Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

55 MPH

Glenn pressed on the brake. Fucking construction. He enjoyed driving, he had to if he was going to continue touring all his life, but one of the worst parts of driving across the country was periodically hitting areas of construction and having to turn off the cruise control.

Since the GC3 split before Faerun, Glenn was a solo artist now. He missed being in a band, it was more his vibe, but for now he was flying solo. He and Nick had decided they’d start a father & son duo, but Nick wanted to graduate from high school before he began touring around the country, and Glenn agreed to those terms. Boundary-setting, right? That’s what they were supposed to be doing now.

Glenn glanced at the clock. 12:00AM. Right on time, the ringing of an incoming call interrupted the sweet sounds of Mannheim Steamroller blasting in the van’s speakers. Glenn answered immediately.

“Hey man, wassup!”

“Hey Dad,” Nick’s voice piped from the end of the line, “How was the show tonight?”

“Good, good. I mean, the audience energy could’ve been better, but it’s still November. Things’ll pick up by the time December rolls around.”

“Does the new tracklist work?”

“Oh hell yeah, dude, putting Auld Lang Syne toward the end was a great idea. I had one dude in fuckin’ tears, Nick!”

Nick’s delightful laugh filled the car. “Niiiice. See, I knew it’d be better at the end. You wanna finish strong.”

“You’re in charge of the tracklist once we go on the road together, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Sweet. How was the game today?”

“Oh it was fuckin’ tight, man! Grant’s really pulling his weight recently, he scored two goals! And you shoulda seen me, I was weaving in between the other team like nobody’s business, I was zig-zagging all over the field. I scored the first goal of the game, Dad!”

Glenn smiled, even as something in his chest clenched up. “Aw hell yeah, that’s fuckin’ right you scored the first goal!”

Nick’s excitement wafted through the speakers with ease. “Yeah, ha, Terry and Grant tried to lift me up on their shoulders after the game, well, because I told them to, but I guess the T is actually working because I’m gaining some muscle mass, and they couldn’t lift me, but Darryl and Henry ran out onto the field and did it instead.”

After a second, Glenn remembered to laugh. “Ah, fun. Bet Darryl was carrying most of your weight.”

“Actually, yeah, you know, now that I think about it, Henry may have just been there as back support.”

Glenn genuinely laughed at that, though the clenching feeling in his chest didn’t go away.

Glenn passed the car in front of him.

“Wish you were there to see it, Dad,” Nick said, his voice softer after the brief moment of silence.

“Yeah. Me too, man,” Glenn responded. Then, in a chipper voice, said: “But honestly, I think I prefer the verbal play-by-play from you after the fact. That way I just get to hear all your highlights and don’t have to put up with all the other little fuckers stealing the attention during the game.”

Nick laughed again, and Glenn relaxed a little bit. “You have a front-row seat to my new podcast, The Doodler Recap,” Nick jabbed.

“Do I get bonus content for being the only listener?”

“Hell no, you gotta subscribe to my Patreon for that shit.”

“Damn. My own son, tearing our relationship apart one paywall at a time.”

“You’ll get bonus content when you stop making me spend Christmases alone, dumbass.”

Glenn opened his mouth, and immediately shut it again. He wanted desperately to spill the beans that he was, in fact, planning to come home for Christmas this year. But he intended to surprise Nick on Christmas Day, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nah, man. Nick, it’s cool.”

Silence. The clenching in his chest returned, and Glenn almost said fuck it and told Nick they were going to spend Christmas together for the first time since Morgan… but before he could say anything, Glenn heard Nick clear his throat.

“I hate to cut this short, but I have a test tomorrow, and I don’t want to have to stay up too late studying. Henry told me it isn’t good to cram all night for a test, that it’s better to get a proper night’s sleep. So. I should probably…”

“Yeah,” Glenn replied, putting on his ‘everything’s cool’ voice, “That’s a good plan. Break a leg, remember tests are bullshit and are—”

“—fucked up ways to measure intelligence through the school system in order to groom today’s youth to be slaves to society, yeah, I know, Dad.”

Glenn nodded his head in approval, even though Nick couldn’t see it. “And don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”

“Alright, Dad. Goodnight. Text me when you get to Dallas.”

“‘Course, Nick. Night. I lo—”

The call beeped to an end. Mannheim Steamroller started back up from where it left off, almost jolting Glenn off the road with its intensity. He turned the music off.

65 MPH

That was more like it. Glenn stepped on the gas and clicked the cruise control back on, landing on a satisfying 73 miles per hour. 8 miles per hour over the speed limit was the perfect sweet spot on the road to Texas—it let Glenn pass most cars, but wasn’t so fast that the cops would stop him. He’d run many tests over the years and learned the most miles per hour he could get away with for every state to maximize his time. Lucky for him, speed limits increased once he got down to Texas. Glenn loved to fly through the state with little regard for the little scenery around him.

Glenn drove in silence. The road was empty, and the closest city—if you could call an off-the-highway town in Oklahoma a city—was ten miles off the main road. Stars adorned the midnight sky, far more stars than one could see in San Dimas, California. Back when Glenn was in a band, he liked letting the other members drive at night so he could stare out at the stars. Not to think. In fact, more to empty his head. Glenn tried to look up now, but the startling vibrations of his wheels treading over the rumble strip snapped his eyes back to the road. Damn.

Glenn drove like that for about a minute before the silence became deafening. He turned Mannheim Steamroller back on, but something about the intensity of it only made his skin crawl. He switched to his 80s playlist, but that wasn’t doing it for him either.

Glenn scrolled to the bottom of his list of playlists. At the very bottom was his playlist entitled “free man.” Glenn’s thumb hovered over the shuffle button.

Maybe no music was better. Glenn drove on in silence for another minute. He shifted in his seat. Cracked open the window. Rolled up the window.

Flashing red and blue lights up ahead to the left caught Glenn’s attention. A highway patrol car. Instinctively, Glenn slammed on the brakes, causing the car that had snuck up behind him to honk.

The cop had stopped someone going the opposite direction. As Glenn sped by them, the cop illuminated in the headlights of his patrol car, Glenn thought he recognized the man, the dark hair, the sharp lines of his body, the way he walked—

Within seconds, the flashing lights were far behind him. Glenn took in a shaky breath. There was no way the cop would come after him, but Glenn still felt rattled. He couldn’t get the image of his son in a polo shirt out of his head.

Glenn bumped the cruise control down to 68 miles per hour.

Cursing under his breath, Glenn hit the call button on the dashboard. “Call Henry Oak,” he said, his own voice sounding too loud in the lonely van.

“Calling Henry Oak,” responded the voice from his car, followed by the dial tone.

The phone rang two times before the voice of Henry Oak sang through the speakers: “Glenn! Howdy!”

“Heya Henry,” Glenn responded, his heart still thumping in his ears from the cop incident. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, finally got the boys to go to bed. Well, maybe not to bed, but at least to their room. What’re you up to? Are you driving?”

“Yeah. Finished the show two hours ago.”

“How did that go?”

“Eh,” Glenn mused. He didn’t really feel like talking about himself. “It was alright. I heard the game went well today.”

“It did! You talked to Nick?”

“Mm, I did.”

“Did he tell you he scored the first goal of the game?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Glenn, he was awesome sauce—”

Glenn cringed at Henry’s choice of words.

“—Nick’s getting really good at weaving around the other kids. And he’s getting taller, so, you know… other teams’ players tend to try to avoid him in order to not get trampled.”

“Never thought my kid would be the tall one on the team.”

“Ha, yeah, he’s catching up to Terry Jr. Anyway, you said your show just went alright? Tell me more about it!”

“It’s the same every night, Henry,” Glenn said dismissively, “Nothing new. I’ll let you know when people actually get in the holiday spirit.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You’re too good.”

Glenn couldn’t hear his own heart beating anymore, which was nice. He felt a bit calmer. “You don’t know anything about guitar, Henry.”

“Ah, but I know music. Raps album, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’d never let me.”

Henry laughed. “Aw geez, you’re probably right. I’m proud of it, what can I say?”

Glenn smiled. “I miss you, Henry.”

Henry went quiet. Shit. Should he have said that? They didn’t really talk about their feelings. Or, rather, Glenn didn’t.

“I miss you, too, Glenn.”

Glenn let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Hold on,” Henry continued, “What time is it there?”

“Just past midnight.”

“Midnight! Glenn, you should get some sleep. Are you stopping soon?”

“Well, I still have just under three hours till I get to Dallas.”

The panic was prevalent in Henry’s voice now. “Three hours?! Glenn, you’d better not fall asleep at the wheel!”

