It would have been nice if someone could've warned Craig what a pained mixed blessing it was going to be to raise a child before he and Rick formally adopted Neil. It might have at least prepared him for some of the frustrations and unexpected annoyances when dealing with the quiet six year-old. His little curly blond head wasn't unwelcome in the least, it was just a brand new challenge to sift through the mail and find his kindergarten report card sitting next to some junk mail and a bill. He was absolutely certain that it was always a challenge for a new father to find out his son was not doing so well in his classes, especially one that Craig excelled in so specifically in grade school.
Craig found the boy hidden under his bed, his favored football helmet tucked right in front of where he was hiding with a little alien plush tucked into the crook of his elbow and a big pair of hazel eyes staring back at Craig's pink ones when he finally spotted him. Neil looked guilty enough to suggest he knew what happened. Craig sighed and straightened his glasses and sat next to the bedframe, gently offering a hand to help the little boy from under the mattress.
"I'm not angry, Neil, I'd simply like to discuss your grades."
Warily, Neil eyed Craig's thin hand and didn't take it immediately, "You're not mad? Promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
Instead of a hand, Neil stuck out his pinkie finger with a determined expression. Craig, mollified from whatever frustration he might've had, hooked his pinkie with his son's; this seemed to convince him and soon his blond, bouncing curls poked out from his bed. Craig hooked his hands under the child's armpits and slowly pulled him out to sit them both on the bed. He produced the report card and almost immediately, Neil scooped up his helmet and plunked it on his head, like it was going to protect him from his slightly-worse-than-average grades.
"Your teacher says you're having some troubles with reading," Craig said, trying his best not to make him feel all too bad about it; giving the poor thing the complex Craig's own parents instilled in him was something he wanted to avoid.
Neil shifted in his seat, tugging at his favorite NASA t-shirt he'd gotten the first Christmas they spent together, "Sorry…"
If the little boy could quite understand the ramifications of a bad grade, Craig couldn't be sure, because he looked as though he were about to be seriously punished, "It's alright, Neil, I just wanted to offer some assistance, if that's alright. I would think by the large amount of books we carry in the house, you could assume us—well, at least assume that I'm a frequent reader."
Idly, Neil gripped the face mask of his helmet, face screwing up in deep thought, "How… can you help me with reading?"
"Well, if you'd like, we could read together?" Craig suggested.
Neil nodded enthusiastically and slipped off the bed to gather up the forgotten lime-green alien plush he'd abandoned under the bed. Craig took the boy's hand and they were off to the great big line of bookshelves in the living room, filled to the brim with all sorts of literature of all kinds. Craig moved over to the shelf he specifically organized to house his favorites and pulled out a worn copy of Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. It held a special place in Craig's usually non-sentimental heart as one of the very first gifts Rick had given him. He gently pulled off the cover with the illustrated title from the hardback book and gave it an affectionate pat. It was one of the first times Rick had actively sought out some common ground between them and surprisingly, had actually taken the time to read it on several occasions.
"What about this one?" Craig held the book up for Neil to observe who gave it an unsure glance, but nodded slowly anyhow.
"Your father even liked it, I think if even he can manage to read it, someone as intelligent as you can manage as well," he assured the small boy, sitting on the sofa with a pat on the cushion next to him.
Neil wordlessly clambered up next to Craig and settled with his stuffed alien in his lap, shifting his helmet up enough to see the book when Craig held it down for both of them to see. Neil's eyes widened slightly at the sheer amount of words on the page held before him, but his adopted father affectionately patted his knee in an attempt to placate his worry.
"I'll read the first chapter, then we can start with helping you read as well, is that alright?"
Again, there was a silent nod from the helmeted boy and Craig pressed one long finger to the page, right at the first word.
"Chapter one, The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow: Squire Trelawny, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen have asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island…," Craig began, annunciating slowly and precisely for the best learning experience he could manage.
Once he'd finished the last chapter, Craig shut the book over his forefinger and glanced down at Neil to gauge his reaction to the story—but found his curly blond head leaned up against his side completely asleep. Craig frowned just slightly, not really angry with the boy, but simply confused at what point he'd decided to take a nap. He hadn't even felt the weight of another person on him while reading, though that was not particularly surprising, given how engrossed he had a habit of getting. With a resigned sigh, he carefully extricated himself from the couch and lowered Neil to the couch cushion and tugged the crocheted blanket on the backrest over his small shoulders.
He pulled the clunky red helmet off of his head and gave his curls a small ruffle. Well, perhaps the subject matter was not entirely interesting enough, but one had to grant Craig it was worth a try. He'd try again later, he resolved and shut off the end table light, moving to the kitchen to make a hopefully quietly cooked dinner.
Simple sandwiches were all he could come up with, he busied himself slicing up a loaf of bread and warming up some soup until he heard the front door. He didn't look up but smiled when a familiar arm draped around his waist and a pair of lips pressed to the top of his head. Only then did Craig turn around to wrap his arms around Rick's neck for a welcome-home kiss against his partner's wide smile and stubbled face. Rick wrapped both arms around Craig's waist, idly rocking them back and forth out of force of habit.
