Summary: "See, Noah, it doesn't have to be one or the other. It's just the circle around you just got bigger."

Characters: Sketch, Olivia Benson, Noah Benson, mentions of other Crew members, Elliot & Eli Stabler, and Jet Sloomaekers.

A/N: This set right after my last story and is the last of a three-story arc.

Once inside the solitude of Father Miguel's office, Sketch finally allowed his shoulders to slump with fatigue, took a few stumbling steps, and sank down in the nice, cushy leather chair stationed behind the desk with a sigh. His mind reeled from the fact that all those people had been celebrating him…his work. Since most of his client interactions were one-on-one, the entire thing was an anathema to him, and his tired brain just couldn't compute it.

At the moment, all he felt was relief that it was over. Tipping his head back a bit and leaning back in the chair to prop up his feet at the footstool that he knew was kept there, he let the exhaustion that had been nipping at the edge of his consciousness finally sink it. Another project done. Another paycheck received. More money to put towards Paco's treatment. This seemed to be his mantra of late.

He'd been running non-stop - all of them had been really - trying to help Paco pay back Father Miguel for helping to cover the balance of his rehab, one installment at a time. It'd been Paco's condition for accepting the father's help, and now, Sketch supposed he and the rest of the Crew were paying for the fact that Paco seemed to have learned their "trade or pay for everything" motto a little too well.

Just doing this for Paco. That was what he kept telling himself, but he knew it was a lie. He was trying to keep too busy to contemplate the emotional bombs lobbed at him in the park the other day by Captain Benson. Anytime he stopped, his brain tried to reconcile what he'd learned with the rest of his life, causing a gloomy mood to inevitably descend upon him. Everything seemed to take a bit more effort right now, but he could put on a show. After all, he'd done it many-a-time throughout his entire life; today being the latest example.

The door cracked open, forcing him to open his eyes to see Captain Benson poke her head through the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"It's a free country," he muttered, closing his eyes again. Just seeing her brought back what had happened in the park, and the dark cloud of resentment and despair that he'd been trying to hold at bay settled over him. He could feel it festering inside of him, looking for a release. "You oughta leave me alone. Not in the mood to deal with any more of your 'help'," he warned.

The whoosh of the seat in front of the desk echoed loudly in the silence, making him mentally sigh. "Sketch, I'm sorry about last time. I shouldn't have just dropped it on you like that. I know how difficult that kind of news is."

His eyes snapped open, the fire of indignant fury coursing through his veins. "How the fuck could you possibly understand? Just cuz you've been at SVU forever doesn't mean that you can really understand."

She shook her head, sending her long hair swishing on her jacket. "That's not why." Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "My father raped my mother too, and she became an alcoholic," Compassion and empathy bled from her every pore as she continued, "So I do understand your concerns about becoming like them."

Given how short his fuse was when he was tired, he'd warned that this wasn't a good time. He'd given her the opportunity to back down. So as he felt the shift in his mood, he felt no obligation to hold back.

"I'm sorry for your mom. I am, but…" With a dismissive wave, Sketch asked incredulously, "You serious think I care about that ? I mean I did at first, but once I looked up some stuff, didn't take me long to find out there's no such thing as a 'bad gene'. So may the motherfucker burn in hell."

Sorrow came over him at the thought of his mother. "As for her…well…I feel bad for 'er and what it's done to her." He shook his head. "But she never showed any interest in me which I get now, but I stopped carin' 'bout the time I got hauled away and she never fought to get me back."

Captain Benson seemed stunned at his little tirade, as if his response was completely unexpected.

Sketch rubbed a weary hand over his face and heaved a regretful sigh. "Sorry if that shocks you. I know I should care, but I just don't." He waved his hand absently. "I've got too much other shit to worry about."

She cleared her throat a bit. "Everyone deals with this kind of thing differently, so no one - let alone me - will question how you're feeling."

