Chapter Text
Ben stared out the car window, hand cradling his cheek as he watched his world slowly fall behind once more. Loneliness was eating his insides once again and he ripped his eyes away from the streets he had called home for a year - his longest record of a good stay. Of course it had to go wrong somewhere. Somehow he had messed up, just like always.
This was a pattern that was refusing to leave, a repeat of data that had been constant since he had begun being known as ‘that foster kid’. A family would welcome him into their home, it would be amazing and warm, everything he could ask for in a family shaped package. But then, inevitably, it would all go wrong and everything would turn cold.
The reasons were different every time, but the end result was the same. Ben would pack up his belongings, return things he might have borrowed in the hopes that this time - this time, it would all be different and that he would have more time than what he was given. Little trinkets that nobody would miss, painstakingly restored to their best condition, would find their way to the rooms of those fostering him. Just so that they would have a little sliver of his memory, something that would say - hey I was here, I lived here too. And when everything was packed, Mr. Miles - the social worker in charge of his case - would come pick him up in his old Ford Taurus that was reaching the end of it’s life cycle and then Ben would be on his way again, hoping for something different for a change.
So here he was, on his way to another inevitable disappointment. Ben watched as a Burger Blast outlet passed by, his eyes beginning to unfocus. What was the point? He’d just be shuffled out eventually. Maybe it would be better if he ran away and lived on the streets. Nobody could kick you out of a family then.
His stomach growled, as if to protest the idea. Ben remembered what everyone said about the homeless, how they were lucky to even get enough money to eat. The world was a very unforgiving one, and his stomach would never survive the journey. At least with the foster care system he got fed and watered, with a roof over his head for as long as he stayed.
The car was coming to a stop. Ben blinked, a hand absentmindedly going to his stomach as it rumbled again, quieter but more insistent. His chocolate eyes found the car clock and let out a sigh. It was 4:34, a little bit before dinner. No wonder his stomach was demanding to be fed and watered.
His eyes were drawn to the place they were pulling up to. It was an interesting house, large enough for a big family. A stab of worry hit Ben like a sledgehammer, taking his breath away. What if there were kids and the kids hated him? It had happened before, those were always the worst. It made for an uneasy time and he was usually booted out faster than if it were warm and stable.
There was another building to the side of the house, close enough that it was obvious that it was owned by the same person - family? Were there enough people that it was a family unit? Judging from the size of the two buildings, it was a family. The data wouldn’t make sense if there wasn’t a family unit running about.
Mr. Miles pulled into the driveway and Ben took in a shuddering breath. He had to make a good impression, he was already fourteen, four more years and he’d be booted out of the system with no support at all if everything kept going the way it had. His mind shied away from that thought with a shudder. It was his worst nightmare, being sent off into the wilds of adulthood with no guidance at all. It would be better if something just killed him instead.
“C’mon, Ben. Let’s go meet Mr. Pierson.” The social worker said, turning off his car with the removal of his keys. Ben gulped but grabbed his suitcase and nodded. A sick feeling churned in his stomach, anxiety reaching out to grab his shoulders with its horrid claws.
You’ll never have a family. The anxiety told him, but Ben tried to tune it out. Mr. Pierson will never love you. You’ll just go onto the next family, and the next and the next. You’ll be alone forever.
It was hard to ignore anxiety when it was repeating your darkest fears back at you. But Ben shouldered on and slipped out of the car despite his wobbly legs. He had to make a good impression, just incase this was going to turn out different. Mr. Miles put a hand on Ben’s back and gently guided him to up the steps and to the front door.
The three heavy knocks were loud enough to make Ben cringe. What if Mr. Pierson didn’t like loud noises and he got angry at Ben when Mr. Miles left? It had happened before, so the possibility wasn’t that far out. But Ben hoped all the same that it would be another good stay, that Ben could find a family. It was a small and fragile thing, this hope that his heart stubbornly clung on to. It was very easy to shatter, like a golden stained glass.
It was already so fractured, that if this stay ended in misery just like all the rest, then Ben would give up. It had been too long since he had a real home. His childhood had been ripped away and if he couldn’t find anything to keep him stable (warmth, love, someone who cared), then what was the point? If he just kept wandering from house to house, always becoming uprooted, then what was the point of growing roots in the first place?
