Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Patrick, are you okay?” Teresa asked softly, looking at her consultant in the rearview mirror.  

He’d slept most of the way there but had woken up a few minutes ago and had been watching the endless fields out the window since.  

Jane crinkled his nose, letting out a short whine. “Not Patty.” He huffed, a small pout adorning his face.  

Lisbon could only frown at that answer. “What do you mean, sweetheart?” 

“He wants to be called Jane.” Cho came to the rescue, nose still in his book, stating it like an obvious fact.  

Teresa found it slightly strange; she would have thought he’d prefer something more personal than his last name when in Little Space but considering that Cho is the one he regresses the most around, she’s not going to argue with him.  

It’s not that Jane dislikes his name; it’s just that sometimes it doesn’t feel right. Especially when he’s little.  

Patrick feels too... manly, Patty is better, but it still doesn’t feel quite right, Jane reminds him of his father a bit but other than that it’s the name that he likes the most. Not Mister Jane though, just Jane.  

“Cows!” He shouted suddenly, pointing out the window and making everyone in the van flinch at least a little.  

“No way he just noticed them...” Rigsby muttered from the front, but the look Lisbon shot him was enough to make him shut up.  

“Yeah, those are some pretty cool cows, huh?” Van Pelt smiled from the back of the van, shooting Rigsby an equally murderous look. “Look, there’s even some baby cows. Oh, they’re so cute!”  

Rule number one, be kind to the baby. They can make fun of Jane all they want when he’s his adult self but mocking him while he’s little is completely forbidden. Which is a shame because he’s really easy to make fun of when he’s little.  

“Come on, people, let’s go!” Lisbon ordered, pulling the keys out of the ignition.  

The team got out of the car like a... semi-well-oiled machine, Van Pelt and Cho heading to the trunk and taking, respectively, the picnic blanket and cooler while Lisbon helped Jane out of his seat and Rigsby stood close by in case the blond decided to take off, because it was, to everyone’s great enjoyment, his latest passion.  

“Don’t run.” She warned him the second his feet touched the ground, and he, for now, seemed happy enough to obey it. One time of him nearly rushing straight into the highway was more than enough stress for the rest of their lives. “Hold my hand.” 

Cho led the way, finding them an ideal spot in the neighboring field, just under an apple tree on top of a small hill.  His baseball years must have caught up to him because he was way ahead of them all.  

“Horsie?” Jane asked, pulling gently on Teresa’s sleeve.  

“You wanna do a horse ride?” She asked with a smile. He nodded. “Rigsby, come here!”  

“What is it?” He asked, jogging slightly towards them both.  

“Horsie?”  

He looked up at the sky to discreetly roll his eyes before looking back down at Jane. “Sure, bud. Come on.” He lowered slightly to make it easier for the smaller man to jump on his back. “There ya’ go.”  

Lisbon would be lying if she said Wayne’s mild annoyance didn’t amuse her every time. And she thinks it’s just sweet too, on top of it being a much better habit than him taking off running anytime he wants to go somewhere.  

Rigsby ran around in the grass with Jane on his back for a good few minutes while the others busied themselves with organizing their picnic setup.  

“Boys, lunch ready!” Teresa called out.  

“Not a boy.” Jane mumbled, his chin resting on top of Wayne’s hair.  

“What?” The taller man asked, frowning. Jane didn’t repeat, so he chooses to simply drop it. There isn’t really a way to get information out of him once he’s decided he won’t say it.  

He walked back over to the team shaking off a little who would have probably wanted to keep going for hours off of his back.  

“Alright, princess, off you get.”  He chuckled before joining Grace on the blanket. Jane pulled his tongue out at him before going to collapse between Kimball and Teresa.  

He snatched his bottle of iced tea from the cooler, getting a “Don’t chug.” warning from Lisbon.  

Van Pelt took care of distributing the sandwiches, ham and cheese for herself and Rigsby, chicken salad for Cho, turkey for Lisbon and egg salad for Jane.  

“Look! Look!”  

“What?” 

“There!” Jane shouted, crawling towards a small furry creature a few feet away from them. Cho grabbed him before he could go too far, but the intention was there.  

“Baby groundhog. My god, that thing is adorable.”  

It didn’t take long for the pup to run back into its burrow but not before they all got a good look at it.  

“Adorable.” Cho said, a small creeping on his lips before ruffling Jane’s hair. “The fat little squirrel too.”  

“Fat little squirrel?”  

Chapter Text

Sometimes, life truly isn’t all that complicated.  

And for Harvey, sometimes, it’s just playing in the creek behind his cabin in the county.  

Alone but happy.  

Sure, sometimes it gets lonely but it’s easy to forget when he’s busy chasing bugs and picking flowers.  

And being alone isn’t all that bad. It means he can do what he wants, however he wants to do it.  

He can wear the flowery skirts he’s mortified of anyone seeing him in. He can play without anyone interrupting the way he does things. He can say whatever he wants without anyone scolding him for his tone or volume and he can even say nothing at all if he wants.  

No one to ask him stupid questions, no consequences, no bedtime, nothing.  

It’s awesome.  

None of that near constant anger he can’t seem to get rid of either. 

The sound of the gentle rushing water is the only thing that works so well to calm his nerves.  

He doesn’t know why he gets like that. People get on his nerves, and he just doesn’t know how else to respond to it than by the instinctual rage he feels.  

It always there, in the pit of his stomach, it makes him nauseous. He feels like a boiling pot on the verge of overflowing.  

It’s never as subdued as when he stays at the cabin.  

Maybe it's because it’s the only place he can ever truly be himself.  

The only place he can be just a kid doing what kids do.  

Like back when he was an actual child but even better because there’s no made-up rules and he doesn’t have to play nice with his brother.  

He gets to be a little boy, or even a girl if he wants. Or be nothing at all.  

He likes it. He loves it even.  

Life is nice when there isn’t someone constantly talking his ears off about how he should be doing things one way or another.  

He doesn’t feel like getting into fights because there’s no one to pick fights with.  

It’s great.  

That’s how he got into boxing originally. His father taught him, so he’d get a way to exteriorise his anger than didn’t end up with a classmate with a broken nose and suspension.  

But he doesn’t need it at the cabin.  

No need to box against toads and minnows.  

Following small schools of little fish is definitely in his top favourites.  

That’s what he always does first when he gets there if the temperature permits it. 

Walking in the creek forces him to be slow and careful, to think about every part of his body and his breathing so he doesn’t slip or hurt himself. It forces him to think about nothing else but this, which is why it works so well to calm him down.  

He’s always calmer when he comes back from his weekends away.  

Sure, it doesn’t last long, but it still counts.  

Chapter Text

Mike only ever regressed in front of one person.  

His childhood best friend and undying crush.  

Pretty hard not to when he lived with the guy. Especially since getting high is one of the things that puts him into headspace the fastest.  

The first time Mike regressed in front of Trevor, he was understanding, surprisingly enough, and Mike felt ridiculous for having tried so hard to hide it from him.  

He’s his best friend, of course he wouldn’t judge him over something like this. Even if he didn’t fully get it, all Mike had to say was ‘helps with trauma’ and Trevor was on board.  

One of Mike’s favourite memories with Trevor was when he was regressed. And high. 

It’s a hot summer night and they’ve spent the whole day wasting away at their respective jobs. Mike nearly got run over about three times and Trevor says he’s having troubles with some of his clients.  

So, they do what they do to unwind.  

Trevor grabs a duvet that has seen better days, two beers from the fridge and they’re heading out to their hidden gem of a beach near the docks.  

They drink, and more importantly they smoke. Mike likes to believe he has a pretty good tolerance but it’s never as much as Trevor and by the end of the night, he’s flying high as a kite.  

And passing the joints between him and Trevor has him feeling all fuzzy.  

That and the fact that he regressed half-way through.  

He got high enough to black out and those are his favourite kinds of highs.  

In the morning he wakes up to the sound of crashing waves, secured in Trevor’s tenacious grip, both of them wrapped in the blanket with the sun shining over them and life is great.  

