Archive of Our Own

Jonas sighs stares at the shoreline, watching lazy waves roll toward him then retreat back to the sea again. He digs his heels into the sand, each movement deepening the small holes in the ground and making the dry sand squeak beneath the soles of his sneakers. He lets out a long, shaky sigh and relaxes a little into the log he’s perched on. It was nice to finally get out of his house; he wasn’t used to being grounded. Being confined to his room had left him bored, and restless, with far too much time to think.

About Mitch.

It had been only days since Mitch stayed for dinner and they had ended up... in a compromising position. But... was it compromising? It only could have been if Mitch had the same feelings as him... and the trouble was, Jonas didn’t even know what his feelings were. It’s strange, thinking about Mitch like this, and he desperately tries to compare it with how he felt about Carmen. But he can’t... because he’s never felt this way about her. About anybody.

Anybody but Mitch.

It’s new and unsettling and scary and intimidating and actually kind of just a little bit wonderful. The more Jonas thinks about Mitch, the more things he finds that light his heart up. Like the way he had smiled down at him on the rollercoaster with a warmth that Jonas had never known any human, especially Mitch, was capable of. And the way his hands felt so big around his wrists when he pinned him down, kind of sweaty but pleasantly warm and surprisingly gentle. And how Mitch had a laugh that he’d never heard before, one that seemed to only come out around Jonas. It was similar to his usual creepy guffawing, but a little higher pitched as it trailed out into breathy chuckles. Or just yesterday during lunch, when he mentioned offhandedly his hatred of being called ‘Mitchell.’

“Why?” Jonas had asked honestly. “It’s a great name.” He meant it, too. Mitch’s face lit up bright red instantly, and Jonas felt his stomach rise into his throat as Mitch had focused hard on the brick wall in front of him, taking a long drag on his cigarette before earnestly muttering, “Shit... thanks.”

A buzzing against his thigh pulls him out of his trance, and he blushes furiously realizing he’s been surrounded by drifting pink lights. He shakes his head violently, trying to clear his head of any thoughts of Mitch and make the lights disappear. The vibrations of his phone continue incessantly and his heart drops for a second, thinking it’s Dean demanding he come home. But instead, it’s a batch of texts from Mitch and Jonas eagerly swipes his phone open to read them.

Mitch | 3:17

joey

JOEy

spots!!!1!

asnwer ur fkcin fone!

seriusly im startin t get mad

i hav e a SURPRISE

its nuts ur guna flip a dcik

where r u?

spots u ok?

pleese anser

Jonas reads through them quickly, little twinges of nervousness beginning to prick in his stomach as he wonders what could possibly be so important that Mitch needed to text him 9 separate times.

Jonas| 3:21

Hey, I’m at the cove. What’s up? Is everything all right?

Jonas waits anxiously, his heartbeat picking up as the bubble of dots which indicate Mitch is responding pop up. He receives 3 texts in rapid succession and wonders how the heck Mitch could possibly type so fast with his big clumsy thumbs.

Mitch | 3:22

cove!! thts p erfect

ill meet u ther

get readdy joey ur guna lose u r fukn mind

Is that good? He has no idea. Mitch seems excited, but Jonas doesn’t even want to begin to imagine what about or it’ll give him anxiety. Impatiently, he starts to push his heels into the sand again and absentmindedly study his surroundings. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized the sky had darkened considerably, the sun overridden by thick dark clouds which threatened rain and thunder. After what seems like an eternity, but in reality was probably under 10 minutes, Jonas hears the loud thud of footsteps. He turns around to see Mitch excitedly scrambling down the rocks, losing his balance and cursing loudly more than once, but never faltering.

“Mitch!” Jonas yelps, embarrassed by how concerned he sounded. “Seriously, be careful! Jeez, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Mitch is panting by the time he reaches him, his eyes wide and excited as his toothy smile threatens to split his face in half. Jonas notes he’s never seen Mitch look so much like Scratch, so hyperactive and wild, but he keeps that thought to himself.

“You don’t even know, Joey. You don’t even know what’s comin’, I swear you’re gonna be so fuckin’ stoked you got no idea,” Mitch yammers quickly while wrapping his large hand around Jonas’ wrist and tugging at him urgently. “Follow me, it’s so fuckin’ sick Spots you’re gonna lose your shit!” he practically yells, an excited laugh bubbling out of his chest as he clambers up the rocks with Jonas in tow. The familiar feeling of warmth rises in his chest and squeezes on his heart as he drinks in how enthusiastic Mitch is, reveling in seeing him like this for the first time. As they reach the top of the rocks, Jonas barely has time to take a breath before Mitch’s large hands wrap around his eyes from behind.

“Hey-” he begins to protest, but Mitch cuts him off.

“No, I wanna make this a real serious surprise. Don’t worry, I won’t touch ya for too long and it’s just right in front of us, but walk a couple a’ steps.” Mitch bumps his stomach softly into Jonas’ back and his heart flutters as he obediently takes a couple small shuffling steps, trusting Mitch entirely while realizing that may not be the best idea. “That’s good, that’s perfect! Okay- holy shit- are you ready for this?” Mitch’s voice is raising in pitch as he practically vibrates behind Jonas, and Jonas nods in response. “Introducing the gorgeous, the perfect, the fuckin’ sexy as hell... Joan!” he yells as he pulls his hands away from Jonas’ face. His eyes adjust quickly; the sky had darkened even further as they’d climbed. He secretly wishes Mitch’s hands had lingered on him just a little longer before his eyes widen into large circles at the sight before him.

It’s a car.

From it’s body style Jonas can tell it’s vintage, and from the general state of it’s appearance he can tell it’s old as heck and has been neglected in recent years. It’s left side mirror is a little wonky, the driver’s side door is completely rusted over, there’s a questionable dent on the rear bumper, the glass of the left rear window has spiderwebbed, and it seems every panel of the car is a different shade of black. Despite all this, it’s a pretty freaking sweet car. “No way.” Jonas blanches, his jaw hanging open stupidly.

“Is this... is this yours?” He asks incredulously. Mitch nods vigorously, his teeth biting hard on his bottom lip to contain a gigantic smile.

“She’s a fuckin’ BEAUTY ain’t she? Come on, come be her first passenger,” Mitch guides him to the door and jiggles the handle aggressively to get it to pop open. The passenger seat is a different color leather than the rest of the seats, and the material is soft and worn under Jonas’ touch. He slides in and Mitch cranks down the window before shutting the door and leaning down, looming over Jonas through the open window. He watches as Jonas runs his hands over the dashboard, which is dusty and cracked in some areas but stunning, still fitted with its original hardware.

“This is... amazing. I-I really... You totally surprised me.” Jonas shakes his head with a stunned laugh. “What type of car is it? More importantly, how did you get it?”

“Chevy something from 1967... I think Cliff said it was an impailment? An impaler? I dunno but it’s fuckin’ sweet!” Mitch says excitedly, running his hand over the window frame.

“The old guy who lived a couple trailers down from me has had her for years, finally croaked and his kid didn’t want ‘er anymore so he said she’s all mine.”

“This is a dead guy’s car?” Jonas confirms, and it’s much more a statement than a question as an uneasy feeling makes him wrinkle his nose.

“Yup,” Mitch says with a beaming smile. “Dead as a fuckin’ doornail. Died right there in the passenger seat.” There’s a second of silence before Jonas is scrambling to get out of the car, struggling to work the fussy door handle and yelling angrily at Mitch, whose guffaws and snorts fill the quiet woods around them. “I’m kiddin’! Just kiddin,’ come on. Don’t be so mad Spots... I wouldn’t do that to ya.” Mitch’s large smile has shrunk slightly, but it’s still warm and Jonas tries to be angry but can’t help the smile which tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re gross,” Jonas attempts to scold Mitch, but his soft laughter is betraying him. “Why Joan?” He asks as Mitch walks around the front of the car to open the squeaky door and plop down in the driver’s seat.

“Reminds me a’ Joan Jett. My mom loves her. Used to sing her songs all the time when I was a kid,” Mitch explains distractedly, sticking the keys into the ignition and trying to get the engine to start up. Jonas smiles softly watching him. He likes learning little things like that, things Mitch probably thinks are irrelevant and dumb but Jonas cherishes. It’s so easy to forget about all the inner turmoil and anxiety the situation brings him when Mitch is actually here; he doesn’t have to worry about what he feels, he just gets to enjoy feeling it. The car roars to life and Mitch barks out a laugh that makes Jonas jump. “Y’wanna take her for a spin?” Mitch asks him, one hand on the fake wood steering wheel and the other on the knob of the gear shift. Fittingly, it’s a chrome skull.

