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Chapter 78 - 3 a.m.: The Best Time for Heartfelt Talks

- Chapter 78 - Quentin and Emilio being the best. That's basically the whole chapter -
Warnings: mentions of abuse, bad memories, hospitals, bad doctors experiences, worry
Third Person POV

Emilio rubbed his right eye as he walked into the kitchen, expecting to be the only one awake. His eyebrows furrowed. "Papa?"

Quentin looked up.

Emilio noticed the bags under his eyes and the look of sheer exhaustion on his face.

"Water." Quentin pointed to the sink, hearing how hoarse Emilio's voice was.

Emilio nodded. He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and a lemon from the fridge, and started to get himself water. He turned on the sink and let the water fill the cup three-quarters of the way (he'd measured it before and knew which line it fell on), before counting down the stripes on the cup to make sure he was right. He cut the lemon and squeezed it into the water.

Quentin helped Emilio clean up a bit when he was done.

Emilio took a few sips of his water, before he decided to start speaking again. "What are you doing up this late?" he asked softly.

Quentin looked over at him. He sighed softly, gently brushing Emilio's curls back so they didn't cover his eyes. "You need a haircut," he mumbled, mainly to make a mental note for himself. "I'll tell you why I'm awake, but only if you tell me why you're awake."

Emilio frowned a bit. He looked down at his water. "I just can't sleep," he mumbled, definitely leaving out some details.

Quentin sighed softly. "We both know that's not the full truth, but I won't force you to tell me," he said. "Just remember that I'm here to help you, Emilio," he reminded him. "Even if you don't want to talk about it, if there's a way I can help, tell me."

Emilio bit his lip a bit, slowly lifting his head to look at his foster father. "Group home memories... ones without Jesse," he finally admitted quietly. "But, it's nothing I can't handle," he assures him.

Quentin's frown deepened. "You shouldn't have to handle it though," he responded.

Emilio bit his lip and looked away for a moment. He wiped his eyes and shook himself out of it, before turning back to Quentin. "What are you doing?"

Quentin looked around the kitchen and sighed. "Trying to make a little treat for the cast because I know they've worked hard and they've gone through a lot, so I thought that they should be reminded that I'm proud of them," he explained quietly, drumming his fingers on the counter. "However... I can't cook."

"Bake," Emilio corrected him.

"Right." Quentin nodded. "I can't bake," he fixed it. "I mean, I can't cook either."

Emilio nodded. "Yes, but making treats and stuff like this is baking," he reminded him.

Quentin nodded again. He always tried to remember the difference so Emilio wouldn't have to constantly correct him, but it just slipped his mind and he always remembered at times when he wasn't talking to Emilio. It was quite annoying.

"Does Mr. Johnson know you're awake?" Emilio asked.

Quentin pursed his lips. "I hope not," he answered honestly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

Emilio tilted his head as he looked up at him. "You sound like any teenager with a boyfriend," he commented.

Quentin chuckled. "He doesn't need to worry about me." He brushed it off.

Emilio squinted his eyes at him. "Mhm... especially not about those bags under your eyes." He leaned against the counter.

Quentin sighed softly, a small, amused smile on his face. "You got me." He put his hands up as if he were surrendering. "I've just been a little stressed recently."