Back to Boston

[hellhounds]

Portals, man. Always gotta have that head-twisty stomach-turny thing that you never quite get used to because it's never exactly the same. At least this time I didn't puke on arriving, like I did in that one dimension - the one with all the shellfish. But then, shellfish and I have never really gotten along. (My brother puts shrimp on pizza.

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[i_warren]

Warren has been moping. You've never seen mope like Warren does mope. Shaving had been nil, but he's finally just gotten around to it.

Passing Kara's room (dabbing a still bleeding knick on his chin), he happens to overhear...voice. One high; feminine. Kara (or possibly Andrew). One distinctly male. Not Andrew. As Kara ducks out for herbal tea as promised, Warren glances curiously in.

And grins.

"Sweet," he laughs, leaning against the door frame. "What did they do, move time forward or something? How long have you been back? Did Kara attack you at the door?"

Because why else wouldn't he come for Warren first?

Warren is getting a text message he doesn't answer yet. Too bad. It's from Tucker.

[hellhounds]

For some reason, Tucker remembers the time he saw that one movie with Kathy Bates where she put that block of wood between the guy's ankles and hit his foot with a hammer. He shakes it off. No way does this teeny blonde chick resemble Kathy Bates.

Still, she's a little intense, and that "fake Tucker" comment made him nervous, so he's kinda glad when she steps out of the room to get tea.

Warren's appearance in the doorway sparks a twinge of homesickness in his belly. He knows it's not "his" Warren - his Warren is back in his own dimension and has probably given up on Tucker and shacked up with Katrina by now (and if he ever catches them together the bitch is going to die) - but it's still Warren. Familiar.

"Hey!" he says, sitting up. "There was an accident with a concussion beam. They sent me home."

[i_warren]

Warren blinks, confused. He looks like most people when they're trying to do math in their head. Not Warren when's he's doing math in his head, because that looks like most people plotting evil or having an orgasm or plotting an evil orgasm.

"W... Really? When was this? Is that why you called me mom?"

Because that texting session was awfully recent. Warren's not sure Tucker would get a private jet. Even with a head injury. Warren's not sure it's safe to fly with a head injury. But Warren is no Dr. Jonathan R. Meyers. He doesn't even play one on TV.

However, if Tucker is here, then who's texting him now? Warren's about to answer his sidekick, but whatever Tucker has to say (in person) gets precedence.

[hellhounds]

"I called you Mom?!" Tucker stares at Warren. That's it. It's official. This dimension's Tucker is Too Fucked Up. The cross-dressing and mall trips could be overlooked, but calling Warren "Mom" is just twisted.

[i_warren]

"Hang on."

Warren holds up a finger. And it isn't the middle one. Uno momento, please.

He checks the message and laughs.

"Dude, why are you texting me?"

...

"...Are you texting me?"

...

"..."

[hellhounds]

He's texting Warren right now? Dude, talk about a leash.

"Oh, damn. I think I screwed up the time thingy a little. I was trying to get back quick, but I must've gotten back sooner than I thought. How long have I been gone for you? It's been weeks for me."

[i_warren]

"...Really. One more sec."

And up goes the finger. This time, Warren considers the middle one.

He dials Tucker's cell. And waits pointedly for it to ring.

In the meantime...

"So, Hooters, huh? Sounded fun."

[hellhounds]

Now that he thinks about it, Warren never was a big Three's Company fan.

Tucker slids off the bed and closes the door to the room.

"I missed you," he tells Warren, and means it with all his heart. He knows it's not really his Warren, but he might never see his Warren again. He grabs a handful of this Warren's shirt and pulls him in for a kiss.

[i_warren]

Well.

Warren has no problem with that. It dulls the ache in his chest that he's been passing off as food poisoning since Tucker left.

But Tucker's phone doesn't ring. It doesn't even vibrate (and Warren, in his current position, would know).

He comes up for air, tasting Tucker on his lips.

"...Robot? Or...? Are you a robot?"

[hellhounds]

"Not a robot," Tucker murmurs into Warren's lips. "Flesh and blood. Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby." Why are they wasting time talking?

[i_warren]

Warren's phone is still ringing in his hand. When Tucker's voicemail picks up, Warren haltingly says:

"...Tucker...you...should be getting off, uh, sleep soon. Call me, because... Call me. Call...Bear."

Because Tucker doesn't call this Warren baby.

And all Warren can think to say to this Tucker is:

"Are you sure?"

[hellhounds]

Of course he's sure. What kind of a stupid question is that? He's been wandering around dimensions, lost without his Warren, for years. Had to endure, like, five goddamn dimensions where Warren and Andrew were all happy-ever-after. (Only not so much with the happy because, duh, Andrew. At least, Tucker didn't think they were really happy.)

Now he's finally got Warren, alone, and he's moving along the jawline and down the neck, and Warren's... Warren's talking on the phone. Fuck!

[i_warren]

"Uh huh," Warren says.

"Uh...oh god...huh."

Because Warren is not made of stone.

"It's for you."

[bitter_brother]

The torpor is over. It's not that bad. It's like waking up in the middle of a movie. Tucker's in the Apple store. He's got a fucking lanyard around his neck. That's ridiculous.

He whips it off and stalks out of the store to find somewhere to smoke. He has two hours until he has to meet with S'Vayres. Smoking, eating, e-mail and...

Phone is ringing. Omg.

Oh hey! Warren! Nice!

"This is Tucker."

Walking, walking.

[i_warren]

"...sure?" Warren says. Not into the phone. Warren's having a conversation while on the phone. How rude.

"...Tucker?" Now he's on it. "I just left...that voicemail is me."

But not a me from another dimension.

"Where are you?"

[bitter_brother]

Tucker stops and smiles at Warren's voice. Clearly! Through the magic of the telephone. They get pretty good reception in the Mall of America. Go T-Mobile!

"Uh," he cranes his head to look. "I'm in between Baby Gap ... and, Claire's Boutique. Where are you?"

His phone beeps and he glances at it.

"Was I just... text messaging you?"