all's well that ends well || poppy one-shot

The last five years I've spent my evenings dreading early mornings. Cedric's mess of raven hair tickles my nose as he settles in my lap with the new flavor of storybook he's decided to read today. It's hard to keep him focused on one thing since he's pretty intent on mastering it all. One day he's begging his father to teach him how to draw, the next he's rifling through the trash for spare robot parts.

I'm proud of him, but it's hard not to yearn for simpler times when I was the one singing nursery rhymes to him in the dead of night and he was small enough to be kept safe in my arms. The older he gets the more I can feel my hold on him slipping and I'm struck with that same terror that always has me running for the nearest exist.

It hurts that I ever consider leaving him.

He's got friends now and I'm trying not to ruin that. It's hard when we've got a family built off poorly kept secrets. It might be true that he's only safe when his world is made up of his family and there's no such thing as monsters unless they're hiding under his bed.

"Aight kiddo," I squeeze my son against my chest, smiling into the top of his head reveling in this precious stolen moment. "We'll have to stop there, it's bed time."

I go to place my usual kiss on the top of his head-

"Fuck off."

And instead find myself swallowing laughter. Every maternal bone in my body screams that I should be pissed off about this but it's hard to keep my expression stern when he looks up at me so openly. He wears his father's expression, eyebrows raised in earnest confusion as he expectantly awaits my reaction. He's nine, for god's sake, where did he learn that kind of -

"What did Uncle Asher tell you that meant?"

"He said to say that next time I didn't wanna do something!" Cedric shoots off of my lap, bouncing from foot to foot with his cheeks puffed out; a picture of indigence,"And I reeeeallly don't think I should be going to bed right now."

A few beats of silence pass between us as I deliberate, eventually pulling him into a gentle headlock and messing up his hair until he's squealing for mercy. "Don't use that word when you're not at home, Ced." He squirms in my grip, peals of laughter filling our small apartment and I hope he's not woken Ellie up with his protests.

He deserves some rest.

"But," I finally let him go, kneeling to his height and pressing my finger to my lips, "If you go to bed I'll teach you Uncle Asher's special name. He'll be really excited to hear you use it."

His eyes go wide and there's so much gullible excitement trapped within them it fucking stings, "Okay!"

"Listen closely, ok? Repeat after me. Little Bitc-"

---

The teenage pregnancy thing kind of doomed me to a dead end job but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. In between the manager insisting I button my collar just a bit lower than necessary and the sweat-smelling, foul-mouthed career trainers popping in to insult me on their lunch break, I'm convinced the old Diner is practically hell-adjacent.

I've been on thin ice for a while now, though I can't call myself entirely blameless in that matter. Patience becomes a less than appealing virtue after you've spent fifteen minutes watching a forty-something waffle about whether they want decaff or regular. One snide remark and now every raised brow and rolled eye is worthy of a reprimand.

"Mr. MacAvoy is a cherished regular, Platinum." Mable's got her bleached hair done up in ringlets, bouncing in emphasis every time her voice raises an octave. I wince at the way she butchers my name, not bothering to put on a patent customer service smile.

I've been so fucking tired. For so fucking long.

And for the first time in forever I'm kind of pissed about it.

"Uh huh."

"So you really can't say things like that to him-"

"Say what?"

Mable blanches, eyes near popping out of her face and I can't help but notice it accentuates her likeness to a very pretty goldfish. She's never really known me to talk back before, I sympathize that it must be shocking to find the doormat bites back every once in a while. "Unseemly things like-"

"It was a simple observation Ma'am."

"You-" Is that steam coming from her ears? They're tinged a such a pleasant shade of red, "You insinuated-"

"I pointed out his hair was very luscious for his age,"

"And told him it had been receding rapidly for the last twenty minutes."

"Because it had!"

She stares at me. I stare at her. I can feel the curses she's forcing down her throat in favor of that sugar sweet smile. "Miss Clarke? I know you really need this job. I've put up with a lot because of that. I'm very disappointed that I have to remind you, once again, that the customer is always-"

"Hey Mable?" It's almost surprising to find myself fighting a grin, especially when I know exactly what I'm about to do. I've been drawing inspiration from the strangest places, lately.

Like a little boy with raven hair and his mother's smile.

"Fuck off."

---

She made me finish out my final shift.