Chapter Text
Like a responsible driver, Xander keeps his hands firmly on the wheel. Maybe a little too firmly. He drives, setting his narrowed eyes on the road, fists tightly clenched. It hurts a bit, but Xander can’t think about that right now, not when he's so angry.
He’s so mad, at this job, this company, his father. He’s so mad at himself, for being so spineless, following his father’s orders without question.
He takes a turn, and Siegbert’s kindergarten is in view. Right. He has to calm down. It won’t do good to show up at his son’s school with an angry face on. He’s not like his own father, he tells himself. He doesn’t want to scare his son.
Xander parks his car in the kindergarten’s parking lot. Before he gets out of the car, he stays in his seat for a few more moments, and closes his eyes. Xander inhales deeply, and exhales.
He opens the door, gets out, closes the door, then cringes at the loud sound made from how hard he slammed it. He’s still angry, but for now, he has to keep it in him, at least for a while. He takes in one more deep breath before walking into the school building.
He finds Siegbert in the waiting area with the other children waiting for their parents. Something pulls at his heart when he saw his son sitting alone, away from his classmates, with a picture book in his lap, silently reading.
Xander walks over to his son, and kneels in front of him. “Siegbert,” he says.
Siegbert looks up from his picture book to see Xander. His face, a while ago so quiet and sullen, brightened up with a big smile at the sight of his dad. Siegbert puts his book aside and wraps his little arms around Xander’s neck in a hug. “Papa!”
Xander hugs him back. He chuckles lightly. “Mmm, hello to you to.” With his son, he almost forgets all the anger and resentment he had earlier.
Because of how busy he was with his job, Xander rarely ever picked Siegbert up from school. It was usually Corrin, who then brought him to her apartment until Xander could come and pick him up from there once he’d finished work. Since report card givings were today, Xander finally had an excuse to leave early. He could understand why Siegbert was so happy.
“Oh, hello there!”
Xander lets go of Siegbert and stands up to meet a blond, friendly-looking man. “You’re a parent, yeah? Here for your kid’s card?” the man asks.
Xander nods. He puts out his hand, and the man shakes it. “Xander. You’re a teacher?”
“Owain. Also, yep. I’m watching over the kids today, while they wait for their parents to come,” Owain said. “Who’s your kid? I’ll show you where to go.”
Behind Xander, clinging unto his pant leg, Siegbert says softly, “Hello, Mr. Owain.”
“Oh!” Owain bent down to Siegbert’s level, leaning his palms on his knees. “If it isn’t the little Siegbert!”
“My papa says I’ll grow as big as him when I’m older,” Siegbert says.
“Ha! Of course you will!” He ruffles Siegbert’s hair. “You did a good job helping with story time earlier, you know. The princess couldn’t have been saved without you!”
Siegbert gave him a small laugh. He seemed to like Owain.
Owain stands back up to talk to Xander. “Well, Mr. Inigo’s giving report cards in that room.” He points his thumb down the hallway, to the nearest door. “He’s Siegbert’s teacher, by the way. Siegbert can just stay here while you go get his card and talk to his teacher, if you’d like to.”
Xander nods again. “All right. Thank you.” He gives Siegbert a little nudge. “Say ‘thank you,’ Siegbert.”
“Thank you, Mr. Owain,” said Siegbert.
Xander leaves Siegbert with Owain and goes to the room he was told to enter, giving a little knock on the door before going in. Once he opens the door, he’s met with the sounds of someone with a shrill voice complaining. In front of the colorful classroom, at the teacher’s table, was a middle-aged woman almost yelling at who Xander assumed was Mr. Inigo.
“… What sorts of abomination are you teaching my poor, poor child? Teaching him all this… Homosexuality! You can’t force those things on those innocent children! Soon enough it will, it will be sex! And then drugs! And then my poor little baby will have his life ruined!”
Xander winces at the lady’s words. Inigo looks pained, and Xander understands. “Ma’am—Mrs. Bernard, please, all I did was read a story book about two male penguins adopting a baby penguin—“
“I’m giving you a warning right here, mister. You stop this foolishness at once. I want my son to learn letters and numbers, for pete’s sake, not politics! He is five years old!”
