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There are not many opportunities for Stanley to be home. His work in the military being so specialized and demanding, he rarely has a chance to be off duty. His most recent mission was a success, but at a cost- his torso had been slashed. Due to the quick thinking and action from the rest of his team, he came out alive and on medical leave for at least 4 weeks.
“I recommend you stay away from physical activity for at least two weeks.” The doctor tells him at their restricted base in Sarajevo. The room is clean but cluttered with medical equipment. An EKG, a stand with an IV drip, and a tray full of materials needed for his stitches. She sighs and takes off her gloves after applying the last stitch. “Should you continue any strenuous activity on your torso, you increase your risk of infection. I am sending you home with antibiotics and a painkiller. Finish the antibiotics. Keep it clean and dry and go see a doctor after 4 weeks, sooner if you see any complications or experience unusual pain,” Doctor Abdi informs him. She's been their doctor for their last few missions, her level headedness unparalleled. Anytime they come in injured, she’s hardly phased. She’s Stanley’s favorite doctor.
“It’s unfortunate that it lands right before your leave, but enjoy the extra time at home.” She tells him while notating in his file everything she said to him.
“Thanks Doc, I appreciate it.” Stanley nods at her and leans his head back in his bed.
“A driver will be here in 48 hours to bring you to the airport.” At this, she takes her leave, leaving his file at the foot of his bed. Stanley sighs and closes his eyes, letting sleep overtake him.
~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time Stanley touches down in Houston, his torso is throbbing, his head hurts, and he hasn’t slept in 24 hours. The airline they use is private military, so they get their very own section of the airport to touch down in. He declines the wheelchair they try to give him, urging them to give it to someone who needs it and he eagerly walks off the plane and looks around, searching for someone very specific. He locks eyes with Xeno through the crowd, Xeno’s face displaying a look of sheer delight. He pushes in between two other groups of people, a ridiculous “welcome home” balloon trailing behind him.
“Stan!” Xeno calls his name and Stanley finally gets his own feet to move, taking long strides to meet Xeno in the middle of the distance. “Welcome home!” Xeno smiles at him happily. Stanley returns it with one of his own, “I missed you, too.”
“Here,” Xeno holds out his hand, Stanley laughs and accepts the balloon, pulling Xeno into a quick hug. He does not anticipate the sheer strength displayed by Xeno when hugging him back, did he always greet him this way? Stanley groans lightly at the impassioned embrace causing Xeno to pull back from him immediately. “Are you okay?”
Stanley looks away slightly and back at Xeno, “I may have a laceration on my abdomen, how have you been holding up?” Stanley asks him, trying to change the topic.
“You’re kidding, right?” Xeno replies, unamused. “Elaborate.”
“I got cut, dear.” Stanley mocks him for always acting like a worried housewife. “Doc said I’ll be fine but I’m off duty for the next 4 weeks.”
They move out of the middle of the way. “Are you alright though?” Stanley nods his head in response. “It hurts right now, but I haven’t taken any of the painkillers the good doctor prescribed yet, they’re in my bag.” Stanley explains, referring to the duffle bag he has strapped to his back. Xeno walks with him through the entrance doors to the parking garage, shaking his head.
“Do you want one now? Have you eaten?” Xeno offers, reaching for the bag.
“No, Xe, it’s fine for now, I just want to go home.” Stanley tells him, exhaustion evident in his voice and body language. Xeno nods but takes his duffle bag anyways, leaving the balloon in Stanley’s hand. The walk to the car is short and they arrive quickly, both eager to leave and to miss rush hour traffic.
Xeno gets in the car after throwing the bag in the trunk and immediately starts talking, “I ordered Mexican food from that place-“ he’s interrupted by Stanley pulling him in by the back of the neck for a kiss, it had been months since they’d last seen each other, “-that you like on Lincoln street.” Xeno finishes, dazed.
“Thanks, I’m starved.” Stanley says nonchalantly and sliding on his seatbelt. Xeno scoffs as they pull out of the garage.
~~~~~~~~~~
Xeno pushes the door open on their small home in suburban Houston as Stanley walks into their home for the first time in 3 months. Very little about the 2 bedroom house had changed- a new lamp in the corner of the living room, a shoe rack on the other side of the entrance. It was spotless as well, with the exception of the office Stanley could see into, piles of paperwork that follow Xeno home most nights and more books than he can keep track of.
He sighs in relief at the opportunity to finally sit down comfortably, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I’ll be right back.” Xeno pats his arm and wanders into their kitchen.
“Let me-”
Xeno cuts him off before he can continue, “sit back down.”
Pulling plates and utensils for the food that was waiting for them on the front porch, he takes a moment to rummage through Stanley’s bag to grab his medications. He reads over the bottles carefully, accounting for the names of the prescriptions. He passes Stanley his plate bringing his own as well and a glass of water for his medication.
