Family of Trees, Part Two
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Bob normally wakes up at 4:30 so he can get the bakery up and running by 5:15 and open by 6. If he wakes up even a minute before his alarm goes off, he is extremely grumpy all day. So when someone knocks on his door at three in the fucking morning, he groans and rolls over to bury his face in Ray’s shoulder. Ray kisses his head, but pushes him away, mumbling, “Go get the door, you fuckwit.” Bob groans again but gets out of bed and treads down the stairs to the front door.
“What do you want, Frank?” he asks as he opens the door, but it is decidedly not Frank standing in front of him. Instead, it is a miserable looking girl, short with glasses, ragged clothes, and reddish hair dripping with rain. She has a tattered backpack on one shoulder and a battered suitcase in her hand. “Um… Hi?” he asks. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologizes politely. “I’m Trish Stumph.”
“Who?” he asks, his mind fuzzy with sleep.
“I’m your sister, Trish. The one you’ve been writing to since for three years,” she gently reminds him, pale face coloring a bit at the cheeks. He takes a long look at the bruise forming just below her eye, and the crooked angle of her glasses before ushering her inside. They walk into the kitchen, where Bob makes coffee.
“You weren’t supposed to get here for another couple of days,” Bob tells her, confused. She blushes again, playing with the hem of her faded, holey shirt.
“I-I had some problems with my boyfriend. So, I broke up with him.” Trish peeks up at him through the hair in her face. Bob nods, as if for confirmation, so she continues. “I kind of also lost where I was staying when I did that. The first thing I did after storming out of his place was buy a ticket for here. I-I was hoping I could stay with you, if you didn’t mind.”
“Of course you can stay with us,” a voice says from behind Bob. Trish jumps and Bob turns around to see Ray, standing in the doorway.
“Trish, this is my fiancé, Ray. Ray, this is Trish, my sister,” Bob introduces, and Trish looks slightly more relieved.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Ray tells her, grinning a bit when she recoils from his handshake. He stares at the puddle she’s making on the tile and says, “Why don’t we get you into some dry clothes? I have some old sweats that might fit you. You might want a hot shower too, huh? I’ll go get it started if you want to go up to the guest room with Bob and put your stuff away.”
Trish just stares at him for a moment before Ray says, “We’ll take good care of you. Bob is always taking in strays.” She looks at Bob with wonder before he blushes, thankful for the poor lighting.
Bob is flustered for a second but recovers with, “All right, you give me that.” Trish is reluctant to part with it at first, but after he assures her he is just taking it upstairs, she lets it go. “Come with me.” They shuffle up the stairs carefully, as not to scare her. He leads her to the small guest room, closest to the guest bathroom, and puts her suitcase on the chair. They stand in somewhat awkward silence until Ray interrupts it.
“All right, to the bathroom. There are clean clothes on the counter and towels on the rack. You can put your dirty clothes in the hamper. Turn the knob right to make the water colder, left to make it warmer. You can either come downstairs for a cup of coffee when you’re done or pass out on the bed, whichever you prefer,” he instructs, dragging her to the bathroom which is already filled with thick steam.
After she gets settled, Bob and Ray go back downstairs, and Bob pours them coffee. Ray wraps his arms around Bob’s waist and presses his face into Bob’s back. “I love you so much,” he whispers.
“I know,” Bob replies, then turns around to kiss Ray. “I love you too.”
~
“Mom, I know,” Spencer says one morning at breakfast.
“You know what, dear?” Ginger asks, absentmindedly. She’s cooking the family a celebratory breakfast. Today is Spencer and Brendon’s high school graduation, and things are very busy.
Spencer doesn’t know what has possessed him, but he continues, “I know about the adoption.” She drops the bowl in her hand, porcelain shattering on the tile.
“Where did you-Spencer, I mean,” she starts muttering, searching the kitchen for a broom.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Spencer asks, watching her sweep the pieces of the bowl up and toss them away.
“We were going to tell you today, after your graduation,” his mother tells him quietly, and sits down on the chair across the from him. “How did you find out?”
“My record got re-opened on my 18th birthday. My brother hired a private detective to find me. We’ve been writing ever since winter break.” The words are out of his mouth before he can really process what he’s said.
“A-are you sure it’s really him?” she asks, twisting the ring on her left hand.
“Did you ever meet Bob or Trish? Did you think it was a good idea to separate us? Why did you do it, anyway? You obviously were able to conceive,” he spits out, and even though the words are bitter, he’s feeling way better, the stress of keeping it in lifting from his shoulders.
“Spencer-Bob was too old to adjust to first-time parents like ourselves. And Patricia, she had already been adopted by the time we found you.”
“What about Crystal and Jackie, though?” Spencer lets slip, and Mrs. Smith sighs again.
“Shortly after your papers came through, and we moved here, a miracle happened. We’d been trying to have children for so long-nearly eight years. And when we found out we were expecting - twins, no less - right after we had just adopted you, we were overwhelmed.” She runs a hand through her hair and just as she stands, Spencer opens his mouth to speak.
“But-”
When the twins come in, she cuts him off with a glare that obviously says, “We’ll talk later.”
~
One of Bob and Ray’s closest friends, Gerard, comes into the bakery just before Ray gets off of his shift at The Guitar Emporium. “Hey, Bob,” he says, pushing a stray lock of dark hair out of his face and behind an ear, “Do you have any chocolate croissants left?”
Bob makes a big show of grumbling and looking before finding an “extra” chocolate croissant hidden behind the vegan cheese and broccoli muffins (that only Frank and Greta ever order). If asked, he will deny vehemently that he keeps one just for Gerard there, even though it is one of the best-selling items on Bob’s menu and Gerard oftentimes forgets his wallet.
“Hey, before you crawl back into your cave, will you go to my house, and check up on my sister?” Bob asks, handing Gerard his croissant.
“She’s here? I thought she wasn’t supposed to arrive for a couple more days,” Gerard replies, before shoving half of the croissant in his mouth. Chocolate oozes out of the sides, onto his cheeks and fingers, but he just licks it off.
“Pig,” an elderly tourist mutters, and Gerard beams at her with brown teeth, crumbs stuck the edges of his mouth.
“Jesus, Gerard, here’s a napkin.” Bob hands him a napkin before continuing, “Her plans changed a little. She got kicked out of her apartment, so she’s staying with us a few extra days until she can go back to Chicago and find a cheaper place.” He stares at Gerard pointedly, remembering all the times Gerard forgot to pay rent or utilities and had to stay with Ray and Bob.
“Ahhh, ah sompofove wiffer,” Gerard says, mouth full of food.
“What?”
“Ah save-” Gerard swallows, then clears his throat before repeating, “I said, I sympathize with her.”
“Oh, just-can you keep her company until we get home?”
“Sure thing!” Gerard finishes his croissant and turns away, the unused napkin crumpled in his hand.
”And wipe your face off, I don’t want her… delicate sensibilities being shocked!” Bob calls as Gerard pushes open the door. Gerard turns, and stares at Bob with a manic grin. Bob sighs and shakes his head. What has he gotten his poor sister into?
~
Spencer’s graduation isn’t as big of a deal as he’d thought it was going to be, partially because his parents are whispering to each other the whole time, and partially because of the tickets to Jersey burning a hole in his wallet. He walks up to the stage when he hears his name, grabs his diploma, and sits back down until Brendon gets his. They do what they are told and throw their stupid hats in the air at the appropriate time. They had originally planned to get lunch with Brendon’s family, but in light of recent events, they opt for a more private “celebration,” just Spencer and his parents. The twins get thrown into one of the many Urie cars, and they jabber excitedly with Brendon’s older sister, who they idolize. Brendon just nods like he knows everything and a familiar knot forms in Spencer’s gut, making him want to laugh and throw up at the same time.
“You did WHAT?” his mother asks at the Denny’s they decide to go to after the ceremony. Spencer has just informed her that he bought round-trip tickets to Jersey with money left over from Christmas and his minimum wage job.
“I already bought the tickets to visit my brother. I’m leaving tomorrow night,” he says, proud that his voice isn’t shaking too badly.
“You can’t just up and leave-” Mr. Smith starts to say, but Spencer interjects.
“You should have told me about them when I turned eighteen, at least. I had the right to know!”
“We just wanted you to be happy. Do you see all the drama that’s been caused by you finding out?” his mother’s voice rises, and lowers when she sees the eyes dart in her direction.
“You can’t just sweep something like this under the rug! Were you ever planning on telling me? For real this time, I don’t want any of that ‘after you graduated’ crap, either.”
”Spencer, don’t talk to your mother like that-” his dad intervenes.
“She’s not my mother. My mother died when I was young,” Spencer spews, the words bubbling up from some place deep in his stomach that he’s never realized was there.
“Ever since we signed those papers and took you into our home, you’ve been our son. And we’ve been your parents. We may not be biologically related but-”
“There are no ‘but’s in a situation like this. I’m going,” Spencer says, sliding out of the booth and leaving. The only problem is that he doesn’t have a car to drive himself home with, and the Thomas & Mack center where the graduation ceremony was held is pretty far away from his house. So, he does the semi-logical thing and calls Brendon.
“Bren, can you pick me up?” he asks once outside. “I’m at the Denny’s on Tropicana and Eastern.”
“Sure thing!” Brendon squeaks through the speakers before hanging up. Spencer walks around behind the restaurant toward the major street to hide from his parents and to find Brendon. Soon enough, Brendon’s mother’s bright purple minivan can be seen from a distance, so Spencer stands up from his hiding place on what’s left of the grass and walks to the sidewalk.
“Where were you guys, pretty close?” Spencer asks when Brendon pulls up next to him.
“Yeah, luckily we were at that new Chinese Buffet down the street. If I hadn’t been nearby, you would’ve been on your own,” Brendon jokes, and then sees the look on Spencer’s face.
“Hop in, you have to tell me absolutely everything that’s happened,” he says, changing the CDs to his “serious talk” mix tape. Spencer would roll his eyes if he wasn’t feeling so drained.
~
When Trish woke up that morning (or was it afternoon?), she was extremely confused, but eventually remembered everything. After a bowl of cereal, and a reheated cup of coffee, she settles down on the couch to watch some TV. Bob and Ray have the same service she had, back in Chicago, complete with a DVR, so she flips through their recordings, surprised to find many of the same shows she enjoys recorded. After she finishes watching many different cooking shows (Down Home with the Neelys and Everyday Italian being her favorites), she flips through the channels before settling on an old western on AMC. The background music lulls her back to sleep until what must be hours later, when she’s woken by a loud commotion at the door. The sun is setting through the window, and a quick glance at the clock on the receiver confirms that it is almost 7. She sits up and looks at the door, where she can see a greasy, thin man fumbling with a set of keys.
He finally makes it through the door, and when he sees her staring at him, he trips. “Oh!” he exclaims. “I'm sorry to interrupt!” He gets up, and dusts off his faded and paint-splattered jeans.
“It's ok, I was just watching a movie,” Trish says, and gestures toward the television, where Gene Kelly is tap-dancing with enthusiasm.
“Oh, cool, I love this movie!” he exclaims and practically jumps onto the couch, next to her. He hums along with the music, not noticing her stare for quite a while. Finally, when he turns away from the screen, he notices her expression.
“Um... may I ask who you are?” she asks, after a pause.
“Oh, I thought Bob told you I was coming over. Well, it's very nice to meet you, Patricia, I'm Gerard!” he smiles, and Trish can't help but noticing a smear of chocolate on his cheek.
“Do you introduce yourself to every stranger you find sitting on your friend’s couch?” Trish asks, looking at him carefully.
“Bob told you’d be here. Unless you’re not actually Patricia-”
“It’s Trish. My mom was the only one who called me Patricia.”
“Sorry, Pa- er… Trish. I was going to say that you look remarkably like Bob, except for the whole boo-”
“Already making a fool out of yourself, Gee?” Ray cuts him off, and both Gerard and Trish jump. “Your feet are on the coffee table, and you know what happens when Bob finds scuff marks on it.”
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Trish says, trying not to laugh at Gerard flustering an apology, and failing.
“I’m a stealth ninja,” Ray says, straight-faced, and Gerard stops, mid-apology to nod soberly.
Trish looks between them, and sees the crack in Gerard’s face, so she isn’t surprised when they break out into laughter.
“Who’s up for a round of Rockband?”
~
Spencer and Brendon are sitting on the short wall that separates their yards, enjoying the early sumer breeze and watching the sunset. They’ve been completely silent since after they’ve come outside, and by now, Brendon knows that Spencer isn’t going to change his mind. He’s setting out for Jersey tomorrow night, and nothing Brendon can say will stop that.
They watch the neighborhood kids race on their bikes, remembering when they used to do the same. “Why did we stop riding our bikes everywhere?” Brendon asks.
“Because by eighth grade, playing cops and robbers is considered lame," Spencer reminds him.
“That game was the shit though, remember when Marguerite caught us taking a shortcut on her lawn?”