“You know how to drive stick?” Jonas looks pointedly at the shift and Mitch snorts. “Well I fuckin’ drove it here, didn’t I?” Mitch immediately registers the fear in Jonas’ eyes and becomes more serious. “’Course I know how. Javi’s brother had an old truck, we used to take it for joy rides as kids and I was the only one tall enough to reach the pedals, so I had to learn quick or I’d crash the fuckin’ thing. Never did, though. Only once.” Mitch’s eyebrows knit together. “Shit wait, twice? I dunno, whatever, what I’m sayin’ is a learned young and I’m a pro at this. I’m good with my hands.” He finishes with a leering smile and a waggle of his eyebrows. Jonas scoffs and rolls his eyes, but leans back into his seat. To his utter relief he finds a seatbelt, which he pulls tightly across his lap as Mitch releases the clutch. The car lurches forward before accelerating smoothly- if not quickly- down the road, kicking up leaves in its wake. The unmistakable patter of rain on the metal roof begins as soon as they start driving and Mitch fumbles with knobs, trying to locate the windshield wipers. Jonas settles back into the seat, enjoying how warm it is inside the car. The warmth has way of amplifying smells, and Jonas breathes in the scent of cigarettes and antiquity and cracked leather. It smells like Mitch, too, a smell he can’t wholly categorize or identify. A little bit like weed, sweat, and cheap smelling soap... but entirely Mitch. No beer, Jonas registers, and is thankful Mitch hasn’t cracked open a few cold ones before taking him out. He watches Mitch’s long, busted fingers fiddle with the radio nobs, trying to get a clear signal. The quiet is pleasantly filled by radio static, and Mitch bites his tongue in concentration as he attempts to dial in a station. He manages to find a fuzzy station playing classic rock, which fits the setting perfectly. They drive for a couple more minutes, the rain thrumming steadily against the car, before the dark sky is set ablaze by lightning accompanied by a loud crash of thunder. Jonas’ green lights flare up then disappear, and he laughs at himself while he looks over to Mitch.

“Heh, sorry I- Mitch? What’s wrong?” Jonas asks. Mitch’s eyes are narrowed, looking in the rearview mirror.

“Hold on, Joey.” He says gravely, and upshifts quickly into fourth gear.

The engine sputters a bit, not used to being pushed, but Mitch is relentlessly hitting the gas.They speed up considerably, and Mitch shifts again into fifth, then into sixth, and they’re flying down the road in no time. The tall dark trees are whizzing past them and the rain is relentless, and Jonas has no idea how Mitch can even see through it at this speed. Actually, he’s pretty sure Mitch can’t see through it at all, but he tries to ignore the thought as their speed rises gradually.

“Mitch, slow down, please. What’re you-” his voice cuts out as he looks back behind them. It’s the black car, the one that’s been following them for days, and it’s rapidly gaining on them. Mitch isn’t even looking at the road ahead of them, his eyes are locked on the rearview mirror and they’re starting to fill with alarm. Jonas feels panicked tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes as he whips around, staring hard out the windshield at the world zipping by. He lets out a loud yelp as their car is bumped from behind, hard enough to make them lurch forward slightly, and the interior of the car is illuminated green.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Mitch growls. “They’re tryin’ to run us off the fuckin’ road.”

Jonas’ heart is about to beat out of his chest. He isn’t so sure that this car has any airbags, and if it does, he’s more sure than not that they won’t function properly. Another bump comes, harder this time, and he realizes he’s going to die in a classic car with Mitch freaking Mueller. The lightening and thunder continue, rumbles shaking the entire car as they’re chased.

“Joey, hold on tight right fuckin’ now” Mitch says angrily as he grips the wheel tight.

“M-m-mitch whatever you’re about to d-do- please don’t.” Jonas stutters, but it’s too late.

Mitch takes a hard left toward a dirt road, a possible haven of escape. But he isn’t fast enough. The black car rams their bumper hard as they turn, tossing Jonas’ head into the window with a heavy klunk. He cries out and Mitch loudly shouts “JONAS,” but he barely registers it as the car begins to spin out. The screeching tires drown out their screams, and Jonas feels Mitch’s hand shoot out, desperately grasping at anything he can get a hand on. As Mitch’s fingers clench tightly on his sweater, Jonas squeezes his eyes shut. We’re going to hit a tree, he thinks. We’re going to end up wrapped around a tree, dead or horribly mangled. He braces for an impact. But it never comes. They make a few full rotations before the car abruptly stops. They’re both breathing hard, Jonas’ ears ringing from the screaming and hit he took to the temple. The instant the car has stopped, Mitch lets go of Jonas’ sweater. Jonas fully expects Mitch to pull his hand back but instead the other joins it, cradling his face so gently it stings.

“Joey, Jonas are you okay? Please just fuckin’ tell me you’re okay. I’m so sorry. I fucked up, I fucked up thinkin’ I could make that stupid ass turn and I hurt you.” Jonas can suddenly feel the hot tears streaming down over his cheeks as he hiccups, overcome by emotions as the fear and adrenaline still course through him. Mitch’s hands begin to tremble harder as he cups Jonas’ soft face a little firmer, clumsily attempting to wipe away the tears as they fall. He’s still barking out apologies with a quaking voice, and practically every other word he’s disparaging himself. “Shit. Shit. Idiot, I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, I’m so sorry I was fuckin’ stupid enough to think I wouldn’t fuck up like I always do,” Mitch continues, and it makes a chorus with the loud rain. When Jonas finds the ability to move only seconds later, he reaches up to grip Mitch’s wrists tightly. Mitch snaps his mouth shut goes to move his hands away, but Jonas’ grip keeps them there.

“S-stop that. Right now. I’m- I’m n-not mad at you, it’s not your fault. I was just s-scared. Stop,” he begs, his voice thick with tears and shaky. He doesn’t want to look up at Mitch, embarrassed by his sensitivity and weakness, but Mitch’s hands softly tilt his face up and he opens one eye nervously. The look Mitch is giving him knocks the breath straight from Jonas’ lungs. If he thought the face Mitch made for him on the rollercoaster was perfect, he didn’t know the word to describe this face. A mix of worry and stress, but so overwhelmingly gentle and caring. Jonas tries hard not to let himself think of the first word that comes to his mind: adoration. They look at each other for just a moment too long, Mitch’s eyes flittering all over Jonas’ face to check for any signs of distress.

“We... we should probably check if Joan’s okay.” Jonas’ voice is soft as he violates the silence.

Mitch slowly and begrudgingly drops his hands. He turns his body to open the door, but doesn’t leave before glancing back once at Jonas, who is wiping away lingering tears with the sleeve of his sweater. Jonas watches as he quickly ducks out into the pouring rain, jogging lightly to the back of the car and bending down to check the car. Through the rear window, Mitch smiles at him.

“She’s fine,” he reports happily, and looks over his shoulder. He stays still for a couple seconds, then his eyes scan around slowly.

“What’re you doing?” Jonas calls over the sound of the rain and Mitch jogs back to take his place behind the wheel.

“I uh... I was lookin’ for that car but it ain’t around... and I kept lookin’ and I don’t really recognize this place at all.” Mitch says, and there’s more confusion than concern in his voice. For the first time since they stopped spinning, Jonas looks around them. It’s dark as night, far too dark. It’s only around 4 in the afternoon, and the storm clouds would never be able to darken the sky this much. Jonas’ uneasy feeling only grows as he looks up the street. When Mitch had gone to turn down it before they were hit, it looked like a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. But this was a... neighborhood? There’s homes lining both sides of the street, all their porch lights and windows gleaming yellow in the dark. Admittedly, Jonas has never ventured far out of Sellwood... but this place seems entirely foreign. Had they really traveled that far during the chase?

“I’ll try and get directions home,” Jonas says, taking his phone out. He swallows a lump in his throat as he attempts to turn it on, but it’s entirely dead. He looks up at Mitch, who’s also staring at his black phone screen in confusion.

