Patrick hated that Pushing Daisies had to postpone their release party just for him. The young musicians insisted on it, Daisy reassuring that it was more than okay. Despite it all, there was pizza and sodas as their hard work played on the speakers of the compact studio.

Patrick looks up from his schedule book, witnessing Daisy and her band mates laughing as they celebrate their achievement with their family. He smiles at the image, then goes back to his notes. After Nia's events had occurred in his life, Patrick had to postpone many things in order to assure she and Costello were recovered, and so was he. The change took a toll on him just as much them, if not more.

There was more to it than Nia leaving a man she had dedicated her life to for eight years. There was the hidden layers of Costello's real father. There was the uncertainty of where Nia stood with Patrick. Were they friends? More than that? Perhaps less?

Patrick blows a sigh and closes his book just as Daisy approaches him. She carries Costello on her back, a bright smile on her face.

"Do you ever stop working, Mr. Stump?" she asks with a giggle. Patrick only returns a weak smile and takes Costello from her, the bit of anxiety in him dwindling down as he carries the boy himself.

"Can't stop," he halfheartedly jokes. The guitarist of the band notes the conversation and salutes Patrick.

"Always on the grind. I respect that, Mr. S," the teenage boy says with a smirk. Patrick nods, not quite understanding what the kid means. He doesn't bother to think of it any further. Instead, he places Costello down and holds his hand as he leads him to the table that has boxes of pizza.

Patrick had remembered from his last plate that Costello likes cheese pizza. He gets a slice and places is it on a plate before getting another Solo cup.

"What drink do you want, buddy?" Patrick asks the younger boy. He notices that something is off as the child hesitates. Costello points at the green bottle.

"7-Up," he mumbles. Patrick pours the soda in the cup and hands it to Costello with caution.

"You think you can handle it?" the blonde man asks. Costello nods, increasing Patrick's concern. He trusts him with the soda, he know that Costello won't spill it on anything. It's something else.

Patrick lets Costello take his seat, placing his food on a nearby counter. He runs a hand through his tangling hair. It only reminds him of his mother.

"What's wrong, Stello?" Patrick asks. Costello studies his pizza slice that rests on his paper plate.

"When can we go home?" he asks. He looks up at Patrick, his blue eyes full of a familiar emotion, but it can't be pinpointed by Patrick. The man swallows the lump that forms in his throat.

"Are you feeling okay, kiddo?" Patrick asks. He gently presses the back of his hand against Costello's face, checking for a temperature. His mind already starts to race with various reactions it would earn from Nia.

"Yeah," Costello answers. "Why can't we go home, Patrick?"
"The party's not over, silly," he says, forcing a smile for the boy. It doesn't transfer. Instead, Costello pokes at his pizza slice that has grown cold.

Patrick takes the food and drink from Costello and places the duo on a clear surface before leading the boy out of the studio and into the hallway.

"What's wrong, Stello?" Patrick asks again. Costello doesn't make eye contact this time. He keeps his gaze on his red Converse.

"How come Mommy and I can't go home?" Costello asks. Patrick's chest clenches at the question. He furrows his brow a little as he buries his hands in his pockets, mustering up the strength to tell the wholehearted truth or make another lie.

"You don't like my house, huh?" Patrick chuckles weakly. "It's okay if you don't—"
"I do," the child interrupts. "I just... miss my room and my toys."

There's a silence between them, a hint of a statement lingering from Costello.

"I miss Daddy," he confesses, his voice wavering. Costello looks up at Patrick, tears swelling in his eyes. Patrick's heart plummets at the sight, shattering beneath his feet.

"Did I do something bad? Does he not want us around?"
"No, not at all," Patrick reassures. "Your dad still wants you, I'm sure of it! And you're a great kid! And your mother is a great person, too! He's just fighting the monsters at home. Like in Ghostbusters."

"There can't be that many monsters," Costello chokes out before crying. Patrick kneels down and gently swipes at the boy's tears with his thumbs.

"Patrick, I wanna go home," he whimpers. "I'll be good, I'll help him fight the monsters, I promise!"
"Costello, buddy," Patrick sighs. "Your dad doesn't want you to get hurt from those monsters. Neither does your mother. I would hate it too, but you're a sweet, brave kid for wanting to help. We'll talk about this at home, okay?"
"O-Okay," the child hiccups. Patrick picks Costello up, letting the boy rest his head on his shoulder. He can feel the boy's hands grip onto his shirt, warm tears seeping through the fabric. It only makes the situation more painful on his end.

