Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

December 21, 2001

Click. The bathroom door closed behind him. He fumbled with the latch - it had always been finicky, and Mom had never cared to fix it. We’re all family, she had said, we don’t need to replace an entire doorknob when we can just respect each other instead. Which was all fine and great and all, but he preferred privacy.

Once he managed to shimmy the latch into the correct position, he turned the lock. Mom walking in on him peeing was one thing, but he’d be dead if she walked in now. He pulled off his backpack and rifled through it. Algebra textbook, leftover sandwich, no. Sandwich from last month, nope, into the trash can. Ew. Towel? Yeah. Lauren’s old Christmas beanie she surely wouldn’t mind him wearing? Check. Scissors borrowed from science class? Yes. 

It would have been easier to grab kitchen scissors, but Louis was still too young to use them. Dad kept them hidden. Even the older kids had to ask him every time, and he didn’t want to have to find an excuse. Christmas gifts? No, it’d be weird not to just go straight to the back table. Science project? Even worse, the living room table. Borrowing some from Mr. Cooper was easier. 

Besides, Mom didn’t have any left-handed ones. Just learn to use the normal ones, she'd said.

He stood up, tossing the towel and scissors onto the vanity. Clank. The scissors hit the ceramic. Christ, had Mom heard? Was she going to come banging on the door? He’d have time to get everything back in the backpack, thanks to the lock, but she’d be angry anyways. Did he- nope, she was yelling at Lauren downstairs. She hadn’t heard. Good.

Hands shaking, he unrolled some toilet paper and laid it out over the towel. The towel by itself would be fine, but this was so much easier. 

He stared in the mirror. A face stared back at him. He cringed away. 

Not me, he mentally screamed at himself. I won’t always look like this. It’s fine. 

Crap. His school uniform. Mom would have questions. He pulled off his sweater, leaving it in a heap on the toilet lid. The shirt’s fine. I can shake it out enough later. And I don’t want to look at myself without it if I don’t need to.

He took off his school cap. Long dirty-blond hair unfurled from beneath it. Still slightly greasy from being in the cap all day, but he could still clearly see each wave. On a good day it reached down to his waist.

God, he hated it. 

Good thing I won’t have it for much longer.

Cripes. He needed to know what he was doing. He went through every character he could think of. Too short. Too feminine. Too hard to do in the mirror. Doesn’t work with wavy hair. 

..Bowl cut? Sure. He’d just rewatched Phantom Menace last night. He could probably remember how that looked. 

Stop fiddle-faddling on with it. Just do it. He grabbed the scissors and cut one side to neck length to start.

He stared at himself in the mirror. 

It.. well, to be honest, it looked a mess. But it always looks a mess halfway through. 

He cut off the other side and stared in the mirror again. 

That same face stared back at him. My face. I'll never look different. I'll always look like this.

He shortened the back. He wasn’t sure if it was perfectly even, but it was probably fine, right? Nobody looks that much at your back, anyways.

He looked in the mirror again. 

..Really messed up Kurt Cobain? 

Better than he had looked before, at least. He still needed to finish the front, but it was getting better.

Knock. Knockknockknock. Crap. Someone was waiting. 

“I’ll be out in a second!” he yelled. Messed up Kurt Cobain would have to do for now. He grabbed the toilet paper and flushed it. 

..Could sewage systems handle human hair? Whatever. It wasn’t his problem if they couldn’t. Louis had pooped out a Hot Wheels once when he was little and he couldn’t remember any issues from it, anyways, so it was probably fine? 

Darn it. The towel still had hair on it. Whatever, he’d wash it that night. He yanked Lauren’s beanie over his head and jammed the towel and scissors back in his backpack, then zipped it closed. 

“What are you doing in there? I really gotta go!” a small voice piped up from outside. Of course it was Louis. Crap, he needed to hurry or Louis would drop trou and start pooping in the hallway, and it’d be his fault. 

“Almost done sorry!” he replied. Crap. Crap crap crap.

Splish. He ran some water. Partly to cover the sound of him sweeping the last of the stray hair off the vanity, into a wad of toilet paper and into the trash, partly so he wouldn’t get tattled on for not washing his hands. Sure, he hadn’t actually been peeing, but he couldn’t exactly use his actual activity as an excuse. 

He grabbed his school sweater, pulled it on followed by his backpack, and fumbled with the lock again. If he hadn’t locked it he’d have gotten barged in on, but of course now it was sticking, and- never mind, the latch jolted unstuck. He swung the door open, and nearly got bowled over by Louis running in. Christ, couldn’t the kid wait two seconds for him to clear the doorway?

