Chapter Text
It’s well into noon now. Sunlight streams in through the gaps of the curtain, bathing their bedroom with warm lighting. It’s really only serving to pull them under sleep further, rather than rouse them from sleep.
Derek and Yellow would gladly go back to bed. There’s nothing important to do today anyway. It’s Avery’s day off, and Derek works from home. There’s nothing that either of them can’t push to do for later. And so, the decision to go back to sleep is easily made.
Long arms reach over his side, over the mountain of plush toys, over the tangled blankets, to reach for Avery—who isn’t there. Blue-green eyes widen at the lack of contact, patting and patting at the covers on Avery’s side of the bed doesn’t make him appear. Avery isn’t a genie and the bed isn’t a lamp he can rub to make him appear. What is he thinking?
Panicked, they call out “Avery?" To the room. Voice booming past the walls. At the same time, Derek scrambles off the bed, balance supplemented only by Yellow, who was lazily whispering words he couldn’t make sense of inside his brain. “Aves?"
As I’ve said. Yellow fed up, continues. He’s in the living room calling his mom—
“—Living room, Derek!” Avery’s voice comes from the room just past the hallway. Rushing to the living room, Derek is greeted by Avery smiling softly from the sofa with a phone slanted on a cup on the table. Those crescent shaped eyes look at him with the weight of a blanket, instantly quieting the PARASITE in his brain.
Jackass.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Derek doesn’t whine, he just asks.
A guilty laugh sprinkles from Avery’s lips before he says, “You looked like you were having a nice dream. Besides, it’s not like you were missing out on much either.”
Sighing dramatically, Derek falls over the armchair, landing face first into Avery’s lap. “Still… I want to spend time with you…”
“You sap,” Avery huffs. His hands still find themselves combing through Derek’s hair though. “There there. It’s still just noon.”
“Ahem.” A feminine voice clears her throat. Demanding attention back to the phone propped up on the table.
The hand on his hair stills and so does Derek. “Get off my son’s lap, boy.” Immediately, Derek scrambles to sit properly beside Avery. All long limbs and the energy of a cat caught red handed with the toilet paper.
Avery’s mom—Angelica Mae Flores, address her with her name! We want to impress her, damn it!—stares at him with all the cold calculation of a hunting tigress. Even though only the top half of her face is visible on the screen. Her prim eyebrow is raised at him judgementally, as if grading the very carbon that makes up his existence.
“You are… Derek Hutchins?” Her voice has a heavy accent. Noticeable in the heavy ‘r’ and hard ‘k’.
“Yes ma’am.”
Avery looks at his mom, horrified. “Ma! Wag mo takutin si Derek!” (Mom! Don’t scare Derek!) Yellow whispers the translation to his brain after Avery speaks. Not that he needed to do that, Derek already knows how to speak Tagalog, thank you very much.
“Kung sino-sino jino-jowa mo.” (Who is your boyfriend? but like in a mean tone.).
“Ma, alam mo naririnig ka niya diba?” (Mom, you know he can hear you, right?) Comes Avery’s flustered reply.
“Edi wow.” Wow. Derek did not think Avery’s mom was going to be this dry. “Derek right?”
At the mention of his name, Derek straightens. “That is me.”
“Tell me about yourself.”
There are many possible responses that Derek could give. However, the time it takes to make and choose the most perfect response takes longer than he would like and Avery’s mom—Mrs. Flores to you—is staring at him in silence.
“Uh—” He stammers. “I’m Derek Hutchins. Twenty-six years old. I got accepted into MIT with a full ride scholarship—” Derek doesn’t bother telling her that he dropped out. He has a feeling that now isn’t a good time to share that yet.
Avery is visibly getting flustered beside him.
“—and I am currently making six figures a month as a private firm’s cybersecurity specialist.” That wasn’t technically a lie. He’s constantly highlighting possible breaches in the government's security and they sort of pay him for it. Sort of, because he just kind of… takes a big chunk of money and the government can’t really do anything about it. Bottom line is, he has a lot of money. That’s what matters right?
