Archive of Our Own

Honestly, Kyle was glad that he was no longer on his own. Sure, he still enjoyed his independence, and got irritated if he hadn’t had enough time alone with his thoughts, and the introverted side of him liked returning to his apartment at the weekends to unwind. However, he had been enjoying spending more time at Eric’s apartment since they had started dating four months ago now. Which had all come about because, well, his new boyfriend had a car, you see. No more buses for him!

The arrangement was just more convenient, Kyle had decided after their first week. Eric would drop him off at school on his way to the station, and then pick him up again on the way home. Eric would cook the most amazing meals for them when they got back to his apartment, and they would cuddle up on the couch and watch movies or play video-games all evening. Kyle would lose track of the time, and by the time he found it again, well, it would be silly to go back. Why catch the last bus to his apartment across town when he would just be back at Eric’s again tomorrow? There was room for him in the bed, and he already had the clothes and supplies he needed for the next day there, and Eric would pack him a lunch for tomorrow and make him breakfast in the morning, so why not stay? Although he no longer needed lifts to and from school when summer came, their routine remained.

It had come to the point where he now had his own drawer in Eric’s dresser, in which he kept his pyjama pants and spare socks and even underwear in case he ended up staying the night and showering there (and, yes, he had moved his shower products into Eric’s bathroom, too, his coconut-scented shampoo sitting snug next to Eric’s apple one). The shirts, he usually stole from Eric’s stash. Eric often called him a thief for it and threatened that he’d hand him in for his crimes at the station if he wasn’t off-duty, but they both knew that he loved seeing Kyle swamped in his sweaters and drowning in his tees. Kyle partly wore them just for that reason, just because he knew what it did to Eric and he loved driving him wild like that. He was still unused to feeling desired, but he was quickly getting used to it.

He had no choice but to get used to it, when Eric couldn’t seem to keep his eyes or hands or mind off of him. Not even a week into dating, Eric had established a routine of texting Kyle good morning when he woke up and good night when he went to bed, kisses included. He would text him periodically throughout the day, too. Sometimes to send him gifs and memes, which Kyle would either roll his eyes at, or pretend he didn’t totally just snort at on a bus full of strangers who were then giving him weird looks. Sometimes to tell him he was hungry or bored or needed to “take a wicked dump” on duty, and fuck, what was Kyle supposed to do about it when he was in the middle of trying to manage a classroom of kids? Sometimes to say just picked you up a strawberry donut from Tweek’s for later, and seriously, what the hell was Kyle supposed to do when that would make his cheeks ache from fighting off a stupid grin in the staff room so that he didn’t invite a barrage of coos and questions from curious co-workers (like Leopold, who knew all about the relationship development and took great pleasure in teasing him about it periodically)?

Eric was no less attentive in person. Kyle started to suspect that Eric would die if starved of touch, because it was like he couldn’t live if his hands weren’t on his boyfriend. He knew that Kyle didn’t like being too public, but he made sure to always be at least touching his shoulder while they were stood together, like waiting in line somewhere. He hugged him every time he got to see him again, and every time he knew he wouldn’t. Deep, long hugs like he was trying to press Kyle’s silhouette into his very soul. He reached for Kyle’s hand across the car and held it while he was driving, and that sure did things to Kyle’s blood pressure, because he still couldn’t get over just how right Eric’s hand felt in his, and because keep both hands on the steering wheel, you idiot, are you trying to kill us? He grabbed Kyle for impromptu dances in the kitchen while he was cooking, madly declaring that every romantic song which came on the radio was their song so they had to dance for it, even if they had never heard it together before and even though Kyle had absolutely no rhythm and Eric knew it and fucking laughed at him for it, humiliating him, and made sure he couldn’t escape the ridicule, holding steadfast to him, his hands in Kyle’s and his nose pressed against Kyle’s and his eyes staring into Kyle’s, and tricking Kyle into feeling like maybe the embarrassment was worth it if Eric just kept looking at him like that, grinning at him like that, like he was everything.

Which wasn’t fair, because Kyle wasn’t everything, Eric was. Eric, who had opened a door into his mind and came barging into Kyle’s organised space and ruined it, tearing all the dates off his calendar and ripping all the plans out his diary and throwing all the folders off his shelves. Gone were his expectations. Lost were his philosophies. Missing were his strategies. And it was frustrating, and terrifying, and ridiculous, and just about the best thing that had ever happened to him. He didn’t worry so much anymore, didn’t doubt, because what was the point in preparing when Eric was going to come along and turn everything so terribly, wonderfully upside down and inside out and allow Kyle to see it in a whole, new way that he never would have if he’d stuck to his routines, his sameness, his beliefs that he’d always had and never questioned or dared to want more from?

Now, Kyle knew that there was more than burnt toast for breakfast; more than lonely bus rides to work; more than quiet coffees on the weekends; more than living his life from lesson to lesson. There was more. He was more. All because Eric had shown it to him – dragged him back out through that door he had barged into his head through, out of his expectations and plans and categories, and welcomed him to the world beyond what he had always believed and known and trusted. A world where a handsome, charming, incredible man would keep showing up to see him, insignificant and ordinary and pathetic as he was. A world where he could realise he wasn’t so insignificant or ordinary or pathetic after all, because that handsome, charming, incredible man loved him. A world where Kyle loved him too, as insufferable and unpredictable and frustrating as Eric was, because as much as they might argue with each other, Kyle’s overpowering feelings for Eric were the one thing he couldn’t debate. It was a wonderful world.

It had been another wonderful week, too, with a perfect ending in Eric’s apartment again. Ordinarily on a Friday night, Kyle would have his lesson planner out and be working out something for Monday. Determined to do the same that Friday night, he had brought his binder with him to Eric’s place. Yet, it remained untouched in his tote bag, forgotten after Eric had stood behind him in the kitchen while he had been washing up at the sink after dinner (Eric cooked, Kyle cleaned; that was the agreement), wrapped his arms tight around his waist, and peppered his neck with ticklish kisses, knowing that it was a sensitive spot and that Kyle would be squirming and breathless and trying to shout at him to stop, but wouldn’t be able to articulate anything past his squealing laughter, wouldn’t be able to push him away with his soapy hands full of plates and sponges, and Eric would smile and smile and smile.

Kyle would later blame Eric for making him neglect his work, but the fault was his own, because he just couldn’t think of Monday. Why would he want to? Why, when Friday was so wonderful? Because Eric was there. Because when Eric was there, Kyle didn’t want to plan his life anymore – he wanted to live it. So he just cuddled up to his boyfriend on the couch and allowed himself to forget everything else.

Although, Kyle had no idea what they were watching. Well, he did know that it was The Jakovasaurs, a shitty slapstick French sit-com about a family of freaky abominations to God and comedy, but that was about all that he knew – and all that he cared to know. Honestly, Kyle thought that the shows Eric liked were god-awful garbage. Eric thought the same thing about Kyle’s shows, though, so they were even. Their separate taste in television was one point of contention in the relationship. Kyle had once switched on Family Guy, to which Eric had actually, audibly gagged, and Kyle had been unable to enjoy watching either of the back-to-back episodes because Eric had been arguing with him the whole damn time about what constituted good comedy.

(“Comedy is subjective!” Kyle had defended. “It’s just funny!”

“Yes, but why is it funny?!” Eric had countered. “There is an art to comedy! It has to have a rhythm! It has to hit the right beats at the right time! Family Guy may as well have been written by, by a bunch of, of, of manatees randomly selecting buzzwords for all the rhythm it has! Hell, matter of fact, that’s probably why you find this crap funny! You have no rhythm, just like Family Guy’s jokes!”

“Oh, shut up, Eric! You just don’t get it! As I said, it’s subjective!”

“Well help me get it, Kyle! Explain what’s so funny!”

“If I have to explain why it’s funny then it takes away the funniness! It’s not my fault you’re just too stupid to get it!”

“Ah-ha! So you’re saying it’s not subjectivity! Now you’re saying it’s just too high-brow and stupid commoners like me can’t understand Family Guy’s intellectualism! Well which is it, Kyle?!”

“I never said it was high-brow! I just said that you, as a person, could not get it! It has nothing to do with your intellect!”

“That’s not what you said! You said-”

“It’s what I meant!”

“But you said-”

“That’s not what I said!”

“You did! You called me stupid! Therefore-”

“I didn’t mean you aren’t intelligent! When I called you stupid, I meant you’re too insular!”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No! You’re perfectly capable of understanding other people’s perspectives! You just choose not to! You’re so egocentric and obstinate, you’d rather damn other opinions as wrong and hold yours up as the model! You’ve already decided Family Guy isn’t funny, so now you won’t see it as anything else!”

“Wow. That’s very judgemental of you, Kyle. I’m terribly offended that you’ve undermined my ability to accept alternate views, despite my love for you and your liberal Jew ideologies. This is just the kind of non-sequitur logic I’d expect from the likes of a Family Guy viewer.”

“Agh!”)

Not wanting to invite another argument like that, Kyle stayed silent about how much he hated Eric’s show. He just tried to focus instead on the feeling of Eric’s soft arm coiled around his back, his thick shoulder pillowing Kyle’s head, and his large hand warming the bare part of Kyle’s bicep where the t-shirt sleeve didn’t quite reach. He had never felt so secure and comfortable before experiencing the way Eric held him. Now that he knew what it was like, he never wanted to miss it. So that he wouldn’t have to, he stayed still and silent mostly just so that Eric would find no reason to move. It wasn’t until the commercial break that Eric spoke up either.

“So I forgot to say,” Eric squeezed Kyle’s arm to get his attention as he started to speak, in case he had dozed off on him (it wouldn’t be the first time – Kyle didn’t sleep half as well in his bed as he did on his boyfriend), “I’m going to Casa Bonita with Zac tomorrow.”

The outing was a surprise, but Kyle had figured as much about who Eric was spending the day with. Weekends were reserved for Zac. Kyle going out with Eric on the weekend for their very first date had been a one-time exception, unrepeated since. Now Kyle was used to making himself scarce by Friday afternoons at the latest. (That Friday was an exception; it was Zac’s birthday weekend, and Eric had swapped his day so that the kid could have a slumber party with his friends at his mom’s house, which was more suited for hosting – and which meant Kyle could stay over an extra night.) It didn’t make him any less disappointed. Still, he couldn’t complain. He didn’t have a right to. He could have Eric all week if he wanted to. Zac could only have him for a couple of days.

“What’s Casa Bonita again?” It was a perfectly fair question. Kyle didn’t ask ridiculous, unnecessary questions. Eric treated it as though it was just that, though.

“Um, my and Zac’s favourite place on earth? The best Mexican restaurant ever? Where I want my body to be buried if I die? I’ve literally told you all this before! Come on, Kyle!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

Eric probably had told him before, was the thing. More than once, most likely. Kyle just hadn’t been listening. He usually tuned out when Eric started waxing poetic about pointless things, like how the bathroom was the last bastion of American freedom and how Kyle would do well to preserve it (which had been last Thursday’s lecture, after Kyle had banged on the bathroom door because Eric had been taking a dump for forty fucking minutes). Kyle wasn’t free of sin himself – he was preachy too, he knew – but at least his lengthy spiels were about things fucking worth hearing (even though Eric called most of them gay, to which Kyle would smartly say, “I am gay,” and effectively win).

Kyle tilted his head up so he could see Eric as he asked, “You’re taking him out for his birthday, I’m guessing?” His head lifted and lowered with Eric’s shoulder as he gave an answering shrug.

“I mean, yeah, this time. But we just go there every month anyway. It’s kind of our thing.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Kyle smiled softly. He was enamoured by many things about Eric, but how well he took to fatherhood was one of his favourites. He was always talking about his son (bragging, really) and coming up with fun things for them to do together. As a man who valued family so much, and who hadn’t had much of a father as a boy himself, Kyle found that it was one of the most admirable things about Eric.

“Yeah. I was actually wondering if, um…” Eric trailed off, scratching the nape of his neck, as if digging around there for the courage to continue. Whenever he got so unsure like that, Kyle knew that Eric was going to say something either so vulnerable that it made him weak in the knees, or so ridiculous that it gave him a strong desire to put his hands around his fat neck. He should have taken a steadying breath either way, he realised too late, when Eric finally finished, “…if you wanted to come with us this time?”

At first, Kyle could only blink, too shocked to respond. This was not something that Eric had ever suggested before. His time with Kyle was strictly his time with Kyle, and his time with Zac was strictly his time with Zac. It was like they operated in two separate dimensions which only Eric had the ability to pass through. Kyle had thought that it might always be that way. The idea of him stepping into the realm where Eric and Zac could be together, of him being with them too… it sounded surreal.

“Really?” Kyle asked just to make sure, to let Eric think again about what he was asking.

“Yeah,” Eric replied, sounding so totally sure of himself. He was always so confident, but Kyle had come to learn the hard way that that wasn’t always a sign that Eric had methodically evaluated every possible option, painstakingly considered the drawbacks of each, and then properly weighed them up against the benefits, in order to arrive at what was objectively the best decision. No, oftentimes his confidence came quite simply (and stupidly) from an impressive optimism – a carefree cry of, “What could go wrong!” without actually, seriously thinking about what, indeed, could. That was just one of the many ways in which he and Kyle – the Overthink King ruling Worrywart World – differed.

Kyle ran his hand through his hair while he worried enough for them both, biting his lip as he actually thought about it on his boyfriend’s behalf. “I don’t know, Eric, I’d feel bad. That’s supposed to be your time with Zac. And it’s his birthday, too. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I know, but… you and me are really serious.” Eric rubbed Kyle’s shoulder encouragingly, his eyes honeying with a soft smile, and Kyle felt like ice-cream out in the sun. “You’re… a huge part of my life right now. So I kind of think it makes sense you should get to know the hugest part of my life.”

Kyle’s cheeks glowed. He never got sick of Eric’s little confessions. Each one was just as exciting and dizzying as the first, when Eric had told Kyle that he liked him outside his apartment after their first date (which he hadn’t even accepted was a date up until that moment).

“Eric, that’s… really sweet.” Kyle rested his hand on Eric’s, squeezing it affectionately. “I’d… actually love that. I really want to get to know Zac better. He’s so important to you, and you’re important to me, so… it makes sense. You’re right.”

“So you’ll come?” There was a twinkle in Eric’s eye, like a single star thwarting the darkness, and Kyle didn’t have the heart to extinguish that spark of hope, no matter what his reservations were.

“I’m okay with it,” he gave in carefully, like a child hesitantly holding out their favourite toy to their reckless friend, trying to keep the control of the situation from an excitable Eric who would be off with it a mile a minute as soon as Kyle completely handed it over, “but… do you think Zac will be okay with it?”

