For All I Thought I'd Ever Need [2/2]
Title: For All I Thought I'd Ever Need
Author/Artist: Jen santixcore
Bands: The Academy Is/Cobra Starship. (and appearances from like every other FBR band)
Pairing(s): William/Gabe.
Prompt assigned: Fairy Tales: Wicked Step Relatives
Word count: 10,973
Rating: PG-13-ish.
Summary: In which William is an awkward optimist who loves Christmas, owns a bookstore, and has two abusive step brothers who give him sort of a Cinderella reputation. Gabe is adopted with a family who loves him and William is almost as envious as he is amazed. A holiday-infused love ensues, and William renews his confidences in the power of a close-knit family.
written for bandom_solstice.
Three days until Christmas and William’s phone is ringing wildly to an unknown number. Answering, he’s greeted with the comforting, smooth serenade of Gabe’s voice cutting through a lousy connection.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asks, concerned. “I called you the other day, but your phone was off. The holidays caught up with me. But oh, I’ve been worried, don’t get me wrong. So tell me. Are you okay?”
William lies, voice trembling. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?”
William reaches up to touch his tender, swollen face carefully and whispers, “A little.”
Gabe curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” William tries his best to shake it off. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not o-“
“Gabe. I’m. O-kay. Alright? I don’t want to talk about that,” William snaps, and inside he’s completely defeated and he wants to spill, but the yellowing bruises adorning his pale body hold him back with a tight grip and a hiss in his ear.
Gabe goes on, “Either way, I called to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you busy Christmas Eve?”
William’s heart screams nononono! but his mouth answers, “Tom says I have to work.”
“Tom can fuck himself,” Gabe snaps.
William whimpers, “I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to ask if you were interested in spending Christmas Eve with my family instead. It’d be nice to bring such a flawless boy home to Mom and Pops,” Gabe sighs, considering tossing those plans out the window and allowing them to flutter off in the December breeze.
“I’d love to, Gabe. But if I asked for the evening off, I’d be in deep shit I think. I’m sorry,” William’s voice is broken and contrite and he wishes he could reach through the phone and wrap his skinny arms around Gabe in a way that would make any flawed situation a little less so.
“Are your brothers leaving anywhere for the holidays?” Gabe asks desperately, searching for a loophole somewhere, anywhere.
“I think Mike might’ve mentioned something about both of them leaving tomorrow to rent out a penthouse in Vegas for the rest of the year with their slimy business partners. He’s loud-mouthed and obnoxious and half the time when I’m down in the store, I can hear him in the apartment upstairs.”
“Then there’s no issue,” Gabe reasons.
“They’ll know if I don’t rake in any money, Gabe,” William argues. Remaining open on Christmas Eve allows for a sizeable last-minute shopper turnout.
“Don’t worry about that right now, okay?”
William replies “okay,” but still feels a knot twist in his abdomen when he opens his mouth because there is no way he’s going to get away with this.
“I’ll pick you up on Wednesday at six in the evening.” William can hear Gabe’s triumphant smile in his voice.
William says hesitantly into the receiver, “Six in the evening. Gotcha.”
There’s a pause in which William can hear the soft drone of a television on Gabe’s end, and the sound is soothing, almost human in the way it settles him down.
Gabe asks again, “You okay?”
And William can say with certainty, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
For the few hours, William and Gabe’s voices intertwine like loose threads in an abandoned drawer, aimless words about books and happiness and family and life forming a bond like cement, giving William some substance to cling to.
*
Two days until Christmas and Mike says, “We’re leaving.”
William acts dense, questions, “Oh?” and returns to organizing shelves.
“There’s a quota to meet by New Years and I expect it exceeded. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” William mutters absently.
“Don’t get smart,” Mike thumps William with his elbow hard on the back of his head and William tries not to wince when he hits one of the abrasions produced by Tom a few days previous.
Mike’s gone before William can find a way to correct his tone, and for that he’s glad, because for the next week or so, he has some time to let his body heal and his mind revive itself.
The rest of the day comes with an enormous weight off William’s heavy, tired shoulders. He can feel his new-found buoyancy in everything he does, the way he speaks and sings and wishes everyone a merry Christmas and actually anticipates one for himself.
Gabe calls later that night, just to talk, and not only does William embrace the idea of having someone other than himself to talk to; he also loves the idea of being the person someone goes to when they need someone other than themselves to talk to.
Gabe stays on the line with William until it’s technically Christmas Eve, and when William is too exhausted to keep his eyes open and his mouth moving, Gabe says, “See you tonight,” and cheesily blows a kiss into the receiver, which William mimics catching and placing next to his heart before shutting his phone and finding sleep somewhere infinite.
*
Christmas Eve and Gabe is making an attempt to sneak up behind William while he’s fully engaged in stocking the cleared-out shelves with new books and humming All I Want For Christmas Is You under his breath.
When he’s within arm’s reach of William, Gabe takes advantage of it and tosses his arms around William’s abdomen from behind, pulling him to his chest and rocking him back and forth while William flails and kicks until jerking his head around to see Gabe smiling back at him.
He turns around in Gabe’s arms to face him. “Hey. Six already?”
“No,” Gabe admits. “More like three.”
William snorts, smiling. “I’m working until six, dear.”
“That’s cool. I’ll sit here and observe.” Gabe parks himself in a chair where the shelf ends and stares intently at William’s pale, skeletal hands as they alphabetize and organize each title carefully.
Minutes pass and William tosses a book over his shoulder at Gabe, and when he hears the thud of it hitting Gabe’s hands, he asks him, “Hermann Hesse. Ever read his work?”
Gabe shakes his head.
“Merry Christmas. It’s yours,” William shines a grin on Gabe and shapes his index fingers and thumbs into a little deformed heart.
Gabe mimics William’s gesture and reads the front cover aloud. “Steppenwolf?”
“Yeah. My high school English teacher randomly gave me a copy one day after class and it’s still one of my favorites. Mull that over and try to tell me you still look at life in the same simple way as you did before.”
Gabe’s smile is warm as he sits the book gently in his lap and stares at William inquisitively. “Even if I didn’t know you owned a bookstore, you’d still look like a total bookworm to me.”
William creases his eyebrows at Gabe’s unsystematic conversation topics that he’s slowly getting used to and inquires, “How so?”
“I don’t know,” Gabe continues. “Just by the way that you move and how the sunlight hits your face through that window. You look like you belong in a storybook, so I’d assume you’d at least be interested in books if so many are written about people like you.”
A soft blush dusts across William’s cheeks and he doesn’t know whether to say “thank you” or “you’re corny” or “kiss me”. So instead, he says none of the above, rather, he plops himself into Gabe’s lap and wraps an emaciated arm around his neck. “And you,” he says. “You look like something out of an electro-pop music video by the way your hoodie is blinding enough to contend with lasers and the way you walk leads me to gather that you’re probably a decent dancer.”
Gabe smirks, bobbing his knees up and down, taking William along for the ride. “I’m not too bad a dancer. I kick ass in Dance Dance Revolution.”