Inigo sighs. “Ma’am, please, if you would just listen to what I have to say…”
Xander wonders if he should leave and just come back in a few minutes, but it seems like the lady’s done and said everything she had to say. She turns, her heels click-clacking on the floor as she makes her way across the classroom, diamond earrings glinting and leather purse in hand. Xander moves aside to give her space through the door. He frowns as he closes the door after she leaves. What an unpleasant woman. He hopes her son isn’t as bad, and doesn’t give Siegbert a hard time.
From the front of the room, he hears a groan. Inigo has slumped in his seat and buried his face in his hands. Xander goes up to the teacher’s table. It was strange, seeing a teacher so dispirited in such a brightly colored room filled with the childish crayon drawings of kindergarteners. Xander clears his throat.
Inigo jumps in surprise, and lifts his head to see Xander. “Oh… Excuse me,” he says, apologetically. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t hear all of that, didn’t you?”
“Not all of it,” Xander answers honestly.
“I’m really sorry you had to hear that,” Inigo says.
“So am I. She was quite nasty.”
Inigo smiles weakly at that, at least. “Well, at least I know you won’t be yelling at me for trying to teach my students how to be proper human beings, as well?”
“Don’t worry,” said Xander, “I don’t vote Republican.”
Inigo laughs softly. He gestures to the chair right beside the table. “Please, take a seat.” Xander does. “So, you’re here for…?”
“Siegbert,” says Xander.
“Ah, yes. Mr. de Nohr.” Inigo digs through the pile of papers on his table, looking for Siegbert’s card. “Sorry, I haven’t seen you before. You weren’t at the parent-teacher interview, right?”
“I wasn’t,” Xander says. “I was too busy with work.”
Inigo nods. “I see.” He finds Siegbert’s card, and hands it over. “Here you go.”
Xander looked down at Siegbert’s report card. It was certainly impressive, especially for a five year-old. High marks in every area, all rows dotted with an “O” for “outstanding”, according to the legend on the card. Everything was great, really, and Xander felt a strong feeling of pride for his son, except…
“I assume you’re satisfied with your son’s academic performance,” Inigo says. “You should know that Siegbert is my star student. The very top of his class! I’m very proud of him. The only problem is—“
“Sociability,” Xander says, seeing the little “B” beside several of the items under “Personal and Social Development”. “B” for “beginning”, the lowest grade there was. “I noticed. He was alone outside, when I came. All the other kids were playing together.”
“Siegbert is a very intelligent boy,” Inigo says. “And he’s very kind and polite, and he’s never disobedient. He’s a sweetheart. He just needs to learn how to talk to the other kids. He also rarely speaks in class, and never raises his hand. He only talks when called on, though he always knows the right answer. Now, you must understand that there's nothing wrong with being shy, but Siegbert barely has friends, so I’ve been quite concerned for him.”
Xander sighs. “What do you propose we do, then?”
“Well,” Inigo starts, “this was actually something I wanted to talk to you about. You see, aside from being shy, I’ve noticed that Siegbert often seems… Sad. And, well, you know how little kids are, they’re noisy and energetic, right? So I asked him why he looked so sad one time, and he said that it’s because he ‘misses his papa’.”
Guilt settles into Xander’s stomach. Across the table, Inigo is looking at him with a face filled with both concern and expectancy, waiting for some explanation.
“I’m often busy at work,” Xander says.
“As you have said,” Inigo says, with a nod. “And you don’t get to spend much time wth your son, don’t you? Aside from bringing him to school, bringing him home, things like that.”
“No.”
“I see. What about Siegbert's mother? Is she also always busy?”
“She’s dead,” Xander answers, tone clipped.
Inigo blinks. “Oh,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Xander says. He thinks he knows where this conversation is going. “Just go on.”
“All right,” Inigo says. “Well, parental relationships play a big role in a child’s life. I really suggest that you at least try to find more time in your schedule to spend with Siegbert. Go to the park, something like that. It may really help Siegbert open up to others more.”
