Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I am totally above this.

That was all Sally Sitwell could think as she stood with her notepad and pen in hand. She knew she should’ve been ecstatic over having her first cover story, and, truly, she was excited over that. It just wasn’t what she had dreamt it would be. She had always assumed her first cover story would be something serious, something groundbreaking, something that would get her a Pulitzer.

Okay, maybe that had always been an unrealistic dream; she could admit that. But she knew she was worth more than what was obviously intended to be a fluff piece. And while she had been the one to volunteer to take the story, she knew the editors only let her take it on because of her last name.

That was possibly the most annoying part of it all. Despite being born into a successful and rich real estate empire, Sally had always worked hard. She knew from a young age that people would assume she didn’t know what she was talking about or underestimate her abilities due to her last name, not to mention the fact that she was female. Sally was aware of the stigma and therefore always went out of her way to exceed expectations. She excelled in everything she did, from her honors and AP classes to her flute lessons to debate team to the cheerleading squad—honestly it would take hours to list everything she had done throughout her life. She worked hard and had great results all based on her own merits, not because she happened to be born a Sitwell.

But, alas, her first cover story, the story that could be her big break, was only because she was a Sitwell. It was only because she had a history with the subject at hand. It was only because her family had a history with the Bluths and the eldest of the children was one of the biggest names in the modeling business.

Gob Bluth had always been her exact opposite. Whereas Sally took to every subject throughout her schooling, Gob barely went to classes. Whereas Sally always wanted to be more than her dad’s business, Gob seemed to assume that, for some reason, he would actually take over the Bluth Company just because he was the oldest. And whereas Sally worked her ass off to get to where she was, Gob Bluth ended up giving up the one thing he ever worked at and just stumbled into success after being discovered at a mall and started getting praise for being able to walk in a (semi-)straight line and raise an eyebrow and pout his lips just right like it was hard or something—

She probably sounded bitter. And maybe she was. She never had a healthy relationship with the fashion or makeup or the hair world in particular, nor the Bluths for that matter—particularly Gob’s younger twin siblings—but whatever. She was a professional. She was going to do her job and do it well.

“Thanks for taking the time to answer these questions,” Sally said as Gob prepared for a shoot.

“Of course. Anything to help out a friend of the family,” Gob said.

“Well, thank you, Gob, but I don’t want you to think of me as anything but a reporter right now.”

“How am I supposed to forget that you’re Sally Stickwell?” Gob asked with a grin.

Sally clenched her jaw at the nickname, but didn't retaliate. There was no need to try to get the idea of professionalism through his thick head. Instead, she asked, “So, when did you know you wanted to be a model?” She was pretty sure he didn’t know until he was discovered back in high school, but she was sure he had a different answer these days. His mother was the one who managed his career, after all, and Lucille Bluth would certainly make sure there was a polished, proper response.

And Sally’s instincts were right. “I guess I’ve always known. I always knew that I’m, like, really, really, ridiculously good looking. And I was sure there had to be a career for that, you know?”

“A career out of being good looking?”

“Utterly good looking.”

“And you never wanted to be anything else?”

“Nope.”

That was a lie, a bald face one. Sally raised an eyebrow and wrote down the response, biting back the urge to bring up how false that story was.

Well, at first. But then she figured, hey, if they wanted to use her due to her history with the Bluth family, why should she hold back from asking the right questions?

“So, you never wanted to do anything else?"

"Nope."

"Really? You never even wanted to pursue another art form?"

Gob blinked a few times. "Never."

"Or run the Bluth Company?”

“No.”

“You were always okay with your younger brother, Michael, taking over?” Sally asked. “He has just been named as the successor to the CEO position, right?”

A muscle in Gob’s jaw twitched and Sally bit back a smirk. It was cruel of her and she knew it. Really, Gob, as much of a jerk as he could be, was really more of a harmless idiot than anything else these days and he didn’t deserve to be reminded of how he hadn’t gotten the position he had coveted since childhood—even if he didn’t do anything to try to actually earn that position. But, whatever. Maybe she could find a way to make this piece something more than a generic interview.

“He has, yes,” Gob said, his voice a bit stiffer than usual. “I’m very happy for him. He’s been working on it his whole life.” He let one of the make-up artists brush a powder over his nose before commenting, “Of course, you’d assume the position would go to me as I’m the matriarch of the family—”

“Matriarch?”

“Yeah, the oldest,” Gob said simply. He laughed for a moment, “I figured you’d know what that word meant, Stickwell.”

“Yes, Gob, I actually know what that word means,” she said, being sure to make a note of that particular word usage.

“Sure you did,” Gob chuckled. “Anyways, as the matriarch, you’d think I’d take over. But, hey, it’s always been Mikey’s bag. He got the brains and I got the looks—and the brains. I’m pretty lucky that way.”

“Of course,” Sally said under her breath, writing her notes. Then, at her prompting, Gob started talking about his various "looks" and she held back a sigh as a tension headache started.

God, this was going to be a long, long day.

No matter how Sally Sitwell felt about Gob, the truth of the matter was that Gob Bluth was the first name when it came to fashion. If someone said “model” he was probably the first person you thought of—well, at least when it came to male models. With ad campaigns across the world and for various products, Gob had quickly become a household name. His fame only grew as his success continued even farther and his partying ways became known, with legendary retellings of just how much the man could drink and how he was the life of any party. Truly, no party started until he walked in, and since he had guaranteed access to any party he so chose, most parties in LA competed to get his attention.

And, of course, the women all competed for his attention. Not only did millions of teen girls and adult women have his calendars and posters and ads plastered to their walls, but female celebrities of all ages had admitted to crushing on him in interviews and even right to his face. From his chiseled features to his charming personality, he was perfect crush fodder.

Because of that, it was a little weird that Gob didn’t seem to have as many relationship stories floating around as people would expect. Apart from a brief relationship with a Columbian soap star, the public didn’t have any details on the romantic part of his life. They could only speculate about possible flings and one-night stands. After all, who would be in Gob’s Gucci branded shoes and not take advantage of the women falling at his feet? His lack of a publicly known sex and love life just made the rumors run even wilder, making him possibly even more famous as people tried to connect him with any woman he was ever spotted with.

Anyway, between his killer body (due to his killer as fuck work-out schedule), flawless skin (thanks to his constant beauty treatments), and tabloid notoriety, Gob Bluth was the envy of most men. And as he exited his limo onto the red carpet of the VH1 Fashion Awards, the cheers and screams made it clear just how popular he had remained.

Gob grinned that famous crooked smile of his and waved to his fans and signed a few autographs, paying no mind to the anti-fur protesters yelling at him. He just continued being his charming self with the fans before being pushed along the carpet to meet with members of the press by his manager and mother, Lucille.

After some pleasantries, the first reporter he came across, John Beard, started, “You’re up for the Male Model of the Year for the fourth straight year—”

“Yeah, of course it’s been a straight year,” Gob said quickly.

“…Right,” John Beard said. “So, are you feeling nervous about possibly breaking the record?”

Gob really wasn’t nervous. His assistant, Gary, had given him the usual pep talk and treatment before he left their shared apartment, so he felt calm as could be. He couldn’t imagine anyone else could take this award from him. But, after years of press tours and interviews, Gob knew humility paid well in moments like these. “I have a few butterflies, but I’m doing fine.”

His mom butted in, “There’s no one else more deserving of breaking the record than Gob. He’s got it in the bag.”

“Oh, Mom,” Gob said with a small laugh, letting her dote on him. Lucille praised her son whether she was at his side or she was having her own interviews, which were fairly numerous at fashion award shows in particular. She was famous and successful in her own right in the field, and not just because she was Gob’s mother. After her own cunning ways got her son such success, she started her own modeling agency and now oversaw the careers of several models of varying success. None were quite as successful as Gob, but, then again, who was?

Anyway, the two of them continued to answer every question with the right amount of charm and humbleness and confidence, absolutely acing it. At the end of their interview, John Beard turned to his camera and said, “With a name like Gob Bluth up for the award, you have to wonder who else has a chance—”

“Did somebody say wonder?”

Gob, Lucille, and John Beard all turned as the only other real competition for the award made his dramatic entrance onto the red carpet: Tony Wonder.

“Tony Wonder—he’s so hot right now,” Gob heard someone say.

Gob just barely managed to stop himself from groaning. Ugh. Tony Wonder. People really did think he was “so hot” at the moment. Gob didn’t know why. From his flashy personality and try-hard attempts at getting attention—like said dramatic entrances—to his magic-based persona and short, weirdly muscular stature and his thick, luscious hair and striking eyes—

Whatever. It wasn’t like a million other male models didn’t have that going for them, too.

About the only thing remarkable about Tony was that he was gay. And publicly so. People liked to call him a “hero”, as if he was the only gay male model who existed. As if! Gob knew tons of gay male models.

Not like know-know, but he knew they existed.

Like, he just had heard whisperings about them, it wasn't like he had experience with them.

Definitely not like that kind of experience. God, no.

The point was that there really was nothing so special about Tony Freaking Wonder. Nothing.

Still, despite how not-special Tony Wonder was, Gob found himself naturally turning his way. And as luck would have it, Tony looked his way as he continued down the carpet. Gob held his intense gaze, resisting the urge to cower or look away as he walked past him, some female friend or hag or whatever you called it on his arm.

Neither of them dropped their gaze until Tony had completely walked past him.

God, why did anyone think he was so hot right now? Gob felt nothing about him.

Nothing.

Gob cleared the lump that had formed in his throat, shook off the chills from the moment, and continued walking down the carpet, posing for pictures and taking a few more interviews along the way.

Much to his amusement, he eventually saw Sally Sitwell off to the side with several other journalists, trying to get attention from anyone who’d listen. Feeling generous, Gob walked over to her and said, “Hey! Long time no see!”

Sally barely gave him a sideways glance “Hey.” She looked back at the carpet, desperately looking for someone else to talk to or at least try to get their attention. Not that any of these vain model types cared about print journalism anymore, not with the reporters for Entertainment Tonight and the like around.

“That interview went well, huh?” Gob asked.

Sally gave him a look and nodded. “You’ll see how well it went tomorrow.”

“Really?” Gob asked, excited. He couldn’t wait. Seeing his face on the cover of magazines never got old.

“Yeah, just like everyone else,” Sally said. Before Gob could ask her anything else, she was calling out, “Mr. Austero! Mr. Austero—any comment on what your sister Lucille has said about the border wall?”

Gob rolled his eyes and looked back at the carpet as Argyle Austero walked past, paying Sally no mind. It was kind of nice to know he ignored her, too, since Argyle Austero was the only designer who he had never worked for. Gob figured it was due to the rivalry his mom had with Argyle’s sister, Lucille—Lucille 2 as she was referred to by his family. That rivalry had only grown more intense since Lucille 2 had started her political career. She had worked her way up from state senator to the governor of California, her liberal ideals going right against everything Lucille 1 stood for.

Of course, maybe part of the reason for Argyle’s lack of interest in Gob was due to his sister, Lindsay. As in the the blonde woman who walked by Argyle's side. The blonde woman who just happened to be someone Gob hadn't spoken to in years.

It was apparently hard to be an older brother when you were jet-setting around the world with only your mom at your side. Gob had learned that the hard way, seeing as it wasn't just Lindsay he hadn't spoken to in years. 

That rift had started years ago, back when Gob had been discovered. See, Gob always told the public he always wanted to be a model. A few people, people who were closer to his family, thought he was just randomly discovered and he naturally pursued something he was good at doing. But only his family knew the full truth.

Years ago, Gob was a senior in high school. He was barely passing his classes, but he could play the piano better than anyone in his age range in the area—and he had the awards to prove it. He was on track to audition for the best music schools: San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Boston Conservatory, Juilliard—he had it made. The only thing he loved more than music was magic, but after almost setting the house on fire a few too many times, his mom took away his lighter fluid and other things he needed to pursue that career, so music it was.

He figured once he was at Juilliard, he could pick it up again. He had ideas on how to combine the two loves of his life.

Anyway, one day, Lindsay heard about a casting call for some modeling job. She begged and begged until their mom, despite the digs she made at Lindsay's appearance, agreed to take her to it. She also brought Buster, assuming everyone would find her baby just as adorable as she did. And since she didn't trust Gob alone because of the previously mentioned incidents of almost setting the house on fire, he was dragged along with them.

Buster, as to be expected, was so nervous that even if he was cute enough to be a child model, he was clearly unsuitable to the casting director. Lindsay, while not at all nervous, was told she needed a nose job before she could ever even be considered.

But Gob apparently had the perfect look. Maybe his lips looked extra plump from how he had been pouting over being dragged along. Maybe it was how he was leaning against the wall in a way that showed off his tall stature and long legs, his arms crossed and his head angled just right. Maybe it was the far off, mysterious look he’d always get when he thought through his piano pieces, as he was unable to stop thinking about the complicated rhythms of his Chopin étude.

Whatever it was, Gob had been jerked out of his Chopin thoughts by the agent pointing at him and saying he had The Look™.

She didn’t say the trademark but her voice definitely implied it.

That day, everything about Gob’s life changed. Suddenly his mom was doting on him and ignoring Buster. Buster was jealous of the attention he got from his mom and Lindsay was jealous of the job he had "stolen" from her, so both of them stopped talking to him. And Michael was obviously jealous as well but pretended like he just thought it was dumb, because he always acted like he thought Gob was dumb. Maybe they would've grown out of that jealousy if he had stayed around or if his career flopped, but his career skyrocketed and he was gone pursuing that so much that his siblings grew up without him. He barely recognized them—and barely knew what they were up to anymore.

Michael was the one he knew the most about. Michael, the goody two-shoes suck-up he was, stuck by his dad’s side and weaseled his way into that presidential position and the CEO track at their father’s company, of course. Despite being only in his early 20s, he was married with a kid, basically living a life in the complete opposite way his older brother did.

Buster, also a goody two-shoes suck-up, chose to continue sucking up to their mom. Lucille had still babied him from time-to-time until he lost his hand in a freak accident. After that, she had chosen to send him to a private school to keep him busy, an academy that taught him it was better not to be seen or heard, and he had made good on that promise since Gob hadn't seen or heard from him in years. Despite the years it had been like this, it was still weird seeing his mom without him on her right hand, and he was sure it would be even weirder to see Buster without his left one.

But the last few years of Lindsay's life was a complete mystery to him. He knew she had gotten that nose job when he first started modeling and she apparently tried to have that career again, only to not have much success. Especially not compared to Gob—because, again, who had the same level of success as Gob?

After that, the details around her life got even murkier. Gob knew she met Argyle Austero and eventually eloped with Tobias Fünke, someone who worked at the rehab Argyle Austero helped run, but he didn't know which man she met first. He just knew that Lindsay was suddenly working as Argyle's right hand woman and wasn't even his sister anymore. She even had a baby—or at least Gob had heard that through the grapevine. Maybe.

That was the girl's name, right?

Gob wouldn't even know who to ask about it. He was pretty sure that little girl hadn’t met any of her family. Well, not any of the Bluths at least, since it was clear that after Lindsay legally changed her last name, she no longer considered herself a Bluth. Gob knew she wasn't even in contact with her twin anymore, and they had always been close growing up. Michael even had a child around Lindsay's child's age, but the two cousins wouldn't recognize the other, Gob was sure of it. And not just because they were obviously toddlers. 

Gob looked back at Sally, who was wearing a similar expression as his own—or at least one that reflected his own feelings whenever he saw glimpses of Lindsay at events like this. Confused, hopeless, hurt. He knew they had been friends, definitely closer than he had ever been with her, yet apparently she couldn’t even get her attention, either.

That honestly made him feel sad, too. He didn’t get why Lindsay would want to distance herself so much from being her past. He didn't know why his own success would make her not want to be a Bluth anymore.

Not wanting to be sad on what was supposed to be a special night for him, the night he was destined to win Best Male Model of the Year for the fourth time in a row, Gob shrugged it off and continued his way inside. He wasn’t going to let Lindsay "Fünke" or Tony Freaking Wonder ruin his night.

After a long night of boring awards and speeches, Gob sat up in excitement as the Male Model of the Year award, the final award of the night, was finally up. They showed a few reels of other competitors for the award, pity nominations really, before going to Tony Wonder’s, since they were obviously saving Gob's for the big finish. You know, best for last and everything.

“Young. Hot. Fresh. With more covers than any rookie model, newcomer Tony Wonder has sure shaken up the fashion industry.”

Gob rolled his eyes, yet again hearing someone say, “That Tony Wonder’s so hot right now.”

On the reel, Tony went on about how cool he was, that smug smirk on his dumb, stupid face as he talked about being true to himself and being his own person and all of this stupid stuff that was so stupid, so stupid that Gob had no idea why anyone would even like him unless they were also stupid.

Really fucking stupid.

“I wasn’t like any other kid, you know, who dreams about being an astronaut,” Tony continued on the reel, “I was always more interested in what bark was made out of on a tree. I’ve always been a wonderer, I’ve always asked questions—that’s how I got my name.”

Like he was born with the last name "Wonder" just because of that. God, he really was stupid for thinking that.

More images showed on the reel of Tony at various fashion runways and photoshoots, completely owning the sets—

You know, at least that’s what people thought he was doing. Gob didn’t think he was anything special. Obviously.

Even if that little magic trick he did at the end was pretty cool. How did he make it look like he was pulling a cookie out of himself? Where did the cookie even come from? It looked delicious—

As everyone started to clap for the clip, Gob stopped wondering—thinking, he was not wondering—about it and simply clapped politely along with them. Finally, seconds later, the screen started to show the image of the most handsome man there—him, obviously.

“Over the past decade, male modeling has had a shadow cast over it by one man and three letters—G-O-B.”

Gob grinned as, over the images of his own work played, his voice said, “Modeling to me isn’t just about being good looking or having a lot of fun and being really, really good looking.” He nodded to himself; man, he sounded deep.

He was totally deeper than Tony Wonder ever could be.

His reel finished all too soon after that, with just a few more cool words from him and the announcer of the video reminding them all, “Three time Male Model of the Year: Gob Bluth!”

Gob was sure the applause he got after his reel was, like, at least three times bigger than Tony Wonder’s had been.

Good.

The presenter came in again, “And the award goes to…” 

Not even listening to the official announcement, Gob got up as soon as the applause started. He waved and threw winks and charming smiles at the crowd on his way up, not paying much attention to how some people were looking at him weirdly. He was sure they were just jealous, or maybe just in shock that he had done the impossible by winning the award four years in a row.

Gob took the award with a big smile. "Wow," he said into the mic. "No one thought it was possible, but I proved them wrong, huh?"

Before he could go on, the presenter, some apparent celebrity or other that Gob didn’t care about, interrupted him and whispered in his ear, “Dude, you aren’t the winner.”

…He was joking, right?"

But Gob looked around slowly only to see images of Tony Wonder displayed all over the screens on the stage, looking all good-looking—allegedly good-looking, since he was totally average if anything. And the actual Tony Wonder was standing right behind him, looking confused and maybe a little amused at Gob’s blunder.

Gob looked back out at the crowd, taking in the looks of everyone for real and realizing it wasn’t jealousy or shock. It was embarrassment—for him. Shame. Pity.

He had just made an idiot of himself in front of the whole world, hadn't he?

Gob lowered the award back down to the podium as he heard people start to laugh. He quickly made his way backstage, past everyone staring at him, past people laughing at him, past everyone as he left through the backdoor in complete shame.

Meanwhile, as the show wrapped up inside, Argyle Austero had Lindsay call and wait for their limo at the door as he went to find her mother. He found it was best to keep Lindsay out of these sorts of matters.

“Lucille,” Argyle said, his voice sickly sweet. “Remember that deal we had?” Before Lucille could respond, he said, “I think we found our solution.”

She gathered what he meant quickly. “No,” Lucille said firmly. “No. We can’t do it. Not with him.”

“Lucille, you know he’s perfect for the job. And now he’s just made a mockery of himself—and of your family. It gives him the right motivation. It’s time.” Lucille still looked resistant and he chuckled under his breath. “I think you know what’s on the line for you—for your whole family. Why not throw this one under the bus, hmm?”

Lucille looked back at the stage her son had just embarrassed himself on and then back at Argyle. She did know just what was on the line for the family, and she knew what she had to do. The plan had been in motion for years now, just waiting for the perfect time. And apparently, that time had finally come.

“…Okay,” Lucille said. She took a deep breath and drew herself up even taller as Argyle grinned. “You’ve got a deal.”

Chapter Text

Gob didn’t wait for his limo to take him home from the awards show. He originally planned on just walking back to his apartment and made it several blocks before he realized he was completely lost and that he’d eventually have to walk on the highway and even he knew that wasn’t the best place to walk. So he found a taxi and, for once, hoped he wasn’t recognized as he slumped in the backseat, passing billboards that once held his face now showing the image of stupid fucking Tony Wonder all over them.

Feeling sick of that stupid man’s stupid face, Gob looked up and caught the image of himself in the rearview mirror. He thought he still looked handsome. But he could see the formation of a few wrinkles around his eyes—and was that gray sneaking into his hair? Or was it just the lighting?

Who am I? Gob wondered to himself as his image seemed to age in front of him.

The image in the mirror shrugged as if he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wasn’t the Gob Bluth he thought he was. And he had a lot of thinking to do.

God, he hated thinking.

“And in entertainment news, rookie model Tony Wonder beat out Gob Bluth for Male Model of the Year at the VH1 Fashion Awards tonight. Confused loser Gob Bluth tried to accept and steal the award in some sort of delusional state,” the radio announced.

The taxi driver looked back at Gob again, as if maybe he was starting to recognize him.

Gob sunk down lower in his seat and tried to cover his face, not looking up at him until he made it back to his place.

He paid the man for his service and walked inside his apartment. A banner had already been put up to celebrate what was supposed to be his fourth win, a lovely thought from his roommates. He felt sick to his stomach as he saw the number 4 crossed out and replaced with a 3.

At least they weren’t awake. That meant he could just go to bed without having to relive the night or see how much they had to be pitying him.

So, skipping his nightly beauty regime for the first time in years, Gob crawled into his bed and closed his eyes. Hopefully he’d eventually fall asleep and wake up from what had to just be a nightmare.

“It’s so fucked up, man!”

“Yeah! How could anyone win over you?”

“Especially Tony Wonder! He’s too short to even be a model!”

Gob looked down at his bowl of cereal. His roommates had been trying to cheer him up all day after his devastating loss of Model of the Year the night before, but they hadn’t been very successful.

So, okay, some people probably thought it was weird that a successful, A-List model like Gob Bluth lived with three other guys in an apartment. But, first of all, his mom took the usual manager cut, so it wasn’t like he had all of his earnings. Second of all, LA was expensive. And, third of all, Gob had never lived alone. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. He liked the idea of being able to come home to people who wanted to see him. And he was seen as a sort of hero to his three roommates, but particularly Brent and Chad who were models just like him.

Well, not just like him, since they weren’t at his level. Because, really, who was at Gob’s level?

Apparently that stupid fucking Tony Wonder guy. Ugh. Even thinking about that guy made Gob unbelievably angry.

“And his skin! It’s so pale for his hair color!” Brent, insisted. “It’s like, ex-squeeze me, have you ever heard of bronzer?”

Gob frowned. “He’s a model. I’m sure he’s heard of bronzer.”

His other roommate, Gary, said, “Gob, I think he was making a joke.” He gave the other guys a look and said, “Not that it was funny. Or what he wants to hear right now.”

“At least I'm trying to cheer him up!” Brent said. “You’ve barely said anything!”

“I don’t think he needs jokes right now. I think he’s thinking about some things and could use some comfort over jokes,” Gary said calmly.

As much as Brent and Chad wanted to argue, they decided against it, since Gary did know Gob best and he was honestly smarter than them and they knew that.

Gary wasn’t a model; he was Gob's personal assistant. Well, he was something like that. He definitely worked for Lucille's management company, and he and Gob were close enough they had even lived together before Brent and Chad had moved in and they would always off by themselves to get Gob "ready" for his photoshoots and interviews and the like. They weren't sure what kind of getting "ready" stuff they did, but Gob always left looking confident and relaxed.

Anyway, whatever Gary was, he definitely knew Gob the best and it was clear just how he looked at Gob that he knew the right thing to say. He asked, “Have you been thinking about things?”

Gob nodded. “I have been thinking.” He looked at Gary, who nodded encouragingly. “I’ve been thinking…do you guys ever think there’s more to life than being really, really, really ridiculously good looking?”

“…Like what?” Chad asked.

Gob blinked. “…I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far,” he said slowly. “…Didn’t you guys like other things before you realized you were good looking?”

While Gary looked thoughtful at Gob’s outburst, Brent and Chad gave him blank looks.

Right. They weren’t the brightest bunch.

After a moment, Gob said, “Like, when I was a kid, I liked music and magic. I was planning on doing, like, a Phantom of the Opera style act—though I obviously couldn’t wear a mask because I already knew I was too good-looking to hide behind that. But, yeah, I always wanted to work in music, like, ever since I was little. Magic was a little later in life, but I was good at both. Really good.”

Well, at least music. But as soon as he was discovered that fateful day all those years ago, his mom saw dollar signs in her eyes and started taking him to auditions and casting calls and boom, out went his lifelong dream.

He couldn’t complain much, though. Even if that 90% manager’s fee was steep, he was still making more money than he knew what to do with, all for being paid to just stand there and look hot, which was even more natural to him than music or magic. It seemed like what he was born to do.

At least it seemed like that until the night before.

And if he wasn’t good looking—ridiculously so—what was even the point of his whole life? He’d been told for so long now that it was his whole purpose. It was all he was supposed to do: stand there and be pretty. Who was he if he wasn’t the Gob Bluth, world famous fashion model?

“…Well, you’ve been in music videos, right?” Brent said.

“Yeah! That counts as working in music,” Chad said.

“And when you think about it, you do something magical in front of that camera,” Gary added with a small smile.

Gob nodded. He was magic in front of that camera. The camera loved him. But if that was true, how did he not earn that award?

Well, okay, what did other people do when they had lost their purpose? He’d seen movies and shit about that. What did they do?

“Maybe I should be doing things to, like, help people?” Gob said. That’s what they did in those movies, right?

Brent pointed out, “But models help people!”

“Yeah!” Chad said. “They help people find out what’s cool.”

“And give kids people to look up to,” Brent added.

Gob knew that was true. After all, even before he was a model, he was the coolest kid at his school. Kids looked up to him then, too.That had to mean something.

God, he hated thinking. “I think I’m getting a brain cramp,” he said as he rubbed his temple with a frown. He really needed a distraction before he thought himself into a brain tumor or something.

Gary seemed to realize that and, suddenly, he snapped his fingers. He knew the best way to cheer Gob up. He whispered his idea to his roommates and they all smiled and nodded.

“You know what could really help you sort through these important issues?” Gary asked.

“What?” Gob asked.

“BANANA NUT FRAPPUCCINO!” All three of them exclaimed at once.

Gob’s mouth fell open into a wide smile. That would definitely help his mood.

