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“What’s killing me,” Specs groused, narrowing his eyes at the pad of paper resting under his wrist, the pen in his hand shaking with his grip on it, “Is that he acts like he’s an idiot when my emotions are involved.”
“I don’t think it’s an act, Specs.” David replied, rolling his eyes as he shifted on the couch and set the magazine he’d been skimming aside. Lukas was busy trying to get the hole in the middle of the TV reception to shrink, and it was entertaining enough while he spoke to their brother on the phone. “He has the emotional capacity of a rock.”
“He can be very passionate when he wants to be.” Glaring at the garage, Specs stabbed the pen into the paper before starting with an aggressively heavy line that progressed into a swirl. “His stupid gadgets take all of his love and time. I might as well just be a hole in the wall he puts his dick in.”
“Well, what’s the damn problem? It sounds like you’re being the overemotional bitch, there, Steven.” The eldest triplet told him, pointing at Lukas and mouthing for him to try moving the antennae again. “You’re bitching and carrying on but I don’t even know what he did. Or didn’t do, I guess.”
“He’s not doing anything.” Specs groaned in agony, resting his forehead against the cool tabletop and closing his eyes. “I asked him to take the trash out three days ago. He grunted that he’d do it, and I had to do it this morning because I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him to come and watch the stupid Pumpkinhead marathon with me earlier, and he didn’t even show up. I sat on the couch and watched half of it by myself before finally just giving up and going to my room.”
“Did you, I don’t know, remind him to take the garbage out?”
“No--”
“What about tell him about the movie?”
“Movies.”
“Specs--”
“No. I didn’t, okay?”
David chuckled, rolling his eyes a little as he crossed one arm over his chest, holding his elbow so he could keep the phone on his ear while he appreciated the view of Lukas bent over the top of the TV.
“Okay, so. He’s a forgetful idiot that can’t remember to feed himself without hearing his stomach yelling at him. He forgot to take out the trash, probably got distracted with his bullshit. He’s not psychic, Specs. If you don’t tell him shit that you want to do with him, or even that you want to spend time with him at all, he probably has no damn idea that he is expected to just give it to you. He understands social cues like you understand football. Not at all.”
David’s words were correct, certainly, but Specs still wasn’t in the mood for being called out for his own bullshit. He called his brother to bitch, not to be told he was being a bitch.
“So, what. You expect me to go tell him what I wanted?”
“...Yes. Is that not what I just said? Jesus, Specs, I thought you were supposed to be the other smart one. Looks like it’s just me, now.”
“What the fuck, David? I’m smart!” Lukas snapped from across the room, just loud enough for Specs to hear him.
“Sure you are, we don’t just keep you around because you’re handsome,” David replied, and that seemed to get the elder man to shut up. He looked away, huffing and muttering to himself under his breath as he set about trying to fix the TV some more without breaking it. Breaking it was sounding more and more like the easier way out. He could probably just steal them a new one.
“Anyway, Specs, just talk to him. You’re good at talking, and he’s better at listening. At least to you, right? Just let him know your concerns and tell him you need him to kind of… Be present. A relationship isn’t built off of hiding shit and expecting the other party to just know. I don’t even think Lawrence knows everything going on in Adam’s head, and those two do everything together, too.” Well, almost everything. Lawrence still had his job and Adam still had his independence, which he usually spent watching TV in the lofty, neuvo-riche apartment they shared on the upper east side. And bitching. If there was one thing the Faulkners were good at, it was bitching. Matt must have passed that one, because they all shared the same trait.
“What about Logan?” Specs asked bitterly, dejected as he found his sketching had turned into Tucker and his damn stupid handsome disgusting face.
“Even Logan and I have to talk about shit. I’m not exempt from the fact that communication is important.” David scoffed, laughing mirthlessly, “You act like you’re the only guy in this family that has a hard time getting his emotions out of his head. Jesus, Specs, none of us are very good at dealing with… Pretty much anything.”
“...I guess you’re right.” The more he thought about it, he came to the realization that Matthew Faulkner was not the best role model when it came to handling emotional situations. Anger, silence, and bottling one’s emotions seemed to be a familiar, bad idea. Most therapists would say that it wasn’t exactly the way to go about life, and did a multitude of bad things to one’s own body and interpersonal relationships. So much made sense, now.
“Of course I’m right.” David smirked, his tone practically dripping smugness, “None of us are good at it. We all have to work at it. Turns out, we’re just better at it than dad and Lukas.”
“Fuck off, David.” Lukas called, narrowing his eyes and wagging his finger at his little brother, “Seriously.”
“Whatever, Lukas.” Rolling his eyes, David yelped when a bolt was tossed at him, thunking him in the head. “Fuck off!”
“Sounds like you two need some privacy.” Specs responded cheekily, and he could almost hear the way David rolled his eyes again, “Go ahead, I’ll talk to you later. Tell dad I said hi.”
“Yeah, I will. I’ll kick Lukas’ ass for you, too.”
“You mean you’ll get Adam to try and both of you will fail.”
“Probably.”
“Bye, dude.”
“Talk later, Specs.”
Pressing the end call button, Specs set his phone down carefully with a chuckle on his lips. Almost as if on cue, Tucker poked his head around the corner and cleared his throat. What did one do in a situation when you knew you were in trouble? He’d listened to most of the conversation, even if he only caught Specs’ half, and he didn’t really want to leave bad blood between them. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact that he wouldn’t get laid that night with Specs mad at him, he also wouldn’t get to hold him against his chest when they slept. That thought was shockingly more terrifying than anything else.
“Specs…?” He finally asked, producing the director’s cut box sets they had of the Paranormal Activity series. “I was uh, thinking maybe we could marathon some shit.”
In his house, had someone offered up a peace offering like that, it would have been considered disingenuous, but the look on Tucker’s face told him he hadn’t been as alone for his call as he’d thought. Smiling slightly, icy heart melting in a second’s notice, he stood from the table and nodded.
“Sure. I’ll make popcorn and you get the movie set up.”
“Fuck yes!” Tucker always was easier to deal with when he finally understood what was expected of him. Watching the elder man saunter into the living room, Specs turned to grab four bags of popcorn and nuke them all one at a time, pouring them into two large bowls. Tucker’s was given liberal dustings of Kettle Corn and Cheesy Caramel flavor powder, while Specs’ had salt and extra butter. With three Jolt! Colas tucked in his arm for himself and a couple of Monsters for Tucker, he rounded the island separating the living room and kitchen, and bent in front of the coffee table to drop off his spoils.
Tucker tugged him down by the waist, not giving him a chance to plant his ass on a cushion before he was in his lap. Pressing those thick, wet lips to his lover’s neck, he smiled against the short hairs at the nape.
“I’m sorry.” He muttered, “That’s all I can think to say.”
“Shut up and start the movie.” Specs teased softly, squeezing the other’s arms tucked around his waist, “Apology accepted. Should we watch the theatrical version or the alternate ending?”
“Alternate endings first, then if we want to watch the theatricals when we’re done, we will.”
That sounded like an obscenely long marathon, but Specs did have the comfiest chair in the house right now.
“Sounds good to me.”