”Oh my god, she had to speak to our parents about the proper care of her rare Norwegian grass, or whatever it is."
“At least she was wearing real pants! Do you remember her gardening shorts?”
“Unfortunately. No woman past 50 should wear hot pants. How old do you think she was, you know, when she died?”
”Somewhere around 150.”
“No, seriously. I know she was supposedly a hot young thing in like, the 30’s.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard my dad talking about how she was born in 1895.”
”No way, you’re lying!” Spencer grabs Brendon, and flips him onto the grass in Spencer’s yard. They roll around tickling each other, until they run out of breath and stretch out to watch the last of the sunlight disappear.
“I wish things were back to how they used to be,” Brendon whispers, when he sees the first star. Spencer silently repeats the wish.
~
When Trish wakes up, Gerard is sitting on the couch again, playing with a bowl of cereal perched precariously on a pile of coasters. “Don’t you ever go home?” she asks him, when she settles down beside him on the couch.
“My apartment’s boring,” he surprisingly declares, and adds, “Besides, Bob said he needed someone to watch his little sister.”
“What?” Trish feels a bit outraged. She is a grown woman, after all.
“Well, I mean. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you; it’s just that you don’t know your way around here. I’m supposed to be like a guide or something,” Gerard says, and makes a face, like guiding people around is comparable to torture.
“But I never leave the house,” Trish utters.
“Well, we could start with a trip to Bob’s bakery. He’s gotten offers to bake for fancy restaurants, you know?” Gerard offers.
“He has?” This is a complete surprise to Trish, who has only heard basic details of Bob’s work life, their letters mostly about family, friends and memories.
“Yeah, but he’s more interested in the whole concept of community. Most people here are pretty close.”
“Like freaky small town close or…?” Trish asks, envisioning all the movies she’s seen about small towns where people never leave and barely suppresses a shiver.
If Gerard notices it, he doesn’t say anything, already deep into a ramble about how awesome it is to live there. He finishes with, “We’re all good friends. It’s mostly younger people, a lot of them the outcasts of big cities or judgmental small towns. It’s gotten a lot bigger than it used to be, as the only store in town used to be the general store.”
“Where did all the shop fronts come from then?” Trish asks before taking a bite of her Cap’n Crunch.
“They’re renovated homes. A lot of them have apartments above the stores, like in older parts of the city.”
“Why doesn’t Bob live above his store?”
”It’s not big enough for everyone, including these lovely little children,” Gerard scoops Bauer up into his arms and scratches behind the dog’s ears. Dixie whines impatiently at Trish’s feet, so with a sigh, Trish places her cereal down carefully and picks the whining dog up. Dixie wriggles until she can lick Trish’s face enthusiastically. Gerard laughs, and behind the large pile of fur in her face, she can see Bauer nipping at Gerard’s ears. Once the dogs settle down, they continue their conversation.
“So what does Bob do with his upstairs apartment?” she asks, finishing her cereal.
“How about you come and see?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear, and she can’t help but agree to it.
“Well, maybe when this episode is over,” Gerard adds and she can’t help but laugh.
~
Brendon is silent as he drives Spencer to the airport. Spencer tries several times to start a conversation, but Brendon just stares ahead in stony silence. They sit like that for several minutes, before Spencer starts to fiddle with the radio, but Brendon just turns it off, leaving Spencer with only the rattling air conditioner at full blast to listen to.
When they get to the part where Brendon has to decide between the parking terminals and the drop-off area, Spencer opens his mouth once again, but Brendon merges into the left lane that indicates he will park and walk with Spencer to the gate.
He parks and puts a few quarters in the meter as Spencer gets his baggage out of the back of the car. They go through the lines and once they get to the part where Spencer must leave Brendon, they turn to each other.
“Are you sure this is what you really want?” Brendon asks quietly.
“Yeah, Brendon, I am.”
Brendon opens his mouth as if to say something, and then closes it again. He grabs Spencer into a big hug, and whispers “I’m going to miss you,” into his ear.
“Me too, I’ll text you when I land.” Spencer squeezes Brendon one last time before they break apart.
”See you in a week,” Brendon says and turns around. Spencer watches his friend to see if he turns around on his way back to the short-term parking lot, but Brendon doesn’t. The sign lights of a nearby shop flicker a few times, and Spencer turns back around, toward the line for security. His stomach feels heavy, but he doesn’t feel like thinking about it right now, so he wearily follows the instructions of the disgruntled security agent.
~
Bob is surprised by his door chiming just after the lunch rush is over. Gerard and Trish are walking in, Trish quietly laughing at something Gerard has said.
"What are you guys doing?" Bob asks, surprised.
"Trish just wanted a little tour of the town, so we walked over here," Gerard answers, and Trish nods.
"Oh, cool. Do you guys want some leftovers? We’ve had a pretty good day so far, but the cream cheese muffins always have a little trouble selling."
"Those sound pretty good," Trish replies, and they walk closer to the counter. Bob takes two plates from the stack behind the counter, then takes said muffins out of the display case and places them on the plates.
"Here you go," he says, pushing them towards Trish, who takes one plate for herself and hands the other to Gerard. While they sit at a small table, Bob grabs a leftover chocolate chunk cookie for himself and joins them.
"Do you think that after this, you could show us around a little bit?" Trish asks when she sees him.
"Sure," Bob says, and bites into his cookie. “But I gotta let Morris know I’m leaving.”
~
Spencer spends the entire flight with his iPod plugged into his ears, restlessly fidgeting and tapping his fingers to the beat. Brendon had stolen it before Spencer left and made a playlist that ordinarily would have soothed him. Now, it only makes him more on edge, dissecting each song, wondering why Brendon chose each particular one. The elderly woman on his left glares daggers at him, but he can’t stop moving. He stares out the window and pictures Brendon’s face when he wrestled the trip idea out of Spencer, hurt and betrayed, and can’t help but feel he’s missing some big piece of the puzzle that is Brendon lately.
~
Bob and Trish set out for the airport early in the morning. Trish digs through Bob’s CDs before deciding on a Green Day one, leading to a friendly debate over the merits of Dookie versus American Idiot. They only stop once for some gas at a station just outside of East Orange and end up back on the road with two large cups of coffee.
Once Bob finds a parking spot, they look for Spencer’s flight information to make sure it’s on time and head off in search of the baggage claim. They wait by the area where the Arrivals come in and after about 20 minutes with no sight of their brother, Trish suggests they should sit down somewhere. Bob makes a crack about making a sign with Spencer’s name on it, but agrees with her idea. When they turn to find seating, however, something catches the corner of his eye, so Bob turns back around.
An extremely flushed young man runs down the steps, his long hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Wait, Trish,” Bob says, and grabs his sister’s arm. She turns around and sees him, so she digs in her purse for the picture Spencer sent Bob after he agreed to come to Bob’s wedding. When they determine it’s who they want to see, they approach him.
“Spencer?” Bob asks tentatively.
“Bob?” Spencer looks up at him, eyes squinting in vague recognition.
“Yeah. It’s nice to see you again, little man,” Bob says and slings his arm around Spencer’s shoulder.
“It’s nice to see you too, even though I was a baby when I last saw you,” Spencer admits, and then does a double take at Trish. “Trish? I thought you were arriving after me. Did your flight come in early?”
“Kind of,” she says, shyly. “I actually came in two days ago, I had to leave town earlier than I thought.”
“Oh,” he says quietly.
“Do you… remember me?” Trish asks once they get back into the car.
“Not really. Well, I don't think I do. Maybe I imagined it?”
“I kind of remember you,” she says, her voice getting quieter as she turns away. Spencer totally gets the feeling.
“Last time we saw you, you were a baby,” Bob pipes in. “You still are, you just got taller.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Spencer replies, face reddening and things aren’t nearly as awkward as before. Bob ruffles his hair, and Spencer glares, but still, he's grinning.
~
Spencer is sitting on his brother’s couch (he’d never thought he’d ever say that) watching TV with his biological sister and a vaguely creepy dude named Gerard when a ridiculously tiny and tattooed guy bursts into the room. He looks at Spencer and exclaims rather loudly, “I didn’t know you had two sisters!”
Spencer glares and Trish chuckles, but he just continues talking, “This one is way more feminine than Trish!” Trish and Spencer’s glares are about equal now, set to “Kill and Destroy” when Bob walks in, chuckling.
“Dude, this is Spencer, my younger brother,” he says, and Frank’s jaw drops. He laughs awkwardly and mumbles a quick apology. Ray walks in behind them with a load of groceries.
“Whoa there, tone it down, you two. You look like Bob before he gets his coffee in the morning.” Spencer flashes a bright grin at Ray, before switching back to a fierce glare aimed at Frank. “Anyone want to help with the groceries?” Ray asks, setting the bags on the counter. Spencer’s up in a flash because a) he is a gentleman and b) he wants to get away from the ridiculous scene. He and Bob make quick work out of the bags in Ray’s dinged up sedan, Frank muttering about the deception of Spencer’s glittery unicorn shirt. Spencer is totally going to kill Brendon for sneaking that shirt into his suitcase when he gets home. (Though it is admittedly one of Spencer’s favorites.)
~
Spencer’s only been at Bob’s for two days, but he’s already homesick. Brendon constantly texts him updates about what’s going on back in Vegas, but it just makes things worse. Spencer’s phone buzzes for the fifth time in two minutes, and he just rolls over onto his stomach, sighing loudly.
Piper misses u :(, it says, showing a picture of Brendon’s tiny Chihuahua with big, sad eyes (though she could just be begging for treats, he’s seen the face before) and he sighs again, quickly responding with a Miss her 2. Give her a hug 4 me. So far, he’s had fun in Jersey, but right now, he misses his family, his “surrogate dog” (Jackie is allergic, so he’s never been able to have his own) and Brendon. Bob, Ray and their friends are all really nice, but they’re all busy being adults and have their own inside jokes. Bob’s dogs are friendly and playful, but he misses chasing Brendon’s dog around the living room, being careful not to knock over anything important.
Bob hears the sighing, and asks, “Why are you being all mopey?”
Spencer’s phone vibrates again.
U should hug her urself. Come back 2 vegas
“I’m homesick, and my best friend is an asshole,” he says after tapping out I told u as a reply.
“Well that sucks,” Bob says honestly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know. Brendon’s, like, my best friend - pretty much my only one since Ryan’s been in college and talking to this one guy. Just, sometimes…” Spencer trails off when Brendon sends another text.
Still thnk u should come back. Sumer’s no fun w/o u.
Go to churchmeanie >:(
Spencer silences his phone, and puts it onto the bed face-down. “It’s just-I don’t ever want to see that face again. He means so much to me, and I don’t ever want to leave him with that face. He should always be smiling, you know?”
Bob rubs his forehead before moving into the room closer. “Are you sure that you want to be just friends with him? Is there something else you’d like to tell me about your relationship with him?” he says and immediately regrets it. Spencer blushes a bright pink, and avoids eye contact with him.
“Can you close the door?” he asks quietly after a pause, and Bob does as he is told. Spencer takes in a deep breath before continuing, “It’s not really going to be anything. I mean, I think I like him more than just a friend, but nothing’s going to happen. He’s straight and-It’d be wrong. He’s my best friend.”
“You think you like him?” Bob asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I know I do. It’s just. Even if he wasn’t straight, I wouldn’t want to wreck such a great friendship with all of that relationship business.”
“The only way to know that is to find out.”
“I’d rather not lose him. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”
“You’ve got to at least try, Spencer. When you get back, ask him to go to a movie or something. Normal stuff that you’d do as friends and, like, try to gauge his reaction.”
“I can’t, Bob!” Spencer huffs, like Bob wasn’t right there a few years ago too. He decides to go with the advice he wish he’d gotten before Ray had wizened up and asked him out.
“No, you won’t. There’s a huge difference in that,” Bob says, and feels old, because he’s finally sensible enough to think things through.
“But what if I ask him out and he, like, hates me or something? What if when I go back he has a girlfriend? What if-” Spencer starts blubbering, but Bob cuts him off.
“Spencer, you’ll only be here for a week. I doubt that he’ll get a girlfriend that quickly,” he tries to rationalize.
“Still, I mean, there are a lot of things that could go wrong,” Spencer complains.
“Just take it slow. First, you’ve got to tell him that you’re gay. If he’s gay, he might tell you too, and then you can work something from there.” Coming out always seems like the hardest step, but it’s relatively simple compared to actually asking someone out.
“He’s Mormon. They hate gays!” Spencer gets worked up again, and Bob takes a deep breath before continuing.
“I don’t think he’d hate you for coming out to him. And if he does, then he’s not a true best friend. Besides, if it doesn’t go over well, you can ignore him. But if they do, stop me if you’ve heard this before, you can keep in touch online.” Bob leaves to let Spencer think it over.