Back when Gob was first hitting his big break, Starbucks was also starting to sweep the nation. Gob was never a big fan of the taste of coffee, but he was definitely a fan of sugary drinks, so when they asked him to model in exchange of making a signature flavor for him, he agreed. And, at his mom’s insistence of synergy with the Bluth business, Gob chose a banana flavored concoction. Thus the banana nut frappuccino was created, a drink made just for him.

It technically only lasted for one summer, but the syrups were in stock all seasons and could be made whenever asked. So, Gob got in his car with his friends, hit up the closest Starbucks for his signature drink, and then cruised around town, blasting music from his childhood over the speakers, the top of his convertible down.

As “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” played, Gob didn’t have a care in the world. Everything felt perfect. He could hardly remember why he had been so upset that morning.

“Oh, gotta get some gas,” Gob announced, pulling over at the first station he saw.

His roommates all got out with him as they kept blasting Wham, not giving a fuck if no one else at the gas station wanted to hear it. Gary started to wash Gob’s front window for him then, trying to keep up the laughter and energy of the moment, threw some of the water at him.

“Hmm, but where did the water come from, huh?” Gary joked.

Gob laughed and grabbed one of the wipers from the neighboring pump station and flicked the water at him in response.

Following their lead, Brent and Chad took the remaining wipers and soon it was an all-out water fight.

Gob only stopped when he saw his tank was nearly full. He put the wiper away, intending on going right back to his friends, only to see something familiar in a nearby trash can.

His own face on a magazine cover.

But it wasn’t one of the hundreds he had done before, the ones in his portfolio and on his apartment walls. It was a new one. It was a new one for Time Magazine—wasn’t that who Sally worked for?

Gob perked up; that interview had gone great. And Sally was such a close family friend, there was no way she’d have anything but good things to say about him! Gob ran over and picked it out of the trash, thinking nothing of it—

But his excitement died as soon as he read the headlining title.

“Gob Bluth: A Model, Idiot?” Gob read out loud. Surely Stickwell wouldn’t turn on a friend like him, right? Someone else must have said something.

But, nope. Right underneath the title read the words By Sally Sitwell. A hateful article about him being stupid right after he had done something so stupid the day before.

Gob turned back to his friends, knowing he’d need to be even more cheered up now.

And, honestly, seeing his friends dancing around to Wham spraying gasoline on each other now, was cheering him up. He always liked playing with that as a kid. Maybe he’d join them in the fun.

Well, he thought that until Brent pulled out a cigarette.

…Wait, there was a reason Gob played with gasoline when he was younger.

His eyes widened as Brent pulled out his lighter.

There was a reason his mom had taken all of that away when he almost burnt down the house.

“Brent!” Gob called out. “NO!”

Brent turned to him, a confused expression on his face as his lit cigarette came in contact with the gasoline around him.

BOOM!

…Well, they always said smoking was a deadly habit. Gob just never thought it would take three lives at once.

Funeral plans were made immediately. Gob couldn’t tell you who did what and when, but soon, all too soon, he was up in front of a crowd to give a speech for the combined, triple funeral at St. Adonis’ Cemetery.

And while this had all happened so quickly, Gob had done all the thinking he had planned on doing before the freak accident even happened. He kept thinking about how fragile life was. How fleeting fame was. How he, too, could’ve easily died in a freak gasoline fight accident.

He also knew before he even got to the funeral, that there would be cameras and news people there. While his model roommates and Gary weren’t nearly as famous as him, they were successful in their own right. They were definitely famous enough combined and died in a freaky enough way to have the media come to their funeral.

So, Gob knew exactly what to say in front of those cameras and the coffins.

As the final and main speaker, Gob stepped up to the podium in his white tux—he had chosen that to celebrate their lives. And, you know, because he thought he looked better in white than black, honestly. But, anyway, he stood up there and started his speech.

“Chad, Brent, and Gary were like brothers to me. And when I say brother, I don’t mean like an actual brother. I mean like friends. Close friends.” Thinking about his own siblings whom he barely recognized anymore—and thinking about some of the things they had done as friends—he added, “Closer than brothers, really.”

He took a deep breath. “If there’s anything we can learn from this horrible tragedy, it’s that life is a precious, precious commodity. Even if you're a male model. Just because you have chiseled abs and stunning features…” Gob looked over at the three coffins, thinking just for a moment about how his roommates were almost as ridiculously good looking as him, even Gary—especially Gary, really, he was cute enough Gob never knew why he didn't try to be a model. “Just because we’re hot, doesn’t mean that we, too, can’t die in a freak gasoline fight accident.”

Life really was just so fragile, wasn’t it?

“That is why today, ladies and gentlemen, I want to announce…” He paused, both for the emotion building up at what he had to announce and, of course, for the dramatic reveal. “I want to announce…” He swallowed a lump in his throat, not sure he could really say it. He let out a small, nervous chuckle. “You’re probably starting to wonder what I’m—”

“DID SOMEBODY SAY WONDER?”

Everyone turned as Tony Wonder made his dramatic entrance, complete with a full entourage following him and music accompanying his reveal.

Everyone started to chatter about how great he was. "Tony Wonder—so hot right now. Tony Wonder.”

Gob crossed his arms. Yeah, Tony Wonder. The hot gay one.

Gob was thinking that mockingly, by the way. Because he didn’t think Tony was hot.

No way.

Gob shook his head and, once Tony sat down, he continued, “I would like to take this opportunity—”

People were still babbling to each other about stupid fucking Tony Wonder.

"I wanted to say—"

They still weren't paying attention to him. And they'd be sorry once he finally said what he had been planning.

“PEOPLE!” Gob screamed, hitting the podium until everyone finally settled down.

Wanting to make sure they felt sorry for not listening, he said, without any hesitation, “I’d like to announce my retirement from the male modeling profession.”

There were gasps and clicks of cameras all around him. Gob enjoyed taking in everyone’s reactions. He saw his mom looking shocked and angry—yeah, he probably should’ve warned her that was coming. He saw Lindsay looking at him with concern—that had to be the first time he had gotten a reaction out of her in years.

And there was Tony Wonder, his sunglasses hiding any expression in his eyes, the rest of his face unreadable and unbothered.

Stupid Tony Wonder. He definitely needed bronzer or a spray tan like his roommates had said.

He felt that lump of emotion build up in his throat again as he realized he never told them how right they were. And now he never would.

Gob, realizing he had to officially end his speech, said, “I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more to life than being really, really good looking…and I’m going to find out what that is. Thank you.”

“Mr. Austero! Please, can I just have a minute of your time?” Sally asked from her spot outside the cemetary.

He shook his head and kept walking past her.

“Please, just a minute—” Sally groaned and then her eyes locked with Argyle’s right-hand woman, Lindsay. “Lindsay—please!” She still had to feel some sort of friendship towards her, right?

Surprisingly, Lindsay stopped, but didn’t look happy about it. “What?”

Sally hesitated, so shocked about Lindsay actually acknowledging her that she wasn't sure what to say at first. Lindsay raised an annoyed eyebrow at her and Sally finally spat out, “Please, I just need a minute of your boss’ time—I have this story I want to write—”

“Oh, you mean like the one you just wrote about Gob?” Lindsay asked, her voice seething with anger.

“Come on, that is the most classic example of the pot calling the kettle black, Lindsay. You always called him an idiot.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s an idiot. But he doesn’t deserve to be called one in front of the whole world. Besides, I have earned the right to call him one; you haven’t. The whole world hasn’t.”

Sally crossed her arms. “Why are you even pretending to care about him?”

“Of course I care about him—”

“And when was the last time you even talked to him?” Sally asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Lindsay’s jaw clenched.

“Just admit that you wouldn’t be mad if it was anyone else who wrote it,” Sally said, stepping in closer to Lindsay. “You just happen to have something against me—I don’t know what.” Softer, almost regretfully, Sally said, “We used to be friends, Linds.”

Lindsay and Sally made tense eye contact for a while. Lindsay’s gaze seemed to soften a little until she heard the voice of her husband and Argyle’s assistant, Tobias, calling out for her.

Lindsay took her eyes off of Sally to look back at Tobias. “I’ll be there in a second!” Lindsay yelled, angrier than necessary. When she whipped back to look at Sally, her eyes were lit up with anger yet again.

“What I care about is that he thought he was doing you a favor—which he was since that was your first cover, wasn’t it?” Lindsay hissed.

Sally felt a wave of guilt. “…It was, yes—but it wasn’t my fault he came across that badly—”

“You could’ve made him look better! You didn’t have to humiliate him—he does that fine enough on his own!” Lindsay's eyes narrowed. “I guess you really haven’t grown up from that girl who told the whole school about my nose job.”

Unable to stop herself, Sally said, “You mean telling people things that are obvious? Yeah, I guess I still do that.”

That was the wrong move. Lindsay gave her a look of disgust and stomped off without another word.

Sally sighed. “Way to go, Sitwell,” she muttered to herself.

She didn’t get much of a chance to feel sorry for herself before she saw someone walk past her. A very tall person in a bright white tux.

“Gob?”

She chased after him and called his name again. “Gob! Hey!”

Gob looked annoyed and kept walking. “What are you doing here?”

Sally kept up with him as he made his way to his car. “Actually I was trying to talk to Argyle Austero—did you know he also runs a cement business—”

“If you had done your research for your article,” Gob said angrily, “you would’ve known I know nothing about him, because he’s the one designer who’s never hired me.” He scoffed and said, “But I guess you should’ve assumed that, since you think I don’t know anything, anyways.”

Sally looked down at her feet, feeling even guiltier than before with Gob looking at her like that, angry and full of hurt over her article. “…Listen, Gob, I’m sorry. If it helps, I didn’t come up with the title; my editor did—”

“Well, it’s a good thing not many people I know read your Time Magazine or whatever it’s called,” Gob said.

Yet again unable to help herself—and who could when someone was insulting their job like that?—Sally said, “I don’t think you know many people who know how to read.”

Gob glared. “Funny.”

Sally winced. “I’m sorry, that was harsh—and I’m really sorry about that title.”

“Yeah. Right,” Gob said sarcastically as he pulled out his car keys and unlocked his car.

Sally gently grabbed his arm and quietly said, “I’m sorry about your friends, too.”

Gob stopped his movements, just glad he had his sunglasses on to hide any excess emotion he was trying to fight.

“It can’t be easy losing three people like that at once,” Sally continued softly. She truly did feel bad for him, too; it wasn’t like she was trying to just get some points with him or something. “I know just losing a friend emotionally is hard…” She thought about that interaction she had just had with Lindsay and barely held back a wince.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and continued, “And, I mean, I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about in a freak car-related accident. You know, my mom and everything…”

Gob slowly nodded. He remembered having to attend Sally’s mom’s funeral when he was younger. She had been in a major car accident, so bad it wasn't even open casket. It was the first funeral he had ever been to. 

“If you ever want to talk…I’m here. I’m willing to listen if you need to talk about anything,” Sally offered. She figured she owed him that much after that scathing article and taking advantage of him like that.

Gob almost wanted to take her up on the offer. It would be nice to talk to someone about losing his roommates, his friends, his…his friends for whom he had some mixed up feelings. Feelings he had never spoken out loud. Feelings that scared him.

But then he looked at her and saw that pencil behind her ear and that notepad in the hand that wasn’t on his shoulder and he jerked away.

“Yeah. So you can have another juicy article to write about me,” Gob snarled.

“What? No! I would never—”

“You would just mock my you-google-y.”

Sally looked confused. “Your what?”

“I’m not interested,” Gob said, opening his car door. “Besides, I have an after-funeral party to attend.”

With that he got in his car and drove away without giving Sally a second glance.

“You’re not quitting, Gob,” Lucille said as they walked into her office at the Bluth Modeling Agency.

“Yes, I am, Mom,” Gob said as he closed the door behind him.

Lucille scoffed and went to her bar to make herself a vodka martini. “Yeah? And what are you going to do without your modeling career, hmm?”

“I don’t know…help people?” Gob said. His mom scoffed again and he said, “They always say it’s the thought that counts, and I finally get that now, ‘cause just the thought of helping others was the most rewarding feeling I’ve ever had!”

“And how are you going to ‘help others’?” Lucille asked.

“…I haven’t gotten that far,” Gob said. “But I’ll think of something!”

Lucille flat-out laughed that time.

“I just know there’s more to life than being really, really ridiculously good-looking,” Gob said. “And I don’t think I can find that out if I’m getting paid for being really, really ridiculously good-looking.”

“But what about this business, huh?” Lucille asked, gesturing wildly enough that some of her freshly made drink spilled. “What about the career I gave you? Who was the one who paid for your first headshots and took you to all those auditions and casting calls? Who fought to get you every cent you’ve earned?” Before Gob could say anything in protest, she pointed out, in a quieter voice, “Who made sure your secret never came out?”

Gob froze. “What secret? Came out? What?!”

“I mean how I made sure you never booked a show where you had to turn left,” Lucille said, still keeping her voice down. Even with the door closed, she didn’t trust that someone wouldn’t eavesdrop on them.

Gob relaxed. “Oh. Right.” But then he remembered to protest, “I can turn left!”

“Yeah, right,” Lucille said sarcastically, going back to topping off her drink to make up for the spill. “Gob, you have many modeling gifts, but turning left isn’t one of them. You’ve always only been able to swing one way.” Before Gob could even think too much about how he didn’t like that phrasing, his mom pointed at the chair in front of her desk and told him, “Sit.”

Gob obediently did so, watching silently as his mom came back over to the desk.

Once she was settled, she announced, “Regardless, I have some terrific news. Argyle Austero wants you for his new campaign!”

Gob frowned. “Mom, I just retired. I’m not modeling anymore.”

“But this is Argyle Austero, Gob!” Lucille said. “I don’t know how he got so good at what he does, what with that sister of his being as tacky as she is, that bitch!” She nearly screamed that and then paused. She cleared her throat and continued, “Anyhow, he’s the biggest name in fashion right now and I cannot let you turn him down. He’s the hottest thing in fashion right now—”

“Well then he can go hire Tony Wonder, then,” Gob said with a petulant wave of his arms. “Everyone keeps saying he’s so hot right now.” He crossed his arms and looked away from his mom. He couldn’t believe how tainted the word “hot” felt now.

Stupid Tony Wonder.

Lucille sighed and took a long sip of her drink. She then put down the glass and lifted up the magazine on her desk. “Gob,” she said seriously.

Gob looked up, only to see her holding that Time Magazine cover that called him an idiot. He immediately looked away, the headline still stinging.

“You’re the laughing stock of the industry right now. I get why you want to quit. But what do we do when we fall off the horse?”

Gob thought about it. “…We get back up and shoot it?”

Lucille brought a hand to her forehead. She groaned, “No. We get back on.”

“Well, sorry, Mom, I’m not a jockstrap,” Gob said, rolling his eyes. “That was always Lindsay’s thing, you know. Horses and everything.”

That thought made him pause for a moment. “…And why is Argyle only offering me a job now? Lindsay’s been working for him for years and she’s never persuaded him to help me before. She hasn’t given me the time of day in years. Isn’t that messed up? She is my sister.”

Lucille looked down at her drink. “Siblings don’t have to be close.”

“I know. But we all used to be,” Gob said. Maybe they weren’t best friends, but he at least talked to them. They hung out sometimes. They’d listen to music and see movies and bond over whatever lesson their dad would try to teach them with that creepy guy with one arm.

He missed that. He missed being a family. He missed home.

Gob suddenly stood up, knowing what he had to do.

“Mom, I have to leave LA. It’s time for me to find my roots.” He took a deep breath and, in complete seriousness, he said, “I’m going to Newport Beach.”

Lucille blinked at him. “…You mean you’re going forty minutes away?”

“…It’s more like an hour in traffic,” Gob said.

“You know I still live there, right? It’s not really leaving—”

“Goodbye, Mom. I’ll see you whenever I swing by the penthouse.”

And, with that, he turned to his right until he was facing the door on his left and marched out of his mom’s office.

“…Jesus Christ,” Lucille muttered to herself before chugging down the rest of her martini.

Chapter Text

LA traffic was exhausting. What should’ve taken half an hour tops took Gob nearly an hour to do. But, finally, he made it all the way down to his hometown of Newport Beach, California.

It was good to be home.

Well, not that he had a home there. When he was first born, he and his parents lived in an apartment. Sometime after the twins came along, his parents bought a house. An extravagant one, of course, one where Gob had his own room, a luxury he hadn’t had in years because of LA prices.

…It was kinda weird that despite all his fame, he wasn’t making as much as his parents. It made sense, though, since it wasn't like his dad had to pay that 90% manager's fee like he did.

Anyway, he knew that house wasn’t theirs anymore, but he still drove down to see what it looked like. Not wanting to be spotted by any roaming paps or recognized by his old neighbors, Gob put on a pair of large sunglasses and a hat as he stepped out to get a look at the old place.

Whoever owned it now had planted some pretty rose bushes up front. That was nice. He wondered if the family in there also sunbathed in the backyard like he used to—before he was told sunbathing could give him cancer and, worst of all, could age his skin prematurely.

He shuddered at the thought and adjusted the brim of the baseball hat he had worn as part of his disguise. He was purely into suntans in a bottle these days and loaded up on the SPF that he’d always whine about having to wear when he was younger.

God, so much had changed since he lived in that house. Back then, he hadn’t known what the hell moisturizer was. He never would’ve worn make-up unless maybe on Halloween. He hadn’t done anything hair-care wise beyond washing it—washing it with a combination shampoo-conditioner.

Gob couldn’t believe he was ever so ignorant about the importance of separate shampoo and conditioners.

He ran a hand through his hair, grateful he had any left after years of that mistreatment. Well, he tried running a hand through it, but he just ended up knocking his hat off his head.

Quickly, he picked up the hat, worried about being recognized. He put it back on and got back in his car and left. He was pretty sure no one saw him, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

He looked at the house one last time through his rearview mirror, wondering if he was any happier now than he was back then.

Gob had on his winning—well, not fourth year in a row Male Model of the Year award winning—smile when the door opened.

“Michael!” Gob greeted brightly. Realizing it had been a while since they’d seen each other—and because he was still wearing his disguise—he clarified, “It’s me! Gob! Your brother!” He pulled his brother into a hug—a hug that was definitely not returned—before making his way past his brother into his house.

“Gob?” Michael asked, clearly confused—good thing Gob told him who he was—and not at all happy to see him. “What are you—”

“Wow. You definitely went the opposite direction of Mom and Dad, huh?” Gob said as he looked around the living room. He had Michael’s address but he had never actually been to his house. It was super plain and sensible, a perfect little Bluth house for his little Bluth family, which was the complete opposite of the big mansion their parents owned during their childhoods.

“I guess,” Michael said. He crossed his arms and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Gob hesitated. Thankfully, he had another excuse to not say anything when Michael’s wife came in. “Tracey! Hi! Remember me?” Gob asked. Again, he clarified, “It’s me! Gob! Michael’s brother!”

“Uh, yeah, Gob, I remember you,” Tracey said with a slight laugh. “I don’t think anyone could forget you.”

Gob beamed and hugged her and she actually returned the hug which was nice. Gob remembered her being nice when they met at her wedding. They had only seen each other once or twice since then, though.

Gob looked her over after he pulled away from the hug. “Wow! You’ve lost so much weight since I last saw you.”

Tracey raised her eyebrows. “…I was pregnant last time you saw me.”

“Oh, right! You guys had a kid!”

“Yeah. A kid you didn’t come down to see,” Michael said coldly.

Gob paid his tone no mind. “What’s his name again?”

“George Michael,” Tracey said.

Gob suddenly looked off in the distance, his eyes wide and his back stiff. Those simple words triggered the memory of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” playing as he watched his friends die in a freak gasoline fight accident.

“…Gob…?”

Tracey’s voice managed to snap him out of it. He shook himself out of the memory and before he could explain himself, Michael asked, “Did you come over high?"

“Michael!” Tracey scolded.

“What? It’s a fair question!” Michael said. Tracey frowned at him and he sighed. He knew Tracey wanted them to all get along since she thought family was the most important thing.

Michael used to think that, too, by the way. Then his brother went off to model and his whole family fell apart. By the time he graduated high school, the only family member he ever really talked to was his dad. Even his mom seemed too busy with her new job to ever stop by.

But even the darkest days had some sunlight, and Michael's came in the form of college. It wasn't just because college got him out of his empty house and got him friends, but college was where he met Tracey. He fell head over heels for her, this beautiful and sweet and kind woman who loved family more than anything. They got married before they even graduated and now he finally had a family he planned on keeping together.

A family his brother was not a part of. Not for lack of Michael’s trying, anyway. At least not at first. But you could only try so much before you gave up, and Michael had given up a long time ago. It was better that way.

So now that Gob was showing up, acting like nothing had happened and suddenly wanting to be part of something he hadn't tried to be a part of in years? Yeah, Michael was not in the mood for playing nice.

“No, I’m not high, Michael,” Gob answered. He sighed. “Can’t you even pretend to be happy to see me?”

“I’m not an actor or anything, Gob,” Michael said, crossing his arms.

Gob ignored the sting of his brother admitting he didn’t want him there. Instead, he teased, “I don’t know, I remember someone playing the lead in The Trial of Captain Hook—”

“Why are you here, Gob?” Michael interrupted, not wanting to bring up that mess again.

Gob bit his lip for a moment in thought. Rolling his shoulders back, he said, “I think it’s time I get back to my roots. So, I figured it’s time I take my rightful place in the family business.”

Michael blinked at him for several silent moments. “…And that part would be…?”

“…Well, as the oldest, I should be leading it—”

“I’m going to be the next CEO, Gob,” Michael said, his voice as direct and blunt as ever. "I'm President now and Dad has promised me the CEO position."

“I know,” Gob said, fighting off clenching his jaw. He still was bitter that he was never even considered. “But I can help! It doesn’t have to be the CEO or anything—I’m good at lots of stuff!”

Michael snorted and was about to tell Gob he didn’t need his help when Tracey said, “I’m sure he can find you something to do, Gob.” Michael looked at her and she looked back, raising her eyebrows at him. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

“It doesn’t!” Gob agreed. “I just wanna help. Please? Just give me a chance!”

While Gob’s pleading look didn’t have much of an affect on Michael, Tracey’s look definitely did. He closed his eyes with a sigh, thinking of what he could give his brother to do that would annoy him the least. Obviously it had to be something that kept him far away from him, and something where he wouldn’t be in a leadership position so he couldn’t fuck it up too much.

And it’d be a bonus if Gob ended up hating it enough that he quit.

Finally, Michael opened his eyes and looked at Gob. “ I’m sure our construction workers could use someone strong to help them. And models work out, right?”

Gob faltered for a moment. That hadn’t been what he imagined. But before Michael could say anything, Gob smiled and nodded. “I can totally do that. I even have the perfect outfit for it out in my car!” After a moment he added, “It’s okay if I stay with you, right?”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I’m re-discovering my roots, remember, Mikey?”

“Don’t call me that,” Michael said. “And don’t you live, like, an hour away?”

Tracey again intervened. “Of course you can stay here. It’ll give you a chance to meet our son! I’m sure he’ll love to meet you for real—I always point out your ads to him, so he’ll definitely recognize you.”

Michael closed his eyes again as Tracey started to show Gob to his room.

Tracey had better never let his idiot brother hold their son.

Gob was used to getting up early for photoshoots and the like. Despite what some people like Michael might’ve thought, he was often up at the crack of dawn to be put through make-up and hair and the wardrobe department and everything. It took a lot of work to be ridiculously good-looking, even for those as naturally gifted in that department as Gob.

So, really, Gob had no problem with how early Michael got him up to get to the construction site. Michael looked miserable with the time, though, glowering over a mug of coffee while Gob happily ate some breakfast Tracey had graciously made for him. Then he put on his sunscreen and let Michael drive him over.

And once they got there, while Gob would never admit it, he did think it was rather cool that Michael actually knew all the guys’ names and stuff. Their dad certainly never tried that hard to keep up with the construction workers, obviously feeling like they were too “low class” to care about them. Gob had to respect Michael’s, well, respect for them.

But, then again, it was possible it wasn’t true respect for them as people. It could’ve just been him protecting his own ass. Gob had learned all too quickly in the fashion world how once lowly interns could eventually become the people in charge of your hair and make-up, or how even the people working lights at the fashion show could ruin your whole performance if they felt like it. The same sort of thing seemed likely in the real estate world. Right?

Regardless, Michael introduced Gob to the head worker. The man handed him a hard hat and a vest that Gob wrinkled his nose at.

“Do you have these in another color? Orange really clashes with this outfit,” Gob said, showing off said outfit. It was a simple look with a white T-shirt, tight blue jeans, and a red flannel tied around his hips to help sell the whole down-to-earth, blue-collar worker image, kinda aiming for Bruce Springsteen. But the neon orange did not match the red at all.

The man, looking unamused, turned to Michael, who, also looking unamused, told Gob, “It’s all they have. You can deal with it.”

Gob wanted to argue but he decided against it and just put on the vest. “I guess it at least accentuates my arms,” he said, admiring his guns. He wasn’t hulking or bulging by any means, but he definitely had nice, toned arms. And while the hat would definitely fuck up his hair, at least it provided some protection from the sun. His face would be thankful for that, both burn-wise and aging wise.

He still pulled out his compact mirror, though, to make sure it was at the best angle for him, of course.

Another worker took him away to get started and Michael told the head of the project, “Work him as hard as you can and I’m sure he’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

“We need Gob to do the show, Lucille.”

“Don’t you think I know that, George?” Lucille asked in exasperation as she poured herself a vodka on the rocks in their penthouse living room. “Gob needs all the good press he can get—”

“I don’t care about that!” George said, exasperated. “You know what power Argyle has over us. You know this is how we pay our debt.”

“Oh, gee, I didn’t know that! Tell me again what that debt is?”

Lucille was being sarcastic, of course, but George apparently looked down on her enough to recap the whole debt. He didn’t seem to notice the figure moving in the shadows of their penthouse like she did. She simply enjoyed her drink, prompting her husband every now and then to add more details to his recap. 

Once George stopped ranting, Lucille told him, “Don’t worry. I know how to get him to come back to modeling. All it will take on our behalf is one little phone call.” She pulled out her phone and turned away from her husband, dialing in a number she hadn’t used in years.

“I think I’m getting calluses,” Gob whined, rubbing the skin of his normally silky smooth palm.

“It was one day, Gob,” Michael said with a roll of his eyes. “I doubt you’ve formed any yet.”

“Easy for you to say. Working in your cozy little office all day while I was out there helping you make money,” Gob muttered to himself.

Michael didn’t even bother reminding Gob again that he had only been at it for one day.

If Michael had pointed that out again, Gob had a full rant ready to go because, seriously, construction work was hard. He worked out and was strong and had muscles, yet he was more physically exhausted than he had ever been. His muscles were made to look good, not to try to control a jackhammer or whatever. When the other workers realized that, they mostly had him walking around, carrying various heavy machinery and tools for everyone else. By the time they broke for lunch, his arms felt like jelly.

