Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Here’s the thing – Skeppy really, really hated all types of conflict.

This was a fact that probably even he wasn’t aware of, with how much he liked to get on Bad’s nerves. He just was.

Someone disagreeing with him, for example. Bad didn’t think of him as a childish person, but occasionally, when he really set his mind on something, it was impossible to divert his attention. He would suggest a thing, and Bad wouldn’t find it that possible (or profitable, or plausible), and a mean, borderline foul demeanor would overtake Skeppy like fever. Bad never managed to understand why his lover reacted the way he did, but could only stare fascinated at the deep irritation, the underlying sense of nervousness that was, probably, born along with Skeppy, right in his heart, like a sibling he didn’t realize he had.

Something that he thought would be a good idea falling apart was also his weak spot. Video ideas, or date ideas, or some bigger ones. He had this fixation on instantly going over the problem, as if his life depended on it. The more he tried to help it, the more it broke into pieces. He never seemed to be able to think logically through a problem on the spot, and could only find his solution a week later, in bed, wrapped comfortably in Bad’s arms, when it had long passed.

Arguing is another thing. Bad tried (as best as he could, at least) to avoid getting into direct confrontation with Skeppy. See, the latter wasn’t sensitive per se, but Bad had noted a very sharp edge that would come up every time they argued. There was a way around quarrels, of course, and it was long – mostly because he was arguing with Skeppy of all people. So, the second-best thing was closing himself off – breathe in deeply, count to however much was needed, hum a stupid song in his head, whatever else – just so he can give Skeppy the necessary time to stop, step back, recollect himself, and try with a different approach.

Play arguing was a whole other story. Their entire careers were built on arguing on Youtube, and there it was fun, scripted, never leaking out of its container. When it started getting real – aka when they became a couple – it was simultaneously the same and completely different. The first time Bad had turned their regular arguments into something else, something with a sexual nature, he did so out of desperation, as he just wanted Skeppy to calm down and step firmly on the ground. He never expected it to get as big in their relationship as it did (and honestly, he couldn’t complain either). When they moved that playfulness over to their bed, Bad felt a slight shift, a very small, dangerous, almost scary shift, yet he never figured out what that was. If they managed to solve a problem without an argument, good. If they let it explode, then…

The thing is, they never argued. Like, argue argue, the necessary type, the cliché type even, in the way normal people do, where they end up a little angry, but had reached a consensus or something. Bad would make a point and try to defend it, but fumbled easily, putting their peace in front of reason. Skeppy would listen, understood things in whatever way he wanted to, exploded, and backtracked fifteen minutes later, when he realized he was in the wrong (or had overreacted). So now, after working through their inability to work through it, if things got too heated, they ended up tangled on the sofa, or the back of the car, or wherever. A stupid way to deal with disagreements, true, but it felt too unimportant to fix.

Bad was in love. Blindly, stupidly, obsessively. What he and his boyfriend were doing in their spare time, and how strange of a foreplay that was – this didn’t matter. It was all for fun. And he ignored that burning sensation, let it get buried under all of his other anxieties. Nothing ever stayed as sunshine and rainbows. They were just having fun instead of yelling, and their current bittering wasn’t born out of this; they were just so good at avoiding arguments, at diffusing the tension, that something out of their grasp would shake them up for a while. Just a minor bump in the road. Nothing too major was happening.

Bad’s emotions were a mess. That was a solid fact. He couldn’t think straight (was he ever able to do so?!). Maybe it was unfair to stay mad when he didn’t feel mad. All of his anger melted the second Skeppy apologized in the car, on their way back from Bad’s parents. Yet a voice in his head – his own, but low, muffled, quiet, yet stern – told him that he shouldn’t forgive this easily. That no matter how he felt at the moment, no matter how well things went back with his parents, a lie was still a lie.

(He remembered that Skeppy told him something in the car… something about missing out… but he forgot it completely. He just remembered that he was hurt, that this really hurt, in a way he never expected it to.)

Now, back at Skeppy’s place, he felt extremely tense. Skeppy was tense too, but Bad couldn’t figure out why. Because of his relatives? Because of their argument? Because of his lie?

They sat on the sofa, on the opposite sides, with the TV on, not really watching the show in front. Every time Bad threw a cautious look towards Skeppy, he seemed occupied with whatever he was doing on his phone. He seemed completely nonchalant, with his legs up on the small table in front and a neutral look on his face. Ever since their argument back in the car, they’ve been avoiding talking to each other, only muttering ‘buy some milk’ or ‘the laundry is done’, more or less having to keep the tidiness of the house rather than wanting to talk. In reality, Bad could’ve went back home (he is the one who was done dirty, and the one who actually had a reason to be mad), but this felt like a dangerous thing to do. You only ever run from your partner after an argument if you want to stay as far away from them as it was possible, to end things, and not if you wanted everything to go back to normal. A few times he had wanted to open his mouth and apologize, but quickly remembered that he wasn’t the one who should be doing it. Every time he planned to break the ice, he just saw the closed-off look that Skeppy was giving him, and Bad would get angry, and end up slamming the door of his little bubble again.

Yet, he couldn’t hold it in for too long.

“You know,” begun Bad, “my mom called.”

Startled, Skeppy’s attention instantly diverted, as if he was waiting for Bad to speak. He put his feet on the ground and left his phone on the table next to the sofa. “What did she say?”

“Something, something, ‘come back soon only if you bring back that boyfriend of yours’.”

“Oh, that’s…” Skeppy trailed off.

“Look, Zak, I’m not mad at you.”

Skeppy nodded, slowly. “Okay. Why?”

Bad blinked. “What?”

“Why aren’t you mad? I mean, I went behind your back when we had set a boundary, and I did something that I know had a huge chance of going to shit – language. I knew how delicate your family stuff is, and yet I did what I did without a second thought. You have every right to be mad at me, Darryl, I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“Don’t lie to me anymore.” Stated Bad. “At least, not for something this important. Just tell me next time you want to do something. That’s it.”

Skeppy scooted over to Bad and cupped his face.

“I love you, you know?” Skeppy kissed his forehead. “I will never do anything stupid like that again, I promise.”

“Oh, don’t promise things you yourself don’t believe in.”

“Huh?”

Bad grabbed Skeppy’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. “Well, you still haven’t met my grandparents.”

“Trust me, I ain’t rigging anything for them.”

“Why? My grandma won’t be getting out of her wheelchair to try and chase you out any time soon.”

“Darryl!” Yelped Skeppy. “Don’t joke with shit like this! Jesus.”

Heart lighter, Bad kissed his lover again. “I love you too, you numpty muffin.” His tone got serious. “But seriously, if you try to rig anything regarding my family again, I will strangle you in your sleep. Simple as that.”

Skeppy grinned. “Oh, really?”

Bad’s hand found its way under Skeppy’s shirt, and his lover’s eyes – goodness, their effect never faltered – were already full of mischief.

“I can tell you more about that strangling part. I think you’ve deserved it.”

Oh, he did more than that, and it did well in releasing all the tension between them. Just as always, they ended up solving the problem – in an untypical way, sure, but it was solved. When they lay in bed later, Rocco curled up at their feet, Bad could finally breathe. It was all over. They were back to normal. Now, he could focus on worrying about meeting Skeppy’s relatives. Yeah.

They should’ve talked better through this, but they couldn’t.

~

(Even if the previously occurred situation left a bad taste in his mouth that he still couldn’t wash off, Bad was happy. He couldn’t stomach arguments. Whatever lie Skeppy had said really was for the best. They had their ups and downs, but Bad knew that no matter what happened, Skeppy wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t do anything out of malice. He repeated that over and over again, yet still felt something rotten lurking at the back of his mind. Hugging his lover tighter, Bad tried to stop his brain from running a thousand miles per hour, but he couldn’t. Two days until they went to Skeppy’s family. After that, everything would go back to normal. No big deal.

