Tw for burn scars, mentions of child abuse, (physical) Grandfather is his own trigger warning.
It was about 8:00 pm, the sky was a melting pot of shades of purple and black. Benedict "Father" Uno was enveloped in his shadow suit, trudging back home to the Delightful Manor after losing to the K.N.D once again.
Father glanced up at the sky, grey obese clouds were blanketing the sky with a light drizzle already sneaking down from the sky. He shuddered and quickly wiped a cold raindrop off the back of his neck, picking up the pace of his walk to a jog. He was halfway home when a car whizzed by him, the driver deliberately running over a puddle to spash Father, the man coughed and threw his arms up in a futile attempt to sheild himself from the wall of cold and wet and still ended up soaked.
"Why you no good son of a...!" Father snarled under his breath, his voice trailing off as he didn't even have the energy to be angry at this point. He turned his jog into a run as he hugged himself, his body soaking wet and starting to shiver.
Father made it home just as the rain started to pick up, he walked into the house and slammed the door shut behind him. "I'm home." He grumbled out to no response, the house was quiet and still. The Delightful Children had probably been in bed for half an hour now, he'd sent them home much earlier then him because at the time he no longer needed them. Even if he hadn't sent them away, Father had a feeling it wouldn't have made a difference in his loss anyway.
Father looked down at his body, he was soaking wet and shivering from cold. "I look like a drowned rat." He thought dimly, fizzling away his sopping wet shadow suit so he wouldn't make a mess all over the house as he got ready for bed.
Father pulled himself upstairs to his bedroom, he opened his closet and picked out grey sleep pants, fuzzy yellow slippers and a pink and yellow fuzzy bathrobe.
The only problem was that the only sleepwear he had top wise was a white tank top, all of his long sleeved sleep shirts were either in the washer or had been damaged beyond repair and thrown out.
Father felt a wave of anxiety wash over him at this realization, he didn't like having his arms uncovered. It made him feel uncomfortable, exposed, even shameful in a way. It showed off "it" to the world. "Oh well, I can just use the bathrobe and my shadow suit to cover "it" up." Father thought.
Once Father had changed into his sleepwear he checked the digital clock on his bedside table: "8:10", the digital dial read. Father walked back downstairs to his study, plopping himself down in his favorite maroon red chair in his study.
He tried to reform his shadow suit, just for an extra layer of security. But suprisingly, the shadow suit was taking it's time to reform, usually it bounced back immediately but it seemed tonight was different. "Oh c'mon! Reform already, reform!" Father grumbled as he snapped his fingers muiltple times in an attempt to jumpstart the reformation, small, breif flickers of flame spouting up from his fingers as he snapped them.
Father sighed in frustration and leaned back into his chair. First he'd lost against the K.N.D for the umpteenth time, then he'd been drenched by a devious driver and now his shadow suit was having trouble reforming. Could this night get any worse?
"Oh boss! I'm here with the paperwork you wanted!" A chipper voice with a thick Romanian accent fluttered into the house accompanied with the sound of a door opening and closing made Father tightly grip the arms of his chair in slient frustration. Apparently, this night could get worse.
Count Spankalot glided into the room in quite an entergetic mood dispite the late hour of night, holding a breifcase. It wasn't that Father didn't like his vamperic employee, quite the opposite. He was one of the few employees that Father found competent and even considered him a friend. Count Spankalot even had the rare privilege of seeing what Father looked like without his shadow suit, the only other employee who knew that secret was his closest and most trusted friend, Mr. Boss.
But right now, Father just wanted to be left alone.
"Hey count, you said you had paperwork?" Father asked. "Yep. We're all set for next weeks evil plans." Count Spankalot said as he handed Father the breifcase, Father opened it up and quickly sorted through the paperwork inside, a small satisfied smile on his face. "Good. That's one relief off my shoulders." Father said, trying to keep the conversation short. "What happened to your shadow suit? Usually you never come out of it unless there's no other option." Count Spankalot asked innocently. "It's having trouble reforming. Nothing I can't handle though." Father replied hastily, resuming snapping his fingers to jump start his shadow suit, again to no avail.
"Oh, that's a shame. Maybe I can help?" Count Spankalot offered, reaching for Father's arm. The unexpected sight of a hand reaching out for him caused a flood of repressed childhood terrors to claw their way into the front of Father's mind, Father flinched and immediately ripped his arm away from the vampire. "No! No need for it, I'm fine." He blurted out quickly, almost yelling, immediately regaining his composure and forcing the painful memories back down, but he knew his sudden mini outburst and and the fear etched into his expression had given him away like a swan in a chicken coop. Count Spankalot hesitantly but quickly pulled his arm back, wearing a look of worry.
"See? I'm fine." Father said as his shadow suit finally reformed and enveloped his body in black and red. "Dammit. Now he'll start to pry for an answer." Father mentally hissed to himself. "Are you okay, boss? Is your arm hurt? It won't trouble me to get you a first aid kit if you need it-" "No. No, there's no need. I'm fine. The doors there, you can leave whenever you like." Father cut off the vampire mid sentence, gesturing to the door that led in and out of his office behind him with a wave of his hand.
