For Andrew, my friend and a destructive muse. I hope you like how I wrote out your idea, babe.

The strangest thing in the world, Connor thought, had to be knocking on your own front door.

Then again, it wasn't his front door. Not anymore. Not really. His name was still on the deed and he was still dutifully paying his portion of the mortgage. Were he to lift the key still on his ring to the door, it would still fit the lock. But he wasn't welcome here anymore. Jude had made that perfectly clear.

Were it not for Mikey, Connor would probably never see Jude again.

The door opened with a flourish and his son poked his head out. It had been less than a week since Connor had seen Mikey, but he seemed different. His red hair seemed bright; his freckles more numerous; and his six year old limbs seemed lankier.

"Hi, Dad!" Mikey gasped. Mikey always seemed to be excited about something.

"Hey!" Connor caught him as Mikey jumped forward for a hug. "Are you ready to go?"

"No," Mikey admitted. "I still have to pack my bag."

"You're such a procrastinator." Connor laughed as he put Mikey down.

Mikey squinted at him. "What's that mean?"

"It means you put things off."

Connor's gaze snapped upward. He hadn't even heard Jude approach. "Hi."

Jude ignored him. Instead, he rested a hand on top of Mikey's head. "Why don't you go get your weekend bag ready? Dad and I need to talk."

Connor blinked, remembering the first night Mikey had spent with them. They were only fostering him, then, but they had every intention to adopt him. Already, he was 'their son'. They had put Mikey to bed in his crib and then they had curled up on the couch together. They'd been bantering different ways to say 'father' and what moniker they wanted to be known by. They'd just been spiralling into weirder ones, like Darth Vader, when Jude had kissed him before saying 'Dad, you have to be 'Dad'.' When Connor had asked why, Jude had laughed and informed him that, at thirty years old, he was already a walking dad joke, so he had to be 'Dad'. And then Jude kissed him again.

Mikey dutifully rushed back inside and Jude closed the front door so that he and Connor were left alone on the front porch. Connor looked at Jude's tense shoulder lines; this Jude wouldn't kiss him. This Jude wouldn't even laugh with him. After eleven years of marriage, this Jude just wanted a divorce. Connor wished he could blame him. Connor didn't want a divorce – he still loved his husband – but love wasn't enough to save them, and Connor knew the only thing to do now was to put all the hurt and anger between them to rest.

Jude crossed his arms over his chest, and Connor found he couldn't look at Jude's face. Instead, Connor stared down at Jude's bare feet. He would swear that the imprint of those often frozen toes would exist on his thighs forever. The amount of times Jude had pressed his cold toes to Connor's warm skin was infinite.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About selling the house."

"I said to not sell the house," Connor corrected. "I'm not fighting you for the house, Jude. I want Mikey to be able to grow up in this house. He's always known it. And …" This was one of the more painful things for Connor to admit, "And it's better if you're the one here with him."

His new little apartment wasn't far. Mikey could come over whenever he wanted, particularly once he got older. For now, Connor could be a weekend parent. As Jude had pointed out in one of their numerous arguments, Connor had gotten good at not being around.

"I'll keep helping you with the mortgage," Connor said. He looked at Jude's face to say, "And whatever you need."

Connor saw a flicker of fight in Jude's face, and he could imagine all of the things Jude wanted to say to him. "I needed you to be around." "I needed you to listen." "I needed you to at least be a friend when you were far more interested in sitting in your office, pretending it was about a promotion and not about avoiding me!" Jude had said similar, and far worse things, quite a bit. More than he should have had to.

Connor looked back down to Jude's toes. They were curled against the sun-warmed boards of the porch.

"Connor?"

"Jude?" It felt wrong to hold his breath and wait on the edge for what Jude was about to say. But Connor couldn't remember the last time his estranged husband had said his name with even a little bit of affection.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Jude whispered, "for the way we ended up."

"I'm sorry too. And, Jude, it's not all your fault –" Jude held up his hand and Connor stopped cold.

"I think we can agree that we share the blame on a lot of things."

Connor nodded.

"I just needed to say that I know this isn't all your fault. I know I act like it sometimes. I did … do love you, Connor."

"We were happy," Connor agreed. "We were happy together for a long time."

Jude nodded, and Connor thought he saw tears glistening in the depths of Jude's eyes. He knew how Jude was feeling. It was hard to look back at where they had started and then face the reality of where they were.