He never remembers that he confessed to Trevor that night. And Trevor never brings it up.  

Chapter Text

“Someday, we’ll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers, and me...” 

“What is Grace watching, question?” Rocky asked as he rolled into the affectionately named ‘don’t go crazy’ room.  

“Eh, The Muppets. It’s a movie with puppets and mascots and... people.”  

“Like puppet show.”  

“Kinda’, yeah.”  

“They say the same things a lot.”  

“What do you mean? 

“The rainbow connection. The screen says it a lot in the combined Eridian and human language.” 

“What do- Oh, the signing! When they combine instruments that sound like Eridian and lyrics, our language, that’s called signing. They make songs. Words are often repeated in songs, it’s the chorus.”  

“Oh! Human culture very interesting, statement.” 

“Is Grace watching Muppets again, question?”  

“Huh, yeah.” Grace answered, turning his head ever so slightly towards his friend but keeping his eyes fixated on the screen in front of him.  

“Can Rocky watch too?”  

“Sure!”  

Muppets in space had always been his favourite. He remembers having been basically raison on it. Maybe it was the space, maybe it was the humour but perhaps most possibly it was how similar he felt to Gonza, tough at that time he had no exact idea why.  

Getting his autism diagnosis in his teens helped.  

Figuring out the reason he didn’t get crushes like anyone else because he was aromantic certainly did too.  

His occasional age regressions only served to deepen the trenches between him and his peers.  

Grace knew he was starting to fall into his familiar childish mind state as soon as the movie started. He through having Rocky nearby would pull him out of it or at least stop him from dropping completely but apparently it didn't. 

He knew he trusted his alien friend, but he didn't think his subconscious would accept it so easily. After all, he'd never regressed in front of anyone else before.  

No, that's a lie, he did. But he was always mostly in control of it. It was never much, just a slight haze and a bit of childish joy or frustration. But he knew to rein himself in. Mostly anyway.  

But now he was out in space, with his best friend in the whole universe, watching his favourite movie, and for once in his life, he didn't feel any discomfort or shame.  

The reality that he's in space out in this gargantuan infinite universe and he's watching The Muppets with an alien who has no face slightly dawned on him.  

Life is great.  

He barely noticed when the knuckle of his index slipped in his mouth and he started gently chewing on it. It was an old habit that he developed at some point in his life; he doesn't really know when nor why but it stuck.  

There was something oddly shooting and satisfying about it. As long as his hands didn't taste like antiseptics and his own saliva didn't bother him, which wasn't often. But it was now.  

"Is Grace eating finger, question?" The computer translated from Rocky's sudden chimes.  

Ryland hummed questioningly before registering the question and pulling his finger out of his mouth with a slight chuckle.  

"No, I'm- huh- relaxing. No harm." He replied. "It's normal."  

Okay, sue him, it's a white lie. But, hey, can you blame a guy? 

The Eridian seemed to believe him enough and he went back to listening to the movie.  

At some point the scientist wrapped a blanket around himself, finger still in his mouth as he kept his eyes on the screen. He was curled in a - tight as he could possibly manage, more appropriate to a dog than a human - ball. He stayed like that for a few minutes before uncurling, rocking back and forth a few times and curling back up in a more foetus like position.  

"Grace acts like a fussy pebble, statement." Rocky mentions after watching him for a few long seconds.  

If Grace has been drinking anything, he's pretty sure he would have chocked on it.  

"What?" 

"Small. Small. Small. Grace like a small pebble." The engineer added helpfully.  

"Just relaxing, Rock." 

Chapter Text

Lucifer never felt love.

Not romantic love anyways.

Sexual sure, familial debatable, friendly maybe, but never romantic love.

He just never felt it.

If anything, Amenadiel was the one made wrong for being able to fall in love.

Still sometimes he wished he could feel the same.

He knows the detective fell in love with him, before they both figured out he was incapable of reciprocating it back the same way she wanted.

He loved her, sure, just not like that unfortunately.

But they learned to live with it, he loved being friends with her and she knew to accept him for who he was rather than what he could be and he was still her best friend.

And when he started regressing around his friends he found out he never needed it at all.

A suspect has once told them that family didn’t end in blood, and he couldn’t have been happier about realizing he was right.

Maybe when you have the right people around, you don’t need anything more.

Because the people who took care of him when he dropped into his fledgling like state of mind, they were most definitely his family, and he didn't have to know how to recognize the different types of love to understand that they loved him.

The Detective, Detective Douche, his brother, his best friend and even his therapist.

Cloe, Dan, Amenadiel, Maze and Linda.

If he had them, he didn't need anything else.

He didn't need to fall in love with anyone like everyone else in his life.

He can just be Lucifer, and everyone is fine with that.

Chapter Text

Lassiter has never been one to complain about how lonely he gets.  

He's fine on his own.  

Ever since he was a little girl, he's always been fine on his own.  

His dad said so, his mother said so, his sister said so, his wife said so and his bosses always said so. He himself always said so too.  

So why the hell is he so not fine being alone right now? 

Why does he feel so excluded when he looks at people surrounded by friend?  

Why does it make him angry? 

Well, angry is a pretty broad term when it comes to him. He’s near always in a state of frustration and annoyance.  

He supposes it’s closer to sadness, the nausea forming at the pit of his stomach.  

Not that he would even admit that out loud.  

It only ever gets like that when he regresses too. Either when he gets a little too hazy for comfort at work or when he drops completely at home and realizes how truly lonely he is.  

He cries about it.  

A lot.  

He cries about it a lot.  

But it doesn’t count. Because it’s only when he’s small. And small him is dumb. And overly needy.  

He’s pretty sure he wasn’t like this when he was an actual child, so he has no idea where it came from.  

When he was a kid, he’d just settle in front of the TV, put on his cowboy hat and watch Hang ‘Em High until his mother got home from work and forced him to bed.  

That lasted well into his teens, and adulthood too.  

Though he did used to sleep on the ground in Sherrif Hank’s room. That probably counts has being clingy. But, hey, who can blame him, he was scared of the dark and they wouldn’t let him sleep in the sables.  

If anything, he’s clingy to things, not people.  

Like his gun or his pacifier that he carried around everywhere until he turned eleven.  

“That can’t be no good for your teeth, son.” Hank used to say.  

He was probably right but anytime someone tried to take it away he’d have meltdowns. He never really understood why but he never really tried to figure it out either. He just assumed it was the same for everyone. 

He likes things the way he likes them and always has.  

Which is why it’s especially annoying when his normal changes so suddenly.  

He doesn’t like change.  

But at least it’s only that. Even if it feels like a lot.  

It’ll pass eventually.  

 Hopefully. 

Chapter Text

Andrew In Drag (Agere). 

 House and Wilson aren’t together.  

That’s something Wilson busies himself with telling people a lot. House worries about people assuming a lot less.  

Whatever, if this is the hill James decided to die on, then so be it. After all, he’s right, they aren’t together.  

Expect he apparently only likes to die on it when people are around because this is the third time this year, he’s showed up at his door like the pathetic little puppy he is.  

Greg likes to pretend he minds but he still lets him in every time with a simple ‘not safe driving when you’re like that, Jimmy’.  

They don’t talk about it, afterwards or ever. Half the time Wilson wakes up at dawn and leaves without a word. House doesn’t blame him. They’re not the talking type, and he’s pretty sure Wilson is more ashamed about it than he is about anything else. Though he doesn’t know if it’s the ‘acting like a dog’ part or the ‘needing House’ part or just the needing all together that embarrasses him the most.  

Still, it’s nice to have the little idiot puppy around for a few hours.  

A clingy, overly affectionate, dumb puppy that House shouldn’t find nearly as endearing as he does.  

Greg has to tell him off about twenty-two times for chewing on his couch, let himself get slobbered on and handle his very comunicative whines and barks in exchange for... well, it isn’t exactly clear in exchange for what. Though the oncologist does often bring him lunches with a singular ‘thanks’ note on them after these incidents.  

