Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Fit’s voice bounces off the walls with such fervor it surprises even him. The spaciousness of the garage lends itself to the echo, ricocheting between the metal and copper equipment around the room. Hearing his booming, irritated tone projected back at him fills Fit with guilt as he hopes it didn’t travel outside of the space. A quick glance into the yard assures him the kids didn’t hear, thank god. They didn’t need to know about any of this.

“Hear me out, hear me out! Would I go around telling people your business unless I thought they could help? Like really fucking help?” Phil’s hands are in the air, hovering in a defensive position in front of his chest.

FIt’s pissed. Phil has no right going around town and tellin’ people all about Fit’s little issue without getting the okay first. Fit can feel part of him come alive, a skip in his heart rate that’s just begun. He knows he’s letting the anger take over; knows he needs to think and stifle this down before it becomes overwhelming. Fit just needs a minute—one minute to breathe and process and work through the guilt, just like his therapist says. Deep breaths, focus on a happy moment and collect your thoughts.

For what it’s worth, Phil never pushes Fit. Sure, he keeps an eye on him, as any best friend would, but he never pressures him to snap out of it. Phil knows when to give Fit space, especially after dropping something so distressing upon him. When Fit has reestablished himself, he sees Phil has lowered his hands, and they hang at his sides while he waits for Fit to respond.

“Alright. Fine. You told Forever. And I still don’t get to ask what’s going on between you two?” Fit demands, tipping his head to size Phil up. “Seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“Fucking Christ, nothing is going on! We’re just really good friends, alright?” Phil fires back. Fit doesn’t call him out for his blush; it’s not Phil’s fault he’s weak for a smooth-talker. Or was weak? Fit doesn’t know what the hell is happening anymore with them, but there are worse people than Forever that Phil could have told his secret to.

“Yeah, sure. But whatever, man, you brought it up!”

Phil sighs dramatically, resting a hand against his forehead in exhaustion.

“Christ, I swear…” Phil shakes his head free and stares Fit down with The Look. The dad look. Shit.

“Forever just happened to mention that the Favela House is ending its lease right at the start of the month. Cellbit already lives at Roier’s, Bagi just got a place, Mike and his wife are already out, and Forever and Felps signed a lease for a 2-bedroom weeks ago. Which just leaves Pac.”

“Who the hell is Pac?” Fit questions, brows raising as he desperately tries to remember if he’s heard of this ‘Pac’ before.

“I’m trying to tell you! Forever’s housemate, Pac! One of Richarlyson’s dads - the one that isn’t married or Felps.”

Fit wonders who the hell Felps is but knows better than to derail Phil’s storytelling again.

“Right, right. Okay, I’m following.”

“Thank you! Right, so everyone is moving out and staying around here but getting their separate places. Except with all the hysteria around Cellbit’s wedding, Bagi moving out, etc, somehow they fucking forgot to tell Pac.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah. Apparently, it was in a group text, but you know how group texts are.”

“Wilbur’s microwave rant springs to mind,” Fit says with a shudder.

“Exactly. Lots of chatting, but no one clarified with one another. Pac’s away for work, came home a few weeks ago, and everyone had already sorted themselves but him. So he needs a place to stay.” Phil raises his eyebrows and shoots Fit a look.

“And I’m guessing this is where I come in?” Fit says with a defeated sigh.

“Yup. Forever was talking to me about it, and I thought, why not let Pac stay with you?”

“I’ve never met this guy Phil. I have a kid. How do I know he’s not a serial killer or some shit?”

“Dude, why would I invite a literal serial killer into your house? You’re smarter than that.”

“Sorry, apologies. Spree killer better suit you, your highness?” Fit bites back.

“Much better, thanks,” Phil says, rolling his eyes with a grin. “He’s not a murderer. And I wouldn’t just tell someone they could move in; I figured you’d want to meet him and shit first. I’m just saying I think this could solve both of your problems.”

“What problem is that, Phil?” Fit doesn’t mean to add a cold tone to his statement, but he’s beginning to lose his patience.

