summary: larry finds out about dance and connor goes to a baseball game

told ya there was going to be some angst... :^) chapter title adapted from 'i'm not that girl' from wicked tw: toxic masculinity, homophobia
(tell me if anything else needs to be tagged!)

"Connor, would you like to go to a baseball game with me next week?" Larry asked one Saturday afternoon.

Connor looked up from his jigsaw puzzle. "Okay."

"When is it?" Cynthia asked. "If it's a weekday I'll give the kindergarten a call and he can get a day off."

"Next Friday. I'll just need to pick him up about half an hour early, so he still can go in the morning."

Connor froze. "But, but, Friday…" he stammered. "Mum, I—I have class."

"It's okay, Connor," Cynthia quickly cut in, noticing his panicked expression. "I'll call Mrs. Shapiro and let her know, alright?"

"It's alright to miss a bit of kindergarten sometimes," Larry assured him.

"It's not that…" Connor mumbled, ducking his head and returning back to the puzzle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he pretended to dig through the box looking for the puzzle piece he needed, realizing he had said the wrong thing. Larry glanced at Cynthia, confused.

"Uh, Connor," she started hesitantly. "Do you…" She trailed off but Connor knew what she meant. He knew that he couldn't keep it as a secret from Larry forever, and it was probably better sooner than later.

"Um… I have—I have dance on Friday," he finally said, his voice small.

"What?" Larry asked, leaning forward. "You gotta speak up, bud. I didn't catch it."

Connor shrank back a little but he didn't reply. Instead, he looked towards Cynthia pleadingly.

"He has dance on Friday," she repeated, her voice firm.

Larry blinked in surprise. "Wait, what's this? Why? I mean, why didn't I know about this?"

"He's only been going with Zoe for about a month, I signed him up for just a term."

"Why dance?" He demanded. "Why couldn't you sign up him for sports or… or something more suitable for boys?"

"Connor likes it! Just let him have fun!" Cynthia turned back towards Connor, who had his hands clapped over his ears, trying to block out the sound of his parents arguing. "Can we discuss this later?" she snapped at Larry.

"Fine." He stalked out of the room.

Larry was silent for most of dinner, and after the children had gone upstairs to bed, he confronted Cynthia again in the living room.

"Cynthia, what is this about Connor going to dance? Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "He didn't want you to know… with how you always react about all these 'boyish' and 'manly' things that you want him to do."

"Oh, so it's about me now, is it?"

"No, did I say that?"

He cut her off. "So you signed him up for a class without letting me know?"

"No, he said that he would tell you when he was ready."

"And you let him?"

"I didn't want to force him to do something that he found uncomfortable!"

"So you let him keep secrets from me? You kept secrets from me?"

"It's not like that! Jesus, you need to calm down and stop being so ridiculously paranoid," Cynthia bit back irritably.

"Oh, really? Then what is it like?"

She groaned, pressing a hand against her forehead in exasperation. "See, your reaction is exactly why he's reluctant to tell you things."

"Well, if it were something normal like baseball or some sporty activity, I wouldn't mind!"

"Are you saying that Connor is not normal?"

"No! I'm asking you why can't you sign him up for something that boys would do? Not girls!"

"Let him dance if he wants to! And I don't have time to ferry him to one activity and Zoe to another. Besides, I only signed him up for one term. He's just trying it out, let the siblings do something fun together."

"And what if he likes it?"

"Then let him dance!" she seethed. "What's wrong with that?"

"Cynthia, all those boys who dance, haven't you seen them? They're all either sissy or gay!"

"Larry!" she gasped, but before she could say anything else they were interrupted by a sniffle from the top of the stairs. Both turned to see Connor standing there, clad in his favorite blue pajamas that were still a little too big for him, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

"Shit," Cynthia muttered under her breath, shooting one last glare at her husband before rushing up the stairs to give him a hug. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I… I heard you and Daddy arguing, so I came out…" his bottom lip wobbled slightly. "Is Daddy angry at me?"

"No one's angry at you, baby," she said quietly, scooping him up in her arms to carry him back to his room.

"He was shouting…" he pointed out sadly. "Was he angry at you? It was because of dance right? If he's angry at you, I—I can stop dance."

Cynthia felt tears welling up in her own eyes. She placed a finger over his lips to silence him. "No, Connor. Don't think about that. If you want to dance, I'll make sure you get to, alright?"

"But what if Daddy is angry…" he murmured.

"I'll talk to him, sweetie. He'll… he'll understand."

He nodded. "Thanks, Mummy."

"Goodnight, Con," she planted a kiss on his forehead and tucked him in.

"Goodnight," he yawned sleepily.

She stepped out of his room, quietly closing the door behind her. Larry had retreated to the basement, most likely to bury himself in his work again, she thought bitterly. She retired to the master bedroom.

They didn't speak to each other the rest of the night, and Larry left early for work the next morning without saying anything.