But it was a big deal, wasn’t it? That’s why Skeppy wanted it so badly, because it was a great leap, a step that solidified their relationship even more. Bad never got the chance to explain how important preparing for this was, how much time he needed in order to polish himself, to look good, to act accordingly, to be funny, and smart, and kind. This meeting-the-family thing came out of nowhere, crashed into his life like a shipwreck. That was why he avoided meeting up with Skeppy before, because he had to be the best, prepare what he could say and think when he should say it, have all the social battery in the world, be the most perfect and most amazing person who Skeppy could ever meet. Bad couldn’t imagine disappointing yet another person by not giving everything he could offer, by not bleeding by the time they parted ways. That was all he could bring to the table – utter perfection. Any diversion from it opened a can of worms whose origins Bad never had the strength to face.

He hoped that he wouldn’t break into pieces.)

~

They did fight once. Bad couldn’t help himself – he was the one who caused it.

It started with the tone which Skeppy used to tell him something, which ticked him off. He felt as if he had been teleported back to his childhood when his mom used to steal the family car and take Bad to random cafés whenever his father got too aggressive. Bad still remembered the smoke from her cigarette, the loud music, the milkshake he’d always get. And his mother was in his memories, stealing the spotlight, with the prettiest clothes and the heaviest of make-up and the huge golden hoops that have always been on her ears, ever since Bad’s earliest memories; she had the figure of a woman who went to hell and back and wasn’t afraid of anything, and the eyes of a person who had seen everything. Somewhere in Bad’s memories were also the looks that men threw in her way (and sometimes the looks she threw back), some of his mom’s friends who would pass by and sit with them, sometimes invite them over to their place, where Bad was sat in front of the TV, while his mom smoked pot with her friends while going over some paperwork – documents, probably divorce papers, probably random lawyers’ info (at least that’s what he conspired these to be, late at night, for years after that. He wondered what his life would’ve been like if he were older back then and could help his mom, or even if she called him over and told him that within a few days, they’d be out of the house). The nights usually culminated with the inevitable drive back home, the end goal consisting of his father patiently waiting for them, empty bottle on the kitchen table.

There, in the car rides, probably due to nerves, Bad’s mother would start lecturing him – about how he talked or didn’t talk, about how he behaved, how miserable and ready to break into tears he seemed, about the negative image he was creating himself. There, that flat matter-of-facty tone was drilled into his bones, that was the persuader. His exes – oh, those awfully lovely people – somehow also used that tone from time to time, as if someone came from the sky and told them what and how to say it.

Bad didn’t even register when he got defensive. He just remembered the outcome.

Usually, he controlled himself, and with that controlled Skeppy’s agitable nature. So, when Bad was off, their whole balance was off. Ever since that instance, Bad bottled down those unspoken, unseen parts of his soul even harder. That role that he had was important, he couldn’t just let himself slip like that. He didn’t like to use his past as an excuse, and he would even get angry when someone tried to do it for him. No, he was his own person. His mistakes were his own, his emotions too, no one else’s. Whatever someone had done to him a long time ago didn’t matter, as he was the one still reacting to it.

He and Skeppy had talked through it well back then, Bad had explained that this was all his fault, that some things were still haunting him, causing him to get irrational (and Skeppy cupped his cheek, his gorgeous brown eyes full of love and care, and Bad shut his mouth). Skeppy didn’t pressure him to say anything, but he understood everything.

(Bad still felt awful. His boyfriend was an amazing person, yet his heart told him to expect the worst, as if Skeppy was even capable of that. That was another thing he was afraid of admitting.)

Patience, and understanding, and love, and then they would go through it – through all of it. He and Skeppy were insane over their own little thing, but what mattered was that they were also insane about each other. Together, they complimented one another perfectly. They were an amazing couple, and they could deal with everything, no matter how unproductive their solutions looked from the side. Bad’s little bubble didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

But the quarrel problem still remained intact.

“What do you mean by that?”

The ride over to Skeppy’s family, that’s how Judgement Day looked like for them. Even if they lived no more than seven hours away from Skeppy, the road still seemed dreadfully long. Clouds above, heavy air, a slight chill (why didn’t they ever turn the heater on?), tension.

“Dude, it was just a suggestion,” Skeppy laughed dryly, “I’m not telling you how to act.”

“ ‘Don’t bring up finances, money, work or anything like that’ really doesn’t sound like a suggestion, Zak.”

“Okay, do whatever you want. I’m already fucking tired – language – of their work friends, and every dinner that I have with both of my parents turning into a financial problem. And now, with this,” he waved his phone, “I won't have the nerves to deal with any of it. That’s all.”

Bad furrowed his brows, taking in the information. Every time Skeppy talked about his family they seemed like great people, kind and generous, outgoing and friendly. That thing about finances was new. So was the reason they'd stopped in the first place - because Skeppy's mom called, announcing that, unfortunately, they won't be able to spend a lot of time together. An urgent business meeting, something very important going down, requiring both of Skeppy’s parents’ attention, as Skeppy explained after throwing his phone in the cup holder and slamming the brake at the first rest area he saw. He spent the next few minutes with his forehead pressed on the wheel, staring at his feet.

“Hey.” Begun Bad gently. He put his hand on Skeppy’s shoulder and began drawing circles on it. “Honey, look at me. It’s okay, don't get too angry at them. You can’t control what their jobs demand, neither can they. No point in dwelling on it. Besides, even if we can’t catch them now, we can go any other day, it’s not really the end of the world.”

Feeling his muscles relax, Bad moved his hand on the back of Skeppy’s neck just as the latter sat straight, eyes still locked in on nothing.

“You mean that? You’d want to go another day?”

“Of course I do! You know the drill – I just need a babysitter for Rat, and you can take me wherever you want.”

It was a partial bluff, as Bad’s roommate was an extremely busy person and cannot watch Lucy for too long, and the aunty of a friend from collage who took care of the dog most of the time was getting old and had difficulties going on long walks. On top of it all, Bad couldn’t just give his precious girl over to someone who he didn’t trust completely, but he could find someone, if it meant that Skeppy would be happy. This could be a slow, difficult, and unnerving process, carefully calculated and such. But the promise seemed to calm Skeppy down, even if only a bit, his gaze still motionless and fixed at the trees up front.

“Can't believe they'd pull the rug under me again.” Skeppy sighed and closed his eyes. “They were so excited to spend time together, to meet you, and yet they did what they always do.”

“So, that's a common occurrence?” Asked Bad. “I mean, bringing up work at home, not seeing an end to a meeting?”

“They do meetings alright, just not with the family. How many holidays they've…” Skeppy ran a hand through his hair. “I've even gotten into arguments with them before. That’s kinda their thing, you know, the business and whatever, so I try not to react to it, but sometimes they get too carried away. I just never believed they would dip on me while I’m driving over to their place.” He threw Bad a side eye. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, it's just… New information.”

Skeppy snorted. “You're not the only one who has secrets, you know. And besides, at least I do tell you most things.”

Bad blinked, trying to decipher if that was an attempt to nag. Probably. He retreated his hand back to his lap.

“I try to tell you as much as I can. You know, the relevant stuff.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but you're not very good at that.”

“I’m trying.” Noted Bad.

“You’re not good at that either.”

“And you’re a muffinhead. You know most stuff about me anyway.”

“Yeah, like your last name.” Skeppy turned towards Bad. “Oh, wait, I didn’t know it! You never told me that!”

Ready to go along with the tide and jump headfirst into an argument, Bad stopped himself abruptly. No reason to banter, Skeppy was angry and needed to chill out, not to argue pointlessly.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Zak. I promise, there aren’t any more deep dark secrets-- At least, not that deep or dark.”

“Really? I highly doubt it. Did you know that your stepdad told me that I’m welcome to go back for Christmas? I wanted you to tell me, but you didn’t.”

“Zak…”

“And I never got to meet your brother, which I also think is stupid, since I've prepared the full package for you, and you meeting my sister before I meet your brother when we were already at your parents’ feels unfair.”

“Zak.”

“And I really wanted to try your mom’s pie, but you ate it all. Without offering me!”

“Zak.”

“And you never told me you snore before we got together, and I still wake up randomly from how loud you get. I mean, I don’t mind you being loud, but not in this context.”

“Oh my goodness…”

“On that topic, last night you were--“

“Zak!”

“What!”

There it was, that need to argue, that mischievous gleam in Skeppy’s eyes. Without thinking about it, Bad flew out of the vehicle. Skeppy followed, semi-confused.

