Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sixteen year old Skeeter Valentine was in their bedroom, carefully changing their tiny silver hoop earrings into some black flat-backed tungsten studs, when they suddenly heard a hesitant knock at the front door.

It was tentative, as if the person on the other side didn’t want to disturb the fragile sense of comfort within the home where Skeeter, their mother, and their younger brother Dale lived.

Skeeter’s heart started pounding—an overwhelming surge of fear that their father had found them and was coming to cause harm.

Reluctant to leave the safety of the locked house, especially since they were home alone, Skeeter hesitated.

“It’s me, Skeeter,” came seventeen year old Roger Klotz’s voice from the other side of the door.

Skeeter raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

What was Roger doing there?

Not that they weren’t friends or anything, but it was dark, and the rain was pouring down heavily.

It wasn’t the kind of night anyone should be out in.
With quick, practiced movements, Skeeter fastened their second earring into their pierced lobe and hurried to open the door.

As expected, Roger was drenched, looking utterly miserable, with a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry I didn’t text first, but...” Roger began explaining, though Skeeter was already pulling him inside before he could finish.

They didn’t really care about the reason for not giving them the heads up; their concern was much more pressing.

“You’re freezing!” Skeeter exclaimed, feeling the bitter cold of Roger’s skin against theirs as he stepped inside.

Roger’s usually vibrant green complexion looked duller, likely from the cold or maybe coming down with something, especially after walking all the way from his mother’s trailer to Skeeter’s house in the rain.

Roger looked genuinely surprised that someone actually cared—his eyes widened with a mixture of shock and gratitude, almost as if he hadn’t expected someone to show concern.
“Go get warmed up in the bathroom,” Skeeter said softly, guiding him gently. “I’ll deal with your wet clothes.”

Roger hesitated for a moment, clearly exhausted, but he looked shattered—drained, both physically and emotionally.

“Just leave your clothes outside the door,” Skeeter added gently before heading to their bedroom to find something comfortable for Roger to change into.

Thankfully, Skeeter and Roger were roughly the same size, so Skeeter decided to find some pyjamas for their friend.

While waiting, Skeeter sent a quick message to their mother, explaining that Roger was there and that they didn’t know how long their friend was likely to be there for.
Ruby, Skeeter’s mother, didn’t mind having house guests—she might have had low self-esteem, but she was a gentle, loving woman who cared deeply.

It had truly amazed Skeeter to see their mother stand up to their father and support them when they came out as non-binary at thirteen.

Ruby had always been their biggest supporter, despite her own struggles.

“As long as he’s respectful and focused on his studies, he’s welcome to stay as long as he likes,” Ruby replied via text.
Skeeter knew how much their mother valued education, especially for teenagers.

She had given up a lot when she became pregnant young, with Skeeter’s sadly deceased older sister, and she didn’t want anyone experiencing the hardships she had endured.

Respecting authority was a challenge for Roger, however.

It wasn’t that he didn’t try to be a good person; he really did.

But he had a problem with respecting authority figures, like teachers and staff at school.

He’d always been a bit of a troublemaker, but Skeeter understood that acting out was often his way of seeking attention from his parents.

As Skeeter rummaged through their dresser drawers for some comfortable pyjamas, they couldn’t help but wonder what was really going on with Roger.

As far as Skeeter knew, Roger’s relationship with his parents was fairly decent, though both could be a little distant.

The Klotz family had recently reconciled, but Skeeter wondered if it had gone as smoothly as Roger had hoped.
It wasn’t really their business, but they genuinely wanted to help their friend.

They found some space-themed pyjamas they hadn’t worn in a while—warm, but a little too hot for sleeping, especially considering Skeeter’s sensory overload disorder, which made them sensitive to certain fabrics and textures.

But they ought to be good for warming Roger up on such a miserable night.

Skeeter grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard and placed it outside the bathroom door, where Roger’s clothes from the day sat.

The smell was faintly of Jungle Madness—the banana-scented fragrance Roger liked to wear.

Luckily, he’d improved with the amount he sprayed, and it wasn’t as overpowering as when he was younger.

“There's some stuff outside the door, and I’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer so they’ll be ready for you in the morning,” Skeeter called softly.

They were about to head off to the laundry when they heard soft sobs coming from inside the bathroom.

Skeeter’s heart ached for their friend, longing to wrap their arms around Roger, to hold him and reassure him that everything would be okay.

Skeeter had never been the kind of person who cared much about what others thought of them.

But in the back of their mind, they could already hear Doug’s voice, warning them that dealing with Roger Klotz might not be a good idea.

Part of the issue was a rumour that Roger fancied Doug, and the green vest and tan khaki-wearing brunette had been a bit weirded out by the whole thing.

There was the whole history of Roger bullying Doug and Mr and Mrs Funnie weren’t exactly comfortable with rainbow-affiliated people.

They weren’t thrilled when Skeeter came out as non-binary, continuously misgendering them and calling them confused.

Of course, Skeeter wasn’t about to tell them that it was Doug who had kissed them at a sleepover Beebe was hosting a couple of months ago.

Everyone was a little tipsy that night, and they’d all had a laugh about it the next morning.

That incident, however, helped Skeeter realise they weren’t as straight as they’d thought.

But it did give them hope.

If their friendship could survive a tipsy kiss, then surely it could survive Skeeter taking Roger in when he needed someone.

“Hey, it’s okay if you wanna let it out, man,” Skeeter said softly, wanting Roger to know there was no shame in crying. “I’m not gonna judge you.”

The bathroom door suddenly opened just a crack.

“Can ya pass me a towel?” Roger mumbled, reaching out his hand. “Please?”

It wasn’t often that Roger used manners, so Skeeter felt their heart swell with something akin to pride hearing such a word come out of his mouth.

