The lounge was eerily quiet, fit to the type of building that held it, despite the several people that sat at the tables scattered around the room. They played card games in silence, or watched the other inhabitants play, but none of them glanced up to the newcomers as if they were hypnotized to their tasks. Oliver slowed to an uncertain stop to scan the room for a head of deep ginger hair.

Allen raised an arm to point to the rows of small tables lining the wall of windows. "What 'bout her?"

Oliver's eyes jumped to the lone woman steadily gazing out the window, and his legs shot forward on their own. He stared at her hands first, which were bony and skinny, but elegantly rested on one another on top of the table. Once he lifted his gaze to her face, she was marveling at him, too. The man opened his mouth, but did not find any words to tell his mother, even after he thought of many sweet words to say for so long.

His housemate brushed his side, and linked their hands together, which brought Oliver back to the moment. "H-Hi, Mum."

Marionette pushed herself to stand, only to hurry to her son and fall against him in a close, but weak embrace. Oliver curled his free arm around her slender frame while the other squeezed Allen's hand. He finally held all those years against himself, and the scent of his childhood made his mouth quiver with a threatening sob. She pulled away, able to stand on her own, and set a palm against Oliver's cheek.

Her voice was slightly aged to a shaky whisper of, "Oliver." She drifted her watery gaze to the other man, and tipped her head in question. Oliver could feel the child that was forced to mature too quickly stir inside his gut. He yearned to watch her vivid pigtails to sprout from the top of her head and ripple over her shoulder like they did when she expressed worry or interest in her son. With Marionette standing so close in front of him, it was too easy to want to relapse in the memories of her nails gently scraping across his scalp, easing him with one of her delicate tunes.

Allen gently nudged his side, once again bringing Oliver back to the present. The baker glanced up, doubling back at the unusual intensity in his partner's eyes. "Mum, this is Allen."

Marionette glanced down to their joined hands, then up to the other man's grin. "Howdy, ma'am."

She embraced him as well, for a quick second, only to pull away to hug her son again. Oliver blinked rapidly to condemn the wetness clotting his face. She turned to the table without further acknowledgement of his tears, and gestured for the pair to sit. She fell into her seat with a sharp sigh, and Allen snatched a chair from the adjacent set to scoot beside Oliver.

"I did not know you were not in prison anymore, Mum. I just found out today that you were transferred." Oliver stammered from the hand that sneakily grabbed his beneath the table, "I-I would have visited sooner if I knew that, but minors cannot enter those kinds of jails..."

His mother weakly smiled through his blabbering. He immediately quieted when she opened her mouth. "I am...very glad I am here now. The beds are much more comfortable."

It took a moment for her nearly inaudible words to process. Oliver cracked his own meek simper. "Are you happy here? I can get you a place to stay. I have the money for it now-"

"Oliver," Marionette's settled expression sharpened to a stern fix. "Why do you think I am in here, and not in jail anymore?"

Allen glanced between the two, obviously interested, but did not say anything. Oliver's shoulders rose. "I do not know, Mum. Why are you here, of all places? I would think you would be in a different prison, should you ever be moved."

"For the same reason you would be, dear, if you were not so careful. I talk to thin air. It did not go well with the others. Here, however," Marionette's gaze drifted to the other patients, "it is not as strange."

"I do not think it is strange. I am serious when I say I am more than willing to get you a nice place."

"I know you do," Marionette set a hand over her heart, "but so many others do not." She looked to Allen, who kept his eyes trained on her son. "Besides, I am here under law's orders. If I were not here, I would be in prison, and we both know why I cannot leave." Brightening to a straight position, she claimed, "I rather not, anyway. I have made so many friends!"

Allen lifted his eyebrows, and finally tore his face away to look around the lounge. The other patients were a little ways from them, and did not look or care for their reunion. Oliver understood, and earned a confused grumble from his partner as he laughed, and bobbled his head. "I am happy to hear that, Mum."

"Uh...uh...what'chu guys talkin' 'bout?"