“Where are you--“

He didn’t have time to finish, as Bad pushed him against the car and kissed him hungrily.

“You’re so, so annoying sometimes.” Bad grabbed Skeppy’s waist. “It’s endearing.”

“Darryl!” Hissed Skeppy. “We’re in public!”

“As if that has ever been a problem.”

He pulled Skeppy in by the belt loops of his jeans, kissing him again. This time, no protests were heard, and Skeppy’s fingers tangled in Bad’s hair. Someday, one of their random semi-public make out sessions would cost them a lot. But then again, it was hard to stop once they started. Skeppy liked to call this endless supply of passion the ‘never-ending honeymoon phase’, and right now, when Bad’s hand moved seemingly on its own to his lover’s butt, he started to get it.

Oh, they were a hot mess.

“Wait.”

Bad stepped back, confused. Skeppy, struggling to catch his breath (and to maintain eye contact) looked somewhere on the side. A train of thoughts was visibly running through his mind, and Bad could give anything for him to just spit it out. Yet, the moment passed, and Skeppy’s eyes snapped back to Bad’s, not a trace left of any hesitancy.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here. Let's go on an adventure, forget my family.”

“What--”

“If they can do whatever they want, so can I.” Skeppy started kissing his neck. “We can drive to Alaska, or sail to Brazil, or fuck in that forest behind you.”

“What? Oh my goodness, language-- are you even hearing yourself?”

“Okay, maybe without that last part.” Skeppy pulled away and cupped Bad's face. “Come on, honey, it's just a little diversion. My parents can obviously wait. We need a little bit of adrenaline, plus, we deserve a break from all this family bullshit. I think this many meet-ups are taking a toll on us. We're turning into old grumpy men who argue over which cousin we don't want to see on Christmas. Plus, we won’t go to like, the Maldives, or something, I promise.”

A little break from all this family stuff? A little more time for Bad to compose himself? Skeppy suggesting it? A gift from above, that was this intervention.

“You’re an angel.” Was the answer Bad could muster before closing the distance between them yet again, pulling at Skeppy’s belt. “We can take this in the car?”

After hearing the please do whispered against his lips, Bad opened the door and dragged Skeppy by the strings of his hoodie.

That’s how stress got dissolved in their relationship. Skeppy craved arguments so badly, yet he himself never realized how much he hated them. He wanted adrenaline, his blood to boil, his heart to race, yet he couldn't handle it. It was a contradictory thing, and if Bad didn't know any better, he would've been caught on the rod, and Skeppy would get all riled up, instead of… whatever the outcome was now.

Thinking about it, no wonder they began making love more often. That was exactly the dosage of action Skeppy required in order to function properly without going insane over it. Maybe he was faking all those arguments, maybe he wanted the tension and everything after, but not the essentials, not the main reason arguments happened in the first place. Even now, Bad didn’t know how to react or what to say without everything exploding.

After all, Skeppy really hated conflicts.

~

At first, Bad thought that it was a joke, a manic episode, or nerves causing Skeppy to get even more irrational than usual. But no, everything was legit, and he got his confirmation when they finally sat in their respective places in the car (after half an hour of a particularly successful tension relieving exercise), and Skeppy, who prided himself on being a darn good driver, almost fell into a ditch from how hard he hit the gas pedal, made a U turn, and continued down the way they came from.

(Bad was very happy that he didn’t get motion sickness when he was in a fast car. He was even happier that he had the time to fasten his seatbelt before being forcefully placed in a race, or an attempt to get as many speeding tickets as possible, or whatever the fudge Skeppy was doing.)

For whatever reason, Skeppy was playing a game. Every time he saw the opportunity, he changed lines and ended up on new and new roads, off and on the highway, sometimes having to go right, sometimes left. They ended up driving on narrow roads through forests, a few small towns, next to lakes. Frantic was the only accurate explanation of his decision-making. When the sun started to set, Skeppy changed their route yet again and went offroad, following a path going into the forest. He stopped the car, got out, and opened Bad’s door, his eyes shining.

“C’mon.” He offered his hand. “Let’s live a little.”

“What do you mean?”

Skeppy grinned. “Stop being so stiff, I won’t sell you to the forest people.”

“How could I know?” Bad also smiled and took his lover’s hand. “I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours.”

“Now much. Mostly you.”

They walked over to the trees, where something resembling a path going into the forest could be seen. Bad mindlessly tightened his grasp. “Why are we here again?” He asked.

Just a flash of teeth, a smile – and Skeppy was off, running like a dog let off from his leash.

“Zak!” Yelled Bad, laughing nervously. “Come back!”

Instead of turning around or stopping, Skeppy kept running and, after a few seconds, was nowhere to be seen. The only things left were Bad, the dark forest in front, the wind blowing through the trees, and the grey sky above, slowly turning darker. It was quiet – eerily quiet, and it didn’t take Bad too long to get paranoid.

“Zak!” Bad yelled again, his voice betraying him. “It’s not funny! What if you get lost?”

A distant, echoey ‘follow me, then’ was the answer. How far ahead was Skeppy again? It didn’t matter, as within a second, Bad was off, stepping over stones and sticks, running like he’d lost something.

For a while, he was meandering through the trees like a river, feeling not like he was getting closer, but further from where Skeppy was, his attempts to reach his lover futile. No matter how much he wanted to find him, to follow with the same running speed, to play this game, Bad couldn’t do it, even if he strained his body trying. He stopped at one point next to a fallen tree, where he took a good look around, his heart hammering against his chest. On the left – trees, bushes; on the right – the same story. Sometimes, forests turned into an endless maze, where their romantic Photoshopped beauty from the stock photos disappeared, and instead dread painted the trees in an ugly greyish off-green. Right now, he felt like he was in the beginning of one of those horror movies that he hated so much. Lost, confused, scared (why?), wondering what was about to happen.

It was getting darker, the weather wasn’t good, so why did Skeppy decide that this was a good idea? Bad wasn't in the shape for running – he was slower, and he wasn’t as fit, and he sure wasn’t prepared for a game of tag either. Skeppy had a lot more stamina in his muscles, as if those few years between them were actual decades, and he should’ve known all of that, that Bad couldn’t catch up, could never be able to run alongside him. Even if he did, he showed no signs of slowing down, letting Bad at least find him. If they were playing this game together, shouldn’t it be fair? Shouldn’t both of them have equal chances to win?

“Ha!” Yelled Skeppy, who had appeared out of thin air. “I win! Man, you’re so shit at tag.”

Bad was startled, but he didn’t move. Something was on his mind, something was nibbling at his consciousness, but he couldn’t piece it together. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged by the sleeve of his jacket. The only thing he really paid attention to was how cold he was, and how happy Skeppy seemed, as if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere at dusk.

In front of them appeared a small lake, the place too inconvenient to be used for anything. The water was almost black, but with all the trees on its reflection, the sight seemed almost ethereal.

“I just saw this and I ran back to get you. I had like, a small epiphany, a what if we went on a holiday in the forest one day and sat next to a lake like that type of epiphany.” Skeppy said, a little sheepish. “Is it extremely corny? Tell me it’s not corny. It’s a grown-up, adult, manly idea, for manly, non-queer men.”

Bad put his head on his lover’s shoulder. “Nah, it is manly.”

Skeppy was smiling – Bad couldn’t see it, but he felt it. A warmth was blooming in his chest, and for the first time in forever, he believed that everything was possible. A childish revelation, maybe, but it fit with this whole scenario, from the call in the car, to their random run. The strange thing on the back of his mind was no more (and even if it was lurking in there, Bad ignored it). Sometimes, he got nostalgic for a present moment, one that has just begun. Maybe he failed to live through it well, when he was already sad about it passing, when it still hadn’t done so. Or maybe, he enjoyed the peacefulness of the forest too much, and wanted to trap everything in this current moment, be able to relive it every time he pleased.

“Hold on.” Broke the silence Bad. “Did you say non-queer men?”

“’Course.” Skeppy kissed him quickly on the forehead. “I’ve been making out with you platonically, bro.”

Smiling, Bad shoved Skeppy away, and during their walk back to the car, Skeppy kept listing all the bro-platonic things that they’ve been doing for the past months (all language worthy, mind you).

