Summary: 'Normal' wasn't exactly normal when it came to the Palmetto State Foxes. Everyone knew that, and the exceptional history of each of its members only added to that perception. Abnormal wasn't supposed to included supernatural, though.

With a baby fox abruptly in their midst, it seemed that the curious life of Neil Josten would never cease to be an even greater exception.

Rating: T

Tags: De-Ageing, Child!Neil, Multiple POV, Fox antics, the Foxes are kind of shit parents, Freak-outs, Neil's Past, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Chapter 1: Day 1

"It's good to have everyone back together again."

Dan's words still rung in the back of his head as Neil rested his head down, the pillow a cool contrast to the warm night. Warm with more than just that summer heat, too; the company of his team, reunited after their divergence over the break, left a hot tightness in his chest that didn't feel bad at all. Once, it might have – may have stung, seared, torn him apart – but not anymore.

Family.

As Neil closed his eyes, he sighed a breath that released the last of the tension in him that he hadn't even known was there. Sliding slowly into the abandon of sleep, he couldn't help but dwell on just how lucky he'd been that year. The team… they were something special. And they were his.

Not for the first time, he wondered just how their collective lot would have changed if he'd met even one of them a little earlier. Irrelevant, of course, but… interesting. It was the last tangible thought to cross Neil's mind before he slid into sleep.

There was little that could wake Kevin on a good day, and even less following a night of heavy drinking. A bursting bladder was one of those things, and it was with a sour thoughts and leaden limbs that he clawed his way from sleep and into a semblance of consciousness. Grumbling to himself, he all but fell from his bunk and staggered in a rolling stumble in the general direction of the bathroom.

A full five minutes later – sleep addled the process into a mess of fumbling hands and absentmindedness – and Kevin staggered with only a little more coordination back towards his bed. The sun was shedding its abrasive early light through the poor excuse for curtains, and Neil, being the aggressively enthusiastic morning runner that he was, was already sitting up in bed. Kevin barely registered a flicker of surprise that he was still in bed at all before he collapsed back onto his mattress, face-first into the pillow and limbs flopping limply. Sleep had barely been abandoned and was easy enough to recollect.

Kevin sighed.

He closed his eyes.

Then he frowned.

With his temples already beginning to throb with an oncoming hangover, Kevin slowly rolled his head on the pillow. His eyes were blurry as he squinted across the room to the opposite bunk beds, blinking hazily through the grogginess of sleep and headache. Neil was shuffling on his bed, a leg slung out from the covers to hang above the floor, and –

Kevin lurched upright. His head swum, complained with a pang, but he barely registered it, blinking rapidly to clear the lingering blur from his eyes. "What the -?" he blurted out, tongue thick and twisting the words.

Neil froze, half out of bed, and snapped his gaze towards Kevin. Neil who was – no. No, not Neil. Not Neil because Neil was… he was…

"What the fuck?"

The kid with big eyes as blue as Neil's and hair just the same colour, curls skewed by sleep and long bangs flopping across his forehead, flinched before freezing again. He was small – so small in a bed that wasn't all that big to begin with - and the shirt he wore swum on him like a cropped muumuu. At Kevin's words his eyes widened until they seemed to fill his entire face.

He stared at Kevin, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Kevin stared back. The kid didn't move, and Kevin thought he himself might have forgotten how to as well. There was something there, some impossible explanation in the forefront of Kevin's mind for the presence of a pint-sized kid where Neil should be, but like a broken circuit it wouldn't connect. Impossible. Utterly impossible. And yet, he looked like…

"Andrew," Kevin said, his voice still thick and hoarse but rising sharply. "Andrew, you – Hey, Andrew, get up."

Then Kevin lurched from his bed to his feet this time, and it was one move too far.

The kid in Neil's bed flew into motion. In a flurry of sheets, stick-thin limbs spinning, he leapt from the bed and scrambled across the room. Almost faster than Kevin could see, the kid burst through the door and disappeared. Kevin, scrambling to gather his senses that abruptly swung into hyperalert, snatched his pillow from his bed and lobbed it at Andrew's bed.

"Andrew," he barked, lurching across the room with only a little bit of his wayward stumble remaining. "Get up, dammit. It's Neil."

The bunkbed jerked almost the second the pillow landed, and Andrew was only a fraction slower in sitting up. As Kevin spared him a glance from the doorway, Andrew met his eyes with the clarity of immediate alertness that he'd always been capable of instantly acquiring.

