Chapter Text
"Can I ask you something?" Simon asked, fiddling with his empty takeout container.
Ryland purposefully sat up straight instead of shrinking back into the couch—new and way comfier than his old one had been—as anxiety coursed through him. Nobody who asked that question before a real question was going to ask something good.
"Um," he said intelligently.
"You don't have to answer if it's too much," Simon said quickly, which was also not reassuring.
"Um," he said again.
"I'm not trying to force you to tell me things about yourself that you're not ready to talk about," Simon was saying as dread pooled in Ryland's stomach.
"Go for it," he finally said, mouth dry.
Simon seemed to mull over his question for a minute—far longer than necessary for Ryland's nerves—before asking, "Why are you worried about people recognizing you when you're out?"
Ryland controlled his wince poorly if Simon's face was any indication. He didn't take the question back, though, just waited patiently, watching Ryland curiously.
And Ryland couldn't not answer. It wouldn't be fair to Simon to not answer. After all, Simon had patiently answered every question Ryland had about growing up in Eden to his own detriment. So he had to answer this.
"My… dissertation was not well-received," he finally said.
Simon was still watching him, silent.
"I might have… said something rash to the leading expert in my field," he continued.
Simon didn't say anything.
"At a conference."
Silence.
"On stage in front of an auditorium of people."
Simon's lips were maybe twitching.
"Someone was filming."
Simon's lips were definitely twitching.
"The internet got a hold of the video and my dissertation."
And now Simon was frowning. Now Simon knew that he could look up Ryland and see just how much of a fool himself he'd made. He could find his dissertation and all the posts mocking him across every social media site in existence. He could see who Ryland really was. He could leave like all of his friends in academia had done. He could stop wasting his time on Ryland.
Ryland realized he was rubbing his arm again and stuffed his hands, balled into fists, into his hoodie pockets. He could handle this. Simon could walk out right now and he would be fine.
He always had been good at lying to himself.
"Now I'm kind of internet famous, or infamous, and getting laughed at in public is not my favorite activity," he finished in a rush.
Simon blinked at him, still silent, brow furrowed while he tried to figure out how to escape from the situation.
"My grants were canceled," he added, pushing his fists into his legs through the hoodie. "I was fired. I couldn't find a job as a janitor in a lab now if I tried."
"That seems like an overreaction," Simon said, still frowning.
Ryland—about to explain about the people he'd thought were friends treating him like radioactive waste—snapped his mouth shut. No one—not even Rocky—had come out and said point blank that it was an overreaction. He blinked back tears that had sprung to his eyes. He hadn't realized how much he needed someone to say that to him.
"Oh," he said, blinking rapidly.
"Am I missing something?" Simon asked, frowning a little.
"Rocky agrees," he said, voice rough. "I think Adrian does too. But all my other friends, or, I thought they were my friends, at least, didn't want to be associated with a quack. I haven't heard from any of them since the conference. Anyway, it doesn't matter. That's it. That's the story."
Simon had leaned forward at some point as Ryland's voice got quieter and quieter, but now he leaned back, digesting. Ryland's fists were so tight it felt like his nails were digging gouges into his palms. He waited for Simon's judgment like a man waiting for the executioner.
"You don't have to stay," he blurted, forcing his fingers to unclench and twisting them in his lap instead. "I know I'm… basically radioactive waste, so-"
Simon leaned forward and grabbed one of his hands, squeezing it hard. "Ry, I work at a coffee shop."
"Okay?" Ryland said, not sure where he was going with that.
"What do I care what a bunch of-" Simon paused before shrugging a little and continuing "-stuffy academics think about you?"
"They weren't all stuffy," Ryland said automatically, what Simon was saying not quite registering with him.
"They are now that you're gone," Simon said, tiny smile on his face.
He was still holding Ryland's hand and Ryland was frozen, afraid to move in case he noticed and let go.
"It sucks that happened," Simon said. "I'm sorry."
"I, uh, yeah," Ryland said, still stunned. "Thanks."