Something started to stir in Xander. “Are you implying,” he said, slowly, “that it’s all my fault?”
Inigo held up his hands placatingly. “Mr. De Nohr, please—“
“Do you even know what my job is like?” Xander demanded. Anger he had stored away earlier, bubbling up his chest once more. The same driving feeling, only directed at something else. “Forgive me for wanting to secure a future for my son.”
“That isn’t what I meant. Mr. De Nohr—“
“Don’t tell me how to raise my son,” Xander snaps, loudly.
Inigo stops. He stares at Xander for a moment, a blank expression on his face. “All right,” he says, in a neutral voice. “I apologize. I overstepped my boundaries. I won’t try to interfere any further.”
Shit. “Wait,” Xander says. He regrets what he’s done, once he realizes what he just said. He wished he hadn’t talked to Inigo like that, nor raised his voice. “Wait, I’m—I’m sorry. It’s just that I, I had a bad day, and I just snapped—“
“No,” Inigo cuts in, sharp, like a knife. “No, it’s fine. You’re right. I apologize.” He brings up a folder and opens it, writing something down.
Xander sighs, frustrated. “No, please, I’m the one who should be apologizing. It was extremely rude of me. You were only trying to help.”
“I said it was fine, Mr. De Nohr.” Inigo looks up and gives him a tight, forced smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
It doesn’t feel fine. Xander feels terrible.
“Well, I believe there’s nothing left for us to discuss,” Inigo says, going back to his papers. “Have a nice day, then, Mr. De Nohr.”
“You too,” Xander replies, weakly. He gets up from his chair, and leaves.
“For two, please,” Xander tells the waitress, and she nods and brings them inside to a small table.
It’s not an extremely fancy restaurant, since he doesn’t think neither Siegbert or the restaurant would appreciate him bringing his five year-old son to such a place. Still, it’s far from a McDonald’s, and is pretty expensive. Not that Xander’s wallet minds. Siegbert is given a high chair, the kids’ menu, some crayons, and the special paper placemat they have for children, the one with drawings you color in.
“Papa?” Siegbert asks, as he’s coloring an astronaut blue. “Why are we here, again?”
“Because you did very well in school, Siegbert,” Xander answers patiently, with a soft smile. “When you do a good job, it’s good to celebrate.”
“Oh,” Siegbert says. “So we’re here because of me?”
“Yes, Siegbert.”
“Oh. Okay.” He moves onto the pizza-shaped moon, starting with filling the pepperoni slices with red.
Xander thinks about his earlier meeting with Inigo. He still feels bad about what happened. He should really find a way to apologize to him properly. He also thinks about what Inigo told him, about parental relationships being an important factor in a child’s life. It was definitely an obvious statement, but it got Xander into thinking more about how his own relationship with his son was going. Inigo said Siegbert was often sad, because of that. It made Xander feel worse than anything.
“Siegbert,” he says. “Have you thought of what you wanted, yet?”
Siegbert stops coloring. “Um…” he says. “Can I have the pasta, Papa? The… The green-ish one.”
“You mean pesto?”
“Yes, Papa. Um, I think.”
Xander smiles again. “All right,” he says. “Siegbert?”
“Yes, Papa?”
"You know, because you have good grades, I can get you a gift, if you’d like,” Xander says. “Is there anything you want? Like a toy?”
Siegbert shakes his head. “No. But thank you, Papa.”
Xander watches his son go back to coloring. He didn’t want anything, really? other kids would be jumping at this chance, and asking for Nerf guns or Transformers or Barbies or... Whatever it is that kids like, these days. Siegbert has always had simple desires, despite how wealthy their family is. Most of his expensive toys and clothes were given to him, not asked for.
On the car ride going home, Siegbert falls asleep in his little booster seat. Xander looks fondly at his small snoring form through the mirror, briefly.
When they arrive at their house, Xander gently takes him into arms and carries him out of the car, careful not to wake him.
