Chapter Text
A month and a half passed after the rescue from Popstar frauds Velvet and Veneer, and the twins went to prison for their crimes. John's color was coming back, he still felt weak when moving, but the physical exercises that he does with Branch and Floyd have been helping.
But he's still recovering. Branch made it very clear that he was to mostly rest, do a half hour to an hour of therapy and back to rest.
John groaned as he laid in the nest that his brothers and Branch had set up inside the bunker, in the room set for him. He is still impressed with his kid to build such a wonder by himself.
That fact hurt him though.
His baby was alone for 20 years after their grandma saved him. He misses her, but he is so grateful to her. He doesn't know what he would have really done if he found out Branch was officially gone.
He'll make up for it. He's staying with Branch and his brothers that live in the bunker now too. He plans on properly meeting Bruce's wife and kids once he's deemed fit to travel again. He's so relieved that Dr. Moonbloom examined him for checkups, because if Branch had it his way, there was no way of stepping out of that bunker after the recovery time to “be sure.”
And speaking of kids, his little brother has been busy!
He chuckled as he remember being told he has twelve nephews and one niece back at Vacay Island waiting to meet their oldest uncle. He couldn't wait to meet them, though his son had to tell Bruce to let his family know when they do visit to be careful with John.
He frowns at that for he feels like he's being treated like he's made of glass.
He huffs as he runs his hands through dark teal and fading white hair. At least he was getting that back too. He'll accept even mild white hairs... though that could just be his age catching up to him.
He appreciates his kid for wanting to take care of him, but he is still not all for being taken care of by the family. He's the oldest and a father, he should be taking care of them.
John won't complain about the bonding and company though. Clay has brought his sad books from his Sad Book Club and they would read, though John was having a little trouble processing the words, thankfully the middle brother refrained from picking on him. All in good sibling nature of course.
He knows Clay will make up for it when he's done with most of his recovery, for now he is behaving to not rile him up. Instead, he helps him out.
Reading Branch's baby books were so much easier because they were short and poetic in their own way.
Like when he writes music.
Other books just felt a bit much for him, but give him a poetry book and he'll sit there quietly. Poems were just like lyrics to him.
Floyd would spend time talking with him as they do a small activity. Puzzles, listening to music (he asked to hear some more stuff during Floyd's solo career), drink tea, and look through some of the photo albums that John took from Grandma Rosiepuff’s pod.
When Bruce visited the one or two days a week since arriving at Pop Village. They would talk while lounging in the nest. John was asked what happened to break the band apart, but he told him he would tell them after a bit more recovery. He appreciated that his brother took the answer and changed the subject.
John liked it when Bruce talked about his family and how he ended up at Vacay Island after the band broke up. And he would tell stories of when he was out searching for them, he chuckled when he told about his other close calls before Velvet and Veneer caught him. Only a few, most of those times they didn't leave scars. He's saving those to get all his brothers' reactions.
For a moment he saw his 14 year old little brother wanting to protect him again. Keep him in the nest so nothing could harm him. He smiled at the memory. Bruce also insisted on making his meals while he visited, sharing his own recipes from his restaurant and some he learned from John.
Bruce admitted shyly that he makes breakfast for his kids like how John made it for them when they were kids themselves. That made him smile as he took a bite of the food Bruce brought to his room.
Now, Branch.
Branch surprised him the most during his time recovering. He thought his son would be upset after the whole rescue, act cold to him or something that he feels like he rightfully deserved. Instead his son checks up on him constantly, almost paranoid level as if he would just get up and disappear on him again.
Which…he will sadly admit…fair, for his little baby was two years old when he left the pod. He knows he'll have to talk about this with his family, and possibly the secret of Branch's other parentage. He felt sick thinking that.
Bold was not his son's parent, he wished there was a worse thing to call him besides a donor. Being a parent belonged to him and one other troll in his life.
Speaking of.