"I'm glad for all the times we were happy," Jude continued. "I'd never regret knowing you. And not just because of Mikey. You were my best friend for a lot of years and I'm thankful for that. I wouldn't be who I am without you."

Connor stared at the thirty-six year old man in front of him. The world had been so different when they were thirteen.

"Maybe someday we can be friends again," Connor said. They would always have Mikey and, therefore, they would always be in each other's lives. He didn't want there to be a wall between them for all of those decades.

Jude rocked back on his heels and then forward onto his tiptoes, before falling back onto his flat feet. He let out a loud breath before saying, "Maybe."

Maybe. Connor would take it. As sad as it was, this was the best place he and Jude had been in for months, maybe even years. It had only taken seven months of living apart for them to be slightly civil.

Before anything else could happen, Mikey threw the door open with a bang. "Ready, Dad!"

"Watch the wall," Jude and Connor chastised him together, but it was pointless. Mikey had never minded the wall. The day he had learnt to open doors was the day a dent had appeared in the wall of the front entrance.

"Sorry!" Mikey turned to Jude, who knelt down to be face to face with him. "Bye, Father."

The formal address always sounded so strange in Mikey's peppy tone. For the thousandth time, Connor wondered where his son had picked it up. It certainly wasn't what they had intended for Jude to be called, as in the end, Jude and Connor decided that it would be easiest if they were both called 'Dad'. Somehow, it had gotten stuck to Jude, though. And hearing a two-year-old say 'Father' was one of the most consistently heartwarming things Connor had witnessed.

"Be good for Dad, okay?"

"Always!" Mikey chirped.

Jude kissed the top of Mikey's head and then hugged him tightly. "I love you. I love you more than anything. Don't forget."

"I love you too! See you Sunday!"

"Bye," Jude said to Connor, who repeated the sentiment.

Mikey skipped to Connor's side and then tucked his hand in Connor's large one. He tugged his dad toward the car, waiting for them in the driveway. On the short walk, Mikey asked, "What are we gonna do this weekend?"

"Whatever you want!"

"We do that every weekend," Mikey pointed out.

Connor held his car door open, watching carefully as Mikey buckled himself in. He liked to do it himself now, but Connor didn't always trust his abilities with the seatbelt. "I like doing what you like to do."

"Can we get pizza please?"

'Sure. What kind?" Connor asked, climbing behind the wheel. He'd call for delivery when they got to his apartment.

"The one Father always gets," Mikey requested.

"Meat lovers," Connor said, backing carefully out of the driveway and beginning the fifteen minute drive. "So, how was school this week?"

"Chris threw up in the frog tank and JP cried about it even though the frogs aren't dead," Mikey informed him.

"I'm glad the frogs aren't dead."

"I don't like frogs."

"But it's sad when things die."

Mikey kicked his feet against his seat. "Not just when things die."

Connor glanced in the rear view mirror, concerned. "Are you sad, Mikey?"

The little boy shook his head. "Father's sad. We want you to come home."

"Do you remember what we said the day I moved into the apartment?"

"Just because you don't live in the same house anymore doesn't mean you don't love me."

"Right. If you're sad, you can talk to me. And it's okay to still be sad about it."

"Are you sad about it?"

"Sometimes," Connor admitted. "Everyone gets sad sometimes. It's all part of being alive."

"Father is sad all the time."

Connor made a mental note to bring that up to Jude when he dropped Mikey off on Sunday. "What do you mean? No one is sad all of the time."

Mikey went red and he looked down at his feet.

"Mikey?" Connor prompted.

"I can't tell!" Mikey shrieked, but then he looked even more upset. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know secrets are bad!"

"Hey, it's okay. Why can't you tell me about it?"

"Father said not to," Mikey whispered.

"Why would he say that?" Connor asked, a feeling of dread building in his throat. It wasn't right to ask Mikey to keep secrets.

"Because he's a grown-up. And sometimes grown-ups do things and kids don't understand them and that doesn't mean that things are … how I see them." The explanation was shaky, as if he were trying to remember Jude's exact words, but the words didn't sound like Jude's either.

Connor pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned it off. He undid his seatbelt and faced Mikey. "You can tell me how you see things, Mikey. It's okay. Father's not going to be mad."

Mikey still looked uncertain.

"It's to help him. Adults are like kids in some ways. When we're sad, sometimes we need someone to help us."

