by Dan Wingreen
Tim pulled on every bit of self-control he had to keep his expression neutral. He was terrified his relationship with Spencer would be more than Connor could handle. That the very idea of them being together was about to drive his brand-new boyfriend’s son into a panic attack. Tim may not have dated anyone with a child before, but if there was one universal rule of going out with a single parent who cared about their kids, it was that the relationship was doomed if the kids didn’t approve. He had to fight down a rising panic of his own that this might be one of those situations. Tim had known too many kids who suffered because their parent started dating someone they hated, and he never wanted to be the cause of something similar himself. If Connor had a problem with them being together, Tim would end the relationship himself even if Spencer wouldn’t, no matter how much his heart was already breaking at the thought.
“I’m—” Tim cleared his throat when the word came out rough. “I’m friends with you because I like you.”
“It’s your job to like me.”
“You know that’s not true,” Tim said patiently.
“I don’t know anything!” Connor ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture so painfully Spencer Tim had to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands to keep from pulling him into a hug. “You told me you were friends with me because you didn’t have anyone else, and now you’ve got my dad, and you don’t need me anymore, so the only reason you’re even here is because of him.”
Tim’s head was spinning at how quickly Connor jumped from one insecurity to another.
“Connor.” He sighed. “Can you please look at me when I say this?”
Surprisingly, Connor did so, forcing himself to take long, deep breaths. His eyes were bright with frustrated tears he seemed to be holding back from spilling down his cheeks with nothing but sheer force of will as he visibly struggled to keep himself together.
Tim was so impressed by the inner strength he was witnessing he almost forgot to start speaking.
“My relationship with your dad has nothing to do with our friendship. I like hanging out with you. I liked it before I liked your dad, and I still like it now that I… Now that I love him.” Tim was breaking all kinds of relationship rules here, telling Spencer’s son before he told Spencer himself, but he didn’t want to hold anything back. Connor deserved to know how Tim felt as much as Spencer did. “And even if me and Spencer break up one day, I’ll still be your friend. Nothing will ever change that.”
It kind of stunned Tim how well he and Connor got along. No matter what he said when they first met, he never expected to be such good friends with someone who was barely into their teen years. Connor was mature for his age though, in certain ways, and he was smart and quick, and Tim could talk to him for hours about nearly anything and never once feel like he’d been talking to a child. In a lot of ways, Connor was probably his best friend, and not just because he was the only real friend he still had who wasn’t also his boss. Connor, and Spencer too, had gotten in deep underneath Tim’s skin, burrowing down beneath his defenses and settling into the places in his heart marked family. And he so desperately wanted them to stay there.
But this wasn’t about Tim. This was about what Connor needed. And right now, Connor needed a friend more than he needed family.
Connor blinked, then violently wiped his eyes right as the tears started to spill over. “What if I’m the reason you break up?” he asked, his voice small.
Tim slowly reached out and placed his hands on Connor’s shoulders, giving him every opportunity to back away. He didn’t. “Nothing.”
“Do you promise?”
Years of psychology courses and a lifetime of experience told Tim this was an impossible and, more importantly, irresponsible promise to make. He didn’t even hesitate. “I promise. We’ll always be friends. No matter what.”
Connor went stock still for a moment, and then Tim felt the tension drain out of him. He sniffled and knuckled away the last of his tears, and Tim couldn’t resist anymore. To hell with it. Tim had already broken almost all his other rules for Connor; what was one more? He pulled Connor into a hug, almost completely melting when Connor threw his arms around his waist and hugged him back tightly.
A fierce swell of nearly blinding love burst to life inside Tim. It made him want to shield Connor from the world at the same time as he wanted to see him go out and conquer it. Was this how Spencer felt every day? Was this what it felt like to be a parent? Tim had no idea, but he allowed himself to hope, even if only for a few minutes, that he might find out some day.