“I won’t, Henry, I’m used to driving all night long when I’m on tour.”

“I saw you in Faerun. You don’t function well off just a few hours of sleep. You’re not the young man you used to be anymore, Glenn.”

Glenn’s jaw tightened. Not a moment later, Henry realized his mistake.

“Shoot, Glenn,” he spluttered, “I didn’t mean since— You’re just not as young as you were when you first started touring— Not because of— I mean, just because you spent years in prison doesn’t mean—”

“Henry, if you don’t shut up, I’ll drive myself off this bridge,” Glenn stated matter-of-factly.

“Right. Sorry.”

Glenn drove on without saying anything, dimly aware of a dull aching on the side of his face where the scar tissue was.

He tried not to think about supermax much. At the time, it was easy to focus on getting out, to let time pass him by, since he couldn’t really keep track of the time passing him by anyway. But when he got out and realized he had gone from being the youngest of the dads to being the oldest, the reality of the situation slapped him in the face. Henry, Ron, Darryl… none of them had changed one bit. But Glenn had lost an eye. He had grey hairs. His favorite leather jacket didn’t fit over his left arm anymore.

And Nick…

“Glenn?” Henry’s voice snapped Glenn back to reality. He didn’t really remember the last fifteen seconds of driving. Yikes.

“Hm?”

“Oh good,” Henry breathed, “For a second there I was afraid you’d actually driven yourself off that bridge.”

“Nah, I’m here,” Glenn said. Sometimes it was annoying how much Henry worried about him. Sometimes it was… nice. He found himself missing Faerun, when Henry wasn’t distracted by Mercedes, his job… when it was just them and the other dads, on a quest together to rescue their sons and return home.

When Henry would stay up all night with him, taking the occasional hit off his joint.

When Henry would doze off on Glenn’s shoulder in the back of the minivan.

When Henry would make eye contact with him in the middle of combat, fire in his gaze, and nod resolutely—putting all his trust in Glenn’s next move.

“You’re still planning to be home for Christmas, right?” Henry asked.

“Yeah,” Glenn responded, his voice a bit thicker with emotion. “I planned the whole tour so I could be home for Christmas.”

“When will you get back? I can help with the surprise-planning for Nick!”

“Well, the last concert is the 23rd in Seattle, so—”

“Wait. December 23rd?”

“Yeah?”

“Glenn! How the heck do you expect to get home on time for Christmas?! Seattle is what, a day’s drive from here?”

“Eighteen hours.”

“Eighteen hours?!”

“Relax, Henry,” Glenn chuckled, “I can do it. I like driving.”

“Yeah, but eighteen hours straight all by yourself? And are you going to start driving right after the Seattle show like you did tonight?!”

“No, I’m not a complete idiot,” Glenn said, defensively, “I’ll get some sleep after the show. Then I’ll stock up on Monster drinks and snacks and start driving the morning of the 24th. I’ll be home by Christmas morning, easy.”

“That is not easy, Glenn. And you’ll be exhausted, if you make it home without falling asleep at the wheel first. You won’t be able to enjoy Christmas with Nick.”

“Henry, I don’t know what you want me to do here. The venues are all booked. I can’t back out or change my schedule now.”

“You couldn’t end the tour any closer to San Dimas?”

“Sometimes things don’t work out that way. Listen, I had to do a lot of finessing to make sure I’d still be touring long enough to earn a significant paycheck by the end of it and be able to spend Christmas with my son. I know what I’m doing, okay? You’ve gotta fucking trust me, man. I’m not missing Christmas.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Alright. I trust you, Glenn. What can I do to help?”

“Nick’s expecting to spend this Christmas with your family again. Just have him sleep over there Christmas Eve, and I can come by Christmas morning.”

“Okay, we can do that. You’ll be coming back to our house for Christmas dinner, right?”

“What? I’m getting there in the morning, Henry. Keep up.”

“No, yeah, I just mean… You’ll be wanting to spend Christmas morning just you and Nick, right? At your place?”

Glenn didn’t know how to respond to that. Did Henry not want him over for Christmas morning? His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

“Sure, we can do that. I didn’t mean to intrude on the Oak-Garcia family traditions.”

“Huh? Oh, no, Glenn! That’s not what I meant! I just thought you’d want to spend Christmas morning with your son, one on one. I thought you Close boys would have your own traditions.”

“I haven’t been home for Christmas in eight years. Nick and I don’t really have any traditions beyond talking on the phone for a couple hours Christmas day.”

Glenn could feel Henry’s pity from 1,400 miles away. It made his skin crawl.

“Then you can both spend Christmas morning with the Oak-Garcias,” Henry said definitively, and Glenn was grateful he didn’t dwell on pity for too long. “We loved having Nick last year, and we’d love to have both of you this year.”

“Thanks, Henry,” Glenn said awkwardly. He was trying to express gratitude for others more often these days.

“No need to thank me, Glenn. I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”

Warmth spread across Glenn’s chest.

“I don’t want to leave you driving alone, but I really need to head to bed if I’m going to be able to get up for my morning yoga before work.”

“Hey, no problem.”

“Promise me you’ll pull over if you start falling asleep?”

Glenn chuckled. “Yeah, Henry. I promise. Though I had an energy shot before leaving Tulsa, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Glenn,” Henry almost whined, “Those things are so bad for you!”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“I’m disappointed.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Oh, neither am I. That cut straight through my heart. I’ll never be the same.”

Henry breathed out a chuckle. Glenn found that he missed the sound more than he realized.

“Text me when you arrive in Dallas, okay?”

“Both you and Nick asked me to do that. Do you really think I’m going to pass out on less than a five hour drive?”

“This may be hard for you to believe, Glenn, but maybe Nick and I asked you to text us because we both care about you and want to wake up to a reassuring message that you’re safe.”

The warmth in Glenn’s chest grew.

“Okay, fine,” he said, somewhat flustered, “I’ll text you.”

“Good,” Henry said, “Get some sleep once you arrive.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I miss you, Glenn.”

Glenn paused.

“I miss you, too, Henry.”

Henry paused.

“Okie dokie. Goodnight, Glenn.”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

Henry stayed on the line. Glenn glanced from the road to the dashboard screen. And back to the road. And back to the screen. And back to the road. And back to the screen. Why wasn’t Henry hanging up?

“Glenn?”

Glenn didn’t know why he felt nervous all of a sudden. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Another pause. Since when was Henry at a loss for words?

“I’m really looking forward to Christmas,” Henry said softly.

Something in his voice told Glenn there was something deeper behind those words, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“Me, too. You know me, fuckin’ love Christmas.”

Henry’s laugh enveloped Glenn’s chest.

“Yeah, I know you do.”

“You gonna hang up now?”

“If you’re sick of me, you could hang up, too, you know.”

“Yeah. I know I could.”

Silence. The air felt thick with words left unsaid.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Henry.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you after the show.”

“Okay. I like that plan.” Glenn could hear the smile in Henry’s voice.

“Now go to sleep so you aren’t cranky when I talk to you.”

Henry laughed again, and Glenn tried to memorize the sound.

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, Glenn.”

“Night, Henry.”

The call ended. Glenn breathed in and out, once, slowly. Then he smiled.

75 MPH

Finally. Texas.

Glenn pressed on the accelerator.

Chapter Text

Fuck. Shit. Goddammit. Fucking shit fuck godfuckingshittingfuckinghell.

Breathe in for… fuck, how long was it? Four seconds? Six? Ten? Hell, Glenn couldn’t remember.

He shoved a hand in his pocket and fished out his phone. With shaky fingers, Glenn called the man who had taught him the breathing exercises in the first place.

“Glenn! H—”

Before Henry could get another word out, Glenn was word-vomiting into his phone’s microphone. “How long do you breathe in? And hold it? Wasn’t it like four seconds to hold your breath and then how many do you count to breathe out I can’t remember Henry, fuck, fucking hell, I can’t breathe, motherfucker, shit—”

“Glenn? Woah, Glenn, okay, I’ll count for you, okay? Breathe in now, one… two… three…”

Glenn breathed in, but his lungs filled up before Henry got to ‘three’. He held his breath for as long as he could, and then he let it out faster than he should have. Henry could definitely hear that Glenn wasn’t following his count, but that didn’t matter. He kept counting. And counting. And after a minute—two minutes? Ten?—of Henry counting and Glenn breathing, he finally felt like the fifty pound weight was off his chest. He finally synced up the timing of his breaths to Henry’s counts. His lungs expanded to full capacity, he was getting enough oxygen to think properly again. Fuck. He thought he might pass out for a minute there.

