Archive of Our Own

Jack hates his life.

He's pretty sure he used to be happy. He went to college, made good grades, had a few girlfriends. Life was fine—life was great! Not long after that, he had the job, he had the girl, he had his dream life in the city—everything he'd always thought of as the definition of 'success'. But still, he kept coming up with more goals. If only he'd known how good he had it.

Turns out the job turned sour and the girl betrayed him. Being left with nothing made his dream life in the city disappear pretty damn fast.

Which is why he finds himself in Mevonsville, a town in the middle of nowhere, home of the only lawyer who would take his call. In the few short weeks since he's arrived with his sparse luggage, he's had to learn to take what he can get—including this dead-end job at the local flower shop.

He's grateful to Mr. Feeny for giving him the job, even though he couldn't possibly be less qualified. But it's not exactly the best motivation to get out of bed in the morning—spending his day putting together bouquets for guys who need to impress or apologize to their significant others. Well, there's only been one of those so far, but it's his first day.

He's lost in his thoughts, working on a topiary that might be the ugliest thing he's ever seen, when a loud cry of, "Mr. Feeny!" jolts him to awareness and promptly makes him knock the topiary over.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters as the shouter comes into view, peering over the three-quarter wall that divides the show room from the back. He picks up the topiary before too many flowers can be crushed and shouts out his reply. "He's gone for the day!"

"Oh, hey, a newbie," the stranger says, making his way into the back with little care or respect for propriety. Jack wants to snap at him, but the carefree smile on his face gives him pause. He doesn't need to ruin someone else's day just because his sucks.

"Yeah, I just started. Isn't it obvious?" he says, gesturing to his horror piece, now made worse by the smushed flowers. He's pretty sure he'll have to trash this one and start over anyway.

The guy lifts his eyebrows, circling around to view the whole topiary. Jack takes the opportunity to get a good look at him—his hair cropped short on the sides and gelled on top, a style he hasn't seen much of since the nineties. It works for him, though. He seems at ease in his skin, a feat Jack has never managed to master. "Not bad, actually. You've got a good eye for color. You should try lilies instead of roses though." Jack walks around to where the guy is standing. Yeah, he can see it. Lilies certainly couldn't make it worse. "I'm Eric, by the way. I work next door."

Jack takes the offered hand, finding himself smiling back. "Jack. Thanks for the advice, man. I'm kinda shit at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," Eric assures him, clapping him on the back. Jack absently wonders if everyone in Mevonsville is so tactile. Eric perches on the table and takes one of the candies from Feeny's stash. "So, what's your story? Just passing through, or…?"

Jack's chest clenches as he's abruptly thrown back into his dark thoughts from earlier, but he doesn't let himself get caught in the spiral. "Yeah," he says, trying to convince himself as he speaks. "Had a bit of a financial fiasco. Just trying to get on my feet so I can get back out there, y'know?"

"Sure," Eric says, rolling the hard candy around in his mouth distractingly. "Well, feel free to stop by and chat anytime. I'm sure you'll love it here. Mevonsville is good people."

Jack isn't sure that he believes in 'good people' anymore, but he still nods. "Thanks, man. I'll see you around."

---

Jack has no idea how true that statement will become over his next month in Mevonsville. He sees Eric nearly every day—usually in Feeny's flower shop, but also sometimes at the grocery store, the hardware store, even his favorite Chinese place. What's weird is where he doesn't see Eric—at Eric's job.

He makes a habit of stopping into the coffee shop next to Feeny's every morning—it's easier than making something at home, and tastes much better. At first, it was hard to justify spending five bucks a day on coffee, but he quickly finds that seeing friendly, familiar faces on the regular does wonders for his mood—or maybe that's just the caffeine talking.

At first, he figured he was coming in too early to see Eric; maybe he took a later shift. But even when he stops in to say hello after his own shifts, sometimes grabbing a danish for dessert later if he's feeling dangerous enough to embrace the carbs, there's no sign of Eric.

One day, during one of Eric's visits to the flower shop, he just comes out and asks. It's not like he's stalking the guy, after all. He just thinks he could sometimes return the visit. "How come I never see you at your job, man? You always hiding in the back?"

"Only during appointments," Eric says, his brows drawing together. "I didn't know you stopped by."

Jack frowns, trying to figure out what kind of 'appointments' a barista might have. "I'm there nearly every morning, even on my days off."

"Every morning? Dude, I'm touched. You should've just asked Jason, he would've told you if I was in with somebody."

Jason? The only people he sees regularly working at the café are Cory, Angela, and sometimes Minkus. He doesn't remember a 'Jason'. "What do you mean, 'in with somebody'? Is there some kind of back end business going on next door I don't know about?" he jokes, elbowing Eric in the chest.

Eric laughs. "Nah, man. Just regular tattoos. But if I ever learn how to give magical powers with one, all bets are off."

"Hang on," Jack says, his smile fading as he starts putting the pieces together. Morning Bird's café is next door to the left, but on the other side… "I thought you worked at the coffee shop."

Eric wrinkles his nose. "No way. Their shifts start way too early." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward the shop on the other side. "I'm a tattoo artist!"

Jack's still processing this new fact, rewriting his mental backstory for Eric, so he's a little distracted. But the next thing he knows, Eric is taking his shirt off, which brings him sharply back to reality.

Eric turns to present his left shoulder, where a colorful design starts and stretches down his back. "Jason did this one for me, but it's my design." Storm clouds cover the skin of his shoulder, looking ominous, but as the design stretches over his back, the ink transforms into a serene scene, with the sun shining down brightly on a floral setting.