~
The next morning, when Bob gets up, he pours his daily bowl of cereal to eat in the solitude of early morning. He hears a noise from upstairs and then Spencer pads down the stairs and into the kitchen. They nod at each other as Spencer pours a bowl for himself, sitting down across from Bob. Spencer mumbles something at Bob and they eat breakfast together in a companionable silence.
~
Gerard and Trish watch several documentaries about animals in a mini-marathon hosted on National Geographic, with Spencer joining them a few hours into it. His phone lights up every so often, but he doesn’t interrupt their cuddling, and during the commercials, they chat amicably.
“Oh my god, I want a baby polar bear!” Gerard declares, after seeing a mother bear and her cubs emerge from their den.
“You know, they do turn into adult polar bears later on,” Trish reasons.
“Besides, how would you properly feed it? It’s not like you can buy baby seal meat at the grocery store,” Spencer adds, and Gerard gets flustered.
“I’d donate her to the zoo!” he says, but Spencer shakes his head.
“That’s just being cruel to the poor bear,” Spencer says.
“Taking cubs away from their mother is life threatening,” Trish states, and Gerard feels like he’s been hit by a train. He wisely decides to give up on the matter.
In the middle of the documentary about the mating habits of birds of paradise, Ray gets home.
“Have you guys been doing this all day?” he asks, eyeing the way they’re cuddled together on the couch with his dogs. Gerard makes a face at Ray, but it can’t hide the pinkish tinge that he knows his face has taken on. When Ray walks into the kitchen, and makes another pot of coffee, Gerard decides to join him. Trish asks for a glass of orange juice when he gets up, so of course he obliges.
“And here is the rare Gerardicus Way. Note his paint-smattered plumage, and the curious mating dance of rooting through the refrigerator,” Ray teases, in a poor imitation of a British accent, and Gerard glares.
“At least his mane is tamer than that of the devil-haired Torosaurus,” Gerard replies, and Ray laughs, braying slightly. He pokes Gerard in the side, and they continue watching the documentary until Bob gets home.
~
Bob is in the kitchen, getting a glass of water before he goes to bed, when someone knocks on his door. It is too late for this shit, he thinks before calling out, “Somebody get that!” Trish and Gerard are on the couch, pretending to watch a movie, but really just making moony eyes at each other, and Spencer is curled up on the love seat, stroking a sleeping Bauer absentmindedly. Bob clears his throat and he begrudgingly gets up, waking the dog. Spencer shuffles over to the door, opens it and promptly slams it shut.
“No one’s there,” he says, and shuffles back to the loveseat, moving Bauer before plopping back down. The knocking on the door continues, contradicting him, but Spencer ignores it, pretending to be focused on the television screen. Bob is too old for this, but since Spencer nor the fused lump of bodies on his couch known as TrishandGerard will get the door, he answers it. A tiny and jittery kid around Spencer’s age is standing there, with pouty lips and brown, begging eyes.
“Spence-” he begins, but then realizes that Spencer didn’t open the door again. “Um, hi? My name is Brendon; I’m here for Spencer? Who are you?”
“I’m Bob, Spencer’s brother. Spencer is getting his ass off of my couch right now.” Bob directs the last words toward the living room, where he can hear Spencer groan and get up off of the couch. Bauer whines and follows Spencer to the door, nails clicking on the tile.
“Brendon, what are you doing here? I told you not to come!” Spencer says, hiding behind Bob.
Brendon begins to answer, but Bob cuts him off. “No way are you having this conversation with me in between.” He pushes Spencer out the door and continues, “You two are going to resolve your differences and both stop pouting so god damned much. Once you two are done, you can do whatever the hell you want as long as it doesn’t damage my property or wake me up. I am going to cuddle with my fiancé and dogs, and you two will have this done with by the time I wake up. Goodnight.”
Bob slams the door, scoops Bauer up in his arms, and waves at his sister and best friend, who are currently whispering and giggling. He takes the dog up to his bedroom, where he falls onto the bed and into Ray’s arms.
“Sorry about this,” he whispers, but Ray just kisses him sleepily.
“It’s okay, Bob, they’re your family and you really care about them. I think it’s hot,” Ray mumbles, grinning at him in the dark.
“I love you, you bastard.” Bob smiles back and kisses Ray again.
“I love you too,” Ray says and curls into Bob’s side.
Bob lays awake until the steady beating of Ray’s heart lulls him to sleep.
~
Spencer is still pissy about the way Bob shoved him out the door. Only he could make cuddling with Ray and their herd of adorable little dogs sound like a threat. He looks up at Brendon, who is trying to look as unobtrusive as possible, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and pushing his glasses back up his nose.
“What are you doing here, Brendon? Do your parents even know you’re here?” Spencer sighs.
“I had to make sure you’re safe and this Bob guy wasn’t some kind of scammer, like in Annie!” Brendon declares, nodding sagely.
“Life isn’t a musical, Brendon,” Spencer protests and crosses his arms.
“Still, it’s happened before!” There’s a pause until Brendon adds, “Well, I mean, you already have your Daddy Warbucks, and I doubt that Piper counts as a Sandy. Maybe like a fourth, since she’s like a Chihuahua. Or even a half, because she’s pretty feisty for such a small thing. But-”
Spencer cuts off Brendon’s nervous rambling with “How did you get here, Brendon?”
“Well, you know how Dallon’s sister is a flight attendant? Well, he had some spare tickets and there’s a big youth conference for the church in New York this week, so I told my parents I was going with him to it. He’s not very happy that he has to lie for me, but it was a matter of life and death, so-”
“I told you not to worry about me. I told you I’d be fine,” Spencer groans.
“I was still really worried. You hardly even answered my texts!” Brendon nearly shouts, and Spencer has to quiet him down, what with the sleeping relatives just inside.
“That’s because there were too many to answer. I had to turn my ringer off because it was buzzing so much,” he says, sitting down on the porch and running his hand through his hair.
“Spencer, don’t be like that,” Brendon says, slumping down to sit next to him.
“Don’t be like what, Brendon? You don’t even trust me to make my own decisions anymore. I’m not twelve and stuck in a dumpster anymore,” Spencer says, turning away.
“What? It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just worried,” Brendon admits on a long sigh.
“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.” Spencer is shaking, but Brendon doesn’t need to know.
”Why did you even want to come? You have a family back home in Vegas. You don’t need another one. I mean, you’re leaving, anyway. Why couldn’t you stay just a little longer?” Brendon asks, and when Spencer turns, he can see Brendon’s white knuckled grip on his bag.
“Brendon, you don’t understand. My whole life, I’ve been feeling like I’m missing out on some great big part of it, and this is it. I feel so much better now that I know who the flashes people really are. I barely remembered them, and told myself I imagined them my whole life. But they’re real. I really do have a protective older brother and a shy older sister, like I always pretended I did.”
“You don’t need them for that, though! Your family, your sisters, Ryan and I were-”
“We can’t pretend things are the same anymore, because they’re not!” Spencer roars, biting his lip when he sees Brendon’s face. “You were there, but it wasn’t the same. And Ryan’s been different ever since he’s been in college and involved with that Pete guy.”
“I don’t understand why you’d want to leave us.” Brendon’s voice is thick with something Spencer can’t quite identify. He can see the little drops of tears hanging from the end of Brendon’s nose glistening in the house light before he decides to give up.
“I was never trying to leave you. I just needed to find myself.”
“By coming here?” Brendon asks, in a small voice, and something inside Spencer breaks.
“Yes. And I promise you, I’m never going to leave you,” Spencer assures him, taking his hand.
“Now let’s stop arguing. It’s late and I bet you’re tired. Do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Brendon shakes his head, and Spencer sighs, pulling them up. “Jesus. Here, let’s go inside. You can crash in my room for tonight.” They walk inside and up to the guest room where Spencer is staying in silence before crashing on the bed.
Brendon curls up around him like always, and Spencer can feel the front of his shirt being soaked. He strokes Brendon’s back, murmuring soothing nonsense words and wondering what to do.
~
Spencer’s door is open when Bob wakes up the next morning, so naturally, he takes a peek. Spencer is curled up on top of the covers with the boy, Brendon, next to him. Their arms and legs are jumbled together and his heart warms at the scene, so he grabs a throw blanket off of the chair near the bed and gently tucks them in.
When Ray arrives at his bakery later that day, Bob grumbles about being a halfway house for angst-ridden teenagers. Ray just smiles and pecks him on the cheek.
~
Bob gets a call from Mikey twice a week, because Mikey can’t always visit due to the traveling nature of his job. During one of the weekly calls, Mikey interrupts Bob’s retelling of Frank’s hilarious mistake.
“So tell me more about your sister,” Mikey states, and only after years of knowing him can Bob tell that it’s more of a demand.
“Why?” Bob asks, already suspecting the answer.
“I think Gee’s in love with her,” Mikey answers, and Bob sighs.
“This is just a lot of trouble in the making.”
“Well, I’m not too entirely sure,” Mikey replies, and adds, “He’s either in love with her or deathly afraid.”
”What do you mean?” Bob inquires.
“Well, yesterday when I was talking to him, he kept rambling on about her. He told me, ‘She’s just like Bob, only scarier. And with a vagina,’” he reports, and Bob’s head starts spinning.
“He did not…” Bob squeezes the bridge of his nose and sighs again.
“I swear, you can ask Alicia," Mikey replies seriously.
“Really?”
“Well, no. But they did have a long talk. Apparently he wants to know the proper way to woo a lady," he sounds as if this were the end of the world, but Bob knows he just really cares about his brother.
“He’s not going to go all medieval knight on her, is he?” Bob asks, suddenly recalling the "incident" a few years ago.
“I don’t know, just keep the poetry away from her until you know how she feels about him.”
”It’s kind of obvious she likes him. They’re always sitting on the couch, making moony eyes at each other,” Bob sighs. It’s weird that his friend is chatting up his little sister, but he’s always been a firm believer that love is love, so he’s not going to interfere.
“Just to be on the safe side, take his poetry journal away. Do you remember his Shakespeare phase?” Mikey asks, and Bob remembers. Bob definitely remembers the hose. And the feathered hats. He will never forget the skulls, either.
”Of course I do, he nearly got a restraining order set on him. Look, I’ll try to keep them out of trouble.”
”Good, I don’t want him planning out their life before I’ve even met her,” Mikey says, making Bob remember the disaster with the waitress at the diner they frequented in their earlier years. Gerard’s been banned indefinitely from the premises, and his friends don’t go there anymore as a sign of support.
“She’s very reliable, though. I trust her,” Bob replies, and it seals the deal for Mikey.
”As long as you do, I’m fine.” Mikey is usually very skeptical of others, but he trusts Bob's judgement.
~
Everyone is sitting in the den and talking when Gerard asks Brendon why he followed Spencer to Jersey.
“Well, it’s been really stressful ever since Ryan took off-”
“Ryan?” Ray asks, wanting more information.
“Ryan was our best friend, before he ran off to Chicago to be with some married guy he met on the internet,” Brendon explains.
”Pete wasn’t married, he just had a serious girlfriend,” Spencer interrupts. “Not that it made any difference to either of them. I feel bad for that poor girl.”
“Oh my god,” Trish whispers, and everyone turns to see her shaking.
”What’s wrong?” Gerard asks her, rubbing her back.
“Did they meet on livejournal?” she asks Brendon, and Brendon looks at Spencer before tentatively nodding. “Oh my god, your friend ran off to be with my boy-ex-boyfriend.”
”Um, I’m sorry?” Spencer glares at Brendon for being insensitive, and Gerard is starting to look really worried.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his arm curled protectively over her shoulder.
That’s when Trish bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, how old was he, twelve? I hope his parents or somebody presses charges. That has to be, like, illegal.”
Everyone looks around, slightly confused but relieved that the crisis is averted.
~
Trish is sitting on the couch with Gerard, their knees touching gently, and watching him as he speaks.
“And then I told him, ‘I don’t care who she is, just get me out of this elevator!’” he waves his hands enthusiastically as he speaks, flipping dark out of his eyes and smiling nervously. Trish laughs appropriately, trying to urge the warm and fuzzy feeling that has bloomed in her stomach to go away.
It won’t and she tries to suppress the rising panic in her throat. She had fallen for a pretty, dark-haired guy with an amazing sense of humor before and that had ended in pain- both emotionally and physically. But Gerard isn’t like Pete. Instead of raucous laughter and obnoxiously outgoing behavior, it was small, shy smiles and awkward, stumbling tongues around silly jokes. Pete had been all flash and show, his fiery temper well-known all across Chicago. Gerard was patient and shy, and yeah, he rambled about pointless things, but in an adorably geeky way.
They keep accidentally bumping into each other and each time it sends little jolts of electricity through her body. They weren’t huge sparks, the kind that led to clothes being violently torn off and ended with bruised skin and deep regrets. Instead, they were tiny sparks that led to a steady fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. Gerard’s face was close now and Trish could count each of his tiny freckles on his otherwise perfect skin.