Andrew frowned, scrubbed a hand through the tufts of his hair, and slung an arm to dangle over the side of his bed. "What?" he asked flatly, a demand rather than a question of curiosity.

"Something's happened to Neil," Kevin said, and he knew he didn't need to explain further. He didn't quite understand what was between Andrew and Neil – no one did – but a handful of words would never fail to throw either one of them into action. Sure enough, as he turned back to the hallway, already making after the runaway kid, it was to the sight of Andrew swinging a sharp glance to the bed beneath his own before he all but leapt over the side of his own to the floor. He was on Kevin's heels before Kevin had made it into the living room.

The living room which was empty.

Not a chair was out of place. The television was silent. The bean bag in the centre of the room was lumpy and slouching in just the same way it had been when reprieved of Nicky's drunken sprawl the previous night. Neil's travel bag, dumped on his desk just as Andrew's was when they'd returned to the Tower the previous afternoon, was as untouched as the rest of it.

Kevin, struggling to make sense of the situation for more than just his pounding head, swept his gaze around the room from the mouth of the hallway. He barely noticed Andrew shouldering past him to make for the kitchen, pausing only long enough to glance in, however, before spinning and heading for the door. It took him snapping the top lock open before Kevin's stuttering short-circuit reconnected enough for him to hasten towards him.

"Wait," he said, striding across the room with as much haste as he could manage. "He hasn't left. It's still locked."

Andrew stared up at him with his flat stare, hardened further because something was wrong and something always drove Andrew towards the edge of aggression. He was as likely to knock the wind out of Kevin as reply, but blessedly only demanded with a sharp, "Your point?"

"He's too short," Kevin said, turning in place and glancing around the room, and rubbing unconsciously at his head. "He couldn't – he wouldn't be able to reach it."

Turning from the door, Kevin took a brief circuit of the room. He couldn't believe it, still didn't quite understand, couldn't comprehend, but that something forced him into action. Off the court, Kevin wasn't much for initiative, or so he'd been told. But this? This necessitated thoughtless immediacy, because Neil was –

Neil was –

How the fuck is he a fucking kid?

That thought was all that circulated in Kevin's head as he flicked a crumped blanket from the floor to glance beneath. As he peered under each of the desks and looked into the kitchen again just in case. Nothing, nothing, and nothing. He didn't even realise Andrew was staring at him from the doorway until he was brought up by Andrew's hand darted towards him to grab his arm, jerking him to a halt before he could charge back down hallway towards the bathroom.

"What did you take last night?" Andrew asked, spinning Kevin around to face him.

Take? Andrew thought he was high? At another time, Kevin might have shaken himself loose, hissed in affront, but not now. Now, he only shook his head, managed to tug free, and strode towards the bathroom. Not now. He couldn't manage Andrew now when he could barely wrap his mind around the disorientation of his rude awakening.

Andrew's sharp "Kevin" followed him as Kevin shouldered through the door, nearly tripped over a towel discarded on the floor, and glanced around the room. Nothing, nothing, and nothing again, not behind the door, beside the overflowing hamper, behind the –

Behind the shower curtain.

Wrenched aside, Kevin nearly fell over with the speed of his backwards flinch. Even deliberately looking for him, the sight of the kid was a slap in the face because yes. Yes, it fucking was. In the fluorescent bathroom light, there was no mistaking that the kid – a skinny, tiny little auburn-haired kid – was a dead ringer of Neil.

A dead ringer minus fifteen odd years.

"What the fuck?" Kevin swore for what could have been the tenth time since he'd woken. Standing at the side of the shower, hand bunched in the curtain, it was all he could do to stare.

Dumbfounded. That seemed about right.

The kid stared up at him with eyes blown so wide the white was visible the whole way around. With his arms were locked tightly around his shins, shoulders drawn to his ears, and back against the wall, he was nothing if not the personification of a cornered rabbit. A cornered rabbit in a shirt three times too big for him and staring up at Kevin with…

Fear? Definitely fear, but not panic. Kevin saw, registered, but couldn't quite comprehend the terror that wasn't panicked, the wariness that quivered as tension through the kid's body. Not helplessness; that fear bespoke nothing short of the recognition of a familiar horror.