“We’ll just start drivin’ and find our way back. Ain’t no thing, Spots,” Mitch says confidently and sticks the keys in the ignition. He turns them, and the engine hums. But it doesn’t turn over. Mitch grumbles obscenities under his breath as he tries, again and again, to start the car. He checks, four separate times, to see if the car’s in first. It is. He keeps trying to start the car as the heavy rain picks up even further. After a few minutes, he resigns back in his seat with a wary “Fuck.” Jonas feels the same. He’s chewing hard at his lower lip and tugging at the end of his sweater, green lights start to glow around his middle. Mitch’s eyes dart over as the green glow fills the car.

“Hey, c’mon Spots. Please don’t worry. I’ll make it better, I’ll find a way to start the car or charge our phones or just- just- UGH.” Mitch punctuates his babbling by pounding his fists against the steering wheel. Suddenly, with a look of determination at something outside, he opens the door to leave again but Jonas jumps toward the seat to catch him around the arm, stopping him cold.

“Where are you going?” he questions nervously.

“Up to that house. Their lights are on and I think I just saw someone inside. They can tell us where the fuck we are.” Mitch explains, but whips his around when he hears Jonas’ seatbelt unbuckle. “Whaddya think you’re doin’?” he questions, face colored with confusion.

“Coming with you.” Jonas says with a huff, and Mitch shakes his head.

“Not a chance in hell, Joey. What if they’re creeps or somethin’? You’d be safer here in the car.” He shakes Jonas’ hand of his bicep.

“That’s EXACLTY why you’re not going alone!” Jonas protests. “Besides... maybe I just don’t wanna admit I’m scared of the dark and need you to protect me? Right?” He can’t help but smile as he sees the corners of Mitch’s mouth turn upwards for the first time in a while.

“I... a’right. Just stay behind me, okay?” It’s a demand, not a question, but Jonas nods in response.

After gathering some courage, they both bolt from the car, slamming the heavy doors and running across the lawn to the front steps of the house Mitch had pointed out earlier. Once they’re under the protective overhang, Mitch shakes his hair out and Jonas does the same, pushing the matted curls away from his eyes. They look at each other uncertainly for a moment, before Mitch takes a step in front of Jonas, positioning his body between the shorter boy and the door before he rings the doorbell. There’s a shuffling from inside, and the sound of footsteps approaching the door are accompanied by a warm voice calling, “Just a minute!”

Jonas frowns. It sounds so strangely familiar, but he can’t place it. Before he has time to think about it harder, the lights around them flicker and abruptly shut off. Jonas shoots out his hands to wrap around Mitch’s arm in the overwhelming darkness. He looks around frantically, realizing every house in the neighborhood has darkened from the apparent power outage. There’s a yelp from inside, and the voice calls, “Oh, jeez, sorry! One more sec!” Seriously, who could that be? Jonas knows that voice, he knows he does.

He and Mitch both jump as a deeper voice from inside yells, “Fuck, baby, where are the flashlights? I just got mac n’ cheese all over myself!”

“Under the sink in the kitchen, bring one to the door, someone’s here.”

Mitch has stiffened and Jonas’ grip becomes a little tighter. Mitch looks down at him. “This was dumb. You should go back to the car.” He says, looking at the door uncertainly and nudging Jonas away from it. Before Jonas can answer, three things happen simultaneously.

The lights in the neighborhood flicker back on, the door swings open, and Mitch and Jonas both freeze.

A man, not much taller than Jonas, is standing in the open doorway. He has thick dark curls and is wearing black rimmed glasses, which his green eyes shine behind. His welcoming smile falls as his skin pales behind the smattering of freckles across his face, his jaw hanging slack. Jonas is clutching Mitch’s arm with a deathgrip, and he’s not 100% sure Mitch is breathing.

This guy looks exactly like him.

Before any of them can say a word, a larger figure emerges from a room behind the man in the door. “Baby, y-” he starts, but stops immediately as he sees the boys on his front steps. His thick brows knit together, and a mix of shock and confusion floods his long face. He has hard eyes and huge teeth, the stubble on his face dark as his large sideburns. The white tank top he wears is tight across his broad chest and exposes his solid arms, and there’s an orange stain beneath the lettering which reads, ‘I’m a virgin (this is an old shirt).’ The man is so physically imposing, but Jonas’ mouth goes dry for a different reason. This guy looks exactly like Mitch. At the same time as Mitch wraps an arm around Jonas and pulls him behind his tall, lanky form, the large man takes a step in front of his shorter counterpart, protectively shielding him from the boys. The taller men both pull back their fists threateningly and yell simultaneously, in almost the exact same voice, “What the FUCK is goin’ on?!”

Unsettled, all 4 of them freeze for a second. The smaller man, the one who looks like Jonas, steps in front of the larger man and places a calming hand on his chest. He relaxes slightly at the touch and his arms fall to his sides, but his massive hands are still clenched into tight fists.

“Uh... I... This is... certainly strange. Did, did you boys need something? Why don’t you come in and we’ll um... figure out what the fresh heck is going on right now,” The small man says, pushing his glasses up his nose with a quiet laugh. He moves backward, opening up the doorway and revealing a living room.

Mitch looks down at Jonas, allowing him to make the decision. Jonas hesitantly confirms with a small nod, and the boys slowly step through the entrance into a comfortable looking living room. There’s a worn looking gray leather couch covered in decorative pillows across from a small TV set. Picture frames cover almost all the walls and every available table surface. Jonas looks at them as he passes by, and appreciates the artist’s work. The scenes are beautiful, fields or bridges or buildings, and the lighting is bright and joyous. Jonas admires the ones of sunflower fields, taken at dusk when the pink sky cast its glow over their big yellow faces.

“Do you need anything to drink?” The shorter man asks kindly. “It’s kinda chilly out, and it seems you two got caught in that storm.” The boys both shake their heads noiselessly and he smiles reassuringly at them. “Okay. Why don’t you sit, I’m gonna brew some coffee.”

Jonas and Mitch walk to the far part of the L-shaped couch, and when Jonas sits down Mitch follows, stuck completely to his side. Jonas would usually be glowing bright red at the closeness, the feeling of their thighs pressed together, the realization he hasn’t released his grip on Mitch, but he remains pale. The large stranger plops down on the opposite branch of the couch, his hard eyes narrowed and muscular arms crossed tightly across his chest. Mitch’s brows furrow and he narrows his own eyes in response. A strange staring contest begins, both of them never faltering in their intimidation tactic. Jonas lets his own eyes wander. The room is essentially... the ideal of domestic bliss. There are pictures of the two men everywhere, intermingled with the artistic photos. In a stand under the TV are a couple albums, with names like 'Wedding Album' and 'First apartment' and 'May' scrawled messily on the binding. On the coffee table are coasters, which read 'Congrats, Newlyweds' in fancy script, and a blue glass bong. He takes a shaky breath through his nose, attempting to calm himself slightly, and he realizes how nice it smells. Like vanilla and apple, a little like smoke... it’s pleasant and homey.

The small man comes back, and as he passes through the doorway he calls, “Mitch?”

“Yeah?” the larger man says as he turns around at the same time Mitch also answers “What?” Their eyes meet again and narrow, before Mitch barks out, “Alright, what the fuck’s goin’ on?”

“Hey kid, watch your fuckin’ mouth,” the older man bites back.

Jonas can hear him grinding his teeth as the pillows and coasters and photos begin to shake.

“Mitch.” Jonas hisses, and everything slowly stops vibrating. He looks up at the older men, but they don’t look as confused as he expected.

“M-mitch?” The small man says softly, walking around the couch and sitting close to the boys. “Is your- are you- I... Mueller? Mitch Mueller?” He questions with his head cocked. Mitch’s unsettled look seems to be answer enough, and the man nods. “I thought so. This... is definitely odd. I’m... I’m Jonas. Jonas Mueller. And I assume you-” he looks directly at Jonas, “are Jonas Wagner.”

Any of the calmness Jonas had felt seconds ago is gone. His heart is thumping so hard it hurts. This stranger- who looks just like him and has the same name as him- knows who they are. No, not the same name, just the same face. And same first name. But the last name is Mitch’s. Jonas squeezes his eyes shut hard. The uncertainty, the confusion is all too much. He can’t handle this today, not now. He’s already sick with anxiety over trying to figure out his feelings for Mitch, not to mention the fact that his phone is dead and Dean will be livid if he doesn’t answer or come home for dinner. He feels sick and dizzy, like he might pass out right there on these disturbingly familiar strangers’ couch.