“That’s hardly dancing,” William snorts playfully. “That’s like me saying I’m a good guitar player because I can play Guitar Hero.”
“DDR is so much more difficult than Guitar Hero, dude,” Gabe claims virtuously.
“Yeah, okay. Hey, I really need to finish stocking these shelves before I go. I’ll get done faster if you want to help.”
Gabe shrugs. “I guess so. Tell me what to do.”
A couple boxes of books and a few dozen customers later and William is leading Gabe up the fire escape steps to his apartment to help him pick out something nice to wear.
"This is cozy," Gabe says hesitantly from the doorway, eying the inferior looking furniture and holes in the floorboards, deeply inhaling dusty recycled air.
"It's sort of pitiful, I know. But it's home."
"Not totally. It's just a fixer-upper."
William nods at Gabe's description and opens the closet near the door where most of his clothes are stored. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to wear. I never go anywhere really."
Gabe smiles thoughtfully. “You can wear anything." He shadows William over to the closet and flips through a few collared button-up shirts and says "What about these?"
William's hand reaches for a black one and he pulls it off the hanger, holding it up to his skinny frame, shrugging his shoulders in hopes of a yes or no from Gabe.
When Gabe nods his approval, William pairs the shirt with tight dark jeans and slips into the cramped bathroom to change because his broken body is still bruised and yellowing and he doesn’t want Gabe to see exactly how severely Tom hurt him.
Before opening the door, he applies a fresh coat of pale skin-toned make up to his jaw line and left eye, concealing the dark abrasions from curious eyes and concerned questions wondering whether the discoloration is accidental or inflicted.
Gabe grins approvingly as a nervous-smiled William opens the door and stands anxiously in the doorway, who looks so stunning that Gabe almost doesn’t want to share him and would rather keep him as his little secret and spend the evening curled up with a fireplace and a stack of each of their favorite books.
He crosses the room to where William’s standing and wraps his arms around his waist from behind, wheeling him back into the bathroom so William can see himself no longer alone, but instead with another person loyally attached to his side as long as they can help it.
A whisper of Gabe’s voice echoes through William’s ears with, “you look perfect,” and Gabe proceeds to ruffle his callused fingers through William’s long strands of warm brunette hair.
William spins around in Gabe’s arms and presses a light hand to Gabe’s chest. “I’m still really nervous.”
“You’ll be fine. I promise. They don’t bite you until they get to know you.”
William’s laugh is cautious, and as he slips out of Gabe’s arms to retrieve the poinsettia plant he bought yesterday to give to Gabe’s mother, he forgets to mask his limp and Gabe notices it immediately.
“You’re limping,” he states in a monotonous disbelief.
William straightens up and forces a normal, painful walk the rest of the way to where the plant is located. “No I’m not.”
“You were limping, William.”
William presents the flower to Gabe before he can question him further. “These are for your mom,” he tries to smile.
Despite his worry, Gabe smiles back at William and takes the vase from him, wrapping him up in a one-handed embrace and kissing his temple. “She’ll love them.”
“Are you ready to go?” William asks impatiently as he tries to detour Gabe from his relentless limp, moving as normally as possible toward to door and slipping his arms into his snug leather jacket.
“William.”
William turns around to notice Gabe hasn’t moved from his spot in his bathroom doorway since William handed him the flower, stationary and eyes brimming with concern. “Are you okay?”
William sighs. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
William musters up a smile; a real smile. “I’m sure, don’t worry. I just want to go and have a good time.”
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
*
They catch a cab the couple dozen blocks to Gabe’s parent’s house on the other side of the city, William gazing intently out the window at all of the holiday decorations and anticipation buzzing through the city streets.
“I love Christmas,” he whispers to Gabe the entire fifteen minute ride there.
Gabe’s parent’s house is one of those Victorian-era city homes made of bricks with a sturdy stone set of steps leading up to a massive oak door, a large bay window on the first floor supporting a small balcony on the second, numerous chimneys and windows and every detail considered and accounted for.
William says, “It’s beautiful.”
Gabe says, “My parents are big saps for fancy architecture.”
He laces his fingers flawlessly with William’s as he leads him up the couple of steps and even though it’s his house, he rings the important-sounding doorbell for dramatic effect on his entrance.
With the opening of the front door comes a rush of warm air and the promising smell of food and pine. The woman who answers the door is a petite fifty-something dark-haired olive-skinned beauty who William assumes is Gabe’s mother by the way he hugs her in a way that only a devoted son could.
She gazes at the poinsettias in Gabe’s arms and as she’s about to thank Gabe for them, he points to William and says, “These are from him. Mom, this is William. William, this is my mother, Giada.”
Gabe’s mother beams at William, hugs him too, and croons in a thick Italian accent, “William! Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. These flowers are beautiful. Come inside before you get sick; you’re already so pale.”
William looks to Gabe desperately as if to ask, does she know you’re gay?
And Gabe nods confidently, reaches over to hold William’s hand reassuringly, and William already feels as if he’s welcome to be open about who and what he is here.
The house’s interior is extravagantly decorated with red and green and silver and gold; beautiful garlands and holly leaves and white lights and everything you could possibly imagine to decorate with this time of year. A massive, gorgeous tree stands proudly in the living room by the bay window surrounded by presents wrapped in assorted paper and festive gift bags. The air is light with the smell of roasting turkey and sweet gingerbread and peppermint and any other holiday food all muddled together to create a scent best described as simply festive.
The living room is crowded by unfamiliar faces that after a few minutes won’t seem so unfamiliar, and each one of them welcomes Gabe, then William, with a warm sort of family hospitality that leaves William’s heart brimming with cheerfulness.
Gabe begins introducing William with his father, saying cordially, “Dad, this is William. William, this is my Dad.”
His Dad releases a hearty chuckle and holds his hand out to William. “Call me Pops.”
William smiles warmly at him as he shakes William’s weak hand firmly, flopping it around like a dead fish, and all William can hope is that Pops doesn’t judge a person based on the sturdiness of their handshake.
Gabe wheels William around to face two guys seated on one of the sofas, staring intently back at them with a hospitable curiosity. “On the right is my brother Travis, and next to him is my brother Alex.”
The two of them call out their hellos and William waves shyly in return.
On the floor in front of Alex and Travis’s sofa sits a late-twenty-something black haired, tattooed boy and a long auburn haired girl, both entertaining a baby boy propped up in the girl’s lap.
“And that’s my brother Pete, his wife Ashlee, and my nephew, Bronx.”
Even baby Bronx lifts his heavy head and coos with excitement, making grabby hands at William when he says his hellos.
A little girl of maybe four or five wearing a little velvet maroon dress comes tottering out of the kitchen at that point and shrieks with childish delight as soon as her eyes fall on Gabe.
“Uncle Gabey!” she squeals, flinging her tiny arms around Gabe’s legs and planting her feet atop Gabe’s shoes.