"Well…thank you for your approval," he sneered, really wanting this whole conversation to end and never be brought up again.

Tipping her head back for a moment, she released a sigh. "I didn't -"

"No…no…no…" he derided, as anger built within him at her patronizing tone and blunted the edge of his fatigue, "You wanna do this now, so let's do it. Lemme tell you what ya did when you decided fuck with my life." Leaning forward, he gave her a hard glare. "You didn't just rock my worldview…you obliterated its foundation. You took away the one good thing I had - the happy memories with my grandparents - the thing I could count on to be the brightness on the dark days…that I could pull out and point to to say, 'yes, happiness is possible for me'...'that I'm lovable'."

A dry, sarcastic chuckle crossed his mouth. "Now…now…that's gone. Burned up in the knowledge that the only people who've ever loved me - the ones who raised me, taught me to draw and about the stars and literature, homeschooled me cuz bullies and teachers failed me - did all of that outta duty not love and care. That's what ya did to me, and I'm not sure I can ever forgive you for it."

The flame of his fury burned itself out, leaving only exhaustion and despair in its wake. Turning away for a moment to swallow the ball of sorrow in his throat, Sketch looked back at her and opened his mouth to tell her to fuck off and leave him alone, but instead he somehow found himself choking out his deepest concern about it all, "Cuz if they - my own flesh and blood - couldn't love me, then who the hell can?"

Tears clouded her brown eyes which had a hint of nervousness within them. "What about a brother?"

Sketch's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked down to observe his fingers twirling a pen. "Umm…sure, I got Paco, Blaze, Vinny, and the other Crew members. I mean they care , but do they love me?" He shrugged. "Dunno. Guess they do cuz I know they got back like I would theirs."

Clearing her throat, a determined look came over face. "I adopted my son, Noah, in 2015."

Wiping a hand over his face, his brain tried to track what she was saying, but all the nights of burning the candle at both ends made him slow on the uptake. "Okaay," he said with a deep sigh, now extremely confused, "Congratulations?"

She blew out a frustrated breath at his sudden bout of denseness. "I found him during the case involving your father." The joyful look that came across her face as she reminisced caught his breath; the amount of love she had for her boy was palpable. "We followed a lead to a couple who do kiddie porn, and when we searched the room, there he was, laying in a fucking drawer like a pair of pajamas." Her eyes burned with indignation and fury at the memory. "We didn't even know his name, so for the longest time he was known as Baby Doe." Tears clouded her eyes as if to brace herself for another firestorm. "After multiple foster homes didn't work out, the judge took a chance on me. So that's how I came to be the mother of Noah Porter Benson, your half-brother."

Sketch's mouth dropped open as he sat there stunned at the news. The two of them sat in silence, absorbing the weight of the last word she said. Brother? I have a brother? Excitement and wonder filled him at the thought, but it became tempered by the realization that she must've known this the last time they talked.

"Why didn't you tell me in the park?" He whispered suspiciously. At her slightly guilty look, the light dawned, and the cloud cleared. "You didn't want me to know."

She leaned forward and desperately tried to explain. "You have to understand; I've been burned by trusting his family too easily. I mean, his maternal grandmother kidnapped him and put me through hell for fuck's sake. So yes, I'm leery now because he's my world. You understand? My world, and I'll do everything I can to protect him." Her ferocious devotion to her son was heartwarming.

"Protect him. From me." Sketch huffed out a disbelieving laugh as he hopped up to pace behind the desk a bit. "I get that when we first met. I mean I'd been accused of attempted murder, but after we worked on Paco's case, you still thought I'd be able to hurt a kid." His mind stuttered at the very notion, and a level of pain that he'd never known filled his body at the thought that one of his idols thought that badly of him. "I thought I'd proven myself…I thought you'd seen that I'm more than that…I thought we'd…eh what does it matter what I thought…I'll always be a street punk to you," he muttered mournfully, tears threatening to fall as he sank down into the chair again.

