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“You are such a little shit. Why do I like you so much?” Ray asked Rex, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor of Ray’s living room, wearing Ray’s jeans and Ray’s USMC tee, and touching various components of Ray’s sound system.
“Because I’m fucking adorable,” Rex replied absently. He’d made Ray’s broken subwoofer glow, and had a look of concentration on his face that Ray found oddly appealing.
“Aw, cussing. You never used to swear when you first got here.”
“Fuck you.”
“You said ‘butt,’” Ray added fondly. “You said you’d kick my butt.”
“And I did.” Rex looked up at him with a grin. “Do you remember that part?”
Ray waved a hand. “My point is that I’m assisting in your moral development over here.”
“My immoral development,” Rex muttered, and then stretched his arms over his head. “Your shitty sound system is better now,” he said proudly. “Let’s go eat.”
Ray shook his head, looking at his stereo suspiciously for a minute before replying. “Brad called a minute ago. He’s coming round with Mexican.”
Rex’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Did you tell him to get me the El Grande Surprise?” he asked eagerly, and Ray had to roll his eyes.
“Is the surprise the appropriation of your cultural heritage?” He hauled Rex to his feet and propelled him into the kitchen. “I can’t believe you think a dish from a place called Sombrero Pete’s is the height of Mexican cuisine.”
“My culture, I’ll appropriate it however the fuck I want,” Rex shot back, and Ray laughed. Brad kept accusing him of corrupting the only innocent version of himself left in the multiverse, and Brad was right.
But it was so much fucking fun.
~
Rex had been with him for a month. He’d appeared one morning passed out on Ray’s bathroom floor, discovered by Brad, who at first had taken a lot of convincing that Ray hadn’t developed a taste for under aged Mexican kids (Rex, later: I’m not underage! Brad and Ray: are you twenty one? No? Then you’re underage for the purposes of this discussion). That had been awkward, but after the whole mutant/superhero/alternative universe thing had been hashed out, helped along by Rex growing large mechanical fists out of his arms and breaking Ray’s coffee table, things had settled down somewhat. That was when Brad had started to put two and two together.
“I’m not a version of you!” Rex had protested when Brad had put forth his theory. He’d wrinkled his nose in distaste, adding, “You’re white.” Ray had wisely kept his mouth shut as Brad dragged them over to the mirror and stood them side by side. The evidence was pretty hard to refute.
They were of a height, they had the same eyes and eyebrows, chins and cheekbones. Rex was younger and his skin was a warm brown, and Ray’s hair was shorter and, in his own words, far less stupid, but it was obvious. They were alterna-versions of each other.
And from that moment, according to Brad and Ray, Rex was one of them.
~
“Cut some lemons up,” Ray instructed, rifling through his cupboards for the tequila. “We all have the day off tomorrow, tonight we drink.”
“When I get home,” Rex mused, chopping the lemons and squirting juice all over Ray’s counters, “I am going to have some words with my family about this enforced straight-edge bullshit they’ve been putting me through.”
Ray shrugged. “You’re seventeen. I’m only letting you get away with this shit because I don’t like the idea of such an uncorrupted edition of myself living in this world. It’s not right.”
“And I’m sure you were a total wild child at my age, yes?” Rex had heard stories from Brad and Walt (who he swore up and down was the alternaversion of his friend from home, Noah). It was hard for Ray to front about game after they’d already given the kid the lowdown.
“I’m just trying to give you the opportunities for delinquency that I never had,” Ray replied piously. “You should be grateful.”
Rex shot him that grin, the wide happy one that made Ray’s stupid heart beat a little bit faster. “Oh, I am,” he said. “Who knew white trash me and his gang of psycho jarhead friends would be so much fun?” He tossed a lemon quarter at Ray, snorting as it bounced of his forehead. “I think I hear Brad’s car. Pour the drinks, hombre, let’s get this show on the road.”
And Ray, bumping his hip against Rex’s as he joined him at the counter, did exactly as he was told.