"Wow," Jack says, reaching out to trace the lines. He doesn't realize what he's doing at first, until Eric jumps a little at his touch. "Oh, sorry, man. I didn't mean—"

"Nah, you're good. Your fingers are just cold," Eric says brightly. "When I was growing up, I always wanted to be a weatherman."

"Do you still?" Jack asks, his fingers tracing down the sun's rays to the beautiful arrangement of flowers below—much more aesthetically pleasing than anything he could arrange. Eric shudders as Jack's fingers skirt down his back, so he pulls them back quickly, his chest feeling weirdly tight.

"Not really," Eric says, rolling his neck. "I got to do it for like a week during an internship when I was in high school. At the time, it was a dream come true, but a lot has changed since then. Plus somebody told me there's actual science involved if you do it for real? Sounds fake but okay. It's still a happy memory though."

"So you got a tattoo to remember the happiness of your childhood," Jack surmises, his lips tilting into a smile despite himself, "and how all storms pass eventually."

Eric shrugs. "I just thought it would look pretty."

Jack arches an eyebrow. He's starting to think Eric doesn't give himself enough credit.

"I have one more," Eric says, pulling his shirt back on, "but to see that one, you have to buy me dinner first." He winks at Jack, who finds himself blushing inexplicably.

"Hilarious," Jack says, rolling his eyes and shoving at Eric. "That's pretty cool, though. I've seen you with your notebook—or I guess it's a sketchbook? But I didn't know you were that good."

Eric shrugs. "I do okay."

"Better than me with these arrangements," Jack says, suddenly remembering that he's on the clock. He picks up another sprig of baby's breath and tries to return his focus to the task at hand. But in the back of his mind, all he can think of is Eric's warm skin and the bright flowers of his tattoo.

---

The following Tuesday, Eric shows up at the end of Jack's shift and informs him they're going out for tacos.

Jack frowns. "I dunno, man. I always eat too many chips when I go out for Mexican. Not to mention the carbs in tortillas…"

"How many days a week do you work out?" Eric asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer.

"Seven," Jack answers immediately.

"Uh huh," Eric says, unimpressed. "So explain why you can't have a little fun now if you're just gonna work it off later?"

"Because it's the difference between maintaining weight and actually managing to lose it," Jack defends, just like he's always done in the past.

"And what exactly do you have left to lose, Mr. Zero Percent Body Fat?" Eric asks, poking him in the side.

Jack shies away, ticklish. "It's six," he mumbles, feeling suddenly ridiculous. "Alright, fine. We can get tacos this one time."

It really shouldn't be much of a surprise, though, that Taco Tuesday quickly becomes a regular occurrence. Eric's favorite hole-in-the-wall Mexican place makes the best salsa Jack's ever tasted, and as they goof off and share stories from their lives, Jack finally starts to feel like he's settling in. Even when Eric takes two straws and attaches them to his teeth, declaring he's a walrus, Jack covers his face and makes a big show of looking around to see if anyone he knows is here, but it's really an act. He enjoys Eric's carefree attitude; it makes it a lot easier to forget about his troubles, at least for the night.

---

Jack gets a new call from Ms. Matthews on a Friday evening after a long week of tedious work. Eric had been busy next door at the tattoo parlor as well, and they'd even had to skip Taco Tuesday. To make up for it, they're going for Chinese later tonight, but Jack gets distracted from his post-work pre-dinner workout when he sees the Caller ID.

"Ms. Matthews," Jack answers, forcing a smile. "Got any good news for me?"

"For the hundredth time, Jack, please just call me Topanga." She sighs. "And yes, sort of, though as ever, corporate negotiations move at a snail's pace. I finally got a response to our subpoena, which included emails that confirmed the date of the internal announcement about the merger. What we've got can at least prove that Millie should have known the information wasn't yet made public."

"But it's still my word against hers that she told me it was public before I made the purchase," Jack concludes. He grimaces as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Unfortunately. The judge will argue that you had every means to check for yourself—so what we still have to prove is that Millie intentionally misled you and manipulated you into purchasing stock before the information was public for her own perceived benefit." Jack sighs, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge and holding it up to his forehead. Topanga continues, "Is there anyone you can think of who Millie might have told? Any type of record that might exist of her misdirection?"

"I doubt it. I realize now that's why she only ever talked about it in person or during a phone call. As far as people—I mean, she had this group of friends, her book club? Though I swear I never saw her reading anything for fun. They met up every other week at Millie's, and I wasn't allowed to be there. It's possible she could have told them her plans, but I doubt any one of them would admit it."

"Okay, that's something," Topanga says, and Jack can hear her scribbling. "Do you know any of their names?"

"Only first names," Jack answers, defeated. At Topanga's assurance that first names are better than nothing, he wracks his brain for the names he can remember.

As Topanga outlines her plan for the next week, Jack looks around his tiny apartment. Even though it's a far cry from the two-bedroom he used to share with Millie, it's still comfortable, and a much better prospect than a jail cell. His chest seizes when he thinks about the worst case scenario for this investigation.

Seeming to sense his trepidation, Topanga assures him, "Hang in there, okay? It's not over 'til it's over."

"Sure. Of course," Jack says, forcing another smile. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help."

After he hangs up, Jack spends about twenty minutes sitting on the floor in front of his fridge, just staring at the cabinets in front of him. When his phone buzzes with a message from Eric, he quickly cancels their dinner plans, feigning illness.

Really, who has he been kidding, playing pretend at a life here in Mevonsville? Life sucks, and believing in people just comes back to bite him in the end. He might as well start getting used to isolation now.