Their house is large and lonely, especially now since it was night and dark. The house wasn't his choice, and was a gift from his father when he got married, and he’d stuck with it ever since, afraid to offend him. If Xander had his choice, he would have chosen something smaller for sure. He only liked it when his siblings were over, and the many guest rooms were rid of their cold emptiness, replaced by the sound of familiar laughter.
Holding Siegbert close to his chest, he walks up the stairs as quietly as he can, and enters Siegbert's clean, organized room, not a story book or toy soldier out of line. Xander carefully lays Siegbert unto the bed, and pulls the blankets over him. Xander reaches out to smooth down Siegbert's hair, then leans forward to kiss him on the forehead.
His son made this house bearable. Since Siegbert’s mother died just after childbirth, their small family had grown smaller, the house lonelier. His son was not like other children; he was not rowdy, and he did not fill their house with shrieks and loud chortles while running around. Siegbert was quiet and reserved, and Xander loved him for who he was. He loved the warmth Siegbert brought with him, he loved seeing Siegbert's face light up when he read him bedtime stories.
Xander had his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, when Siegbert spoke. “Papa?”
Xander turns to see Siegbert, bleary-eyed and barely awake. “Yes, Siegbert? What is it?”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Siegbert asks.
Xander moves to his bedside, kneeling. “Of course.”
“I would’ve liked your cooking better than eating in a restaurant,” Siegbert murmurs.
It's unexpected, and Xander is taken aback. “Oh,” is all he says. He takes note of this information and stores it away in his memory. Of course. He should’ve known better. He’s his father, after all; it's his job to know his son.
At the same time, it’s incredibly touching. Xander recalls that Inigo called Siegbert a sweetheart earlier, and he’s completely right.
Xander rubs his hand over Siegbert's arm. “I'm sorry. I’ll do better next time.”
“S’fine.” Siegbert yawns. “Love you, Papa. Good night.”
"I love you too.” Xander kisses him again, on the cheek. “Good night, Siegbert.”
He closes the door behind him as quietly as possible, not making a single sound.
The next morning, Xander finds that when he’s finished making breakfast and putting out the plates and glasses, Siegbert has not yet come down.
“Siegbert," Xander calls out. “Would you hurry up, please? I have a meeting today.” No answer. “Do you need any help?”
“No, thank you!”
Xander checks his watch. They’d need to leave in twenty minutes, if he wants to get to the office on time.
Siegbert comes running down the stairs. "I'm sorry,” he says.
“Careful, Siegbert. No running on the stairs, remember?” Xander says. “You could get hurt.”
Siegbert stops. "Oh, you're right.” He walks down to the table, and immediately starts digging into his omelette. He’s eating very quickly, cutting his food as fast as he can with his small hands. trying to finish his breakfast as soon as possible.
“You don't need to rush, son,” Xander tells him.
“But your—“ Siegbert says in between pieces of omelette, then remembers that it’s rude to talk with your mouth full. He chews, then swallows. “But your meeting, Papa.”
Xander wasn’t particularly religious, but he thanked whatever gods there were for being graced with such a considerate child. Still, he didn’t wish his son a stomachache. “It will feel bad later if you eat your food too fast.” He hands him his glass of orange juice. “Drink your juice.”
"Okay, Papa,” Siegbert says, and takes a sip from his drink. “Thank you.”
Later, once they’ve finished their breakfast and readied their things, Xander helps Siegbert into his booster seat, and drives him to school.
It’s a normal day, and there’s little traffic, which was good, of course, but while he drove Xander couldn’t get his talk with Inigo out of his head, the same as yesterday. Behind him, Siegbert was looking out the window and watching the buildings pass by, humming a little song he probably learned in school.
They drive up to the front of the kindergarten. Usually, Xander would just help Siegbert out of the car, kiss him goodbye, then drive off to work.
“Papa?” Siegbert asks, when Xander makes no motion to move.
But he can’t push Inigo’s words out of his thoughts. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt if he was a minute late to this meeting… Surely, this wouldn't take more than five minutes, anyway… After all, it’s for his son...
