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He had been dating Brock for a few months when the phone call came.
Rusty always dreaded every time it rang — there was only one person who ever called him. Which was, of course, his father. Always nagging and prodding into his life when he had no right to.
Sure, it was more or less routine by now — his dad called him every few days, and he'd gotten somewhat used to the nagging, irritating as it was. But the contents of the conversation had been particularly disturbing, this time.
"So I heard that you've found yourself a special someone, Rusty."
The words had sent a chill down his spine. Rusty wasn't sure how, exactly, his father had found out. Had he actually sent people to spy on him at college? That didn't seem entirely out of the realm of possibility, infuriating as the thought was. He had come to college in the first place to get away from his father's overshadowing presence.
But Rusty had been fairly clandestine, so far. The only people who were supposed to know were his close friends, which had itself only been the result of him drunkenly gushing about how perfectly their first date went. (Not that he really had any kind of idea what a good date was or wasn't, thanks to a lack of experience. But dinner and a movie had certainly felt perfect at the time.)
"Who told you that?" Rusty had replied, choking out a nervous laugh.
Maybe they had sold him out. Maybe they were planted there by his father to keep an eye on him in the first place. Or maybe, most optimistically, there was some sort of false rumor going around campus about him having a girlfriend, and this was all just a big coincidence.
He didn't use the word 'boyfriend'. Calm down.
Jonas had laughed in return, which did nothing to soothe his uneasiness. "I have my sources. You haven't been home in quite a while, you know."
Irritation flared in him, then. "I practically just got here—"
"I'd like you to come visit me, Rusty. And I'd like to meet this man."
His blood froze at the use of the word 'man'. Yeah — his father knew. And he sounded...
supportive?
Rusty's mind went blank. He wanted to ask why he wasn't mad. He'd been long preparing himself for the inevitable negative reaction, his father's disgust at finding out his son was some sort of filthy bisexual. And he desperately, desperately wanted to know how he had found out about them in the first place.
But the only thing he could find in himself to reply with was a timidly-voiced, "Okay."
—
Brock had done this before. Meeting the parents wasn't so hard, once you learned to just relax and stop psyching yourself out.
Admittedly, what he hadn't done before was dating the son of a celebrity. There probably wasn't a person in the states who didn't know who Jonas Venture was. Brock didn't exactly keep up with the world of superscience, but Jonas was a household name. Hell, he'd be willing to guess most people on the planet knew who the man was, geography be damned.
Still. It wasn't a big deal. Kind of sudden, but Rusty had been uncharacteristically apologetic about the whole thing, and Brock had the feeling that his boyfriend had very little to do with the visit being arranged in the first place.
They took a bus to the famous Venture Compound the very next day. Didn't talk much on the way there, and Brock found himself equal parts amused and unsettled at the way Rusty's expressions kept cycling through uncertainty, dread, and boredom, tending more towards the former two as they approached the distant structure.
It was definitely visually impressive: massive, sprawling architecture, featuring a tall statue of Jonas himself and a child Rusty as the centerpiece. It looked more like a company headquarters than a home, which he supposed it technically was. Having himself been raised in relatively humble dwellings, he struggled to imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that.
"So this is... y'know, where you grew up?" Brock finally asked, tentatively.
Rusty didn't even look at him, staring grimly out the window. "Yeah. I guess."
No further commentary on that front, and Brock knew better than to pressure him about it further. But he did take Rusty's hand in his as they stepped off the bus and made their way past the security gate, which earned him a tiny, bashful smile.
Jonas promptly greeted Rusty at the front steps with a jovial hug that looked just a little too tight, and Brock cringed a little at seeing his boyfriend's obvious discomfort. Brock, himself, was greeted with a handshake that was also a little too tight, and then abruptly pulled into a hug with some cheerful statement about welcoming him to the family.
If the man minded that neither of them made the slightest movement to hug him back, he didn't show it, inviting them in.
"So you've been dating for how long, now?" Jonas asked cheerfully, looking over his shoulder at the two of them following close behind.
Brock looked at Rusty briefly for his approval, who only offered a helpless, miserable shrug in return. "Uh... about 3 months."
The man laughed, a hearty sound. "Why, Rusty, you should've told me sooner."
"I thought you..." Rusty hesitated as both Brock and Jonas turned to look at him. "wouldn't, um, approve."
Jonas quirked a thick eyebrow. "Some of my best friends are brown, son. I don't hold it against them."
