A/N: Hehe hello and surprise! ;v; for those following me on Instagram, yes I did announce that I was going to do a double update this week to keep you guys entertained despite being stuck at home :') I'm hoping to do double updates every week too, although I might change the dates (I'll announce on Instagram if I do). 

This is the long awaited chapter! Hehe. Enjoy and see you on Sunday as well. 

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[Vanilla]

"You aren't, by any chance, nervous... are you?" I'd posed to my companion only after ringing the bell of my godfather's new place. They'd moved in just two months ago after adopting their third child, Atlas, and having found a nice little place with just enough bedrooms for everyone and a front and backyard for their daughter Rory's outdoor hobbies. The address had, indeed, required some thorough research online but upon pulling up in the cab and taking in the wafting fragrance of cinnamon rolls, all doubts had vanished.

Leroy had given me a sideway smirk, snorting at my thoughtful concern for his wellbeing. I rolled my eyes and felt instantly regretful for paying him any sentimental attention, adjusting the collar of my neatly pressed dress shirt. In the distance, half a tiny little head could be seen peering out of the kitchen window. I waved.

"Yeah. I am."

I turned, surprised by the words of my companion. And his candour.

He had on his school dress shirt and tie (which he declared were the only pieces of formal clothing he had in his wardrobe), done up by yours truly yet again due to said owner's lack of expertise. Only an idiot would pair a well-done tie with the monstrosity of a bomber jacket, which happened to be the only outerwear he'd brought along. And true enough, there was something surprising in his eye without the certain stillness of a candle flame. It flickered once.

"Well," I returned my gaze to the front door, realizing that I might have been staring. "I feel the same."

I heard him shift. Or more specifically, his half-empty rucksack containing travel essentials. Of which included one pair of jeans. One.

"Ice cream boy!" No doubt, Rory was the one answering the door, sailing down a makeshift ramp that took up half the front steps and past the front yard on her hoverboard. I'd always imagined her words appearing above her in permanent capital letters. It suited her well. "You're way too early by the way. Check out my new hoverboard!"

Some thirty feet away, I spotted Miki, the youngest of the Honeycutt-Jaxons, with half his head peering out from behind the front door—presumably still frightened by the prospect of answering the door.

"Hello Rory," I greeted politely as she neared the gate and proceeded to unlock it. "Yes, I have observed the presence of your new gadget. You seem to like it very much." Her eyes had zeroed in on Leroy halfway across the front yard, curiously distracted from the conversation.

"Yeah. Uh... yeah I like it. What's a geh-jut? And, who's he?"

Rory was never one to beat around the bush and her cutting to the chase had been very well within my expectations. She'd looked my companion up and down with wide, open eyes. The recipient of her gaze simply stared back, blank in the presence of an entirely new species: children.

"Rory, this is Leroy," I began by explaining. "He's from the school I am currently attending and he's joining us for thanksgiving." Chip's daughter had her gaze locked on us the whole journey up the front yard, all the way to the door. She and her hoverboard were one. "Leroy, this is my godfather's second child, Rory Jaxon-Honeycutt."

"How old are you?" She chose to open with, glancing at Leroy's bomber jacket for the third time. "I want that. It's cool."

"Taste," was all Leroy had to say, nodding. I sometimes think he should consciously dial down on the attractiveness. Nods should not be that attractive. "I'm sixteen."

Rory was all aboard. "Sick! Think you can talk Xander into getting me something like yours?" Already, she was lighting up. "He flips me off when I tell him people say I've got taste for nice clothes!"

I couldn't believe it. Refused to, even. I myself had taken more than a year to learn the ways of Chip's daughter and somehow get her to warm up to the boring little god sibling I was, all for the sake of speaking on a decently conversational level. And that was all with purposeful adapting and having met her at least ten times.

This however, had not been the case of Miki Honeycutt-Jaxon.

By the door, dressed in suspenders and a little bow tie that both appeared awfully familiar, was the nine-year-old angel I'd absolutely fallen in love with the moment my godfather had introduced us back when he was a mere infant. He was hiding behind the front door whilst politely holding it open. Impeccable manners.