Skin that was growing closer by the second with- oh, Gerard’s lips were on Trish’s, chaste, but sending more volts down her spine.
Trish was pretty sure she had goose bumps when she felt Gerard’s tongue press against the seam of her lips. She opens them, expecting Pete’s messy, drunk kiss, but getting a gentle, steady and overwhelmingly sweet kiss. Gerard was kind, and Trish returned the emotions, letting the kiss linger before she pulled away. It was a sweet kiss, like those of her childhood. Awkward, but gentle and getting the point across. It was still entirely wrong, too soon after she had left Pete.
Trish voiced her concerns, pulling away quickly, almost tripping on her way backward, and stumbling over. “I’m sorry.”
Gerard’s face blatantly showed his dismay, and Trish feels the panic strike again before she runs out. She doesn’t deserve anyone as nice as Gerard; she is damaged goods. No one has to put up with her. She starts to repack her things before a great shadow loomed in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Bob asked arms crossed.
“I-I’m going home,” Trish says after a brief silence. Except that there was no home. Pete still owned the house, but Bob didn’t need to know that.
“You’re breaking his heart, you know. He really likes you.”
“That’s why I have to go. I don’t want to hurt him," Trish says, throwing a ratty pair of jeans into her suitcase.
“It’ll hurt him worse if you leave now."
“No, it’ll hurt later, when I inevitably screw up.”
“You won’t screw up," Bob says, with complete faith and Trish can't help but laugh.
“How can you know that?” she asks, turning towards her brother.
“So, what if you screw up? What if he screws up? What if I screw up? Apologies were invented for a reason," Bob replies, moving in closer, and Trish backs up until she hits the bed.
“You can’t fix anything with just an apology," she says, trying to sound at least a little bit together.
“No, but it’s a good start to working out a problem.”
“That’s not going to work!” Trish yells, and then realizes how loud she has gotten. "It's not," she whispers, biting her lip.
“If it doesn’t, you just move on. But you can’t leave without ever even trying." Bob sounds like an after-school special, and Trish is about to break down again.
“That’s going to be really hard," she whispers, falling onto the bed.
“Life is hard, Patricia," Bob says, putting a hand on her back.
“Don’t call me that!” Patricia strikes at his hand, and Bob looks at her pensively.
“Sorry," he says, after a few moments of silence. "But seriously, I want you to re-unpack, calm down a little, maybe take a bath or shower or something, and join us for dinner, okay?” Bob’s tone leaves little room for argument, so Trish just nods and does as she is told.
~
Spencer finds the photo album on one of the big bookshelves in the den. He flips through it, completely surprised to find what appears to be a happy family. The first photograph is a laughing woman twirling in the sunlight, her long blonde hair floating around her body as she turns to face the camera. The next picture is the woman standing at the altar in a wedding dress, grinning so hard it looks painful. Holding her hand is a tall man in a suit, obviously the groom. This must be our parents, he realizes, and flips the page to see the woman reclining in a chair, pregnant stomach sticking out far ahead of her. A couple of pages later, she is bending down in a park. At her feet is a young child, not quite a toddler, but no longer a baby. He is attempting to stand, and when Spencer stares at it long enough, he looks a bit like Bob.
Spencer doesn’t hear Bob come in, so he startles when Bob says, “The blue one has all of us in it.” Bob pulls the album off the shelf, and Spencer scoots over, so that Bob has room to sit on the floor with him.
A blonde young boy pouts in the background as a redheaded toddler blows out a few birthday candles. “Is that you?” Spencer asks, and Bob nods, grinning. “I would’ve never imagined you as the jealous type,” Spencer remarks, and Bob laughs.
“I was very young, you can’t blame me,” Bob says, flipping the page.
“That I can’t,” Spencer replies, smiling down at the album. With each picture, Bob tells a story, each one special in its own way. Eventually Trish wanders over, and when Bob tells Spencer something she doesn’t agree with, she voices her opinion.
“You never even mentioned when you threw my favorite doll out the window of the car!” Trish remarks, exasperated.
“You remember that?” Bob asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“Of course! That was my Precious Petunia doll, and I remember begging Dad for months to get her. She was the highlight of that Christmas,” Trish says, pushing a finger towards Bob.
They bicker for a few more minutes before Spencer interrupts with, “I wish I could have grown up with you guys.” It’s pretty grave compared to the natural sibling disagreements, but Bob and Trish understand completely.
“I often used to think I dreamed up the whole thing,” Trish whispers, tracing the edges of a photo with her fingertip.
“I used to wonder how you guys turned out, if the places you settled in were good for you,” Bob swallows thickly before continuing. “If you’d ever remember me.” They turn the album to the last pages, a happy family portrait taken a month before their parents’ death. Underneath it is a news clipping, saved by the elderly woman who had lived next door.
When Bob was a rebellious teenager, he had looked long and hard to find their old house. Bob tells Trish and Spencer the story of what he considered to be start of his life.
~
Bob had been what was considered homeless for six months when he finally found the house.
It was dark and stormy, the rain pounding on Bob’s head as he shivered through his thin jacket. It had taken him months to finally track down the correct street his old house had been on, and he could still remember the style of the home. When he finally reached it, he had thought about ringing the bell or knocking, but he didn’t know what the family living there now would do.
Instead, he stood at the window, freezing in the rain, but watching the happy family inside eat dinner. They were warm, loved, and safe, three things he was certainly not feeling at the moment.
That was when Nora found him. She was letting one of her many cats into her house, when she saw the shaking teen, standing at the window of her neighbor’s house. When she called out to him, he panicked, and almost broke into a run. But instead of calling the police, she welcomed him into her home.
There was something familiar about him, she had told him, right after she had given him a cup of hot cocoa. He looked like someone she had once known.
That’s when the truth came spilling out. Bob told her his name, and why he had come to the house. Nora just shook her head, and scratched one of her cats’ heads.
“Don’t think I don’t remember you, Bobby Bryar,” she said, smiling at him enigmatically. “You lived next door with your parents and younger siblings, and I often babysat you.” He hadn’t really remembered her, as his memories were focused on his immediate family, but he had a fuzzy recollection of an old woman chasing him around the yard. He had thought it was a grandmother, but then he remembered that he had no living family but his siblings, who were lost.
“It’s such a shame what happened to you all, especially since your parents were such nice people. So happy-go-lucky, your mother was,” Nora continued. She regaled him with stories he wouldn’t have remembered, and when his eyelids began to droop, her fire was lit in her eyes. He tried to apologize, but instead of getting angry, she ordered him upstairs to take a warm shower, and then to sleep in her guest room.
When he thanked her profusely, she just said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m an old woman, and I need fresh blood to keep me young.” She grinned mischievously and, in a flash, he could see what she what have looked like as a younger woman.
From then on, Bob lived with Nora. She fed him, gave him clothes and let him sleep in her spare room in exchange for him finishing high school and odd jobs around the house. He was infinitely grateful to her, and once he had a real job, he tried to pay her back. She refused, naturally, citing that she had no grandchildren of her own to spoil, and the children next door were spoiled brats.
When she died, she left him countless photo albums that she had “rescued” from his house before it was auctioned off. She had also left him a letter, telling him to contact her great grandnephews Mikey and Gerard, who lived in New Jersey.
With nothing but a couple of old photo albums, Bob set off for Jersey.
Once Bob had finally gotten to Jersey and found the brothers, he didn’t know what to do. He had no place to sleep, and no money, and they lived in a teeny tiny house with their parents. Thankfully, Bob had met Ray. Ray’s mother was a sassy Puerto Rican woman, who took one look at Bob and understood his plight. She oftentimes forced a big meal down his throat, whenever he saw her later on. He ended up sleeping in their spare room many times until he got a place of his own.
~
It’s raining in Jersey, which isn’t such a big deal to the residents, but to Brendon and Spencer, who see the rain twice a year, and never on this scale, it’s magic. Brendon bounces around, anxious to get outside as Spencer ties his shoelaces.
“I love to play in the rain!” he exclaims, for the fifth time that day, and Spencer just smiles to himself, Gerard groaning.
“We know! Now go to Bob’s and have some doughnuts and get out of our hair!”
“You just want more alone time with Trish, don’t you?” Brendon teases, causing both Gerard and Trish to blush, though Trish’s usual scowl looks a little embarrassed.
“Yes!” she snaps finally, and Spencer takes the opportunity to pull Brendon out the door.
“You really drive her crazy, you know,” Spencer says once they’re on the way. His hood is pulled over his ears to protect his hair, but Brendon’s letting the rain drench him.
“I’m just teasing. She’s only that cranky because when we’re around, she’s not getting laid,” Brendon remarks off-handedly.
“I doubt Trish and Gerard are even at that point in their relationship yet. They’re both set on taking it slow,” Spencer asserts.
“I bet Gerard’s a beast in the sack,” Brendon laughs and Spencer pushes him playfully.
“Ugh, Brendon. That’s just disgusting. That’d be like saying Kara’s husband is a tiger or something.” Brendon makes a face and Spencer laughs. “See?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Brendon says and they walk in silence for a while. He shivers mildly, but Spencer notices.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks, and Brendon just grins.
“Never! It’s raining. I enjoy it.”
“You’re going to get sick. Are you sure you don’t want to pull your hood up?” Spencer nags.
Brendon looks at him, raindrops in his eyelashes, and for a minute it seems like he’s going to speak, but he shuts his mouth. Spencer’s hand is swinging by his side, and he sees Brendon eyeing it, so Spencer slyly pulls Brendon’s hand out of his hoodie pocket and squeezes it. Brendon blushes and Spencer teases him.
“You’re blushing so hard that you’re turning the rain to steam.” Brendon smiles and rolls his eyes, then focuses on the street.
“The rain makes everything so beautiful,” he whispers after a few moments, and Spencer can’t help but agree. Brendon’s dark hair looks darker, plastered to his head, and his cheeks are bright pink with the chill. He voices his opinion, and Brendon stops. Their eyes meet, and Spencer leans forward carefully.
“Spence-” Brendon starts, but then Spencer presses their lips together, and there’s no more sounds except the pounding of their hearts and the steady pitter patter of the rain on the sidewalk. Brendon shivers again, and Spencer pulls away. Brendon’s eyes are dilated and he’s breathing heavily, the ghosts of breath appearing between them.
“We should probably go inside now, it’s cold, and Bob’s bakery is, like, right around the corner,” Spencer says carefully and slowly.
“Yeah,” Brendon agrees, but kisses him again anyway.
They finally walk into the bakery, ten minutes later, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Ray eyes the young couple and sighs.
“Ah, young love.”
“Hey, we’re not old yet!” Bob protests and leans over the counter to kiss Ray’s forehead.
“I never age with you around,” Ray teases, rubbing his nose against his fiancé’s. They share a quick smile and kiss before Brendon pipes up.
“Ew, old people love!”
“Take it back to your room at the retirement home, Gramps!” Spencer calls, laughing. Bob breaks away to stick his tongue out at Spencer, who he notices is still holding hands with Brendon.
“You two, stop necking, I am starving and have heard your muffins are quote-unquote ‘the bomb’,” Brendon says, after a short pause. Spencer wants to giggle, but luckily controls it.
“Where have you heard these vicious lies? This is a butcher’s shop, for the manliest of men only!” Ray says, and Spencer’s giggle finally bursts out.
“You heard the young man,” Bob says, and swats at Ray’s ass. “Get to work, I’ll see you later!”
“Love you!” Ray says, and kisses Bob again, turning toward the door and walking away.
“Love you too!” Bob grins and watches Ray cross the street as Brendon and Spencer debate over muffins and croissants.
~
“I feel like all you two ever do is sit on this couch and cuddle,” Ray complains when he walks into his house and sees Trish and Gerard on the couch again. They turn to look at him. Dixie, who is caught between Gerard and Trish, squirms to get out and greet him.
Trish opens her mouth to protest, but then notices Gerard’s arm around her waist and the fact that she is practically sitting on his lap, and blushes. “We do other things,” she mumbles, turning her head.
“Like what?” he asks.
”We went to Bob’s bakery the other day!” Gerard exclaims, and Trish smiles at him encouragingly.
“Anything else besides that and grocery shopping?” Ray asks, crossing his arms. They sit in relative silence (except for the horror movie playing in the background) for a moment before Ray continues, “Yeah, I thought so.” He leaves with a triumphant smirk on his face, and Gerard panics.
“I’m so sorry that-um, I mean that-we should-” Gerard fumbles with his words a little before Trish silences him with a reassuring hand on his arm.
“It’s ok, I don’t like going out much anyway,” she tells him, and he visibly relaxes.
“It’s just-I feel like I am acting ashamed of you, when I totally am not!” His tongue trips over the words still, and Trish curls in closer.
“I know that, and you know I know, so who cares what anybody else thinks?”
“I do,” he mumbles, but turns back to the movie after Trish has obviously halted the conversation.
