my deep misunderstanding of your life
but Douglas wouldn't, right? He couldn't have. He had to have been hearing things due to just how tired-
There was another one, and he couldn't stop himself from rounding the counter, resting a hand on Chase's shoulder, and pleading with him to answer him honestly when he asked around the acid taste in his mouth, "what did he do to you?"
"What?"
"Did Douglas hurt you?"
Donald was, for lack of a better word, exhausted; that type of fatigue you could feel in your bones as it weighed you down with every step was currently cycling through him and there was nothing he wanted more than to curl up in his bed with Tasha and sleep off the day that he had experienced.
After coming to the conclusion that the cytanium would be lost, only to nearly lose Chase in the process, coming back to the lab to find that he had only made it out thanks to his brother, having to get the resources together to make sure that the block of ice that Douglas was encased in didn't melt only to find out that Leo had frozen both Janelle and Tasha and ending everything with rescheduling his leg wax…it had been a very long day.
He was so ready to go to sleep, to start the next day, to move on from all of this. After patting his now clean face with a washcloth, he asked Eddy as he slathered his skin in moisturizer, "any movement in the house?"
"Well, there's two teenagers snoring in the lab, someone getting ready to freeze more people in Leo's bedroom, and a grizzly bear in your bed."
That accounted for nearly everyone…"Eddy, you're missing someone."
"Oh, there's movement in the kitchen. I wouldn't worry about it, probably Tasha eating more of that salmon."
"Eddy!" Donald chided before pulling in a long breath, leaving the master bathroom and starting to make his way downstairs, walking quietly past a now sleeping Tasha who was curled under a heated blanket.
And when he came down the stairs and saw Chase sitting on one of the bar stools, still in his mission suit with the snow pants covering his legs, he just knew that he wasn't going to bed anytime soon.
"Chase?" He asked, unsurprised to see his son turn slowly, a raised eyebrow instead of a verbal inquiry greeting him; it was nearly impossible to sneak up on Chase due to his bionics, and it was clear that tonight was no different, "what are you still doing up?"
"Just thinking." Chase murmured, his voice quiet as he turned back toward the counter; Donald was unsurprised to see a mug cupped in his palms as he made his way around, steam still rising from whatever was in it.
"Did you make yourself tea?"
"Hot chocolate. We had some in the back of the cabinet."
Donald nodded, hoping maybe he could just send Chase to his capsule, that maybe he could put off the conversation that hovered between them until the morning, "are you still cold?"
"Not really. Your snow suit is really water resistant."
And that was a minor relief, that maybe Chase had managed to stay warm during all of this and the bare minimum had been achieved.
"Douglas also treated the frostbite, so-"
"Frostbite?"
"Well, frostnip," Chase amended, pulling back his sleeve to show his wrist, tiny red bumps climbing up it, "but it'll be fine. I already scanned it, no permanent damage."
And that was a segue, an opening for him to finally talk to Chase about what had happened in the last twenty four hours.
"You know what you did today was incredibly reckless," Donald told him as Chase pulled his sleeve back down, "and that you're incredibly lucky that it worked out the way that it did."
"I know," Chase responded in an instant, "but I needed to prove myself, Mr. Davenport, prove that I'm more than just "flash glue" to Adam and Bree."
"Look, I know that was a poor choice of words," he started, trying to look into Chase's eyes that he had pretty set on the hot chocolate instead, "but you have proven yourself as mission leader. If I didn't think you were ready, you would be sticking back with Leo and I."
"But I don't want to be underestimated by my own siblings, especially not when they're also my teammates."
"Look, I will talk to Adam and Bree tomorrow, okay? See if we can't come up with some conclusion to this," he tried to assure him, getting a sad glance in return, "but I'm not going to wake them up. It is almost midnight and you three have school tomorrow."
Chase nodded, his eyes still focused intently on the mug in his hands; Donald was starting to think that this was all he could do for now, he needed to let Chase process alone and their family would patch this crack in the morning.
He was ready to just pat Chase on the shoulder, tell him to try and get some sleep and head to bed, when he heard a wheeze, an unmistakable one.
He had dealt with his own wheezing of that same volume, when they had been captured by Douglas and Marcus and he had cracked one of his ribs; but Douglas wouldn't, right? He couldn't have. He had to have been hearing things due to just how tired-
There was another one, and he couldn't stop himself from rounding the counter, resting a hand on Chase's shoulder, and pleading with him to answer him honestly when he asked around the acid taste in his mouth, "what did he do to you?"
"What?"
"Did Douglas hurt you?"
