Chapter Text
As expected, neither boys are up when Wayne checks on them in the morning.
It seems like Eddie managed to pry the boy off his body enough to get into a comfier position during the night, now lying on his side with the boy’s head tucked under his chin. His nose is scrunched, messy brown locks probably tickling it slightly as he breathes. Wayne huffs a little chuckle and retreats fully out of the room after getting the empty glass and wrappers that sat on the nightstand.
With such a night, the boys deserve some proper breakfast to start the day, so after tossing the wrappers in the trash and leaving the glass in the sink, Wayne takes stock of what they have left. A few eggs from one of his coworkers stare at him. It’ll do nicely. He spies a few strips of bacon that are most likely expired, he can’t really tell, they look and smell normal to him. Maybe not the best option. He wouldn’t want the boys to get an upset stomach on top of the whole… thing that’s going on with them. Then he remembers that pack of sausages Eddie bought last week that they decided to freeze. He sets the egg box down next to the stove and fishes the meat out of the tiny freezer compartment. There’s just enough for the boys. He shrugs.
Guess I’ll take my chance with expired bacon.
As he’s waiting for the pan to heat up, he hears some rustling down the hallway where he left Eddie’s door ajar. He doesn’t really mean to eavesdrop, but the trailer isn’t that much bigger than the old one, and the hallway between the kitchen and Eddie’s room is just a couple of feet long. So, really, he accidentaly hears the quiet whispers more than he is actively listening to them. But his curiosity wins, and he ends up keeping his ears open anyways.
“How are we feeling?”
It’s Eddie’s voice, soft and gentle like Wayne has learned to hear it yesterday. He can’t hear the answer, the boy’s face probably still pressed against his nephew’s neck, but he gets a rough idea when Eddie’s laugh triggers a hoarse groan.
“That’s why you said you’d never drink again, big boy.”
The pet name is said in such a way that even without seeing Eddie’s face, Wayne knows he has that twinkle in his eyes and this lopsided grin stuck on his lips.
"I'm sorry,” he hears the boy mumble. He sounds absolutely dejected.
"I know, love, can't say I'm proud, but it's not a big deal either. C’mon, let's get breakfast, you’ll feel better with a full stomach."
A beat. Even if he tries to focus really hard, Wayne can’t hear anything, as if time itself stopped in the room across the hallway. And then, "Is your uncle here…?"
Oh?
"Yeah, think so, why? Not scared, are you?" He knows that intonation in Eddie’s voice, it’s light and teasing, a way for him to try and poke fun at the boy to cheer him up. He knows how to do that, Eddie, he knows how to brighten the room for the people he cares about. That’s one of the first things that struck Wayne when he got his boy back, how Eddie had come back with his delightful brightness dimmed to a barely-there glow. But with this boy, it’s slowly growing strong again and it seems like it’s going both ways as the boy looks better than he had that very first night. Well, maybe not yesterday. But all those times he saw him from afar? He did look better.
Though it seems like today is just as bad as the day before, and even Eddie’s dorky behavior doesn’t manage to do its usual job of cheering up the boy.
"I just- I can't show my face. Not after yesterday, that was…" he hears him say.
"Bullshit. Wayne doesn't give a single shit about you being drunk, you're fine."
It’s true, Wayne couldn’t care less about that.
"Eds. I just can't, not right now…I–"
"Okay!" Eddie interrupts, easily convinced by the pleading words. “Okay. What about I go make us some breakfast while you take your time waking up then I come to get you when I'm done?"
The boy must hum or agree quietly because the next thing Wayne hears is his nephew saying, "Good. Take your time, honey."
Some more sheets rustling signals him that Eddie is getting out of bed, so he focuses back on the stove. The pan must have been hot enough for a few minutes already.
Eddie emerges from the hallway as Wayne is cracking the first egg.
"Oh, didn't think you knew how to make anything other than coffee for breakfast,” Eddie jokes as he peeks above his uncle’s shoulder.
“Oh hush, you brat. Like you’re any better,” Wayne swats him with the dish towel he is holding, a faint but fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thought you and your boy might need it."
"Going soft on me, old man?"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't bite the hand that feeds you, some shit like that."
"Real deep," Eddie snorts and heads toward the small counter space.
They share a small smile as the young man starts helping with the food, opening the pack of sausages to separate and poke them before they go on the heat. He eyes the bacon sitting on the side suspiciously for a few long seconds, then throws a questioning look that Wayne dismisses with a vague wave of his hand.
Wayne has never been the best at starting conversations, especially concerning topics as serious as he witnessed last night. But as he and Eddie are cooking in comfortable silence, elbows bumping only a handful of times in the cramped kitchenette, he figures being direct and asking his question is for the best.
"So," he starts, then clears his throat.
He hears Eddie's acknowledging hum, but his attention stays devoted to the pan in front of him. He can feel his nephew's eyes on him when he takes a second too long to continue.
