seekingbenjyâ:
He thinks about arguing but know better-and the way Cleona said âyour sonâ warms his chest enough that heâs able to forget about the cold. He walks softly down the hallway, avoiding the creak in the floor and headed towards Shayâs room at the end of the hall-the faint glow from the orbs of light Cleona always casts into his room so he doesnât get nightmares.
Benjy isnât surprised to see a very mischievous and very awake three year old smile when he opens the door.
âYou-â Benjy says softly, crossing the room and sitting on his bed with the purple dragon duvet âAre supposed to be in bed.â
âI am, baba!âÂ
âDonât get me on a technicality, Seamus Atlas.âÂ
He smoothes his sonâs curls back down but they pop right back up.Â
âSorry Iâm here so late, Shaybaby.â
âItâs okay, Momma read me the story about the cackling stump.â
âBabbity Rabbity?â Benjy says, his eyebrows raised, his grin coming easily as Shay nods enthusiastically.Â
âWell-Iâve heard that sleeping makes you strong and cool, so you think you wanna give it another try?â
Shay sighs dramatically and Benjy has to hide his smile. âI guess. Will you sing?âÂ
Something in Benjyâs heart pulls. He gets off the bed so Shay can wiggle down as he nods. Benjy starts to sing softly, the same song he would sing for Cleonaâs stomach-it started as a joke, but now it was far from funny.Â
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral Too-ra-loo-ra-li Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral Hush now, donât you cry Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral Too-ra-loo-ra-li Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
âSweet dreams, Shay. I love you.â
âLove you, baba.â He says, sleep clinging to his voice. Benjy keeps going until his eyes close fully.
Over in Killarney, many years ago My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and lowâŚ.
Benjy leaves Seamusâs room silently, casting a charm on the door on the way out to keep the noise out.
Cleona is at the stove when he makes the way into the kitchen, dancing slightly to whatever is on her muggle radio. Benjy watches her for a minute in the doorway, letting out a big sigh of relief as he sees the proof that the evilness he had to fight today didnât even come close to touching the two people who matter the most. She must have heard him, cause she turns around, smiling as she shows him the pan of eggs.Â
âThose better be Florentine or Iâm not eating them.âÂ
Cleona rolls her eyes and gestures for him to sit
âShut up.â
She waves her wand and the eggs appear on the plate sheâd already set on the table.
âThank you.â He says softly, meeting her gaze. He knows she knows he doesnât just mean for dinner. âI barely had time for anything other than a bagel today.â He takes a big bite and doesnât protest when she sets a glass of orange juice beside him. âHe was already awake, by the way-though he was in bed as he helpfully pointed out.â Benjy smiles up at his ex wife and resists the urge to touch her hand. âYou gonna sit or just stare at me to make sure I donât rip off the silver?â
âBastard.â She cuffs him lightly in the back of the head and grins when he snickers. âIâm waiting for the kettle.â
Right on cue, the kettle emits a low whistle and Cleona crosses back to the stove to take it off the burner. She flicks her wand towards the rack of mugs mounted to the wall and summons two to her hand. Both happen to be works of art by their son presented on their respective birthdays. Cleonaâs has âMamaâ scrawled in big loopy purple paint strokes made legible with some guidance from Benjy. Benjyâs has âBabaâ painted in green with similar aid from Cleona. Both have a smattering of multicolored dots and swirls and Shay still gets excited whenever he sees the two of them using them. Which is why Benjy just keeps his here. They donât need to acknowledge any further implications there.
She drops a teabag in each mug and pours water over them, Benjy quietly munching on his eggs behind her.
âYou want anything else?â she asks, setting his mug in front of him but still not sitting down yet herself.
He raises an eyebrow at her, still chewing on a large bite, and shakes his head. âThis is perfect, Cleona.â
She smiles in spite of herself, her cheeks suddenly a bit warm. âItâs just eggs, Benj.â
That same eyebrow shoots up again and she drops it, finally settling in the chair across from him. She watches him over the rim of her mug, his expression falling slightly as he stares down at his eggs.
âBenjy?Â
âHm?â He looks up with a new forced lightness in his tone.
She leans forward in her chair, resting her chin in one hand while keeping her other hand still wrapped around her mug right over her sonâs clumsy but heartfelt lettering. âDo you-do you wanna talk about it?â