"The squirt fell asleep on ya, I see," he commented, gesturing with his chin toward the living room.
"Yes, we were attempting to brush up on his reading skills. I seem to have gotten a little too enthusiastic about reading to him aloud," Craig admitted, "We received his report card from school and his grades—"
"Aw, jus' cause his grades aren't like yours might'a been, it ain't no big thing," Rick interjected.
Craig leaned away with a roll of his eyes, "I hadn't made him feel like it was some big issue, if that's what you're implying."
"Just bored the poor thing to death."
"I picked out one of your favorites, I might mention," the blond huffed, moving his arms off of Rick to turn and go back to preparing a small dinner, "It must not have held his interest quite the same way, is all. I believe he can do just fine, if not better than that in school."
Instead of pestering the smaller man for more affection like he might normally, Rick stepped back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Didn't like whatcha picked out for him, huh…"
"No, he didn't seem too interested in the whole pirate adventure business—" Craig turned to continue the conversation, but Rick had already wandered off.
Craig didn't think anything of it and moved to stir the warming soup, only perking up when he heard two voices, assumedly his partner and their son speaking with one another. He had to fight off some irked paranoia that Rick would be talking badly about Craig's concern with Neil's grades, filling his head with the idea that they weren't important, at least in some way. No, he trusted Rick and ignored their conversation until he was completely satisfied with the temperature of the soup.
He allowed himself to wander into the living room to tell them dinner was ready, only to stare at his little son sitting in Rick's lap with a very large, familiar looking textbook in his own. His helmet covered his head and he was steadily reading from what Craig recognized as one of his old college textbooks that he was simply too fussy to part with. In fact, it looked like the very textbook from the sole class Craig hadn't received a perfect grade in—astrophysics.
Neil's hazel eyes were practically glowing, poring over the words like they would escape at any moment. Rick glanced up at Craig with a little smile and a shrug, not daring to speak in fear of interrupting and stopping the little boy so contentedly reading from a college-level textbook. This six year-old little boy would rather read about a subject neither one of his fathers were at all good at, let alone well-versed in at the least.
"Solar flares take place in the solar corona and c-…c-cr-," Neil's face could be seen scrunching up from inside of his football helmet, "Chr-mo-sph-ere, heating pla-s-ma to tens of million kelvins."
He suddenly looked up at Craig who jumped slightly, not aware at all that the boy knew he was there, "Craig-dad, what's a kelvin?"
Gaping, Craig looked at Rick who would obviously not know the answer and gave him a look that suggested as such, gesturing at their son and then the space on the couch next to them. Mechanically, shocked and a little baffled, Craig sat and cleared his throat.
"Ah, a kelvin is a unit of temperature measure typically used in scientific studies when the temperatures given are incredibly high," he said almost robotically, far more accustomed to spouting the information than handling a child saying the word 'chromosphere' without any assistance.
"Oh, okay," Neil returned to the book to continue to read, "And ac-cell-er-at-ing the resulting e-lec-trons, pro-tons, and heavier… how do you say that word?"
He stopped annunciating to point out a word for Craig to read to him, "Ions," Craig supplied, leaning over to peer at the book.
Neil smiled brightly, "Ions to near the speed of light! Shooooom!" he finished off the sentence by waving his hands in the air like they were rocketships.
Bewildered, Craig glanced at Rick who shrugged, "I told'im he could look at one of the pictures if he finished readin' the page."
To that, Craig said nothing, but rubbed his forehead in still a great amount of somewhat pleased shock. The textbook was brought to the dinner table and they were treated to the sounds of Neil reciting off the words in the text book as carefully as he could muster with bit of chewed sandwich in his mouth. Finally, it was put away when he got to the soup, at his own request so he didn't ruin the book. Craig could certainly appreciate that.
"It looks as though your grades will be improving after all," Craig said, still a little caught off-guard.
Neil nodded, thoughtfully, "Maybe if all of the books are on stars and planets and space," he shrugged finally, "But, but, but, Rick-dad said that if I practiced, we could go to the ice cream truck."
"Oh he did now," Craig glanced over at his partner who just shrugged sheepishly, "I think it's early enough that we can catch it before it gets too dark."
With a clap of his hands and a whoop, Neil raced off to find his shoes, "Good, I wanna rocket pop!"
"Jus' had to find what he liked I guess," Rick shrugged, standing to pick up the dishes from dinner.
"And here I thought he'd be more like you," Craig shook his head.
"With all that nerdy kinda stuff, he sounds way more like you now thatcha mention it," he chuckled.
"Oh god no, that textbook might as well not exist to me, astronomy was my worst subject in school," Craig scoffed.
Before Rick could reply, Neil appeared with his sneakers and sat right in the middle of the kitchen to put them on, "Hurry or we'll miss it!" he urged them both.
The dishes forgotten, Neil hurried them both out of the house for the promised ice cream truck. Craig lagged behind Rick and Neil racing to catch up to the singing vehicle. He watched them with a small, but warm smile; in his head he was secretly dreading the need to brush back up on the subject of space. Oh the things a young father will do to make his children happy.