* * *

Costello had fallen asleep on the way home. Patrick didn't hold it against him, considering that the pending divorce was taking a toll on him. He was involved in the situation just as much as Nia and Ricky.

Patrick picks the boy up, letting him sleep on his shoulder as they entered his home. Halfway along the short journey, Patrick felt Costello stir in his sleep, slowly coming to.

"Hey, kiddo," Patrick smiles weakly as he rubs his back. "You alright?"

Costello nods, a sleepy grunt eliciting from him.

"We just got home. Once we get upstairs, I'll turn on some cartoons for you, okay? Sound good?"
"Mm-hmm," the boy mumbles with a slow nod.

Patrick enters his home. He sits Costello down at the couch, locates the TV remote, and turns on a cartoon channel for him. The blond man looks around the space, searching for one person in particular. Once he sees Costello more focused on the characters that claim the screen, Patrick trudges to his bedroom, finding Nia there.

"Hey," Patrick mumbles. He knocks at the doorframe, a strange feeling coiling in his chest at the sudden need to rap his knuckle against the foundation of his own space. He quickly brushes off the discomfort when Nia turns to him.

"Hey," she says back.
"Can we talk for a sec?" Patrick asks. He furrows his brow at the request. The violet-eyed woman nods, turning her attention solely to him. Patrick claims a seat beside her on the bed.

"Costello is kind of freaking out about this divorce," Patrick states. He fixates on his hands as he proceeds. "He's becoming more aware. Today, he asked about going back home. He misses Ricky. He misses the way things used to be, Nia. He's not used to all of this, and he's only eight. This is really rough for him."

Nia studies him, remaining silent. Patrick looks at her, tearing his attention from his fidgeting hands.

"You need to tell him the truth," he says. His words are slow, stern, but sink in the air with their weight.

"Buster, I don't know how to," Nia says. "Hell, I could barely tell you! It's harder to explain to a child!"
"No one said it would be easy, Nia," Patrick says. "I'll be there, too. This isn't just your obstacle. You're not alone."

Patrick grasps onto Nia's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She studies him, hesitation claiming her violet eyes as she searches for some form of comfort in Patrick's features. Patrick believes that she finds solace once she exhales a heavy sigh. She nods as she chews at her bottom lip.

"Okay," she mumbles. "Let's tell him."

Patrick stands and helps Nia up to her feet. She doesn't let go of his hand as he leads the way to a distracted and drained Costello. His own eyes hitch on the images of shelled turtles he idolized while growing up. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, but it is short lived when he remembers their purpose in the room.

"Hey, buddy," Patrick greets gently as he sits next to Costello. Costello looks up at Patrick, tearing his attention away from the old shows that Patrick managed to capture on VHS cassettes.

"Feeling better?" The blond man asks. Costello nods, remaining silent. Patrick glances up at Nia, then looks back down at Costello.

"Your mother wants to tell you something very serious, okay?" he says slowly. The words feel like sandpaper as they exit from him. "It might be a little confusing, but don't worry. We'll explain it the best we can, and try to answer your questions to the best of our ability."

Costello nods. Patrick studies Nia, his stomach feeling heavy upon the shift in the room. He gently guides Costello to turn towards her, watching the gears turn and wind in her head.

Silence claims the room as Nia thinks of a way to explain the situation.

"You know that Raphael toy I gave you when you were a baby?" Nia asks. Costello nods.

"And I told you about how I got it, right?" she asks.
"You said your best friend gave it to you," the boy answers. Though he knows it to be endearing, the title makes Patrick's stomach churn.

"What if that friend asked for it back?" Nia asks.
"Does he want it back?" Costello mumbles nervously. "Is he mad that I have it instead of you?"
"I'm sure he doesn't mind it," Patrick chuckles. "He doesn't want it back. But, what if he did ask for it back?"
"I-I'd give it back," Costello stammers.
"Why is that, sweetie?" Nia asks. "I gave it to you, so it's yours."
"Yeah, but it was his first."