Gabe lets out a roar very similar to that of a dinosaur and stomps around the living room with the little girl riding along on his shoes. Tickling her until she releases her grip on his legs, he collects her into his arms and spins her around before grinning at her tiny porcelain face and mumbling softly as if it were a secret, “Maria, what would you say if Uncle Gabey told you he was really a dinosaur?”
She mulls this over in his head for a second, and then answers excitedly, “I’d say COOL”
Gabe laughs and says, “That would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?”
She nods furiously. “Yeah, yeah!” Her gaze falls on William standing awkwardly by Gabe’s side and she asks, “Whozat?”
“That’s William,” Gabe beams, as if his simple answer is enough for a child to accept.
“Oh,” she says thoughtfully. “He’s pretty.”
Gabe nods in agreement. "He's very pretty."
Maria gasps like Gabe just told her something scandalous. "Do you liiike him?"
Gabe whispers not-so-secretively into Maria's tiny ear, "I like him a whole lot."
She smiles mischievously, whispers back into Gabe's ear loud enough for William to hear "Does he liiike you too?"
Gabe ponders this for a moment, and then turns little Maria to face William. "You have to ask him yourself."
She makes a shy scrunchy face, covers her big mouth with her tiny hands, and giggles close to William’s waiting ear, “Uncle Gabey wants to know if you like him too!”
William plays along, the only one that can properly whisper out of the three, and murmurs, “Tell Uncle Gabey I like him a whole lot too.”
After William says this, Maria decides their little whispering game is over, and she proceeds to project her powerful voice from her tiny body and through the entire crowded living room. “UNCLE GABEY! WILLIAM LIKES YOU TOO!”
The room erupts with the kind of laughter only applied when a child says something adorably funny, blood rushing to William’s cheeks, and he keeps trying to convince himself they’re not laughing at him, rather, they’re laughing and little Maria and her big mouth.
“I think you’ve thoroughly embarrassed our guest, Miss Maria,” Gabe teases, lightly tapping William with his foot. “Where’s your daddy?”
“In the kitchen!” She squeals, and then even louder, “Da-addy!”
A few seconds later and there’s two more unfamiliar faces crammed into the room; a pale, dark haired baby-faced boy and a skinny blonde on his arm.
“These are the last two, I promise,” Gabe says, smiling almost apologetically, as if his huge family is too overwhelming and he doesn’t want them to unknowingly scare William out the door. “This is my brother Ryan and his wife Keltie.”
William says “hello”, and is honestly relieved this is the last time he has to say it tonight. It was sort of getting redundant.
Ryan says, “Don’t you own that book store on Prince Street?”
William nods, flattered he’s not a total stranger here. “Prince Street Books? Yeah, I am.”
“Cool. I used to go there all the time before I moved to New York.”
“How come I don’t recognize you?” William asks.
“Because then I wore a lot of make-up and had a faux-hawk and an inferiority complex,” Ryan says, and Keltie laughs.
“Now he has a bowl cut and only wears make-up when I’m not home,” she says, hanging on Ryan’s shoulder lightheartedly.
Ryan mock-gasps at Keltie’s remark and asks her in as serious of a tone as possible, “And you are aware of this…how?”
“Because I find unexplained fingerprints in my eyeshadow and half of my eyeliner shaved off into the trashcan, dear.”
“How do you know it wasn’t Maria?” Ryan retorts.
Because Maria’s fingerprints aren’t the size of grapes, dearest. Try to be sneakier next time.”
Ryan laughs lightly and leans in to kiss her, and to William, their love is something he’s only ever read about in books and it’s even more endearing in person.
Maria, still in Gabe’s arms, makes grabby hands at her mother and Gabe readily hands her over, keeping his arms busy by replacing Maria with William and stealing a seat on the floor next to Pete and Ashlee, who are still occupied with entertaining Bronx.
William’s sitting comfortably between Gabe’s legs, Gabe fooling around with William’s hair while William absently picks the fuzzies off of Gabe’s jeans and makes a neat little pile on his own thigh.
Pete leans over nonchalantly and mutters in his sleazy monotone, “If I were fully into boys, Gabe would have to watch out.”
William doesn’t know whether or not this is meant to be taken as a compliment, but he tries to transform it into one and says “thank you.”
“Pete’ll hit on anyone with genitalia,” Gabe explains into the crown of William’s head. “He’s a total sketch. Imagine when he’s no longer sexy.”
Mental images materialize in William’s mind that he wishes wouldn’t, images of Pete with a tangled beard and a beer belly, hanging out on street corners and sexually harassing teenagers, but when he looks to Bronx sucking contently on one of Pete’s fingers from Ashlee’s lap, he could never imagine Pete anywhere else but here. Because here is family, and anyone who would abandon their family wouldn’t be under this roof right now.
As soon as William has found his niche in Gabe’s family, he lets go of his insecurity and animatedly jumps into the conversation as if he weren’t a newcomer at all. And Gabe’s family adopts him just like they adopted Gabe and Pete and Ryan and Travis and Alex, generously and graciously and without a doubt in their minds, and it’s a new concept for William to take in, this group of people with absolutely no blood relativity who still treat each other as one huge, close-knit family.
Dinner consists of a buffet of food as diverse as the people eating it, anything from traditional turkey to ethnic Indian dishes to Gabe’s mom’s fucking awesome vegetable lasagna. Conversation ensues, and with each word William feels more and more at ease and at home.
Maria insists on sitting next to her Uncle Gabey and her “new Uncle William”, and although Gabe tells her not to get too ahead of herself, she manages to squeeze between the two of their bodies, generously tossing all of the food she doesn’t like onto William’s plate and insisting he eat it instead.
Halfway through dinner, Pops enthusiastically attempts to entertain Maria (and William, to an extent) with impressions of animals, and when Maria excitedly requests that he impersonate Shamoo, he showers at least half of the table with his backwashed water, everyone unamused but he and Gabe, who double over in their seats in immaturity.
Desert consists of a selection of pies and pastries enough to fill a small bakery, and William samples as many as he can until he has to unbutton his jeans to allow room for his last bite of carrot cake. Maria tries to sneak a few cookies away on a plate when she thinks everyone’s gaze is turned elsewhere, and as she’s on her way to the living room fireplace with them, Gabe catches her out of the corner of his eye and shouts all cop-like with a mouth full of cake, “Halt, thief!”
She wheels around, plate of cookies behind her back, grinning with a sort of devious innocence only capable of being produced by children ages 3 to 5.
“Where do you think you’re going with those?” Gabe asks her sweetly.
“Going with what?”
“Those cookies behind your back.”
“Oh,” She pauses for a moment, contemplating her response. “They’re for Santa!”
“Ooooh,” Gabe says, nodding understandingly. He leans over to William and whispers “Go follow her and make sure she doesn’t light those on fire. Keltie says she’s been sort of a pyro ever since she discovered the joys of decorative candles.”
William does as told, setting his plate in the sink before following Maria and her sugar cookies to the fireplace where she’s sitting cross-legged munching on one in front of the red-orange flames.
“So,” William says, casually, feeling sort of awkward because he’s not good with child communication. “Those are for Santa, eh?”