I pretended not to notice the miniature force that had welcomed us with the magic of doors opening on their own, casually removing my coat at the entrance and stowing my bags in an empty cabinet Rory had directed us to. Leroy had followed suit.

"Vanille, Vanille," he did this little thing with his toes, tipping them up and down. It was his show of hidden excitement. "I'm here, behind the door."

Naturally, I was at once filled with the blessings of a thousand heavens. Miki's tiny voice embodied every streak of graciousness in his good behaviour. Being well-spoken and fond of books was an added plus. Leroy on the other hand, seemed almost apathetic do the wonders of angelic figures.

I'd turned to the boy behind the door, leaning down with my arms open. He'd run up to my waist and threw his arms around it. Oh. He's a little taller than I remembered him to be. "Miki, you look absolutely stunning in those suspenders. I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Vanille!" He whispered excitably, holding onto my arm while his sister closed the door behind us. He then peered up at me and, farther behind, noted the additional presence. Leroy was in the middle of listening to Rory's latest hoverboard adventure in the park when he'd caught my eye and glanced, over his shoulder, at Miki. The boy, slightly started, subconsciously weaved behind my legs for cover. "Oh. There's someone else."

"Miki, this is Leroy." I told him, gesturing at the idiot in front of me. "We go to school together and he's very nice."

"But he looks a little scary," whispered Miki into my elbow, unaware of my companion's unbelievably superior sense of hearing. I could tell Leroy was trying hard not to laugh. "Like daddy when daddy's not around..."

The tiny nine-year-old even let go of my arm to catch up with Rory instead, just so that he could be five more feet away from the burning candle.

"Smile," I muttered under my breath as soon as they were leading us down the hallway towards the kitchen and slightly out of earshot. Leroy nodded once, seemingly understanding what I was getting at before flashing a winning smile at Miki, who'd chanced a teeny glimpse of us over his shoulder.

Needless to say, this was a huge mistake and had resulted in the boy's further retreat into his sister's side while the two of them led us past a large empty living room and into the kitchen. I couldn't help but notice how the house was a little quiet and empty. The lights were mostly turned off, save the warm glow coming from the kitchen and in the middle of it all, a lithe figure in a strawberry-printed apron, humming a forgotten tune.

My godfather turned as soon as we entered the kitchen, lighting up upon his daughter's announcement of our arrival. "It's ice cream boy and his very cool friend. I'm calling Xander to ask how long he's gonna take. He needs to see this bomber jacket a-sap."

Chip was one to skip all the formalities and go straight into gushing. It had been nearly five months since we last saw each other. Aunt Julie had said something about him doing away with all-day contacts recently and opting for the comfort of glasses instead. He'd chosen a pair that were, in my opinion, the height of fashion.

"Uwaa Nillie!" Open arms were the first thing I saw and then it was the smell of cinnamon and pumpkin. Chip was an inch or two shorter than I was, so I'd somehow started observing the fragrant notes of whatever he'd been baking in his hair just a year ago. "You're early! And why do you seem so much taller than I last saw you? O-or have I shrunk? I sure hope that's not the case... how was your flight? And and it this your friend?" He came out of the hug and peered over my shoulder with curious eyes. "Should we be introduced?"

I turned to the figure standing in the doorway, unable to catch the expression on his face. He had his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe with a distant gaze turned away from the kitchen and in the general direction of Miki and Rory, who'd returned to assembling puzzle pieces in the living room.

It was times like these that I sometimes know exactly why I'd found myself so drawn to him despite being his polar opposite. He had been giving Chip and I our private space.

"Leroy."

It caught his attention, glancing over his shoulder with the flicker of a candle in his eyes. He straightened up from leaning against the doorframe, uncrossing his arms as he walked over with an extended hand.

"Thanks for the invite," said Leroy, other hand uncharacteristically going for the back of his neck as though uncertain of his standing. Chip was practically beaming throughout their handshake, eyes sparkling. "Wasn't really expecting to be welcomed."

"Aw but why not?" My godfather gave his apron a quick tidy before presenting us freshly baked hot cross buns on a warm tray. I reached for one and gave half of it to Leroy. "We're more than happy to have you over. Hehe. Vanilla's never extended an invitation to anyone at school before. He must like you a lot."

