Work Text:
Surprisingly enough, it’s Pete’s father who tells him about it.
Pete’s dropping by the house after work to bring his father tangerine pie -- they’ve been both blessed and cursed by the sheer number of tangerines this year, having led to Kao making multiple pies over the course of few days and Pete is tired of them -- and so rings the doorbell. It sometimes makes him nostalgic to drop by here -- a big house meant for four people now left with only one. He doubts the pool in the backyard is used anymore, and Pete knows his room is left untouched apart from his father dusting it every week. Perhaps he should finally bring up what he’s been meaning to for a long time -- maybe his father can let this house out for rent and move closer to them. He shakes the thought off as the door opens and his father’s face appears behind it, features stretching into a smile immediately.
“Hi, son,” he says, opening the door further to let him in. “How was work?”
“It was work,” says Pete, shrugging as he sets the bag down on the kitchen counter and takes his jacket off, hanging it on the hook by the door. He rolls his neck, seemingly cracking every bone he has in it. “Sales is exhausting , Por, I don’t know how you manage to be the CEO of a company.”
Pete’s father laughs, waving a hand as he unties the knot in the bag. “This is why you’re gaining experience,” he says, opening the little Tupperware box. “Did Kao make this?”
“He did,” says Pete, a little spark of pride sneaking up in him. “We have too many tangerines left over -- I said it was time to either cut the tree down or start selling those tangerines, but he demands using all of them. We’ve got jam, pickle, pie, and I think he’s trying to find a way to make them into a curry.”
“Your husband is resourceful,” says his father, pointing a finger at him, and Pete’s insides melt like they do every time someone refers to Kao as his husband. “How’s Achara finding that?”
“She loves tangerines,” grumbles Pete, as his father fetches a fork and digs into the pie. He seems to enjoy it, but he enjoys anything that Kao cooks, even if it’s tangerine pie. “I can’t stay long, Por, I’m sorry. I’ll see you this weekend?”
His father nods, and Pete’s about to go get his jacket when he holds out a hand to stop him. “Wait, I thought we weren’t going to see each other this weekend,” he says, and a little frown dips in between Pete’s eyebrows.
“Why not?” he asks, slipping his jacket on. “Do you have plans already? Achara’s been asking to see her grandpa all week.”
“I’ve been waiting to see her all week, too,” says Pete’s dad, eyes softening for a second, before they turn questioning again. “I was watching the news yesterday before bed, though, and they said there was a pride parade near where you live. I thought you’d be going -- I was going to ask if I should take Achara in for the day, but since you didn’t say anything…”
Pete’s frown dips deeper. “A pride parade?” he asks. If Pete’s being honest with himself, he’d only recently learned what it was, when going through old articles on the Internet about their rights in Thailand. He’s seen it every once in a while when walking around Bangkok with Achara -- people with rainbow flags and wide grins and colours smeared on their cheeks shouting through microphones and reverberating their voices around the city. He’s always felt a draw to them, the desire to shed who he is for the day and paint his face into something new. He’s never been to one -- never had the bravery, really, to go alone. He supposes he could ask Kao, of course, or Mork, or Sandee, or any one of his friends, because it’s not like they would disagree. But something inside of him has always let the month pass with little celebration. He gets busy around the time of the year, anyway, and he makes himself content with watching people pass by from the window of his office, shared with everyone else in his department who take their break during that time. He shakes his thoughts off. “I didn’t know there was one this weekend.”
“Well, I can take her in for the day if you’re planning to go,” says his father offhandedly, like in his head -- of course they’re going to go to pride, and of course all their friends will join them. Of course they’ll take to the streets and yell into microphones about how the government needs to step up, and of course they’ll celebrate their shared history so far. Suddenly -- a curl of disappointment in himself sneaks into Pete’s stomach. He turns away, exhaling. He knows he likes men -- he’s known since he was just a teenager, in the way his eyes travelled, almost guiltily, over the line of his crush’s neck in high school when he tipped his head back to sip some water. He’s known ever since his heart gave out around Kao, back in university when all he knew was getting into fights and getting himself hurt to feel something. Still -- the idea of going to one scares him so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“If we go, we’ll take her with us,” says Pete, the gears turning in his head. He’s sure Kao’s heard of it, in that little news app of his. “Thanks, Por.”