Henry was still counting, so Glenn stopped him. “Henry, I— Thanks. I’m good now.”

Glenn heard Henry let out a long, vocalized sigh from his end. “Jeepers, Glenn. Did something happen? It’s one in the morning.”

“I, uh… I was driving.”

“Oh no!”

“What?”

“Did—did you crash your car?! Are you okay? Are you hurt?! Do you need me to call an ambulance?! Or—or come get you? Where are you? What—”

“Henry, man, I’m alright! I didn’t crash. I just…” One. Two. Three. Four. Don’t think about it anymore. She’s not here. Nick is fine. You’re alone. Usually, reminding himself that he was alone only made Glenn depressed, but this time… this time it helped to remind himself that he hadn’t put anyone else in danger.

“I’m fine. I pulled over.”

“Oh my god, Glenn!”

“Sorry…”

“No, no, you don’t need to—you don’t need to apologize, I just—I freaked out for a moment there, I’m sorry, it’s so late—or, er, early?—I sorta don’t really have my bearings—”

Glenn heard a groggy voice from further away from the phone.

“Hmm, Henry’re you onna phone? What time’s it?”

“Aw geez, I’m sorry I woke you, mi esposa. It’s Glenn, he—he called me.”

“Hm? Glenn’s here? Mm, hello Glenn.”

Glenn chuckled. Something about the sound of that sleepy voice brought him comfort. “Tell Mercedes I say hi.”

“He says hello, mi amor.”

“’S sweet of him.”

Glenn listened in silence as Henry cooed Mercedes back to sleep. From the end of the line, bedsheets rustled and a door quietly opened and shut. Then Henry’s voice whispered into the phone:

“Sorry Glenn, I’m here, I’m sorry. What’s going on?”

Anxiety simmered up in Glenn’s stomach again. “Ah… it’s nothing. Just a little— It’s nothing. You should go back to sleep, sorry I fuckin’ woke you, man.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Glenn. I’m glad you called me if you need me. Do you—do you want to talk about what happened?” Henry’s voice increased in volume, and the specific sound of his bare feet tapping on tile told Glenn that Henry had migrated to his kitchen.

Glenn dropped his head back on the headrest. The van shook as another car whizzed right past him. His breaths were back under control, and his heart wasn’t beating so fast, but he didn’t want to risk spiraling again.

“Uh… no? Not really.”

There was loud silence for a beat, and Glenn hoped to the nonexistent god that nosey Henry would just let it go.

“Okay. Sure. We’ll… we should talk about this later, or at some point, but if you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s O-A-K. What—what do you want to talk about?”

Nick. “How—how is winter break treating your boys?”

Henry chuckled softly. “Oh, they’ve recently started binging Phineas and Ferb again. I think there’s been some sort of resurgence at their school? They’ve decided it is a very cool show, and have also decided to take inspiration from the brothers in the show, uh, inventing something new every day? It’s been… interesting, to say the least.”

Is Nick helping them with their projects? “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Yesterday they tried to invent a vegan beef stew from scratch without doing any research or buying imitation meat, and that was one of the tamest ideas on their list.”

The ghost of the smell of Morgan’s homemade beef stew filled Glenn’s nostrils. “What are the wilder ideas?”

“Well, building a roller coaster in our backyard is one, but I think their TV show made it seem easier than it is.”

“Maybe Darryl could help them. I’m sure he’d love that opportunity to teach kids how to work with wood.”

Henry hummed in appreciation. “Oh, you know, that might actually work! I’ll ask Darryl at soccer practice tomorrow about it.”

How many soccer practices had Glenn missed now? Eight? Over the years, fifty? Sixty?

Don’t think about that. You had to work. You’re going home for Christmas in two days, you’ll make it up to Nick.

“Glenn? You still there?”

Ah, shit. Not again.

“I’m here.”

Henry paused. Then his voice returned, tentative and calculated in the way that usually pissed Glenn off to no end. “You know, if you’re having those dissociative episodes again, maybe it would be safer to stop driving for the—”

“You know what, I shouldn’t have called. Thanks for the… the counting, or whatever, I gotta go—”

“No, Glenn—”

“No, Henry! I don’t have fucking diss… diss-oh-si… fucking, whatever the fuck you call them. I don’t have them. I’m fine, man!”

“It’s okay if you’re not fine, you’ve been through so much!”

“It doesn’t matter!” A ringing filled Glenn’s ears. “Who gives a shit what I’ve been through? I put Nick through absolute hell and back, man! I was such a shitty dad, I gave my kid up, I gave him a new fucking dad, I made him lose his mom for the second time, how the fuck is he supposed to forgive me for that? Why should he forgive me for the shit I put him through, in the Forgotten Realms and in general?! I left that kid alone for two months at a time by the time he was ten years old! I taught him that couch-surfing was cool when he was fucking seven just so he’d think it was cool that he was staying with friends while I was on tour! Kid doesn’t wanna fucking learn how to drive because one time I turned on the same street corner Morgan died on and started freaking out and braked super fucking hard and Nick had to calm me down and he got bruises across his chest and neck from the impact of the seatbelt—” He was rambling. What was he talking about? He needed to get back on topic before he strayed fully into Morgan territory. “Nick… Nick got a second childhood, a second set of memories, and how he doesn’t know who the fuck he is and it’s all my fault.”

Glenn was shaking. Maybe because he always tended to shake when he got worked up and didn’t have anywhere to put his energy. Maybe because the car had been off and he was in the state of Washington at the end of December.

“Glenn, it’s not all your fault.”

“Shut up, Henry, we both know it is.”

“No! We don’t! Because it isn’t! You did the best you could with Nick, didn’t you? You had just lost your wife and you still had to be a dad and provide for your son and you did the best you could! And no offense, but, I mean, your dad was… Excuse my language, but he was effing terrible!”

“Henry, you don’t have to say ‘excuse my language’ if you’re not gonna—”

“No! Glenn?! I’m a little TO’d right now, so don’t interrupt me! Sorry, I’m sorry, just— Let me finish!”

Against his will, the corner of Glenn’s mouth turned up into a soft smile. He stayed silent.

“Bill was a terrible father to you,” Henry continued, “You know that! You only had that to go off of, and being left alone to fend for yourself with a kid who was only… what, like, seven? Glenn, of course you weren’t a perfect dad, how could you be? But it’s not all your fault all that stuff happened to you both in Faerun. And you know what, even if it were, Nick would forgive you. Because he loves you! He loves you so, so much, Glenn.”

The sentence ended on a bit of a choked sound, and Glenn tilted his head. “Henry… Man, are you crying?”

”Of course I’m crying, Glenn! I’m so angry! I’m so fucking angry that all of this happened to you and that I can’t do anything to revert the past or stop you from hurting because I—”

Henry took a sharp breath in, made a strange sound that Glenn could only assume was a grunt of frustration, and then Glenn heard him take a few steadying deep breaths from the other side of the line.

“I just care about you so much, Glenn. I wish… I wish I could take all your pain away.”

A brief moment of silence.

The only other person who had ever gotten that mad on Glenn’s behalf was Morgan.

The only other person who had ever wanted to take all his pain away was Morgan.

The only other person who had ever cried for him was Morgan.

Glenn let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Henry…” He said softly into the phone, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry, I’m probably not helping by getting all upset like—oh geez, Glenn, I’m sorry, I need to do better at not letting my anger—”

“No, no. Henry. It’s… Thank you. Thank you.” Glenn blinked, and his vision cleared a little bit as tears escaped from his eyes.

Henry was quiet for a moment, and then he sighed. “Is that what you were upset about? When you called me?”

Glenn paused. He didn’t really want to get into it, about how he had been driving at one in the morning, which Henry had repeatedly begged him not to do, and how he had started listening to his “free man” playlist because he tended to become more nostalgic in the wee hours of the morning, and how “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship had started playing, and how he began remembering that chilly November night before he went on his first multi-state tour with the Glenn Close Trio when he and Morgan had danced to the song in their small apartment living room, a two-year-old Nick bouncing up and down on his chubby little legs to the beat of the song between them, and Glenn had realized for the first time that he really had a family.

And then the bright white lights of an eighteen-wheeler had come barreling towards him, and he’d screamed Nick’s name as he slammed on the brakes and swerved out of the way.

He didn’t really want to go into all that with Henry. The memory of that night in their living room with Morgan and Nick felt too precious to share with anyone else, as if describing it out loud to another person would take some of the magic away.

Maybe he’d tell Henry someday. Just not today. And definitely not over the phone.

“Glenn?”