It’s easy to pretend he doesn’t get something out of it, but he does.  

Strangely enough, he finds it nice to care for somebody, especially when the roles are usually reversed. And well, it’s hard not to fall for something that looks at you with as much love as puppy Wilson looks at House.  

Sure, Wilson loves everyone, it’s his pathology. But he doesn’t love them like that. That’s just for House and he knows it. Because at the end of the day, he doesn’t go to anyone else when he gets like that.  

He goes to House.  

Chapter Text

John Watson is... a case to study.  

His emotional repression especially.  

A lot of idiots people misinterpret him for this happy go lucky kind of dog compared to Sherlock. They're the same people who view Holmes as nothing more than a smart psychopath, a freak.  

They're wrong.  

But then again, it's probably easier to imagine a sidekick to someone like Sherlock Holmes as an innocent creature rather than a willing participant to their own suffering. 

Sherlock gets the right idea about John the moment he lays eyes on him, from his posture, the way he talks and the way he looks at people. He knows from that moment that he wants him as a flatmate but he mostly knows this could be something more, maybe even a friend.  

Mycroft does too; he sees him for as much good and as much danger as he truly is.  

Which is why it's so disturbing when he completely breaks down.  

Sure, Sherlock can hear him cry at night when he wakes up from dreams, but it's never like that.  

The first time it happened, Sherlock froze. He had no idea what he could possibly do to make it any better.  

John disappeared for two days after that.  

The consulting detective couldn't make sense of it. It wasn't a meltdown as far as he could tell, it wasn't like his owns at least and it looked rather childish in nature. But the doctor never answered to any of his questions about it, telling him it was a one-off and that he did not wish to speak about it.  

So, Sherlock left it at that.  

But it keeps happening, every now and then, John completely breaking down on the floor and crying so loud that it alerts even Mrs. Hudson. She ends up assuming it's a meltdown too. So does Mycroft when he begrudgingly asks him for help.  

So, Sherlock only has one choice, to investigate the bizarre crashes of his best friend.  

Chapter Text

One of Harvey's favorite things to do when he’s at his cabin is playing mermaids.  

The water in the creek is just deep enough that he can use his neat mono-fin flipper to splash water around. And if he's feeling brave enough and not too small, he can also use it in his little lake. 

It's fun, and full of the whimsy he didn't exactly get to experience as a child.  

Having been in a household with only another brother and never any girls around, it was mostly about getting dirty and playing sports which he still enjoys doing but sometimes he just needs to indulge in the more 'girly' entertainments.  

And that’s okay.  

He ended up getting a proper fabric mermaid tail one day, and the first time he put it on was the happiest he'd been in a long time.  

He brought his first skirt not long after that too; it healed something in him. He twirled in it for probably a good two hours with very little pause.  

He remembers one time when Marcus caught him wearing one of their mother's dresses. He was twelve; Marcus was eight.  

He’d laughed at him, said he'd tell their parents, but Harvey was past the age where it would be easily excused as childish silliness, and he didn't want his parents looking at him like he was weird, like something was wrong with him. So, they fought.  

Harvey ended up punching his little brother in the face and despite knowing that he should have felt bad about it, he was just satisfied that he'd finally stopped talking. Until he started crying, that was. 

He remembers getting out of the dress as fast as he could while telling his brother that if he said anything about it, he'd hurt him more. He didn't really with what else he could scare someone other than pain in the moment.  

Marcus ended up running crying to their mother about having been punched but he left out the wearing a dress part. All he got was a split lip, but Lily looked at him like he'd committed attempted murder.  

He boxed a lot after that though he didn't really understand if it was meant to be a punishment or just to get the extra aggression out of him. Either way, he enjoyed it.   

But he never wore a dress or skirt again after that until he brought himself his skirt.  

He eventually got a dress too. A light flowery thing suited for summer; he didn't realize how similar it was to the ones his mother would wear until he put it on.  

He likes wearing skirts and dresses and he likes playing mermaids.  

It's nice to have a place where he can be whoever he wants, wear anything or nothing at all, and do whatever.  

He loves his cabin and most of all, he loves that no one knows about it. 

Chapter Text

Getting married didn't change much in their lives.  

They just wear rings now. That's the only difference.  

They still take care of each other and of the duckling together the same way. 

The only noticeable difference House truly notices is having to take off both of their rings when Wilson is feeling like a puppy because he doesn't want to risk him swallowing either of them or both.  

He's a dumb puppy. It's okay, he likes him like that.  

Sure, it wasn't an official marriage, it wouldn't be until New Jersey's finally decided to move its ass and legalize it.  

But it doesn't really matter; marriage is more symbolic than anything else anyways. To them anyway.  

There's something House likes a lot about getting to call Wilson his husband. Maybe because it's an extra step if James ever tries to leave him. But that’s a whole other can of worms. 

And today they get to enjoy being two husbands taking their weird Australian adoptive child to the pool.  

“Okay, everyone, checkup time.” Wilson called out, grabbing his list from the table as Chase and House settled on the couch. 

Gregory often tells him he stresses about preparation too much, but he thinks they’re fine for an entire day at the pool with just a towel and water bottle, so he won’t take any advice from him.  

They’re going to spend the whole afternoon there and he doesn’t want to miss anything. 

“The towels?” James started; his husband took them off of the couch's armrest and handed them to him to put in their bag. “Sunscreen? Alright.” He picked the bottle from the table before sliding it in his bag as well. “The lunchbox is in the fridge. Greg, your book and your glasses are already in there...”  

The oncologist continued to list the things off his list mostly to himself and checking them off at least twice before concluding that they had pretty much everything ready.  

It had been a good while since they got to fall back into that whole family dynamic, with work being strangely demanding for the season. And for all they knew, it had been a while since Robbie had last regressed at all, and he looked like he needed it.  

“I think you have it all, Jimmy.” House called him back to reality, noticing how his husband was starting to get lost in his own thoughts. 

“Right.” He took a deep breath, finally putting down his list. Maybe he was stressing himself a bit much with this. “Great, okay. Buddy, go put on your bathing suit, it’s on your bed.” The blond jumped off the couch excitedly in the direction of his room. “Greg, yours is in the bathroom.” He added and the diagnostician limped on his way there.  

Wilson had already gotten dressed while grabbing their towels, simple light brown swim shorts and a soft orange t-shirt. He was just re-checking for what might be the third time that they had everything they needed in their lunchbox when he heard Robert calling out for help.  

“Ehhhh… help?” 

“Coming!" He answers how loud, so House knows he doesn’t have to answer to the call.  

When he gets to their spare room turned Tiny Chase’s room, he understands quickly what the issue is because the boy is stuck, tangled in his yellow swim shirt, apparently having tried to pass his head through one of the arm holes. It’s something that apparently happens to himself a lot when he regresses too.  

“Oh my-, how did you end up like that?”  

“I dunno’…” Chase answered although it was pretty muffled by the fabric of his shirt.  

“It’s alright just- yeah, tuck in your arm, no- the- yeah, the other one, just like that.” 

The oncologist directed him, and they eventually managed to get the doctor’s shirt correctly on. He then ruffled his hair gently, a bad habit he’d definitely gotten from House.  

“Well, there you are! Almost though I wouldn’t see you again.” He exclaimed with a smile, putting his hand on his heart as if relieved of it. It made Robert laugh a little.  

“Thank you.”  

“You're welcome, kid.”  

The younger doctor glanced up and down at the older one, frowning lightly. “You look like a Creamsicle.” He concluded with a little smile, fiddling with his blue swim shorts.  

“Oh, I do, do I?” 

“Hum-hum.” He nodded the affirmative, looking rather sure of himself in his declaration.  

“Well, why don’t you go see if daddy’s ready, huh?”  

When they went back to the living room, House was just getting out of the bathroom wearing black swim boardshorts and one of his favorite blue graphic t-shirts.  