“Anytime,” he says, pointing the fork at him. “And you tell your husband that this pie is wonderful.”
Pete hums, smiling. His husband . They’ve been married for years now, and still the words send his heart into a flurry every time he hears it. He’s been okay with who he is since he was young, he’d come to terms with the fact that he liked men very quickly, he knows he’s been luckier than most -- and a tiny spark of courage builds itself up in his gut.
“I will,” he says, waving. “If we go, we’ll send you pictures!”
Pete’s father gestures at the wall with the pictures he’s put up over the years. There’s one of all of them, before the accident, that tugs at his heart still whenever he walks by. The others are easier to look at, pictures of him and his father on holiday; the picture they took with him, Kao’s mother and Gift at the wedding against the backdrop of their garden and the quickly growing tangerine tree; pictures of the Cool Gang; pictures of Achara. “I’ll put them up,” he says, and Pete is filled with such a love for his father he cannot describe it.
“See you soon, por,” says Pete, waving as he slips out of the door. The air is warm. He thinks about Kao and Achara waiting for him at home, and about what his father had said. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his light jacket, more an accessory than anything, and walks to his car.
Kao squints at him over the dining table, Achara happily munching away on her rice in the middle of them. Pete pushes his chicken around on the plate and sighs. “There’s something on your mind,” says Kao, jabbing his fork in the air in his direction. Achara blinks up at her father. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”
Pete rolls his neck and shrugs, pouting. “Nothing’s on my mind,” he says, in a tone that very clearly indicates that something is on his mind. Achara nudges him, her six-year-old face wide and innocent as she looks up at him.
“What’s wrong, Pa?” she asks, a perfect replication of how Kao asked him. “My teacher says that if something’s wrong, then you should talk about it.”
“Your teacher is right, little tangerine,” says Pete, smiling down at her. He can’t bring himself to be too deep in thought when she’s around. “Look here, eat your vegetables before your por tells you to.”
“Her por is right here,” says Kao dryly, but nods at Achara. She spoons the broccoli into her mouth and pouts, making a face. Pete stifles a laugh. “We can talk about it, you know. If something’s bothering you.”
Pete lets his shoulders fall with the weight of everything he’s been carrying that day. “Nothing’s been bothering me,” he says, picking at his own broccoli. He doesn’t like it much, but he likes everything Kao cooks, no matter what. Pete knows the effort he puts into meals on his turns to cook, dragging himself home after a long day of teaching. Besides, if Pete were the only one to cook, he thinks Achara wouldn’t even know what a vegetable was. He looks back up at Kao, evening waning sunlight falling into his kind eyes, and he can’t bear to keep it inside. “Why haven’t we ever gone to pride?”
To his defense, Kao doesn’t even blink. He takes a sip of water and puts it back down, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s a good question, actually,” he says. “I guess I sort of forgot about it. It’s only been taking place for a couple of years anyway, right? We always get busy around this time of year.”
“Well, por told me it’s taking place on Saturday,” says Pete, swallowing the broccoli and the rest of his fears. “Do you think we’ll have time to go?”
“You want to go?” asks Kao, something reflecting in his mouth, and it isn’t often that Pete can’t recognise how he’s feeling. He must see something in Pete’s own expression, because his mouth breaks free of that little question and curls into a smile. “If you do, then of course we can.”
Before Pete can react, Achara breaks in, saying, “Where are you going, por ? Can I come?”
Kao tucks a free strand of hair behind her ear. No matter how tight they draw her ponytail, it always comes loose at mealtimes. “Of course you can, tii rak ,” he says, shooting a look at Pete. “We’ll make a day out of it -- ask if your Auntie San and Uncle Mork and everyone else can come.”
