The bell above the door dinged and Hans looked up from the newspaper to
see Jean entering with Victoria hanging on to the leg of her trousers. The girl
looked apprehensive around the antiques shop before her eyes landed on his face
and she ran up to the counter.
“Uncle Hass!” she exclaimed happily and
raised her hands to him.
“Hi, Vicky,” he greeted her as her mother
caught up and lifted her up on the counter with a grunt.
“We came to visit,” the girl informed him
and nodded importantly. He nodded back before brushing a few strands of sand
blond hair out of his eyes.
“That’s very nice of you. And you’ve grown!”
Admittedly it hadn’t been more than a couple of weeks since he had seen the
girl last, but she beamed at him before her attention drifted to the glass
cases behind him.
“Who’s grown?” Franky had been drawn out of
the workshop by the voices and Vicky threw herself into his arms, completely
confident he would catch her.
“Don’t do that, you could have fallen,” Jean
huffed, but gave Franky a smile anyway.
“She would have bounced right up again,” he
said and threw Vicky lightly up in the air without letting go of her, but still
drawing an ecstatic whine from her. “Anything particular that brought you here?
We’ve got some nice tea cups.” He quickly wiped his dirty hands on his trousers
and went over to one of the shelves. Jean slowly followed, massaging the small
of her back with her fingertips as she went.
“I think we have enough cups to feed an
army,” Jean said with a sigh, but didn’t deny the one in Franky’s hand was
pretty.
“Real gold lining on the rim, the pattern is
from the 1850s and it’s most likely not a reproduction,” he told her, letting
Victoria inspect the lavender flowers on in closer, but still keeping a good
hold on it himself.
“Most likely,” Hans muttered from the
counter, dividing his attention halfway between them and the newspaper.
“This one’s got a crack, though,” Franky
continued and squinted down in the cup. “Nothing serious, just a small line.
Don’t think it would be possible to brush over, though... Unless I painted the
inside black.” His face lit up in a grin.
Jean lifted an eyebrow and held out her hand
for the cup. “I guess that would work. Might look weird, though,” she said,
playing along with his antics.
“Not with the right paint,” he shot back and
let Victoria down again, she was getting bored by the grown-ups talk.
“Non-toxic, of course. This could be like the matriarch cup, queen of all the
others.”
“You’re not right in the head,” Jean
laughed.
“Course I ain’t,” he answered and quickly
peeked into the matching cups on the shelf. “The rest seem to be in order, but
might as well do two with black insides, a king and a queen.”
“Uh-huh.” She braced her hands against her
back, but it didn’t relieve the pain much.
“God, you look like you’re carrying twins!”
Franky suddenly exclaimed, by some miracle having forgotten she was pregnant up
till that point.
“You sure know how to charm a lady,” she
said dryly and went slowly over to the counter.
“Nope, and that’s why I ended up with Hans,”
Franky shot back, but he ran his hand nervously through his red hair. “We can
go up, get you seated.”
“No, this is better,” she answered as she
placed her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. A cool hand stroked her
neck as her white-blonde hair pooled in front of her face and she sighed.
“You sure you’re okay?” Hans asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Victoria was getting
a bit of cabin fever, though.”
“It’s nice of you to come, and Franky always
appreciate a visitor with his own mental age,” Hans said.
“Get bent,” the redhead replied before
whistling. “Vicky, where have you gone off to?”
“She’s not a dog,” Hans sighed, but the girl
soon appeared with a silk scarf wrapped around her like a skirt.
“It’s pretty,” she said shyly as she toddled
up to her uncle, running her hand over the yellow fabric.
“And it looks lovely on you,” Franky said
while kneeling down. “Do you wanna look at more clothes or come out back with
me? I think I have something you’d like.” The girl just looked wide-eyed at him
before nodding.
“Give me the scarf in the meantime so it
doesn’t get dirty,” her mother said, looking at her from under her arm. The
girl was still looking mesmerised at her uncle and let the scarf puddle around
her feet before he took hold of her hand and led her into the work shop.