She turns around to look at him and nods, “Yup. I’m leaving them for him here in case he decides to come early. Because if he comes early and there’s no cookies for him, he won’t bring me the Barbie house I asked him for.”
“Oh,” William says thoughtfully. “Well we don’t want that. Why don’t I set those up on this table so we’re sure these are for Santa and not Maria, hm?”
She hands him the plate of cookies and agrees, “Right, those are for Santa. There’s more in the kitchen for me!”
As William stands up to set the cookies on the table out of her reach, she makes a psst noise and motions for William to sit back down on the floor with her, her expression making it very clear that she has something important to ask him.
As he takes a seat next to her, too-tight pants objecting to this sort of abuse by rubbing uncomfortably into his thighs, Maria asks, “Are you really going to be my new Uncle William?”
William wants to tell her “yes, of course,” but (although Maria’s already taking the initiative to give him the title either way), going from William to Uncle William is sort of a mutual decision that he’s not ready to talk about with Gabe, so he says to her, “Would you like me to be your new Uncle William?”
She nods furiously, bouncing on the carpet. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“And I’d love to be your new Uncle William.”
This is enough of an answer for Maria, and she proceeds to hurl her tiny body into William’s arms and squeals, “I love you, Uncle William!”
She’s gone before William can say anything else, tottering off toward the dining room to scavenge for cookies of her own, leaving William alone on the living room floor staring off into the fireplace, warm air dusting his cheeks.
He’s not alone for long, however, because Gabe takes note of his isolations before William can even notice it himself, taking a seat beside him on the floor, taking his hand.
He says, “I hope you’re not scared off yet.”
William shakes his head. “Not at all. Your family is so great. Seriously.”
“Are they?” Gabe’s playing with William’s hair again, flipping strands from side to side and eventually settling on holding it in pigtails. “We’re opening presents soon.”
William eyes the mountain of gifts surrounding the Christmas tree and mentally wonders if any of those are for him.
Opening presents, Gabe has William curled up with him in an oversized armchair as gifts are exchanged and Maria and Bronx and busily playing with the wrapping paper littering the floor. At one point, Maria presents her gift to William in the form of a Santa-print wrapping paper “hat” that she made herself.
Ryan’s bounty of gifts includes a make-up kit from Keltie and the Palahniuk book from Gabe, in which Gabe says from across the room, “You wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for William finding it for me.” So instead of thanking Gabe, Ryan thanks William, and William finds some sort of participation in that.
Near the end of the pile, Ashlee tosses a little red box up to William, whose reflexes are too slow and he misses it, allowing it to fall in Gabe’s lap instead. He picks it up and presents it to him.
“For you. From me,” he says, smiling.
William opens it carefully, and even though everyone’s busy with their own gifts and no one’s watching, it still feels like all eyes are on him and it makes him sort of uneasy, hands clammy as he opens the box to reveal the cheesiest looking gold plated heart necklace, and William almost wants to ask Gabe if the place he bought it from intended it to be for a girl.
“Turn it over.”
He pulls the pendant out of the foam casing and flips it over in his hand to expose a simple inscription. I’m yours. Be mine.
William doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just flings his arms around Gabe’s neck and without hesitation kisses him for the first time, overwhelming amounts of love and happiness and the feeling of belonging clouding his mind and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here, kissing someone he’s only known for two weeks, spending Christmas with their family that he feels like he’s known forever.
But when William pulls away, Gabe’s face is troubled, sort of the face he makes when he knows William’s not okay and he’s afraid to ask what’s bothering him, and even though right now on the surface William feels fine, Gabe still says, “Now I need to talk to you.”
He excuses the both of them and tows William to an empty first floor bedroom toward the back of the house, sitting him down on the bed and readily taking him into his arms.
He says flat-out, “I don’t want you going back to your brothers.”
William creases his eyebrows together, confused, because there’s absolutely no way he can’t go back. He can’t just leave the store, his books. “I have to, Gabe.”
“No you don’t. Listen, hear me out. I’ve done some thinking. Give me two reasons you can’t leave with me.”
“One: I can’t abandon my dad’s store. Two: if I left, don’t you think they’d come looking for me?” William argues.
“We can open a new bookstore, Will. We can dedicate it all to your father. Do you think he would want you to keep getting hurt all to take care of his little store?”
William can’t say he would. He allows Gabe to continue.
“They don’t even know what city you’ll be in. And besides, you’re an adult. If they lay a finger on you, it’s a crime. If they were to go to such lengths to first find you, and then hurt you, law enforcement would be involved and they’d be put away without so much as a case.”
William bites his lower lip. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Walk away from two people who make your life a living hell and be with someone who would love you as long as you live? I don’t know, Will, but it seems like a pretty easy decision to me,” Gabe argues, almost offended that William would choose Mike and Tom’s hate over his love.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, William. You don’t understand. You don’t understand how much in the past two weeks I’ve constantly worried whether or not you’re okay, even whether or not you’re still alive. Because I care about you. Please don’t throw that away.” Gabe’s almost pleading now, and it’s breaking William’s heart.
“Where would we find money to open up a new store?” William asks, giving in a little.
“My family has money, William, look at this place! And I have money! We’ll manage.”
“This is really, really irrational and spur-of-the-moment,” William mutters.
“All the more reason to put it into action. Have some spontaneity for once. Look. I want to be with you. I don’t want to see you hurt. I’m offering you a free ticket to whisk you away from your living hell. Please, please take it, because I love you, and my family loves you, and they know what’s going on and they want to end it as much as I do. So please, just take my hand and trust me on this one. You’re going to be okay. I’ll never, ever let them hurt you again.”
“I just met you, Gabe…” William trails off. “How do I know you know you’re sure about this?”
“Look at me.”
William looks.
“And tell me I’m not one hundred percent about this.”
William doesn’t think he’s able to. So he grips Gabe’s hand with all of the strength in his own and Gabe kisses him hard on the mouth.
Gabe sighs. “Look. I know you’re unsure and I know it’s impulsive, but trust me. What do you say?”
William weighs his decision carefully, runs through every pro and con in his mind, and even though the cons outweigh the pros, the promise on Gabe’s face is giving William the strength he needs to let it go.
“I say you’re fucking crazy, and you’re spontaneous and beautiful and I’m willing to take a chance if you are.”
And when William says this, he means it and feels it and never thought his mind could be changed so fast, but when it is, he has no notion to look back.
From then on, it’s all Gabe’s arms and jumbled Merry Christmasses between kisses, the rest of the evening spent with William’s new family and William gaining his new title as Uncle William, and even if two weeks doesn’t seem like enough time to fall in love and gain a family in the process, it’s enough in this situation and the entire ordeal just seems like a storybook form of right in everyone’s minds.
And for the first time in a long time William’s Christmas actually feels like Christmas and ringing in a New Year is more like ringing in a new start.
-fin.