“Sure! He’s an outgoing kid. And I told you when we met he loved you as his teacher, right?”

“Well, yes, but…” Kyle trailed off and bit his lip, “he was kind of… different with me, last I saw him.”

Ever since that weekend where he had started officially dating his dad, Zac had become more… hostile, was the only word for it, towards Kyle. He had always been a troublemaker, of course; but before, it had been regardless of Kyle. Whether or not Kyle would notice, he would cause mischief. After that, though, Zac began to be bad exclusively under Kyle’s attention. If Kyle wasn’t looking at him, then Zac would make him look; and then he would proceed to pour an entire tub of glue onto the table, where it would ooze out over all the other despairing kids’ macaroni pictures – all this, while never breaking eye contact with Kyle, not even to blink. And that was just the first incident. There had been so many more in those couple of weeks before summer break.

The most egregious had been that last Wednesday in mid-June (yes, Kyle remembered the date), when the kids had been assigned a task to draw their dreams (one of Leopold’s ideas, of course). Zac had brought over his finished concept to show Kyle, and he had blanched at the image of a stick man with red, curly hair floating in space. His tongue was sticking out and his eyes were X’s.

“O-oh, wow, Zac,” Kyle had tried to sound encouraging, determined not to be deterred, “what… what is this?”

“You.” Zac had pointed at the stick man, confirming Kyle’s suspicions. He wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt though. Kids were innocent, right?... Right?

“Oh, how nice! Am I playing in space?”

“You can’t play in spaces,” Zac had said coldly. “There’s no oxygens.”

“Ah,” Kyle had said with a jerky nod. “Right you are. Very clever, Zac.”

“Your lifeless body is floating forevers in the cold, empty darknesses,” Zac had continued almost hypnotically, eyes wide and unblinking, dissolving Kyle’s forced smile with each word, each as chilling as the cold clasp of their world’s outer atmosphere. “The universes will continue to grows, and you will continues to slip far, far away from us. You’s will be forgot, as dead as stars.”

“You… You sure know a lot about space,” Kyle had chuckled nervously, trying to play it light still. He handed the drawing back to the boy with trembling hands. “H-how cool! I didn’t know that about you.”

“There’s a lots you don’ know,” Zac had said intentionally, and kept his eyes locked on Kyle in an intimidating stare as he backed away towards his craft table again.

Yeah, Kyle had laid awake at night staring at the ceiling over that one. And even now that he had moved up a grade, Zac still stared him down when they crossed paths in the school corridors. Kyle hadn’t told Eric about any of Zac’s bad behaviour though. Not only because he didn’t want to disappoint his dad, but also because he didn’t want to tarnish whatever good feelings the boy may have still had about him by snitching.

“He probably just acted different because he was at school,” Eric observed optimistically. “See what he’s like on the weekend!”

“Maybe…” Kyle had to admit, Eric may have been right. Children were different from one place to another. Kids who were loud and naughty at school could be nice and quiet at home. That could have been the case for Zac. Besides, maybe it was all in his head. Perhaps he was only seeing a difference in Zac because he felt like their relationship should be different, now that he was dating his dad. Seeing him outside of school would help him, then, to figure out what was going on between them, and hopefully fix it. “Well… Okay, then,” he decided, “I’ll come tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Eric pulled Kyle into one of his suffocating bear hugs, rubbing his cheek against the top of his head fast enough to cause static, and Kyle could only grip the meaty arm in front of his throat and try to prevent being strangled. “Casa Bonita with my two favourite boys! This is going to be so totally sweet!”

For someone so excited about their day out though, it sure took a long time for Kyle to wake Eric up for it the next morning. He had to spend a good minute poking him in the face and repeating his name over and over again. When that didn’t work, he threw all fucks to the wind, got his mouth right up against Eric’s ear, and bellowed for him to get his fat ass out of bed at the top of his lungs. Even then, Eric stirred very slowly. He peeled his eyes open with the ultimate resistance, so much so that they were less so open and more just ajar, and the first thing he used them for was to glare at Kyle.

“You sure can sound like a demon when you want to.”

“Good morning,” Kyle laughed and leaned down to kiss Eric on his forehead as a way of saying sorry.

“And now here’s the angel,” Eric sighed, closing his eyes again and rolling over onto his side. He looked like he was about to return to unconsciousness, so Kyle thought that there was nothing else for it. He kicked Eric in the backside, securing a firm foot right in the centre of his spine, and started pushing him.

“Get the fuck up before I kick your ass.”

“Oh, the demon’s back,” Eric grumbled groggily. Eventually he realised that he was going to end up on the floor one way or another, either by Kyle’s force or his own volition, and he decided to go with dignity. “Alright, I’m gettin’.” He yawned and swatted Kyle’s foot away as he started sitting up.” I’m up. I’m up.”

As soon as Kyle had bullied him all the way out of bed, beating him on the back with his fists until he actually stood up from the mattress, Eric went to make them both breakfast, while Kyle, satisfied that his duty was done, took a victorious shower. The smells of crispy turkey bacon and cooked eggs were wafting around the apartment by the time he emerged from the steaming bathroom with a towel around his neck and a spring in his step. When he entered the kitchen, he made sure to creep quietly across the tiled floor, over to where Eric stood cooking at the stove in his boxers with his back to him, and give his boyfriend’s behind a cheeky pinch, startling the brave and fearless street-hardened cop into jumping.

“Fuck!” He spun round to scowl at Kyle, with a spatula in his hand that he seemed to have half a mind to swat him in the face with. “Christ, stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“Stop being so fun to sneak up on,” Kyle bargained, and Eric rolled his eyes. It was nice that they took turns to be The Insufferable One in their relationship – they were a very equal-opportunities couple. Kyle wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist, knowing that it would soften him up and make him like him again, and stood up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on his shoulder and see their breakfast sizzling away. “Smells good.”

Eric must have got a sniff of Kyle’s shampoo, because he said, “Damn, you smell good too,” and turned his head to shove his nose in Kyle’s hair and inhale shamelessly. He was really weird sometimes. Kyle would probably have been creeped out if he wasn’t so fucking crazy about Eric himself. Even when he smelled like he needed a shower next.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Kyle teased, playfully pinching Eric’s rolls. Even though he worried about Eric’s weight sometimes, he kind of fucking loved how soft he was around the middle.

“I know.” Eric batted Kyle’s hand away in annoyance. “I can take a hint. I’ll shower after breakfast.”

Kyle borrowed Eric’s laptop and sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee Eric had made him (from the coffee maker he had gotten especially for Kyle, as he was more of a tea person himself, and he always complained that his apartment smelled like a Starbucks now because of it but he kept brewing Kyle’s special blend every morning anyway, had never missed it for even one day) so that he could check his emails until breakfast was done. There was nothing from work, but his mom had sent him something.

Hello bubbe,

I hope you’re doing ok, your father and I miss you... it’s been ages since you last came home, you didn’t even come back for the summer… when are you coming to visit? We’re so looking forward to meeting Eric… let me know if I need to clear out the guest room..

L.O.L. xxx

“L-O-L doesn’t mean Lots of Love, Ma,” Kyle mumbled under his breath. That wasn’t even the most infuriating thing about her email. He huffed a sigh and ran his fingers through his bangs. She was older, now, but she was sure just as pushy as she had always been in her prime. This wasn’t the first guilt-inducing email that he’d received from her. It was part of why he still hadn’t taken Eric home to meet his parents. He didn’t want to scare him away with how overbearing his mom could be. She had no problem saying stuff that would surely embarrass Eric and him both. She had asked about the guest room, for fuck’s sake! That was obviously her not-so-sneaky way of trying to find out if Kyle and Eric slept in the same bed. God forbid her twenty-six-year-old son be having sex! She’d definitely be nosy about that part of their relationship, and everything else in-between, when he was finally brave enough to subject Eric to her scrutiny. If he was ever brave enough, actually.

Kyle was thankful when Eric said that breakfast was ready – he didn’t have to worry about replying to his mom right that second. He closed the laptop up while Eric plated out two portions, one significantly larger than the other, and then turned up the television so that they could watch while they ate. They tucked into their breakfast in relative silence, except to complain about what was on that morning.

“These people are so fucking fake,” Kyle scoffed at the presenting duo on a talk show who kept smiling wide enough that everyone could see their teeth which looked straight out of a toothpaste commercial. They had big, bright eyes like they had been awake for hours, and looked as though they had even found time to wash their shiny, perfect hair with natural oils under a tranquil waterfall. “Who the hell looks that good in the morning?”

“You,” Eric rebuked, somehow so indignant and infatuated all at once, and effectively shut Kyle up. He ducked down and tore into his breakfast to hide his rising blush, and he didn’t resurface again to make any more snide comments.

Despite having the larger portion, Eric somehow finished first still and headed for his shower. Kyle was done shortly after, and set about washing up their plates. He knew he’d have time to; Eric took forever in the shower. Kyle didn’t know just what the hell he did in there to take so long; but sometimes, when passing by outside, he heard Eric singing opera. When he did, he liked to stop and listen. Eric had a really good voice already, and the acoustics in the bathroom did everything for him. And then, when he’d heard enough, Kyle would bang loudly on the door and shout through, “Stop using up all our hot water, Pavarotti!” (to which Eric would shout back, “My hot water!”).

As he had predicted, Kyle heard the shower shut off just as he had finished putting the plates back after drying them, and he was back in the bedroom before Eric had even left the bathroom. He was nearly naked except for his underwear, in the middle of looking through the wardrobe for some pants, when Eric finally emerged, flushed and dripping with a towel around his waist, and whistled to announce his arrival.

“I’ll never get over that view.”

Kyle whipped around to catch Eric staring at his ass and grinning. He rolled his eyes as he stepped into a pair of jeans, although he failed to fight the self-satisfied little smile that liked to worm its way onto his face whenever he caught Eric admiring him. Some things just didn’t get old.

“My eyes are up here.”

However, Kyle was only human too. It was his turn to get caught when Eric bent over to rummage for some underwear at the bottom of his drawers, and Kyle’s gaze couldn’t help gravitating to his damp, gleaming form. They’d been together just last night, but already he so wanted to wrap his legs around that thick waist again, and drag his nails down that broad back, and squeeze a handful of that big, fat-

“My eyes are up here.”

Kyle flinched at having been noticed, his bulging eyes jerking to meet Eric’s glimmering ones. The bastard shot him a shit-eating grin, and Kyle smirked at having his own words used against him.

Okay, so they were even then. Just the way they liked it.

They continued dressing without any further distractions (well, not many, anyway), and were soon ready to set off to pick up the last of their party just after noon. Up until then, Kyle had been fine. As they approached Ms Turner’s house, though, he finally digested the unfamiliarity and unusualness of the situation along with the bacon and eggs. His stomach started swirling, and he began wishing that Eric didn’t make such big breakfasts.

“Are you really sure it’s okay for me to come?” Kyle asked, watching the world pass by warily as they drove. Were they going too fast? It seemed like they were going over the speed limit, but Eric wasn’t even touching thirty. Why did it feel so fucking fast?

“Sure it is!” Eric sounded so completely unconcerned in comparison. “It’ll be fun. Right?”

He peered across at Kyle, beaming expectantly, waiting for him to agree, to give in, to trust. And, although he still wasn’t so sure, Kyle could trust Eric, right? He told him on their first date that he wouldn’t let him fall, and he didn’t. So if Eric said that it was going to be okay, then it was. That was what Kyle decided, and he managed a smile.

“Yeah.”

Eric’s grin practically glowed at Kyle’s acceptance of his assurance, and he reached across the console to take his hand as he turned his attention back to the road. Kyle elected not to chastise him about safe driving practices that time, and squeezed his hand back.

Unlike her ex-husband, who had shacked up in a one-bed downtown apartment, Ms Turner had stayed in the two-storey house that had been settled in their divorce, in a suburban neighbourhood. The well-kempt front lawns and varnished yard fences suited her demeanour, Kyle thought as they turned into her driveway. Smart and subdued.

“Should I wait here?” Kyle asked as Eric turned the ignition off and unbuckled his seatbelt. He didn’t know whether it would be weird and awkward for him to go say hi so casually to the ex-wife of the guy he was dating, who also just so happened to be the mother of one of his ex-students. God, he really liked making life complicated for himself, didn’t he?

Eric shook his head as he exited the car. “Nah, come with. Come say hi.” He’d already shut the door by the time Kyle opened his mouth, before he could beg to stay, ask to be excused, make a plea to be pardoned.

“Fuck,” Kyle whispered and wondered if he could get away with staying in the car anyway. Eric quickly made it clear that that wasn’t going to fly. He walked around to Kyle’s window, bent down, and tapped on the glass. Kyle glowered at his knowing smile.

“You know,” Eric’s voice was muffled through the window, but Kyle could still detect his too-familiar tone – the tone that said I’m About To Say Something That’s Going To Really Piss You Off – and he scowled at him as if that would stop him from saying, “I thought I was done with dating women after my wife. But it looks like I’m still stuck with a pussy.”

“Oh, you did not,” Kyle warned, willing him to take back his words. Eric simply shrugged as he stood up and backed away from the car, holding up his hands in the air as if he could absolve himself of perpetrating the insult, as if what he’d said hadn’t even been an offense but a fact. He was smiling like he’d won.

He fucking had.

“Fuck,” Kyle whispered again, hissed, and went to get out. He made a point to do so as violently as possible, mishandling the door handle by yanking it open, and slamming the door shut once he was out. He stormed up the pathway to catch up to Eric, who was already at the door by then, and aimed a kick at his ankle. “You suck.”

“This is all for your own good,” Eric said, throwing an arm around Kyle’s shoulder and jostling his resisting boyfriend into a half-hug. God, Kyle hated – fucking hated – that Eric was constantly making him do things out of his comfort zone… Maybe because it showed Kyle just how uncomfortable, how unconfident, how incompetent he actually was – how he, in fact, didn’t have his shit together like he’d always thought he had. It was a terrifying realisation. But that was why Eric was good for him. He disallowed him to settle. He allowed him to strive. With Eric pushing him off of cliffs, Kyle could learn to soar… It was still scary, though.

Eric pressed the button by the door, and as Kyle heard the bell tolling his doom, he actually pressed himself deeper into Eric’s side. He stopped biting his lip just long enough to ask, “Is she, like… okay? I mean, with us?”

Kyle had seen Ms Turner since he’d started dating Eric, of course, when she went to pick up Zac from kindergarten back before the summer (although Eric had taken over that duty more often so that he could see his new boyfriend), and she had been just as smiley and warm as ever. However, those encounters had always been short – simple small-talk about the weather and traffic and how Zac was doing – so it had been difficult to get a read on how she actually felt about The Whole Thing. Behind her warm smile, was she imagining running Kyle over with her car? It was a real worry, so Kyle did not appreciate it when Eric mocked him for it (although he should have expected it), pinching his cheek and cooing like he was talking to something simultaneously so sweet and silly.