And they didn’t even provide lunch. Not even a measly craft service selection! Hello?! Wasn’t that, like, illegal? Did construction not have unions to help with that stuff??

And, god, don’t get him started on the mocking he got for putting on sunscreen. As if it was lame to not wanna look like the crypt keeper before he reached the age of 35! Even though that was obviously several years away for him. Like, totally several years away. He wasn’t even close to 35, okay?

Okay.

Anyway, the whole thing had been awful. It was not sexy like the Village People made it out to be—

Not like he thought the Village People were sexy or anything, but obviously they thought it was sexy enough to include in their band. That was all.

Thankfully, he at least got to go back to Michael’s house with a nice meal from Tracey that helped make up for his lack of a lunch. He got to bond some with his nephew before the kid’s bedtime, which was nice, even if George Michael was barely able to babble more than a few words like "mama", "dada", and "yes"—apparently George Michael didn't know how to say "no" yet. And now he was enjoying his roots even more by drinking in front of the TV, something he did all the time as a kid.

Still, he was very upset about those calluses.

Before he could complain about it again, though, he heard the familiar music of a certain moisturizing commercial. He turned hopefully to the TV and smiled upon seeing his face on the screen, his body morphed into that of a merman. “Oh, the simple days…” Gob sighed wistfully to himself.

“You mean yesterday?” Michael supplied dryly.

Tracey lightly hit his arm. “Be nice!” Tracey whispered so Gob wouldn’t hear her. “He’s your brother—and he’s going through a lot! He just lost his friends!”

Michael did feel bad about that part, especially since he was pretty sure that the word Tracey used for Gob’s roommates deserved air quotes around it. Maybe he was reading too much into things, maybe he was judging it based on stereotypes, but either way, Michael always thought it was weird his brother lived with three guys instead of in his own place. Three guys he often said were very attractive young men…

Michael whispered back, “You know why it’s hard for me to be nice to him.”

While she looked sympathetic, she repeated, still whispering, “Be nice.”

Of course, even if they hadn’t been whispering, Gob wouldn’t have heard them. He was too entranced watching his face in the moisturizer commercial, hearing his own deep voice narrating it, watching just how the camera loved him.

His roommates had been right. He really was magical in front of a camera.

…Hmmm…That finally gave him a good idea. He was already getting in touch with his roots, so why not go to the root of what really made him happy?

Once the commercial ended, Gob looked down at his red and sore hands. “I really am getting calluses.”

“You’ll live,” Michael said.

Tracey, trying to be positive, said, “It’ll actually help you some day, you know. It’ll make you less sore in the future.”

“Yeah, but it’s going to ruin my career plans,” Gob said, the brilliant idea he had making him smile widely. “I have to make my living off my hands!”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You said you quit modeling.”

“I did! Besides, it’s not like I was some hand model,” Gob scoffed. He sat up on his knees excitedly. “I came down here to find my roots, remember? And I just realized what I need to do with my life! I need to do things I loved before modeling. Things like—” he pulled a quarter from behind Michael’s ear, “magic.”

“Oh, Christ,” Michael groaned immediately. He had forgotten all about his brother’s half-baked attempt at being a magician. “You’re still doing that? I thought you stopped after that one attempt after your attempt at a fireball almost burned the house down."

“Well, I did. But only ‘cause I got discovered as a model. If I hadn’t, I would’ve kept doing that,” Gob said.

“What about piano? Weren’t you getting ready for your Juilliard audition?” Michael asked. He wasn’t sure that necessarily counted as a real job by any means, but it was much better than being a magician, at least.

“I was going to do magic and piano! I was working on, like, a Phantom of the Opera style thing, right? It was going to be so cool! But I was working on a routine and an outfit—the costume decisions were hard, because I didn’t want to cover up my face with a mask, y’know, because even then I knew that had to be a money-maker,” Gob said with a cocky little grin. “Now, I’m not sure. Like, it’s definitely my money-maker, but I’m not sure I want to use my face to get people interested; I want them to just want to see me. Me and my talent.” He got even more excited as he said, “And, oh! I can help people by not just showing off my own skills, but by creating a place for magicians and maybe even musicians to perform!"

“So, like any other night club out there?” Michael asked.

“…Well, yeah—oh! But I could also have lessons there! On performing and things like that! Teach people how to play music or do magic good!”

“Well,” Tracey corrected.

“Well, what?” Gob asked.

Before she could explain what she meant, George Michael started crying in the other room. “I’ll go check on him,” Tracey said before Michael could volunteer in an attempt to leave the conversation. She politely told Gob, “I think combining your two interests like that is a great idea.” She looked at Michael and said, “Don’t you agree?”

Michael nodded for her benefit and she smiled at him in approval before going to check on the baby.

Gob continued on, “So, yeah, I’m glad you let me work for you today, but I’m sorry to say that I can’t do this for long.” He looked at Michael seriously, “I know you’re about to be CEO, and I know you’re depending on me—”

“I’m not depending on you,” Michael said, confused that Gob even thought that.

Gob laughed. “Oh, Michael, come on. I know you’ve been waiting for your big brother to come back here and save the day.”

“No, I haven’t,” Michael said.

Gob ignored him. “I know it’s disappointing, but I think I might as well quit now and start working on my real dream.”

“Your real dream doing all those little tricks?”

“No, not a trick,” Gob said. “That doesn’t sound right. Like, a trick is something a whore does for money.”

“So, like what you were doing up until a couple of days ago,” Michael said.

Gob’s eyes narrowed. “…What did you say?”

“Come on, Gob,” Michael said with a slight laugh.

Gob wasn’t laughing.

“I was just joking,” Michael said. But, after a moment, he realized, “But, now that I think of it, modeling is basically the same thing.”

Gob’s fists clenched.

“You dress up—or sometimes wear nothing at all—and do whatever the guy paying you tells you to do.” Michael shrugged. “Seems like the perfect job for you—definitely better than the magic tricks.”

For a long moment, Gob just glared at Michael, his whole body tense. Finally, he took a big breath and said, “You’re calling me some kind of whore and putting me down when I came down here to see you. To help you.”

“Gob, you told me you came down here to find yourself or whatever. You weren’t here for me or Tracey or even my son,” Michael said. “You came down here to help yourself.”

“I came down here because I missed you. Because I realized I missed when we were, like, actual brothers—”

“And whose fault is that? Whose fault is it that we aren’t like real brothers anymore?” Michael shot back.

“How is it my fault?”

“You’re the one who left us to have some hot shot career! Do you not get how that ruined this whole family?” 

Michael nearly laughed at how clueless Gob looked. How did he not get it?

“Since you could make her money, Mom started focusing purely on you. She sent Buster to Milford so she wouldn’t have to watch him, and you know what Milford Men are like—I haven’t seen him properly in years. Not that I even know if I want to see him because of that hook.”

Both men shuddered at the reminder of how their brother had lost one of his hands in some freak accident. The fact they didn’t even know what caused it past “freak accident” made it even clearer how far apart they had truly drifted.

“And then Lindsay…you took Lindsay's dream away from her. She changed so much after you got that job, and not just the nose job. Something changed in her, she became so obsessed with trying to make a name for herself, to try to be model-thin, to try to be something…something like you. I don't even know what happened, but right around the time you hit it big, right around when we graduated high school, she just completely flipped and now I never talk to her anymore. Obviously it's connected to you somehow; it doesn't take a genius to work that out.

“And with Buster at school and Lindsay not even Lindsay anymore, suddenly it was just me and dad. And you know that’s not a real family. So, I had to make one myself,” Michael continued, saying things he had kept bottled up for years, things he had only told Tracey over years of dating, never all at once like this. “And when I finally did that, when I found a woman who I loved who loved me, who was my supposed Best Man who never even threw me a bachelor party?"

"You were still in college—you weren't even 21—how was I supposed to throw you a proper bachelor party?"

"As if you never partied before you were 21," Michael said with a derisive snort.

"You don't even like parties like that!"

"I could let loose for a special thing like that! But, fine, let's say that was reasonable. But, remind me, who was the one who showed up at the wedding and took all the attention off of us?"

“I can't help it that my appearance causes a stir because I'm famous—"

"But you didn't have to arrive halfway through the ceremony! How was anyone supposed to not focus on you after your big entrance?"

"I didn't think you'd start on time! I thought even you could be fashionably late for once!" Gob argued.

"And you led in a whole crowd of paparazzi!"

"That's not my fault! I can't control them!"

“Fine! But you know what you can control? When you call—which you don't. What you write in your Christmas cards—which are clearly filled in by your assistant. When you come down and visit—which you never do."

Gob's stomach sank, even as his body remained tense. Michael still looked angry, but there was a tinge of sadness, even devastation, in his voice.

"You missed out on everything. Christmases, graduations, birthdays—the birth of my son.” That one still particularly stung. “You’ve missed all of these important things in our family’s lives—in my life—since you started this…this stupid career.”

“It is not stupid,” Gob said, springing to his feet. Even if he hurt Michael, there was no need to attack his career. “Just because you aren’t hot enough to be a model doesn’t mean it’s stupid!”

Michael sprung up to his feet as well. “Seeing as how even Sally Sitwell—who’s a sweetheart, like a complete doll—couldn’t make you look smart, I’m gonna say that it and you are pretty stupid.”

“She exaggerated things! She told me that herself!” He glared and told Michael, “And at least I got my own cover through my own face and looks, not just because Daddy handed me down a company like you—”

“I worked hard to get to wear I am this young,” Michael said, his voice getting louder. “And even if it was handed down to me, at least I worked hard and didn’t have to rely on my looks to get me anywhere.”

Michael laughed without humor. “You know, when I was younger, when we were both younger, I actually looked up to you. I was jealous of your piano ability. I was jealous you could actually talk to girls. I was jealous that you were so effortlessly cool. I was jealous, but I was also proud to have such a cool brother.

“But now?” Michael scoffed. “You know, I’m actually glad you never visit, because I don’t want my son looking up to you. I don’t want him to think you’re cool just because you talk to girls and have some stupid, vapid, vain lifestyle. God, I can’t believe the guy I thought was cool now happily prances around half-naked and thinks that's cool. Or thinks pouting his lips is a serious career choice—"

He was cut off as the moisturizer commercial played yet again—seriously, was it on a loop or something?

Michael turned off the TV, unable to watch that stupid thing yet again. "Or actually enjoys pretending to be a fucking mermaid."

Gob swallowed a lump in his throat as he felt tears sting his eyes. He felt utterly humiliated and betrayed and just so freaking hurt to know his brother thought so lowly of him, that his brother could blame him for their family falling apart—

That his brother possibly even had a point.

Still, he wasn’t going to let Michael win.

He rolled his shoulders back and quietly told him, “I was a merman, Michael.” He looked his brother dead in the eye and whispered defiantly, “Merman.”

With that, he turned over his right shoulder, walked to the door, and winced loudly as he opened it—his hands seriously still hurt. But he ignored the pain as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him, quickly getting into his car and driving away.

He didn’t wipe his eyes until he reached the stop sign at the end of Michael’s neighborhood.

He sat at that sign for a while, not sure where to go. Going back to his old apartment meant going back to his old life in a way, except this time he’d be doing it alone. The other three beds in his apartment would be empty. He wouldn’t be able to talk about upcoming fashion shows with Brent or coach Chad on his walk or laugh with Gary about the latest Seinfeld rerun they watched.

Gob looked up at the night sky through the open roof of his convertible car.

“What do I do?” Gob whispered.

That was when his phone rang.

Gob jumped, the timing of that all too creepy.

With great hesitation, he pulled out the small device from his pocket and wiped his eyes. It rang again and he flipped it open and brought it to his ear fearfully. He didn’t recognize the number and given that he was just talking to the universe, he just knew who it had to be.

God was totally calling him.

“Hello? Gob? Are you okay?” A distinctly female voice asked.

God was a woman? Gob’s mouth fell open. "…God?"

“God? What the—no, Gob. It’s…It’s Lindsay.”

Gob’s mouth stayed open. It honestly would’ve been less shocking to hear from God than from his sister. But after a moment he felt this weird warmth in his chest and smiled. “Linds! Hey! I—how’s it going? How have you been? How’s…how’s everything?”

“I…it’s been good. I’m doing fine,” Lindsay said, sounding a bit surprised that he was even asking. She cleared her throat and said, “Listen, I was talking to my Argyle and…and you’ve got to come over here and meet with him. He’s making you an offer you won’t believe.”

“…Oh…” Gob said. He should’ve known she wasn’t calling him just because it was him.

After a small silence, Lindsay added, “And…and I’d really like to see you, too.”

Gob paused and slowly smiled. “Really? That’d be great. I—yeah, I’ll come see you—and him.”

“Great.”

After they arranged the time, Gob hung up and, with a deep breath, started the drive back to LA.

Lindsay, however, left her room to find Argyle and her husband, Tobias, waiting eagerly for her. She cleared her throat and told Argyle, “You were right. He wanted to talk to me. He agreed as soon as I said I wanted to see him.” She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t think her older, successful brother really wanted to see her that badly.

“Huzzah!” Tobias said.

“Excellent,” Argyle said, a cunning smile on his lips. “Just like your mother said.”

She crossed her arms and asked, “Why do you want him that badly?”

“I simply have a job he’d be perfect for, that’s all,” Argyle told her. “Don’t you worry about it.”

That didn’t really answer her question, but it didn’t matter. He simply did one of his signature time steps in his tap shoes and left without another word.

Lindsay frowned. She definitely didn’t trust her mom, and something was telling her she shouldn't trust her boss, either. 

She just really had to hope she hadn’t made a huge mistake.

Chapter Text

Much to Lindsay’s surprise, Gob was waiting outside of his apartment building for her as she pulled up in her car. He hadn’t bothered trying to go incognito at all, apparently, as he was as garishly dressed as he always seemed to be ever since they were kids.

It was kind of nice to see that some things hadn’t changed.

She honked her horn and Gob, as soon as he realized it was her, ran over to the car and opened the door.

“Linds! Hey!” Gob said as he got in the car.

“Hey, Gob.”

He moved as if to hug her while she moved her hand for a handshake.

He awkwardly dropped one of his arms and reached out to return the handshake while she attempted to move her arms for a hug at the same time.

They both paused before she just patted him on the shoulder and said, “Nice to see you."

“Yeah…you, too…” Gob cleared his throat and closed the door. Once he was buckled in, Lindsay started the drive back to her boss’ headquarters in silence.

Gob looked over at her as she kept her eyes focused on the road in front of her. Despite the fact they were often running in the same social circles, he hadn’t been this physically close to her since Michael’s wedding. She had never tried talking to him on the red carpets they attended or at any of the Fashion Week events they participated in, so he never tried in return. It wasn’t like they had been that close growing up, which was kind of weird seeing as they were the ones always mistaken for twins versus her and Michael. She was normally the tallest person in her class, which was probably why they assumed she was old enough to be his twin, but the two of them were also just really similar. They were both popular, into their looks, flirtatious, and partiers. But she was a younger sister so it wasn’t like he could just hang out with her back then. That would’ve been lame.

They both stayed silent, the radio the only thing providing any sound as they got onto the freeway. Gob wanted to say something, though, he just wasn’t sure what to say. What were you supposed to say when you were finally seeing your sister after years apart and you were suffering your own identity crisis?

Gob finally cleared his throat and said, “You look good.”

Lindsay waited a beat before saying, “Thanks.”

“You’ve gained a lot of weight since Michael’s wedding.”

Lindsay’s hands tightened on the wheel.

Not noticing her reaction, he continued, “You were scary skinny. Like, Calista Flockhart skinny. Ally McBeal skinny. You look a lot better now.”

Lindsay hesitated for a moment before her hands relaxed. “…Thanks. I guess.”

“I mean, you’re already a surfboard; you don’t wanna be super skinny on top of it,” Gob said.

Lindsay rolled her eyes.

“But, seriously, you look good,” Gob said. After a beat, he asked, “How’s it been?”

It was a normal question, but Lindsay wasn’t sure how to answer that after years apart. She finally settled on, “It’s been fine. Busy. You?”

Gob’s heart sank. This really wasn’t the nice reunion he’d been hoping for. “…Uh, yeah. Same, I guess,” Gob said quietly.

After another stretch of silence, Gob finally turned on the radio—well, he thought it was the radio, but he ended up turning on a CD of what sounded like some Disney songs or something. He raised an eyebrow, since that was never Lindsay’s sort of thing, but then he heard a small cheer from behind him.

Gob turned around and finally took notice of a toddler in a carseat in the row behind him, a girl with curly brown hair and the cutest little smile. They locked eyes and she giggled, waving a hand. After a moment, he smiled and waved a hand back, making her giggle again. His smile grew; it was nice seeing at least one positive reaction to him.

Lindsay couldn’t help but smile as well. Her daughter’s smile always made her do that.

“Is that your daughter?” Gob asked Lindsay.

Lindsay was still smiling as she answered, “Maeby.”

Gob frowned. “Maybe? Whose daughter is she?”

“She’s my baby, Maeby.”

“…She might be your baby?”

“No, Maeby’s definitely my daughter.”

“Maybe definitely?”

Lindsay snorted. “Yeah, and Who’s on first.”

“What?”

“Nevermind—I’m just saying Maeby’s her name, Gob. Technically it’s Mae, but I like calling her Maeby.”

“Oh…oh, it’s like Mae and baby together,” Gob said.

“Exactly! No one gets it!” Lindsay said.

“Hey, I get it; I’ve had a combined name my whole life."

“True."

“You did a better name combination than Michael, at least,” Gob said.

“Yeah, ‘George Michael’, right? I don’t think that kid’s going to like that name much once he’s in school. He’s gonna get teased a lot. Especially whenever the kids have to go to the bathroom,” Lindsay said with a small laugh.

Unable to stop himself, Gob asked, “How do you even know his name? Michael said you don’t talk anymore.”

Lindsay took a deep breath. “I…no, I don’t really talk to him. He just sends Christmas cards and stuff, birth announcements…”

Gob nodded. Quietly, surprising even himself with his frankness, he said, “At least I’m not the only family member you don’t talk to anymore.”

Lindsay for once actually felt a heavy amount of guilt at that. She had many reasons for why she cut ties with Gob and everyone, reasons she thought made a ton of sense and were important to her mental health. And she really didn’t think Gob of all people would be upset about her not being around. Seeing him look that upset was honestly just…sad. And she really just didn’t know what to say in response.

So, she just made a small, vague noise as an answer.

Gob honestly didn’t know what answer he wanted, but he was still disappointed in that response. So he just remained silent himself and looked out the window.

…Only to pass by a stupid billboard with stupid Tony fucking Wonder’s stupid face all over it.

“Tony Wonder…” Gob muttered to himself bitterly.

Lindsay said, glad for a subject change instead of her brother’s heavy silence, said, “He’s so hot right now—”

“He’s not hot.”

“He’s kinda cute. Unconventional, maybe, but he’s good looking.”

Gob crossed his arms.

“But I meant he’s hot, like, his career is really taking off, you know?”

“Trust me, I know,” Gob said darkly.

“Right…” Lindsay’s eyes briefly darted to her brother, who stared out the window with a gloomy expression. She looked back at the road and held back a sigh. While her feelings towards her family were all mixed up, she still cared about them, even Gob, and she hated seeing him like that.

“…You know he’s only this successful because the gay thing, right?” Lindsay said. “There aren’t many gay public figures. Only, like, Melissa Etheridge and Ellen and what’s her face she’s dating. That’s the only reason why he beat you at that awards show.”

Gob slowly looked over at her. “…You really think so?”

“I do,” Lindsay said, keeping her eyes in front of her. “You know he’d never beat you in a modeling contest. I honestly don’t even know how he got so successful that people would even care that he’s gay. He’s not even close to the right height for this field.” Hating herself for admitting it, she said, “And you’re really, really ridiculously good-looking, you know.”

Slowly, Gob started to smile. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Lindsay nodded before moving on, “You know, I’m surprised he’s like the first male model to come out publicly, though. I think we both can name several other gay models that we know personally.”

“I can’t,” Gob said immediately, a knee-jerk reaction. Lindsay gave him a weird look before looking back at the road and he stuttered out, “I j-just…I-I-I…I m-m-might know s-s-some—but like sh-sh-sh-sh-should—”

“Gob, chill,” Lindsay said, not even too bothered by his response. Once he calmed down, she chuckled under her breath. “I guess you still have a bit of a stutter, huh? I thought your manager would’ve tried to get rid of that.”

“Why are you calling Mom that?” Gob asked.

Lindsay didn’t want to get into it. Instead, she said, “It’s actually kind of nice knowing some things haven’t changed. You know, like your stutter. And your tacky clothing.”

“What?! This is all, like, Gucci and stuff!”

“I meant it as a compliment, Gob,” Lindsay said sincerely. She paused and corrected herself, “Well, mostly as a compliment. It is really tacky. But, seriously, it’s nice knowing that you still dress how you want to dress. And that you still stutter sometimes. And that you’re, you know, still you.” She pulled off the freeway. “I kind of thought when you became a model you’d lose all of that. From what I saw and read, I thought you had lost yourself.”

After a moment, Lindsay added, “I guess that’s kind of part of why I never tried to stay in contact with you. I was sure that you being around who you were around, you having all these famous friends and going to big events…I didn’t think you wanted to hang out with your sister over that.”

Since Lindsay was focusing on the road and not looking at him, it actually made it easier for Gob to admit, “I thought you didn’t wanna hang out with me. You were so upset after I got ‘discovered’ or whatever. And then you started working with the one guy who never wanted to hire me…and I thought you might’ve been part of why he never hired me.”

Lindsay didn’t even have the mental capacity at the moment to get into all that baggage of the first half of what Gob said. But she actually laughed in shock at the second half. “You think I have control over what Argyle does? I just do what he tells me to. I never tell him who to hire or who not to hire.”

Surprising even herself, she admitted, “I actually wish he had hired you sooner. It would’ve been nice having someone else I actually know around.” And that was mostly a surprise because she hadn’t even realized that herself until she said it. 

Gob didn’t really know what to say in response. Finally, he settled on, “You know, we could probably hang out even if I don’t take this offer.”

Lindsay shot him a look before pulling up into the parking lot of Austerity. She still wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so interested in hanging out—and she didn’t know why she was feeling the same urge.

“You know, just get drinks or something. Like the old days.” Man, he really did miss the old days of high school and drinking without worrying about it aging him or making him bloated at his next photoshoot.

Lindsay paused but then smiled a little. “…Um, yeah. Maybe."

"Hi!" Maeby chirped in response from her carseat.

Austerity was large, as it contained not only Argyle’s penthouse and the headquarters of his fashion empire, but it also held the rehab he and his sister co-ran. Lindsay and Tobias even lived there, as Tobias, according to Lindsay, headed the rehab program as a trained psychiatrist, and also worked as Argyle’s third-in-command.

“Second to me,” Lindsay said proudly. Argyle made Tobias do the more menial tasks whereas she got to be the “face” of his company and support him when working with the public. 

In fact, he probably did more work than she did. She didn’t have to do much but look good on his arm for red carpet events and help wrangle some models. And, of course, mother her child when her nanny couldn’t watch her, but that wasn’t related to Argyle, obviously.

Anyway, after they dropped Maeby off with said nanny, Lindsay and Gob bumped into Tobias. Gob hadn’t met him because they had eloped, of course, but that didn’t stop the stranger from hugging him.

“We’re family, Gob!” Tobias said in a weirdly bright, chipper manner as an explanation. "And I can't believe I'm hugging the Gob Bluth! The sexiest man in modeling!"

Man, Gob had been told he hugged tightly, but he was nothing compared to this guy. Was it normal to hug this tightly?

And for that long?

Lindsay nearly glared at her husband, but put on a fake, sweet voice as she said, “Tobias? Don’t you have a group session to lead?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Tobias said, pulling away from Gob finally. “I’ll see you around, brother-in-law!” With that he slapped Gob’s ass and left.

Gob turned to Lindsay, confused as all get out. “What the f—”

“Let me show you to Argyle’s office,” Lindsay said, not wanting to acknowledge whatever the hell that was.

Gob followed her lead, also not sure he really wanted to know what was up with that. Like, was Tobias…gay or something? Did Tobias think he was? Was he confusing him with Tony Wonder or something? Why else would he think that? It wasn’t like he gave off some vibe, right—

No. He obviously didn't give off any vibe like that. Besides, guys did that sort of thing in football or whatever, didn't they? It probably wasn't nearly as weird as he was taking it. He was probably being the weird one about it for thinking about it at all. 

He just wouldn't think about it, then. Because Gob was not weird.

To distract himself, Gob looked around as he followed Lindsay’s brisk pace. The place was fancy, all modern architecture and sleek and sophisticated. It didn’t look that much different than a lot of places he’d been to in the fashion world, honestly, but it somehow felt a lot different. He couldn't identify what made it different, but it was. It made him a little…a little uneasy.

That was probably just nerves over having such a big opportunity.

Soon enough, he was shaking hands with Argyle himself. Gob almost told Lindsay right then and there that there was no reason for her to call him tacky with how her own freaking boss dressed, covered in bright pink and wearing matching shoes that clacked when he walked, but he knew better than to say that out loud.

“Please, Gob, sit,” Argyle said, gesturing to a spot in front of his desk.

Gob nodded and did so as Lindsay went to stand on Argyle’s right side as his right-hand woman, of course.

“Gob,” Argyle said, smiling charmingly at him. “I’m so glad you agreed to this meeting.”

Gob bluntly said, “I’m kinda surprised you wanted to do this with me. You’ve never been interested before and I’ve been around—”

“For ages and ages!” Argyle said immediately. “You’ve been around for years and years and I’ve never hired you, but as soon as I can’t have you, I want you! It’s basic psychology—funny how it switches like that, right?”

Gob nodded his head slightly, unable to stop himself from smiling. It was nice being wanted, after all, especially by someone as high profile as Argyle—let alone someone he thought had despised him for so long, too.

“But it’s not just that—it’s that I know you would be the perfect face for this campaign,” Argyle said.

Again, Gob nodded and smiled. He did have a perfect face for most anything. Still, he asked, “What’s the campaign?”

“Why tell you when I can show you?” Argyle said. Ever a showman, he led Gob into the nearby room, the bright, white modern architecture effortlessly showing off the immensely detailed outfits he had created.

Immensely detailed outfits being detailed with what looked like actual trash and dirt.

Argyle explained, “It is a fashion, a way of life, inspired by the very homeless, the vagrants, the crack whores, that make this wonderful country so unique. I give you—Derelicte!”

As Gob continued to look around, he had to admit, “Seems cool.”

“It is cool. And I want you, Gob, to be the face, the image—nay, the spirit—of Derelicte!” He clapped his hands together and said, “It will be your glorious return to the fashion industry—and a wondrous come back.”

Gob couldn’t help but glare slightly. “Wonder…”

Argyle realized he should’ve used a different word.