He'd expected Rocky and Colt not to care. He'd mostly expected Adrian not to care. Everyone else? He'd spent the greater part of his adult life on this dissertation and, even though he was right, people still treated him like he was ridiculous. A conspiracy theorist. A fringe scientist. Or like he had something that might be catching.
"Oh," he said again, quieter.
"Yeah," Simon said and squeezed his hand again before letting go.
Ryland couldn't help but miss the warmth. He flexed his fingers slowly, trying to hold onto the feeling of Simon's hand in his. When he looked up, Simon was watching him, an odd expression on his face that Ryland couldn't quite place.
"Colt's coming up this weekend," he said suddenly. "We're having a family dinner, at Rocky and Adrian's. Do you, uh. You're invited. If you want to come. Court and Claire will be there, though. So I get it if you don't want to come. I wouldn't want to if I were you. So, uh, never mind. Forget I asked."
"Ry," Simon said, half laughing and leaning forward just a little, hand twitching like he was going to reach for Ryland again, but didn't. "Yes."
"…Yes you'll forget I asked?" Ryland asked hesitantly, wanting to make sure.
Simon rolled his eyes, but he was smiling so Ryland couldn't take too much offense to it. "Yes, I'll go with you. Even though Court and Claire are going to be there."
The amount of relief that Ryland felt, the sigh of relief that escaped him, was embarrassing and he could feel his ears heating up. But he was just so fucking relieved to have that extra level of a barrier between him and his brothers, beyond Rocky and Adrian.
He could still hear Colt saying that he needed to be dealt with.
"Thanks," he said, not actually willing or able to express how much it meant to him that Simon was going to go with him.
"Don't thank me yet," Simon said dryly. "I never agreed not to get in a fist fight with Court."
Ryland groaned, falling backwards onto the couch. "Please don't. It wouldn't be a fair fight. I genuinely think he's some sort of scary secret agent spy and could kick your ass."
"What," Simon said. "You don't think I have enough arms for a fair fight?"
"What?" Ryland said, shooting up, horror filling him and sending his heart racing. "No! No, because he's a-"
Then it registered that Simon was laughing. Not a huff of breath that Ryland could generously consider a laugh, but an honest, pleased laugh at having gotten Ryland good.
"You're such a jerk," he said, taking a light swing at Simon's shoulder.
He caught his loosely curled fist without even looking in a firm grip. It was surprisingly fucking hot, especially when paired with Simon's smirk. Ryland could feel his eyes going wide and his cheeks heating. He'd never been someone who thought violence was hot, for obvious reasons, but Simon stopping him that easily?
Yeah. He learned something new about himself every day, discovered something new he had to not think about around Simon or else risk embarrassing himself and driving Simon away.
"Dinner," he squeaked, then cleared his throat and took his hand back. "Saturday. I was going to go over early, but I could not and pick you up?"
"I don't mind being early," Simon said, shrugging, "if it's okay that I'm there."
Ryland swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah, they won't mind."
"Okay then," Simon said, smiling, beautiful in the light of the lamp beside him.
Ryland didn't call it a date, but god how he wanted it to be one.
Simon really hoped it didn't look like he was trying too hard. It was one thing to go to lunch to act as a barrier between Ry and his brothers in whatever random clothes he'd thrown on that morning. It was another to go to someone's house for a family dinner. He knew he was just invited to help create a stronger buffer between Ry and his brothers, but something warm and slightly panicky filled his chest whenever he thought the words "family dinner."
So he'd put on his nicest jeans, a henley he'd gotten after realizing all of his shirts had coffee stains on them from work, and hoped he looked like he was normal about Ry. And like he wasn't ready to fight Rocky and Court and Colt at the drop of a hat. Adrian and Claire were okay, so far at least.
He'd already met everyone there. He didn't need to worry about making a good impression—yes, even on the ones he would dropkick into next week if they were mean to Ry—this much. He didn't need to worry about deserving to be at a family dinner if Ry wanted him there. It didn't matter what everyone else thought.