Brock felt his jaw clench. His boyfriend shrank beside him, muttering. "I meant— Jesus Christ, Dad."
The three of them fell into silence as they headed to the living room, only to find that they were not alone once they arrived. A few older men of varying statures were sitting around in wait, their faces vaguely familiar from somewhere.
Rusty, though, apparently recognized them immediately, judging by the look of horror that he shot up in Venture Sr.'s direction, his voice coming out a terse hiss. "What are they doing here?"
"Oh, Rusty! You think I'd let you come home without a warm welcome from Team Venture?"
One of the men, a broad-shouldered fellow bearing a pair of goggles and a hat emblazoned with a giant "A", got up from the couch and walked over to ruffle his boyfriend's thinning mess of red hair. "Good to see ya, kid!"
Equally oblivious as Jonas to Rusty's visible discomfort, the older man then turned to look at Brock, sizing him up. "So this is, uh— the fella you've been dating? Is that right? Pretty tall, ain't he?"
"You told them all I was dating a guy," Rusty deadpanned, barely a question.
"Why wouldn't I?" Jonas asked, cheerfully confused.
So Brock then got the opportunity to do something that some would kill for — meeting the real Team Venture, in the flesh, each of them complimenting him and asking about his interests.
He wasn't particularly impressed, to be honest. (Well, the quiet Asian guy seemed cool.) But as far as he could tell, these men were essentially his boyfriend's overbearing honorary uncles. And the fact that they all more or less approved of him was a good thing, right?
Rusty, on the other hand, pretty much looked like he wanted to die the entire time.
—
Of course he'd told good old 'Team Venture.'
Sure. Why not? If there was one thing Jonas Venture had no respect for, it was his privacy. Hell, he treated it as if it were nonexistent.
At nine, Rusty stopped telling H.E.L.P.eR. his secrets, knowing they'd always make their way back to him somehow. At twelve, he'd stopped keeping a diary after two months because his father made it clear he'd read it.
At the tender age of thirteen, he had a panic attack after noticing the security camera in the bathroom. And at fifteen, he'd thrown away the Playboys that had been so difficult to obtain at the isolated compound to begin with, because the Action Man had teased him about their existence. When pressed on how he'd known about them to begin with, he said 'a little bird told me.'
This was just another variation on the theme. He shouldn't have been surprised.
And now, on top of that, he was buttering up Brock as much as he could. It was always like this. Jonas Venture made a great first impression on everyone he met. So now every single time he complained about the things his father put him through, things he was just beginning to process were irresponsible and neglectful to begin with, it was going to be the same story: 'I don't see what the big deal is, he seems nice.'
Rusty looked miserably over at a smiling Brock being led through his father's film collection, hanging his head.
—
Jonas was seemingly larger than life — not that Brock wasn't huge, himself, but it felt startling to think that a man of such sheer bulk could produce the scrawny little bundle of anxiety that was his boyfriend. His voice seemingly filled the room when he spoke, and those around him listened dutifully.
And so far, for all of Rusty's complaining and dread, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, someone who did his best to accomodate the other person. He heard Brock played football, so they talked about football. He heard Brock liked Zeppelin, so he showed him his vinyl collection. The man oozed charisma, enough that Brock could feel himself easily softening up to him.
He was starting to wonder if Rusty had started this relationship as some sort of misplaced rebellion against his father, actually. So far, his worst crime seemed to be being a little too overbearing, a little too cheery about everything.
Brock had voiced some of these concerns, only to have Rusty irritably brush them off.
"You don't get it," he'd scoffed in visible frustration. "He does this for everyone. He just— You just— you don't get it. You don't know what he's like."
Apparently, he didn't.
Later, not long before dinner, Jonas had interrupted their conversation with a polite smile.
"I need to talk to my son in private, if you don't mind."
"Uh... yeah, sure," Brock replied, leaning back on the couch as Rusty stood up and trailed after his father, casting a reluctant glance over his shoulder before leaving.
A few moments passed before the curiosity started to burn at him. His boyfriend's earlier words gnawed at his mind. What didn't he 'get'? What was he missing about Jonas Venture? His mind went to the politician scandals on TV — charming and put together in public, rude and irresponsible in private. Maybe the only way to find out was to see him with his guard let down around someone he knew.
And the rest of Team Venture had left already, too. There was no one to keep him from eavesdropping but a dubiously competent robot.
So after a bit of internal debate, Brock got up, following after them as clandestinely as he could, eventually arriving outside of Jonas Venture's private study. He cracked open the door as quietly as possible and peeked inside, shoving down the guilt he felt about spying on his boyfriend and his dad.
