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Ever since they officially started dating, Harris and Rodrick made a conscious decision to keep things mostly under wraps. They each only told a select few people, and otherwise kept to themselves. Rodrick told his band– all of whom were very supportive– and Harris told his close friends, all of whom already knew he was gay anyway. The main reason for all of the secrecy was primarily because of how invasive the Heffleys tend to be– with Rodrick’s mom trying to be involved in all of her kids’ business, Greg being nosy by nature, and Frank being suspicious of anything to do with Rodrick. He had yet to come out to any of them, and he honestly didn’t know if he would ever want to. It just felt like too much work, and Harris seemed perfectly fine with sneaking around– it wasn’t like his parents knew he was gay either. They do, however, have a few places where they were safe to be as cheesy and romantic as they desired. The back of Rodrick’s van, Harris’s house, and a few other secluded spots around town were all basically free game for them, and they took advantage of them often.
It was one of those evenings where the crisp fall air gave the night a more exciting edge, a feeling that was entirely divorced from the excitement that stemmed from Löded Diper having a proper gig– and Rodrick’s decision to properly introduce Harris to the band. The venue was a restaurant that had live music nights every Friday, and they made a point to support local artists. It was the first time Löded Diper was playing there, but they had hopes that they’d end up being a new favorite– or better yet, become one of the regular bands.
When they arrived, Löded Diper wasted no time to begin their setup, carrying amps and cables and all of their other equipment inside. Since they were performing, they got to use the back entrance and park in the employee lot. Rodrick hung back, watching the parking lot and trying to spot Harris’s car– or rather Heather’s car, but Harris had convinced her to drive him there. He spotted the cherry red hood, and his heart did a little flip.
“Rodrick, you coming?” Ward asked, peeking his head out of the doorway. Rodrick was still just standing outside of the van, holding the kick drum lamely, having yet to even close or lock up the van.
“Uh– yeah! In a sec, I’m waiting on someone,” he calls back. Ward just shrugs and goes back inside, probably to help finish setting up the rest of their stuff. Meanwhile, Heather kicked Harris out of the car and he jogged over to the back entrance, where Rodrick had said to meet him. A smile tugged at Rodrick’s lips when he saw him, especially when Harris threw an arm around him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Hey,” Harris greets, breathless. “I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”
“Nah,” Rodrick laughs, leading him inside. The restaurant was dimly lit, and decently busy for a Friday. Löded Diper was almost done setting up the small stage area against the back wall, and people were already looking interested. “Anyway, you ready to meet the guys?” he asks, nodding to the stage. Harris nods and follows him over, looking around and taking in the audience.
Ben spots them first, grinning when he recognizes Harris. “Aw sweet, your boyfriend came!” he teases, nudging Chris with his elbow to get him to look up. Ward had been tuning his bass, and paused to wave at Harris.
“Damn, I thought you were joking,” Chris mutters, glancing at Rodrick with wide eyes. “So you’re like, actually into dudes?”
Rodrick, who had hopped up on stage to finish putting his drums together, shot him an incredulous look. “You thought I was joking?” he asks, exasperated. “Why the hell would I have been joking?”
Chris just shrugged in response. “I dunno, I just didn’t think you’d have it in you.”
“Didn’t have what in me–?”
“Guys!” Ben interjects, getting between them before Rodrick could get in Chris’s space. “We need to start our set already. We can’t make a bad impression on our first night here!”
Rodrick sighs, but doesn’t argue. He does, however, hop off the stage to catch up with Harris, who had taken a seat at an empty table near the stage. “Wish me luck,” he murmurs, leaning into his space. Harris caught his shoulder and pulled him in just a bit closer, all so he could steal a kiss.
“Since when do you need luck?” he teases as Rodrick pulls away, his cheeks flushed and a dumb smile on his lips. “Knock ‘em dead, babe.”