The idiot had the gall to flash a sideway smirk in my direction. In broad daylight. In front of Chip. "Yeah. He does."

One could tell the extent of second-hand embarrassment my godfather was currently experiencing just from the look on his face. "O-oh! How... how very honest. So very sweet."

I cleared my throat and jumped at the timely pause during their conversation. "So, um. Where is everyone?"

"Xan's gone out to pick Giselle up from her studio," Chip was back to busying himself with dinner. "Your aunt and uncle are on their way with your grandmother and Gretel and Shea are just about closing the bakery. Do you mind waiting for a bit? It's only a little past five so I have more than an hour to, um... whip up a thanksgiving table enough for twelve people." He displayed slight panic on his face. It also involved waving a wooden spoon about like it was a wand. "Oh this isn't good for the heart. Your uncle's always been the one hosting thanksgiving and we have a little more people this year with Atlas and Leroy, s-so... um..."

"I'll help."

My companion had apparently stuffed his half of the hot cross bun into his mouth and was, already, rolling up his sleeves before I was even registering his response—as though he'd been anticipating this particular scenario and was simply waiting for it to occur. He even topped it off by loosening, and then removing the tie I'd taken ages to perfect, successfully rendering both Chip and I completely speechless and bewildered by the idiot's bold gesture.

Well, he best not be having any thoughts of taking over the kitchen or Xander wasn't going to have the best first impression of him, I found myself projecting quietly, far too distracted by the possibilities. Dazed, I'd somehow gained the additional item of 'Leroy's tie' in my hands and looked up just in time to catch him passing me with a private wink.

Gobsmacked into outer space I was.

"W-would you? Really?" Chip had recovered a little faster than myself, I suppose having had nearly twenty years of experience with the devil himself. "It's quite a mess now. I'm honestly embarrassed that I don't even have the menu straightened out just yet a-and I really feel bad because you're our very important guest of the night."

Granted, I hadn't really given Chip or the rest of my family a thorough run-through of Leroy's exceptional culinary skills and general mental and physical capabilities. In fact, the only thing they bothered to ask about was nothing at all—blinded by the mere mentioning of his name, considering my complete lack of human relations since birth.

"I'll help with the menu," I offered, sighing shortly before privately glancing over at my companion with an eye of warning. Don't you dare try anything funny.

The candle in his eyes flickered in play.

===================

[Leroy]

I say that, but I really wasn't going to. He probably thinks I'm playing, but truth was: I needed something to distract me from the nerves. Helping out in the kitchen was at the very least keeping me in my element—a safe space away from everything else throwing me off. Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving throws me off.

"I'm so glad you offered to help out," Chip was the kind of person to try and fill the silence. It was just the two of us going full speed ahead for dinner. A certain someone had been tasked to entertain the kids after menu planning and if anything, bless this occasion for sparing me a glimpse of how cute he can be. Not that he wasn't on an everyday basis. "You're really good at dicing onions!"

One every seven seconds. "Do I get brownie points for that?"

His godfather was someone you'd call enthusiastic. And helpful. Or... more like, just someone who prioritised the comfort and happiness of others before his own. He seemed a little confused by my statement, turning to me briefly before going back to his turkey gravy.

"O-oh. There's a point system?"

Probably where he got that streak of cluelessness. Crazy how he can solve the entire 'challenge me' pages in my AB text in less than five minutes, upside down, and casually turn my wordplays into an English test by correcting my grammar.

"To get in someone's good books, yeah," I explained a bit. Keeping the conversation light. Chip had been stealing glances at my chopping board, visibly impressed by my knife skills.

"Oh! Oh, you mean to say... you mean, mine?" His lips were an 'o'. "Well as a parent of four, I do find it comforting when boyfriends or girlfriends seek approval and permission from, y-you know. But at the same time, who am I to do the approving or, or... permission giving?" He went on, checking the pumpkin pie in the oven and wearing his mittens. "Take good care of each other. And, and no strawbe—I-I mean, no embarrassing... night time activities just yet, okay? Oh dear." I nearly laughed. He'd turned around to the kitchen top with the asparagus and carrots and faced them instead. "Get yourself together Chip! You have three kids and you'll have to be giving the talk sooner or later!"

