Chapter Text
“Are we there yet?” Grian shifted around in his seat, tugging on the seatbelt as he moved. Thoughts were running through his entire body, he felt like he was going to explode!
Just a couple days before, his mum and dad had gathered him and his brothers for a talk.
They were sitting in Joel’s room. Soft sunset light was coming in through the window, curtains swishing faintly in the summer breeze. Grian sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the frame of his brother’s bed. In front of him, his other brother was pacing around in circles, brows furrowed with worry.
“You think we’re in trouble?” Jimmy asked.
Joel rolled his eyes, scoffing “No, surely not,” He leaned backwards, the old chair creaking at the motion, “Unless Grian started a war or something.”
To that Jimmy shot a glance to the boy sitting on the floor, a sense of anxiety coming through the wall of intimidation he was trying to put on.
Innocent, Grian fluttered his eyelids and grinned cheekily, playing along, “No, surely I’d remember that!”
"You’re not helping!”
Grian began to giggle to himself at his brother’s desperation.
“Okay, okay, what do we think it is about, though?” asked Joel, slowly spinning around in his chair.
Jimmy finally sat down, awkwardly shuffling his legs around. The height he had suddenly gained over the past couple of weeks kept getting in his way, and even if it meant constant short jokes for Grian and Joel, seeing Jimmy stumble was sometimes funny enough to be worth it. “Dunno.”
“Hopefully not another sibling.” Joel looked at his youngest brother, the corners of his lips raising up into a smile that foreshadowed the coming of an insult, “We already have Grian to annoy us enough.”
Grian screeched wildly, crossing his arms in offense.
Jimmy let out a laugh from the other corner of the room. “Yeah,” he spoke, mildly out of breath, “Hopefully.”
“Maybe they want to sell you two.” countered Grian, setting his glare at Joel, who was sniggering at his own joke.
“Or, we’re moving.” Jimmy mused, completely ignoring his younger brother’s comment, much to his displease.
Joel spun around once again, “Eh, I doubt it. We already did that a couple years back, you know. Back during Grian’s weird ‘jumping on stuff’ phase.”
“Maybe it is a fourth sibling, then.” Jimmy added. “They’d want more space in the house.”
“I’m not sharing my room with anybody!” Grian called out.
“Too bad.” Joel stretched his arms out, falling back into the chair, “You’ll finally understand how hard life is then.”
“Nah, they love him too much.”
Before the brothers could continue, their father’s voice came echoing from the living room below. The three made subtle eye contact, quickly making their way down the stairs.
On the last step, Jimmy misplaced his foot, nearly tumbling down to the ground, barely saving himself by clutching the railing. From behind him, Joel tried to disguise a laugh with a cough, clearly failing to do so.
He steadied himself and appeared from behind the wall, Joel following. They took places down on the floor upon their father’s gesture, and Grian soon snuck in to sit beside his brothers, crossing his legs. On instinct, he began to fidget with the strings of the carpet, focused on the feeling of fabric beneath his fingertips.
“We’re not in trouble, are we?” Jimmy muttered, just to be sure. He seemed to avoid his parents’ gaze looming over him, hunched over as he hugged his legs closer.
Their father snorted a laugh, “No, you’re not. As you know, summer’s coming up, and we thought we could surprise you.” He looked over to the side.
“You’re going to Aunt Cleo’s!” Their mum chimed in, eyes as bright as her tone.
…
Grian felt a rush of emotions burst through him, the remainders of them leaking into his voice as he yelled, “No way! Really?”
He leaped out of his seat, grabbing the coffee table, stars in his eyes.
His mother nodded, before saying something Grian didn’t quite catch.
He could hear Jimmy let out a sigh of relief, almost falling to the floor, and Joel beamed up at the news as well, already chattering about his plans for ‘sweet revenge’ to Jimmy.
All there was left was to wait.
And there it was! Grian could barely contain himself when he was fastening his seatbelt, even after having lost the battle, ending up in the dreaded middle seat. He was smaller, that was their excuse.
But it didn’t matter. In just an hour or so, he’d be at the best place in the whole entire universe.
“Are we there yet?” He asked again, making sure his voice was heard over the song playing on the radio.
His question, however, flew completely under the radar as his father began to sing along to the tune, much to his mother’s surprise and glee. She soon joined in, their slightly-broken singing loud enough to be heard from outside the car, random passersby turning to see the source of the sound. But they seemed happy, catching each other’s gazes every so often as they talked about ‘the summer of ‘92’, laughing. Grian had no idea what that meant, and by the lovey-dovey tone and honey-sweet words, he did not want to find out.
He leaned back further into the car seat, pressing his shoulderblades against the leather.