The sound of a bolt unlocking made Ben’s hand tighten on the handle of his orange and yellow suitcase. His heart pounded. Here was the moment of truth. Would he have a home, in Mr. Pierson’s family? Or would he be tossed in the wind again come six months time? And then the door opened and Ben saw his newest foster parent for the first time.
The first thing Ben noticed was that the man was tall, tall and lanky. He was young, but not very old, maybe in his upper twenties, lower thirties? His long black hair was tied back in a low knot and he had mild laugh lines around his brown eyes. There was paint smudged on his cheek, giving him a mildly absentminded look to match the paint smeared clothing.
“Hello Mr. Pierson.” Mr. Miles greeted, holding his hand out.
Mr. Pierson startled slightly, as if remembering social conventions and gave an awkward laugh, taking the outstretched hand with his paint stained one and pumped it up and down twice before letting go. It was obvious that Ben’s new foster parent had all of his attention directed elsewhere. Worry churned in the boy’s guts. What if he didn’t care about Ben at all?
But that worry was quickly smothered when Mr. Pierson crouched down to Ben’s level. Inwardly the boy sulked at the unfairness of tall people. But strangely enough, Ben was pleased that the older man had done it at all. Too many people had looked down on him, like they weren’t worth the time they spent on him. To have a man he just met crouch so he could look directly at him, eye to eye, was a very gratifying thing.
“Hi Ben.” Mr. Pierson greeted, holding out his hand to shake. It looked kinda awkward. “You can call me Lee, no need to be super formal around here.”
Ben stared at Mr. Pierson-Lee’s hand for a full minute before beaming at the man, taking it and giving it a good vigorous shake. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Lee, sir.” He said, his fears slowly draining away at the easy manner that Lee spoke. He had a very nice deep voice.
Mr. Lee nodded at him, face solemn - as if they had completed a very serious ritual then got up to address Mr. Miles. Something inside Ben was beginning to settle and it was like a deep breath of fresh air after years of smog. It was a very relaxing feeling.
Mr. Miles was talking. “We’ll have a social worker coming around in a few months to check up on Ben…”
It was all stuff he had already heard what must have been a million times. So Ben did what was the reasonable thing for a bored teenager and pulled out his DS. The loading screen of the most recent game he had been playing quickly appeared and with the title music playing loud in his earbuds, Ben tuned out.
***
Lee Pierson was panicking. Why? Because he was going to be meeting the child he was to be the foster parent of and he had paint all over everything. Why he hadn’t followed the clock more closely was a loss to him and now he didn’t have time to clean up like he’d planned.
The time was running too fast, it was like he had blinked and it was suddenly afternoon instead of morning. Beside him, the metal cabinet started to rattle, forcing him to take a deep breath. The rattling subsided and Lee felt a dark scowl shade over his face.
Control. He had to have control. There would be a kid living with him, he could loose that control, else someone would get hurt. An innocent kid could get hurt. …Why did he think this was such a good idea again?
Lee shook his head, frown deepening. Stop that. He scolded himself. He was already committed, it would break the kid’s heart if he dropped out now. Besides, the paperwork had already been signed, it was too late. He was an official Foster Parent - capitals and everything.
Three loud knocks caused him to jump, hand over his racing heart. Lee closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose and out his mouth. Okay, you’ve got this. He coached, walking over to the door and unlatching the lock.
The mechanic looked down and saw the boy - a teenager really - with a heartbreakingly lonely expression on his face. His red hair had curls falling down onto his pale forehead, his glasses giving him a slightly studious edge to his face. His hand was clutching tightly to the old orange and yellow suitcase handle. It was probably the only thing he truly owned and Lee’s heart broke all over again over the child.
“Mr. Pierson.” The social worker said stiffly, hand outreached towards Lee. Lee gave a start, having forgotten that the man was even there. The hand hung there for a few seconds as the mechanic scrambled to get his wits about him.
“Mr. Miles.” He returned, giving the social worker’s hand a good firm shake. But all of his attention was on the boy, Ben. Ben, who looked lost and lonely and in need of a good home.
