I'm so, so sorry for the long wait people! I never intended for it to be that long... To make it up, I tried to make this chapter longer than the first.

Warning: Some homophobic talk in this chapter, and mention of pedophilia.

Chapter 2

As soon as the last student had left the classroom, Bilbo strode towards his car. It was all he could do not to break into a run, not wanting to be delayed by mundane questions such as where he was going in such a hurry.

He fretted all the way to Frodo's school, trying to figure out how you told a seven-years-old that his parents are dead, and how on earth he was supposed to take care of him permanently from now on. Did he even have stuff for children? A glance to the back of the car told him he still had the child seat that Frodo had used the last time he'd stayed with Bilbo. He would need clothes for him, though, and the stuffed toy he knew the lad couldn't sleep without. They would have to stop at Drogo's and Primula's house, the man realised with a pang in his heart. And since he wouldn't have time to do it before picking up the boy, they'd have to go there together.

Bilbo parked near the school, and went to stand outside the railing gate. It wasn't long before he saw Frodo emerge into the courtyard, laughing with his friends Merry and Pippin as they ran towards the exit. The teacher also spotted little Sam, trailing behind them as she usually did. Drogo and Primula had told him the lass was one year younger than the others, and desperately wanted to be friends with Frodo, for whom she seemed to have some kind of hero worship; the older lad, however, didn't seem that interested. He was nice to her, of course – Bilbo doubted that kid had a single mean bone in his body – but not overly friendly. He felt a little sorry for Sam, but it wasn't like he could force Frodo to be friends with her.

"Uncle Bilbo!" the boy called cheerfully when he spotted him, and ran towards him after saying goodbye to his friends.

"Why, hello, Frodo-lad," the blonde man said with a smile. "How was your day at school?"

"It was awesome! Pippin found this centipede..."

Bilbo let the child blabber about the insect his friend had found and how awesome it had been, until they reached his car and Frodo asked all of a sudden:

"Why are you here? I thought Mom was supposed to pick me up today..."

The teacher felt his throat tighten; fighting back tears – crying in front of Frodo wouldn't help in the slightest – he opened the door and made him sit on the back seat, his little legs hanging outside of the car. Crouching in front of the boy so he would be at eye level with him, Bilbo explained:

"They had an accident with the ferry today, and they were very hurt. So they had to go away to stop hurting, you understand?"

"When are they coming back, then?" the child asked, and the blond man's heart clenched.

"They died, Frodo. It means they can never come back. I'm sorry, my boy... I truly am."

The little boy was confused. Mom and Dad couldn't be dead; it was old people who died. Everyone knew that. Unless you got poisoned, like Snow White in the fairy tale, but Uncle Bilbo had said they had an accident. It didn't make sense; Mom and Dad weren't dead at all... He shook his head and told all that to Uncle Bilbo, who just looked very sad.

"I wish you were right, my boy," he replied. "But it doesn't work like that, I'm afraid... You don't have to be old to die."

Frodo wanted to scream, to say Uncle Bilbo was lying... But Uncle Bilbo never lied. He wouldn't answer some questions sometimes, but he didn't lie. He always said If we tell children not to lie to us, we shouldn't lie to them either. So it had to be true. Mom and Dad weren't coming back. Frodo started to cry, his soulders shaking as he sobbed, barely noticing when the older man took him in his arms. He wanted to go home with Mom and see Dad cooking dinner. He then had an awful realisation: he couldn't go home anymore. They didn't let children live alone when they were only seven, he knew as much. He started to hyperventilate, wondering about where he was going to live and if he would at least be allowed to take Peluche with him. He hoped he wouldn't have to go far away; he didn't want to leave his friends and Uncle Bilbo and... Seeing the boy was having a panic attack, Bilbo pulled away and asked him, puzzled:

"What's going on, Frodo? What are you afraid of?"

"Where am I going to go now?" the child asked, still having trouble breathing.

"Well, with me, of course. Your Mom and Dad didn't have any closer family, so you're going to live with me. We'll stop by your house, to get your things, and then you'll come with me to the flat where we'll arrange your room, and once we're done it should be time to make dinner. Alright?"