“Pregnancy looks to be hard work,” Hans
noted after a moment of quiet and began massaging Jean’s neck softly with one
hand.
“Not as hard as giving birth will be,” she
answered and straightened up again. He retracted his hand with a timid smile.
“No, it was good! But all the blood’s pooling in my head.”
“We can go up if you want to sit, they’ll
find us,” he said and folded up the newspaper.
“It really is fine,” she said tiredly. “I’ve
just been up since the crack of dawn since Victoria hasn’t got a snooze button,
or a gear between full speed and completely comatose.”
“Well, as long as she grows out of it.” He
shot a quick look towards the door to the workshop and she giggled. “I’m sure a
four-year-old can be worse, though.”
“Don’t bet on it,” she answered dryly.
“All’s well with you, though?”
“Yeah, we’re both fine. The business isn’t
exactly blooming, but that’s mostly because he keeps buying things that are impossible
to sell again.”
“Or painting the ones that aren’t,” Jean
said with a humoured smile.
“Or that. Or taking things apart and then
forgetting how to put them back together. Or trying to use them and then
discovering it goes to pieces because it’s just meant for decoration.” He gave
a tired sigh, but she was laughing quietly.
“We get by fine, though. I manage to keep the really valuable things out
of his reach.”
“Just put child locks on everything, you
won’t even get into it yourself,” she said and slowly quieted down.
“You’re fine, though?” he asked.
“Yeah, all’s... All’s well,” she answered,
but the words were hardly out of her mouth before she choked up and tears came
to her eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly and put a hand on her
arm.
“I’m fine,” she insisted and began rummaging
in her bag. “Just these damn hormones.” She sniffled and kept clumsily running
her hand through the content of her bag. He took the liberty of reaching in to
it to take out the pack of Kleenex and quickly gave her one.
“What’s the matter?” he asked quietly when
she had mopped up most of her tears.
“It’s nothing, really, nothing,” she said,
but pressed the Kleenex to her eyes and tried to suppress a sob. He quickly
made his way out from the counter and placed his arms around her.
“It’s not nothing,” he whispered and she
gave in, falling apart in his arms and sobbing, but trying to keep it quiet so
they wouldn’t hear it in the next room. He rocked her slowly from side to side
and let it happen.
“I’m – I’m scared,” she got out at last, her
face nested in the front of his sweater. “For the baby.”
“Is something wrong? Has your doctor –“
“No, no,” she cut him off with and retracted
half an inch. “Nothing like that.” He waited for her to elaborate, but she
didn’t.
“Jean, what is it?” he asked at last,
stroking her back.
“It’s Will,” she almost whispered.
“What?” He looked down at her with a furrow
in his brow. “Isn’t he happy you’re having another child?”
“No, it’s not that.” She chewed her lip for
a moment. “It’s just that, when Vicky was small, it really stressed him. She
cried at night, she cried during the day, there was always crying for something
or another and he didn’t handle that.” She sniffed again. “I’m afraid he’ll
go... I’m afraid it’ll wear on him even more with two kids in the house.”
Hans didn’t know what to say and just kept
rubbing her back. He had noticed Will had looked shabby when Victoria was a
baby, but so had Jean to a degree, and he had figured suddenly getting a
helpless infant to take care of could wear on the best of people. Still, he
didn’t doubt Jean had reason to worry, she knew her husband much better than he
did.
“Have you tried talking to him?” he
suggested at last.
“He’d take it the wrong way,” she muttered.
Hans didn’t need more than a second to consider the truth of this, as he had
seen Will cause a racket just from some of Franky’s jokes. Admittedly Franky’s
jokes could be rather hard to take nicely, but he still didn’t doubt her.
“I could talk to him?” To be honest he
didn’t favour that suggestion the most, but it was the only one he had at the
moment.