~
next
Bob normally wakes up at 4:30 so he can get the bakery up and running by 5:15 and open by 6. If he wakes up even a minute before his alarm goes off, he is extremely grumpy all day. So when someone knocks on his door at three in the fucking morning, he groans and rolls over to bury his face in Ray’s shoulder. Ray kisses his head, but pushes him away, mumbling, “Go get the door, you fuckwit.” Bob groans again but gets out of bed and treads down the stairs to the front door.
“What do you want, Frank?” he asks as he opens the door, but it is decidedly not Frank standing in front of him. Instead, it is a miserable looking girl, short with glasses, ragged clothes, and reddish hair dripping with rain. She has a tattered backpack on one shoulder and a battered suitcase in her hand. “Um… Hi?” he asks. “Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologizes politely. “I’m Trish Stumph.”
“Who?” he asks, his mind fuzzy with sleep.
“I’m your sister, Trish. The one you’ve been writing to since for three years,” she gently reminds him, pale face coloring a bit at the cheeks. He takes a long look at the bruise forming just below her eye, and the crooked angle of her glasses before ushering her inside. They walk into the kitchen, where Bob makes coffee.
“You weren’t supposed to get here for another couple of days,” Bob tells her, confused. She blushes again, playing with the hem of her faded, holey shirt.
“I-I had some problems with my boyfriend. So, I broke up with him.” Trish peeks up at him through the hair in her face. Bob nods, as if for confirmation, so she continues. “I kind of also lost where I was staying when I did that. The first thing I did after storming out of his place was buy a ticket for here. I-I was hoping I could stay with you, if you didn’t mind.”
“Of course you can stay with us,” a voice says from behind Bob. Trish jumps and Bob turns around to see Ray, standing in the doorway.
“Trish, this is my fiancé, Ray. Ray, this is Trish, my sister,” Bob introduces, and Trish looks slightly more relieved.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Ray tells her, grinning a bit when she recoils from his handshake. He stares at the puddle she’s making on the tile and says, “Why don’t we get you into some dry clothes? I have some old sweats that might fit you. You might want a hot shower too, huh? I’ll go get it started if you want to go up to the guest room with Bob and put your stuff away.”
Trish just stares at him for a moment before Ray says, “We’ll take good care of you. Bob is always taking in strays.” She looks at Bob with wonder before he blushes, thankful for the poor lighting.
Bob is flustered for a second but recovers with, “All right, you give me that.” Trish is reluctant to part with it at first, but after he assures her he is just taking it upstairs, she lets it go. “Come with me.” They shuffle up the stairs carefully, as not to scare her. He leads her to the small guest room, closest to the guest bathroom, and puts her suitcase on the chair. They stand in somewhat awkward silence until Ray interrupts it.
“All right, to the bathroom. There are clean clothes on the counter and towels on the rack. You can put your dirty clothes in the hamper. Turn the knob right to make the water colder, left to make it warmer. You can either come downstairs for a cup of coffee when you’re done or pass out on the bed, whichever you prefer,” he instructs, dragging her to the bathroom which is already filled with thick steam.
After she gets settled, Bob and Ray go back downstairs, and Bob pours them coffee. Ray wraps his arms around Bob’s waist and presses his face into Bob’s back. “I love you so much,” he whispers.
“I know,” Bob replies, then turns around to kiss Ray. “I love you too.”
~
“Mom, I know,” Spencer says one morning at breakfast.
“You know what, dear?” Ginger asks, absentmindedly. She’s cooking the family a celebratory breakfast. Today is Spencer and Brendon’s high school graduation, and things are very busy.
Spencer doesn’t know what has possessed him, but he continues, “I know about the adoption.” She drops the bowl in her hand, porcelain shattering on the tile.
“Where did you-Spencer, I mean,” she starts muttering, searching the kitchen for a broom.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Spencer asks, watching her sweep the pieces of the bowl up and toss them away.
“We were going to tell you today, after your graduation,” his mother tells him quietly, and sits down on the chair across the from him. “How did you find out?”
“My record got re-opened on my 18th birthday. My brother hired a private detective to find me. We’ve been writing ever since winter break.” The words are out of his mouth before he can really process what he’s said.
“A-are you sure it’s really him?” she asks, twisting the ring on her left hand.
“Did you ever meet Bob or Trish? Did you think it was a good idea to separate us? Why did you do it, anyway? You obviously were able to conceive,” he spits out, and even though the words are bitter, he’s feeling way better, the stress of keeping it in lifting from his shoulders.
“Spencer-Bob was too old to adjust to first-time parents like ourselves. And Patricia, she had already been adopted by the time we found you.”
“What about Crystal and Jackie, though?” Spencer lets slip, and Mrs. Smith sighs again.
“Shortly after your papers came through, and we moved here, a miracle happened. We’d been trying to have children for so long-nearly eight years. And when we found out we were expecting - twins, no less - right after we had just adopted you, we were overwhelmed.” She runs a hand through her hair and just as she stands, Spencer opens his mouth to speak.
“But-”
When the twins come in, she cuts him off with a glare that obviously says, “We’ll talk later.”
~
One of Bob and Ray’s closest friends, Gerard, comes into the bakery just before Ray gets off of his shift at The Guitar Emporium. “Hey, Bob,” he says, pushing a stray lock of dark hair out of his face and behind an ear, “Do you have any chocolate croissants left?”
Bob makes a big show of grumbling and looking before finding an “extra” chocolate croissant hidden behind the vegan cheese and broccoli muffins (that only Frank and Greta ever order). If asked, he will deny vehemently that he keeps one just for Gerard there, even though it is one of the best-selling items on Bob’s menu and Gerard oftentimes forgets his wallet.
“Hey, before you crawl back into your cave, will you go to my house, and check up on my sister?” Bob asks, handing Gerard his croissant.
“She’s here? I thought she wasn’t supposed to arrive for a couple more days,” Gerard replies, before shoving half of the croissant in his mouth. Chocolate oozes out of the sides, onto his cheeks and fingers, but he just licks it off.
“Pig,” an elderly tourist mutters, and Gerard beams at her with brown teeth, crumbs stuck the edges of his mouth.
“Jesus, Gerard, here’s a napkin.” Bob hands him a napkin before continuing, “Her plans changed a little. She got kicked out of her apartment, so she’s staying with us a few extra days until she can go back to Chicago and find a cheaper place.” He stares at Gerard pointedly, remembering all the times Gerard forgot to pay rent or utilities and had to stay with Ray and Bob.
“Ahhh, ah sompofove wiffer,” Gerard says, mouth full of food.
“What?”
“Ah save-” Gerard swallows, then clears his throat before repeating, “I said, I sympathize with her.”
“Oh, just-can you keep her company until we get home?”
“Sure thing!” Gerard finishes his croissant and turns away, the unused napkin crumpled in his hand.
”And wipe your face off, I don’t want her… delicate sensibilities being shocked!” Bob calls as Gerard pushes open the door. Gerard turns, and stares at Bob with a manic grin. Bob sighs and shakes his head. What has he gotten his poor sister into?
~
Spencer’s graduation isn’t as big of a deal as he’d thought it was going to be, partially because his parents are whispering to each other the whole time, and partially because of the tickets to Jersey burning a hole in his wallet. He walks up to the stage when he hears his name, grabs his diploma, and sits back down until Brendon gets his. They do what they are told and throw their stupid hats in the air at the appropriate time. They had originally planned to get lunch with Brendon’s family, but in light of recent events, they opt for a more private “celebration,” just Spencer and his parents. The twins get thrown into one of the many Urie cars, and they jabber excitedly with Brendon’s older sister, who they idolize. Brendon just nods like he knows everything and a familiar knot forms in Spencer’s gut, making him want to laugh and throw up at the same time.
“You did WHAT?” his mother asks at the Denny’s they decide to go to after the ceremony. Spencer has just informed her that he bought round-trip tickets to Jersey with money left over from Christmas and his minimum wage job.
“I already bought the tickets to visit my brother. I’m leaving tomorrow night,” he says, proud that his voice isn’t shaking too badly.
“You can’t just up and leave-” Mr. Smith starts to say, but Spencer interjects.
“You should have told me about them when I turned eighteen, at least. I had the right to know!”
“We just wanted you to be happy. Do you see all the drama that’s been caused by you finding out?” his mother’s voice rises, and lowers when she sees the eyes dart in her direction.
“You can’t just sweep something like this under the rug! Were you ever planning on telling me? For real this time, I don’t want any of that ‘after you graduated’ crap, either.”
”Spencer, don’t talk to your mother like that-” his dad intervenes.
“She’s not my mother. My mother died when I was young,” Spencer spews, the words bubbling up from some place deep in his stomach that he’s never realized was there.
“Ever since we signed those papers and took you into our home, you’ve been our son. And we’ve been your parents. We may not be biologically related but-”
“There are no ‘but’s in a situation like this. I’m going,” Spencer says, sliding out of the booth and leaving. The only problem is that he doesn’t have a car to drive himself home with, and the Thomas & Mack center where the graduation ceremony was held is pretty far away from his house. So, he does the semi-logical thing and calls Brendon.
“Bren, can you pick me up?” he asks once outside. “I’m at the Denny’s on Tropicana and Eastern.”
“Sure thing!” Brendon squeaks through the speakers before hanging up. Spencer walks around behind the restaurant toward the major street to hide from his parents and to find Brendon. Soon enough, Brendon’s mother’s bright purple minivan can be seen from a distance, so Spencer stands up from his hiding place on what’s left of the grass and walks to the sidewalk.
“Where were you guys, pretty close?” Spencer asks when Brendon pulls up next to him.
“Yeah, luckily we were at that new Chinese Buffet down the street. If I hadn’t been nearby, you would’ve been on your own,” Brendon jokes, and then sees the look on Spencer’s face.
“Hop in, you have to tell me absolutely everything that’s happened,” he says, changing the CDs to his “serious talk” mix tape. Spencer would roll his eyes if he wasn’t feeling so drained.
~
When Trish woke up that morning (or was it afternoon?), she was extremely confused, but eventually remembered everything. After a bowl of cereal, and a reheated cup of coffee, she settles down on the couch to watch some TV. Bob and Ray have the same service she had, back in Chicago, complete with a DVR, so she flips through their recordings, surprised to find many of the same shows she enjoys recorded. After she finishes watching many different cooking shows (Down Home with the Neelys and Everyday Italian being her favorites), she flips through the channels before settling on an old western on AMC. The background music lulls her back to sleep until what must be hours later, when she’s woken by a loud commotion at the door. The sun is setting through the window, and a quick glance at the clock on the receiver confirms that it is almost 7. She sits up and looks at the door, where she can see a greasy, thin man fumbling with a set of keys.
He finally makes it through the door, and when he sees her staring at him, he trips. “Oh!” he exclaims. “I'm sorry to interrupt!” He gets up, and dusts off his faded and paint-splattered jeans.
“It's ok, I was just watching a movie,” Trish says, and gestures toward the television, where Gene Kelly is tap-dancing with enthusiasm.
“Oh, cool, I love this movie!” he exclaims and practically jumps onto the couch, next to her. He hums along with the music, not noticing her stare for quite a while. Finally, when he turns away from the screen, he notices her expression.
“Um... may I ask who you are?” she asks, after a pause.
“Oh, I thought Bob told you I was coming over. Well, it's very nice to meet you, Patricia, I'm Gerard!” he smiles, and Trish can't help but noticing a smear of chocolate on his cheek.
“Do you introduce yourself to every stranger you find sitting on your friend’s couch?” Trish asks, looking at him carefully.
“Bob told you’d be here. Unless you’re not actually Patricia-”
“It’s Trish. My mom was the only one who called me Patricia.”
“Sorry, Pa- er… Trish. I was going to say that you look remarkably like Bob, except for the whole boo-”
“Already making a fool out of yourself, Gee?” Ray cuts him off, and both Gerard and Trish jump. “Your feet are on the coffee table, and you know what happens when Bob finds scuff marks on it.”
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Trish says, trying not to laugh at Gerard flustering an apology, and failing.
“I’m a stealth ninja,” Ray says, straight-faced, and Gerard stops, mid-apology to nod soberly.
Trish looks between them, and sees the crack in Gerard’s face, so she isn’t surprised when they break out into laughter.
“Who’s up for a round of Rockband?”
~
Spencer and Brendon are sitting on the short wall that separates their yards, enjoying the early sumer breeze and watching the sunset. They’ve been completely silent since after they’ve come outside, and by now, Brendon knows that Spencer isn’t going to change his mind. He’s setting out for Jersey tomorrow night, and nothing Brendon can say will stop that.
They watch the neighborhood kids race on their bikes, remembering when they used to do the same. “Why did we stop riding our bikes everywhere?” Brendon asks.
“Because by eighth grade, playing cops and robbers is considered lame," Spencer reminds him.
“That game was the shit though, remember when Marguerite caught us taking a shortcut on her lawn?”
