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Peter expects to wake up next to Caleb. He expects their quiet domesticity in Los Angeles.
He does not expect to wake up in his old bed in Cambridge.
What the fuck?
This is a dream. It has to be a dream. Any moment, he’ll wake up, and Caleb will call him an idiot for panicking in that fond way of his, and everything will be normal.
He tries to wake up, but it doesn’t work. Then again, when does that ever work?
He checks the clock. He’s supposed to be on the way to his nineteenth century American history class. With Caleb.
Okay. This will be fine. It’s just a dream. He just needs to get dressed and go to class. There’s nothing else to it.
He arrives five minutes late to class, but the doors aren’t locked, so he goes right in. Everyone turns to look at him. He makes sure he’s still wearing clothes.
(He is.)
He flops down in the open seat next to Caleb, who studiously ignores him and focuses on the lecture. Fine. That’s fine. Caleb would do this. He wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.
Peter takes a deep breath. He’ll talk to Caleb after class.
He spends the entire class distracted – this is a long dream, or maybe it just feels that way because he’s in the dream – and the second it’s over, he grabs Caleb by the arm.
Caleb jerks away. “What do you want, Cabot?”
Peter recoils. “I just wanted to talk to you about something.
“I’m not interested.”
“It’s important.”
“Why don’t you go bother your friends?” Caleb rolls his eyes and walks away.
Shit.
Peter wakes up the next morning in Cambridge. And the next. And the next.
It’s on the fourth day that it starts to sink in. He feels sick.
His life in L.A. isn’t perfect by any means, but he has Caleb and Aunt Patty and a bunch of friends, and – and he has Caleb.
And right now, Caleb hates him.
Peter doesn’t know what to do. He tries taking deep breaths, but it doesn’t work.
In the end, he takes the train on the weekend to see Uncle Tommy. Halfway there, he realizes that he can’t remember if he’s told Uncle Tommy he’s gay yet.
And that’s kind of important.
Uncle Tommy lets him in, though. They’re both black sheep, and Uncle Tommy knows that, even if he isn’t totally happy to be reminded of the Cabots as a whole and of Peter’s father in particular.
“Peter! What brings you here?”
“It’s good to see you, Uncle Tommy.”
Uncle Tommy waves him in. They go to his living room.
“How can I help you?”
“It’s really weird. You might not believe me.”
“Try me.”
“I’m gay, and I have a boyfriend, and we live in L.A., and I’m twenty-six, but I’m – I’m not. It’s like I woke up four years in the past.”
Uncle Tommy doesn’t say anything at first.
“My boyfriend won’t give me the time of day. My – my future boyfriend, I mean.”
“And you came to me because I’m gay?”
He shakes his head. “I came to you because we’re close – will be close.”
“I see.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Hold on.” He stands up and leaves the room.
Peter buries his face in his hands. He can feel a headache starting, and to top it off, he feels sick again.
Uncle Tommy comes back with a man Peter recognizes as Everett. “Peter, Everett, Everett, Peter.”
Peter feels a flash of panic that they might tell his father. About the time travel. Not the boyfriend. Uncle Tommy would never out him.
“Tell Everett what you told me.”
He does. It sounds even more ridiculous the second time.
“I thought I was dreaming.”
“I’m not sure how we can help,” Everett says, which is what Peter expected. “But… has anything major happened? World-changing? Something that you might have some way of impacting? Don’t tell us what it is,” he adds.
His father. Shit. “Yes. There’s something.”
“Maybe you’re meant to fix that.”
How can he stop an assassination?
“Maybe,” he agreed.
“Stay for dinner,” Uncle Tommy says. “We can brainstorm. Daniel is still at school.”
Peter stays, and he can’t say that it’s that helpful, but it does make him feel better. He’s not alone in this. His family – the family that loves him – will help him.
He leaves Uncle Tommy’s with leftovers and a renewed sense of purpose. He has to save his father, and maybe, along the way, he can sort things out with Caleb.
He knows how to win Caleb over.
Caleb has only told him a dozen times. When Walsh came to visit that first time, they’d both given him an earful.
This time, when Walsh throws his end of midterms celebration party, Peter asks, “Can you invite Caleb Murphy?”
Walsh kind of blinks at him. “Sure.” He doesn’t press, or ask questions.
Peter focused on his exams then, because this isn’t a dream, and the material is a few years old for him, and he probably does actually need to pass.
He’s not as smart as Caleb, after all. Caleb would know exactly what to do.
Peter wishes he could talk to him. He misses him like crazy; it feels like there’s a Caleb-shaped hole in his heart.
He has to fix this.
He can’t stand it otherwise.
Walsh’s parties aren’t typically wild. Usually, he invites a few friends for some drinks. It’s a safe space. Walsh has somehow collected all of the gay guys at Harvard.
Peter arrives early; well-dressed, but not pretentious about it. He’s the first one there, and helps Walsh set up. He can’t keep his mouth shut. He’s nervous.
It’s weird.
He just wants Caleb back.
When Caleb arrives, Peter stops mid-sentence. He knows he has to let Caleb make the first move, or at least wait a little while. Probably an hour or so.
Caleb approaches him after a few minutes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Walsh is my friend,” Peter says.
“No,” Caleb says, and then he’s grabbing Peter by the arm and dragging him into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. “What are you doing here, Peter?”
Peter? Not Cabot? “I told you. Walsh is my friend.”
“You never go to Walsh’s parties.”
How does he know that? Unless he goes to all of them.
“Jesus Christ,” Caleb says, accent starting to bleed through. Then he grabs him by the front of his shirt and kisses him. “You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, Peter. Christ.”
Peter touches his fingers to his lips. “What?”
“You could be damaging the timeline, acting like this!”
What.
“I’ve been trying to protect it, and you’re out here determined to destroy everything.”
What?
It starts to sink in.
“You remember?”
“Of course I remember.” And then Caleb is kissing him again. Peter melts into it, pulling Caleb close to him. God, he’s missed this.
He’s missed Caleb.
And Caleb has missed him.
“We can probably meet in private, if you’re so desperate,” Caleb allows. “But the rest…”
“I’m not letting my dad die.”
His dad might be a total dick, but he’s still his dad, and Peter still remembers the shock of his death. Live on television.
He remembers the funeral. Caleb hadn’t been allowed. Peter hadn’t been able to stop crying.
Even now, he still misses him.
It’s weird, and shitty, and he’s still not sure why it’s affecting him so much, even now, but…
Besides that, his dad was a genuinely progressive politician. Is a genuinely progressive politician. He was a good president; everyone in America felt his loss.
“I didn’t say you should,” Caleb says. He strokes Peter’s hair. His touch is gentle and, god, Peter has missed this. “We’ll figure this out together. We only have a few months of this, and then we’re going to drive out to L.A. together and things can go back to normal – or as normal as we can make it.”
And then they can be together. Caleb is smart enough to figure everything out.
“For the record… I’m glad you came. Even though it was stupid.”
“I’m glad I came, too.”
“Now, let’s go out there and pretend that I hate you.”
Peter laughs. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll fix everything.”
With Caleb by his side, how could he doubt it?