"Yeah?" Eddie pushes.
Wayne takes a couple more seconds to turn the question over in his head.
"Last night. " Eddie winces beside him. "He wasn't just making things up, was he?"
This silence that follows his question is all he needs, really, but he feels the need to add something. “He looked really freaked out, your boy. As much as some buddies of mine, even," he explains, setting the eggs aside to free the pan for the sausages.
"Wayne-"
"Nah, you don't have to explain anything." He still isn't looking at Eddie, taking the packet from him. He carefully lowers the first sausage into the pan. "Just… I don't know what either of you kids went through and, frankly, I don't think I even want to know." Eddie snorts. "But what I know is that you're good to each other."
He doesn't know how to conclude his train of thought. He isn't the best at emotions, he knows it, and actually saying this is already kind of a big deal coming from him. But Eddie knows it too.
It's his nephew's turn to stare at the stove. He is gnawing on his lip, brows creased in a slight frown. After a moment, he takes a deep breath in.
"Thanks, Wayne." His eyes finally meet Wayne's. "That… That means a lot, actually."
Wayne can only smile at his nephew. It’s a smile he wants to be reassuring, and it seems to work as Eddie takes a step to gather him in a side hug.
They finish cooking breakfast in silence, bumping elbows here and there. While Wayne starts on his –definitely expired– strips of bacon, Eddie plates the eggs and sausages and leaves them on the counter before shuffling back to his bedroom.
Wayne decides to act like normal, brings his own plate to the living room after getting himself a cup of coffee, and then sinks into his chair in the corner of the room. He keeps his mouth shut when he hears two sets of footsteps walking down the hall and the boys emerge in the communal space, only nods their way. But, the moment he looks up to greet them properly when they bring their plates to the table, the boy is avoiding his eyes, staring very intensely at his eggs.
Now Wayne isn’t one of those “look me in the eyes when I talk to you” kind of guys, –especially considering that they aren’t even talking, to begin with– but the boy doesn’t just look uncomfortable or embarrassed. Now that he really looks at him, the kid doesn’t even look scared –what could he be scared of anyways, Wayne doesn’t really know. He looks empty. His eyes look far away, his eyebrows form a flat line, as do his lips and his whole face is devoid of any kind of emotion. But where his face is lacking everything, his shoulders and back make up in tension. He’s never seen anyone sitting this straight on a couch.
Wayne has to admit, it's a bit weird seeing him like this. It really doesn't suit him. Even though Wayne doesn't even know him, it doesn't feel like him. This boy sitting on his couch with his back straight as a rod is nothing like the boy he's seen from afar with either a fond smile or a fondly exasperated scowl turned Eddie's way. Wayne can barely comprehend how these two are, in fact, the same person. The way his face doesn't show anything makes him look so much older it’s almost scary.
“I…” the boy says, bringing him out of his observation with a startle. Considering his blank expression, Wayne shouldn’t be surprised that even his voice sounds this flat when he continues, “I wanted to apologize, Mr. Munson, about last night. I–”
“I’m gonna stop you right there, son.” Wayne takes a sip of his coffee and, finally, he meets the boy's eyes. He hides a smile in his cup at how surprised he looks, eyes wide, brow raised and mouth open. "You got nothing to apologize for. Nothing, you hear me?"
The boy nods slowly, and Wayne starts to think he’ll finally relax when he sees his shoulders lower slowly. But the tension doesn’t leave the boy’s body, it simply shifts. The surprise that flashed in his eyes morphs into something harder to read –confusion, maybe– and his shoulders didn’t, in fact, relax, but they slumped. His back is no longer stiff, but hunched, and his previously formal posture has become defensive. He looks like he’s trying to make himself look smaller with how he curled in on himself. It’s like he doesn’t know how to actually be relaxed with Wayne in the room.
Well, at least his face isn't expressionless.
"Hey," Eddie whispers, snaking an arm between the boy's back and the couch to trace soothing circles at the base of his neck. "Wayne's not your dad, babe, breathe."
So that's what it is.
The boy shakes his head as he takes a shaky breath like he’s trying to shake the tension away. It's a movement so small that Wayne barely catches it, but he does, and he once again feels like he's intruding on something.
"I'm gonna finish this outside," he says, getting up from his chair with his cup still in his hand. "Let you boys in peace, okay? If you need anything…" He gestures vaguely towards the door before grabbing his plate.
His nephew answers with a small nod, his arm still around the boy's shoulders, mouthing a "thank you" with a weak smile. Wayne nods back, struggling a second to open the door with his hands full, then disappears outside to leave them to their breakfast.
Before the door can fully close behind him, he hears some shuffling, a few whispers he can’t understand, and a wet, shaky laugh.
As he bites into his probably expired meat, Wayne swears he'll care for this boy as he cares for Eddie. Even if he still doesn't know his name.