A/N: Yes, yes I know it's late but at least I wrote something! That has to count for something right?
This is set right after the end of the books and before Jake and Puck go traveling.
(And I'm so sorry if I haven't responded to your reviews or PMs. I'm a lame-o who sometimes has problems talking to people but I will get to them soon)
The creak of the old porch floor, the soft rustle of fabric, and a small exhalation of breath lets her know that someone's plopped themselves down beside her.
Or sat down beside her since Pinocchio will never do such a thing as plop.
She glances at him and exchanges the small nod that has somehow become their way of saying hello before turning back to her drawing. He sits in silence, legs crossed carefully and back rimrod straight, while she continues to draw. He often seeks her out when the rest of the family head into town to help rebuild, or when he's bored. She wonders if he gravitates towards her because, while she may have been part of the Grimm house longer, she's still technically not part of the family. Just like him.
She reaches to the side, fingers stretching for a blue crayon that the wind has blown just beyond her reach. He picks it up and hands it to her, huffing slightly when she smiles at him.
"It would be much better to draw inside. Where there isn't any wind or leaves or bugs." He frowns as he swipes one of the offensive bugs- a harmless caterpillar- off of his leg.
"I like it outside," she says, filling in a hat with the blue, careful not to mar the yellow sunflower applique attached to the side. "It's more colorful out here." She lifts her head and stares at the yard and the forest. "And it's nice not to feel like I'm trapped inside all day."
"Ah, I guess that's part of having the Big Bad Wolf inside of you." He nods his head solemnly, an expert on these things. He glances out of the corner of his eye at her. "How's that been going? You haven't felt any urges to eat anyone lately?"
A small smile crosses her lips. She finds his bluntness to be refreshing. It's nice not to have someone tip-toe around her. Someone who doesn't bother acting like they're afraid of what's inside her. It makes her feel a little better about being afraid of it herself.
"No, not lately," she says.
She doesn't tell him about all the times the wolf's almost gotten free. When he claws and howls and scratches so close to the edge that she can barely hold him back. When his emotions are so intertwined with hers that she isn't sure she wants to hold him back. When she's torn between walking (never running, the wolf loves to run) to Papa and seeking the one person who knows how to help her, and staying as far away from him as possible because there's no one the wolf will like to tear apart more than him.
No. She doesn't tell him that.
"That's a relief." He nods his head again, a small cough escaping his lips. A breeze brushes around the porch, rustling his brown hair, usually neat but still covered in goo from one of Puck's pranks earlier that day. Puck has made it his life goal to prank Pinocchio until the "stick gets out of his butt". Sabrina often tells the fairy that it's a lost cause.
Pinocchio eyes her crayons and paper. "I haven't drawn anything in ages."
She thinks he means to say it disdainfully, but there's a tinge of longing behind his words. She glances over at him, watching as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and frowns. He cried last night. She could hear his sobs through the walls, could hear the way he tried to muffle them by pressing his arm against his mouth. She sat in silence on the bed, torn between shoving her head underneath a pillow to try to block the noise out, and running out to comfort him. Something told her that he would have found it invasive if she had come to him, so she stayed in bed, curled into a ball. Sensitive hearing is one of the aspects of having the Big Bad Wolf locked inside of her that she hasn't gotten used to yet.
Red forces her lips to move into a smile, shoving back the memory of his sobs, and passes him some crayons and paper.
He takes them without saying anything and she returns to her work, grabbing a pink and a green crayon. A few moments pass before he shifts uncomfortably and she notices that he hasn't started to draw anything.
He glances surreptitiously at her picture. "What are you drawing?"
The paper rustles over the worn porch floor as she turns it so he can see better. "My family."
He nods his head in approval. "Your family. That's a good idea." He frowns down at the blank piece of paper in front of him before adding, "I would have thought of that too."
She nods her head, as if to say of course, and continues.
After a deep sigh, he sets to drawing and occasionally peeking at her work, before he stops and frowns at her in confusion. "Is that Ms. Grimm?"
No matter how hard she tries, Granny can never convince him to call her Granny.