On his left, Joel was absent-mindedly looking through the window, watching as the green grass went past him. He seemed to be tapping some sort of beat on the edge of the car window, completely in his own world.
On his right, Jimmy was moving around, again, in order to find a comfortable position. He muttered ‘sorry!’ when he had kicked the seat in front, his mother’s piercing look of judgement staring right into him, a stark contrast to the lovesick hypnosis she had been in before. The glare scarily reminded him of his aunt Cleo. No wonder they were related.
Grian could not sit still for the life of him.
Not when there was a whole summer to be excited about! With the sun shining, he’d soon be hanging out with his cousins, maybe chasing Scar down with a Nerf gun or two, like they had done before, and making elaborate plans on how to strike down the other team. He’d be playing games with the kids outside, and he could finally have someone to talk to about his drawing, without being told not to be a bother!
He straightened out his limbs, the seatbelt extending with a ‘whoosh!’ and coming back down when he sat normally again.
“Are we there yet?” He was so close to being at the house, running straight into the porch, to meeting with the coolest kids around - the neighbours, and maybe his uncle would have a new game to be tested out, or maybe even bring some cool tech-thing he made with his work partners, which would totally not be explosive. So close to spending days outside with the best of company, running around, not a care in the world.
Grian’s eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar sign. They were finally in town! He felt himself get giddy with excitement, practically jumping up. “We are there yet!”
He was going to hang out with Scar, and Bdubs, and Pearl, and BigB, and see Aunt Cleo and his uncle and-
It was going to be the best summer ever!
***
“Sunscreen?”
Cleo leaned further on their toe tips, reaching up to the highest shelf of the cabinet. She scanned the items in it; from half-empty containers of bandages to stacks of soap they got off some sale.
“Got it!” Scar’s voice could be heard from behind the wall.
They searched further, labels flickering in and out of sight. “Bug spray?”
“Got that too!”
Rushed steps echoed in the hall. Cleo turned towards the opened door, seeing her son Bdubs standing there, rocking on his feet.
“I don’t have it.” he admitted. She glanced at the expiration date, good enough, and handed it to Bdubs. The boy ran off, shouting ‘thank you Mom!’ as he disappeared into his room.
“Right! Is that everything off your lists?” she asked, met with a pair of positive answers from the two.
Cleo walked off the step stool, kicking it under the sink. They closed the cabinet and exited the room.
Just around the corner was their eldest son’s - Scar’s - bedroom, filled with posters of the teen’s interests. By the amount of “Star Wars” images one could think they were walking into space itself, stars and spaceships decorating the walls. Cleo took a step in, grabbing a hat that hung behind the door.
“Don’t forget your hat.” she set it on their son’s head.
Scar smiled, putting the item in his bag. He closed the zipper as he stood up from the ground. “Thanks.”
“Are you excited for the trip?” they asked.
Scar’s gaze lingered on something further away, he sighed. “Yeah, I-” he hesitated, “It’s gonna be fun. At least I hope so.”
“Two whole weeks away from home, walking around the woods..”
Scar collapsed onto his bed, Cleo sitting right by him.
“Two whole weeks away from you.”
“Oh, Scar,” she wrapped an arm around the teen, “You’re gonna be alright. You’re independent, you can handle it for sure.”
Silence fell amongst them, only the dull humming of the fan left. Cleo’s mind made a realization as they watched Scar’s expression shift slightly.
They finally spoke, “Look. I know you don’t have an amazing relationship with your dad, and you have the reasons for it. He’s trying to change, trying to be a better father for you two.”
“I don’t want our arguing to ruin things for Bdubs.” Scar pulled his knees closer to his chest.
“You’re already doing better than you were those couple years ago. You’re not wrong for having doubts, but try to give him a chance. I did, even though he did the things he did to us, and-”
Her mind wandered to the memories of the years before. The missed school events, coming home late from work, the arguments and how lonely Cleo had felt, the memories of their old marriage vows had felt like poison inside her bloodstream. The final discussion under a flickering kitchen light, and the day he had left, and Cleo assumed it would be for good. But then, slowly and steadily he somehow made his way back into their life, even if it took battles with emotions to even let him in through the doorstep on that one rainy night.
But in the end, it may have been worth it. They saw the way Bdubs seemed to come back from horse riding practice happier than he used to, the way even Scar got warmed up to the idea of spending time around his father, and agreed to go on that trip to the cabin. He still wasn’t ready to call him ‘Dad’, but it was better than the beginning, when he had refused to say a word at all.
“-and I think that it turned out quite okay. Etho wants to try his best for you. And he’s not the man he used to be six years ago.”