John smiled as Branch was cuddled up with him as he held the photo album that he put together for Branch. His son pressed against his side as they looked through it together, talking about how grandma took some of them and he took most of them. His brothers took photos too when John wasn't looking.
Branch spotted Luka in some of the photos taken. There was one of the taller troll using his hands to help support him up as a baby like he was walking to John. Some of him was sleeping in the burgundy hair, and the photo next to it was him crying in John's arms with an unamused expression while Luka laughed.
Bruce must have taken that photo.
The young troll frowned as the questions popped up, he knew John promised to tell him everything, but would this be okay to know about his Papa?
He blushed at his brain as it just did it on its own. He looked up at John.
“Can you tell me about Luka?”
John blinked at his son, before smiling softly at him, “Sure thing, Bitty Bug.”
Branch rolled his eyes to the nickname.
He tapped his thumb against the photo of Luka holding a sleeping trolling Branch in his arms after his baby hatched. His thumb brushed along the image.
“Luka was a very sweet young man.” He started off, “He helped me from a bad spot and I couldn't get him off my mind. Grandma found out where he worked after two weeks of asking around.”
That memory was so long ago, yet it felt like no time passed either. He could still remember his deep voice. His earthy mint scent. His soft hair and how the goatee brushed against his own chin. His eyes…one side the aquamarine he could drown in and the other color amber making him think of autumn.
“I had to sneak away from your very protective uncles and left your egg in their care while I went to go see him alone.” He laughed at the memory, “He was…so wonderful. He asked what made me comfortable, he asked if he could walk me home, a true gentleman is what he was.” He moved his hand to brush through his son's hair.
“It was about two months after that I realized I liked him more than a friend.” He laid his head on top of Branch’s, “I sang to him. I gave him my trust, which happened so fast for he made me feel so safe when he was around. And he made his feelings towards me known too. I was so happy…but so scared of how he would react…knowing I was a parent…a very new parent...” He looked to meet his son's gaze then smiled, “He put that fear aside when I showed him the egg. He said he wanted to stay by my side no matter what and that he couldn't imagine a life without me in his.”
Branch settled more as he listened to his dad talk. He wished he had more memories of his Papa as he looked at the photos again.
“The day you hatched, was when I saw a new form of love blossomed. He looked at you like the universe gave him the greatest gift of all.” John loved that memory so much, “He treated you like you were his own son.” he smiled, “The date he planned was wonderful…honestly I think we made a promise to spend our lives together once we escaped and to raise you in freedom.”
“Oh, Bitty Bug,” he sighed as the tears rolled down his face, “I wish he was he to see you now.”
Branch frowned as he snuggled closer, going to pick at his own vest to calm himself, “Wh…what happened to him?”
John bit his bottom lip as he recalled the memory so vividly. His hand still in the fingerless glove flexed as he tried to calm himself down, “Not long after Trollstice…the night after celebrating your first birthday…the Bergens came back to the tree to…” he swallowed, “gather trolls to…drug and release them back into the tree to increase the population.”
Branch's eyes went wide to that information. He…couldn't recall any gatherings after any Trollstices, except the time before the band broke up when John, their grandma and his uncles locked everything in the pod and told to not step out for weeks after he turned two. Then once more with Juniper’s family after his Grandma was taken. For he was almost four years old when they escaped the Troll Tree…he had to celebrate it by himself.
He pressed in closer to John.
Is that what the Bergens did to maintain their population before their escape from the Troll Tree? He looked to John as his dad rubbed his arm to comfort him while his other hand went to wipe his eyes as the album sat in his lap.
“He…wasn't among the returned…”
Branch embraced him to show he didn't have to go any further. They stayed for what was only a few minutes before a knock came on his door.
They looked over as the door opened to show Bruce walking in with a tray of food he cooked up for his brother. He smiled at them, “Going through memory lane?” He asked with a raised brow until he saw the tear streaks on their faces, “Are you two okay?”
John nodded with a tired grin, “Yeah, was just…talking about Luka.” He admitted.
Bruce frowned at his brother and nephew. He walked in to set the tray aside for now, “John?”