He looked at Argyle questioningly. “Why wouldn’t you ask someone like him? Isn't he 'hot' right now or something?”

Thankfully, Argyle was prepared for this. “Don’t you see the beautiful symbolism inherent in my choosing you?”

“…In hair net? I have to wear a hair net for this?” Gob asked. He scoffed, “I will never—”

“What? No, of course not,” Argyle said, realizing he really did have to be careful with his words around Gob. “What I mean is…look at what’s happened to your career—what they’re trying to make happen to your career. They wanted to throw you out, say you were a hasbeen. They were treating you like the very trash that makes up these outfits. But they don’t see that you are still beautiful, still appealing, and still able to be fashionable.”

He looked at Gob seriously, like he was giving an inspirational speech in a movie. “Don’t you want to prove them wrong and show them that Gob Bluth is not trash that should be discarded? Don’t you want to make sure Tony Wonder doesn’t get another Model of the Year award?”

Gob looked around at the designs. They were cool.

And he did like the idea of making his glorious comeback.

And he really liked the idea of beating Tony Wonder. He really wanted to beat that guy off—like, beat him off his territory or whatever.

He still wasn't sure, though. Something about this whole thing really did feel a little weird. And, besides, "Shouldn't I be working on doing something, like, good for the world or whatever?"

Argyle blinked a few times. That was something he wasn't expecting. "…Well, someone as beautiful as you hiding away definitely isn't doing any good, is it?"

Gob thought about it and nodded. "True. People should be able to see people that are hotter than them."

Lindsay rolled her eyes but Argyle nodded. "Exactly. Besides, think how great the homeless will feel once they know you consider their look fashionable?"

Gob again nodded after a moment. That was true.

And finally, knowing the thing needed to seal the deal, Argyle said, “And since I know how much you want to spend time with your sister, Lindsay will be your day-to-day on the campaign. Wouldn’t that be nice? Being a family every day?”

Gob looked over at Lindsay who hesitatingly smiled at him.

He smiled back and then looked at Argyle. “You have a deal.”

Argyle smiled as well. “Let’s get you going then. We’ve got a lot to do to make you become Derelicte.”

Sally knew she had other stories she could cover, stories that would be easier to research and report about. But the more she learned about Argyle and the fraught relationship he had with his sister, the more intriguing the puzzle became. She had to know what was up with him and this cement company she had never even heard about before, one that apparently was in talks with conservative government officials who wanted him to help build a border wall.

Something his sister heavily opposed.

Sally pooled all her resources, trying her hardest to use their internet databases and google searches to get anything, but it was like Argyle hadn’t even existed before 1987.

It was so weird.

Lucille also proved to be no help—the Bluth one, not Argyle’s sister, whom Sally had been unable to reach for comment. Lucille Bluth, however, famously hated the woman and Sally was sure she’d spill some dirt about her political career at the very least, something that could lead to further developments on her part.

However, Lucille Bluth had been even tighter lipped than usual, and definitely not from some face lift. She sat there when Sally got to her penthouse, simply smiling and saying she had no idea what she was talking about, all while throwing a few backhanded “compliments” at her along the way. You know, the usual Lucille lines about how “nice” it was that Sally didn’t feel the need to use a push-up bra.

Of course, Sally had expected the latter part at least, but she still left Lucille’s penthouse feeling frustrated and out of leads. She went to where she parked in the building’s lot and sighed, well aware that she had to stop her research and find another story.

But then, right before she was about to get in her car, her cell phone rang.

“Hello?” Sally asked.

The person on the other end of the line said, “Keep pulling the sweater. Eventually the whole thing will unravel.”

“…You mean, if you pull the thread, the whole thing will unravel?”

The man stuttered. “Oh, uh, right. That…”

“Okay…? Who is this?”

“J-just a f-friend. That’s it. Uh—”

“You sound familiar—”

“Like I said, a friend. J-just go to the Balboa Fun Zone, okay, and find that building where the Tunnel of Love used to be. Things aren’t as they seem with Lucille 2’s brother.”

“What do you mean—”

“I’ve gotta go, bye!”

The man hung up.

Sally looked at the phone for the minute, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Sally turned sharply back to the penthouse building. But the only thing she saw was the curtains in one of the balconies waving as if someone had just knocked them—or had closed them quickly.

Argyle had explained that the show was in eight days: Cinco de Cuatro. The holiday had become controversial of late, what with the various campaigns for the border wall and the claims that the holiday was “offensive” or whatever. Gob never followed politics, so he didn’t get the big deal. He just thought it was cool that the runway was going to be outside during one of the best holiday celebrations they ever had.

Lindsay drove him, and she was soon pulling off the freeway for the exit to the Balboa Fun Zone.

“What are we doing here?” Gob asked.

“It’s part of the whole ‘becoming Derelicte’ thing,” Lindsay explained.

“…Am I, like, studying the homeless people around here? The ones who hang out by the banana stand?”

“No,” Lindsay said. “There’s a very exclusive day spa here. You’ll get a massage, facial—even a meditation session, apparently. I think that’s what he meant by ‘becoming derelicte.’”

“Meditation?” Gob asked, wrinkling his nose. Ugh. He never got that new age stuff.

“Yes, meditation. Tobias is teaching you.” At Gob’s scoff, Lindsay insisted, “It’s good for your mind, Gob! Tobias taught it to me and it changed my life. Seriously.”

Well, Lindsay liked telling people that, but most times she tried to meditate, she ended up falling asleep.

“If he’s teaching it, why isn’t he riding over with us?” Gob asked.

Lindsay held back a sigh as she looked at the car in front of her. Specifically the license plate that her husband had that just made her question things all the more.

And maybe getting that reminder, along with seeing her husband nearly salivate over Gob earlier, was what finally made her crack.

“Tobias and I…we could use some space,” she said.

Gob looked at her, but she kept her eyes on the road.

Lindsay considered leaving it there. Even if it had been nice talking to Gob, she wasn’t sure she should lay all of this personal stuff on him. She was sure he wouldn’t get it—she wasn’t even sure he really cared.

But the thing was, over the last few years, Lindsay had become so…isolated. She lived at her place of employment, so any semblance of a work-life balance didn’t exist. It felt like she was always working. She only saw Argyle, her husband, and her daughter. Sure, she saw a few models and patients at the rehab along the way, but none of them were permanent fixtures in her life. She wasn’t close to any of them. Hell, it wasn’t like she could talk about these issues with Tobias or Argyle. And, sadly, Maeby wasn’t able to provide much advice seeing as she was still working on saying her “th” sounds correctly.

So, just needing to tell someone, she quietly said, “Things haven’t been going so well.”

“…Oh…” Gob cleared his throat, not sure what to say. It wasn’t like he had ever been married or even planned on doing so, so he couldn’t really give any advice. All he could say was, “That sucks.”

“I mean, it’s fine. I think a bit of time away will help. I mean, we live together and work together,” Lindsay said, trying to reassure herself more than anything, really. “Obviously that would put a strain on any relationship.”

“Right…I mean, I lived with and worked with my assistant, and that wasn’t too bad…but this is different. Obviously.”

“Right.”

As Lindsay pulled up to an old building by the pier, Gob said, “I guess that means there’s more time for us to spend together. That’s cool, right?”

Lindsay was still amazed how excited he sounded to see her. She smiled at him after she parked the car. “Yeah. It’s really cool.”

Sally approached the rather sketchy looking building. How long had that been there? She could clearly remember riding what used to be the Tunnel of Love with one actual boyfriend and then several more times as a joke with some girl friends back in high school—

God, had she really not been to the Fun Zone since high school? As in nearly a decade ago?

Had it really been so long since she had seen those girls she had taken that ride with?

Well, she had just recently seen Lindsay at least. But she tried not to think about that joking ride she took with her all those years ago.

Instead, Sally pushed those feelings and memories aside and went to the first door she could find into the brick building.

It was unlocked. That was weird.

Sally, after a moment of hesitation, opened up the door and came inside. It definitely didn’t look anything like the Tunnel of Love that existed before. It was all modern, minimalistic architecture with weirdly New Age-y music playing lightly on the speakers.

With a frown, Sally carefully walked down the halls. There was a door that was slightly askew, a room where the smell of incense was nearly overwhelming. Sally took a deep breath and opened the door—

Only to find Gob on his stomach getting a massage.

Gob looked up sleepily, barely surprised to see Sally in his state of relaxation. “Sally? What are you doing here?”

Sally didn’t know how to explain that mysterious phone call she got. She was too surprised to see him to think of a better question than, “What are you doing here? I thought you quit the business.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the face of Argyle Austero’s new campaign,” Gob said proudly as the masseuse kept working on his glutes. He made a noise of pleasure and lowered his head again.

Trying to ignore that moan, Sally said, “But I thought Argyle never hired you.”

“I guess he changed his mind and wanted the best,” Gob said, his voice slightly muffled, even with his head through the hole in the massage table. “It is, after all, the biggest campaign, like, ever. Cinco de Cuatro premiere and everything.”

Before Sally could say anything else, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jumped and found herself facing Lindsay.

Lindsay’s glare stayed focused on Sally, but she asked, “Gob? Is Sally bothering you?”

Gob made a vague noise and Lindsay’s grip moved to Sally’s arm.

“Don’t worry; I’ll deal with her,” Lindsay told her brother. Before Sally could process anything, Lindsay was dragging her out of the building, muttering about how she stepped away for two seconds and this happens. With that, she all but threw her into the parking lot.

Sally managed to catch herself in time and turned to the building as the door closed. Thankfully, Lindsay had stayed outside, so Sally could try to reason with her.

“Sally, what are you doing here?” Lindsay asked, still glaring at her. “This is private property! You can’t just sneak in like that!”

“I’m sorry, I was just given a hint and was told to come here.”

“A hint? It took a hint for you to realize you could use a facial?” Lindsay asked. 

“I didn't know it was a day spa."

"What did you think it was?”

"I…I don’t know. It was an anonymous tip,” Sally said, looking around “But you have to admit this is a weird looking day spa. And a weird location for one.”

Lindsay shrugged. She had been before, so it didn’t seem that weird to her anymore.

Sally sighed. “Come on, Lindsay, don’t you think there’s something fishy going on here?”

“Well, we are at a pier, Sally,” Lindsay said.

“Ha ha,” Sally said, completely unamused. “Look, I got some weird phone call telling me to check things out and saying things aren’t as they seem. And, really, I believe them. Your boss is up to something.” As Lindsay frowned, Sally said, “And I’d like to think, whatever it is, that you aren’t a part of it.”

The two women stared at each other for a few moments. Lindsay hated that Sally was speaking so confidently about all of this because it just made her more certain that her gut instinct was right. Something was wrong about this. Argyle really was up to something, something that involved her brother.

Still, she wasn’t ready to give her the satisfaction of admitting she was thinking the same thing. Instead, Lindsay crossed her arms and sighed. “Sally, all I’m doing is what I’ve been told. I was told to get Gob involved with this show. I was told to bring Gob here to the spa. And I was told to make sure no one saw him. That’s all I can tell you. I know nothing else, okay?”

Sally kept her eyes locked with Lindsay’s for a long moment, trying to figure out if that was really telling the truth, if that was really all she knew. Lindsay looked back at her just as intensely until, finally, Sally nodded. “Okay.”

Sally finally broke their eye contact and started rummaging in her purse. She pulled out her wallet and fished out a business card, handing it to Lindsay. “Just…call me if you find out anything else.”

“You think I’m going to tattle on my boss?”

Sally sighed. “Lindsay, like I said, I don't know what all is going on, but I’m getting mystery calls about secret locations and I’m finding all these connections to Argyle and the border wall…And I don’t want you or Gob getting wrapped up into anything dangerous. So if you find out anything else, you can call me, even if it’s just to get yourself out of trouble.”

Lindsay looked at her friend—well, former friend—curiously, trying to figure out why this was such a big deal to her. Sally kept the serious, almost pleading look on her face, but said nothing else.

Finally, Lindsay sighed and made a show of rolling her eyes. “Fine. If it’ll get you to leave.” Lindsay took the card and stored it in her pocket.

“Thank you,” Sally said. After a moment, wanting the tension to disappear, Sally said, “I never thought I’d go to the Tunnel of Love with you again.”

Despite Sally’s joking tone, Lindsay stood up even straighter and crossed her arms. “That was a one-time thing,” Lindsay whispered.

And with that, Lindsay turned around sharply and went back into the building, slamming the door behind her.

After Gob’s massage, it was time for the meditation session. Once Tobias said the room was set up, Lindsay told Gob, “This is supposed to be some time with just you and Tobias. It’ll help you clear your mind easier if it's just the two of you.”

“…Okay,” Gob said, not looking forward to that after meeting the man just once. He looked inside the room Tobias was waiting in and then back to Lindsay, feeling a little nervous for some reason. On top of the sleek and scary look of the room and the weirdness of Tobias, the idea of diving deep into his submissive consciousness or whatever sounded scary.

“Don’t worry; you’ll love it,” Lindsay assured him. “This will all be worth it to work this campaign, right? As Argyle told me, it’s the final countdown to your triumphant return to modeling.”

Gob paused but then nodded. She was right. “And you’ll be here when I’m done?”

“Of course,” Lindsay said.

Gob smiled slightly at her and nodded again. With that, he went into the room, the door closing behind him.

Almost as soon as the door closed, she received a call from Argyle.

“Lindsay, I need you to come back to LA to help me with a few things up here.”

“But I thought I was supposed to be assisting Gob,” Lindsay said.

“Isn’t he in his meditation session right now? That’s what’s on the schedule.”

“Well, yes, but I told him I’ll be here when he’s done, and I don’t want to disappoint him—”

“I’m sure Gob will understand if you step away to help your boss while he’s at his meditation session.”

“I don’t know, he seems so fragile right now—”

“Lindsay,” Argyle said seriously. “I thought you said he wasn’t even really your family anymore. It’s not like he’s tried to contact you over the years.”

“I-I know, but I didn’t help with that—”

“Lindsay, Gob’s not your boss. I am. So listen to me.”

That was the angriest he had ever sounded at her. That made her nervous. Not only was this a father figure, someone she didn't want to disappoint, she had seen him yell at others and it was not pretty. She definitely didn’t want to be on the other end of one of those screaming sessions.

She immediately said, “You’re right, Argyle, I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Good girl,” Argyle said.

Once she hung up, Lindsay bit her lip and put her ear to the door, hoping to hear something. Alas, it was soundproof.

Of course it was.

She sighed and tried to ignore the nerves forming in her stomach. Even if she and Sally were right to be suspicious of Argyle Austero, what harm could come from a meditation session?

“Um…I don’t know what type of meditation you wanna try, but I’m really not into S&M,” Gob said as Tobias put the last of the restraints on Gob’s head, making him sit up straight in his chair.

“Oh, no, we’re not getting into anything like that,” Tobias said, still sounding so weirdly chipper. He really seemed to just talk like that naturally which was so weird to Gob. “This will just help with the, uh, session. You won’t have to think about your posture or anything this way.”

Gob figured that made sense. It wasn’t like he had ever meditated before. “…Okay."

Once he secured the restraint, Tobias took a few steps back. “Okay, Gob, I want you to relax and breathe deeply.”

Gob did his best.

“Good. Now let’s begin the final countdown.”

With that, Gob heard a familiar sound of a synth part he knew so well. “I like this song,” Gob said, already feeling a lot more comfortable. How could he not feel comfortable when one of his all time favorite songs, “The Final Countdown”, was playing?

“Who doesn’t?” Tobias said.

Gob slowly smiled and nodded to the beat—well, tried to, only for the thing around his head to hold him back. He winced at the pain that caused in his neck, but before he could complain, Tobias was standing in front of him, a timepiece held by a gold chain in his hand.

“Sit back and let this wonderful ‘80s classic get you nice and focused,” Tobias said, waving the timepiece in front of Gob. “Follow the watch and let your mind go blank…just a nice, warm, happy time…”

Gob did as he was told, his eyes following the golden clock. “Happy…happy…happy,” Tobias repeated in a weirdly soothing voice. Soon, Gob’s mind was completely blank, pliable, ready to be told everything.

And with that, Tobias stepped back and let the video start.

“Hi there, Gob!” A young boy said on the screen. “My name is little Cleetus!”

Gob smiled, completely relaxed and entranced, not even noticing how the boy was obviously Tobias—mustache and all—dressed as a child.

“I just want to tell you the real truth about the border between Mexico and America, okay?”

“Okay,” Gob said sleepily.

“It’s a mess down here!” Cleetus said as a cartoon of the Mexican border showed up behind him. “Back in the good old days, we tried our best to keep our borders closed, but now plenty of non-Americans walk in like it’s no problem!”

Gob watched as different types of animated people walked across the border. They were normal people it seemed, but then Cleetus said, “We don’t mind getting the hard workers that come across here—but there are bad people, too.”

Suddenly the cartoon people were scary looking, big and dressed in old-time prison uniforms. “Drug dealers, killers, gang members—they’re a threat to our children and families!” Images of scared, crying babies filled the screen.

“Now good Americans just want a nice wall up on the border to keep those criminals out, but lawmakers keep blocking it,” Cleetus continued as he came back on screen, an animated sun in the background turning from a smile to a frown. “Boohoo!”

Argyle suddenly appeared on screen. “But you can help America, Gob. Just like you wanted." Argyle and Cleetus were both on screen, Lucille Austero’s picture popping up in between them. “By killing the governor of California!”

That started to make Gob snap out of his state. “What?!”

Tobias, well-prepared for this, pressed a button that ran a shock through the strap on Gob’s head. He jolted at the pain and fell silent again.

“You’ve learned martial arts!” Argyle said on screen. “Governor of California bad! Martial arts, good!”

Everything on screen started swirling as Cleetus and Argyle kept telling him how he needed to kill the bad woman. Gob couldn’t even blink as everything seemed to start spinning and spinning and—

How did he end up on a runway?

“The Final Countdown” started to play mid-song.

We’re heading for Venus
And still we stand tall

Gob checked his posture, standing tall and straight—just like he had been trained to do.

“On the runway, you have one objective,” Argyle’s voice said.

Gob looked to one side and saw a cardboard cutout of the TV actor Frank Wrench pop up, pointing at him with a grin.

On the other side, baby-faced singer Mark Cherry cheered him on.

“Don’t be distracted by the beautiful celebrities.”

Tom Jane popped up, followed shortly by Carl Weathers.

They were all looking at him, loving him, supporting him—welcoming him back to the fashion industry.

‘Cause maybe they’ve seen us
And welcome us all

Then at the very end of the runway, a crash test dummy with Lucille Austero’s face pasted on it popped up.

“Do what you were trained to do—AND KILL THE CALIFORNIA GOVERNOR!”

Gob screamed back and, feeling no control of his body, he made his way down the long runway, fast and furious, doing things with his body he never knew he could do.

With so many lightyears to go
And things to be found

As Argyle’s voice kept encouraging him, egging him on, he found himself flipping over Lucille Austero’s body, his hands soon on her neck.

I’m sure that we’ll all miss her so…

Argyle cheered as, all too easily, Gob ripped the head off the crash test dummy.

IT’S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!

Chapter Text

Gob woke up in his bunk bed with a sudden jolt. He sat up and immediately hit his head on the bunk above him and fell on the floor.

“Ow!” Gob exclaimed, not even sure why he had woken up so quickly. He rubbed his sore head and looked around. Wait, when did he even get home?

After a moment, he finally recognized someone was knocking on his door—that must have been what had woken him up.

“Gob! Please open up!!" There was even more knocking. "Gob!!!"

Was that Sally? What was she doing there?

“I’ll be there! Jesus, calm down!” Gob yelled, rubbing his head. He got up and kept rubbing his head.

“Weird dream,” he muttered to himself. All he could remember of it was a lot of screaming, both from him and Argyle, but that was it. He couldn’t even remember what they were screaming about, and even that memory was fading the closer he got to the door, enough so by the time he opened the door, he couldn't even remember it.

Once he opened the door, Sally pushed her way in, gasping in relief. “Thank god you’re okay!”

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for a week!”

“A week?” Gob snorted, still rubbing at his head. “Don’t be stupid, Sally! I just saw you this afternoon. God, you sound as stupid as Michael—”

“Gob, it’s been a week,” Sally said seriously, her nerves not eased by how Gob really seemed to think it had only been a few hours.

“Earth to Sally, I was at a day spa, okay? D-A-I-Y-E. Okay?”

Sally wasn’t sure if she should try to correct him or not. It wasn’t the important part but it was still important.

Before she could act on the urge to correct him, he suddenly laughed. “Oh. I see what’s going on.” He laughed again to himself, shaking his lead slightly. The fact she kept wanting to talk to him, the fact she felt like it had been a week since they talked…he should’ve known.

He smiled as kindly as he could at her and said, “Look, I’m very complimented, but I’m not interested.”

“…What?”

“I can’t sleep with you, okay? It’d be like banging my sister—besides, my head’s killing me and—”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you were called Stickwell ‘cause all the guys wanted to stick you, but I was never one of them—”

“I don’t want to sleep with you!” Sally said, revolted at the mere idea. She pulled out a newspaper from her bag. “I’ve been trying to tell you that you’ve been missing for a week! Look at the date. Your show is tomorrow night.”

Gob took the newspaper and frowned. May 3rd. Hadn’t it been April when he went to the day spa? How was Cinco de Cuatro only a day away?

He frowned and rubbed his head, shoving the newspaper back in Sally’s hand. “I don’t care what the date says! Lindsay was supposed to be in charge of my day-to-day schedule for this—she wouldn’t just stop talking to me for a week.” Sure, they went years without contact, but they had been making up and getting along so much better now! There was no way she would’ve abandoned him so quickly, right? The day had to be wrong. “…I mean, I know we weren’t talking for a while there, but she promised…she promised she’d see me as soon as she was done with those errands…”

Trying to distract himself, Gob walked over to his blinking answering machine. Once he clicked it, the automated voice said, “You have twelve hundred messages.”

Gob clicked it back off. “…That is a bit above average.”

“Gob, what happened in that spa?”

“I don’t know! Just some massages and stuff—nothing unusual!” Gob groaned in frustration. “Sally, you can’t just barge in here, wanting sex and then acting like you didn’t just ‘cause you were embarrassed that I didn’t want to, then telling them they’ve been in a day spa for a week—”

“You have been in a day spa for a week,” Sally said. “And I never wanted to have sex with you—”

“So what?!” Gob nearly yelled. “Do you understand that the world does not revolve around you and your do whatever it takes, ruin as many people's lives, so long as you can make a name for yourself as an investigatory journalist, no matter how many friends you lose or people you leave dead and bloodied along the way, just so long so you can make a name for yourself as an investigatory journalist, no matter how many friends you lose or people you leave dead and bloodied and dying along the way?”

Gob paused, his eyes darting to the side. He wasn't sure he said that right. But then he looked back at Sally, still confident that he had made a good point.

Sally held back a sigh and said, “Gob, I told you I was sorry about that article—”

“Enough!” Gob said. His head hurt and he felt this weird ache in his chest at the idea that Lindsay had apparently let him disappear for a week while Sally of all people was looking out for him and seemed to actually care—but probably only for an article. Even she didn’t care about him past how she could use him. 

Gob pushed past her, knocking against her shoulder, and said, “Whatever. If it is what date you say it is, that means I have a pre-runway party to attend. So you need to go.” He opened the door and gestured for her to leave.

Sally wanted to stay and get him to listen and realize something was seriously wrong, but she realized he wouldn’t listen. And if he thought it had only been a day, there was no way he could give her the answers she needed.

She slowly walked out the door with a nod of her head.

“By the way,” Gob said.

Sally turned back to him. Gob, truly acting the part of a model, was posing against the door, his arms crossed and his head down.

“Yeah?”

He slowly looked up at her, a slight smirk on his lips. “Your wig would look better with your hair down.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “…I…I, uh…I don’t know what you—”

“You’re an alpaca, right? Like your dad?” Gob asked. “That thing where you lose hair?”

“I…you mean that he has alopecia—how did you know that I—”

“It’s pretty obvious when you’ve been around enough hair and wigs as I have,” Gob said. “I’ve had to wear them for some romance novel cover shoots, you know—they all want the Fabio look, which is so overrated.” He rolled his eyes and then shook his head, pushing himself off the wall. “Hair pulled back that tight wouldn’t be healthy, anyway, but in a wig, it’s not pulling at the skin enough to look real. And it’s all bunched up in an unnatural way at the top there.”

“…Oh…”

Noticing how embarrassed Sally looked, Gob said, “It’s not a big deal that you’re an alpaca, Sally. You have no idea how many extensions those girls are out there wearing all the time. And I know tons of celebs who have fake hair, like, it’s all over. Some people even want to put it on me—not that I need it.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to get into his own hairline that was slightly farther back than it used to be. Instead, he focused on, “Well, not on my head. My old assistant and roommate, Gary, would say I should get a beard, and since he knew that my facial hair grows in kind of patchy, I assume he wanted me to get some fake facial hair.”

Before Sally could question why his roommate wanted him to have a beard, Gob, without asking, started messing with her hair—well, her fake hair. Seconds later, he pulled away with a smile at his handiwork.

Gob pulled a compact mirror out of his pocket and handed it to Sally. “What do you think?”

Sally’s mouth dropped open slightly and she grabbed the mirror to get a closer look. Ever since she had to start wearing wigs, she always felt like they had looked fake no matter what she did. No one ever said anything about it, but she thought they were just being polite. But how he had parted it and laid it down, it all looked natural. Like, it looked like the real hair she used to have.

“…Thank you,” Sally said softly.

“No problem,” Gob said, smiling slightly. “Like I said, I’ve been around a lot of fake hair and the experts who work with it. I doubt anyone but a model or hairdresser would be able to tell you had one on.”

She couldn’t believe he was being so nice about it, either. She thought he of all people, the guy who made fun of her dad as a kid, would be less than understanding about her condition.

“Well…thank you, again,” Sally said. She handed the mirror back to him after a moment, but he pushed it away.

“Keep it.” He pulled another out from his other pocket and said, “I always keep a spare.”

Sally, still in a state of shock, nodded and finally left as he closed the door behind her.

Lindsay was and had been very concerned.

It had been a week now since she had seen Gob. Which, yes, after years or not talking wouldn’t seem like a big deal at first. But Argyle had said she would be in charge of his day-to-day activity, yet she hadn’t seen him at all since he made her leave the day spa early.

Whenever she tried to ask about him, Argyle would send her on an errand before the words could even leave her mouth. Her boss normally made time to explain things to her, acting more like a father than her own father ever did, but now he was avoiding her.

And Gob seemed to be, too. She had tried calling him multiple times, only to be forced to leave yet another message asking what he was doing, trying to get any response. Messages that he never returned—if he even got them in the first place.

And, again, it wouldn’t have been a big deal if just a couple weeks ago Gob hadn’t returned her calls. It would’ve been weird if he did. But, even after all those years apart, Lindsay could tell when Gob was being genuine the week before and he really wanted to spend time with her. She knew he couldn’t be lying about that. So, why was he avoiding her now?