A/N: This was probably the most grueling thing I've ever had to write. I would've never finished it without the help and encouragement of snugglebud_x3 and my best friend Derreck. I could never thank them enough. Seriously. I hope you enjoyed this. :]
Author/Artist: Jen santixcore
Bands: The Academy Is/Cobra Starship. (and appearances from like every other FBR band)
Pairing(s): William/Gabe.
Prompt assigned: Fairy Tales: Wicked Step Relatives
Word count: 10,973
Rating: PG-13-ish.
Summary: In which William is an awkward optimist who loves Christmas, owns a bookstore, and has two abusive step brothers who give him sort of a Cinderella reputation. Gabe is adopted with a family who loves him and William is almost as envious as he is amazed. A holiday-infused love ensues, and William renews his confidences in the power of a close-knit family.
written for bandom_solstice.
Three days until Christmas and William’s phone is ringing wildly to an unknown number. Answering, he’s greeted with the comforting, smooth serenade of Gabe’s voice cutting through a lousy connection.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asks, concerned. “I called you the other day, but your phone was off. The holidays caught up with me. But oh, I’ve been worried, don’t get me wrong. So tell me. Are you okay?”
William lies, voice trembling. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?”
William reaches up to touch his tender, swollen face carefully and whispers, “A little.”
Gabe curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” William tries his best to shake it off. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not o-“
“Gabe. I’m. O-kay. Alright? I don’t want to talk about that,” William snaps, and inside he’s completely defeated and he wants to spill, but the yellowing bruises adorning his pale body hold him back with a tight grip and a hiss in his ear.
Gabe goes on, “Either way, I called to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you busy Christmas Eve?”
William’s heart screams nononono! but his mouth answers, “Tom says I have to work.”
“Tom can fuck himself,” Gabe snaps.
William whimpers, “I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to ask if you were interested in spending Christmas Eve with my family instead. It’d be nice to bring such a flawless boy home to Mom and Pops,” Gabe sighs, considering tossing those plans out the window and allowing them to flutter off in the December breeze.
“I’d love to, Gabe. But if I asked for the evening off, I’d be in deep shit I think. I’m sorry,” William’s voice is broken and contrite and he wishes he could reach through the phone and wrap his skinny arms around Gabe in a way that would make any flawed situation a little less so.
“Are your brothers leaving anywhere for the holidays?” Gabe asks desperately, searching for a loophole somewhere, anywhere.
“I think Mike might’ve mentioned something about both of them leaving tomorrow to rent out a penthouse in Vegas for the rest of the year with their slimy business partners. He’s loud-mouthed and obnoxious and half the time when I’m down in the store, I can hear him in the apartment upstairs.”
“Then there’s no issue,” Gabe reasons.
“They’ll know if I don’t rake in any money, Gabe,” William argues. Remaining open on Christmas Eve allows for a sizeable last-minute shopper turnout.
“Don’t worry about that right now, okay?”
William replies “okay,” but still feels a knot twist in his abdomen when he opens his mouth because there is no way he’s going to get away with this.
“I’ll pick you up on Wednesday at six in the evening.” William can hear Gabe’s triumphant smile in his voice.
William says hesitantly into the receiver, “Six in the evening. Gotcha.”
There’s a pause in which William can hear the soft drone of a television on Gabe’s end, and the sound is soothing, almost human in the way it settles him down.
Gabe asks again, “You okay?”
And William can say with certainty, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
For the few hours, William and Gabe’s voices intertwine like loose threads in an abandoned drawer, aimless words about books and happiness and family and life forming a bond like cement, giving William some substance to cling to.
*
Two days until Christmas and Mike says, “We’re leaving.”
William acts dense, questions, “Oh?” and returns to organizing shelves.
“There’s a quota to meet by New Years and I expect it exceeded. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” William mutters absently.
“Don’t get smart,” Mike thumps William with his elbow hard on the back of his head and William tries not to wince when he hits one of the abrasions produced by Tom a few days previous.
Mike’s gone before William can find a way to correct his tone, and for that he’s glad, because for the next week or so, he has some time to let his body heal and his mind revive itself.
The rest of the day comes with an enormous weight off William’s heavy, tired shoulders. He can feel his new-found buoyancy in everything he does, the way he speaks and sings and wishes everyone a merry Christmas and actually anticipates one for himself.
Gabe calls later that night, just to talk, and not only does William embrace the idea of having someone other than himself to talk to; he also loves the idea of being the person someone goes to when they need someone other than themselves to talk to.
Gabe stays on the line with William until it’s technically Christmas Eve, and when William is too exhausted to keep his eyes open and his mouth moving, Gabe says, “See you tonight,” and cheesily blows a kiss into the receiver, which William mimics catching and placing next to his heart before shutting his phone and finding sleep somewhere infinite.
*
Christmas Eve and Gabe is making an attempt to sneak up behind William while he’s fully engaged in stocking the cleared-out shelves with new books and humming All I Want For Christmas Is You under his breath.
When he’s within arm’s reach of William, Gabe takes advantage of it and tosses his arms around William’s abdomen from behind, pulling him to his chest and rocking him back and forth while William flails and kicks until jerking his head around to see Gabe smiling back at him.
He turns around in Gabe’s arms to face him. “Hey. Six already?”
“No,” Gabe admits. “More like three.”
William snorts, smiling. “I’m working until six, dear.”
“That’s cool. I’ll sit here and observe.” Gabe parks himself in a chair where the shelf ends and stares intently at William’s pale, skeletal hands as they alphabetize and organize each title carefully.
Minutes pass and William tosses a book over his shoulder at Gabe, and when he hears the thud of it hitting Gabe’s hands, he asks him, “Hermann Hesse. Ever read his work?”
Gabe shakes his head.
“Merry Christmas. It’s yours,” William shines a grin on Gabe and shapes his index fingers and thumbs into a little deformed heart.
Gabe mimics William’s gesture and reads the front cover aloud. “Steppenwolf?”
“Yeah. My high school English teacher randomly gave me a copy one day after class and it’s still one of my favorites. Mull that over and try to tell me you still look at life in the same simple way as you did before.”
Gabe’s smile is warm as he sits the book gently in his lap and stares at William inquisitively. “Even if I didn’t know you owned a bookstore, you’d still look like a total bookworm to me.”
William creases his eyebrows at Gabe’s unsystematic conversation topics that he’s slowly getting used to and inquires, “How so?”
“I don’t know,” Gabe continues. “Just by the way that you move and how the sunlight hits your face through that window. You look like you belong in a storybook, so I’d assume you’d at least be interested in books if so many are written about people like you.”
A soft blush dusts across William’s cheeks and he doesn’t know whether to say “thank you” or “you’re corny” or “kiss me”. So instead, he says none of the above, rather, he plops himself into Gabe’s lap and wraps an emaciated arm around his neck. “And you,” he says. “You look like something out of an electro-pop music video by the way your hoodie is blinding enough to contend with lasers and the way you walk leads me to gather that you’re probably a decent dancer.”
Gabe smirks, bobbing his knees up and down, taking William along for the ride. “I’m not too bad a dancer. I kick ass in Dance Dance Revolution.”