“Aw, is poor ‘ickle-wickle Kyle-y scared my ex-wifey’s gonna turn into the jelly monster and try to muwder him?”

Kyle snarled and pushed him away. “No, but if you keep patronising me then I will murder you.”

“Lighten up, Kyle!” Eric laughed and clapped him on the back, making him jolt from the force. “I told you already, me and Heidi are cool. We don’t care about dating other people. Fact, she’s pretty psyched for me.”

“You two don’t get jealous at all?” Kyle asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

“I know, Kyle,” Eric sighed dramatically, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You just can’t believe that Heidi can see a handsome hunk of meat like this and not get totally super jealous of anyone who gets a piece. I know. Neither can I.” Eric patted him consolingly, and Kyle almost passed out from rolling his eyes so hard. “But that’s just the way we roll. Heidi’s getting her meat from another butcher now. So don’t you worry. This royal ham is all yours, baby.”

“Well at least we can both agree that you’re a pig,” Kyle said, sweeping Eric’s hand off of his shoulder like it was a fly. He sure was just as annoying as one.

It was mostly a blessing when the door opened, preventing Eric from saying anything else. Mostly. Though Kyle then seized up when Ms Turner appeared in the doorway. He never felt so nervous when he saw her at school, but at least then – when it was just the two of them – they could both pretend that he had nothing to do with Eric. When he was standing right next to the guy, though, it was more of a strain to suspend the disbelief. It came crashing down around his feet, shattering on the stoop, and he stiffened up reflexively, as though he’d be cut by the shards if he tried to move.

Ms Turner did not come across as similarly affected. Her smile seemed genuine; shiny and faultless and better than anything Kyle could come up with himself. Her fresh and breezy affectation, and the purple pansy hairclip that clasped her refreshing light-brown bob, emanated springtime energy even in the middle of September.

“Hey, Eric!” she cheered. “You’re right on time!”

“Sup, Heidi. I hath comest for thy progeny.”

Ms Turner sighed and shook her head like she had dealt with this for too, too long. She probably had – the poor girl had been married to him once. “Oh, please don’t talk like that. You know how much Zac copies you. You’ll stunt his language. It’s as bad as the swearing, honestly.” She turned her attention away, too tired of her ex already, and seemed to finally notice Kyle beside him. Her face lit up once more. “Oh, Kyle! Hello again!”

Her smile was so contagious that, even in his petrified state, Kyle couldn’t help returning it, albeit weakly. “Hey, Ms Turner.”

“Aw, come on,” she laughed, swatting her hand in the air as if she could waft the formalities away, “we’re not in school! You can call me Heidi.”

“Uh.” Kyle was taken aback by how friendly she was still being. Perhaps Eric had been right all along, and he had been worrying about nothing again. Sometimes, just sometimes, Kyle was a bit of a big idiot. Immediately it seemed silly to him that he had ever doubted Ms Tur-… Heidi. He decided to belatedly take Eric’s advice and not worry about it, relaxing his shoulders and loosening the fists he had clenched his hands into. “O-okay.”

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Eric butted in, gleefully bringing attention to Kyle’s awkwardness. “He has a stick perpetually stuck up his ass. It’s a chronic condition. We’ve been meaning to see the doctor about it, haven’t we, dear?”

Kyle shot Eric a glare that even Medusa would have called a bit harsh. “I’ll shove a stick up your ass in a minute.”

Eric gasped theatrically, throwing his hands to his cheeks, and shrieked way too loud, “Kyle! Not here! You’re so naughty! Save it for the bedroom!”

That was it. There was nothing else for it. Kyle punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” Eric really yelled that time, actually hurt, rubbing his bicep like a big fucking baby while he returned his glare tenfold. “Kyle!”

“Knock it off!” Kyle growled with a heavily implied or else. Then he remembered that Heidi was still there, and he ducked his head in shame – on both his and Eric’s behalf (because god knew Eric didn’t have the decency to feel any of his own shame). “Sorry. He’s-… Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Heidi waved him off with a laugh, as easy-going as ever, and Kyle began to wonder whether anything could truly bother that woman. “I’m glad you seem to be able to keep him in line. God knows he needs someone to do that.”

“Ey!” Eric cried out in offence, but nobody swept to his defence.

“Do you want to come in?” Heidi asked Kyle, ignoring Eric with a keen precision that could only come from years of practice. Kyle hoped that he could be just as skilled as her one day. Perhaps she would share her secret with him. “I can make some tea.”

“Nah,” Eric blew her off with a flap of his hand, already over his affront – it was mostly performative anyway, as most things were with him, “we’re just gonna hit the road.”

“Okay, I’ll just see where Zac’s at.” Heidi turned back into her house and called upwards, “Zac! Your dad’s here!”

“I’m coming!” Zac sounded harried, like he’d already been thundering around fetching all of his stuff. Indeed, when he finally raced downstairs (ignoring his mom telling him not to), his backpack was bulging. It bounced against his back with every bound. He jumped the last few steps (ignoring his mom’s warning again) and hit the ground running. He had already spied his dad through the open doorway, and he was ready to pounce.

“Daddy!” Zac cheered, running into his father’s legs. It was a wonder Eric wasn’t crippled by then, with how much of a beating his legs took. He rubbed his face into his father’s knees, giggling and grinning.

“Hey, little man!” Eric laughed. “Happy birthday!”

“Seven now,” Heidi said, shaking her head. “It seems like just yesterday he was a baby.”

“He’s no baby now.” Eric ruffled his hair. “Oldest kid in his class. Which automatically makes him the coolest.”

“Oh, stop,” Heidi chided the encouragement of ego, but was giggling despite herself.

Eyes closed as if to savour their attentions better, Zac was beaming at the praise. His smile quickly fell, though, when he opened his eyes again and saw another pair of legs stood beside the ones he was hugging. He followed the gangly things up, gaping at the sight of Kyle smiling nervously above him.

“Um… Hey, Zac. Happy Birthday!”

Zac narrowed his eyes, and Kyle immediately feared for his own legs. Not that they’d get treated with overwhelming affection like Eric’s, of course, but that Zac was actually planning to break them.

“Daddy, wha’s he doing here?” The revulsion he spoke with did not go unnoticed by Kyle, who swallowed nervously and took a precautionary step back. Meanwhile, Eric seemed blissfully unaware, and Kyle so wished he could live in his world, where everything was always totally fine just because he said so.

“Surprise, buddy!” Eric bent down and plucked Zac off the ground, lifting him up until they were level. “Kyle’s coming with us today. Won’t that be fun, huh?”

Zac spared Kyle a once-over, a single flick of his eyes like he was about as worth considering as a sprig of broccoli against a jar of cookies. “Don’ know if there’s enough funs for all thwee of us-es to has.”

That was one of the most sinister things Kyle had ever heard a seven-year-old say (and it was amazing that Zac was competing with another of his own lines: “There’s a lots you don’ know…”), especially while not breaking eye contact with him. Eric was, once more, strangely unbothered.

“Haha, sure there is! We’re gonna have lots of fun! Come on, bud, say bye to Mommy and let’s go!”

“Bye, Mommy.” Zac didn’t sound so sure that he’d wanted to say that. It was like he was wondering if he could stay with his mom after all, not go with his dad at all, and Kyle knew that it was all because of him. Why had he let Eric talk him into this?

“Bye, baby!” Heidi waved as Eric carried him off to the car. “Have fun!” Once Eric and Zac had gone far enough away, she turned to Kyle, then, and leaned in to share a quiet word with him. “I’m sure you know this by now, but they’re both quite a handful. Make sure you take care of yourself as well as them today, okay?”

Heidi’s warmth melted Kyle’s face into an appreciative smile. He may have had his work cut out for him, but at least he had her looking out for him. “Thanks, Heidi.” He nodded as he stepped off her stoop with a wave. “See you around.”

By the time Kyle had made his way over to the car, Eric had already put Zac’s backpack in the trunk, and he was then trying to put him in the backseat. Trying was the operative word, because the boy had started squirming.

“No, I want to sit in the front! I always sit in the front, Daddy!”

“Sorry, little man. Kyle needs to sit there today.” He finally fought his son into the seat, and began battling to buckle him in. “He’s got longer legs than your little things.” It was sound reasoning, but children were famous for not being able to be reasoned with. Zac screeched up a storm, hurling his limbs every which way, as Kyle watched on uncomfortably. He knew Zac wasn’t his son, and it wasn’t his place to intrude on Eric’s parenting strategy, but something in him said that picking that fight was A Very Bad Thing To Do.

‘I caused this,’ he told himself, nibbling his lip numb. ‘I have to do something to make it better.’ Ever since he was a child, Kyle had been cursed with a very strong sense of responsibility, and an even stronger sense of guilt. Paired, he stood no chance against these forces, and so he took it upon himself to go and place a hand on his boyfriend’s bent back.

“It’s okay, Eric,” he tried, “I don’t mind sitting in the back. Zac can sit up front with you.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Eric had won the wrestle by then, and he shut the door on Zac mid-scream before turning to Kyle. The sound-proofing on the car windows was impressive because Kyle could see Zac’s maw open in something surely blood-curdling, but he heard no noise at all through the glass. “Can’t let my kid think he has authority over me.”

“It’s not about authority,” Kyle argued. “This seems important to him.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Eric shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

Kyle looked down at his feet, still not quite convinced. He had worked with lots of children, and sure, there were a lot of things that they did just get over. Those things were unimportant, though. Kyle couldn’t help thinking that this was different… And then he couldn’t help not thinking, when Eric leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, successfully cutting off all coherency in his head. He flushed as he looked up again to meet Eric’s eyes.

“Don’t worry.” Eric had put his palm on Kyle’s cheek, and he stroked under his eye with his thumb. “It’ll be fine.”

When Eric looked at him like that, so soft and sure, there was nothing else that Kyle could do but believe in him. His confidence was contagious. ‘You decided you’d trust him,’ Kyle reminded himself, ‘so trust him already.’ He gave in with a weak smile.

“Okay.”

The drive out was pretty nice. It was a sunny day with cotton-candy clouds and a sapphire sky, autumn leaves were raining red and orange in the chill breeze, and the radio was playing some real winners. Kyle couldn’t enjoy it, though – he could only see Zac glowering at the back of his head in the rear-view mirror throughout the journey. He was getting a crick in his neck from sitting so straight, so still, trying his hardest not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself in case he ended up somehow annoying Zac even more. Although, he didn’t know how that would be possible. To Zac, it seemed, Kyle’s entire existence was inconvenience enough, his every breath a burden.

“Isn’t this great?” Eric said at one point as he wound his window right down and rested an arm on the door.

“Yeah,” Kyle bumbled unconvincingly, wondering how Eric had become so masterful at not picking up on the mood. Zac didn’t say anything at all. He didn’t speak for the whole hour-and-a-half drive, in fact, not even to partake in Eric’s failed attempt at starting a game of I Spy. He did not perk up until they had turned off the highway into a crowd of cars.

“Here we are!” Eric cheered as he drove into the parking lot. “The one! The only!”

“Casa Bonita!” Zac bellowed from the backseat, finally forgetting about his vow of silence and forgoing his staring competition with the back of Kyle’s head. Kyle’s relief was relinquished almost the second it started, though, as he was suddenly startled by how the father and son, without even needing to count each other in, started singing together in perfect, practised harmony.

“Casa Bonita~! Casa Bonita~! Food and fun in a festive atmosphere~! Casa Bonita~! Casa Bonita~!”

“Wow, you really do come here a lot,” Kyle cut in to laugh. Mainly because he didn’t know if they were going to keep singing the whole time that they would be searching for a parking space in the already busy lot, and he hadn’t brought his migraine medication. They had to cut that shit out.

“Hell yeah!” Eric crowed. “And you’ll soon see why, Kyle. Me and Zachary are going to show you the magic of this beautiful land that is Casa Bonita.”

“Hell yeah!” Zac shouted, throwing his arms up.

“Don’t say hell, Zac,” Eric immediately sobered up into Serious Parent Mode, pointing a stern finger over the shoulder of his seat, “we talked about this.”

“You can say heck,” Kyle suggested helpfully, turning around in his seat to smile kindly at the boy. It was a word which Leopold used, so it was guaranteed to be harmless. His smile sunk when Zac shot a glare at him.

“That’s dumb.”

“Haha, yeah!” Eric agreed, and so much for supporting his partner. “What kind of loser says shit like heck?”

“Shit!” Zac copied. If Kyle didn’t know better, he’d say that kid had Tourette syndrome.

“Aw, fuck,” Eric muttered, and then quickly, “I mean, damn! Wait, no! Crap! Say crap! Actually, just don’t copy anything I say for the rest of the day. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Alright, so anyway, let’s look for a place to park.”

“Alright, so anyway, let’s look for a place to park.”

A beat passed. Eric looked across at Kyle.

“…He’s copying me, isn’t he?”

“He’s copying me, isn’t he?”

When they got stuck waiting behind a car which was pulling out, Eric took that opportunity to rest his head against the steering wheel and mutter to himself, “Oh my god, you little monster…”

Zac giggled deviously, and Kyle burst out laughing too. Maybe it was mean of him to enjoy his partner’s pain so much, but he couldn’t help finding it funny. He was jolted out of his laughter, though, when he swore that it felt like the back of his seat had just been kicked. He jerked around, and saw that Zac wasn’t laughing anymore either. He had his arms crossed again, and his brown eyes looked almost black as he used them to glower at Kyle.

“Did you just-…?” Kyle didn’t need to finish asking that question. He had his answer when Zac stuck his tongue out at him.

“What’s that?” Eric asked, not sounding the least bit concerned, not even looking over at him. He had been busy searching for a parking space, and he still was, so he had missed the whole thing.

“Umm…” Kyle wanted to be honest with Eric, he really did. But getting Zac in trouble with his dad for kicking his seat was not the way to bond with the boy. Besides, it was just a tiny kick. It was a silly thing to make a fuss about. He was just being stupid. “I-it’s nothing.” Kyle settled forward in his seat again. “Never mind. Um, hey, is that a space up ahead?”

“Oh, yeah!” Eric was easily distracted with pulling into the space, and Kyle was somewhat glad that he was so ignorant to his emotional cues. Kyle wore his heart on his sleeve, so usually even someone so emotionally incompetent as Eric could figure him out. Kyle decided though, right then, that he would not show how bothered he was by Zac’s behaviour. It was their father-son day, and they wanted to have a nice time. Kyle was already intruding, invitation or no – Zac had made that as clear as a jagged crystal, sharp enough to slice through any delusions of welcome which he might have had – and he wouldn’t spoil it further by letting Eric see how upset he was.