Some fifteen minutes into prep, we were down to the last two dishes for the evening and among them was the genius idea of getting Chip's husband to eat asparagus without forcing it down his throat. It involved twist-wrapping an asparagus stick with pastry and bacon strips, alternating between the two, and then baking the stems in the oven. That, paired with a nice parmesan sour cream dip.

"They'd sold out on brussels sprouts in every grocery store nearby. Can you believe it?" Godfather went on to account for the asparagus, somehow worried that his husband might not like it.

This all felt pretty distant at first. It's clear how their relationship could be toothache-inducing, especially for people like me who hadn't exactly seen the best parent examples. Both Chip and his husband seemed like the kind to give in after a mere sentence from the other, so I couldn't see how the asparagus was going to be a problem. He was going to like it.

I don't know what to feel about someone liking my cooking even before the first taste. In easy terms, they'd be biased. Some might say they are in love. But if it is, then I guess I'd be better off without people loving me. But then if it is... does he feel that way?

"Chip? We're here and Alfred's brought that stunning Scotch that Xander loved last year." Some people were at the door and godfather was torn between checking on his rested turkey and going out to receive them so I told him I'd take over. He thanked me and went out to greet his guests in the hallway. Uncle Al and Aunt Julie. I spent the ride here memorizing names.

They had a short chat outside the kitchen before Chip returned with a woman who looked vaguely familiar. I'd seen her before. The logical assumption was that she'd often be the one picking my only childhood friend up from my place.

"Where should I—oh!" She noticed my presence almost immediately. I turned around to nod. I didn't exactly know what to say. "Leroy? Yes, Vanille did mention that you were joining us tonight and... wow you've... you've grown so much and and you're so handsome!"

"Uh, thanks," I froze up, more speechless than before. I heard her call for someone by the name of Betsy. I thought I screwed up for a moment because that was not a name I remembered saying but said person soon came into view and it turned out to be grandma on a wheelchair. Nana, he calls her.

"Julie? But the appetisers are on the... oh. Sweet holy banana bread, you must be Levi." Wheeling her to the bar top by the kitchen was him in pinkish cheeks, hiding behind his glasses with his head lowered. I actually liked the name she gave me, so I went with it.

"That's me."

"You're... hella fine, you are," she ignored the hand I extended and went straight for a hug. I had an apron on. "So you taking care of our boy? He doing good in school?"

"He's great," I glanced his way. "Acing everything." It was the truth.

"Got a lot of friends like you now? Bring a couple more next time?"

"He's pretty well-known," I offered instead, giving an answer he'd be comfortable with elaborating on if needed to. "I gotta go. Helping Chip with dinner."

His nana said something about postponing it to breakfast but then Julie took over and wheeled her away from the kitchen and back into the living room. From where I stood, I'd caught a glimpse of his uncle handing out what looked like souvenir snacks to the kids. Somewhere along the way, one more of them had been added to the party of two. He didn't look like a kid.

"Vanilla, I'm so sorry to ask but do you mind setting the table? That's the centrepiece over there and the tablecloth's in the cabinet to your left. O-oh! And I made sure to get it in the checked colours you were raving about in your blog, hehe." He and his godfather's interactions were something I could watch all day. It felt almost as though he was back to being that tiny suspender-wearing, encyclopaedia-reading fawn.

"I see your comments all the time. They're really insightful! But you must be so busy, with the kids and the bakery and all..."

"Oh no no, Miki loves your blog! We read it before bedtime and he sometimes writes the comments instead of me."

I was stealing a glance every second before I knew it until we actually got to work, setting the table and laying out all nine dishes, counting chairs and dishing out empty plates. The turkey smelled amazing, and wasn't the least bit dry after taking it apart. The aromatics he'd used in the stuffing paid off, and he'd even added a couple of bacon strips on top for flavour. His husband was apparently carnivorous.

All these expectations and prior knowledge of Xander Jaxon-Honeycutt eventually came down to the actual meeting of him in the flesh. The guy had arrived with someone by the name of Giselle, who I've been told was his artist sister and they all flocked to the table at once, greeting the rest of the family.

