sliceitwithwind | Kiddie AU - Aya's living on the couch.

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Kiddie AU - Aya's living on the couch.

"She's WHAT?!" Elcy, it turned out, could roar. Much like a lion...only louder, if her son was to be believed, "Braig! Why didn't you tell me this earlier? We have spare rooms!"

"Mom...I..."

"We," Dilan broke in, "we didn't think..."

"I am very disappointed in the two of you. You are going to march right over there, young man," that was with a pointed finger at her son, "and grab that poor girl's things and bring them back here. You," at Dilan, "are going to get the larger of the spare rooms set up for her. I am going to go shopping. What's Aya's favourite colour?"

"Sky blue." said Braig, already grabbing his coat and heading out. He did not, nobody argued with his mom when she was that angry.

"Sky blue. Fine. Dilan, call Yinsi and let him know Aya is moving in with us."

"...Yes'm." Dilan mumbled, the last thing Braig heard before the door closed.

It didn't take long for him to get over to Aya's house...Aya's...old...house. "Hey! Ayay! You here?"

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"But..." But then Braig was out the door again. "...I don't wanna!" Aya said to the empty house, stomping her foot. She had homework to finish! And packing...she didn't want to pack. And she liked the boys but they weren't her family and...

...and...

...and why did he have to run off when she was so confused?

Jerrig, for his part, was also confused. He was snapping pictures of a nature trail, and he wasn't used to children talking to him while he did so. Much less calling him by his first name. "I beg your pardon?"

Because he was on a mission from mom. Obviously.

"Mom says Aya needs to move in with us. You've got her living in the livingroom, and that's not cool. Even if she's only six she deserves her own room, and we've got the space." Go ahead, Mr. Brea, argue with Braig. He'd love to give you a talking to.

Yes, well, she was going to at least finish her homework first so there.

He blinked and slowly lowered his camera, looking the boy over. Yes, he recognized the boy as one of Aya's friends but beyond that he didn't recall. "I don't believe you're in a position to make such statements." he said mildly. "Especially in lieu of an adult."

"Your six year old daughter has no place to call her own. Even her underwear is stuck in a public place because you're so busy with your work that you didn't consider getting a house with enough rooms and just decided that a darkroom was more important than Aya. She does all the shopping, most of the cooking when you don't bring take out, all of the cleaning...did you know that she knows all of the check-out clerks at the Safeway by name?"

It was low, quiet, polite, and utterly acidic, "Quite frankly, Mr. Brea, your choices are my family...or Child Protective Services."

Jerrig blinked. He even lowered his camera, letting it settle on it's strap against his chest. "Her underwear is in a dresser. Why have you seen it?" Really? That was what his brain was focusing on in the babble.

Aya was a friendly girl. She knew people by name. She liked to help. She'd volunteered to take the couch. She was a good girl. This boy was...

...he was seriously starting to wonder about Aya's friends.

"Why is this coming from you?" It was hard accept anything like this from a child. It sounded like an elaborate practical joke.

"Dad's still at work, mom's buying stuff for Aya's room, and Dilan is eight." That leaves Braig. Duh. "And I've seen Aya's stuff because she needs help with the laundry so that she doesn't get hurt! She's too small to do the things that you have her doing. She is six. years. old. You're supposed to be taking care of her!"

"...Also Dilan bites when he's nervous. He got that from Aya."

"Aya doesn't bite." She was a good girl.

...

...

"She has never asked for help before." Except to fuss at him if the debit card didn't work. He...actually looked like the 'six years old' bit was baffling him a little. Like he hadn't thought about Aya's age since...for a while. "I need to work so we both get to eat."

"Does too." Braig showed off the back of his arm...six year old teeth leave a distinctive bite-mark. "And, before you say that's Dilan, his are here." Much, much different radius. Also more slicy, less bruisy.

"Of course she hasn't asked for help! She thinks it's her job to take care of you! What the hell would your wife think of what you're doing to your daughter?"

