Hello! :') Sugar and Rory have basically become my new OTP, and I love the idea that they are the children of Klaine and Brittana. Hence, I went and wrote fic about it. Enjoy!
The social worker eyed the documents carefully, looking out for criminal convictions, therapists reports, diseases, anything that might mean that the seemingly perfect, if slightly flamboyant couple sitting across from her couldn't take the boy home. She was still a little unsure as to why they'd set their heart so firmly on the Irish teenager when they had some perfectly adorable toddlers who were in need of homes, but they'd informed her that they liked to do things differently, and that they'd like to use their own experiences to help young boys who's lost their way. They had money, enough for private school even, a good home. Frankly, she was sold. "Sign here."
Kurt and Blaine had been waiting for this day since about five minutes after they had moved to New York. It had only taken them a few months to decide that they wanted to go through an adoption agency, Kurt was adamant that there was no need to go through fertility treatment when there were kids who needed a home already. They, of course, had been looking for a baby like all young couples that approached the Upper East Side agency, which looked rather too much like a high school for either of their liking. Rory had been feeling apathetic that day. It hadn't taken him long to notice that bright-eyed newlyweds who came to his care home weren't looking for fifteen year old misfits. He sat in the corner of the common room with is nose buried in a magazine about video games. He'd never played a video game in his life, and he wasn't actually reading it. Instead, he was listening to the uncannily attractive gay couple on the other side of the room be sweet-talked by one of the social workers. One looked oddly similar to Rory himself and had a bewildered expression on his face while the other was smaller, stockier and had a mop of curls on his head which completely ruined the high-end look he was going for. He almost felt bad for them.
Rory had only been in New York for five months, but he'd been living in the care home for all of them. He often complained about it, but in truth he was relieved. He had no desire to go into another foster home and someone try to love him. They never did, and he didn't blame them. You love a child who you watched grow up, with a sweet smile and a soft voice and good grades not the Irish kid you picked up off the side of the street in the middle of puberty. Rory supposed that that wasn't all of it though, part of the reason they didn't love him was because he was unlovable. It sounds extreme out loud like that, but it was something he had come to accept over the last few years. His parents had left him behind within months, alone in a room. He thought he could remember vaguely, but the faces of his parents had long since faded. Then there had been the foster homes, and what could he say? He'd gone into foster care with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Now, he needed medication just to make him get out of bed. The meds helped a bit, he supposed, after all here he still was. Yes, Rory mused, the life of the unlovable was a hard one.
His thoughts were interrupted by the smaller of the couple he'd been watching, who sat down tentatively next to him. The other was still deep in conversation across the room.
"What're you reading?" Rory looked up at him, anxious. People didn't generally just start talking to him anymore unless they were accusing of something. His throat was dry, so he kept his mouth shut while he watched warm hazel eyes skim over the page he had open.
"Nope," the man said "Not even going to pretend to be interested in that." Rory bit his lip as he felt a smile approaching, surely it was weird to smile at a stranger.
He cleared his throat "Me neither."
Rory had absolutely no idea how he had got here. He had gone from what felt like total solitude to being the object of love and affection from two of the most caring men he had ever met. They'd let him pick out his own wallpaper, furniture and wardrobe, they'd given him his own laptop and enrolled him in the best school in the district. He told them he didn't need all this stuff, but they just laughed and replied that he was an investment. He'd asked Blaine one night, while they sat up eating ice cream and watching college football reruns, why they'd wanted to adopt him in the first place. Blaine had laughed, and tried to avoid the question, commenting on the plays on their TV screen.
Rory didn't laugh with him, and shrank back a little on the couch "You could have had anyone in that place. A little girl, a baby, maybe a little boy who knows how to run around and shoot hoops or something- I don't know. Why me? When you had all those kids to choose from, why did you make such a fuss about me?" Blaine frowned as though deep in thought, but relaxed a minute or so later.
"First of all, you make it sound like it's customary to choose your child, which it isn't. But really..." He trailed off, a smile tugging at his lips. "You remind me of him," he motioned his head towards the bedroom "when I first met him. He had that same lost look, the one you get when you're too confused even to be scared anymore. I think he looked to me to give him hope, but really all the hope was inside of him, and he was the one giving me hope." Blaine chuckled softly to himself, his eyes glazed over as though in a dream "He still does, actually."
Rory felt a tear in his eye. Having grown up in a place so devoid of love, it still made him feel incredibly emotional to hear people talk about it the way Blaine was.
"You think I can give you hope?" The teenager looked doubtful, but Blaine smiled at him with shining eyes.
"Rory, you already give me hope." He lay a hand on the boy's shoulder "Now get to bed, before your other dad finds out you're up and confiscates the ice cream."
Rory met her on his third day at River High School. She'd been sitting alone in the corner of English class, next to the only available seat. Sugar was vaguely aware of him approaching but she chose not to look up, instead choosing to stare at the handout in front of her with a decidedly unhappy look on her face. To the unconcerned observer she would have looked as though she was concentrating on the reading, but Rory knew that look: She was trying not to cry. She flinched away from him when he sat down, shifting her chair up next to the wall and leaning over her little notebook, scribbling something quickly. She didn't seem to care that he looked over to see what she was writing.
I wish I'd never been born.
I wish I'd never been born.
I wish I'd never been born.
Sugar Lopez Pierce wishes she had never been born.
Rory pretended not to notice that a tear had dropped onto the paper between 'Lopez' and 'Pierce'. The teacher was in the middle of setting their homework when the girl next to him, Sugar Lopez Pierce, Rory assumed stormed out of the classroom. The teacher gave the door a wistful look, but didn't stop talking. No one else even looked up.