Kevin couldn't move. Didn't move. It was only when an arm swiped into his side that he staggered from his stock-stillness. The kid before him flinched, snapped his gaze to where Andrew appeared at Kevin's side, and somehow managed to tense even further.

They stared. All of them. And Kevin had no idea what the fuck to do next.

Blessedly, it seemed that Andrew did. At least a little bit.

"Go and get someone," he said, voice so low the words were almost indecipherable. "Someone useful."

Glancing towards him, Kevin saw nothing but blank-faced regard, but Andrew's body thrummed with just as much tension as the kid's. He blinked, then grunted as Andrew, without looking from the kid, swept his arm into his flank once more. "Kevin. Go. Now."

Kevin went.

In a scramble, tearing from the room with long-legged purpose to do something, something that could be properly done, he threw towards the nearest source of help. Not that Andrew had asked for it specifically. Not that Kevin knew what any such help could do. Regardless, he was fumbling for his phone as soon as he all but crashed into his nightstand, swiping through his contacts for Wymack's number with haphazard fingers.

Wymack picked up on the fourth ring. "Is there a reason you're calling at the arse-crack of dawn?"

"It's Neil," Kevin blurted out. "You have to – Coach, he's –"

"What is it?" The grumble instantly disappeared from his voice. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"He's – Coach, he's –"

"Kevin, spit it out."

"He's a kid." Ludicrous in thought, it sounded even more insane spoken out loud. "Coach, Neil turned into a kid."

A loud silence met his words with Wymack's slow inhalation the only interruption. Then, "Have you been drinking this morning? Already?"

Kevin steadied himself on his nightstand. His headache was positively pounding in his temples, and his legs felt like they were barely holding him up. There was something buzzing between his ears that had nothing to do with Wymack's words and a whole lot more the short-circuiting currently afflicting him. Pressing his hand over his eyes – he was so completely not fucking prepared for this shit – Kevin released a shaking breath.

"I swear to god, Coach, I'm not sure I've ever wished that I was piss-drunk more in my life. We need your goddamn help."

It wasn't much of an explanation but it was apparently enough. "Give me ten," Wymack said, and the line went dead. No, it might not be much – not an explanation nor a fucking pinch to wake Kevin up from what he was increasingly hoping was dream – but it was something.

"No shit, for real? So, like, a psychological regression?"

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Mike, not like a fucking regression. I mean he's literally turned into a kid."

"So… he thinks he's a kid?"

"No, he – What did I just fucking say?"

"What happened? Was he in an accident? Did he hit his head?"

"No, he –"

"'Cause you should get him to the hospital if he has, man. If he thinks he's – what, how old? That's some serious shit."

Aaron glared across the room at nothing as Mike continued with rising concern. Traumatic accidents, head injuries, a concussion gone from bad to worse – it was all about as far from useful as Aaron could think. Finally, his frustration – and the quiet inquiry from Katelyn at his side – had him forcing his way into Mike's tirade.

"Mike, do you or don't you know anything about a grown adult suddenly winding up in the body of a five-year-old?"

A stuttered stop met his words, then a pause. "What?" Mike asked. "Like a body-switch?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. Aren't you a med student?"

"You mean like some supernatural mumbo-jumbo?"

"It's not –"

"Have you been watching too much sci-fi, man? I thought you didn't even like sci-fi. Whenever I've asked, you –"

Aaron hung up.

Squeezing the bridge of his nose again, he glanced towards Katelyn at his side. She was still in her pyjamas – they all were – and was watching him with the wide-eyed attentiveness of those listening to only half a conversation and filling in the blanks. Her face twisted sympathetically as Aaron stuffed the phone into his pocket.

"Nothing?" she asked.

Aaron didn't really need to reply, but he shook his head anyway. It seemed appropriate, a heavy shake of utter bemusement, given the situation they'd found themselves in that morning.

Wymack woke them all up. Or maybe it was Dan, Aaron wasn't sure. All he knew was that Matt had shaken him awake, all but dragging him from his bed and Katelyn's sleepy company, and hauled him into the room down the hall.

The whole team was there. And Wymack. And Abby, too, because apparently the Foxes couldn't do anything low-key. Which, when Aaron considered, was probably appropriate given how goddamn fucked up the situation was.

