Between the Times - 4. Sawyer

Sawyer loved Frank. Not in a romantic way, not even in a sexual way–he was a good-looking guy, but a bit too much–but honestly in the best way a slave could love his master. Frank didn’t treat him like a slave, but… like a friend? A bit of a brother? Sawyer had no word for this that captured the feeling right.

The important thing was that Sawyer was treated better than well, that he got to live with Dante and Tom. And getting presents was a nice bonus. For the festival of lights Tom, Dante and Frank each got him a small one and for his birthday Dante and Tom did the same. Frank instead let him choose. The very first year Sawyer had joked he wanted a new mattress and guess what, Frank had brought him to a specialized mattress-shop so they would get a proper consultation.

That had been four years ago and this year Sawyer had something different in mind. Though apparently he’d worded it wrong. “This is not what I meant.” Slightly confused, but actually more amused–and maybe a bit offended that Frank had interpreted his words like this–he looked at the adult toy store.

“You said you wanted to buy toys.” Frank, palms up, shrugged, then pointed to the store.

“I didn’t say anything about that kind of toys,” Sawyer corrected, but the thought of actually having a proper dick to play with at night… well, next year. Or maybe he should drop a hint for the festival of lights. Getting older didn’t necessarily mean getting less horny. Ah, well, he could see why Frank had thought along those lines.

“So, which kind of toys did you mean?”

“Normal toys, of course. For children. What else?” A happy grin spread over Sawyer’s face, not dampened in the slightest by Frank raising a brow.

“Children toys…?”

“Yes,” Sawyer said with as much conviction as he could muster.

“… sure.” With a somewhat helpless gesture and a small shake of the head, Frank turned and started to move. “Just how old did you turn today?”

“Well to be precise, means as far as I’ve been told, I was born in the late evening, meaning it’s not actually my birthday right now, it’s too early. But around bedtime I’m forty-three. You should know, as a good master.” With a skip in his step, Sawyer went alongside Frank, who sighed.

“That was a rhetorical question. Of course I know how old you are. I’m just trying to see why you want kids’ toys. You’re a couple decades too old.”

“You’re playing with crayons all day long.”

“I’m an artist and making money with my drawings. Money I use right now on you,” Frank pointed out, looking at Sawyer with again a brow raised.

Sawyer grinned back. “So who cares what I want since you give me the choice to choose?”

Again, Frank sighed.

When they entered nearly two hours later the third toy store, Frank was trying to hide his slight annoyance. Sawyer wasn’t that smart, but he could see it. It wasn’t his fault, though, that he couldn’t find exactly what he wanted.

“Could you at least give me a hint about what you are actually looking for?” Frank asked when Sawyer turned into one of the aisles.

“Plushies,” Sawyer replied. His cheerful tone was gone by now, but he refused to let his worry that he might really not find what he was looking for show.

“Plushies,” Frank echoed, a prompt in his voice.

“Plushies. Two.”

“Two? Why two?”

This was a critical point now. “Will you only allow me one, master?” He refrained from casting a glance back over his shoulder.

Frank sighed anyway. “I’m fine with two, if that means we can go home.”

“Yeah, well, I see what you mean, but it’s not–oh.”

“Is this a good or a bad oh?”

“A good one.” Almost reverently, Sawyer took a black plush horse from a shelf and smiled. It was perfect.

“Oh,” made Frank.

“I know a bad oh when I hear one.” With a cheeky grin, Sawyer half turned to Frank, who wore a skeptical expression. “This is not what you think it is.”

“So this is not representing Dante?”

“Ah, well, yes, it is, but–”

“At least it’s not a unicorn.”

“Hey! I would never abuse a plushie like that!”

Frank didn't answer, but the mix of skepticism and hope said it all.

Since Sawyer wasn't done yet, he turned back to the shelf and looked at the various stuffed animals. It was incredible what was available. He didn’t know the names of all of them, but he had at least seen most of them on TV in some documentaries. However, he had to pick up a dark brown creature looking like a sausage with a head and fins to read the label. Sea lion. The thing had absolutely nothing in common with lions. Shaking his head, he put it back in its place and moved on.

Frank sighed again.

But there it was. Small and dainty and fluffy. A kitten in a warm orange.

“And of course, yet another depiction of Dante, in cat form,” Frank muttered. “Are you sure you’re okay? Mentally, I mean?”

With a chuckle, Sawyer hugged the kitten close. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He gave Frank a beaming smile. “I got what I wanted, we can go.”