"Yes."
His frown deepens. "But she's not part of your family."
"Yes, she is." A soft smile crosses her face. "She's part of my new family. Just like Papa and Puck, Sabrina and Daphne, and their parents and Jake, and you."
He blinks, lips moving as if he's going to say something- he always says something, even when the words are empty- before his gaze drops down to the paper and he nods his head, blinking rapidly.
A few seconds of quiet pass before his choked voice says, "He's my family."
She glances up to see him staring firmly at the paper in front of him.
"Or he was my family until I messed up." He runs a finger over a hastily drawn Geppetto, lips bunching under his pointed nose, voice thick and strained. "He's my family."
She stares at him for a moment before reaching over and grabbing his hand. He jumps at the slight contact, red rimmed eyes glancing up to meet hers. She gestures towards her picture, finger lingering over her grandmother and parents and little brother. "They're my family. They'll always be my family even though …" She swallows around the lump that forms in her chest and the longing that stabs in her heart. "Even though they're not here anymore."
He nods his head, fingers squeezing her hand.
She drags her finger over to the Grimms, a small smile crossing her lips. "But they're my family too. That doesn't mean I'll forget my mother and father or siblings, or that I've replaced them. My family just grew." She grins at him. "And so did yours."
He looks like he's about to say something but the sound of laughter and shouting cut him off. They both look to the yard in time to see Puck fly down and unceremoniously drop Daphne and Sabrina onto the ground. Both girls immediately jump back up and start shouting at the fairy, who informs them that this wouldn't happen if they gave their food to him instead of feeding their fat faces.
"Are you sure I can't get a different new family?" Pinocchio grumbles and Red giggles.
Daphne, rubbing her butt, turns her head to the porch, her face lighting up when she spots Red and Pinocchio. She lets out a shout of joy and runs towards them, her pigtails streaming behind her. She plops down on the porch and grabs some paper and crayons. "I think I'm going to draw a dog …or a pony …or a robot …or all three."
"Sounds good." Sabrina, having punched the fairy an appropriate amount of times, sits down next to Daphne and after a few moments of debate, takes some crayons and paper too. "Just don't hog all the good colors, okay?"
Puck drops down next to Sabrina and snatches himself some supplies. Sabrina glances sideways at him, one eyebrow raised as a corner of her mouth twitches in amusement.
"I didn't think you were the artistic type," she says.
He snorts. "Puhlease. My artistic talents put that Leo dude to shame."
Pinocchio, who become engrossed in the task of trying to hide his drawing from the others' sight, freezes. He slowly glances up from his paper and levels a glare at the fairy. "Leonardo da Vinci." He enunciates the words carefully. "His name was Leonardo da Vinci, not that Leo Dude, you uncultured swine."
Red looks up and catches eyes with the fairy who winks mischievously at her, before saying, "Nah, you can't pull that on me. Leonardo da Vinci's the crime fighting turtle. Red and I saw that on the magical viewing box this morning."
Red wishes that she had a crayon the same shade of red that Pinocchio's face turns. "THE TELEVISION! It's called the TELEVISION! How many times do I have to tell you that?"
Everyone bursts out laughing at his shout. It takes just a moment until the anger drains from his face and a small, if proud, smile curls the corners of his lips. Red grins at him before going back to her drawing.
The others' chatter falls to the background, and she only looks up when he nudges her gently on the shoulder, shyly showing her the picture he's drawn. It's clumsily drawn picture of a group of people- he admits he prefers carving wood over drawing pictures- but she can make out him, Geppetto, Granny, Mr. Canis, Sabrina, Daphne and their parents and uncle. There's Puck and even Elvis (whom he referred to the other day as the "spawn of Satan") and there's a small figure drawn with a red cape standing beside him.
"It's beautiful," she says, grinning at him.
He returns her grin, a blush staining his cheeks, before Puck throws a crayon at his head. The grin quickly turns into a snarl as he begins to call the laughing fairy every long and complicated insult he can think of. Red laughs along with everyone else, knowing that, while it may take some time, Pinocchio will come to accept his growing family.