Furthermore, why was Tobias rarely at home? He seemed to be working on some sort of project for Argyle, something he refused to tell her about. He wouldn’t even tell her how the meditation session with Gob went.

She finally tried to voice her concerns with her husband after a full week, and Tobias said, “No need to worry, Lindsay! He’s all prepared for tomorrow; it’s the final countdown to his return, after all.”

“What does that even mean?” Lindsay asked, frustrated beyond belief. “Why does everyone keep saying it’s the final countdown?!”

Tobias’ eyes widened slightly as he froze, looking like he said something he shouldn’t have said. “Uh…it’s nothing, Lindsay, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Gob is fine. He looked fine when I saw him yesterday—”

“You saw him yesterday?”

Again, Tobias froze. “…Sorry, I misspoke. I meant last week. It’s not like anything bad can happen in a week, right?” He nervously chuckled and then looked behind Lindsay. “Oh, look! It’s our nanny with Maeby!”

Lindsay looked behind her and, indeed, there was her darling daughter and their nanny. She waved at them as they walked over but then turned back around as she said, “But what happened last—”

Tobias had already left.

Lindsay blinked a few times before turning back to her nanny, who informed her she was off for the rest of the night.

“But…but you normally help us put Maeby to bed,” Lindsay said, utterly confused.

“Your husband gave me the night off,” she said with a shrug. “And your boss gave me money to go out to dinner. Said you should stay in and watch your daughter tonight.”

The nanny left without another word and Lindsay felt her stomach drop even farther. Normally she went to the pre-runway parties they threw; why was she being kept away from that? Being pretty and networking and helping with the entertainment? That sort of thing was, like, her biggest and most important job!

Lindsay frowned and took Maeby’s hand, debating what to do. After a few moments, she headed to her office.

Argyle had set up a nice room with a beautiful oak desk and a computer she hardly ever used. She normally just used it to play Solitaire on her slower days or print something for Argyle every once a while. And, maybe, she had found a few sites that helped her with a few, uh, needs she had that Tobias seemed reluctant to help fill. Beyond that, she barely knew how to use a computer. But now she had a very good reason to get on the computer.

Despite locking the door behind her and Maeby, Lindsay looked over her shoulders before logging on. She turned to Maeby and handed her a pen and some paper. “Can you draw something for Mommy, Maeby?”

Maeby eagerly nodded and started to do just that. Thank god toddlers were easily distracted. She didn’t want her to see what she was looking for.

Not that she was even sure what she was looking for. She just knew there had to be something there for her to find.

She opened up her internet browser and pulled up Ask Jeeves—she had heard that it was more reliable than that new Google site or whatever. After a few moments of thought, she remembered what Sally had said and tried to search, “Argyle Austero border wall”.

Nothing came up.

She tapped the keys a few times as she thought. Then she typed in a search for “Argyle Austero and Lucille Bluth”—surely her mom was a big part of this whole thing.

Nothing came up.

Lindsay tried a few more searches, but nothing came up. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, vaguely aware that Maeby had started to draw on the walls of her office. She thought about stopping her but just sighed again and closed her eyes. At least her daughter had some ideas, unlike her at the moment. All this stuff about the final countdown and everything…it was honestly starting to creep her out. It was like some horror movie, and a final countdown was so grim, wasn’t it? Like, a truly final countdown for Gob would mean, like…like to his death, right?

Lindsay opened her eyes, her stomach clenching in fear. She sat up straight, put her fingers back on the keys, and, with an uneasy feeling running through her, she searched for “Argyle Austero models dead".

Her heart sped up at all the names and articles and stories that came up, some of whom she recognized, some of whom seemed to be before her time with him.

She wasn’t sure what sort of connection they could make past that, though. It just seemed like bad luck, some coincidence of models who worked with Argyle just happening to die. They all looked like accidents, accidents that had nothing to do with Argyle’s work at all. It all seemed like typical model deaths—death by overdosing, death by electrocution with a hair dryer in the bathtub, death by orgy…

Lindsay frowned and went to the image search. She scrolled through the photos that came with the articles reporting on those deaths, only to see a bit of the same man in every photo. Her eyes widened and her blood ran cold as she enlarged one of the photos that had the best view of the man in it. She recognized that man. She really recognized him.

Lindsay quickly ran over to her purse and pulled out her phone and a business card she had thankfully held onto.

“Sally?” Lindsay whispered into her phone. “It’s Lindsay.”

Without hesitation, Sally said, “What do you need?”

“I need you to get me and then we need to find Gob.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. And I need to get Maeby—my daughter—out of here,” Lindsay said as Maeby climbed onto the computer chair. “I just found out something really, really bad.”

“What did you find out?”

Before Lindsay could even explain, Maeby pointed at the photo on the screen and proudly said, “Dada!”

Once Gob was dressed and ready to go, he hit up the usual club for the pre-runway party. Despite possibly being disgraced after the Male Model of the Year Award thing, he was still famous enough to get access to the club with no issue. He cut in front of the line, flashed his award-winning smile, and was immediately let in and embraced by the celebrities already inside.

One of those celebs was particularly welcoming. They sat in the quieter VIP section and she told him, “I think it’s great how you handled losing that award and then kinda laid low for a bit before making your big comeback…it was so courageous.”

“Thanks, Julie Bowen,” Gob said, smiling flirtily at her.

She was leaning in real close, much closer than she needed to be, and Gob knew exactly what that meant. He could definitely score with her, and he figured, well, he could use the stress-release before his big show. He normally found someone to help him out that way the night before, if not also the morning and/or afternoon of as well. He had a usual person for that—well, he had had one—but that wasn’t an option anymore so, yeah, she would do.

Gob gave her a once over and said, “Hey, how about I get us another round of drinks and we can talk about this some more?”

“Okay,” Julie said, sounding nearly breathless in excitement.

As he walked back towards the bar, he was greeted by socialites and actors and other models along the way. Oh, yeah, he was definitely back in everyone’s good graces.

But in greeting everyone, he got himself totally lost.

Gob frowned and looked around. “…I wonder where the bar is—”

“DID SOMEBODY SAY WONDER?”

Gob was nearly hit in the face as Tony Wonder popped out of nowhere with his arms outstretched.

God fucking damn it.

“Dude, you nearly took my eye out!” Gob said once the excitement of Tony showing up calmed down and everyone was back to minding their own conversations.

Tony just said, “Well, sorry, man.” Tony tried to continue on his way, but Gob was not letting him take this night away from him. Not after everything else he had stolen.

“Thanks for apologizing,” Gob said, “but I’m not your man.”

Everything seemed to go quiet, everyone in the hallway turning towards them. Slowly, Tony turned back around as well, his little entourage of people following his lead. Gob could tell everyone was ready for—or at least hoping for—some sort of showdown. It must have been something people had been waiting for since the awards show, if not even as soon as it became clear that Tony’s fame was coming close to eclipsing his own.

Tony merely raised an eyebrow, seeming rather unbothered by the whispers around him. “Is that some sort of homophobic remark?”

Gob scoffed. “Don’t make shit like that up. I’m the least homophobic person out there. What’s so scary about gay people?”

Tony relaxed his eyebrow and smirked slightly. “Well, whatever, man—or dude or whatever you prefer. Whatever.” He let out a small laugh and said, “See ya later. Sorry I bumped into you.” With that, he turned back around, obviously intending on going into the club.

That, of course, bothered Gob even more. After all of this time, Tony didn’t even have the courtesy of being bothered by what he said? Tony Wonder didn’t think he was worth giving the time of day—just like his own damn family? Like his sister?

Gob gripped his hands into fists. No, he was fucking worthy of attention. He was leading a campaign. He got fucking Julie Bowen eating out of the palm of his hand. And Tony Wonder was gonna give him some god damn fucking attention.

“Well, I’m sorry, too,” Gob said, putting on his famous, charming if a little crooked smile. Tony stopped walking and Gob said, “I’m sorry you didn’t get Argyle Austero’s Derelicte campaign. Maybe next time. I guess he just wanted the best man for the job this time.”

There was a small smattering of oos and laughs at his jab, and Tony turned back around.

“What’s that?” Tony asked.

“Argyle Austero’s Derelicte campaign. Sorry you didn’t book it.”

After a moment, Tony shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Never even heard of it.”

Gob scoffed. As if he didn’t know what that was? Please, he was so jealous.

“I’ve been visiting family for the last couple of weeks. Had too much family time to follow any news.”

Gob’s eyes narrowed. That had to be a personal jab, no matter how it made no sense that he even knew that Gob had been having his own family problems for his whole fucking life.

“So, I guess…you can dere-lick my balls,” Tony said with a laugh. “Unless that’s too personal for you.”

“You can dere-lick my ass, Wonder! Bet you'd love that—”

“Kinda homophobic to say that to a gay guy, don’t you think?” Tony said.

“I’m not scared of gay people!” Gob repeated, a bit too quickly to sound believable. He cleared his throat and said, “You’re the one coming onto me with your…your ball licking shit.”

“Easy, Gob.” Gob turned as he felt a hand on his shoulder, a little surprised to find Andy Richter there. Or maybe it was one of his brothers; Gob couldn’t tell them apart.

But Gob wasn’t going to take it easy. He looked back at Tony, the coldest look he could muster on his face. “I know you think you’re so hot right now, but I got a newsflash for you, John Beard…you aren’t.”

There were a few gasps and more oos and laughs as Tony’s eyes narrowed. He took a few steps closer. “You think you’re the hotter one?”

Gob took a few steps closer himself. “I know I am.” He smirked as he got in closer, really noticing the height difference they had. He reveled in the idea that Tony had to tilt his head back to properly look him in the eye. “And I can prove it. On the runway.”

“You challenging me to a walk-off?” Tony asked, stepping in even closer.

“Gob, don’t do it,” Andy said from behind him.

Gob hesitated and Tony smirked. “I’d listen to your friend, Andy Richter there, Gob. He’s trying to help you out.”

Standing up even straighter, Gob said, “You think I’m scared? I told you I’m not afraid of gay people.”

Tony stepped in even closer, barely an inch away from Gob. Gob felt a weird heat running through his body and his stomach flip. “Ten minutes. Old Men’s Warehouse,” Tony said, pressing his finger against Gob’s chest, which did nothing to solve whatever weird acrobatics his stomach was doing. “You should remember that; you’re even older.”

Tony gave him one last smirk before yet again pushing past him, this time to leave the bar.

“Well…well you can fit through the door even easier, shrimp!” Gob called after him.

Tony turned around to walk backwards as he told him, “Now you’re just being antisemitic!” He laughed and turned back around and Gob glared at his retreating frame.

“I don’t know about this, Gob,” Andy said. “He’s too limber—I heard he can fit inside the tiniest boxes—”

“Shut the fuck up, Richter!” Gob said before storming out himself.

Tony Wonder was going to wish he had never tried to hit on him like that.

Michael opened his door and was shocked to, yet again, find a sibling he hadn’t spoken to for years on his doorstep, this one holding a small girl and with Sally Sitwell at her side. “Lindsay? Hi, I—”

“Look, Michael, I don’t have time to talk,” Lindsay said quickly, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t just spring up on you after not talking to you for so long, but could you please watch my daughter?”

“Are you serious? It’s been years and all you—”

“Michael, Gob’s in danger. Like, real danger—I’m serious,” Lindsay said.

“She’s right, Michael,” Sally said as Tracey came over to check out what was going on, a young boy shyly half-hiding behind her leg. “Gob’s in real trouble—we don’t have all the details, but we need to help him before he ends up dead.”

“What?” Tracey asked.

“Dead?” Michael asked. “What, did he overdose or something?”

“No, no, not that. We can explain this later once we figure everything out just, please, I just need you to watch my daughter, Maeby—”

“Maybe watch your daughter?” Michael asked.

Lindsay groaned. “Oh my god, I do not have time for another Who’s On First bit—that’s what I call her, okay? Can you please just watch her? She needs to go to bed soon and I can’t leave her alone with her father or even in the same place as my boss. I think he might have—” Lindsay quickly looked at Maeby and then back at Michael, “done some bad things to other people.”

“What do you mean?”

Lindsay looked at Maeby again, not wanting to say it in front of her. She settled on saying, “Like, K-I-L-L-E-D them.”

“Yeah, and we think Gob might be next,” Sally said.

“I just want to keep her safe. Please.”

Michael looked overwhelmed, but Tracey, looking just as overwhelmed said, “Of course, Lindsay. We can watch her. She should get to know her cousin, anyway.”

Michael slowly nodded. “Okay…yeah, of course we can watch her.”

“Thank you,” Lindsay said gratefully, following Tracey inside. Sally handed the overnight bag Lindsay had packed to Michael as Lindsay crouched down next to Maeby in the entryway. “I’ve got to go, okay? But you’re going to stay with your Uncle Michael and Aunt Tracey and have so much fun! I promise.”

“Lots of fun,” Tracey said, trying to smile despite the disturbing news they’d been given.

Maeby nodded and Lindsay gave her a few kisses and told her to behave and a few other goodbyes before putting Maeby down on her two feet. That was when Maeby noticed a boy just a few inches taller than her who was still trying to hide behind her Aunt Tracey’s leg. She looked curiously at him and he looked back just as curiously at her, stepping slightly away from his mom.

“Maeby,” Tracey said, gently moving George Michael away from her leg and into the living room, leaving just Michael and Sally at the door. “Maeby, this is your cousin, George Michael.”

“George Michael?” Sally asked Michael, raising an eyebrow.

“We named him before the bathroom thing,” Michael mumbled as Lindsay left Tracey to formally introduce the cousins to each other, making sure to give Maeby one more big hug and kiss.

“Okay, we should go,” Lindsay told Sally. Sally nodded in response and Lindsay told Michael again, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They started to leave, but then Michael reached out and grabbed Lindsay’s shoulder.

“Yes?”

Michael wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He had just gotten a lot of information in such a short time, and it wasn’t easy to digest information, either. And with his own mixed up feelings about his family on top of it, it was just…well, overwhelming wasn’t even close to describing it.

Finally, he settled on, “Stay safe.”

Lindsay nodded.

“…And keep Gob safe, too.”

“I’m gonna try my best,” Lindsay said.

Thankfully, Lindsay got a call from one of her co-workers warning her that Gob was going to a walk-off against Tony. Sally wasn’t the best at navigating, but with Lindsay’s help, they managed to get to the warehouse just as people were arriving. With Lindsay’s confidence amongst all those famous people, more than Sally had ever seen in one place, they made their way to Gob as he was preparing himself for the walk-off, obviously trying to psych himself up.

“Gob! Thank god we found you,” Sally said.

“Sally? What are you doing he—” He cut himself off as he saw Lindsay. “Well, look who decided to show up, finally.”

“Gob, I’ve been trying to see you for a week now,” Lindsay said.

“What? No you haven’t,” Gob said.

“I’ve left, like, a million messages for you.”

Gob scoffed. “Liar. I only have twelve hundred messages on my machine.”

“It’s call a hyperbola, Gob,” Lindsay groaned.

"Hyperbole, Lindsay," Sally corrected.

“What do those curved math graph thingies have to do with this?” Gob asked.

“That’s a parabola,” Sally said with a slight sigh.

“Whatever!” Gob said, throwing his hands in the air. “Shut up! I need to think straight! Or, I don't know, maybe I need to think gay to keep up with Tony so he stops calling me a homophone."

“I think you mean ‘homophobe,’” Sally said.

“Shut up!”

Sally shook her head. “Sorry. That’s not important." She gestured around herself as she said, "This isn’t important. We need to get you out of here—”

“I’m not going until I can beat off Tony Wonder,” Gob said. Before either Sally or Lindsay could say anything else, Gob got on the runway with Tony and started to stretch his legs, bending over at the waist.

Tony looked up at him for a few moments before shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Okay, who’s gonna call this thing?” Tony asked, looking around the crowd.

“If no one has any objections,” a man said, stepping out from the crowd, “I believe I might be of service.” The man whipped off his sunglasses.

Sally gaped, whereas Tony, Gob, and Lindsay all seemed unfazed. Sally whispered to Lindsay, “Is that David Bowie?”

“Yeah. He comes to a lot of these things,” Lindsay said with a shrug.

Before Sally could tell her how insane that was, David Bowie laid out the rules. “Now, old school rules. This'll be a straight walk-off—”

“So straight,” Gob agreed quickly.

Both David Bowie and Tony gave him a look before David continued, “First model walks, second model duplicates, then elaborates.”

Gob and Tony nodded.

“Okay, boys, let's go to work.”

Tony looked at Gob and said, “Age before beauty, dinosaur.”

“Make that height before beauty, midget,” Gob said. He smirked proudly as Tony glared at him before getting off the runway.

Gob went to the back of the runway and took a moment to himself, closing his eyes and centering his mind. It was what he did before every show, a habit he had started back when he played piano for competitions and auditions and recitals. Just a moment of getting himself in the zone, ready to blow everyone away. After a few moments of deep breaths and focused thoughts, Gob opened his eyes and looked straight in front of him, a slight smirk on his face.

He was going to blow everyone away. And Tony Wonder was going to get blown the most.

Tony turned out to be a tougher competitor than Gob had anticipated. As they kept adding more moves, Tony kept up with him, adding just as complicated dances and acrobatics as Gob did.

Still, despite adding handstands and leaps and the robot, Gob was keeping up with him just as much. And he could tell Tony was starting to get tired—and desperate.

Tony knew Gob had to recognize how tired he was getting. As he watched Gob do his latest challenge, he realized he had definitely underestimated Gob. He knew he was good, but he didn't think he'd have that much energy and endurance. Few models did.

“What? Can't keep up with an ‘old man’ like me?” Gob jeered as he got off the runway

After a couple more rounds, Gob was smirking, surely seconds away from victory. He looked over at Tony, who was in deep conversation with that blonde girl he seemed to bring everywhere. They were having some whispered debate back and forth before Tony finally nodded. She helped him back into his jacket and looked up the sleeves carefully before going back on the runway.

Gob watched, a little confused. They had already both thrown off their jackets and posed with them earlier in the challenge; what other move could he do with it?

Tony stood at the back of the runway and nodded to himself. Then, with all that stupid confidence he had, Tony walked forward. He didn’t do any turns or dance moves or anything, he just walked, somehow still managing to be captivating while he did so.

Gob fucking hated that.

Once he reached the end of the runway, Tony posed, his hands stretched out in front of him.

Gob raised an eyebrow. Really? That was all he was doing—

And then fire came out of his hands.

Gob jolted up as the audience gasped. It was clearly an illusion, something that had to be coming from his jacket sleeves.

And it had to be against the rules. Gob didn’t have anything like that. It wasn't fair.

“Dude,” Gob said once Tony got off the runway. “That’s—there’s no way you expect—I don’t have—”

“You can borrow my jacket,” Tony said, already offering it to him, a challenging look on his face.

“Like your shrimpy arms are long enough for my own,” Gob said.

“Then I can install my stuff in your own jacket,” Tony said, not backing down. “It’s a simple mechanism; I’m sure you can work it out.”

Gob looked over at David Bowie, who had been playing close attention to the score and was definitely a fair judge. David just nodded as if to say Tony was right. Gob had to do this if he wanted to win.

Gob took a deep breath and looked back at Tony. He took his jacket and said, “I’ll set it up myself. I used to do magic, too, you know.”

That actually seemed to take Tony by surprise, the smirk on his face immediately falling. Well, only for a second. He smirked again and joked, “How long ago? Decades now?”

Gob just glared at him before getting to work on setting up the system in his own jacket.

A few minutes later, once Tony agreed it was also set up properly, Gob got back at the end of the catwalk. Again, he closed his eyes and tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach. This was fine. Sure, it had been years since he had attempted a fireball. Sure, he had set his curtains on fire last time he tried. Sure, he hadn’t ever done one in front a crowd this big. But surely he could do this now and defeat Tony. He knew after this round, if he pulled this off, Tony would have nothing else to pull against him—and would probably be too tired to even try to fight him.

With that thought in mind, Gob lifted his head and started his walk.

Everyone and everything was suddenly silent. Well, not everything. Gob remembered that John Cage composer he had read about, the one who said true silence didn’t exist. And that was true at that moment, as well. Gob could hear his own footsteps and, even more so, the beating of his heart. It felt so loud to him that he was sure everyone else had to hear it, too.

All too soon, he hit the end of the runway and posed, just like Tony had. He paused for a moment, trying to remember how to do it.

Then, desperately, Gob started to do the trick he had practice so much as a teenager, back before this modeling thing had even started. He tried to remember his life before everything with his family had become even more complicated, back before he had turned his back on his true passions, back when he was probably last truly happy.

He tried his best and all that came out was a blast of liquid that hit the closest audience members in the face. They all made a sound of disgust as they were hit and immediately backed away.

Gob looked down at his hands, a bit of the liquid dripping on him as well. He had failed. He had gotten too cocky and Tony had fairly beaten him.

He clenched his fists and winced at the murmurs and looks of pity he got from the crowd. It was all too similar to how everyone had reacted to the Model of the Year award fiasco. Trying to get them to stop, he said, “…But where did the lighter fluid come from?”

David Bowie came forward and hit the floor of the catwalk. “Disqualified!”

Gob took off the jacket and, forgetting it was his own, threw it at Tony. However, Tony was too busy cheering with his entourage to even notice. Hanging his head in shame, Gob got off the catwalk and was immediately flanked by Sally and Lindsay, who quickly pulled him out of the warehouse without another word.

Chapter Text

“What’s going on?” Gob asked as soon as he was shoved into the backseat of Sally’s car. Once Lindsay and Sally buckled up in the front he added, “And why can’t I be in the front? I’m taller than the both of you—and I’m the oldest! I deserve something from that.”

“Shut up,” Lindsay said as Sally started the car and drove them away. They had that fight all the time as kids and she was so not interested in re-living it then.

Gob crossed his arms and pouted. After such an embarrassing defeat, he thought he deserved something good. Or, well, maybe he was getting what he deserved for losing so easily.

“Gob, we think Argyle—and maybe Tobias—want to kill you,” Sally said.

“Good! They should,” Gob said dramatically. “I deserve to die if I can’t beat that Wonder midget in a walk-off.”

Lindsay sighed, knowing that, while there were more important things to cover, and that her brother was being dramatic, they needed to make sure his ego was intact. He wouldn't take any of this seriously until he felt better about himself. 

“Gob, that’s not true,” Lindsay said.

Before she could say anything else, Gob said, “Yes, it is! All I’m good for is looking good. It's the only reason I've ever made money or gotten good attention or done anything in my life! And if I can’t even beat Tony Wonder at looking good, what am I supposed to do with my life? What am I if I'm not a ridiculously good-looking guy?”

“Gob, you’re more than just a good looking guy,” Sally said.

"Ridiculously good-looking," Gob corrected.

Sally rolled her eyes. "Yes, fine, ridiculously good-looking. You are ridiculously good-looking, but you're more than that."

"Yeah? What else can I do?” Gob asked her.

Sally opened her mouth to reply and then, realizing she had no idea what else he could, closed it.

“Exactly,” Gob said.

“…I mean, you’re a great pianist,” Lindsay said.

“I was. Once,” Gob said bitterly. “I haven’t played in years, though. I doubt I could even play a stupid Mozart sonata. Not even 'Rondo Alla Turca'.”

“I’m sure it’d be like riding a bike for you,” Sally said.

“I can’t ride a bike, either."

“It was just an expression,” Sally said. After a moment, she added, “And, come on, you’re obviously good at what you do, Tony Wonder or not.” When Gob tried to interrupt her, she insisted, “Gob, the man had to make a ball of fire to beat you. Who would even expect you to even have lighter fluid on you? It’s not like you’re a magician.”

“Yeah…not anymore,” Gob said.

“The fact he had to turn to something like that to beat you speaks a lot for your talent, Gob,” Lindsay said. “He knew the only way to beat you was to do something that’s not even modeling. He couldn't beat you in the looks department alone.”

Gob looked out the window miserably. “When all he had to do was turn left.”

Sally gave him a quick look and then looked at Lindsay, who looked just as confused. Sally looked back at the road and Lindsay shifted in her seat to look at her brother. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not an ambi-turner,” Gob said quietly, admitting his biggest shame. Turning his head back towards Sally and Lindsay, he admitted, “I can’t turn left.”

“…But you just turned left to look at us,” Lindsay said.

“I mean when walking,” Gob said. “I can turn a car and I can turn my head, but I can’t turn left on a catwalk. It’s a problem I’ve had since I learned how to walk.”

“…How did I not know that?” Lindsay muttered to herself.

“Mom kept it a secret. ‘Cause it’s stupid. And embarrassing."

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Of course she did.” Lindsay knew better than anyone how good Lucille was at keeping secrets.

She shook that thought out of her head and, in an attempt to be supportive, Lindsay said, “That’s nothing to be ashamed of! I’m sure there are lots of people who can’t turn…”

Lindsay trailed off because, no. No, that definitely was a problem she had never heard of. She looked over at him and he looked away again, feeling very stupid for admitting his biggest weakness to both of them.

Sally tried to continue for Lindsay, “I mean, there’s gotta be some people out there, just like you, who can’t…can’t turn…left—”

Oh, thank god, her phone started ringing. That was a freebie.

Sally immediately picked it up. “Hello?”

“If you want answers, get to St. Adonis’ Cemetery now.”

It was that same person who had called her before. “Wait? Who is this—who are you—”

The line went dead and Sally groaned, throwing her phone back in her empty cup holder.

“Who was that?” Gob asked.

“I don’t know—I keep getting calls with hints on this story from some guy. He just told me to get to St. Adonis’ Cemetery,” Sally said. “I’ll take you both back to my apartment—you’ll be safe there, Argyle and his gang wouldn’t expect you there—”

“No, I’m coming with you. I want to know what’s going on, too,” Lindsay said.

Sally frowned. She didn’t want Lindsay in any sort of danger, but she knew better than anyone she was too stubborn to argue with. “Okay, fine. I could use someone to help navigate, anyway. Gob, we’ll drop you off—”

“Can I come, too?” Gob asked, his voice quiet and hopeful in a heartbreaking way. Sally and Lindsay looked back at him and he said, “I really don’t wanna be alone right now.”

The two women looked at each other and, after a moment, Sally sighed but nodded, looking back at the road. “Someone just lead me there.”

Lindsay told her, “At the next light, turn left—” She winced and avoided looking at her brother. “Sorry, Gob.”

Gob kicked her seat and looked back out the window.

Obviously, the cemetery was dark and, beyond a couple of street lights nearby, there was no way they could know where they were going once they were inside. Thankfully, Sally had put together an emergency kit in her car years ago. It included her AAA card, water in case she was stuck for a while, some tools to help change her tire, and a flashlight in case she had to do it in the dark.

“Of course you're prepared,” Lindsay said as Sally pulled out the flashlight. It was just like her to think of everything. Back when they were teenagers, that used to annoy her, but it was weirdly bringing a fond smile to her face that time. Maybe it was just nice to know some things never changed. And, well, having a flashlight at the moment was a good thing.

