Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Baking cookies isn’t hard, he thought. Even a kid could do it without problems, he said.

Well, Leone had been oh so wrong about it, and now the kitchen looked like a flour and burnt dough battlefield, Haruno being completely covered in flour while he knew he had the unbaked dough pasted to his hair and many parts of his body. The kid looked at him with those big eyes of his, so he looked back, staring at each other for a while, until they broke down in uncontrollable laughter.

It was hard to explain how one month could change a person so much.

Leone still remembers the first few days of the kid staying with him, how fearful he was to even ask for basic stuff like water or food when needed; how sometimes he would stare at Leone for long minutes as if expecting a punishment for something he did wrong, and little by little, with time and a patience he didn’t know he had, he had gotten past all of the kid’s barriers, getting to know the brilliant child that had been forced to hide for too long.

Contrary to what he thought at the start, Haruno didn’t have as many problems with Italian as the kid believed. He had a great grasp on the language, only getting confused when someone spoke too fast, but he knew how to speak it better, only that he had been told many times that he had been incorrect to the point he was scared of making mistakes, stunting his learning progress and making him doubt himself so much it lead to his long thinking and struggles with finding the words he wanted to say.

Learning Japanese, on the other hand, was proving to be a difficult endeavour for Leone.

Getting his hands on an Italian-Japanese dictionary had been the easiest part, but the language was… Difficult without a teacher to help him — Haruno tried, but the kid didn’t know where to start, so the “lessons” were more of a game than proper learning.

So far, he only knew a few scattered words and the meaning of Haruno’s name — it was related to spring, fitting since he had found the kid during that season —, even though he didn’t use it at all, calling him Coccinella all the time.

A week after he had taken him in, Haruno had asked why he never used his name if he knew it — not with those exact words, but Leone caught up on what he was trying to convey — his answer being a simple “you don’t seem to like it”, getting a nod and a sad smile as his only answer.

Even if he referred to Haruno as, well, Haruno in his mind, he was just waiting for the kid to choose a name he wanted to use to replace the one full of bad memories — the kid had told him one night, in a voice so low he almost missed it, that he did like his name and how it was related to his favourite season; but he didn’t like how it was connected to the people who hurt him, wanting a name that he could relate to Leone and his kindness.

And, damn, he never expected to be called kind by a child when his personality was shitty and full of flaws — there had been too many times he had to sit down and breathe with the kid to get him out of a panic attack he accidentally caused by doing certain stuff, like when he raised his voice a little too loud, or when he touched Haruno without thinking to get the kid’s attention; or that one time he yanked him a little while walking on the street to get him out of the way of someone who would have harshly crashed against the kid —, but despite all of his mistakes, the kid had put his trust in him, almost making him cry the first time he looked him directly in the eye, saying “I trust you” with the most serious face he had ever seen a seven-year-old making.

Being assigned to paperwork duty and allowed to keep Haruno around the station had been something he didn’t expect, but the chief had called him into his office come Monday — he had always had the weekends off by some sheer luck, and it had been Friday when he brought the kid with him back home — and told him he would be on paperwork duty until everything was in order — with that being Haruno getting a new name and all the illegal bullshit they were doing so that the kid could stay with him and far away from the scum who were his “parents”.

Haruno had been attached to him as if he were an extra limb, refusing to get away from Leone for even a second. Almost everyone at the station had seen the kid before, when they had been the ones to find him and all the bullshit for the past year — honestly? He didn’t understand how all of them had decided to turn a blind eye to the situation and had the balls to try to befriend the kid now that he was Leone’s not-so-legal charge.

And so the past month had been one thing after another, with Haruno slowly getting out of his shell while around him, and so far Leone had done a wonderful job taking care of the kid without his grandparents knowing, which brought him to the reason they were baking cookies on a Friday night instead of heating the dinner Nonna had put in his fridge earlier that week.

Haruno had wanted to try the recipe, nervous because the adoption papers were now real, safe in the kid’s room — they had cleaned it together the day after Haruno was brought to his apartment, and it had been tedious but, by the end of that Saturday, the child had a proper room to sleep in instead of stealing Leone’s bed and him being relegated to the couch — and ready to be official as soon as he had a name to sign in there.

A social worker had been there from the same Monday he started to be on paperwork duty, judging and prodding at him with sharp eyes and harsh words that turned into kind smiles and soft murmurs when Haruno looked at them — he must admit, the social worker was amazing with the kid, but they had to assess if Leone was a good enough guardian for the kid, so the constant judgement had been expected —, and it had been that morning when they came to him, their notes full of approval and finally giving him a smile alongside the papers, saying that they were glad he had found the kid when he did, warning him of possible separation anxiety in the future and to keep taking care of the child.