“That’s hardly dancing,” William snorts playfully. “That’s like me saying I’m a good guitar player because I can play Guitar Hero.”
“DDR is so much more difficult than Guitar Hero, dude,” Gabe claims virtuously.
“Yeah, okay. Hey, I really need to finish stocking these shelves before I go. I’ll get done faster if you want to help.”
Gabe shrugs. “I guess so. Tell me what to do.”
A couple boxes of books and a few dozen customers later and William is leading Gabe up the fire escape steps to his apartment to help him pick out something nice to wear.
"This is cozy," Gabe says hesitantly from the doorway, eying the inferior looking furniture and holes in the floorboards, deeply inhaling dusty recycled air.
"It's sort of pitiful, I know. But it's home."
"Not totally. It's just a fixer-upper."
William nods at Gabe's description and opens the closet near the door where most of his clothes are stored. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to wear. I never go anywhere really."
Gabe smiles thoughtfully. “You can wear anything." He shadows William over to the closet and flips through a few collared button-up shirts and says "What about these?"
William's hand reaches for a black one and he pulls it off the hanger, holding it up to his skinny frame, shrugging his shoulders in hopes of a yes or no from Gabe.
When Gabe nods his approval, William pairs the shirt with tight dark jeans and slips into the cramped bathroom to change because his broken body is still bruised and yellowing and he doesn’t want Gabe to see exactly how severely Tom hurt him.
Before opening the door, he applies a fresh coat of pale skin-toned make up to his jaw line and left eye, concealing the dark abrasions from curious eyes and concerned questions wondering whether the discoloration is accidental or inflicted.
Gabe grins approvingly as a nervous-smiled William opens the door and stands anxiously in the doorway, who looks so stunning that Gabe almost doesn’t want to share him and would rather keep him as his little secret and spend the evening curled up with a fireplace and a stack of each of their favorite books.
He crosses the room to where William’s standing and wraps his arms around his waist from behind, wheeling him back into the bathroom so William can see himself no longer alone, but instead with another person loyally attached to his side as long as they can help it.
A whisper of Gabe’s voice echoes through William’s ears with, “you look perfect,” and Gabe proceeds to ruffle his callused fingers through William’s long strands of warm brunette hair.
William spins around in Gabe’s arms and presses a light hand to Gabe’s chest. “I’m still really nervous.”
“You’ll be fine. I promise. They don’t bite you until they get to know you.”
William’s laugh is cautious, and as he slips out of Gabe’s arms to retrieve the poinsettia plant he bought yesterday to give to Gabe’s mother, he forgets to mask his limp and Gabe notices it immediately.
“You’re limping,” he states in a monotonous disbelief.
William straightens up and forces a normal, painful walk the rest of the way to where the plant is located. “No I’m not.”
“You were limping, William.”
William presents the flower to Gabe before he can question him further. “These are for your mom,” he tries to smile.
Despite his worry, Gabe smiles back at William and takes the vase from him, wrapping him up in a one-handed embrace and kissing his temple. “She’ll love them.”
“Are you ready to go?” William asks impatiently as he tries to detour Gabe from his relentless limp, moving as normally as possible toward to door and slipping his arms into his snug leather jacket.
“William.”
William turns around to notice Gabe hasn’t moved from his spot in his bathroom doorway since William handed him the flower, stationary and eyes brimming with concern. “Are you okay?”
William sighs. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
William musters up a smile; a real smile. “I’m sure, don’t worry. I just want to go and have a good time.”
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
*
They catch a cab the couple dozen blocks to Gabe’s parent’s house on the other side of the city, William gazing intently out the window at all of the holiday decorations and anticipation buzzing through the city streets.
“I love Christmas,” he whispers to Gabe the entire fifteen minute ride there.
Gabe’s parent’s house is one of those Victorian-era city homes made of bricks with a sturdy stone set of steps leading up to a massive oak door, a large bay window on the first floor supporting a small balcony on the second, numerous chimneys and windows and every detail considered and accounted for.
William says, “It’s beautiful.”
Gabe says, “My parents are big saps for fancy architecture.”
He laces his fingers flawlessly with William’s as he leads him up the couple of steps and even though it’s his house, he rings the important-sounding doorbell for dramatic effect on his entrance.
With the opening of the front door comes a rush of warm air and the promising smell of food and pine. The woman who answers the door is a petite fifty-something dark-haired olive-skinned beauty who William assumes is Gabe’s mother by the way he hugs her in a way that only a devoted son could.
She gazes at the poinsettias in Gabe’s arms and as she’s about to thank Gabe for them, he points to William and says, “These are from him. Mom, this is William. William, this is my mother, Giada.”
Gabe’s mother beams at William, hugs him too, and croons in a thick Italian accent, “William! Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. These flowers are beautiful. Come inside before you get sick; you’re already so pale.”
William looks to Gabe desperately as if to ask, does she know you’re gay?
And Gabe nods confidently, reaches over to hold William’s hand reassuringly, and William already feels as if he’s welcome to be open about who and what he is here.
The house’s interior is extravagantly decorated with red and green and silver and gold; beautiful garlands and holly leaves and white lights and everything you could possibly imagine to decorate with this time of year. A massive, gorgeous tree stands proudly in the living room by the bay window surrounded by presents wrapped in assorted paper and festive gift bags. The air is light with the smell of roasting turkey and sweet gingerbread and peppermint and any other holiday food all muddled together to create a scent best described as simply festive.
The living room is crowded by unfamiliar faces that after a few minutes won’t seem so unfamiliar, and each one of them welcomes Gabe, then William, with a warm sort of family hospitality that leaves William’s heart brimming with cheerfulness.
Gabe begins introducing William with his father, saying cordially, “Dad, this is William. William, this is my Dad.”
His Dad releases a hearty chuckle and holds his hand out to William. “Call me Pops.”
William smiles warmly at him as he shakes William’s weak hand firmly, flopping it around like a dead fish, and all William can hope is that Pops doesn’t judge a person based on the sturdiness of their handshake.
Gabe wheels William around to face two guys seated on one of the sofas, staring intently back at them with a hospitable curiosity. “On the right is my brother Travis, and next to him is my brother Alex.”
The two of them call out their hellos and William waves shyly in return.
On the floor in front of Alex and Travis’s sofa sits a late-twenty-something black haired, tattooed boy and a long auburn haired girl, both entertaining a baby boy propped up in the girl’s lap.
“And that’s my brother Pete, his wife Ashlee, and my nephew, Bronx.”
Even baby Bronx lifts his heavy head and coos with excitement, making grabby hands at William when he says his hellos.
A little girl of maybe four or five wearing a little velvet maroon dress comes tottering out of the kitchen at that point and shrieks with childish delight as soon as her eyes fall on Gabe.
“Uncle Gabey!” she squeals, flinging her tiny arms around Gabe’s legs and planting her feet atop Gabe’s shoes.
Gabe lets out a roar very similar to that of a dinosaur and stomps around the living room with the little girl riding along on his shoes. Tickling her until she releases her grip on his legs, he collects her into his arms and spins her around before grinning at her tiny porcelain face and mumbling softly as if it were a secret, “Maria, what would you say if Uncle Gabey told you he was really a dinosaur?”
