A/N: It's late, and it's short. All of my other stories are angst at this point and I'm getting sick of it, so the next chapter of this might be shameless fluffy smut. Enjoy and please review!

Idgie

Buddy was fine. For a while that was the only thing my mind could process. He was weak and tired, and he would have to stay in the hospital for a while, but he was going to be okay. As soon as that became apparent, I immediately began calling him Stump.

His arm, of course, was a lost cause. He never said anything about it, and while Ruth thought we should ask how he felt about it, I personally thought it better to wait for him to bring it up. And he definitely had the chance; either Ruth or I was up with him at all times, while the other dozed in the waiting room or in a chair by the window.

Three days after the accident, I made Ruth go home. No matter how she tried to hide her exhaustion, it showed, and after enough badgering from me (supplemented by Buddy's eager encouragement) she agreed to get some rest.

"Now we can have some fun," I said, grinning, as soon as she was out the door.

For a while we played cards, gambling with gumballs I had gotten at the drug store across the street. It was something we knew Ruth would have frowned upon, and that made it twice as fun. Eventually, though, Buddy's curious self surfaced.

"Aunt Idgie?" he asked. He had just finished struggling to separate a card and lay it down one-handedly, without letting me see the rest.

"Hmm?" I frowned, looking through the cards in my hand. I was sitting on his bed cross-legged, with my shoes resting somewhere on the floor.

"You're not Momma's sister, are you?"

I looked up. "No," I said, wondering where that had come from.

"So… how come you're Aunt Idgie?"

"I dunno," I chuckled. "What do you want me to be?"

"Well, what are you?" he asked a little more insistently.

After a glance at the door, I laid down my cards on the bed and tucked my legs up under myself. "Stump… you know most people have a momma and a daddy?" He nodded. "And that mommas and daddies love each other." He frowned, but nodded again. "Well, sometimes people are… well I guess that part doesn't matter so much."

"You're not very good at this story," he interrupted suddenly.

"I'm trying," I laughed. "Gimme a sec." After another short pause to think, I continued. "I guess it doesn't matter how or why… what matters is I love your momma and I'd do anything for her. Okay?"

I watched Stump's angelic face scrunch up and his brown eyes narrow in confusion. "Why didn't you just say so?"

God, why couldn't everyone think like a child? I grinned widely and shrugged. "Some people don't like it. But your momma knows that and she knows that she's… the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Gross," he giggled, as any kid will at the mention of any kind of love, kicking his feet under the blankets. "So… are you both my momma?"

"Why don't you still call me Aunt Idgie?" I suggested. "Just so we don't get confused when you yell 'momma' in the house? But I want you to be able to come and talk to me just like if I was your momma, okay?"

Stump rolled his eyes. "I already do, silly. I'll raise you two!" he added suddenly, dropping two more gumballs into the pile between us.

A few days later, when Stump finally returned home, we hosted a funeral for his arm. We buried it just outside the cemetery, with a tombstone and everything. Almost every kid in Whistle Stop was there, sad and sober-faced. Sipsey wore black lace and stood tearfully next to Ruth, while I stood a few feet away fighting laughter desperately. Afterwards, the kids returned to the café for cake and ice cream, and I wrapped an arm around Ruth while we headed back.

"My father always said there was a separate god for children," she said as we watched Stump run, already getting used to his new, lopsided body. I smiled and gave her shoulders a squeeze before she added, "And would you please stop calling him Stump?"

"Aw, come on," I laughed. "You know if we don't, everyone else will! Don't you think it's best if we start it?"

"I don't know anymore," sighed Ruth. "All I know is I'm grateful he's here."

By then we had reached the porch and the noise of yelling kids inside the café. Before we went in, I pulled her close and whispered, "Amen" before kissing her, open-mouthed and softly.