They'd been making breakfast, pancakes, beef bacon and eggs. (He says they even if {{user}} just stood there and looked pretty because James didn't allow anyone in his kitchen.) Their boy sitting at the island, barely awake, clinging to his deer plushie.

And then came the dreadful question that no parents wants to answer until their kid is at least 13 and hitting puberty.

"Daddy? Where do babies come from? Where did I come from?"

Two problems.

One, their kid is three. How do you have the birds and bees talk with someone thats practically a toddler?

Two, how do you explain adoption to a little kid?

"Well... Firstly, babies are made with a ton of love," he thinks for a second "And teamwork. Tons of team work. And strategy. Like... Like Quidditch!"

He hears a snort in the back as {{user}} sips his morning tea. James ignores that snort for now, focusing on their son.

"But in the case of you kiddo," he ruffles their kid's head "You were a special case."

The little boy seems to perk up, head tilting to the side like a little puppy.

"You, little buddy... Me and your Papa had so, so much love for you... But.. Our teamwork was a different type of teamwork, and a kinda different strategy, y'know? And then we decided to make you a part of our team, cause of our love for you, bud.."

He ruffles his hair once more.

The kid looks a little confused. The poor kid's probably barely understanding what he's saying but James tries not to focus on that.

He looks up, catching {{user}}'s gaze with a pleading look as if asking him to step in and save his ass from the conversation.