Chapter Text
Bailey stared out at the changing landscape from the back of the car, watching the surroundings change from the glass and steel of the city to the quiet trees and sprawling sidewalks of the suburbs. The beach town was small and quiet. He hated it with a fiery passion. He knew it was more the circumstances he hated than anything else, but hating his circumstances would get him nowhere, so he elected to hate the suburbs instead.
"It'll be fine, Bailey," the social worker told him with a smile. "This family knows about what you've been through, and they say they know exactly what to do to help you reacclimate after what you had to deal with under your old mentor. They adopted you without even trying to foster first; that's how confident they were in the idea that you'd grow to accept them. They said the adjustment period would be rough...but all of them want to help you."
Bailey listened to the social worker prattle on, only half-interested in what he had to say. He noticed the social worker was very distinctly not telling him something, but he had no idea what that "something" was.
That is, until they pulled up to an unassuming house on an unassuming street, and Bailey was herded out of the car as two very, very familiar faces stepped out of the house. "No!" he snapped, turning to the social worker. "You can not be serious!"
"Hey, Bailey," Samuel said with a small smile and a wave. "It's been a while."
"A while?" Simon asked with a small snort. "It's been six weeks, Sam. And he spent all of that time in juvie."
Samuel sighed. "For the last time, Simon. We don't call that place 'juvie.'"
"It's what we called it when I was placed there for a brief stint after highjacking Uncle Nero's car and spending most of the gas on a joyride," Simon said with a smile. "The good old days, huh?"
"Simon," Samuel said, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "Be nice. At least a little bit. We need to help Bailey, here. Not give him more ideas to send him back to juvenile detention."
"I'm not staying with them," Bailey snapped at the social worker. "They hate my guts!"
"No one here hates your guts, Bailey," Samuel said.
"I mean, Nona might, but Nona hates everyone," Simon said. At Samuel's warning glare, he added, "And the social workers deemed her safe enough to allow us to adopt you."
Bailey was shaking with rage at this point in time. He was surprised that the earth hadn't started to quake beneath him, until he remembered that stupid power suppressor he was forced to wear around his ankle at all times. He crossed his arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he said flatly. "Especially not into your house."
Simon sighed and turned to Samuel. "I told you he wasn't going to listen," he said.
Bailey's face flushed red, but he refused to be moved. He knew Simon was trying to play the reverse psychology game, and Bailey wasn't having it. Just because he had helped the heroes keep Tritan from destroying the world and herself in the process, didn't mean he was going to be on their side from now on. After all, if there was one thing Bailey knew, it was that your so-called family could turn on you in an instant.
The social worker sighed. "You don't have much of a choice here, Bailey. Simon was the only one who stepped forward to keep you from staying in juvenile detention."
Bailey blinked. "Simon? Not Samuel?"
Simon smirked, crossing his arms. "Yeah. Sammy's the one who initially suggested it, but considering he already has five kids adopted, he doubted they'd let him at another one. I, however, am the fun uncle to all his kids, and as such have no kids to my name...until today. But I agreed to the whole deal. I told him you wouldn't want to come with us, and yeah, I was right. But you're stuck with us one way or another, kid. You want to be with me or the goody-two-shoes Sammy?"
"I really wish you wouldn't call me 'Sammy' in front of the kids, Simon," Samuel sighed.
"Nona found it hilarious."
"And now that's the only thing she calls me, instead of Dad, and she's thirteen."
Bailey watched the interaction between the two brothers. It was so similar, and yet completely foreign to him. He had seen the twins banter back and forth for months over trying to defeat Tritan. He had been there when Simon and Samuel argued over Simon dyeing his eyebrows just so there was no way they looked like identical twins at first glance. But Simon's jet-black, cropped hair compared to Samuel's russet brown ponytail still didn't take away from the same look they both had in their kind, blue eyes. That look of fondness, of determination, of the assurance that they'd make Bailey feel at home. Not a promise, but a threat. And that...that was the oddest feeling Bailey had ever experienced. "If you think I'm calling you 'Dad' you're out of your gourd," Bailey blurted the first coherent thought that came to his head.