It kind of mattered what everyone else thought, but he was prepared to fight for his place.
He considered changing into something that looked less like he was trying too hard, but then Ry was texting him that he was downstairs in an uber and Simon was jogging out of his apartment and down the stairs. He hoped the hair he'd clipped back in a half bun didn't look too messy from the back. Fuck, maybe he should have left it down.
No. This wasn't a date. It didn't matter what kind of impression he made. Didn't matter much, at least. Plus, he'd already met all these people, so the time for first impressions was over.
"You okay?" Ry asked when he slid into the back of the car, even though Ry was the one who looked tense.
"Yup," Simon lied.
Ry studied him for a long minute as the car pulled out, long enough that Simon shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and looked away. He could still feel Ry's eyes on him, though, and their weight made him want to shrink back into the door.
"If you changed your mind you don't actually have to come," Ry finally said.
"What? No. I'm okay," Simon said, whipping around to stare at him, trying to convey how totally and completely okay he was with his whole face.
"Okay," Ry said doubtfully. "Well if you change your mind…"
"I'll let you know," Simon said instead of telling him that he wouldn't, even though that was more true.
Just because something was more true didn't mean Ry was going to believe it. Simon had started to understand that at some point and now it felt like second nature to choose something Ry would believe over something more true that he wouldn't.
"No matter what they say, please try not to get in a fight with Court or Colt, okay?" Ry asked, actually looking worried.
Simon hadn't planned on it, but he still joked, "But Rocky's fair game?"
Ry rolled his eyes. "Rocky's not going to do anything to provoke you."
"He better not," Simon said, only partially joking.
"Besides," Ry said, something of a smirk on his face. "Adrian would put both of you down before it could get too far."
"I'm starting to feel offended that you don't think I could win a fight against anyone else you know," Simon said with a smile to show he was joking.
"Oh, you could absolutely win one on one with Rocky," Ry said making something soft and pleased curl in Simon's chest. "The problem is Adrian's always there so it's never one on one."
"What," Simon said, still feeling the tiny smile on his face, "you wouldn't help me? You'd let your friends beat me up?"
Ry laughed. "If you started it, you'd deserve it!"
"Not cool, man," Simon said. He loved Ry's laugh. "Do I need to play the one arm card to get you on my side?"
Ry laughed again, looking much less tense than he had when Simon first got in the car. "I guess if you're really at that much of a disadvantage, I could be convinced."
Simon surprised himself by laughing. It felt like he laughed more around Ry than he had ever in his life.
The house was hotter than Simon had expected it to be and he kind of regretted having to wear long sleeves. Ry had immediately stripped out of his hoodie, leaving it in a pile on the couch, then he'd disappeared into the kitchen, throwing a comment about going to see what Adrian was making over his shoulder, leaving Simon to the mercies of Rocky.
They eyed each other, although Rocky's watchful gaze felt far less hostile than the one Simon was sure he was projecting. Then Rocky moved past him, going to the couch and picking up Ry's hoodie, folding it and draping it over the back of the couch. When he was done, he turned to Simon, who felt frozen in place, not sure what he was supposed to be doing.
"Rocky Grace family," Rocky said firmly. If this was Rocky trying to warn him off Ry, there was definitely going to be a fight. "Simon Grace best friends."
He stopped and waited, and Simon realized he was waiting for a response, so he nodded carefully. He supposed they were best friends now, although he didn't know if that's what Ry would say. It hopefully was.
"Rocky Simon work together, make sure Colt Court not make Grace sad," Rocky said and fell silent again.
"Oh," Simon said, blinking a little in surprise. "Okay, yeah, I can get behind that."
"Good good good," Rocky said. "Simon not hate Rocky later."
"I guess," Simon said, then stuck out his hand, asking, "Truce? For now?"
"Truce," Rocky said, shaking it.
"Ry told me not to get into any fights with his brothers," Simon said, contemplative. "Do you think it still counts if it's both of us?"
