the cat is out of the bag 🐈⬛️
Dennis is painfully aware of the fact that he age regresses. It was a coping mechanism that surprised even him, but that brought him endless comfort. The thing is, he hasn't been able to drop into that headspace since he was twenty-three. Basically since he officially completed his undergrad, started medical school, and became unhoused. It wasn't safe. Not for him and not for little Denny.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, Dennis found Trinity.
Or more accurately, Trinity found him.
And she was nice.
She took him in and opened up her home to him - a complete stranger.
She never asked questions... well, she did, and she pushed, but she apologized in her own way (pizza and wine) when she realized she pushed too far.
But Denny?
He was a secret Dennis wasn't willing to share, too scared of how people would react.
But with Trinity he started feeling safe.
When they were wine-drunk and lips were loose and secrets were spilled in the warm light of their living room after a rough shift, he slowly began opening up, and so did she. She felt comfortable enough to wear shorts around him.
And he... he appreciated her so much, loved her so much, saw her as the sister he never had.
Maybe that was the problem.
His grip on Denny started slipping.
Sometimes, he could feel him in the recess of his mind; Denny's curiosity peeking through when his eyes landed on a particularly soft stuffie.
And that's how he got lost.
One second he was looking through the aisle of shame in Aldi (because groceries were cheaper there and they were both in hella debt from medical school), the next his eyes came in contact with the softest and squishiest black cat plush he's ever laid eyes on.
He hadn't even realized he had stopped right in front of the meager pile of toys; his hand automatically shooting up to tough the Squishmallow (the tag read).
He hesitated, looked to both ends of the aisle, saw Trinity at the very end of one inspecting different blocks of cheeses, and finally gave himself the permission to touch.
He picked up the stuffie and squeezed it close to his chest, feeling the give of the polyfil inside. He closed his eyes and brought it up to his nose, rubbing his cheek against the fabric.
Unintentionally, he dropped.
His mind became fuzzy, and things didn't quite make sense and the lights were suddenly too bright.
All he could focus on was his new friend and how she absolutely had to come home with him because she reminded him of Trinity, and Trinity was safe, and she was...
She was gone.
His brow furrowed as he looked down the aisles once more. But the woman wasn't where he last saw her.
Instead, there was an old couple bickering back and forth about the differences between sharp cheddar and extra sharp cheddar.
Denny felt his heart start pounding loudly in his chest.
He hugged Tintin a little harder while he contemplated on what to do.
Should he go in search of Trinity?
Or should he stay put? Maybe she'll come find him when she's ready to check out?
But what if she forgets about him?
What if she doesn't realize that he's lost and she goes home without him like his mom did that one time?
What if she doesn't come back?
His breath hitches in panic.
What if she doesn't want him anymore?
The thought paralyzes him.
He buries his flushed face in Tintin's fabric, nose burning and eyes stinging with unshed tears. He feels like he can't breathe. He wants to find Trinity, he wants go home.
But his feet are rooted to the ground.
He can't move.
He can't do anything but hug himself and Tintin tightly, rocking on the balls of his feet back and forth.
"Huckleberry?"
Denny looks up at the call of that name.
It sounds familiar.
He thinks it's him.
He glances up a little shyly and finds Trinity looking at him quizzically, brows scrunched up.
Her voice is slower as she asks carefully, "Huckleberry?"
Denny stops moving.
He doesn't respond.
Trinity takes a step closer, leaving the cart of groceries parked at the side of the aisle.
They're face to face and she studies his blue eyes intently.
Denny reaches up a fist and wipes away the itchy feeling of tears drying on his cheeks. She sucks in a sharp inhale of breath at the motion and swallows thickly.
Denny shuffles his feet a little.
"What um," she hesitates and then her voice softens, "what is your name?"
Denny bites his lower lip and contemplates answering.
He knows not to talk to strangers, but she's familiar.
He doesn't understand why he doesn't just tell her who he is.
There's this cold vice tightening around his heart that makes it ache a little.
The fear of rejection.
He shudders.
"How old are you?" She asks then.
Denny twists his lips to the side as he looks at his hands full of Tintin. He makes the decision to carefully put her down by his feet before holding up both hands with various degrees of fingers up.