“Care to share what happened?” Xeno questions.
“I would if I could. You know my work is classified. What I can say though is that it’s a mistake I won’t make again.” Stanley states, a level of fury in his voice. Xeno nods in acknowledgment. He believes him when he says he won’t commit the same error twice. Reliable and true to his word as always.
“How’s work?” This elicits a scoff from Xeno, the look on his face darkening. “Exactly like last time, a group of bureaucrats who don’t know a damn thing running the place, choosing what can and can’t be studied. How inelegant. And I still have the littlest Ishigami in my inbox, who I must say is far more mentally stimulating than his father.” He shakes his head and pokes at his plate. “I took the next 3 days off though.”
“Oh? Planning on making up for lost time?” Stanley quirks an eyebrow at him.
“Not anymore,” Xeno shoots him down immediately, “I found your order from your doctor. No strenuous activity is on that list. At least two weeks.”
“We can make it work,” Stanley smirks at him flirtatiously. Xeno shakes his head no.
“As much as I would love to- and oh would I love to- it’s not happening. You’re following the doctor's orders precisely, Stanley.” He pauses a moment, “for now.”
That elicits a gratified smile from Stanley, content to finish his meal. “Thank you for dinner, and for picking me up,” Stanley groans as he leans forward to put his plate down on the table in front of him. He takes the water and the medications all at once.
“Always,” Xeno tells him.
They spend the rest of the evening enjoying each other's company and catching up with each other’s respective lives. The time to retire came quickly, both of them preparing for bed, Stanley in particular looking forward to sleeping at home for the first time in almost 6 months.
They settle down together; Stanley falls asleep the minute his head hits his pillow, grateful to be home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Their days pass quickly- too quickly. Stanley claims he’s healing like molasses, though Xeno thoroughly disagrees.
“You are aware my PhD is in aerospace engineering, correct?” Xeno looks up at Stanley from where he’s seated. Stanley, who is standing in between his legs with his shirt off, dog tags with his wedding band attached on full display while Xeno checks the progress of his torso at their island table.
“I thought you liked it when we played Doctor.” Stanley replies cheekily.
“Hm… it seems fine, the swelling has gone down and your stitches are holding. Does it hurt more or less than a week ago?” Xeno pointedly ignores him while prodding the area around the 9 inch gash with a gloved hand.
“Definitely less, Doctor Wingfield.” Stanley, tilts his head to the side and looks down at Xeno with hooded eyes. Xeno looks up at him with a conflicted look, cursing the person who did this to Stanley for the umpteenth time that week. He has to clear his throat and look away to focus on rebandaging Stanley’s torso.
“You… are healing quickly despite your grievances. Exceptional as always.” Xeno tells him.
“Well, in that case-”
“Unfortunately, no.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the middle of the night on a Thursday, a little over a week into his leave, the two of them are sleeping peacefully when the shoe rack shifts loudly near their entrance. There are some precautions Stanley takes to ensure their safety, even at home. Stanley’s eyes are open before he can even register the noise. Wearing nothing more than sweatpants and his bandages Stanley rises out of bed quietly and pulls a gun out of his nightstand. He circles their bed until he’s on Xeno's side, farthest away from the door, holding his hand over Xeno’s mouth so he doesn’t make a noise when he wakes up. Xeno jerks awake wide eyed.
“Someone’s in the house, stay here and stay quiet.” Stanley whispers to him. Taking his hand off Xeno’s face, he sees the terrified look on his husband’s face. He turns off the safety, stalks towards their door and mentally steels himself for a fight. Whoever got in would need to be familiar with disarming alarm systems, or at bare minimum bypassing them. He opens it quietly, pressed up against the adjacent wall. There’s a hallway separating their bedroom and the entrance, the only reason Stanley agreed to having their bedroom on the same floor as the entrance. He slides out of the room, pressed up against the wall in the hall and crouches down to peek around the corner, gun in hand. Near the entrance stands a man, dressed fully in black. He’s tall, lean with muscle, and judging by the way he holds his weight and the way he’s standing, he’s had some sort of professional training. Stanley knows he’s at a disadvantage, bandages on full display like a “hit here” sign plastered on his torso. He takes advantage of the fact the man is turned away from him, gun loudly cocking.
“Hands up. Slowly.” The man stood still where he was, putting his hands up and turning around slowly. The face that’s revealed puts Stanley in shock, lowering his gun the faintest bit, mouth slightly agape. Like looking into a mirror aged 30 years-
“Is that anyway to greet your old man?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xeno leans toward the crack in the door of their bedroom, trying to listen to what was happening.
“Hands up. Slowly.” He hears from Stanley. His heart is racing, who is in their home? How did they get in? Xeno has a million questions-
“Is that anyway to greet your old man?” He hears from the mystery person- not much of a mystery anymore. This sets off an entirely new list of questions and concerns, the most important one being what the hell was he doing here?
