HOMEPLOT: For Michael and Ben

[hnb_hustler]

Hunter woke up in his own bed. HIS OWN FUCKING BED. In Pittsburgh. In his home. Without any fucking sand or palm trees or or bizarre shit

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[always_zephyr]

Michael was there and in fact cooking breakfast. A good old America breakfast of eggs and bacon that would be familiar in Debbie's kitchen then theirs but Michael though it was a special day and so it deserved it. Except for the veggie sausage he'd cooked up for his loving husband before of course.

He was just piling the scrambled eggs onto the three plates when Hunter came downstairs. "Morning!" He called rosily before continuing his work. "Ben, move your books so Hunter can sit down!"

[r_u_12]

From over his glasses, Ben glanced up to see his son bounding down the stairs and barreling into the kitchen. He'd already begun to mark his place mentally when he heard the steps, but Hunter got to the kitchen faster than usual. So, Ben just wedged the bookmark between the pages and began clearing off his books dutifully, as he'd been told.

"Good morning, pal," Ben drawled, glancing back up and over his glasses at intervals... until he realized something looked different, and then his eyebrows knitted down with concern. "Everything alright?"

[hnb_hustler]

Hunter looked about ready to cry. He stood in the kitchen, glancing from Michael to Ben, and then abruptly he went to Michael and threw his arms around his waist, eggs and spatula and all. "...I love you," he whispered, saying the words he'd wanted to say to Michael for months, clinging to his father who was his father once again.

[always_zephyr]

While Michael knew that, hearing the words from Hunter, especially since he was a teenage boy, was always something. He traded a beaming look with Ben over Hunter's shoulder before putting down the skillet and returned the hug. "I love you too Hunter. Always will."