Kevin was hunched in the corner of the room. Dan and Matt, Allison and Renee, were all scattered throughout the space. Wymack paced along the wall with Nicky positively twitching a foot away from him, while Andrew had positioned himself against the wall across from the bathroom right behind where Abby was leaning through the bathroom door. And within that bathroom, when Aaron had been able to look for himself –

"This is insane," he'd said as soon as he'd first caught a glimpse of the kid. He stared at Kevin and seriously pondered the death of his liver if he was already drunk again after their previous night. He jerked a thumb at the bathroom behind him, the bathroom with the kid and an overly-gentle Abby attempting to coax said kid from the corner of the shower cubicle. "That's a five-year-old kid."

"It's Neil," Kevin said.

Aaron swung towards him instead. "No, it's not, because that's impossible. That's a kid –"

"He looks just like him," Matt said, his voice a little awed.

Aaron swung towards him instead. "So what? That doesn't mean –"

"He said his name's Nathaniel," Nicky said, stupefaction slackening his face.

"He's –"

"He really does look exactly like him."

"He's Neil. He's Neil?"

"He was in Neil's bed and Neil isn't –"

"How? How the hell does that happen?"

"I can't believe it, but he's really…"

Disbelief yet rapidly – and foolishly – rising acceptance of the impossible pervaded the room. Words were flung with Kevin's repeated "it's Neil" a constant accompaniment, and Aaron could only shake his head at the ridiculousness of it all. Until he looked at the kid again, that was. The kid and Andrew, because Andrew wouldn't put up with such bullshit, except –

Andrew didn't move from his place in the hallway. Arms folded, utterly unmoving, he didn't look away from the bathroom for even a second. Aaron didn't think he even blinked.

Aaron called Mike, the third of possible sources he'd tried, because it was impossible yet somehow had happened anyway, and if it had happened then there would be a precedent. A medical precedent. There would be… right? Except Mike hadn't known, and neither had Susanne before him, nor Taj before her, and he was a legitimate doctor rather than a student. When Aaron lowered his phone the third time, he didn't bother to try a fourth.

"This is impossible," he muttered, barely noticing the nods of agreement around him. "Things like this don't happen."

"Except it did," Renee said quietly.

"What do we do?" Matt asked. "Do we… take him to a hospital?"

"And they'll do what, exactly?" Allison said, shooting him a severe frown that was less of a reprimand and gave more of a harried impression than anything else. "What're they going to do? Study him like a lab-rat?"

"This is impossible," Aaron found himself muttering again, and Katelyn's hand squeezing his own for once didn't immediately make the situation any easier to bear. Confusion buzzed in the air like a current of electricity, and it was infectious, would have been infectious even without the nonsensical situation. People didn't just turn into kid versions of themselves, and yet, apparently when it came to Neil-goddamn-Josten, he was an exception in every situation.

Words were flung about the room, mostly between the upperclassman. Aaron didn't listen. He stared at the bathroom, at Abby and her quiet attempts at coaxing, at Andrew, motionless and staring. Kevin was still stuck on repeat, and he found himself not much different.

Until Abby somehow worked her magic.

She backed away from the bathroom like a handler drawing a frightened animal from its cage. Exactly like a handler, in fact, for a moment later a small hand curled around the door frame and a equally small face with big eyes followed. Aaron couldn't look away; he didn't like Neil, not at all, but even his dislike paled in the face of this. It was definitely him. Neil Josten, as a kid. Even without the maturity, without the scars painting his cheeks, it was impossible not to see what was more than merely resemblance.

The room fell silent. The upperclassmen seemed to hold their breath. Finally, Abby's quiet, words could be heard. Her hand extended towards the kid – towards Neil – and she wore a smile that did a remarkable job of hiding just how messed up the situation was. "That's it," she said. "See, nothing to worry about. These people – they're all friends. This is Andrew, and Andrew's brother Aaron, and Katelyn standing right next to him. That's Dan, and that's…"

She circled the room with her finger, barely glancing away from Neil, and Neil watched her gestures with solemn eyes darting between them all. Far too solemn for a kid his age; it was uncanny, and Katelyn's hand tightening in Aaron's was more than indication that he wasn't alone in his thoughts.

"…all very friendly, so you've got nothing to worry about," Abby was saying, and Aaron almost snorted reflexively. "No one will hurt you, Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel?" Aaron asked before he could help himself. Gazes drew towards him, but he ignored them. "That's what you're calling him?"