“Hey, kid... calm down. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” The deep voice has gone from threatening to comforting, and Jonas’ eyes pop open. The tall man is staring at him... and right now he looks identical to Mitch, with his soft adoring eyes and pinkish cheeks. There’s no doubt now, that man was Mitch. No matter what universe or time warp he was from, it was him. No one but Mitch had ever looked at him like that. “Why don’tcha tell us how ya got here?”

Jonas looks up at his Mitch for reassurance. He doesn’t exactly get it, as Mitch has about 200 different kinds of stress playing across his face. Jonas lets out a shuddering sigh.

“Okay.” He croaks out, his voice breaking. And he goes into it all, from the very start, from sitting at the cove to the exact moment the door opened. The two men stare intently at him, nodding intermittently to show him they’re listening.

“So,” the smaller man, apparently also named Jonas, breathes out. “It’s just as I thought. It seems... you’re us. Or, we’re you, if you want to look at it that way.”

“That can’t be possible,” the younger Jonas squeaks out.

“Weirder shit’s happened, ya know.” The older man- older- older Mitch says. “We do have superpowers,” and he punctuates the sentence with a loud guffaw.

“He’s right. That means there must be some reason you’re here.” Older Jonas pushes his glasses up his nose. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the older Mitch gasps.

“Wait, oh fuck. Kid, you were drivin’ your first car?!” He yells at his younger self. Mitch, who continues to stay silent, just nods. “JOANIE?!” He howls, and springs from the couch and out the door in under a second. “OH MY GOD, JOEY, SHE’S JUST AS FUCKIN’ BEAUTIFUL AS I REMEMBER!”

His smile is enormous as he bounds back through the door, his large teeth gleaming in the soft light. Jonas can’t help it, he cracks a smile at the older man’s excitement, and the older Jonas laughs so hard he snorts. There’s a strange sense of warmth and familiarity developing by being with these two, for obvious reasons, Jonas guesses. He can’t deny their comfort is contagious. However, it appears Mitch doesn’t feel the same. He looks stiff and uncomfortable, and hasn’t spoken a word in some time. Jonas’ stomach begins to twist. This place is sweet, and strangely familiar, and homey. The two men before them seem to be the picture of joy. They’ve been nothing but kind to two sort-of strangers who showed up on their doorstep. How could Mitch not at least feel at ease, or-

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Mitch... Mitch doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like this future or universe or wormhole or whatever it was they found themselves in. The idea of being with Jonas made him... uncomfortable. Mitch notices him staring and looks down.

“What,” he demands harshly, and Jonas unwinds his hands from Mitch’s arm quickly and pulls them into his lap. He should’ve known. He really shouldn’t have been so hopeful that Mitch- someone- anyone really- could feel that way about him. He had just thought... when Mitch looked at him or pinned him down... but he was wrong. He’s been searching for something which wasn’t there. His throat is burning as he scolds himself internally. Stupid, stupid Jonas. Don’t you DARE cry. Don’t be so pathetic, the voices inside him reprimand.

“Babe? Mitch? Would you two mind letting me talk to Jonas alone?” His older counterpart asks sweetly, interrupting his descent into the void of self-hating thoughts. Mitch’s face becomes even more uncomfortable, but the older Jonas lays a hand softly on his shoulder. “Please?”

Begrudgingly, Mitch stands. Jonas’ thigh feels cold, and he misses the contact. The thought makes his chest hurt, knowing that Mitch doesn’t.

“Come to the kitchen, I got some good advice on how to tune that beautiful Chevy up,” the older Mitch babbles as they leave the room. His eyes follow his Mitch’s back as he walks into the kitchen, following the taller man.

It’s quiet in the living room for a moment before the older him asks knowingly, “What’s wrong?”

“This feels weird,” he answers curtly. “I’m talking to myself.”

“Why? I know and understand everything you think and feel, I’m probably the best person to talk about this stuff with!”

“Stuff?”

“Mitch stuff.” Jonas’ face burns red and his older self cocks an eyebrow. “I thought so. I know what you think about at the cove.”

Jonas purses his lips. Softly, he says, “Did... did you see how uncomfortable he got watching you two?” The older man stays quiet, so he continues, “I feel so... idiotic. I’m embarrassed. I really, truly thought he... might...” Jonas trails off. What DID he think? He had never allowed himself to think Mitch might like him... Did he?

“Have feelings for you,” the older Jonas finishes. He sighs. “Mitch is complicated, to say the least. There’s approximately 80 reasons why he could’ve been acting uncomfortable, and I doubt any of them were an issue he had with you. It’s probably because he’s so averse to older, male authority figures.” The idea makes Jonas pause. He hadn’t thought of that. “But, look. I... I don’t want to put any ideas in your head or guide you in any certain way,” the older man continued. “Whatever happens, or doesn’t, between you and Mitch should happen naturally. And if I weigh in, you know I’m gonna be pretty biased. I’m in love with the guy, for goodness’ sake.” He says with a laugh, and reaches up to straighten his glasses.

“Woah,” Jonas gasps. “You have a tattoo?” He points to his older self’s wrist. On the inner part, only about the size of a penny, is a partially shaded circle.

“Oh, yeah! It’s the moon phase on the night Mitch and I got married... It’s so cheesy I know but when Mitch got that giant tattoo for me...” he pauses to roll his eyes, but his mouth is a wide smile. “It was just about the dumbest and sweetest thing, so I felt like I owed him one.”

The older Mitch had a tattoo? Jonas hadn’t noticed. Knowing Mitch, it was probably on his-

“No.” The older man interrupts his thoughts. “It’s NOT on his butt.” They both burst into giggles. Jonas cranes his head, looking into the kitchen. He can’t see his Mitch, but he can see part of the older Mitch’s arm. He scoffs, not realizing how he could’ve missed such a gigantic tattoo. It’s so very Mitch, splayed across his large bicep. If he can see correctly, it’s an enormous heart. Which is on fire. And surrounded by roses. And covered by banners. And has his name in it.

Wait.

“Is that-” he wheezes, not able to finish his sentence. His counterpart bursts into laughter, nodding.

“Oh yeah. And the banners say ‘the light of my life.’ What a mushy dork, right?” He says through his giggles. Jonas can only shake his head. The older Mitch PERMANENTLY marked himself with something... for him. It’s stupid, and foolish, and such an incredibly romantically lovesick move that it makes Jonas’ face warm and stomach turn. The Mitch who was sitting beside him a minute ago, stiff and awkward watching himself be happy with Jonas wouldn’t do that.

“Now... now I’m convinced this isn’t real. Mitch wouldn’t do that. Not- not for me, at least. Probably for no one, really,” Jonas muses out loud.

“There’s... a LOT you don’t know about Mitch yet,” his older self starts, looking at him seriously. “There is so much you still have to learn about him. Be open to whatever possibility and... trust your gut. So many of the things you think are impossible are real, right under your nose, and you’re ignoring them because of the way you feel about yourself.” The words sound so wise. Jonas marvels at the person, at himself, staring back at him. How could he end up like this? Jonas is anxiety riddled, perpetually nervous and self-conscious, and largely closed off. This person sitting across from him isn’t just wise, he’s... open. Kind. Self assured. Even a little extroverted. What had changed Jonas? When? What could have possibly given him the confidence and bliss he had always longed for but which never seemed attainable? Was Mitch the missing link in all of this? Could Mitch freaking Mueller do this for him? The answer to those questions is way too big for Jonas to process, in the midst of all this new information.

“What am I supposed to do? I’m so, so confused,” Jonas whispers harshly.

“The hardest thing there is to do,” his older self says with a sympathetic smile, “try not to worry yourself into a void or overthink yourself into a headache. Everything... ends up being really great. So, just for a bit, you have to try not to stress too much. Do things that make you smile. Stop trying to please others. Think about things you’d never let yourself consider. Let yourself feel things... and let yourself feel confused.”

Jonas’ head is spinning slightly. Every instinct inside him is telling him to curl into a ball and run over every confusing thought he’s had about Mitch, about how disappointed Sid might be, the consequences there might be from Dean. The consequences there might be from Mitch, if he didn’t feel the same. But as he chews his lower lip hard, his older counterpart hands him the coffee cup, urging it upwards towards his face. He takes a shaky sip, and it’s exactly as he takes it- with cream and half a sugar.

“You know... it’ll actually be pretty fun, learning all the stuff about Mitch,” the man encourages.

“Like... what kind of stuff ?” he inquires, lowering his voice slightly.