Achara grins and says, “I bet Uncle Mork will buy me ice cream,” she says, and Pete shakes his head fondly.
“We need to stop her from spending so much time with June,” he says. “He’s been teaching her manipulation.”
“He’s as harmless as a fly,” says Kao, waving a hand at him. “Speaking of June, let’s see if we can coerce him into coming. When did you say it was?”
“This weekend,” says Pete, excitement building up inside of him. He turns his eyes to Achara instead, who’s fiddling with her vegetables and pouting at her plate. It gives him a certain kind of comfort to watch her sometimes, to pay attention as she learns about the world around her. “Are you sure you have time?”
“You want to go,” says Kao, shrugging. It’s moments like these where Pete realises how much Kao loves him, running deep into the foundations of their home together and the life they have built for themselves. Pete watches Kao’s mouth pull into the same little expression he couldn’t read before. “I feel like we should -- it’s our community after all, isn’t it?”
Pete smiles into his rice. “It is,” he says, and all of a sudden -- his heart calms.
Of course, his friends make everything more dramatic than it needs to be.
Pete’s known them for years now. Really, it’s his own fault for thinking that his friends are in any way logical people -- he should have just texted that they were going to go to pride this weekend into the chat and left it at that. Instead, Pete finds himself feeling a little sentimental, and gets the gang to meet up at Sun and Mork’s café the next evening. He manages to wriggle himself out of a couple of meetings that could be e-mails and turns up ten minutes late, mask pulled up around his face to protect him from the fine dust and his hair swooped down by the wind. He spots Kao nestled into their regular corner of the café -- Achara’s at a friend’s house for the day — and waves to him, slipping into the seat next to him.
“Hi,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek after a cursory glance around the café. Old habits die hard, he supposes, and he’s never been able to shake that one. “How was work?”
Kao smiles at him, his eyelids slipping shut as he leans against him and yawns. “Tiring,” he says, nestling into Pete. “The kids were upset that we couldn’t have our little meeting after school today, but I promised them we’ll make up for it next week.”
Pete taps the table absentmindedly. He’d forgotten Kao has his secret meetings on this day every week. After Pete had shown up at his school and Kao had slowly grown more comfortable with being casually open about who he is, he’d put up rainbow and blue-pink-white-pink-blue flags on his desk. After a while—and Pete teases him for it every week—he’d amassed a little following of kids just like them, seeking refuge from his experiences. So Kao comes home an hour later once a week, eyes shining and more sentimental than normal, kissing Pete like it’s his last chance to, and then tells him about all the stories at work. “You sure it’s okay?” he asks, worrying his lip between his teeth. “I know how much those kids love you.”
“They’ll be fine,” says Kao, jerking his head at someone in front of them. Pete turns to find a grinning Mork, putting down a couple of coffees in front of them and resting against the chair.
“Hey, man,” he says to Pete, reaching out to grasp his hand in one of their handshakes, “haven’t seen you in a bit. What brings you here?”
“Waiting for the Cool Gang,” says Pete, patting the seat next to him. “Do you have some time to sit with us?”
Mork plops down in the seat next to him as Pete spots the rest of the gang ducking into the café, eyes brightening when they spot him. Thada knocks on the counter as he passes to wave a hello at Sun and Rain, who poke their heads out and wave back, as June swivels into the chair next to them. “My friends!” he says, taking a sip of Pete’s coffee. Pete sighs and lets him have it as Mork looks on, amused, and squeezes his arm. He supposes he’ll bring him another coffee later, because he’s Mork. “Why are we here, actually?”
Sandee pushes him aside to settle on the couch beside Kao. “You sounded excited over the phone,” she says, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, strands curling around her ears. Pete thinks Achara learned the art of a loose ponytail from her, really. “What’s happening?”
Thada, who has become the bane of Sun’s existence over the years, has lifted a brownie from the counter, sitting down next to Mork with a sense of satisfaction. “Our little Petie so lovingly gathered us for this,” he says, pressing the brownie into Pete’s hand. “You deserve a brownie.”
