Sep 25, 2025
Taking over the family business
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Taking over the family business
everyone stop and look at ben’s msa nintendo accounts
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
For @lauritanaomystery. I'm very sorry about that. I haven't posted anything for a couple of months and it seems like things have changed. Again, I do hope you love the story!
“White” Christmas
It might be the new year, but it’s never too late to receive a gift! Hey @viotti-violet you’re my second giftee. It seems your gift was lost in transit so another has been sent in its place. I apologize for it being late, but I hope it was worth the wait! I heard your call for some Vithur, Lewvithur, baking, and cuddles with blankets. Let’s go the whole nine yards shall we? I hope you like it!!
Winter was in full swing, snow fluttering down from the heavens. Earthen colors were replaced with a blanket of pure white, growing thicker with each passing second. A strange contrast to the way the weather usually was around these parts, though not entirely unwelcome.
An orange glow emitted from the windows of a nearby home, nestled in between two others on a strip of road. Night hadn’t yet climbed into the sky, blue still stretching as far as the eye could see, and yet orange mixed along the sills, not that one might notice right away. The once pristine blanket disturbed by the up kick of feet, footprints accompanying the thinner patches of snow along the walkway. Three girls were bundled up, flakes decorating their jackets.
A pair of soft gazes fell on them before they continued to the door, giving a knock. The door opened, Mrs. Pepper’s usual stoic look cracking a smile, “Vivi. Arthur. Glad you could make it. Please, come in.”
A smile formed on both their faces, passing Mr. Pepper. The man was just as bundled up as their daughters, likely either coming to join them in their play, or to watch them while the other stayed inside. With how much energy the children have, it might be a while before any of them were content enough to come back inside.
That’s fine though. The core trio had plans.
The orange glow came from the same source of a gentle crackle sound. A fire danced with life, a hint of smoke filtering into the whole space. Pine and spice in with the scents, the Pepper family going the extra mile when it came to their decorations. It made sense, they ran a restaurant after all. It was in the spirit of the season to assume it was just as decorated. In the more private setting of their own home, they weren’t always burdened by their son’s secrets. Better safe than sorry. A tree stood not too far from the fireplace, lights left off until later in the day, though ornaments made it pop for the time being. Lines of lights and garland were placed with care along the walls, a few knick knacks set up on their wooden furniture.
The smell of spice came lingering from the kitchen, a gentle hum following along right behind it.
Vivi and Arthur both shed their winter coats, the latter of the two probably not needing it as much as the former. The three of them thought it a cute idea to dress up for their get together… well… perhaps ‘dress up’ was a bit incorrect. Lewis was probably the only one with the dramatic flare to pull off anything like that, especially if it were for his sisters.
So something simple.
The concept of an ‘ugly’ sweater seemed subjective depending on who you asked. For someone that wore one just about every day, and one of just one color at that, she was much more picky about the one she picked out to wear. Or perhaps it was simply something that fell under ‘dressing to impress’ in a much more casual light. The color scheme was still the same, though traded out her usual light blue for something darker. White snowflakes ran all around the garment, rows upon rows of them.
Fitting for her.
Arthur’s wasn’t too different from her own, though clearly not as picky about his own. There was only one requirement when it came to his own… technically two if you counted something to match his golden scheme. He wasn’t complete without it. No, the core detail required for his own was some kind of pun. The man was infamous for them, so it was just something that fit him better than some complex design.
Coats hung and stray fibers brushed out lead them to join Lewis in the kitchen, guided by the humming heard earlier. As to be expected, he was adorned in his own sweater, deep purple with some traces of black along the borders. Hardly proper Christmas colors, but then again the same could be said for Arthur’s. There were snowflakes along his own too, but mixed in the monotone pattern were skulls and ghosts.
His golden heart jumped at the sight of them, his ‘human’ form being the one to greet them. Were it not for the black sclera, it would be almost as if nothing ever happened.