"Rocky Simon take Colt. Maybe not take Court." Rocky glanced to the kitchen, where Adrian and Ry could be heard faintly talking. "Rocky Adrian Simon…"
Simon couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of him, only vaguely noting that the kitchen had suddenly gone silent. "I think Ry wouldn't survive it if all three of us started a fight."
"Not start fight," Rocky said. "Finish."
Simon laughed again and smiled at Ry when he stuck his head out of the kitchen to eye them both suspiciously.
"What are you two plotting?" he asked. "You weren't supposed to start plotting together, just figuring out how to get along."
"Nothing!" Simon said, holding up his hands innocently.
"Not plotting," Rocky said at the same time, holding up his hands too.
Ry narrowed his eyes. "I don't think I believe either of you."
"Snitches get stitches," Rocky said, grinning at Ry.
"Yeah, Ry," Simon said with a smirk, delighted by how exasperated Ry looked. "Snitches get stitches."
Ry sighed, ran a hand through his hair, but he didn't look mad at all, soothing Simon's sudden spike in anxiety. He wanted to tease Ry; he didn't want to actually upset him.
"I'm going to regret getting you guys to get along, aren't I?" Ry said, sounding exasperated but smiling at the same time.
"Probably," he admitted, even though "getting along" was a bit of a stretch, more teaming up against people who would hurt Ry worse than Rocky would.
"Yes yes yes," Rocky said. "Grace help Adrian now."
"Yeah, yeah," Ry said, disappearing back into the kitchen with a wave.
Simon could feel himself smiling and tried to drag his expression back to something neutral. Unfortunately, something about being in this space, surrounded by Ry's friends and Ry, had him failing at his attempt.
Then the doorbell rang, making Simon just about jump out of his skin. Ry bee-lined out of the kitchen, heading straight for the couch, and slipped his hoodie back on. Simon couldn't help but feel a little bit smug that he was putting it back on around his brothers and then felt like a complete asshole for that. He should want Ry to be comfortable enough to be hoodie-less around everyone he knew. And he did!
Just, it was nice, that if there had to be an inner and outer circle, he was part of the inner one.
Rocky had gone down to answer the door and Simon could hear him say, voice neutral, "Court."
"Rocky," Court said in just as neutral a voice. It got a little warmer—not much but a little—when he added, "This is Claire."
"Court Claire early," Rocky said, disapproving.
"I wanted to talk to Ryland before Colt got here," Court said, Rocky's disapproval bouncing off of him.
"Could have called," Rocky said, but he was coming up the stairs, letting Court and Claire in.
Court stopped short at the top, as soon as he saw Simon standing there, hand shoved in his pocket, scowl set on his face.
"I thought this was a family dinner," he said evenly.
"Yes yes yes," Rocky said, going to stand next to Simon and crossing his arms. "Family dinner."
"Then what's he doing here?" Court said through his teeth.
Claire shouldered past him and smiled tightly as she said, "Hi Simon."
"Hi Claire," he said back evenly.
He'd been thinking about the situation with Claire a lot. He hadn't been overly harsh to say he couldn't work with her. Not when he knew that he'd spend all of their shared workday paranoid that she was reporting his every move back to Court in secret. But, despite the spying, she'd been a good kid. It wasn't her fault her dad was a psycho.
Besides, as long as Court was in the room, it wasn't like she'd be the one focused on his every move.
"Family at family dinner," Rocky said with a shrug, answering Court's question and making a statement at the same time.
Court thinned his lips, but didn't say anything more.
"Grace," Rocky called into the kitchen. "Grace brother here."
"Yeah, I got that, buddy," Ry called back.
When he came out of the kitchen, he was drying off his hands, and Simon could tell his stress level had gone through the roof, probably as soon as he heard Court's voice.
"Hi Claire," he said, nodding to her. "Court."
"Can we talk?" Court asked calmly, no visible effort going into it, but Simon thought he could hear it in his voice.
"Sure," Ry said, coming over to stand next to Simon, close enough that Simon could feel the heat of him. "What's up?"