Once they had parked up and got out, Eric went to unbuckle Zac from the backseat while Kyle took that time to take in the fabled franchise, the beloved building, that was Casa Bonita. It was certainly grand, outshining the likes of the neighbouring Pizza Hut and Dollar Tree, demanding attention amidst the drab (the same way a certain someone he knew was wont to do). The plaster was pink with white trim, and its tall tower with an Aztec statue perched upon the golden dome seemed to be shooting for the sky. The face of the clock mounted above the entrance almost looked to be forming a welcoming smile with its hands pointed at ten to two, and Kyle couldn’t help smiling back. So this was the place that Eric loved so much. He could see why – there was a strange charm to it, just like there was to the man himself.

“Isn’t it just the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?” Eric sighed lovingly, coming up with Zac to stand beside Kyle and take in the view himself.

“It’s nice,” Kyle admitted. He had seen greater things, though – Eric smiling at him, for instance. Kyle was not disappointed when he looked across at his boyfriend and saw him doing just that right on cue.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet. Come on.” Eric placed his hand at the small of Kyle’s back, sending a shiver up his spine, and pushed him towards the building. He held Zac with a gentle palm at the back of his head, barely brushing his wispy waves of chestnut hair, and pushed him on too. The three walked over to the entrance arch together. Eric stopped them just outside, though, and made them all draw their attention to the fountain out front, busy babbling away, and admire it. “Check it out, you guys,” he sighed dreamily. “Isn’t it just spectacular?”

Kyle rolled his eyes and kept walking on by himself. “Whatever. What is it with you and fountains?”

“They’re the peak of sophistication, Kyle!” Eric called from behind him as he followed on with Zac. “A true marker of success! It just takes one fountain for something mediocre to rise up the ranks and become exceptional.”

“So you’re saying Casa Bonita is only great because it has a fountain?”

“No, it was already great. The fountain just made it the greatest.”

“Okay,” was all Kyle said, partly because he wasn’t fucking interested in talking about fountains – partly because he was through the front doors, now, and drawing nearer to the front desk. His hand twitched at his side, the side with the pocket where he kept his wallet, like a gunslinger itching to grab his pistol and fire first. In Kyle’s opinion, this moment was so climactic that some stray whistling in the wind and tumbleweed darting in front of his feet would not have gone amiss. With every step he took, he almost swore he could hear the faint jingle of phantom spurs on the backs of his ankles, raising his hackles with suspense. Although, he had no need to be nervous – Eric was distracted with lecturing Zac on fountains behind him. What a fool. Kyle spied the front desk first, and knew that he had him.

Draw.

He slid his wallet out of his pocket, smooth as butter in a sizzling pan, and snapped it open as though it were the loaded chamber of a pistol. His ammunition was the dollar bills peeping out of the leather, picked and prepared ahead of time, that he slid out into his ready hands.

Shoot.

Kyle just about gave the poor attendant a heart attack when he surged up to the front desk like a hyper-human and slammed the wad of dollar bills on the counter, his screech exceeding the speed of sound, “Two adults and one child, please!”

“Oh, God damn it!” Eric cursed from the doorway, having finally caught on. He threw his too-slow wallet to the ground in a fit of frustration. “I can’t believe you beat me, you cheat!”

Victorious enough to allow himself to take a breath at last, Kyle spun round to watch Eric with a triumphant smirk, as the man bent down to fetch his wallet (not his dignity, though – that was gone for good), and leaned back leisurely against the front desk with ease, the same way that a cowboy would slide his elbows back onto the saloon bar and tip his hat.

“Oh, please!” Kyle guffawed, and felt as though his wallet should have been smoking as he holstered it back in his pocket. “I didn’t cheat. You just weren’t fast enough.”

Ever since their squabble about who paid on their first date, this had become somewhat of a game to them: see who could pay first. It caused them to resort to terrible trickery and movie-worthy stunts in a bid to beat each other. (Eric had vaulted over a car bonnet before now just to beat Kyle into a Wendy’s… and ended up getting arrested by one of his co-workers who happened to have been there on a break. His chief had really laid into him while he had been stuck in the holding cell.) It had also resulted in them being kicked out of a couple of establishments, never to be allowed back in. Still, although they had a “lifetime ban” at the Dairy Queen in Littleton and were “indeterminately barred” from the Steak ‘n’ Shake in Sheridan, they kind of lived for that thrill.

It was why Eric was still grinning as he caught up to Kyle, loss or no. “You’re such a sneak. You know that?” He playfully ruffled Kyle’s hair in retaliation when he reached him because he knew it pissed him off. Jokes on him, though, because Kyle also kind of loved it. He accidentally gave it away with how when he tried to grit his teeth as he pushed Eric’s arm away, he was grinning instead. Eric pulled back from punishing him to grab one of those hands which were pushing him away and hold it, turning their altercation into affection. “You’re gonna be bragging about that all day now, ain’t’cha?”

“You know it,” Kyle promised. What was the point of winning if you couldn’t rub it in the loser’s face? That was a belief which he and Eric both held, although it was self-sabotage as each of them suffered for it when it was their turn to be the loser.

“What am I going to do with you?” Eric asked with a soft tone that said he wanted to do nothing with Kyle at all, actually, except to let him stay exactly as he was and enjoy him for the rest of his life. It made Kyle, humming happily, feel all giddy inside for a moment. Just for a moment. Then he felt cold, like he was being watched by someone with eyes of ice. It all made sense when he looked down between them to see Zac pouting up at them. His cheeks were puffed out, inflating like a frog trying to make itself seem bigger to intimidate competitors, and he seemed acutely annoyed.

“Casa Bonita!” he reminded them crossly, finally having their attention. He wormed his hand into his dad’s, the one Kyle had been holding, effectively pushing Kyle’s hand out of Eric’s and severing their connection. “Come on!”

“Okay, okay,” Eric laughed as he allowed Zac to start pulling him away. “Come on, Kyle.”

Kyle went with them, but he made sure to keep his distance. He had seen the stony look that Zac had thrown over his shoulder at him after Eric had called for him. He had almost felt it like a real stone thrown at him, and it stayed in him, sinking his stomach, weighing him down so that he moved slower than the father and son. Every time that Eric spared a look behind to check that Kyle was still there with them, though, Kyle found the strength to lift a smile. He wouldn’t let Eric sink with him. Zac’s problem with Kyle was his, and his alone.

‘You’re going to get Zac to like you again today,’ Kyle briefed himself. He had to have a goal, a focus, or else he would lose himself. If he could highlight the aims of the outing, just like writing out one of his lesson plans, then it would become something that he could handle. ‘You’re going to be friends by the time we leave this place.’

Luckily, Casa Bonita was a place of plentifulness. There was so much to do, and so much to see – a photo booth, a treasure cove, a mariachi band, a puppet show, a restaurant floor, an arcade room, and more besides. There was so much choice, and thus, so many chances to make himself liked. All Kyle had to do, you see, was make sure he chose exactly what Zac wanted.

“Wow, there’s a lot going on in here!” Kyle gushed when they came to a stop in the centre, perfecting the childlike enthusiasm that he had copied from his kids. He stooped down and folded his arms atop his knees, getting on Zac’s level, and flashed him a brilliant smile that competed with the dazzling lights which were scattered across Casa Bonita’s dark ceiling like a starry sky. “It looks fun, huh? What do you want to do first, Zac?”

Zac eyed Kyle with suspicion and scorn, but even Eric was waiting for his answer, so he felt forced to respond. “…We's always goes to the arcade first.” He said it firmly, fixing him with a challenging look, as though he was daring Kyle to deny him this, as though Kyle would try to take it away from him, the same way that Kyle had stolen the front seat in the car.

“Really?” Kyle only showed interest and excitement. “I haven’t been to an arcade in years! Can you show me how all the games work?”

In truth, Kyle could have worked out the machines for himself, even if he was out of practice. It was just something that was stuck in his blood, like riding a bike, after all those years of going to the arcades on the California coast with Stan and Ike and a pocketful of quarters as a kid. Still, it was good to give Zac something like that to do. He liked to show off, Kyle had learned, so giving the boy the opportunity to teach him how he played games was a good way to bring him out of his spiky shell.

“Yeah, show Kyle your skills, little man!” Eric encouraged, and that was enough to make Zac give in. He slackened his shoulders, letting his guard drop slightly, and glanced between the two adults awaiting his lead, gauging to make sure that he was truly in charge.

“Okay,” he nodded once he was sure that he was, although he still looked a little wary, and started off towards Loco Luis’ Video-Game Villa. Kyle stood back up and followed after him alongside Eric with a hopeful spring in his step. It was all going as planned.

The arcade room was very alive. There was so much movement and so many sounds. A rainbow of lights streamed from the ceiling and illuminated the glowing patterns in the psychedelic carpet that stretched nauseatingly across the floor filled with machinery which pinged and ponged and clinked and clunked and zapped and zoomed. Kyle wouldn’t have known where to start, so it was lucky that Zac did. Ignoring all of the overwhelming flashes and jingles, he charged ahead to a Skee-Ball game at the back.

“I’s real good at this one,” the boy boasted. He had inherited his father’s self-assuredness, that was for sure.

“He really is.” Eric handed Zac some tokens he’d just bought so that he could start the game. “Show him how you do it, m’boy.”

It wasn’t too hard to see how to do it. It was just your typical game of Skee-Ball. You rolled a ball up the run, and it launched off the ramp at the end, and if you were lucky then it ended up in one of the holes at the back. Zac’s game had nothing to do with luck, though – he obviously knew just how to roll the ball to make it go where he wanted. All five of his balls ended up in the higher brackets, earning him a couple of thirties, a few forties, and even one of the hundreds. The machine choked on the tickets it sputtered out at the end of the game, as if even it couldn’t believe the boy’s score.

“Yes!” Eric cheered, pumping the air with his fists. “He shoots! He scores!” He didn’t seem to care if everybody else in the arcade heard how great his son was. In fact, getting everybody to hear him seemed to be his goal. It was so obnoxious, and yet so sweet. Kyle smiled softly at Eric as the proud dad bent down and held his hands up for his son. “That was totally killer, Zac! Gimme ten, little man!”

Zac slapped Eric’s hands with his, doubling up on the high-fives, and giggled madly. He loved all the attention. Kyle decided that it would be prudent of himself, therefore, to give some of his own praise.

“Hey,” he chuckled in awe. “That was really cool, Zac. How’d you get so good?”

“I comes here all the times, duh!” Zac said, but it wasn’t with the same nastiness that he’d said everything else that day. He was actually smiling at Kyle, for the first time that day, and there was a warmth in his words – the same sort that Kyle felt when Eric teased him playfully – and Kyle drew close to it like a moth to a flame, hoping and wanting.

“Can you teach me?” Kyle went and picked up a ball for himself. “Show me where to throw the ball.”

“You gotta get it in the holes,” Zac said, pointing to them. “The holes at the back are the mostest points. But you’s gotta be real good to get ‘em. You hafta roll the ball real hard, see. But if you rolls too hard the balls goes whoosh!” Zac’s arm arced outwards, over his head and away, his closed fist imitating the path of a ball careening out of control, and Kyle realised that he had missed how adorably animated this boy could be in class. He had been so dull and muted in their last lessons together, and Kyle was glad to see his liveliness coming back in full force.

“Okay, I think I got it.” Kyle aimed and rolled. He wasn’t familiar with the heft of the balls, so he rolled too lightly and missed on his first try. “Crap!” he laughed as the ball only scored ten points, the lowest bracket. “It’s not as easy as you made it look.”

“It is!” Zac urged. “You just gotta get good!”

“I can’t believe you’re being beaten by a child,” Eric tutted from where he was leaning against the near wall, watching them both with a soft smile on his face.

“Oh, shut up!” Kyle told him off, but he was laughing about it – and so was Zac, which was the most important thing.

Kyle tried again and got another ten points. On his third try, he finally figured out the umph he should be throwing the ball with, and he landed it in a hole at the back. He did the same with his last two balls, and earned a not unsubstantial amount of tickets.

“Whoa.” Eric whistled, impressed. “You’re a natural.”

“I used to play basketball,” Kyle said. “I’ve got good aim.”

“That so?” Eric placed his chin in the crook of his thumb and index finger and pursed his lips as he looked Kyle up and down, studying him with a sudden seriousness.

“What?” Kyle knitted his brow.

“Nothing,” Eric said easily. “Just imagining that butt in basketball shorts.” He nodded like he’d finally got a clear picture in his mind, and raised his hand in an O-K gesture. “Nice.”

“Stop it!” Kyle hissed, throwing his hands over his rear with a blush. “Zac’s here!” He jerked his head next to him, at the kid looking back and forth between them with a (thankfully!) clueless expression.

“I’m sorry, Kyle, but I can’t help it. It’s not my fault you’ve got an ass that won’t quit. Hey, you should go play that game over there.” Eric jerked his thumb at the miniature basketball hoops beside the Skee-Ball machine. “You could win us some serious tickets.”

Eric had probably only suggested it to distract his boyfriend from yelling at him anymore, but Kyle thought that it was actually a pretty good idea. If he won enough tickets, then he could get Zac a prize. The boy would like him in no time!

“Sure!” he agreed excitedly. “Let’s go!”

He went to the machine with Eric and Zac, and they watched on in awe as he totally owned the game, shooting hoop after hoop in a frenzy. It wasn’t quite the same as regular basketball, and he was a little rusty, so he didn’t break a high score or anything. He did make the machine spit out a stream of tickets, though, and he ripped them out of the slot eagerly.

“That was awesome!” Eric cheered. “You can really shoot, Broflovski.”

“Thanks!” Kyle grinned. “I wasn’t the captain of my team for nothing.” He got down on Zac’s level and held out the heap of tickets. “Here, Zac! You can have these as a birthday gift from me.”

Zac did not smile back. In fact, he was glaring again. “I can get my own,” he said moodily and stormed off to a shooting game. Kyle watched him go desolately, the tickets drooping in his hand.

“Huh. I thought that’d make him happy.”

“Eh, don’t worry about him,” Eric said breezily, batting his hand. “Come on, Broflovski. It’s time for you to watch and be amazed by my shooting.”

Eric took Kyle over to the El Chupacabra shooting gallery, where Zac had disappeared to. It was a confusing game – the objective seemed to be to defend the house from the Chupacabras which would pop up; yet, you got points for shooting up the house, too, and destroying what you were trying to defend. Kyle supposed he was just thinking too hard about it.