Oliver gave Allen's hand a quick squeeze. "Magic voodoo stuff, darling." He glanced to his mother. "They are all over the place in here." There was even a fairy on the table behind them, minding his own business in his observing of the quiet atmosphere.

Marionette put a hand to her mouth, tittering at Allen casting a frightened sweep around the room before scooting closer to Oliver. "What do you do now, Oliver? Are you still at the youth hostel? Has it treated you right?"

"I run a bakery called The Queen's Cupcakes now. It was previously owned by an old woman, Bella." Oliver's lips uplifted in a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "She taught me everything I could possibly know about baking."

"Is she...?"

"She passed away last winter. We have been living in her old flat above the shop."

"We?" Marionette's eyes flickered to Allen, who cracked a goofy grin as he slung an arm over her son's shoulders. Oliver looked down to his lap, but it was obvious he was smiling. "Oh, have you been together long?"

"Well, ma'am," Allen started before Oliver could open his mouth, "we've technically been under one roof ever since we met."

Marionette tipped her head, so Oliver clarified, "He arrived at the hostel several months after you...enrolled me."

"It was more closer to bein' dragged there, but, yeah, what he said."

Oliver was coaxed closer to the hand squeezing his shoulder, and retorted by sinking his nails into Allen's jeans. "The House, as we called it, was most likely one of the better places to be when you had nowhere else to go. Of course, there were problem children, but you have those everywhere."

"Why you lookin' at me fer?"

"Splendid," Marionette noted their short banter with a giggle. "Have you made any other friends?"

"Plenty," Oliver swiped the back of his hand across his warmed cheek, still damp from his earlier tears. "I suppose you can say we are all trying to lighten the world and each other."

"Hey, yeah!" Allen put in, "Just a few days ago, Ollie ran this bake sale stand, an' he went an' took all o' the profits, an' plopped it on the children's hospital!"

Oliver sighed, not certain if he was irritated or flattered as his mother's jaw dropped. "It was an anonymous donation." He lowered his stare to Allen's leg, which bounced under his grip. "We have an artist in our group, and he drew caricatures of anybody who wanted them. There were not many, but it was a start."

"Ooh," Allen cleared his throat to cover his happy grunt when the baker leaned against his shoulder. "You remember those murals Matt an' Kuro had done?" He nodded to Marionette, "You would never believe it. Apparently, somebody or a couple o' fellas went 'round an' added all kinds o' stuff to 'em!"

"I plan on holding another meeting this weekend to do it all over again."

As Oliver hoped, his mother wiped at a new set of tears, and murmured, "Oliver, I am so happy to hear that."

"So am I."

Eventually, visiting hours had to pass so quickly, but the duo lingered until the last second, which was filled with heavy hugging. Oliver held his tears back with a tight lipped smile, but as soon as both car doors shut, he stared at the idle dashboard. The dim lights illuminated the stream that silently ran down his cheek. A quiet, shaky breath escaped his throat, breaking Allen's argument with the seatbelt for his head to snap toward him.

"Whoa, hey!" He hooked an arm behind Oliver's shoulders to pull him from his seat. "Why you cryin', babe?"

Oliver latched onto his partner's cotton shirt, eagerly shoving himself against his chest. "She is all right." He sniffled, using the white fabric to rub at his damp face. "My mum is all right."

Allen's other hand brushed his bangs apart so he could crush his lips to Oliver's forehead. "'Course she is," he mumbled down the side of the baker's face. "She's a greater lady than I'll ever be!"

Oliver was sniffles and smiles as he gave his partner's leg a fond grope. Words tumbled out of his mouth, "I love you."

The other man picked up his head. "Well, that was sudden."

The baker smacked his chest in feign anger. "Belt up, you!"

Allen bubbled with deep giggles. "You need me to drive?"

Oliver peeled himself away to scrub his face again. "Like you know how!"

"Sure thing, Ollie, but still..." Allen shot forward to plant a wet smooch to the side of his mouth. "You all right to get home?"

"Of course I am!" Oliver snapped the stick shift back as his passenger resituated his seatbelt. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself..."

"Shit, you had to say somethin' like that? Not even if we hold hands?"