"Alone," Court said, face blank and somehow going blanker when Ry shook his head.
"No secrets at family dinner," Ry said, then looked to Rocky.
"Family dinner not for secrets," Rocky agreed, looking to Simon.
"Uh," he said. "What they said?"
He'd never been to a big family dinner before, not a real one. Dinners in Eden were communal, but that wasn't the same, or at least he didn't think so. He guessed he'd find out tonight, although given everything about Court, he wasn't so sure it would be a normal big family dinner.
Court had clenched his jaw, but nodded and said, stiffly, "I wanted to apologize to you, for being so harsh about Simon. I did some more digging, and-"
"Oh my god, Court," Ry said, crossing his arms as Simon tensed. He glanced at Simon and then bumped their shoulders together lightly. "I don't want to know, okay? If you're really sorry, then leave Simon alone. Also I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
"I'm not sorry for doing background checks on all your friends," Court said. "I do the same for Colt."
"You get that's fucked up, right?" Ry asked.
"I tried to tell him that," Claire muttered and Simon shot her a grateful look that she smiled back at.
"Court should leave Grace friends history alone," Adrian called from the kitchen, where it sounded like they were furiously stirring something.
"I didn't come here to get ganged up on for caring about my brothers," Court said sourly.
"Sure, playing dead for a decade really shows how much you care about us," Ry said and Simon gently bumped shoulders with him.
"That was for your safety," Court said. "Everything I have ever done has been to make sure you and Colt were safe and happy."
"Uh huh," Ry said, clearly not believing him. "If that's all, I'm going back to help Adrian."
Simon was torn between following him and making sure he was okay and staying where he was to provide a buffer between him and Court. His decision was made when Rocky spoke up.
"Court bad at being Grace brother."
"Excuse me?" Court said, turning slowly toward Rocky.
Simon took a step closer to Rocky, just in case.
Rocky, either oblivious to the danger or not caring, continued. "Maybe little Grace need brother like Court. Adult Grace needs different. Not need protecting from bad people. Need protecting from bad brain."
Court was still in that particular way that meant there was controlled violence behind the calm. The Father had been still like that a lot, and Simon had gotten very, very good at being able to tell the difference between when it was time to make himself a smaller target and just take it versus when it was time to slink away and hope the Father neither noticed Simon leaving nor remembered his anger later.
Simon could feel his heart starting to beat fast in his chest, thumping hard enough he was going dizzy with it. He could not do this here. He curled his hand into a fist, hoping the pinpricks of pain from his fingernails would snap him out of it.
Movement drew his attention out of the corner of his eye. It was Claire, shifting on her feet by the couch and looking incredibly uncomfortable. He automatically angled his body a little so she was more behind him, so he was more between her and Court. Did he think she was in danger? No. Did he think Court would hurt her? Also probably no. But his brain didn't care in the moment.
And, of course, Court caught the movement, because fuck his life. He looked between Simon and Claire, an expression of disbelief overtaking his face.
"Are you serious right now?" he asked Simon.
Simon could only shrug. "Serious" wasn't the word he'd use, but sure, it worked.
"Habit," was all he said, and something stricken passed over Court's face, too strong for him to hide, too quick for Simon to be sure that he hadn't just imagined it.
"Claire," Court said, tic in his jaw. "Go see if Ry and Adrian need help."
"I don't think the three of you can be trusted alone in here," she said doubtfully.
"Remember when I said your hypothetical situation didn't sound like your problem?" Simon murmured.
"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "Fine."
The three of them watched her go, quiet until she was in the kitchen and they could hear her hesitantly asking about helping. Then Court turned slowly to Simon, pivoting his entire body. Simon clenched his fist harder, shifted his weight a little so he was ready to counter a blow. Court seemed to catalogue each small movement, eyes flicking over his body, assessing. It made Simon's skin crawl.
"I'm not going to fight you," Court said in a low voice.
His volume didn't matter because Ry poked his head out of the kitchen after a second with a scowl and flour on his cheek. He was unfairly adorable like that.
