mitsubishievo | Everything could fall down, everything could go [for Poison

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Everything could fall down, everything could go [for Poison | backdate]

Poison was running late, but that was fine. Kavinsky had been sitting in the studio for a while anyway. There had been a couple of smaller bills he'd dealt with, studio time that paid for keeping the place open and producing Poison, but most of the day so far had been book keeping and not, specifically, thinking about the letter that was sitting on the front desk.

e had to think about it at some point. He had to open it. He ought to open it around Newt, because that was probably the right thing to do, but he'd grabbed it on his way out the front door, and he'd been glancing at it throughout the morning, letting it stare at him as the day marched onward.

Darrow City Administration
Department of Family Services

Kavinsky felt like he ought to be more manic and less generally anxious. The letter had come sooner than he'd expected; they'd had the home visit only a week or so ago, and the case worker had said it would take quite a while to hear back, and even longer to get a placement. They were, for the moment, slated for fostering over adoption. He wasn't sure if that actually made a difference with placement at all.

He heard the door open and looked up from the letter, which he'd picked up from the desk and was just staring at.

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"Get another citation?" Poison asks blithely when he sees the rather official looking letter in Kavinsky's hands. He resists the urge to sprawl across the desk. He's a little dizzy-loose today, and he can't explain why, nor could he have really described it to anyone if he tried. Jack gets it. Jack gets worried when he's a little too fast and loose, but he doesn't think he's that gone yet.

He does, in fact, end up sitting on the desk in front of Kavinsky.

Poison settled and Kavinsky tossed the unopened letter onto the desk again.

"Haha, jack ass," he said. It was standing knowledge, amid all their friends, that that one cop had some sort of weird vendetta against him. "No, it's from Family Services."

He'd talked to Jack about it, but he realized he hadn't mentioned anything to Poison while things were still weird and nebulous. With the letter, things didn't feel so nebulous--at least, they won't once he opens it.

Poison lifts an eyebrow and lolls his head to look at Kavinsky. He plucks up the letter and holds it up so he can actually read it. "Family Services? Like the people that foster kids out? Is someone letting you be responsible for a child?"

"Letting us," Kavinsky said. He doubted the program would have accepted him if he were single--or, he would have freely admitted, if he and Newt were still a bit more open-ended than they were.

"We had a home visit about a week ago," he said. "And this is either the congratulations, you're a cog in the system letter, or the what the fuck were you thinking letter."

He'd taken down the stupid skeleton decoration he liked to keep up. He'd kept the cats in the master bedroom. The birds had all been on their best behavior in the garden. Everything had been neat and tidy and more put together than any time INS or CPS had ever come and visited his mother to check on him and his sister.

"If it's the good letter," he said, "it's recommended we name a close family friend to step in if anything happens to us. Foster system godparent or something."

"Want me to open it?"

Maybe it's a weird offer, but he'll do it and give Kavinsky the summary if that makes the blow easier, or the good news. He props his head up on his hand, elbow on the desk, and watches Kavinsky.

"Who would you name?"

It was a considerate offer, and Kavinsky almost took him up on it. It would be wonderful to have someone else open it and read, though really it ought to be Newt if it wasn't going to be him.

Instead, in just this moment, he looked at Poison and said gently enough, "You, if you were up for it?"

Poison lifts his eyebrows, still kind of startled by the whole thing. "Yeah. I mean, raised one kid pretty solid to the age of five. I can't be too shitty at parenting."

And Jack is wonderful, Jack is amazing, and in some ways, Jack has his shit together way more than Poison ever will. But he'll die for a kid, he's proven that at least.

"Have you talked to Jack?"

"I told him when Newt and I decided we wanted to get things in order to have a kid," he said, nodding a little bit. "But I didn't mention the stewardship, no. We just found out, back in November, after the home check. I told him back in August, after Newt and I first talked about it. It was still an idea then."

It wasn't just an idea now. There was a letter sitting there, waiting to be opened.