“Papa?” Siegbert asks again, a little worried now. “Are you okay?”
Xander turns to Siegbert and gives him a smile. “Hey," he says. “Why don’t I walk you to your classroom today?”
The bright grin Siegbert gave him back seemed to glow with happiness. “Really, Papa?” Then his expression deflated. “Oh, but what about your meeting?”
“It’s okay,” Xander says. “It won’t take long, anyway.”
Xander parks the car. After getting out, he helps Siegbert and carries him out of the car. He takes Siegbert’s Captain America school bag. “I’ll carry this for you,” he tells him, and takes Siegbert’s small, chubby hand in his own as they walk to his classroom.
“Thank you, Papa,” Siegbert says as they walk through the hallways, “for coming with me and carrying my bag.”
“Of course, Siegbert,” Xander says. “Is there anything interesting you’ll be doing in school today?”
“Mr. Inigo said he’s going to teach us how to make oh-ree-gah-mee,” Siegbert says, a bounce in his step. “He says he's going to teach us how to make a rabbit, then a flower, then a crane! Oh, it’s a kind of art, by the way, Papa, where you fold paper to make things. Just so you know.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t know that. It sounds very nice,” Xander said, in the most sincere voice, even though he already knew what origami was. “Will you show me what you’ve made later when I pick you up?”
“Sure, Papa!” Siegbert answers. “I’ll even ask Mr. Inigo if I can give one to you.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Siegbert,” Xander says. They arrive at Siegbert’s classroom. there are already a few children inside, and at the front, at the teacher's table, was Inigo.
More children were arriving, as well, and each of them came in accompanied by a parent. Xander's heart sank. Was Siegbert's mornings always like this, walking to class by himself and watching his classmates go in holding their parents' hands, with someone to kiss them goodbye?
“Oh, it’s such a surprise to see you here!”
Walking towards them was Inigo, looking like sunshine. Xander wasn’t expecting him to greet him so warmly, after how their meeting went. Inigo turns to Siegbert. “Good morning, Siegbert. My, you look happy today!”
Siegbert looks up to him, beaming. “Good morning to you, too, Mr. Inigo!” he says. He tugs on Xander’s hand. “This is my papa, Mr. Inigo. He’s very nice and strong. Look, he came with me today, even though he has a meeting!”
“Oh, really? That’s very nice!” Inigo says, looking up to Xander with a smile. Xander flushes and reverts his gaze to the ground in embarrassment.
“I’m going to go put my bag over there, Papa," Siegbert tells Xander, and he goes off, leaving his dad with Inigo.
“It really was so nice of you to come with him this morning,” Inigo tells him. “I usually see him coming by himself.”
Xander nods. “I’ll try to come with him more often, now,” he says. “I listened to your advice, at least.”
“You did,” Inigo says. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Look how happy he is.” He gestures to where Siegbert was putting his bag, a happy little smile on his face, humming the same song he hummed in the car. “Also, I wanted to say sorry to you, for last time. I really do apologize.”
Inigo shakes his head. “Oh, no, please. I mean, I also have some apologizing to do. I acted childishly yesterday, too. I’m sorry. Well, I was also having a bad day.”
Xander’s mind goes to that nasty woman who talked to Inigo before he did. Understandable. “It seems like we’re even, then,” He says.
“So it does,” Inigo says. “But thank you, really. For doing what you can for Siegbert. It’s good to know that I helped him, at least a little bit.”
“Of course,” Xander says. “He’s my son, after all. And I plan to continue trying to better from now on.”
And Inigo smiles at him again, and it’s so warm and bright and genuine, and Xander doesn’t look away this time and it gives him a funny feeling in his stomach that he can’t make out. “That’s good to know,” Inigo tells him.
Xander just stands there for a few seconds, struck. “Yes. Yes, right,” is all he can say. He clears his throat. “Ah, well, I must leave soon, if I’m going to get to my meeting on time.”
“Oh, yes, of course! Please, don’t let me keep you,” Inigo says. “Goodbye, Mr. De Nohr. Have a nice day!”