Simon threw his head back and laughed. "No, that sounds completely terrifying coming from your mouth," he said. "'Simon' will do just fine."
The social worker basically shoved Bailey into the front yard, and as his ginger hair fell into his face, he turned to snap back only to find the social worker already leaving. Bailey scratched the back of his neck. Samuel looked between Simon and Bailey. "I'll let the others know that you're here, Bailey," Samuel said. "I'll also tell them you two aren't to be disturbed out here."
"Appreciate it, Samuel," Simon said, gaze never leaving Bailey.
Samuel left and Simon gestured for Bailey to take a seat in a wicker rocking chair on a small patch of stones in the front yard. Reluctantly, Bailey sat.
"So," Simon said as he sat down in a chair next to Bailey. "Fifteen years old and your goal of taking over the world with someone else is already destroyed, huh?"
Bailey's eyes blurred with tears. "Fuck you," he said, voice watery.
"Hey, you're ahead of the curve! I wasn't able to get through the whole 'the world is not mine to conquer' phase until I was twenty five, when supers came about," Simon exclaimed. "You're faster than I am."
Bailey scowled. "You're not going to get to me by being relatable. I don't trust you."
"Wise move. I don't trust me either," Simon said.
"Simon!" Bailey snapped. "I don't have time for your bullshit!"
Simon sighed, leaning back in his chair, saying nothing with his fingers steepled in front of his chin. He opened his mouth, closed it, and tilted his head to the side. "You have all the time in the world, now, Bailey. I don't know if you realize that. But you're free to not listen to me if that's what you choose."
"So I can go?" Bailey asked, sitting up.
"Well, no," Simon said, and Bailey collapsed back into the chair, sulking. "But you don't have to listen to the advice I'm about to give you, no matter if it's good advice or not."
"Advice?" Bailey asked incredulously.
Simon nodded and hummed the affirmative. "You don't have to jump in headfirst," he said simply. "Go through at your own pace. Make moves when you're comfortable. This isn't a game of chess, you have nothing to lose here."
"What is it with you and board game metaphors?" Bailey scoffed. "You're always making board game metaphors."
"Ah, Samuel and I used to play them all the time as kids," Simon said with a shrug. "Tragic backstory blah blah blah, the only people who truly understood each other yadda yadda, that's how we bonded."
Bailey snorted. "Is that how you became bitter rivals and enemies for a stint, too?"
Simon scoffed. "Please. At that point, we knew better. We became enemies when Sammy stole my hoodie and my favorite pair of jeans right before we went to different colleges, and refused to send them back to me because, and I quote, 'They're too comfy to be anything but mine,' when he knew he grabbed them from my pile of laundry."
Bailey blinked. "You're yanking my chain."
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," Simon said with a wink. "The world may never know."
Bailey scowled. "You're mean."
"Yeah," Simon agreed. "But I care about you. And Sammy and his ankle-biters, however regrettable that is. But Bailey, listen. I'm about to impart to you a secret. Okay?"
Bailey, intrigued, nodded.
"Out behind the main house, there's a one-bedroom one-story building, more of a cottage than anything else, with a working bathroom and space enough for one bed, and a card table, and not much else. Usually, the kids use it for intelligence or as a place to scheme and vent without Samuel's or my supervision. A safe house, if you will."
"So?" Bailey asked.
"Well, with Tritan's defeat, they don't need that space for intelligence any more, and they have other places in the house to vent. So that space is yours--" Bailey wrinkled his nose, but Simon continued before Bailey could interject, "--In addition to your room in the main house."
Bailey blinked. "You're not...delegating me to the place furthest away from all of you on the same property?"