"Zelly!" Rory basically jumped at her. "Holy shit you have to see this bomber jacket. It's so cool. You know what I'm thinking of thrifting one and then..." Her aunt held up a hand and then magically produced a black bomber jacket with a red Chinese dragon embroidered to the back, wriggling her brows. "What the! How did you know??"

"Xandie told me," said her aunt, helping Rory into the jacket. "So I made it last week. You love it you love it?"

She got Chip's daughter screaming for the next minute or so while they hugged and I was just standing idly by the side waiting to introduce myself or for someone to introduce me because hell, this just got a lot more pressurising than it was a couple of minutes ago, but then Rory turned to me and said in a lowered voice: "I'm calling off the plan. I got the best dad and aunt in the world."

Can't relate, but must feel nice huh.

Xander hadn't exactly left his husband's side since the second he returned, and while he got to looking at the bottle of scotch Alfred had brought along, he didn't seem as intimidating as Miki had made him out to be. All I could tell was how open he was about him and Chip. He'd swoop in with a glass of iced water and hand that to his husband after kissing him on the cheek. The latter's reaction was to be mildly flustered.

Another thing: the guy had aged well. Kinda unfair, if you ask me. It's bullshit how he'd managed to maintain that build all the way through and, according to Shea, Chip's youngest sister, seemed to have even more appeal than before.

"How old is he again?" I asked under my breath, retrieving my tie from the expert and purposefully reaching all the way down his back pocket. He'd jumped and given me a look.

"Thirty-five."

We both turned to Xander.

"Think I could look like that at thirty-five?" I played and he nearly laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Wouldn't be surprised if the world had made your existence illegal and thrown you into outer space by eighteen but, one can dream."

I had to pause and register the meaning behind his sentence. By the time I'd come up with a good comeback though, Chip had waved me over to point at the oven. The baked asparagus sticks were done.

We got to arranging them in a glass jar and separating the dip into three portions when Xander decided to enter the kitchen in search of old fashioned glasses for their whisky. He looked over once and then, whilst getting out the glasses, asked the question.

"So you're the guy?"

Chip was the one who reacted before me. "Xan!" He was whisper-shouting. "I told you his name yesterday."

"Leroy." I held out a hand after wiping it on a Kleenex. The handshake was the firmest one I'd had to date.

"You're that kid. From the kindergarten," he seemed to remember, eyes amused. "You were a rude mother fucker."

Mm, sounds like me. "Still am, I guess..."

He actually laughed, helping out with the ramekins we'd put the dip into. He took two out of three, and left Chip with just one to carry. "Not bad. So you remember what Julian used to call me."

I paused, searching. "Not really."

"Mr. Handsome." He finished, almost straight-faced save the smirk that was basically incorporated into every inch of his existence. I was taking notes. He was that good at teasing other people.

I settled for something else: "He calls me other things."

Okay so I shouldn't have said that in front of possibly future godfathers. It wasn't so much their reaction that spelled out 'you screwed up' but the fact that I'd just embarrassed Vanilla in front of his relatives behind his back. Chip was blinking and then blushing so hard he turned into a physical strawberry. His husband on the other hand, just looked a tad bit surprised by my comeback.

"He's lying." Came a voice from the bar top and I recognized it at once. Probably too anxious to actually leave me alone, knowing how difficult Xander could get. Okay, so he heard everything. "Clearly—I-I mean, the only other term I use is 'idiot', which is by far the most suitable word, believe me."

It was hard not to laugh and give him the finger.

"W-wha!" His godfather looked so immensely traumatized by this interaction that he needed to put his ramekin down on the countertop and steady himself. "No middle fingers! It's banned in this household and and and you two are... are still too young to be... t-to be..." He had a wavering gaze fixed on his godson, lips quivering as though he might start tearing up any moment. "Nuu I can't let him take you away!"

Oh.

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[Vanilla]

To say my family was fond of Leroy had to be the world's greatest understatement. Charmed by his disarming smile and the witty little things he'd inject into conversations every now and then, I quite paled in comparison—reduced to a mere pebble watching from the side lines as my companion advanced to greater heights of 'blending in' more than I could ever imagine myself doing.