“You’re doing great for yourself. You’re the best fuckin dad, mate. But you said you needed a little more cash to get the loft done, right? Things are good, but they could be better. You have a three bedroom! Rent the spare to Pac, and it helps you both.”

Fit finds a rhythm to his breaths as he processes Phil’s words. He can’t be upset with Phil for discussing things Fit himself told him. Truth is, Fit has been spending a lot more time with his budget recently, and by a lot more, he means for the first time. At least for the first time since he’s had Ramon in his life. Things aren’t tight, per se, but with both Ramon and Fit’s Fitness going through a growth spurt, the need for a larger nest egg seemed ever elusive. If he wants to get Ramon into school with the others, he has to finish that damn loft. He can’t let his kid down. Not now. Not when he has no one else.

“Sounds…possible.”

“Hell yeah it is. Let me appeal to your kind heart, Fit,” Phil says with a wicked grin. Phil hears Fit scoff in return but continues.

“Pac was across the country for work, came home, and found out his family is moving out, and no one told him. He’s…upset. Pac needs a little space and a place to stay as soon as possible. You know the rent around here. He’s never going to get a place in under two weeks for cheap. You charge him less than market price, he’s got a place to stay for a lower cost, and you get a few thousand closer to finishing your dream place. And maybe a new babysitter for Ramon, who knows.”

Fit fucking hates it when Phil is right. Absolutely fucking hates it. Shit.

“You’re pissed it’s a good idea, aren’t you?”

Phil can always read him. Fit will throttle him for it one day.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see. You know this guy then? Pac? You’ve met him?” Fit implores.

“Met him a few times, yeah. Been great every time so far, though, to be fair, we haven’t had many chats. Few inches shorter than us, dark hair, good looking guy. Seems a bit shy but quick-witted as fuck. Forever says he’s like the best friend in a rom-com, you know what I mean?”

“I get you, yeah.” Fit trails off to look out to the yard. From their vantage point in the garage, Fit can see three happy, giggly kids sprinting through the sprinkler, already covered in mud. He softens to smile, shaking his head as Ramon watches Chayanne fall a few times before jumping himself.

“He good with kiddos? Do you - uh…” Fit trails off into a stammer, questioning whether he should even ask.

“Do I what, mate?” Phil asks. Fit hates how well Phil knows him. He’s giving Fit a moment to collect himself, and Fit both loves and hates Phil for noticing.

Fit takes a breath, steadying himself.

“Do you think Ramon would like him?” He asks, willing his voice not to crack when he says his son’s name, glancing outside again. Ramon is still there. His baby boy is out there playing with his friends. Fit does not need to worry, not here. Not now.

“It’s just he’s had enough drama as it is, and he doesn’t even remember it all. I don’t want to mess around with his routine unless they like each other.” Fit admits quietly.

“Honestly, mate? I think you’ll have more of an issue getting them to stop hanging out than getting along. Ramon would love him.”

Fit nods, looking back out to the yard.

“He’s good with kids; he’s one of Richarlyson’s dads, remember? Ramon and Richas would get along really well, so Pac had to have had an influence. He’s a set designer. I think that’s his official title or whatever. Builds crazy shit all the time - Forever is always complaining about stepping on graph paper and pencils. By Christmas, he’ll probably have a whole crash test derby course built for Ramon.”

“Hmm.”

“Listen mate, I know this is hard for you.”

“Can it, Phil.”

“I know how hard this is, and I want you to know I’m here for you. I know how much you hate admitting I’m right.” Phil says with a self-satisfied grin.

“Oh fuck off,” Fit says, shoving Phil’s shoulder playfully.

“You take your time. Text me once you’ve thought about it. I’ll throw a barbeque or some shit and invite everyone. You can get a feel for Pac then and gauge how Ramon feels. I’ll bully Forever into making sure he comes, alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I can work with that. Start there, at least. Thanks, Phil. For, y’know. All this shit.” Fit refuses to meet Phil’s eyes, instead waving his hand around to express how encompassing his appreciation is. His eyes instead fixate on Ramon, who seems to be having a great time playing with Chayanne and Tallulah. If this Pac guy is legit and agrees, Fit could be a lot closer to providing Ramon with the life he deserves. What is the point of anything unless Ramon is happy?