“Hmm,” the older Jonas mulls for a second, chewing his lower lip. “Not to spoil anything of course, but Mitch is... vulnerable. He’s a decent cook and a great singer. He’s sensitive; he’ll deny it every time, but the scene in Monster’s Inc. when Sulley leaves Boo makes him cry. He pees in the shower. Every afternoon on his lunch break he calls Mom, and we have her over for dinner on Fridays. He remembers small things about people, like he knows Javi’s favorite movies, and the name of the box color Scratch dyes her hair, and he even remembers what brand of makeup Sid likes. He’s capable of change, but he doesn’t like it. He likes the hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. Once when he was 7 he got a dime stuck up his nose, and last year when he tried to show me how it happened he actually got a dime stuck in his nose again and I had to take him to the ER. He makes us breakfast every morning. He loves using coupons, he feels guilty when he squishes bugs, he won’t drink coffee, he cuts his own hair...” The older Jonas trails off slowly as he watches his younger self’s eyes prick with tears.

Jonas doesn’t want to feel embarrassed, he tries his hardest to ignore how overcome with emotion he feels listening to himself talk about this way about someone- about Mitch.

“W-what else?” He begs, and his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Surprisingly, great in bed,” His older counterpart deadpans. The strangled noise which escapes Jonas' mouth makes the older man smile playfully. “What? It’s not like you’ve never thought about it.” Jonas is blushing so hard he thinks he might faint. Well- well maybe he has thought of it offhandedly once or twice, but he’s never really actually considered the actual possibility of it actually happening. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. But see? You’re still learning a lot about Mitch. You’re also learning important stuff about yourself. Don’t shy away from that. Don’t ignore it,” the older Jonas finishes solemnly. Jonas’ head is throbbing from all the new information. He stares hard through the doorway into the kitchen at the small portion of the older Mitch he can see. His thick arms, his dumb tattoo, his muttonchops... are starting to look more and more like home. There’s a part of his head screaming at his heart for feeling like this, telling him over and over that the way his Mitch was acting earlier reflects how he truly feels, warning him that he’d better not open himself up too much. But that part of himself is quieted as he stares across the couch into his own green eyes, which are the same but completely different in so many ways.

“Okay.” Jonas promises firmly.

Mitch plops down in a chair at the small dining table, not facing the older man, instead staring hard out the sliding class doors into the backyard.

He vaguely hears him blabbering, “... the transmission- fix that now or it’ll cost ya down the line, Scratch can prob’ly help ya with it, and...” but he’s mostly tuning him out. His arm is hot where Jonas had been clutching it, so he rubs it slowly. Joey was so goddamn freaked out, he was ready to light up green and red at any second, and it could’ve killed Mitch. He squeezes his eyes shut angrily, leaning his elbows against his knees and burying his face in his hands. It must be such a miserable thing, to see yourself with a guy like Mitch. Well, not like him, it was even worse because it’s actually him. He can only imagine what the older Jonas is telling Joey. Run. He imagines Joey with wide eyes, his pretty face struck with panic as the man urges him to get away from Mitch. Every part of himself begins to shut down as the urge to vomit rushes over him, but he can’t remember the last time he ate, and vomiting up bile will just make his breath smell and teeth feel grimy.

“Jesus, fuck’s wrong with you? This is your dream come true, can’tcha be a little bit happier? I thought you’d be jizzing your damn pants over how HOT Joey is! Bet’cha didn’t think he could get any cuter, but those glasses do some wicked shit, right?” The taller man leers.

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” He spits from behind his hands. He hears an exasperated huff.

“Need a smoke?” he’s asked, and he hears the man tap his pack on the kitchen counter. He sticks his hand out, and a cigarette is placed between his fingers. He hears a lighter flick on and feels the heat on this knuckles. As he pulls it to his lips and takes a long drag, the taller man opens the sliding glass door with his foot, and the damp cold air rushes into the kitchen. Mitch leans back in the chair and his head lulls back over the edge as he lets the smoke curl from his nostrils, straining his ears to hear what the men in the next room are talking about. Their voices are hushed, and it makes Mitch feel like he’s gotten kicked right in the balls.

“Really, though. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Why’re ya actin’ like a pissy bitch?”

“Ain’t real,” Mitch replies curtly, words mumbled around his cigarette.

“Uh. What?”

“Musta’ passed out in the accident or somethin.’ Joey may be convinced but I ain’t, piece a’ shit like me doesn’t have a future like...” and he waves his hand around for emphasis.

“Kid, I’m you. Don’t you wanna ask questions? You got the opportunity to ask- shit- I dunno. What Joey’s dick looks like, or how Mom is, or when Javier got laid for the first time, or what it felt like to MARRY JONAS,” the older man’s voice raises at the end, trying to elicit any sort of response.

He receives a shrug as Mitch repeats again, “Ain’t real, ya ain’t me.”

“Fuck you. I am. Listen. All ya drink is Pabst, and your favorite outfit for Buddy is his sailboat sweater, and ya hate heights. And the one time you did heroin it scared the shit outta ya.” The older man finishes with a frown. “Don’t tell Joey ya ever tried heroin either, his heart’ll stop.” Mitch looks up, into eyes which he’ll admit look a LOT like his own. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. No one knows about the heroin, so he guesses he ought to suck it up and actually use this guy for some useful information.

“M’kay. I’ll humor ya. When does Javi finally get laid?” he says through a long exhale, ashing his cigarette out into the ashtray on the kitchen table.

“Oh my god, story’s funny as shit. Remember that girl he talked about, who came into his uncle’s body shop? He was all stoked when he ran into her at the Gas ‘n’ Go, gets her number, chats ‘er up. Good stuff. Couple weeks after graduation, she’s finally like ‘come over.’ He goes to her house, and he’s like so ready to get his dick wet, right? In the middle, her dad n’ brother come home, and I’m not shittin’ you they’ve gotta be 7 feet tall. Bozo ends up running NAKED through her nice white neighborhood. Had to hide in the woods ‘til Scratch picked him up!” The older Mitch slams a hand on the counter and throws his head back with loud howls of laughter.

Mitch can’t help himself either, chuckling so hard he coughs around the smoke in his lungs. They both laugh until the room goes quiet, and Mitch’s older self wipes a tear from his eye and clears his throat.

“Actually, speaking of Javi, where the fuck is that dickhole? He’s late. He better bring my-” The older Mitch is cut off as the door off the kitchen opens, and it seems it leads to the garage.

Javier’s big form fills the door, and he walks through with his hands up, apologizing, “Sorry! Sorry, someone didn’t wanna leave Build-a-Bear without trying every outfit on her bunny.”

“She weighs 20 pounds, Javi. She’s not exactly unmovable.”

“Yeah, but she would’ve cried, bro, and you know I can’t take that. It’s like kicking a puppy,” Javier protests, but Mitch hasn’t registered a word of their bickering. He just sits, wide eyed and slack jawed, staring. Not at the two older men, but at what toddles in behind Javier.

Who toddles in.

It’s a little girl, with a mop of brown curls pulled into two pigtails at the top of her small head. She concentrates on climbing the steps on her hands and knees, before unsteadily standing. She’s wearing a fluffy purple dress, and Mitch realizes the purple bows in her hair match it. He’s never thought he was capable of thinking anything but Buddy was cute, but this little human was... actually pretty cute. Her enormous brown eyes are lined with thick black lashes so long they practically touch her eyebrows, and her eyes positively light up when she sees the older Mitch. Her high voice rings out like a bell.

“Daddy!”

Mitch is sure he must’ve hit his head in the accident, and is having some trauma induced fever dream. He watches the little girl run as fast as her teeny legs can take her, which isn’t fast at all, into the arms of his older self, who has crouched to her level.

“May, baby! There’s my baby girl!” He exclaims, giving the little girl rapid kisses on her chubby cheek. She shrieks out a laugh and wraps her hand around the man’s head, kicking her tiny feet happily. Only then does Mitch notice Javier, who looks mature – with heavier makeup and a weird goatee. He looks shocked, but just shakes his head, raising his hands again.

“I am... whatever. I’m not takin’ the time to ask any questions. Besides, I gotta get to Wackyland. I’ll see ya.” He gives the older Mitch a nod, and yells, “See ya, Joey!” as he exits through the garage door.