---

He wakes up a little later in the haze of a depression nap and realizes someone is knocking on his door. He stumbles to the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, preparing to tell his neighbor's kids that he's really not interested in buying any coupon books—thanks anyway.

He doesn't expect to see Eric there, smiling and holding up a takeout bag.

In his grouchy, sleep-addled state, the first words out of Jack's mouth are, "How did you get in here?"

"I followed your neighbor, Ms. Zhao. Did you know her sons are selling coupon books? I bought two, you can have the other one."

"Great," Jack mumbles, stepping back to let Eric in.

"I didn't know how sick you were, but I figured soup is always good, right? They had egg drop and miso, so I brought both."

"You didn't have to do that," Jack says, then his stomach betrays him by growling loudly.

"Oh shit, did you hear that?" Eric asks, leaving the bags on the counter and going to the window. "Sounds like we're about to get a storm."

Despite how much they hang out, Jack still can't tell when Eric is being heavily sarcastic or when he's being endearingly naive, but he doesn't want to ruin the magic by asking. He just gives in and reaches for the egg drop soup.

"You wanna split it?" he asks Eric, offering another spoon.

"Nah man, I loaded up on lo mein," Eric says, patting his belly appreciatively. "That's all you. How you feeling?"

Jack uses the excuse of blowing on his soup and eating his first spoonful to think through his answer. Finally, he admits, "Pretty lousy, still. But I'll be okay."

"Probably a 24-hour bug," Eric says, wrinkling his nose. "My brother was down with it last week, but he bounced back pretty quick." Jack nearly chokes on his next spoonful of soup, the guilt of lying distracting him from swallowing properly. "Hey, do you mind if I wait out the storm here for a bit? Put some Netflix on? I'll stay out of your hair."

Jack peers out the window, but there doesn't seem to be a cloud in the sky. "Yeah. Sure, man. Just no horror shows."

"You have no taste," Eric says, his tongue poking out as he scrolls through his options.

Jack just shakes his head and hides his smile in his soup.

---

The next week, Eric has a return client who doesn't mind spectators, so at Eric's invitation, Jack goes by the tattoo parlor on his day off to watch Eric work. He doesn't expect to stay long—watching somebody get jabbed with a needle for an hour isn't exactly his idea of a good time—but it'll be cool to see Eric actually putting his art on somebody.

He meets Harley, the guy getting tattooed, and Eric sets a relaxed, joking scene as he starts his prepwork.

Harley and Eric joke with each other like old friends, which is why it comes as such a surprise when Eric says, "Hey Jack, can you believe this guy used to toss me around in high school?"

"Really?" Jack asks.

Harley chuckles. "Yeah, I wasn't exactly at my best in high school. The many, many years of high school. But you got me back when I got that tattoo on my ribs, eh, Matthews?"

"Heh. It's not exactly the same, but whatever helps you sleep at night, man," Eric says, and despite his candor, he seems friendly enough.

Jack marvels for a while over the wolf design that Harley is having added to his back—especially once Eric admits that he put it together himself based on Harley's description. It's intricately detailed and very life-like on paper; Jack can't wait to see it when it's done.

Once Eric finishes the prep and really gets to work, his whole demeanor changes. Harley occasionally speaks up to make small talk with Jack, who responds on autopilot, but Eric seems to be in a whole other world. Jack's never seen him like this, his brow set, his eyes intense, and his hands oh-so-steady against the expanse of Harley's back. And the way he keeps biting his lip in concentration is just—weird, is what it is. Jack doesn't know why he keeps noticing it. Probably because he doesn't have anything better to do. He should've brought a book.

When Eric looks up an indeterminate number of minutes later and declares it's time for a break, Jack releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His heart is racing, and he's glad for the jacket he'd folded over his lap, because his pants are feeling a little tighter than normal.

"Ah, I should probably go," Jack says, forcing his voice to remain steady. "It was really cool to see behind the curtain, though. Thanks for inviting me. And nice to meet you! Harley."

"Hey man, you too," Harley says, giving him a wave.

"You sure you don't wanna hang out?" Eric asks, a slight pout on his lips. "It won't take too long to finish up, and we could get food after."

Jack takes a few more steps back, carefully holding his jacket in front of him. "Nah, I uh, I had a huge breakfast, plus I didn't get much sleep last night. I think I'll go take a nap. Maybe I'll see you later."

"Sure," Eric says, starting to smile. "I'll send you a pic when it's done?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Jack says, managing a smile in return, ignoring the roaring in his ears. "Good, uh, have a good one."

"See ya, Jack."

He makes it back to his apartment in a daze and buries his head in a pillow for a few minutes. This isn't—he doesn't—this has never happened before. He's not as turned on as he'd been in the shop, but he can still feel a low thrum of arousal when he remembers that look of utter focus on Eric's face.

He can only think of one person who might be able and willing to help, so he digs his phone out of his pocket and dials, half hoping she doesn't answer.

"Hey there! Jack?" she asks, and the sound of her smile helps calm Jack down, at least a little.

"Rachel, hey," he breathes. "How's it going?"

"Good," she answers, going into a short anecdote about her latest project and how she plans to finish it. Jack listens attentively, bouncing his leg up and down to release his nervous energy. Maybe he should've lifted some weights to wear himself out when he got home.

"But I know you didn't just call to hear about my latest hobby," Rachel says intuitively. "What's up?"

Jack takes a deep breath, casting out for the right words, and then in a rush, he blurts out the whole situation at once. "And then I felt like an idiot, standing there with a hard-on and a jacket held in front of me like a curtain. Like, who does that?"