Löded Diper got a mixed reaction from their audience, which was to be expected. They were an acquired taste after all, with their amateur playing and their vulgar name. Still, some people really did seem to be into it, and Löded Diper might have gained a few new fans. However, the people who didn’t really didn’t, and sent their complaints straight to the manager. The manager let them finish their set, but told them not to count on coming back ever again, which sucked, but it definitely could've been worse. The band was riding the high of getting a real, paid gig, so the less than stellar reception was hardly discouraging.
Rodrick was feeling especially on-top-of-the-world, because Harris finally got to see a true Loded Diper performance, and it happened to be one of their best performances in a while. He helped them load up after, gushing about how good they sounded, and how cool Rodrick looked behind the drums. Needless to say, Rodrick was preening from the attention. Once the last of the amps and cables were loaded into the back of the van, Chris and Ward said their goodbyes and went to find their car. Ben hung back because Rodrick said he’d drive him home, though he hadn’t anticipated Harris joining them.
“Shotgun,” He called, pulling the passenger door open while Rodrick got in on his side. Harris was already climbing in the back when Rodrick shook his head.
“Uh, no? Harris gets shotgun,” he says, like it's obvious. “Boyfreind privileges.”
“What?” Ben squawked, affronted. “But I called shotgun.”
“Overulled.” Rodrick shrugs. “Get in the back.”
“Rodrick, it’s fine,” Harris cut in, leaning against the center console, poking his head between them. “I’ll just jump in front when you drop him off.”
“See? He gets it.”
“Fine,” Rodrick grumbles, starting up the van and pulling out of the parking lot. He sulked while Harris and Ben chatted about the show, recounting the coolest parts and how awesome it was. They got along surprisingly well, much to Rodrick’s annoyance. Ben was his friend, sure, but he didn’t like seeing him make Harris grin and laugh like that.
When they arrived at the Segal household, Rodrick braked hard, skidding forward and knocking over the trash cans left out on the curb. “What the hell, man?” Ben groaned, hopping out. Harris takes his place, smacking Rodrick’s arm.
“Why are you being a dick?” he asks, clicking his seatbelt into place. He wasn’t going to delay that particular safety feature if he was going to drive like an asshole. Rodrick just shrugged, barely glancing at him as he drove away from Ben’s house. Harris studies him, his brows drawn together. “What, are you jealous or something?
Rodrick’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “No.” he muttered. Silence hung in the van as he drove, still sulking a bit. It wasn’t until he slowed to a stop outside of his own house did he speak up again. “Maybe a little.” he admits begrudgingly.
Harris nods, playing with his seatbelt but not unfastening it yet. “Any particular reason why?”
“I don’t know!” Rodrick groans, banging his head against the steering wheel. “I thought it’d be awesome to have you meet the band, but… I dunno. It feels weird.”
Harris hums, mulling over his words. It made sense, in a way. They hardly ever hang out around other people, and the one other time that Rodrick introduced him to people close to him was during dinner at his house, and that hadn’t really gone well. “We should hang out in group settings more often,” he muses, reaching over to squeeze Rodrick’s hand. “To get you used to the feeling and stuff. I can properly introduce you to some of my friends, and we can see if you feel the same way.”
Rodrick nods slowly, considering it. “Yeah. Sure,” he sighs, and finally shuts off the van. “C’mon, we’re gonna go in through the back so we don’t wake anyone up.”
They made their way through the yard quietly, probably looking like a pair of cat burglars as Rodrick crouched by the door, unlocking it as quietly as possible. He opened the door slowly, motioning for Harris to go on ahead of him. Harris went straight upstairs, keeping his footsteps quiet as he made a bee-line for Rodrick’s room, silently praying he remembered the correct way. Rodrick was right on his heels, closing the door behind him once they were both inside.
“God, I’m exhausted,” Harris groans, wasting no time in yanking off his shirt and tossing it onto some random chair. Rodrick’s eyes were glued to him, and he felt a little lightheaded for a moment. “So, uh, can I borrow some sleep pants or something?” Harris asks, turning to face him. “I don’t really want to sleep in jeans.”
