Chapter Text
Peri thought that after getting his license, he’d be Jorgen Von Strangle’s aide for the next dozen years minimum. It’s practically tradition, even with the fairy shortage, as a “second academy”, if that makes sense. Since godparents have more wiggle room in their magic usage, their leader tends to keep a close eye on them, close enough to insist on keeping them in Fairyworld as long as possible. Peri had the added bonus of Von Strangle in his blood, so he should be sticking to the puffy clouds until he absolutely must appear.
Instead, his card for free travel to Earth is accompanied by a file with a picture paperclipped to the front: oily red hair, thick sunglasses, and the most neutral face a kid can muster. Peri waited a beat to make sure the paper wouldn’t disappear as a file clerk realized their mistake and poofed it back to its proper place. After no magical transference, he cleared his throat.
“Miss, what am I holding?”
The fairy across the desk kept tiptapping away with rhinestone-studded nails, refusing to look up. “Godchild assignment.”
“Pardon?”
She turned her head with a groan in her joints, the pearls connecting her glasses to her neck swishing as she pulled on them. “You’re a fairy godparent. You are assigned a godchild to take care of until the humans get that child the proper supervision and joy they need to develop into a rounded adult.”
“I know that, but right away—aren’t I supposed to—Jorgen—”
“Sir, he’s in charge, not me. If you want a reassignment, you’ll need to talk to him.” She sluggishly picked up a pen, flipping a notebook open with greyed hands. “Do you need me to take a message?”
“N-nope! It’s fine. Perfectly alright. I’ll go.” No way was he turning down a kid. He just doesn’t know why this happened so soon. Peri moved out of the line and flipped open the stiff paper, checking the contents.
Name: Devin “Dev” Dimmadome
Age: 10
Allergies/Dietary Restrictions: Lactose intolerant
That’s it? Peri checked the back just to be sure, faced with blank pink instead of official green crayon. He had to look at sample case files in school, made up children with examples of what to expect to know going into a case, and this is quite literally nothing. Name, age, and allergies are all standard-fare, but there has to be more. Known relationship status with parents and guardians, pets in the home, likes and dislikes, general clues on what he’s to expect in the wishes. Even in cases of emergency, they choose to push back godparent assignment to ensure they have the information they need to give a higher level of care.
Peri will need to feel this out for himself. He tucked the file under his arm and tapped the orb on his wand against his palm, popping to the inside of Dev’s room. He wholly expected the child to leap in excitement, crawling out of bed to ask for wishes right away. He even had a showy entrance planned, spinning his cane with a signature smile. He’ll add a spotlight over his head and—
Peri heard the tell-tale beep of an EKG, the boy breathing shallowly from where he curled on his side with the covers pulled over his head. He knew it had to be Dev with the sunglasses waiting on the side table, along with a contacts case, a small collection of pill bottles, and an empty cup stacked on a colorful paperback book. He could see an IV poking out from the blanket, followed by a collection of drains. Peri froze mid-pose.
He heard in his classes just how rough some cases may be. Kids who are terminally ill, spine-chilling abuse from a parent, even living on the street because they’d rather be homeless than deal with home. The teacher always sensed the swirl in his stomach and laughed it off, saying there’s no way they’d give such a case to a newcomer, and he’ll probably spend his first few years making ponies and cupcakes.
At least there’s justification for the stark folder, given how immediate this help is required. Peri floated down to check the bottles, discerning what he’s dealing with. Painkillers, swelling relievers, anti-nausea, probiotics, and sleep aids. They looked cherry picked, expensive with a printed-out reminder of when to take each one. The instructions were obviously copy-pasted from a website, not a letter to a real patient with need for urgent care. Peri twisted open one cap carefully, then the next, checking them against the dosages. The amounts were uneven, either forgetting to take some, overdoing others, or both. Where’s the parent to make sure he’s actually following the write up?
Peri replaced the bottles and shifted into a moth, popping himself into existence in what should be the living room. Empty. Kitchen? Empty. Even the only other bedroom in the house was stark and devoid of life. He ended up in an elevator, thinking maybe this was an apartment and he was simply mistaken on where to go.