The hug didn’t last long, and when Connor pulled away, he looked completely mortified, but he didn’t seem to be upset anymore. It was one of the things Tim admired about him, his resilience, his ability to bounce back from things in a way Tim had never been able to do. Of course, now that the crisis had passed, Tim was painfully aware they were alone in somebody’s office, and his imagination had no trouble at all painting vivid pictures of exactly how much trouble Tim would be in if they got caught. Thankfully, Connor jumped at the suggestion that they go out to eat at a nearby diner, and by the time they’d walked there and got their food, things were back to normal between them. Mostly.
“So, if you’re dating my dad, isn’t it kinda weird that I’m still your ‘Little Brother’?”
Tim winced. “It’s…not the best terminology, no.”
Connor snorted. “Yeah, but that’s not what I asked. I asked if it was weird.”
“Maybe a little,” Tim admitted. “But it helps that I never really thought of you as a brother.”
“Really?”
Tim studied Connor as surreptitiously as possible for any signs he was hurt or insulted, but he didn’t seem to be anything other than genuinely curious. “Yep. It never really felt right, you know? Besides, friends are way better than siblings. You’re stuck with siblings no matter what, but you can choose your friends.” He bit into a fry and grinned. “And I definitely choose you, Pikachu.”
“Ugh.” Connor’s exaggerated gagging noise was slightly offset by the faint blush staining his cheeks. “You’ve definitely been spending too much time with my dad.”
Tim laughed. “What about you?”
“Have I been spending too much time with my dad?”
“No, smart-ass.” Tim threw a fry at Connor. It bounced off his shoulder and landed on the counter in front of him where it was scooped up and shoved into Connor’s smirking mouth. “I mean, is it weird? Me and your dad.”
“Definitely,” Connor said, thankfully after swallowing. And maybe some of Tim’s sudden dread showed on his face, because Connor quickly added, “But not a bad weird, I guess. More like a…‘I’m gonna have to get used to it’ weird.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, definitely gonna have to get used to it.” He shuddered. “Ugh, I wish brain bleach was real…”
“Do I even want to know what you just thought about?”
Connor rapidly shook his head. “I don’t even wanna know what I just thought about.”
Tim chuckled, and they ate quietly for a few minutes. Eventually, Connor broke the silence.
“So…are you gonna get a new one?”
“A new one?”
“A new Little Brother.”
“Connor,” Tim said, turning on his stool and giving Connor’s knee a reassuring squeeze, “I told you I’m not—”
“No, I know. I don’t mean like, you’re gonna replace me or anything. But I don’t have to come here to be your friend, and if you’re gonna be—” He stuck out his tongue. “—doing stuff with my dad, you’ll probably be around a lot, right?”
Tim cleared his throat. “Probably, yes.” I hope so.
“So, there’s no point in me being your Little Brother anymore.”
Tim held back another wince. He knew where Connor was coming from, but hearing it put so bluntly still seemed wrong. “I guess. Are you—do you wanna drop out of the program?”
Connor shrugged
. “I don’t really care. I mean, I only came here to get the PS4 in my room.” He flashed a small grin at Tim. “But…you’re, you know, cool and stuff. And I like spending time with you. It doesn’t really matter where we do it.”
Tim held back a snort at Connor’s attempt to be unaffected and cool as if he hadn’t been crying in Tim’s arms about the possibility of them not being friends less than an hour ago. But that was fine. If that’s what Connor wanted—even if that was all Connor wanted—then Tim was happy to provide. “I can see that. And coming over more will give me a chance to kick your ass in Mario Kart.”
“You wish.” Connor shoved him, which only unbalanced Connor on his stool. Tim grabbed him to keep him from falling, politely ignoring the embarrassed flush on his cheeks as he resettled himself and continued like nothing had happened. “But don’t you need this? Or…whatever?”
Despite the lack of eloquence, Tim knew what he was getting at. He’d told Connor a very heavily edited version of his college debacle and what followed during one of their afternoons together. To be honest, he was kind of surprised Connor had been paying enough attention to remember it.