“Wilson, almost forgot your pills.” He said, waiting for the oncologist to turn to him before throwing him a bottle of Tylenols that he barely managed to catch.  

Unfortunately, headaches are a common occurrence for Wilson anytime he stays at the pool for more than an hour, or anytime he stays in the heat under the sun really.  

“Thanks.” 

“Proves that even when you prepare everything, you’ll end up forgetting something anyway.”  

“Yeah, well, I’d still rather be properly prepared.”  

“Are we leaving now?” The distinctive Australian voice interrupted from behind them. 

“Soon enough, little guy, soon enough. You’ve gotta’ put some sunscreen on before that though.” 

“No, I don’t wanna.” Robert whined, a pout forming on his face. 

“I know, but you need to, so you don’t get sunburned.” James looked back at the pouting boy currently sitting on the couch “Remember last time Greg forgot to put sunscreen on?” By forgot he meant didn’t want to put some on because he didn’t think he’d need any and faced the consequences. 

“Yeah... it was yucky, his skin was coming off. And he looked like a lobster.” 

“Exactly, now we wouldn’t want your skin to do the same right?” 

“Yeah, kid, Jimmy’s right, sunburns are no fun.” House confirmed. 

“Fine, I guess. I don’t want my skin to come off.” 

“Don’t worry, with the cream it won’t. Now come here.”  

Wilson got their bottle of sunscreen that they keep for inside the house and started efficiently putting it on the boy before switching to putting it on himself to then throw it at his husband and let him deal with himself.  

While they were busy with it, one of Chase’s knuckles had found its way to his mouth. Apparently, he was already getting bored. Not his fault, he doesn’t like waiting, everyone is silent, the TV was off, and both of his caregivers were busy.  

“Buddy where’s your chew?” Wilson asked. 

“Don’ know.” He said around his thumb. 

“Greg, can you go get his necklace. The blue one. I think I left it beside the sink.” He asked his husband who had just finished putting on sunscreen on his own.  

“On it”  

It was indeed beside the sink from when Wilson had washed it this morning.  

When they were finally ready to head out, Wilson took on the tedious task of buckling Chase in the backseat – the little gremlin is the squirmiest thing he’s ever known – while House got on to putting their things in the trunk.    

The only major problem being Wilson’s over the top ‘just in case’ tendencies, which only got worse when this whole family dynamic thing started, causing the car storage to be absolutely overloaded by things they wouldn’t need. By the end, he chose peace and placed it in the back with Chase, buckling it safely as well.  

It took about ten minutes for Chase to start being annoying and remind everyone why they never go anywhere that requires a long drive.  

“Are we there yet?” 

“Yeah kid, were here, the pool is right in the middle of the highway.”  

“House.” The oncologist started with a warning tone.  

“What? It’s a twenty-minute ride, how impatient can he possibly be?” 

The diagnostician turned in his seat to look at the younger doctor  

“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”  

They barely had time to park the car that Chase was already tugging impatiently on the door handle to get out. Which is exactly why they put the child locks on the doors in the first place. After one too many times of Robert almost jumping out of the still moving car it had become a safety necessity.  

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” 

“Jesus Christ.”  

Wilson opened the door and did his best to unbuckle the seatbelt of a very squirmy regressor, barely managing to grab his arm before he could run away into the wilderness.  

“Do you want to carry the lunchbox?” Wilson asked, hoping it would be enough to keep his attention for now.  

“Yeah!” 

“Alright, hold on.” He instructed, grabbing the box from the other seat and handing it to the blond who lifted it up proudly above his head.  

“What a strong boy you are.”  

House was heading toward the pool door with the key in his hand while Wilson was following him with their bag of mostly unnecessary stuff and Chase when he noticed that he was not in fact following with Chase but rather alone.  

The oncologist looked around in a slight panic before spotting Robert not far from there. He walked toward him, picking up the lunchbox from where it had been forgotten before joining the youngling a few feet from there.  

“What are you doing? Come on.”  

“I wanna’ climb in the tree.” The Aussie answered still looking at the crown of the tree trying to find the lowest branch to climb onto. 

“No, sorry buddy, you can’t climb up there.” It’s not that he really can’t, but if he ends up too scared to get down, neither he nor House will be able to really help him down.  

“But I want to.” 

“Well, the- the tree’s not safe.” Wilson said probably truthfully with how weak it looks. It’s a wonder that Chase survived so long as it is. “You’ll, eh, you’ll get to climb in trees when we go pick up apples this autumn.” 

“Really?”  

“Yeah. Now go.” He answered in the voice of someone who just totally made something up and now has to find a way to eventually make it work. Because he does try to be a man of his word as often as he can.  

“Ok!” 

They soon joined House who’d already chosen a lounging chair under the shades of some three branches.  

“Apple picking, huh?” 

“What was I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know, just about anything else? That’s such a mommy thing to do, apple picking.” 

Wilson barely had time to put the lunchbox down that Chase was already cannonballing into the pool. He didn’t have time to worry too long about him drowning at least because he started swimming around just as quickly.  

“Papa, come!” The little one shouted excitedly, getting out of the pool to pull his caregiver toward the water, leaving him no choice but to get in with him.  

“Alright but just for a little while.” House answered, getting out of his chair, taking off his shirt and throwing it in James’ general direction while the oncologist pretended to busy himself with setting towels onto their chairs. Yeah, he still acts like a schoolboy around his crush whenever he sees his husband shirtless; it’s not his fault.  

House indulged Chase for quite some time, chasing him in the water and having splashing competition both directed at each other and at Wilson yelping “don’t wet my hair!” like the true mom he is.  

Floating in the water truly did a wonder for his leg. It’s a wonder he didn’t try to come here more often. 

“Oh, I’m thirsty!” Chase said, running out of the pool, and getting a stern warning for it, when he saw Wilson showing him his water bottle. Sipping like he had forgotten he ever felt thirst in his life before.  

They also took that time to eat their snack together before all going back into the water.  

Robbie kept playing around, enjoying the super cool water toys and goggles that his caregivers had brought, James stuck to the shallow water, mostly just walking and throwing Robbie’s toys for him, while Greg got busy doing strokes.  

They enjoyed most of the afternoon that way before it was clear that everyone had tired themselves out. Wilson with his headache and Chase who looked just about ready to fall asleep in the pool.  

“Come on, little duck, time to get out.” 

“I don’t wanna...” 

“Yeah, well, not your choice come on.” House said, “Come on, your mama’s tired and so are you. We’ll come back another day.” He added, pointing at his husband half asleep on his chair using his towel as a sleep mask.  

He huffed a bit but eventually decided to be reasonable and get out, letting his papa wrap him up in his super cool Wild Kratts towel.  

He yawned and rubbed his eyes a little. Spending so much time swimming and out in the sun definitely is tiring no matter how much he would deny it.  

“Come on, you can sleep in the car.” 

“Don’t need a nap.” 

“’Course you don’t.” 

As much as he could try to convince them that he wasn’t actually sleepy, almost as soon as the car started his head fell on the door and he was bought to sleep.  

“You know he won’t be able to get out of the car, right?” Wilson muttered from the passenger seat, sounding just as ready to fall asleep.  

Chapter Text

Shawn Specer is genderfluid.  

It’s not a fact he exactly outwardly shares with people even though he wishes it was.  

But Gus knows. And for the most part, that's enough because Gus is the best.  

He's mainly masc on a day-to-day basis with some semi-regular nothing days and the one-off fem days. Except when he regresses, in which case he's mainly fem and neither for some reason. He never delved into it too much.  

He hasn't told anyone at the SBPD.  

It's not that he doesn't trust them; it's just that he doesn't really know how to tell them. With Gus it was simple; his best friend basically figured it out on his own while Shawn was still trying to probably understand it.  

The only problem he has is that he's gotten really good at using the right pronouns for however Shawn is feeling. Too good in fact that he almost accidentally outs him to Jules and Lassie multiple times. To Henry too but at that point the man has probably figured it out and simply choose to ignore it.  