Glenn snapped back to reality again. Motherfucker. He really needed to stop zoning out like that.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if that’s what you were upset about when you called me. Everything… everything that happened with Nick.”

“Ah. Yeah. Something like that.”

Glenn could feel Henry on the verge of prying further, and braced himself for the questions, but they never came. Henry only said:

“I’m glad you’re safe, Glenn.”

Glenn cleared his throat.

“I’m… sorry I worried you.”

“Hey. No need to apologize. I’m here for you, every time.”

“Every time?”

“Every time.”

“You’re gonna regret that.”

“Mm, somehow I don’t think I will.”

“I dunno, man, when I start calling you at one a.m. with a UFO sighting, then you’ll regret it.”

Henry chuckled, filling Glenn with relief. He hated when he was the reason Henry was riled up.

“Alright, maybe then I’ll regret it. But until that day, you keep calling me when you need me, okay?”

“Mmkay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, Dad, I promise.”

Glenn grinned. He could picture the exact expression on Henry’s face: mild annoyance, with a smile he couldn’t will away. He found that he missed that smile. And that face.

“How long until you arrive in Seattle, mi— Uh, Glenn?”

What was that you were about to call me? “Just about an hour. Maybe less. I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Call me again if—”

“Yeah, if I need anything, I know.”

“I know you know, I just—”

“I know, Henry. Thanks.”

Silence. Glenn felt a little more focused, a little less caught up in the murky depths of his memories. He could make it to the hotel in Seattle. Thanks to Henry.

“You should get back to sleep, Henry.”

Another pause.

“You’ll be okay?”

Henry’s voice was so soft. Something in Glenn’s chest felt like it was reaching out for it.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll get back to bed. Call me tomorrow before your last show, will you? I want to wish you good luck.”

“Okay. I will.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, Dad,—”

“You promise, you promise, okay, I get it. I just want to make sure!”

Glenn laughed. He plugged the key into the ignition and his van’s engine roared back to life.

“Goodnight, Glenn.”

“Night, Henry.”

Glenn resisted the urge to keep the phone held to his ear, to double back and ask Henry if he could stay on the line, actually, and just listen to his breathing as he fell asleep. Or something. But, hell, that sounded weird as fuck, so Glenn pulled the phone away from his face and pressed his thumb to the End Call button.

Just two more days until he’d get to see Henry again. Until he’d get to see his son again.

One more show.

Then, Christmas.

Glenn smiled. He sat up in his seat, and took a deep breath. Then, after signalling and checking over his left shoulder, he pulled back onto the highway.

Chapter Text

It was always disappointing when the last night of tour didn’t feel like a grand finale. The beginning of tour was a struggle, as half the population liked to glare daggers at the GC3—or, now, just Glenn—throughout November, as if it was too early to be hearing Christmas music. If you asked Glenn, it was never too early for Christmas music, but that seemed to be a controversial opinion. By the time December rolled around, things definitely picked up. And the closer it got to Christmas, the bigger the crowds (and tips) got. So if the last concert before Christmas wasn’t a total rager, Glenn always walked away feeling disappointed.

Luckily, this year, he didn’t have to do that.

Glenn pushed past the crowd to get to the “backstage” area—really just a hastily-put-up square of curtains for him to hide behind—as the mall patrons continued clapping and cheering for him with all the passion they’d had while singing along to “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

As he passed by the woman who had quietly sobbed through his slower, sadder rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas (If Only In My Dreams),” Glenn took her hand and kissed it softly. She seemed surprised at this kindness, and if he was being honest, so was Glenn, but he knew what it was like to miss someone on Christmas, so. He figured it was a nice thing to do.

Glenn got backstage and lifted the guitar off his body, setting it back down in its case. The crowd continued to cheer, so much so that Glenn wondered if he should do an encore. God, what a rush.

As he took his traditional shot of post-closing-show whiskey, Glenn heard a familiar voice at the entrance to his small backstage area.

“I’m his friend! I swear, I—I know him, I’m not trying to—I know this is a mall, and he’s a pretty famous star, but I promise I don’t have a weapon, you can search me if you want, I just want to congratulate Glenn on his—”

Only one person stuttered like that and would refer to him as ‘a pretty famous star’...

Glenn threw open the curtain and pushed past the security guard there to see—

“Henry,” Glenn breathed out.

The surprise on Henry’s face gave way to glee, and he barreled straight into Glenn for a hug.

Glenn laughed, squeezing Henry’s thin frame as tight as he could. It had only been two months since he’d seen him, but somehow it had felt more agonizing than the year before. Even though he’d talked to Henry on the phone almost every day this year. Even though he’d sent Henry selfies of himself with weird rock formations wherever he could find them. Even though he’d be up into the wee hours of the mornings in his hotel rooms making audio recordings on his phone of covers of love songs and almost send them to Henry with the caption “sort of random, not christmas, but idk what do you think could I pull it off” and then chicken out and delete the recording.

But he didn’t need to miss Henry anymore because here he was, in the flesh. He was warm and smelled like… himself. Which was not great, but much better than he did in Faerun. Glenn pulled himself together as he felt Henry’s arms loosen around him, not wanting to look like a tearful idiot when Henry could see his face again.

“You… what the hell are you doing here, man?!” Glenn exclaimed as Henry pulled back to look at him.

“I came to see your show, of course! You were incredible Glenn, holy crap! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you play before now! You were amazing up there, just—you were glowing, you—you interact with the crowd so well, all the songs are so well ordered, I’m—I’m so—Glenn—Gah, don’t know what I’m trying to say, you just—”

Glenn laughed, a big, loud belly laugh. “Woah, Henry, okay, slow down. You’re talking a mile a minute. Do you…”

Glenn looked around to offer Henry a chair before remembering he didn’t have any seating. Henry may see him as a ‘pretty famous star,’ which was kinda cute, but the Pacific Place Mall clearly didn’t think he was worthy of even a single stool in his makeshift dressing room.

By the time Glenn finished cursing the mall staff out in his head, Henry was already knee-deep in another ramble.

“—guitar solo like that! You’re so good I don’t know why you don’t show off more often! You should play music like that for Darryl’s barbecues! Or—Oh, you could play something for us for Christmas Day! You could play your entire show in our living room if you wanted, I know I would enjoy hearing it again, and Mercedes—Mercedes loves music, obviously, and I know if you threw in a very haunting ‘Carol Of The Bells,’ that would be her jam—”

“Henry,” Glenn interrupts again, “As much as I love this flattery, which I really do, don’t get me wrong… I’m fucking starving. Wanna get some food?”

Henry looked surprised for a moment, and then he started laughing. “Aw geez, yeah, that’s a good idea, isn’t it? You just played a whole show! What—where’s the best place to get a nice dinner in Seattle?”

Glenn raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I was thinkin’ we just grab something from the food court, but if you’re buying…”

“Oh!” Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “No, yeah, uh… Yeah, I could pay, uh… Maybe just not a super fancy restaurant, cause I—”

“Man, I was kidding,” Glenn laughed, giving Henry a playful shove. “You don’t need to buy me dinner, you already bought a plane ticket. I’ve gotta get my shit off the stage and then I’ll just grab some Sonic, kay? You can, uh… I mean, if you wanna hang around…”

“I’ll help you pack your things up! No problem-o.”

Glenn smiled. “Alright, since you offered. You can start by unplugging the amps over there.”

The two men got to work striking the equipment. With an extra set of hands, and particularly with Henry, who was a great partner—in that, you know, he could work on something with Glenn without getting in his way—the cables were coiled and the equipment removed in record time. With everything piled up by the backstage area, Glenn clicked the latches on his guitar case shut and slung it over his back.

“Hey man,” Glenn waved to the security officer, “Could you watch this stuff while we grab a bite? I’ll be back in ten minutes to load it into the ol’ tour van.”

The guard didn’t look particularly pleased, but she nodded. Glenn led the way to the escalator up to the food court, Henry following behind like an eager puppy dog.

Sonic was acquired (Henry was thrilled about the vegan onion rings and ordered three servings in his excitement), and then Glenn made Henry hold his food while he went out to the parking garage to pull his van up to the nearest exit. The two of them loaded his equipment into the van, and by the time they were pulling away from the mall, Henry had eaten all of his onion rings and was looking rather droopy-eyed.

Glenn looked at the clock. It was only 8:30PM.

“When did you fly into Seattle, Henry?”

“Hm? Oh, right after work. Well, I took a half day so I could make it in time for your show.”

“You went to work today? So you’ve been up since, what, four AM?”

“Yep! Always am.”

“Jesus, no wonder you’re exhausted.”

