(no subject)

[sidestepdestiny]

Simon seriously needs to work on his organizational skills.

I'm in the office looking for a bank statement he was supposed to file, coming up with nothing, about two seconds from going to our emailed statements and printing it out, when I see an adoption application packet shoved beneath a bunch of financial records. I take it out with a sigh and stand up to put it in the right filing cabinet when I see the name written at the top.

Simon Snow printed in Simon's boyish scrawl. For a moment of insanity I think someone's filing to adopt him, and then I see the child's name who the paperwork is for.

Genevieve Porter

The paperwork has been partially filled out with Simon as the client and my mind is honestly blown. Simon has always done a good job of not coming across as favoring any of the children, so I hadn't noticed a preference for Genevieve. Was it my fault? Have I been so busy that I can't even tell when my boyfriend wants to adopt a fucking child? And why hasn't he talked to me about it? Was he just going to come home one day (not even home! from one part of the house to the other!) with a Surprise! You're A Father! banner.

Or has he planned to leave me and be a single dad? It doesn't make any sense.

I just stare at the paperwork for awhile. And I guess I'm feeling defensive, or petty, because instead of bringing it up to him in a calm, matter-of-fact manner, I find him with the papers in hand and say, "Simon. There you are. I have some good news." I shuffle the papers without letting him see his own writing, like I'm reading them over. "We've gotten an application, someone wants to adopt Genevieve."

Comments

[worst_greatest_one]

My eyes widen. "That'd be brilliant!" I say, already thinking of all the things we could have. "Roast duck and puddings and sour cherry scones." My smile dims a bit as I remember that Bitty's gone, but he can't be the only one in the world to make those.

"A special occasion for all the littluns to look forward to. Especially the hungry ones," I add, thinking of Ben. The poor little sod's the most like me when I was small, suspicious, angry, hungry all the time.

[sidestepdestiny]

"Yes, soon we will have all these children on a proper English diet," I say, followed by a mock-evil laugh. It confuses the cooks sometimes, but Greta helps with that.

"Just say Ben. I know you mean Ben. I think he might secretly be a magickal creature who has a bottomless pit where his stomach's supposed to be," I add dryly, and of course it reminds me of someone. How neither of them have blown up in the waistband department is beyond me.