"No, he didn't; did you not hear what I said, he treated my frostbite."
"Then why are you wheezing?" Donald questioned, getting wide, guilty eyes as a result before an answer slipped from Chase's lips.
"I didn't trust Douglas to wrap my ribs."
And that forced Donald to soften, to look back on the loud scream as his son had been buried under pounds of hard snow and ice before bringing himself back to the present.
"Okay," Donald said, gently squeezing Chase's shoulder, "okay, why don't you sit on the couch, and I'll wrap your ribs."
Chase just nodded, standing slowly with a brief wince passing over his face that would have been impossible to miss.
It did nothing to help relieve the guilt tearing its way through Donald as he went into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit from the cabinet.
When Tasha had put a first aid kit in every bathroom in the house, Donald had been convinced she had been exaggerating; right now, he was nothing short of relieved.
He came back to the living room, sitting opposite of Chase, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was pointedly directing his attention anywhere else.
"Chase," he started, waiting for hazel eyes to finally pull away from where they were fixated on the floor, "shirt off."
Chase wordlessly complied, the vest of his mission suit falling to the floor in a crumpled pile before he tugged off the dark gray undershirt, wincing as he maneuvered his arms so he could tug it off and drop it into the pile.
And when Donald was met with the blue, purple and green bruising, the guilt that had crept in quietly before had returned full force in an instant.
"Mr. Davenport?"
"Sorry, sorry," Donald apologized, under his breath but for what he wasn't even sure, before raising his voice, "how much does this hurt? On a pain scale?"
"Right now? It's around a four."
"And when you move?"
"A seven."
Donald nodded, pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth as he used one hand to wrap around Chase's chest and the other to hold against the boy's back to keep his spine straight.
There was no excuse for this; he had allowed his siblings to make him feel inferior, he had done nothing to build him back up like he had told him to do for his older brother just a couple months prior, and he had listened while grasping at straws as the impact, over his invention, nearly crushed Chase to death.
It was the first time in a very long time that he was thankful for his brother, for saving his son's life even if it was an excuse for him to try and fail to get Chase on his side.
But god, had it been believable; when his brother gripped Chase around the shoulder, vowing to give him more abilities and the two of them working together like he was the same as Marcus had been, Donald had felt the failure in his chest as it tried to crush him.
"Mr. Davenport?"
"Yeah?" He looked up, taping down the last of the bandages so they were secure.
"Am I like him? Douglas?"
Donald stilled, his hands falling to his side as he looked into hazel eyes, eyes that were just a few shades darker than his brother's green ones.
"Why do you ask?"
"He said something after he rescued me, about us having similarities and I just…" for a moment, Chase averted his eyes to his hands, pulling in a deep breath before looking back up, "I guess I just wanted to know if he was the only one who thought that way."
Donald knew what Chase wanted to ask, he had been raising him since was a toddler; it wasn't if he could also see similarities like being the youngest but rather, if Donald thought that Chase would become like Douglas.
He couldn't lie to himself, when he saw Chase standing side by side with Douglas, he hadn't been able to shake it since, that he almost lost his son to the man who wanted to send him off to the highest bidder.
But when he was with Chase, who got giddy about atomic stabilizers and was really, really close to his siblings no matter what squabbles or pranks tried to get between them, he knew that he had done his best to do a good job with raising all three of them.
And more importantly, he had done his best to raise them with the best morals and the ability to make their own decisions.
"You two have some similarities. You're both the youngest, you're both very smart, and you two can be quick to anger."
"Oh."
"But," Donald added, "You're also incredibly calculated, you have a very strong moral compass, and you are very, very loyal to your family," he paused, letting his hand rest gently on Chase's bare shoulder, "you were the one who insisted that even if Douglas created you that I was still your father. That goes two ways, Chase."
For the first time since he had passed him the cytanium in the lab, a smile spread across Chase's face but this one wasn't smug and full of it, this one was soft and genuine and hammered home the reminder that Chase was still fifteen, no matter how much he puffed out his chest and hid behind the facade of his "mission leader" title.
"And as your father," Donald added, "it's time for you to try and get some sleep. It's been a very long day."
Chase nodded, the smile morphing into a wince when he stood from the couch, his hand resting against his bandaged chest as he grabbed his shirt.
But before he could head towards the elevator, Donald found himself adding, "Chase?" Getting his son to turn around, an eyebrow raised in questioning, "do you need a hug?"
And his son didn't hesitate to walk forward and wrap his arms tightly around him, burying his face into the divot of his collarbone.
