulders by his waist, dropping him at the door. Rayleigh let go of Buggy’s hand so he could catch up to his friend as Roger leaned over them both to push open the door.

The bell chimed as they entered the small establishment but the kids were paused in the entryway. Buggy’s mouth was a little open in awe but Shanks' entire body was tilting forward like a compass needle being dragged by a magnet. Rayleigh placed hands on their shoulders to guide them towards the display cabinets, giving them both the little nudge they needed.

“You can pick anything you like, just let me know.” He said, making eye contact with the younger girl behind the counter and raising a hand in greeting. The boys looked overwhelmed but Buggy had begun to point out things, face practically pressed against the glass as he murmured things to Shanks who already seemed to be fixated on a large strawberry cake.

​​The girl behind the counter smiled nervously at the unusual group. “Uh, will the little ones be sharing?”

“No way,” Shanks snapped, eyes not leaving the cake he appeared to have pledged allegiance to.

“Separate,” Blue echoed, with the seriousness of a diplomat negotiating international food rights.

“Separate it is,” the girl said quickly, and plated up the cake slice that Shanks was jabbing his finger at the glass to get. Buggy was struggling to pick between a fancy looking tart and a rich looking chocolate cake, eyes darting between the two before he stabbed the glass at the tart. It looked sour and Rayleigh thought it was a terrible pick for a child but didn’t want to undermine his choice. Roger pointed at the slice of chocolate cake that Buggy had been considering and ordered it for himself.

They settled into a booth in the back to wait for the deserts to come over. Buggy slid in beside Rayleigh immediately and Shanks followed, shoulder pressed into Rayleigh’s arm like he was claiming territory. Roger sat across from them, knees hitting the table because the booth really was not made for men his size. Now sat, they just basked in the quiet before the cake arrived.

As the plates were placed down both boys' eyes went wide as the saucers the food was on. They froze, hands hovering over the cake like they weren’t sure whether they were allowed. Shanks stared at his slice with the desperate suspicion of someone who had only ever been told no.

“Go on,” Rayleigh encouraged softly.

Shanks took a tiny bite. Moaned excitedly and then took another and another. Buggy watched for a moment before taking a bite of his own, only the reaction was not as positive, wincing a little as he chewed and chewed on the single bite, forcing himself to swallow. Rayleigh watched as the boy became watery eyed, staring at Shanks with thinly veiled jealousy who was shovelling his own cake into his mouth. Buggy, not wanting to seem ungrateful went to force another bite into his mouth when Roger leaned over the table and pulled the plate from him. Rayleigh was about to say something, shout at his husband as Buggy’s watery eyes threatened to cry.

Roger, who hadn’t touched his own cake, pushed his plate towards Buggy wordlessly. Picking up what was left of the tart he shoved the whole thing in his mouth chewing messily.

Shanks was busy with his dessert as tears began to roll down little Blues cheeks fork raising and spooning Roger’s chocolate cake into his mouth. He nodded, excited, and soon was picking up speed to match the other boy.

‘Thank you’ Ray mouthed over the table, and Roger beamed around his mouthful of tart.

Shanks was the first to slow down. Not because he wasn’t hungry anymore, Rayleigh could tell the boy would eat the plate itself if given the chance, but because he was watching Buggy now whilst pushing bits of cake around.

Rayleigh sighed and shifted slightly, letting Shanks lean more comfortably against his chest. “Enjoyed the cake?” he asked gently.

Buggy nodded and Shanks stared at his plate. “It was good.”

“Yeah,” Rayleigh agreed softly. “This place makes very good cakes.” The conversation felt stilted all of a sudden, he wasn’t sure what exactly to say.

Shanks hesitated and then revealed, “we don’t get cake at home.”

Rayleigh’s heart clenched, but he kept his expression soft. Neutral. Safe.

“You two live together?” he asked gently. An easy question. Low stakes.

Both boys shook their heads at the exact same time, like rattling bobbleheads. “No,” Buggy said and they both began to squirm in their seats.