He headed straight for his room. Well.. it wasn’t technically just his room, but Louis was clearly busy, so it was his for the next two minutes. He grabbed a fresh shirt and changed into it. God, this beanie is itchy. Why’d the one full of tinsel have to be on top? And how long before I can manage to come up with an excuse to Mom so I can take it off? Or even find an excuse to be wearing it in the first place? What if she gets mad and pulls it off me? What if-

Whatever. Louis was probably almost done now, so all the excuses were a concern for later.

At least now he didn’t want to puke at his own reflection.

Chapter Text

December 30, 2001

“Everyone inside for dinner! This food won’t eat itself!”

He glanced around, then carefully set his bow on the ground and headed down to retrieve his arrows. He’d left them in his target once during dinner and Liam had nearly been impaled. Served him right, he thought, but he’d never dare to say that. He’d be selfish if he expected the others to be careful around his things, anyways. Especially with his sharp hobbies like he had. 

He shivered. The snow last week had finally melted - short of the remnants of a few snowmen - but it was still bitterly cold out, with a biting wind that cut through every layer he’d put on. 

It didn’t seem like it to him, but Lacey said he ran warm. She’d always asked him to climb in her bed when they were little and she was cold, to be her heater. Of course, she was always cold, but he didn’t mind too much. Except that time she’d been out in a snowball fight, and her fingers were like ice- cripes, he was getting distracted again. Just grab the arrows and go inside. Jeez.

He pulled each arrow out of the target. Not good enough. Need more practice, need to prove to Mom it's worth it. Can’t hit the bullseye. Some of them were, but he was usually a lot more consistent than this. Sure, maybe it was the cold. He’d been thrown off by it, he could barely feel his hands, but it didn’t seem like a decent enough reason. He’d come back out and practice again the next day. It’d be fine. 

Once they were safely back in his quiver, he grabbed his bow from the ground and headed inside. He adjusted his beanie. Not his. Close enough. The tinsel wasn’t so bad, really, now that he’d gotten used to it. 

He had yet to come up with a convincing excuse for the lack of hair, but he had until spring, really, right? He could wear a beanie until then. Probably. Maybe a science class project gone wrong. Maybe a mugging. No, mom, Mr. Cooper had to even it out after I got jumped on the way to school and some weird lookig guy cut it all off. You know how they are with vulnerable looking school-girls, and you know how much the school code of conduct emphasizes non-violence. I was in uniform! I couldn’t fight back, and I didn’t even have my bow with me. I swear I didn’t do anything to it! 

Maybe he’d go ask the acting coach for some improvisation tips.

At least he’d been able to even out his hair over the past week. It still didn’t look great, but it was symmetrical now. Not that anyone’s even seen it.

At the closet, he began shedding layers. He was still cold, but winter coats at the dinner table didn’t tend to go over well. Outer coat hung up, shoving about seven other coats further back to make room. Scarf neatly folded over a hanger. Inner jacket on the coat rack to air out. 

He pulled off a heavy boot and nearly instantly stepped on a pile of tree needles. Ow. He’d have to try and convince mom not to let Louis put the hooks in the ornaments next year, he’d spilled a bag and there’d been sharp metal all over the living room all month. 

Christmas had been.. alright, honestly. They hadn’t had many people over this year, just mom’s friend and her family. They were huggers, which had been weird at first, but he’d gotten used to it. He was a physical sort of guy, so he did genuinely like them. And they’d given him new arrows for Christmas. So it was more than worth it. 

The dinner table talk had been a bit much to handle, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. Smile and nod. Just smile and nod. As long as they were taking jabs at Clinton and not smelling each other’s hair again, it wasn’t unbearable.

“Dinner’s getting cold! Come on. Now!”  Drat. He’d been getting caught in his thoughts again. He yanked on a pair of slippers, hung his quiver on the coat rack and hoofed it into the dining room. 

Six nearly matching dark-haired heads stared at him as he walked through the doorway. Last one there. Again. Cripes. Louis kicked his feet in excitement, earning him a swift under-the-table kick from Lacey. Lauren gave him a hard look. Oh. Lauren’s back. Suddenly very self-conscious of the sparkly beanie adorning his head, he took a step back. 

Mom looked at him, no emotion apparently obvious. “Once you’ve settled yourself, I trust you’re willing to lead us in grace tonight?”

Yeah, yeah, sure. He beelined to his seat, careful to step over a spoonful of mashed potato which had managed to make the floor’s acquaintance. He took his seat. He inhaled-

…and got a sharp elbow from Lacey. Yeah, yeah. He held out his hands, Lacey grabbing one side and Louis the other. Bless us O Lord, for these…

The others joined in, and the words blended together. It was a bit like the Pledge of Allegiance to him, really. They were just words. He figured he could think about the meaning if he wanted to, but they were just sounds for now. 