She mulls this over in his head for a second, and then answers excitedly, “I’d say COOL”
Gabe laughs and says, “That would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?”
She nods furiously. “Yeah, yeah!” Her gaze falls on William standing awkwardly by Gabe’s side and she asks, “Whozat?”
“That’s William,” Gabe beams, as if his simple answer is enough for a child to accept.
“Oh,” she says thoughtfully. “He’s pretty.”
Gabe nods in agreement. "He's very pretty."
Maria gasps like Gabe just told her something scandalous. "Do you liiike him?"
Gabe whispers not-so-secretively into Maria's tiny ear, "I like him a whole lot."
She smiles mischievously, whispers back into Gabe's ear loud enough for William to hear "Does he liiike you too?"
Gabe ponders this for a moment, and then turns little Maria to face William. "You have to ask him yourself."
She makes a shy scrunchy face, covers her big mouth with her tiny hands, and giggles close to William’s waiting ear, “Uncle Gabey wants to know if you like him too!”
William plays along, the only one that can properly whisper out of the three, and murmurs, “Tell Uncle Gabey I like him a whole lot too.”
After William says this, Maria decides their little whispering game is over, and she proceeds to project her powerful voice from her tiny body and through the entire crowded living room. “UNCLE GABEY! WILLIAM LIKES YOU TOO!”
The room erupts with the kind of laughter only applied when a child says something adorably funny, blood rushing to William’s cheeks, and he keeps trying to convince himself they’re not laughing at him, rather, they’re laughing and little Maria and her big mouth.
“I think you’ve thoroughly embarrassed our guest, Miss Maria,” Gabe teases, lightly tapping William with his foot. “Where’s your daddy?”
“In the kitchen!” She squeals, and then even louder, “Da-addy!”
A few seconds later and there’s two more unfamiliar faces crammed into the room; a pale, dark haired baby-faced boy and a skinny blonde on his arm.
“These are the last two, I promise,” Gabe says, smiling almost apologetically, as if his huge family is too overwhelming and he doesn’t want them to unknowingly scare William out the door. “This is my brother Ryan and his wife Keltie.”
William says “hello”, and is honestly relieved this is the last time he has to say it tonight. It was sort of getting redundant.
Ryan says, “Don’t you own that book store on Prince Street?”
William nods, flattered he’s not a total stranger here. “Prince Street Books? Yeah, I am.”
“Cool. I used to go there all the time before I moved to New York.”
“How come I don’t recognize you?” William asks.
“Because then I wore a lot of make-up and had a faux-hawk and an inferiority complex,” Ryan says, and Keltie laughs.
“Now he has a bowl cut and only wears make-up when I’m not home,” she says, hanging on Ryan’s shoulder lightheartedly.
Ryan mock-gasps at Keltie’s remark and asks her in as serious of a tone as possible, “And you are aware of this…how?”
“Because I find unexplained fingerprints in my eyeshadow and half of my eyeliner shaved off into the trashcan, dear.”
“How do you know it wasn’t Maria?” Ryan retorts.
Because Maria’s fingerprints aren’t the size of grapes, dearest. Try to be sneakier next time.”
Ryan laughs lightly and leans in to kiss her, and to William, their love is something he’s only ever read about in books and it’s even more endearing in person.
Maria, still in Gabe’s arms, makes grabby hands at her mother and Gabe readily hands her over, keeping his arms busy by replacing Maria with William and stealing a seat on the floor next to Pete and Ashlee, who are still occupied with entertaining Bronx.
William’s sitting comfortably between Gabe’s legs, Gabe fooling around with William’s hair while William absently picks the fuzzies off of Gabe’s jeans and makes a neat little pile on his own thigh.
Pete leans over nonchalantly and mutters in his sleazy monotone, “If I were fully into boys, Gabe would have to watch out.”
William doesn’t know whether or not this is meant to be taken as a compliment, but he tries to transform it into one and says “thank you.”
“Pete’ll hit on anyone with genitalia,” Gabe explains into the crown of William’s head. “He’s a total sketch. Imagine when he’s no longer sexy.”
Mental images materialize in William’s mind that he wishes wouldn’t, images of Pete with a tangled beard and a beer belly, hanging out on street corners and sexually harassing teenagers, but when he looks to Bronx sucking contently on one of Pete’s fingers from Ashlee’s lap, he could never imagine Pete anywhere else but here. Because here is family, and anyone who would abandon their family wouldn’t be under this roof right now.
As soon as William has found his niche in Gabe’s family, he lets go of his insecurity and animatedly jumps into the conversation as if he weren’t a newcomer at all. And Gabe’s family adopts him just like they adopted Gabe and Pete and Ryan and Travis and Alex, generously and graciously and without a doubt in their minds, and it’s a new concept for William to take in, this group of people with absolutely no blood relativity who still treat each other as one huge, close-knit family.
Dinner consists of a buffet of food as diverse as the people eating it, anything from traditional turkey to ethnic Indian dishes to Gabe’s mom’s fucking awesome vegetable lasagna. Conversation ensues, and with each word William feels more and more at ease and at home.
Maria insists on sitting next to her Uncle Gabey and her “new Uncle William”, and although Gabe tells her not to get too ahead of herself, she manages to squeeze between the two of their bodies, generously tossing all of the food she doesn’t like onto William’s plate and insisting he eat it instead.
Halfway through dinner, Pops enthusiastically attempts to entertain Maria (and William, to an extent) with impressions of animals, and when Maria excitedly requests that he impersonate Shamoo, he showers at least half of the table with his backwashed water, everyone unamused but he and Gabe, who double over in their seats in immaturity.
Desert consists of a selection of pies and pastries enough to fill a small bakery, and William samples as many as he can until he has to unbutton his jeans to allow room for his last bite of carrot cake. Maria tries to sneak a few cookies away on a plate when she thinks everyone’s gaze is turned elsewhere, and as she’s on her way to the living room fireplace with them, Gabe catches her out of the corner of his eye and shouts all cop-like with a mouth full of cake, “Halt, thief!”
She wheels around, plate of cookies behind her back, grinning with a sort of devious innocence only capable of being produced by children ages 3 to 5.
“Where do you think you’re going with those?” Gabe asks her sweetly.
“Going with what?”
“Those cookies behind your back.”
“Oh,” She pauses for a moment, contemplating her response. “They’re for Santa!”
“Ooooh,” Gabe says, nodding understandingly. He leans over to William and whispers “Go follow her and make sure she doesn’t light those on fire. Keltie says she’s been sort of a pyro ever since she discovered the joys of decorative candles.”
William does as told, setting his plate in the sink before following Maria and her sugar cookies to the fireplace where she’s sitting cross-legged munching on one in front of the red-orange flames.
“So,” William says, casually, feeling sort of awkward because he’s not good with child communication. “Those are for Santa, eh?”