Zac was already in the middle of a game, trying to get all the targets that kept popping up and passing by. He wasn’t a bad shot, but some of the targets were pretty tricky. The ones worth the most points were especially fast, and Zac cried out with frustration every time he missed one.

“Lame!” he whined when the game was over and out came a sorry spurt of tickets.

“Step aside, young Turner,” Eric said, taking the plastic rifle from his son. “I’ll avenge your honour.”

Kyle had learned from their first date, during a round of laser tag, that Eric really knew how to shoot. His skills were no less impressive that time around. He easily took out every target with flair, and the machine was working overtime to churn out all of the tickets by the time the game was over.

“Holy crap,” Kyle murmured in astonishment. He hadn’t meant for Eric to hear, but the bastard had the acute ability to pick up on any sort of adoration.

“I know, babe.” Eric spun around to smirk at Kyle and swung the gun up to rest the barrel on his shoulder. “I’m so freaking cool. Bet that got you hot, didn’t it? It’s okay, you can tell me. We’re all friends here.”

Kyle wouldn’t admit, especially in front of Zac, that it actually kind of had. He liked a man who was as skilled and as sure as Eric was. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“It was pretty good,” Kyle confessed carefully, unwilling to stroke Eric’s enormous ego too much in case it ended up exceeding his head capacity. “I don’t think I could shoot like that.” He had grown up pretty liberal, and never been encouraged to practise shooting by his parents, nor raised to desire to own a gun. Which didn’t mean he thought they weren’t cool – sometimes he imagined shooting one like a hero from the action movies he loved. He had just never had the opportunity to learn how.

“You kidding? It’s easy!” Eric unshouldered the gun and held it out to Kyle. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

Kyle took the rifle and positioned himself in front of the shooting gallery, and then Eric stood behind Kyle to reach around and show him how to hold the rifle. Kyle soon wondered whether someone had turned the thermostat up, because he was suddenly sweating. Eric kept putting his hands on his waist as he adjusted his stance, clasping them over Kyle’s as he corrected his grip, and running them over his tense shoulders as he told him to relax them. His cheek was nearly brushing against Kyle’s as he murmured instructions, his hot breath ghosting across the shell of his ear, and Kyle had to really fight himself not to turn his head and try to kiss him.

He hadn’t known, until then, that he was the type to get excited by a dominating presence, a source of control, cool and confident, who knew exactly what to do, and told him exactly how to do it. He could not deny how much it was doing to him, though. It was so much – too much – that he wasn’t able to listen to anything Eric told him. That was probably why – when Eric stepped back at last and started the game up for him – Kyle did so horribly shooting solo. He missed most of the targets, even the ones which weren’t fucking moving, and only won three measly tickets.

“What was that you said about having good aim?” Eric delighted in teasing him once the game was over.

“Shut up.” Kyle was red with embarrassment (and lingering arousal) and shoved the rifle back at him. “It’s not the same as basketball.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Eric sighed and shook his head as he slotted the rifle back into its holder.

“Is you twos done?” Zac’s tone told them that they should be done, whether they were or not. He had been waiting there the whole time with crossed arms and tapping feet, impatiently patient, and he would wait no longer.

“Yeah, I think Kyle’s been humiliated enough.” Eric ignored the way his boyfriend growled at him when he said that, like a feral dog territorially protecting the gnawed bone that was his pride. “Let’s go get some prizes.”

At the booth they found out that Zac didn’t have enough tickets to get what he wanted, so Eric gave him some of his so that he could get the toy gun. Eric still had enough to get himself a toy harmonica, too – something new and noisy to annoy Kyle with, surely. Meanwhile Kyle used his ticket to get a pack of crayons.

“I can donate them to the classroom,” he explained when his boyfriend gave his weird choice a confused look. Eric’s face transformed into a soft smile as it all made sense.

“Why are you always so practical, Broflovski?” he chuckled. “Don’t you ever want to do something for yourself?”

“I don’t need any of that crap,” Kyle said. “I’ve already got everything I need.” To prove his point, he grabbed Eric’s hand, and took great pleasure in watching the way that the big, burly brute blushed. Eric wasn’t the only one who could be embarrassing, and Kyle hummed happily as the man turned to mush at his touch. It was another touch that took him out of that trance, though – Zac pulled Eric’s attention away from Kyle with a tug on his jeans.

“Daddy, I’s hungry.”

“Same, kid,” Eric said.

“When aren’t you hungry?” Kyle muttered, earning himself an elbow in the gut.

Still, he couldn’t deny that he was feeling peckish too. It was well past lunchtime. Luckily that meant the restaurant wasn’t too crowded at that time of day, and they easily snagged a table by the waterfall, where they could watch the cliff divers jumping into the pool like they were on a loop.

“One time when we were sitting here a really fat dude came down and splashed us!” Eric regaled eagerly as they sat down. “We got soaked! It was just like seeing orca whales at the sea park. Totally killer.”

“You have a weird fascination with getting wet,” Kyle observed. Fountains, waterfalls, sea parks… Perhaps that was why he took so long in the shower? It was just another thing for Kyle to add to his list of worries. Any FBI guy watching his internet activity would be disturbed later that night when Kyle got home and typed, “Is my boyfriend an aquaphiliac?” into Google.

Soon, a cheery server came by and handed them some menus. Kyle felt full just browsing all of the options! Still, somehow they managed to decide on what they wanted by the time the server came back. Zac had a mini cheeseburger from the kids’ menu – Kyle remembered Eric claiming that cheese, quote, “runs through my veins” on their first date, and didn’t doubt that his dairy blood had been passed down to his son. Then Eric disgusted Kyle by ordering the cheese enchiladas and the green chile brisket burrito and the chicken tinga tacos all to himself, and Kyle disgusted Eric by only ordering the taco salad.

“Do you not see this menu, Kyle?!” Eric cried out, offended on behalf of the restaurant. He slapped at the menu categories with the back of his hand. “Enchiladas! Burritos! Tacos! Anything you want!”

Kyle shrugged. “I’ve been eating too much junk at your place already. I haven’t had a salad in ages.”

“So what?! I’ve been salad-free going on five years now and I’m doing great!”

“You used to eat salad?” Kyle was kind of surprised, but mostly just sceptical. When Eric sighed dramatically in response, though, Kyle knew immediately that he shouldn’t have asked.

“It was a dark time in my life,” Eric began, fucking began, not even God knew now when it would finally end, “back when I was working on becoming a cop. I was just a boy, then. A boy with hopes and dreams. I was so naïve. You don’t even know what I went through. To pass the exam, I had to be…” He paused, here, to lower his head and press his fist to his forehead, squinting his eyes shut. “I had to be… physically fit.” He choked on the words as if, in that second of saying them, he had instantly relived months of trauma. He barely collected himself enough to continue, and Kyle fucking wished he hadn’t. “They made me j-… jog and, and eat lettuce, and-… a-and…” Eric’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed the rest of his words back down, as if he’d have to throw up if he forced them out. He rose his head once more to look up towards the ceiling and blink several times in quick succession as though he was fighting back tears. “…I-I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it anymore. It’s too much. It’s just – too much.” He breathed deep, steadying himself. “I promised I’d leave that past behind me. I’m not that man anymore, Kyle. I’m changed, now.”

Kyle stared at him with deadened eyes, morosely nibbling the corner of a sopapilla. “Uh-huh.”

Eric reached across the table and placed his hand delicately on top of Kyle’s. “One day, sweetheart, I hope you’ll reach a place in your life, too, where you don’t need to eat salads anymore.”

“Uh-huh.” Kyle slowly slipped his hand out from under Eric’s and turned away to talk to Zac instead. “Sounds tough, huh? Do you want to be a cop like your dad?”

Zac regarded Kyle with the same deadness in his eyes that the redhead had shown to Eric. Then, he slowly raised his toy gun, aimed it square at the centre of Kyle’s forehead, and pulled the tiny trigger.

Click.

“Um?” Kyle chuckled nervously. “Ow. You got me.” He hoped that Zac would burst out laughing, too, and show that it was all a game, just a joke, nothing to be worried about. Zac kept staring and didn’t smile once. He didn’t lower the gun, either. “That’s a pretty cool gun, huh?” Kyle tried again – because he was a trier, damn it. “It’s just like your dad’s, isn’t it? Do you like your new toy, Zac?”

Click.

Kyle blinked as he was shot a second time. “Haha… You got me again… I’ll take that as a yes?”

Click.

Click.

Click.

Kyle was starting to sweat. It was getting creepy. The way Zac was staring at him, it was like he was trying to will the gun to work. Really work.

“Oh, are we playing with our prizes now?” Eric jumped in, having finally recovered from his trauma. “That’s cool. Check out my harmonica.” To Kyle’s horror, he pulled the dreaded thing out, and he put it to his mouth and blew, and it sounded really bad because it was a fucking toy. While Eric was puffing into the pathetic, plastic thing, Zac never stopped shooting his gun at Kyle’s head. Their table was a cacophony of chaos: Eric’s harmonica, Zac’s gun, and Kyle’s breakdown.

Pffff!

Click.

Pffff!

Click.

Pffff!

Click.

Kyle had to count all the way up to eighty-eight in his head before Eric was finally distracted by their food arriving. Then he had more important things than a harmonica to shove in his mouth. Zac, on the other hand, was a man on a mission – a mission to destroy Kyle’s sanity. He kept clicking his gun at Kyle’s head from across the table as they ate, only using one hand to shovel sopapillas in his unsmiling mouth. It was lucky that Kyle managed to mostly ignore it by making light conversation with Eric. Mostly. It still irked him, though, that his plan to make Zac like him wasn’t going to, well, plan. So when he wasn’t busy telling Eric to wipe his fucking mouth, because there was just rice and sauce everywhere, he was busy thinking about how to retrieve the situation. He went into trances, stabbing his lettuce absently as he thought, and would need to be pulled out of them again by exterior forces.

“Your salad’s gonna go cold,” Eric said at one point when Kyle had gone into another of his episodes and missed the jump of the cliff divers, not even so much as raising his head to acknowledge the resounding splashes.

“Oh!” Kyle jumped out of his own mind, surprised that he had been spacing out again. “Right. Right.” He started collecting his food onto his fork before it could go cold like Eric had said, completely forgetting that it was, you know, a fucking salad.

“Um?” Eric chuckled unsurely, raising an eyebrow. Kyle was usually much quicker on the uptake – he should have given a comeback already. “I was joking?”

“Hm?” Kyle blinked, not getting it for a hot second, before he did. “Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah, because-… Yeah.” He smiled quick and tight, like it was something he knew he should do rather than something he wanted to. “Ha! Funny.”

His face immediately fell into a frown again the minute he looked back down at his plate, which did not go unnoticed by Eric. For the rest of the meal, he eyed his boyfriend warily out of his periphery. He watched the despondent way Kyle barely joined in with the round of Cumpleaños Feliz when all of the servers came over wearing colourful sombreros to sing to Zac for his birthday as they delivered his dessert of Carlota, a Mexican icebox cake with lime custard, covered in mini sparklers. Then as soon as they were done eating, and before Kyle could put some new-fangled, fail-bound plan into action, Eric took initiative and herded Zac off.

“The puppet show’s gonna start soon, kid, you’d better run and catch it.”

“Isn't you coming?” Zac pleaded with a big pout and even bigger eyes. “We’s always watches it togethers.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Eric reassured him by running a hand through his hair. “I just need to get a drink first. Save us a spot, okay? Get the best view.”

Satisfied to be entrusted with a most important mission, Zac nodded his agreement and ran off to make his papa proud. Eric watched him go and did not take his eyes off of him until he had safely entered the area where the show took place.

“Do you want me to go with him?” Kyle volunteered, already starting to stride off after the boy. Before he could take another step, though, Eric clasped a hand over his shoulder to stop him.

“No, it’s okay. Come on.” With a gentle pull, he steered them towards the bar area. “I need a beer.”

Kyle didn’t say as much, but he kind of needed one too what with how the day had been going so far, so he shut up and let Eric order them both a pint. He only gave him a subdued thanks before he started rubbing his thumbs up and down the glass quietly, still too caught up in his thoughts to take a swig. He didn’t notice that Eric had not touched his own beer yet either, because he was busy watching him intently with those intense brown eyes. He was only jolted out of his thoughts when Eric sighed sharply and spoke up suddenly.

“Okay. Spit it out.”

Thumbs stilled on the glass, Kyle finally spared his boyfriend a glance. “What?”

Eric rolled his eyes and grunted. “You know what. Something’s bothering you.”

“No it’s not,” Kyle said meekly, trying to resist the urge to cast his gaze aside. He knew it would not cast Eric’s suspicions away along with it. Although, his tone did nothing to convince him either.

“Oh, please!” Eric scoffed, and Kyle might have taken a second to enjoy the endearing fact that Eric had adopted that phrase from him, if it wasn’t for him being the target of its scrutiny. “Rule Number One, Kyle – or, as they say in the beautiful land of Casa Bonita, Regla Número Uno – is don’t lie to a liar. Especially not when I know you so well. You’re so fucking obvious. I can just see the cogs turning in your head. Hell, I can practically fucking hear them! You’ve been out of it all day. So what is it, huh?”

Kyle’s grip tightened around his glass, agitated that he hadn’t hidden himself as well as he’d hoped. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

Eric tsked and shook his head, retorting before taking a sip of his beer, “It is. It’s bumming me out.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Kyle drawled sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. Trust Eric to find a way to make it all about him.

“You should be.” Eric put his pint back down with a firm clack, furrowing his brows irately at his boyfriend. “Because you’re making me feel like a fucking joke. Is that what I am, Kyle? Am I just a fucking joke to you?”

“No!” Kyle turned to face Eric with the full brunt of his glare, gripping his glass tightly in one hand while working the other into a fist at his side. “Of course not!”

“Then stop treating me like one!” Eric snapped, staring back. “Take me seriously! Talk to me.” He grasped Kyle’s fist with intent, and his voice was more measured when he spoke next. “I’m your boyfriend. We’re going out. That means your problems are my problems…” He squeezed his hand, like wringing the irritation out of Kyle, before adding more lightly, “And that also means my problems are your problems, just so you know, so I expect you to pick up the slack when I need someone to help me bury a body.” He nudged him playfully with his elbow and Kyle rolled his eyes once more, but fondly that time, accompanied with a smile. Eric eased into a thankful smile of his own at the sight of it, albeit with a sad lilt to his lips. “What I’m saying is, don’t… don’t fucking keep things from me,” he said, eyebrows drawing up like it pained him to have to make that request. “A’ight? Because whatever’s bothering you is bothering me just as much. Do you know how fucking maddening it is, watching you going round and round in your stupid, stubborn little head?” He let go of Kyle’s hand, then, to jab his boyfriend’s temple with a firm finger as he made his point. “About as maddening it is for you fucking doing it, I bet.”