The numbers for floors in the elevator went entirely up both sides of the door and proceeded to wrap around the walls, Peri lost trying to find the highest number. Well, there’s one labeled with just a dollar sign, but that’s not helping him. He’s not looking to be charged.
Okay, a very sick child with no parent in sight who apparently lives in a dystopian office building with enough floors to climb to the moon. Peri appeared back in Dev’s bedroom, the duvet stirring this time with movement. Curly red hair surfaced, a groggy face squinting at the faint twinkle to Peri’s form. “Who are you?”
“I’m—” Peri’s grand introduction flew out of his mind along with his confidence, leaving him to float idly while fidgeting with his cane. “I’m Peri.”
“Peri.”
“Like Periwinkle.” His mouth quirked in a small smile. “See, check the threads? All purple. Fun, right?” He stretched his suspenders to demonstrate, Dev not responding. He slowly reached down the side of the bed to pick a smartphone off of the floor, clicking a button for a flashlight to shine right in Peri’s face. He winced, wings fluttering as he held up his cane to shield his eyes. The heart monitor chittered insistently where Peri had to project his voice to be heard over it. “H-hey! No need for that, sport! Warn a guy next time, yeah?”
“You’re a fairy.”
“Your fairy godparent.”
“Fairies are real.”
“Mhm.” He chewed his inner cheek as the light dropped, sliding to a more relaxed position where he hovered to mask any discomfort. Dev needed to calm down before the monitors alerted…any guardian, really. “Some kids get fairy godparents to help them out. Wish for things they want to make their days a little brighter, that sort of thing. I was assigned to you, Dev. So, hello!”
Dev had the phone flashlight angled near the bottom of his face, the device laying on the bed with a limp hand. Heterochromatic eyes blinked once, twice, with wide pupils, and then seemed to shut out any excitement. “Oh.” The EKG continued a steady waking rhythm, slowing to something akin to acceptance. Is that good or bad?
“Oh?” Peri took that as all the permission to get closer he could get, descending to be at eye level. “Do you not like fairies, Dev?”
It came out as a joke, but Dev frowned at it all the same, laying back down and twisting the covers back over his head. “Go away.”
“Er.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, I think I didn’t explain myself properly. I’m here to grant your wishes—”
“I wish you’d go away.”
Peri grimaced at the tone. “W-whatever you say.” Hopefully he’s just grumpy his sleep was disturbed. “Goodnight, Dev.”
“Time to wake up, Dev!” Peri poked and prodded until the kid opened his eyes, Dev looking haggard as Peri kept a grin fixed on his face. He didn’t really sleep, wanting to figure out how to best help his godkid and researching everything in Da Rules to keep him cheerful. There’s no rule against a godkid wishing to heal from an illness, and humans take it as an “unforeseen miracle”, so he can get Dev back on his feet in no time! He just has to wish it, and Peri initially wanted to say that as soon as the kid woke up.
Until he thought about it more, at least. Outright declaring he can wipe away something this severe may not work in his favor. After all, wishing to not have the flu is not the same as eliminating cancer. He could seriously affect Dev’s self esteem, and given how little his parents seem to pay attention, he didn’t want to screw this up further. An awful part of his head whispered that if Dev gets the most attention from his folks when he’s sick, he may wish to be sick again, and since Da Rules don’t allow intentional harm, he can’t grant that. This could start its own awful cycle, and he doesn’t want to start his relationship with Dev off on the wrong foot. He’ll wait and see if that’s something he wants on his own time.
Dev wiped his eyes, dropping his hands just long enough for Peri to wish a fresh cup of water in them. “What is this?”
“Your chart says you need to take this every morning.” Peri held two different pills in his palm, one for swelling and one for pain. Maybe the kid has some sort of kidney disease that makes his body swell up, or a chronic pain that Peri doesn’t understand as a non human. He decided not to pry, but with the way Dev glared, looking at the medication at all was a line crossed.
“I don’t need you babysitting me, Periwinkle.”