Rodrick swallowed thickly, only able to bring himself to nod– he really didn’t trust his words at the moment. Usually, he wore sweatpants to bed, so he grabbed a pair for Harris too. They were thankfully close enough in size that sharing clothes was easy, but this inevitable change in wardrobe posed a different issue. Is it weird to change in front of each other now? It wasn’t something he’d really considered before, but then again, he hadn’t given his attraction to men all that much thought until recently. Harris seemed to have a similar hesitation once he’d been handed the sweatpants.
“You don’t mind if I change in here, right?” he asks, rather than beating around the awkwardness.
“Nah, go ahead,” Rodrick says, waving his hand dismissively. If Harris wasn’t going to treat it as weird, then neither would he. Besides, why would he pass up a chance to check out his boyfriend? He’s never had a boyfriend to check out before, and it was still new and exciting. Harris took his time, peeling off his jeans and folding them lazily before draping them on the very same chair he had tossed his shirt on. Only then did he pull on the sweatpants he was given, stepping into them gingerly and then pulling them up over his thighs, until they rested low on his hips. “Damn,” Rodrick mumbles, quickly changing before Harris could turn and notice the staring.
Rodrick’s staring had been impossible to miss, there were only so many reasons he would be that still or quiet. Still, Harris just smiled to himself and crawled onto Rodrick’s bed, politely choosing not to fully turn around until he was sure he was dressed. Rodrick climbed in after him, sliding under the blankets and pulling him into his arms. “Mm, this is nice,” he mumbled, shifting around a bit until he could turn to face his boyfriend. “Hey there.”
“Hi,” Rodrick grins, closing the gap and pressing his lips to Harris’s. Harris hummed into the kiss, and wrapped his arms around Rodrick, pulling him closer. When they broke apart, they didn’t bother pulling away. They stayed like that, cuddled close, and eventually drifted off.
Cuddling is great and all, but when it's between two teenage boys who sweat very easily, it can get pretty gross, pretty fast. Harris woke up first, a bit disoriented as he squinted in the morning light that filtered through the cheap blinds. Rodrick was sprawled over him, his head resting heavily on his stomach, and one arm clamped around his waist like a vice. It felt quite a bit like being used like a living pillow. Harris couldn’t help but smile when he finally spotted Rodrick’s expression, all slack and soft from being asleep. He was pretty cute like this, it was undeniable. The soreness in his muscles from sleeping in an odd position was also undeniable.
“Rodrick,” he rasped, his morning voice thick and gravelly. The boy on top of him didn’t even stir, so he shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to free his other arm. “Baby, wake up. I’m hungry.”
Rodrick groaned, the miserable sound coming from low in his throat as he pressed his face against Harris’s soft stomach. “Noooooo,” he whines, the sound muffled. “Five more minutes.”
Harris huffed a laugh, running a hand through Rodrick’s greasy bedhead, gently scratching his scalp until he let out a happy sigh. “I know you’re awake,” he chastises playfully. “It’s too late to still pretend to be asleep. Besides, what if one of your parents comes up here to wake you up?”
That finally earned him a real reaction– Rodrick’s eyes snapped open and he sat up so fast he nearly knocked his head against Harris’s chin. He frantically blinked the sleep from his eyes, squinting over at the door like he might be able to see through it if he tried hard enough. “Right,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He hadn’t bothered to remove any of his makeup from the night before, so it got smudged all around his eyes. “Right. Yeah.”
“You look like a raccoon,” Harris snickered, grabbing Rodrick’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. He guided Rodrick closer, all so he could use his thumb to gently wipe some of the sticky eyeliner off of his cheekbone. Rodrick melted into the touch, his heart stuttering from the gentle way that Harris handled him. To be entirely fair, this was also the first time Rodrick had ever seen Harris in early morning light. It had the effect of making him look softer, his blond hair wild with untamed curls, cheeks flushed pink, and wearing nothing but his sweatpants– a pair that he had happened to lose the drawstring to, which meant they hung low on Harris’s hips. He really had no other choice than to lean in, pressing a soft, lazy kiss to the side of Harris’s jaw, and then another, and another, slowly moving up until he could nip at his ear.