Like now, 

“And yeah, Shawn’s gone, she needed to get changed.” Gus explained.  

Jules chuckled.  

“What?” 

“You said she.” 

“Well, yeah- oh! Yeah, ah-ah, mistake.” 

Chapter Text

Chase had come out to the team as a trans woman not long ago. 

Today is the first time they've had time for a family day off since. 

Wilson got his certified mom's minivan, and they drove three hours to a lake early in the morning so they would be able to spend some time away from prying eyes. 

The drive was mostly okay if you ignore Chase making them stop every twenty minutes to go to the bathroom and Cameron complaining about it. 

Once they got there, House went to the kiosk window to loan out their needed watercraft while Wilson wrangled their kids as best he could with Chase's elopement tendencies.  

They ended up choosing to take two tandem kayaks and a paddle board. 

Robbie would be with Greg, Allison with Eric, and James on his own on the paddle board.  

The most logical option would be to actually have Jimmy and Allison be together and let Eric or Greg have some time alone, but Eric looked old enough to handle his little sister and Greg doesn't mind towing Robbie but mostly, he desperately wants to see Jimmy's overconfidence lead him to fall right into the water.  

"Everybody come get your ships! I'm sure as hell not dragging them all to the water." 

Turns out, Allison and Eric get along rather well, working as a team to race, and beat, both Greg and James, and then taking time to relax and chat in the middle of the water.  

Wilson is really enjoying his first time paddle boarding, talking about buying one of his own. House lets him, knowing it'll probably have passed as soon as they get back home.  

Robbie spends most of the afternoon on the water sleeping because her anxiety about coming out has been keeping her up more than her job ever could, and the waves are calming in a way nothing else is. Gregory doesn't mind the deadweight as much as he should.  

Though she does wake up just in time to see Wilson confidently stand on his board and then fantastically involuntarily dive headfirst into the lake. 

Chapter Text

Life is simple enough for Shaggy Roger.

He has his bestfriend slash dog, and Mary Jane - the plant -, and his van.

It's all he needs

He gets to smoke and pretend to be five years old all day.

Life is great.

Sure, everyone calls him a bum because that's pretty much what he is but it's not that bad.

He prefers being the stoner in the van at the park a lot more than the weird kid with the dog at school. Especially since everyone thinks the weird kid in the back of the class is a girl. 

Not that he wasn't a stoner at school too.

He misses his other friends from time to time but they're still in college, sucsseding where Shaggy crumbled under the pressure and he honestly isn't sure if they ever saw him as a friend as much as he did them.

He's always had trouble with that, that's why he loves Scooby so much. Dogs are easy to read and they don't have a million contradictory uncomprencible social rules that he can't follow.

He lives on the road and he loves it too. Coolsville is nice but he prefers being unattached by far. 

They drive for hours on end before settling wherever they allow for it and lighting up a blunt while looking outside. Sometime the view is beautiful scenery, other times it's the flickering lights of old convenience stores. Either way, he can see the beauty in it. 

He rolls a joint, smokes it under some trees while he lets Scoob run around, pops in his pacifier and enjoys the buzz while he eats what they have stocked up in food.

So far, it's been failproof way of keeping him happy. 

Chapter Text

Testosterone days were always a little stressful for the boys. Both of them being mildly scared and uncomfortable of needles didn't help either.  

So, they helped each other out. Joining at the Psych office with the necessary materials to be sure neither of them could bail on it and thus avoid any unnecessary potential consequences of skipping a dose.  

Usually, this would be a day where neither of them would have anything much more to do so they could take themselves out for waffles after as a reward, but today wasn't the case.  

Mostly because when Gus was just getting ready to inject his syringe into Shawn's stomach while the other man tightly hugged a pineapple plushie, a visitor barged in unannounced.  

Visitor in the form of one SBPD Detective Carlton Lassiter.  

"We're a little busy here." 

"Spencer, are you seriously doing drugs here." 

"I'm pretty sure no shoots anything fun in their stomach, Lassie." 

"I've seen it done." 

"It's testosterone. Not exactly drugs." 

"Why would you be shooting testosterone? Just go to the gym. That can't be safe." 

"Are you- Are you serious?"  

Hell of a detective...  

It’s not like they hide it either, sure they might be mostly stealth but Gus doesn’t exactly fit every gender norms and he’s literally talked out loud about having period pains and Shawn was literally wearing a ‘I love T-Boys' t-shirt just last week on top of wearing his trans flag bracelet all the time.   

“I was sure you were one of us, dude.” Shawn says before taking a sip juice out of his sippy cup like it’s nothing just to be sure to confuse the older man even more than he already is.  

They’re going to have a lot of explaining to do...  

Chapter Text

Jane is a girl when he regresses. 

Mostly a girl, anyways. 

And it's mostly because she doesn't have any real concept of gender assigned by society that makes him so scared of transitioning.  

He plays with the wooden makeup kit Van Pelt gave him, wears skirts, acts out princess stories - Wayne usually ends up being the dragon, Grace some kind of fae, Teresa a queen and Kimball a knight -, and goes exclusively by Jane.  

She doesn't mind being a called he or him but she's a girl, nevertheless. That much she knows for sure.  

It's in her soul and in the way she smiles and picks follows to give to her caregivers. 

She doesn't know if they fully get it yet, but they try their best and she couldn't dream of a better team. And it’s enough.  

In fact, Jane mostly has nightmares about losing them because they feel so surreal. 

They're there for her; they accept all of her, and they never ask for anything more than what she can give.  

Jane has never had anyone else like that in her life before. 

Sure, he still acts like Patrick out on cases because that's who they need, but they know she's Jane when she's small. 

Chapter Text

Harvey has recently realized he might be feeling something for his associate that he shouldn’t be.   

Donna helped him figure it out because he couldn’t figure out what he was feeling and needed an outside perspective. Also, because she’s one of the very few people who knows he’s autistic and would understand why he doesn’t get it and the only one he would talk about such things with.   

When she put it into words for him, it made a lot of sense. It wasn’t all that different from what he could feel for some women, except it’s more intense, and well, for a guy, which is a first for him.   

Feelings are weird. That’s why Harvey hates them.   

They’re complicated and distracting, and they bother him in his work.  

He's fine with platonic love. He knows that's what he feels for his father, and Donna and probably Jessica too. But romantic love, he doesn't like. It makes his stomach feel all out of sorts and it makes him dizzy. 

He likes using emotions to his advantage in cases when he has to, but he absolutely hates feeling them. He has enough on his plate as it is without having to deal with such things.  

Especially when they're for someone he works so close with as his associate. 

He tries to ponder on it when he goes back to his cabin but it's without success as he rather decides to completely ignore the issue and regress instead. 

He has the rest of his life to think about it anyways.

Chapter Text

Whoever decided it was a good idea to come knock at his hotel room door at one in the morning has to be insane. Critically so. And they’re about to heavily regret their decision.

Is what Harvey told himself when he was awoken by banging on his door.

His rhetoric soon changed when he opened the door to see Mike, red rimed eyes and blanket in hands, standing there sheepishly.

“I had a nightmare.” He said quietly like he hadn’t just probably woken up all six rooms around them.

Usually, Harvey might have simply answered ‘and how is that my problem?’, but it’s Mike and he looks downright pitying. And well, Harvey can’t refuse anything to Mike.

“Get in here.”

At least he can be glad this didn’t happen at his condo because that would imply that Mike biked from Brooklyn to Manhattan in the middle of the night just for a nightmare. At least here, he just had to walk down the corridor from one end to the other. From room 236 to room 212.

Harvey isn’t exactly well suited to handle the sniveling mess that Mike becomes when he regresses. That’s usually Donna’s department, but he can try his best.

“You’re not gonna sleep, are you?” He asks.

He doesn’t really see himself calling Donna in the middle of the night to ask what he’s supposed to do about the puppy when he’s crying. Harvey doesn’t do emotions, but it seems he’ll have to figure out a way to make it work.