The air was different when they went in the car after that. Whatever nerves Bad had, and whatever anger Skeppy contained, have washed away. The only thing that could make things better was if Skeppy finally stopped being childish and picked up the phone, which didn’t want to stop ringing. Instead, he muted the device, and handed it over to Bad.

“Play some hard rock.” He demanded, starting the engine.

~

Skeppy’s parents have called a total of fourteen times by the time they decided to stop their trip. The number earned a laugh from Skeppy, a disappointed sigh from Bad, and the uneasiness of the prospect of getting a missing persons poster.

The couple spend the better part of their trip bantering whether ending up with cops after them was funny or not – it wasn’t, obviously, but Skeppy argued that it would make banger content, even if it meant revealing their relationship status to the world (after carefully thinking about it, Skeppy didn’t seem to like that idea very much). And Bad got defensive on that matter, saying that he preferred not to be put in the police’s database (even if it would be a little funny).

“Good God, why do you care so much? You sound like my grandpa when he watches the news.” Grunted Skeppy, exaggerating. His eyes got wide. “Are you wanted by Interpol?”

“Yes, I am a wanted criminal in all fifty US states, as well as in all hundred ninety-five states recognized by the UN. I’m planning to steal your kneecaps and shave you bald, if you don’t stop the car and give your parents a freaking phone call!” Yelled Bad, a little louder than he intended.

“Jesus Christ!” Skeppy jumped, smiling widely. “I’ll call them. Calm down!”

They were just entering a city (or a town? Who knew?), when this conversation happened. It was unexpected that Skeppy pulled up to the first motel he saw, but apparently, Bad did sound threatening enough to get listened to from time to time.

Wow, hunger really brings the worst in people, doesn’t it?

The motel was less than what he expected, as if the peeling façade and foul smells weren’t clear enough that the inside wasn’t going to bring anything great to the table. Everything had a yellowish hue, or it had gotten yellowish at some point in time, including the orange-red paint on the walls; the lights were blinking above, and the windows looked like they were left untouched for far too many years without being cleaned (or without rain falling on them and removing a part of the dirt). Upon seeing this, Skeppy was ready to go back to the car and drive as far as he could, until both of them saw a gas station’s sign flashing across the motel.

“So, have I mentioned that my ideas aren't very smart?” Skeppy asked, matter-of-factly.

“If your idea is to eat questionable food for dinner, we’re both not very smart.”

That's how they ended up sitting on the big, wobbly bed in their room, with two sandwiches in front of Skeppy, and three packs of gluten-free crackers for Bad (discrimination, but such was the way of life). Bad's side of the bed was a little too low for his comfort, making him feel like he was sat on the floor, and after a quick inspection and figuring out that the mattress was sagging, and a pretty big stain of unknown origin spread in the middle of it, he decided not to get any more curious about their accommodation. They bought wine, the cheapest, even if they had to continue their trip first thing in the morning. Not because any of them rushed to go anywhere, but because something moved in the corner, and Skeppy didn't want to see it, didn't want to think about it crawling up his leg at night. Ignoring it for one night was a plausible possibility, ignoring it for two nights was the beginning of paranoid schizophrenia.

Thankfully, they had wine to calm their nerves down. That wasn’t alcoholism, but pragmatism.

Bad was in the process of devouring his first pack of crackers, while Skeppy was taking his time opening the wine. The sign of him struggling for solid five minutes to open a simple bottle was endearing – so much so, that Bad ended up watching him like a TV show. When he finished his third pack of crackers, he grabbed the bottle, removed the aluminum foil on the top, and opened it.

“I was about to do it.” Pouted Skeppy. He crossed his hands in front, and Bad had to fight hard not to laugh at him. “What, you think that I can't open a bottle?”

“No, you just look adorable when you’re frustrated.” He thought for a moment, an idea blossoming in his head. “Okay, what if we play a game of truth, dare, or drink wine? What do you say?”

“You know, usually they leave drinking as a punishment if you don't comply, not as a part of the game.” Still, Skeppy was smiling wide. “Sure, not like we have anything better to do.”

He glanced at his phone, which had stopped vibrating half an hour ago. Skeppy still hasn’t called his family, and Bad quit trying to get him to do so. It was a lost cause, even if nerves were eating him alive.

They set up with playing rock-paper-scissors in order to determine who started the game. Bad, obviously, lose.

“That's not fair.” He tried to argue, but couldn't. He had no idea what to ask or dare, so it was nice that Skeppy was going first. Ideas were welcome.

His happiness vanished when he picked 'truth', hoping it wouldn't be something too bad.

“Okay, what is something you've wanted to try in bed, but haven't had the courage to ask for?”

“What type of question is that?” Bad asked, already regretting suggesting this.

Skeppy seemed to have the time of his life as he watched Bad grab the bottle.

“It was the first question, and you're already drinking?” Skeppy grinned, even harder than before. “I'm impressed.”

“Shut up. Pick.”

Obviously, Skeppy picked dare.

“Okay, I dare you to call your parents.”

Skeppy took a swig. A big one. “You're an asshole, and I know you’ll try to rig this game by only picking truth, but I won’t pick any PG questions for you.”

“Language! That's not true!”

“Oh, really, were you about to pick dare, then?”

“Yes,” he lied, “obviously.”

“Okay then.” Skeppy put his hand over his mouth, thinking. “I dare you... hmm, we are a little limited here... okay, I dare you to whisper to me the dirtiest way you have picked or can pick someone up. Imagine we're not dating, but you wanted to jump a little forward with things. How would you do that?”

Bad thought for a second. He grabbed the bottle again, took a swig, and before Skeppy could complain about anything, he pulled him in close, and whispered the first thing that came to his mind. Somehow, it was dirty enough to leave Skeppy blushing.

“Darryl, we are at the beginning of the bottle. I don’t wanna imagine what you’ll be saying when we finish it.”

Oh, it would all end up back to calling his parents, no matter what Skeppy probably secretly hoped for. Maybe, if Skeppy got drunker, he would soften to the idea to at least leave them a message, make sure they knew that all was fine, that he was having a teenage rebellion, even if he was past those years.

After several more rounds of dirty questions and stupid dares, they almost finished the bottle. They weren’t drunk, but two tipsy idiots were still two tipsy idiots.

“Mmm 'kay, I'm starting to forget my words.” Proclaimed Skeppy. “Anyway, what did you say?"

“Truth. It better be good.”

So far, Bad had had only lewd questions coming his way, all about substances or fantasies, and he was getting pretty tired of them. Either way, he was not picking dare again, no matter how fun the fog in his brain was telling him it would be.

“Okay!” Skeppy yelled. “Here is the most important question ever! When did you figure out you were in love with me?”

That got Bad to sober a bit. He lifted his eyes up from the ugly, colorful pattern on the sheets, and was met by two glossy, sincere eyes. The previous perverted spark in them was no more. Seemed like Skeppy got tired of acting up, or the alcohol in his system was making him corny – well, cornier.

“Well, I am not sure. I think... no, wait. I had some non-friendly thoughts about you for a while, then I remember something changed, I probably caught up on what I was actually thinking, and ever since then, I haven't been able to sleep soundly, without having you somewhere on my mind. But it was, gosh, I don’t know, the end of last year? Ask me again when I’m not tired.” Bad chuckled. “How come this is the first time you’re asking me about that?”

“Oh, I…” Skeppy looked at the side. “Look, I’m a little out of it, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow, when I wake up, I want to replay something sweet in my head. Even if I tend to forget easily when I’m tipsy, I know I will remember this for a long time.”

Skeppy's eyes where soft, Bad's favorite shade of brown glowing against the bedside lights, and he had to fight with himself not to reach over and pull him either into a deep kiss or something more non motel friendly. Thinking about it now, while he was forgetting and remembering where he was, he didn't really remember any details of this whole falling in love thing.