Harris shivered, a soft giggle falling from his lips as he indulged Rodrick, letting him get away with his very distracting affections. “Mm, that’s enough,” he murmurs, pushing Rodrick away when he tries to suck on his neck. “It’s bad enough you snuck me in, I don’t need to risk running into your parents with a hickey on my neck.”
“Oh,” Rodrick mumbled dumbly, a sappy, sheepish sort of smile tugging at his lips. He had forgotten, just for a moment. “Right– yeah. I think it’ll be fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah,” Rodrick drawled, sounding much too sure of himself for how early in the day it was. “My mom likes you, right? We can just say you came to watch my set, and then I was gonna drive you home, but we decided you’d just crash with me instead.”
Harris blinked. For a moment, it almost sounded like a good plan– then he really thought about it. “Hm. Well–” he paused, and shrugged off his apprehension. It’ll probably be fine. “Ah, whatever. I’ll say I didn’t have my key on me, and it was past my curfew anyway.”
Rodrick grinned, finally rolling off of him and stretching out. “That’s the spirit!” he chuckles, grabbing some random T-shirt off of his floor and throwing it on. Harris followed suit, getting up with a soft groan, and then changing back into his clothes from the day before.
They went downstairs together, listening as they neared the hustle and bustle that seemed to originate from the kitchen. Manny was rambling about something from some dumb cartoon, Susan was trying to act like she was paying attention to him while she was very obviously cooking, and Frank sat at the table, flipping through the paper like he didn’t have a care in the world. From Rodrick’s lack of reaction, Harris guessed this was pretty typical of the Heffley household. Greg wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so he assumed that meant he was still in bed.
“Morning, mom,” Rodrick yawned, sidling up beside her and stealing two pieces of toast. Susan mumbled a quick hello, barely looking over at him. Harris had hung back, loitering by the entryway so he wouldn’t draw too much attention to himself. It wasn’t the most effective move, because Manny seemed to spot him immediately.
“Why’re you here?” Manny asks, scrunching up his little face as he points a sticky finger directly at Harris. Susan whipped around, brightening instantly when she spotted him.
“Oh! Harris, hi honey,” she greets, turning off the stove. “I didn’t hear you come in. Did you spend the night here?”
Harris smiled sheepishly, noticing the wide-eyed panic that flashed across Rodrick’s face. “Yeah, sorry Mrs. Heffley,” he says, stepping into the kitchen. “I went to watch Rodrick’s gig, and he offered to drive me home. I forgot my key though, so he let me crash here instead.” Rodrick nodded along, handing him the other piece of toast.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all! You’re always welcome here,” Susan insists, grabbing an extra plate. “Are you hungry? I’m making eggs and bacon.”
“Uh, I’m good, but thank you,” Harris hums, taking a bite of the toast. “I should probably head home before someone realizes I’m gone.”
“I’m taking him home,” Rodrick pipes up, grabbing a few slices of bacon before darting out of the kitchen, taking Harris with him.
Frank finally lowers his newspaper, flicking it closed with a sharp snap. He didn’t say a word at first, studying the two boys as they stumbled up the stairs, practically leaning into each other as they went. There was cold judgement in his eyes as his mind ran wild with theories, his suspicions only growing. Susan shot him a disapproving look as she set his plate in front of him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she began sternly. “But I don’t want you starting anything. Harris is such a good friend for Rodrick.”
“Yeah, friend,” Frank scoffs. His wife smacks his shoulder and then returns to plating the rest of the food.
Rodrick and Harris came back down, now both fully dressed and chatting to each other in hushed tones. They didn’t come by the kitchen this time, despite Susan telling them both bye, and instead went right for the door.
“Well, that went alright,” Harris muses, looping his arm through Rodrick’s as they walked down the front steps.