“I’m not babysitting you, just doing my job as your godparent.” He glossed over the formal extension of his name, holding his cane like he needed to lean on it in mid-air. “So, what do you want for breakfast? I can wish for whatever you want. Bacon, eggs, that one cereal the store’s always out of. I saw that book over there, do you need the next volume? I can get it for you.”
“I have school.”
“Oh.” Peri’s eyes darted to the IV for a moment, praying Dev didn’t sense the hesitation. He thought this was a hospice situation, but… “Whatever you say, sport!”
“Sport?”
“Uh, I meant—nothing. Here, I can wish you into your clothes, or right at school now so you don’t have to walk—”
“No!” Dev snapped. He quickly realized his mistake with a glance elsewhere. “I can get dressed myself. I’m not a baby.”
“Of course you’re not, Dev! You’re ten years old. That’s a big age, double digits!” Peri nodded approvingly, pitching his voice the way his mother did whenever she talked to someone that young. “You need some space to shower and get ready? I can pack up a lunch for you, get your backpack ready, breakfast…” He nudged the tip of his cane towards the cup of water, passing over the pills with a pointed look. “Do you need help with these?”
Dev stared at the cane longer than necessary, then focused on the pills. “I’m fine,” he replied in a clipped tone, pressing one to his tongue with a swallow of water, then the other. Peri nodded, satisfied, before popping into the kitchen. No need to disguise himself when no one’s there to see him, floating easily to the fridge and opening the door. A full gallon of milk waited for him, making Peri hesitate. He thought lactose intolerance was genetic, but maybe only one of the parents has it? He shrugged, taking out a package labeled with Dev’s name on it. So they care enough to pack meals for him. When Peri opened it, however, it was the supposedly-high quality food that businessmen order right to the breakroom.
Well, where’s the fun in that? Peri had a brown paper bag in his hand in a flash, piling it with what he was told kids needed for nutrition. An apple, a sandwich with the crust cut off, sliced carrots with well contained dip, pretzel sticks, and a dairy-free snack cake for dessert. If it’s not right, Peri will be in school with him to fix it. He went for breakfast next, waffles with allergies in mind topped with strawberries and maple syrup. He was still checking the pencils in Dev’s backpack when the kid walked in.
“Great timing, sprout!” He needed to give as much positive encouragement as possible, since Dev wasn’t responding to anything else. “Wow, you even have your shoes on already! Aren’t you prepared!”
“Sprout?” Dev looked over his sunglasses with a snort, sitting down in front of the waffles. “I can’t have dairy.”
“It’s dairy free.”
“Nothing baked is dairy free.”
“I used almond milk—”
“Milk comes from animals, not nuts.” Dev crossed his arms. “Everyone knows that.”
“I…you’re right on that one, pal.” Peri was not explaining why it’s called “milk” to a ten year old, popping the waffles out of existence and replacing it with dry cereal. “But your lunch has nothing with dairy at all, promise.”
Dev wrinkled his nose at the brown bag. “Dad sent someone with this week’s lunches.”
“Well, those didn’t look very fun for someone your age, so I thought—”
“I’ll just buy one at the cafeteria.” Manner settled, he took a few spoonfuls and sat chewing them with a blank look. Peri tried not to look too disappointed as he waved the lunch out of existence.
“So, are we taking the bus? Are you walking?”
“The au pairs do everything.” He snapped his fingers, leaning on one hand as two robot drones scooped him out of the seat and rested him in a chair formation. “Bye.”
“Wait!” Peri shifted into a pair of headphones, sticking himself around Dev’s neck. Dev drooped his glasses lower, looking down and—were his eyes always just blue? Peri could’ve sworn—
“What are you doing?”
“I’m your fairy godparent. I have to follow you to school just in case you need something.”
Dev rolled his eyes, but let the au pairs pick up his backpack and fly him to the door anyway. Peri waited patiently, wondering if maybe he’d ask for the robots to go faster, or to be teleported altogether, maybe a snack for the road…
Nothing. Throughout the first class, nothing. Dev silently drummed his fingers on the desk, not asking for a single thing. A slow day as Peri’s first one means that he has time to dip his toes in the water of the whole business.
Until Peri noticed that Dev was breathing unevenly, stuttering in tiny gasps with a furrowed brow. “Dev?” He whispered.