His smile was warmer than the fire not a room away, “Vivi! Artie! Glad you both made it safely.”
“‘Course we did, big guy. That van can tough through just about anything.” There was some truth to that, given that even when being chased and crashing into the side of a building… well it could have ended up a lot worse. That van was one of, if not the, man’s pride and joy.
“Right. Still with all the ice and snow, one can never be too sure.”
“Yeah I got you. But seriously, no need to worry. I’m being careful.”
“Didn’t doubt you for a second, Artie.” Ironic coming from him.
Vivi jumped in now, “Yeah yeah, we’re safe you dork. Are we all ready to get started?”
Lewis’ eyes brightened, his arms moving out to encompass the counters in front of him. An assortment of ingredients, food dyes, and decorative tools. Anything they could have wanted for baking, he had, not that it was that much of a surprise. Upon seeing stars in their own eyes, Lewis placed a palm over a recipe book. He prepared everything. Vivi was the first to flip the book open, looking through different cookies while Lewis passed over a box to Arthur, who took it with a confused look on his face.
Work gloves?
“For your left hand. Figured you wouldn’t want to get anything in the… spaces.”
Arthur gave a light chuckle at his choice of words before taking one, carefully slipping it over the metal hand, “Thanks Lewis.”
From there, the three of them broke off, having selected a recipe each to work on. At least that was how it started… First it was just a flurry of flour releasing into the air as it fell from measuring cup to bowl. A sneeze echoed through the kitchen, both men quick to ‘bless her’. She readily gave them both thanks, glancing down at the white streak along her sweater. The bluenette peered at it longer than she should have, a mischievous grin curling wider and wider along her face.
As she grabbed the next scoop of flour, her hand reached further than it needed to, powder, white lining her hand, not that either of her boys would be able to tell with how pale she already was. Her gaze trailed over to the closest person to her, making Arthur her target. He had already finished his dough, carefully shaping his cookies before they were to go into the oven. Her hands moved up, catching his shoulders as she latched on.
A surprised gasp escaped from the blond, his head spinning to look over his shoulder, “Vivi?!”
“Those look so good Artie.”
“O-Oh… Thanks Vivi.”
“No problem. Keep up the good work!”
Arthur watched her walk away, warmth filling his chest… and maybe a bit on his face… letting a smile form on his face. It was nice to let the more genuine smiles out rather than the false ones. He watched her all the way up until she got back to her side of the counter, going back to his work. Cooking… wasn’t exactly his forte. The other two were much better than him, so it only made sense he went with something simple for his choice.
Upon finishing his tray, he joined Lewis at the oven, no surprise his’ was already baking. Looks like he was going to have to wait another round. Purple eyes peered over to his friend, eyebrow raising as he caught the sight of something, “Hey Artie?”
“Yeah Lewis?”
“Why is there a white handprint on your shoulder?”
“White hand-” That snapped him into motion real quick, hands moving up to twist the back of his sweater more into view. Sure enough, there on his shoulder was a smudged, white handprint. There was only one person who could have done that. The blond’s eyes met with Vivi, who despite realizing she had been caught, held a sly grin with her tongue sticking out at him. That heat along his cheeks came back, “Vivi!”
Her reply was simply letting her tongue stick out more.
Before he could think much on what he was doing, Arthur’s ‘noodle’ legs and long strides carried him back over to the counter, finding his own hands dipping in the flour. The bluenette began to back away from Arthur, his own assault of powdery ingredient pointed in her direction. Both of them took turns patterning each other with flour… all the while Lewis stood there watching.
Some part of him couldn’t help but smile and shake his head at their antics… but the other part of him, the professional side of him, was threatening to boil over.
It wasn’t until Mrs. Pepper poked her head in, noting the change in color that her sharp gaze focused on the two offenders. Both of them met her gaze, each raising a hand to point at the other for the blame. That gesture alone caused another shake of Lewis’ head, though a light-hearted one rather than one of disappointment.