"You're going to help him?" Mikey said, a sneering tone in his voice. "You left him!"

Connor closed his eyes for a moment. How could he possibly explain to Mikey that, though Connor was the one who had moved out, it was Jude who had made the decision for him to? How could he explain to Mikey the words that he and Jude had screamed at each other in the basement, far from where Mikey was asleep on the second floor? How could he explain that he had hidden himself under his job, bitterly thinking about Jude at his own job, surrounded by people who weren't Connor and though he knew now that Jude never would have broken their vows, he had been convinced of it then?

"Adults are complicated –"

"But you're like kids," Mikey interrupted.

"In some ways. And in some ways not. Just because Father and I are apart doesn't mean that we don't still want one another to be happy. And I might not be the one to help him, but I can find someone who will help him. Does that make sense?"

Mikey hesitantly nodded.

"So how do you see things? How is Father?"

"He cries a lot. But then, sometimes, he doesn't do anything. He just sits there."

"Does he still take care of you?"

Mikey nodded quickly. "Yes! He just likes to watch TV a lot."

"And he cries a lot."

"When he thinks I'm not paying attention. Mostly at night. I go and check on him. And he tells me I'm fine. But then I sleep in bed with him," Mikey admitted in a whisper. With the exception of a rare nightmare, Mikey had always been kept in his own bed.

Connor didn't know what to say to any of this information. Part of him wanted to call up Jude and ask for answers. Even though Jude was still taking care of Mikey, something had to be up. Another part of him reasoned that he could understand where Jude was coming from. Sometimes Connor found himself caught up in a loop of loneliness and hurt that he felt he couldn't escape; when he laid in his cold bed and tried to reach for Jude, even though he hadn't been there for months.

"Am I going to be in trouble?"

"No, Mikey, no. I'm glad you told me. I want you to tell me more of these things, if they keep happening."

"Okay," Mikey agreed, although he sounded a little reluctant.

Connor turned forward again and turned the car back on. They had only driven to the end of the current street they were on, when Connor felt the need to continue the conversation, although he wasn't completely sure where to go with it. Mikey had seemed to take the separation in stride, more than Connor had thought that he would have and he wanted to keep the strain off of Mikey's shoulders. Finally, Connor asked, "How do you feel?"

"I like having you and Father in the same house. Everyone's happier."

"Father and I have different lives, so we need our own space. We still love you more than anything else. You're the most important for us."

Mikey waited until they had pulled into Connor's parking spot before blurting, "I know you still love each other!"

Connor turned off the car and then faced Mikey. "We love you."

Mikey crossed his thin arms over his chest. He met Connor's eyes and, even though Mikey wasn't biologically related to either he or Jude, Connor found himself thinking Mikey's eyes looked a lot like Jude's. Mikey wrinkled his sunburnt nose and said, "I love you too, Dad."

Connor helped Mikey out of the car and they headed into the elevator and then into his two-bedroom apartment – one for him, one for Mikey. Mikey took off for his room in order to dump his weekend bag while Connor went into the kitchen to call for pizza.

As he spoke on the phone, Connor stared at his blank walls. He'd lived here for seven months and, yet, there was no life. There were no posters or paintings, potted plants or pictures in frames. The thought of decorating the place thoroughly exhausted Connor. But, ten years ago, when he and Jude had bought their house, they had been so excited to decorate that they had lived in thrift stores for longer reasonable. They'd had so much fun with decorating and finding odd knick-knacks that would never match one another, but created a strange sort of harmony within the house. This harmony happened despite the fact that Jude had discovered a large wooden giraffe statue at about the same time that Connor had found a dramatic oil painting of a walrus and they had decided that the only logical thing to do was to place the giraffe under the walrus.

Mikey appeared in the kitchen, climbing onto one of the tall seats Connor had around the island.

"I ordered the pizza."

"You should get a pet."

Connor smirked. "What kind of pet should I get?"

"A puppy."

"Puppies are a lot of work."

"So are kids," Mikey quipped, and then added, "That's what Aunt Callie says when I ask why she doesn't have any."

"Kids are a big decision," Connor said.

"You sound like Grandma Lena. That's what she says when I ask Aunt Callie about kids." Mikey slumped against the counter top.

"Grandma Lena's very smart."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Now you sound like Grandma Stef."

"She's very smart too," Connor said.