“I guess,” Rodrick agrees, flashing him a grin. “I think my mom might like you more than she likes me, though.”
Harris huffed a laugh, glancing back towards the house to make sure no one was watching them from the windows. For a second, he thought he spotted something in one of the second story windows, but when he looked again he didn’t see anything. “I doubt it, she’s just sweet.”
“If you say so,” Rodrick scoffed, pulling away so he could unlock the van, opening the passenger door for Harris.
“What a gentleman,” Harris teased, patting Rodrick’s cheek playfully as he got in.
Rodrick grinned, his cheeks pink as he got in too, starting up the van and leaning across the console to steal a kiss. “Wanna grab some food before I drop you off?” He asks, pulling back slightly.
“Hell yeah.”
It was nearly noon when Rodrick returned home, but the atmosphere felt off from the second he stepped through the door. His mom was cleaning the kitchen, and Manny was following her around to ‘help’, and his dad was probably down in the basement, working on his civil war dioramas. All of that was normal, and didn’t explain the strangeness in the air. It wasn’t until he spotted Greg, sitting in the living room and casually flipping through a book, did he start to really suspect that something was wrong.
Greg lowers his book, a smug smile on his face. “Hey there, Rodrick,” he greets, sounding gleeful. “Have fun taking your boyfriend home?”
Rodrick’s stomach dropped, but he forced his expression into a scowl. “What are you talking about, dweeb?” he snapped, dread slowly growing heavier in his chest.
Greg’s smile only grew. “I saw you kissing Harris in your van,” he says, tucking a bookmark between the pages before closing his book entirely. “Do you think dad will find that interesting?”
“Greg,” Rodrick hissed, glancing around to make sure neither parent was within earshot. “You’re gonna keep your mouth shut, alright? Or I’ll kill you. Literally fucking kill you.”
Greg’s smile faltered slightly, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would fully give up holding this bit of leverage over Rodrick. “I’m pretty sure dad will kill you first,” he snarks, watching Rodrick fume. “But I’m fine keeping it to myself as long as you do some things for me.”
So that was his play. Rodrick bit the inside of his cheek, a cross between being a little impressed at Greg’s attempt at blackmail, and being genuinely pissed at him for even thinking to threaten him like this. The worst part though, was that their relationship had actually been a lot better lately. Rodrick tormented him a lot less, and they had come to a point where they were mostly civil with each other. But, apparently, the allure of blackmail was just too good to resist. “Just.. keep your mouth shut or I’ll find something worse than anything dad would do to me, and do it to you.” Rodrick turned on his heel, determined to walk off before he did something truly rash. Behind him, Greg snickered, which only riled him up more. When he got up to his room, he kicked the door shut behind him and cursed under his breath, pulling out his phone to call Harris.
Rodrick told him all about Greg’s stab at blackmail, and confessed that he was actually panicking over the possibility that he could slip up and rat him out to his parents. Harris did his best to calm him down, but there was only so much he could do through the phone. Finally, he offered one last suggestion, though he stressed that it was a last resort.
“I mean… the blackmail becomes useless if you come out first,” Harris says hesitantly, still going over the logistics in his head. “If your parents have a bad reaction, just come crash at mine.”
Rodrick flopped down onto his bed, his phone pressed against his ear so hard it was beginning to ache. Come out first. It was a terrifying prospect in of itself, but he already knew what his dad thought of queer people– and Harris specifically. The mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach, and the feeling was a million times more intense than when he had decided to come out to his band. “Yeah,” he muttered, scrubbing his free hand over his face. It wasn’t like he could come up with a better idea.
He didn’t do it right away, foolishly hoping that Greg would either forget or get bored. Instead, each passing day only stirred up more paranoia in his gut, making him feel sick with dread. Every time Greg walked into a room, Rodrick watched him like a hawk. Every time his dad looked at him weird or seemed in a worse moon, he couldn’t help the spike of fear that flared in his chest. Worse still, Greg was milking the blackmail for all that it was worth. He got Rodrick to do his portion of the chores, fork over his stash of snacks, and perform all sorts of other miscellaneous tasks. By the time Wednesday rolled around, Rodrick was exhausted and stressed to the point that Susan was starting to pick up on it, asking if thought he was coming down with something. The breaking point came on a Thursday, late in the evening when most of the Heffleys were busy with their nightly rituals.
