(Just wanted to clarify, after 'Mama' and 'Tree', future fics aren't connected unless stated! Thanks!)

Word: Tea

Warning of; bullies, teasing, bullying abuse, implied violence, abuse

2.3k words

Oh, this is going to be embarrassing.

"Dakota?"

Dakota turned from where he was surfing the tv channels, peering up through his tinted glasses. Cavendish looked away.

The movement was enough that he heard Dakota sit up, attention now fully on him.

Honestly, that just made it worse.

"What's up, Cav?"

"Uhm-" Cavendish shuffled closer, leaning against the wall and turning his attention to the tv, where a show about puppets was playing, one of the purple colored characters being thrown about wildly as the other puppet watched. "I wanted to ask a favour of you…"

"What's the favor?"

He heard suspicion, and curiosity, in Dakota's voice. It was just enough for him to relax his shoulders. Dakota wouldn't make fun of me like that. If I asked him not to, that is. Besides, he's not them. They didn't understand. Dakota would.

Dakota would at the very least try.

It was enough to spur his question on.

"I wanted to ask you...if you could...uh…"

And, ah, no, nope, that confidence disappeared almost as soon as it came.

"Never mind." He murmured, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the kitchen, trying to hide his warm face. How could he even think to ask?

A hand grabbed his wrist, not touching skin, but it still pulled a surprised gasp from him. He turned, head tilting as Dakota looked up at him. Curious questions and...worry?...were what he saw. Was Dakota worried for him? As much of an open book as the Italian was, Cavendish never really was any good at reading people.

"Cav...what's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Though, it seemed, Dakota was an exception. Dakota was always an exception.

Balthazar sighed, turning to fully face Dakota, the hand on his wrist falling away.

"I...wanted to ask you if...you wanted to join me for a bit of afternoon tea with biscuits…"

Dakota raised his eyebrow, and Cavendish mentally prepared himself for the British jokes he knew were coming- the kids in his class would always find anything he enjoyed and tease him for it.

Blast, he knew he shouldn't have brought it up.

"Sounds pretty British."

Cavendish blinked. The comment was a familiar one, but...the reaction wasn't. He found himself smiling, genuinely, and his response simply tumbled out. "Well, I could argue that the pasta we had last night was pretty Italian…"

Dakota laughed, and Cavendish laughed along with him, both from the awfully infectious laugh Dakota had, and from relief that he wasn't going to be laughed at, or teased, or bullied like he once had been. Even the thought made him drop his smile, and he tried to turn away, heading towards the cabinet where they held their mix of coffee and teas.

"Cav?"

And, blast, Dakota had seen. Of course he had. Even though Cavendish was convinced Dakota couldn't see far in the darkened room with his tinted glasses, he always seemed to be the more observant one of the two. Cavendish briefly wondered if it was because he needed better observation skills to protect him from danger all those years ago.

"Cav, what's wrong?"

Cavendish hummed, turning to set the water to boil. He didn't really want to talk about it. It was childish, really. Literally and figuratively. Just a few years of bullying from when he was a child, that's all. A few simple words that stung to this day…

He turned around, surprised to see Dakota sitting in a chair, waiting patiently for him to answer as he thought. Bless him.

He sighed. Dakota raised his eyebrow. He leaned back against the counter, jutting his chin up. Dakota leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palm. Cavendish made a face, leaning forward. For a few intense seconds, Dakota stared at him, completely and fully serious...until he stuck his tongue out. It was enough for Cavendish to snort, and Dakota grinned at his victory. He waved his hand.

"Fine, fine. If you insist so. Well, what would you like to know?" There was quite a bit to unpack, and if Cavendish could, he'd like to keep it as narrowed down as possible. What Dakota didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Okay...how about we start with why you were so nervous to ask me to tea with you."

"My god, don't say it like that. It sounds strange when you say it."

Dakota grinned, and Cavendish rolled his eyes, turning back to find two mugs.