”Oh my god, she had to speak to our parents about the proper care of her rare Norwegian grass, or whatever it is."
“At least she was wearing real pants! Do you remember her gardening shorts?”
“Unfortunately. No woman past 50 should wear hot pants. How old do you think she was, you know, when she died?”
”Somewhere around 150.”
“No, seriously. I know she was supposedly a hot young thing in like, the 30’s.”
“I’m pretty sure I heard my dad talking about how she was born in 1895.”
”No way, you’re lying!” Spencer grabs Brendon, and flips him onto the grass in Spencer’s yard. They roll around tickling each other, until they run out of breath and stretch out to watch the last of the sunlight disappear.
“I wish things were back to how they used to be,” Brendon whispers, when he sees the first star. Spencer silently repeats the wish.
~
When Trish wakes up, Gerard is sitting on the couch again, playing with a bowl of cereal perched precariously on a pile of coasters. “Don’t you ever go home?” she asks him, when she settles down beside him on the couch.
“My apartment’s boring,” he surprisingly declares, and adds, “Besides, Bob said he needed someone to watch his little sister.”
“What?” Trish feels a bit outraged. She is a grown woman, after all.
“Well, I mean. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you; it’s just that you don’t know your way around here. I’m supposed to be like a guide or something,” Gerard says, and makes a face, like guiding people around is comparable to torture.
“But I never leave the house,” Trish utters.
“Well, we could start with a trip to Bob’s bakery. He’s gotten offers to bake for fancy restaurants, you know?” Gerard offers.
“He has?” This is a complete surprise to Trish, who has only heard basic details of Bob’s work life, their letters mostly about family, friends and memories.
“Yeah, but he’s more interested in the whole concept of community. Most people here are pretty close.”
“Like freaky small town close or…?” Trish asks, envisioning all the movies she’s seen about small towns where people never leave and barely suppresses a shiver.
If Gerard notices it, he doesn’t say anything, already deep into a ramble about how awesome it is to live there. He finishes with, “We’re all good friends. It’s mostly younger people, a lot of them the outcasts of big cities or judgmental small towns. It’s gotten a lot bigger than it used to be, as the only store in town used to be the general store.”
“Where did all the shop fronts come from then?” Trish asks before taking a bite of her Cap’n Crunch.
“They’re renovated homes. A lot of them have apartments above the stores, like in older parts of the city.”
“Why doesn’t Bob live above his store?”
”It’s not big enough for everyone, including these lovely little children,” Gerard scoops Bauer up into his arms and scratches behind the dog’s ears. Dixie whines impatiently at Trish’s feet, so with a sigh, Trish places her cereal down carefully and picks the whining dog up. Dixie wriggles until she can lick Trish’s face enthusiastically. Gerard laughs, and behind the large pile of fur in her face, she can see Bauer nipping at Gerard’s ears. Once the dogs settle down, they continue their conversation.
“So what does Bob do with his upstairs apartment?” she asks, finishing her cereal.
“How about you come and see?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear, and she can’t help but agree to it.
“Well, maybe when this episode is over,” Gerard adds and she can’t help but laugh.
~
Brendon is silent as he drives Spencer to the airport. Spencer tries several times to start a conversation, but Brendon just stares ahead in stony silence. They sit like that for several minutes, before Spencer starts to fiddle with the radio, but Brendon just turns it off, leaving Spencer with only the rattling air conditioner at full blast to listen to.
When they get to the part where Brendon has to decide between the parking terminals and the drop-off area, Spencer opens his mouth once again, but Brendon merges into the left lane that indicates he will park and walk with Spencer to the gate.
He parks and puts a few quarters in the meter as Spencer gets his baggage out of the back of the car. They go through the lines and once they get to the part where Spencer must leave Brendon, they turn to each other.
“Are you sure this is what you really want?” Brendon asks quietly.
“Yeah, Brendon, I am.”
Brendon opens his mouth as if to say something, and then closes it again. He grabs Spencer into a big hug, and whispers “I’m going to miss you,” into his ear.
“Me too, I’ll text you when I land.” Spencer squeezes Brendon one last time before they break apart.
”See you in a week,” Brendon says and turns around. Spencer watches his friend to see if he turns around on his way back to the short-term parking lot, but Brendon doesn’t. The sign lights of a nearby shop flicker a few times, and Spencer turns back around, toward the line for security. His stomach feels heavy, but he doesn’t feel like thinking about it right now, so he wearily follows the instructions of the disgruntled security agent.
~
Bob is surprised by his door chiming just after the lunch rush is over. Gerard and Trish are walking in, Trish quietly laughing at something Gerard has said.
"What are you guys doing?" Bob asks, surprised.
"Trish just wanted a little tour of the town, so we walked over here," Gerard answers, and Trish nods.
"Oh, cool. Do you guys want some leftovers? We’ve had a pretty good day so far, but the cream cheese muffins always have a little trouble selling."
"Those sound pretty good," Trish replies, and they walk closer to the counter. Bob takes two plates from the stack behind the counter, then takes said muffins out of the display case and places them on the plates.
"Here you go," he says, pushing them towards Trish, who takes one plate for herself and hands the other to Gerard. While they sit at a small table, Bob grabs a leftover chocolate chunk cookie for himself and joins them.
"Do you think that after this, you could show us around a little bit?" Trish asks when she sees him.
"Sure," Bob says, and bites into his cookie. “But I gotta let Morris know I’m leaving.”
~
Spencer spends the entire flight with his iPod plugged into his ears, restlessly fidgeting and tapping his fingers to the beat. Brendon had stolen it before Spencer left and made a playlist that ordinarily would have soothed him. Now, it only makes him more on edge, dissecting each song, wondering why Brendon chose each particular one. The elderly woman on his left glares daggers at him, but he can’t stop moving. He stares out the window and pictures Brendon’s face when he wrestled the trip idea out of Spencer, hurt and betrayed, and can’t help but feel he’s missing some big piece of the puzzle that is Brendon lately.
~
Bob and Trish set out for the airport early in the morning. Trish digs through Bob’s CDs before deciding on a Green Day one, leading to a friendly debate over the merits of Dookie versus American Idiot. They only stop once for some gas at a station just outside of East Orange and end up back on the road with two large cups of coffee.
Once Bob finds a parking spot, they look for Spencer’s flight information to make sure it’s on time and head off in search of the baggage claim. They wait by the area where the Arrivals come in and after about 20 minutes with no sight of their brother, Trish suggests they should sit down somewhere. Bob makes a crack about making a sign with Spencer’s name on it, but agrees with her idea. When they turn to find seating, however, something catches the corner of his eye, so Bob turns back around.
An extremely flushed young man runs down the steps, his long hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Wait, Trish,” Bob says, and grabs his sister’s arm. She turns around and sees him, so she digs in her purse for the picture Spencer sent Bob after he agreed to come to Bob’s wedding. When they determine it’s who they want to see, they approach him.
“Spencer?” Bob asks tentatively.
“Bob?” Spencer looks up at him, eyes squinting in vague recognition.
“Yeah. It’s nice to see you again, little man,” Bob says and slings his arm around Spencer’s shoulder.
“It’s nice to see you too, even though I was a baby when I last saw you,” Spencer admits, and then does a double take at Trish. “Trish? I thought you were arriving after me. Did your flight come in early?”
“Kind of,” she says, shyly. “I actually came in two days ago, I had to leave town earlier than I thought.”
“Oh,” he says quietly.
“Do you… remember me?” Trish asks once they get back into the car.
“Not really. Well, I don't think I do. Maybe I imagined it?”
“I kind of remember you,” she says, her voice getting quieter as she turns away. Spencer totally gets the feeling.
“Last time we saw you, you were a baby,” Bob pipes in. “You still are, you just got taller.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Spencer replies, face reddening and things aren’t nearly as awkward as before. Bob ruffles his hair, and Spencer glares, but still, he's grinning.
~
Spencer is sitting on his brother’s couch (he’d never thought he’d ever say that) watching TV with his biological sister and a vaguely creepy dude named Gerard when a ridiculously tiny and tattooed guy bursts into the room. He looks at Spencer and exclaims rather loudly, “I didn’t know you had two sisters!”
Spencer glares and Trish chuckles, but he just continues talking, “This one is way more feminine than Trish!” Trish and Spencer’s glares are about equal now, set to “Kill and Destroy” when Bob walks in, chuckling.
“Dude, this is Spencer, my younger brother,” he says, and Frank’s jaw drops. He laughs awkwardly and mumbles a quick apology. Ray walks in behind them with a load of groceries.
“Whoa there, tone it down, you two. You look like Bob before he gets his coffee in the morning.” Spencer flashes a bright grin at Ray, before switching back to a fierce glare aimed at Frank. “Anyone want to help with the groceries?” Ray asks, setting the bags on the counter. Spencer’s up in a flash because a) he is a gentleman and b) he wants to get away from the ridiculous scene. He and Bob make quick work out of the bags in Ray’s dinged up sedan, Frank muttering about the deception of Spencer’s glittery unicorn shirt. Spencer is totally going to kill Brendon for sneaking that shirt into his suitcase when he gets home. (Though it is admittedly one of Spencer’s favorites.)
~
Spencer’s only been at Bob’s for two days, but he’s already homesick. Brendon constantly texts him updates about what’s going on back in Vegas, but it just makes things worse. Spencer’s phone buzzes for the fifth time in two minutes, and he just rolls over onto his stomach, sighing loudly.
Piper misses u :(, it says, showing a picture of Brendon’s tiny Chihuahua with big, sad eyes (though she could just be begging for treats, he’s seen the face before) and he sighs again, quickly responding with a Miss her 2. Give her a hug 4 me. So far, he’s had fun in Jersey, but right now, he misses his family, his “surrogate dog” (Jackie is allergic, so he’s never been able to have his own) and Brendon. Bob, Ray and their friends are all really nice, but they’re all busy being adults and have their own inside jokes. Bob’s dogs are friendly and playful, but he misses chasing Brendon’s dog around the living room, being careful not to knock over anything important.
Bob hears the sighing, and asks, “Why are you being all mopey?”
Spencer’s phone vibrates again.
U should hug her urself. Come back 2 vegas
“I’m homesick, and my best friend is an asshole,” he says after tapping out I told u as a reply.
“Well that sucks,” Bob says honestly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know. Brendon’s, like, my best friend - pretty much my only one since Ryan’s been in college and talking to this one guy. Just, sometimes…” Spencer trails off when Brendon sends another text.
Still thnk u should come back. Sumer’s no fun w/o u.
Go to churchmeanie >:(
Spencer silences his phone, and puts it onto the bed face-down. “It’s just-I don’t ever want to see that face again. He means so much to me, and I don’t ever want to leave him with that face. He should always be smiling, you know?”
Bob rubs his forehead before moving into the room closer. “Are you sure that you want to be just friends with him? Is there something else you’d like to tell me about your relationship with him?” he says and immediately regrets it. Spencer blushes a bright pink, and avoids eye contact with him.
“Can you close the door?” he asks quietly after a pause, and Bob does as he is told. Spencer takes in a deep breath before continuing, “It’s not really going to be anything. I mean, I think I like him more than just a friend, but nothing’s going to happen. He’s straight and-It’d be wrong. He’s my best friend.”
“You think you like him?” Bob asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I know I do. It’s just. Even if he wasn’t straight, I wouldn’t want to wreck such a great friendship with all of that relationship business.”
“The only way to know that is to find out.”
“I’d rather not lose him. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me.”
“You’ve got to at least try, Spencer. When you get back, ask him to go to a movie or something. Normal stuff that you’d do as friends and, like, try to gauge his reaction.”
“I can’t, Bob!” Spencer huffs, like Bob wasn’t right there a few years ago too. He decides to go with the advice he wish he’d gotten before Ray had wizened up and asked him out.
“No, you won’t. There’s a huge difference in that,” Bob says, and feels old, because he’s finally sensible enough to think things through.
“But what if I ask him out and he, like, hates me or something? What if when I go back he has a girlfriend? What if-” Spencer starts blubbering, but Bob cuts him off.
“Spencer, you’ll only be here for a week. I doubt that he’ll get a girlfriend that quickly,” he tries to rationalize.
“Still, I mean, there are a lot of things that could go wrong,” Spencer complains.
“Just take it slow. First, you’ve got to tell him that you’re gay. If he’s gay, he might tell you too, and then you can work something from there.” Coming out always seems like the hardest step, but it’s relatively simple compared to actually asking someone out.
“He’s Mormon. They hate gays!” Spencer gets worked up again, and Bob takes a deep breath before continuing.
“I don’t think he’d hate you for coming out to him. And if he does, then he’s not a true best friend. Besides, if it doesn’t go over well, you can ignore him. But if they do, stop me if you’ve heard this before, you can keep in touch online.” Bob leaves to let Spencer think it over.