Jerrig was going to dismiss that evidence. Yep. He had no proof they were Aya's teeth marks as opposed to, say, a Pomeranian. Or another child.

Oh.

Oh ouch.

Yes, this was the look of a wounded man...starting to bleed again Braig. His hands dropped listlessly to his sides as he looked at something...else. Just something else. "Go."

Braig was too young and too innocent, for all he didn't consider himself that way, to understand just how badly he'd hurt the older man. He stalked off to collect Aya and her things, calling his mom as he did.

"Hey, mom? I think you may have to get involved. I can get Aya there, but Mr. Brea is just...mom, he's not okay. He needs serious help."

Jerrig just...let him go. How could he not?

Elsy picked up, naturally, on the third or fourth ring, listening. "Well, see if you can find out anything about extended family baby, watch as you're helping pack. We'll see if we can get a support in for him. I'll call around to therapists as well."

"Okay, mom. Thanks." he went back into the the Brea house to start packing Aya up if she hasn't done so.

"Hey, monkey, whose your dad's best friend?"

"Of course, I'll be home in a bit. Expect delivery trucks."

Aya was...furrowing her brow over the last problem on her sheet. It was a word problem and it was hard. And yes, this meant that she hadn't started packing yet. "Huh? I...huh. I dunno. Wanna look at his photo book?"

"Sure." he dug into the books until he found one person who showed up again and again and again.

Then he found out that guy's phone number.

Theeeeen..."Hi, is this Mr. Nevada...uh. Mr. Nevada? My name is Braig, I'm a friend of Aya Brea."

Aya watched over Braig's shoulder, fussing as he went through her dad's things. When he was done she put things back carefully.

Nevada picked up on the third ring, the sound of air, and shooting, on the other end. "Yes, Nevada." Oh. Hmmm. "Hold on." He climbed into a car, shielding the noise a bit.

"Hello Braig, how is my goddaughter?"

"Living on the couch in the livingroom because Mr. Brea thinks it's more important that he has a darkroom than that she has a door. Doing all the cooking unless Mr. Brea is ordering take-out, which he only does two or three times a week. She does all the shopping, all the laundry, all the cleaning, and if Dilan and I want to play with her than we have to help her do all the chores or she doesn't have time to play." It was very matter of fact, and very angry.

While talking, quietly so that Aya couldn't hear, he was packing her stuff up.

"Ah," It was quiet, and grim. Damn Jerrig.

Damn him.

"Where are you?" It was a controlled, clipped question. It was not, currently, a dangerous tone, but there was anger in it, very, very tightly reined.

"Packing Aya's stuff up 'cause mom says she's moving in with us." Braig kept his voice even, "We've got the space, we're kinda rich and have three empty bedrooms."

"I meant address, Braig." Nevada didn't even know what state Jerrig had haired off to after the funeral.

"Also, do not forget the shrine. There should be copies of the photos stored in a drawer in case of damages to the originals."

"...Oh." Ooops. "Sorry. We're..." address is a go! "Okay, copies of pictures, got 'em in a little folder. You want mom's number, too? Or dad's?"

Address, hmmm, on the coast. "I will be there in three days." One to get affairs in order, two to drive. "Barring unusual circumstance." He'd actually be there in about two weeks as he found out just how much more complicated things were when children were involved.

"Yes, please. I will speak with them this evening. Keep this number, it is my personal cell."

"Okay. I will. Thank you, Mr. Nevada." Braig doesn't get goodbye very well. Also... "Aya! Do you have any dirty laundry?"

"Thank you for your call, Braig." Nevada didn't do goodbyes well either, he just snapped his phone shut.

Aya looked up from tucking a few other things in a box since Braig seemed...serious. "Just my PJs, yesterday was laundry day."

"Okay. I'll put them in a bag and we can let Dilan wash them." Dilan does a lot of chores, too...but as a reward if he does sane things the rest of the time. "Do you have all your toys?"

"Okay." She chewed her lower lip a bit then headed off to the bathroom to get her PJs. And toothbrush. And brush. And...

"When do I get to come back?"

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