Of course they had to clean up their mess, and of course the two troublemakers were the ones taking care of it while Lewis finished the actual baking. They’d be returning to that task once it was time to decorate. Seeing as the cookies would take time to cool before some of them could be done, it was Lewis’ suggestion they took a small break.
The ghost lingered behind for a few moments, Arthur and Vivi enjoying one another’s laughter at their ‘flour war’. Vivi pulled him down in front of the crackling fire, heat pressing against their fronts as they were embraced in the same orange glow from the windows. The bluenette found her head leaning onto Arthur’s shoulder, watching the embers dance in front of them.
The spell was broken by a ‘clink’ sound, mugs resting on coasters along the coffee table resting near them. A couple blankets found their way wrapped around their bodies, Vivi and Arthur leaning back against Lewis once he sat down behind them. A content sigh escaped from them collectively, the scent of chocolate filtering in from the mugs.
They could enjoy those soon…
For now…
It was nice to just share in the comfort of one another.
Happy Father's Day!!!💖
@officialmunson forgot to put me in zhe kitchzen, hon hon hon
The bed was cold.
It took several minutes to drift from her exhausted slumber, but it was the first thing she noticed, even before her eyes opened. There was always a hand curled over her side that held her close, always the warmth of a body behind her, and always soft, equally warm breaths that tickled her neck while she slept. The absence of that presence, of that face buried in her hair nuzzled close, was jarring. It was enough to wake her, even after a night of overwork to ensure a dreamless, deep sleep.
Her eyes creaked open slow. They were gummed shut, and it took a few brushes with the heel of her palm to clear away the fuzz they left on her vision. She squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand beside her; the face read three twenty in the morning.
Joints protesting her movement, she grunted and turned over. The bed was empty, sheets and blankets disheveled where a body should have been, a space vacant where legs should have tangled with hers. She kicked the covers off and away, only half aware of them falling from the mattress to pool on the floor.
Wiping at her face again to further dispel the fatigue, Mrs. Pepper sat up.
The bedroom was still nestled in muted colors this early in the morning, most of the pinks and purples drained to a motley of greys. The alarm clock’s fluorescent numbers (it now read three twenty-five) helped dispel some of the darkness near the bed. The rest of the room was illuminated by thin, slatted beams of moonlight filtering through the blinds over the windows. They reflected off the glass panes of photo frames hanging on the opposite wall, the glare hiding their contents. Most of the little decorations and knickknacks in the room, gifts from her children over the years, were rendered to silhouettes.
She was alone.
There were signs she hadn’t been, now that she looked. Some of the bric-a-brac had been adjusted; the shadows cast by the objects made it hard to tell, but for a few changes were obvious. She could see the lid of the music box had been opened. Could tell the angle of her favorite figurine --one of her family— was different than it was when she saw it each morning. Any cobwebs strung from it had been dusted away, too.
A few of the photo frames had been adjusted too, straightened so perfect they looked strange, no longer at their usual tilt they’d get to fixing when they had time. On the door to the wardrobe across the room, her uniform hung where it had been left after work. The fabric was crisp now, every wrinkle ironed away, and her work-shoes were angled against the wood just under it.
She continued to scan the room, but a frown graced her face, growing deeper every second; the shadows felt darker, deeper, and the silence crept at her skin like the cold did.
Frown more a grimace now, she slipped from the bed and trudged from the room.
Her eyes flicked to the furthest door along the corridor. But the door was the sun, and she looked away quick to keep from going blind. She bit her lip and shook her head, before focusing on the nearest one.
Her husband wasn’t in the bathroom. She would have heard the water running or the hum of the fluorescent bulb over the sink. Or she would have seen the stripe of light beneath the door. He wasn’t in the guest room either; she could see the untouched bed, pristine as ever. If anything, he had made it again.