Kao smothers a laugh as Pete passes the brownie back to him, making a face. “I don’t want your crime brownie,” he says, and then claps his hands. These are his friends. They’ve been with him through thick and thin, through his highest and lowest, through everything. As long as he can remember -- they’ve always been there. “Pride’s this weekend. Will you come?”
He doesn’t quite know what he expects to happen -- his hands just a little sweaty and clenching into almost-fists -- but it’s certainly not June jumping up and bounding over the table to grip him by the shoulders. “I was going to ask!” he says, beaming. “I saw it on TV yesterday and didn’t know if you were going, but it looks nice. Do you think they’ll have flags?”
Thada rolls his eyes, biting into his brownie. “Of course they’ll have flags, June, come on,” he says, pointing at Pete. “How’re you going to get there? Walking? We won’t be able to find parking in a million years.”
“You need to pay for that brownie,” says Mork, and Thada looks up, betrayed. Mork clasps a kind hand on Pete’s shoulder and continues with, “We don’t have anything planned for the weekend. Are you bringing Charie?”
Sandee leans forward, interested. “She’d like it!” she says, smiling. “I’ll be there.”
Pete swallows down the bubbling love for his friends, each and every one of them, and stores it away for a day he feels sadder than others. He manages a smile at them, small but genuine, and grips Kao’s hand underneath the table, his warm fingers intertwining with his, and that’s all he needs. Before he can say anything though, Thada interjects.
“Do I really need to pay for this, Mork?” he asks, nudging him. “Aren’t I your friend?”
Mork shoots him a look. “Friends still have to pay for brownies,” he says.
“Pete doesn’t,” says Kao, pointing at the coffee that was once his. Mork hides a smile behind his hand when he says so.
“He has a certain amount of privilege,” says Mork, and the rest of the table goes down in yells about how unfair that is. Pete keeps his laugh to himself as other occupants of the café raise their eyebrows at them and Sun sighs from the counter. He’s been dealing with this every other month since university and hasn’t complained, though, so Pete chalks it down to Stockholm Syndrome and leaves it at that.
Achara bounds in front of them in her little dress, her ponytail flying behind her in a wind. Pete keeps one eye on her, knowing that her hair will shake loose in no time. He turns to Kao instead, whose eyebrows scrunch further and further together with every step he takes. Pete reaches out for his hand, shooting -- again and always -- a cursory glance around them.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing his hand.
Kao purses his lips. It’s been a long time since he’s stopped answering that question with nothing even when it wasn’t true, but for that split second, Pete thinks he’s going to do it. Instead, Kao sighs and says, “Am I stupid?”
Pete blinks. “What?” he says, frowning at him. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I mean,” starts Kao, letting go of Pete’s hand for a second to gesture, “like… we’re married. We have a daughter together. I’m fairly out at work. Why am I still nervous about going to pride?”
That’s when it hits Pete. Kao is scared .
The same expression that caressed his features at the dinner table a couple of nights ago creases his mouth now. Pete’s heart stops still for a second as his memories fling themselves back into the past. If Pete is taking his time with this, if he’s had to think over this at night when looking up at the ceiling, then Kao must have been worrying himself sick. Over the years, even when Pete was staunchly open and set about his sexuality, he still let insults slip through the cracks in his armour. After Kao came out and they’d set the record straight, and he’d started tutoring again, he’d hear whispers from every corner. He’s with Pete? Really? Isn’t he the one who went through a string of girls in first year? or Pete likes girls too, though. It’s just a matter of time he cheats on him, or they break up. I wouldn’t hold my breath. or Phubodin’s bisexual, isn’t he? Pity he chose men. He’d shrugged them off mostly, content enough with knowing that he and Kao were together, and that he’d still have him no matter what people said. Even when it clutched at his chest late at night, when he wanted to confirm that he would never leave Kao, ever, that he loved him even when Kao knew , when his hands clenched into fists around the people who dared to even think that he would leave Kao because he wasn’t enough, and that Pete would always need something from someone else — he’d still held back. He’d shrugged them off. If Pete’s been scared about going to pride, about not feeling enough… it must have been tearing at Kao.
