A/N: Belated Tuesday update 🙂
10:26 AM; CLINSTONE, TWINKLE TOES BALLET STUDIO
Bo squatted down in front of Castor, tugging down on the hem of the toddler’s white t-shirt. “You look nervous.”
Castor’s head snapped in his father’s direction. “Why?”
“Well, I figured you’d be smiling by now.”
“Why’m I the only boy, Daddy?”
“I suppose a lot of boys in Clinstone don’t want to try ballet.”
“Is ballet not for boys?”
“Ballet’s for anyone who wants to do it, baby. Boy, girl, or otherwise.”
“I promise.” Bo smiled, tapping his index finger to the tip of the boy’s nose. “That just means you have to show all the girls how amazing you are at dancing, that’s all.”
Castor smiled. “Okay, Daddy.”
Bo held the boy’s face between his hands. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m honored.” Bo pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Have fun, okay? Greyson and I will be right here the whole time.”
“Okay, bye-bye, Daddy.”
Bo chuckled, deciding not to remind him one more time that he wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Bye-bye, baby.” Castor giggled and turned, running across the room to where the girls and two adults stood. The girls, dressed in pink leotards and tights, were getting pink or white tutus from the teachers.
Castor, dressed in a white t-shirt and black tights, stood behind them, head cocked to the side. “Do I get one?”
“Umm…” The woman looked back at Bo, who only nodded. “Of course you do,” she decided, holding a white tutu out to Castor.
He clapped excitedly, thanked the teacher, and hurried back to Bo. “You didn’t go bye-bye.”
“Nope, still here.”
Bo grabbed the tutu and held it out to the boy. Castor stepped through it, one hand wrapped around Bo’s arm. Bo slid it up his legs and adjusted it at his waist. “There you go, baby,” he said, pushing the boy’s glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll be right here,” Bo said.
Bo pushed himself to his feet as Castor hurried back to the rest of his classmates. The blonde smiled and sat down beside Pollux on the bench by the window.
The toddler climbed into his father’s lap. “Daddy?”
Bo grabbed Pollux’s toy car from the bench and handed it to the boy. “Here you go, baby.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart.”
“Do… I detta tome here every day?”
“Just every Tuesday.”
Pollux nodded. “Tool.”
“I know, baby. It’s pretty cool,” Bo agreed.
“Tas looks pretty, Daddy.”
“He does, doesn’t he?”
Pollux threw his head back against Bo’s chest. “Am I pretty?”
“Oh, you’re the prettiest baby in the whole world, sweetheart.
Pollux grinned. “You’re pretty too, Daddy.”
“Oh, thank you, baby.” Bo rested a hand on Pollux’s chest as the toddler leaned back against him. Bo looked up as one of the teachers worked to get all of the children in a circle. Castor smiled at Bo, waving a hand. Bo lifted a hand, tapping his fingers to the heel of his palm to return the wave.
One of the other children stomped a foot. “Momma!” she exclaimed, wildly waving both hands. Bo looked around the room, brow furrowed. Was it because he was old or because he wasn’t normal that all the parents being on their phones seemed wrong to him? Why sit in on your child’s ballet class if you couldn’t do anything more than lean against the wall and play games on your phone the whole time?
“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re doing great,” one of the women said, glancing up at the little girl.
Bo bit back the eye roll that so desperately wanted to come through. He did his best not to judge others. He had been judged, bullied, and pushed around his whole life. Doing any part of it to another person wasn’t something he wanted to do. Still, when given the choice between doing something on his phone or watching his children do something they were already beginning to love, he would always choose his kids.
How could he not?
Pollux ran the toy car down Bo’s thigh, more than content with the simplest of objects. Across the room, one of the teachers messed with her phone until the instrumental of Baa Baa Black Sheep came through the speakers in the studio.
“All right, feet together, girls.”
“And Cas,” the second teacher added.
It was incredible to Bo, really, that in 2030, the teachers had a hard time wrapping their minds around a boy in their toddler class. Castor, of course, wouldn’t care much, if at all, and Bo was thankful for that.
“Hands on your shoulders,” the first teacher said, while the second moved her hands up to her shoulders. Some of the kids followed immediately, and the others tentatively followed soon afterward.
“Hands in the air.” Bo smiled as Castor threw his hands up excitedly, a big ol’ smile on his face. “Hands on your head.” Castor looked to Bo, who lifted his free hand to the top of his head. Castor stared at him for a moment before nodding and dropping both hands to the top of his head.
Bo looked down at his watch. The class would run until eleven-fifteen. He hoped Jensen would drop by after he was done talking to Will. Castor was, as they had imagined, adorable, and he wanted Jensen to see him.
But, just in case, Bo pulled his phone from his pocket and started recording their little baby in a tutu.
11:10 AM; CLINSTONE, TWINKLE TOES BALLET STUDIO
Jensen stepped into the studio, keeping a hand on the door until it closed. Thankfully, he didn’t have to be too quiet. Between the giggling and the screaming, no one would hear him even if he tripped and fell on his face. He watched a woman’s eyes roam over his body, stopping at the gun and badge at his hip for a moment. When her eyes met his, he offered a smile before walking over to Bo and dropping down beside him.