“No offense, but I’d like you to live to see
your thirtieth birthday,” she answered with a hoarse laugh.
“How about Franky? He could just casually
ask how Will felt about having—“
“No.” Now she was pulling away from him in
earnest. “I appreciate the thought, but all of this is a giant mess.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked down.
“No, I’m sorry for weeping like a
schoolgirl.” She straightened up and wiped her eyes with the Kleenex again.
“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” He could hear the doubt in her voice.
“Just tell us if there’s anything we can
help you with,” he said softly and she nodded before curling her hand tight
around the Kleenex. A moment later Victoria came barging in, screaming in joy,
her uncle only a pace behind her.
“I’m gonna get you!” Franky fell to his
knees next to Jean while Vicky did her best to hide behind her mother’s legs
and escape the grip of the big leather gloves her uncle was wearing.
“Mummy!” Victoria laughed and looked up at her
mother before suddenly falling completely silent.
“I’m fine, honey. Uncle Hans just told me a
very funny joke and I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes,” Jean told her and
stroked the fine hair even a shade lighter than her own, but hardly looked at
her daughter. Franky shot a quick look at Hans before standing up.
“You showed her the tricycle?” Hans asked
and lifted a brow. “That thing is dirty as... Now her tights are ruined, not to
mention she could have gotten tetanus or god knows.”
“What did you think I was showing her, the
paintings?” Franky shot back. “Besides, the rust stains’ll come off in the
wash.”
“It was fun,” Victoria said quietly,
clinging to her mother’s leg again.
“I’m sure it was,” Jean answered tiredly,
still resting her hand on her head. “I’m not angry at you.”
“Are you ever going to paint that piece of
crap?” Hans asked Franky, crossing his arms.
“Watch your mouth in front of the kid. And
no, I’m just gonna oil it up so it doesn’t squeak to high heaven. Folk like
things that look old like that. And if no one’s able to see how cool it is like
that,” he shrugged, “then I might paint it.”
“You’ve got your priorities all turned
around,” Hans sighed.
“Do I?” Franky asked, got up and went over
to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Hans grumbled something unintelligent,
but smiled nonetheless before looking at Victoria.
“You like fish fingers, don’t you?” he asked
and squatted down. She nodded. “You see, we’re having fish fingers for dinner
tonight, but I think we bought way too many for just Franky and me. Do you
think you could help us eat them all?” The girl slowly let go of her mother’s
leg and nodded solemnly.
“I can eat...” She slowly held her hand up
in front of herself and contemplated how many fingers to hold up before opening
her hands wide. “This many!” she concluded at last.
“That many? Wow!” Franky had knelt down too
and grinned at her. “I think that’s more than I can eat! It’s certainly more
than Hans can eat.”
“I don’t think I can eat more than one hand
of fish fingers,” Hans agreed.
“One fish hand?” Franky quipped before
reaching out to grab the scarf off the floor. “Where did you find this? Maybe
we have more like it,” he said to the girl and she set off into the labyrinth
of shelves at once.
“Hans...” Jean looked tiredly at him. “You
really don’t have to.”
“Yes, I really do,” he answered and ran his
fingers down her cheek. “Go home and get some rest, you deserve it.” She sighed
and looked towards where Victoria had disappeared off to.
“Well, there’s no talking her out of eating
fish fingers now,” she said under her breath. “I’ll come pick her up around
seven. She might get tired, but just convince her to lie down for two minutes
and she’ll fall asleep.”
“As long as you come get her before midnight
it’s fine,” he said with a smile. “If not there’s room on the couch.”
“Thank you.” She tried smiling, but her lips
didn’t obey fully.
“It’s no problem,” he said as the sound of
something falling over reached them from the other end of the shop. “Well, not
much of a problem, at least. Go home now.”
“I’ll see you later, if she doesn’t kill
you.” She hugged him lightly and he rubbed his hand up and down her back.
“I’m sure she won’t.”