Xander nods at him as he leaves through the door. “You too. Goodbye, Mr. Inigo.”
He says goodbye to Siegbert, kisses his forehead, and leaves. With the classroom door still open, Xander could still hear Inigo's friendly voice as he walked down the corridor, greeting students and parents.
He's late to his meeting anyway.
“We won’t take long, promise,” says Takumi. “We’ll just have dinner and then we’ll come right back.”
Camilla waves a hand. “Oh, nonsense,” she says. “You and Leo have as much fun as you want. And we won’t let Forrest out of our sight, don’t worry.”
“Thank you so much again for this, Camilla,” Leo tells her, coat folded neatly on his arm.
“Of course, Leo,” Camilla says. She pushes Leo and Takumi out of the door. “Now, off you two go. You’ll be late for your reservation!”
Camilla has agreed to play babysitter for Forrest so that Leo and Takumi could have a nice, romantic date, for once. Xander, once hearing this, asked right away if he and Siegbert could come over, since he knew that it’s been a while since Siegbert last played with his cousin. Camilla, the sweet soul she had, of course agreed.
“So!” Camilla comes out from the kitchen with two cups of cocoa in her hands. “Up for some brother-sister bonding time?”
Siegbert and Forrest were playing in Forrest’s room. Forrest was probably forcing Siegbert to play teatime with him and his stuffed animals, not that it would bother Siegbert (and, mind you, Xander has taught his son how to play teatime rather well. At age five, Siegbert is already an expert in the field of teatime).
“Yes, of course. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” From the couch, Xander takes one hot mug. “Thank you.”
“It has been too long,” Camilla says, settling down beside him.
“I’m sorry, Camilla,” Xander says. “I’ve been busy.”
“Oh, don’t be,” Camilla says. “I have been, too, anyway. How have you been, Xander?”
“Fine.” Xander takes a sip.
Camilla gives him a look. “Xander.”
“All right, fine. Sorry.” He sets his mug on the coffee table in front of him (on a coaster. He will not be a barbarian, especially in his sister’s house). “A few days ago, Siegbert’s teacher said that he’s been sad because I haven’t been spending time with him. Which is true.”
Camilla nods, understanding. “And you feel bad about it.”
“Terribly.” Xander sighs. “I’ve been trying to do better. I just… I don’t… I don’t want…”
“You don’t want to be like him,” Camilla finishes, and he knows exactly who she’s talking about. Xander nods.
It brings a cloud of dark memories over him. Xander doesn’t want Siegbert to be scared of his own father, to be deprived of his affection, to wordlessly obey his every command not out of trust but of fear of punishment. He doesn’t know what he would do with himself if Siegbert grows up like he did. “Can we change the subject now, please,” Xander whispers.
Camilla puts a hand on his shoulder. “You are not going to be like him, Xander,” she says, “but okay. It makes you uncomfortable."
“Thank you," he says.
Camilla leans back on the couch and sips her cocoa. “So Leo told me he and Takumi are thinking of giving little Forrest a sibling.”
Xander lifts his brows. “Oh, that’s great,” he says. In his mind, he thinks, why didn't he also tell me?
Camilla hums. “They’re turning out to be quite the lovely family, don't you think? And Leo’s been the happiest he's ever been, with Takumi. I’m so glad for him.”
Xander smiles. "Me, too.”
"Speaking of," Camilla says, setting down her mug. “How’s your love life, my dear brother?”
“I. I, uh,” Xander says. He clears his throat. “Well, how's yours?”
Camilla raises a brow. “Hmm, there's this girl I've been eyeing at work, but I asked you.”
Xander flushes.
“No answer,” Camilla says, amused. “So there is someone, is there? Oh, are you secretly seeing someone, I wonder?”
“No!” Xander answers, flustered.
“Then there's at least someone you're interested in,” Camilla says.
Without thinking, Xander's mind goes to Inigo, and that smile he gave him that day he walked Siegbert to the classroom, and Xander remembers how it made him feel all nice and fuzzy inside and—wait. No.