“You’re a good friend, Phil.” That’s as sentimental as Fit can bring himself to be right now, but he knows Phil understands. That’s the annoying thing about Phil - he always understands.

“Anytime, mate. Anytime. Now, let's get these kids cleaned up. If Chayanne leaves muddy shoeprints in the house again, I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

“I dunno, I do love to watch you suffer,” Fit says with a wolfish grin.

“Fit MC, dial it back! Not with the children around!” Phil jokes, throwing an arm around Fit’s shoulders and dragging him out of the garage and into the sunlight of the backyard.

“Why do I put up with you again?” Fit asks, waving to the kids to come back toward the house.

“Don’t have a choice. Trauma bonded.”

Fit lets out a raucous laugh, the kind that has him bent over with his hands on his knees. It’s been too long since he’s laughed like this, and it feels invigorating.

Things may be looking up for the Fit family after all.

Chapter Text

“We are leaving in ten minutes whether you’re ready or not, Ramooooooon!” Fit bellows through the condo, loud enough to ensure Ramon hears. 

A loud thump comes from Ramon’s room, and Fit takes a moment to breathe. Any day out with the kids is as exhausting as it is fun, and Ramon has been looking forward to the party at Phil’s all week. Fit has lost count of the number of times Ramon asked for the guest list so he could, in his words, ‘be prepared for anything,’ so lord only knows what mischief his son has planned for the day. Ramon is a handful at the best of times, but Dapper will be at Phil’s, which means Fit needs to prepare himself for something to blow up at a minimum. Those two are a force to be reckoned with, and Fit’s already stressed. 

He has no reason to be, as Phil has assured him over text at least ten times in the past few weeks. Phil even told Wilbur the plan, so now he’s being bullied by two members of the Craft family about his personal life via text. What a thrill. 

Fit gave in a week ago, finally relenting and telling Philza he was ready to move forward and meet his potential roommate, only to discover Phil had already planned the party regardless. Fit wonders how everyone knows him better than he knows himself. 

Another thump from Ramon’s room shakes Fit into gear. He strides out of his room to cross the hall where Ramon’s door stands ajar. He knocks twice on the open door to signify his arrival before pushing it open all the way. Ramon is cross-legged on the floor, stuffing an already overflowing backpack full of toys and gadgets. 

“What are you doing there, Ramon?” Fit asks, amused by the sight. 

“Stuff to do for everyone at the party. Do you think Chayanne needs more flour? I should get another bag.” Ramon shifts to sprint into the kitchen again, but Fit holds him back. 

“Alright, buddy, I get you want to bring your friends things, but maybe we can leave our kitchen here today? You know Chayanne, his dad absolutely has flour for him, okay?” 

Ramon sighs and dramatically stomps his tiny foot. 

“But I want them to be my friend!”

“You don’t have to bring everyone gifts to be their friend, Ramon! You’re the best kid in the world; they all want to be friends with you already! You know Dapper has been asking his dad all week when you’ll get to the party!? We can’t leave Dapper waiting, can we, Ramon?” Fit asks with a smile.  

Ramon runs his hand through his wild hair and falls to his knees, unloading his backpack. 

“I guess I can leave some of this at home…” he relents, looking to Fit for assurance. 

“Yeah, let’s go through your choices here; maybe there are some things I can put in my bag, too! That way, you won’t tip over carrying it all, alright, bud?”

Ramon nods passionately, already ignoring Fit in favor of unpacking his bag and reassessing his selection. Fit sits patiently, waiting for him to navigate through his thought process. Ramon is possibly the most detail-oriented person Fit has ever met, and that’s saying something. His kid is analytical to a fault. He thinks through nearly every decision he has to make, weighing the pros and cons while zoning out from the world around him until his choice is made. Fit isn’t sure what side of the family he gets it from, but the trait certainly isn’t something passed through his.