So, with Sally in front to light the way, Lindsay and Gob followed her inside the cemetery. Sally wasn’t sure where to go, but she was sure whoever wanted to meet her would find her.

Gob stayed as close as he could to the other two, hugging himself. He had thrown his coat at stupid Tony Wonder and was really regretting it now that he was out in the desert night. He was freezing.

Sally moved slowly, eventually looking at one of the headstones near her. It was a model she had never heard of. “Pedro Scialfa,” Sally read off of it. She looked at his birth and death years and winced. "He was only 29.”

Given his own age of 29, that made Gob shudder for a reason that wasn’t related to the cold. Though he was still very cold.

He went to the next grave and Sally shined a light on it. While he wasn’t great at math, even he could calculate that the guy in there was definitely not even 30. Maybe his dramatic outburst in the car was right. Maybe he really was meant to die. He already felt like he was on death's door for being so close to 30 and this seriously wasn't helping. “…Did anyone make it past 30?” Gob asked.

Lindsay didn't want to know, enough so that she turned away from the next headstone Sally was looking at.

“Heeeeey Sally Sitwell.”

Sally, Gob, and Lindsay jumped in shock at the unexpected voice. They turned to find a figure standing in the dark, a flashlight in his hand and a black hood concealing his face.

“…Are you the Grim Reaper?” Gob asked, his eyes wide.

Sally’s eyes rolled in turn. “No, Gob. He’s the guy who’s been calling me.”

“…I didn’t realize you would bring others,” the man said, sounding a little nervous.

And familiar, at least in Gob's opinion.

“Well, we were with her when you called. And I need to figure out how Tobias—my husband—is involved in this,” Lindsay said.

“And why people might want me dead,” Gob added.

Even with the dark hood, they could tell the man nodded. “O-okay…” He cleared his throat and turned around. “Let’s walk.”

The other three looked at each other before following him, the man and Sally’s flashlights lighting their way.

After a few moments, the man finally said, “This goes deep—farther than you would think.”

“Deeper than the border wall? That has to be a big part of this, right?” Sally asked.

“Deeper than that.” With a big breath, the man seriously said, “The modeling industry has been behind every major political assassination over the last 200 years.”

Sally rolled her eyes. No way was fashion that important. “That’s impossible.”

The man stopped abruptly and turned to face them, even with the hood still leaving his face in shadow. “You really don't think so? Well, Abe Lincoln wanted to abolish slavery, right? But think of all those powdered wigs and…and stockings or whatever our early leaders wore. Who do you think made them?”

Gob reasoned, well, it was a fashion designer, duh. And what other fashion designer would they be talking about now than the one apparently trying to kill him? “Argyle!” Gob answered, so sure that he sounded smart.

Sally and Lindsay’s looks at him made him realize he probably wasn’t right.

“Slaves, Gob,” Sally said.

“Oh,” Gob said.

“Argyle wasn’t even alive back then,” Lindsay said with a sigh.

"Shut up," Gob said, pouting.

“Anyway,” the hooded man said, “they knew the prices would go up if he freed them, so they hired John Wilkes Booth—the first actor-slash-model ever—to kill Lincoln.”

Sally frowned, still not buying the story, even if it seemed possible that Lincoln’s assassin was also a model. Modeling had existed for a while, even before print; it was just in painting and statue form.

The man continued, “And then, of course, JFK in Dallas, 1963—his trade embargo on Cuba stopped the popular Cuban-manufacture slacks from making their way over, so the fashion industry had no choice but to kill him, too.”

Okay, this was so fake. Sally rolled her eyes. “Lee Harvey Oswald wasn’t a model.”

“The shooters on the grassy knoll sure were,” he said.

Sally shook her head. She never believed any of those stupid conspiracy theories. “Come on, there’s no way the modeling industry was behind that. They can be vicious, but not assassination vicious!” She looked back at Gob and Lindsay, who obviously knew the industry better than her. Surely they didn’t believe this, either, right?

But Gob and Lindsay looked at each other and then back at Sally. “I could believe it,” Lindsay said.

Gob shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure, but he did know some of the industry could be really freaking mean. Maybe even killing people levels of mean.

“…Okay…" Sally said, turning back to the man. “I’m still not sure how it can all connect to all of this.” She gestured around herself, her flashlight dropping out of her hand in the process.

The man said, “I’ll get it.”

This time, Sally, Gob and Lindsay jumped and screamed as the man leaned down and reached out with his free hand—a hook hand.

Gob’s first thought was that, holy shit, this had to be that guy from all the urban legends, one of those guys escaped from a mental institution who started using his hook to pull on the doors of unsuspecting students making out in their cars. That would explain why he was saying all this crazy shit about models.

“Oh, shoot,” the man muttered as he kept trying to grab the flashlight with his hook.

“Wait…” Gob said. “I know that thing—and that voice—" 

As he crouched down the man said, “No, please—don’t—”

Gob pulled back the hood and grabbed the flashlight, shining it on the man’s face. And, yes, the man was who he thought it was.

God, Gob couldn’t believe the person in front of him really was a man now.

“Buster!” Gob said.

“Heeeeey, big brother.”

“Buster?!” Lindsay exclaimed.

“Heeeeey, big sister.”

“Buster?!” Sally asked as well.

“Heeeey, Sally Sitwell,” he said with a meek wave.

“…Why do you have a hook hand?” Sally asked.

“Freak accident,” Gob and Lindsay said at the same time. Neither of them knew the details, but they still shuddered.

Buster muttered something under his breath, running his non-hook hand over said hook.

Gob turned back to his brother and asked, “Why didn’t you just tell us it was you?”

“Yeah! You could’ve made this a lot easier!” Lindsay said.

“Because you would never listen to me! You left us,” Buster said to Lindsay.

She looked down guiltily.

“I barely know you,” Buster said to Sally.

She nodded. She probably wouldn’t have listened to him at first, either.

He turned to Gob, “And you always just make me hit myself and ask me why I’m hitting myself or punch me in the stomach!”

“No I don’t!” Gob said, instinctively punching Buster in the stomach.

Buster groaned in pain, falling onto the ground, and Gob looked at his hand that was still in a fist. “Oh. Sorry…”

Buster blinked up at him. That had to be the first time his brother actually apologized for something like that. And, to both of their surprise, Gob helped Buster stand back up before he handed Sally’s flashlight back to her.

“…Thanks,” Buster said softly. Gob just nodded in reply.

Needing to get the conversation back on track, Sally asked, “Buster, how do you even know all this stuff?”

“I learned it from Mother. I used to be her right hand man…until I lost my left one.” He frowned and ran his hand over his hook, “Now I’m not ‘suitable’ for the public eye. But I still hear her phone calls and her talks with Dad.”

“Wait, Mom’s in on this?” Gob asked.

Buster stopped again, looking around guiltily. “She hasn’t been before. But she’s all tied up in this because of what our father has done.” 

“How is she involved?” Sally asked.

“Our Uncle Oscar has land that Father sold to Argyle to make a prototype of the border wall using his cement company. But Argyle’s sister, as governor, has spoken out against the wall, which means he’d lose out on all the money he’d make if he was paid to build the wall. So, Argyle needs to, uh, assassinate her…so, he did what the fashion industry has always done and found a male model to do it."

Sally asked, “But why male models? Couldn’t they just hire an assassin?”

“Well, it’s got to be cheaper to program a model than hire an assassin to shoot a major political figure,” Lindsay pointed out.

Buster nodded. “Right. And are there any secured places models can’t get into?”

The other two looked at Gob, who had furrowed his eyebrows together in thought. He could get into any club or backstage area. He had even met other politicians just from showing up at places, even with security surrounding them.

“And they’re in peak physical condition.”

Gob looked down at his bare arms and flexed. He wasn’t as bulky as other guys, sure, but he was built. And he had done some impressive work physically less than an hour ago at the walk-off.

He shivered as he thought of Tony’s stupid smug face when he won and wrapped his arms around himself again. He really wished he had remembered his damn jacket.

“…And I guess male models don’t think for themselves; they always do what they’re told,” Sally continued.

“That is not true!” Gob huffed.

"Yes, it is, Gob," Sally said.

"…Okay."

Lindsay said, “Think about any photoshoot you’ve done.”

He frowned in thought. He had done some ridiculous things he’d never consider doing, including weird bondage type things, dancing around like a monkey, wearing the stupidest outfits…

“Good point,” Gob conceded.

“You’re a killing machine, Gob. You even hit like one," Buster said, rubbing over his stomach. It still hurt from Gob’s punch. “And now they’ve programmed you to kill Lucille Austero.”

Gob’s eyes widened. He hadn't realized that this was all happening to him.

“I won’t do it!” Gob said, shaking his head. “I won’t kill anybody!” He’d do stupid photoshoots and wear the weirdest outfits at runway shows, but there was no way he’d follow commands to kill people.

“It’s not up to you. They’ve hypnotized you.”

“Oh my god, Tobias must have done that during the spa day! He uses hypnosis to help patients at rehab!” Lindsay said, her eyes widening in realization. “And that must have been why you were out for a week! It’d take a lot of hypnosis to brainwash someone into murder.”

Sally asked, “How will they trigger him?”

“Some sort of sound,” Buster said, “I don’t know what.”

“I can’t believe Tobias would do that…” Lindsay said to herself.

“Always knew I didn’t like him,” Gob muttered.

“I can’t believe Argyle would want to kill his own sister…” Lindsay said. She couldn’t believe a man she thought of as a father was that messed up.

“He’s not a good man. He just wants to make money,” Buster said.

But Lindsay didn’t listen as the other three of them went on about shady stuff Argyle and his family had done. She shook her head, feeling so stupid. She had thought she had left her old family for a good one, only to have married a murderer’s assistant. She had left her family because thought she had experienced the worst thing you could do to a sister, yet she had felt like a family with a man trying to do something so much worse to his sister. A plan she had been involved in. 

Oh, god, had she done this before? Had she accidentally led to the death of those other models? Were there other political leaders that she helped kill?

No. There was no way, right? She was normally just eye candy, someone who charmed people, occasionally scheduling appointments or something, normally just fittings and stuff, not the full day spa thing. She never did anything so hands on until Gob. And that was just because, like Lucille had said, he had wanted to see her so badly. It was just a way to get him signed on.

That begged the question, “But, why Gob? Mom surely wouldn’t want her money-maker involved in all of this.”

“Argyle’s blackmailing her—it turns out the land Dad sold was actually already in Mexico,” Buster said. He frowned. “I guess I drew the map wrong, so Uncle Oscar got confused…But she didn’t want to use you, Gob, I promise! I heard her refusing so many times on the phone!”

“Of course you would defend her,” Lindsay muttered under her breath.

“She didn’t want to! This was just the only way Argyle would let Dad get away without paying him back for the wasted cement!” Buster insisted, waving his hook hand passionately.

“Let him ‘off the hook’, so to speak?” Sally asked, amusing herself. At Buster’s face, she stopped smiling and cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

Buster glared before turning to Gob, “Father says we can just claim you went insane from the pressures of modeling—he said anyone would believe it after your friends died. And the Male Model of the Year award thing.”

Gob looked down at the ground, even more embarrassed about that than before.

“I heard them say they might tell everyone you’ve been lying low in Mexico and that you got anti-American views while you were there to make people want to build a wall,” Buster said. “They’re also ready to point out how your last public girlfriend was a Mexican.”

Gob had to think for a moment of who he was even talking about. Then he scoffed. "Marta? She’s not Mexican! She’s…Columbian or something. And I haven't even spoken to her for years!" Hell, they barely spoke when they were dating, even though that had been the longest relationship he ever had.

Or, well, longest romantic relationship.

Public romantic relationship.

Not that he had private ones or anything.

“The press won’t care,” Lindsay said. She told Sally, “No offense.”

Sally frowned. “The real press will. The tabloids and the public won’t.”

Suddenly, they heard a man shout, “Lindsay! What a surprise!”

Lindsay’s eyes widened as she saw her husband several yards away. “Oh, god, it's Tobias,” she whispered. “We have to get out of here.”

Buster nodded, pulling his hood back up. “I’ll distract him—go!”

Gob, Lindsay, and Sally ran. Once they reached the cemetery gate, Buster yelled after them, “Good luck, big brother, big sister, and Sally Sitwell!”

“Buster, you idiot!” Sally groaned as they reached her car.

“Hey! Be nice to our brother!” Gob said, making sure to slide into the passenger’s seat before Lindsay could. Lindsay rolled her eyes but got in the back seat.

“Gob, now Tobias knows all three of us are working together!” Sally said as she got in the car. “And we need to find you a place where we can hide, and now it can’t be my place! It’s too obvious!”

“Oh. Right…”

“Okay, so, where can we go?” Sally asked, pulling out of the parking lot as fast as possible.

“I mean, my place is out of the question, obviously,” Lindsay said.

“Right,” Sally agreed. “Where’s a place where no one would think to look for you, Gob?”

“I don’t know!” Gob said.

“Is Michael’s too obvious?” Lindsay asked. “God, I hope it isn’t. I don’t want him finding Maeby.”

“I’m sure it’s not too obvious,” Sally said.

“I was just there, though. Mom might think of it,” Gob said.

“Oh god,” Lindsay whispered to herself.

“She wouldn’t do anything to Maeby; she wouldn’t gain anything from it,” Sally said.

“I hope so,” Lindsay said. “…At least Michael has good security. And has to be on alert from us telling him about Tobias.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Sally said as calmly as possible as she kept turning on random streets, making sure no one could tail them. “Gob, come on, think of a place!”

“I’m trying!” Gob said. “It’s hard to think when you find out you’re supposed to kill someone in the next twenty-four hours!”

“Right…”

“It should probably be out of town,” Lindsay said after a moment. “Or would somewhere here be better, since they’d assume he’d skip town?”

“Out of town could be good…” Sally looked at her gas gauge and swore. “I don’t think I have enough gas for that.” She tried to think of a place where she could stop for gas so they could get him out of town. “I wonder—”

“Wonder? Tony Wonder? Gob asked, suddenly knocked out of his thoughts. “You want us to hide at Tony Wonder’s? God, is it just because he’s hot?”

“I wasn’t saying that—”

“‘Cause he’s not hot! I don’t know why everybody says he’s so hot right now! And I can’t believe you want me to go stay with him after everything that happened tonight!”

Sally was confused. “Gob, I wasn’t saying we should go there—”

“But, fine, I guess no one would think I’d go there. So I guess we should go—god, I can’t believe you’re making me see him!”

“I literally didn’t even suggest it,” Sally said. After a moment, she said, “They really wouldn’t think of looking for you there, though.”

Lindsay nodded. “I should have his address in my phone—I’ve got all kinds of contacts.”

And she indeed did have it. She told Sally the next turn to make and Gob crossed his arms.

“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to do this.” He shook his head and looked at his still bare arms. “Hopefully I could at least get a coat from him. ‘Cause he stole mine.”

Sally pointed out, “You left your jacket with him—”

Gob scoffed. “I’d never jack it with him!” He scoffed again loudly and looked out the window, shaking his head at the stupid thought.

Sally blinked a few times. “…I definitely wasn’t saying that.”

A blonde woman opened the door. She looked them up and down before looking back inside.

“Tonio!” She called out. “I think it’s for you!”

Sally raised an eyebrow at the name, but didn’t have time to ask about it before Tony Wonder was at the door.

He looked weirdly unsurprised to see them there, but still didn’t seem to know what to say for a moment. He just turned to the woman who answered the door—Gob vaguely recognized her as Tony’s frequent “date” on the red carpet—and said, “Thanks, Ange. I’ve got it from here.”

The woman—Ange, apparently—nodded and, despite the obvious meaning behind his words, didn’t leave. He gave her a significant look and jerked his head back towards the inside, indicating she should leave them alone. She just looked back and crossed her arms with a slight smirk. “Nah. I wanna see where this is going.”

Tony rolled his eyes and muttered something to himself before looking back at a very pout-y looking Gob, who refused to even look at him. “So,” Tony said, “were you looking for a rematch?”

Lindsay stepped in, “Listen, Tony, I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but…Gob has been brain-washed by Argyle Austero to kill the governor, Lucille Austero.”

While the woman looked confused, Tony somehow still didn’t look surprised. “And?”

Sally and Lindsay had no idea how to respond to his lack of shock, but Sally managed to say, “And, we need a palace for him to lay-low for a little while until we can figure all of this out. Gob said this would be the last place anyone would ever look for him, so…can we stay here?”

Tony milked the moment, looking like he was really thinking it over. He looked back at Ange who nodded her head, a look on her face making it clear she thought he was being an idiot. Tony turned back slowly to the three of them before nodding.

“Okay. You’re free to stay here,” Tony said.

Before Sally or Lindsay could even thank him, he said, “But first, me and him got some stuff to work out.”

Sally and Lindsay looked at Gob. He rolled his eyes but agreed, “Fine.”

Tony simply asked, “Why’ve you been acting so messed up towards me?”

Gob was taken aback. He was blaming him? “Why’ve you been acting so messed up towards me?”

The two of them waited for the other to answer, though they avoided looking at each other. Finally, Tony said, “I asked first, so you should go first.”

Gob wanted to argue, but it did make sense. He looked down awkwardly at his shoes and said, “I don’t know. Maybe I felt a little…threatened, ‘cause your career’s, like, taking off and mine’s…mine’s kinda ending, I guess. You know, whatever.” He looked back up at Tony for a moment before looking back down again.

Talking about emotions was hard, okay?

Tony nodded. Thank god he had been in therapy enough to know how to talk about his feelings.

“And I thought, ‘This guy is really hurting me,’” Tony said. “…And that hurt.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t as good at this emotions stuff as he thought.

Gob frowned. Why was he getting blamed? “And when you told me to ‘dere-lick’ my balls, that really hurt.”

“Well…maybe I was scared, okay?” Tony said, looking reluctant to do so.

“Scared?” Gob asked. “I’m not scary.”

“To other models you are!” Tony said. “You’re fucking Gob Bluth! Do you know what it’s like being a model and always being compared to you? Someone who’s ridiculously good-looking and so famous and successful?”

Gob looked back up at Tony. Was Tony really saying that he…that he was, like jealous of him? Looked up to him?

“It’s crazy, man, I only started this modeling thing to make money in between magician gigs,” Tony admitted. “And, well, so Angie here could have work for her hair portfolio, too.” He cleared his throat as Ange—Angie?—smiled appreciatively at that. “And I ended up getting bigger jobs and…and I honestly would just try to be like you.”

Tony chuckled under his breath. “You wanna hear something crazy? I actually…I would practice your poses all the time when I was first starting out. Because I needed help and knew you were good and everything. And I actually planned on quitting at one point, but then I saw your work in the International Male Catalogue back in the 90s and…” Tony sighed quietly before admitting, “You made me want to be a model.”

While the women smiled, Gob felt his chest swell in pride and his stomach leap in happiness, all of his body feeling so light and giddy to know that he, Gob Bluth, had truly inspired someone. He had inspired someone so much they actually managed to possibly best him. That was…that was really cool. He had wanted to inspire people, that was half of what he was trying to do when he quit modeling, and it turned out he had been inspiring at least one person all along. A really cool person that was so hot right now.

You know, or at least people said that about him.

Tony finally locked eyes with him. “…I freaking worship you, man. And…and I’m sorry I was whack.”

Gob shook his head, finally realizing he'd been just as bad as Tony. How could he not realize he could be so intimidating to a beginning model? “No, I’m sorry that I was whack."

“I was whack,” Tony said.

Gob smiled. “Same.”

Tony smiled back. “You say same?" Gob nodded and Tony laughed. "Same!"

Gob nodded. “Same.”

The two high-fived and said, "Same!"

They kept smiling at each other before, finally, Gob leaned forward and hugged him to truly end their fight. Tony was surprised but didn't stop him, hugging him back as Lindsay and Angie even said, "Aw."

Once they broke apart—which took a while longer than anyone expected—the woman at the door said, “Finally. Oh my gawd, you would not believe how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Tony turned to her and said, “Shut up, Ange.” Once he looked back at Gob, Lindsay, and Sally, he gestured for them to follow him. “Come inside. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Could you repeat that in English?” Gob asked as he followed him inside. “I don’t speak Mexican.”

Sally sighed. That kind of wording wasn't going to help his case if the plot was successful.

Chapter Text

Tony led them through the house into the living room before the blonde—Ange? Angie?—asked, “Tonio? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Tonio?” Gob asked.

“It’s short for his full name, Antonio.”

“Antonio?” Gob asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Antonio Francesco Wunderlich,” Angela said, pinching Tony’s cheek. How could she resist the opportunity to embarrass him like that?

Tony grumbled and batted her hand away. Before Gob could comment on his apparent full name, Tony went on, “She’s the only one who calls me Tonio and I’m the only one who calls her Ange. Anyway, yes, this is my older sister—”

“Only by a year,” she interrupted.

“—Angela Wunderlich—”

“Angela Lucas now, Tonio. Remember?” Angela said, waving her fingers on her left hand to show off sparkling engagement and wedding rings.

“Right, right,” Tony said. “Three years and it's still weird…Well, Angela, this is Gob Bluth. Obviously.”

Gob shook her hand. “Angela Lucas? Didn’t you do the hair for the latest Dior campaign?”

Angela smiled proudly. “Yep, that was me.”

Tony looked over at Sally and Lindsay and asked, “And you two are…?”

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m Sally Sitwell,” Sally said, offering a hand.

Tony raised an eyebrow, but shook her hand anyway. “You mean the person who wrote that scathing article about Gob over here?”

“…Um. Yeah. That…that was me.” She awkwardly pushed some hair behind her ears, noticing Angela looking at her curiously. God, she shouldn’t have brought attention to her hair. If Gob noticed it was a wig, a hairdresser definitely would. “The title was my editor’s idea, though…”

Lindsay distracted them by introducing herself. “Lindsay Fünke.”

“She’s my sister,” Gob said.

“Wait, don’t you work for Argyle Austero?” Tony asked.

“…Yeah,” Lindsay said, clearing her throat. “Kinda makes this brainwashing thing kind of a bummer.”

“Yeah…I think I’m gonna need more details on that,” Angela said. “But maybe we should get you some drinks first? I was just going to make some tea. Ginger, probably.” She brought a hand to her stomach and explained, “First trimester and the nausea is already killing me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll go away in your second one,” Lindsay said. "And then you'll also grow some great hair."

Angela smiled, "I'm looking forward to that part the most."

Unable to offer any advice on that front, Sally just said, “Uh, tea sounds good.”

“Make mine a Long Island,” Gob said. He normally wouldn’t drink much before a big show or photoshoot if he drank at all, but he really needed it right then. For once he didn’t care if he looked puffy or old like his mom said he did when he drank.

“Well, I don't know if we have all the ingredients, but we're from there, so every tea we make is Long Island Tea…” Tony joked. Tony made a face at what had to be the dumbest joke he had ever made while Angela shook her head and muttered to him, "Chill."

Gob didn't notice, though, because Tony's accent had come out when he said "Long Island" and it made him smile because it was kinda cute. 

Cute, like funny. Not, like, physically or anything.

Obviously.

“Yeah, I definitely need alcohol, too,” Lindsay said. She rarely had much past a few glasses of wine anymore, but she, too, felt herself needing that old family comfort.

“Any particular kind?” Angela asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Vodka if you have it, I’m guessing,” Gob said, looking at Lindsay. “That was her usual back in the day at least.”

Lindsay nodded. “Yeah…might need a whole bottle after tonight.” Gob let out a hollow laugh and nodded in agreement.

After some discussion, Angela got everyone’s drink requests, including some ginger tea for herself and Sally. Sally volunteered to help carry things in and followed Angela and Tony into the kitchen. Lindsay then stepped away to call Michael to check-in on Maeby—and to let Michael know they had Gob somewhere safe.

That left Gob alone in the living room.

A living room that held a piano.

As in the instrument that had been his biggest passion for so many years.

An instrument he hadn’t so much as touched since a couple of months into his modeling career.

An instrument he found himself nervously approaching.

Once he was at its side, he hesitated, unsure of what to do. Sure, he had found himself in front of a keyboard a few times and had played a bit then. But it was never his real rep, none of his Bach or Rachmaninov or his beloved Liszt. And a piano, a real grand piano, was always so different from a keyboard.

After a moment, he carefully ran his hand over the polished wood and smiled to himself. Despite everything, it felt like an old friend.

“It’s pretty, huh?”

Gob jumped and turned around, surprised that Tony was there, placing a couple bottles on the table. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, it’s beautiful…do you play?”

“Oh, no,” Tony said. “It just came with the place. Always wished I played, though.” He looked up curiously at Gob and asked, “Do you?”

“…I used to,” Gob said, looking back at the beautiful instrument again. “But I haven’t played in years—well, not on a real piano.”

Tony gestured to the bench. “Help yourself.”

Gob looked at Tony and then back towards the piano. He lifted the lid off the keys and gently ran his fingers over some of the keys. Tony watched with interest as Gob was so gentle with his movements, as if showing it the utmost respect, revering it in some way.

Gob kept his eyes on the shiny keys, not moving in any closer. Piano used to be one of the few things that could calm him. He was a wild child, a kid who hated to sit still, unless he had the piano keys under his fingers. And god knew he could use some calmness now.

But then came fame and fortune and modeling contracts and now he had no idea if he even knew how to play anymore. And the idea of sitting down and actually trying to play only to have forgotten everything he knew made him even more nervous than he was in the first place. And seeing as he was nervous about possibly killing someone, that was definitely saying something.

“…Maybe later,” Gob said, closing the lid on the keys as Sally and Angela came back in with glasses and some snacks, Lindsay shortly following them.

Tony looked at him curiously before following him over.

Angela settled in what Gob had to assume was an extremely comfortable chair. Sally and Lindsay sat on the couch next to it, one that would probably fit three people if they were willing to have very little personal room. Tony, obviously a younger sibling who was still used to the treatment, grabbed a pillow from the couch and sat down on the floor near Angela’s chair, creating a semi-circle.

Surprisingly, Gob decided to follow his lead instead of demanding he got a spot on the couch as well, sitting between him and where Lindsay was on the couch before grabbing the bottle of tequila they had brought in. Lindsay grabbed the vodka and, making it clear they were indeed raised together, they, in perfect synchronization, poured more than half a glass’ worth in their cups, put the bottles down, and then clinked their glasses together before downing at least a third of the pure liquor in one gulp.

While Sally had seen worse at parties in high school, Angela felt even more nauseous than before at the sight and Tony just looked impressed.

“So…” Angela said slowly, trying to get her mind off the ridiculous amount of alcohol those two seemed to intend to drink. “Wanna explain that whole brain-washing thing again?”

“And the only thing we know is there’s going to be some audio trigger to set him off,” Sally said, finishing her summary of the whole debacle as Lindsay and Gob moved onto their second rounds. “We don’t know what it is, though.”