She turns around to look at him and nods, “Yup. I’m leaving them for him here in case he decides to come early. Because if he comes early and there’s no cookies for him, he won’t bring me the Barbie house I asked him for.”
“Oh,” William says thoughtfully. “Well we don’t want that. Why don’t I set those up on this table so we’re sure these are for Santa and not Maria, hm?”
She hands him the plate of cookies and agrees, “Right, those are for Santa. There’s more in the kitchen for me!”
As William stands up to set the cookies on the table out of her reach, she makes a psst noise and motions for William to sit back down on the floor with her, her expression making it very clear that she has something important to ask him.
As he takes a seat next to her, too-tight pants objecting to this sort of abuse by rubbing uncomfortably into his thighs, Maria asks, “Are you really going to be my new Uncle William?”
William wants to tell her “yes, of course,” but (although Maria’s already taking the initiative to give him the title either way), going from William to Uncle William is sort of a mutual decision that he’s not ready to talk about with Gabe, so he says to her, “Would you like me to be your new Uncle William?”
She nods furiously, bouncing on the carpet. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“And I’d love to be your new Uncle William.”
This is enough of an answer for Maria, and she proceeds to hurl her tiny body into William’s arms and squeals, “I love you, Uncle William!”
She’s gone before William can say anything else, tottering off toward the dining room to scavenge for cookies of her own, leaving William alone on the living room floor staring off into the fireplace, warm air dusting his cheeks.
He’s not alone for long, however, because Gabe takes note of his isolations before William can even notice it himself, taking a seat beside him on the floor, taking his hand.
He says, “I hope you’re not scared off yet.”
William shakes his head. “Not at all. Your family is so great. Seriously.”
“Are they?” Gabe’s playing with William’s hair again, flipping strands from side to side and eventually settling on holding it in pigtails. “We’re opening presents soon.”
William eyes the mountain of gifts surrounding the Christmas tree and mentally wonders if any of those are for him.
Opening presents, Gabe has William curled up with him in an oversized armchair as gifts are exchanged and Maria and Bronx and busily playing with the wrapping paper littering the floor. At one point, Maria presents her gift to William in the form of a Santa-print wrapping paper “hat” that she made herself.
Ryan’s bounty of gifts includes a make-up kit from Keltie and the Palahniuk book from Gabe, in which Gabe says from across the room, “You wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for William finding it for me.” So instead of thanking Gabe, Ryan thanks William, and William finds some sort of participation in that.
Near the end of the pile, Ashlee tosses a little red box up to William, whose reflexes are too slow and he misses it, allowing it to fall in Gabe’s lap instead. He picks it up and presents it to him.
“For you. From me,” he says, smiling.
William opens it carefully, and even though everyone’s busy with their own gifts and no one’s watching, it still feels like all eyes are on him and it makes him sort of uneasy, hands clammy as he opens the box to reveal the cheesiest looking gold plated heart necklace, and William almost wants to ask Gabe if the place he bought it from intended it to be for a girl.
“Turn it over.”
He pulls the pendant out of the foam casing and flips it over in his hand to expose a simple inscription. I’m yours. Be mine.
William doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just flings his arms around Gabe’s neck and without hesitation kisses him for the first time, overwhelming amounts of love and happiness and the feeling of belonging clouding his mind and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here, kissing someone he’s only known for two weeks, spending Christmas with their family that he feels like he’s known forever.
But when William pulls away, Gabe’s face is troubled, sort of the face he makes when he knows William’s not okay and he’s afraid to ask what’s bothering him, and even though right now on the surface William feels fine, Gabe still says, “Now I need to talk to you.”
He excuses the both of them and tows William to an empty first floor bedroom toward the back of the house, sitting him down on the bed and readily taking him into his arms.
He says flat-out, “I don’t want you going back to your brothers.”
William creases his eyebrows together, confused, because there’s absolutely no way he can’t go back. He can’t just leave the store, his books. “I have to, Gabe.”
“No you don’t. Listen, hear me out. I’ve done some thinking. Give me two reasons you can’t leave with me.”
“One: I can’t abandon my dad’s store. Two: if I left, don’t you think they’d come looking for me?” William argues.
“We can open a new bookstore, Will. We can dedicate it all to your father. Do you think he would want you to keep getting hurt all to take care of his little store?”
William can’t say he would. He allows Gabe to continue.
“They don’t even know what city you’ll be in. And besides, you’re an adult. If they lay a finger on you, it’s a crime. If they were to go to such lengths to first find you, and then hurt you, law enforcement would be involved and they’d be put away without so much as a case.”
William bites his lower lip. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Walk away from two people who make your life a living hell and be with someone who would love you as long as you live? I don’t know, Will, but it seems like a pretty easy decision to me,” Gabe argues, almost offended that William would choose Mike and Tom’s hate over his love.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, William. You don’t understand. You don’t understand how much in the past two weeks I’ve constantly worried whether or not you’re okay, even whether or not you’re still alive. Because I care about you. Please don’t throw that away.” Gabe’s almost pleading now, and it’s breaking William’s heart.
“Where would we find money to open up a new store?” William asks, giving in a little.
“My family has money, William, look at this place! And I have money! We’ll manage.”
“This is really, really irrational and spur-of-the-moment,” William mutters.
“All the more reason to put it into action. Have some spontaneity for once. Look. I want to be with you. I don’t want to see you hurt. I’m offering you a free ticket to whisk you away from your living hell. Please, please take it, because I love you, and my family loves you, and they know what’s going on and they want to end it as much as I do. So please, just take my hand and trust me on this one. You’re going to be okay. I’ll never, ever let them hurt you again.”
“I just met you, Gabe…” William trails off. “How do I know you know you’re sure about this?”
“Look at me.”
William looks.
“And tell me I’m not one hundred percent about this.”
William doesn’t think he’s able to. So he grips Gabe’s hand with all of the strength in his own and Gabe kisses him hard on the mouth.
Gabe sighs. “Look. I know you’re unsure and I know it’s impulsive, but trust me. What do you say?”
William weighs his decision carefully, runs through every pro and con in his mind, and even though the cons outweigh the pros, the promise on Gabe’s face is giving William the strength he needs to let it go.
“I say you’re fucking crazy, and you’re spontaneous and beautiful and I’m willing to take a chance if you are.”
And when William says this, he means it and feels it and never thought his mind could be changed so fast, but when it is, he has no notion to look back.
From then on, it’s all Gabe’s arms and jumbled Merry Christmasses between kisses, the rest of the evening spent with William’s new family and William gaining his new title as Uncle William, and even if two weeks doesn’t seem like enough time to fall in love and gain a family in the process, it’s enough in this situation and the entire ordeal just seems like a storybook form of right in everyone’s minds.
And for the first time in a long time William’s Christmas actually feels like Christmas and ringing in a New Year is more like ringing in a new start.
-fin.
A/N: This was probably the most grueling thing I've ever had to write. I would've never finished it without the help and encouragement of snugglebud_x3 and my best friend Derreck. I could never thank them enough. Seriously. I hope you enjoyed this. :]