“Xander?” Camilla asks, playful smile on her lips. “Well?”
“There's no one,” Xander says.
“Really,” she says.
“Really!”
“You sure about that, now.” Camilla picks up her mug and takes another sip.
“I…" Xander says, “I don’t know.”
“You don't know?" Camilla asks, raising both her brows this time.
“I don't," Xander replies, and finishes his drink. He tries not to think about it any further.
Siegbert’s hand is tiny in his. They're walking through the kindergarten's hallways again, on their way to Siegbert's classroom. Xander has been doing this with Siegbert every morning now, and it's evident in the happy way Siegbert carries himself these days. It's a small thing, but it means a lot. Xander isn't as early as he usually is to the office anymore, and he somewhat surprised himself when he found that he didn't mind as much as he thought he would.
“Good morning, Siegbert!” Inigo chirps as they enter the classroom. “You too, Mr. De Nohr.”
“Good morning, Mr. Inigo!” Siegbert says in return. Xander nods at Inigo in greeting. Siegbert waddles off to put his bag away.
“How are you today, Mr. Inigo?” Xander asks him. Aside from walking Siegbert to class everyday, he's also been having short, daily conversations with Inigo. He finds himeself looking forward to them each time he wakes up.
“Oh, I’ve been just—“
“Daddy!”
Before Inigo can finish his reply, a little girl runs up to him and tugs on the hem of his shirt. He gives Xander an apologetic look, and bends down to talk to the girl. "Yes, Soleil, what is it?”
"I still can’t find my bracelet,” Soleil says.
“Aw, really?” Inigo pats her hair. “I’ll help you find it before we start class, okay? Just let me finish talking to Siegbert's dad here. Be patient, yeah? Hey, listen. Look, Siegbert’s sitting by himself, alone, over there. Why don't you go play with him first? He’s nice, right?”
Soleil nods. “Good idea, daddy! Oh, maybe he's even seen my bracelet!” She runs off to say a loud “hello!” to Siegbert.
Xander chuckles as he watches his son act so shocked and flustered as Soleil talks to him (a lot. The girl is talkative.) It's cute, he has to admit. “I didn’t know your daughter was also one of your students," he tells Inigo. “But thank you, for asking her to play with Siegbert.”
“It’s no problem. She’s very friendly,” Inigo says. “Oh, right, there was something I needed to ask you.”
“Sure, anything,” Xander says.
“Well…” Inigo says, “we’re having a bake sale soon, for charity. All proceeds will go to the children's hospital. And, well, um, Siegbert once shared that you used to bake cookies for him with his aunt, so I was wondering if you would ever be interested in baking some things for the bake sale?”
"Oh," Xander says. Yes, that was right. He remembered it very fondly. Elise used to come over occasionally and the both of them would bake chocolate chip cookies to be shared with Siegbert. Siegbert, as a toddler, would try to “help”, and he would end up getting covered with flour, much to his aunt and father’s amusement. Those were fun times. It would be nice to bake with Elise again.
Inigo is looking at him expectantly. “So, will you…”
“Yes,” Xander says. “Yes, of course. I’d love to. I just have to ask my sister if she’s okay with helping me out.”
“Great!” Inigo says, clapping his hand together. “Thank you so much, Mr. De Nohr. Honestly, it’s a big help. I’ll text you the details? Well, uh, I mean, the school does have your phone number, for safety purposes, you know. I’m not a stalker.” He laughs awkwardly.
“Yes, sure. But, please,” Xander says, putting up a hand. He’s getting quite tired of all this “Mr. De Nohr" business. He was used to it, but he didn't like it. “It’s just Xander.”
“Oh. Oh, okay then,” Inigo says. “Well, thank you very much, Xander.” He gives him the smile again.
“You’re welcome,” Xander replies weakly. If there’s a giddy feeling in his stomach, he’s trying to ignore it. He tries to ignore it all the way back to his car, and when he’s alone in the front seat with his seat belt buckled he allows himself to grin like an idiot.