Before anyone could answer, Neil spoke. "It's my name," he said, his words quiet but insistent, as though spoken by rote and coloured only slightly by the wariness mirrored in his expression. It was jarring to hear the words, high and thin in his child's voice, when the tone sounded so much like Neil's. His fingers squeezed the door frame until his knuckles turned white. "Nathaniel. Not Neil."

"Yeah, that's right," Abby began, but Neil's gaze was trained on Aaron and he wasn't done.

"Not Neil. I don't like you all calling me weird names. You're supposed to call people by their proper names, because otherwise you're stupid and rude."

Another bout of silence met his words. This time, however, Aaron couldn't suppress his snort. "Oh, the irony," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, you tell him, little man," Matt said, the slight waver in his smile the only suggestion of his uneasiness.

Neil shot him a glance – wary, scared, but somehow defiant as well – and sunk against the doorframe slightly. He frowned at each of the Foxes in turn and likely would have continued frowning motionlessly if Abby hadn't recalled his attention.

"Would you like that breakfast I promised you?" she asked, her voice bright and somehow devoid of the ominous undertones Aaron suspected they all felt. "I'm sure there's something yummy we can rustle up." She spared Andrew a glance. "What do you boys have?"

Andrew didn't reply, and Aaron wasn't surprised. He looked like a stone statue, face a blank mask and arms folded across his chest as he stared down at Neil. He didn't appear to even hear Abby's words, which she likely deduced from her quiet sigh as she straightened. Hand still extended towards Neil in an offering that he too ignored, she beckoned towards the kitchen. "Come on, let's go and have a look."

It was impossible not to stare as Neil – Nathaniel, whatever he was called – slunk along the wall in Abby's wake. He moved as though every step was considered, as though walking on glass, and unerringly kept the wall to his back even as he rounded the corner. It was disconcerting, and from the shared glances between the Foxes, Aaron didn't think he was the only one thinking that, either.

When Neil and Abby disappeared into the kitchen, Wymack ejected into the living room in exchange, the Foxes seemed to draw in upon themselves in a reflexive huddle. Aaron found himself no less afflicted by that reflex, edging towards their cluster.

"Oh my god, that really is baby Neil," Nicky said, somehow managing to shout in a whisper.

"He's kind of adorable," Matt said.

"And looks like he's shitting himself," Allison added.

Renee shook her head. "No. No, he's not. That's… he's scared, but not terrified. It's…" She glanced towards Andrew, frowning at where he stood alongside the doorway into the kitchen. He'd been drawn several paces behind Abby and the kid as though magnetised and still hadn't looked away. It was oddly captivating to watch; Aaron thought it must have been the first time he'd seen his brother properly disconcerted.

"What do we do?" Matt asked. "Are we -? I mean, should we -?"

"I'm pretty sure there's no set protocol for what to do when your friend turns into a mini version of themselves," Dan said. "I suppose we wait it out?"

"Wait it out? Isn't that kind of…?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do but hope it reverses itself? This isn't exactly a normal affliction!"

They bounced between themselves, Katelyn dipping her toes into the conversation with more level-headedness than most of the Foxes. Aaron listened as they spoke – "We're seriously going to be looking after a baby Neil?" was met by "Holy shit, we're kind of all his collective parents," which became "You shouldn't be trusted with any small child, let alone a kid-Neil" – and, impossibly, collective enthusiasm seemed to swell to replace the stupor. By the time the smell of cooking toast filled the suite, Aaron was fairly sure most of them were even excited by the unlikely turn of events. The fucking weirdos.

Abby was smiling with a proper smile this time as she led the way from the kitchen. "We'll set you up at the table," she was saying, half turned towards the kid trailing behind her. "If you ask one of the Foxes here, I'm sure someone would be nice enough to get you a drink of juice."

"I'll get it," Nicky volunteered immediately, starting forwards with a bounce in his step and his own beaming smile. He faltered only briefly as the kid flinched, edging backwards to the nearest wall and peering up at him with his solemn eyes. Nicky was dropping into a crouch before the kid an instant later, however. "What would you like? If I know Andrew, he'll always keep at least a couple of different flavours in the fridge. Orange, pineapple – what do you want?"

The kid stared at him, a small frown settling on his brow as his hands twisted into the oversized shirt he wore like a dress. He flicked Abby a glance, the room and the rest of them one too, and a decidedly warier one towards Wymack in the corner, before refocusing on Nicky.