Rachel has been laughing for a while now, but Jack doesn't take any offense. He just had to get it all off his chest. He already feels better, just to have said it. "Oh, Jack," she says, taking a deep breath. "Looks like you've got a case of good, old-fashioned gay panic."

"I'm not gay," Jack says automatically. "Not that, I mean—that didn't come out right. What I mean is, I definitely still like girls."

"Bi panic, then."

Jack lets out a breath. "Yeah, probably."

"Nothing wrong with that. So what about Eric, then? Is he gay? Bi?"

"I have no idea," Jack admits. "It hasn't exactly seemed relevant before now. Plus—" he sighs, "it doesn't matter, really. Eric is my only friend here, it's not like I can— I don't even know if I want to—"

"Okay, I get it. You don't want to ruin the friendship. But, are you sure that's true? That Eric is your only friend? Because I'm pretty sure if I scroll back through our texts, I'll see lots of mentions of other people."

"That's not—"

"Cory, Angela, Mr. Feeny, Topanga—"

"Look, I know. It's a small town, so I see people a lot. But all of those people you just mentioned, they're only nice to me because I see them when they're working."

Rachel hums, not seeming to agree with him. "I'm pretty sure most people don't tell just anyone the story of how they got their first kiss."

"You haven't met Cory," Jack says. "Plus, it was actually kind of a wild story."

"I'm just saying, you might have more friends in Melonsville than you think you do."

"Mevonsville," Jack corrects. "I know this place is ridiculous, but it's not called Melonsville."

"Right, sorry," Rachel says with a laugh. "So, are you done panicking now?"

"Probably not," Jack admits. "But thanks for listening anyway. I think it did actually help."

"Any time. And Jack? Do me a favor and think about what I said. Not everyone's a Millie."

"I will," Jack says, even though he still thinks she's wrong. Eric's the only person around here who really wants to spend time with him outside of work.

---

Because the universe doesn't like for Jack to be right about anything, he gets an invitation two days later from Cory for a cookout at his house this weekend. With the laugh he's sure to get from Rachel when he tells her about this later already ringing in his ears, Jack accepts the invitation, and also leaves Cory a bigger tip than usual.

When the day comes, he arrives at Cory's house fifteen minutes early and stays in his car for a while, too nervous to be the first one there. He sits in the car, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, tapping on the steering wheel, and trying to find a radio station that isn't all commercials as he waits. But then he sees Angela arrive and finally goes up to ring the doorbell a minute later.

The last person he expects to answer the door is his lawyer. "Topanga?"

"Jack?" she responds, looking confused.

"Jack!" Cory calls, coming toward the door. "Glad you could make it."

"You know Jack? Topanga asks.

"He's one of our regulars!"

"He's also a client," Topanga says, sharpening the 't' at the end of 'client'.

"Ah," Cory says, ducking his head. "Well how was I supposed to know?" To Jack, he says, "My wife never shares details about her work, so, y'know. Don't worry. Whatever it is you two are working on together, it's none of anyone else's business. Come on in! We're just starting up the grill."

Still feeling a little wrong-footed, Jack follows him inside. After a moment, he remembers the bottle in his hands. "Oh! This is for you." He offers it to Topanga first, then realizes that's probably not a great idea, and hands the wine to Cory instead.

"Ooh, a red," Cory says, taking it from him. "Thanks, Jack!"

"So, um, Topanga is your wife? The one from all the stories?"

"Cory," she says threateningly.

"What? I never say your name! You told me it was okay if I kept things vague."

"Cory, I love you, but I don't think you have a vague bone in your body."

"Aww," Cory says, then Jack feels even more awkward as they kiss.

He's never been more happy to see Angela. He makes a break for it as soon as they step outside, asking her how she's been and strategically avoiding the happy couple. As they chat, even more people start to arrive, and soon Jack gets a chance to step away for a minute, nursing a beer and just enjoying the nice fall weather.

He's got his head tipped back, eyes closed as he enjoys the sunlight, when someone sits next to him, close enough to touch. Jack knows who it must be before he even opens his eyes.

"Eric," he says, already smiling as he straightens up and turns to him.

"Hey, Jack. Good to see ya," Eric says, tilting his beer in a toast with Jack's.

"Cory invited you too?"

"Hell yeah. He's my brother, he's ethnically obligated."

"I think you mean ethically," Jack corrects automatically, but his mind is already wandering. Damn, is everyone in this town related? He has a distant memory of someone calling Eric 'Matthews' recently, but he'd barely registered it at the time. He can see the resemblance now, though, if only in the way they both gesture with their hands.

"What is it?" Eric asks, noticing his distraction.

"Nothing," Jack says. Eric raises his eyebrows. "I just feel like an idiot, man. I had no idea you and Cory were related."

Eric laughs. "Don't feel bad about that. We only claim each other when one of us needs something."

They spend a quiet moment with their beers, and Jack can sense that Eric is working his way up to something.

"The truth is, when I first moved here, I was kind of a burden on Cory and Topanga. They'd never say it, but that's what happened. I lived on their couch for months; even when Mr. Feeny was nice enough to offer me a job, I was super flaky for a while."

"That's why you're so good at floral arrangements," Jack realizes. "You used to work for Mr. Feeny?"

Eric's smile is tinged with sadness. "Yeah, I mean, I did okay. I got better after that. Started seeing someone about the weirdness going on in my head. Got serious about my artwork. My buddy Jason finally convinced me to get my tattoo permit, and then I actually kinda found my place, you know?"

"Yeah," Jack says, patting him on the leg. "That's great, man. I'm so glad you were able to get what you needed."