“…Yeah,” Kyle sighed belatedly, reluctant and relieved. He hated that Eric could work him out so well, just as much as he loved it. He turned back to lean against the bar and looked down at the sticky sheen of its surface as he admitted, “It is.”

Eric, who had been taking a stiff swig of his beer while awaiting Kyle’s surrender, placed the glass back down and sighed, “So, spit it out. What’s wrong?”

Kyle bit his lower lip and looked off to the side, away from his boyfriend’s beseeching gaze. A part of him was still tempted to pretend that everything was fine, it wasn’t a big deal, he’d get over whatever was bothering him soon enough… but Eric was right. He deserved to be taken seriously as his partner, and that meant being honest with him. Releasing a beleaguered sigh, he gripped his pint glass in both hands to ground himself, and turned back to look Eric in the eye.

“It’s… It’s Zac.”

Eric quirked an eyebrow. His relief at Kyle coming clean was outweighed by his confusion. “What, is he bothering you?”

“No… Yes… Not really… Urgh!” Kyle grimaced at his eloquence, or rather lack thereof, and unwrapped his hands from his pint glass to press them to his forehead, digging his elbows into the bar counter. “I mean… I think the issue is that I’m bothering him and he’s just… returning the favour.”

“Yeah, okay. I can see that. He has been different,” Eric conceded, thinking back. “I think I get what you were talking about last night now. He’s never this quiet. He can usually talk your ear off.” He took pause to chuckle and shake his head, and take a sip of his drink before explaining, “He gives talks to complete strangers on, like, planets ‘n’ shit. Gets it from his mom. She reads him all these astronomy books at bedtime. Fucking nerd.”

He said it chidingly, yet while sighing fondly, before looking up at the cheap imitation of a starry sky above them, seeing something there beyond the jet paint and bright lights. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted to something as far-away as those stars, urging Kyle to raise his head from his hands and look to him again, seeing something new too.

“She majored in astronomy, you know. Heidi. Planned to work for NASA. She always said she was gonna… gonna crack the code to the universe.” Eric afforded himself a laugh, here – not at the notion, but at how blindly he had believed it. “And I knew she was. She really was, Kyle. She was wicked smart. Almost as smart as me,” he added laudatorily, and it was Kyle’s turn to laugh. Eric smiled at the sound before carrying on, “And she knew what she wanted. I think that’s what made me fall in love with her. She was gonna do things.” He nodded his head to himself, knowing it to be true. “She was…” After another moment, his smile turned weak. He seemed like he had more yet to say, but had gotten lost in the cold clasp of space.

“…Did she?” Kyle asked, urging him to continue. Eric’s engaging storytelling was bringing him out of his own shit (and explaining how Zac had known so much about space). Eric was brought out of his reverie by Kyle’s question, and he looked away from the wannabe stars at last, down into the fading foam of his beer.

“Nah. She, uh… Well. Zac happened. And, um… NASA was a big ask. You can’t have a career like that with a kid. I mean, she wouldn’t. She wasn’t like that. But she minored in forensic linguistics and she’s doing that now. Not exactly cracking the code to the universe, but hey… Still doing big stuff.” He turned his hip to the bar and faced Kyle side-on to detour casually, “She’s actually a hotshot in her field, you know. Came up with Emoji Analysis for her Masters thesis. Heard of it?”

“Uh,” Kyle screwed up his nose as he smiled apologetically when he admitted, “no. Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eric laughed, fiddling anxiously with the feathery hairs at the nape of his neck. “Me neither. Pretty revolutionary, apparently…” He dropped his hand back down, resting it on the bar. It met a wet spot and he grimaced, then wiped his hand on his pants while Kyle snickered, and gave him an insincerely scolding glare before continuing, “Anyway, uh… So, she did that. I got the cop gig. And that was us… But she still kept buying those damn astronomy books.” Eric’s brow creased, seeming to crumple under the weight of his memories. “I think that’s part of what broke us. There I was, being a cop like I always wanted, and she was stuck with her feet on the ground. And she was jealous. She fucking loved Zac, don’t get me wrong, and she still does. But she knew she could be doing more without him. And she blamed me for getting her pregnant. For how much it changed her, how much weight she gained from it, how much acne she got, how tired she was… Which was bullshit to me, by the way, because it takes two. But, anyway…

“She wasn’t happy. And, being fucking honest? Neither was I. Like… I fucking hated her.” He barked a laugh, short and dry, like it was something unbelievable now. “I woke up every day hating her. I’d roll over in bed, and I’d see her, and I’d just-…” He turned his hands up and worked his fingers into claws, capable of horrors, and looked miserable about that fact as he stared at the pink palms like they were stained red. “She wouldn’t even be doing anything, and I’d just want to take my pillow and smother her and… and just be free.” He clenched his trembling hands, and let them drop with the weight of his past woes. “I felt so… trapped. Just so fucking trapped.”

Kyle placed his hand over one of Eric’s almost unconsciously, wanting to reach out and soothe him on reflex – needing it to soothe himself – and Eric forwent his frown for a second, sparing him a small smile. It was gone as quick as it came, however, as he carried on.

“We started dating in high school, and we got married as soon as we moved out of our parents’ houses, and we had Zac before I finished the police academy… And I realised, I’d never known a life without her. She was fine, but we weren’t the perfect match, and I’d never known if there was anything better. And knowing I never would, I just… I just wanted to get away from her. She wasn’t even so bad. But I just wanted the choice to say no. And I didn’t feel like I had that. Because we had Zac. And I believed Zac needed us to be some big, happy family. And I’d vowed ‘til death do us part. So if I didn’t love her, if I let him down, then I was a failure. A loser. So I had to make it work. I had to. And…” He clenched his hand into a fist. “And that just made me hate her more. So much more…”

Eric took pause to down more of his pint, as Kyle had been doing throughout the spiel, but he kept speaking after, before Kyle could think of anything comforting to offer.

“Wasn’t just me, though. She felt the same. It came out after our biggest fight. She’d had enough, and she broke down crying. She told me she hated me. And, yeah, she’d told me before. But she’d always screamed it at me. Right in my face. But that time, she was just… so quiet,” he said, speaking low himself. “She sounded so tired. So she cried, and then I was crying too, and we just… talked. All night. Didn’t sleep.” His face crumpled into a tormented smile at the bittersweet memory. “I still remember watching the sunrise with her the next morning. So angry, and so tired, and so… sick, of hating everything. I’d had enough of it. I vowed, then, that that would be the last morning I hated her. And it was. We split that day, I went to Kenny’s, and… I didn’t hate her anymore. Because I was free. I had control of my own life again. I had a choice.”

“Wow,” Kyle broke in to comment. He knew a little about the divorce already – Eric had divulged a bit when they had first met, and made a couple more mentions since – but he had never gone into so much detail as right then. It felt validating for their relationship to be let in so much, for Eric to be so vulnerable with him, and it simultaneously put his own worries into perspective. He was so concerned about a first-grader not liking him anymore, but falling out of love with someone who was once your best friend was something else entirely. “I’d never have guessed from looking at you two. You seem so close now.”

“Yeah, it’s just like it was before, back in high school.” Eric shrugged with a smile. “We’re okay now. Like I said. But, Zac…” He frowned again, heaving a sigh. “He knows I had to go, but he doesn’t feel like we’re close anymore. He feels like I’m half-gone, even though I still see him every weekend. He thinks we’re hanging by a thread.” He looked up to meet Kyle’s eyes intentionally. “And I think that’s why he’s giving you a hard time. He looks at you and he sees the scissors coming to cut it.”

“But that’s-!” Kyle started to protest.

“I know,” Eric cut him off, holding up a hand. “It’s stupid. But what can you do? He’s a dumb kid. He gets that from me.” He lowered his hand with a huff and rolled his eyes away in embarrassment. “Abandonment issues. My dad left me, and my mom practically did, and I was so fucking sure everyone else would. I was determined not to let anybody else get to me like that. Wouldn’t sit on the rug just waiting for them to pull it out… Not gonna lie, it was fucked. I was fucked.” He met Kyle’s eyes again, gaze resolute with his resolve. “But I grew the fuck up and opened my eyes, and I saw that not everybody was out to screw me over. Most of them? Sure! The world’s more fucked than I ever was. But not everyone. Not my friends or family. Now, saying all that to say this:” Eric placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, so that he not only heard it but felt it when he stressed, “you’ve just got to wait for Zac to see the same thing I did. That’s why you have to hang out with me and him, even if he hates it at first. He needs to see that you change nothing.”

Kyle just stared at Eric once he was finished, eyebrows drawn up and mouth agape in awe. He watched him release his hold on his shoulder in favour of taking a deep gulp of his beer – probably wetting his parched throat, dry from his speech – and thought that not for the first time, and perhaps not for the last, he had severely underestimated Eric’s intelligence. Kyle had forgotten that he was talented at reading people and situations, and so Eric had been aware of everything the whole time. And he had let it all play out not because he didn’t care, but because he did.

“I feel like such a dick,” he confessed at last, just as Eric settled his half-finished pint back on the bar with a relieved sigh, unburdened at last. “I always assumed you never thought anything through, I… I’d never have guessed you had it all figured out…”

“Eh, I didn’t always think about this shit,” Eric admitted with a flap of his hand as if to reassure him. “Then I went to therapy for fucking years and now thinking about this shit is just about all I do. It gets drilled into you. I legit think it’s brainwashing and I have half a mind to sue.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said, glaring at his pint, though it wasn’t its fault – he hadn’t drank any of it for it to impair his judgement. It was all him. His presumed precociousness. His premature assumptions about his partner’s perceptiveness. His mis-led, mean-well decision to handle everything on his own. “I really should’ve told you everything from the beginning.”

“Yeah. You’re a dumbass.” Eric ruffled Kyle’s hair with a soft smile and pulled him in for a half-hug, cupping the ball of his shoulder within his warm palm. “Lucky you have a super smart boyfriend now to stop you being such a stupid fucking idiot.” That comment – although arguably earned – still caused Kyle to narrow his eyes at him.

“I don’t want to be told that by someone who once thought sea people were actually people.”

“Oh, as if you didn’t think they were too!”

“Yeah! Until I was, like, seven! Not almost eleven!”

“Oh, and is that also when you stopped mixing up resurrections and erections?”

“Hey! I shared that in confidence!”

“In confidence!” Eric scoffed. “What, you think you told me in a confessional? I ain’t no priest!”

“And Jews don’t do confessionals, I told you!”

“Probably why you’re so pent with guilt,” Eric sighed wistfully, shaking his head. “Such a stereotype.” Just before he could take a performative sip of his beer, Kyle crashed his shoulder into his and made him slop his drink onto the counter. Some of it wetted the cuff of his jacket as well, and he complained loudly, “Ey!”

“Hey yourself! Fuck you!”

“I’d rather fuck you,” Eric retorted, winking. The immediate steer from argumentative into flirtatious made Kyle blanche in shock, before bursting out laughing. Only Eric could subvert his anger so expertly, and he knocked into his shoulder again fondly.

“Asshole!” he said with delight. Though, his smile was quickly swiped off of his face when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Zac was returning to them from the show area, dragging his heels across the floor and looking downright sullen. “Aw, shit,” he murmured and bit his lip as if in self-penance.

“What?” Eric turned to follow Kyle’s gaze, and sucked in through his teeth. “Oh. Whoops.”

“Daddy,” Zac whined at him once he was near enough, “you missed-ed the puppets show…”

“Aw, I’m sorry, bud!” Eric placed a hand on his head to comfort him, and was quick to come up with a convoluted excuse that complimented himself as he was wont to do, “Kyle started crying and saying he was scared of puppets so I had to stay with him and keep him company. What a baby, right?”

“Yeah,” Zac beamed out, brightening immediately, “Kyle’s a big baby!” Then he giggled in pleasure, much to Kyle’s displeasure. It sucked that Eric had slandered him like that to save his own face, but he tried to suck it up. If it made Zac feel better then Kyle wasn’t about to burst the boy’s bubble. He’d just get Eric back for it later.

“I’ll make sure not to miss it when we come back next month,” Eric promised his son. “Okay?” After a moment of deliberation, Zac nodded in acquiesce. Smiling, Eric ruffled his hair briskly in reward, making the boy laugh again. He quickly downed the rest of his pint, and pointed at Kyle’s to prompt him to do the same. “Come on,” he said, “we should head to Black Bart’s.”

“Black Bart’s?” Kyle questioned before drinking up as instructed, allowing Eric the chance to respond.

“It’s a cool cave you can explore. You’ll see, it’s over this way.”

Eric pointed across the room to where the restaurant led through an archway to an adjoining area with a stage and a dance floor. Music could be heard coming from that direction, and when they entered the area they saw that a live mariachi band was responsible, dressed in black charro suits and white frilly shirts, accentuated with embroidered waist sashes and matching wide bow-ties in red. They had roused quite a crowd in the hall, with couples of parents sharing a dance while their small children ran amok around their legs in little sombreros as if doing their best impression of Speedy Gonzales from Looney Tunes.

Just as Kyle, Eric, and Zac were passing through, the band – obviously aware of popular meme culture and not above pandering to it – decided to try and entice the kids to dance, too, by shouting out, “Esto es muy triste. Alexa, ¡reproduce Despacito!” before breaking into a mariachi version of the viral hit song.

“Daddy!” Zac tugged on his hand, beaming up with excitement. “They’re playing it!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Eric laughed gleefully, “Back me, son!”

Just as impromptu and practiced as when they had sung the Casa Bonita theme in the car earlier, Kyle watched, mystified, as Eric and Zac jumped into position without further ado and started dancing in sync to the beat of Despacito. Eric (and Zac, it seemed) just had no shame – it was simultaneously the worst and best thing about him, Kyle thought. He was almost embarrassed, but mostly endeared, and laughed as Eric stomped his feet, shimmied his shoulders, flourished his hands, rotated his hips, and twerked his ass in a way that, if anyone had been in any doubt before, confirmed that this man liked men. Zac kept up with the moves surprisingly well, though he hadn’t mastered his father’s finesse yet – he was definitely on his way though, as to be expected of someone with Eric’s dancer genes.

Before Kyle realised it, the father-son duo had rallied a crowd around them (which was unavoidable most places he went with Eric), who whooped and hollered as they performed for the masses. Kyle gladly stayed shrunk in-between others’ shoulders, smiling and clapping along at the side while his boyfriend “served” (as the kids say) with his son. When the song was over, his own applause was well and truly drowned out by the dozen other people encircling them – but it was his face Eric found in the crowd, with sparkling eyes alight from all the attention – blooming under the spotlight the way flowers bloomed under sunlight – grinning at him, alone, with all his pearly teeth, sweat dripping from his dark, damp hair down his temples and rolling over his dimpled, rosy cheeks.