“Wow…” Angela whistled. She turned to Gob. “And your mom’s in on it?”

“Apparently.”

Tony shook his head. “No offense, but your mom’s a real piece of work.”

“It’s honestly not surprising when you know her,” Gob said. “The only reason I’m even a model is because of her. I was going to go into piano professionally but she took me to this casting call and the woman there liked me and that was that.”

“The casting call that I wanted to go to,” Lindsay huffed. “You were just dragged there since she didn’t trust you alone in the house after you almost set it on fire during a magic trick.”

“Magic?” Tony asked, perking up.

“Yeah. I was getting good at it, too—”

“Debatable,” Lindsay said, unable to help herself.

Gob glared and she just giggled. Even if Gob didn’t like the disrespect, it did feel kind of nice having a silly and normal sibling interaction like that after so many years. “Anyways,” Gob said, turning back to Tony, “yeah, I started doing magic back then. Mostly ‘cause it got me out of gym.”

Tony tilted his head. “Who’s Jim?”

Gob was confused for a moment and then laughed. “No, like, phys ed.”

Everyone else laughed, too, and Tony said, “I was kidding! Just kidding.”

Angela gave him a doubtful look. She knew all too well how hopeful he had been in the past regarding his revival. Still, she took mercy on him by continuing on the early subject with Gob. “So, you only did it for school purposes?”

Gob shook his head. “At first. But I really liked it. I was gonna work on combining it with piano stuff.”

“I remember that,” Lindsay said with a slight smile. “All Phantom of the Opera style, right?”

“Yeah. It was gonna be awesome.”

“But without the mask, right?” Tony asked. “You wouldn’t wanna cover up the moneymaker, right?”

“Well, obviously,” Gob said, ignoring the thrill he felt over Tony Wonder calling him good-looking even as he saw Lindsay roll her eyes. “But my fingers were gonna be the real moneymakers. Until, you know, my face really became my moneymaker.”

“I still can’t believe you pursued modeling over piano,” Lindsay said. “With or without magic.”

Gob shrugged. He didn’t want to think about how much he missed either of those, not right then. Instead, he asked Tony, “How did you start doing magic?”

“Yeah, I guess I started doing magic for a lot of reasons,” Tony said. “Partially the whole hiding myself sort of thing…” After a moment, he added, “And I thought it would help with the ladies. But my girlfriend wasn’t into it.”

Gob was confused, because Tony was gay. Like, that was half of his appeal. “Girlfriend?”

“Oh, like a beard or something?” Lindsay asked. “Or some attempt at being straight?”

Angela laughed and Tony shook his head. “Uh, no. I guess while we’re revealing some secrets here…” He took a breath before admitting, “I like girls.”

“You’re straight?!” Gob exclaimed. For some reason he felt extremely betrayed at that information.

Tony shook his head again. “No. I can, uh, turn both ways on the catwalk, if you know what I mean,” he said with a grin at his oh-so-clever joke.

Gob frowned because he definitely couldn’t do that.

“You mean you’re bi?” Sally asked for clarification. More for Gob’s sake than her own, but she felt like she had made him feel like an idiot enough already to point out that he needed the direct wordage.

Gob turned suddenly to Tony. He nodded in confirmation. “You won’t put that in your magazine, will you?” Tony asked.

Sally laughed. “Nah. It’s a bit too idle gossip for us to care about, especially with everything else we’re dealing with right now.” A small voice reminded her they should probably be working on a game plan for whatever was going to happen the next day, but she wasn’t sure she had the mental energy to do that at the moment. Tea and conversation seemed like a much better idea.

So, she continued, “Besides, despite it being the twenty-first century, people seem to have trouble accepting bisexuality as a real sexuality. You might as well just stick with the gay thing.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony said with a disgruntled scoff. “Most of my family wouldn’t even recognize that I like both.”

Obviously she was right about not having the mental ability to come with a game plan, seeing as she apparently couldn’t even stop herself from saying, “Which is ridiculous. I mean, I think most people are at least somewhat bi.”

Lindsay stared intently at her drink, not wanting to be brought into that conversation, not wanting to think of if what Sally said meant she was bi, not wanting to think if that changed what the two of them had done all those years ago—

Definitely not wanting to think about how she felt if it did change everything.

Angela laughed. “I don’t know, I consider myself pretty much as straight as they come.”

“Yeah, and you’ve had your time on your knees to prove it,” Tony said, knowing his sister well enough to move his head away before she could hit him for that comment.

Gob laughed, surprised at the comment. He figured it was okay since Tony was laughing and especially once he saw that Angela didn’t look that mad.

Despite not looking angry, Angela still said, “Be nice to me. My husband’s not even here to rub my poor swollen feet.”

“Stop telling me about your weird kinks—ow!” Tony hadn’t moved away in time for that slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Sorry! Jesus…” He rubbed his head and said, “I’m being nice by letting you stay here while he’s gone, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Angela said. She hadn’t wanted to be alone while pregnant with her family having a history of miscarriages. She had been so nervous she still hadn’t even told anyone but Tony about her pregnancy in the first place. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s what you do for family,” Tony said simply.

Lindsay and Gob locked eyes for a moment before looking back to their drinks.

“Anyway,” Tony continued, looking back at Sally, “I guess I kind of agree with you. I think there are a lot more bi people out there than completely straight people. But I also think there are just a ton gay people out there, too, that just haven’t realized or accepted it.”

Gob finished his drink and poured another one.

Tony had a sip of his drink—a red wine that looked expensive and meant for sipping, a drink that made him look sophisticated in a sexy way, at least in Gob’s opinion.

You know, just, like, how they’d advertise a wine like that. That’s how they’d try to sell it, at least. All with a nice close-up of how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he sipped, something Gob found himself unable to look away from.

Gob only blinked out of his spell when Tony said, “Well, word got out I hooked up with another male model early on in my career and I was labeled as gay. It seemed to work as a way to get me more press and attention, so I stuck with it. I figure I can keep the label unless I find some girl I wanna date. But I am very satisfied with only sleeping with men right now. Believe me.”

Gob brought his drink to his lips but couldn’t make himself swallow. His throat felt weirdly dry.

“I mean, I regularly see the most ridiculously good-looking guys all the time. How can I not be satisfied with them?” Tony said with a slight laugh.

Gob tried to shrink in on himself.

“Not many girls I’m around nowadays are my type. Female models? Not my thing,” Tony said. He gave Sally a look up and down and said, “I guess you’re more my type.”

Sally laughed at the idea while Lindsay shot back her drink and Gob wrinkled his nose.

“Hey, you’re not the modeling type, but you’re hot. Getting more tightly wound girls to relax is hot,” Tony said with a simple shrug. “And you’re pretty. I’m sure straight guys would agree with that,” Tony said honestly. He looked at Gob, who was still trying to shrink down on himself. “Don’t you agree?”

“Ew, no!” Gob said, suddenly sitting up straight again.

“Thanks,” Sally said dryly, making Angela laugh. “The feeling’s mutual, by the way.”

“Hey! I’ve made a career out of being ridiculously good-looking—”

“I get that you’re attractive,” Sally said as Lindsay sat between the two of them, feeling the most uncomfortable she had ever felt before for so many reasons. “But I think you’re always going to be the guy who made fun of my dad when his fake eyebrow fell into your candy dish.”

“Hey, it was freaky,” Gob said.

“Alopecia is not freaky!”

Tony chuckled. “Hey, let the bi person here call it a tie. Trust me; you’re both hot,” Tony said. At Gob’s look, he scoffed. “Come on, you’re Gob Bluth! You know I think you’re hot. I’m not blind.”

Gob felt his face heat up, not noticing Tony finishing his glass of wine as he avoided looking at him. “…Thanks,” Gob mumbled to himself, looking back down at his drink again.

Sally and Lindsay both raised their eyebrows at his uncharacteristically shy reaction. But then Sally shook her head and went back to the other subject. “I just don’t think I can find someone I see as a sibling hot. I saw Lindsay and her twin, Michael, as friends, but Gob and Buster were like annoying brothers to me.”

“You mean awesome,” Gob said.

Tony asked, “So that’s why you didn’t have a problem running that hit piece on him, huh?”

Gob suggested, “Or maybe you just hate models.”

Sally sighed. “I don’t hate you or models or anything like that. I mean, I hate the modeling industry a lot—”

“Why?” Gob asked.

“Well, not even getting into this whole hidden conspiracy that led to the death of Lincoln and JFK and is trying to kill Lucille Austero, I’ve seen how much damage the modeling industry has done to young people. Especially young girls,” Sally said, her eyes darting over to Lindsay for a brief moment.

Lindsay’s jaw tightened, but she remained silent.

“What do you mean?” Gob asked.

Sally looked back at Lindsay, who still remained silent. Sally sighed and looked back at everyone else. “I just knew a lot of young girls who got—get—caught up in this need to be model-perfect. They don’t recognize there’s photoshop going on or that they have professionals making them look perfect.” She nodded at Angela in acknowledgment who nodded back.

“…And they don’t realize that some people are just born with thigh gaps and most people can’t look like that. At least not healthily.”

“Huh?” Gob asked.

Finally, Lindsay sighed. “She’s talking about people like me, Gob. I…I did some really unhealthy things when I was trying to be a model,” she said.

“Like what?”

It took Lindsay a moment to speak. “…I can admit now that I was very obsessive after you got your contract and I didn’t,” Lindsay said quietly, looking down at her lap. “I started following every guideline I could find on makeup and hair—I wouldn’t even let anyone in the family see me without being made-up, let alone leave the house without looking perfect. I worked out constantly, I got a nose job as soon as I could, and…and between what I saw in magazines and in the photoshoots you did with girls and everything Mom said, and just wanting to be that beautiful, I…” Lindsay took a deep breath before finally admitting what only years of therapy made possible for her to say, “I became bulimic.”

Angela looked at her sympathetically while Gob and Tony stared.

Tony seemed to be the first one to find words. He quietly whispered, “You can read minds?”

Gob’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He didn’t know anyone who could do that!

The three women stared at them, trying to figure out how they made that connection.

Lindsay finally said, “It means I’d throw up after eating.”

“Oh,” Gob said. After a moment, he simply shrugged and said, “I know lots of people who do that.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah, me, too,” Tony said. He laughed slightly. “It’s really no big deal.”

“Yeah, I’ve done it a couple of times if the outfit felt a bit tight,” Gob said, laughing a little as well.

“Same!” Tony said. The two shared a high five as the other three stared at them in shock before all speaking at once.

“Tonio! You cannot be serious—”

“Are you kidding me, Gob?”

“Did your mom put you up to that?”

“Ma would fucking kill me if she knew you did that—”

“It’s a serious disease that can kill you!”

Gob and Tony put their hands up in surrender, sharing a look over how dramatic they were all being.

“Women,” Tony muttered to him.

“Right?” Gob muttered back.

“This is exactly why I’m okay with pretending to be gay,” Tony said.

Gob locked eyes with him, feeling something swell in his chest. He kept his eyes locked with his until the feeling inside of him grew too much and he had to look away and take a drink.

Once Sally, Lindsay, and Angela had ranted enough at them, both men promising not to do that again, Gob asked Lindsay, “Okay, so, if modeling made you do that, why did you keep on trying to be one?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lindsay said. “My whole life, the only thing I was ever praised for was my looks—well, by our dad at least. Your Mom-ager always made it clear I wasn’t up to her standards.” She sighed before continuing, “Then I saw you have this wildly successful career and life and…and she hated you growing up. Like, you were her least favorite.”

Gob nodded. That was true.

“But then you were considered good-looking—”

“Ridiculously good-looking,” Gob corrected.

Ignoring him, Lindsay continued, “And, suddenly, you became her favorite. Even over Buster.”

Gob nodded again. That was also true.

“And…and, I don’t know. I know I was somehow weirdly her second favorite despite everything, but I had never felt like that. And I had always wanted to be model, and I guess I thought I’d get her love or some other fucked up parental baggage thing like that,” Lindsay said. She chuckled darkly and said, “But when I thought I finally got it, it turned out I had a very different kind of parental baggage that mommie dearest never clued me into.”

Gob frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lindsay looked around at everyone else in the room and sighed. “I guess it’s time to get even more personal with some near strangers,” she said before knocking back most of her drink.

“Hey, it wouldn’t be a Bluth Party if we didn’t get a little too personal on some level,” Gob said.

Angela whispered to Sally, “What kind of ‘personal’ do they mean?”

Sally shook her head. She knew it was better not to ask when it came to that family.

Lindsay continued on, “Yeah, well, I shouldn’t know that because I’m not a Bluth.”

Gob blinked a few times. “Oh, right, I guess you changed your last name—”

“No. I mean I’m not a Bluth and never was,” Lindsay said.

“…What?”

Lindsay sighed heavily and crossed her arms. “…Back when I was finishing high school, I still wanted to model, even if I had people like Sally telling me I was going too far. And I also wanted to prove myself and not be handed success just because I was related to the Gob Bluth. So, instead of trying to work with the Bluth Agency or whatever it was called at the time, I went to other agencies and finally got offered a contract.

“I was so ecstatic. They warned me that, as an eighteen year old, unless I made it, like, Janice Dickinson level big, they’d only keep me until 21 or 22—women in this industry don’t tend to work as models as long as you men get to,” she said with a look at Gob and Tony. “Anyway, I was fine with that. I was young and ready to finally have my dream and I figured, hey, I’d find some rich guy through work and get married once my career was ready to end.

“And the agency found me a job. A pretty good one, a commercial deal that would’ve helped me build a portfolio,” Lindsay said. “All I needed to do was fill out some tax forms. Standard stuff. And that, of course, meant I had to bring my birth certificate.

“And it took a lot of digging through all the documents we had, but I found it. And…” Lindsay laughed without humor. “God, I wish I hadn’t. Because, it turns out…I wasn’t a Bluth. I was adopted this whole time.”

Before Gob could even process that, she laughed bitterly again. “Oh, and not just that, but I wasn’t eighteen. No, I wasn’t even a teenager. I was fucking twenty-one.”

Everyone fell silent, unsure how to handle that double whammy.

Finally, Sally, her voice quiet with shock, asked, “What?”

“Yeah. Turns out all those years I was so insecure because I was bigger than everyone in our grade? It was because I was older than everyone,” Lindsay said. “I was always taller than Michael growing up not because girls mature faster, but because I was older than him—older than you,” she said looking at Gob.

“And, no, it wasn’t a mistake. I went to Mom—well, the person I thought was my mom—and she confirmed it. I had been adopted, apparently some way to spite some person or another, and they pretended I was Michael’s twin to not cause controversy—I guess you had been introduced enough in our society that they couldn’t pass me off as your twin,” Lindsay continued. She scoffed, “Oh, and it turned out Lindsay wasn’t even my real name—not originally at least. My real name was fucking Nellie. How horrible is that?”

Lindsay shook her head. “Well, suddenly, the career I thought I’d have at least four years in was all but over. My agency thought I lied about my age and ditched me. And, regardless of that, I found out I had lost three fucking years of my life. And my eating disorder got worse and I started drinking more—hey, I was suddenly fucking legal to do so and didn’t even need a fake!—and I just…I broke down. And one day I passed out in some club and woke up in a rehab. Austerity.”

There was a long silence as everyone else tried to unpack what all she had said. It wasn’t broken until Tony whistled. “…And I thought our family drama was a lot.”

Lindsay laughed quietly. “Yeah…all I wanted was some normal family drama for once. So…so when my psychiatrist was so nice and sweet and caring, I…as soon as I finished rehab, I went for him. I made all the moves, including asking him to elope with me. I just wanted a family of my own, since I apparently had never been a part of my own. Even if I was legally, I had never been treated like a real daughter by my mother—Lucille. And I wanted to prove I could be a better mother, so I convinced Tobias we should have a child and started trying right away. And it took a long while—his lack of interest probably should’ve made me think twice. And he was already working for Argyle, who took a liking to me and… and I really thought I had made a beautiful little family for myself. One that was loving and…and perfect and now I find out that the parental figure I’ve had for years now is trying to kill his sister and that my husband brainwashed my brother. So…so you could say I have a lot to process right now.”

Gob stared at her, confused and concerned. But all he could think to ask was, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Lucille made me promise not to tell any of her real kids,” Lindsay said. “She thought it would upset Buster and Michael. And it would distract you from your career. And it was easier to just not talk to any of you than to make sure I never told that secret.”

They fell silent again as Lindsay wiped her eyes. It smeared her makeup but she really didn’t care at that moment. That had been the first time she had told anyone but Tobias about her parentage, and she certainly hadn’t told him the rest about her doubts in their marriage and her desperation to have a family of her own. It was a lot to have said at once and she was honestly exhausted from that emotional outpour, not to mention the rest of the day.

After she managed to collect herself, she also felt embarrassed about becoming emotional in front of everyone. “…Sorry,” she said quietly.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Sally said firmly. “…I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Gob nodded and repeated the sentiment back while Angela and Tony both debated whether they should say anything or not.

“Yeah, well…thanks.” After another moment, unable to look anyone in the eye, she asked, “Is there a bed I can use? I…I think I’m done for the night.”

Angela nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Sally kept her concerned eyes on Lindsay as she said, “I think I’d like to turn in, too. We have a lot we have to do tomorrow.”

“I should go to bed, too, actually,” Angela said. She was a bit overwhelmed by the information she had received as well. And, besides, “Pregnancy has started to wear me out.” She turned to Gob and said, “It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Gob said as they all got up. Tony got up and hugged his sister goodnight, which kind of struck Gob as odd, seeing as his family wasn’t really the hugging type.

But then he looked at how distressed his sister looked—well, his not-sister—no, his sister. He realized that, adopted or not, Lindsay was still his sister. Even if they weren’t related, even if she was older than him, she was his little sister. And he wanted her to know that.

With that thought in mind, he got up and, with no hesitation, he hugged her.

Lindsay was a little shocked at the contact, enough that she didn’t know what to do for a moment. But then she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him back. The hug felt nice and, well, brotherly.

When they pulled apart, she laughed slightly. “I forgot how tight you hug.”

“I’m tight everywhere,” Gob said. He thought he was cool enough to say that was true.

Tony’s eyes traveled downward as those words took on a very different meaning in his head.

After a few more words of goodnight, Angela led Sally and Lindsay up the stairs. As they walked away, Angela asked the two women, “Do you mind sharing a room? There’s only one other guest room, but the bed should be big enough—”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Lindsay said, trying to force a normal, light tone. She teased Sally, “It’ll be like our old sleepovers, right?”

Sally smirked, wondering just which of their sleepovers she was planning on repeating.

“Don’t forget to clean up, Tonio!” Angela called out before she turned a corner up the stairs.

“Okay, Ma,” Tony mocked back, rolling his eyes. He muttered to Gob yet again, “Women.”

Gob nodded back. “Tell me about it.” He sat back down, this time on the couch, and grabbed his glass.

“Yeah. Sometimes I swear she’s practicing motherhood on me,” Tony said, sitting down next to him. He sighed wistfully. “I still can’t believe she’s pregnant. Or, well, at least that she’s married and pregnant. I would’ve expected her to get knocked up before she got married.”

Gob laughed quietly. “Yeah, I guess I kinda got that from your jokes.”

Tony laughed as well. “Don’t get me wrong, she didn’t sleep with that many guys. But she definitely got around and had her fair share of fun. And now she’s the youngest of all of us kids to get married so far. My oldest sister didn’t get married until she was, like, 27.”

“How many other siblings do you have?” Gob asked before taking a drink.

“I have five others.”

Gob choked on his drink. “You have six siblings?!”

Tony nodded as if that was just normal or something. “Yep. Three older and three younger.”

“You’re the middle?”

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah. That always sucked. I’ll never forget my sister Lizzie for being born and ruining that youngest child status for me. I’m sure she feels the same way towards our baby twin brother and sister.”

Gob laughed with him. After a moment, he asked, “What all do they do? They aren’t modeling or anything, are they?” He couldn’t help but be curious about Tony’s family just because, you know, they were related to Tony Wonder.

Not that it meant anything you know. Tony was just turning out to be a friend or something. That was it.

“God, no. The oldest two, Chiara and Daniel, help my dad run his bakery. The youngest three are in school—Lizzie, the one who ruined my youngest child status first, is in med school. At Harvard.” Tony rolled his eyes. “She always has to brag about that. And go on about how it’s such a more stable career than modeling or magic.”

Gob scoffed. “That’s so…so same! My brother Michael always thinks he’s so much better than me.”

“Same! My younger sister has, like, no respect for me. Thinks she knows what’s best,” Tony said.

“Same! Totally same,” Gob agreed. “And Michael only thinks that ‘cause he took over the family business—which should’ve been mine anyway. And it’s, like, he only got it ‘cause he’s family, not because he earned it or anything! He’s not that special!”

“Right? My oldest siblings act like that about my dad’s bakery!” Tony said. “And my parents always think I should’ve stayed and helped with it! As if wanting to do something cool and different with my life was bad or something.”

“Same! My dad totally hated that I never wanted to run his stupid company,” Gob said.

“Same! My dad wanted me to help him out with it, as if I hadn’t been forced to work there all my life.”

“Same! I had to work the banana stand all the time—until I got Michael to take over my shifts.”

“Same! I always got my younger brother—he’s also named Michael—I’d get him to take over my shifts as soon as he was old enough to work there.”

“It’s the only good thing about having younger siblings,” Gob said, Tony nodding in agreement. “Not that it mattered. My dad just didn’t want me to do magic. Or piano.”

“My dad didn’t get the magic thing at all,” Tony said. “It’s like he wanted me to be just like him—”

“He just wanted me to be normal,” Gob said at the same time as Tony. They looked at each other in surprise and, again at the same time, quietly said, “Same.”

The two of them kept looking at each other for a while, a feeling swelling in his chest that he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t like he never had something in common with guys before or had made a connection with one before—he had tons in common with his roommates, after all, and he thought he and Gary were pretty damn close. But something about how Tony looked at him and talked with him was just…different.

And it really kinda scared him.

Gob turned his head away from him and finished his drink, trying to drown the weird feeling in his stomach.

Tony felt something in his chest fall down to his stomach as Gob turned away, the atmosphere turning weirdly tense. Trying to get rid of that tension, Tony poured himself another glass of wine and then asked Gob, “Want another drink?”

Gob looked down at his empty glass in thought. Part of him knew he should probably head to bed after the long day and in preparation to hopefully not murder someone the next day. But he still felt too wired and awake. Probably from the fact he had probably been unconscious for all that hypnosis for the last week, right?

Something about being alone with Tony also made him feel a bit wired and jittery, too.

Maybe more alcohol would help with that.

Avoiding looking at him, Gob nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.” He held up his glass and let Tony add a bit more tequila in it.

“…Anyway, I’m glad Ange’s happy,” Tony said, desperate to change the subject. “But I just can’t imagine having kids. Ever.”

Gob agreed. “Yeah. I never got the kids thing. My nephew and niece are cute, but I’d never want one of my own.” He had another sip of his drink and smiled as he admitted, “I always wanted cats, though. Lots of them.”

“Me, too!” Tony said. “I always had so many names planned for them.”

“I always loved them. Then I found out Freddie Mercury had, like, a million, and then I wanted them even more,” Gob said.

Tony looked Gob over carefully. “You like Freddie Mercury?”

Gob scoffed and looked back at him. “Like him? I love him. I always wanted to be like him as a kid. Still do, really.”

Tony slowly took a sip of his drink as he watched Gob do the same, mulling over the idea of Gob modeling himself over a gay icon like that.

“I love Queen,” Tony said. “And David Bowie.”

“Me, too,” Gob said. Even though it had been years since his piano playing days, he couldn’t help but perk up at the subject of music. “I can play by ear, so I'd always play his stuff in between practicing my real rep—you know, Liszt and Rachmaninov and Chopin."

Tony really didn't know, but he nodded along anyway.

"It used to always relax me when nothing else could…"

Tony followed Gob's gaze over to the piano. "Why don't you give it a try? You could probably use that now with the whole brain-washing thing."

Gob thought about it again but then shook his head. "No. I shouldn't keep everyone awake." Before Tony could argue that it was fine, Gob said, "Besides, I haven't played on a real piano in years. And none of my real rep. Or even Freddie Mercury or anything. Just little bits and pieces on a keyboard…I'd be even more stressed out if I played and sounded like shit."

Tony nodded. "…Yeah. I get that." He looked at the piano and then back at Gob. "Back when I worked for my dad at his bakery, I had a baking specialty—we all did. Mine was cookies."

Gob smiled. He liked cookies.

"And you just get kinda tired of making them when you have to make all the Hanukkah cookies and get asked to make them for bake sales and for your siblings' birthdays and for your friends' parties and it's your default when you stress bake and—" Tony cut himself off from his rant and took a deep breath. "When I left Long Island, I stopped making cookies. I was sick of them.

"And now that I've been modeling and don't eat them and don't have friends who eat them, I haven't made them in years. I used to not even need a recipe for the basics—chocolate chip, sugar cookie, snickerdoodle—"

"Oatmeal raisin?" Gob asked hopefully. Those were his favorite.

"Yeah. Even them," Tony said. "Now I don't know if I can make them from memory anymore, if I can make them taste as good as I used to at all." He shrugged, looking a little melancholy himself. "I barely even use my oven anymore."

Gob frowned. "…Well, I can't even really work an oven. And I think it's pretty cool that you knew how to bake, even if you don't know now."

Tony offered Gob a half-smile. "Yeah? Thanks." After a moment, he said, "For the record, I think it's cool you could play piano, even if you don't know if you can anymore. I think it's also a lot cooler than baking."

"Well…Thanks." Trying to sound casual, Gob said, "You're a pretty cool guy in general."

Tony, also trying very hard to be casual, said, "You are, too."

The two of them smile at each other and then, without planning on it, brought their glasses to their lips and, without breaking eye contact, started to drink. And despite Tony taking mostly slow and sophisticated sips all night and a voice in Gob's head telling him he was going to look puffy tomorrow if he drank more, the two kept drinking their glasses until they were empty. They finished at the same time and, eyes still locked, they raised their glasses up in some weird, backwards version of a toast.

Gob's eyes raked over Tony's body. He was still wearing the outfit from the walk-off, one that showed off his body so well.

He looked away and put his glass down. "I should probably stop drinking for the night."

Tony had noticed Gob's gaze on him and looked him over in return—and not for the first time that night. Or any night they had been in the same room.

"…That's probably a good idea," Tony said, putting his own glass down as well. "I hope it helped you feel better, at least a little."

"Not as much as playing used to, but it helped," Gob said. "But who knows if playing would help me this time, anyway. It's kind of a bigger deal than usual. It’s not often I get brainwashed to kill a family friend."

Tony nodded.

“Plus this is my first show with Argyle.” Gob still thought that was a pretty big deal, too, murder or not.

Tony looked him over carefully. He bit his lip, wanting to say something, but—no. There was no way he'd go for it. He'd probably be angry Tony even suggested it…

But if he didn't try it, he knew he'd regret it.