Once Ramon has made his final selections and packed his bag to his liking, he looks up at Fit with a beaming smile. It’s the kind of smile that reminds Fit why he’s a father in the first place. There is nothing on this earth he wouldn’t do for Ramon. He beams back down at his son, handing him his ever-present goggles. As Fit stands, he tosses Ramon’s backpack over one shoulder and scoops Ramon up with his other arm, marching them toward the door where Fit’s go bag awaits. Thankfully, Ramon is too excited to think now that they’re on the way out, and he allows himself to be carried all the way to the car without needing to add more to Fit’s load. 

The drive to Phil’s is one of Fit’s favorites. Phil lives outside of town, his home built into the gorgeous landscape of the island countryside. Whereas Fit’s dream is to always live within walking distance of the beach, Phil lives on it. Fit can’t help but wish he had Phil’s life once in a while, if only for the ease of access. Being near the water always helped Fit’s brain; it’s where he goes to escape when everything feels just shy of overwhelming. He paid a pretty penny to have Fit’s Fitness built across from the beach. The rent is more than he probably should be paying, but every time he looks out his front windows to see the waves crashing, he is reminded of how lucky he is. 

Unloading Ramon upon arrival at Phil’s is a feat unto itself. Ramon is ready to go, little feet in motion before Fit can ensure it’s safe to open the car door. He has his maroon backpack on his back before his feet touch the earth. He’s raring to go, but Fit makes him wait, pause, breathe, and be aware of his surroundings. It isn’t until Fit’s own bag (mostly filled with Ramon’s snacks, extra clothes, and toys) is strapped to his back that he allows Ramon to run up ahead. As he approaches the yard, he hears a cheer of tiny voices, which means the other children must have spotted Ramon. By the time Fit enters Phil’s backyard, Ramon is already being pulled into a game of tag by Dapper and Chayanne, backpack discarded under a table. 

Fit shakes his head in amusement. He struggles to be annoyed with Ramon at any time, much less when he’s ready to enjoy a day out with friends. He does his best not to allow Ramon to be spoiled, but the kid has been through enough - if it makes him happy, Fit will let him play as much as he wants. 

Eyes drawing away from Ramon, Fit assesses the scene left before him. A few people he knows, mostly parents of the children, are preoccupied with operating the grill or lying around with drinks next to the pool. He will never understand why Phil has a pool when he can walk through the sand into the private beach, but he assumes it was partially Wilbur’s doing. 

Fit adds his bag to the growing pile near the patio doors that lead into the house. He recognizes a few of them: the beat-up and drawn-on duffle bag Roier always carries around, Bad’s black leather bag so clean it looks near mint condition, and the colorful shoulder bag covered in what Fit assumes is nail polish is clearly Baghera’s. In comparison, Fit’s dark green army-grade backpack looks boring amongst the rest, but it’s reliable, which is what matters. 

After securing his bag in its place, Fit stands to full height, rolling his shoulders a few times and stretching. It’s been a few days since he could leave the gym and enjoy the outdoors. Hectic seems to be the theme of the month, what with Ramon having to go back to school so soon, and Fit can’t find the time to squeeze in anything for himself. Maybe Jaiden can take Ramon on Friday so Fit can get a quick bouldering session in the morning. He’ll have to remember to ask. 

Before he can contemplate further, Phil slides in next to him. 

“Jesus, where did you come from? You can’t do that to a man without warning.”

“Psh, never heard you complain before.”

“Phil, there are children here,” Fit says with a chuckle, staring Phil down from the corner of his eye. 

“Eh,” Phil responds with a smirk of his own. “They’re all too busy playing tag with Bad to notice.” Phil gestures to their left, where no less than seven tiny humans are currently trailing Bad, dodging and weaving to avoid being tagged or, more likely, trampled. 

“God, I’m glad that’s not me. How does he have the energy?”

“I ask myself that every day, mate.”