“What do you want?” Stanley questions him after a moment of silence.
“Can’t I drop by to say hello?” His father replies.
“At 4 in the morning?” Stanley’s muffled response through the door.
Xeno acknowledges that Stanley is an adult, who is capable of dealing with his own problems, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have any help.
He takes the opportunity to grab a shirt from the foot of their bed, open the door, and turn on the lights.
“Stan,” Xeno says from behind Stanley, hair down and sticking oddly up on one side. If it were any other situation, Stanley would find it deeply endearing.
They both turn to look at him, Stanley’s stress clear on his face as he whispers, “I told you to stay put.”
Xeno doesn’t spare a glance at Stanley’s father, looking him solely in the eye. The question on his face is obvious to those who know where to look. Do you want him gone? Stanley holds his gaze and after a moment, sighs.
“Well, Chuck,” Xeno finally acknowledges the older Snyder while handing Stanley the black NASA t-shirt. “Would you like some coffee?” he asks him coolly. He steps in front of Stanley and lets him put the shirt on and tuck the gun away into the waistband of his sweats.
“Black. And it’s General Snyder to you.” Chuck sneers at him, unimpressed.
Xeno tilts his head, “Apologies, I thought we were disregarding manners this intolerably early morning.”
“Insolent as always, Xeno.”
Xeno smiles at him tightly and squeezes out, “it’s Dr. Wingfield.” Stanley watches the interaction with a neutral expression and crossed arms, seeing Xeno walk towards their kitchen island in the room over, well aware of the rising tension in the room as they stare each other down.
“Why are you here, General?” He doesn’t bother asking how he found them, Stanley certainly wasn’t the only capable soldier in his family and they weren’t exactly trying to hide either. His father pins him with an apathetic expression he was all too familiar with.
“Your Gran died.” The General tells him. The delivery is blunt and terribly straightforward. The man never was fond of Stanley’s grandmother, and she was never his greatest fan either. After Stanley’s mother died, there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that she would care for Stanley and his siblings and he would work. She gets to stay home and he never had to really deal with his mother’s death. Win-win for them both.
Stanley puts his hands on his hips and sighs. “How?” Asking out of obligation.
“Cirrhosis.” Entirely unsurprising.
“When’s the funeral?” Stanley crosses his arms.
“A month ago,” the General responds.
“Jesus Christ.”
Stanley scoffs and shakes his head. “In that case, to what do we owe this… pleasure?” Xeno chimes in, placing the cup of coffee down on the counter with a louder clink than necessary.
The General side eyes Xeno and curls a lip in disapproval. “This is family business.” Stanley stands up a little straighter and takes a step forward, closing some of the space between them he was so carefully keeping between them.
“He is family. You broke into our home in the middle of the night, unannounced and uninvited.”
The General shakes his head in disappointment and sits at the island table where the coffee cup sits. “One day, you’ll learn the meaning of that word, Stanley. I came here to give you an opportunity to do that. Your grandmother racked up quite a bit in hospital bills, and that funeral of hers wasn’t anything to scoff at either.” The grayed Snyder takes a sip of his coffee, relaxed like he’s talking about the weather.
Stanley cocks an eyebrow, “you want money - no, this is even better, you want money to pay for a funeral I wasn’t invited to and to pay hospital bills for a person I was never told was sick in the first place.” Stanley shakes his head and laughs bitterly. “Get out.”
“Honestly, Stanley, I don’t know why you’re acting like this, family is supposed to help each other. You haven’t been home in years and we live in the same city. It's upsetting that death is what it takes for us to see each other again.” He takes another sip of his coffee and air around him sours. He takes a glance at Xeno who is staring daggers into the side of the General’s face.
“My answer is no. Leave.” The look on the General’s face turns cold.
“I figured this lifestyle would debilitate you.” He glares at Xeno openly. Xeno, who was used to people attempting to intimidate him, holds his ground and glares back, the fury on his face evident. “But you’re a big boy now. And I know when I’m unwanted.” He sets the coffee mug down gently, standing and walking towards the front door. He puts a folded piece of paper down on the shoe rack and with his back turned states, “You should push it away farther. Makes a louder noise.” And as quickly as he came, he was gone again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Stanley joined the military the second he was out of high school, choosing to utilize his talent and skills he’d learned from his father instead of pursuing a higher education. He wouldn’t be indebted to his family and he’s out of their hair, win-win for all parties involved.
There was a bit of time he would go home for his leaves, until the month his father retired from the military. 45 years of service to his country, an achievement list a mile long with an honorary discharge. In the 19 years Stanley was living at home, he cannot say a moment he appreciated his fathers presence on his leaves. The man was a drill sergeant, figuratively and- at one point- literally. On his leaves, he would teach Stanley everything he could, regardless of his age. He remembered their week-long camping trips. His father would drop him off in the middle of the woods with a knife and an empty water bottle for survival exercises. He remembers their shooting drills, their military level obstacle courses.