"Oh, Sketch," she said, regret clouding her every word, "That's not true. I know you're so much more than that."

He regrouped a bit to ask the question plaguing his mind. "So why now? Why are you tellin' me this now?" Even as he asked the question, his mind whirred and landed on an answer. A sarcastic laugh escaped his lips. "You spent today vetting me and deemed me to be an acceptable risk." Shaking his head in disbelief, he shot her a hard glare, "Thank you for deciding I'm safe enough to spend time with your son after I'd already spent time with him. That's fan-fucking-tastic." Exhaustion hit him like a freight train. "So much for seein' more in me, huh?" he scoffed, "Just tell me what exactly you want from me."

"I want you to spend time with him...with us…to get to know each other," she said with a smile, as if offering him cookie crumbs could pacify the fury and sadness that waged within him.

"All right. Bring him 'ere sometime. We'll become buddies," Sketch offered at the olive branch, thinking this would be a good neutral spot for them to meet given the number of people around who could supervise their interactions. He knew he'd fucked it all up. After the way he'd treated her…and given the freak that he was, there was no way that she'd introduce him as blood…let alone allow them to spend one-on-one time together on their own.

Standing up, she came around the desk before he could move away. Squatting down in front of him, their eyes met. "Sketch, you're not understanding me. I want to introduce you to him as your brother."

He stared at her, stupefied. "You want him to know I'm his brother?"

With a tremulous smile, she nodded.

"You're sure?" He blurted out again with uncertainty, seeking confirmation before getting his hopes up too much.

When she nodded again, the black cloud that had been following him since they met in the park lifted, but there was one large source of hesitation. "Umm…would you…?" He stammered, not wanting to rock the boat so soon, "Can he…" he stumbled again.

"Yes, Sketch, he can come and hang out with some of the Crew," she assured him gently, "He just can't be alone with Paco…not yet…"

Sketch nodded in agreement, knowing Paco was a bit much for anyone and had a lot to prove until he should be unsupervised around a young kid. Swallowing hard, he looked down and fidgeted with his fingers a bit. "So when do you wanna do this?"

She tilted her head enough to catch his eye. "Why don't we give you a few days to recover? You look exhausted, and he has dance practice tomorrow night anyway."

"O-o-kay," Sketch muttered, still in disbelief that they were talking about introducing him to his brother. The idea of meeting actual relatives seemed so foreign to him, especially since Crew members were generally just folded into the group (as long as Mama K agreed of course). They all just merged into a unit by choice. This would be a permanent bond through blood. He just hoped he didn't fuck it all up.

A couple days later, Sketch stood nervously outside of her building, already feeling out of place by the grandeur of the lobby visible through the glass door. It was insane how many butterflies he had in his stomach, especially given the fact that he'd spent time with Noah several times before. But he hadn't known he was his brother then, and for some reason, that seemed to make all the difference.

Seeing the doorman staring at him strangely, Sketch told himself to suck it up and just get to it. Adjusting the belt on his newish jeans for the hundredth time, he made sure the nicer T-shirt that he'd found during his clothes raid yesterday was neatly tucked in. With his green backpack slung on one shoulder, he took a deep breath and, with his heart pounding loudly in his chest, walked up to the building.

"Sketch to see Captain Benson," he said to the doorman who ran a skeptical eye over him. He looked down again to see if anything was mismatched…although Paco, Mama K, and Father Miguel all had assured him that he looked fine. Having spent most of his life simply accepting whatever freebie clothes he could get his hands on, Sketch found himself with zero fashion sense, a running joke within the Crew. So he trusted them not to steer me wrong…well…at least not today. That only left him…well…being himself, and that wasn't new. He'd been dealing with judgmental assholes like this guy all his life, so he had to remind himself not to get into trouble…not tonight of all nights.

Sketch huffed out an annoyed breath. "Look, man, she's expectin' me, and you're makin' me late."