“Actually…” He hesitated. This really was something he wanted to talk about with Spencer first…but what the hell. He’d already started setting a pattern for telling things to Connor before anyone else. Why break it now? “I’m probably gonna go back to school and work on finishing my degree.”
Connor seemed surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah. So, with all the work and going to classes and everything, I wouldn’t have time to volunteer anyway.”
“That’s cool. The going back to school thing, I mean.”
“Yeah.” Tim smiled. “But, uh, can you kinda keep it a secret for a bit? I wanna tell your dad myself.”
Connor smirked. “Maybe after you tell him you love him?”
Tim flushed. “Exactly.”
More silence, more eating. Or Tim ate, at least. Connor mostly sat there and picked at a seam in his jacket. Tim pretended he didn’t notice. He felt pretty sure he knew what Connor was working up to asking. “Do you…really love my dad?”
“Yes,” Tim answered immediately.
Connor seemed to think about Tim’s answer for a moment, then nodded. Then he made a face. “Okay, but…why?”
The question sounded different, this time. More teasing, like a kid ragging on his friend for doing something gross instead of someone trying to make sense of something he didn’t understand. Still, Tim answered honestly. “Because he makes me happy.”
He had no idea why Connor burst out laughing.
Chapter Fifteen
59…58…57…56…
Spencer leaned in and chewed his bottom lip as he watched the numbers tick down. His chest pressed up against the top of the oven, and he could feel the heat bleeding through the ceramic and insulated metal. His shirt had become plastered to his body with sweat born from warmth and worry.
This was it. His last chance. His final opportunity.
45…44….43….42….
His eyes flickered off to the side, landing on the smoke alarm he’d discarded on the kitchen table. The device lay silent, now, its guts long since torn out, but he knew better than to take his eyes off it for too long.
36…35…34…33…
Somewhere behind him, he heard the shifting of clothing as his progeny watched on with bated breath. He could easily picture eyes so much like his own boring through him with the steady, unshakable pressure of a hydraulic press as the mantle of responsibility on his shoulders grew ever harder to bear.
17…16…15…14…
So close now. He gripped the edges of the counter until his fingers went numb as he took a deep, steadying breath. The smell of charred flesh from the carcasses next to him invaded his senses, reminding him of his previous failures. Bile rose in his throat. If this didn’t work, if he failed once again, the bitter tang of humiliation and defeat would be nothing in the face of the knowledge that he’d destroyed the hopes and dreams of an entire family.
5…4…3…2…1
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
He pushed himself away from the counter and pulled the oven open.
Inside was a turkey, perfectly golden and glistening with succulent juices. He slipped on an oven mitt, pulled the pan out, and set it on the counter. Now came the moment of reckoning. With shaking hands, he cut into the breast.
“Dad…?”
Spencer closed his eyes and nearly collapsed in relief.
“It’s perfect.”
Connor let out an exasperated breath. “Thank God. Can I go now, or are you gonna have another nervous breakdown?”
Spencer glared over his shoulder. “I didn’t have a nervous breakdown.”
“I came down to see why the fire alarm was going off, and you were on the floor crying surrounded by burnt turkeys.”
“I wasn’t crying.”
Connor raised an eyebrow. “You were sobbing. I thought you were dying or something.”
Spencer scowled. The only thing dying was his bank account and his sanity. “Let’s see you run out at ten in the morning on Thanksgiving to try and find more turkeys because you burnt the three you bought and see how well you handle it.”
“I wouldn’t have burnt any of them.”
“I wouldn’t have burnt any of them,” Spencer mocked in a slurred, high-pitched voice. “Then why didn’t you cook them?”
“Because you didn’t ask me, and you started cooking them when I was asleep!” Connor snapped. “I don’t get why we couldn’t just have Baskin-Robbins like we do every year. Tim wouldn’t have minded.”
“Awah!” Spencer squawked, drawing himself up to his full (if unimpressive) height in righteous indignation. “That’s—no!”
“It’s not like he’s gonna suddenly hate you if you can’t cook for him.”