“Will we be back by Friday night, sir?” a 15 year old Stanley asks his father, an hour into their road trip to some woods in the middle of nowhere for another survival retreat. His back is stiff and his shoulders are pushed closer towards his ears than normal, but there is no waver in his voice. His father glances at him from the driver’s seat.
“Why?” He responds to him sternly.
“Xeno and I were going to-” Stanley doesn’t get to finish the sentence before his father interrupts him.
“That boy is a waste of your time, Stanley. You spend too much time with him.” Stanley holds his breath. There are times, in childish naivety, where Stanley will try to share something about his life with his father. It always had a tendency to backfire on him.
Stanley attempts to salvage the situation, “it’s fine if we aren’t back on time, I was just curious, sir.” Stanley’s father does not speak to him the rest of the ride to the cabin. Stanley remembers that weekend well, the General decided it was time for him to do sleep deprivation training and every muscle in his body was burning by the time he got home. They’d made it back on time, a fact Stanley has never forgotten about, but Stanley had to cancel on Xeno given he could hardly move. He’d slept 16 hours when they got back and his father was gone before he woke up.
His relationship with Xeno had always been a point of contention between him and the General. The two had been friends for years, it was not an exaggeration to say Stanley saw more of Xeno growing up than he did his father. Not that his father wanted to see much of him, either. The General never saw him the way he saw his older brother and sister. Their mother had died in childbirth, pulmonary embolism. His grandmother always blamed him for killing her daughter and his father blamed him for killing his wife.
It remained this way for as long as he can remember. His Gran would sometimes get drunk enough to forget his wrongdoing. She would hug him and bring him close, tell him stories about his mom, how she got her name, her favorite dances, which lakes she liked to hang around during the summertime. On really good days, she would bring him and his sister to those places. They’d drive with the windows down in an old pickup truck. Gran would play her Great American Fiddle Collection CD and refuse to let anyone change it to the radio.
Sometimes she would get so drunk all she felt toward him was anger.
Stanley uses the skills his father taught him now, some of them engraved in his bones. It was partially why he was able to climb the ranks so quickly, titled a Captain at 22, for a special forces unit no less, youngest in history. Not that it mattered to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xeno sighs in relief when the door closes. He walks back around the island and reaches a hand out to place on Stanley’s arm. Stanley wraps his full arm around Xeno’s neck and pulls him forward into a hug.
“I’m sorry about him.” Stanley apologizes to him. Xeno leans his head against Stanley’s and sighs.
“Don’t be. He wouldn’t be here if you or I had any say in the matter.”
Stanley pulls away and nods. He kisses Xeno’s temple and goes to fix the shoe rack in front of the door, pulling it a bit further out. He keeps his hands on the rack and sighs deeply. Turning around and looking at Xeno. “It’s late- well, early. And you have work in a couple of hours.” Stanley tells Xeno, walking them both back to their bedroom.
“Are you sure? I know that was stressful,” Xeno tries to tell him.
Stanley kindly interjects, “we have time. We can talk about it later.” Xeno accepts it’s not a topic he wishes to speak about, never has been with his family. “And I’m taking you to work.” A precaution since his father feels the need to make himself known again. Xeno doesn’t protest that either.
They crawl back into bed, clock nearing 5 am. Xeno lays close, an arm under his head and facing him. Stanley leans up against the headboard, a leg propped up. He leaves an arm high on the pillow where Xeno’s head lays. He remains awake until the sun rises. He watches the sky and room fill with light, the start of another day. He watches the clock hit 7 am, and he turns to wake up Xeno to find him staring with bleary eyes.
“Did you sleep?” Xeno asks him in a raspy voice as closes his eyes again.
“No.”
Xeno slides an arm around Stanley’s hips, “do you think he’ll be back?”
The question weighs heavy in the air. If Stanley knows his father the slight amount he believes he does, he’ll be waiting for Stanley to appear at the house like the obedient son the General believes he should be.
“Don’t know, but the asshole left this.” Stanley plucks a piece of paper from the nightstand and gives it to Xeno who unfolds it to see what’s written.
Xeno reads over it and sits up when he realizes who it’s from, assuming it would be coordinates or an empty cheque to fill. Xeno sits up, hair sticking out in all directions and rubbing the sleep from his eye as he reads the handwritten letter.
Stanley,
I am most likely the last person you want to hear from. I know it’s been years since we last spoke, and for that I’m sorry. I’m ashamed to say I’m writing this with little time left, I know I should have reached out sooner and for that I’m sorry too.
It is no excuse, and I do not expect your forgiveness, but thinking back to the last 20 years, I should’ve treated you better. I never truly recovered after your mother died and I took it out on you.
You should know you look just like her.