"Right, well- I was nervous because I don't exactly have the best experience when it comes to...expressing? My britishness?"

"...what?"

"Sorry, that came out strange. I'm not quite sure how to explain it. I...I'm not quite sure what struck them as me being strange, either…"

"Who?"

"What flavour would you like?" Cavendish interrupted, staring at the multiple boxes that they had.

"I think my peppermint box is somewhere there."

Cavendish nodded, finding the organic peppermint tea, and selected an English breakfast tea for himself. He took out the packets, and set them in their respective cups, not speaking another word.

"Bal...who's them?"

He sighed. There was no getting around it today, it seemed. He turned to check on the boiling water.

"My...childhood 'friends'." He accented the word with quotation marks, dropping his hand afterwards. "They...I...hmph. When I was younger, Mother and Father had decided upon sending me to a private school, after I insisted that home schooling wouldn't give me the people skills they wished me to have. I thought it would be nice."

"You were wrong?"

"Quite." Cavendish turned towards the fridge, taking out some milk. "It was a school mainly full of rich American kids. I thought it would go well enough but...I guess my accent gave me away or something. I don't know, I never really understood why they targeted me.

"But, well, they did. Along with my accent, I had to speak super proper." Which, he realized with a frown, was what he'd just been doing. A bad habit to try to hide himself, or at least make him seem more intellectual than them. He sighed. He needed to outgrow that defense mechanism. "So, I guess that was their cue to be bullies."

He twirled around, getting the kettle as it sung loudly, glimpsing at Dakota's face as he did so. The male looked curious, furious, and shocked. He sighed, pouring the hot water into each of their cups. He almost dropped it as plates clattering next to him sounded. He glanced to his left to see that Dakota had grabbed their smallest plates, to place the tea on. He smiled, and went to replace the kettle on the hob.

"And what did these bullies do?" Dakota's voice was quiet, controlled. Cavendish wondered what he was thinking.

"Well...they...spoke out often." Careful. What Dakota doesn't know won't hurt him, he reminded himself. Cavendish grabbed the sugar and milk as Dakota brought the tea to their little kitchen table, enough to seat them and a decent sized meal.

"Spoke out?"

He turned, not willing to look at Dakota just yet for the next part. Instead, he focused on getting out various biscuits, mind wandering to how he used to watch his nan arrange the biscuit platter on the rare occasions that she would visit.

"Yes. They would often call me various names, or tease me by my accent, or the things I enjoyed."

"Like tea and biscuits?"

Cavendish smiled. "Honestly, I cannot handle when you say that."

"What? Tea and biscuits? Tea time? Tea with the boys?"

"Dakota." Cavendish sighed, exasperated, turning to his partner with a grin, receiving one in return. He didn't know how, but the way Dakota said it, just like those kids so long ago- he somehow made it seem genuinely joking, not like there was a hint of venom underneath the expertly tied together words said only because of them profiling him.

He raised his hand in an I-don't-know motion, turning back to the biscuits. "You are such a nuisance."

"Aww, but you love that."

"Mmm, perhaps, but my point still stands." He smiled, a tinge of fear and adrenaline shooting through him at the confession. He doubts he'll ever tell Dakota that he genuinely loves him- he didn't want to spoil what they had now- so this was good enough for the time being. It had to be.

"So…?"

"So, what?" He asked absently, focusing on the plate.

"What else did they do?"

His heart twisted. Dakota was running a little close to home there. "Like I said. They called me names, teased me, and so forth...that's all…"

"Really?"

He turned around, placing the plate on the table between them, sitting down now that he didn't have anything else to do. He reached for a spoon and fished out the packet from his tea, setting it on the plate underneath his cup, then took some honey and milk to mix into his cup. Dakota simply watched him, until his hands visibly shook, just slightly. Then he sighed, reaching out and tapping Cavendish's hand. Cavendish stopped his movements, but didn't look up.

"What else did they do?"