Lee hoped he could provide it for him. He wanted Ben to make his mark on his home, a home so very lonely for one person who had dreamed of running feet and laughter echoing around the halls. It was an impossible dream, or at least, that was what he had once thought. But dreams can often start small, and this one was just beginning to send it’s tender spouts up toward the sun.
Maybe one day, someone would call him Dad.
But that was far into the future, and Lee needed to focus in the now. It was time to make a good impression. The mechanic remembered a time when he had been that short, though he had been a far bit younger than Ben at the time, and how he had hated being looked down at. So instead of towering over him, he crouched down until he was eye level with the teen and held out his hand. His balance was nearly shot to oblivion and back but it was all worth it when Ben looked him straight in the eye, the sadness vanishing in a bright moment as the biggest smile grew upon his youthful face. It lit him up like a christmas tree, his brown eyes sparkling under those black frames of his.
Lee would always treasure that moment and tucked safely in his heart where a great many more beautiful Ben shaped pieces would slot into place, as if they had always belonged there since the beginning of time. And maybe Ben had.
Ben already had Lee’s heart wrapped around his nimble fingers and the child didn’t truly realize it. Lee would do anything to keep that bright smile on his face, would do anything to protect him from harm. Ben would be safe with him, for however long that would be (Lee hoped it would be forever but kept it to himself).
After shaking Ben’s hand, Lee stood up to go over any final concerns the Social Worker had. There was no real worry, just standard finalization questions. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee could see Ben tapping away at a rather beat up and scuffed gaming device. It looked rather well loved, despite all the dings and scratches it had acquired after so long of a transitionary lifestyle.
Eventually, the social worker nodded at Lee and Lee nodded back. The two men clasped hands a final time and Lee watched in relief as the man climbed into his old car and left, the engine giving off such a doubtful stutter that Lee knew without a doubt that Mr. Morris would be seeing a mechanic like himself or a car dealer for a new ride in the next month or so.
Lee turned to Ben, just barely able to hear the boy’s stomach snarling for sustenance. “Shall we go in?” he asked, nodding his head towards the inner sanctum of his home. Ben looked up at him, headphones in one hand. There was something in those brown depths that Lee couldn’t define, but it stole his breath away despite that.
A grin split Ben’s face into brightness once more. “Sure! I’m starving!” he said, a sense of cheer filling the void of awkwardness that being just barely acquainted brought.
Ben’s honesty startled a laugh out of the man and Lee held the door open for the kid to go in first. There was a bounce in Ben’s step. It was good to see.
Although… ‘Mr. Lee’? That was a new one. It wasn’t bad, just amusing.
***
Ben had decided five seconds in that Mr. Lee’s house was Awesome. It was large and clean, despite what the paint stains on the man’s clothes said. Maybe he was an artist and he had a studio. That would be awesome. Especially if he made comics. But that was probably a far off dream because artists who had paint on their whole body tended to be working with canvas.
The kitchen was brightly lit by wide open windows, sheer white curtains hung from the sides. The walls were a light beige and in the middle of it all, was a circular table made out of wood. Several tall chairs surrounded the table, as it was quite high.
There were practically stars in Ben’s eyes as he gazed at the place where he could be doing homework, eat snacks and simply hang around. It was like holy ground. The mecca of life. It was a place that held food.
Mr. Lee was already puttering around behind the granite countertop. “I hope you like turkey sandwiches, because there’s not that much in the fridge right now.”
Ben beamed at the man from where he sat at the table. “I love turkey!” he said. All food was equal in Ben’s eyes. No food was lesser than the other for they all filled his stomach equally. Amen. Food was a blessing, sent from above. Amen.
Mr. Lee relaxed. “Okay, we’ll have turkey sandwiches then.”
“Do you need any help, Mr. Lee?” Ben asked, swinging his feet in the air. These chairs really were as high as he’d thought. It was awesome.
“I’ve got it, Ben.” Mr. Lee said, with a huff that must have been laughter. “Do you want any tomatoes or lettuce?”