Nia looks up at Patrick, her violet eyes welling with fear. Patrick's free hand reaches towards her and claims her hand, as if it were instinct. He didn't have to think about it. He didn't have to reconsider. It happened on its own— naturally.

"Costello, sweetie," Nia says slowly. Her eyes don't waver from Patrick, as she finds strength to say what needs to be said. He knows it.

"It's kind of the same thing with you and Daddy," she forces out. Patrick places a hand on Costello's shoulder while Nia brushes his hair away from his face with her free hand.

Confusion is etched in the boy's features, his brow furrowing the same way his mother's does; his lips frowning the same way his father's does. It's almost as if they stared into a perfectly warped mirror simultaneously.

"I don't really know how else to tell you, sweetheart," Nia sighs. "The man you call your dad? He's not your father."
"Does this mean... I'm adopted?" Costello asks. Tears start to glaze his large, blue eyes as panic rises in him. "Are you my real mom?"
"Of course I am," she states with a sad chuckle. Nia reclaims her hand from Patrick and cups her son's face.

"You're not adopted," she reassures. "I promise you that you are very much my own Little Dipper. We have the same hair, the same nose— you even do things that I do."

"If Daddy isn't really my dad, then who is?" Costello asks.

Nia redirects her eyes to Patrick. A lump forms in his throat at the thought of Nia's next words.

"It's Patrick," she forces out. Costello turns to Patrick, curiosity filling his eyes. Patrick can only force a small smile for the child.

"You don't have to call me Dad right away, kiddo," he reassures. "I know this is a lot to take in right now."

"Then... who's Daddy?" Costello asks as he turns back to his mother for an answer.

"It's a complicated story for another time, honey," Nia sighs. She presses a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead. "I promise I'll tell you about it."

Costello nods.

"How about you finish watching Ninja Turtles, champ?" Patrick suggests, breaking the heavy mood that claims the room. "We'll call you over when dinner is ready, okay?"
"Okay," Costello agrees.

With that, Patrick and Nia stand and exit the room. Patrick closes the door after them, watching Nia as she starts to pace.

"That went surprisingly well," Patrick comments, trying to ease Nia's anxiety.

"But Ricky," is all she says. Patrick frowns as his eyes follow the woman that could easily drill a ditch in his hallway. He wouldn't have minded it if it were created by Nia wearing out the wooden flooring.

"What about him?" he asks. His heart sinks at the thought of the California man. Maybe Nia had come to her senses and realized she did still love Ricky. Maybe this whole escape was temporary and she wasn't going to follow through with the divorce.

"I haven't told him yet," Nia clarifies. "I don't know how he's going to take it. I don't want you or Stello hurt, I'm so sorry, Patrick—"
"Hey—" Patrick stops Nia from her pacing. He grips her by the shoulders firmly so she is facing him and only him. "He's not going to do anything. Even if he were to, I will protect you and Costello. I promise."

"Patrick, you don't know that—"
"I do," he reassures. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As swift as a summer's breeze— as chaotic and calming as a riptide, Patrick's gaze upon the woman slowly leans in. He closes the gap between them, returning his lips with the stars for just a moment. His head is in Heaven for only seconds before he snaps himself back to reality. Patrick quickly pulls away, stepping back.

"Shit, uh," he stammers. His thumb traces where the stars and planets aligned for a moment. A blush dusts over his pale face. "I'm sorry, Nia. I-I shouldn't have done that, I wasn't thinking."

Nia stands before him, shocked. She brings her own hand up to her lips.

"Yeah, uh, it's fine," she mumbles. She furrows her brow as she stares at the floor, then she looks up at Patrick again.

"I-I'm gonna go get dinner. Chinese sound cool?"
"Yeah, Chinese is... that's good."
"Cool, uh, see ya soon?"
"Yeah, totally."

As Nia left for the errand, Patrick turned into his room, cursing himself for such a mistake. Though he almost hated it, he wasn't sure if he wanted the nebulas on his lips to disappear just yet. It had been 8 years since he last felt them glow and claim the specific part of his face. That's what made him hate it even more.

A/N:
I know it's been sooooooooo long since I've last updated! So here's an extra long chapter as an apology and even more drama to make that plot extra thicc!! 👌🏼 let me know what you think! :)

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