Poison nods. "I'll talk to him, if you want. Like I can't imagine he'd say no, but." He shrugs. He doesn't actually know. When Girl showed up, she was all grown.

Fuck, he misses her like a limb.

"You worried about it?"

Kavinsky nodded, more because of the being worried part than anything else, but also because it was easier if Poison brought it up, probably. He didn't know why it was easier that way--or, rather, he didn't want to acknowledge why it was easier that way.

"I'm sort of a fuck up," Kavinsky said with a bit of a laugh, "in case you've forgotten. Yeah, I'm a little worried."

"Yeah it's hard to forget when you feel like you're looking in a mirror sometimes," he muses, head lolled back.

"We'll help you out, y'know. Fuck, don't I know it takes a fuckin' village."

Kavinsky snorted a little, but he was smiling. Things were easier, now that there was no romantic cross over between them, but Poison wasn't wrong that they were sometimes too similar. But that was part of why Kavinsky trusted him, if anything happened to him or Newt. Both of them had brought people up, in their own ways, as best they knew how.

"If they approve us, we still don't know, like, who they'll give us? Like, I know what to do with a baby, 'cause I raised my sister basically. Newt knows what to do with pre-teen boys, because of where he came up and all. If we get a fucking teenager?" Kavinsky laughed. They practically were still teenagers; he'd be twenty-one in February, but that was nothing, he realized these days.

Poison snorts a laugh at the idea of Kavinsky and Newt getting a teenager. "Shit, well you can tell them what their immediate future might be like if they start fucking around," he quips.

He lolls his head to look at Kavinsky.

"Look, I had no idea what to do with a kid and she was an infant that couldn't tell me what she needed or wanted. And she grew up into a pretty solid kid. You're gonna be okay."

Kavinsky smiled a little bit, because it was reassuring in its own way, and he appreciated it. No matter who they ended up with, Kavinsky and Newt would figure it out, and they had plenty of people to help them out. It was reassuring to have Poison back him up, to offer whatever help he could.

"I should open it," he said, looking down at the letter again. "Should I open it?"

"Open it," he says, giving Kavinsky a little kick. "Fuckin' do it. I'm right here, I'm not gonna let it bite you. Then if it's good news, you can fuck off and call Newt about it and leave me alone in the studio."

Kavinsky breathed, closed his eyes for a second. He remembered different letters at different times, back home, warning of all sorts of things. But those letters had been ominous things, reminders about green cards and immigration statuses. This was something that he wanted.

He opened the letter. He pulled it out. His hands were shaking, just a little. When he unfurled it, his eyes glanced over the letterhead, down to the parting at the end. He completely glanced over the middle.

"The fuck is this so nerve-wrecking," he grumbled, shaking out the letter and clearing his throat. "Dear Misters Kavinsky, we at the department of child and family services of Darrow would like to extend our... Congratulations. Congratulations--holy--"

Kavinsky's eyes widened. "Holy shit."

Poison smiles and gives Kavinsky a little nudge. "Congrats, man. You guys are gonna be fine, seriously. I mean it's gonna be a fuckin' adjustment, but. You'll be okay. You got a village and shit."

Suddenly, he misses the Girl like breathing. Even all grown up, she's a part of him and he wishes he could see her. Wishes she could see this. He looks down and gets off the desk.

"You should call Newt, or go home or something."

Kavinsky was so blown for a moment that he didn't notice Poison's shift, the slight fall in his tone and his expression. When he did, he knew what it was about--Sunny--and he felt a little guilty for foisting this moment onto Poison.

He didn't know what to say. Yes, of course he should call Newt, or track him down wherever he was at in the city. But Poison was having a moment and he wasn't sure if that meant he needed space or needed direction.

Kavinsky settled on direction. "I'll call him when you're in the booth," he said, and slung his arm over Poison's shoulders. "C'mon, princess. Let's make some music."

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Everything could fall down, everything could go [for Poison | backdate]

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