Rayleigh’s voice stayed warm. “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

They looked at him again, really stared, like they were studying the shape of honesty on his face. Shanks swallowed. “We met in the place.”

Rayleigh waited, not adding anything or risking things if the boys were feeling brave, Buggy leaned forward a little. “T-the kids’ p-place.”

Ah. A children’s home.

Something in Rayleigh’s stomach dropped. “Did you live there long?” he asked softly.

Shanks shook his head just as Buggy nodded. They both glared at each other, then continued in a disorganised duet:
“He came after me-”
“He was there before-”
“I only got there a little-”
“You were crying a lot-”
“So were you-”
“No I wasn’t-”

Rayleigh held up a hand gently. “One at a time, please.”

They froze. Looked at each other before they nodded seriously.

Shanks spoke first. “I lived there a long time. Before him.” He gestured at Buggy, whose scowl had softened into something smaller. “He came after.”

Buggy swung his legs under the booth. “T-they put me there like… A b-bit ago.”

“Why?” Roger asked before Rayleigh could stop him with a glare.

“M-mama couldn’t…” He chewed on his lip, searching for a word. “Keep.” He looked at Shanks, helpless. “She, s-she said I couldn’t stay n-no more. N-not enough, we didn’t h-have enough.”

Rayleigh felt the air thicken, he exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. Both of you.”

Buggy looked away sharply, jaw clenched. “’s fine.” Shanks shook his head and spoke, “no. It’s not.”

Rayleigh waited. He wasn’t sure he was breathing. Buggy’s voice was tiny at his side, “we ran away.”

Shanks stabbed at a crumb with unnecessary force. “We were gonna get in trouble. They were splitting us up. I was gonna go somewhere else. Far.”

Buggy huffed, “D-didn’t wanna be alone.”

Roger’s heart broke loudly enough that Rayleigh thought he could feel it, though he wasn’t certain that it wasn’t his own heart in his chest he could hear.

Rayleigh steadied his breath. “So you two just left.”

“Not left,” Shanks corrected. “Escaped.”

He looked back at the boys, “does the home know you’re missing?”

Blue shrugged helplessly. “W-we don’t know. W-we ran. And then the train came. A-and then… then we saw lots of p-people and… and…” His breathing hitched.

Shanks responded, fierce, protective. “We went together. We stick together.”

Rayleigh’s chest tightened because he knew this story. He’d heard versions of it too many times, different names, faces, different bruises, yet always the same hollow ache. Children would build families out of scraps, out of anything and everything they had because the world hadn’t given them one. He knew, deep down, that there was far more that he was missing from their stories. Kids didn’t just run for no reason at all, not unless what they knew was far worse than what they feared in the unknown.

Rayleigh couldn’t find his words, lost in all the worst case scenario case files he’d lived through. All the reports he’d had to write around tears. But he’d called, it wasn’t just him, and where he failed Roger was always there to hold them both up.

“Feels good. Having someone, yeah?” He smiled, having finally swallowed that tart, Rayleigh wanted to dust the crumbs out of his moustache. “Once you find your people, you gotta keep em close, keep them safe, that's what matters. Seems like you boys are on the right track.” Both children were nodding along like Roger was saying something profound.

And for the first time since the phone rang hours ago, Rayleigh felt something settle into place.

Something that wasn’t even a plan at all, but something more distinctly family shaped.

Chapter Text

Breathe

Rayleigh always woke first, his husband doubled as a furnace most nights. He’d wake up always slightly too warm, always slightly squished under a hairy arm. However routine, even as consistent as it often is, is not made to last forever. 

Rayleigh was not the first awake in his home on this morning in particular, what let him know as much was the startling crash echoing round the house from down the hall. He bolted awake, blinking into the dark of his bedroom with a muffled gasp of surprise. Roger as always a warm weight against his side, a large tanned arm blanketted across his waist, a snoring rock of a man. It took moments for him to pull together his bearings, jumpstart his brain into processing earlier than it would like. He craned his head, the clock blinked a neon red 03:46 back at him from the bedside table. He groaned, ran a hand through his sleep tangled hair and prepared for the mountain of a day ahead. 