“That’s not the point!” Although now that someone had said it aloud, it was kind of exactly the point. “It’s embarrassing to have takeout on Thanksgiving.”
“We literally do that every year.”
“It’s different when there’s someone new.”
Connor crossed his arms. “So, I’m not worth the effort of cooking, but Tim is?”
“Yes! No.” Spencer bit his lip again. “It’s…we’re not worth the effort of cooking. But Tim is.”
Yeah, that sounded right.
“You’re being stupid. And weird.”
“Ha! I can’t wait for you to bring your first girlfriend or whatever over for the holidays. Then we’ll see how ridiculous and weird and okay with giving them takeout you are.”
Connor flushed. “If dating makes you this crazy, then I’m never dating anyone!”
“Good!”
They stayed frozen, glaring at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen, for a painfully long moment before Connor glanced away and sighed. “Seriously though…you’re okay now, right?”
Spencer stole another look at his turkey. His golden, succulent, perfect turkey. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine now.” He rubbed his warm cheeks and tried to pretend they were flushed from the oven’s heat. “Sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s okay,” Connor said with a shrug. He hesitated, then asked, “You…need any help?”
Spencer winced, suddenly drawn back into the dark minutes of yesterhour when Connor had asked that very same question, and he’d responded by screaming incoherently and throwing a box of stuffing at him. It was far from Spencer’s proudest moment, but in his defense, he’d probably been legally insane for most of the morning-slash-early-afternoon. “Um. No. I think I’ve got the rest.” All he had to do was keep the turkey warm, fix the cranberry sauce, microwave the gravy for Connor, cook up some pork because he vaguely remembered his mom doing that every year, boil the corn, and not burn the house down. Totally doable. “If you could take the garbage out though, that would be great.” He kicked the open heavy-duty bag next to him, scowling at the ruined turkeys inside it. “Hopefully this plac
e won’t smell like burnt meat by the time Tim shows up,” he muttered.
“Sure.” Connor made a face as he tied the bag up and tried to lift it. “Ugh. This is so heavy.”
“It smells like death too,” Spencer said helpfully.
While Connor grumbled and dragged the garbage bag out of the kitchen, Spencer unstuck his black turtleneck from his chest. He had the vague thought that ovens probably weren’t supposed to let out enough heat to glue people to their clothes. Maybe that’s why he’d ruined so many turkeys? Because it let out too much heat and he’d ended up overcooking them to try to make up for them not being done enough? That wouldn’t explain why this one cooked fine though…unless him hovering over the oven so much kept enough of the heat in, maybe…
No. That would be stupid and improbable.
Okay, enough of that. Corn time.
He filled up a pot and dumped a few ears of corn inside. And…that was all he had.
Shit. I should have looked up how to do this while the turkeys were burning.
Still, how difficult could cooking corn be? He took out his phone and searched “how long do you boil corn?”
“‘How long you boil corn depends on your taste,’” he read aloud. “Well, fuck. That would be great if I actually liked corn.” He continued reading silently until he reached the end of the short article. “Okay, so it’s either one to two minutes for warm and crisp or three to ten for warm and soft. Good thing three to ten isn’t horribly vague or anything…”
Footsteps from down the hall entered the kitchen and came to a stop behind him.
“Oh good, you’re back,” Spencer said without turning around. He held up a stalk—ear, they’re called ears—of corn and gave it a little shake. “Do you think Tim would like this hard or soft?”
Of course, since he asked weirdly, it was pretty much a cosmic rule Connor wouldn’t be the one standing behind him.
“There are so many ways I can go with this,” Tim said.
Spencer sighed, accepting his fate—and the fact that he was destined to blush forever around his boyfriend—and glanced back. Tim looked unfairly great in a crisp maroon button-down and black slacks; a sharp and elegant contrast to Film School Hipster Spencer with his thin black turtleneck, black skinny jeans, and bare feet. Tim leaned casually against the entryway with his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his lips.