Fit shakes his head as Phil reaches a cooler a few feet away and pulls out Fit’s drink of choice. Phil may be forgetful but never forgets what to buy for a good party. He pops the top off the bottle and hands it to Fit, both clinking their drinks together in silent cheers as they watch their children systematically bring Bad to the ground. It’s oddly cathartic. He hasn’t had a night out with adults in so long that he barely remembers what talking to someone who isn’t Ramon or one of his employees is like. Summer season is the best for the gym, but it’s been taking a toll. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud voice yelling his name in excitement.  

“TIO FITTTTTTT.” 

Fit spins to his right to see a tiny ball of energy coming, taking down anything in his path. 

“RICHAS! WAIT, RICHAS DON’T-” follows a voice Fit knows all too well. Forever. 

Luckily, Fit is used to this and drops to a crouch to intercept Richarlyson before he knocks everyone over. Fit grabs him around his waist, scooping him up into his arms and onto his shoulders in one swift movement. Richarlyson laughs loudly with joy, hair falling in his eyes and his already oversized shirt drawing down over his shoulder. 

“Well hello, Richas! You ready for a party?” He asks, tilting his head to look up at his new ward. 

“YES! ALL PAI’S ARE HERE!!!” He says, wiggling in Fit’s grasp and dancing on his shoulders the best he can. 

“Oh wow, it’s going to be a great day then, huh?” Fit offers, smiling up at Richas before remembering something very important. “Oh, Richas, guess what? I have a surprise here for you!”

Richarlyson gasps in excitement, little hands pulling at Fit’s head. 

“WHAT WHAT IS IT?!?!” He all but screeches into Fit’s ear. 

“RICHAS! How many times have we said no running off!” Forever’s voice returns, and Fit sees him approaching himself, Richas, and Phil. However, Forever is flanked on all sides by three men whom Fit can only assume are Richarlyson’s other dads. 

“SORRY PAI! TIO FIT HAS A SUPRISE!”

“I’m sure he does, but that does not mean you can run away like this!” Forever implores, sighing and running a hand down his face. “You are so lucky Fit is fast and catches you quickly every time!” Forever beams a smile at Fit, smacking him on the shoulder. 

“It is nice to see you, big boy! It has been so long.” 

Fit nods and agrees with Forever’s sentiment. “It has been too long. I’ve been busy with the gym, but business is good. Just glad to be here and get a day off.” He admits with a smile. 

“Now, Richarlyson, how about I tell you what I brought today?” Fit asks, peering up. Richas nods aggressively in agreement and swings his legs, ready to be let down. Fit drops to his knees and leans forward to let Richas down before pulling his attention again. 

“Alright, Richarlyson, remember I told you I have a son around your age? Ramon?”

Richas’s eyes widen, and he pushes his hair back to keep looking at Fit. 

“I brought him here today! If you want to meet him, he was very excited about meeting you!” Fit assures. 

“WHERE IS HE?!” Richas asks, placing his hands on Fit’s shoulder to try and peer over. Fit shifts in response, ensuring he remains at eye level with Richarlyson before pointing toward Ramon. 

“You see the kiddo with Dapper? The one wearing goggles? That’s my baby boy, Ramon!” Fit says, beaming with pride. “I told him he might meet some new kids today, so if you want to, you can say hi. If you don’t want to, that’s okay too.”

Richarlyson looks straight into Fit’s eyes as he speaks. “We are going to be friends! I’m going to say hi to him right now!!!”

His eyes shift from Fit back over his shoulder, where Bad is finally being allowed to stand. 

“Can I go play Pai? Please!!” Richarlyson’s big brown eyes peer up at his dad's, and Fit’s follow. 

“Of course, Richas,” comes a voice Fit’s never heard before. Of Richarlyson’s dads, this one seems the most engaged, dropping to a couch and cupping Richas face in one of his hands. His fingers are long and slender but covered in bandaids, and his knee brushes against Fit’s as he moves. It isn’t until then that Fit realizes he has a prosthetic similar to Richarlyson. Fit has to blink a few times before he looks away at the kids, not wanting to infringe upon a moment between father and son. 