~
The next morning, when Bob gets up, he pours his daily bowl of cereal to eat in the solitude of early morning. He hears a noise from upstairs and then Spencer pads down the stairs and into the kitchen. They nod at each other as Spencer pours a bowl for himself, sitting down across from Bob. Spencer mumbles something at Bob and they eat breakfast together in a companionable silence.
~
Gerard and Trish watch several documentaries about animals in a mini-marathon hosted on National Geographic, with Spencer joining them a few hours into it. His phone lights up every so often, but he doesn’t interrupt their cuddling, and during the commercials, they chat amicably.
“Oh my god, I want a baby polar bear!” Gerard declares, after seeing a mother bear and her cubs emerge from their den.
“You know, they do turn into adult polar bears later on,” Trish reasons.
“Besides, how would you properly feed it? It’s not like you can buy baby seal meat at the grocery store,” Spencer adds, and Gerard gets flustered.
“I’d donate her to the zoo!” he says, but Spencer shakes his head.
“That’s just being cruel to the poor bear,” Spencer says.
“Taking cubs away from their mother is life threatening,” Trish states, and Gerard feels like he’s been hit by a train. He wisely decides to give up on the matter.
In the middle of the documentary about the mating habits of birds of paradise, Ray gets home.
“Have you guys been doing this all day?” he asks, eyeing the way they’re cuddled together on the couch with his dogs. Gerard makes a face at Ray, but it can’t hide the pinkish tinge that he knows his face has taken on. When Ray walks into the kitchen, and makes another pot of coffee, Gerard decides to join him. Trish asks for a glass of orange juice when he gets up, so of course he obliges.
“And here is the rare Gerardicus Way. Note his paint-smattered plumage, and the curious mating dance of rooting through the refrigerator,” Ray teases, in a poor imitation of a British accent, and Gerard glares.
“At least his mane is tamer than that of the devil-haired Torosaurus,” Gerard replies, and Ray laughs, braying slightly. He pokes Gerard in the side, and they continue watching the documentary until Bob gets home.
~
Bob is in the kitchen, getting a glass of water before he goes to bed, when someone knocks on his door. It is too late for this shit, he thinks before calling out, “Somebody get that!” Trish and Gerard are on the couch, pretending to watch a movie, but really just making moony eyes at each other, and Spencer is curled up on the love seat, stroking a sleeping Bauer absentmindedly. Bob clears his throat and he begrudgingly gets up, waking the dog. Spencer shuffles over to the door, opens it and promptly slams it shut.
“No one’s there,” he says, and shuffles back to the loveseat, moving Bauer before plopping back down. The knocking on the door continues, contradicting him, but Spencer ignores it, pretending to be focused on the television screen. Bob is too old for this, but since Spencer nor the fused lump of bodies on his couch known as TrishandGerard will get the door, he answers it. A tiny and jittery kid around Spencer’s age is standing there, with pouty lips and brown, begging eyes.
“Spence-” he begins, but then realizes that Spencer didn’t open the door again. “Um, hi? My name is Brendon; I’m here for Spencer? Who are you?”
“I’m Bob, Spencer’s brother. Spencer is getting his ass off of my couch right now.” Bob directs the last words toward the living room, where he can hear Spencer groan and get up off of the couch. Bauer whines and follows Spencer to the door, nails clicking on the tile.
“Brendon, what are you doing here? I told you not to come!” Spencer says, hiding behind Bob.
Brendon begins to answer, but Bob cuts him off. “No way are you having this conversation with me in between.” He pushes Spencer out the door and continues, “You two are going to resolve your differences and both stop pouting so god damned much. Once you two are done, you can do whatever the hell you want as long as it doesn’t damage my property or wake me up. I am going to cuddle with my fiancé and dogs, and you two will have this done with by the time I wake up. Goodnight.”
Bob slams the door, scoops Bauer up in his arms, and waves at his sister and best friend, who are currently whispering and giggling. He takes the dog up to his bedroom, where he falls onto the bed and into Ray’s arms.
“Sorry about this,” he whispers, but Ray just kisses him sleepily.
“It’s okay, Bob, they’re your family and you really care about them. I think it’s hot,” Ray mumbles, grinning at him in the dark.
“I love you, you bastard.” Bob smiles back and kisses Ray again.
“I love you too,” Ray says and curls into Bob’s side.
Bob lays awake until the steady beating of Ray’s heart lulls him to sleep.
~
Spencer is still pissy about the way Bob shoved him out the door. Only he could make cuddling with Ray and their herd of adorable little dogs sound like a threat. He looks up at Brendon, who is trying to look as unobtrusive as possible, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and pushing his glasses back up his nose.
“What are you doing here, Brendon? Do your parents even know you’re here?” Spencer sighs.
“I had to make sure you’re safe and this Bob guy wasn’t some kind of scammer, like in Annie!” Brendon declares, nodding sagely.
“Life isn’t a musical, Brendon,” Spencer protests and crosses his arms.
“Still, it’s happened before!” There’s a pause until Brendon adds, “Well, I mean, you already have your Daddy Warbucks, and I doubt that Piper counts as a Sandy. Maybe like a fourth, since she’s like a Chihuahua. Or even a half, because she’s pretty feisty for such a small thing. But-”
Spencer cuts off Brendon’s nervous rambling with “How did you get here, Brendon?”
“Well, you know how Dallon’s sister is a flight attendant? Well, he had some spare tickets and there’s a big youth conference for the church in New York this week, so I told my parents I was going with him to it. He’s not very happy that he has to lie for me, but it was a matter of life and death, so-”
“I told you not to worry about me. I told you I’d be fine,” Spencer groans.
“I was still really worried. You hardly even answered my texts!” Brendon nearly shouts, and Spencer has to quiet him down, what with the sleeping relatives just inside.
“That’s because there were too many to answer. I had to turn my ringer off because it was buzzing so much,” he says, sitting down on the porch and running his hand through his hair.
“Spencer, don’t be like that,” Brendon says, slumping down to sit next to him.
“Don’t be like what, Brendon? You don’t even trust me to make my own decisions anymore. I’m not twelve and stuck in a dumpster anymore,” Spencer says, turning away.
“What? It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just worried,” Brendon admits on a long sigh.
“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.” Spencer is shaking, but Brendon doesn’t need to know.
”Why did you even want to come? You have a family back home in Vegas. You don’t need another one. I mean, you’re leaving, anyway. Why couldn’t you stay just a little longer?” Brendon asks, and when Spencer turns, he can see Brendon’s white knuckled grip on his bag.
“Brendon, you don’t understand. My whole life, I’ve been feeling like I’m missing out on some great big part of it, and this is it. I feel so much better now that I know who the flashes people really are. I barely remembered them, and told myself I imagined them my whole life. But they’re real. I really do have a protective older brother and a shy older sister, like I always pretended I did.”
“You don’t need them for that, though! Your family, your sisters, Ryan and I were-”
“We can’t pretend things are the same anymore, because they’re not!” Spencer roars, biting his lip when he sees Brendon’s face. “You were there, but it wasn’t the same. And Ryan’s been different ever since he’s been in college and involved with that Pete guy.”
“I don’t understand why you’d want to leave us.” Brendon’s voice is thick with something Spencer can’t quite identify. He can see the little drops of tears hanging from the end of Brendon’s nose glistening in the house light before he decides to give up.
“I was never trying to leave you. I just needed to find myself.”
“By coming here?” Brendon asks, in a small voice, and something inside Spencer breaks.
“Yes. And I promise you, I’m never going to leave you,” Spencer assures him, taking his hand.
“Now let’s stop arguing. It’s late and I bet you’re tired. Do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Brendon shakes his head, and Spencer sighs, pulling them up. “Jesus. Here, let’s go inside. You can crash in my room for tonight.” They walk inside and up to the guest room where Spencer is staying in silence before crashing on the bed.
Brendon curls up around him like always, and Spencer can feel the front of his shirt being soaked. He strokes Brendon’s back, murmuring soothing nonsense words and wondering what to do.
~
Spencer’s door is open when Bob wakes up the next morning, so naturally, he takes a peek. Spencer is curled up on top of the covers with the boy, Brendon, next to him. Their arms and legs are jumbled together and his heart warms at the scene, so he grabs a throw blanket off of the chair near the bed and gently tucks them in.
When Ray arrives at his bakery later that day, Bob grumbles about being a halfway house for angst-ridden teenagers. Ray just smiles and pecks him on the cheek.
~
Bob gets a call from Mikey twice a week, because Mikey can’t always visit due to the traveling nature of his job. During one of the weekly calls, Mikey interrupts Bob’s retelling of Frank’s hilarious mistake.
“So tell me more about your sister,” Mikey states, and only after years of knowing him can Bob tell that it’s more of a demand.
“Why?” Bob asks, already suspecting the answer.
“I think Gee’s in love with her,” Mikey answers, and Bob sighs.
“This is just a lot of trouble in the making.”
“Well, I’m not too entirely sure,” Mikey replies, and adds, “He’s either in love with her or deathly afraid.”
”What do you mean?” Bob inquires.
“Well, yesterday when I was talking to him, he kept rambling on about her. He told me, ‘She’s just like Bob, only scarier. And with a vagina,’” he reports, and Bob’s head starts spinning.
“He did not…” Bob squeezes the bridge of his nose and sighs again.
“I swear, you can ask Alicia," Mikey replies seriously.
“Really?”
“Well, no. But they did have a long talk. Apparently he wants to know the proper way to woo a lady," he sounds as if this were the end of the world, but Bob knows he just really cares about his brother.
“He’s not going to go all medieval knight on her, is he?” Bob asks, suddenly recalling the "incident" a few years ago.
“I don’t know, just keep the poetry away from her until you know how she feels about him.”
”It’s kind of obvious she likes him. They’re always sitting on the couch, making moony eyes at each other,” Bob sighs. It’s weird that his friend is chatting up his little sister, but he’s always been a firm believer that love is love, so he’s not going to interfere.
“Just to be on the safe side, take his poetry journal away. Do you remember his Shakespeare phase?” Mikey asks, and Bob remembers. Bob definitely remembers the hose. And the feathered hats. He will never forget the skulls, either.
”Of course I do, he nearly got a restraining order set on him. Look, I’ll try to keep them out of trouble.”
”Good, I don’t want him planning out their life before I’ve even met her,” Mikey says, making Bob remember the disaster with the waitress at the diner they frequented in their earlier years. Gerard’s been banned indefinitely from the premises, and his friends don’t go there anymore as a sign of support.
“She’s very reliable, though. I trust her,” Bob replies, and it seals the deal for Mikey.
”As long as you do, I’m fine.” Mikey is usually very skeptical of others, but he trusts Bob's judgement.
~
Everyone is sitting in the den and talking when Gerard asks Brendon why he followed Spencer to Jersey.
“Well, it’s been really stressful ever since Ryan took off-”
“Ryan?” Ray asks, wanting more information.
“Ryan was our best friend, before he ran off to Chicago to be with some married guy he met on the internet,” Brendon explains.
”Pete wasn’t married, he just had a serious girlfriend,” Spencer interrupts. “Not that it made any difference to either of them. I feel bad for that poor girl.”
“Oh my god,” Trish whispers, and everyone turns to see her shaking.
”What’s wrong?” Gerard asks her, rubbing her back.
“Did they meet on livejournal?” she asks Brendon, and Brendon looks at Spencer before tentatively nodding. “Oh my god, your friend ran off to be with my boy-ex-boyfriend.”
”Um, I’m sorry?” Spencer glares at Brendon for being insensitive, and Gerard is starting to look really worried.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his arm curled protectively over her shoulder.
That’s when Trish bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, how old was he, twelve? I hope his parents or somebody presses charges. That has to be, like, illegal.”
Everyone looks around, slightly confused but relieved that the crisis is averted.
~
Trish is sitting on the couch with Gerard, their knees touching gently, and watching him as he speaks.
“And then I told him, ‘I don’t care who she is, just get me out of this elevator!’” he waves his hands enthusiastically as he speaks, flipping dark out of his eyes and smiling nervously. Trish laughs appropriately, trying to urge the warm and fuzzy feeling that has bloomed in her stomach to go away.
It won’t and she tries to suppress the rising panic in her throat. She had fallen for a pretty, dark-haired guy with an amazing sense of humor before and that had ended in pain- both emotionally and physically. But Gerard isn’t like Pete. Instead of raucous laughter and obnoxiously outgoing behavior, it was small, shy smiles and awkward, stumbling tongues around silly jokes. Pete had been all flash and show, his fiery temper well-known all across Chicago. Gerard was patient and shy, and yeah, he rambled about pointless things, but in an adorably geeky way.
They keep accidentally bumping into each other and each time it sends little jolts of electricity through her body. They weren’t huge sparks, the kind that led to clothes being violently torn off and ended with bruised skin and deep regrets. Instead, they were tiny sparks that led to a steady fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. Gerard’s face was close now and Trish could count each of his tiny freckles on his otherwise perfect skin.