Rayleigh was not the first awake because one room away Shanks blinked himself awake half an hour earlier. He woke quiet, the same quiet that had blanketed his sleep. It was the first thing he noticed, no shouting, no doors slamming, no crying. His heart jackrabbitted in his chest the same as always when he didn’t know where he was yet. 

He lay stone still, he knew well enough that moving was how you got noticed.

So he focused on breathing, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Counting like he would do with Buggy when neither of them could chase off the panic, mumbling numbers through jagged breath. One, two. There was no peeling paint on the ceiling. Three, four. The pillows felt plump and soft against his head. Five, six. A small blue light bathed the room from a nightlight plugged into a socket by the door, it was shaped like a small boat. Seven, eight. He was warm, swaddled in a fluff of blankets and duvet. Nine, ten. Buggy. 

Buggy. 

Shanks turned his head just enough to see him. Buggy was curled up close, hair sticking out in all directions and fanned across the pillow. His hands were pink knuckled clutching to a green blanket, and his mouth was open enough to be drooling slightly. Nothing bad had happened, not yet. Still, Shanks stayed still until his chest stopped hurting, till the knot eased to an ache. 

Everything still felt wrong, like the world had become soft at the edges. He wanted to itch staring at the bare walls and clean floor, clenched his teeth when he realised the door had no lock, the windows weren’t latched or barred. 

It felt like a place for waiting, another thing to lose. 

He squirmed from under the blanket cage and swiveled till he was sat, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Slipping onto the capet he was quiet and careful, mindful not to wake Buggy or the adults in the house. The door was closed, no lock, he noted. Shanks tiptoed over to the window, pressing his face against the glass to stare out into the dark night. Second floor, jumpable, maybe, Buggy would cry. 

Shanks met this idea with a frown, he had promised Buggy that he wouldn’t make him cry anymore. Not when they were free. 

Shanks wasn’t sure what freedom was exactly, maybe like the birds in the sky or the feeling of driving at night and the lights blur and blur till the world feels all smudged and fast and magic. Buggy once told him under their blanket that he thought maybe freedom was when his Mom brushed his hair and kissed his head and called him beautiful, in those moments he felt like he could fly. Shanks couldn’t imagine it really, and when he brushed Buggy’s hair he always complained about tugging and would whine the whole time so they didn’t do that anymore.

Buggy on a different night under the same blanket told him that his Mom would sometimes go to sleep for a long time, or get too loud and throw things around. That she didn’t come home all the time or sometimes she came home with people that meant he had to go and lock himself into the closet and not come out till he was told. Shanks wasn’t so sure a Mom was worth it they hurt like that. It didn’t sound free at all. But he couldn’t tell Buggy, especially not when he smiled and spoke about love, Shanks didn’t know love so maybe that was it. 

He was staring though the glass, watching as his breath left fog against the surface and clouded his view of the sky, when Buggy stirred as though woken by Shanks very thoughts of him. 

He never learnt to be still, be quiet and unnoticed, and he woke like he always did with a whine and a stretch. Sunbathing cat on a window ledge, arms stretched and fingers flexed. The calm lasted for a second, then Buggys eyes shot open and the flailing began. Shanks couldn’t move quick enough to bundle him up into his arms like normal and before he reached the bed Buggy had tossed over and practically thrown himself off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor. He hit the ground with a thud that seemed to bounce off the walls. Despite the door being closed, Shanks flinched as he imagined the sound echoing like a bullet down the hallway. Numbly he was aware of Buggy scrambling to his feet on the other side of the bed. He turned so till they were staring at each other for a moment, all big eyed with fear dilated pupils.

Then Buggy’s tears started, a hiccupping breath dragged from his chest, hands scrambling to pull at his clothes. “S-Shanks-“ he garbled, voice breaking as his composure smashed all over the unfamiliar bedroom floor. Shanks’ toes curled into the carpet and shoulders raised defensively, prepared for what came next. 