You were a walking, living reminder of what I’d lost. You never got to meet her but you are just like her, you share her best qualities. Sometimes, that is what made looking at you so difficult.
I spent so long focused on what I’d lost, I never thought about the grandson I gained.
Your mother was a gift giver. Every Christmas she would show with the best gifts. She was observant and considerate, was always looking ahead and planning.
You were the last gift your mother gave us, a gift we forgot to cherish.
With love and my sincerest apologies,
Gran
Xeno puts the paper down on the blanket and pulls Stanley into a proper embrace which he returns gratefully. He breathes deeply, “she wasn’t all bad.” Stanley squeezes out through a tight throat. “It was hard and she wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t all bad.”
Xeno squeezes the arm wrapped above his shoulder. “Do you want to visit her?” Stanley thinks about how he missed the funeral he wasn’t even invited to. He nods in response. “Okay. I need to go to work today and we can go today or tomorrow, whenever you want. Pack two bags and I’ll call my mother, let her know we’re dropping by.” Xeno tells him and pulls back, leaving a hand on Stanley’s neck. Xeno brings him forward to kiss him on the forehead and steps out of the bed.
“We leave tonight?”
Xeno looks at him, “yeah, tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time Xeno gets out of work he looks exhausted, which is better than he feels. He spent the day trying to do 2 days worth of notes and attempting to leave detailed enough instructions to his admittedly useless interns and mildly competent assistant so his lab doesn’t burn down on the weekend he’s gone. Taking this many days off is unusual for him and working engineering operations keeps him plenty busy around the clock.
“Only call me in case of a top level emergency, understand? The lab better be burning down before you pick that phone up,” he tells his assistant. “Anything else can go to Dr. Garcia, she’ll handle it.” Xeno hardly spares her a glance, never one for goodbye and walks out of the lab towards the exit.
When Stanley pulls through the front, he has to be called since he was attached to his computer, pulling together his things quickly and running out of the building.
Xeno throws his bag into the front seat first and gets in after, “I completely lost track of time,” he catches a whiff of tobacco in the car, “don’t worry about it. I have everything packed, do you need anything from home? Drop something off?” he asks in response, pulling out of the parking lot.
“No, it’s best I bring my work computer with me.” Xeno tells him, leaning back in his seat.
“Alright.” Stanley says easily.
Xeno takes that chance to take a look at his phone for the first time all day, his mother sending him a string of messages about how excited she was and how she raised him with better manners, saying he should’ve given her a sooner warning. Xeno smiles at his phone and tells Stanley she’s excited to see them.
Stanley smiles lightly at that, first one all day, Xeno’s sure. He loves spending time with the Wingfield’s matriarch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Wingfields live two streets over from the Snyders, a fact they took advantage of often growing up. Xeno is on good terms with his family and when they were kids, Xeno’s house would be their go-to hang out spot. His parents were welcoming and friendly. They were there for the small wedding party they’d held, overjoyed to find out about their union. Supportive through both their respective careers. They were there together for Xeno’s father’s funeral.
They arrive at the Wingfield residence before the sun fully sets, a true shock to Stanley considering they left during rush hour. When they pulled the car into their long driveway, the widowed Mary Wingfield burst through the front door of her house, ready to greet them.
“Boys! Welcome back!” She excitedly greets them, Xeno hops out of the car quickly to greet his mother, glad to see her full of life. Stanley grabs both bags and Xeno’s work bag to bring to the front door while Xeno greets his mother.
“Hi, Mrs. Wingfield.” Stanley says, she grabs his face and looks him over with a smile. “Hello, sweetie!” She reaches for one of the bags without hesitation. “Xeno, take the other bag, Lord. How many times have I told you to call me Ma! Or Mary. Either way, you’re family.” Stanley smiles at her, knowing she was going to say this, as she’s been saying it for years. “Maybe one day, ma’am,” he flashes her a charming smile.
Ever since her husband died she has lived alone. Xeno being an only child and their extended family being so far away, she’s been lonely, only her and her cat. She jumps at the opportunity to have people in the house.
“Come inside, I made dinner!” She shuffles them inside the house, “get settled in and come down when you’re ready.” She flies back into the kitchen, leaving the work bag she took from Stanley on the shelf adjacent to the door entrance. Xeno’s childhood home was a good size, 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, a beautiful traditional kitchen, large windows with natural lighting and a massive fenced backyard. Stanley can still feel the difference in the wall between the living room and the hallway where Xeno was programming a rocket and missed a wire, causing it to go flying through the wall. Stanley was terrified when it happened, fully ready to take the blame for Xeno and be kicked out forever, but when his mom screamed and burst into the living room, she’d asked if they were okay before she even looked at the wall. After she realized what happened, she banned them from playing with rockets inside the house and asked what they wanted for dinner.