"Thanks," Eric says, his smile returning to its normal wattage. "Hey, listen. So I was thinking, you know how we normally do Taco Tuesday?"

"Of course," Jack says, momentarily distracted by Cory, who's exclaiming excitedly across the yard about something on his phone.

"Well, I was thinking…" Cory is now jumping up and down, clutching onto Topanga's shoulders. She seems to be humoring him. "Jack?"

"Yeah, sorry. What's going on with your brother?"

Cory then dashes across the yard just as someone new emerges through the back door, and Cory immediately pounces on him.

"Ah, the Cory and Shawn show," Eric mutters. "Don't worry, you're not missing much. So anyway, about Tuesday—"

Jack fully intends to listen, to meet this new guy later, but then Cory gets down and Jack gets a better look at his face. "Shawn?" he repeats, his ears ringing a little. He stands up on shaky legs.

The party seems to fall silent as Shawn looks his way, the wide smile dropping immediately from his face. "Jack," he says, straightening.

"Wow. Small world," Jack says, crossing the yard to stand next to him.

"You've gotta be kidding me. You two know each other too?" Cory asks, smiling innocently.

"He's my brother," Shawn says, disdain dripping from the term. "How do you know him?"

"He's Morning Bird's new favorite customer!" After a pronounced silence, Cory adds, "Shawnie?"

"What are you doing here?" Shawn demands.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry for how everything went down. I always wanted—"

"I said, what are you doing here?"

Jack can feel his patience slipping away. "Cory invited me."

"You know that's not what I mean," Shawn says, his jaw set. "You disappear once you get your 'big boy career' and decide you're better than your family, and what? Now you're trying to steal mine?"

Jack sees Eric walk up to them, though he's pretty sure Shawn's raised voice has caught the attention of the whole group by now. "I've been here for months," he says, defensive. "It's not like you left me any way to contact you—"

"You heard of Google? Yeah, give it a shot sometime. First result for 'Shawn Hunter' is my Instagram. I see every comment."

"Shawn—"

"You still haven't answered the question."

Yeah, and he's not about to, not with everyone he knows in the entire town breathing down his neck. "I live here. What more do you need to know?" he snaps, adrenaline coursing through him, making him say the first thing that comes to mind. "You know, you were always jealous of my success."

Shawn's eyes sharpen, as if Jack's just walked into his carefully placed trap. "Yeah? How's that working out for ya? Last I checked this was a little bit far from the big city."

Jack's eyes flick to Topanga, who only looks concerned. This is too much. He's not airing his dirty laundry in front of all of Mevonsville. "None of your business," he spits. And then he storms out.

He's pretty sure he hears his name being called—probably from Eric, it's not like anyone else would care—but he can't think. He has to get home, to get away from this horror story that is his life.

He silences his phone on the short drive back to his apartment, and promptly crawls into bed when he arrives. When he wakes up again, it's dark out, and he's missed calls from Eric, Cory, and even Topanga. He turns off read receipts and reads the texts, because he's a masochist. Sure enough, they only make him feel worse.

Eric 6:56 PM hey buddy call me back when you feel like it

8:46 PM don't feel bad about the cookout we usually don't make it out without some sorta family drama too soon?

9:02 PM seriously tho call me back shawn's been family for a while but now you are too

Jack sighs and rubs a hand over his face before switching over to Cory's message thread.

Cory 7:37 PM Hey, I had no idea about you and Shawn, or I would've given you a heads up. You should talk though I think it would do you both some good.

Underneath this is a contact card, complete with a recent picture of Shawn. He looks happy. Happier than Jack's been lately.

Actually, that's not true. He has been happy. It kind of crept up on him, but yeah. He's been getting out of bed more easily, looking forward to making slightly less crappy flower arrangements than he used to, talking philosophy with Mr. Feeny and goofing off with Eric during his breaks. It's a small town—even smaller than he thought, after seeing everyone he knew at the cookout—but everyone is nice. As Eric had told him the first time they met, ‘Mevonsville is good people.’

He can't let his stubbornness ruin what he has here. If Shawn is part of the family, then they'll just have to figure out how to make amends.

He adds Shawn's contact information to his phone and stares at it for a while. He keeps staring, long after his screen goes dark, trying to think of what he could possibly say.

When he'd left the first time, it had been for college. Sure, he may have made a big deal about "getting out of this dead-end town", but that's something he and Shawn always used to joke about—it was more about moving on from whatever life they were handed and onto something better, something they'd earned.

Jack hadn't meant to fall out of touch; college was busy, stressful. He'd sent a couple emails during freshman year, he thinks, but there were always events to attend, workouts to complete, assignments to frantically finish.

When he got the job offer at Pinley Bank's corporate office fresh out of college, he'd thought his family would be proud. He stopped by for a visit. Chet had seemed proud, even suggested they all go out for a nice steak dinner. Shawn was quiet during the meal, but not impolite. He'd been attending community college nearby, and even talked excitedly to Jack about some of his classes.

Then the check came. Jack tried to take it, but Chet insisted—until his credit card was declined. Chet fumbled for another card, making apologies, and Jack tried to smooth it over, offering his own card to the server before anyone could argue with him.

It was like a switch had flipped in Shawn. Chet held him back from causing a scene inside the restaurant, but as soon as they were out the door, Shawn was shouting at him for thinking he was better than them, for not even giving their father a chance, for showing up just to rub their faces in the happiness he found without them. The argument hadn't been pretty; Jack had said some things he regretted, and he hoped that some of Shawn's barbs had been exaggerated too with the intent to hurt.

