Flowers In The Walls

Fond of Snow

Summary: Dark and Wilford have now been living together for a few months, and Wilford asks Dark a question he never thought he'd hear from the man; "Do you think I'd make a good father?"

Dark had been the one to suggest he move in with Wilford and take up one of the many empty guest rooms of the house. Wilford had let him because how else would he get the help he so desperately needed? The two worked together; Dark calling in to the Egos building and Wilford doing small tasks for him like getting coffee and stapling papers to be mailed back to HQ. They worked in tandem motion, fluidly and gracefully while Wilford tried to get his old job back.

A little less than three months went by before suddenly the winter holidays were upon them. Snow fell outside and icicles formed on the window sills just outside the office space Dark had helped to set up for them.

"Remember when we all used to go out and toss snowballs at each other?" Wilford asked one such day, sitting in one of the chairs set up by the window. "How, we would head back inside the Manor for hot chocolate and apple cider to listen to the radio show hosts?"

Dark glanced up from his paperwork, seeing the fond smile on the tan mans face as he stared out at some children playing in snow just across the street. He set his pen down, standing and walking over to stare out the window with him.

"Yes, quite fondly I suppose, though I don't remember Mark's butler being all too fond of the snow you and Celine would track in after your rematches once the rest of us went up to play a game of poker."

Wilfords mouth twitched up, an almost sad look in his eyes. Dark leaned down, placing a hand on the ice cold sill and the warm shoulder of the other man. The children outside let out a shocked screech as one hit another suddenly with a snowball, eliciting a snowball fight. They ran about as children do, their hair and scarves flipping back behind them in the wind. Dark almost wanted to go outside and join them, a strange pang forming within his chest as something distinctly Celene ran through him.

"Do you think I could ever be a good father Dark?"

The question is so sudden Dark almost falls over. He'd never once thought Wilford would want children. The man just didn't seem the type when Dark would imagine him in his mind. Wilford was crazy, insane even, and had killed people but couldn't comprehend it as such. The pink haired man thought it was all just a game, he couldn't understand that the people he'd shot weren't coming back. His mind was so far gone that it wouldn't allow him to understand it.

But the true, honest longing in his eyes when Dark looked at him. It almost made the entity think maybe he could do it. Maybe his friend and old lover could have a child or two and make something positive of it for them all. None of the other egos had children - at least not anymore. Although Dark knew children were loud and rowdy and destructive forces of nature personified in the frame of innocence, he could see how Wilford having some would help brighten everyone back at HQ.

"Possibly - I suppose you might make a good father if you put the right kind of effort into it. Raising proper children takes time and care and a good mindset. It takes patience and many more things to do it correctly." Dark finally murmured. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't quite know. Loneliness I suppose is getting to me. It's almost too quiet in this house with just you and I in it. A house this big should be a home, full of happy memories and running children. When I think about children, I get this feeling in my chest, as if that's what my heart wants from life."

Wilford let out a breath through his nose, fogging the window briefly. "There's a void there that should be filled with something, and I don't know what, but children can't hurt having around?"

Dark stood, looking down his nose at him.

"Children need to be loved Wilford. If you can't provide them that at the very most, then they need someone else to look after them. If you are proposing adoption, think long and hard over it before you rush into it. This isn't something you can just do for a trial period and then ignore. They are children, and they will need you one hundred percent."

He stayed in the room for a few dragging moments, watching Wilford's face twitch this way and that as he thought over it. Dark left him there, sitting at the window to watch the neighborhood children play. Hours went by as Dark left him to his own devices, thinking up in the office until it was well past sunset and Dark had placed an order for their food to be delivered.

He was sitting at the counter and reading the newspaper when the other man finally came downstairs. Chinese takeout sat untouched before him and Wilford sat across from him heavily. Grey eyes looked over the paper at him; waiting for him to speak.

"I want to adopt some children Dark."

"Are you sure?" he asked, folding and placing the paper down. "A few hours is hardly enough-"

"I know! I- I know," he said quieter. "I know it's not enough time. But I've been thinking about this much longer than just today. Host and I were talking about it. He wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he was at least thinking about it. I could hear him mulling it over whenever the narrations forced him to spill everything."

He grabbed a container - filled with fried rice and steaming when he opened the lid. His thumbs rubbed at the sides and Dark followed the motion. He mulled over everything, a flare of subdued anger bubbling deep in his gut at the mention of Host.

"Stop talking about him like he still matters Wilford. He cheated on you. His opinion shouldn't - doesn't matter anymore! You kicked him out. Only your opinion matters on things and issues regarding your life. If you want children, and you think you're ready for them, then make the phone call."

Wilford's grip on his container tightened ever so slightly at Darks tone. He nodded, picking up his fork and shoveling a bite full into his mouth. They ate silently after that and went their separate ways once they were finished eating.

The next morning Dark found Wilford sitting downstairs in the front room. He was staring out the window once again at the children just emerging from the warmth of their home from just across the street. His phone was held in his hand, a number already punched in and thumb poised to call. Dark came up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Make the call Wilford."