Xeno watches him touch the wall and thinks back to it fondly as well. Xeno leaves him be and takes his bags upstairs, deciding to get ahead of Stanley so he can speak to his mother alone for a moment. He passes Stanley on the way down to the kitchen and tells him to take his time settling in. In the kitchen, his mother is cooking a massive soup for 3 people in late May. In Texas. He internally shakes his head but is grateful for her regardless.
“Mom,” Xeno starts, “we’re going out tomorrow morning, I don’t know how long we’ll be gone but Stan has some family matters to attend to.”
She looks up from the soup she’s mixing and nods at him, “best of luck.”
Mary Wingfield once got into a heated argument with the General, the woman has nerves of steel. He wanted to bring Stanley home on the weekend he was supposed to sleepover and watch all 3 Spider-Man movies back in 2007. They were halfway through the first movie when he came pounding on the front door demanding to take his son home. Stanley wasn’t even aware he was coming back that weekend. The only reason she didn’t cuss him out on her front porch was because of the resigned look on Stanley’s face. He thanked her for her hospitality and walked out of the house quietly. Ever since that day, Mary has had a personal vendetta against Chuck Snyder.
“Let me know if I can help in any way, Xeno.” She says and goes back to stirring her soup.
Dinner is a peaceful affair, the 3 making comfortable conversation. Mary asks about what Stanley’s unit does, he tells her a half-truth and says experimental plane testing for her sake, something he has done in the past. Xeno describes his current project at work ad nauseam. Mary is invested even though she only understands every other word, happy to see her son so animated. They help with dishes afterwards and Mary tells them about her book club, the friends she’s made and her crafts clubs. Says she has sweaters she made for them.
“Mom, we live in southeast Texas,” Xeno tries to tell her.
“You will take them with you, Xeno.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
They arrive at the cemetery early in the morning, having to ask the groundskeeper where she was buried. Stanley and Xeno make their way through the cemetery grounds, flowers in hand. It’s a bright morning, the sun is high and warm. Both Xeno and Stanley are wearing black slacks, Stanley in a black button up and Xeno in navy blue. As they approach her grave, Xeno stays back near enough to call but far enough to allow him some privacy.
Stanley places the flowers on her grave, a simple collection of white tulips. He stared at her grave long and hard, thinking of his time at home. Of the times he would spend hiding in his room from her, of the times he would help her garden. He thinks of the day he left.
That morning was like any other, he was meant to head back to base that morning after his initial boot camp had finished. He looked around and realized his family was waiting for him to leave. None of them had cared he was leaving, they never wrote to him or called and they didn’t ask when he would be back. He was tired of living in a house. He wanted a home. That same day when he was 19, he put all his things in boxes and put them in storage. His grandmother didn’t question where he was going and he never came back. He spent as much time as possible in the military, his leaves being short, few and far between. The only person who wrote to him while he was there was Xeno. It wasn’t until he’d officially moved in with Xeno did he bother to take leaves longer than a few days at a time.
He looks down at his shoes and sighs. “Bye, Gran.” He turns away from her grave and walks back to Xeno. He reaches him and wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. Xeno returns it.
“Better?” Xeno asks.
He pulls back from the hug, “yeah, better.” They walk out of the cemetery, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m going to pay for her funeral.” Stanley says quietly. Xeno looks over at him as they walk. “Are you sure?” Xeno asks him, looking ahead. “I don’t want you to feel as though you have to.” Xeno elaborates.
Stanley looks ahead of him and lets out a resigned, “I know.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride home is quiet, as Stanley pulls into the driveway of the house and gets out with Xeno.
“I'll drop off a check and we can go back home tomorrow.” Stanley states, closing the car door. “Stay with your mom. I’ll be back soon.” Xeno is reluctant to let him go alone, but respects his wishes. “Call if you need anything.” Xeno says to him, looking him in the eye. “Even if it’s a getaway car.” Stanley huffs a laugh at that, “only in your dreams are you driving the getaway car,” he comments on his awful driving. “I’m a great driver. I’ve never gotten in an accident!” He crosses his arms and responds smugly.
“Yeah, and how many have you caused?” Stanley questions and takes out a cigarette. “I’m going inside.” Xeno says unapologetically. Stanley laughs and turns, moving to walk there. It’s been years since he had last been to his old house.
He walks slowly, enjoying the breeze in the air regardless of the warm temperature. Despite his unhurried pace, he arrives quickly.
He knocks on the front door, he debated going inside through the window of his old bedroom but decided against it in an attempt to make a point.
“Well I’ll be damned. Look who it is.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The General turns back into the house, leaving the door open for Stanley to walk through and close. He does as such, closing the door with a quiet click and looking around the house. Not much has changed in the years he has been gone, his siblings have moved out long before he did, considering they’re much older than he is. He listens to the quiet halls of the house, not so much as a pet roaming to fill the space.