“Exhausted? No, no, I’m not tired. Just... I’m not. I’m awake! Where’s the afterparty? Let’s go!”

Henry sat up straighter in the passenger seat and rubbed his eyes when he thought Glenn wasn’t looking. The musician smiled softly and popped another tater tot into his mouth.

“I know you’re tired man, and there’s no fuckin’ afterparty. Where are you staying? I can drop you at your hotel.”

“Oh. Uh. About that...”

Glenn glanced curiously at Henry. “About what?”

“I, uh… Well, I figured since I’m only staying one night, I could just—well, I figured I could share your hotel room for the night.”

“Oh hell yeah, man, of course you can!” That made it easier on Glenn, too. He was worried for a second that Henry had booked a hotel on the complete opposite side of town.

“Thanks,” Henry smiled, squeezing Glenn’s shoulder. Glenn kept his eyes pointedly on the road.

It was only when they got back to Glenn’s hotel room that he remembered his room only had one bed.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Uh, I can ask if we can switch rooms…” Glenn trailed off, not really wanting to put in the effort of going down to the front desk to ask for a different room just for that night.

Henry waved away his worry. “No, don’t worry about it! I’ll take the couch, you played a big show tonight, you deserve the bed!”

Well. Glenn wasn’t going to turn down having the nice big hotel bed all to himself. He collapsed onto his back and kicked off his cowboy boots. “Thanks, man, I owe ya one.”

Glenn let his eyes drift shut as Henry took his small satchel to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, took a piss, and then returned to the main room. After a moment of rustling noises around where the couch was, Henry said:

“Uh, Glenn, could I have—Wait, Glenn, are—are you asleep?”

Glenn, eyes still closed, hummed softly. “Hm… no. Not yet.”

“Could—could I bother you for a pillow?”

Glenn chuckled. “Yeah man, of course. Come get one.”

He heard Henry move to the bed. He stood there for a moment, and Glenn was about to open his eyes to see what the hell he was doing there in silence when he felt a hand in his hair.

Henry wiggled his hand under Glenn’s head and lifted it from the pile of pillows underneath. He was so gentle, his hand so supportive under the dead weight of Glenn’s skull, that Glenn had to make an effort to keep from making a sound. It just… felt nice. To have someone take such care in moving his head like that.

As soon as a pillow had been extracted, Henry’s hand was gone. He moved away from the bedside back toward the couch, and the room felt like it dropped in temperature.

Glenn opened his eyes and looked next to him to confirm—yes, there was indeed a whole second pile of pillows on the other side of the bed. But Henry had taken a pillow from under Glenn’s head. Did that mean he had wanted to...

Christ, Glenn must be really tired. He was getting delirious with thoughts that couldn’t possibly be rational.

Henry made himself comfortable on the couch again, and sighed contentedly. “Are you alright if I—”

“Why did you come up here, Henry?” Glenn interrupted him.

“Oh. To see your show, silly.”

“I know, but… You came all the way to Seattle to hear me play? I was in Nevada not too long ago. You coulda come to that show.”

Henry was silent for a moment. Then: “I was worried about you.”

“Henry, you didn’t have to fly all the way up because I freaked out on the drive last—”

“No—I mean, yeah, I was worried about you after last night, but I’ve had that plane ticket since—since last month.”

It was Glenn’s turn to take a beat. “What?”

“Ever since I found out you were going to—to try and make the whole eighteen-hour drive home in one straight shot. I was worried for you! So I bought a ticket to come and help you drive back down. And—I mean, getting to hear you play live was an added bonus, it was absolutely—”

“You flew all the way here just to drive back down with me?”

“Yeah! I did.”

Glenn stared at the ceiling.

“You… didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, Glenn. But I want you to be somewhat well-rested when you finally get to spend Christmas with your son! And I—I thought it—Well, I thought it could be fun to—to spend that time together.”

A smile appeared over Glenn’s features. But he couldn’t let Henry know how giddy that made him.

“Sure. Yeah, it’ll be fun, man.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Really, it will.”

Henry was silent. If Glenn could wish for anything in that moment, it would be to know what Henry was thinking.

“What—Uh, what time do you want to head out tomorrow?” Henry finally asked, and with the change of subject, Glenn reluctantly accepted that he’d never know what Henry was thinking in that moment.

“Usually I’m not an early riser, but… eight?”

“Eight?! Glenn, we’ll get home at—at—two in the morning!”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t stay up that late!”

“Well, I could drive the last bit.”

“Glenn…”

“Alright, man, when do you want to leave?”

“Four! And we could get home by ten!”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Come on, it’s not that late right now, you’d still be getting plenty of sleep!”

“Nah, man. Glenn Close does not wake up at four in the morning, even for Christmas.”

“Okay, okay, then—compromise. Six.”

“Six?”

“Come on. You can do six.”

“...Fine.”

“Good.” Glenn could hear the triumph in Henry’s voice from across the room, and he gritted his teeth. He was really gonna let this hippie wake him up at 6:00AM, wasn’t he? Fuck.

“Okie dokie. I set my alarm for four, but that’s only so I can do my yoga. Do you want me to wake you up right before we head out?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that’d be great.”

“Will do. You’re always terrible at getting out of bed, so I’ll wake you at… five-thirty.”

“I’m not that bad at getting out of bed.”

“Oh, you definitely are, Glenn.”

“I can get up if I need to!”

“You couldn’t even get up when our sons were in mortal danger, silly.”

“They weren’t in mortal danger, they were just…”

“...being held captive by our evil fathers in a tower without food?”

“...Yeah.”

“Right. Nothing a bunch of twelve-year-olds couldn’t handle.”

“Shut up.”

Henry laughed.

“Well, we’ve got a long day ahead, so we’d better get some sleep. Goodnight, Glenn.”

Even though they’d been lying separately this whole time with the lights out, Glenn was suddenly surprised and disappointed that Henry was so eager to actually fall asleep.

It had been a long time since he’d lain in the dark with someone else and just… talked. He had done that a few times back in Faerun with the other dads—sans Ron, who was usually out cold the moment his body went horizontal. But this was different. A conversation in the dark with just one other person—and one that wasn’t over the phone, because Glenn had had plenty of those with Henry over the course of this tour.

Even though Henry was a whole room away, it felt like he was laying right there next to Glenn.

“Glenn?”

“Hm?”

“You falling asleep, b—Uh, Glenn?”

B… buddy? Beautiful boy? Baby? “Mm. Not quite yet.”

“You didn’t say goodnight back.”

He was waiting for that? “Oh. Night, Henry.”

“That’s better. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Ew, Henry.”

The hippie chuckled softly, and then he was silent.

And Glenn continued staring up at the ceiling.

And staring up at the ceiling.

And staring up at the ceiling.

He really wasn’t all that tired.

Why had he let Henry take the couch? He should’ve shared the bed, it was a king size after all, Glenn didn’t need the entire thing to himself. Henry had flown all the way here for him, the least he could do is give the man a decent place to sleep.

Even when Glenn thought he was doing better at being less selfish, he still managed to pull shit like this.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss sleeping next to someone. Besides in Faerun, Glenn hadn’t slept in the same bed as anyone other than Nick since… yeah. It had been a number of years.

Even now, two years after their return from Faerun, Glenn still found himself occasionally missing Darryl’s loud, stereotypical dad snoring and the way Ron twitched in his sleep like a dog dreaming about chasing a squirrel.

Glenn lifted his head and tried to see Henry in the darkness. He could make out the silhouette of his long, lanky body stretched across the couch, his calves dangling off the end of the armrest. Christ, he really was a dick for not letting that beanpole of a man sleep in the massive bed.

Henry’s form rose and fell with steady breaths, and he was completely still: a telltale sign that he had already drifted off into the land of dreams. Glenn missed when he shared a bed with Henry in Faerun, when Henry—reliable, consistent Henry—would always fall asleep before the old insomniac. Every time, he would start facing away from Glenn, on his side, but within moments of being asleep, would turn over and sling an arm and a leg over Glenn’s body. Glenn tried to slink out from under his cuddle the first time, but quickly learned that a sleeping Henry would always find his way back home to Glenn’s warmth, and eventually gave up.

Glenn wasn’t really a cuddler, particularly not with friends. He liked playful shoves, arm pats, slinging an arm around a pair of shoulders, but cuddling was a different beast. Glenn needed to trust the person he was cuddling. He needed to feel safe with them. And, admittedly, Glenn didn’t trust a lot of people.