Even if your mind sometimes wants you to see him that way.
Scar opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated, clenching his jaw again. Cleo ran a hand through the strands of his brown curls, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. They sat in the room, encapsulated in the moment as the fan continued to buzz in the background. Scar shut his eyelids, and Cleo could feel his chest rise in a deep breath, and fall back once more.
“I’ll try.”
Cleo smiled, “And if he ever makes you feel upset, you call me, and I’ll put that man in his place.”
The spark in Scar’s eyes seemed to return as he laughed. Cleo was glad to see him that way.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. They could hear Bdubs storm down the stairs, their cue to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself. Cleo followed him into the downstairs hallway, met with Bdubs basically pressing his face to the window beside the door.
She looked, seeing two men standing at the porch, waving to the kid. Cleo was quick to open the door.
“Martyn? You weren’t meant to be here!” they questioned, surprised. The man invited himself right in, slinking into the hallway. Scott, who had been standing behind him, acted more polite, nodding a greeting to Cleo.
As she was closing the door, Martyn had already taken his shoes off, “But I arrived! The star of the show!” He grinned.
Cleo shook their head in disbelief. He never changes, does he?
Before they knew it, Scar had appeared downstairs as well, looking significantly more chipper than before. He was already talking to Scott about something, dragging the man upstairs.
Cleo yelled, “Give your uncle some time to breathe, eh? He’s just driven a long way to be here!”
Scott briefly leaned back to answer, “It’s fine!”
Cleo put her hands on their hips.
Martyn looked at her, then back at the staircase. “Oh, they never grow up, huh?”
“He’s more mature than you think, Martyn,” she commented, “Let him be a kid when he can. I’m just making sure he doesn’t overstep boundaries.”
“Anyways,” they continued, “I thought you were staying in the city?”
“I just wanted to keep you company for the next two weeks. We haven’t really gotten chances to hang out like we used to, have we?”
“Not really. I’ll have a lot on my hands, though, my sister’s boys are gonna be spending some time here.”
And as if things were scripted, a car pulled up into the driveway. Like a storm, one of the kids bolted out of the vehicle, much to his brother’s displease. “Ah! Grian, there’s this thing called ‘exit order’, you ever heard of that?”
For a brief moment, Martyn looked horrified, “Right.”
Cleo opened the door once more, making sure Grian didn’t face-plant into the wooden surface. Instead, he came running straight at her, pulling into a hug, causing them to nearly fall back at the force of a nine year old boy at top speed, “Hi Aunt Cleo!” He smiled from ear to ear.
“Hey there,” they answered.
Grian finally let go, allowing for her to stand up. She dusted herself off, moving out of the way for the others to step in. Her sister, Morgana, followed by the other two kids, stepped into the hallway, a watchful eye kept on Grian, who looked like he could combust from the sparks of sheer joy in him, foot tapping against the floorboards.
“Hi, thanks for agreeing to take them in. Plans got the way they did, and-” she began to ramble, but Cleo interrupted before she could even finish the sentence. “It’s okay, I get it. I’ll keep them well in line.”
Joel and Jimmy were the next to arrive, greeting Cleo as they walked in.
Martyn made his way through the small crowd, giving Jimmy a light, friendly punch on the shoulder.
“Hey, big dog!” The two began barking at each other, and Cleo did not want to know more.
Before she knew it, they were outside, helping Jimmy’s father with the luggage, still doing whatever they were.
Something shot through the air.
Grian dramatically fell down to the ground, a hand clutched on his arm. He didn’t seem truly hurt, a smile still pasted on his face. Cleo’s head whipped around to the direction of the shot. Scar was standing right at the top of the staircase, Nerf gun aimed at his younger cousin.
Cleo squinted, the tension getting to Scar as he lowered the toy weapon. Behind him stood Scott, really?
Joel, who had been standing silently, glared at the blue-haired man with burning fury.
“No Nerf in the house!” she told the boy off as he made his way down the stairs.
“Sorry!” he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Scar!” Grian called out, “It’s not even been five minutes!”
Scar’s lips formed a grin, that signature, cheeky grin, “You snooze, you lose.”
He aimed the Nerf gun once more, making Grian release incoherent noises of panic as he scrambled to raise himself up from the ground, dashing out of the house.
Like expected, Scar followed, the two occupied in their game.
Cleo sighed. It was going to be an eventful couple of weeks for sure.
***
Tango strolled down the street, the sound of his steps echoing around him. It was a beautiful day, the cerulean sky stretching far above, with fluffy clouds lazily making their journey through its canvas. The sun was perched high, casting a bright glow to anything below it. He let his skin soak in the warmth of the light, delighted with the simple pleasure. Every so often he’d come across a lone tree, the breeze making its lush leaves rustle, with shade pooled on the sidewalk.