The guy still seemed hesitant to buzz him in. "You know what? Maybe I should just call her." Pulling his flip phone out of his pocket, he looked for the contact number that he'd saved for her earlier. Just as he was about to punch the call button, he shot the asshole a look and muttered loudly, "You ever been reamed out by a police captain? No? Well…I wouldn't wanna be you when she answers."

Suddenly, Sketch heard the door buzz. "Smart man," he said as he walked through the door that could change his life and headed to the elevators.

Punching the up arrow, his shoulders twitched at the doorman's ongoing assessing gaze, and, when the doors finally opened and Sketch stepped inside them, he allowed himself to release a relieved breath. Staring at the numbers, his finger hovered over the digits of her floor for a few second, so very tempted to leave and forget the whole thing. But that felt like he would be denying Noah in some way, and he just couldn't bring himself to do that. So punching the appropriate number, he tilted his head back against the wall and thought, No goin' back now .

Once he reached her floor, he found his feet glued to the floor because he knew he wouldn't be able to face it if this all blew up in his face…if this turned into another in a long line of heartbreaking disappointments. Finally forcing himself to move down the hallway, he took a deep breath or two before stopping outside her apartment. God, I just hope he's happy about all this , he thought desperately.

"I'll get it!" He heard Noah yell, his high-pitch voice, unmistakeable.

And the door opened, and there he stood, his brother. his brother! Tears threatened, but Sketch fought them off valiantly. "Hey…"

"Sketch!" His blue eyes lit up with excitement, grabbing Sketch's hand to pull him into the apartment. "Mom said you'd be coming over."

"Umm…yeah…she was nice enough to invite me," he mumbled with an unsure smile.

"We're having pizza!" Noah said, excitement bleeding through his voice. "It's my favorite, so that's why I picked it."

Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, Sketch summoned all his strength to simply act normal, to treat this as any other day at the Corner, so giving Noah a wink and a smile, he held up his hand for a high-five. "You can never go wrong with pizza, right?"

The little boy jumped up to hit his hand with a "yeah!".

Laughing quietly, the teen shot a glance at where the lady of the house stood. "Captain Benson…"

"Olivia, please," she insisted with a big, welcoming smile.

"Thank you for having me." Sketch shifted uncomfortably, exercising the very rusty polite, social skills his abuela had drilled into him so long ago. "Sorry, I'm a little late."

Something in his tone must've indicated that his tardiness hadn't been intentional because a concerned look came across her face. "I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place."

Not wanting to lie to her on what Sketch hoped to be the first of other times, he racked his brain for a good response and settled upon, "No more than expected."

With a raised eyebrow and slightly narrowed eyes, he could almost hear her brain whirring as she parsed out his words and tone. She's not gonna let that go , he thought with a mental wince.

Noah tilted his head with the most serious look on his face. "You need to take off your coat and shoes if you're gonna come in. Mom says so."

"Well, your mom knows best," Sketch agreed as he took off his jacket and bent over to untie his shoelaces.

Once down to his socks, Sketch stood there awkwardly, holding his trusty backpack by the handles. He'd had the thing forever; it never seemed far from his hand, filled with all of the important pieces of his life. It'd been an automatic thing to grab it as he left, perhaps his version of a security blanket, but now, he wondered what he should do with it.

"What's in there?" Noah asked, looking at the bag inquisitively. "You have homework?"

Sketch chuckled as he slung a strap over one shoulder. "Umm…no…I don't go to school."

Blue eyes grew large with amazement. "You can do that?"

Shooting Olivia a desperate look, all Sketch could see was amusement in her eyes as she leaned against the counter with her arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. Figuring out she wouldn't be any help, he floundered a bit as he tried to come up with some sort of explanation. Choosing a variation of truth, he said with a shrug "I'm planning to take a test that lets me graduate early, so right now…well…I don't have to."

Noah swung around and ran to Olivia. "Mom, can I take a test to not go to school too?"