“Sure, man,” Skeeter nodded, passing him the towel. “I’ll just put these clothes in the wash, and then I’ll be in my room.”

“Hey, Skeeter?” Roger asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for… uh… being you, I guess.”

Much like using manners, offering genuine compliments was a bit tricky for Roger.
But Skeeter appreciated that he was trying—stepping out of his comfort zone.

Chapter Text

Skeeter couldn’t help but notice how utterly adorable Roger looked in the pyjamas they’d given him.

The soft fluffy fabric clung comfortably to his tall and slender frame.

Skeeter’s lips curled into a warm smile as they watched their friend settle into the new clothes, feeling a mixture of affection and concern.

But as Skeeter observed Roger’s face, a flicker of discomfort crossed his features.

The slight tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided eye contact—Skeeter immediately felt a twinge of guilt.

They didn’t want to make Roger feel any more out of place or self-conscious.

“Hope they’re comfortable,” Skeeter said gently, offering a reassuring smile that reached their eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” Roger nodded, giving a faint, somewhat sheepish smile. “They smell kinda nice too.”

His voice was soft, and his eyes lingered on the fabric as if trying to find reassurance in its softness.

The subtle scent of the fabric softener Ruby used wafted faintly around him—a gentle, calming aroma that wasn’t overpowering but added a comforting touch to the moment.

Skeeter decided to change the subject, hoping to lift the mood.

“Want a hot chocolate or something? We’ve even got marshmallows and a can of squirty cream.”

Their tone was casual, warm, trying to create a sense of normalcy amidst the stress.

“Sounds pretty good, actually,” Roger replied, a little more relaxed now, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The two headed toward the kitchen.

Skeeter pulled out mugs, while Roger sat at the table, shoulders still slightly hunched but quietly watching as Skeeter prepared the drinks.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge and the clink of spoons.

Skeeter set the steaming mugs onto the table and took a seat across from Roger.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, comfortable yet filled with unspoken words.

“I probably shouldn’t ask this, but…” Roger began, hesitating slightly.

“It’s okay, man,” Skeeter said quickly, eyes flickering with curiosity. “Fire away.”

There was a hint of bashfulness in Roger’s voice—an edge of vulnerability Skeeter had never seen before.

It was as if he was gathering courage for something important.

“There’s so many things I want to ask you, it’s hard to know where to start,” Roger admitted softly.

Skeeter hesitated for a beat, then spoke, “Would you mind if I ask you a question first?”

“If this is about that stupid rumour going around that I like Funnie, you can—”

“I know you don’t like him like that, man,” Skeeter interrupted gently, their voice steady but kind.

Roger looked down, his expression softening.

“Well, I did for a bit, but not any more,” he said quietly, a trace of frustration and tiredness in his tone. “Wish people would just shut up already, though.”

Skeeter’s gaze softened with understanding.

“What I was actually wondering about is why you’re here tonight,” they said thoughtfully. “Not that you’re not welcome, but I mean—why the duffle bag? What’s going on?”

The question seemed to hit Roger hard.

His face flickered with a complex mix of emotion—confusion, sadness, maybe even fear.

His hands clenched the edge of the table slightly before he exhaled slowly, as if gathering himself.

“Told my parents I think I’m gay,” he finally admitted, voice trembling just enough to betray how heavy it was to say aloud. “They didn’t take it well. Not at all. They told me to get out, said they’d call the police if I didn’t leave. Said I was trespassing on private property.”

Skeeter’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“But you’re still a minor. They can’t legally do that.”

Roger nodded, tears now welling up and spilling over. A single tear traced a glistening path down his face, and Skeeter instinctively reached out, gently brushing it away with a tender touch.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Skeeter said softly, their voice thick with empathy.

Their hand lingered for a moment before pulling back.

“No one should have to go through that.”

Roger looked away for a moment, voice barely above a whisper.

“I came here because I know you’ve been through parental rejection before. For being who you are,” he said, eyes flickering with something like gratitude or perhaps relief. “And I think it’s also because I see you as one of the best people I know. I figured—you wouldn’t tell me to get lost.”

Skeeter’s smile was gentle but firm.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone who needs help to get lost. Not even you.”

Just then, the front door swung open, and Ruby and Dale entered, back from the movies.

Ruby’s face lit up with a warm smile as she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes immediately noticing Roger and the somber mood.

“Hello, you two,” she greeted kindly, setting down a paper bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.

Her voice was soothing, a gentle presence in the tense atmosphere.

“Thanks for letting me stay, ma’am,” Roger said shyly, voice full of gratitude. “It… means a lot.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Roger,” Ruby replied softly.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked at the green teen, her concern evident.

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

That was when Skeeter decided to speak up.

“That’s actually why he’s here, Mum,” Skeeter said, voice steady but serious. “They… rejected him.”

Ruby’s expression hardened with concern.

Her jaw clenched, and her eyes sharpened with resolve.

“I ought to call the police. Child abandonment is a serious matter. No parent should do that.”

“Please, don’t call them tonight. I just want to sleep. I’m exhausted. I can’t deal with that now,” Roger wept, his body trembling with fear.

Ruby looked at Skeeter for guidance, her eyes asking silently what to do.

Skeeter nodded slowly, voice calm and reassuring.

“Everyone could use a good night’s rest. Maybe in the morning, things will look different. Sometimes, people need time to realise what they’re doing.”

Fortunately, it was Saturday night—giving them the luxury of time.

Sunday could be used to figure out the next steps, to seek help if needed.

“They’ve got until midday tomorrow,” Ruby stated firmly, “then I’m calling the authorities.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each person lost in their thoughts, but united in their hope that tomorrow might bring a better outcome.