Skin that was growing closer by the second with- oh, Gerard’s lips were on Trish’s, chaste, but sending more volts down her spine.
Trish was pretty sure she had goose bumps when she felt Gerard’s tongue press against the seam of her lips. She opens them, expecting Pete’s messy, drunk kiss, but getting a gentle, steady and overwhelmingly sweet kiss. Gerard was kind, and Trish returned the emotions, letting the kiss linger before she pulled away. It was a sweet kiss, like those of her childhood. Awkward, but gentle and getting the point across. It was still entirely wrong, too soon after she had left Pete.
Trish voiced her concerns, pulling away quickly, almost tripping on her way backward, and stumbling over. “I’m sorry.”
Gerard’s face blatantly showed his dismay, and Trish feels the panic strike again before she runs out. She doesn’t deserve anyone as nice as Gerard; she is damaged goods. No one has to put up with her. She starts to repack her things before a great shadow loomed in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Bob asked arms crossed.
“I-I’m going home,” Trish says after a brief silence. Except that there was no home. Pete still owned the house, but Bob didn’t need to know that.
“You’re breaking his heart, you know. He really likes you.”
“That’s why I have to go. I don’t want to hurt him," Trish says, throwing a ratty pair of jeans into her suitcase.
“It’ll hurt him worse if you leave now."
“No, it’ll hurt later, when I inevitably screw up.”
“You won’t screw up," Bob says, with complete faith and Trish can't help but laugh.
“How can you know that?” she asks, turning towards her brother.
“So, what if you screw up? What if he screws up? What if I screw up? Apologies were invented for a reason," Bob replies, moving in closer, and Trish backs up until she hits the bed.
“You can’t fix anything with just an apology," she says, trying to sound at least a little bit together.
“No, but it’s a good start to working out a problem.”
“That’s not going to work!” Trish yells, and then realizes how loud she has gotten. "It's not," she whispers, biting her lip.
“If it doesn’t, you just move on. But you can’t leave without ever even trying." Bob sounds like an after-school special, and Trish is about to break down again.
“That’s going to be really hard," she whispers, falling onto the bed.
“Life is hard, Patricia," Bob says, putting a hand on her back.
“Don’t call me that!” Patricia strikes at his hand, and Bob looks at her pensively.
“Sorry," he says, after a few moments of silence. "But seriously, I want you to re-unpack, calm down a little, maybe take a bath or shower or something, and join us for dinner, okay?” Bob’s tone leaves little room for argument, so Trish just nods and does as she is told.
~
Spencer finds the photo album on one of the big bookshelves in the den. He flips through it, completely surprised to find what appears to be a happy family. The first photograph is a laughing woman twirling in the sunlight, her long blonde hair floating around her body as she turns to face the camera. The next picture is the woman standing at the altar in a wedding dress, grinning so hard it looks painful. Holding her hand is a tall man in a suit, obviously the groom. This must be our parents, he realizes, and flips the page to see the woman reclining in a chair, pregnant stomach sticking out far ahead of her. A couple of pages later, she is bending down in a park. At her feet is a young child, not quite a toddler, but no longer a baby. He is attempting to stand, and when Spencer stares at it long enough, he looks a bit like Bob.
Spencer doesn’t hear Bob come in, so he startles when Bob says, “The blue one has all of us in it.” Bob pulls the album off the shelf, and Spencer scoots over, so that Bob has room to sit on the floor with him.
A blonde young boy pouts in the background as a redheaded toddler blows out a few birthday candles. “Is that you?” Spencer asks, and Bob nods, grinning. “I would’ve never imagined you as the jealous type,” Spencer remarks, and Bob laughs.
“I was very young, you can’t blame me,” Bob says, flipping the page.
“That I can’t,” Spencer replies, smiling down at the album. With each picture, Bob tells a story, each one special in its own way. Eventually Trish wanders over, and when Bob tells Spencer something she doesn’t agree with, she voices her opinion.
“You never even mentioned when you threw my favorite doll out the window of the car!” Trish remarks, exasperated.
“You remember that?” Bob asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“Of course! That was my Precious Petunia doll, and I remember begging Dad for months to get her. She was the highlight of that Christmas,” Trish says, pushing a finger towards Bob.
They bicker for a few more minutes before Spencer interrupts with, “I wish I could have grown up with you guys.” It’s pretty grave compared to the natural sibling disagreements, but Bob and Trish understand completely.
“I often used to think I dreamed up the whole thing,” Trish whispers, tracing the edges of a photo with her fingertip.
“I used to wonder how you guys turned out, if the places you settled in were good for you,” Bob swallows thickly before continuing. “If you’d ever remember me.” They turn the album to the last pages, a happy family portrait taken a month before their parents’ death. Underneath it is a news clipping, saved by the elderly woman who had lived next door.
When Bob was a rebellious teenager, he had looked long and hard to find their old house. Bob tells Trish and Spencer the story of what he considered to be start of his life.
~
Bob had been what was considered homeless for six months when he finally found the house.
It was dark and stormy, the rain pounding on Bob’s head as he shivered through his thin jacket. It had taken him months to finally track down the correct street his old house had been on, and he could still remember the style of the home. When he finally reached it, he had thought about ringing the bell or knocking, but he didn’t know what the family living there now would do.
Instead, he stood at the window, freezing in the rain, but watching the happy family inside eat dinner. They were warm, loved, and safe, three things he was certainly not feeling at the moment.
That was when Nora found him. She was letting one of her many cats into her house, when she saw the shaking teen, standing at the window of her neighbor’s house. When she called out to him, he panicked, and almost broke into a run. But instead of calling the police, she welcomed him into her home.
There was something familiar about him, she had told him, right after she had given him a cup of hot cocoa. He looked like someone she had once known.
That’s when the truth came spilling out. Bob told her his name, and why he had come to the house. Nora just shook her head, and scratched one of her cats’ heads.
“Don’t think I don’t remember you, Bobby Bryar,” she said, smiling at him enigmatically. “You lived next door with your parents and younger siblings, and I often babysat you.” He hadn’t really remembered her, as his memories were focused on his immediate family, but he had a fuzzy recollection of an old woman chasing him around the yard. He had thought it was a grandmother, but then he remembered that he had no living family but his siblings, who were lost.
“It’s such a shame what happened to you all, especially since your parents were such nice people. So happy-go-lucky, your mother was,” Nora continued. She regaled him with stories he wouldn’t have remembered, and when his eyelids began to droop, her fire was lit in her eyes. He tried to apologize, but instead of getting angry, she ordered him upstairs to take a warm shower, and then to sleep in her guest room.
When he thanked her profusely, she just said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m an old woman, and I need fresh blood to keep me young.” She grinned mischievously and, in a flash, he could see what she what have looked like as a younger woman.
From then on, Bob lived with Nora. She fed him, gave him clothes and let him sleep in her spare room in exchange for him finishing high school and odd jobs around the house. He was infinitely grateful to her, and once he had a real job, he tried to pay her back. She refused, naturally, citing that she had no grandchildren of her own to spoil, and the children next door were spoiled brats.
When she died, she left him countless photo albums that she had “rescued” from his house before it was auctioned off. She had also left him a letter, telling him to contact her great grandnephews Mikey and Gerard, who lived in New Jersey.
With nothing but a couple of old photo albums, Bob set off for Jersey.
Once Bob had finally gotten to Jersey and found the brothers, he didn’t know what to do. He had no place to sleep, and no money, and they lived in a teeny tiny house with their parents. Thankfully, Bob had met Ray. Ray’s mother was a sassy Puerto Rican woman, who took one look at Bob and understood his plight. She oftentimes forced a big meal down his throat, whenever he saw her later on. He ended up sleeping in their spare room many times until he got a place of his own.
~
It’s raining in Jersey, which isn’t such a big deal to the residents, but to Brendon and Spencer, who see the rain twice a year, and never on this scale, it’s magic. Brendon bounces around, anxious to get outside as Spencer ties his shoelaces.
“I love to play in the rain!” he exclaims, for the fifth time that day, and Spencer just smiles to himself, Gerard groaning.
“We know! Now go to Bob’s and have some doughnuts and get out of our hair!”
“You just want more alone time with Trish, don’t you?” Brendon teases, causing both Gerard and Trish to blush, though Trish’s usual scowl looks a little embarrassed.
“Yes!” she snaps finally, and Spencer takes the opportunity to pull Brendon out the door.
“You really drive her crazy, you know,” Spencer says once they’re on the way. His hood is pulled over his ears to protect his hair, but Brendon’s letting the rain drench him.
“I’m just teasing. She’s only that cranky because when we’re around, she’s not getting laid,” Brendon remarks off-handedly.
“I doubt Trish and Gerard are even at that point in their relationship yet. They’re both set on taking it slow,” Spencer asserts.
“I bet Gerard’s a beast in the sack,” Brendon laughs and Spencer pushes him playfully.
“Ugh, Brendon. That’s just disgusting. That’d be like saying Kara’s husband is a tiger or something.” Brendon makes a face and Spencer laughs. “See?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Brendon says and they walk in silence for a while. He shivers mildly, but Spencer notices.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks, and Brendon just grins.
“Never! It’s raining. I enjoy it.”
“You’re going to get sick. Are you sure you don’t want to pull your hood up?” Spencer nags.
Brendon looks at him, raindrops in his eyelashes, and for a minute it seems like he’s going to speak, but he shuts his mouth. Spencer’s hand is swinging by his side, and he sees Brendon eyeing it, so Spencer slyly pulls Brendon’s hand out of his hoodie pocket and squeezes it. Brendon blushes and Spencer teases him.
“You’re blushing so hard that you’re turning the rain to steam.” Brendon smiles and rolls his eyes, then focuses on the street.
“The rain makes everything so beautiful,” he whispers after a few moments, and Spencer can’t help but agree. Brendon’s dark hair looks darker, plastered to his head, and his cheeks are bright pink with the chill. He voices his opinion, and Brendon stops. Their eyes meet, and Spencer leans forward carefully.
“Spence-” Brendon starts, but then Spencer presses their lips together, and there’s no more sounds except the pounding of their hearts and the steady pitter patter of the rain on the sidewalk. Brendon shivers again, and Spencer pulls away. Brendon’s eyes are dilated and he’s breathing heavily, the ghosts of breath appearing between them.
“We should probably go inside now, it’s cold, and Bob’s bakery is, like, right around the corner,” Spencer says carefully and slowly.
“Yeah,” Brendon agrees, but kisses him again anyway.
They finally walk into the bakery, ten minutes later, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Ray eyes the young couple and sighs.
“Ah, young love.”
“Hey, we’re not old yet!” Bob protests and leans over the counter to kiss Ray’s forehead.
“I never age with you around,” Ray teases, rubbing his nose against his fiancé’s. They share a quick smile and kiss before Brendon pipes up.
“Ew, old people love!”
“Take it back to your room at the retirement home, Gramps!” Spencer calls, laughing. Bob breaks away to stick his tongue out at Spencer, who he notices is still holding hands with Brendon.
“You two, stop necking, I am starving and have heard your muffins are quote-unquote ‘the bomb’,” Brendon says, after a short pause. Spencer wants to giggle, but luckily controls it.
“Where have you heard these vicious lies? This is a butcher’s shop, for the manliest of men only!” Ray says, and Spencer’s giggle finally bursts out.
“You heard the young man,” Bob says, and swats at Ray’s ass. “Get to work, I’ll see you later!”
“Love you!” Ray says, and kisses Bob again, turning toward the door and walking away.
“Love you too!” Bob grins and watches Ray cross the street as Brendon and Spencer debate over muffins and croissants.
~
“I feel like all you two ever do is sit on this couch and cuddle,” Ray complains when he walks into his house and sees Trish and Gerard on the couch again. They turn to look at him. Dixie, who is caught between Gerard and Trish, squirms to get out and greet him.
Trish opens her mouth to protest, but then notices Gerard’s arm around her waist and the fact that she is practically sitting on his lap, and blushes. “We do other things,” she mumbles, turning her head.
“Like what?” he asks.
”We went to Bob’s bakery the other day!” Gerard exclaims, and Trish smiles at him encouragingly.
“Anything else besides that and grocery shopping?” Ray asks, crossing his arms. They sit in relative silence (except for the horror movie playing in the background) for a moment before Ray continues, “Yeah, I thought so.” He leaves with a triumphant smirk on his face, and Gerard panics.
“I’m so sorry that-um, I mean that-we should-” Gerard fumbles with his words a little before Trish silences him with a reassuring hand on his arm.
“It’s ok, I don’t like going out much anyway,” she tells him, and he visibly relaxes.
“It’s just-I feel like I am acting ashamed of you, when I totally am not!” His tongue trips over the words still, and Trish curls in closer.
“I know that, and you know I know, so who cares what anybody else thinks?”
“I do,” he mumbles, but turns back to the movie after Trish has obviously halted the conversation.
~
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