"Sorry, sweet boy. You still have to go," she laughed as she ran a hand through his curls with a gentle smile. Each movement sent an envious twinge to Sketch's heart, as all he'd ever received from his mother in the few months he lived with her was a slap on the head or a shove to the chest.

"Aww, that's not fair," Noah pouted.

"If it makes you feel better," Sketch said crouching down in front of him, "I spend a lotta time helping other people with their school work, so it feels like I'm in school all the time."

A thoughtful look came over his face. "Are you good at math?"

Sketch shrugged. "It's not my favorite, but I'm pretty decent at it."

"Yes!" Noah exclaimed loudly. Sketch deftly dodged the little fist that came close to giving him an uppercut to the chin as Noah punched the air in excitement. "Mom, can Sketch help me with my math homework?" he asked, turning towards where Olivia was standing.

Questioning chocolate brown eyes shot his amber ones, and the teen gave a slight nod of agreement. "Yes, but first we need to tell you something."

Blue eyes flashed between them, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Is it something bad?"

"No, we think it's something good and hope you do, too," she said, putting a hand to his back to lead him towards the couch.

Sketch's pace was much slower, as if he was a man walking to the gallows. This is it , he thought nervously, rubbing suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. His heart began to drum a steady beat. Swallowing hard, he decided to let Olivia handle this, as he, for all his smarts, had no idea on how to start to explain this.

Despite the fact that he'd taken a shower and had made sure to wear clean second-hand clothes, Sketch was overcome by the idea that he'd tarnish her really nice, clean furniture. So after a moment of hesitation, he decided the safest thing to do would be to sit on the floor across from them with his backpack beside him.

"Noah," she started, turning to face him on the couch. "You remember when we talked about how you're adopted."

He nodded, his curly hair bouncing slightly. "Yeah, you loved me as soon as you saw me in the drawer, and the kind judge let you adopt me cuz my dad was a bad man who died, and my other mom died too."

She nodded and ran her hand through his hair. "That's right, sweet boy." She and Sketch both seemed to take a deep breath at the same time before she announced, "Well…the bad man is Sketch's dad, too."

Noah's face scrunched in concentration as he processed this little tidbit. "If he's your dad and he's my dad, then…" A light of understanding followed by a large smile of glee came across his face. "That means we're brothers! Right, Mom?" He turned to her white teeth flashing as he shot her an expectant grin.

"That's right, Noah," she shot Sketch a happy, gentle smile, "He's your brother."

"That's so awesome!" Noah yelled as he got up to do a happy dance before running over to tackle the teen in a hug. The momentum of it knocked him over until they were a laughing tangle of arms and legs.

"I'm glad you're happy," Sketch murmured in his ear as they got up right. Something settled inside of him at Noah's reaction, and for the first time all night, he felt himself finally relax.

The little boy stared at him in confusion. "Did you think I wouldn't be?"

"Hard to know how people react to surprises sometimes," the teen said with a shrug.

Noah put his hands on Sketch's shoulders and stared earnestly into his eyes. "Well, I think it's the coolest thing ever!" He flung his arms around the teen again, and Sketch shot a glance over the little boy's shoulder to see Olivia wiping tears from her cheeks. Thank you , he mouthed to her, his heart full at the simple and instantaneous affection bestowed upon him.

There was a buzz at the door, and Noah let him go with a deafening yell of "Pizza!" in his ear before pulling him towards the kitchen island where the kid clambered up on a stool. Paper plates and napkins were already laid out.

"What would you like to drink?" Olivia asked, as she brought the box over. The wafting smell of melted cheese and marinara sauce made Sketch's stomach rumble, reminding him that he hadn't eaten all day due to nerves.

"Whatever you got is fine," he stated, used to simply accepting whatever is available.

Setting the box down, she checked the fridge. "Well, you have a choice of water, milk, orange juice, apple juice, and iced tea."