Bad always believed in instalove, in faithed soulmates, that was why he was trying to get with so many people before. One date later however, and the spark was gone, the idealized version of the person vaporizing after one wrong word. With Skeppy however, nothing was like that. His reality had nothing in common with his fairytale – they met quickly, started working together after a fake argument, and kept on arguing ever since – and this inconsistency in his desires was the greatest shock of his life. This spark between them, no, this explosion, this everlasting fire, was nothing like his dreams. And he never wanted to imagine it being otherwise. Mindlessly, he drank again, even if he didn’t need to, and begin wondering how and why he ended up here, in this moment of life where he could call Skeppy his – in the good way, obviously! Every time he tried to give himself an explanation, he failed to do so. He was incredibly lucky, being with such an amazing person.

Looking up from the bottle, Bad was met with a mirror of his expression, a face with every emotion written up front clearly. He was beginning to understand – no, he knew it already, but he couldn’t never put in into words – how achingly beautiful his boyfriend was, how much he loved all aspects of him, even the ones driving him up the wall. It was the kind of pain that comes from loving someone so deeply that your heart doesn't quite know how to handle it, and the blood pumping through your veins, as well as the air in your lungs felt alien. A drunk part in Bad’s brain told him that even if one day Skeppy broke his heart (which was highly unlikely, but still), he wouldn’t mind. Right there, under the ugly motel lights, he didn’t care about anything. He didn’t pay attention to how many times Skeppy declined the calls coming his way, how his own anxiety was poking from somewhere within. Bad didn’t care that the only time he could be calm about his future with his partner was while intoxicated, or while ignoring every unspoken problem between.

“Is it my turn?” Asked Skeppy, a little too low, a little out of it. It was like the thoughts that Bad was having were shared, and the bashful expression on Skeppy's face was due to them.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“M'kay, then I pick truth.”

“Hmm.” Bad had to think for a while. He's only been asking tame, stupid stuff, he didn't want to push his luck, or be too in his lover's face, but the time has come. “Okay, I got it. Why don't you want to call your parents?”

He expected a grunt, a 'bro, stop', anything, but not the way Skeppy slowly slouched and lay on the bed, and the way his eyes got unbearably sad.

“I don't know.” He admitted. “I'm not even mad at them, I don't know why I still haven't texted them.”

Bad waited, but Skeppy didn’t say anything more. He put the bottle on the floor and lay on the bed, face-to-face with his partner.

“Is everything okay? You wanna talk?”

“Nothing to say, dude. I miss my family, and I am a dickhead – language – because I still haven't called them. Instead of being in my bed in my own home, now I'm in this shitty – language – motel, forcing you to sleep on this rat eaten mattress. I’m the worst.”

“No, Zak, you aren’t!” Bad grabbed his hand and interlocked their fingers together. “You’re just… angsty.”

“Angsty?”

“And a little confused, probably unreasonably angry, dealing with it in a stupid manner.”

“Wow, okay, rude.”

“But! You're not a bad person, I can guarantee you that.”

He expected any type of answer, but none came. For some reason, when Skeppy got drunk, he closed himself in, leaving Bad to wonder if he was supposed to interfere. It was probably good for him, a therapy of some sorts, and Bad knew better than to mess with his crisis solving time.

“I really want to meet your parents.” He said carefully. “I really do. If that is of any importance.”

“I will call them.” Skeppy started getting up, but gravity pulled him down. “Wait, shit, it's late. I'll text my sister.”

At that, Bad watched how Skeppy got his phone from his pocket and started reading through the messages he got sent, an expression of terror on his face. As Bad was beginning to doze off, the sound of Skeppy’s keyboard carried him into a deep, calm slumber.

~

It was either a hangover, or how thin the walls were, but Bad woke up from the loudest slam of a door he had ever heard in his life. He sat up in bed and saw Skeppy through the thin curtain, pacing nervously, talking to someone on the phone. If he strained himself hard enough, he could make up some words, such as ‘well, it changed’, ‘how was I supposed to know’, and ‘stop yelling, for fuck's sake’. Just as Bad was wondering what was happening, the conversation ended, and Skeppy stood still, grunting loudly. At this, Bad grabbed his jacket and went out of the motel room.

“Morning.” He greeted, startling his boyfriend.

“Oh, hey. Morning.” Upon seeing him, Skeppy seemed to calm down. “Did I wake you up? Man, I'm sorry. You won't believe...”

He cut himself off, not bothering to finish whatever he was supposed to say.

“Your parents?”

“Samira.” Skeppy leaned on the railing. “You won’t believe how mad she was. I haven’t been called a childish, self-centered dick with such anger before.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch. She said that my parents thought that we have crashed, and she kept them from calling the cops only because she saw me liking shit on Twitter.”

“Well, I did tell you to at least shoot them a message…”

“I was angsty, okay?” Skeppy put his face in his hands. “Point is, they’re mad. Like, very mad.”

“Zak! This is awful!”

“You think I don't know!” Skeppy yelled. He took a deep breath. “Sorry, I'm at fault. I shouldn't be yelling. I know it’s bad, I will fix it.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

“Go and see them. I think they're holding up their meeting in a day or two, but Sam said that they demand to see me. They’ll move a mountain, just so they can scold me for being stupid… Oh, that will be a nice experience for you.”

“If only you had listened to me…”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right, I should’ve listened to you. Happy?”

Bad hoped he didn’t look too smug. “Very.”

An hour or so later, after each of them took a shower and made themselves presentable, when they were in the car, travelling over to Skeppy's place, Bad could do nothing but stare out the window, lost in thoughts. Skeppy was in an awful mood, looking only at the road ahead and nowhere else. He seemed even angstier than yesterday, so much so that he didn't even have any preferences on what Bad put on the aux – he just told him not to play anything too loud. This situation was messy, but it was preventable. That's what Bad said suddenly, unaware of where this might end up.

“Are you planning on rubbing this on me until we reach my parents? Jesus Christ.”

“Just stating facts, honey, not trying to make you mad.”

At that Skeppy turned the music louder, the grip on his wheel sturdier. It wasn't white-knuckles-strong, but it was a one-more-stupid-remark-and-we'll-be-driving-a-racecar grip.

When they were passing a lake, where a family were just packing their stuff, Bad though of all of the experiences they went through just for half a month. What he took out of this whole trip (so far) was that his own family was a mess, but they were always there for him. There has never ever been an instance where he had called his mom and she had declined, or hadn’t bothered to listen, or backed off of an arrangement. Yes, she was her own type of insane, turning every mistake of his into a lesson, but at least she listened, gave him advice, ended up next to him every time. Out of everything they’ve previously talked about, Bad had never expected that Skeppy’s family would be as distant as they were. Now, he still hasn’t met them, but based on his observation, the two of them couldn’t be in a more different position in life.

When the house got into his view, his opinion got stronger. Bad’s parents weren't poor, especially with how much money his grandparents had before, but that in front of him was a pretty big house. A mansion, if you may. A two-story cream-colored building stood in front of them, with dark brown roof, and several palm trees in front. The backyard wasn't small either, with a shorter building visible over the white fence. Probably also had a pool there. Okay, Bad wasn't expecting that, and for some reason, knowing what position Skeppy’s parents where in financially, it made complete sense.

“We never lived in one place before.” Explained Skeppy as he was parking. “I mean, we did when me and Sam were still toddlers, but only for a few years. This is the first house that my parents seem happy to live in. When you see the peacocks, you’ll know what I mean.”

Bad wanted to ask what that meant, but Skeppy was already out of the car.

“Quick, how do I look?” Asked Bad, suddenly too aware of his situation.

“Fine. Except for that hickey over there.”

“Zak! Be serious!”

Skeppy kissed his forehead. “You look great. They will love you.”

Just as Bad was beginning to say something, a woman hurried out of the house, shockingly similar to Skeppy. Same dark eyes, same shade of brown skin, same face shape. The differences between Sam and her brother were in the fashion sense of the first, dressed in a plain white button up and brown pants, the length of her hair, gathered in a ponytail falling on her back, and the crease between her brows, containing anger Bad had never seen on Skeppy.

“Sam!” Skeppy extended his arms, ready for a hug.

His sister beelined out of his way and went straight to Bad. “I’m Samira.” She said, holding his hand, the anger gone. “It’s so good to finally have one sane person that Zak brings over.”

Bad laughed. “Darryl. Don’t get too excited, I don’t know if I can uphold such a high role.”

“No matter what you do, mom will love you either way. I mean, she still loves Zak, after all.”

