Chapter Text
“Look, Katydid,” Jack says, leaning on Katherine’s desk, “I didn’t make the rules. I’m just sayin’ you oughtta stick to ‘em.”
“Yeah, no, Jack,” replies Katherine. “First of all, you didn’t ‘introduce me’ to bisexuality, I was bi long before I met you. Second of all, even if you did, that would not entitle you to best man-hood.”
“You know what does, though?” says Jack, grinning. “I’m your best friend, and you know it.”
Katherine laughs. “You’re on the short list! I told you that already!”
“But I should be alone on that list,” Jack says. He throws his hands wide. “Because I’m your best friend, and you love me.”
“You are not my best friend,” says Katherine, shaking her head. “You know who my best friend is? Sarah.”
“Sarah does not count,” Jack insists. “Kath! Kathy, Katydid, come on. You’re marrying Sarah, which automatically disqualifies her from being maid of honor. Which means that it should go to me!”
“I have other friends, Jack!” replies Katherine. “In fact if you must know, I’m considering Specs, too. And he isn’t pestering me.”
“I’ve known you longer than Specs.”
“Specs is a thousand times less of a pain in my ass than you, though.”
Jack lets out a cry of mock-outrage. “God, some best friend you are. Maybe I don’t even wanna be your best man anymore.”
“That is a lie and we both know it,” Katherine says with an eyeroll. “Don’t you have work to do? You know, for your job?” She waves toward his desk, across the room from hers. “At least go bother Finch or someone instead of me, I’ve got a deadline.”
Jack groans theatrically. “Fine. At least Finch appreciates me.”
“No, I don’t!” Finch, Jack’s fellow photographer, calls from his desk. “Kathy, you can keep him.”
“You’re lucky I got field shit to do today, Finchy, or I’d be in your business all day for that,” Jack calls back.
“Like you ain’t already up in my business all the time,” Finch replies.
“Well field work or Finch’s business, get the hell off my desk, Kelly,” says Katherine, shoving playfully at his lower back.
“A’right, a’right, I know where I’m not wanted,” Jack says, standing up. He winks. “Just think about it, darlin’.”
“I will, Jack. I am.” She flicks his side. “Now get going.”
--
The one thing Jack really loves about this job is getting out and actually taking pictures. He spends so much of his life back at the office, sorting through hundreds of photos and carefully editing them, that the days when he can actually go into the world with his camera feel like a breath of fresh air.
Not to mention the fact that he’s usually done early.
He’s just enjoying that fact – that he’s already finished with the project he’s out for, with no expectation of returning to the office, and it’s not even four o’clock yet – when he remembers that he promised to pick up his nephew today, and hightails it to the elementary school.
He isn’t late, thank god. He hops in the pickup line, and even before he reaches the curb he can see the tiny blond with his two bags bouncing on the balls of his feet and talking excitedly with a little girl with long brown hair. His eyes light up when he sees Jack’s car, and he darts forward, only to be caught by one of the teachers doing dismissal. She doesn’t let him approach any further until Jack’s come to a full stop and unlocked the doors. He holds up the little window tag that Race and Spot gave him that shows he’s allowed to pick Frankie up.
As soon as he can, Frankie runs to the car. The teacher helps him open the door, and Frankie tosses his backpack and duffel bag in before crawling into his booster seat. Jack unclips his own seatbelt to turn around and help his nephew get buckled safely.
“Hey, squirt!” he says, grinning.
“Hi Uncle Jack!” Frankie replies. He pulls the door shut behind him.
Jack gives him a high five before he turns around and rebuckles his own seatbelt before setting off. “How was school? Do anything super exciting?”
“We talked about families!” says Frankie. “We drew pictures too, you’re on mine! Do you wanna see it?”
“How about you show me a little later?” Jack says, laughing. “I can’t look at it while I’m driving. Gotta be safe, remember.”
“Right, gotta be safe,” Frankie echoes. Jack glances back and sees that he’s nodding solemnly. “Well my drawin’ has me and daddy and poppa and you and gram and Auntie Smalls and Uncle Charlie and Uncle Bryan, and I didn’t tell my teacher that Uncle Charlie’s not really my uncle ‘cause I don’t want her to think I was lyin’.”
Jack laughs again. “Uncle Charlie’s family, even though he’s not quite brothers with Daddy. It’s not lying. Just like Uncle Bry's your granddad even though he's not Daddy's dad.”
“I know,” says Frankie.
“You excited for dance today?” Jack asks, glancing back again. “How are you liking being in your dad’s class?”
“It’s so fun,” Frankie answers, kicking his feet a little. “’Sept I don’t call him Daddy in class ‘cause he’s teachin’. That’s weird.”
“Makes sense, though,” says Jack. “You call him Mr Tony like everybody else?”