“Well, either you come with me to the gym or we can go to the pool. I guess you don’t have a swimsuit either?”

“The pool's closed…” Is all Mike answers.

“Not for me it isn’t.”

Mike isn't much help, just standing there with his blanket quietly and looking moments away from tears. It’s kind of heartbreaking.

"I'll figure something out." He says, guiding him to sit on the armchair while he calls the reception.

The associate doesn't really hear or pay attention to what the senior partner says on the phone, but he looks satisfied when he hangs up.

"Pool it is." He states. "Get that out of your mouth." His associate spits it out, only now realizing he'd started chewing on his blanket while Harvey was on the phone.

The next moments are lost to Mike in a sort of haze, Harvey is guiding him out of his pajamas and into some water trunks and a swim shirt that he doesn't know the provenance of, he's wrapped in a comfortable bed robe and the next thing he knows, they're at this beautiful natural themed indoor pool and spa.

There are so many things around to look at that he's surprised to realize that he isn't running away to go look at it before he notices that Harvey is holding his hand. He also comes to the sad realization that he doesn't have his blanket anymore, but it's mostly fine, holding onto the older man’s hand makes up for it.

Harvey pretends not to feel something deep in his chest from the warmth of Mike’s hand around his own.

"Do you even know how to swim?" Harvey asks as he walks them down further towards the pools.

Mike nods after a few seconds.

"Alright, I'm gonna let go of your hand. No running, no screaming and no drowning, okay?" He lists out, walking toward a small water reservoir, filling up two paper cups and handing one over to the currently regressed boy.

Mike nods again, drinking up the cup in one go.

"Good."

Harvey heads to the closest spa as soon as Mike answers, letting go of his hand and throwing his bathrobe onto a nearby chair.

The Little hesitantly follows him in before being reminded to also take off his bathrobe. He only stays in for two minutes before deciding that the hot water is too much.

They eventually get into the pool where Harvey swims gracefully and athletically while Mike puppy paddles in what is possibly the worst swim Harvey has ever seen.

He looks like a clumsy baby hippopotamus.

But at least he’s not drowning. And he doesn’t look so sad anymore.

Chapter Text

Mike is enjoying a nice evening of regressing after a stressful week at the firm.  

He's got his show on, his beer in his favorite bottle, one of Trevor's old t-shirts on and his plushie to keep him company.  

It's great.  

Until there's a knock at his door. Or, more accurately, banging at his door.  

Oh, shit.  

"I'm not here!" He shouts out only to have whoever's on the other end of the door start hitting it even harder. "Jesus..."  

He quickly gets up from the couch to go answer the door, only barely remembering to grab a blanket to wrap himself into before answering the door in only a hoodie and a diaper. He really wishes he could say this would be the first time. Unfortunately, more than one pizza delivery guy has been subjected to his forgotten half nudity.  

He trips on about twelve different toys scattered around the room on the way there and is pretty well reminded of why Trevor insisted he at least keep his toys lined to a wall when he was done playing with them.  

He was never strict about it, but one too many times of stepping barefoot on Legos had convinced him of the dangers of scatter. Grammy never had too many issues with it because by the time he was old enough to understand to put his toys away, he also understood that it was dangerous for her to leave them everywhere where she could slip on them, with Trevor on the other hand, it was rather funny to see.  

"God, what-" He freezes upon seeing Harvey standing there, in a tuxedo no less. "What are you doing here?"  

"Are you watching Diff'rent Strokes?" 

"Uhhh, yeah, well, it's the touching story of a couple of orphans so-” 

"Don't. It's a nice building. How long ago was it condemned?" He teases, looking around the room while Mike's heart keeps dropping in his stomach and feels like it has stopped completely. 

The younger man tries as best he can to block the entry way from Harvey but the man seems to manage to weasel his way in anyways.  

"Oh, great, so, did you come over all the way here to criticize where I live or..?" 

"That's a side benefit. This place is a goddamn mess." He states, gently kicking some kind of plastic dinosaur out of the way with the toe of his freshly polished shoe as he heads toward a shelf. Out of everything to choose from, he picks up his – or more accurately Trevor’s - old pipe. "You've got to be kidding me." 

"What-? Ah, that has sentimental value so- just put that away." Harvey throws it back at him with a disapproving look, and Mike barely manages to catch it with only one hand while the other still holds the blanket around himself.  

"Nice panda." 

"Thank you. Grandmother, Christmas thing." 

"Get your tux on. We got a situation.” 

"Uh, a situation that requires a tux... Where- Where is this tuxedo situation?"  

"Atlantic City.” He answers. “Can you get dressed now?" 

"Uh, yeah, I could." He starts, rubbing his hair with his one free hand.  

"But?" 

"I don't have a tux." He says while Harvey rolls his eyes. "I'm not Bruce Wayne." 

"Don't I know it." The older man huffs. 

By now, either Harvey thinks Mike is hiding a child somewhere in the appartement or he knows.  

But he’s not saying anything.  

And now all Mike has left is to hope the baggy graphic tee he’s wearing is enough to hide the fact that he isn’t wearing a binder.  

Chapter Text

"This road trip kind of sucks." The SBPD’s self-proclaimed Head Psychic says, shoveling a handful of dried Froot Loops.  

"It's because it's not a road trip, it's a work travel, Shawn, you insisted to come along."  

"I'm just saying, we could have gotten a more scenic route." 

"I have one I need to follow, it's a company car, they'll check." 

"If they really did, you wouldn't have it anymore. It's not like they're tracking you." 

"You don't know that. And they check millage." 

"Well, do you want us to check?" 

“No.”  

As it turns out, after a thorough look at the car both inside and outside, there doesn’t seem to be any actual tracker on the car or at least no obvious ones anyways. And the extra mileage could be easily explained in a thousand different ways if it came to be questioned.  

Semi-convinced that he wouldn’t have his paycheck docked because he took a few detours on the way, he heads for a road closer to the coast to find something to eat.  

They end up stopping at a seaside restaurant to grab some lunch. Settling for tacos to eat on the terrace. The breeze was cool and just wild enough to make Shawn’s shirt collar flap in the wind.  

“Now, this is nice.” Shawn said with a constant sigh.  

“Yeah.”  

 Before getting on the road again, the self-proclaimed psychic convinces him to get ice cream from the fancy little stand not far from the restaurant. Gus gets a sorbet twist on a cone – strawberry and mango – while Shawn opts for a pineapple ice cream in a cup with a hot white chocolate cookie on top drizzled with caramel syrup and whipped cream on top. The sugary monstrosity had suddenly become Shawn’s new favorite thing in the world.  

By the time they get back on the road and head towards the woodlands in the direction of their motel, it starts to rain.  

It gentle at first before becoming hard enough to make seeing the road a challenge. Being on a dirt road with low visibility and the sky darkening, Gus makes the sensible decision to park on the side while the worst of the storm passes.  

By the time they get going again, most of the rain has subdued and the sun is slowly going down. The woods are beautiful but Gus would rather they get to their motel before they get caught in there in the full darkness.  

"Stop the car, stop the car!" 

"I'm not stopping in the middle of the road, Shawn, are you crazy?" 

"Stop the car!" 

"Okay, okay!" 

Burton barely has time to get on the side of the road and fully stop the Echo that his friend is already jumping out of it and nearly slipping right into the ditch beside them before running behind the car.  

“What the hell are you doing?” Gus yelled as he got out, finding Shawn crouched over some kind of lump in the road.  

“It’s a racoon!”  

“What?” He walked over, eyeing the seemingly lifeless body of the small creature only to be startled by it sneezing.  

Shawn wastes no time in picking it up and bringing it close to his chest.  

“We have to take him with us now.” 

"I am not picking a racoon off the road and putting it in the car, Shawn! It could have illnesses, bugs, parasites, rabies-" 

"I'm calling him Dan." 

"Don't name him." Gus brings a hand to his head, rubbing his forehead like he’s getting a headache. Shawn is already hard enough to deal with as is when he puts his head to something but when he’s feeling younger than usual, it’s even worse.  