“Heart of gold?”

“No, nerves of steel.”

“I’m still here, by the way.” Mumbled Skeppy.

Sam turned on her heels. “You know who else is still here and has been worrying sick about you? The two people who happened to have raised you.” She looked back at Bad. “Let’s go. My parents can’t wait to meet you.”

“Excuse me, your parents?” Spluttered Skeppy.

While the siblings were arguing, Bad got the two bouquets from the back of the car (which were still in a good enough shape, somehow), and handed over one of them to Sam.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty cool lady.” He said. “You still like amaryllis, right?”

“I love them.” Sam smiled warmly. “Thank you, Darryl. You’re such a gentleman.”

Sam, with one arm already hooked around Bad’s, dragged him to the house, hissing a ‘you’re a dick’ in Skeppy’s direction, obviously trying not to get Bad to hear it.

Barely into the house, a woman appeared, still trying to fix the black gemstones on her ears. She was also dressed up, with a beige sleeveless turtleneck tucked into a pair of checkered pants with a huge belt. Bad was flabbergasted by how much her children took after her, especially Sam. Only the wrinkles on her face and the short haircut prevented her from looking like a twin of her own daughter. When she noticed that her son and his boyfriend have arrived, her first instinct, of course, was to go directly to Bad, hands in front of her heart.

“Darryl!”

“Imani!”

Skeppy’s mom grabbed him into a tight embrace. With the corner of his eye, Bad noticed the surprise on Skeppy’s face.

When Imani stepped back, she was still holding onto Bad, looking him straight in the eyes.

“You’re such a handsome young man! And you look as civilized as I imagined you to be!” She leaned forward, pretending to whisper. “Maybe you can put some sense into Zak’s head.”

“Hey!” Skeppy pouted, but was ignored. “I’m right here!”

“Aww, you’re too kind!” Bad contained his laughter. “But this is a very difficult task.”

“Sweetheart, you’re smart enough to get him to do anything, only if you set your mind to it.”

“You have too much faith in me, Imani. Oh, there, I bought you flowers.” He handed over the chrysanthemums. “Also, I must say, your earrings are gorgeous, just as elegant as you are. Your whole outfit is extremely well put. I feel out of place with how well-dressed you ladies are.”

Imani pointed at Bad and turned towards Sam, as if saying ‘look at my future in-law!’. She was in the process of melting from happiness, her grin wide. Bad threw another glance at Skeppy’s direction, who was stuck somewhere between shock and irritation.

Bet you didn’t expect that.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so rude, holding you at the door.” Imani stepped back. “Please, come inside, take off your jacket. You’re not cold, are you? Sam, can you get the spare slippers? I think the thermostat might be broken… Darling, come here, the children have arrived!”

From the second floor descended a big man, also dressed too stylishly for the occasion, with a dark blue button up and black pants. He noticed Skeppy (whom he shared a strange look with), then his eyes fell on Bad, and he smiled widely.

“Dear, are you sure this one is dating our Zak? The last one…”

“Owes, don’t bring up exes now!” Imani swatted her husband, beaming even harder. “Darling, this is Darryl, he is one of those Mycraft people Zak plays with. Isn’t that sweet? I always knew that something great would come out of his passions… Oh, I bet your story is the most interesting, you’ll tell us later. Okay, I’m talking too much, I will let you breathe now.”

That crushing handshake would have seemed terrifying, if it weren’t for the kind smile on Owes’ face. The parents retreated, as well as Sam, who nodded at Bad when she passed them and went upstairs to her room. With only him and Skeppy left, Bad was too aware of how insane this probably seemed to his lover, even if he stood completely still, not saying anything.

The house was simple yet polished, most things were either dark wood or marble, and peacocks really were everywhere – pictures and feathers and whole statues, even some framed photos where Skeppy and Sam were small and were next to a white peacock. Seemed like a cozy, reasonable little insanity. Skeppy’s room was like a time capsule, even if not many years have passed since he moved out of his parents’. It did seem a lot livelier than what Bad’s room was, as it was full of all sorts of pictures and posters and stuff. Bad didn’t like owning stuff back at his parents’ house, as it seemed excessive, but the composed mess in Skeppy’s room seemed lovely.

He was probably staring too much at everything else except his boyfriend, as said boyfriend put his luggage on the bed and crossed his arms.

“Care to explain what that was?”

It was rude, but Bad smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t start with this bullshit – language – now. You seem awfully close with my mom.”

“I’m just good with people, Zak. I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Listen--”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam knocked on the crooked door, “but dad and mom still need to leave today. You can act like an asshole later, Zak.”

She was gone a second later. Skeppy still stood in the same place, still like a fire ready to break loose.

“I will explain later, when it’s just me and you.” Bad kissed his cheek. “Try not to be too mad at me until then.”

Said promise was easy to maintain, with so many people keeping Bad occupied. He was the center of attention that day, and they weren’t planning to let him off easily. At first, they sat and drank coffee quietly, letting Bad take a good look at the spacious, warm living room, and letting him adapt to the atmosphere. When the parents finished their coffees, Imani couldn’t keep it in. She wanted to know everything – what Bad’s family were like, was he an only child, where he grew up, everything. The Ahmeds where kind, too kind even, and were extremely attentive listeners. They had promised lunch, but with the huge plate of sweets and pastries on the table, it was quickly forgotten. Bad almost teared up by how tasty everything was, and hoped that he didn’t look like someone who hasn’t eaten in years. It just wasn’t every day that he’d find such a variety of desserts (which were all gluten-free!). They all seemed to be enjoying themselves anyway, and whatever was on the table was enough for them.

Well, for almost all of them.

Skeppy sat at the table, not bothering to tune in into any part of the conversation, a croissant in his hand like a sword. In an average situation, this would be normal. He was a social guy, but too many people overwhelmed him. The difference was that this was his family, not a random group that he happened to hang in. Based on the knowing looks that his dad threw his way, this wasn’t a never-before-seen event.

Either way, Bad still remained the center of attention, and he sure kept his position at heart.

“I must say that I’ve never had a Thanksgiving like this one before.”

“Don’t you celebrate with your family?” Asked Imani, as if ready to get up and materialize a turkey out of nowhere.

“I do, but my mom doesn’t even possess a quarter of the kindness that you do. You’re like the mom I dreamed about.”

Imani grabbed his hand.

“And you’re like the son I never had! Oh sweetheart, how kind God was that he sent you to my Zak.”

Bad kept up with the attention well, but it was too much for him. At one point he leaned back and let the women talk to each other, something or other about a relative. He cast a look at Skeppy and was met by an unreadable expression, something between sadness and hopelessness. Bad tried to shrug it off, but this was bothering him. Skeppy’s parents were obviously waiting for an apology, and Bad knew darn well that he wasn’t good at that.

“Okay, I will ask the burning question.” Proclaimed Sam. “I think we all want to know how you two met.”

At that, Bad looked at Skeppy, but he didn't react. Bad expected to tell this story together, not on his own. Either way, he took a deep breath.

“Well, it's not that unique. He just messaged me one day, asked me to participate in a video of his and... the rest is history. But I did think hard before agreeing. Almost didn’t, actually.”

Skeppy perked up.

“I mean, I did know Zak briefly before that, but we weren’t even friends back then. One day I woke up with a random message from him, and for some reason, I got really overwhelmed by it. It was like a sign, like I knew that I had to agree. I never expected that this simple decision would change my life this much, but I’m glad it did.”

Imani had her hands under her chin, smiling widely. She was such a romantic, taking in everything regarding her son’s love life as if it were her own experiences. It was extremely wholesome. Either way, this did seem to wake Skeppy from his lethargy, as he sat straight, and began, “You remember that I did nothing but watch Youtube when I was a teen...”

“Yes, and skipped school to play Mycrab.” Added Owes.

“It’s Mycraft, darling.” Tuned in Imani.

“I, uh, I ended up meeting B-- Darryl by chance, and everything else since then has been a chance. We started dating in Summer, but I didn’t want to tell you too soon.” He looked at the table, fully bashful. “And I’m sorry for not telling you we weren’t coming yesterday, and for scaring you as much as I did. I was… angsty.”