She checked the girls’ room next, one by one. They’d had enough nightmares since their brother had vanished, waking up in tears screaming for—
…
Well.
He wasn’t here to answer them right now (it had to be right now. It had to be temporary), but she and her husband did their best to offer them comfort. They curled their children close, stroking their hair and kissing their foreheads and their tears away, promising their brother would come home and rocking them until they drifted off again.
But tonight seemed to be a welcome respite from the nightmares. Each of the girls were the only occupants in their rooms, breathing slow and even as they slept. They each wore their own peaceful expression smoothed by sleep, wreathed in their blankets with halos of curled hair consuming their pillows. It brought a smile to her face to see them resting; to see them breathing. To see them okay, even if right now okay was fleeting.
With that small affection in her chest, she tucked a hanging leg from Belle under her horse-print comforter, smoothed the hair away from Cayenne’s forehead, and recovered the alpaca plush Paprika clung to while sleeping from where it had fallen to the floor. When she was sure she’d done what she could for each of her daughters, she graced their temples with the softest kiss, and crept from their room.
But she still had yet to find her husband. He was probably…
Please. Let him be anywhere else.
The carpet audibly swished under her feet as she shuffled along. Where the hall gave way to the stairwell, the carpet turned to floorboards that creaked faintly under the occasional careless step. She kept one hand tucked against her chest and the other on the railing as she leaned over and listened.
Downstairs, the TV was off, which meant he wasn’t in the living room. The light to the study didn’t filter into view either, which meant he wasn’t in there, busying himself with reading books or with his paints and the canvases. And the resounding silence from the kitchen meant he hadn’t decided to occupy himself with busywork, either.
Which left one more room. Of course. She’d known. She just wanted to be wrong.
Her hands shook, but she clasped them together until they didn’t. She swallowed, took enough breaths to slow her heart, and approached the last door in the hallway.
She hardly felt the cold of the knob against her skin. The door swung open silently into the dark room, revealing the mat at the door. A square rug depicting eleven planetary symbols, each in a different color on a black background. Stars hung from the ceiling where they’d been strung up, no longer aglow. The thick curtains over the windows hadn’t been opened to recharge them in months.
There was a form on the bed.
She knew who it was. She knew. But her heart still leapt into her throat until she swallowed it.
Mrs. Pepper drifted over to him, keeping her eyes away from the bookshelves of memories and the dresser armored in stickers. He was laying still, on top of the covers, curled up small as she’d ever seen him. In his hands was a photo-book. She recognized the cover as one of—.
“Mi vida?”
The form shifted at her whisper. Mr. Pepper looked to his wife with glass eyes reflecting the hallway’s light and sparkles sideways on his cheek. “Jagi… Did I wake you?”
“No…” His face said he knew she was lying, but he didn’t protest. “What are you doing awake, amor?”
His fingers crested the cover of the book, finding the ridge of the photo glued on. “I dreamed about him again…”
She seated herself beside him, her hand coasting his on the book, to keep his itching fingers from peeling off the snapshot. To keep herself from seeing his face. Her fingers over the lamination felt like needles. “I’m sorry.”
“I miss him.” He whispered, turning further into her. He abandoned the book to the bed, arms curling around her waist instead. “….Did we fail him? Could we have done better to keep him safe?”
“He is an adult.” She soothed, fingers running through his hair. “We loved him everything we have. We still do. But we...” She swallowed. “...we couldn’t protect him from everything. Not forever.”
“We should be out looking for him.”
“We were told to stay here, in case he comes home. Arthur and Vivi are looking for him.”
Mr. Pepper shook his head in a violent roll against her lap. “Vivi doesn’t even know who he is—Arthur is barely recovered and he’s killing himself. Our children are hurting—our son is missing— and we just sit here and wait.” His voice carried a force his volume didn’t; the girls were sleeping only doors away.
