Chapter Text
April 2032 - Los Angeles
Timmy was having trouble concentrating. He always found conference room air stifling, and all he was hearing was “blah, blah, contracts..., blah, blah, schedule.” After well over a decade, he trusted his team to just handle it, but Brian insisted these meetings were important. So here he was. He looked around the room and watched as people talked about him like he wasn’t even there.
His thoughts drifted to the evening as he gazed out the window at the clouds. He didn’t think they had any plans--maybe they could just chill in the backyard and enjoy being together...a couple beers, some music, Armie could grill something--would the kids be home tonight? No, that’s right, there’s a game at school and they were planning to go. He thought about how hard it was to keep track now that Hops could drive and they didn’t need to schedule carting the kids around. A smile crept onto Timmy’s face as he thought about later, and Armie...always Armie, and after grilling how he might smell smoky and need a nice looong shower...with someone to help scrub the smell away. And then-
“Tim...TIMMY!”--Brian’s voice interrupted his daydream. He looked up and saw him pointing at the table in front of him. Timmy peeked at his phone, self-conscious as everyone watched him, and his heart dropped. He was pushing back from the table before he even heard Brian ask “what?” Timmy could barely whisper “Armie...hospital,” before he was scrambling out the door. He heard Brian tell the room “we’ll have to do this later,” as he was running down the hall.
The elevator was painfully slow. Timmy felt his hands tremble as he pushed the button again and again, calculating whether it would be faster to run down the 22 floors. The doors opened, and he prayed there’d be no stops. Worst-case scenarios pushed their way into his mind, his only conscious thought focused on getting there in time.
The doors opened and he sprinted through the lobby, only to be joined by a woman he vaguely recognized (an assistant of some sort?) sprinting beside him. “Mr. Chalamet, Brian called down... the driver is waiting.” Timmy nodded his thanks, calling the destination and “the faster the better” over the seat as he crawled into the back. And then...it was out of his hands. Desperate for some way to be useful he checked in on the kids via their family tracking app and saw they were still at school. He called the school and voicemail picked up. Not willing to wait, he texted both kids, thankful they could get there on their own.
Alone with his thoughts, snips of their beginnings washed over him.
The piano lesson in Crema when they first met, and how he’d told everyone his first thought was “Man, this guy is HUUUGE!,” but how it was really an overwhelming feeling of peace and completeness--like putting the last piece into a puzzle. The heady intimacy he felt as they spent almost every waking moment together, filming, rehearsing, just hanging out, and how the lines blurred almost to the point of non-existence. The disconnect between two versions of himself as he returned to his own life after filming--feeling like a part of him had been ripped away .
The realization during the promo tour that perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling ...things, followed by the furor from both their teams over the incendiary chemistry anyone and everyone could see any time they were together. The dichotomy of things being so right as they gave in to the need, the want, the desire, in contrast to the crushing wrongness of “how it would look” and the career impact it could have, leading to the soul-crushing “dark ages” that followed.
He thought about how hard he and Armie had fought for them. The rollercoaster of hope and disappointment over the span of actual years--the decision to finally be together and do whatever it took to make it happen, the long negotiation that went into disentangling Armie’s Instagram-perfect marriage. As 2020 rolled around the seeds of their new life together were being planted, with the separation, the public, poetic declaration of love in the park--it was difficult, but on track. And then fucking covid tossed all the planning and careful maneuvering aside--the Caymans, the delayed divorce, Cabo, sham “relationships” for each of them to steer the divorce narrative away from Timmy and soothe Liz’s ego, the custody fight--over 10 years in the past and it still stirred a jaw-clenching anger. Timmy knew their rough beginning only strengthened their bond, but he almost couldn’t believe they made it out the other side, to where they were now.
The car jostled, bringing Timmy back to the present enough to realize they were merging onto the highway. Trying to focus, he checked in on the kids and saw them moving toward the hospital. Hot tears welled up at the thought of the kids, his love for them pushing him to the emotional edge. He said a silent prayer that this wouldn’t change his relationship with them. Feeling helpless and desperate he texted Armie:
TC: Hang on! The kids and I are on our way.
AH:
Timmy hadn’t really expected a response, but still worried at the silence. He checked his phone, seeing another 15 minutes to their trip--15 minutes! The kids were close at least, and Armie wouldn't be alone long. Pleading with the driver to do whatever he could, Timmy promised to pay any ticket or fine they might get.
He closed his eyes and thought back just a few hours--languidly lying in bed, exploring each other as they so frequently did whenever they were in the same place at the same time. Slow and sensual this time, gentle touches, deep kisses connecting on a spiritual level, awash in love and feeling as one. A change from their frequent hot, urgent, can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other sessions, where their bottomless trust made nothing off limits. His body started to stir and his eyes flew open...now was NOT the time for that! But doubt crept into his thoughts because now...well, it would all be different now, wouldn’t it? He felt oddly detached from the person he had been this morning, like the phone call was the dividing line of “before” and “after” in his life.
A rough bump brought Timmy back into the moment, and the car pulled up to the hospital doors. He ran inside and looked up at the cavernous atrium, its glass elevator and multiple floors looking more like it belonged in a mall than a hospital, and tried to figure out where he should be going. Should he have come in the emergency entrance? Unsure and feeling flustered he alternately stared at the hospital directory and had started to text the kids when he heard the voice he knew so well, “Timmy. Babe!...Timmy, up here!”
Relief washed over him as he spun around and looked up. Armie was leaning over the fourth floor railing, and the sight brought that same sense of peace and completeness he felt the very first time they met, and that he had felt every time he’d seen him since.
“Babe. What are you waiting for? Get up here!” Armie shouted out to him, grinning like a madman. Timmy dashed for the stairs, taking them two at a time, not wanting to wait even the minute it would take for the elevator. Armie met him at the top, lifting him into an embrace and giving him a little spin. A raspy whispered “I’m so glad you’re here” tickled his ear, followed by a warm kiss on the soft skin on the jawline just below, and then a quick kiss on the lips. Armie pulled back and Timmy found his feet on the floor, staring up at the smile lighting Armie’s face.
“Are the kids here? Did I make it on time?”
“Yeah, they got here a few minutes ago. And we’ve got some time--when I texted it looked like things were moving a lot faster than they are now--but you just never know with these things. There’s a private waiting area...we probably just want to wait there. We can send the kids down to grab coffee and snacks or something."
“How are you so calm?,” Timmy asked, dropping his eyes to the floor, suddenly overwhelmed. A finger lifted his chin as Armie leaned into a soft kiss, and Timmy grinned, recognizing it as one of Armie’s go-to moves for lifting his worry. Breaking away, Armie shook his head with a wide smile. “Relax. You do remember I’ve done this before. Twice even. It will be ok. Actually...more than ok--it will be incredible.”
And before Timmy could protest, Armie grabbed his hand and they walked back to where he had seen Armie over the railing, past the sign in large letters on the wall:
Center for Maternal and Infant Health