So the first few times Henry cuddled with him, Glenn didn’t sleep too well. He tossed and turned, felt awkward, wanted to crawl out of his skin just a little. But as they continued to fight monsters together and protect each other and help one another find their kids, as they continued having to share beds or sleep near each other for warmth, as they continued to have soft, whispered conversations when neither of them could sleep because they were worried about their boys, Glenn grew comfortable with the cuddles. And at some point, he must have grown to like them. Because now, lying alone in this very comfortable bed, Glenn couldn’t help but toss and turn, wishing he had a pair of long arms and legs wrapped around his body to carry him into a deep sleep.

His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and Glenn resorted to counting the stalactites of the popcorn ceiling. Maybe the monotony of it would put him to sleep.

Or you could just wake Henry up and ask him to join you in the bed.

No.

He couldn’t do that. What would he say? That he couldn’t sleep alone? He’d been sleeping alone this whole tour, he could do it. Of course, sometimes he had to pop a shit ton of melatonin in order to catch some z’s, but… No. Henry already worried about him enough; Glenn wasn’t going to give him another reason to go into dad mode.

Maybe it just wasn’t late enough. Glenn was a night owl, after all. Maybe he just wasn’t tired. Glenn turned over and checked the clock by the bed.

10:30PM.

Jesus fucking Christ, it had been an hour and a half since Henry drifted off. Glenn chalked up his poor sense of time these days to the fact that he’d spent fifteen years in the dark in solitary confinement, which was sure to mess with anyone’s head. So what if he could get so wrapped up in his thoughts—or lack thereof—that he sometimes found himself blinking and three hours had passed without his notice? That was normal. Hell, he’d done that since he was a kid, bored at home when his dad was MIA for three days in a row. It was normal.

He stared up at the ceiling again. Counted some more little peaks. Ran through the song from Disney’s Tangled that was stuck in his head a couple times. And looked back at the clock.

10:31PM.

Well, fuck.

Feeling like he would scream if he was left alone in the eerie silence with his thoughts any longer, Glenn flung the sheets aside and surged out of bed.

He went to the bathroom, took a leak, splashed some water on his face.

He paced back and forth a few times, even did a few half-hearted yoga stretches Henry had forced him to try once.

He put his headphones in and blasted some Clair de Lune. That was a calming song, right? He always liked when it came up on Mercedes’ radio station.

But nothing was working. Nothing made him tired.

That was it. Glenn headed for his cowboy boots to put them on. He’d go for a drive. That would make him tired.

But as he passed by Henry’s sleeping form, he stopped. His blond hair was tousled, falling into his eyes the way Lark and Sparrow’s brown curls did. A little bit of drool was leaking from the side of his mouth. His shirt was riding up just enough to expose the trail of light hair at the base of his navel.

Glenn sat down on the edge of the couch, in the little bit of space Henry’s thin frame left, next to his torso.

Within moments, Henry turned on his side and curled around Glenn’s hips.

Well. Glenn couldn’t move now, right? He might wake Henry. Or worse, the man would fall off the couch trying to search for Glenn’s body heat.

It was late. A drive could wear Glenn out, sure, but it could also wake him up even more. He leaned back, squishing Henry between himself and the back of the couch. The sleeping geologist didn’t seem to mind. His stomach moved with his breaths against Glenn’s lower back, and Glenn synced his breathing up to match. He felt calmer, having someone there, breathing next to him, with him. His eyelids drooped shut. Just a few moments longer here, and he’d move back to the bed.

“Glenn?”

Glenn tried to blink his eyes open, but a bright light made it difficult to see. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Hhmmn? Whaddaya want?”

“Glenn, it’s time to get up.”

“No.”

“Yes. We have to get home.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Honey, it’s Christmas Eve.”

Glenn bolted upright.

“Christmas Eve?!”

Henry laughed. “Yeah, silly, don’t you remember? We have to get home today so you don’t miss Christmas with Nick!”

Glenn beamed. It was Christmas Eve. He was with Henry. Tomorrow was Christmas.

Tomorrow, he saw Nick.

Instinctively, Glenn wrapped Henry into a big hug, pulling him down onto the couch—

“Fuck, did I sleep on the couch?”

Henry fell into Glenn’s lap with an ’oof’ and gave him a weird look.

“Uh—yeah. You were here when I woke up for my early morning yoga. I—I had to move out from under you, but you sleep like a rock, so—”

Glenn jabbed Henry in the side, eliciting a little yelp from the man in his lap.

“I wouldn’t have slept on the couch if you didn’t strap me in with your arms.”

“I—Glenn, I tried to give you the bed! You’re the one who moved to the couch in the first place!”

“Oh, so now you’re the hero who gave a bed to the poor old man with the bad back.”

“Let the record show I was not the one to refer to you as an old man that time.”

“You were thinking it, though.”

“I keep telling you, if you would just try some yoga—”

“Henry, I don’t actually have a bad back!”

“You—Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, Glenn, but your posture—”

“Shut the hell up, man.”

“—might be improved by an occasional downward dog or—or sun salutation, that’s all!”

Glenn gave Henry a playful shove, but it caught him by surprise, and he tumbled to the hotel floor at Glenn’s feet. The two stared at each other, both surprised, and then burst out into a fit of laughter.

Glenn stood from the couch and reached out a hand for Henry—who took it—then hoisted the man to his feet.

“Alright, dumbass, I’m officially awake,” Glenn said, smiling. He looked down and released Henry’s hand somewhat hastily. “Uh, you should… Are you packed? I’ll get ready, get my shit together, and then we can head out.”

“Yep, I’m ready to go,” Henry chirped, “Do you need help with anything? I can load up the van.”

“Nah man, all good. Just gonna take a quick shower—last night’s show was a workout, I’m fuckin’ rank.”

“Oh!” Henry responded, “Okay, sure, yeah! Just—I’ll, uh, order us some breakfast.”

“It’s gonna be on my card if you order room service, man.”

“I’ll pay for gas today.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Don’t get me anything vegan.”

Henry rolled his eyes with as little malice as anyone had probably ever rolled their eyes. As was his style. “Alright, Glenn.”

Glenn retreated to the bathroom to take a shower. When he emerged, feeling refreshed and ready for the 18-hour drive ahead of him, the smell of eggs and bacon smacked him in the face. Thank god.

“You should think about taking shorter showers, Glenn, it’s not great to waste water like—” Henry stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Glenn walk out of the bathroom, toweling off his mop of wet hair.

“What’s the point of a shower if you aren’t going to enjoy it?” Glenn shrugged. Was Henry blushing? Glenn looked down at himself. He was wearing boxers, and it wasn’t like Henry hadn’t seen any of this before. Glenn opened his mouth to tease Henry, but the other man cut him off.

“I—Okay, fine. Just—Put some clothes on, breakfast is here, and we need to eat quickly so we can—can leave.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Henry opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water, but no retort came. Glenn smirked.

He did put some clothes on, though, and then they scarfed down their breakfasts together. Once they finished, Glenn glanced at the clock.

6:00AM on the dot.

“Ready to go?”

Henry smiled. “Seattle’s a beautiful city, but I’m ready to go back home.”

“Henry, all you’ve seen of Seattle is the Pacific Place Mall and this hotel room.”

“And I’ve enjoyed every minute of both!”

Glenn laughed. “I think you’d really like Seattle, actually. You should come back someday.”

“You should come back with me so you can show me around.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, I could do that.”

A pause. Then Henry stood from his chair and stretched his arms over his head.

“Okay! Mission Get-Home-For-Christmas is a go!”

“Ha,” Glenn laughed, “That’s a terrible title, but alright, let’s hit the road.”

6:00AM

After loading up Glenn’s van and filling the gas tank, the two men were off. Glenn insisted on playing Christmas music in the car, which Henry wasn’t opposed to, per se, but he didn’t know any of the words to sing along. Glenn resolved to play his favorite songs on repeat until Henry learned at least the choruses of every one.

“Hallelujah is a staple, Henry!”

“Not to me!”

“Come on, everyone knows the words to Hallelujah.”

“I’ve heard the song before, but we—we try to keep religious music out of the house—”

Glenn cranked up the volume. “Hallelujah isn’t religious, it’s a religion.”

And lo and behold, an hour later, Henry was nearly in tears at the chorus to the song. He definitely preferred the Pentatonix version to Rufus Wainwright, but Glenn would settle for that so long as Henry was belting along with him.

10:00AM

Glenn finally allowed them to stop for a bathroom break when Henry was squirming in his seat with how badly he needed to pee.

“I tried to tell you not to drink so much water, man,” Glenn said, pulling into the gas station.

“I have to stay hydrated! I drink at least ninety ounces of water a day, Glenn!”

Glenn laughed. “I’m doing well if I have one full glass of water in a day.”