Oooooh this was nice. It was a fancy turkey sandwich. “Sure! Do you have any mayo and mustard, cause those taste good with that stuff.” Then Ben thought about it some more and backtracked slightly. “Um, you don’t have to put them on if you don’t want this is your house, your food and all…”
Mr. Lee put down the butter knife and looked up at Ben, brown eyes serious. “Ben, this is your house too, we can put mayo and mustard on your sandwich, all you need to do is ask. At worse I’d just have to go to the store - which needs to happen this week anyways, we’re almost out of milk.” He opened the fridge and placed both the jar of mayo and the bottle of mustard on the counter. “Lucky for you Ben, we still have some condiments left.”
Ben went limp, muscles that he didn’t even know he had tensed loosening. He didn’t want to be a burden. “Good.” He cleared his throat, “…That’s…That’s good.”
Mr. Lee leaned on the counter, facing toward him, “Ben. It’s okay to ask for things. You may have to work at them to actually get them, but you can always ask and we can work things out.”
Ben eyed the older male warily. Great. It was the rules discussion. “And what would I have to do to earn the stuff I want?” he asked, plonking his chin in the palm of his hand.
“Chores around the house mostly, stuff that would get you an allowance. You’d be doing things you’d normally be doing, like cleaning your room or your bathroom - that way you’ll get a steady amount of income each week. ” Mr. Lee shrugged. “When you’re old enough, you can also get a job. You’ll get more money faster that route.”
“But what if I’m here only for a little while?” Ben asked.
“We’ll make it count then. But let me be level with you Ben.” Mr. Lee folded his hands in front of him. “If you really want to stay here, you can. I will fight tooth and nail to give that to you, and if you want to leave, then I’ll let you when the social worker comes around. This is your home too now, and I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
Ben wanted to believe it. He really did. “But you don’t even know me!” he protested. “What if you decide you can’t handle me and ship me off again!”
“Like everyone else?” Mr. Lee’s sharp brown eyes narrowed. “Ben, if I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have become a foster parent. The only reason I would have you leave without you wanting it is if for some forsaken reason I didn’t have the capabilities to take care of you, or if you became a danger to yourself.”
Ben stared open mouthed.
Lee continued. “And I don’t think either of those are happening. You can call this place home as long as you want to, Ben. And if you want to call it quits, I’ll let you do it. It’s always going to be your call, alright?”
Ben could only nod wordlessly, brown eyes wide under his glasses. Nobody had ever been so candid with him, so upfront about things. It… it was nice. It was nice to know where everyone stood, where the line was. And… to have that line drawn with the knowledge that someone was on his side, well… that was the best feeling in the world.
“So… say if I wanted a DS3, what would be the standard for that?” Ben decided to poke at the rule laid down.
Mr. Lee smiled. “I’d have you earn it by chore money or some other venture like a lemonade stand. Unless it was near your birthday or Christmas. I might just buy it as a present then.”
Ben’s mouth dropped open. “R-really?” he squeaked.
Mr. Lee nodded. “Really.” He confirmed.
The boy hesitated, brushing a bit of curl away from his eyes. “Um… What… what if I did something wrong? What would you do then?”
Mr. Lee narrowed his eyes. “Depending on how severe the issue was, I’d say it would be a range between a few extra chores or even a grounding.”
“Would… would grounding include taking away food?” Ben whispered, fingers pressed so tightly together that his knuckles were turning white. He couldn’t look at Mr. Lee so he looked at the table instead. There was a strange rattling noise.
Ben heard Mr. Lee utter an agonized sigh over it. “Oh Ben…”
The older man’s shoes squeaked slightly when he walked over tile. Ben stared at the table in silence, trying to memorize all the curves and ridges it contained. He was so tense again, his heart hammering in his chest. “You didn’t answer.” He pointed out, feeling Mr. Lee’s body heat a few hands away. His voice rose in anxiety. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Ben, please look at me.” Mr. Lee’s voice was quiet, but there was a rumble in it that made Ben’s pulse quicken at a higher rate. Long fingers hesitantly tilted Ben’s face up so they could look at each other in the eye. The boy could only see an abject sorrow in those dark eyes.
“Ben… listen. My answer is no. I will never take food away to punish you. You might not get desert but I would never deprive you of a meal.”