"Not if you don't want to be there," Simon said. "But that space is yours, and I fought Nona tooth and nail for the rights to it. Now that it's officially 'mine,' I'm making it yours. No one will go in there if you don't want them to. I won't go in if you don't want me to. We'll set it up however you like, and once that's done, the only ones allowed in there are you, and anyone with your permission. No permission? They can't go in."
Bailey was incredulous. "Why?"
Simon shrugged. "Because you won't want to be with the others. I'm not a fool. I understand that much. But keeping you locked up in your own little room for hours upon hours for days isn't going to be healthy for you. This way, you can have a space away from all of us where you can sleep, eat, maybe move around a little and vent, but still be nearby so we don't have to worry about you running off just to find a place to think."
Bailey blinked. He wasn't going to cry, he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't going to cry, dammit! "Can I go there now? With my stuff? I don't want to go in the main house. Not yet."
"Yeah, sure," Simon said, standing up and gesturing for Bailey to follow him.
Bailey did so, and they walked around the main house to the back, where Bailey could see an enclosed porch on the main house, as well as a small gazebo with a garden surrounding it on the back of the property, and the little cottage Simon mentioned. It couldn't be more than ten feet by fifteen feet or so, but Bailey relaxed just at the sight of it.
"Now, I'm going to come in just to show you where everything is, and see if you need anything else immediately that we haven't provided. After that, I'm gone, and if anyone needs you, they'll simply knock first. And wait for your permission to enter. Or they'll face my wrath. And believe me, that's not something any of them want to experience. Even Sammy," Simon said.
Bailey nodded. Simon passed him a key to the door, showed him the trick for unlocking it (it took a little lift of the door to ensure the lock left the hole properly), and then they walked inside. Bailey placed his bags on the floor just inside the doorway. It was a small space, but there was a working bathroom, just like Simon said there would be, in a corner to Bailey's right. To the left, was a small kitchenette which was little more than a sink and a mini fridge with a counter, but it had the card table and five chairs surrounding it. The bed was pushed up against the far wall next to the bathroom, and a small window let natural light stream in over it. There were two more small windows opposite the entrance, and the door appeared to have a window with opaque glass as well. The walls that Bailey could see were all done in a warm, pastel yellow.
"That's the kitchen," Simon said, pointing to the left. "We stocked various kinds of snacks in the fridge and a bowl on the counter; we weren't sure what you might like. There's the bed, there's storage space in the drawers underneath it for clothes and the like. The bathroom doesn't have a shower; you'll have to go inside for that, but the toilet and sink work fine. The bed is yours, the shelves and cabinets are yours, fill them as you see fit. Oh, and the white board wall is yours to use, too. We left erasable markers on the table in that pencil holder on the card table for you. Need anything else?"
Bailey turned to see the last wall, the one where the door was, and was stunned to see it was completely white, and smooth as a whiteboard at school or where Tritan would lecture about her plans. He blinked, shaking his head at Simon. "This is fine, thanks," he mumbled.
Simon clapped him on the shoulder. "If I haven't seen you by dinner, I'll knock and invite you to join us. If you say no, you're welcome to eat out here. But we won't let you starve just because you don't want to eat with us at the table. Okay?"
Bailey nodded mutely. Simon bid him a soft, "Settle in," and closed the door, leaving Bailey to inspect the space.
He placed his clothes in the space under the bed, and pulled out the genderqueer flag he snuck into his bag back when he was still working with Tritan and hung it off the bathroom door. His stomach snarled, and he went to the fridge, opening it to find various kinds of soda and juice inside, as well as a few snacks. Bailey liked all of them. His eyes stung. These people knew him better just by guessing that Tritan ever did through asking.
Moving to the bowl on the counter, Bailey rifled through it. Chips, cookies, and some crackers. And, at the very bottom of the bowl...he couldn't believe it. His favorite kind of fruit snacks.
He grabbed one of the little baggies and made his way to the bed. And before he could so much as open the bag, he was curled in a ball on the duvet and weeping at the thought of not only being known here but at the thought that he could never, ever feel like he fit into this little family.