He fixed the strap of the bag around his shoulder, the weight of his computer and countless, countless papers and sketches beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable after a while of walking. Tango’s eyes barely skimmed past the time on his watch.
He briefly stopped, heart sinking.
He was running late. No time for nice weather and sentiment!
He began to walk quicker. His heart rate sped up. There was a meeting to be had, plans to discuss! He tugged on the bag strap again, not letting it slide down.
As he approached a familiar-looking house, a kid in a red jumper darted from behind the corner, yelling as another boy came right after him.
Tango raised his gaze from the boring grey of the pavement to watch the scene unfold, making sure not to lose pace.
The taller boy practically leaped on the shorter one as they wrestled on the grass, wild noises of fighting audible from across the street. One more kid appeared after them, beginning to cheer on, unclear who he was actually rooting for. Tango chuckled to himself, and right as he was passing by, his existence was acknowledged.
“Hi Tango!” The teen boy yelled, waving to him. It was Scar, one of his work partner’s sons! Right! The two others joined right in, a choir greeting him.
“Hey!” He waved back, although time was running out, “Gotta go!”
Grian made sure to shout the loudest ‘Bye Tango!’ before using the moment of distraction to kick Scar off him, nimbly dashing to the backyard. The teen halted, air knocked out of him before he chased after, his brother Bdubs doubled over laughing at the move.
And there he went, speeding towards his destination once again. He was definitely close by now, the house just around the corner. Tango sped up, and oh man, was he really getting that old? winced at the ache in his knee.
The next moments were a blur, cars went past, some more kids ran by him, but he arrived. Tango finally stopped running, reaching up to wipe his forehead. He let out a sigh of relief, nearly flopping down from the tension leaving his body.
Putting on a smile, he made his way to the front door, already knowing it was unlocked just for him. Sweet, sweet Impulse, always so hospitable, never having been taught stranger danger or something.
The door swung open, revealing-
The smell of…baked bread?
Tango was immediately hit with the smell akin to a bakery that filled the entire corridor to the brim.
Bewildered, he headed straight to the kitchen, the only sensible place the smell could be coming from.
And just like expected, in the middle of the kitchen stood Impulse, surrounded by too many loaves of bread for just some spontaneous baking. He seemed to have been caught off guard, jolting up in surprise. In his hand was another loaf of bread.
“Uhm…”
Impulse set the fresh bread down on the counter, “You’re finally here! Hi!”
“What’s- what is this- and what are you wearing?” He gestured to the pink apron.
“Well, it was the only thing I had, okay? And I look amazing in pink, I’ll have you know.” Impulse crossed his arms, trying to seem intimidating or at least a bit offended, but the playfulness was coming right through his tone.
“No, I’m-” Tango stopped, “I’m not talking about the pink, I’m just- what are you doing?”
“Bakin’ some bread!” Impulse answered cheerfully, like it was the most normal thing for a random forty-something year old game designer to be doing on a Tuesday.
“It’s- Impulse,” He could not believe the sight in front of him, looking all around the kitchen, trying to find a space not overtaken by bread, “How long have you been doing this? This is too much bread for one person!”
Tango turned around, seeing a glimpse of something behind him. For goodness sake, there was more bread in the living room.
Before his partner could answer, a man appeared from seemingly nowhere, “Impulse, we’re running out of flo-”
…
“Who’s this?”
Both equally confused, Tango and the stranger stared each other down. He was wearing a similar apron to Impulse’s, in the same shade of pink, his long hair tied up into a ponytail, messed up and loosened by the work. Most strangely, the man wore tinted glasses, inside, which he instinctively pushed up his nose once he caught Tango staring.
Tango sighed, “Impulse, we were meant to be having a meeting?”
“I know, I know, but- I woke up at three in the morning today and thought- ‘wow, I am doing nothing with my life’, so I decided to bake some bread, as one does!” Impulse tried to explain himself, averting his gaze somewhere else while Tango continued to stand there, mouth agape in disbelief.
He went on, “And before I know it, I’ve started a bread empire with…”
Impulse looked over at the guy beside him.
Does he seriously not know his-
“With Ren,” he smiled sheepishly, “Nice to meet ya, uh..”
“Tango.” Tango quickly added.
“Yeah! So that’s the story.” he swore he could see Impulse’s eye twitch.
Tango cleared his throat, “Okay, so you,” He pointed to Impulse, “are going through a mid-life crisis and decided to start a bread factory with some guy you didn’t even know the name of until now. I see.”
The room fell silent.
“You wanna help us out?”