"Iced tea would be great. Thank you," he mumbled, deciding on the best option to go with the meal.

"Coming right up," she said as she turned to pull a glass from the cupboard before setting a full glass in front of him.

Opening the box, she put a piece in front of Noah who didn't hesitate to take a bite. Sketch could hear his little mind working and braced himself for any questions that may come his way.

"What kinda name is Sketch anyway?" Noah asked, his little feet kicking at the walls of the island.

"It's a nickname," he answered, and with most, he'd leave it there, but as the intent of this is to get to know one another, he continued to explain, "Most of my adoptive family goes by nicknames. Real name's Diego."

"D," he heard Olivia mutter and gave her a nod in acknowledgement, knowing she'd heard Blaze call him that way at the precinct during the Paco mess.

"So what should I call you?"

"Sketch, Diego, D, hey you," he teased with a wink, causing his brother to giggle, "Whatever you like."

Noah nodded. His brow furrowed again before his eyes grew wide before he asked in wonder, "You're adopted, too?"

Wiping his hands on a napkin, Sketch leaned forward on the island and crossed his arms as he tried to think of a simple way to explain street life. "Kinda…the Crew, that's what we call ourselves, we kinda adopted each other cuz most of us don't have family."

"But you have us now, so you don't need them," he stated definitively.

"Noah," Olivia warned.

"It's okay, Olivia," Sketch answered, a bit shocked at how easy it was to call her that name. Falling back on his experience with dealing with the kids at the Corner, he began to explain, "It's not that easy. I've known 'em for most of our lives, so how do you think they'd feel if I all of sudden said 'Sorry. I found my real brother, so I don't need you anymore'? Would that be fair to them?"

He thought about it before shaking his head. "No," he whispered, "they'd be really hurt, and it's not nice to hurt people."

Sketch shot him a smile. "And you know what, you've already met some of 'em when you did our art project."

He sat up straight, curiosity reflected on his face, "Really?"

Sketch nodded his head slightly. "Can you guess who they are?"

Noah tapped his finger on the table as he thought about it intently. "Blaze and Paco."

"You got two of 'em." Sketch reached over and patted him on the back. "You also met our newest member that day. Who do you think it is?"

Blue eyes looked down as he furrowed his brow. Looking up at me with an uncertain look, he proposed, "Eli?"

Sketch nodded and gave him a high-five. "We call him 'Wally' cuz he was lost like Waldo the first time we met."

Olivia let out a chuckle at that, making the teen grin.

"I love Where's Waldo !" Noah exclaimed in excitement. "I have all the books, don't I, Mom?" Blue eyes flashed over to Olivia for confirmation.

She gave him a tender look. "Yes, you do, and maybe if there's time, you two can read one of them together sometime."

Noah took another bite of pizza and kicked his legs a bit. "Is that everyone?"

"There's also Mama K, though she goes by Krissy or Sarah, too." Noah opened his mouth but shut it when Sketch shook his head and said, "Don't ask, we've never understood it either."

They all shared a laugh at that one.

"And her boyfriend, Vinny; he's a cop like your mom." He took a bite. "There's also another cop; I've known her the longest of 'em all. Your mom has actually met her."

"Really?" Bright eyes looked at Olivia, seeking confirmation.

She nodded and took a swift breath as if bracing herself for something. "Detective Slootmaekers works with Eli's dad." The slight hesitation over the last two words pulled Sketch's attention away from his absorption of Noah, but she waved away his concern with a slight shake of her head as she took a sip of her water.

"Detective Sloot…" Noah paused as he stumbled over her name.

Sketch nodded and gave him a high-five for his effort. "We call her 'Jez'."

He mouthed the name and shot me a grin. "That's a lot easier to say!"