Frodo calmed himself listening to those plans, still sniffling, and wiped his eyes. Sitting properly on the child seat, he buckled up and waited for Uncle Bilbo to start the car.

Bilbo climbed behind the wheel, using the rear-view mirror to glance worriedly at his new young charge. After crying for a little while, Frodo had become entirely silent. He wasn't sure it was very healty, but didn't know what to do about it. They drove silently to the boy's house, and Bilbo groaned as he recgnized the car already parked there. Looks like the vulture is already here, he thought. Not surprising, really; Lobelia had always had a knack for being the first to arrive when someone died. That, and finding the sore spot to press when she wanted to hurt someone – which she always did. Bilbo had learned to ignore everything she said; he did not, however, wish to submit Frodo to her verbal abuse. Unbcukling his seat belt, he turned towards the child and explained:

"Miss Lobelia is here. I want you to stay in the car until she's gone or until I come back, okay?"

Frodo nodded immediately. He didn't like Miss Lobelia anyway. She was always mean with everyone. Last time she'd been here, she had called him a baby for still sucking on his thumb. And she had told Mum she should put his stuffed toy in the bin.

"Don't worry," Bilbo added with a smile. "I'll get your things anyway. Is there something of your Mom and Dad that you want to keep?"

The boy seemed surprised at the question, then nodded again.

"Mom's blue apron, for when she makes... made cakes with me on Sundays. And Dad's pipe."

"I'll get them too, then," his uncle promised.

With these words, he got out of the car, bracing himself for whatever Lobelia would throw at him this time, and walked into the house, using his key to unlock the door she'd locked from the inside.

He immediately heard her voice, talking about spoons; since he couldn't hear anyone else, he assumed she was on the phone, undoubtedly with her husband Otho. The voice was coming from the kitchen, so that's where he went first. He didn't want to give her an occasion to accuse him of sneaking around the house after all. She was talented enough at being hurtful without him providing her material for it.

"Couldn't even wait until Drogo and Primula were buried, could you Lobelia?" he asked when he entered the kitchen, and found her counting the silverware.

After a moment of surprise, she said in her phone, "I'll call you back, Otho," and hung up before striking back.

"What about you? Looks like you couldn't wait either."

"Actually," he replied without blinking, "I'm here for Frodo's stuff."

"Don't tell me they gave him to you," she said. "Anyone but you."

"I'm next of kin, so yes, I'll be the one to take care of him now. He also wished to keep Primula's blue apron and Dogo's pipe," he added, "so if you'll excuse me, I'll get those now and then move to his bedroom."

Paying her no more mind, he started to open the cupboards, looking for the apron (he knew the pipe would be in the living room, since Primula didn't tolerate smoking in her kitchen) even as Lobelia kept talking.

"But they can't leave a child with you! You're not parent material!"

"Is it about me being gay again?" he asked absent-mindedly, finally getting his hands on the apron – hung between the fridge and the wall, as it was.

"Yes!" she screeched, following him when he moved to the living room, knowing Drogo's pipe would either be on the chimney or on the small table. "Of course it's about that! It's unnatural, and depraved, and how do we know you're not a danger to the child? It's bad enough they let your kind teach in schools..."

He turned abruptly, his eyes blazing with fury, causing her to instinctively take a step back. He gripped the front of her coat and growled, "Now listen very carefully, because I won't repeat myself. You can abuse me for my sexuality all you want; I don't give a shit. But if you even try to imply I'm a pedophile again, you. Will. Not. Like the consequences. Am I clear?"

She squeaked, terrified, and nodded. Smiling cheerfully, he let go of her coat and said, "Good. Now if you don't mind, Frodo is waiting for me in the car. I wouldn't want him to get worried."

He resumed the search, indeed finding the pipe on the table. He then went upstairs, took a suitcase from the wardrobe and started putting as many clothes as possible inside. On top of them, he put the apron, the pipe, and Frodo's stuffed toy that he found on the bed. Noticing a picture of the family on the child's nightstand, he took it as well, figuring the boy might want to keep it as another souvenir. Closing the case, he went downstairs and left without so much as a glance towards Lobelia.