Stanley lingers near the doorway to the living room, deciding against taking a seat anywhere. “I visited her grave. It’s good she’s near mom.” Stanley makes an attempt at small talk, this never being either of their fortes.
“Why don’t you sit down, Stanley. We need to talk.” His father gestures towards a couch, taking his own seat in a reclining chair at the end of the coffee table. “I’d rather not, thank you. How much was the funeral and I’ll throw in an extra thousand for hospital bills.” Stanley pulls out a checkbook from his back pocket and one of Xeno’s pens he’d swiped earlier.
“Don’t be like that-”
“What do you want me to say?” Stanley responds in a steady voice. “I haven't heard from you- any of you- for years. Suddenly you break into my house in the middle of the night to drop off a written apology from a woman who’s funeral I didn’t get an invite to.” Stanley rubs his eyes with one hand and sighs, the frustration of the last two days finally piling on him. “How much was the funeral?” He asks again in an agitated tone.
His father observes him quietly from his seat, “I called in some favors, had them pull where you were stationed. The date of her funeral you were out near Tuzla, two days waiting in a concealed position. There was no way to contact you safely.” Stanley feels his blood boil, a kind of anger only the lack of understanding from a parent can cause.
“It’s not about that! You waited a week after I had been home to tell me she was dead! You knew exactly where I was! You could have sent a letter, that letter, an invitation, or something at the time when she died.” The General leans forward, resting his arms on his knees.
“I was not going to send it there when you weren’t there to receive it, Stanley. Your operation took precedence.” The part that bothers Stanley is that he isn’t wrong. There are very few things Stanley would leave an active op for and unfortunately, the death of his grandmother, a woman he hardly spoke to, is not one of them.
“Except someone was there to receive it.”
At this, the General scoffs in disgust and shakes his head. “That boy ain’t a part of this family, Stanley.”
Stanley does not like to admit it, but he is so similar to his father. It’s a hard pill to swallow and as he stares at the man sitting in front of him, he understands exactly how he got to this position. His wife died, leaving him with 3 kids and a mother-in-law who thought the solutions to her problems could be found in the bottom of a bottle. He had to spend his time in the military, earning money for a family he never saw but had to support. When he finally does come back, they’re all gone and he’s left with a sick in law to take care of. And then she dies.
And he finds himself completely alone.
Maybe this was his roundabout way to get Stanley to speak to him again. He understands how the military can change people. He has his own baggage he carries around. He’s seen how it can consume a person and how it can change them for the worse. He is sure his father’s change started when his wife died and Stanley can’t say he blames him for it. He can’t even picture a life where he doesn’t have Xeno to come home to.
Stanley writes out a check for $5,000 and places it on the table. “Stay away from me and mine.” Stanley turns on his heel to leave and with his back turned to his father says, “enjoy your retirement, General. You’ve earned it.” He shows himself out, head held high and shoulders square. The front door clicks shut, the sound echoing through the empty hallways.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Xeno sits on the couch of his childhood home, knee bouncing with restless energy. “Xeno!” Mary calls for him from the kitchen, “come and help me peel these vegetables!” Xeno springs up from the couch at the call of his name and enters the kitchen. He washes his hands and picks up the peeler that is laid next to the massive jug of vinegar and joins her. She’s been trying out a number of new hobbies, a recent one being food fermentation. He thinks about the article she sent him a few weeks ago about fermented foods being nature’s probiotic and laughs internally. They make light conversation but Xeno’s head is elsewhere.
“It will be fine, Xeno. You always say you like what a capable man he is.” She doesn’t look up from her mincing.
“Of course he will be fine.” Xeno peels a carrot with a new tenacity.
“It’s fine if you’re worried, too.” She tacks on.
Xeno stops peeling a moment and glances at her, her position unwavering as she continues to peel away at the vegetables. She has a talent for picking Xeno apart without even thinking about it, making him feel bare and vulnerable. He nods and goes back to peeling. They spend a little while chopping, peeling and pickling. She talks about the recipes she got from the nice Korean lady in her sewing class and said she was kind enough to share them with her.
Stanley doesn’t come back to the house until well after noon. The two Wingfields look up and towards the front door at the same time, comically in sync. “What’s goin’ on in here?” Stanley leans against the entrance to the kitchen with his arms crossed, the black button up stretching over his biceps, forearms on display. This is the only time Xeno is grateful for Stanley’s constant absence in the military. While Mary throws him a ‘welcome back,’ Xeno looks at him expectantly and Stanley returns his look with a shake of his head. Later his face reads. Xeno holds up an arm with a sealed mason jar in response, navy blue sleeves rolled up, “we are beginning the elegant process of using bacteria and mold to turn the glucose in various vegetables into lactic acid-”
“Yep, got it, you’re pickling vegetables.” Stanley interrupts, never one for Xeno's long scientific explanations. Xeno nods in response, “I have some radish here for you. Mother said she got the recipe from a friend of hers, her proportions are impeccable.” Xeno continues to talk about the benefits of the 1/1.5 vinegar to water proportion but Stanley can hardly pay attention.