"Show me your arms." Count Spankalot said. "What?" Father asked, doing a double take. "I said, show me your arms. If there's nothing wrong, I'll leave. If something's wrong, I'll help you through it." Count Spankalot explained, crossing his arms with a new look of both sterness and concern.
Father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not taking no for an answer, are you?" Father asked in a sarcastic, deadpan tone of voice. "Nope. You are my friend and I want to make sure you are safe." Count Spankalot replied without missing a beat. Father hesitated for a second, his hands starting to tremble with anxiety. "If I do show you my arms, promise me you won't freak out." Father said, his voice shaky and tense, his trembling hands gripping the sleeves of his bathrobe tightly.
"I promise I won't freak out." Count Spankalot assured. Father sighed sharply, "Alright." Father rasped, his voice tinted with suppressed fear as a pair of trembling dark and hot hands started to remove his bathrobe. Father let the discarded bathrobe sit in a pile in his lap as, against his better judgement, he started to disintegrate his shadow suit, now his whole body was quivering like a kicked puppy.
The vampire's crimson red eyes widened in shock and he clapped his gloved hands over his mouth.
He was seeing "it". He was seeing the scars.
Blistered burn scars of a faded cherry red colour were etched into the skin of Father's arms. Some scars were small, a scar that wrapped around Father's left wrist loosely resembled an imprint from a pair of handcuffs or rope burn. Another scar above Father's right elbow was also quite a small cut and resembled an X shape. But the majority of the scars that dominated Father's arms were big ones. There were scars that looked like claw marks from a wild animal, there were scars that had a curling, snake-like quality to them and twisted around his arms, some scars were jagged and overlapping and made no sense at all. A large blotch of a scar marked the majority of the skin on top of Father's right shoulder, like someone had dumped a blob of lava on his shoulder and let it fester.
"What...?" Count Spankalot could barely speak, his voice a strangled whimper and his eyes wide as saucers. "Please don't stare. I already know it's an eyesore." Father grumbled, crossing the arms of his trembling frame and keeping his head down. "Right, yes. Of course, sorry." Spankalot blurted out, pulling up a nearby chair and sitting down next to his boss. He was unable to take his eyes off the scars hacked into the pale skin of Father's arms, given that the scars were faded but still quite noticeable Spankalot concluded that the burns were quite severe but were also from a long time ago.
"What happened? Did you have an accident when you were younger, or did you lose control of your fire at some point in the past?" Spankalot guessed aloud, Father shook his head, snickering softly, but it was a fake joyless sound. "No. We got these scars from my father, Pappy. He has fire powers just like me. Father said softly but sternly. "We?" Spankalot inquired. "Oh yes, me and my older brother, Monty. Since I was the black sheep of us two, Pappy took a lot out on me and Monty would often jump in-between us to try and save me. Just because Monty was the favorite child didn't mean Pappy wasn't above taking his anger out on him too." Father grimaced as he spoke.
"So, does your brother have scars to the same...severity as you?" Spankalot asked wearily, hesitating for a spilt second before slowly putting a gentle hand on Father's left wrist in an attempt to ease the nervous shaking that wracked the other man's body. "No, he was and is still the favorite child, so he doesn't have as many scars as me or as big of a scarring as I do." Father explained, his mouth puckered up like he'd eaten something sour. "Am I the only one who knows about these burn scars?" Spankulot asked. "No, the only other people who know about my scars are Mr. Boss and The Delightful Children. The Delightful's have seen them all since, y'know, they live with me. As for Mr. Boss, he's seen about...half of them." Father said.
"Does it hurt when I touch it?" Spankalot asked hesitantly, his hand slowly inching up Father's right arm, flinching his hand away for a spilt second at every movement by Father's arms out of worry he was unintentionally hurting him. "No. They don't hurt to the touch, half the time I forget my scars are there until I see them." Father said, his voice dull and his brow furrowed. "I always make an effort to cover my scars up, I don't like looking at them for too long. If I look at my scars for too long it reminds me of..." Father's voice trailed off, his head down.
"Why didn't you tell anyone? I wouldn't have judged you, I just-" "Because I won't be a burden!" Father yelled out, cutting off the vampire halfway through speaking as his voice sparked back to a watered down version of the anger he projected every day, although this time the anger was directed at himself.
"Everyone has enough problems in their own lives to deal with, the last thing anybody should worry about is me! I can't afford to me a burden to anyone, it'd make me look weak. Even weaker then I already am! I already feel weak enough when I see these...these reminders of how cowardly and pathetic I used to be! Carved right into my skin where everyone can see them! Including me..." Father's voice trailed off, his body was trembling quite badly now and his hands were curled into tight fists.