He was just too goddamned precious.

“What do you think?” Eric boasted on his approach towards Kyle, throwing his arms out wide either side as though the people’s adoration was a physical thing he could catch in passing, in the net of his ego. “Were we awesome, or were we awesome?”

“Can your head get any bigger?” Kyle sighed fondly, shaking his head with a fold of his arms and a jut of his hip. He did not like to be an enabler. Though Eric didn’t need him to be, since he had reproduced his very own enabler.

“We was awesome!” Zac declared decidedly, jumping up and down as he shadowed Eric’s every step.

“Yeah we were!” Eric bent down to offer both hands in a high-ten, which Zac happily returned with a satisfying slap, giggling in an intoxicating way. He only laughed harder when Eric turned to the crowd after and yelled through the cup of his hands while pointing at his progeny, “That’s my son! That’s right, people! I made that!”

Wanting to be part of the moment, Kyle braced himself with a hand on one knee as he bent down to present the other in offer of a milder high-five. “You were great out there, Zac!” he said genuinely. “I didn’t know you were such a good dancer. You really take after your dad!”

Zac eyeballed Kyle’s hand side-long, with cautious consideration, like he thought Kyle would feint with it and sike him out if he went for it. Realising this, Kyle just waited patiently, smiling with sincerity. Eric watched on wordlessly too, trying not to influence the proceedings one way or another, until eventually Zac stepped forward and tapped his sweaty hand lightly against Kyle’s. When there was no catch, and Kyle made no sign of mockery as he pulled away, Zac allowed himself a twitch of a smile at the praise.

“T’anks…”

‘Progress,’ Kyle thought. Gradual, but gratifying. Though he didn’t want to embarrass the boy by making too big of a deal out of it, so he quickly turned to Eric and asked, “Should we head to the cave now?”

“Yeah, it’s just over-” Eric started to reply, before he was cut off by the band starting up a new tune: a familiar song from a popular Disney-Pixar movie set in Mexico.

What colour is the sky?

Ay, mi amor! Ay, mi amor!

You tell me that it’s red.

Ay, mi amor! Ay, mi amor!

“Oh, my God!” Eric crowed excitedly, eyes lighting up, his hands flying to his cheeks. “This is our song!” In truth it was the first time that they’d heard it together, just like all the other “our” songs that Eric had claimed before. They had not even watched Coco together. Yet, that did not deter him. He grabbed Kyle’s hands and bellowed, “Let’s dance!”

“No!” Kyle tried to stand strong against Eric pulling him towards the dancefloor, immediately wilting at the thought of all those eyes on him the way they had been on Eric and Zac. “You said so yourself, I’ve got no rhythm!”

“I know!” Eric laughed, ignorant. “I love it!”

“You just love laughing at me,” Kyle pouted.

“I still love it,” Eric said, nuzzling Kyle’s nose.

Where should I put my shoes?

Ay, mi amor! Ay, mi amor!

You say, “Put them on your head!”

Ay, mi amor! Ay, mi amor!

Eric wasted no inch of the floor. He bounded between all four corners and span a helpless Kyle in dizzying circles while he fought against him, somehow managing to sing along exuberantly the whole time without getting winded.

You make me un poco loco,

Un poquititito loco!

The way you keep me guessing,

I’m nodding and I’m yessing!

I’ll count it as a blessing

That I’m only un poco loco!

“You’re crazy,” Kyle laughed, actually laughed, his cheeks hurting with the struggle of trying not to enjoy himself so evidently with Eric. He was fooling exactly no one.

“Only a little,” Eric laughed too, showing mercy by slowing their tempo after the first pass of the chorus. He leaned in so that their foreheads pressed together and their bangs interlocked, Kyle’s red ringlets curling up into Eric’s sweaty strands, and gazed into his eyes with open adoration. “Only for you.”

Kyle hummed in that pleased way he did, eyes squinting in a smile. God, he’d just… never been so in love before. Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more so, he could feel himself falling deeper…

And then he realised it wasn’t just from love that he was falling.

The back of his ankle had hit something firm, knocking him off balance. The world teetered on its axis. His eyes were widening again as he started to lurch backwards, stumbling, and he gasped as his stomach lurched with him. His ass almost hit the linoleum, but Eric still had a grip on him and reacted just in time, tugging him back up to a stand. It was like skating on their first date all over again.

“Kyle!” Eric cried out, just as stunned and confused about the sudden loss of balance. They had only been gently swaying in a sloping walk at that point, after all. He hooked Kyle with one arm wrapped securely around his waist, and carded his fingers soothingly through his bangs with the other. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just – tripped on something.” Kyle peered behind him to see what it was, and honestly? Call him foolish for it, but he was surprised to see Zac there, holding his leg out with his foot erect, right in the course of Kyle’s path. The devious little smirk on the boy’s face told Kyle everything he needed to know.

He hadn’t tripped. He’d been tripped.

Ordinarily his instinctual reaction to a revelation like that would have been anger. In fact, some would have said that irritation was practically his default mode. Sure enough, Eric’s previous bouts of impish mischief had riled him to the point of imminent implosion before, igniting the Jersey side inherited from his mother that laid dormant in him, and had him hollering in a terrible tirade until poor, cowering, regretful Eric could only rush out a slurred soothance of, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” to end the horrors of Sheila Broflovski’s spawn enraged. Now, though? Kyle just found himself feeling depressed. No amount of rage could vent his remorse. His brows swept low, drooping as his mood did, and his mouth pulled down into a small, hopeless frown. He was disappointed, and not sure if it was with Zac for his behaviour, or with himself for not being able to correct it despite all his years of training to be a teacher, or a little bit of both.

Eric, on the other hand, was the one who responded in anger. His eyes hardened, darkening, and he pushed Kyle protectively behind himself as he stared down his son and bellowed loud enough to turn heads, “Zachary Gabriel Turner! That is it!” Zac flinched at the whip of his voice, and Kyle flinched with him even though it wasn’t directed at him, because he had never heard Eric get that way before. Not even on the days when Kyle had taken a joke or a jab too far and really upset him. This was a whole new side of Eric: protective to the point of aggressive. Kyle could only stare at the side of Eric’s face marred with rage, as he roared, “I have put up with you being a brat up ‘til now, but you do not hurt Kyle!”

Zac’s face fell the minute his dad had started roaring, and his shoulders sagged with it. He hunched like he could make himself smaller, too small to see and to scold, and attempted a feeble, “But, Daddy-”

“Butts are for crapping, and I don’t wanna hear none of that!” Eric raised a stern finger. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday, I am done with your crap! Apologise to Kyle, right now, or else we are going straight home and I am never taking you here again! Ever!”

“Eric,” Kyle said urgently, gripping his shoulder almost on reflex as panic built in his throat. He liked that his boyfriend was someone who could stand up for injustices, like him, but he didn’t want there to be any more hurt. He couldn't help feeling that the thread Eric had told him about, the one which Zac thought he and his father were dangling from, was unravelling right in front of them. He wanted to stop things from spinning out of control before that could happen. The damage had already been done, though.

As defiant as his father, Zac balled his small hands into fists, screwed up his little face, and screeched at the top of his high tiny voice, “I hate Kyle! And I hate you!”

The room they were in was so wide, the ceiling so high; Kyle thought that he could hear the shatter of his heart echoing up to the stars.

“Oh,” he said emptily, and felt like he could fall all over again – fall right through the gaps in the wood flooring.

“Zac!” Eric started to scold, but the boy had already turned on his heel and ran off towards Black Bart’s Cave. Recognising how fast his son was running – faster than he could keep up with – Eric’s eyes bulged with fright. “Wait,” he pleaded, his frustrated tone becoming laced with panic, “come back here!” Of course it was futile. Zac disappeared into the cave entrance in the next second, and Eric swore, “Shit!” He turned to Kyle, eyes wide and wild. “It’s dark in there, he’s gonna get lost. Or I’ll lose him in the crowd, shit, anyone could grab him in there. Wait here, I have to go get him.”

Before Eric could move to follow however, Kyle placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Everything needed to stop - including his own passive attitude towards Zac's behaviour. It was a problem that needed to be addressed, not ignored until it went away. He needed to stop stepping aside as Eric's boyfriend, and step in as Zac's teacher.

“Let me go after him.”

“Huh?” Eric looked at Kyle, lost in a frenzy. “What do you mean? You can’t find your way in there, you’ve never been in there!”

“I’m capable of figuring it out.”

Eric huffed impatiently, aggravated in his concern for his wayward son. “I know the cave, I’ll go grab him. Just wait here…” He tried to shrug Kyle’s hand off his shoulder with a wayward roll, and let out an irritated grunt when he hung on tight. “Let go, I have to get my son…”

“I think I should talk with him alone,” Kyle said, voice pleading. It worked to settle Eric, just for a second – long enough for him to explain, “I’m not as heated as you are right now, and… I have some things to iron out with Zac. You should stay here in case he comes back out.” He squeezed Eric’s shoulder intentionally, and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “Do you trust me?”

Eric’s answer was not immediate, but Kyle did not need it to be. He could see it in the set of his brows knitted together, the way his mouth pulled down tighter. It was the same answer Kyle would give, if the shoe was on the other foot – despite how conniving Eric could be, despite how well he lied, despite how he liked to push Kyle off cliffs. Yes, was the answer, he did. Still Eric deliberated for a moment, surely unused to being able to trust someone to easily, and spared one last glance at the cave before he gave in with a sigh, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.

“Okay,” he said, clearly annoyed at Kyle for being right, again. “Okay. Go get him.”

“I will,” Kyle promised, and placed a pacifying kiss on Eric’s warm cheek before heading across the room and into the cave.

It was lit dimly inside, and a bit of a maze. Kyle had to go down a wrong passage or two, packed with people like slim cans of sardines, and get stuck once or twice in a dead-end trying to double-back on himself. He worked through it the same way he did everything though, carefully and methodically, cataloguing landmarks like skeleton props and fake chests. It wasn’t too long before he took the right course of passages. His chest swelled with relief when he saw a small, familiar figure curled up alone in a ball in the far corner of the cave, sunk down against the wall. He had his pudgy arms wrapped around his little legs, and his sniffling nose buried in-between his knees as he stared ahead with bloodshot eyes. He looked up when Kyle neared though, and scowled at his presence.

“Go away,” Zac said bitterly. “You and Daddy go away.”

“That’s not happening,” Kyle replied measuredly, resolute in his approach. “You have to come back with me. Your dad’s worried about you.”

“No he’s not.” Zac buried his face back in-between his knees so that his voice was muffled. “He doesn’ wants me no mores. He has you now so he doesn’ cares about me no mores.”

“That’s not true,” Kyle sighed tiredly, devastated to realise that this boy could be just as dramatic and sensitive to rejection as his father.

“Is so!” Zac snapped his head up to challenge emphatically. He was just as prone to argue as his father was, too.

“No it’s not,” Kyle said more insistently, rising up to the familiar sense of resistance he had gotten used to in all his months with Eric.

“Is so, is so!”

“It’s not.”

“Is so, is so, is so!”

“Is not, is not, is not!”

Kyle speaking the same petulant language as Zac seemed to actually make him listen, gawping up at the supposed adult with a quiet mix of shock and confusion. Sighing in his own mix of relief and frustration, Kyle took the reprieve from their back-and-forth as an opportunity to close the distance between them. He stepped forward until he was next to Zac, who was still staring up at him like he was seeing him anew for the first time, and sank to the floor to sit with him, back against the wall.

“Tell me, Zac…” On the same level at last, he reverted to his teaching ways and challenged his pupil to think, “If your dad didn’t want you anymore, then why would he come to see you today? Why would he bring you here with him? Why would he be out there waiting for you right now?”

Allowing his awed gaze to drop at last, Zac sniffed and shook his head at the floor. “I don’ know…”

“You see?” Kyle smiled, relieved that the boy had reached a state where he was capable of listening and considering. The quiet solitude of the cave seemed to have calmed him. “He does want you.”

“Then why is you here?” he asked miserably, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, and Kyle was too taken aback to answer at first, not used to sincere displays of genuine sadness from this boy. He had gotten upset in class sometimes, sure, but never sorry for himself. Usually when he got in trouble it was like he tried to blame the world for turning on him rather than direct any fault at himself; now he appeared like he accepted that the world had no choice but to turn on without him, that him being left behind was a necessary inevitability. Abandonment issues, Eric had said. And it seemed Zac had already grieved them to the point of acceptance. The anger that day was not a stage of the process, but a performance; a last hurrah of rebellion because, in Zac’s own mind, nothing he did or didn’t do mattered anymore anyway. He tightened his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together while he unravelled at his own words, “He doesn’ wants just me. I’s not good enoughs.”

“Well, why do you have your dad as well as your mom?” Kyle challenged. “Is your mom not good enough?”

Zac was a bright student when he tried. He stopped and thought about that one for a minute, before shaking his head. “No…”

“No, that’s right,” Kyle encouraged with a nod. “You love both of them just the same, don’t you?” He waited until Zac validated him with a nod, and then went on to add, “It’s the same thing with me and you. Your dad just has enough room in his heart for both of us.”

“Buh wha’ if he doesn’?” Zac worried, and looked at Kyle so that he could see the fear in his eyes. “Wha’ if he runs outs?”

“He won’t,” Kyle promised. “I swear. He won’t run out of love for you just because I’m here. Me dating your dad doesn’t mean you’ll get less love…” He eased into a reassuring smile. “Actually, it means you’ll get more.”

“How?” Zac asked, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow. Eric got the exact same incredulous, adorable look on his face sometimes, and the raw resemblance made Kyle chuckle fondly.

“Because,” he said, knocking into his shoulder conspiringly, “then I’ll be able to give you my love, too. You’ll get more from me, as well as your dad. The same way your mom’s new girlfriend gives you lots of love and attention just like your mom does. Right?”

Zac’s eyes lit up as he looked at Kyle, for what felt like the first time in a long time. “You mean it?”

“Yeah.” Kyle nodded, wanting to instil belief in the boy. It wasn't an easy task. Zac was surely just as stubborn about his beliefs as his father was. Kyle wondered what else he could say to convince him; and then he thought of it, although the idea made him shift awkwardly on the floor. “Actually I, um…” He bit his lip, debating whether to admit something like That, like this. Even if he didn't want to say it yet though, he realised that Zac needed to know it. Releasing his lip, letting go of his reservations with it, he asked, “…Can you keep a secret?”