“You be good, okay? Be careful running. Remember what we talked about, alright?” 

“I promise!” Richarlyson says, nodding as fast as his body will let him. “I’ll be careful.” 

“Then go make friends! And no teaching them bad words!” Richarlyson’s father yells after Richas as he makes a beeline for the group of children. 

“Meus Deus, he will be the death of us,’” the man mutters under his breath. Fit looks back to acknowledge his statement, taking in the man crouched beside him. He’s slender but lithe, with obvious muscle definition, but built more like a runner than anything else. His layered black hair is longer than most, landing just past his shoulders while the rest is tied back in a top knot. Fit takes in how soft and well-cared-for his hair looks and feels a tinge of jealousy as he thinks about his own baldness. Richarlyson’s fathers were attractive in their own right, but this guy should be on the cover of magazines, not sitting around a backyard party on Quesedilla Island. 

“Brought the whole family today Forever?”

God bless Phil for speaking. Fit gets into his head too much and had Phil not spoken, Fit would have probably stared at this guy for an hour. It's not like he wouldn’t enjoy it, but y’know. He’s got stuff to do. 

“As if you did not ask me to do this, Phil!” Forever states with a hearty laugh. Fit adores Forever. The shit he gives Phil about Forever is mostly jokes, just playful banter. Forever is a good guy, and whatever is going on between them is fine by Fit as long as they’re on the same page. Forever clearly feels something for Phil, but Phil’s been closed off to that world for so long that even Fit isn’t sure what Phil would be like in a relationship. He’s sworn them off ever since Tallulah was left in his care by Wilbur, and that was years ago. It would have to be something special to win Phil over. 

A hand thrusts into his line of sight, and Fit takes it. Fit nods thanks to Phil as he stands, shifting momentarily to grab his discarded beer from the ground. The same motion repeats to his side, with one of Richarlyson’s still unnamed dads pulling the other up from the ground. Standing in a group allows Fit to scan over the men more intently as they quickly chat among themselves. The one who had spoken to Richas is shorter than Fit assumed, a few inches shorter than himself. The two others, one with green hair and the other with a mop of curls say something to the first in their native language. Whatever it is, it results in several smacks to their arms and an embarrassed look, so Fit can only assume his comrade is being teased. 

“Fit, I cannot believe our sons have never met! It makes no sense.” Forever expresses with a sigh. 

“Agreed. Seems like it should have happened ages ago, but at least it’s time now. They seem to be getting along at least,” Fit says, gesturing toward the group of kids with his beer. Ramon and Richarlyson seem deep in conversation under a tree, Ramon scribbling something in the little notepad he keeps in his pocket. 

“I knew they’d get along. Two of the best boys!” Forever exclaims with a laugh. “Just like us! A group of the best boys, right guys!”

Forever’s laugh is infectious as everyone chuckles. 

“Oh, you have not all met! Here, these are the other dads of Richarlyson; we all live in Favela together. I think I told you that, Fit?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Mister President.” Fit teases with a laugh. PTA President Forever is still a running joke with him and Phil, no matter how long it’s been. 

“Ah, stop it, you. This is Mike,” Forever says, motioning toward the green-haired man who offered his hand, “and this is Felps.” Mike and Felps wave and mutter a quiet hello at Phil and Fit, who return them in kind. 

“Have you two meet yet? Pac! This is Fit! He is who I told you about! The handsome, bald man with the room!”

FIt turns his head to shoot an incredulous look at Forever. Forever wasn't technically wrong, but he certainly didn’t see the need to introduce him like this. His motion shifts him away from Pac’s sightline, resulting in Fit missing the blush on Pac’s face. 

“Thanks for that, Forever. What an introduction,” Fit says in his most monotone version of sarcasm.

“I am kidding! But not really; you are all these things, big boy!” Forever says with a wheezing laugh as he slaps Fit’s back in jest. Fit rolls his eyes, attempting to regain his composure in front of Forever’s friends. 