Sketch said, with laughter in his voice, "I'll tell her you said so. It's actually cuz Blaze couldn't say her name that we call her that."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you were doing better than he did at 13," Sketch chuckled, "He kept messin' up. 'Jet Sloo-….Jet Slu-…Jet S-' and when he got frustrated and tried to shorten it to 'Jess', she made it very clear that it wouldn't fly. So she agreed to 'Jez' cuz she claimed it sounded cooler. And that's what it's stayed."

They all chucked at his little story. Warmth filled him at being able to share a piece of his history with this new part of his family.

"So those are the ones I hang with most, but we got others around, kinda like distant relatives." Leaning forward, he stared into his brother's eyes earnestly. "I told all of 'em about you."

"You did?" Amazement crossed his face.

Locking eyes with him, Sketch nodded his head and gave him a large grin. "'Course I did! Had to spread the news that we're adding the coolest, most talented dancer to the family! And you know what?"

Curly hair bounced as he shook his head, their eyes still locked.

"They're all really excited, and when you're ready and your mom says it's okay, they'd all like to meet you."

Olivia ran a hand through his curls. "See, Noah, it doesn't have to be one or the other. It's just the circle around you just got bigger."

"Yeah, they'll just be extra brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles cuz," Sketch looked around as if looking to see if any of them would overhear and whispered, "some of 'em are old now."

Noah released a peel of happy laughter at his dramatics. "Having a brother is so cool!" Olivia steadied him as he jumped off his stool before running over to give Sketch a big hug.

"Yeah, yeah it is," the teen whispered, tears clogging his throat. Since Noah clung to him for a little bit after that, Olivia pushed his plate closer to them.

After taking a bite of his slice, Noah asked, hope shining brightly in his eyes, "Are you gonna live with us now?"

The question nearly caused Sketch to choke, so he downed his iced tea as he shot a glance at Olivia.

Olivia cleared her throat, pulling Noah's attention to her. "No, Diego lives with the Crew." Not having heard his real name uttered for so long, warmth flooded his body when it was said in her kind, gentle voice, a tone he'd not heard it said in since his abuela died.

"I'll put his number in your phone, so you can call him whenever you want," she continued, rubbing her hand on Noah's back.

Sketch's heart fell at the disappointment that descended upon that little face, so he went over to him. "And we'll hang out as much as we can, okay? You can even come to the Corner and teach some of the kids there to dance."

Noah's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Sketch shrugged. "I've got pull there, so yeah, I'm sure we can make it happen."

The cloud of sadness had lifted from Noah, and now, there was this buzz of excitement. Zero to sixty with this kid, Sketch thought in amusement.

"Do they serve ice cream?" Noah asked as if it was the deciding factor on if he'd ever visit.

Shooting Olivia an amused look, Sketch confirmed, "Sometimes the cafeteria does, and if you're lucky, there'll be some of Sandy's famous baked goods when you come."

His little brow furrowed at that. "Well, I guess that's okay." Blue eyes tinted with suspicion glanced over at Sketch. "Do you like ice cream?"

"I do."

"What flavor is your favorite?"

"Any flavor except…" Sketch scrunched his nose up a bit in distaste, and Noah's resulting high pitched laugh warmed his heart. "...Bubble Gum. Paco likes that one. Don't know how he does it." Taking a sip of his iced tea, he asked, "What about you?"

"Rocky Road," Noah and Olivia replied simultaneously, spurring them to burst out into joyous laughter.

"And if you want any, you better finish your homework," she reminded gently.

Noah nodded his head and grabbed Sketch's hand, leading him to the open textbook on the coffee table. "C'mon, you can help me with this, and then I'll show you my room."

"Okay, okay," Sketch laughed as they sat down on the floor, "Lemme just look at this for a minute." After scanning it a bit to see what method they were teaching in his class, he turned to him and asked him, "Okay, what problem are you struggling with?"

Noah looked at him like he was an idiot and declared, "All of them."

Sketch blew out a breath and nodded. "Okay, we better get this started then, so you can get your ice cream." So for the next hour, they worked through the problems, the familiarity of the work bringing a sense of comfort and ease to the teen's approach.

