Hawthorne Fanfics

Are they thinking of us?

"Do you think he thinks about us?"

The question caught the nine-year-old Grayson off guard. It was eight at night and he was getting ready to crawl into bed and watch a movie before crashing for the night. It was his seven-and-a-half-year-old brother, Xander, that had spoken it.

Thinking he meant their grandfather, he replied. "Yes, I'm sure the old man thinks about us."

"No, I don't mean him."

"Then who?"

"Our dad." He corrected himself. "Dads."

Grayson stiffened slightly. "Probably not." Both born out of wedlock, along with their other 2 brothers, Grayson was used to the criticism that came being the grandson of a billionaire and having a mother who decided to sleep and get pregnant with four guys and never marry.

"Do you think about him."

Grayson didn't have to ask who the "Him" Xander was referring to. "Sometimes." he admitted. "Do you?"

"All the time. I like to think he wants me."

Grayson didn't have the heart to tell his brother that his dad, whoever he was, probably didn't care in the world who he was. Why else would he stay away all this time? Why would his own father stay away too? There was a part of Grayson that wanted to believe his father loved and wanted him. That something was holding him back from reaching out and meeting his son. Maybe he was fighting for him. Somewhere.

"Gray?" Xander asked.

"Hmm."

"What's ya think'in?"

Grayson almost laughed at Xander's grammar. "Nothing of importance."

"But.."

"No buts Xander. You can think about your dad as long as you want. But I'm not." I can't. He silently told himself. I'm not allowed too. Grayson was never allowed to play What ifs.

Xander grew silent.

"I'm sorry." Grayson said. "I didn't mean to snap."

"I know." Xander said softly. "So what are you going to do now?" he asked.

Grayson looked at him. "I'm going to enjoy a very relaxing evening. With both Jameson and Nash away, I won't be bugged about stupid stuff."

"Am I bugging you?" Xander had to ask.

Grayson's facial expression almost turned soft. "No, you aren't." he murmured. "But you will if you don't turn on the TV for me and pass me a scone."

Xander saw where this was going. He grinned. Handing his brother a lemon scone and tossing him the remote, he jumped up beside him on the massive, overly comfortable bed.

"So what are we watching?" he asked.

"Narnia."

Xander made a face.

"My room. My movie choice. And no commentary. Or talking. Then you are out."

"What about whispering?"

"Xander..."