“Yup.” Frankie pops the p. And then, in true five-year-old fashion, distracts himself by making popping noises for another two minutes.
“Havin’ fun back there, kiddo?”
“Yup!”
Jack laughs. “We’re here.”
“Yay!”
Jack gets out of the car and comes around to open Frankie’s door. The five-year-old has successfully unbuckled himself, and he grabs his dance bag and then holds his arms out for Jack to pick him up.
“Okay, kiddo, you got everything you need?” Jack says, hoisting him out of the car and onto his hip. “Shoes? Clothes? Snack from your dad that Poppa doesn’t know about?”
Frankie giggles. “Uh huh.”
“Good, let’s get’cha inside,” says Jack. He carries Frankie and his dance bag inside the studio, and they stop in the small locker room to get Frankie changed into his dance clothes.
“I got it, Uncle Jack,” says Frankie, pulling his bag out of Jack’s hands. “I’m five. I don’t need your help.”
“Alright, alright, heard,” Jack replies, putting his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be out in the hall, okay? Gotta scope out the spot for the mural. Give me a shout if you need me.”
“I won’t,” Frankie says firmly. Sure enough, he doesn’t. He meets Jack in the hall a few minutes later, his school uniform exchanged for a t-shirt tucked into some shorts, with a pair of tiny ballet shoes on his feet. “Okay, Uncle Jack. I’m ready!”
He and Jack walk upstairs to the room where his class is, and they wait together outside of it for a few minutes before it’s class time. Frankie uses the time to ramble about his school day a little more, which Jack loves, but he stops midsentence when the door opens, popping up out of his seat.
Frankie gives Jack a hug. “Bye, Uncle Jack! See you later! Thanks for driving me!”
“Bye, Frankie,” Jack replies, ruffling his nephew’s hair.
Frankie runs into the room, along with his classmates. Race sticks his head out into the hall before it’s time for class to start.
“Jack, thanks again for bringing Frankie,” Race says, waving back into the room in the vague direction of his son. “He usually comes with his friend Lee on Spot’s late day, but she had a doctor’s appointment today. Dunno what we’d do without you.”
“It wasn’t any trouble,” Jack replies. “You know I love the kid.”
“Still, thank you,” says Race. “You and Crutchie still comin’ to dinner tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” says Jack. “Have a good class.”
Race nods, waving.
--
“Honey, I’m home!” Jack calls, throwing the front door shut behind him.
Crutchie throws a dish towel at him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but you love me.”
“Despite my better judgment.”
Jack sits down on one of the barstools by the counter. “You’re like the fourth person to say that to me today.”
“S’cause you’re a pain in the ass,” says Crutchie, laughing. “How was Frankie?”
“A delight, as always,” Jack answers. He grins, leaning forward on the counter with his hand on his chin. “God, if I ever have kids I hope they’re even half as cute as Frankie.”
“You’ve got to convince somebody to stick with you if you’re gonna have kids,” Crutchie points out, waving his spoon at Jack. “Which you ain’t got a great track record on, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Jack. “I didn’t say I want a kid, I just said when I have one I hope they’re like Frankie. If I have one.”
Crutchie laughs. “How did pestering Kathy go?”
“She was not having it,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “I reckon she’s still gonna pick me, though.”
“Yeah, she probably will,” says Crutchie. He returns his attention to his pot of pasta sauce. “And you’re going to be fucking insufferable.”
“Look, Crutchie, my man,” Jack replies, “it’s not every day two of your exes marry each other. I feel like I should get to be part of that moment. They might never have found each other if it weren’t for me.”
“The chances of it happening to you are a lot higher than it happening to anybody else,” Crutchie says. “Hell, hasn’t it happened once already?”
“No,” says Jack, waving him off. “They broke up, like, three weeks before the wedding, remember? Anyway the point is this is a big deal.”
“Of course,” says Crutchie, shaking his head. “Hey, speaking of your exes, we still on with the Higgins-Conlon crew tomorrow?”
“Don’t pluralize exes when you’re talking about them, god,” Jack replies, laughing. “I can’t handle the implication that I might’ve dated Spot.”
Crutchie snorts. “I stand by the fact that if you two weren’t adopted by the same woman, you would have.”
“Crutchie,” Jack whines. “Please don’t.”
“It’s not my fault you’re like this, Jack,” says Crutchie. “Dinner?”
“Yes, we’re still on for dinner,” Jack replies. “Racer confirmed when I dropped Frankie off.”
“Amazing,” Crutchie says, smiling brightly at Jack. “It’s been way too long since I last had Spot’s cooking. Or Race’s. God, they’re both such great cooks.”
“Yeah, well don’t burn your own cooking,” says Jack, nodding toward Crutchie’s now-abandoned pot of sauce.
“Shit!” says Crutchie. He goes back to the stove, continuing to curse under his breath while Jack laughs.