Taking a deep breath, Tony moved himself even closer, definitely noticing how Gob noticed but didn’t seem to mind. “You know what I like to do before a big show like you have coming up?”

Gob looked up at him, some weird butterflies forming in his stomach and maybe even in his chest, because something up there seemed to be fluttering, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. “…Wh-what do you do?”

Very quietly, moving in even closer, Tony said, “I get myself off.”

Gob gulped. “…Y-yeah?”

Tony nodded. His eyes moved to Gob's lips then back up to his eyes. “Normally with someone else,”

Gob bit his lip, Tony’s face merely inches away from his own.

Slowly, his voice barely a whisper, Tony said, “…I can help you with that, if you want. I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Gob licked over his suddenly dry lips, but did't try to move away. “I…I mean, I’m not—I’m really not—”

“Are you really telling me you’ve never had a guy jerk you off?” Tony asked.

Gob didn’t answer, but he definitely didn't say no or look disinterested.

“It’s not like it’s gay. You can be straight and do hands stuff.”

Just a second later, Gob nodded. "Right…"

“Just hands,” Gob and Tony said at the same time. They couldn’t help but high five again. “Same!”

Barely a second later, Tony added, “And maybe a bit of mouth stuff.”

Gob nodded. “Right. K-kissing and stuff.”

“Right.”

Gob didn’t feel the need to speak out loud that there was a possibility for more.

“You don’t even have to return the favor,” Tony said. He moved his hand to Gob’s leg, his eyes trained on Gob’s as his hand inched up his thigh. “I just want to help out a friend.”

Gob had no idea how he was expected to answer with Tony’s hand moving like that.

“…So,” Tony said quietly, stopping the slow movement of his hand merely an inch away from Gob’s cock, “need some help?”

Gob licked over his lips again before nodding silently in response.

A smirk slowly grew on Tony’s face as he moved his hand to Gob’s crotch, lightly squeezing his cock through his pants. “Good.” With that, he leaned in and kissed Gob on the lips. Hard.

Well, not as hard as certain parts of his anatomy would be soon enough.

Gob’s lips parted as soon as he felt Tony’s tongue pressing against them, vaguely noticing that the tension in the room seemed to disappear, but choosing to focus on sucking lightly at Tony’s tongue. He could taste the red wine he had been drinking. He had never really cared much about it before, but now, with Tony Wonder, Gob had to say he loved red wine.

He moaned softly, nearly whimpering, and pulled Tony even closer to him by the collar of his shirt. Tony adjusted his position accordingly, more or less moving to a straddling position over Gob’s lap to get as close as he could.

Between the closeness of Tony’s body and the kisses and the alcohol, Gob’s head was swirling and he felt hot all over. It only made sense, then, that, as soon as Tony peppered kisses down to his neck, that he started to unbutton his shirt, if only to cool down—and to give Tony more skin to mark up. Tony definitely couldn’t complain as more of Gob’s tanned skin was exposed for him to kiss and suck on. It had to be the first time in years Gob hadn’t worried about a mark being left on his skin, a blemish the whole world would see at his next show or photoshoot. The only reason he’d want Tony to take his mouth off of him would be so he could kiss him again—or get his own shirt off.

And thankfully Tony did both of those things seconds later, pulling away to briefly pull his shirt off over his head once Gob had shimmied out of his button-up. Gob barely had a chance to appreciate the muscles Tony had hidden under there before the man was kissing him again, pushing him onto his back. Or maybe Gob had made that choice and pulled Tony down on top of him. He wasn’t sure, but he definitely wasn’t complaining either way.

A certain part of his anatomy definitely wasn’t complaining, either, as it pressed tightly against Tony’s body. Gob rolled his hips against Tony, desperately needing friction and desperately moaning. He was pretty sure he had never gotten so hard so fast, not since he was a teenager.

Once Tony felt Gob's erection against his leg, he slotted a leg between Gob’s, making him move them apart. Then he brought his other leg inside as well, one of Gob’s legs splayed off the couch and the other pressed against the back of the couch.

Tony pinned his hands on Gob’s shoulders before pulling back to appreciate that he had the Gob Bluth, three time Male Model of the Year Award winner hard underneath him, his legs spread, his kiss-swollen lips parted as he panted for air, that perfect shampoo-advertisement worthy hair a mess, the lean muscles of his chest moving fast with every gasp of air.

None of his wildest fantasies had ever imagined he’d really get Gob like this.

None of his wildest fantasies ever portrayed Gob as hot as he looked right then.

Gob squirmed slightly as Tony still kept him pinned down, not caring as much about his hungry gaze but clearly wanting more friction against his cock. Tony provided it by lightly pressing his knee to Gob’s crotch. Gob moved against it willingly, moaning some more, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from moaning at the sight. God, he wanted to tease him, to make him beg, to see how horny and desperate he could get him and live out every fantasy he had about the man who, quite honestly, helped a younger version of himself confirm that, yeah, he was definitely into guys.

But, well, he wasn’t sure Gob was actually that desperate, even as he grinded against his leg. After all, Gob wasn’t even gay or bi or anything—he just wanted to get off and Tony had been all too willing to help. And Tony was sure if he teased him any more than he already had, if he tried to make him beg or anything, that Gob would just push him away. He would never forgive himself if he ruined his only chance to feel him in his hand, to see his those muscles in his torso tense up as his orgasm built, to hear the moans he’d make as he came—

Tony’s erection strained against his jeans at the mere thought, a small moan escaping his mouth yet again despite himself. He palmed over his cock, trying to provide himself just the tiniest bit of relief before he had to get focused back on Gob’s pleasure, which was what this was really all about. He loved getting people off, so he would be fine, even if Gob didn’t return the favor. Hell, if Gob continued to moan like he had been, Tony was sure the sound combined with the sight of him finally coming would be enough for him to come by himself with just a few jerks of his cock.

Gob’s eyes, however, were transfixed on the bulge in Tony’s pants as the man's hand pressed against it. Gob's own excitement and arousal grew more as he realized Tony was just as into this as him. And as Tony’s hands started to work on his belt, Gob realized he wanted to get Tony’s pants off of him just as much. So, taking advantage of Tony’s hands not pinning him down anymore, Gob sat up slightly, reaching for the button of Tony’s fly.

Tony was surprised enough he dropped the G-buckle of Gob’s pants, the belt lying open. “You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to,” Gob said quietly. The two of them locked eyes, Tony looking unsure and some other emotion Gob wasn’t able to decipher. Hopeful, maybe?

Or was he just hopeful that Tony was hopeful? Did he just want proof that Tony really wanted him and this wasn't just a friend doing a favor?

Regardless, Gob swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “Please?”

Well, since he asked nicely…

Tony immediately pulled away to pull his jeans off, eventually having to stand off to get the damn tight material off of himself.

Sometimes he hated the model stuff he had to wear.

Of course, Gob had to do the same thing, though he’d like to think the material was worth it for how good his ass looked in it. And he liked to think it was a little harder to get off because he was so hard, but whatever.

Once they were both left in their underwear and facing each other, Gob didn’t hold himself back from kissing Tony first, not even minding that he had to bend down a little to do so. However, even though he initiated the kiss, Tony took over it, nibbling lightly at Gob’s lips, his arms wrapping around his waist to keep him as close as possible. Gob’s hands snaked around Tony's neck to the back of his head, supporting it as they kissed to help with the height difference. The one benefit of all the girls he had dated had to be learning how to make-out with someone so much shorter than him.

God, Tony was amazed at how just kissing Gob was intoxicating and addicting. He wasn’t sure he had ever enjoyed kisses so much, even when he was first learning to make out and it was all so new and fresh. He didn’t even want to have to pull away to get them back to the couch. Instead, he just more or less tried to blindly move him in that direction.

And that definitely didn’t work, because soon Gob was tripping over one of the pillows and Tony was following him and they were both on the ground.

Ouch. Even with the pillows breaking their fall, Tony had hit his knee hard enough he knew there would be a bruise. He was sure Gob had to have been more hurt, what with him being underneath Tony.

“You okay?” Tony asked Gob. Fuck, he had totally blown it—

“‘M fine,” Gob said, the words barely getting out before he had brought Tony’s face back to his, kissing him once again.

Tony was sure Gob had to be a least slightly injured, but, well, fuck, he wasn’t going to complain if he wanted to keep going. Hell, Tony had to put some of his weight on his injured knee and he still didn't notice the pain as he kept kissing him and kissing him.

Finally, as Gob rolled up against him again, Tony finally managed to pull himself off from Gob's lips enough to get his underwear off, Gob aiding in the process without being told. Before Tony even let himself look, he moved Gob’s legs again to get himself settled on his knees between them—which also got his knees resting on the pillow which helped with the pain. He looked down, ready to see how he lived up to his fantasy—

And, yeah, it was not at all what he had expected.

Not in a bad way! Like, the size and everything was fine, truly it was fine. It was just…

“You’re not circumcised," Tony said.

Gob looked down, almost as if checking himself, and then back up at Tony. “Well…no,” Gob said, blushing slightly. Tony wasn’t the first person to stop everything once he saw that. “I wasn’t born in a hospital, so…”

Tony just nodded, still staring at it. He had only been with one other guy who hadn’t been circumcised—some European male model, since apparently circumcision wasn’t common there—so his confidence dwindled a little.

Gob himself felt his confidence dwindling. Again, it wasn’t the first time someone had freaked out over it. “I-I mean i-if you don-don’t wa-wanna…Sh-sh-should I—”

Tony immediately wrapped a hand around him in response, cutting off his stutters in the most effective way possible. “It’s fine,” Tony said reassuringly, squeezing him slightly. He looked back at Gob’s face stroking him just once before he spoke again, “Just wasn’t expecting that. Hadn’t imagined it.”

Gob’s eyes widened slightly as he gazed back at Tony. “…You’ve imagined it? D-doing this?…Me?” He sounded odd, a mix of turned on and surprised and hopeful in a way that sounded so sweet—almost innocent.

“I told you I thought you were hot,” Tony said, a little surprised himself that Gob was that shocked. “I’ve been fantasizing about what I’d do with you for years now.” Tony blushed that time and started to stroke Gob carefully, avoiding looking at him.

That meant he didn’t see Gob bite his lip to bite back a moan at the thought of Tony thinking about him, his mind full of images of Tony stroking himself to pictures of him. Tony’s hand wrapped around his own cock like it was wrapped around Gob’s right then. His apparently circumcised cock—

“Were you naked when you fantasized this?” Gob asked.

Tony stopped his movements and looked back up at Gob. He raised an eyebrow. “Well…yeah.”

Gob’s tongue darted quickly over his lips. “Then what’s stopping you now?”

Tony’s eyes lit up; if Gob was asking, maybe he'd actually return the favor. 

Tony immediately dropped Gob’s cock and quickly, if clumsily, got out of his underwear.

Gob felt his cock twitch at the sight of Tony completely naked from where he knelt between his legs. He definitely understood why everyone said he was so hot now. Gob licked his lips again without thought as Tony wrapped his hand around his own cock, stroking it slowly. Gob’s hand went to his own cock in response, stroking himself as he stared a bit longer.

His hand stopped as he looked back at Tony, quickly realizing from the smirk on the man’s face that Tony had definitely seen him staring lustfully at him. Tony was hopeful that the look Gob had on his face meant what he thought it did. But he was still nervous that he was reading this whole thing wrong and Gob was just swept up in the moment and he would go back to being straight as soon as he came.

But Tony sure as fuck wasn't going to let Gob know he was nervous and doubtful about this. He was going to play it cool.

Gob swallowed the lump in his throat, his hand still wrapped around himself as Tony continued to smirk at him. “…What would you do next? In…I-in your fantasies, I mean." 

Tony grinned and he pulled Gob’s hand off his cock. “I wouldn’t let you touch yourself, for starters.” He wrapped his hand around Gob’s cock and said, “I want to be the only one touching you.”

Gob nodded, his skin already heating up from that. “Uh-huh—Th-that’s fine,” Gob said. If Tony wanted to be the only one touching him and he was touching him like that, well, yeah, he could accept that.

Especially if he kept playing with the sensitive skin around the head of his dick. Gob gasped, his hips jerking up suddenly at the contact.

Tony quickly stopped and asked, “Too sensitive?” He heard that some uncut guys were nearly painfully sensitive there.

Gob shook his head. “N-no. I mean, yes—sensitive. But good sensitive. Really good. Not used to—most people don't wanna deal with that.”

Tony nodded and watched for Gob’s reaction as he did it again. After another jerk of Gob's hips, Tony went back to just stroking him, focusing on what he knew for sure had to feel good around him. “Don’t want you to come too soon. I have too much I want to do with you,” Tony said.

Gob looked back up at him. “Like what?”

“Just stroking you for now. I’d get you close, so close…” Tony’s hand moved faster and faster until Gob’s breaths had sped up. “But I wouldn’t let you come,” Tony said, his hand stopping at the base of Gob’s cock, squeezing him firmly.

“Wha—why—”

“I just wanna play with you a bit more,” Tony said reassuringly. He squeezed him again and he didn’t know if it was the wine or just the heat of the last half hour getting to his head or what, but he let himself admit out loud what he always ended up thinking about when he thought about Gob. He was sure Gob wouldn't be interested, but he was all heated and had to say, “And you know what I really wanna play with? Your ass. Because, god, do you know how fuckable your ass is?"

Gob’s cock twitched in Tony’s grip and Tony felt a thrill of hope in his stomach. Was Gob really interested in that?

Daring himself, Tony said, “I'd get you on all fours and, fuck, I’d grab it, spank it, bite it, kiss it…definitely kiss it. Spread your cheeks and loosen your hole with my tongue.” He accompanied that with one stroke of Gob’s cock. Whether that or his words or the combination made Gob moan, Tony didn’t know, but he definitely liked the sound regardless.

“I’d keep rimming you, licking you, fucking you with my tongue—and you’d be moaning so loudly,” Tony said. He locked eyes with Gob, that thrill in his stomach rising up to his chest at the look of arousal on Gob’s face. “You’d be moaning for it like a fucking slut.”

Almost as if demonstrating, Gob moaned, seeming unaware that he had done so. Tony used the opportunity to stick two of his fingers from his free hand into Gob’s mouth. Gob looked confused and Tony just felt his smirk grow. “A slut like you needs something to suck on, don’t you think? I think it’s the only way to keep you quiet.”

Gob’s cock twitched in Tony’s hand and, with only a slight hesitation, Gob closed his mouth around them and started to suck. His face was red, his blush growing as Tony told him, “Use your tongue, too, baby…get them nice and wet…”

Gob obliged, obviously embarrassed but eager to please—and still rock hard in Tony’s other hand.

“Good boy,” Tony praised without thought.

Well, at first. But then Gob moaned at that phrase and started to lick and suck on Tony’s fingers much more enthusiastically.

…Huh. Tony could work with that.

Testing the waters, Tony slid his fingers farther into Gob’s mouth and said, “Every time I think about you, you’re always such a good boy with me.”

Gob moaned again, louder this time, bobbing his head along Tony’s fingers, basically giving them a blow job as he closed his eyes. God, Tony wished his dick was in there—but, no, he was trying to focus on Gob’s pleasure, not his own.

Tony pulled his fingers out of Gob’s mouth, chuckling as Gob’s mouth chased them.

“So good…” Tony continued, his hand slipping underneath Gob’s ass. His wet fingers easily slipped between Gob’s cheeks, finding that sensitive rim of muscles. “So good…you’d get my fingers next.” Tony merely circled his wet digits against Gob’s rim, moaning along with Gob as they twitched underneath him. After a few moments, he grew too impatient and he lightly pressed against Gob’s hole; he just had to.

Gob gasped at just the tips of Tony’s fingers entering his hole and Tony moaned himself, his cock aching to be inside that tight, hot heat. He didn’t dare go any further than that, not without proper lube or at least some loosening from his tongue, but he kept his fingers in there, moving them around ever so slightly as he started to stroke Gob again. “God, I swear your hole is begging for more.”

“Fuck,” Gob whispered, his hips moving ever so slightly, getting Tony’s fingers in just a bit farther.

Tony immediately moved his hand off of Gob’s cock and pressed down on his hip, doing his best to still his movements. “You get more when I say so; don’t move until then,” Tony said, thinking mostly of Gob’s safety over his own sexual fantasy.

Again, at first, because when Gob moaned at that and looked up at him with wide, begging eyes, he knew he had said the right thing for more than Gob's safety. “S-sorry,” Gob said, his voice rough with arousal, his face bright red, his chest heaving, his cock still hard as fuck and leaking precome against his stomach.

Gob…Gob really liked being bossed around, huh?

“I’ll…I’ll be good,” Gob added in another whisper, biting his swollen lip.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

Tony froze, staring at Gob in, well, wonderment. How the fuck was this real? How the fuck did he end up with the Gob Bluth, a supposedly straight and hot as fuck model, in his living room with those ridiculously long model legs spread open for him, his body begging to have more of his fingers pressed inside of him as every single dirty thing Tony had ever thought turned him on just as much as it turned on Tony, so much so he was playing into it himself?

What the actual fuck was going on?

God, Tony could barely breathe.

And through it all, Gob just watched him, his eyes dark with arousal as he obviously tried so hard not to move. The only movement Tony could detect was Gob’s chest moving with his breaths and then a gentle squeeze around the tips of Tony’s fingers in his hole.

That squeeze finally made Tony break out of his trance. “I know you’ll be good, baby,” Tony said, the hand on Gob’s hip moving to Gob’s face, cupping his cheek. He hadn’t planned on that, but it felt so natural, and he felt a warmth in his chest as Gob closed his eyes as he nuzzled against the touch. A different warmth than the heat that had been pulsing through him from the second he had touched Gob, but a warmth that made him feel some pull towards the man under him, a yearning so strong he had to lean forward and lightly kiss his forehead, his cheek, his closed eyelid, and then a sweet kiss on the lips.

Once Gob opened his eyes again, Tony looked straight into them, the other heat taking over again.

“I know you’ll be good if you want me to fuck you.” Tony slid his fingers just a little bit deeper, wishing more than anything that he could slide them all the way, but still nervous about possibly hurting him. For all he knew, Gob had never even had anything up his ass, so he really couldn't push him.

Whether he had or hadn't, Gob seemed to love it at the moment. He moaned even louder, his eyes rolling back.

Tony moved his free hand to the ground next to Gob, leaning forward over him. While his fingers were still barely in him, the position made them press harder inside of him and provided more pressure against his rim. It also meant Gob could grab at Tony's shoulders, his nails digging into his skin in the most deliciously painful way.

“I’d use my fingers to get you nice and stretched open for my cock,” Tony said, curling his fingers slightly inside of him. “I’d keep fingering you until you were trembling, begging to come. Desperate. Slutty.” Gob shuddered at the word, a gasp of air leaving his lips.

Tony grabbed Gob’s cock again. He briefly looked down as he ran his thumb along Gob’s foreskin, carefully pulling it back—again, that was about the only part of this whole scene so far that he hadn’t been fantasizing about, but god damn was he going to make good use of it.

Gob let out a shuttering cry from the touch.

“Then I’d pull my fingers out,” Tony said. As much as he didn’t want to, he pulled his fingers out, Gob whining in the process. “You’d whine just like that…” As he worked up saliva in his mouth, he used his hand to move one of Gob’s legs to his shoulder. Then he spat on his fingers to get them wetter before moving them down to Gob’s hole again, circling the rim as his other hand stopped stroking him yet again.

Gob, normally someone who groaned or yelled in frustration, could only find himself whimpering and whining. He wanted to come so badly—why wouldn’t Tony just let him?

And why was he so compelled to do whatever Tony said? He never did anything like this with anyone he had sex with, girls or Gary or anyone. Sure, he had been teased and he had talked dirty more times than he could count, but it had never been this hot to him. He definitely never thought he would be moaning over being called a slut or near begging for more of his fingers or insisting he was going to be a good boy, and now he wasn't sure he'd ever want to have sex without those words involved ever again.

Tony Wonder really was a magician.

“You ever have a cock in you before?” Tony asked, his voice as casual as if he was asking about the weather.

And Gob, Gob who had lied to everyone, including himself, for years and years—his whole fucking life—about the subject, finally said the truth out loud for the first time.

“In my mouth.”

Tony stopped the movement of his fingers in shock for just a moment. He quickly recovered and started circling them again. He honestly felt a little jealous, which he knew was irrational, but he had to know, "Who was it?"

"M-my old assistant—Gary—before…before the accident, we'd…sometimes before big events we'd, we'd do some things—hands mostly. Sometimes mouths. J-just to calm me down. I…I thought I should return the favor."

Tony nodded, licking over his lips. "Has there been any other guy?"

Gob shook his head. 

Tony nodded again. “…But he never fucked you?”

Gob shook his head. “He…h-he didn’t like to—didn’t want to g-give it.” 

“He really never gave it to you?” Tony asked. Gob shook his head and Tony made a sympathetic noise. "Did you want him to?"

"…Yes," Gob admitted. He had reason to believe he'd like it.

Tony moved his head enough to press a kiss to Gob’s ankle where it rested on his shoulder, making another sympathetic noise. “Poor thing…" He pressed a few more kisses against Gob’s leg, enjoying the view of his long limb stretched out over him.

Tony was about to speak again when Gob said, “My girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—Marta, she…she used a strap-on on me."

Tony's eyes widened. "…How many times?"

“More than once?"

Well, this fucking changed things.

Tony looked back at Gob’s face. “You liked it?”

Gob nodded.

Tony licked over his hand and brought it back to Gob’s cock.

“I bet you’d love cock more.”

Gob nodded again.

Without another word of warning, Tony slid his fingers halfway inside of Gob.

Almost immediately Tony pulled out and then thrust the fingers back in again. He kept repeating the motion, doing his best to not go too deep in Gob, since he still didn't feel lubed enough to do that. As he did that, he was stroking him with his other hand, doing everything he can to get Gob to completely fall apart.

And with all that concentration going on, he definitely couldn’t concentrate on what was coming out of his mouth.

“God, I’ve thought about fucking you for so fucking long,” Tony groaned. “I’ve thought about it in every position—in every location. God, I’d fuck you on your hands and knees in my bed, or bend you over the table or, fuck, have you like this so I could see how hot you’re getting from it. Pound you into the mattress until you forget your name…god, what I would give to see you riding my cock, driving yourself crazy with my cock until you came all over yourself…”

Gob couldn’t process anything Tony said after that. He was too far gone. After all the teasing and edging and the fingers thrusting inside of him and Tony’s hand playing with his cock, it was finally too much. He didn’t even get a chance to give out a warning past the loudest moan he had made that night, a jerking motion of his hips, and an arch of his back. Tony moaned and let out some murmurs of praise as he watched Gob’s orgasm take over him, his come landing on Gob’s chest and Tony’s hand as he continued to jerk him, his fingers stilling inside of Gob for him to squeeze around them as he climaxed. Tony swore under his breath from how tight Gob squeezed around his fingers, longing to feel it around his dick, even if he knew he’d barely last a second if he was in him right then.

Once Gob stilled, Tony removed his hand from his cock and his fingers from inside of him. He wiped Gob’s come off on his own leg before using both his hands to gently squeeze Gob’s leg on his shoulder. He pressed a few more longing kisses against his ankle and his calf before he gently lowered it back down to the ground.

Tony leaned forward and slowly, carefully licked the drops of come that had landed on Gob’s torso. Gob opened his eyes, his gaze locking with Tony as he lapped up the come on his chest. Gob could swear his cock already was trying to get hard again from the sight alone.

Once Tony was done, he moved further up Gob’s body, his cock aching for release as he stared into Gob’s eyes. He wanted to kiss him, to hold him—and, god, he wanted to come with his help. But he didn’t know what Gob wanted anymore. Not after what had happened between the two of them, and not with all the new information he had been given about his sex life. For all he knew, Gob was going to go back to being completely straight now—or, well, "straight"—and wouldn't even want to kiss him.

After considering it for a moment, Tony decided to risk it and started to move in for a kiss—

“Did you mean what you said?”

Tony pulled back to look Gob in the eye. “Mean what?”

Gob sat up and asked, “Did you mean what you said about wanting to fuck me? How you’ve wanted to fuck me for years? Wanna fuck me in every position until I forget my own name?”

Tony blushed, his cock aching even more from Gob repeating that back. “I…yeah,” Tony said.

Gob tilted his head, his face unreadable. Tony’s stomach sank, sure Gob was about ready to freak out and run away.

But then Gob slowly smirked and raised an eyebrow. “So, what are you waiting for?”

“…Wh-what?”

Gob ran a hand up to Tony’s hair. He massaged his scalp with his fingers, distracting Tony with where his other hand was going. “I want you to do what you said,” Gob said simply. “Lick me open, finger me until I beg, and fuck me.”

Tony groaned as he felt Gob’s hand wrap around his cock. His head fell forward against Gob’s shoulder, already so fucking close.

“I want you to fuck me until I come,” Gob said, his low voice quiet and hot in Tony’s ear, giving him goosebumps and getting him even closer. “I want you to make me forget my name, make me come—make me moan like a slut."

Tony moaned even louder, his hips fucking Gob’s fist. Gob himself was starting to get heated all over again from the thought and from how good Tony fit in his fist, how heavy he felt, how hot.

“I want you to fuck me—need you to. Please. I want you to be the first cock inside me, fuck me, please—”

Tony couldn’t last any longer. With his groan muffled against Gob’s body, his hips jerked and he came all over Gob’s fist, his mind blissfully blank as Gob gently squeezed his cock.

Once he was done, he finally got off his knees and sat down, sweaty and exhausted.

He looked up at Gob, who had moved his come-covered hand to his mouth. He locked eyes with Tony as he licked up his palm before sucking in one of his fingers moaning at the taste of Tony in his mouth.

He proceeded to tease Tony more by doing it to the next finger. Then the next. Slowly licking Tony’s come off of each finger, making it clear he loved the taste and that, if looks were to be believed, he definitely knew how to give a blow job.

Unable to take it anymore when Gob reached his ring finger, Tony stood up. He offered Gob his other hand and Gob frowned, a little confused as to what was happening.

Tony looked down at him and said, “Come on. I’m not fucking you for the first time in the living room.” He smirked and said, “Maybe we’ll come back here for another round—only if you’re a good boy.”

Gob bit his lip, his cock already twitching at being called that. Without any further hesitation, he took Tony’s hand, let him help him stand up, and kept holding his hand as he followed him up the stairs and to his room.

And as he laid in Tony’s bed after his first time—with a guy at least—tired and sweaty and a little achy, but fully satisfied, he couldn't think about anything that had been worrying him either. He finally wasn't thinking about the brain-washing or how his mom had betrayed him or how his sister wasn't really his sister or how he maybe couldn't do the things he loved anymore, like music or magic. All he could think about was why the fuck had he waited so long to do this.

Well, that and one other thing.

He turned to Tony, who looked just as pleased as Gob felt.

“…Think you can get it up again for another round?”