When he talked to Haruno about the adoption and Leone becoming his official guardian, the kid had brightened up for a moment before his mind started overthinking — he had seen the kid do that a lot during the past month, and while he hated how a seven-year-old was prone to that, he knew the kid needed the time to sort his thoughts and that he would speak to him when he was ready —, leaving the topic hanging in the air until they were back home.

He asked to see the papers, so they sat down at the kitchen table, Leone helping him with words that were too complicated and answering all the questions that came to his young but bright mind, stopping when they reached the name part, blurting out if they could bake cookies.

So Leone tried to remember his Nonna’s recipe for lemon cookies, telling Haruno that he could keep and guard the papers until he was sure that’s what he wanted while he got the ingredients ready; and then one thing led to another, a flour bag broke on top of Haruno, a bowl full of uncooked dough flew and ended on his head, then he had put the oven too hot and they forgot about the cookies since they thought a Japanese “lesson” would be a good idea to pass the time… All in all, it had been a disaster, but they couldn’t help it: the way everything went had been funny, so Leone laughed, and Haruno laughed too, and now they had to clean everything and themselves before having dinner, and later Leone would have to call Nonna to tell her he was visiting tomorrow, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about how his grandparents were going to react to Haruno, or how the kid would be around total strangers even if they were Leone’s family.

But for now they were laughing at their cookie mishap, so his worries could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Haruno was squeezing his hand so hard it was starting to hurt, but Leone couldn’t let go, not when he knew that the kid needed the touch to keep him grounded, even more when he was about to meet new people.

He had called his grandparents that morning while making breakfast — last night he forgot in between cleaning the war-zone that his kitchen had become and staying with Haruno even after the kid fell asleep since he was cuddled against him, his hands clutching his pajama’s shirt as a lifeline —, getting an earful from his Nonna for not telling her earlier that she had a great-grandchild and that they better come visit them for lunch or Leone would regret it for the rest of his life.

So, here they were, in front of his grandparents’ house, not ringing the bell as a way of giving the kid time to calm down. It was okay, Leone could wait. He wasn’t sure about Nonna being patient, though, because that’s just how she was with her brash but caring personality: she had taken care of him even though Leone reminded her of his father — he was his splitting image, except for his eyes that, somehow, had become a combination of both of his parents’ colours. And Leone knew how much it hurt his Nonna to look at him the first weeks after the accident, but she still raised him with kindness and rough love that would be contrasted by Nonno's clumsy and carefree personality.

When Haruno’s grip relaxed, he knew the kid was ready, looking at him for confirmation and, when he received a small but determined nod, he rang the bell; the door being opened immediately by the woman who had done — and still does — so much for him.

The kid hid behind his leg in an instant, making Nonna frown with concern — though Haruno didn’t know how to read her, trying to make himself smaller as soon as he caught her expression —, her violet eyes fixed on him with so many questions, mouthing a “later” for her, so she just gave him a nod, telling them to get in and that lunch was almost ready.

Haruno clung to his leg, his eyes taking everything in, clearly looking for all the escape routes he could find — it helped him calm down to know where the exits were, that way he could run and hide if things got ugly. They were working on that habit of his, but it would take a while for it to go away, if it goes away.

Nonno was sitting in his favourite armchair, reading a book that he left aside as soon as he saw them, waving at them with his goofy smile. It was then that he felt the grip on his pants leg lessen, looking back at Haruno to find him eyeing with curiosity the bookshelves full of books that Nonno had in the living room — Leone had witnessed his Nonno setting new ones a lot when he was still living with them, most of his injuries coming from assembling a new bookshelf —, coming up with an idea.

“Do you want to check Nonno’s book collection?” He lowered himself to be at eye level with Haruno, whose eyes kept going between the multiple bookshelves and Leone, unsure. “He doesn’t bite, but you can bite him.”

“Hey! I heard that, you little shit!”

“Niccolò! No swearing in front of children!” Nonna’s loud voice carried from the kitchen, and Nonno stuck out his tongue, knowing that she couldn’t see him right now.

“Don’t listen to Olimpia, kiddo, she’s an old hag who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“Niccolò Abbacchio, you’re playing with fire!”