Once outside, he took a deep breath to calm himself before walking to the car. Fodo was waiting, looking through the window. Bilbo smiled at him and raised the suitcase slightly so the child could see it. Once he reached the car, he put the suitcase in the boot, but not before removing the items Frodo had requested, as well as the stuffed toy. Looking closely, he found it was a cat.

Opening Frodo's car door, he handed him everything, watching his face light up a bit when he saw his stuffed cat. "You got Peluche!"

"Of course I did," he chuckled, "I know you wouldn't sleep without him."

"Her," the boy corrected gravely. "It's French for 'stuffed toy', and it's a girl's name."

"Where did you learn that?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"Arwen told me."

Arwen, Bilbo knew, was a French student who babysat him when Drogo and Primula went out for the evening. He'd have to find her number, to tell her about the accident.

He would also need her services on evenings he had parent/teacher meetings and teacher conferences. There was so much he would need to do in the next few days... Arrange Drogo's and Primula's funerals, tell Frodo's school about the new situation, tell his own headmaster about it, try to make Frodo speak about the accident instead of bottling it all up... He sighed as he parked near his building.

"We're here, Frodo. I'll take your things from the car and we can arrange your bedroom, alright?"

The boy nodded, holding Peluche tightly as he took his schoolbag and got out of the car. "Can we have pizza tonight?" he asked hopefully, but Bilbo shook his head as he took the bag of clothes.

"Tomorrow's a school day. Pizza is for when we can stay up late. Tonight is courgette gratin, and you better eat it all, young man, if you want dessert."

He usually ordered pizza when Frodo came for the week-end; but now the boy was going to live with him and he wasn't going to live off pizza and such. Best get used to it now. Once they got inside the flat, he didn't have to tell the lad to take his shoes off – Frodo knew the rules of the place and instantly sat down to untie his shoes and put on slippers while Bilbo hang both their coats.

The kid then ran towards his bedroom, putting his schoolbag at the foot of his desk and Peluche on top. He was already trying to reach the sheets when Bilbo arrived in the room. The man chuckled, pleased to see Frodo was still eager for something.

"Can I have the Pirates sheets, Uncle Bilbo?" he asked excitedly, jumping up and down to try and catch them. The last time he'd been here, he'd caused all the sheets to fall from the wardrobe, so Bilbo had moved them on a higher shelf out of his reach.

"You can if you stop jumping and let me get them for you," he replied with a laugh.

Frodo stilled immediately, waiting for his uncle to hand him the sheets. When he grew up, he would be a pirate himself – a captain. And there would be no girls allowed on his ship because girls sucked. Except for Moms, but those couldn't be pirates anyway because they were so nice. He told all that to Uncle Bilbo as they made the bed, causing the man to laugh again.

"It's not funny!" Frodo argued. "It's true!"

"I'm sure you're right", Bilbo said, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm just laughing because in a few years, you'll change your minds about girls."

"I won't", Frodo denied defiantly. "Girls are a pain. They never do anything fun. Always playing with their dolls or combing their hair. And they cry when we find bugs. And they never want to fight."

"Did you try to fight with the girls, Frodo?" his uncle asked sternly. "You know you're not supposed to."

"I know!" the boy pouted. "That's why they suck!"

"Well, what about Arwen?" he asked with a smile. "You like Arwen, don't you?"

"Don't be silly, Uncle. Arwen's not a girl," his nephew said in a 'duh' tone. "She's a woman."

Bilbo had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing at the reverent tone in which the last word was said.

"Oh, is she, now?"

"Yes," Frodo nodded, "and when I grow up, I'll marry her and take her on my pirate ship."

"Really. And does Arwen know of this plan?"

"Well... not yet?" Frodo said with a sheepish tone. "But I know she's going to agree."

"Oh, well, if you know it then."

Bilbo hid a smile. It seemed Frodo had a crush on his babysitter. That had to be the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

"Do you have any homework?" he asked once the bed was done.

The boy nodded, "I need to practice writing some words."

"You do that then, while I make dinner. Come to me if you need help, alright?"

After a last nod for Frodo, Bilbo left the room and headed towards the kitchen where he started to chop the courgettes.

Sorry again, people. I promise you won't have to wait as long for the next chapter. I'm afraid it can't be online before December though. Nanowrimo is starting soon and I'm participating this year.