…

"They hurt me. Physically. I thought...I don't know. I never understood why they did it. As we all got older, they became more bold. Took my things, beat me, just because I had a different accent than them and 'talked funny' and liked things differently than them. I don't...I didn't understand. I still don't.

"And when I tried to go to my Father, or Mother, or even the Headmaster about it, they just said, 'You know how kids are. Don't worry they'll stop soon.'

"They never did. When I got to secondary school...it...just got worse. They had so many more reasons, that I never understood, but they did, and they...they used those reasons, the ones I didn't get, to hurt me, and...I tried to go back to home schooling, begged Mother and Father to let me go back, but they wouldn't listen. I showed them the bruises and cuts and the broken noses, but they thought I was just pretending to get out of homework, and when I tried to fail school to force them to take me back, they just threatened me…

"I only got sympathy from the nurse, who took care of me after they had their way, and my piano teacher. I...I still don't get why they did it. I just...I wasn't even all that different from them. I just...spoke funny...and liked tea."

Cavendish finished his unexpected outburst, sniffing and pressing the sleeve of his long sleeved shirt into his eyes to try to ease the salty sting. It hurt, both the memories, and letting out something he tried to keep secret for so long because no one cared...but it felt so good. And when he felt a pair of arms encircle him, instead of retracting into his personal bubble as he always did to protect himself, he leaned into it, silently crying into Dakota's sweater as he held him silently.

It took all of twenty minutes before Cavendish felt calm enough to retract himself from Dakota's hold. When he did, he sniffed lightly, wiping away his tears. He accepted the tissue that was given to him, blowing his nose into it. He glanced up as Dakota kneeled down in front of him.

And though he never understood people, their emotions or thoughts, he could easily tell the sadness, the fear, the regrets, that swam behind his tinted glasses.

"Balthazar...oh my god, I'm so sorry. I had no idea...that those assholes did that. That's...that's horrible. You just…" He looked up, catching Cavendish's eyes with a hurt that made him catch his breath. Hurt for him. "I'm so sorry, Balthy."

And it was enough for Cavendish to smile gently, huffing out a watery laugh. He stood up, moving past Dakota towards the trash can, blowing his nose one last time before throwing the tissue out, and wiping his eyes as he turned back. He kneeled on the ground in front of Dakota, and wrapped his arms around his partner in a surprise hug, something that was as rare for him as cheeseburgers falling from the sky (Excluding 'Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs'). Dakota stilled for a second, before reciprocating the movement, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay." Cavendish mumbled against Dakota's shoulder. "It was a long time ago. There's nothing to be done with it now. But." He moved back, balancing on the back of his feet, holding Dakota out at an arm's distance. He smiled widely. "Thank you for listening. Really. You have no idea what that means to me."

And it did. After years of no one listening to him, allowing either the nurse or himself to tend to his wounds in silence, with only the voices in his head louder than the ones spoken to him...having someone who listened to him, genuinely and with wholehearted interest...someone who felt every word of his story, who listened from his view. It meant more than even he himself knew.

"Of course, Cav. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me." Dakota smiled back, wrapping a hand gently around both of his wrists. It felt comforting. "And, Bal. If I do something to upset you…"

Cavendish chuckled. "Understood. Now, however, I do believe we have tea to attend to, don't we?"

Dakota laughed. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

And as they stood, joking as they always did and sipping the cooled tea, Cavendish felt so much lighter, knowing that, despite what he had experienced in the past, it didn't matter. Because while he hated how his 'friends' teased him for his habits, he knew Dakota would never act as they would.

And that enough was all he needed as he listened to Dakota's horrible British impression, clutching his stomach from the laughter.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have time, I would love to hear your thoughts, or a piece of constructive criticism! As always, I hope you lovelies have a fantastic morning/afternoon/evening/night and tell someone close to you that you trust, something that's been bothering you or causing you anxiety! You can even shoot me a message if you simply want to get something off your chest! Stay safe, and make sure to take care of yourself!