John waved it off, “I'm okay. Hard to talk about, but I'm fine.” He rubbed Branch's arm again before bringing him in tighter to embrace him then kissed his son's forehead, “I hold more of the good times I had with him than I do that day.”
The second oldest nodded his head. He held his hand to take the photo album from him, “Well, it's lunch time, so a break looks like it's much needed.”
John chuckled before handing the album to his brother and watched him place it back in the built-in bookshelf in the wall. He walked back to grab the tray and set it down. They both blinked to see a second serving on it with two glasses of water. They both looked to Bruce, making the purple haired troll snort as they certainly are father and son.
Both held the same questioning look on their faces.
“Thought Branch would want to stay and join you. Since he hasn't left your side much.” He said casually then smirked at his nephew, “Unless it was to be with Queen Poppy. Or to help around the village. Or…check on traps?”
Branch blushed as he looked away from his teasing uncle. John raised a brow, “What's wrong with traps? I had to set some of my own when Rhonda and I camped out in areas for more than a few days to keep us safe.”
He didn't notice his son looking at him.
Bruce raised a brow at him, “Yep. You two are definitely father and son.”
John gave his brother a straight faced look before he snorted, “Wait till I tell you guys about all the scars I received during my travels looking for you guys.”
“Does one of them involve “fuck around and find out what happens”?”
The oldest troll gawked at him in mild insult, “I'll have you know, that only happened…” he paused as he thought for a moment before his face flushed, “shut up.”
Bruce laughed as he gently patted his brother's shoulder, “Can't wait to hear these stories of yours, John.”
And John couldn't wait to tell them to see their faces.
The two watched Bruce walk out to allow them to enjoy their meal. John hummed with delight as the flavor reminded him of their old home. When their mom was still alive. He looked over to Branch and smiled at him, then frowned when he noticed the scars along his son.
He reached to rub his thumb against the scar near the middle of Branch’s left eyebrow, “What happened here?” He asked, blinking when he realized he said it out loud, “Sorry…I…”
“A bird dropped me.”
Branch answered as he took a bite of food then swallowed, “It…looked a lot worse with all the blood when I hit a rock after falling through branches and leaves to slow down the fall.” he touched the scar by his brow, “I think I was…five…maybe six?”
John stared at him with wide eyes, “Branch. I'm sorry…if I had come home sooner, you wouldn't…you wouldn't have been left alone.”
Branch looked at him before pressing himself against his dad, “I will admit…I was so angry at you. So angry to the point that I believed I hated you.” He whispered with mild guilt.
He took John's hand and absentmindedly played with his fingers as he relaxed against him, “But…I still asked the Muses to bring you back home…so I could be angry at you.” He looked up at him, “But also not to be alone again.”
John kissed Branch's brow over the scar, “I won't go anywhere.” He pulled back to look in his son's eyes, “Now that I finally got my family back.”
They both smiled at each other, Branch pointed to a scar on John's forearm, “Can you tell me about this one?”
John smirked then chuckled, “Don't tell your uncles, but that one was when I tripped when stepping out of Rhonda in Lonesome Flats. A Felty Scorpion stung me.” He chuckled, “I was delirious. Thankfully a Country Troll was passing by and helped me out. Real cute too.”
Branch made a face, but then snickered, “I do not want to hear you being flirted with or flirting with another troll, dad.”
They both laughed as they continued to tell stories about their scars. Some were funny about how they got them, others more serious or on a level of accidental.
John pressed a kiss to his son’s right cheek where two small scars made their home, he smiled at him as he rubbed it with his thumb, Branch looking confused, he chuckled, “I know they don't hurt any more, but…I feel like they do on some level.” He ran his fingers through Branch’s midnight blue locks, “Didn't I tell you kisses make boo-boos feel better?”
Branch snorted and pushed John's face away from him, “You are unbearable as a father.”
John laughed, “Wait till I share stories of all your uncles when they got hurt. Especially Clay.”
They both laughed.