Either way, that was the last time he spoke to his half-brother before tonight. He'd made peace with his father separately, and they had semi-regular phone calls over the past several years, but even when Shawn was still living at home, he refused to talk to Jack.

It seems obvious from tonight that Shawn's opinion hasn't really changed since that night. If they'd run into each other somewhere, almost anywhere else, Jack probably would've confided in Shawn, let him know about the dark turn his life had taken, and tried to make amends. But now he knows—Shawn would probably laugh in his face if he knew. Millie's betrayal would be just what Jack had coming to him, and Shawn would see him for the fool he'd truly turned out to be. It hurt enough to know it for himself; he wasn't ready for the entire town, the only people who seemed to tolerate him these days, to know it too.

---

Jack keeps his phone on silent for the rest of the weekend. He texts Eric back to say he doesn't want to talk about it, and otherwise, he avoids his phone, telling himself that the next time he really uses it, he'll give contacting Shawn a try.

Before he knows it, though, the weekend is over, and he's still no closer to putting himself out there. When he sees Eric on Monday at the flower shop, he's not surprised when Eric tries to broach the subject.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Jack says, a touch harsher than he means to.

"Okay, fine. That's fine," Eric says, holding up his hands. "I guess I just wanted to check in, y'know? How have you been? I haven't heard from you since late Friday."

"I'm fine," Jack says, and he can hear how unconvincing he sounds.

Eric takes a step closer and lowers his voice. "It's okay to not be fine."

Jack jerks his head up, about to snap something back, but the moment his eyes meet Eric's, the anger drains out of him. Suddenly he's clenching his jaw to fight back tears instead of in anger.

"C'mere," Eric says, pulling Jack into his arms. Jack tries to keep fighting it, but he's only human. He takes a deep breath in and in the next moment, he's sobbing, clutching onto Eric as he completely loses himself.

It's like that for a while; he doesn't really know how long. But when he starts to get his breath back, the sobs coming fewer and farther between, he finally pulls out of Eric's embrace. "Ah shit, sorry, man. I think I ruined your shirt."

"Don't worry about it," Eric says softly, handing him a box of tissues. Jack wipes his eyes and nose before he realizes he's also being offered a water bottle.

"Oh. Mr. Feeny," Jack says as he notices him, another apology springing to his lips.

Feeny shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Hunter. Why don't you take a sick day? I think I can manage around here for one day."

"I'll be okay. I just—"

"Jack," Eric admonishes, squeezing his arm. "C'mon. Let me take you home."

He looks between the two of them and realizes there's no use trying to resist. "Yeah, okay."

Eric loads Jack into his car—completely unnecessary, his apartment is a ten-minute walk away—and tells him to wait for a minute, as if Jack is in any shape to do anything else. Jack diligently drinks the water that Feeny gave him while waits, though it does nothing to make his headache go away.

Eric returns a couple minutes later and hands him a familiar-looking cardboard cup. "I figured you probably skipped your usual stop this morning."

Jack can only stare at him for a moment. He's right; and that explains the headache. "Don't know what I did to deserve you, man," he says, gratefully taking the coffee from him.

"That's just the caffeine deprivation talking," Eric says, putting the car into gear.

They stay silent throughout the short drive to Jack's place and for a while after they settle into Jack's couch. Jack knows he needs to say something, to explain himself, but he has no idea where to start.

"So, Shawn's a photographer," Eric says, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Jack says, staring into his mostly-empty coffee cup. "I googled him over the weekend. He's got some good stuff."

Another few beats of silence. "You gonna tell him that?"

Jack frowns. "It's not that simple."

"Well, then dumb it down for me."

Jack looks over at him. Eric's expression is close to the one he'd worn while he was working, that single-minded focus turned on Jack this time. It's almost overwhelming.

"Right." He takes a deep breath. "You know how when we first met, I told you I was in a bad financial situation? Well, there's more to the story. You know what insider trading is?"

"Martha Stewart," Eric responds, nodding sagely.

"...Yeah," Jack says, still not sure that answers his question. "Well, I had this long-term girlfriend, Millie. I thought we were pretty serious; we'd practically moved in together. Hell, maybe we would've wound up married if her plan hadn't backfired. But anyway. She works for this big company in the city. They had a merger coming up—I guess it's probably done by now, actually. It was a big deal, and she convinced me to buy up as much stock as I could, as soon as the news was made public." Jack looks up to make sure Eric is still with him, and finds him nodding along. "Only she lied to me, and said everything was public when it wasn't."

"Shit," Eric says, and from his somber expression, Jack knows he understands.

"Yeah. I had no idea, I thought we just got lucky. Like I grabbed up the stock super fast, before people thought to act on the news. I was an idiot. I emptied out my savings account to buy the stock, and then a week later, the stock was worth four times what I paid." Jack shakes his head. "I still stayed clueless for the longest time. Millie was really pissed off when I quit my job. Demanded I go back and beg for my position back. I had to tell her that I hadn't exactly gone quietly, and that turned into a huge fight. I thought she was just worried I'd use up all our new money too fast, and I assured her I'd be back at work within a week, but now I realize she knew my quitting would be a red flag that was sure to put me under investigation.

"Which is exactly what happened. Topanga's my lawyer. Right now, it's my word against Millie's that she manipulated me into making that purchase before the news was public. And in the eyes of the court, it was my purchase, so it's my fault. Unless I can somehow prove she did it on purpose."

Eric touches his arm. "Can I give you a hug?" At Jack's nod, he pulls him close, and some of Jack's anxiety eases as he breathes in the scent of Eric's fabric softener. "That really sucks, man."

"Yeah," Jack says with a huff of incredulous laughter.