Henry’s eyes widened in horror, but he needed to pee too badly to argue in that moment. Glenn turned off the engine and Henry almost tripped over himself with how quickly he got out of the car to run towards the 7/11.

Glenn filled up the gas tank, and once Henry returned to the car (with his Hydro Flask filled up with water, damn him), Glenn went in to take a leak himself.

Then they were back on the road again.

1:00PM

“Are we stopping for lunch soon, Glenn?”

“We can’t stop for lunch, Henry. We’re on a time crunch here.”

“Well, I know, but—”

“Weren’t you the one who was worried about getting home too late?”

“Yes, but—”

“Just keep snacking, we’ll hit up a drive through for an early dinner.”

“Glenn, I ate all the snacks I bought.”

Glenn glanced over to the passenger seat, and sure enough, a fully empty box of Grape-Nuts sat next to Henry, along with an empty bag of snap pea crisps and a couple of empty Larabar wrappers.

“Jesus, Henry…”

“I’m sorry! I get hungry on road trips! And there’s nothing to do but eat!”

“And you’re still hungry?”

“I—I… yes.”

Glenn just laughed.

“Alright, man, but you can’t say I didn’t try to get us home before midnight.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I—uh—I need to pee again, too,” Henry responded sheepishly.

Glenn gave him a playful shove. “Idiot.”

Henry smiled.

Glenn made a big fuss about California not having any Whataburgers, as it was his favorite burger chain from the south, where he grew up, but they settled for stopping at a McDonald’s. The town they were in was small; there weren’t a lot of options.

Henry got his two orders of fruit and maple oatmeal, and Glenn got a couple of cheeseburgers and fries and a Dr. Pepper and spicy nuggets and all the dipping sauces and a McFlurry.

“Aw, dang, I didn’t realize we were getting lunch and dinner,” Henry said as they pulled away from the drive-thru.

“We didn’t,” Glenn responded, “This is just lunch.”

Henry’s eyes widened as he looked at all the food Glenn ordered, and Glenn laughed. Amateur.

10:00PM

Henry cruised down the empty highway as Glenn stared out the window up at the stars. They were lucky it was the night before Christmas; hardly anybody was out driving. They were making great time, and might even make it home before midnight if they kept up this speed.

Suddenly, the beautiful chorus of “Auld Lang Syne” was interrupted by an incoming call.

Nick.

Glenn looked at Henry, who shrugged. Neither of them had been expecting the call. Glenn hit the answer icon.

“Hey, kid!”

“Hey, Dad,” Nick’s voice responded. The lowness of it still caught Glenn by surprise sometimes. His kid was growing up.

“What’s up?” Glenn asked. Usually, if Nick was calling for a reason, he’d launch into his story right away. But he seemed quiet. Solemn.

“Um… Not much. Lark and Sparrow are trying to convince Mercedes to let them put reindeer food on the roof. I didn’t even think they still believed in Santa.”

“Oh, they don’t—” Henry piped up, but then Glenn clamped a hand over his mouth, making them swerve a bit. Glenn gave him a sharp look. He hadn’t gotten this far without spoiling the Christmas surprise for Nick to have Henry ruin it for him.

“Is someone else there?” Nick asked.

“Ah, no, just hit a weird bump and had a voice crack. Ha, kinda like you keep having.”

“Daaad, you said you’d stop making fun of me for those!”

“I can’t help it! It’s classic teenage boy stuff. You can ask Darryl, he’d tell you it’s a father’s duty to embarrass his son about puberty at every opportunity.”

“You’re the worst,” Nick said, but Glenn could hear him smiling. Nick did always love when Glenn pointed out things about the male puberty he was going through, even if he pretended to hate it. But Glenn knew.

“So what’s up? Happy Christmas Eve, by the way.”

“Happy Christmas Eve,” Nick replied.

But he didn’t say anything else. The line was silent for a while. Finally, Henry nudged Glenn and raised his eyebrows, making hand gestures at the phone call up on the car screen. Glenn couldn’t tell what the hell the hand gestures meant, but he understood enough to get that he was supposed to say something. Glenn cleared his throat.

“Hey, you okay, buddy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay! Of course I’m okay.”

“Nah, man, something’s on your mind. C’mon. Spill.”

Another pause. Then, finally: “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, kiddo.”

“No, like… I know you’re never here for Christmas, and it’s cool, like, I’m used to it and all, but… I dunno, I miss you this year.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, it’s no big deal, but—”

“No, Nick, it’s okay. Tell me… how you feel.”

Henry flashed Glenn a thumbs-up. Glenn knew what that meant.

Nick’s voice came in quiet through the speakers. “I guess… Well, things have been kinda different since… you know, and… I mean, I feel like we’re even closer now, even with my weird double life memories, and… I mean, last Christmas kinda felt normal, it wasn’t that long since we got back and I remembered the routine of it and hanging out with the Oak-Garcias was really nice. But, uh… Well, I’m excited to spend Christmas with them again, of course. But Henry had to leave on a surprise business trip. He said a new rock had been discovered or something, he was really excited about it. I mean, I don’t get why that would make you want to miss Christmas, but he’s weird like that, ya know?”

Glenn raised an eyebrow at Henry. A new rock had been discovered? That was the worst excuse Glenn had ever heard. Henry huffed, embarrassed, and mouthed, You know I can’t lie! Glenn suppressed a chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s super fuckin’ weird like that,” Glenn replied, eliciting a lopsided smile and an eye roll from Henry.

“Yeah. So, anyway, Henry’s not gonna be here for Christmas, either. And I guess I started thinking about, like… You know, dads not being home for Christmas. And I was thinking about you. And I just… Uh, I just thought I’d call you.”

The sound of Nick’s voice broke Glenn’s heart. He sounded sad, fragile in a way he never let himself be before Faerun. At least not in front of Glenn. It still impressed Glenn how good at vulnerability Nick had become since then. He’d been working on it too, of course, but he was definitely having to play catch-up with his son. But Nick had always been smart like that. Adaptable. A fast learner. Glenn was constantly impressed at how much smarter his son was than himself.

“I wish I could be home, too, kiddo,” Glenn replied, struggling to find the right words. Fuck, if only Henry wasn’t driving, then he could write them down for him. Henry was always good with this sort of stuff. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, too.”

“Really?”

“What do you mean, ‘really’? Of course I have! I’m always thinking about you, dude. But I’ve been thinking about you a little extra today. I really wanna be able to celebrate Christmas with you.”

“The Oak-Garcias have been really nice about me missing you. They’re trying to make it feel like you’re here by putting, like, a stocking with your name on it up next to all the others, shit like that. But it just kinda makes it look like you’re dead. It’s depressing, really.”

Glenn’s head hit the headrest behind him. He’d conspired with Henry to do things like that in preparation for Glenn’s Christmas Day Surprise Return, but clearly the plan had backfired.

“Shit, I’m sorry, man,” Glenn said, his voice strained. “I’m… not dead, though. I’m here.”

“I know that. I just wish you were here, ya know?”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Silence again. Glenn bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just told Nick he was coming home. All he’d done was make his son more sad. Would he be mad at Glenn when his dad showed up on the doorstep on Christmas morning? Would he have puffy eyes from crying? Glenn could hear him sniffling. Nick’s eyes always puffed up a ton the morning after he’d been crying. Glenn thought it was cute, but Nick was embarrassed by it. He wouldn’t want to look like that on Christmas Day. Should Glenn tell him now that he was just a couple hours away? But he’d kept the secret this long, was a couple hours going to make a difference?

Glenn felt a jab in his thigh and he hissed out a curse, glaring up at the culprit. Henry’s eyes widened pointedly and indicated at the dashboard screen.

“Shit, sorry, did you say something, Nick?”

“Are you okay? I just heard you whisper something.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Did you dissociate again? I know you don’t like when Henry uses that word, but he’s right, the only way to lessen the stress of things like that is to acknowledge—”

“Nick, I’m fine, kiddo. I promise. Just… got distracted driving.”

“You’re driving? Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you—”

“No, it was the driving that distracted me from you, not—”

“I can hang up if—”

“No! No, don’t hang up. Please. I’m okay, I promise. You don’t need to worry about your own dad, it’s my job to worry about you, remember?”

A pause. “I guess.”

Glenn was really fucking up this conversation. He had to figure out a way to end it on a happy note so Nick could go to sleep.

“Hey, you remember that year when we bought all those Valentine’s cookies and decorated them like Christmas cookies?”

“Yeah.”

“And we bought way too fucking many, so we mashed a bunch together and used them to make gingerbread houses.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“Your gingerbread house fell apart an hour after you made it.”