The kid brushed the back of his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes to keep them from twitching.
“Squirt? Do you need something?”
Dev’s hand shot up, ripping the headphones from around his neck. “Bathroom?”
“Of course, Dev,” the teacher replied. Dev didn’t need the au pairs for such a short trip, surely, but he had them picking him up anyway and levitating him out of the room. Peri could hear a few kids scoffing over it, moving to cover Dev’s ears and hoping none of them saw the headphones teleporting. Dev waited until they were out of the room to growl.
“You don’t need to come with me.”
“I don’t have to go with you all the way, of course. Just if you need me.”
Dev rolled his eyes behind the glasses, sliding off the au pairs when he reached the bathroom door and dangling the headphones off of a hinge connecting the robot body to the propeller. “I don’t need your help.”
“Right! You’re a big boy, and you’ll be fine.” Peri hoped that didn’t sound condescending, but Dev was so hard to read that anything could be an insult. Dev’s few steps stayed stilted and jerky until he shut the door behind him. Peri initially planned to do as he was told: wait outside.
Until he heard a few gags, and eventually a much louder retch. Peri immediately popped past the door and into the bathroom. “Are you alright, bud?”
Dev gasped, coughing and shoving his head away from the toilet. As soon as he saw Peri, he took the shades off the floor and covered how his eyes reddened at the corners, tugging his pant legs to smooth out and scrambling backward. “Get out, you little weirdo!”
Peri curled his nose, smelling vomit even if he didn’t see it in the toilet. “You’re still sick. Do you need me to get some meds? Wish that you’re at the nurse so you don’t have to walk? If it’s not a long term illness, I’m sure I can w—”
“Shut up!”
“Hey. Do not take that tone with me.” Peri saw the tiniest flicker of fear in the twitch of Dev’s lip and backpedaled, stamping out any annoyance. This is a child in pain. This is a child who doesn’t get the best care. He’s not going to behave perfectly. Peri drifted low enough to the ground to stamp his cane on it once, leaving a can behind. “Here, some ginger ale. It’ll help, and it doesn’t have any dairy.”
Dev looked tempted before setting his face in callous. “Dimmadomes don’t need someone to look after them. We’re perfectly fine on our own.”
“Everyone needs help sometimes, darling. It doesn’t have to be from a person, but it feels nice, right? Knowing that someone wants to help you, if you just tell them how?”
“Help from a fairy.”
“Yep.” Peri set his feet on the floor, his legs feeling too weak to stand without the cane to lean against. He held out his free hand with a smile. “I know the wings and floaty-crowny things are a shock, but I’m just around to be your friend. That sounds like a sweet deal, right?”
Dev drew himself into a ball, staring at the ground in front of Peri’s feet. “I wish to be alone until I’m done in here.”
Peri gave him a small pat on the shoulder before obeying, returning to resting on the au pairs. He couldn’t make out the sounds from the other side of the door, other than something gutteral and primal, before Dev opened the door again. He climbed onto the au pair seat shakily, one hand stuffed into his jacket pocket. After he settled, he withdrew his hand with the can gripped in unsteady fingers. He pulled the headphones around his neck, opening the can and taking a slow drink as he sat there.
“I can’t take the drink back in class,” he said, supposedly to the empty air.
“That’s okay. You need to listen to your teacher’s rules, after all. I can make you another with your lunch.”
“My lunch.” Dev kicked one leg idly over the side of the au pair, twisting the tab of the can around until it snapped. “Do you still have the lunch that-that you made me?”
“Of course! Do you want it?”
He hiked up his shoulders by the headset, burying his nose in the pale fabric. “Maybe,” he mumbled.
“Then I can do that. Whatever you wish for, champ.”
“I’m fine with that one.”
“Hm?”
“You keep calling me names.”
“Sorry, kid, I don’t want to sound like I’m—”
“I’m fine with champ. Champ is fine.” Dev threw the can toward the recycling, missing and the remaining drink spilling on the floor. Peri whipped his wand to make it all return to the proper receptacle.
The bell rang before they could get back to class.