Buggy wailed. Big crybaby tears, all pink cheeks and sad eyes. It happened a few early mornings a week without fail. Shanks finally spurred into action and dashed around the bed, almost falling into Buggy to clutch at his shoulders. His small fingers dug into bony shoulders, “I’m here. I’m here.” He mumbled, still frightened of filling the silent house with noise, “I’m here Blue, Stop.” 

In response he got a whimper, his breathing wet and voice torn open, “We’re late, we’re l-late.” He sucked in air so desperately it whistled. “They’re g-gonna be so m-mad.” 

Shanks used the grip on his shoulders to pull him in close, pressing their foreheads together so the room couldn’t exist anymore, just them. He swallowed the lump in his throat, he had to hold himself together because they couldn’t both fall apart here. “Listen. Listen Buggy. We’re not there.” His voice low and urgent.

Didn’t help. Buggy wheezed and cried harder, like it was the worst thing that Shanks could have said. “I-I don’t know this place.” 

Shanks swallowed again, searching his friends face, his bottom lip was trembling because Buggy wasn’t wrong. They didn’t know where they were anymore. Train station, street, cafe, car, house and then this room. Shanks was too tired, too distracted to track the turns, if they ran he didn’t know how they would get back to where they were. He wanted to cry too, wanted to be held up for once. But he couldn’t, not now, one of them had to hold them both up. 

“No. But we’re not there. We didn’t get caught yet. We didn’t get split.” Shanks forced his voice steady. 

Buggy made a tiny wounded noise, like he’d been punched but fell forward into Shanks to wind his fingers into his shirt. “Promise?”

Shanks had to hesitate, focusing on the blood rushing in his ears that was drowning out the sniffling cries. But he was nodding before he could overthink it too hard, moving his arms to wrap around Buggy and squeeze him gently. “Promise.”

That was when the floorboards outside the room creaked, and a soft knock came from the door, as if Shanks had summoned it. 

Buggy seized up, frozen. The whimpering sobs cutting out, body stiff like a frightened animal, eyes wide and terrified. He twisted in Shank’s grip, fingers clawing at his arms to break the hug so he could get behind him. 

“No.” He hissed, “N-no, no.” Shanks couldn’t move, he didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless. So he stared at the handle of the door as though he could will it to stay closed, unlock a super power and finally, reliably keep them both safe. 

The door didn’t open. Instead a soft voice rang through the wood, “Hey, ah, are you two alright?” 

Rayleigh. 

Shanks eyes never left the door but he could see Buggy in his peripheral shaking his head furiously again, and again. His fingers clutched in Shanks shirt so hard the material was threatening to rip under his blunt nails. He was wheezing something through his laboured breathing but Shanks couldn’t quite make out the words over the roaring in his own ears. 

He had to keep it together, he clenched his jaw and balled his fists tight. Stepping forward to put himself completely in front of the door and Buggy, shoulders squared in a way that no six year old should have to learn. He was braced for a shove, a punch, a grab. “He’s scared.” Shanks voice was loud, confident, the wobble betrayed him. “You gotta wait.” 

There was a pause, the door seemed to loom. 

Then it was Rayleighs voice again, it sounded just the same as yesterday, gentle and even. Most of the monsters came out at night and yet Rayleigh didn’t sound very monstrous at all. “Okay, yeah okay.” He spoke, “I can wait.” 

The handle didn’t turn. The door never opened.

Buggy broke out into a new wave of sobs behind him and Shanks turned quickly to let him bury himself into his chest. Having something to hold onto made him feel a little more solid too. 

On the other side of the door Rayleigh hadn’t left, on a technicality waiting did not mean leaving. He could hardly crawl into bed with Roger now, go back to sleep and pretend, so he sank down outside the door. 

He stayed there. 