Eric claps him twice on the back before breaking their hug. "So is that why you've always said you're just passing through? Because you might get arrested?"

Jack's breath wooshes out of him all at once. He's been trying as much as possible not to think about that. "I mean, that's a possibility. Topanga thinks she can keep it from happening, but I don't see how. And on the flip side, if everything goes well, I'll be getting access to my money back eventually. Then I could go anywhere," he says, spreading his hands.

"Right," Eric says, frowning. "Dude, I hate to be a Debbie Downer here, but what does all of this have to do with Shawn?"

Jack laughs mirthlessly. "I mean, you were there. You heard what he thinks of me. He wants to know that I failed. Nothing would make him happier than for me to land myself in prison."

"That's not Shawn," Eric says defensively. "Look, I get it. Your girlfriend betrayed you in a huge way, obviously that's gonna leave a guy with trust issues. And Shawn can be a hothead when he's blindsided with something new; I'm sure I don't have to tell you that." Jack nods, guilt churning in his gut already. "He's hurt that you left when he was a kid, but you're here now. If you tell him what happened, and let him see the real Jack, the Jack I know? He's gonna understand."

"He's my brother. I should've tried harder," Jack says, his voice dripping with regret.

"Too late for that," Eric says matter-of-factly. "But if you pass up the chance to talk to him now? And then leave again? You probably will lose him for good."

Jack takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out. He knows Eric is right. "When did you get so wise?"

Eric tosses his arm around Jack's shoulders and shakes him in a pseudo-hug. "You just haven't been paying attention." He leaves his arm there as he fishes in the couch on the other side for the remote. "So, Netflix?"

"Sure," Jack says, relaxing now that he has permission to be done talking. Halfway through an episode of She-Ra, he remembers something. "Eric?"

"Hmm?" Eric asks, tilting his head but not looking away from the TV screen.

"At the cookout, before… everything went down, you were gonna ask me something."

"Oh, that? That was nothing. Don't worry about it, man."

"Are you sure? You seemed kinda serious. I didn't mean to ignore you. Just, y'know, didn't expect my estranged half-brother to reappear in my life after seven years."

Eric laughs, shaking his head. He pulls his arm back from around Jack's shoulders to fiddle with the remote. "No, I don't think anyone would have expected that. Seriously, though. It was no biggie. I don't even remember anymore."

Jack is pretty sure Eric's lying, but he lets it go. If it's important, Eric will ask again later.

---

Jack sucks it up and texts Shawn after four episodes of She-Ra.

Jack 3:23 PM Hey, it's Jack. Cory gave me your number. I think we should talk. I owe you a real apology, face to face. I'm happy to tell you the real story of why I'm here, if you still want to know.

He expects Shawn to let his message linger for a while, leave him on the hook, but to his surprise, he gets a reply within minutes.

Shawn 3:27 PM the cafe closes at 7 tonight. cor will let us use the space as long as we want. show up five minutes before close and we can talk

Which is where Jack finds himself crying again and telling the whole Millie Saga for the second time that day.

"I know what you're thinking," Jack says, wiping at his eyes self-consciously with a napkin. "I deserve it, what Millie did."

"Nobody deserves that," Shawn says quietly. "Is that what you think of me?"

Not really, not after what Eric said. "It's what I think of me. And I wouldn't blame you, after I abandoned you."

Shawn takes a deep breath. "I can't really blame you for any of that," he admits. Jack shoots him a bewildered look. "I mean, I pretty much did the same thing you did, as soon as I got the chance. Only I didn't get a cool corporate job when I graduated, I just followed Cory to New York. Well, Cory and Topanga. They're kind of a package deal."

Once they finally agree to let the past live in the past, they spend the rest of the night catching up on each other's lives. Jack gets to hear all about Shawn's travels, and everything he's missed from before that, including Shawn's friendship with Cory. "I heard so many stories about you without realizing it was you. Your best friend is kind of a blabbermouth."

"Yeah, he's not exactly secretive," Shawn says with a serene smile. "What about you? I heard you and Eric are pretty close."

"I guess we are," Jack says, thinking about the last hug Eric gave him before he left for the café. "Can I just say one more thing? About my stupid situation? It's just unfair. Because in one outcome, I go to Federal prison."

"Topanga won't let that happen."

"I'm pretty sure it won't be up to her, in the end," Jack points out. He sighs. "And then on the other hand, I get my money back, and then what? I can't go back to my old life."

"I mean, you could. If that's what you actually wanted."

"I thought that it was! That was the plan: get a lawyer, win the case, then continue climbing the corporate ladder, just somewhere new this time." Even the thought of it makes him wrinkle his nose.

"Doesn't have the same ring to it anymore, huh?"

"No," Jack admits, defeated. "I think Mevonsville's got some kind of spell on it, man."

"Or maybe you've accidentally found some people that care about you."

Jack smiles as he thinks back on his last few months. "Yeah, maybe. I guess I don't have to make any decisions until I figure out how to prove my innocence."

---

He's at Taco Tuesday with Eric when he gets a call from Topanga. He waves the screen at Eric to let him know what's going on before stepping outside to take the call.

The first words out of Topanga's mouth are, "Are you sitting down?"

"Uh, no. I'm standing outside a Mexican restaurant. Why?"

"Okay, well, brace yourself or something. Because Adams & Adams just threw Millie under the bus."

Jack leans heavily against the brick wall behind him. Maybe he should have sat down. "Wh-what does that mean?" he asks, his heart racing.

"Their legal rep was acting really strange the last time I talked to them on the phone, practically inviting me to subpoena anything I wanted. I thought maybe they were just trying to drown me in paperwork, but I requested chat logs as part of it, and she had a conversation with someone named Jeff where she admits her plan, plain as day."