They all got quiet. Sam had her arms crossed, a pleased smile on her face. Owes sat still, watching his wife in the parents’ way, when they’re deciding whether there will be an execution, a sermon, or nothing. Imani had stopped smiling, now burning a hole through Skeppy. Seeing someone so calm and kind get angry was even scarier than seeing someone who was constantly mad – aka Bad’s mom – so even he sat still, waiting to see if there would be a death sentence.

Finally, Imani seemed to crack. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she seemed calm.

“Zak Ahmed, if you do something stupid like that again, at least bring Rocco here to calm me down. I should pull your ears, but I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend like that, so consider this a warning. Next time I won’t even think before sending your photos over to every police station I can find, even across Canada and Mexico if I have to.” She jumped, eyes locking in on Bad. “I just remembered! Would you be interested in seeing some baby photos that I keep for special guests? I think the occasion is perfect.”

“Mom,” Skeppy choked, but Imani was off, rushing into the next room, “mom, stop, no, please. I’m sorry, please, not the albums.”

Sam held her brother down, and Owes just stared at his son, smiling widely.

“This should teach you a lesson.” He said simply when his wife came back. “Your mom doesn’t know where the worst album is, but I do. So, think twice before scaring us like that again.”

Mortified, Skeppy nodded, and watched how his reputation was about to get shattered. In front of Bad were put five albums, and Imani moved her chair next to him, ready to explain in detail.

“Let’s start with Zak’s early years…”

Imani was a darn good narrator, explaining the backstory of every single photo that she showed. Skeppy was darn good at his role of the embarrassed son, keeping his face hidden, as if afraid that the photos would materialize in the living room if he looked at them. He stopped her to correct her a few times – no, he didn’t try to put the cake in his shirt for later, Sam did it as a way to mess with him; no, he didn’t eat leaves, he only pretended to; no, he didn’t eat the random couple’s food because he mistook them for his own parents in the restaurant, he was just a jackass. Sam disproved some of his corrections, and Owes disproved her disprovals. Two lawyers on one table meant two people showcasing the most incredible ways to argue, having to get shushed by Imani, who was too impatient to explain the next photo to listen to them.

The expected seven-ish hours were cut short somewhere in the middle of the second album, when a phone with a terrifying ringtone ran. Imani excused herself, and came back irritated, saying that they had to go to be in the company by evening. Sam had excused herself quite early, by the end of the first album, saying something about meeting up with friends of hers about an internship. So, three hours total – that’s how long the meeting lasted, which seemed like too little for Bad and too much for Skeppy. Once his family was out of the door, Skeppy lay down on the sofa, all his nerves dissolving in a loud grunt.

“Thank God they’re out now. I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle any more embarrassment.”

Bad, who still sat at the comfy armchair by the table, perked up. “Maybe you can show me the rest of the albums?”

“I ain’t doing that.” Skeppy got up and sat next to him on the armrest. “Which reminds me – care to explain how you and my mom seemed like besties?”

Bad laughed sheepishly. “Promise you won't get mad…”

“What. The fuck. Did you do?”

“Well, you know, after you told me what your mom’s company is called, I found their site and phone number and I called. Asked to be redirected to Mrs. Ahmed, told her who I was, we had a nice two-hour long chat…”

“Did you seriously meet my mom before I took you here?” Screeched Skeppy. “And you didn’t tell me shit! I was so confused when you started addressing each other like you have already met, I thought that I was forgetting something, but… And you went behind my back just like that!” He stopped. “Oh. Oh. Payback, huh. Holy shit, that’s actually clever, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, payback. I also saved you from being on wanted posters, since I sent her a message yesterday that something has gotten into you and that we’re fine.” Bad pretended to be interested in the peacock figure on the table, ignoring the dangerous look his way. “So, now we’re even?”

“Fuck we aren’t even! I didn’t talk to your mom before we went to your house! How is that even?” Skeppy tangled his fingers in his hair. “And why does it always involve my mom?”

Bad tried so hard not to laugh. He did.

“It’s not funny.” Pouted Skeppy.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay, it’s not funny. I’m sorry. I am an awful boyfriend who called your mom and got sent a few of your baby photos after that.” Bad jumped. “Oh my goodness, do you want to see yourself wearing a duckie onesie when you were five? I don’t think I saw this photo in the albums. So adorable.”

“I’m going to break up with you.”

“Aw, but honey, I haven’t even reached this one video of you fully covered in mud and running after Sam for help.”

With a hand on his heart, Skeppy gasped. “Not that one.”

“Oh, yes, that one.”

“Come on, dude. You can’t just find ways to mess with me because of my stupid decisions. What’s next, you’re gonna ask my sister for my prom photos?”

Quickly, Bad got out his phone. Before he had a chance to do anything, Skeppy took it, looked at the screen (still off), and threw the most dangerous look imaginable.

“Dude, fuck you.” Skeppy handed the phone back. “Like, seriously, fuck you.”

“Oh, you already do that, and I think you’re quite serious when you do so.”

“You know, I liked you better when we first met and you were all bashful and prudish. Now you’re too cocky all the time-- And don’t you dare make the joke that ‘you are what you eat’, I will stop talking to you if you do so.”

Bad grinned. He cupped Skeppy’s face and brought him closer.

“This was such a nice experience for me.” He said and kissed Skeppy. “Thank you for letting me into your world.”

“This is not over.” Skeppy tangled his hand in Bad’s hair. “I can’t believe you’ve called my mom just like that.”

“Holding a grudge, are you?”

Skeppy didn’t answer. He pulled back slightly, and for the first time, Bad wondered if he had done the right thing. Sure, Skeppy did him dirty first, but this did feel like petty payback, even if the result wasn’t as utterly terrifying. Bad noticed the new look in his lover’s eyes, one never before seen, one that he didn’t know how to decipher. Either way, it passed just as fast as it came, and Skeppy moved to Bad’s lap.

“Let’s just solve this like grown-ups.” He stated, mindlessly undoing Bad’s belt.

There was a lot unsaid between them, but Skeppy didn’t seem too keen on bringing it up. It was odd, with how much he loved to argue, but it made sense that, at some point, he’d stop with the pointless nagging. After all, he hated conflicts. Why would he initiate them, when he could press himself against Bad and forget about everything?

~

Something unspoken was in the air between them the next day, in the car, ready to head back home – in Skeppy’s own home. He proclaimed that staying in this house without his parents seemed off for him, and Bad understood him completely.

The one who looked more stressed was Skeppy, who was staring down at the keys in his hands, still not ready to go. Bad waited, but nothing happened, nothing was mentioned, they didn’t move an inch. His case was strange – a random gut feeling told him something was going on fifteen minutes ago, which he correlated to being jolted awake soon after going to sleep - that feeling of falling, but never knowing why you fell, or where you fell from, or if, perhaps, you could've fallen on top of fluffy clouds, if your body hadn’t woken you up. He knew a thing or two about being woken with a headstart, but not for the right reasons.

As if he wasn't already extremely lucky, being with such a kind and sweet person, when Bad’s feelings got the better of him, he found comfort in his dreams. For years, every time something bothered him, or something in his love life was off, or anything, really, he tuned out, and everything went back to normal. This was the behavior of a drug addict, taking just one more pill before he quit, promising himself that he had full control over his surroundings. After every delusional daydream, he felt better. He found all of his peace there, all of his comfort, the answers to all his problems – fictional answers, of course, as problems never had the habit of getting resolved just like that. And what if that was a toxic coping mechanism, huh? And what if this didn’t help him solve his issues? And what if he found himself missing dates or memories with his exes, as if wiped clean from his memory?

Yet, pretty often, Bad reminded himself that he was the one who had to give Skeppy a shoulder to rely on, and he snapped back to reality. He could suffer all the pain in the world, but he wouldn’t let it reach his lover. If they were serious about this relationship (and Bad wondered if he had ever been more serious in his life about anything), he couldn’t just tune out whenever he got overwhelmed.

He’s been trying not to close himself off as often as he did, but he couldn’t help it. When his gut told him to shut up, he did, no questions asked, and no questions needed. He knew well enough what the consequences of opening his mouth when he shouldn’t were.

The problem? Figuring out the whens and whys of this insane coping mechanism.