Once it was done, Noah dragged Sketch to his room, where they continued a game of question and answer until Olivia called them to the living room to watch something. Is this what it's like to be part of a normal family? Eat dinner, do homework, enjoy bowls of ice cream, and spend time together watching TV? It seemed so mundane in comparison to a life filled with avoiding cops and trouble, dumpster diving for food when necessary, being ever alert for threats, and keeping track of safe places to sleep.

Having no money, the words "Netflix", "Hulu", "Disney+", held no meaning, so when asked what he wanted to watch, Sketch simply said, "Whatever is your favorite".

Olivia shot him a playful glare, and having a feeling that she'd had enough of Encanto to last a lifetime, he gave her a shrug, mouthing Sorry. Maybe I can get her to send a list of ones to avoid for the future… he thought to himself ruefully.

Future. Sketch couldn't help but marvel at the notion. It was a word that they didn't dwell on living in the streets, knowing that any number of things could make it their last night breathing or being free. Will nights like this really become part of my life? With her schedule, he didn't think it would be possible to plan…not like tonight. Knowing how protective she was - and rightfully so - he doubted that she'd let him be alone with him. So maybe we'll just be doing stuff outside like in parks or something. That wouldn't be so bad, he thought as his eyes took in this elegant room with its decidedly feminine touch. Spotting the pictures on display, the urge to study them came over him, but, as a little body began to lean more heavily upon him, he knew it wasn't going to be a possibility tonight.

Once Noah was passed out, Olivia turned to him and with a determined look, asked, "So what happened earlier?"

Sketch gave a dismissive wave. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Diego," she growled with a warning voice. Her dark eyes hardened with stubbornness.

He sighed, knowing she wasn't going to drop it. "The doorman was being an a—," he cast a look down at Noah before whispering, "a jerk about letting me up." He shrugged. "That's all."

An annoyed look crossed her face. "I told them to let you up, and they should just do their job."

Rubbing a hand behind his head, he gave her a sheepish smile. "Umm…I did kinda threaten to sic you on 'im."

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she let out a quiet laugh and said, "Good to know. I'll be sure to pull the Captain card tomorrow when I talk to him."

Sketch chuckled and felt comfortable enough to say teasingly, "You're mean."

"Not mean," she protested, "Just protective."

"I can handle myself," the street-wise teen protested.

"It's what you do for family," she said with a gentle smile.

Shocked at her simple assertion…that she had so easily absorbed him into their unit of two, he could only shrug and grumble, "Fine."

She gave him a smug smile, and a comfortable silence descended upon the two. Glancing down at where Noah's warm body leaned against him, Sketch turned his head towards her with grateful tears threatening to fall. "Thank you for this, 'specially after I was such an a–" he hurriedly corrected, "a jerk to you the other day." Swallowing hard, he whispered with a hint of shame, "So sorry 'bout that."

She shook her head. "Diego, it's okay. I understand it was all a big shock to you." She rubbed her hand over her face, swiping away the tears that had gathered as she looked at us, and whispered, "I'm going to ask you to be patient with me. It's always been the two of us, so it might take me a bit to adjust to having you and the whole Crew." Her dark eyes gleamed with determination and commitment. "But know this, you are part of this family now, and I'll never keep you from him if I can avoid it."

Sketch tightened his arm around the little boy and stared down at wonder at his curly head. His brother . A surge of protectiveness came over him, and he knew that he'd do anything for this little boy just as he would any of the Crew members. This sent a wrecking ball through earlier doubts about whether the Crew loved each other. Idiot! Of course we do! He mentally scolded himself, the lengths they were all going to help Paco showed it.

It was then that the truth of Olivia's earlier statement sunk in…there really didn't have to be a street family and a blood family…they were all just family. Having had only one of them for so long, he'd forgotten the simple truth that at its core, a family was simply a group of people who loved one another. And if nothing else, they were that weren't they?