Bo looked up at him and smiled. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Jensen ruffled Pollux’s hair. “What’re they doing?” he asked, leaning forward to clasp his hands between his knees.
“They are currently roaring like dinosaurs.”
“It sounds like screaming.”
Bo laughed that genuine laugh of his that warmed Jensen’s chest every damn time he heard it. “Because it is.” Lightly, he elbowed Jensen in the side. “Find out anything from Will?”
“Got a few names of the regulars that were definitely there. I’ve got ‘em on a notepad in the cruiser,” Jensen said.
“Awesome, thank you.”
“Sure thing.” Jensen smiled, shaking his head. “God, he looks so happy.”
“He hasn’t stopped smiling the whole time we’ve been here.”
Jensen leaned up and pressed a kiss to Bo’s temple. “Thank you for talking me into this. I would’ve hated myself if I had taken this away from him because of some… some worrisome prejudice.”
“My pleasure, love.”
“What about you, P-Diddy? You wanna do some dancing?” Jensen asked.
Pollux lifted his head to look at his father, his nose wrinkling. “No dancing, Daddy.”
Jensen snorted. “God, you’re like your father. You’re both fun haters.”
Bo shoved the younger man’s shoulder. “Don’t be a dick,” he whispered.
Jensen grinned. “Can’t help it, babe.” Bo rolled his eyes before looking back at Castor. The two teachers had the kids seated on the floor in small rows as they talked to close out the class. “Do they scream the whole time? Or do they teach them other stuff?”
“Most of ballet at the age is just teaching your kid to be aware of their body and their personal space. It teaches them they’re in control of their movements, and it teaches them how to move within their own personal space,” Bo said. “They went through a few of the positions, same with tendu, plie, releve, leap, chasse… so on and so forth. They learn things here. They just don’t figure out the names for the moves until much later.”
“I’m gonna level with you, Eli. I don’t know what most of those words mean, but I’m excited for him to teach me what they mean someday.”
Bo smiled, leaning to the side to kiss Jensen’s shoulder. “I don’t know if that woman over there is mad because my husband showed, because you’re married, or because you’re gay.”
Jensen snorted. “I’m gonna cover my bases and put my vote down for all three, babe.”
“That’s probably a good vote.”
“I thought so.”
When class ended, Castor ran across the room, grabbing Jensen’s outstretched hands. “Daddy, you came to see me dance!”
“Of course I did, buddy. Daddy just had a bit of work to do first. I’ll be here much longer next Tuesday. Promise.” Jensen pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Did you like it?”
“So fun, Daddy! Do you like my tutu?”
“It’s real pretty, Casafras. Literally the best tutu I’ve ever seen,” Jensen said.
“Really, really.” Jensen pushed himself to his feet and picked the boy up, hiking him up on his hip. “Come on, Eli. Let’s grab lunch and some ice cream for our super well-behaved boys.”
Bo smiled, adjusting his grip on Pollux before standing up. “Sounds like a plan to me. Lead the way, love.”
12:14 PM; CLINSTONE POLICE DEPARTMENT, LAB
With the boys fed and back in daycare, Bo and Jensen sat in the lab, Bo’s notebook in front of Jensen, and the sergeant’s notes in front of Bo. Bo opened up his laptop and typed in his password. “I’ll start looking up the names and get addresses for you guys. You can bring them in for questioning or just head over to the houses.”
“Sounds like a plan, Eli.” Jensen’s eyes fell back to the list of vigilante victims.
Stanley McCullough, the Blackout Killer. Thirty-two years old. Killed in September of 2028 in Clinstone, Minnesota.
Jack Allen, rapist. Thirty-nine years old. Killed in March of 2029 in Los Angeles, California.
Diana Green, victim number three, had been a prostitute. Twenty-five years old. Also killed in March, only fifteen days after Jack, also in Los Angeles.
Victims four and five were both burglars and both killed in Atlanta, Georgia. Gavin Summers, nineteen years old. Austin Poole, twenty years old. Gavin had been killed December thirtieth, and Austin had been killed on January second, marking the vigilante’s first kill of the new year.
Gilbert Olsen, wife beater, thirty years old. Killed on January seventh in Miami, Florida.
A yellow sticky note sat at the top of the page, aligned perfectly with the top of the page but pushed a few centimeters away from the right border.
*between 6’5 and 6’8
*Take Bind Beat Kill
Jensen pushed the notebook away and grabbed his bottle of pop. “I still can’t get over how wide a range this dude has on victims.”
“I know. I’m just waiting for him to prove how equal every crime is in his eyes and kill a jaywalker,” Bo muttered, clicking the end of his pen three times. “Do you want me to write their addresses on a sticky note for you?”
“You can just write ‘em at the bottom of the notepad.”
Bo frowned. “Are you sure?”
Jensen reached out and flipped back the page. “There.” He tapped a finger to the new page.
Bo let out a breath. “Thank you.”
“No problem, babe.” Jensen pressed a kiss to Bo’s shoulder as the blonde wrote out a name, an address, and a phone number. “I’m gonna run upstairs, let Ryan and Lehmann know you’re looking up info on the regulars. Then I’ll be back, okay?”
“Okay.” Bo squeezed Jensen’s thigh. “I shall be here.”
Jensen smiled. “Good to know, babe. Be back in a sec.”
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