"Look at him, Gus, we can't just leave him!"  

"Someone else will pick him up eventually. Or we can call a sanctuary." 

Before Gus can complain any further, Shawn is taking off his shirt to wrap the small shivering creature in, leaving him in his short-sleeved onesie that he uses as an undershirt.  

"You know they're always have too many to take on new ones, it's not like we can't do it ourselves." 

"Oh, yeah, I was forgetting we are licensed wildlife rehabber." The salesman deadpanned.  

"I worked at a zoo once; I know how to do it." 

"You worked the popcorn stand." 

"It was still at the zoo." 

"And it still doesn't give you any kind of qualification to take on the care of a wild animal." 

"Gus, come on, it's basically a big cat at the end of the day." Spencer says, walking back towards the car.  

“You must be out of your damn mind if you think I’m letting you put it in my car.” 

So now they have to find a way to hide a baby raccoon in their bags to get it into their motel. And hope it won’t make too much noise during the night.  

“We’re dads now.” 

“He says, drinking out of a sippy cup.” Gus scoffs before ruffling Shawn’s hair.  

He’s more than definitely not sure about this whole thing, but it’s hard not to fall in love with a little creature and its round little ears and possibly the cutest look he’s ever seen. 

Guess they really are dads now.   

Chapter Text

Mike hasn’t regressed since he and Trevor had their falling out.  

And frankly, it’s starting to affect him.  

He tries his best not to let it be seen but it’s getting hard.  

He’s slowing down at work, missing more sleep, getting distracted more, living on energy drinks and sugary snacks. His ribs are bruised from overwearing his binder, Trevor used to monitor him so it wouldn't happen. 

It’s pretty bad. He’s always pretty bad at taking care of himself, but it was never really a problem because he was never fully alone.  

Except he is now and truthfully he needs help because he can’t be alone. 

But how do you possibly tell that to your boss? “Hey, yeah, I’m actually a little and the guy you made me cut contact with was my caregiver, so now I’m kinda screwed now, can you help lol?”  

He’s screwed.  

And it’s not like Grammy can help either.  She did up until when he moved in with Trevor and every now and then after that, but she can’t do that anymore, and even if she could, she’s in an old folks’ home now.  

And he can’t call Trevor back both because he hasn’t forgiven him for the set up and because that would mean breaking Harvey’s trust, and he already did that once by getting drunk with their Tennis player client because of Louis.  

Still, he’s never missed the nights they used to spend high off their asses at some playgrounds - and then running away from cops - more than he does now.  

He doesn’t have anyone to care for him now. And he doesn’t want anyone new or temporary either.  He doubts Harvey would push him to find a new caregiver but then again, he doesn’t fully know the man.  

He’ll figure it out eventually. He just needs everyone to take it easy on him for a moment.  

And of course, they don’t.  

Chapter Text

Wilson is a crybaby. 

He constantly looks sad, it's in his eyes, no matter the emotion, it's always there, even happy or angry. It's almost impressive.  

House doesn't mind the constant sad puppy dog's eyes, but the crying is a bit much. 

He always looks like he's one wrong comment away from bursting into tears but to actually see it is deeply unsettling. 

Especially for a man who usually represses his emotions just as much as he represses his homosexuality and that's saying something. 

"Oh my God, please, just stop crying." He can only ask because House doesn't beg and he sure as hell isn't about to start for this annoying mentally toddler, best friend or not. 

He doesn't have a guidebook on what to do in those situations, and it's not like he can ask anyone for help either.  

Apparently, his words aren’t ideal either because Wilson just starts crying harder. It looks almost painful but it’s impressive how silent he is. It’s as sad as it is a relief because it would without a doubt bring attention to them otherwise.  

His sobs are hard enough that they make his entire curled up body shake. For a moment, Greg worries that James might throw up.  

A feeling of hopelessness takes over him as he watches the man he loves suffer without being able to do anything about it.  

“Hey, hey, come one, calm down. What do you want?” House asks, hoping not too much desperation makes its way in his voice.  

A few infinitely long second pass without either of them moving before Wilson slowly uncurls from his spot on the ground and crawls towards his best friend.  

When he gets to House’s feet, he hesitently wraps his arms around the older man’s legs. When he doesn’t receive a bad reaction, he rests his head on him.  

His tremors slowly subdue while the diagnostician stands there motionless, unsure of what to do. After a few seconds, he simply rests his hand on top of Wilson’s hand.  

Chapter Text

Jessica was busy on her computer late at night in her office when Edwards Darby gently knocked on her door and walked in.  

“Edward. Can I do something for you?” She asked, closing her laptop, the man hesitated for a second before speaking up.  

"I must say, your Little is out of control." 

"Who, Harvey?" She asks with a raised brow.  

"Who else?"  

"He's not-" She starts but he interrupts her.  

"Is he not yours?" Darby asks, his face is hard to read, but Jessica is pretty sure there’s a shadow of a smile there.  

"He's not a Little." 

"Please, I have never seen someone so obvious hide try to hide their classification before. Though I hear Littles have a harder time on your side of the ocean, which might explain it." 

"I told you, he's just acting out because he has troubles with the merger." Jessica explained calmly, holding back a sigh.  

"I have to say, I haven't seen anything like it before."  

"Like what?" 

"Well, I was going to tell you but considering you aren't actually his caregiver-" 

"I am his legal guardian." 

“Well, then, I should probably tell you that he is planning on overthrowing you and taking your place.”  

This time, she doesn’t hold back her sigh.  

“Well, I can’t say I’m completely surprised...”  

They discuss back onto the merger for a bit before the discussion drifts back to Harvey again.  

“So, why does he hide his classification so much?” Edward asks.  

“Anyone would in his position.”  

"I also hear he used to be a lass." 

"How is that any of your business?" 

"It isn't. I am merely curious." 

“Who told you.” 

“Let’s just say I’ll keep it my own secret.” 

Chapter Text

Mike doesn’t handle critic well, he never has, it’s just especially bad when he regresses.  

Mainly because of what his childhood really was.  

Mainly because of his dad.  

Of course, at that time, he was still a girl.  

He didn’t figure out he was a guy until he turned thirteen and as much as he would have loved his mom to know what he’s become, he’s glad he didn’t have to face his father’s wrath when he came out.  

His father was a strict man who liked things the way he liked them, and Mike was rarely of one those things. He made peace pretty early on with the fact that he didn’t like the person he was.  

Grammy is good with him for everything, better than his parents ever were, expect for when it comes to Trevor, but that’s something else entirely.  

She doesn’t understand when he comes out at first, but eventually she mostly gets it and she accepts him.  

Trevor tells him he knew, after all, he’s been calling him Mike since before his parents ever died.  

They get high together and the world feels a little lighter.  

Then, they get high together a lot – too much maybe – and it keeps him steady.  

He spends years searching for the strain of weed that would make him forget how unstable his father was. Unfortunately, all distractions are temporary. And he can’t forever distract himself from what he really is.  

When he was a child, he promised himself that he would never be like his parents, but as he grows older, there’s no denying that he has his father’s anger, explosive and unpredictable.  

He hates it. He hates himself for it. For making his father live on in his mother’s eyes as her grandson’s anger.  

Anger soon becomes his first reaction to any kind of frustration. Especially critic. He tries to pretend that he wasn’t always like that, but the truth is that it only got worse with time, it was always there.  

The first time Louis gets on his ass for screwing up something, he wants to punch him in the face and fear – and a little bit of common sense – is the only thing holding him back. But when Harvey does, all he wants to do is sob and then he knows that the little girl he was is still in there.  

The first few times he regresses are completely involuntary. It happens because of the constant stress he feels at the firm and from not being allowed the only coping mechanism he ever used.  

Truthfully, it probably happened before – especially when he did get high – but he doesn’t remember, and Trevor never said anything about it. He just assumes that them waking up cuddled together had nothing to do with it.  