It was none of his business, after all. But he wanted to understand.
"—seems like a nice boy."
From what he could see, Rusty was smiling a little, to his surprise — though he also looked slightly nervous. "Yeah. We're... pretty happy together."
"I'm glad to hear that." There was the sound of a cupboard opening and glass clinking, before Jonas came into view holding a large brandy snifter. "And you said you're making friends on campus?"
"A few."
"Good, good. And your studies are going well?"
Rusty suddenly looked more anxious, rubbing his arm. Brock vaguely remembered him complaining about his microbiology midterm. "I guess you could say that."
"Hmm."
Jonas took a long sip from his drink, then a deep breath.
"Listen, son... I don't want you going public with this relationship of yours."
Brock felt the pit drop out of his stomach. He could see his boyfriend freeze in place, face falling. "W—what?"
"People don't... understand this kind of thing, Rusty. It's not good for the Venture name."
Rusty sort of scoffed, as if in disbelief. "I'm— I'm an adult. I can date who I want—"
"Of course you can. Listen," Jonas bridged the gap between them, placing his free hand on Rusty's shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "I just don't see a reason to jeopardize your reputation over it."
"You mean your reputation, right? It'd be bad for you."
"No. I mean yours," Jonas emphasized pointedly. "You're a child star, Rusty. I'm completely supportive of this little... phase you're going through, but parents don't want their children watching a show with a—"
Realization dawned on Rusty's features, slowly. "Phase? You think this is a phase? You—" Suddenly, his expression twisted from surprise to outrage, jerking away from his father's broad palm. "You never thought this would last in the first place, did you?"
"Of course not." Jonas smiled, backing away — a tense, guarded smile that didn't reach his eyes. "College sweethearts usually don't, do they? We all did crazy things in college. I'm sure you'll find a nice woman to settle down with—"
"You never cared about meeting him," Rusty said slowly, his shoulders visibly quaking with anger. "You just— you wanted to invite me here to tell me to stay in the closet."
That smile drooped a little. Irritation was beginning to show in the older man's voice. "Now, Rusty, like I said, this is just a phase—"
"Shut up!" Rusty yelled, yet Brock could see his resolve starting to crumble, withering in the face of his calm, yet callous father. "You don't give a sh-shit about who I am, what I want! You— you never—"
But Brock had seen enough.
He pushed open the door, stepping inside.
—
Rusty remembers, most vividly, a few things.
Brock's angry footsteps rattling the hardwood.
His father's stunned face, a swelling bruise, a bleeding nose.
Angry shouting. H.E.L.P.eR.'s frantic beeping.
A rush of evening wind as they ran frantically out of the building, his boyfriend's wide hand gripping his wrist.
The feeling of his mouth stretching into an exhilarated grin.
—
"I can't believe you punched him in the face."
Brock looked over at him warily, both surprised and confused by the lack of resentment in his tone. "You're... smiling. Why are you smiling?"
"Nobody's ever done anything like that for me before." Rusty's voice grew softer, peering through the cloudy glass of the dirty bus window. "Nobody ever stands up to my father. Especially not because of me."
"So... we're not breaking up?"
"Why, do you want to?" Rusty looked up at him with a sarcastic smirk, though there was some genuine hesitation there, a fear behind his eyes that was painful to look at. Like he was afraid that Brock would actually say yes after seeing his family, his home, his legacy.
"Nah," Brock replied quietly, leaning against him on the shared bus seat. In return, Rusty tucked his shoulders a little, slowly moving to rest his head to his chest.
A moment of silence passed between them, Brock quietly appreciating the soothing noise of his boyfriend's level breathing, the contrast of Rusty's pale skin and his own. He could feel the tension in the man's body beginning to slip away, a subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) rigidity he'd seen in him all day.
He could feel himself growing calm, too, the adrenaline rush winding down to nothing.
"He's probably gonna take out a restraining order, you know," he spoke softly.
Rusty snorted, a sound so geeky that it somehow wrapped around to become endearing. "Sure. To keep you away from him, not me."
Brock raised an eyebrow. "You really are doing this to rebel against him, aren't you? Dating a guy who punched your dad?"
That comment won him the biggest grin he'd seen from his boyfriend all week, though it was accompanied by tired eyes. He felt deeply relieved seeing that smile. "Maybe I just like bad boys."
Brock merely smirked in return, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in for a lazy, drawn out kiss.