.

.

.

"What's gay, mom?" Connor asked over breakfast.

"What makes you ask that, Connor?" Cynthia frowned, spreading some butter on her toast.

"Daddy said… boys who dance ballet are either sisters or gay."

Cynthia's heart sank a little, wishing her son had never walked in on the argument. But before she could say anything, Zoe interrupted her, "Why are they sisters?"

"What?" Cynthia asked in confusion.

"Daddy said boys who dance ballet are either sisters or gay," Connor clarified.

Cynthia couldn't help but chuckle at the mistake. "Don't mind what he said, alright? He was just… upset."

"But what's gay?" Connor insisted.

"Well," she said finally, trying to find the correct words. "You know how a man and a woman fall in love, and sometimes they get married afterwards?" Connor nodded, and so did Zoe. "It's like that," Cynthia continued slowly. "But sometimes two men fall in love, or two women."

"Oh! Like two husbands and two wives?" Zoe asked.

"Yes, exactly," Cynthia brightened.

"Is that bad?" Connor asked.

"No, Con, it's not," Cynthia said firmly. "Do you remember what I said to you when you asked if you could wear a princess dress?"

He nodded proudly. "Yup! I remembered!"

"It's like that. Some people will think it's wrong. But remember, just like you should do what you love, or whatever makes you happy, you should also love whoever makes you happy, okay? And don't let anyone tell you who to love or what to love, because you get to choose."

He frowned as he took it in. "But how do I know?"

She smiled at him, reaching over the table to ruffle his hair. "You will know. Your heart will tell you."

.

.

.

Connor was starting to wish that he had stayed at home or gone for dance class. The stadium was too loud, too big, and there were too many people crowding around. He never liked places with too many people, and the fact that he was sitting by all by himself while Larry had gone to buy some snacks made him a little nervous. He fidgeted in his seat, tugging at the sports jersey that Larry had gotten for him with his name across the back. It was a little weird, like wearing a nametag on your shirt, but Larry said that was what people who played sports did. The weather that day was relatively cool, but the amount of people everywhere caused him to feel the air was too warm and suffocating.

"I got us some things to eat!" Larry said, returning to the seat next to him with two hot dogs and a bag of chips. Connor nodded and took of the hot dogs, peeling back the paper and taking a bite. "Are you excited?" Larry continued, referring to the game.

Connor nodded again, licking some ketchup off his finger. "When will it start?"

"Soon," Larry assured him. "See? The players are getting into position on the diamond."

The game began, and Connor found it rather enjoyable. Larry had explained a few of the rules beforehand, but Connor still wasn't too sure what was going on most of the time. He just liked to watch the players hit the ball and run back and forth. Also, he didn't understand why everyone watching had to shout and scream when a team hit something called a home run. Nor did he understand why it was called a home run, because none of the players ran home. There was a blonde lady sitting two rows behind them who was especially shrill when everyone cheered. No one else seemed to mind, but her voice made him want to put his hands over his ears to block out the noise.

Around halfway through the game, however, he had finished his hot dog and the chips, and the game was getting rather repetitive and far too long. The stadium was cramped and he was starting to feel a little sleepy in his seat, and then he remembered that it must be around the time for his afternoon nap if he were home.

But just as mind was starting to wander, the crowd leapt to its feet, roaring with delight at another home run and startling him.

"Did you enjoy the game?" Larry asked in the car on the way home.

"Yeah, quite," Connor decided, sipping a Slushie Larry had gotten him after the game.

"It was really close," Larry murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular. He was obviously delighted at the result of the game—his team having won. Connor was happy too, since he guessed that Larry's team was his team, too.

"Do you want to play baseball?" Larry continued.

Connor thought about it. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to run around after a ball, all sweaty and muddy and gross. At the same time, it looked quite fun. "I don't know."

"You can join Little League," Larry said, perhaps a little too eagerly.

"What's Little League?"

"It's like baseball, but for little boys."

Connor took another sip of his Slushie, and he was pretty sure his tongue must be at least slightly blue by now.

Larry didn't seem to notice his silence. "Would you ever want to be a baseball player? Like the ones you saw today?"

"I don't think so," Connor replied. He wanted to be a ballet dancer, not a baseball player, but of course he didn't say that out loud. Because then Larry would become angry again.

Larry looked a little disappointed. "Do you know how many boys would love to be one for a living? You should really try baseball, I think you'll be great at it."

Connor stared straight ahead at the road. The condensation from the Slushie was dripping onto his pants. "But I don't want to," he quietly said.

i think this is my longest chapter yet woot
also, i have literally zero experience with baseball and i've never watched a game of it so...i probably got a lot of it wrong, sorry about that! please leave a comment and tell me what you think! or leave a prompt and i'll try to add it in a future chapter if it fits :)
i appreciate constructive criticism and ways to improve
you can also find me on tumblr thewickedverkaiking