“What should we do?” She asked it with a stern voice, but not one with any heat. “Arthur and Vivi at least know what they are doing. Vivi is far more useful in a fight than you or I will ever hope to be. Arthur is good at maneuvering. The two of them protect each other. And they have Mystery. If something goes wrong for us, we don’t have any of those things. Our daughters would have to mourn alone. Without us.” Maybe hoping they’d come home too.
Her husband made a pained sound. A muted cry into her sleeping pants. She felt the pain echo inside her and bounce off every corner.
She took a deep breath, then nudged him. He complied easily, and after a brief moment of sliding the scrapbook to the nightstand, Mrs. Pepper joined her husband in the bed, laying beside him and facing him. Her legs tangled with his and she cupped his cheeks, framing his face with slender fingers. “Mi vida. I’m... I’m sorry. I wish I had better words. Something to fix this. I know you’re hurting…”
Mr. Pepper sniffed, a warbly, wet noise. He reciprocated her touch, fingers gliding over her cheeks and leaving warm trails in their wake. “…I know you are too….I… I’m sorry. I know you miss him. You can’t even say his name…”
Mrs. Pepper swallowed the thickness burning in her throat. “It…it’s easier.”
“Why…?”
“If…If I think about him. I… can’t be strong enough. I’m not strong enough to say his name.” Mrs. Pepper felt the warmth building in her chest. Her eyes were stinging and her throat tightened with each swallow. “You need me. The girls need me. I can’t.”
Mr. Pepper stole himself closer with a shift, looking into her eyes, still teary but a firmness to his expression she didn’t expect. “You don’t have to be strong…. You don’t have to carry us. Jagi, tell me your thoughts. Please.”
The please cracked something she’d hidden beneath a shell, breaking it away like a spoon to tempered chocolate. Her eyes welled further as she looked at her husband, and the breath she took was ragged. “We… we wanted him to be safe, but choose his own way…. He’s an adult. He needed to make his own choices and if he got hurt we could be there if he stumbled and fell, to help him back up. But we would let him make his mistakes his own way and try to help as much as we could. But this one….. I--- I ……”
She buried her face in his shoulder, hands going to his back beneath his arms. “I—why did I let him go?!” She cried into him louder than she thought she had in her, the sound muffled by fabric. The heat in her chest was pouring out her mouth, and she screwed her eyes shut as they watered and burned. “I can’t—I—I’m so angry— why didn’t I tell him it was too dangerous?! What if he doesn’t come home?! What will we do? I don’t care about the restaurant. I don’t care about keeping things going. Every day is working until I can’t think just so I don’t think about him—about where he is and if he’s alone or safe or if he’s even alive—.”
She felt his arms around her, felt herself curled against his chest and the hand in her hair, pressing through the coils to cup her scalp. But it was all so far away, the sensations shapeless, behind glass. “How am I supposed to pretend every time someone asks? Knowing I’m without my son? How are we supposed to live day to day and say everything is fine? How do I say thank you to all those condolences that don’t bring him back!? How do I listen to them?! How do I smile?! How do we tell the girls? How are we supposed to survive if he doesn’t come home?”
It didn’t feel possible. Her heart would break too small to beat. “I just want him home. I want to hold my baby and know he’s here and safe. I want to never let him go again. I want to hear him sing. I want to hear him laugh with his friends at the table in the other room. I want to hear him call me Mamá. I want to hear him talk about Vivi and Arthur and see his eyes so full of love! I want him. I want him back! I would do anything in the world please mijo—please Lewis just come home--.” Her voice continued, but it was a thrumming vibration. The snatches she caught were blended into nothing. She wasn’t even sure what she was trying to say.
But what was there she could say? She knew he understood more than anyone. And there were no words for this kind of unknowing agony, waiting for better or for worse.
But she could feel Mr. Pepper’s arms squeeze around her, holding her closer and closer. She heard soft murmurings by her ear and felt warm hands along her back, tracing over her spine.