“Took long enough…”

Sawyer followed his grumpy master to the check-out. His feelings for Dante were complicated, but not so obsessive that he wanted to put his animal representatives in bed with him. It was less infatuation and more… lust. Or maybe he was just trying to convince himself of that.

~

Sawyer stepped into the room after being invited in and smiled down at Dante. “Hey.”

“You’re back,” Dante noted. “What nice thing did you pick out?”

“Well, as for that…” Sawyer closed the door behind him and waved to Dimmi, who was just now looking up from his toy car. “Hello, little guy.”

“Saw!” Dimmi squealed, pushing himself up on his chubby little legs and wobbling toward him.

“Is Uncle Sawyer getting a hug?” Sawyer crouched down, set the bag he’d brought beside him, and spread his arms wide. “Come here!” Giggling, Dimmi threw himself into his arms and he plopped down on his butt. He loved this little creature, even if he wasn’t even remotely related to him. “You’re getting stronger every day, Great Mother! Just like your Pa and Da.”

“Dada!” Dimmi pointed behind him at Dante, who was sitting amidst a collection of wooden cars.

“Exactly.” Sawyer nodded seriously, then examined the car Dimmi held out to him, babbling earnestly, before pulling the bag closer. “Look here, Uncle Sawyer brought something.” And he loved being an uncle. Dante had asked cautiously, almost shyly, if he wanted that title, and what else could Sawyer say but yes?

“Dwwoooo?”

“What?” Dante said, taken aback. “Why did you bring something? You’re supposed to pick out your own birthday present.”

“I did.” Grinning, Sawyer pulled the stuffed horse out of the bag, but only gave Dante a quick glance before focusing on Dimmi again. “And my wish was to be able to give something as a gift.”

The toy car landed on the floor, and with an “oooooooh,” the horse was touched.

“Really soft, isn’t it?” Sawyer moved it as if it were walking. “Gallop, gallop, gallop.”

In time with the rhythm, Dimmi bent his knees and wiggled his bottom.

“Shall we call it Galloppy?

Dimmi let out an enthusiastic squeal before hugging the horse close. Then he turned around—Sawyer had to hold him up so he wouldn’t tip over—and presented it to Dante. “Dada!”

“Da is looking. You’ve got a great horse there, Dimmi.”

Dimmi mimicked the movement again, and Sawyer and Dante chuckled softly when he ended up falling over. “Dada! Saw!”

“A gift from Uncle Sawyer. You have to say thank you.”

Just as Dante was speaking—and thus before anything like that could happen—the door opened and Frank walked in. With that, Sawyer and Dante were forgotten.

“Papa!” Dimmi squealed happily, struggling back to his feet. “Papa!”

“Papa’s back.” Without paying attention to anything else, Frank picked Dimmi up and immediately began examining the awesome new toy as if he’d never seen it before.

Dante sighed. “As if I were just a babysitter.”

“Oh, nonsense, Dimmi loves you too,” Sawyer objected vehemently, even though he had no idea if that was true, or even could be true. He knew nothing about children and how they developed their relationships and feelings. “He just loves Frank a tiny bit more.”

“A tiny bit?” Raising a brow, Dante shook his head.

“We love you to bits and pieces,” Frank declared, before Sawyer could say more, tickling Dimmi.

“There you go,” Sawyer said anyway.

Dante sighed again and waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. Dimmi’s still too young.”

Not wanting to drag out what would likely be a painful discussion, Sawyer actually kept his mouth shut and stood up. “All right. I’ve got another gift to deliver.”

“What?” Dante asked, taken aback again, before adding, “To whom?”

Sawyer grinned, waved to Dimmi, and walked out. He’d explained his plan to Frank, and Frank had sighed and agreed, but Dante was clever and ignored Frank’s almost sharp “Dante!” and hurried after Sawyer.

“Saw, what’s this about?”

Sawyer paused as Dante grabbed his arm; his grin vanished, but it had been a feint anyway. Dante’s expression, somewhere between disbelief and pain, hurt—far more than his slightly too-firm grip. “Just this once, Dante. They’re still little, they don’t understand.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Dante retorted, letting go of him and shaking his head.

Suppressing a sigh, Sawyer picked up the second bag he’d set down in the hallway. “It’s not fair. And eventually he’ll understand. Someone will explain the joke to him.”