He’s always been a little more cautious than Pete, a little more aware of their surroundings, a little more present in public. Even though he introduces Pete as his husband and Achara as their daughter with a hint of pride in his smile, it must still shake him to be this open, this proud about it all. He remembers, still, when he had told him that he felt the need to compensate for who he was, like there was something fundamentally wrong with him and not like Kao was the most wonderful person Pete has known. Like he wasn’t the one who had brought the most light into his life, the one who had gently picked him back up from his lowest, the one who had kissed his wounds better. Pete sometimes wishes Kao could see himself through his eyes.
He tightens his grip on Kao’s hand. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he says, matter-of-fact, as they get closer and the sounds get louder. Music is bumping from some speakers, sending reverberations through the ground. Pete keeps an eye on Achara as she stays closer to them. “It’s okay. We can stay on the sides. You tell me if it becomes too much, okay?”
Kao nods. Breathes out. “Okay,” he says, smiling at Pete. “It’s about time we went, isn’t it?”
Pete hums. “Don’t think it matters when or if we go,” he says. “Let’s just try and have fun with our friends. Speaking of -- “
“Uncle Mork!” shrieks Achara, and Pete looks up to see Mork and Sun waving. They hurry to them, and Pete can make out a rainbow flag painted on Sun’s face already. Kitty pops up from behind them, the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders, with Sandee at her side.
“Charie!” he says, leaning down to give her a hug. Pete looks on, fond. Mork isn’t much of a children person, but he melts around Achara. He tucks a little rainbow flag into her ponytail, which will probably end up falling out later, but looks cute now. “Are you having a good time?”
Achara nods, beaming. “It’s loud!” she yells over the noise. Pete straightens, his eye catching Thada and June from across the crowd. Once they speed towards them, June ruffles Achara’s hair gently and she gets her hugs from everyone.
Kao holds on tight to his hand, but he’s smiling. Kitty waits until everyone’s sorted, then claps her hands, smiling down at Achara and saying, “Okay, everyone ready? You ready, tulip?”
Achara grins up at her. “I’m ready, Auntie Kitty,” she says, patting her pockets. “ Por gave me hand sani-sanitiser, if you need any.”
Kitty nods solemnly. “Alright then. Let’s go together.”
Pete spends the next few hours wondering why he hasn’t gone to pride. Here, people grin at him when they see his and Kao’s intertwined hands and Achara at their side. Here, his friends yell to the music and stomp the ground with their feet to the beat of their hearts as one. Here, he listens to people shout about the injustice they face through microphones boosting their voices over Bangkok, and Pete can stand up and be angry with them. Kao’s face goes from nervous to filled with sunlight, sweat dripping from his hair but his smile blinding enough to rival the sun. Pete doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this happy -- this content. Achara manages to keep the rainbow flag in her hair, Pete gets the pink-purple-blue painted across his cheek, and Kao buys a folded up flag to put into his backpack. He watches his friends -- Mork and Sun laugh with each other as Sun darts in to kiss his forehead, Kitty and Sandee holding hands, June and Thada dancing the same way they did back in university, when they were drunk and relied on the karaoke bar for happiness -- and a love he cannot name bursts up into his heart.
“You having a good time?” he asks Kao, over the noise. Kao grins at him, his entire face curling into something softer.
“I am,” he says, and without looking around, “I love you.”
Pete ducks his head, smiling. It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been -- he’ll still blush every time Kao says he loves him. “I love you,” he says in return, and squeezes his hand -- once, twice, thrice.
He watches his friends have the time of their life, and he smiles. He watches his daughter moving from uncle to aunt, knowing that she’ll grow up loved, and he smiles. He watches his husband finally, finally allow himself to just… be, and he smiles.
Let’s go together. And together they will go -- forever.