Zac shook his head. “I don’ know…” It was an honest assessment; the boy was a loudmouth. Like father, like son. It was part of why he hadn’t told Eric about That yet: because he’d never shut up about it, and would embarrass him to no end. Though he knew that, someday, he would have to entrust him with the knowledge. Furthermore he knew that, someday, he could. When he was ready. But why not start small? Quite literally, by telling this small version of Eric first…

“I trust you,” Kyle said encouragingly, and he meant it – because he wanted to mean it. And he wanted it to mean something to Zac. For his part, the boy did contemplate that seriously for a minute. Then he nodded his little head, slow and deliberate.

“Okay.”

Okay.

So he was doing this…

Kyle took a deep breath.

“I haven’t told your dad this yet,” he started, lowering his voice like he was afraid to be heard. “I’m too scared right now, since it’s the first time I’ve felt this way about anyone. But I… I really… love your dad…” He laughed at himself, getting hot with nerves. He felt like a kid whispering about crushes under bedcovers again, like when he used to have sleepovers with Stan. Childlike giddiness hit him, and he giggled in disbelief at how everything about Eric made him feel young again. “I do. I love him. He just… makes me so happy. You know what that’s like, right? He makes you happy too?” Not forgetting what this exercise was all for, he waited to see if he was getting through to Zac. After a pause, he gave into a nod, so Kyle continued, “I know. That’s why you got so mad at me, huh? You felt like I was taking him away?” Zac nodded again, and Kyle smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to be mad, though. You don’t need to be scared. I don’t want to take your dad away from you. But I’d like it if you would share him with me? Because I’m in love him. I love him almost as much as you do. And I want to love him more and more. I want to know more and more about him. I want to get to know everything about him. Including you, Zac, you’re… you’re a big part of him.”

“I don’ know…” he said dejectedly, burrowing his nose back between his knees.

“No, you are!” Kyle insisted hurriedly before he could lose him again, because as much as he liked a debate, this topic was not up for one. “He told me himself just yesterday. He said you’re the hugest thing in his life. Even huger than me.”

Zac raised his head again, and the light in his eyes looked brighter – fit to twinkle amongst the stars in the ceiling beyond the cave. “Really?”

“Yes!” Kyle laughed, with disbelief that he had to convince the poor boy of any of this, and with relief that it was working. “So if I want to know him, then… I want to know you, too. I want to love everything about him. Even you. Especially you.” He reached out tentatively to touch the boy's shoulder, and huffed a laugh through his nose at the way he flinched, startled by the softness. He had probably been expecting to get yelled at. Kyle had learned, firsthand, how frightening and ultimately ineffective that could be though – 'Thanks, Ma.' – and aimed to avoid it when teaching his kids. “I’d be really happy if you’d let me do that. And I know it’d make your dad really happy, too. So… do you think we can do that? Can we learn to get along and share your dad?”

Zac looked down at his shoes, shuffled them against the faux-rock floor, then nodded one last time. “Okay.”

Kyle breathed out a big gust of air, and it was like it lightened the load in his chest. “Thank you. I’ll be good to you and your dad. I promise.”

“You’d better,” Zac warned, getting that glare on his face once more for good measure, “or I’ll kick your assbutt.”

“I’m sure you would,” Kyle laughed amusedly, not feeling threatened anymore. He knew they were okay, now. He held out his hand. “Come on. We should go find your dad. He must be worried sick about you by now.”

Zac did not take his hand immediately, but held himself tighter yet. “He’s gonna yell at me,” he mumbled miserably.

“Maybe,” Kyle chuckled nervously, wanting to do him the honour of being honest. He wasn’t one to hide kids from realities. He did know what it was to want to hide from the consequences of actions if he could, though – likely a trauma response from growing up under the strict and unforgiving roof of the Broflovski’s, and getting hollered at to the high heavens whenever he and Stan stepped a toe out of line and into typical childhood mischief. He could understand Zac’s reservations from experience, and wanted to ease them. “It’s okay. I’ll tell him we’ve already talked so he’ll go easy on you.”

He pushed his hand forward again, insistent but patient. That time, after a pause, Zac took it. Kyle pulled the boy into standing with one easy motion, and thought it ironic when he had tried to trip him down not long ago. How quickly things could change, he thought, and smiled as he led Zac towards the exit where Eric was waiting – impatiently, probably. He was always hectic when his loved one were involved. Kyle smiled at the thought.

“You know,” he said while they walked, “if he’s mad, it’s only because he’s scared.”

“Daddy doesn’ get scared-ed. He said-ed so.”

“Did he now?” Kyle asked morosely, grimacing because he expected better of Eric than to make deluded declarations of confidence about himself, and yet also nothing less of him. Well, as his partner now, it was up to Kyle to set straight Eric and everyone he had managed to fool. “Well, that’s not true. Everybody’s scared of something. And he was really scared when you ran off.”

“Really?” Zac asked, his tone longing it to be true.

“Really.” Kyle nodded. “Because he loves you.”

“Even though I was mean to you?” Zac asked unsurely.

“Even though you were mean to me,” Kyle assured him. “He was scared something would happen to you.”

“Like wha’?”

“Like if you got lost or hurt. He’d be really mad at himself for letting you go. That’s why you have to give him a big hug when we find him. Okay?”

“Okay…” Zac trailed off, still seeming sceptical. He appeared to have decided to trust Kyle with his future despite that though, the same way Kyle had trusted him with his feelings. Kyle liked to think that he had learnt that lesson from their classes together, when he had repeatedly told him that, “sharing is caring.” He hoped that Zac understood that he cared. At least it appeared that Zac did care about him after all, when he squeezed Kyle’s hand tighter and said miserably, “Sorry I tripped-ed you. And said-ed I hates you. I didn’ means it…”

“That’s okay,” Kyle said, smiling appreciatively. He thought he could owe that one to himself; no way did Eric teach him the value of the S-word. “Apology accepted.” He squeezed Zac’s hand back, returning the gesture, and was reminded of how whenever he and Eric fought, that was also their first sign that they were mending. Eric didn’t so much say sorry, as imbue a sense of sorriness into Kyle through touch – squeezing his hand as if to say that he didn’t know what Kyle was doing with him, but Eric didn’t know what he would do without him now. Remembering those moments, Kyle saw fit to tell Zac, “Sometimes friends fight, but that doesn’t mean they’re not friends.”

“Like you and Daddy?”

“Right,” Kyle laughed, “like me and your dad. And like you and me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He didn’t actually know the answer when he asked it; he was more just hoping that he did, and wanted to ascertain whether he was right. He liked being right. He wanted to be right. Especially about this.

Thankfully, after thinking about it for a moment, Zac nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and Kyle smiled so bright that it brought light to the cave. Although the truth of the matter was that they had just left it and returned to the outside.

“Zac!” Eric cried, immediately noticing them emerging from the mouth of the cave. He had been watching it anxiously, perched on the edge of a chair he had stolen from a table near the dance floor, his foot tapping against the polished wood. The chair wobbled from how quickly he got up from it when he saw Kyle with Zac in tow, safe and sound. “You found him! Is he okay?!” he interrogated Kyle as he swept across the room to meet them, but remembered his son’s autonomy and turned on Zac as soon as he reached him, “Where have you been?! Do not run off like that again, I swear to Christ!”

Zac and Kyle shared a silent look, peering up and down at each other respectively. Zac seemed to be waiting for Kyle’s cue, like he used to do in the classroom between activities. Smiling at those fond memories – at the fact that moments like that didn’t need to be just memories anymore, but could live on in their continued daily routine – Kyle nodded him in. Wordlessly, Zac bowed his head and let go of Kyle’s hand, and Eric watched in quiet confusion – not having been privy to their telepathic conversation – as his son approached him. For once, he didn’t throw himself into his father’s legs when he reached him, but gently wrapped his arms around them.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he said. It was small and huge at the same time. The S-word did not come easy to his mouth, nor Eric’s. It was why Eric looked too stunned to speak, and Kyle tried not to laugh at him.

“Zac and I had a talk already,” he explained. “He really is sorry. He was just getting a little jealous, that’s all. But there’s no need to be jealous, right? You still love him, don’t you?”

Eyebrows knitting, Eric sighed and bent down to pick up his son, hefting him up onto his hip where he could look him in the eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I do.”

That did it for Zac, already emotionally overwhelmed as he was. He burrowed his face into Eric’s shoulder as he started blubbering, and Eric buried his own face into the top of his head. He began rubbing his small back while it quaked with sobs, his huge hand rumpling and pulling at his shirt. Kyle stood aside and let them have that moment, enjoying it from afar with his hands tucked behind his back and a pleased smile on his face, full of pride.

It was the same thrill he used to get at the end of school book reports, or final college essays: his assignment was accomplished. He had swore to get Zac to like him again by the end of the day, and he had achieved his aim. Moreover, he had assuaged the boy’s own woes as an addition, and mended the bond between father and son for good measure. If he had to grade himself, he’d give his efforts an A+.

…Okay, so maybe Eric wasn’t the only one between them with an ego. But also maybe Kyle wasn’t the only one worth praising. For all his own faults and issues, Eric had raised a good kid. A naughty, mischievous, jealous, angry, good kid who loved his dad more than his little heart could bear. And who was smart enough to understand that all Kyle wanted was to love him, too. A kid who could learn that sharing wasn’t the end of his world, but instead a way to open it up.

Though maybe Kyle had taught him that, too, somewhere along in their kindergarten classes. He’d like to think so.

It took some time for Zac to settle, but once he did, his wailing sobs softening to pitiful sniffs, Kyle finally approached the pair and placed his hand gently on Eric’s shoulder to get his attention.

“He’s had a big day,” he whispered. “We should probably take him home now.”

“Yeah.” Eric nodded, the tip of his nose shifting Zac’s hair. “I think you’re right.”

“No!” Zac recoiled from Eric at last, and they could see his face was red: cheeks blotchy, eyes puffy. “I don’ wanna go yet!”

Eric could have easily put his foot down and exercised his authority, and Kyle half expected him to, just like he had with the car seat fiasco. It was his favourite way to handle contention, in Kyle’s experience. Eric could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be, and he very often wanted to be, fighting Kyle on doing a million little mundane things – the cooking, the laundry, the groceries – his way, not for any reason other than because it was His. Kyle was surprised, therefore, when Eric did not harden up at the show of defiance, but softened instead.

“Tell you what,” he said, tone diplomatic, “we can do one more thing before we go. So, what do you wanna do?”

Compromise. Call the presses: Eric Cartman was capable of negotiating for mutual benefit… Although maybe Kyle had taught him that, too. Eric had taught Kyle a lot, after all, so it was fair to think that the lessons went both ways. Surely Eric had learned that Kyle was more likely to stick around his apartment longer when he wasn’t so stubborn; and if he wanted a long-standing relationship with his son, then the rule was the same.

Zac blinked at the offer, thought about it for a moment, and then asked, “Can we takes a picture together?”

“In the jail?” Eric clarified. Zac nodded, and his father smiled. “Of course. It’s what we always do, right?” Zac wiped his reddened eye with the heel of his hand and nodded again. Eric chuckled and brushed a kind thumb over his sticky cheeks. “But we should probably get your face cleaned up first.”

After a quick trip to the restroom, and going through a dozen paper towels, they went towards the restaurant exit, where there was a pop-up wall with a barred window insert that you could get your photo taken at. Despite being twenty-six years old, Kyle was forced to dress up per Eric and Zac’s request. Eric insisted on wearing the brown felt sheriff’s hat with the plastic golden star accessory, and a white bolo tie with a fake emerald in its centre. He posed on the other side of the bars with his arms crossed and a confident smirk on his face, like he’d caught a pair of vagabonds and was getting his picture taken for the headline in the Ye Olde Newspaper. Said vagabonds were Kyle – wearing a woollen forest ridge-top hat with a trio of silver medallions emblazoned across the base, and a matching short olive neckerchief – and Zac – wearing a black leather gambler hat with a white string, and a long red neckerchief – who stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind the bars (thanks to Kyle standing on his knees for the photo). They both posed by gripping the iron fittings (which were actually plastic) in either hand, but despite the predicament they were supposed to be in, they couldn’t help from grinning through the photo.

“Your face looks so stupid,” Eric snickered after the shoot, at their souvenir polaroid. It was probably going right in his wallet, next to the other dozen fold-out photos he already had of him and baby Zac.

“Says you!” Kyle returning, whacking him on the back of the head. It made Zac laugh, which was contagious enough to have them all laughing. It was just what they needed, and nice to not have to end the day on a low. There was a sense of relief in the air as they headed out of the restaurant after acquiring their keepsake photograph. A sense that things were going to be okay.

On their journey back to the car, Eric was hyping Zac up for getting back home, telling him that his birthday gifts were waiting for him at the apartment along with a cake his dad had baked himself. Zac seemed too distracted to pay attention, however. He kept looking back over his shoulder while they walked, and Kyle would have thought he was simply admiring the lights if he didn’t look so anxious. The truth of what he was concerned with was revealed eventually when he tugged on Eric’s jeans and asked, “Hey, Daddy? Can Kyle come with us-es to Casa Bonita agains? He didn’ get to have no funs today.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay!” Kyle shook his head with a reassuring smile. “I did have fun, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to make up for it.”

“Nah, the kid’s right,” Eric said, pulling Zac’s hand from his jeans so that he could hold it in his own. “You didn’t get to feel the true magic of Casa Bonita today. But we promised you would, and we’ll make damn sure you do!”

“Damn!” Zac cheered, throwing his arms up.

“Ey! That’s enough out of you,” Eric warned. “Seriously, what is it with you and swearing? You never wanna repeat nice stuff? Like, like please or, or thank you? Just the bad words? What’s up with that?”

“The bad words are the fun ones,” Zac said.

Eric sighed, looking tormented. “I really wanna be mad at you right now but you’re so totally right. I can’t argue with that. How the hell do I argue with that?!” He aimed that question at Kyle desperately with pleading eyes, actually needing an answer, but Kyle could only chuckle.

“He’ll learn,” he said from experience – both as a current mentor of children, and a former tormentor of his own parents – and took Eric’s hand to comfort him. “Come on, let’s go home.” He pulled him across the lot towards the car, but he too found himself following Zac’s suit and glancing over his shoulder as he went, admiring the restaurant lit up. It really did seem special, then, as it was to Eric and Zac. He wanted a chance to understand why. So he turned to them and asked, anxious and hopeful, “Is it really okay for me to come with you again?”

“Sure!” Eric squeezed Kyle’s hand as he assured him, and he even squeezed his heart too when he winked at him and said, “Mi Casa Bonita es tu Casa Bonita.”

Kyle laughed and shook his head in amusement, but he couldn’t feel helping that there was some truth to those words. Yes, Eric’s home – his family – was feeling more and more like Kyle’s every day.