Atlas, my godfather's eldest adopted son, had been my unexpected partner for most of the evening. Our conversations, however, had mostly involved the idiot seated in the center of the room, particularly invested in a conversation about the younger me skipping through private high school and actively avoiding every single human being around me.

"—nearly losing himself on the first day of school! You have no idea how worried we were, sending him off and leaving him to fend for himself on foreign lands," said Uncle Al, having had one too many despite Aunt Julie's multiple attempts at stealing his old fashioned glass. I was brave enough to continue listening. "If we hadn't known you'd be there, we'd—"

"I had him on my back," Leroy was back to letting them in on my embarrassing moments at school. "For about ten minutes. The whole way, racing track to infirmary. Barely three hours into orientation. The classmate he had with him couldn't even remember his name."

I wanted to protest. Still, those were the facts and... and, well... everyone else seemed sufficiently entertained by his stories from the way they were laughing and egging him on. Good-naturedly, of course. Apparently, the lack of unfortunate events and mistakes in my life had made it difficult for my family to consider myself a part of the human race.

"First day of the cross-year segment—lost his glasses. Right off the bat. Dropped it in a running stream. Couldn't see a thing for the rest of it but saved our asses and pulled a second."

I gave him a look, unsure if he was actively trying to drown me in mixed feelings of being both insulted and complimented at the same time. Rory and Shea kept asking for more, and Uncle Al seemed happy to hear more about my school adventures, which, admittedly, I have been keeping to myself most of the time. Chip kept leaning over for a side-hug.

"Frequents the ice-cream parlour I work at but refuses to order ice-cream," he went on, diving further into the details. It did a great job in keeping everyone entertained. "Has an insane palate but a fridge stocked with microwavables."

He looked over with a smirk. "Sleeps over but insists on wearing pyjamas to bed."

Oh. Oh wow, that was...

Intimate. I found myself struggling to stomach the words he'd so casually said aloud and internalizing the sudden silence in the room. Offering some short, nervous laughter, I made the timely announcement of fetching the souvenirs we got and giving them out before we forgot to do so and then pulling Leroy aside.

I'd initially made for the entrance where we'd stowed our bags away but then decided against it halfway through and made a detour, instead, down right towards the stairs. My companion had followed.

"Too much?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets, raising his gaze to meet mine. I was standing on the bottom-most step, leaning against the banister and staring at the doorway we came from just to see if anyone had decided to follow.

"A little." I nodded, sighing after a good moment.

He did the same, shoulders falling. "And I was doing so well all evening."

"Unlawfully well, I might add," I'd added under my breath, laughing shortly. He winked in return. "They like you. A lot."

"You think so?"

"I certainly know that as a fact," I offered, folding my arms and looking away as soon as I was beginning to feel the burn of his gaze. The next sentence was hard. "Among many other things which happen to include... well, that I haven't really... consulted my aunt and uncle about the, um... us." Finger pointing.

I saw him pause. "Okay."

"And basically everyone else... except my godfather. Nana. Chip's side. His kids. But his husband probably figured out from the conversation you were having with him, so. Um." I breathed in once, heavy and deep before returning his gaze.

"They let me come to thanksgiving without knowing about us?" Leroy was straight-faced; unreadable at present. Flame unflinching, almost glowing in the shadow of the stairs. "They'd let a friend do that?"

I swallowed, starting to see the cracks in the alliance of fire and ice. "I should have told you. I'm sorry."

"Your family's too nice."

"Well... it isn't exactly about being nice or not since I'm sure they wouldn't have turned me down, knowing that... well, that I've never once mentioned the name of anyone else besides fictional characters and scientists, let alone invited a friend over to dinner, so—"

"Friend." He said quietly. "You just said friend."

I was wide open, eyes, face and all and I'd begun shaking my head a second too late because he'd looked away and backed out of the shadows, heading back where we came from and everything had just, just escalated far too quickly for proper damage control that, by the time I'd gone after him as calm and collectedly as I could, he was back in his chair and, and smiling and listening to what everyone else was saying.

I felt it then—a slow burning of the chest and the wretched flame that, though much smaller and weaker than the flame of a candle, left marks far darker than the fires I was used to putting out.