"I'm not supposed to have juice," he said. "Mom says it rots your teeth."

Nicky shrugged. "Well, this could be a special occasion, right? We won't tell anyone."

"Doesn't matter. Mom always knows."

Nicky shrugged again, but his shoulders had visibly tightened. "I promise I'll keep a secret. And I'll make sure everyone else does, too. 'Kay?"

Neil's frown didn't lift, but his lips pursed contemplatively. He gave a jerking nod, and Aaron didn't need to look at his face to know Nicky was grinning again, likely more in relief than enthusiasm. He rose to standing, striding into the kitchen, and Aaron didn't miss that Neil watched with a shrewdly attentive gaze every step he took.

It was weird. Very weird. A kid his age, for he really couldn't have been more than four or five, shouldn't act like that. Aaron didn't have many fond memories of his childhood home, of growing up with his mom, but even he knew that such behaviour wasn't normal behaviour. Not only Neil's solemnity but the knowing cast to his stare, to his wariness, bespoke an understanding of just what lay in the shadows under his bed rather than simple childish imagination.

Weird, and frankly depressing, though Aaron supposed it wasn't all that unexpected. The Butcher of Baltimore wasn't likely to be one to provide a comfortable, loving home.

It took Abby's verbal nudge, her hand extended again but once more ignored by Neil, before he continued in following her to the table. He took the seat directed to him, but it was with many a glance over his shoulder to the Foxes, as though he wasn't convinced they'd keep their distance if he didn't keep an eye on them. Dan adopted a brave smile and Matt waved a little awkwardly, but neither seemed particularly convincing. Neil definitely didn't appear convinced.

"Tropical," Nicky said, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of juice. "Everyone likes tropical, right, Nei – Nathaniel?"

Neil hitched a shoulder that succeeded in slipping said shoulder into the head opening of his shirt. He shuffled away from Abby's before she could pull it up for him, tugging it back into place himself with a quick glance her way. "I dunno. I guess." A pause. "What's your name again?"

Nicky looked like he'd been gifted an early Christmas. He grinned, setting the glass down as he invited himself into the only spare seat at the small table. "I'm Nicky. Nice to properly meet you."

"Nicky."

"Yep."

"You talk so much, even though we're not friends. It's… a bit weird."

Matt laughed. Dan snickered. Renee and Allison exchanged amused glances. Aaron snorted again and shared his own glance with Katelyn. Irony was coming in droves that morning.

Nicky exclaimed in exaggerated offense, as loud and vibrant as he always was. Neil didn't shrink away from him this time, however, nor even when Nicky dropped his elbows onto the table and leant towards him, already diving into a whirlwind of chatter. Instead, he picked at the sliced toast with hesitant fingers, eyeing Nicky consideringly when he wasn't casting glances around the rest of the room.

Matt was the next to make his way to the table. Dan followed on his heels, with Renee and Allison alongside her. In short order, all of the Foxes – Katelyn pulling Aaron along as she approached - were spreading around the dining area. Aaron couldn't even bring himself to pretend to be anything but morbidly fascinated with the kid sitting across from him, pecking through his makeshift breakfast like a finicky bird.

"Hope you don't have peanut allergies, Neil," Nicky said, shooting Abby an apologetic smile when she grumbled her reproval for his name.

"No," Neil said slowly, swiping a finger through the peanut butter lathering the toast. "I've never had peanut butter before."

"Never had peanut butter either?" Nicky's eyebrows rose, and he exchanged an incredulous glance with Matt. "You haven't lived."

Neil shrugged, sliding into his seat a little more comfortably. "Jelly is better."

"Too right it is," Dan said, shooting Neil a grin when he glanced towards her. She raised a fist for a bump, which was almost comically delayed in eliciting a returning like-minded if far more awkward gesture.

"You guys are the weird ones," Nicky said. "At least make it PBJ."

"PBJ is best eaten with a spoon from the jar," Allison pointed out.

"You eat it straight from the jar?" Neil asked, shooting her a glance that was more incredulous than wary. The wariness even seemed to fade a little. "With a spoon and everything?"

Allison smiled wolfishly. "Sometimes, I even just use my finger."

Neil blinked. "Don't you get into trouble?"

"From who?"

"From your mom."