"Fine." Oliver clamped on the offered palm, while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. Down the streets, he kept glancing at Allen during stops, noting the man gazing at him the entire time. "Spill it."

"Spill what?"

"You want to say something."

"I wanna say a lot o' things, baby, but apparently, I gotta wait 'til we get home."

"Good," Oliver clenched his hand. "I look forward to it."

"Nah, but seriously, I was thinking 'bout...uh, we don't gotta do it anytime soon, but we should go to the States and run 'round fer a lil' bit."

Another squeeze. "Have you not caused enough trouble over there?"

Allen squeezed back. "There ain't no such thing! Come on, babe! You gotta try deep fried Oreos. You won't get 'em anywhere else like ours!"

"Deep fried...oh my. I can feel my cholesterol rising pass our heads right now."

"Yeah! It'll be great! Oh, an' there's the rodeos, an' the drive-ins, and we got to go hikin' in the woods some time..."

"Are there not plenty of trees around here to hike around?"

"Nah, you gotta hike 'round American trees. It's got a better feel to it."

Oliver cracked an evil smile. "Hm, Americans do have a better feel to them..."

Allen did a double take, eyes wide with surprise. "Hey, don't make this hard for me. We ain't even at the bakery yet."

"Again! Watch your choice of words, darling. I am trying to drive here."

He wiggled from Oliver's grip to lock his arms across himself. Despite his silence, Allen grinned the rest of the way to their home.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

As usual, Oliver spent his unconscious hours in the Realm of Spirits, with a close friend and ally. Lila flitted around the bright patches of plants, often dropping flowers on Oliver as she could not shower him with anymore mischievous affections. "I saw my mother today."

The fairy popped out of a particularly thick cluster of grass with a loud gasp. "No way! Marionette is all right?!"

"She is as perfect as she can be these days. She is in a mental institution, but it has done her better things than these past years have done."

"Ollie! That's great news!" Lila buzzed to take her rightful spot on Oliver's head. "A lot of fae visit those kinds of places, because there are more people that can see and chat with us, and they won't get yelled at for talking to us."

"Yes, they will only get weird looks." Oliver gently wiggled a finger at his tiny friend, who retaliated with her own mighty swings. "I dare say it is worth it, though!"

"Why, thank you, Oliver. You sure know how to flatter." The fairy thrashed amongst his hair. "We are still short a company!"

"Are not!" A voice from behind spat. Heavy footsteps swished through the bicolored grass before Arthur flopped beside his look alike. Despite being in a nearly untouchable Realm, his face was flustered, and his unneeded breathing was ragged with angry huffs.

Lila asked, "Who dulled your sparkle?"

"Nothing it..." Arthur glanced to both their fatally curious faces. "Oh, all right. Kiku was a tad restless tonight. Not that he would admit it aloud, though."

"Kiku?" Oliver arched his brows. "Kuro's counterpart?"

"Yes, Kiku. He had a...headache."

Lila giggled as the baker shrugged, "To each their own! How is that large presentation you were telling me about going?"

"Oh, absolutely splendid. Since we are stationed in Italy for the week, there was this idea of combining our work and Feliciano's power point to a massive project. The tosser could pretend he cares about it."

"Are you sure that is Feliciano you are dealing with?"

A ripple of confusion passed on Arthur's face to a dull stare. "Oh. I am going to have to take that to Ludwig to deal with. If anyone is going to snap Luciano into place, it will be him."

Oliver waggled a finger, claiming in a sing song voice, "Do not be so sure about that!"

"We will have to see!"

"Tell me about it tomorrow!"

"Yes, there is always tomorrow, but for now, pardon me for arriving so late, but I have to get back before morning comes."

"Like-wise," Oliver rose to his feet, prompting his look alike to do the same. "Tomorrow, old chap."

"Old chap?!" Arthur rolled his eyes, but a closeted smirk found him as he turned for his forest of green trees. "You are absolutely mad!"

Lila whistled, "Oh yeah! You bet!"

Oliver declared, "Come now! It would have not been as fun with any other way!"