"Okay," she breathes, "okay. Is um that your friend?"
She reaches down for the cat plush and Denny snatches her back quickly.
"New people make her nervous," Denny mumbles, "she can be a little mean, but that's because she gets scared sometimes."
"What's her name?"
Denny smiles down at the plush, "Tintin, but I think I want to call her Tinny."
She chokes up at that, "That's uh, such a good name."
He studies her, peers into her own blue eyes before nodding to himself.
Trinity holds her breath, letting him decide what he thinks of her.
He must come to a positive conclusion because he whispers at last, "My name is Denny."
"Okay, Denny," Trinity licks her lips, "Do you know who I am?"
He rolls his eyes, "You're Trinity, duh."
She feels both relieved and amused, "If you know who I am, why didn't you tell me who you are?"
"Big Dennis gets scared sometimes too," Denny admits with a timid mutter.
"Scared of me?" Trinity asks, hands beginning to tremble.
Because what if he is afraid of her?
What did she do?
What-
But the little boy shakes his head, "Hmm, nope."
"Scared of what, then?" She probes.
Dennis exhales heavily before glancing away.
"Tinny wants to know if we can go home," Denny retorts instead, "can she come home?"
Trinity pulls back and looks at the Squishmallow. She doesn't know what the boy could possibly see in it. The nose is a little off-center, and somehow, the embroidery of the mouth is straight compared to the curved smile of the others around her. It. It's a stuffed toy for fucks sake.
But she looks at her, then at Denny and caves.
"Yes," she says at last, "She can come home with us. How about we go pay?"
She turns on her heel, glancing through her periphery to make sure the little follows, and heads right for their cart.
Just as she wraps her hands around the bar to push, a large clammy hand lands over hers.
She looks up at the man, boy, and sees him try to be as small as possible as he shuffles alongside her.
She should brush him away and shake him off of her, but she doesn't.
They pay (he pays, he just doesn't know it yet), bag their groceries in their cutesy printed reusable bags, and walk outside to the car.
She doesn't let go of his hand once.
He helps her load the backseat as much as he can with the age that he is and then stares at the covered seat forlornly.
Trinity rounds the car after putting away the cart and pauses when she realizes he's still standing there.
"What is it Huck-Denny?"
"Where do I sits?" Denny asks, looking at her confused.
"The passenger seat?" She suggests.
Denny eyes the seat suspiciously, "the front seat?"
"Yes?"
Denny wrings his hands around Tintin, "Am I allowed?"
Well shit.
Is he?
She shakes her head.
He's over the height and weight limit, of course he can!
"Yes," she nods.
He beams at her and quickly takes his seat before she can change her mind.
She wonders if she should flick the kid’s safety lock on.
She'll have to talk to Dennis when he feels big.
Trinity slips inside the car at last, then asks, "do you need help putting on your seatbelt?"
"Nope," Dennys huffs, tugging on the seatbelt, "I's a big boy."
He struggles, and that makes her snort even more, "Sure you are Denny, here- let me help."
He brings the belt close enough for her to grab and then pulls it all the way, over Tinny's lap on Denny's insistence, and clicks it into place.
"All set?"
He nods enthusiastically.
Somewhere along the way, the younger man falls asleep, head leaned back with a thin trail of drool on his chin and grip around the cat stuffie slack.
She opens his side of the door the second they get home and snaps a picture because he looks adorable, okay?
She smiles at the screen of her phone endeaeingly before she clicks on it and creates a new album titled, Denny.
She figures she'll wake him in a bit. In the meantime, she opens up the back and starts hauling bags.
One of them falls not even three steps away, and she can't help but curse loudly.
Loud enough that she startles her napping passenger awake.
The younger man looks around with a confused twitch to his brow. He yawns widely and reaches to scrub at his face with a hand, only to realize he's holding something soft.
He stares at the stuffie, gaze softening, then he looks up at Trinity when the woman closes the door.
"Good, you're awake," she says, "kind of glad I got those bags of frozen chicken nuggets now. You want me to pop some in the air fryer or..."
She trails off when she looks at Dennis and sees the horror on his pallid face because she knows. And he knows she knows. And she knows that he knows that she knows.
"Fuck."
now a series on ao3 I might be expanding :)