“That’s not a joke!” Dante snapped, and now Sawyer really did sigh, but sadly.

“Of course not.” He pulled the little orange cat halfway out of the bag, just enough for Dante to see it. “But just like Britney punished Frank with Cole’s middle name, this is something for those in the know. Eventually, someone will explain it to him.”

Bitterness twisted Dante’s features, and the sight dug painfully into Sawyer’s chest. “You shouldn’t do this, Saw, really.”

“Will Alice get it? Or Matt?”

It took a moment before Dante said hesitantly, “I don’t think so.”

“See?”

Dante pressed his lips together before shaking his head.

“Those two are literally the same age. Just as Emily and Cole are growing up together, so will Dimmi and Sam. Let me be an uncle to both of them. Matt isn’t interested in the boys anyway, and to everyone else, I’m just the quirky chatterbox.”

“You shouldn’t—” But Dante trailed off, shook his head, and raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

“None of this is your fault,” Sawyer said quietly and kissed Dante on the forehead before walking away. Miss Alice had shattered Dante’s heart like a dropped vase, and some of those shards had pierced Sawyer’s heart. He had always respected and liked Miss Alice, but now he didn’t know how to see her anymore. She was a good woman, a good mistress, certainly a good mother, but Sawyer didn’t dare say how much her decisions in this matter had truly ruined.

He found his matriarch sitting at the kitchen table, with Emily and Cole on either side of her, both spooning yogurts. Sam was sitting in his high chair, sucking on a bottle that contained something other than milk, and Henry was standing at the stove, as he so often did, stirring a pot; it smelled suspiciously of onions.

“Sawyer, it's good to see you.” Miss Alice smiled at him. “How was your trip into town?”

“Tedious but ultimately successful, Miss.” He gave a slight bow and raised his hand in greeting at the same time as Henry turned halfway around. “May I speak with you and Sam for a moment?”

“Me and… Sam?” She blinked at him, puzzled. “Sure.”

“Mama,” Sam mumbled as she picked him up, and Sawyer quickly caught the bottle, which had promptly gotten tossed aside.

“Ma will be right back, okay? Emily, Cole, stay seated. If you need help, Henry’s here.”

“Okay, Ma,” Emily said casually, while Cole nodded, the yogurt spoon still hands-free in his mouth.

Miss Alice nodded to Sawyer, and then he followed her into the dining room. “What’s so important, Sawyer?”

“Well, it’s not important per se, just maybe important to me, but I want to give Sam a present,” he explained, holding up the bag.

She looked at him, confused. “But why? It’s your birthday.”

“I know, and my wish was to give Dimmi and Sam a gift.” He saw it dawn on her face, but he just kept talking. “Just this once, Miss. The two of them are growing up together, just like Emily and Cole—how can I give Dimmi a gift and not Sam? How can I be an uncle to Dimmi and not to Sam? I mean, I’m not related to either of them, and they’ll figure that out soon enough—sooner than a lot of other things—so it would be even stranger not to be an uncle to both of them, don’t you think, Miss?”

The warm smile—perhaps just a touch sad—brought him relief. “All right. Things are chaotic enough as it is; one more uncle won’t make a difference. What do you say, Sam?”

Sam didn’t say anything, just stared at Sawyer critically.

“Look, Sam, Uncle Sawyer brought you something.” He pulled the kitten out of the bag and held it out to Sam, who first looked at the stuffed animal skeptically, then glanced up at his mother, who nodded encouragingly.

Clinging to his mom’s sweater with one little hand, he reached out with the other for the kitten as Sawyer held it closer. “Meow,” he said, as if stating a fact.

“Exactly, a meow-cat,” Sawyer agreed. “Just for Sam.”

Miss Alice looked taken aback. “He’s never said anything other than ‘Mama’ before.”

“You’re welcome.” Sawyer grinned at her and she laughed softly.

Meanwhile, Sam reached for the stuffed animal and hugged it close.

“Thank you, Sawyer,” Miss Alice said softly, touching his arm.

Something in her demeanor made him lean toward her, and he accepted the kiss on the cheek. “Anytime, Miss.”

When he returned to the basement a little later, he decided to be the best uncle in the world. Dante wasn’t allowed to love Sam and, as Sawyer perceived it, was struggling with his feelings for Dimmi. Matt could say whatever he wanted, but he wasn’t very good at feigning love for Sam. So both boys needed an extra dose of attention and affection. And since Sawyer had no one else, he had plenty to spare.