There was an ache in his chest as he realized that, after the divorce became finalized, he wouldn't be an Adams-Foster anymore; he would just be a Stevens again. The Adams-Fosters would never shun him – they had been family for too long – but the fact remained that now there was Jude and then there was Connor; they were no longer Jude and Connor.

"You should get a red puppy."

Connor raised his eyebrows and then leant on the island too, so that he wasn't towering above Mikey. "Why red?"

"So I'm not the only one with red hair. Everyone looks like somebody but nobody looks like me."

"That's because you're too cute for anyone to compare."

"Boys aren't cute."

"Boys can be whatever they want to be."

"Izzy said only girls can be cute."

"Boys can be whatever they want to be," Connor repeated.

Mikey kicked at the island. "Why would she say it if it's not true?"

Mikey always managed to stumble onto the big topics. Connor was always glad, though, that Mikey was able to ask about them. Connor was also glad that he had the opportunity to tell Mikey everything that Connor had needed to hear from Adam growing up, but had never been able to hear. The world had changed a lot since Connor had been a kid trying to discover who he was, but just because the world had changed for the better didn't mean that Connor could put on rose-coloured glasses. The world wasn't perfect, but if Mikey grew up comfortable, secure, and with the ability to pass that acceptance on to others, then Connor would feel he'd gotten at least something right.

"Sometimes people think that girls can only be one way and that boys can only be one way. But there's a lot of different kinds of boys and different kinds of girls. Just because they're different from how people think boys and girls should be, doesn't mean they're not boys and girls."

Mikey squinted at Connor. "What if you're a boy and a girl?"

"Then what if you're a boy and a girl."

Mikey kicked at the island even harder, trying to think of ways to stump his dad. "What if you're neither?"

"Then you're neither." Connor tried to think of a good analogy. "You know how there's the colours of the rainbow?"

Mikey nodded and recited them, "Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet!"

"But then there are shades of colours that aren't on the rainbow?"

"Like black?"

"Yes."

"And dark green?"

"Yes."

"And pumpkin orange?"

"Yes. That's how gender … being a boy or a girl or however you identify –"

"This is complicated," Mikey interrupted in a sing-song voice.

"It can appear that way," Connor agreed. "Do you remember when Father and I explained what gay and straight meant but how there were more than just those two?"

Mikey nodded, although he didn't really remember the exact conversation. He'd always been aware of having two dads and of having two grandmothers. And he vaguely remembered that time Aunt Mariana had a girlfriend even though now she was married to his uncle. The varying degrees of sexuality had always been a part of his reality when it came to his family members, so he hadn't really given his parents much attention when they'd tried to explain the differences. Mikey already knew love was love.

"There's boys and girls, but there's more than just that," Connor said. "What you really need to remember from this, is always be respectful of people."

"R-E-S-P-C-T," Mikey attempted to sing.

"Where'd you hear that?" Connor asked.

"Marley and Uncle Brandon were listening to it," Mikey shrugged, and Connor nodded knowingly.

Marley and Mikey were the closest in age when it came to the Adams-Foster cousins – she was only nine months older than he was. Therefore, they were the closest of friends and they found it funny to playfully mock the youngest of the Adams-Fosters cousins – Mariana's new baby, Carla – for only being a year old and doing all of the things that one year olds did.

There was a knock on the front door.

"Pizza!" Connor announced, straightening up.

"Piggy back ride!" Mikey requested.

Connor allowed his son to cling to his back as he went to the front door to pay for the pizza. On the way to the living room where they would eat, Mikey commented, "I like Father's piggy back rides better."

"Why's that?" Connor said, immediately visualizing the smooth slopes of Jude's skinny shoulders.

"He's taller."

"Lucky Father," Connor said, remembering when Jude had surpassed him. Jude had found it funny to constantly lean on Connor's shoulders, since Connor had teased him the same way for the first few months of their friendship, when Connor had been the tall one.

"Dad?" Mikey asked as Connor opened the pizza box.

"Yes?"

"Can it be a boy puppy?"

And Connor laughed.

Updates will continue on every Wednesday.

I don't own anything recognizable.

So, on tumblr I'm: we are all of legend now (with dashes between every word). If you want to find my replies to anon reviews, add backslash tagged backslash anon dash replies. If you want to see anything I post about Never Say Goodbye, add backslash tagged backslash never dash say dash goodbye

~TLL~