Rodrick was tossing things in his backpack, from his drumsticks to other odds and ends he wanted to have access to later, when he spotted Greg lurking in the doorway, watching him with a smug little smirk.
“Hey, Rodrick,” he chirps, leaning against the doorframe. “Mom wants to do a family movie night tomorrow. You should get some snacks, like the stuff mom doesn’t like buying.”
Rodrick was fed up. The constant tension, having to always look over his shoulder, the humiliation of being blackmailed by a wimpy thirteen-year-old– it all came to a head and he had a harrowing realization. He was sick of hiding– he was sick of walking on eggshells and hiding in his own home. More than any of that, he was sick of Greg’s smug ass face. “Not a chance in hell, wimp,” he mutters, shoving past Greg rough enough to send him stumbling into the wall. His feet carried him downstairs before he could really think it through, and before he knew it he was standing in front of both of his parents in the living room. His hands shook, and his chest felt too tight to breathe, but he couldn’t back out. He was committed.
“Mom. Dad,” he begins, clearing his throat as he steeled his nerves. “We need to talk.”
Frank glanced over, his brows pinched slightly. Susan looked concerned, setting aside the laundry she had been folding. “What is it, Rodrick?”
Rodrick took a slow breath, and the words just started tumbling out. “I’m gonna be honest about something.. I’m dating someone, and it’s going really well,” Susan smiled, looking proud, but Frank still looked a mix between skeptical and confused. “It’s been amazing, actually, and I don’t want to hide him anymore. I’m dating Harris.”
The room was dead silent. Greg had followed Rodrick into the living room, and was watching from the doorway, his eyes as wide as saucers. Frank’s expression hardened, and Susan watched him warily. “So what,” Frank scoffs. “You’re gay now? Because you started hanging out with that prissy rich kid?”
“Frank!” Susan started, only to be cut off by Rodrick.
“Don’t fucking call him that,” he says, standing his ground. “And I’m not gay. I’m bisexual. I like girls and guys.”
Frank studied him for a moment, like he was deciding whether or not he believed him or would take him seriously at all. “That’s not real,” he says, standing up straight. “You either like women, or you’re a faggot. Now stop screwing around, or get out of my house.”
Rodrick clenched his fists by his sides, an angry heat pouring through him. “Fine.” he mutters, glaring at the man across from him. “I’ll leave.”
“Rodrick, honey, no–” Susan began, but Frank rounded on her, cutting her off.
“I’m not letting him stay here if that’s the lifestyle he’s choosing, Susan!” he shouted, his temper finally making an appearance. “You’re not going to change my mind on this. It’s bad enough that we raised a son like that–”
“What is wrong with you, Frank?” Susan yelled, and the couple dissolved into a shouting match over whether Rodrick should be allowed to keep living there or not.
Rodrick just turned and left, blocking out the sounds of their fighting as he went up the stairs to grab his bag. As he passed Greg, he noticed how the middle-schooler’s eyes were shiny and wide, like he was trying not to cry. A cold sense of satisfaction battled with his anger towards the situation, and he really couldn’t help himself when he boxed the side of Greg’s head– not too hard, of course. “See what you fuckin’ did, wimp?” he mutters, barely slowing down. It didn’t take all that long for him to grab his backpack and toss in a few changes of clothes, his phone charger, and any cash he had stashed around his room. Then he left, down the stairs and out the front door, never bothering to look back.
Ten minutes later Rodrick was standing on the front steps of the Hills house, texting Harris to come let him in. Things definitely sucked, but at least he wasn’t going through it completely alone. He had his boyfriend and his band, he didn’t need his parents. He was fine. Obviously.