It didn’t make her feel better, didn’t take away the pain, but it helped her breathe. She was half aware when she’d stopped speaking, and the hand in her hair was now at her face, wiping at her eyes. She kept sobbing until there wasn’t air to cry with, until she was dry and used up, everything wrung from her.
“I... I think you needed that.” Mr. Pepper whispered, when she’d stopped shaking and laid limp against him. He kissed at another tear that’d come loose and rolled down to the bridge of her nose. “How do you feel…..?”
“Awful.” Mrs. Pepper swiped at her face. “But… I don’t know. Better. As better as I can feel with everything.”
“You’ve been helping us for months.” Mr. Pepper frowned and took her hand away, keeping her from continuing the rough movements. “The girls. Me… I… I’ve been selfish. Hurting, but selfish. For not seeing if you needed help too. I should’ve knowing it was a brave front for us. You needed support too. An outlet. But I focused on me.”
Mrs. Pepper shook her head. “We’ve all been trying to survive this, however we could. I don’t blame you. We’ve all been...” She didn’t want to say grieving. But it hung in the air unsaid.
He nodded. “I’ll still do better. I’ll still hold you like you hold me.”
She smiled at that. A tired one, but a smile. “I… what are we going to do, amor…?”
Mr. Pepper shook his head. “I… don’t know. Hope for the best, until we can’t. What you’ve told me. We’ll put up more posters. We’ll call further out places for information….we’ll keep our phones charged. So if Arthur or someone else calls, we can be there, the second they find him.”
Mrs. Pepper sniffed and nodded, wiping at her face again. “We’ll keep a candle in the window. Every night.”
“That too.” Mr. Pepper kissed her forehead. “Just like when he found us the first time. The light will lead him home.”
Mrs. Pepper made a noise of agreement, and felt the smallest of smiles when her husband wiped her eyes, thumb stroking over her cheeks. “Thank you.. Thank you. For-- listening. I love you, mi vida.”
“I love you too.” He whispered back. He kissed her gently, their lips drawing together in a brief moment of comfort, a respite for a beat from the rest of the world. It didn’t’ fix anything, but it was something to hold onto for now. Being alone together wasn’t as lonely.
“Do you want to rest now…?” He asked her when the kiss parted. She shook her head.
“I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to sleep.” She grabbed his hand. “But I—I want to stay together a little while.”
“We can do that.” Mr. Pepper nodded. “Here…?”
She shook her head. “No. I… not here.” She was too emotional already. She would break again if she stayed in his room, surrounded by his things but knowing he was gone.
Mr. Pepper didn’t answer, but he gave her another soft kiss. “Our room, then.” He moved to get up, and she followed, grunting and brushing back frazzled hair.
Her eyes drifted to the album, where it rested on the nightstand. She plucked it from its resting place, cradling it to her chest. “Look at these with me…? Not tonight. But….”
Mr. Pepper took her hand. “We can. When you’re ready. I—I’d like to see him again.”
“I would too….” She breathed, squeezing back. “Maybe… maybe with the girls.”
“We could make a collage for the restaurant.” Mr. Pepper offered. “He might like to see that, when he comes back. Seeing we didn’t forget him. And it might help them to feel we’re all going through this together.”
Mrs. Pepper felt like her voice might betray her, the way her throat sealed with a swallow. She nodded her agreement once more and kissed his hand. She followed her husband into the hall, linked together and holding tight. “For when he comes back...”
She had to hold on to the thought. That Vivi or Arthur or someone would find him. He would be okay.
He had to be, or she didn’t know what she’d do.
Mystery March #1: Heal
My entry for prompt/day one of Mystery March. A few little tidbits from the Peppers’ first months with Lewis.
If you’ve been following me for awhile or my old Arthur blog, you’ll probably recognize the second vignette-- I’ve written that event before, but from Arthur’s POV instead of Mrs. Pepper’s!