Ben searched his face, trying to find any lie or hint of deceit. “You promise?” he couldn’t speak up above a whisper. Even at such a quiet hesitant tone, his voice broke.
“I promise.” Mr. Lee told him seriously. “You will never go hungry under my care. Never.” The rattling increased slightly then as suddenly as it had started, it was gone.
Ben wet his lips, his tongue searching for the right words to say. “I… okay. Okay. I… I… I believe you.” He floundered before letting out a sigh and allowing his head to hit the table with an audible thud. He couldn’t do the word thing. Not today, not after the conversation they had just had. Words would not be coming anymore, he was all out. Come back later when he could word properly.
He heard the slight squeak of Mr. Lee’s shoes retreat to the other side of the kitchen and the knife being picked back up. Maybe if he just laid here both of them would forget what they had talked about. It was unlikely but unlikelier things had happened to him before.
***
Lee returned to making their sandwiches. Mentally, he was already making a list of things they would need to go over but that could wait until tomorrow. It was getting dark and Lee could see just how tired Ben really was. His head was drooping, bobbing with the effort to remain awake one moment then dozing off another, then suddenly jerking back up once he had realized he had nodded off. It was a rather adorable sight, if one that sent shards of pain into Lee’s heart.
Whoever had been taking care of Ben had been seriously neglectful and at worse physically abusive. It made his blood simmer but that had almost caused another case of “poltergeist” activity among the silverware so he had to take a deep breath and push past the rage. However, if he ever did meet the people who had messed Ben up, he would have be having strong words with them, alongside some very nasty pranks at the ready.
There would be no holding back then.
Lee finished the sandwiches and place a plate down infront of the dozing teen. The clink of the plate hitting the table startled the boy awake, causing him to blink up owlishly with glasses askew. Lee let out a small huff of amusement and handed him a glass of milk to wash the sandwich down. The hesitant smile that was on Ben’s face made his heart ache with both love and sorrow.
It felt good to love someone unconditionally again.
***
Ben’s room might have been plain, but it was amazing, just like the kitchen downstairs was amazing. It was amazing because it was Ben’s and Mr. Lee had said that they could go out and pick any color he wanted from the paint shop.
He had a room. Of his own. To customize, to do anything with as long as it didn’t create any irreparable property damage. There had been a lot of inner squealing and jumping around that he was too tired to actually enact. He had - on a spur of total impulse - hugged Mr. Lee right around the middle then dashed off further into his room, blushing furiously.
Mr. Lee had hovered around the doorway a little awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself for a while before he had departed.
Ben flopped backwards onto his bed and relished at the feeling of having something this large as his own. It was a very novel thing.
***
The hall was dimly lit, and Lee walked down it as quietly as he could. He paused at Ben’s door and poked his head in to see how the boy was faring. Ben was sprawled out on the bed covers, fast asleep. The way his red hair fell in fiery strands against closed eyelids gave him a young innocent look, his lips lightly upturned in a smile. His dreams must be rather pleasant. An overwhelming surge of parental love and concern for this sleeping youth took his breath again, It was almost too much for one human to handle. But Lee managed it and felt humbled by the immensity of his emotions, that he wasn’t yet so jaded that he couldn’t care for someone who needed all the affection and love they could get.
Lee tiptoed further into the room, making sure the door did not squeak. He brushed back the boy’s red hair with a gentle hand, then went to work about making Ben comfortable. With a tenderness both foreign and welcome, Lee tugged off sneakers and pulled back the covers from under the boy. He arranged the boys legs to something a bit more comfortable and pulled the comforter back up to the boy’s chin. There, Lee’s hand settled on Ben’s head and rested in place for a brief moment, fingers carding through red curls.
“Sleep well, kid.” Lee said softly as he watched the even rise and fall of Ben’s chest taking in oxygen. "Keep having good dreams, okay?"
How one boy could bring such joy and bittersweet sorrow into his life, he had never known until now. And he would never give this up for the world.
Lee let out a sigh and then took a step back, turning around to head to his own bed. Unknown to the man, Ben's smile grew wider as he snuggled down in bed, able to finally drift off to sleep with the comforting knowledge that finally someone was out there to look out for him and not for themselves.