"My mom could certainly try, but her kind of 'trouble' isn't exactly intimidating."

"Lucky," Neil said emphatically. "My mom's really scary when she's angry. It's really bad when she throws stuff."

Aaron couldn't help but flinch, shifting uncomfortably in the abrupt silence. Neil, tearing a bite from his toast, for once seemed oblivious to them all. "But she's not as bad as Dad. Mom throws things so Dad doesn't get angry, which is even worse."

"Is that what she says?" Renee asked quietly. "About your Dad?"

Neil glanced up and seemed to realise that he had the faintly horrified attention of the entire room. His eyes darted between them each in turn before resting on Renee. "No," he said tersely. "She doesn't… really say that."

"It's alright, Nathaniel," Abby said, leaning towards him from where she stood at the back of his chair. "You don't have to –"

"No, she doesn't," Neil said, shaking his head vigorously and frowning down at his toast. "I made it up."

"Nathaniel –"

"I like to make up stories like that," he continued stubbornly. "All the time. My teacher says I'm good at making up stories." He took a deliberate bite of his toast and turned towards Nicky. "Do you know some good stories? Do you go to school too? Or are you too old?"

It was such a rapid leap, such a sharp change in direction, that Aaron was left staring in renewed stupefaction just like the rest of the room. Unwittingly, he found himself glancing towards where Andrew stood half a room away, the only one of them not hovering around Neil, though he watched him intently nonetheless. As if feeling his gaze, Andrew flicked him a brief glance before resuming his study.

It was telling, though. Aaron didn't know his brother, could so rarely read him it was closer to never being able to than at all, but he caught the brief upwelling of anger swirling in his eyes and understood. Understood, too, that where Neil came from might not be so different to his home. He'd often wondered from Neil's explanation earlier that year, often considered, but…

Keeping mum.

Deflecting with flimsy lies.

Slipping up, then hastily patching the hole that formed back into suitable smoothness.

It was all a little too familiar, and Aaron couldn't help but regard Neil in something of a new light. He'd known, certainly, and had mentally compared their experiences and errors more times than he could count, but this… It was different to see evidence of such a thing happening in a kid who spoke with more awareness than he should, who lied as though it had been taught to him. Different, and hitting just a little too close to home.

Nicky hadn't responded, apparently rendered uncharacteristically speechless, so Aaron couldn't help himself. He didn't like Neil, but when it was a kid so reminiscent of his old self? It was reflexive to rise to the occasion.

"Your teacher?" he asked, drawing Neil's direct attention for the first time. "Do you go to school, then? Aren't you kind of little for that?"

Neil's guarded expression switched into one of affront. "I am not," he said, slapping his toast onto his plate and folding his arms with a huff. "I'm six already. And I'm not little."

"You're six?" Dan asked, a little strangled. "Seriously? Even though you're -?"

"I'm not little! Why does everyone always, always say that?"

"Shit, even as a kid he was tiny," Matt said, breaking into stuttered laughter.

"I'm not!"

"Yeah, kid, you kind of are," Allison said.

"No, I'm –"

"You're six already?" Renee asked, leaping in with her usual mediation attempts. "That is pretty big. So you do go to school, just like Aaron asked?"

Neil was haughty, his cheeks slightly flushed, and Aaron almost laughed, if more from relief than anything else. This was a kid. This was how a kid should be. Not as guarded and solemn as before, but blustering and affronted, insistent and persistent. Retreating from the table a little, Aaron retrieved his thumb from where he'd stuck it into the throes of the conversation and tightened his hold of Katelyn's hand.

It wasn't Katelyn that he shared a glance with, though. Rather, it was almost impossible to not look towards where Andrew stood, still and silent across the room. From that second shared glance, Aaron gleaned more from his brother than he'd perhaps ever seen in his life: if the rest of the Foxes were disconcerted, Andrew was about as close to stunned as he'd ever been.

It wasn't a good thing, necessarily, but it was certainly a sight to experience. Turning back to where Neil had risen onto his knees, talking with increasing animation, Aaron considered that he was likely to have at least a few more of those experiences in the foreseeable future.

A/N: Hi everyone! So, this is my first fic for this blessed series (I can't believe it's taken so long to dip my toes into the fanfic part of the fandom), but the sort of cliche trope idea struck and kind of stuck. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a second to leave a review! They literally give me life :D