"Holy shit," Jack breathes. "I can't— Are you sure? I just don't see her being that careless."

"She was using Slack instead of the company approved chat program, so she probably assumed that meant the company didn't have access to her logs. But they're saved to the system the same as any other logs. Accessible if they need to be. And I imagine Adams & Adams is happy to provide proof that she acted on her own, because it saves their asses."

"So… god." He pushes off the wall and starts pacing. "So what does this mean?"

"Well, it's not over yet, but we have everything we need. It's just a matter of time at this point. I'll enter this into discovery first thing in the morning and get the ball rolling."

"I'm not going to prison."

"You're not going to prison, Jack. And you'll be getting your money back eventually. Possibly more; it depends how hard the judge wants to come down on Millie. But I can't see any way this can go from here where you don't at least get your savings back."

"Oh my god," Jack says, running his hand through his hair. "That's—I can hardly believe it."

"Believe it, bucko," she says, reminding Jack that she's married to Cory. "Don't go crazy, because we might still be mired in litigation for another little while, but try to do something special tonight. Celebrate a little."

Jack peeks back inside, where Eric is joking around with their waiter. "Yeah, I think I will. Thank you, Topanga."

"It's my pleasure, Jack," she responds.

Jack takes a minute to process before he heads back inside. When he gets back to their table, instead of finding the taco and a half he left behind, he discovers three untouched tacos.

"Your food was getting cold, so I ate it," Eric says, burping into his hand. "I got José to bring you new ones."

"And my two tacos got together and had a baby, I see."

"It's a blessed night, for sure." Eric smiles. "So, how's Topanga?"

"Y'know, I forgot to ask." Jack giggles. Honest-to-god giggles. The sound is so strange coming from his own mouth that he freezes.

"Jack?" Eric asks, concern starting to seep into his expression.

"Hey, do you want to go out sometime?" Jack asks, then grabs his water glass and downs half of it in one go.

Eric doesn't pause from shoveling rice into his mouth. "We're out right now."

"I mean, you're not wrong," Jack says, sitting his glass down heavily. "I guess I just mean the kind of going out that might end with making out."

Eric stops chewing, freezing in place for a second before resuming, then swallowing thickly. "I thought— you're leaving," Eric says. "When you get your money back."

"No," Jack says, grinning, "I don't think I am."

Eric has a hint of a smile on his face, but he still looks wary. "I don't think I know what's happening."

"Forget about the whole—leaving thing," Jack says, waving his hand around. "Do you wanna go out with me?"

Eric's expression softens. "Yeah. I mean, of course."

Feeling bold, Jack reaches across the table for Eric's hand. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

In between flagging down José for a to-go box and the check, Jack fills Eric in on the conversation he just had with Topanga. "I don't know what I'm gonna do once I get my money back, but I do know I wanna stay here, where there are people I care about."

Eric nods. "Like Mr. Feeny?" he asks with a shit-eating grin.

Jack rolls his eyes. "Shut up and kiss me."

---

Back at Jack's apartment, he and Eric waste no time getting settled on the couch in a whole new way. Jack is pleased to discover that the couch he found in the IKEA as-is section is the perfect size for him with Eric in his lap.

Jack's content to never move from this spot again, but then his stomach gives a loud rumble.

Eric pulls away and points at him. "Okay, I know you tried to fool me once before, but this time I know that was your stomach."

Jack groans. "I'll eat later. I can think of a better use of my time right now," he tries, skimming his fingers under the hem of Eric's shirt.

Eric shies away, giggling. "That tickles! No, c'mon. It's the most important meal of the day."

"That's breakfast," Jack says, taking Eric's hand and letting him lift Jack from the couch.

"No, it's too late for breakfast. Here, I'll heat up your leftovers."

Before long, Jack is working on his reheated tacos and rice, while Eric sits next to him with his own fork and occasionally steals bites from Jack's plate.

"You know, I was gonna ask you out at the cookout," Eric says, his mouth half-full.

"Yeah, I think I figured that out somewhere along the way," Jack admits. "I think it's better, though, that you knew about the Millie situation before we decided to date."

"Why? I don't think any differently of you because of it."

Jack sighs. "Because I'm probably still gonna have trust issues, even when it doesn't make sense. But I do trust you. And I promise to always be honest with you."

Eric leans over to bump their shoulders together. "Good. I promise to always be honest with you too."

Jack decides he can't wait any longer, and sets down his taco so he can lean in for another kiss. Eric's lips part, in either surprise or invitation, and soon Jack is moving closer, his fingers sliding into Eric's hair as he licks his way into Eric's mouth. Eric moans appreciatively even as he pulls away, and Jack knows he's gonna be dreaming about that sound for weeks.

They grin at each other dopily for a moment before Jack turns back to his food.

"So, um," Eric begins, then stops to clear his throat. "Once the money comes in, what do you actually want to do? Because I know it's not floral arrangements, and if you say you want to go back to that corporate hellhole, I will punch you in the face."

Jack laughs as he thinks about his answer. Eventually, he says, "I dunno. I actually… really like working out. I know you think it's dumb, but it's like, one of my favorite parts of the day."

Eric doesn't laugh at that answer. Instead, he looks pensive. "Y'know, Mevonsville hasn't had a gym since the Y closed down about two years ago."

"Yeah, but it probably shut down for a reason."

Eric shrugs. "Never know until you try."

The optimism in Eric's voice makes Jack smile. He's getting Eric back on that couch as soon as he's done eating.

Jack loves his life.