Please enjoy :>
Belle was screaming in the living room. Not screams of terror or of pain-- the screams of someone who had recently decided that there was a kind of simple, primal joy to be found in just screaming sometimes, that ought to be tapped into as often as possible. Lucinda Pepper was used to it, if still looking forward to the day Belle grew tired of this particular diversion, but she was concerned that their new little guest would find it alarming.
Sure enough, she found Lewis looking like a deer in the headlights where he sat on the couch, fighting a losing battle to keep perfectly still and avoid flinching as Belle hollered an aria almost directly into his ear and attempted to use him as a jungle gym. Lucinda swept in to rescue him-- or at least she moved as quickly as she could with the ponderous weight of her next little troublemaker slowing her down.
She plucked Belle from his shoulders and settled her in the crook of her arm with practiced ease. “You’ve got to be gentle with Lewis, my love,” she chided, as gently as she advised. “We want him to get better, and he can’t do that if you play so rough.” Belle patted both hands against Lucinda’s collarbone and said something in the private language of toddlers. “I think we can consider that an apology. You mustn't let her bully you like that,” Lucinda smiled down at Lewis. He blinked dolefully back up at her.
Lucinda sighed and carefully lowered herself to sit beside him, shifting Belle over the mountain of her belly to rest in her other arm. She pressed the back of her newly freed hand softly against the side of Lewis’ face, careful to avoid the plum colored bruise over his cheekbone. “You’re alright, hon? She didn’t hurt you?”
“Estoy bien,” Lewis murmured, almost too quiet to hear over the incomprehensible anecdote Belle was attempting to relay. Lucinda shifted to stroke his hair.
“¿Seguro?” she pressed, and sighed again, fondly, when he nodded with grave earnestness. “Please tell me if you’re hurting, okay Lewis?” she continued, still in Spanish. “Tell me if you need anything for pain or if there’s anything else I can do to help.” Lewis nodded again, as seriously as before, and thought for a moment.
“Can you put on a video, please? Sailor Moon?” His voice was soft and halting.
“I think I can do that for you,” Lucinda smiled, ruffling his hair. “In fact, I was just making lunch-- why don’t I finish that real quick and bring our food and Belle’s high chair in here, and we can all sit and watch together. How does that sound, my sweet?”
Lewis nodded again, silent and stoic as ever but, as Lucinda was pleased to note, far less somber.
Xxx
“Have you seen Lewis anywhere, mi amor?” Lucinda popped her head into the living room, where her husband was deliberately losing a wrestling match with a very loudly delighted Belle in the middle of the rug.
“Not since--” Eun started, then yelped. “Ow! Belle, please, Appa is trying to talk-- Not since I got her up from her nap. He was in his room last I looked, but he might be out back. I told him it was such a nice day that he should go out and play if he wanted to.”
“I checked the yard already,” Lucinda said, and felt a crease of worry fold into being between her brows.
“Have you tried out front? He might be hoping to spot that cat from yesterday again.”
“I’ll look,” she said. “And I’ll take him to the back. Even as careful as he always is I’d still rather he play away from the street.”
Sure enough, in front of the restaurant is where she found Lewis, but he wasn’t playing or searching for kittens-- he was sweeping. Or at least trying to. His hands were already healing up nicely, but they were still wrapped up fairly extensively in bandages, and holding the broom was clearly a struggle for him. He looked up at the sound of the bell over the door as she came through, his expression as guilty as if he’d been caught sneaking sweets rather than chores. Lucinda shook her head and folded her arms over her belly, torn between being touched, exasperated, and concerned.
“Lewis, your hands are never going to heal this way,” she said.
“Papa said-- he meant to sweep out front all morning, but he was so busy with Belle. I wanted to help.” He said it so earnestly that Lucinda couldn’t help her heart just about melting. Carefully, laboriously, she lowered herself to kneel beside him and match his height, patting his head in the way she’d come to realize he enjoyed.