He can’t find the switch off button on his brain to stop it, so he does research and finds out what it is. It doesn’t exactly make a lot of sense to him, and he doesn’t really like it, but he has to accept it. He guesses that’s how Grammy felt when he came out to her.  

It happens more often than he would like – though if it was his choice he wouldn’t do it at all – but he can feel it coming most times and that’s a good way to know when to avoid being around people when he inevitably crashes.  

He hasn’t quite figured out how to control it just yet. But he’s getting around to it. And it’s fine as long as no one knows.  

Is what he tells himself until it happens in front of someone, because of course it does with his luck.  

It’s been a long day at the firm and all he wants is to go home, but Louis keeps hounding him for a file that wasn’t even his in the first place. And when he finally managed to get rid of him, Harvey was on his ass for another file that fine enough had been given to him specifically to work on but that he had completely forgotten.  

If it had been any other day, Mike would have been fine but now he’s trying his best to hold back his regression and it’s not good timing.  

Especially as soon as Harvey starts speaking.  

“Can’t you do anything correctly? I swear all I do is pick up after you. You’re supposed to help me- Mike?” 

Harvey doesn’t even get to finish his rant that Mike breaks down in tears.  

Just great.  

If he had any say in it, Mike would just die right there to spare himself the embarrassment.  

But the older man isn’t looking at him with judgment. In fact, he looks panicked more than anything else. Of course he would be, the man probably hasn’t felt real emotions since he was sixteen tops.  

His eyes drift between the water on his table, his phone, Donna’s empty cubicle, and the door. Whether he’s looking at the latter to go get help or just to escape the situation is unclear. One thing is clear however and it’s that his eyes clearly say, ‘what the fuck do I do now?’.  

He’s never seen Mike – or anyone really – break down like that, and he has no idea how to help.  

“Hey- Hey, it’s okay. It’s nothing we can’t fix.” He tries, forcing his voice as soft as he can muster. “It’s not that bad.”  

It doesn’t do much to help, if anything it looks like it makes Mike cry even harder. But it’s hard to tell because the boy is hiding his face with the unfinished file.  

Harvey almost asks, ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’ before realizing that it doesn’t sound friendly at all. Good thing he rehearses all his lines in his head before saying them out loud.  

“I’m sorry.” Mike finally manages to say between two hiccups.  

“It’s okay, it’s okay. No need to get so worked up about it. It’s just a file.” 

Harvey will need explanations soon enough, but for now he’ll stick to reassuring his associate until he doesn’t sound so damn pitiful.  

Chapter Text

It wasn’t to anyone’s surprise when Anthony presented as a Little, everyone around him had started expecting it since he started high school. 

It’s more of a surprise when Spencer does too. And he doesn't like it much. 

But it's fine, he doesn't need much when he's small. His regression mostly consists of watching old Asterix et Obélix movies with his plushie and a hot chocolate in a bottle.  

He's fine as long as his mother doesn't come to bother him. Especially if she’s drunk. Especially if she tries to baby him. Partly because he doesn’t actually drop young enough to like being babied but mostly because just the idea of her trying to take care of him makes his skin crawl. Well, especially because she tends to treat him like a girl then.  

She might have accpeted him coming out as a trans guy when he was still pretty young but it’s like she thinks he’ll become a girl again when he regresses for some reason.  

But he doesn’t have to think about it now. Because she’s passed out drunk on the couch in the living room and he’s safe from her prying eyes in his own room with his own peace.  

“Vous savez, moi je crois pas qu’il y est de bonne ou de mauvaises situations. Si je devais résumer ma vie aujourd'hui avec vous, je dirais que c’est d'abords des rencontres. Des gens qui mon tendu la main-” 

He knows the dialogues by heart, and he can just let himself drift away as he watches it. It’s the only time he ever truly sleeps well.  

He likes being alone. Especially when he regresses. 

It’s the only time he doesn’t have to put on a show for everyone around him. The only times he gets to fully relax too. 

Sometimes he regresses with Ant, and they get up to all kinds of shenanigans, but he usually just regresses alone and cares for Ant instead. Besides, he likes being a carer too.  

To be perfectly honest, he takes great pride in going against what society tells him he should be.  

Like being a caregiver and a little at once for exemple.

Chapter Text

Harvey never liked celebrating his birthday.  

Even as a child.  

It was always too much.  

Too much noise, too many people to please, too many things everywhere, too many expectations.  

Christmas parties were awful too, but his birthday was worse, because then everyone’s attention was on him all throughout it.  

He hated it so much that he’d hide in his room as soon as he could and have to be physically dragged out by his father.  

At some point, his parents finally understood and stopped organizing parties. They could still do it for Marcus while leaving Harvey alone.  

When he finally reaches adulthood, he stops telling people when his birthday is. Nobody needs to know it, and he doesn’t want them to give him special attention on a random day just because social constructs say they should.  

Jessica and Donna both know, but they understand, so they keep it to themselves and don’t bother him about it too much. Jessica tells him a simple ‘happy birthday, Harvey’ when she sees him, and Donna leaves him a little gift on his desk just before leaving the office.  

He likes it.  

Sometimes he goes out for a drink with one of them and that’s it. Or he goes alone and finds a nice person to finish the night with.  

Nothing more, nothing less, just enough.  

Nowadays, though, he spends his birthdays at the cabin.  

Alone.  

Sometimes he buys a cake at the local grocery store and eats it in the grass while the sun shines through three branches before reaching his skin.  

Sometimes he cries.  

Because as much as he pretends not to care, being lonely does get to him sometimes.  

He thinks about his birthdays as a child, and he cries because he misses his dad.  

He cries a lot because of that; way more than he’d ever admit to himself.  

He plays his records all the time in the cabin. It feels nice. And if he closes his eyes, he can almost believe the man is really playing in the living room instead of being on record.  

He wonders what life would have been like if Gordon had known his kid was what they really are when no one is watching. What he would have said. How he would have reacted to finding out about it.  

Realistically, Harvey knows they never would have told him. But it’s still nice to imagine it. To imagine a reinvented childhood with their dad in the yard and them twirling around in a dress and picking flowers before wrestling with their brother and getting mud all over.  

Being a girl doesn’t come down to wearing skirts and dresses. Of course, it doesn’t.  

But it’s hard to explain. It’s something that transcends the worlds of binary and norms.  

It’s easier to pretend it’s all about dresses and flowers. And he isn’t really a girl anyway. Not all the time at least. It’s complicated.  

He’s just him. And sometimes him is them and sometimes them is she. It’s not easy to understand and he still struggles sometimes so he doesn’t tell anyone and he doesn’t ask himself too many questions about it either.  

Still, sometimes – although very rarely – he wishes someone could see him.  

Fully, in every part and every way.  

But it won’t happen.  

Chapter Text

Very few people know that Neal Caffrey is a transgender man.  

Mozzie knows as he was the one who helped him hide any proof of him ever being anything else. Kate did too. His mother and Ellen do as well, of course, not that it matters much.  

But nobody else knowns. Because he doesn’t want them to, and it isn’t any of their business anyway.  

He had never been so grateful for his phalloplasty as he was when he was finally arrested. Who knowns what would have happened otherwise.  

It goes without saying that Peter doesn’t know. He would never risk it even if he mostly trusts the man.  

Him being trans never causes any issues until he regresses for the first time and has no idea what to do with himself.  

His parents didn’t mean anything bad, but they had him live a very gendered childhood and as such, he has no idea what he likes in a younger headspace. 

He tried to draw but he ended up getting frustrated as soon as he first put his pen on paper because he didn’t know what to do.  

Reading was a failure too because he kept getting distracted, and the words made nothing more than a jumbled mess in his head.  

TV worked at least.  

He got lucky enough to find some old reruns of movies he used to watch as a kid and just managed to get lost in it.  

The Muppets take over Manhattan and Aristocats in particular.  

He wrapped himself in a soft blanket while he nursed a hot chocolate and let himself fully relax.