He remembers saying off-handedly a long time ago he liked the taste of pickled radish, he doesn’t even remember where he said it. He can’t describe the feeling he gets in his chest with any accuracy. It’s like all the air from his lungs was pulled out but at the same time he feels so full. It’s such a small detail and Stanley feels the overwhelming and consuming feeling of being known so well and thoroughly. To be thought of and considered so casually.
Stanley has no idea the face he’s making, but Mary takes that moment to excuse herself from the kitchen quietly, leaving the two of them alone. Only when she excuses herself does Xeno look up from where he was talking, his lecture coming to an abrupt end. He rinses his hands and dries them on a kitchen towel before taking Stanley’s hand in his own. Stanley puts his hand on the back of Xeno’s neck and pulls him in to kiss his forehead gently, grateful once again for his presence.
“What happened?” Xeno wraps an arm around his waist carefully, mindful of his still healing wound and draws circles with a thumb on his back.
“There is nothing in this world I would not do for you,” Stanley looks him in the eye. “I would burn it all for you, if you asked me to. I would crawl through hell to get back to you.” Stanley says in lieu of an explanation.
“Because of the radish?” Xeno looks at him with raised eyebrows, surprised at the outburst.
“I’m serious, Xeno.” Stanley reiterates. Xeno is at a loss for words, understanding his sentiment and grappling to find a response of his own.
“I.. Protons and neutrons are built from quarks and gluons.” He swallows hard, “they are bound states in hadrons.” Stanley is sure Xeno is going somewhere with this, at least he hopes it is. “Quarks and gluons aren’t necessarily the only combination-”
“It’s not about the radish-”
“They’re indivisible. They often come in pairs. But if you split them apart, they still stick together. They’re bound even when separated. And when they are separated they create more material to make more hadrons.” Xeno elaborates. He looks to the side and with a light red dusting his cheeks, he says, “to me, you and I are like that. Being with you is a fundamental law of existence, a foundational building block of life.”
Stanley looks at Xeno as he understands his declaration. He lifts a hand to Xeno’s cheek. And he laughs. He shoves his face in Xeno’s neck and laughs, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing. Xeno squeezes back, albeit mildly confused.
“You’re such a nerd,” Stanley pulls back and smiles at him fondly while Xeno’s face scrunches into a look of fake offense.
“I was being serious!” Xeno attempts to defend himself.
“I know you were, I love your big, sexy brain.” Xeno looks away at his comment but Stanley tries to keep his gaze, “c’mon, talk corks to me.”
“Quarks, Stanley.”
“That’s what I said.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
They spend the rest of their afternoon with Mary before finally getting everything together to depart for their house on the other side of the city. On their way home, Stanley gives him a shortened version of what happened from the passenger seat, explaining the very little ground he truly got to cover with his father and how he left him the check.
Xeno keeps his eyes firmly on the road, but Stanley can see the gears in his head turning.
“He made his choice, Xe. And I made mine. That’s all there is to it.” Stanley puts a hand on Xeno’s thigh. Xeno nods in acknowledgement.
“I know- I know that. It’s simply disheartening.” Xeno takes one hand off the wheel and places it on top of Stanley’s.
Stanley wouldn’t verbalize how it does hurt, but as something far away. Stanley made a conscious choice not to speak to his family a long time ago. This simply served as a reminder why.
“It’s better this way, I would choose you every time- Xeno, you ran that light.” Stanley observes as they speed through a light that was red well before they crossed the intersection.
“It’s okay, there are no cops or cameras at that one.” Xeno replies coolly as though that justifies it.
“Whatever you say, dear.”
“And I choose you every time, too.”
~~~~~~~~~~
They arrive home in record time, after 3 more run lights and numerous rolled through stop signs. Stanley resigned himself to a bumpy ride home when Xeno insisted on driving home. Countless special op missions and nothing compares to the fear he feels when Xeno drives. “Honestly man, you should have been a NASCAR driver or something.” Stanley tells him, “I think you missed your true calling.”
Xeno laughs at this and at his laughter, Stanley remembers something wonderful as they drag their bags into their room.
“They told me I couldn’t do any strenuous activity for 2 weeks. Today is day 14.” Xeno throws his bag into the corner of the room, before it even touches the ground, he is on Stanley with the tenacity of a desperate man.
“You know how you said you would always follow me?” He says between kisses. “Hypothetically, if I wanted to rule over the ignorant masses using science in a stone age, would you help me?” Stanley breaks off from his mouth.
“God, especially then, that would be so hot.” Stanley leaves a trail of up kisses Xeno’s neck and drags him into their bed, laughing all the way down.