The second he decided to say anything - in fact, the second he took in a deep breath, ready to begin the first cords that would break the little bubble that they had around themselves - as it always happened, Skeppy spoke up first.

“You know, I've been doing a little bit of thinking.” He stated.

“That's a first.”

“Shut the fuck up - language. So, I've been thinking. About, you know, what happened a week ago.”

“A week ago?” Bad asked, genuinely confused. Has it been only a week since the most stressful moment in his life? “Oh, you mean with my parents?”

“Yeah... You see, I've been a little, how do I say it, beating myself up for this whole thing back then.”

Bad tuned towards Skeppy, but couldn’t see his eyes, as he was faking busying himself with his seatbelt.

“No... That's... Oh my goodness, why?”

“Let me finish, alright? So, I think I finally got it, my answer.”

“To?”

Skeppy looked at him then, a serious expression on his face. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, and his eyes were as sincere as they could be. It was the same calmly calculated look that he had back in the summer, when Bad confessed to him.

…Were they finally talking about this? Like, actually talking, not pushing it back?

“I know why you were so sheepish to let me meet your family. And it's alright, really! I mean, who would've thought that I'd bond with your parents better than you do, and that you are actually a sole loser who has trust issues so severe you doubt whether your own parents would like you anymore if they met more people, and--"

“Are you even listening to me?”

That snapped Bad back into now. Oh, he really did have daydreaming – or daymaring - problems, didn't he?

"I'm listening!” He put his hands up. “I am!"

"So, as I was saying, I got it, I got why you didn’t want me to meet your parents. If you didn’t want me to sit down and talk with your mom alone, you should’ve told me so.” Skeppy chuckled. “I realized that it was pretty weird and privacy invading after we got home. When we were at your parents’… well, I was nervous and all that. Saw an opportunity to talk to this mysterious person and took it. Sorry.”

Oh. That’s what he had figured out? Out of this whole thing, out of everything that happened, that’s what he learned? Really? Bad leaned back in his seat. A complete emptiness overtook him, like a numbness starting at his feet and travelling up, making his limbs feel like they weren’t his own.

“Anyway!” Skeppy clapped his hands together. “The real elephant is coming into the room, or whatever the fuck the saying was. I… I did the right thing, but I didn’t tell you. I told my sister that you didn’t want to come. I was the one who didn’t want to come, so I texted her while we were still at home. I was planning to like, I don’t know what, dude, I’m a mess… Then mom called and told me that they don’t really have a lot of time anyway, but they did want to meet you, so. I told her that I’ll call her back if I manage to change your mind… And I was intending to, haha, I don’t know, go on a road trip, forget this whole mess, bring you over on Christmas… And in the morning, I texted my sister that we weren’t coming, but then I remembered that you said that you wanted to come, so I got so fucking guilty, and I called her, and it all went down. They really were anxious, since they knew we were in the car when I didn’t pick up. Oh, it feels good to have that out of my chest! I didn’t want to tell you that at first, because I knew you’d feel bad about it, but I felt like a dick, going behind your back for a second time, and I…”

How come you are ready to bend over backwards for your own minorly disturbed comfort, when I had stated so many times before how little I like spending time with my family? Is this double standards? How come you never consider what my opinion would be? How are you not only failing to see what your mistake was, to apologize for it, but you’re also repeating it? Do you think this is fair? What is your actual thought process? What’s wrong with you?

Perhaps if he was a candle, or a bare wire, or anything like that, which could start up a fire, he'd make quite a mess. This thought wasn’t the only one passing through his head, no, a lot of stupid pointless arguments were (and sometimes he wondered if he wasn't actually the one addicted to arguing), but he bit his tongue back. He didn't even know why he was still so salty about the whole thing. A week has passed. His family was happy, his boyfriend too, and he, quite surprisingly, didn't hate the turn of events as much as he feared he would. So why did he dwell so much on this?

This new revelation… Was Skeppy actually aware of how stupid this was, not talking to him about it again? Going behind his back again?

“I'm still a little bit mad over the whole thing.” Bad cut him off, suppressing everything else he wanted to say. “And this now, admitting to it, won’t erase the fact that you did go behind my back again. Why didn’t you just say what you wanted?”

He felt trapped in the car - not literally, he could go out any second, since they were still far from going anywhere - but it was like his own mind prison expanded into the real world. The palms of his hands were sweaty, and he couldn't stop wiping them on his jeans. Seconds passed, but no answer was heard from Skeppy. It was like the world stopped, and when Skeppy did open his mouth, Bad felt his skin burn from pure embarrassment.

“I mean, we kinda went through this? If you are still mad, why didn't you say anything? We could've done something, like, talked better through it, not leave it the way we did.” Skeppy ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I don’t think I explained this properly. The last thing I remember, you did say that you didn’t want to rush into these meetings. I do listen to you, Darryl, and I do try to fix things. I know you need time to prepare yourself, and since I rigged meeting your parents, I thought that it would be fair if I prevented the one meeting I could. This is what you wanted, to have more time. I didn’t tell you I’ve decided to cancel because of you only ‘cuz I knew you’d feel bad, being the reason I haven’t seen my parents around the holidays. I thought I was beating myself over nothing, and it turns out I was right to feel shitty! You are still mad at me!”

“No! Don’t feel bad!”

Skeppy raised a brow. “I don’t get it – shall I feel bad, or no?”

“Well, honestly, I-- Oh, never mind. Forget it. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Just… forget this whole interaction. You are right, I wasn’t that keen on the idea of meeting your parents this soon after being with my family. I’m sorry.”

Bad felt like a child, sitting with his hands entwined in his lap, staring at his fingers, unable to say what he wanted, like his vocab lacked all the words the needed. How awkwardly he acted was embarrassing, and how small he felt was depressing. How poorly he read the room even more.

“Darryl, you've been acting really strange recently.” Began Skeppy carefully. “I mean, even more strange than usual. You've been... Cold, if that’s the right word. Cold and confusing, and even distant. At one moment you’re fine… we are fine, the next you get this absent look on your face, and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what you’re thinking. You know, if something is bothering you, you can just tell me. And don’t tell me that everything is fine, when it obviously isn’t.”

What more was there to say anyway? Wasn’t the whole thing getting stupid, a repetitive cycle of being on edge, calming down, and being on edge again? If Skeppy wanted everything to be fine, to communicate, he should’ve been the one to do it in the beginning. Even if he did try to fix it, he did so in the messiest way possible. Too little, too late to act like an adult now. Bad smiled, a little too fake, but nodded.

“Honestly, I'm still going over the whole thing with my parents.” He told the truth. “I find myself agreeing with you – your lie was necessary – and that is leaving me a little confused. I mean, it was all fine, right? So, my brain is still making peace with it. And I guess that the way you solved this now was… messy. But I do appreciate you fixing it, thank you. And thank you for being right in both occasions.” He lied.

Somehow, that was enough to bait Skeppy to calm down. The ready to fight or defend himself stance was starting to soften. It was scary, how untruthful Bad was getting, how much he avoided saying what he wanted in order to keep their peace of mind.

But this did seem to make Skeppy happy. He turned on the engine and got the car on the street, finally taking them home.

Either way, even if they did a little of talking then, they couldn’t agree on everything. This was normal, just as Gary liked to say. To be mad at each other, to argue, to disagree… those things happening didn’t matter. What mattered was the way they reacted to them, the way they solved those problems. They might disagree on certain things in their waking lives, but as long as Bad dreamed of the blissful ways it all got fixed, he believed they would, in time, overcome their differences and mature, grow up together, then grow old together – quite literally growing into his dreams.

They could do that, right?

No matter what happened this past month, Bad was happy. Sure, this whole experience was built on a lie, then on the contra-lie which was just another, smaller, white lie, but it wasn’t that bad. Still, even after heading home, Bad felt like he was being an idiot by leaving things the way they were, as if an unfolding disaster was coming his way. But he wasn’t the one who would bring it up. And Skeppy hated conflicts. Of course they’d let it go this easily.

“I knew you’d realize I was right at some point.” Murmured Skeppy, a few miles down the road.

“Yeah,” Bad closed his eyes, “right.”

He leaned back into the seat and begun to dream.