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Pete’s shocked to shit when Izzy hands him a beer. He's been on the sofa, dozing in and out all day because that's all he can do on his days off now. His current job is sucking his soul dry but it's the most he's ever been paid in his entire life and he can't even begin to think about quitting. He doesn't have much in the way of household bills thanks to Izzy and Fang but the debt he does have is destroying his life.
“Hey, thanks, man.” He accepts the opened bottle and Izzy takes a seat next to him.
“They still got you on third shift?” Izzy starts, pleasant conversation obviously not his strong suit. Pete nods, though, taking a long sip of his beer.
“Yep. Don't think they plan on taking me off.” But he's not bitter, nope. It's not like they promised him heaven, just to give him hell.
“So quit.”
Pete laughs, a soft snort in the back of his throat. Izzy of all people telling him to quit? Funniest thing he's heard all day, “and use what to pay my bills? Gold doubloons?”
“What fucking bills do you have? You live here for free.”
“Uh, I don't know, student loans, credit cards, food, my car?” Just to list a few. Apparently without sleep, Pete can act just like Izzy! “Couldn't afford my last apartment. I kind of…fucked myself over.”
He hated that he was still paying for it, and with interest. Izzy softens, but only just a little, “do you need help?”
Fuck no. Well, yes, but he wasn't going to take it from Izzy, for fucks sake. He wants to act like he can do everything on his own, thank you, and admitting he needs help from his new best friend is not how he’ll do it.
“I'm alright. Thanks,” he means it as he takes a drink. He sighs, rubbing his head, “I just have to make it work until I can find something else.” He’ll start applying right away, but without an actual degree in his hands he thinks he's only treading water. He has management experience, but he's…not great at it, if he's honest. What do you do when fancy places that are hiring a real wage don't seem to want you?
Izzy purses his lips together, his eyes darting around the room. He clears his throat, “when…uh. When Fang and I first started dating, we lived in this little shithole…”
It was disgusting. The halls smelled like piss, dogs and cats seemed to roam wherever they wanted but you never knew who they belonged to. Their neighbors constantly did drugs or stole from you or slept in the stairway. The toilet didn't even fucking flush half the time. But it was all they could afford. And for Izzy, the apartment was heaven compared to concrete.
Fang worked three jobs just to keep them afloat while Izzy tried to make something of himself. He already had his own degree, his own career to chase, but he still took on more just to make it work.
Pete really couldn't believe the past they shared.
“By the time we dug our way out of it, it felt like we’d spent a lifetime just trying to catch up.” Izzy plays with the label on his bottle, keeping his eyes down, and Pete’s fully aware of how hard it must be for him to share this.
“Wow,” he nods, “that's, uh…I know exactly how that feels.”
His old apartment sucked so badly that he threw all of his furniture when he moved into the house on the hill. He even threw out most of his clothes. Mold in the living room, mold in the shower, the ceiling fell on top of him one morning and almost knocked him out cold. And he couldn't even afford that.
“Fucking scumbags,” Izzy grumbles, lifting his bottle to his lips. “You don't put that much effort into living just to have some rancid cunt steal your money for a place you don't even own.”
Pete can drink to that. So he does. And somehow the beer tastes better than he's ever had.
“I…” Pete stops for a moment, but realizes that Izzy took the time to share with him - why can't he do the same back? “How did you survive not seeing Fang?” Three jobs is a lot for one human to juggle.
Izzy snorts into his bottle, “not fucking well. The longest we went was three weeks. Imagine a forty year-old man crying so hard he couldn't breathe.” He shakes his head, and Pete notices he's avoiding his eyes again, “I begged him to quit, that we’d make it work, I'd find a way like I always did.”
“And?” Pete’s interest is piqued, a love story for the fucking ages unfolding in front of him like a movie.
“The rest is history.” Izzy teases, finally meeting Pete’s loving gaze, “it wasn't worth not seeing him. Not touching him. The bed was always cold, and it always smelled like him. I couldn't do it, and I'm fucking glad I didn't.”
Pete’s heart hurt. He misses Lucius more than anything. He only sees him in passing, when he gets out of bed and Lucius gets into it. He never wants to see the tears in Lucius's eyes again as he begs him to stay in bed instead.
“Listen,” Izzy pulls Pete out of his sadness, “the shop is looking for a receptionist. I'm promoting Jim so they won't be in the front anymore. I can match what you're making now, and we can–”
“You'd do that for me?” And yeah, maybe his eyes are filling with tears. Maybe his chest is tight with sadness and happiness and relief all at the same time. So?
“If you're willing to learn, yeah.” Izzy nods. Having him for a boss is going to suck ass but Pete can definitely live with that if it meant being with Lucius again.
Pete sets his bottle down before lunging for Izzy. It's a weird side hug with them sitting like this but he doesn't even care as he winds his arms tightly around Izzy’s neck. He expects to be thrown off, to be called a bald headed twat at the very least, but Izzy wraps his free arm around him instead and gives him a squeeze, his hand clapping his back for comfort.
He's never going to forget this feeling.
“Okay, now get the fuck off.” Izzy growls, and Pete doesn't want to undo all of his progress so he does.
“I swear, I'll do so well. I'll be so good for you.” He knows he's said something weird by the look Izzy gives him, but it's not entirely unpleasant so he lets it go.
“Yeah,” Izzy nods, “I uh…I know you will.”
When Lucius drags himself over the threshold, Pete is alone. He pretty much flings himself across the living room and into Pete’s lap, but he's not about to complain as the smell of sea salt and lavender fills his senses. Arms wrap around bodies and legs slot between legs to create a perfect Petecious monster.
It takes everything in him not to cry but Lucius already has him beat.
“I feel like I haven't seen you in fucking months.” Lucius whispers, dejected.
“I know, babe, me too.”
“I know you need the money, but you need to quit. I can't stand it,” he whimpers, “we’ll figure something out. I'll get another job, I'll fucking sell my body if I have to, just please stay home.”
Pete rubs at Lucius’s back lovingly, he's holding on and he's never letting go, “okay.”
“Please, I–wait, what?” Lucius lifts his head, cheeks wet and nose rosy.
“Izzy offered me a job and I took it. I already gave the hospital my uniform back.”
Lucius is pressing his lips everywhere he can - Pete's lips, his cheeks, his nose, his lips again, his head. It tickles with his beard against soft skin, but Pete can think of nothing he wants more than his love all over him.