This is a weird fuckin’ dream, Mitch muses as he watches his older counterpart rub the baby’s back and ask her about her day, acting interested even though she can only babble back with a few understandable words sometimes making their way in. She says, “Bunny!” excitedly, leaning over the man’s shoulder and pointing the box Javier had brought in. The older Mitch makes his way over to the box and pops it open, pulling a soft-looking white bunny wearing an ugly orange sweater and purple bows on it’s ears. The baby looks at him with excitement, her hands flying up to her head to touch her own purple bows.

“What a pretty bunny, May, she has the same bows as you! Did you choose the sweater ‘cuz it’s Daddy’s favorite color?” The man coos, lowering the baby- May, Mitch guesses- onto the ground. She wraps her arms around it and nods proudly. “I think you need to go show Dada, he’s on the couch.” She turns quickly and runs a couple shaky steps before stopping, turning back and walking to the older Mitch, planting her open mouth against his smile and pulling back with an exaggerated “Mwah!” before she quickly totters into the living room.

Mitch can hear a voice welcoming her, cooing, but his ears are ringing. Joey must be sick to his stomach. Married to Mitch is bad enough... but being dumb enough to raise a child with him? He stares hard at the tiled floor to try not to look into the living room, which he can only imagine is lit up with green.

“Sorry May didn’t say hi, usually she’s a damn chatterbox with strangers but she’s got a one track mind ‘til she sees Da- uh, Joey, then she can think straight. She’ll probably come runnin’ back in here in a sec. I dunno why Javi took her to Build-a-Bear, that shit is like crack to kids, makes ‘em all hyper before bed.”

Mitch isn’t listening to him. He’s too... angry? Yeah. He’s angry. He’s fucking pissed. How could he be dumb enough to think he could raise a kid; he’s going to ruin that little girl with his temper and insecurity and stupidity. Mitch never had a real dad, one that wasn’t absent or abusive, so how the hell was he supposed to know how to raise a kid right? And that baby girl, the picture of innocence, has no idea how bad it’s gonna hurt when Mitch fucks up like he always does. This older Mitch is ruining everything. He’s ruining the older Joey’s chances of loving someone who deserves him, he’s ruining May’s new life and future, and he’s ruining the budding friendship- maybe even the chance- Mitch had with his Jonas. He looks up at the older man across from him, so full of rage that the chairs at the table start to shake. The coffee machine begins to float and the dishes in the sink rattle.

“What the fuck? What’s wrong, kid?” The older man’s voice is concerned, but Mitch doesn’t care.

“Who. The fuck do you think you are? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mitch hisses between his gritted teeth. He doesn’t let him answer, because there’s nothing that dumbass can say to defend himself. “Will you ever fuckin’ learn, you cocksucker? I- you- I- WE never get shit right, what makes you think you can fuckin’ raise a baby, what makes you think that you’re fuckin’ good enough for someone like Spots, you fuckin’-” he’s only at the beginning of his tirade before he gets interrupted.

“Watch your mouth and calm down,” the older man demands gravely.

The fridge begins to shake and all the dishes in the cabinet start to clatter as Mitch is just about sure he’s going to stab this guy in the neck. When the man takes a step toward him, he goes on the defensive. But as his hands curl into tense fists, he feels something against his leg, and he whips around to look down.

Big brown eyes with long lashes blink at him once. A worried, fussy noise leaves the baby’s pouty mouth as she winds her fingers into one of the holes in his jeans. She shoves her bunny into Mitch’s lap roughly with one hand. What was her name? May? Yeah. May looks up at the older Mitch, then back to the younger. She looks slightly confused, but raises her arms up to the younger man anyway. Mitch is taken aback, and the chairs stop rattling. The dishes in the cabinets and sink settle, and the coffee machine thunks down in it’s place on the counter again. Her small hands make grabbing motions and she whines softly.

“Use your words, doll.” His older self coaxes.

“Pwease,” she huffs out impatiently. Mitch looks up at himself with an eyebrow cocked.

“You heard the boss. ‘Pwease’ means ‘do it.’” The older Mitch motions to her with the arm that isn’t crossed tightly across his chest.

Hesitantly and slowly, the younger Mitch turns back to her. May’s outstretched arms lift higher and she makes a pleading noise. Awkwardly, Mitch grabs her under her armpits and lifts her easily onto his lap. She adjusts for a minute, grabbing her bunny and pulling it against her chest. With a gentle sigh, the baby leans her body against Mitch’s bony chest and presses her soft cheek into the sound of his heartbeat. Content, she sticks her thumb into her mouth and begins to suck quietly. Mitch’s heartbeat picks up rapidly. He feels a little weird holding a baby at all, especially wearing a shirt that reads ‘Varsity Ass Eating, number 69.’ But she’s so comfortable on his lap, it makes his heart squeeze painfully. He pets her hair, marveling at how soft it is and how small her little head is.

“That’s what.” The older man says firmly. Mitch looks up at him in confusion. “That’s what makes me think that I can do this. It starts with the kid right in that room,” he jabs a finger toward the wall that separates the rooms, “and it leads to her. Joey and May are the only thing I’ve ever done right, so you’d better bet your ass I’m good enough for ‘em. Or at least I’ll try to be. Someday, you’re gonna feel like that, too. And you know what? It’s the best. It’s so much better than thinkin’ you’re a good-for-nothin’ idiot. You know why you think that stuff, about yourself? You never had anyone show ya that you’re better than that, that you’re not actually worthless. And I don’t give a damn about what you’re tellin’ yourself right now, because I’m right, and someday you’ll learn that. But ya can’t learn it if someone isn’t around ta’ teach it to ya. Kid, you hate so many goddamn people and have so many people to blame but for once, JUST once, open yourself up to someone whose gonna be nothin’ but good to ya. Goddamn, just don’t be an idiot. ‘Cuz, for fuck’s sake, you’re not.”

Mitch is speechless. And breathless. The older Mitch pulls his eyebrows together and rubs the back of his neck.

“Shoot. I’m really s’posed to stop swearing around May, kiddos are like sponges at this age. She pretends to answer the phone sometimes and says ‘hello’ just like Joey does. So if she grows up with a potty mouth, he’ll kill me.” The baby adjusts herself on Mitch’s lap, her tiny, delicate hand leaving her bunny to clutch his shirt and rub the soft fabric as she continues to peacefully suck her thumb. He looks down at May’s pretty brown hair, wondering if it was he or Joey who had done it that morning. He wonders how it sounds when she mimics Joey answering the phone. He wonders how many pink and purple frilly outfits she passed up for her bunny to choose the ugly orange sweater she knew was his favorite color.

He makes a choking sound, one he hasn’t made since he was a kid, because he’s crying.

Mitch Mueller is crying.

Mitch doesn’t cry, he punches shit or drinks till he blacks out. But he is. And he’s not just crying, he’s sobbing. He’d forgotten how it felt to cry, how tight your throat feels and how painfully it makes your lungs heave. He covers his face with one of his big hands, not wanting to be seen or heard by anyone. But May is too close for him to disguise his tears from, and she starts whimpering in tandem with him. Trying not to upset her further, he furiously tries wiping away his tears, but they keep falling. Instead of starting to sob along with him, May stops whimpering and looks at him softly. She stands on his thighs and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her face softly into his cheek. She sways a little, so Mitch’s hands come quickly to her sides to catch her, but he realizes it’s on purpose. She’s swaying softly and humming. It’s not a song he recognizes, which could be because it’s not really a tune but more a collection of little noises she can make. It’s so pure and sweet that Mitch sobs harder into her hair, which smells like fresh strawberries and clean sheets. The whole world seems to go quiet as Mitch focuses on the tune being hummed into his ear. For a few minutes, he allows a couple choking hiccups to rack his chest as he holds the little girl close.

“That’s uh... that’s what we do when she’s upset. I think she’s tryin’ to sing the song we sing,” the older Mitch interrupts. And suddenly Mitch is back; back to being Mitch Mueller who doesn’t cry, especially not in front of anyone. He steels himself and snorts. He wipes the last of his tears from his long face and rubs his dripping nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Okay, ‘m fine, kiddo. I’m a’right,” he assures May as he pulls his head back. She looks at him for a second before dropping heavily back into his lap, assuming her thumb-sucking and shirt-rubbing once more. He clears his throat awkwardly. “She’s uh... pretty smart.”