Mrs. Flores obviously wants someone competent and responsible to take care of Avery. Which, assuming that he’s said all the right things, is what he is in her eyes.
She is silent. Staring deeply into him with a crick in her brows.
Did he already fuck this up?
No. Lock the fuck in.
“Vie. ‘Wag mong sabihin na jinowa mo lang siya kasi mayaman siya.” (Vie. Don’t tell me you’re only with him because he’s rich.)
Avery sputters out incoherent sentences in both Tagalog and English. Hands hiding his flustered face. His heated glare is directed to the phone on the table.
At this, they feel offended. “Hey, that’s your mom.”
“Derek, if you knew what she was saying—”
“Alam ko.” (I know.) Derek placates. Hands running soothing patterns onto the sides of Avery’s shoulders. Avery stares at him slack jawed. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.”
“Oh! You know Tagalog hah?” Finally, Mrs. Flores’ voice takes on an excited tone.
Oh. That’s all we needed to do?
.
.
.
On the other end of the line, Angelica is quietly appraising her son’s strange boyfriend. She isn’t dumb. She knows that this boy is likely the cause of the bruises that started forming on Avery’s arms, even if he tried to hide it. Call it a mother’s intuition, but she isn’t too keen on being too welcoming to him.
Yet.
When she looks into her son’s eyes as he talks with this boy, she can’t help but soften a little. There hasn’t been that shine in his eyes in a long while. Even if he’s found his calling. This sort of radiance in those hazel eyes he got from his father was one she had silently mourned the loss of six years ago, on that new years’ eve. She never thought she’d see it again. Not since those eyes closed for the last time. Not since six years ago.
Yet here it is again. Shining so brightly like it was never lost.
And it was because of this boy. This boy who has her thoughts in a jumble about. Angelica doesn’t know what to think about this, frankly, pathetic looking man. But if Avery has chosen him…
She may not know Avery as well as she used to, but she does know him well enough that he knows how to handle himself. She knows that her son is capable of setting his boundaries, capable of leaving if he sees the need for it. Her boy has grown so much in the past four years. She was proud of him, damnit
Damn it. If Avery thinks that this boy deserves his presence, she won’t mess with it.
Well, at least not too much.
She is still a mother after all.
Clearing her throat, she directs the attention back to her. Quickly scanning her head for topics to talk about to get to know her son’s boyfriend in the seconds that it takes for them to return to her. The least she could do is to try and see what Avery sees in Derek.
.
.
.
In the way that a mom does, Mrs. Flores has successfully burrowed herself under Derek’s chest. Or maybe it was a Flores thing. That lacunae they thought was only applicable to Avery seems to stretch itself over his mother. If they stretch it, maybe the whole family too.
Though, Derek hasn’t seen much of Avery’s family to confidently make that conclusion. But he is willing to bet a hefty sum on it. Seriously, what is up with the Flores family?
In the rambling of their thoughts, they almost missed Mrs. Flores’ praise for him.
“You speak good Tagalog.” The praise is clipped and curt. “Did Avery teach you?”
“Ah—he didn’t actually. I wanted to surprise Avery with it when our anniversary comes around.” Derek shuffles awkwardly. Bashfulness coming off of him in waves. “But when I saw you I—I suppose that uhm.” Avery’s hand moves over to hold his supportively. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“That’s really sweet, Derek.” Avery coos.
Fucking sap. Yellow grumbles from his thoughts. ‘Like you aren’t?’
“I’ll go soon. Your sister is calling, Vie.” Mrs. Flores informs. “Be good, you two. Call me again, okay?”
Avery hums out an affirmative tune.
Mrs. Flores hangs up the call, her profile picture takes up a big circle on the screen. The baby in her profile picture is smiling back at them, before blinking into darkness.