Inside the spare room he could hear it, the sound of wet cries buried in fabric. His stomach sank the longer he endured it, he placed his hand on the flat of the door, closed his eyes and let the noise sink right into his psyche. 

He had heard the sound before, too many times. In flats with empty walls and full sinks, in childrens bedrooms that smelt of rot and fear. In his own car, in the back seat, when a child finally realised that nothing would ever be the same again. When they called for the parents that had let them down, or broke down just because they were told they could. 

He leaned to rest the back of his head against the wood, and tried not to think about all of the things that he should be doing. 

Call it in. 

Log the incident, he hadn’t written any notes, he hadn’t penned a single report. 

Maintain professional distance. 

He thought about how many times he had reassured himself that the system is what keeps children safe, he remembered how many times he had handed back a child to a place that looked acceptable on paper and prayed it would be enough. Yet here he was, breaking his own rules to give them both a night of rest. 

Minutes passed, time felt both slow and fast sitting there, pressed against a closed door listening to two little children convince themselves that the world was not going to end tonight. 

Eventually the murmuring and crying shifted, not gone but worn thin, the rain droplets after a long storm. He took the chance, making his voice as soft as he could manage, “I’m still here. Whenever you’re ready.” 

They didn’t respond, and he stayed there on the floor till his legs went numb. Stayed until there was no crying at all, and the sounds coming from the bedroom softened into something that sounded more like sleep. 

He stayed because leaving, even for a second, felt like the kind of mistake that he wouldn’t ever be able to take back. 

He lost track of time, eyes getting heavier as the minutes dripped by, there was no sound from the bedroom and yet his nerves still felt too frayed to truly relax. In the quiet silence the footsteps echoed down the hall, despite the fact he knew Roger was likely doing his best to tread lightly. 

He stopped a few feet away, just taking in the scene. Rayleigh’s head titled up from how it was slumped to meet his eyes, offering a small smile. As the sun was just starting to rise the light halo’d around his husband and even in his tired state he could appreciate a view. They existed in the quiet for a moment before Rayleigh spoke, “they woke up, scared.” 

Roger nodded once. 

Rayleigh dropped his head, “I couldn’t help.”

Roger’s jaw clenched.

He moved to a squat, one hand reaching out to tuck a loose hair behind Rayleigh's ear gently. “I woke up and realised you weren’t in bed, I figured something had happened, you could have woke me.” His tone wasn’t accusing, sitting somewhere between defeat and acceptance. Roger knew well how Rayleigh tended to shoulder everything on his own, push and push until things weighed him down enough and he was forced to break. Those were the nights where he would crawl into his lap and fall apart for a while, trusting his husband to hold him together through it. Roger wasn’t much of a talker, his love blossomed in the things he did, everything he showed, he struggled often to find the right words to make things right. 

“You did it right.” He said earnestly, smile soft, “showed ‘em you’ll keep your word.” 

Rayleigh shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders lifted slightly, the blanket of night felt less heavy now he wasn’t in it alone. The cries still echoed in his ears but as Roger adjusted and made himself comfortable criss-crossed on the carpet opposite it wasn’t so loud. 

“I figured trying to tempt you back to bed is a losing game so let me join you?” Roger teased, his smile wide under his ridiculous moustache. 

“You’ve already made yourself comfortable.” Rayleigh teased but was soon smiling softly to himself, “You always do this, you know?” 

“Do what?”

“Make things feel less heavy, just by being there.” 

Rogers' grin got wider. “Big shoulders,” he answered. “They’re good for holding things.” 

Rayleigh swallowed a laugh and a small huff escaped anyway, Roger had settled a little too far away so he had to shuffle forwards to land a punch on his arm. Roger’s smile never faltered as he grabbed the offending limb bringing it up to place a gentle kiss against the back of his hand. 

“We’ll figure it out, Ray. When it’s us, nothing is impossible.” So earnest, so sure, Rayleigh didn’t have it in him to doubt him. Maybe things would be clearer in the light of the morning. 

Until then they would have to wait.