…Our Lord. Amen. He automatically crossed himself, and hoped for dear life he’d been paid attention to enough for one dinner. Glancing around the table, he saw potatoes, squash, and… some brown lump?

Lauren must have been keeping an eye on him. She seemed to notice his confusion. “Vegetable Wellington. It was in the cookbook I gave her.”

He nodded, trying to keep a straight face. Terrible.

The seven sat in near-silence for a while, less the sounds of chewing, Louis kicking his feet again, and an occasional “pass the squash”. He focused intently on his potatoes, gripping his fork tightly to try and hide the slight quiver in his hands. Why couldn’t he just act normal? Was it really that hard?

Lauren reached over and shoved Louis’s fork back in his hand. “So. How’s everyone’s break going?” she asked. Her tone was innocuous, but pointed. 

“Well, thank you,” Lacey replied. “How was your conference?”

“It was great!” He almost instantly started tuning her out. She continued, apparently oblivious. “I mean, it was a bunch of admin things. Security was super tight, but I get it. Socks off, patdowns, metal detectors-”

“It’s been tight everywhere. How was the conference?”

“Lacey, no interrupting,” Mom chimed in. 

“Sorry, Mom.” Lacey slowly cut her wellington. “I just mean, everyone’s ramped up security. Patdowns don’t really mean anything anymore. They were wanding us at school for a few weeks. They confiscated my pencil sharpener last week! How was the rest of it?”

Lauren seemed unfazed. “It was good. A bunch of talk about how to balance teaching history and literature with giving students space for their emotions, and all that. Plus the normal talk about keeping a respectful classroom. Discipline. You know. Fascinating, really.”

Liam nodded. “Any talk of the effects of the Afghanistan situation on-”

“Liam! No politics at the dinner table!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Not much, honestly,” she replied evenly. “It’s moving fast. I don’t think anyone wanted to have to adjust their presentations every time the 5 o’clock news comes on.”

“Lauren.” Mom jumped in again. “That goes for you too.”

“Sorry, Mom,” she answered. “It’s the truth, though. Most of the conference was about politics. I can’t-”

“No politics. Am I clear?”

“Apologies.” The near-silence returned. 

He was nearly finished with his food. Just a few more bites. Maybe I can convince Lacey to help me hide this cookbook later.

Lauren jerked her head up. “Hey. Is that my old beanie from the Christmas pageant?”

Oh, that’s why it has enough tinsel in it to drown an angel. Just be cool. Don’t act nervous. There’s got to be a normal reason. “I uh, was cold.”

“So you put on my beanie?”

“Mine’s in the wash. Louis dropped his dino nuggets on it.”

“Did not!” he shot back, indignant. “Don’t have any!”

“Did too. I’m sorry Lauren, I didn’t think you’d mind me wearing this one while I get mine cleaned up.”

“Why are you even cold?” Lacey asked. “You’re always so warm. Are you trying to be a space heater when you grow up?” 

Liam snickered. His face flushed. “I still feel cold, though. I was just outside before dinner. I’ll get mine washed by tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

“For crying out loud, you’ve been wearing that for a week straight. What are you on about?” 

Drat. “I ran out of shampoo.”

“..and you didn’t just steal mine again?” Lacey shot back. 

“You got a new one. It smells weird.”

Lauren gave him another hard look. “You’ve been wearing my worst beanie for the last week because you didn’t want to ask Mom for new shampoo? And Louie’s right, we haven’t bought dino nuggets in weeks. I don’t know if you missed the memo but Mom’s decided that we’re all vegetarian now. Something’s up.” 

His hands shook. He pinched his fingers together, trying to keep them still. It’s fine. It’s fine. If I can just get them to leave me alone I’ll come up with something by tomorrow.

“Yeah, what’s wrong, did you fall into a lawnmower? Too embarrassed to tell dad you still don’t have his mechanic genes?” Lacey kept poking.

“No! I- I just need to wash it. And my hat. I’ll give you this one back tomorrow. Sorry.”

“We’re family in this house,” Mom cut in. “Families don’t keep secrets. If something’s going on, it’s okay to say so.” 

“I don’t think she’s planning on doing that.” Lauren tried to reach across the table. He slid back to avoid her. 

“Nothing’s going on,” he tried to reassure them. “Can we get shampoo after dinner, Mom?” Cripes, this would be a hard hole to dig out of.

“”For Pete’s sake.” Lacey retorted. “Don’t act like I’ve never seen your dirty hair.”

She reached over and grabbed the beanie.