… That lady was intimidating.
Derek threw himself over Avery’s lap the second the phone went dark. “Your mom is scary.”
“Well…” Exasperatedly, Avery cards his fingers across Derek’s long hair. They lean into it. “She’s—she can’t be that scary, right?”
“She is,” Again, Derek is not whining. “Won’t you comfort your scared partner?” The last word comes out with a hiss. Not intentionally, just a slip of their tongue.
Partner. The word always makes Avery’s ears turn red, before he turns his head to the side to hide from their gaze. Even if it’s useless. It’s still cute.
Avery continues to untangle his hair. The soft pads of his fingers gently massage their head. It’s enough to lull them back to sleep.
.
.
.
Yellow wakes up to the scent of something warm and soupy. Derek had decided that today is a stationary day, and has therefore retreated into the farthest corner of their shared mind. If there even was a corner. He’s still present, don’t get them wrong. But they have a sort of trust with each other now that control can easily be given.
Getting up from the couch, the afternoon sunset strikes him straight into the eye. Blinding him upon sitting up. He lets out a strangled noise, loud enough to garner the attention of a bumbling Avery in the kitchen.
“Oh, good morning you two!”
Looking to his right, behind the couch, they see Avery, who was carefully chopping up vegetables in the kitchen, not even moving to look at them. It's not strange, Avery doesn’t like to shift too much of his attention around whenever he’s cutting food.
“Hello, dearest.”
“Hi Yellow.” Avery’s voice is warmer now when it carries his name. Yellow had grown fond of this.
Standing from the couch, he folds the blanket tucked over their body into a neat square by the pillow. Yellow moves over to the kitchen, carefully making enough noise for Avery to listen for, so that he isn’t spooked when Yellow suddenly appears somewhere.
Long arms come to wrap around Avery’s torso. He has to lean down a little bit to dig his nose into Avery’s hair. Inhaling the grassy scent of his shampoo.
“Making chicken soup. You wanna help with the sides?”
“...No.”
Cooking with Avery has been a task that’s been mostly delegated to Derek, as Yellow has little to no interest in cooking. Even if Derek has had too many close calls with the fire alarm, and Avery eyes Derek warily before handing a task off to him. Yellow wouldn’t take it still (at least not without convincing). Content with the taste of Avery’s hands in his food.
Droopy eyes stare at him, the light seemingly catching in them like ripples. This is not going to work. “Come help me so we can eat together sooner. ” Avery says, a frown threatening to slip onto his lips. “C’mon…”
‘Yellow, it’s just cooking. I know you can do that much.’
“Hm.”
Avery sighs, his shoulders drooping. The contents of the pot are barely stirred, reflecting a distorted view of Avery’s shadowed face. His brows are pinched together, lip jutting out into a frown that he swears isn’t a pout.
‘Let me out. I’ll do it.’
Fat chance. Both of us know you are going to set back dinner time.
Then, something glimmers in those hazel eyes and the pot is stirred once again.
“Please, Yellow?”
“Fine,” Yellow folds. ‘No pressure, by the way.’ You're one to talk.
A happy smile beams from Avery’s face. It’s almost enough to make up for the fact that he’s getting Yellow to cook. A comfortable silence covers the little bubble they’ve found themselves in in the kitchen. Avery makes the place so warm, even if he knows it's just from the stove.
“Uh-So I know that this is maybe a sensitive topic,” Avery starts, hands cupped over the chopped vegetables as he drops them over the boiling soup. “But uh–You’ve met my mom.”
“Yes.”
“So I was thinking…”
There is a barely audible shift in the air from Avery’s throat. His breath shaping words in practice before he says it aloud. It’s a habit that was long since there, only seen when Avery has a presentation to do, or an important defense coming up. Never with them, though.
This shift in behavior has no doubt roused Derek from… wherever he is.
“Maybe I could… meet your mom too?”