Father suddenly realized he just majorly overshared, he turned his head away from Spankalot in embarrassment over his outburst, his shoulders hunched and tense. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout." Father apologized feebly, still not daring to look him in the eyes.
"Boss..." Even though the vampires voice was soft, Father still flinched, bracing for a gloved hand to come hurling down and clock him over the head, because in his mind, it was the only reasonable consequence for his outburst. "It's okay. I'm not mad." Spankalot said quietly. When a gentle gloved hand found his wrist Father flinched again and started to pull his hand away, but then let it sink back down and let his wrist be held. Father reluctantly turned back around to face Spankalot, his golden eyes still looking down. "Boss, it's okay. Really, it is." Spankalot reassured, before his eyes once again drifted back to the burn scars that were pressed deep into Father's skin.
The vampire's hand carefully slid from Fathers wrist to his hand. Spankalot held Father's hand, intertwining his gloved fingers with the warm, trembling hands of the man sitting before him. Father lifted his head and locked eyes with the vampire, his face painted with confusion. "Your scars...you said you got them from your own father?" Spankalot asked, Father nodded a yes. The count hesitated for a moment, before Spankualot gently took ahold of both of Father's arms and pulled him closer, before Father had a chance to protest, he was pulled into a hug by Spankualot. Father just sat there in the hug, his mind processing what was happening as it dawned on him that he hadn't received a hug in years.
He'd always kept himself at arms length from most people, save for Mr. Boss, The Delightful's and Monty. Even then, Monty was the only person Father allowed to treat him in such an intimate way. If anyone else ever tried to hug him or show him unrestrained bouts of affection, to Father it felt unnatural, undeserved, almost patronizing. But this was different, it was safe and gentle and even a little soothing.
"Wh...why?" Father mumbled, at a loss for words. For all his brilliance, Father was unable to comprend why anybody would waste their time or energy trying to console him. He was undeserving of any sort of comfort or love, that fact had been burned into his brain at a very young age by his own mother, and then renforced by his father. He could show other people affection just fine, everyone but him was absolutely worthy of happiness. To Father, that was as basic of a fact as 2 2 equaling 4. "I don't deserve...this isn't necessary..." Father mumbled out again, torn between staying in the gentle embrace and relieving Spankulot of burdening himself any further.
Count Spankalot only hugged him tighter, and Father stayed in the hug. "You clearly have a lot of family issues, a lot of pent up emotions. And that's okay." Spankalot loosened his grip slightly, causing a mini wave of panic to course through Father's veins. "Do you want to talk about it? Or just hug it out?" Spankalot asked.
Father hesitated, biting his lip to stifle the childish whimpers that he could feel crawling up his throat, blinking rapidly to stave off the hot tears that were pooling in his eyes. "It's okay if you cry, Ben. I won't tell anyone if you do." Spankalot reassured him. Father's stoic demeanor wavered for a moment or two, a feeble whimper escaped Father's throat, then another, and another. Rivers of hot tears were now streaming down his face. Father's breath hitched as his trembling body shuffled forward, before he wrapped his arms around Spankulot and held on tightly, breaking down into sobs.
Count Spankulot let Father stay in the hug, cradling him close in his arms and rubbing soothing circles on his back. "There, there, let it out. Let it all out, let it out. Shhh...shhhh..." Spankulot whispered gently, letting Father's head fall into the crook of his neck and letting Father hold onto him quite tightly. After a long while, it wasn't just tears that Father was expelling, but details about his past too. These secrets that Father had kept under lock and key for years, just burst out before Father even had a chance to contain them. Father told Count Spankalot everything, he told him in detail about his abusive father who ruled his hellish childhood with a burning iron grip, Father told him about his neglectful, drunken mother who's incessant drinking put her six feet under when he was just 14 years old. Father told him about the daily hell that was his childhood even after his abusive father was defeated, Father told him everything.
After another long while of just comforting and crying, Father finally lifted his head up. He wiped the stray tears from his eyes, trying to soothe his shaky breathing back to normalcy.
Father swallowed hard, despite his minds pleas to stay in the embrace Father shuffled back from Count Spankulot. "I--um, thank you. I'm sorry, I..." Father cleared his throat, at a loss for words with his eyes looking away from the vampire. Count Spankulot reached for Father's arm and held it gently. "It's okay. How do you feel now?" Spankulot asked. "Better, actually. As if...a weight's been lifted off my shoulders. I haven't had a good cry like that in years." Father said.
"Boss, if you ever need to talk to someone," Spankulot started, tilted his head so that his eyes met Father's, Father lifted his head up. "I'm here for you. So is Mr. Boss. You won't face any judgement from your scars, not from me." Spankulot continued. A flicker of a smile tugged at the edge of Father's mouth. "Thank you, Count." Father said gingerly.
Count Spankalot then took his leave and Father went to bed, Father feeling lighter then before.
I was always curious on why Monty and Father are always shown wearing long sleeves all the time. Particularly why Father always has his arms covered no matter what, so I came up with this angsty headcannon and turned it into a fic.