***
Hans turned slowly over on his side and
Franky curled up behind him with a grunt of content. The blond rested his hand
on top of the other’s, slowly running his fingers over the knuckles.
“I think Vicky tried to kill me today,”
Franky sighed.
“You mean when she wrapped that scarf around
your neck? Yes, it did seem like it,” Hans answered.
“No, just generally. I’m completely
knackered.” He stretched out his legs with a groan, but quickly drew them up to
Hans’s again. “Was fun, though.” He yawned.
“I think we better enrol you in kindergarten
again,” Hans said with a smile. “Maybe it’ll wear you out enough to keep you
from coming up with harebrained schemes.”
“Hey, my schemes are never harebrained!”
Franky objected. “A bit daring, maybe, but you have to risk something to gain
something.”
“I’d prefer if what you were risking was not
the roof over our heads,” Hans answered drily.
“Never,” Franky said and kissed the nape of
his boyfriend’s neck. “And Mum never suspects a thing when we come for tea
every day for a month straight, we’re not even risking starvation. And if we
did I bet Jean would feed us in return for looking after Vicky.”
“You really like the girl,” Hans said after
a moment and smiled.
“Well, she doesn’t yell at me,” Franky said
and wrapped his arm around Hans’s stomach. “And she doesn’t roll her eyes every
other minute.”
“I don’t roll my eyes,” Hans said, idly
playing with the other’s fingers.
“You might as well,” Franky muttered and
took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Hans felt the arm over his torso
growing heavier as it relaxed.
“Would you want one of your own?” he asked
quietly at last.
“Want a what?” Franky asked groggily.
“A child,” Hans said and chewed his lip.
“God, no,” Franky chuckled. “I’d have to
yell at them when they flooded the bathroom and actually take responsibility
for how they turned out. Vicky I can just hand back when she gets grumpy. Why,
do you?” he added quickly.
Hans sighed and lifted one shoulder in a
partial shrug. “Not really,” he said after a few seconds. “You just seemed to
enjoy yourself a lot today and you do have a way with kids.”
“I have a way with getting watches to work,
too, doesn’t mean I want to be a watchmaker,” Franky responded. “And Vicky
likes you just as much as me, don’t go giving me all the credit.” He drew his
hand down Hans’s stomach in a slow caress.
“Just tell me if you change your mind,” Hans
muttered and took hold of his hand again.
“And you do the same thing,” the other
replied and squeezed his hand. “If we’re not able to adopt I can always
disconnect the brakes on Will’s Caddie and we can be Vicky’s guardians.” He
chuckled, but Hans turned around to look at him with a horrified expression.
“You really don’t see anything wrong with
your schemes?” he demanded hotly.
“It was a joke,” Franky said softly and ran
his hand through the blond hair. “You know it was a joke. I’d never do anything
to intentionally hurt anyone.”
“It wasn’t funny,” Hans said and turned back
abruptly, but let the redhead curl up behind him again.
“I’m sorry,” Franky said and interlaced
their fingers.
“Just try to use your brain once in a
while,” Hans muttered back. Franky grunted in confirmation. “Jean was pretty
tired today,” he noted a minute later, once again pulling Franky from the edge
of consciousness.
“Pregnancy,” the other muttered. “I’m glad
I’m incapable of going through that.”
“She was worried how Will might react to
another kid,” Hans went on. Franky grunted again. “Could you have a talk with
him?”
“Can I sleep first?” Franky shot back and
rolled away from him. Hans sighed and turned to face him. “The bed is for sleep
and sex, and this is neither.” His annoyance wasn’t too real and Hans ran his
thumb over the other’s forehead to erase the fake frown there.
“Can you just try to bring it up and hear
how he’s dealing with it?”
“Yeah, sure,” Franky answered and sighed.
“Next time you’re gonna worry about everyone, do it during the day, okay?”
“And the next time you’re touching that
bike, don’t wear one of your good shirts,” Hans retorted with a chuckle.