“You are such a sweet boy, Lewis,” she said. “But right now all we need you to do is get well, alright mijo?” He nodded, his expression serious, but when she ruffled his hair he finally smiled-- tiny and timid, but less and less rare and always so charming.
The bell tingled again, and the next few moments Lucinda processed in snapshots: Belle’s tiny, beaming face as she slipped out of the door, Eun’s look of panic as he tripped over the threshold to land in a sprawl on the sidewalk, Lewis’ expression of quiet determination as he took off after Belle as fast as he could on his still injured leg while she and Eun struggled to help each other back to their feet. It wasn’t near fast enough, however, and she handily outsped him.
She didn’t make it far, however. She ran right into the arms of two children that Lucinda recognized vaguely from around town, who reached out and caught her in sync as though they’d practiced it. They handed her back to Lewis, and when Lucinda had caught up to him the little girl in blue was already making gregarious introductions. To her surprise and delight, she spotted a small, shy smile on Lewis’ face.
Xxx
Lucinda was just tucking her hospital gown closed after giving Cayenne her very first meal when she caught the soft knock on the door. As soon as she gave the okay Eun slipped quietly inside, ushering a faintly teary eyed Lewis ahead of him.
Lewis had apparently been inconsolable for the babysitter who was still back at home watching over Belle while she slept. He’d been remarkably calm after her water broke and she’d told him to fetch Eun and tell him his baby sister was on the way, but the moment he’d heard them talk about taking her to the hospital he’d begun crying, terrified out of his mind with worry over Lucinda’s wellbeing and the baby’s. According to the sitter, he’d wept on and off from the moment they’d left until the moment Eun had returned to tell him that Lucinda and Cayenne were both perfectly fine and eager to see him.
Eun led Lewis to Lucinda’s bedside, and she was happy to note that the only unsteadiness in his steps seemed to come from nerves-- his limp was entirely gone. He twisted his small, newly unbandaged hands around and around each other as Eun pressed a kiss to her forehead, eyes locked on the wrinkled pink face and tiny fists poking out of the bundle of blankets in Lucinda’s arms.
“Can I hold her?” Lewis murmured, and looked shocked that he’d done it.
“Of course you can, mijo,” Lucinda smiled at him. “Come here and sit next to me.” Lewis shuffled his feet.
“Are you sure…?” he murmured. “I don’t want-- I don’t want to drop her…”
“I know, my love-- but your hands are all better now. You won’t drop her.” She shifted her grip to free one hand and pat a spot on the bed beside her. “But I’ll help you hold her up, if you’re worried.” Lewis took another moment to think, then nodded. Lucinda scooted herself over to give him more room while Eun helped him climb up and arranged his arms to receive Cayenne as Lucinda eased her into his hold.
Lewis and the baby goggled at one another-- him looking awestruck, her almost seeming to size him up with a remarkable amount of shrewdness for an infant.
“Hi,” Lewis whispered. Cayenne blinked at him. “I’m your big brother. I’m-- I’m going to be the best brother in the world, for you,” he said, still quietly but with absolute, devoted conviction. He glanced over at Lucinda. “Can I have this arm?” he asked, wiggling the elbow that held up Cayenne’s lower half. She slid her arm under her daughter’s legs to allow Lewis to free his hand.
Slowly, almost cautiously, he offered his pointer finger for Cayenne to expect. Equally slowly, but with more of an air of gravitas than of caution, Cayenne wrapped her minuscule hand around it, gripping tight. Lewis did something they’d never seen from him before:
He beamed.
Lewis was much more cheerful now in general, a far cry from the perpetually frightened and solemn boy they’d found on their doorstep all those months ago, especially now that he had his new friends Arthur and Vivi. But even though his smiles were more ready they were still always quite shy and reserved. Not now, however-- now his grin stretched nearly from ear to ear unrestrained, his eyes almost dizzyingly alight.
“The best in the world,” he murmured again. Lucinda didn’t doubt it for a moment.