“Please, she’s a frickin’ genius. We went to her 15-month check-up the other day and the pediatrician said she was s’posed to be able to say like 14 words, and she already has 23,” the older man beams. Mitch doesn’t even know what a pediatrician is. He just shakes his head. When did he get so soft? What could’ve made him mushy enough to count the new words a baby says and brag about them to the... podiatrist? Psychologist? Whatever it was, he knows it’s lame. The older him is lame. But... not bad lame. Because even though he’s lame he seems... truly, purely, honestly happy. Which is more than Mitch could’ve ever dreamed for himself. He realizes this is the first time an older man has told him he’s worth a damn thing. His stepdad, the guards at juvie, the teachers at Sellwood, they all told him he wouldn’t see the age of 20. They told him he was a parasite, a worthless growth that fed on productivity and existed only to trouble others. So he became that, for everyone.

Even Joey. He’d stopped him from going to Carmen’s house, he stole him away from his friends at lunch, he’d gotten him grounded for the first time ever. And that was only in the last week.

Mitch couldn’t count how many times he’d tormented Joey as a kid. He had dumped his binders in the toilet. He’d chased him through the halls. He’d broken science projects and crushed dioramas and shredded book reports. And somehow... Joey forgave him. Every time he fucked something up, accidentally or on purpose, Joey was still there. Mitch had liked the kid, wanted him, pined after him for so long, never able to describe or explain the level of his infatuation. But now, he knew why. All it took was traveling through some crazy time warp and meeting his future self and future husband and future daughter.

He was completely in love with Jonas Wagner.

Supportive, kind, forgiving, gentle, funny, unpredictable Jonas. His Jonas.

“What am I gonna do?” His voice comes out rough and breathy.

“Scary, ain’t it? I get it,” the older Mitch says with a nod. “What you wanna say is, ‘Jonas, you’re the only person who makes me feel real and like life is worth livin,’ you’re everything to me.’ And then somewhere in your head it turns into ‘Hey Joey, I’d shoot myself in the fuckin’ kneecap for you to sit on my face.’ Then it comes outta your mouth as ‘Hey, Joey, I’m gonna shoot myself in the fuckin’ kneecap.’ Then ya shoot yourself in the goddamn kneecap ‘cuz ya love him so goddamn much and can’t get the words out to tell him.” Mitch clamps his mouth shut. It’s stupid when he hears it out loud, but that’s exactly what happens. “But y’know what? After you guys get together, Joey’ll realize he loves sittin’ on your face, and he’ll do it all the time.”

“She’s right here,” Mitch says with a frown, covering May’s ear which isn’t pressed into his chest.

“She doesn’t know what that means,” his older self’s eyes narrow but his voice turns sugary, “and she never ever will, right princess?” Mitch looks down at May. He hopes not. He looks back up, excitement in his eyes as he registers what his older self had said.

“He seriously does, though?”

“Hell yeah,” the older Mitch says as a lecherous smile spreads across his face. “Joey’s a freak. Why do ya think I got so excited seeing Joanie? Spots got his first blowjob in her backseat.”

“MITCH,” a loud voice scolds, and the older man jumps, then turns to the door sheepishly. The older Jonas is in the doorway, his arms crossed tight over his chest and his face burning pink. The younger Jonas peeks out from around him, a confused look on his face indicating he hadn’t heard the offending comment.

“Look what ya did now kid, ya got me in trouble,” the older Mitch says with a smirk. The older Jonas moves to his side to wrap his arms around the man’s middle and stands on his tiptoes to kiss the underside of his scruffy jaw.

“You’re gross,” he tries to scold as his husband winds his thick arms around him and pulls him into his chest. The younger Jonas, Mitch’s Jonas, is still standing in the door, looking shyly at Mitch with the baby in his lap. Mitch looks up and meets his eyes, but they both look away quickly, their faces lighting up. Shit, Mitch thinks as he buries his face in May’s pigtails as an excuse not to face Jonas. Shit shit shit.

“Y’know as much as I think you’ll both hate me for it, we need to put May to bed,” the older Jonas says as he stretches his arms out towards his baby. Mitch feels a little pull on his heart as he lifts May up to stand on his thighs.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he whispers to her only, and hands her to the freckled man. She clings onto Mitch’s t shirt for a second, before leaning sleepily into her Dad’s chest.

“I think you boys should be getting home,” the short man says softly with a smile. Mitch drinks it in. He can’t believe how much the older Joey smiles.

“M-my phone just turned back on,” Jonas says with surprise.

“I’ll come out and try to help ya get Joanie started. But it can’t take too long, May needs her bedtime story and Joey doesn’t do the voice of the wolf right,” the older Mitch says as he leads the boys through the living room and out the door.

“I do the wolf voice just fine,” they hear the older Jonas grumble as he walks down the hall to the nursery.

The rain has stopped, but it’s still dark as they make their way down the wet grass to Joan. Mitch pops the hood and slides into the driver’s seat, and Joey takes his place beside him, suddenly feeling small. Mitch is leaning out the window, talking to the man hunched over the engine block who yells, “Start ‘er up.” Mitch follows the direction and the engine roars to life. Through the windshield, Jonas watches the older Mitch slam the hood shut and pat it fondly. He walks to the side of he car and raps his big knuckles on Jonas’ window, which is quickly cranked down. The tall man bends at the waist, leaning his forearms on the window ledge, looming over Jonas.

“Remember what I said. Please,” he says firmly, eyes boring into Mitch. He turns his gaze to Jonas, who gulps. “He’s a tough one. Good luck dealin’ with him, Spots,” he says gently, raising one of his massive hands to run lovingly over Jonas’ curls. Jonas shivers at how good it feels. With one more pat on the top of Joan’s roof, the older Mitch turns back toward the house. The boys watch him silently, staring even after his large frame has disappeared through the door. They’re both noiseless as the light in the living room shuts off. The air is tense in the inky darkness.

“Was that real?” Jonas says faintly.

“I... hope so,” Mitch coughs and stares at the steering wheel as Jonas turns to look at him. “You gonna put directions back home in your phone? Still dunno where we are.”

Jonas nods in response.

The GPS starts giving directions, which Mitch follows wordlessly. The only other noise is the radio static, buzzing steadily as they wind through unfamiliar roads. Gradually, the pavement turns to gravel, then to dirt, and at the end of a long straight stretch of road they see light pouring in. The car bursts into the sun suddenly, and Mitch slams on the breaks as they both squint their eyes. The car comes to a rolling stop and they both turn, looking through the rear window for any sign of where they’d come from. It’s only thick trees behind them, no sign of a road ever having existed. Mitch lets out a shaky breath.

“Turn your GPS off, let’s go back to the cove. It’s still afternoon,” he says without looking over at Jonas. The roads become more familiar as they drive and in no time they’re back where they started, pulling into the clearing which overlooks their cove.

Mitch shuts the car off, and the silence continues for a couple more minutes before he breaks it. “

So. Uh. What’d- what’d you guys talk about?” He says, trying his hardest to sound casual.

Jonas gives him a small smile, “Gosh, everything. About Sid, and school, and um, you, obviously,” he says quickly. “We talked about work-”

“Yeah? What’d we do?”

“Well, I guess I got my doctorate in Marine Biology,” Jonas’ face lights up with excitement, but Mitch can’t help but notice his voice is trembling nervously “And I was teaching a couple college courses, 4 days a week. And you worked in a, um, a weed shop. What’re they called? A dispensary- that’s it. And you worked 3 days, he said because you liked being with the baby-”

“May.”

“Yeah, May.” Jonas trails off. “She really liked you.”

“Mm,” Mitch grunts curtly. He mentally kicks himself as Jonas goes quiet again, leaning back into his seat. “Sorry. It was just weird, y’know....” Now Mitch trails off, not wanting to say anything over the line.

“If you say so,” Jonas says. He sounds hurt.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Mitch says. It comes out more aggressively than he intended, and Jonas flinches.

“Nothing,” he answers shortly.

“No, what’s that s’posed to mean, Spots.” Mitch demands a little louder. Jonas turns to him angrily.

“Well, I don’t know. What was so weird about it Mitch? Cuz they- cuz- cuz we seemed pretty freaking happy. Was it me? Was it us?” Jonas is breathing heavy, and his small hands are fists at his sides.

“No, shit! I didn’t... I didn’t mean it like that. Wasn’t weird that, y’know, we were happy...” He pauses. Should he say it? It’s now or never. Bravely, he swallows the lump in his throat and takes his older self’s advice, “It was fuckin’ weird seein’ myself happy, is all.” His throat clenches, and he can’t stop the overflow of emotion as more private words spill out. “You spend your whole life bein’ told by everyone you’re worthless, that you’ll never make it, that you’ll end up dead in a ditch somewhere. And all of a sudden it was like, I’m watchin’ myself get everything I don’t deserve. And there you were there bein’ yourself, bein’ the sweetest goddamn thing in the goddamn world and I was just fucking it all up. Like I always do. And you... keep forgivin’ me, every time, and I know I don’t deserve it and I don’t think I ever will.” His eyes hurt and he sets his jaw tight, looking out the window away from Jonas.