“Yours didn’t last much longer!”

Glenn tisked. “Weak foundation.”

“At least mine was fully decorated. You gave up after the roof.”

“I did not!”

“Dad, I wouldn’t call drawing a smiley face with icing on the front wall of your gingerbread house fully decorated.”

“It was an artistic choice!”

Nick laughed. Glenn felt like he could breathe again.

“You’re so stupid.”

“Hey, I’m the one who raised you. If I’m stupid, then so are you.”

“Nah, I’m still smarter than you from the seven years Mom raised me.”

“Ouch.”

“I mean, she was a lot smarter than you.”

“Touché, kid. Touché.”

They were quiet again then, but it wasn’t the familiar tense, depressive quietness that usually followed mention of Morgan. It felt… light. Warm. Glenn wasn’t used to remembering her without painful emotions attached to the experience. It was new… but it was nice.

“Can we decorate cookies when you get back again?”

“Hell yeah. We can try gingerbread houses again, too.”

“I’ll ask Mercedes to take me to buy gingerbread house kits before they go out of season.”

“We could always make our own gingerbread, you know.”

“Ha, you? Baking? In that case, I’ll have Mercedes buy me a fire extinguisher.”

“Shut up! I can bake!”

“You can certainly do one type of baking, yeah.”

“Oh… Fuck, what can I say, that was a damn good joke.”

“Heh. Thanks.”

“I love you, Nick.”

The words tumbled out of Glenn’s mouth before they registered in his brain. It was almost startling to hear himself say them, as he didn’t hear them in his own voice often.

“I love you, too, Dad,” Nick replied. Glenn’s heart expanded.

“Get some sleep, ‘kay? If they’re allowed to have sugar like last year, Lark and Sparrow are gonna put you to the test tomorrow. Wanna be on high alert.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah, okay. Can we talk tomorrow? Even though we’re talking tonight?”

“Of course, dude,” Glenn responded. “We’d better talk tomorrow. Close Boys tradition, right?”

“Right. Okay. Thanks.”

“Hey, don’t need to thank me. Thanks for… Thanks for letting me work these holidays, Nick.”

“Oh. I mean, yeah, sure.”

“No, you’ve always been really cool about it, and I want you to… I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

“...I appreciate you, too, Dad.”

“Alright. Goodnight, kid.”

“‘Night, Dad.”

The phone call beeped to an end. Glenn let out a sigh of relief. “Man, that was a close—”

He cut himself off when he saw that Henry had tears streaming down his face.

“Woah, dude, are you good?”

“I’m fine,” Henry squeaked, his voice high and shaky. “That was—I’m just—That was so beautiful!”

Henry choked out a sob and sniffled up what sounded like a shit ton of mucus. Glenn scrunched his face up, half in disgust, half in pity, and pulled some extra napkins out of his glove compartment. He handed them to Henry, who blew his nose loudly. Repeatedly.

“I’m sorry! It’s just so nice to—to see you two getting along so well. Communicating about your feelings so well. I’m—I’m just really happy!”

The sob Henry let out on his last word did anything but indicate to Glenn that he was happy, but Glenn knew better than to question the emotional reactions Henry had to things at this point in their relationship. Friendship. In their friendship.

“You’re a dork,” Glenn teased lightly, rubbing Henry’s shoulder. He didn’t know what else to do, but Henry seemed to be finding comfort in that. He blew his nose once more, and then took in a few deep, grounding breaths.

“I know,” Henry replied. He smiled at Glenn, his warm eyes swimming with… Well, Glenn would be silly to say swimming with adoration, but that’s what it felt like.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be really good,” Henry said.

“Yeah. I guess it will be.”

“You didn’t think it would be?”

“No, I… I dunno. I didn’t wanna get my hopes up.”

“What do you mean? It’s Christmas! Your holiday, man!”

“I know, but… It’s kinda not. I mean, I haven’t properly celebrated Christmas in years. Not with my family. And, I dunno, Nick had a lot of fun with you guys last year, and I don’t wanna intrude on your—”

“Glenn,” Henry interrupted, suddenly sounding very serious. “Nick is your kid. As much as I love him—and I do love him like he’s one of my own beautiful boys—but he is your son. And he’s going to be so excited to spend Christmas with you.”

“Alright. Yeah.”

“I mean it. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you, too. Mercedes is excited. Lark and Sparrow were only able to keep the secret from Nick because I reminded them that you’ll endorse all of their antics for the whole day.”

“Ha, okay. I guess I just didn’t wanna be the weird friend tagging along again.”

Henry put a hand on Glenn’s thigh. Glenn stiffened—not unpleasantly so.

“You’re not the weird friend. You’re Nick’s dad. And I’d like to think—Well. You’re family, Glenn. To myself, to Mercedes, to Darryl and Ron. We’re all a family.”

Glenn was silent. He didn’t know what to say to that. The Oak-Garcias were only a family of four, but with all the personality crammed into those four people, they felt bigger. And including the Wilsons and the Stamplers? That was a pretty large family.

Glenn had never had a large family before. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Don’t mention it, Glenn.”

That hand still rested on his thigh. Without looking at Henry, Glenn slid his hand over it. After a moment, Henry turned his palm over and laced his fingers through Glenn’s. They fit like a glove.

Henry was always nagging at Glenn to drive with both hands on the steering wheel, but the two of them stayed like that for the rest of their drive home.

7:00AM

Glenn heard the pitter-patter of two pairs of feet tramping down the hallway—and even louder than that, the sound of two pre-pubescent voices screeching an announcement to the rest of the house that it was Christmas Day.

Henry was in the kitchen already, finishing up some vegan yogurt parfaits, out of sight. Mercedes was in the living room with her phone out, ready to film.

Glenn’s heart pounded in his chest as he heard Nick’s footsteps just outside the room he was hiding in. His feet dragged more than the twins’. Poor kid. Close boys didn’t do early mornings.

“G’morning, Mercedes,” Glenn heard Nick say. “Merry Christmas! Are we doing presents first again, or…?”

“We are, mi cielo,” Mercedes replied, “And you’re getting your big one first.”

That was Glenn’s cue. He opened the door and slipped into the hallway, still wearing the clothes he’d been wearing the day before. Much to Henry’s dismay, Glenn had been unable to sleep a wink with how anxious he was.

Glenn walked into the living room, where Nick had his back to him. Mercedes saw him and smiled, causing Nick to turn around.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” Glenn smiled.

Glenn had never seen Nick so floored in his life, but then his son came barreling towards him and captured him in a hug so tight it rivaled even Darryl’s.

“Dad!” Nick exclaimed, voice muffled by Glenn’s chest. Christ, he was getting taller. Glenn didn’t know what he would do if Nick someday surpassed him.

“Dad, you’re here. On Christmas! You’re home!”

“Yeah, I am, kid.”

Nick peeked up at Glenn. “For how long? When do you have to leave?”

Glenn cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“When do you have to get back to your tour? Don’t you have a show tonight?”

Glenn laughed. “Nah, buddy. The tour’s over. I’m all yours this year.”

Nick started crying. Fuck.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“OKAY? YEAH, I’M OKAY. YOU’RE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!” Nick spun around, still clutching Glenn’s side as if he’d vanish if Nick let go. “Lark! Sparrow! My dad’s home for Christmas!!!”

“Yes, Nicholas, we are well aware,” Lark said triumphantly.

Sparrow was trying—and failing—to hold back tears. “We had to—It was a secret—But father said—We didn’t want to—”

He couldn’t get out a full sentence before Mercedes put down her phone and hugged Sparrow to her belly. Nick went back to stuffing his face into Glenn’s chest, too, squeezing him in a second hug.

Out of the corner of his eye, Glenn caught Henry standing in the doorway to the kitchen. They locked eyes and shared smiles—both pretty watery, though one was decidedly more watery than the other.

The record in the background played Queen’s “Thank God It’s Christmas.”

Oh, my love, we’ve had our share of tears
Oh, my friend, we’ve had our hopes and fears
Oh, my friends, it’s been a long hard year

But now it’s Christmas...

Yes, it’s Christmas...

Thank God it’s Christmas.

Henry made his way over to Glenn and Nick. He placed a gentle hand on Nick’s back, and when the kid saw him, he made a choked sound of joy and flung his arms around both of the men in front of him.

Glenn and Henry laughed, and wrapped their arms around Nick and each other in a group hug. Glenn’s lips brushed against Henry’s ear.

“Merry Christmas, Henry,” he murmured, warmth filling his chest.

Henry placed a tender kiss on Glenn's jaw.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”