Nonno raised an eyebrow to say “see what I’m talking about?”, getting a small laugh from Haruno who, slowly, let go of his leg, walking towards the bookshelves, his eyes looking at Nonno from time to time, and he didn’t pay attention to the kid, picking up his book to keep reading. Leone stayed there until the kid turned to look at him, his eyes telling him that he would be okay here, walking away from them and into the kitchen, where Nonna was eyeing the lasagna in the oven, turning to look at him as soon as she felt his presence.

“So, who did you impregnate, Leone? I thought I raised you better than that, missing so many years of a son you didn’t even know about.”

“Wha-? No, that’s not it!” At Nonna’s harsh glare and raised eyebrow, Leone could only sigh. “I found him in a park a month ago while on patrol duty. His… parents had abandoned him, not for the first time either, so it was either giving him back to those cazzi or keeping the kiddo. You can guess what I chose if I’m visiting with him.”

“So you kidnapped him.”

“No, I took him away from abusive assholes, Nonna. You should have seen the state he was in when I found him… It took me all this time for him to start opening up to me, and I barely know a thing of what he went through, just… mio Dio, Nonna, I’m not fit to be a father yet here I am, with an okay from a social worker and a judge to adopt this kid and be his legal guardian but-”

“You won’t fuck up, Leone.” As always, she knew what was going on his mind, as if she could read his thoughts like an open book. “The little one is attached to you, I can tell. If he weren’t, do you think he would cling to you like he did back at the door? He’s so small … How old is he, Leone?”

“Seven, and yes, he is small for his age, blame those dickheads that were supposed to be his parents.”

“Merda. That bad?”

“Worse than whatever you’re thinking.” She sat down at the table, looking older than she was. “I can’t tell you now, but maybe one day he’ll open up to you, Nonna. Just… not now; everything is too recent. Abuse victims are distrustful of everything; it’s a miracle the kid has let me see as much as I’ve been able to so far, believe me, I’m surprised.”

“You’ll have to learn how to cook.”

“I know.”

“You’re a disaster in the kitchen.”

“Don’t remind me. We almost destroyed the kitchen yesterday trying to bake cookies.”

That got a hearty laugh out of Nonna, who stood up to check on her lasagna, turning off the oven but still not getting it out, something about “the food needing to stay five to ten more minutes after being turned off or it wouldn’t taste the same”.

“Niccolò got him a couple of plushies. He ran to the toy store as soon as you cut the call, excited to spoil another child after such a long time.”

“Hey, I’m only twenty-three.”

“And you stopped asking for toys when you turned thirteen, so you haven’t been a kid for ten years, Cucciolo.”

Quick and eager footsteps cut their conversation there, Haruno coming into the kitchen clutching a frog and a ladybug plush to his chest, his face devoid of emotions but his eyes were screaming at him how happy he was with his new acquisitions.

“Baba! Come, come.”

That was something he was still getting used to. At some point, Haruno had stopped calling him Signore to use “Baba” instead — he had asked for his full name after he told him why he called Haruno Coccinella, the kid struggling to say his surname and, frustrated, he blurted Baba, his hands immediately going to cover his mouth, fear in his eyes that slowly went away when he saw that Leone didn’t mind, and little by little he stopped being so formal when calling for him, and he would be lying if he said the kid’s nickname for him didn’t warm his heart.

His hand was grabbed by the kid with difficulty — he was reluctant to let go of his new plushies, and he wondered how the hell Nonno had known those were Haruno’s favourite animals or if he had picked them out of sheer dumb luck —, and if there was one thing about the kid, it was that he rarely initiated contact, and when he did, he was excited as only seven-year-olds could be.

He was dragged into the living room, aware of Nonna coming behind him, but Haruno didn’t seem to mind, set on his goal to show Leone something, finding a few books spread through the coffee table, not understanding a thing when the kid let go, put his new soft treasures on the table, picked up a couple of books and brought them to him, staring at the books and then at the kid in confusion, getting a barely noticeable pout from him.

“My name. I chose it.” Haruno signaled the first word of the title of a poetry book, and then the surname of the author of the other one. “I read the words. They feel right. They feel me. So, I know what I want, when we sign the papers… I-if you still want to…”

“Of course I want to, Coccinella.” He heard a snicker coming from Nonna at the nickname he had given his kid — because Haruno was his kid, even if they had yet to put it on official documents and all that crap —, as if she was one to talk when she kept calling him Cucciolo. “Can you tell me your name?”

His mismatched eyes sparkled, and the biggest smile he had ever seen on the kid’s face bloomed like a flower in spring.

“Giorno. My name is Giorno Giovanna.”