He feels raw and exposed.

“I... felt the same way,” Jonas squeaks out. Mitch turns quickly back to him, and the look of sadness on Joey’s sweet face makes him hurt. “I didn’t ever think I could be truly happy, but I...was. I seemed so free,” Jonas’ voice trails off quietly

“You’re... not happy?”

“Not usually. But... when I’m with you I am.” Jonas says it so quickly Mitch just barely catches what he says. But he does, and it makes his heart soar.

“Joey... I don’t want you thinkin’ because you and me were happy sometime down th’ road that I’m... anywhere good enough for ya now.” What?! His mind is screaming at him. You IDIOT. Don’t blow this, tell him now that what you saw was everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Tell him you’d do anything to have that, you’ll try anything to be good enough. “I don’t want it ta’ change your mind... ‘cuz I’m... still me. And I always will be.”

When he gathers the courage to look up, he realizes how close he’s leaned in to Jonas. His initial instinct is to pull back, to not freak Joey out, but Joey’s leaned in closer too. Heat runs up his body as he realizes their hands are touching on the console and that their noses are inches apart. He fully expects Jonas to rear backwards.

But he doesn’t.

He says, just above a whisper, “I know. That’s what I like about you.” Mitch’s heart leaps to his throat.

“Like-”

“Y-yeah.”

Carefully, he raises his free hand to rest on the back of Joey’s head, tangling his trembling fingers in the soft curls.

“Can I-”

“Yes,” Joey confirms breathlessly.

Painfully slowly, as if in slow motion, Mitch grips Jonas hair firmly and pulls him closer. Every nerve in his body is at attention, and the second Jonas’ lips press into his, his body is set ablaze. It’s small and gentle, and he pulls back for confirmation. Jonas licks his lips and leans back in, pressing their lips together once more and Mitch can’t help the content groan which escapes his mouth. Jonas’ hand shoots up to cup the side of Mitch’s neck, and Mitch deepens the kiss, softly tugging at his curls and pulling his head to the side. He slides his tongue along Joey’s bottom lip, marveling at the moan he earns and how good his breath tastes. He’s terrified he’ll take it too far, but as Jonas gingerly nips Mitch’s bottom lip, he loses control. Something animalistic takes over as he growls into Jonas’ mouth, his other hand flying to Jonas’ chin and pulling his mouth open. He thumbs his lower lip and licks along the inside of his mouth, savagely pressing his tongue into Jonas’. They’re a mess of spit and breath until suddenly, Jonas pulls back, and Mitch panics.

“Sorry, I knew I was gonna take it too far, I didn’t-”

“No! No it was really, really amazing, I just needed some air.” Jonas says through heavy breaths.

They smile softly at each other, faces still close. The smiles widen, and soon they’re giggling. Their laughter grows until they’re both breathless, wiping tears away and clutching their stomachs while hanging onto each other.

“Spots you got... no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that,” Mitch says. Jonas blushes, and Mitch is a little taken aback when he smirks. The car is glowing pink as soft tendrils of light wrap around them.

“Then... keep doing it,” Jonas urges. Mitch’s eyes blow open wide.

He doesn’t need to be told that twice. 

Jonas sighs happily and stares at the shoreline through the windshield. He and Mitch have taken up position in their favorite make-out spot: Joan’s worn and comfortable back seat. Though he isn’t grounded anymore, he’s still forbidden from seeing Mitch. Convincing Dean he was somewhere else, making up elaborate ruses to escape Sid’s prying, and stealing away from Mitch’s gang has made it almost impossible for them to be alone lately, so they take advantage of it when they can.

His hair is mussed and the skin under his collar is tender and bruised, still a little wet from where it’d been bitten. Mitch raises up onto his elbows, watching him as he takes his phone out. He shoots Sue a quick text, lying that he’s still at Lewis’ tutoring his younger sister in algebra, and that the Halls have asked him to stay for dinner. When he gets her approval, he smiles deviously at Mitch, tossing his phone into the front seat and pouncing on him.

Mitch is knocked back slightly by his weight but his goofy smile never falters, in fact, it widens as Jonas straddles his hips and plants his hands on his chest. Jonas leans down and presses his lips into the side of Mitch’s head.

“Looks like we’ve got all night,” he says coyly against Mitch’s ear. The low, rumbling laugh he receives makes Jonas shiver, and a small surprised noise slips out of his mouth as he feels two big hands trail up the back of his thighs to grip his butt. Mitch squeezes playfully, eliciting another noise from Jonas. For a couple minutes they kiss languidly, before Mitch pulls away to brush his hair back.

“Thought about somethin’ today,” he says casually as one hand makes its way to Jonas’ face, sweeping the wild curls back and away from his forehead.

“Mmm?” Jonas hums happily.

“Yeah. Javi was talkin’ about his niece, she’s startin’ to talk and stuff. Just a few words. Made me think of, uh... May,” he says, his eyes looking past Jonas’ shoulder.

Jonas’ eyebrows shoot up. They’ve talked about that afternoon they spent with their older selves, revealed everything they’d thought and talked about the advice they’d been given. But they hadn’t touched on May, not really. Mitch hadn’t seemed ready to open that part of himself to Jonas.

“You... think about her often?” Jonas ventures.

“Sometimes,” Mitch confirms as he casts his eyes downwards. “She was so smart n’ shit. Probably got it from you, but, uh... couldn’t help noticin’ that when she laughed it sounded loud and weird and not really right for a little baby. Sounded like mine...” he trails off softly.

“Yeah? That’s... sweet,” Jonas prompts, begging him to say more. May had been preoccupied showing them her Bunny, Jonas hadn’t gotten to spend time with her before she had waddled back into the kitchen to be with Mitch.

In a way, he was jealous of how attached to Mitch the little girl had seemed.

“Bet I can guess why you named ‘er May,” Mitch says with a smile. Jonas cocks an eyebrow.

In truth, as soon as she had clambered her way up onto the couch between he and his older self, before she was introduced, Jonas knew what her name was. He had always loved the name, but he’d never had the opportunity or reason to tell anyone why.

“I bet not.”

“Oh,” Mitch says with an intrigued look. “You’re a bettin’ man, now Joey? Whaddya wager?”

“I’ll bet you...” Jonas pauses to think.

“A blowjob.” Mitch says, acting helpful.

“A WHAT?!”

“Blowjob, y’know where you take your mouth ‘nd-”

“Jesus, Mitch, I know what a blowjob is! I just- I’ve never-” Jonas sputters for a couple seconds.

“Well, if your confident enough that I can’t guess right, you win the blowjob. Bettin’ ain’t complicated, Spots,” Mitch grins at him wickedly. Jonas takes a long moment to think before setting his face determinedly and looking at Mitch.

“A-alright,” he says. He tries to feign confidence, but his voice wavers and he gulps heavily.

“It’s ‘cuz that’s the month between your and my birthdays,” Mitch states matter-of-factly.

“Ha!” Jonas barks out, “You’re wrong!” In the momentary high of winning, Jonas lets his guard down. Mitch flips him easily, pinning him to the warm leather of Joan’s backseat.

“Mm? Oh no,” Mitch says without any remorse. Jonas’ breath hitches as Mitch leans down to kiss his neck softly. “Guess that means ya’ win, Joey baby,” he whispers as his hands sneak up Jonas’ shirt. With an exaggerated sigh, Mitch leans back and looks down at him. “If only I guessed that it’s because your favorite flower’s a sunflower, and they start bloomin’ in May.”

Jonas startles, “W-what? How did you even know, I’ve never told anyone that!” he exclaims as Mitch’s fingers move down the rise of his soft stomach, down towards his pants.

“I listen,” he mumbles against Jonas’ stomach as one long finger dips beneath the waistband of his jeans, running softly over the band of his underwear. Jonas is trembling, bright red as his body fills with overwhelming heat. “’nd I like learnin’ that stuff aboutcha.” With a wicked smile and a wink, Mitch drawls, “Like teachin ya stuff, too.”

Joan’s backseat has never felt so good.