"Nobody is fighting anybody here," he said.
"Not fight inside," Rocky agreed. "Fight happen outside. Rocky Simon win."
"No you would not," Court said evenly at the same time as Ry said, "It doesn't matter because you are not fighting each other."
Simon forced the tension out of his body, relaxing muscle by muscle, slowly uncurling his fingers from a fist and stretching his hand out. It didn't take long; it was something he'd gotten good at over the years, but when he finished both Rocky and Court were looking at him, considering.
"What?" he asked.
When he glanced over, Ry was looking at him too, smiling, so he'd made the right choice in letting go even if he was unprepared for Court now. The anxiety didn't leave, not entirely, but something in Ry's eyes had warmth filling his chest and pushing the anxiety to the edges.
"Just because Ry asked?" Court said, voice low.
"I told you not to call me that," Ry snapped and the warmth in Simon's chest grew stronger.
"Simon smart," Rocky said which was a complete lie. "Not want Grace mad. Court, not so smart."
Court shot him a look Simon only barely caught out of the corner of his eyes, because he was still focused on Ry, who had crossed his arms and was leaning in the kitchen doorway now, watching them. He spared a quick smile for Simon, but his focus was on Court and it quickly faded to a frown.
"Right, sorry," Court said, finally looking away from Ry, glancing to Rocky, and then Simon, and then the floor.
Ry sighed and came to stand next to Simon, flour still on his cheek. Simon wanted to cup his face and wipe it off with his thumb and-
"Apparently Claire is a better helper than I am, so I've been kicked out of the kitchen," Ry said. "What if we play a game while we wait?"
"Grace only have half an hour," Adrian called from the kitchen.
"We probably have time for a couple rounds of Codenames," he said, glancing at Simon like he wanted his approval on the choice, like Simon knew any real games. "I'm sure Court would be good at that."
"Rocky dibs on Court's team," Rocky immediately said and Ry laughed.
"I'll allow it," he said, turning to Simon again. "You okay with being on my team?"
"I don't know how to play," he said hesitantly.
It wasn't like there was a lot of time for games in Eden. There wasn't much downtime at all. Hell, he wasn't sure he even remembered how to play Monopoly.
"That's okay," Ry said, shrugging. "Neither does Court."
"You've got flour on your face," Simon blurted, pointing to his cheek.
"Oh, shit, thanks," Ry said, rubbing at his cheek and completely missing the flour. "Did I get it?"
Simon stifled a laugh and reached out slowly, giving Ry time to move away. "No, let me."
Ry's cheek was warm against his hand from being in the heat of the kitchen. He swiped his thumb along the flour once, then again, then dropped his hand.
"I think I just made it worse," he admitted.
Ry laughed and he had to look away from him or do something foolish. Best friends. They were best friends and that was it. There was no kissing best friends on the mouth to see what their laughter tasted like. He accidentally met Court's eyes, who was watching him with a calculated, knowing look, and flushed.
Ry swiped at his cheek again, getting most of it this time. "Oh well. I'm sure you all have seen me covered in worse."
Rocky grimaced, Court nodded, and Simon just shrugged. While Simon had been perving over his best friend, Rocky had taken a game box off the bookcase and had started setting it up on the low table in the middle of the room.
"Sit sit sit," Rocky ordered. "Rocky Court red. Simon Grace blue. Prepare for losing."
Simon folded himself down as Rocky arranged a bunch of cards on the table. Ry was so close they were almost touching. Court had a look on his face like he thought it was dumb, but went along with it anyway. Simon still kind of wanted to punch it off of him.
"Rocky Grace spymasters," Rocky said, then proceeded to explain the game while Simon's stomach sank further and further.
He'd never been good with words—that was Ry's job—and this was a word game. They were going to lose horribly. Ry was going to get frustrated with him for not getting his clues. Simon knew Ry was a competitive little shit and him losing was going to ruin everyone's mood. He decided right then and there that he hated team games and didn't want to play one again.