“Fit is so fun, guys! You will love him. We wrestled in the pool when we were drunk at Phil’s son’s house. It was hilarious!” 

“Oh yes,” Phil adds, sending Fit a knowing look. “Very entertaining.”

“Oh, I’ll bet,” Pac says with a smirk. His eyes lazily look over Fit, who is oblivious to it. Fit swivels his head toward Pac but only catches a glimpse of Mike’s elbow digging into Pac’s side. Pac is looking away when he goes to meet his gaze, but Fit holds it to be polite. He waits for Pac to turn back toward him before offering a hand in introduction. 

“Nice to meet you, Pac,” Fit says calmly, just like he practiced in the quiet of his own home. 

“You too, Fit,” Pac says, shaking Fit’s hand. Fit’s blood runs warm, which is odd, seeing as that hand was holding his cold beer moments ago. He wants to apologize for his hand being wet, but he can’t get the words out. 

“You two can talk about the room later; I see Cellbo has found Richas. We need to warn him that he’s already had enough snacks,” Forever says as he grabs Pac’s other hand and tugs him forward. 

Pac falls forward, barely brushing against Fit’s shoulder as he regains his balance. Pac looks as though he’s going to speak, perhaps apologize to Fit, but again, Forever moves too quickly for either to react. 

“Let’s go say hello! We will be back; do not worry, Phil. I know you cry when I am not near!” Forever jokes, winking exaggeratedly at Phil as Felps and Mike sneak by to join the departing duo. 

“Sure, sure. Of course, Forever,” Phil says back, rolling his eyes. Fit’s known Phil long enough to tell he’s amused; there is no bite at all to his retort. 

“Well, there you go, mate. Introductions are over. The hard part is done, yeah?” Phil asks Fit, catching his eye. “Went well, I think.”

Fit can only hum in response, unsure of what to say. He certainly didn’t get much out of meeting Pac, but it was enough for now. He seems nice and clearly adores his son, so that’s a good starting point. 

“C’mon. We’re running out of hot dogs. You’re on grill duty.” 

“What? Why me? I just got here!” Fit argues but dutifully follows behind Phil. 

“Yup, and now it’s your turn to handle it.”

“Phil, are you asking me to handle some wieners?” Fit’s brow raises in astonishment. “Do I need to get Forever back over here?”

“Christ, I hate you both. Just deal with the damn weiners, will you?” Phil says, voice cracking into laughter halfway through his statement. “You’ve always been a pro at that.”

“Phillip Craft, there are children about, might I remind you?” Fit jokes, opening the grill and setting himself up to cook. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll round up the kids, and you get to cooking grill man.” Phil says as he wanders away, running after a plastic sword-wielding Chayanne. 

Fit smiles, squinting into the sun to pick out where Ramon might be. He finally spots him playing in a makeshift sandbox with Pomme and Tilin, so he seems alright. If Ramon has any issues, he’ll come to track Fit down. 

Only when Fit has cooked thirty hot dogs to near perfection does he agree to take a break. Roier and a few others offered to take over grill duty, but Fit was in the zone and brushed them off. Now that he’s content that everyone has been adequately fed, he allows his hand to dip into the cooler, searching until he comes across another beer. He wanders away from the party, stopping to say hello to a few parents on the way until he comes to a halt at his favorite spot on Phil’s property. There’s a smattering of trees just before the backyard turns into a sandy beach, and Fit loves to stand and watch the sea. It’s calming, comforting, and lights a buzz in his brain, making it feel like someone flipped a switch. 

“Beautiful.” Fit sighs, bringing his beer to his lips. 

“It really is,” comes a voice from somewhere above him. 

Fit jumps, nearly choking and spilling his beer in the process. He gathers himself well enough to look up, and there, sitting in the valley between branches, is Richarlyson’s dad, Pac. 

“Oh, I am so sorry, Fit! I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me here!” Pac exclaims, clamoring to move from his hiding spot. He pushes his hair back off his face and leans to the side, grabbing ahold of one of the sturdier branches. In one clean movement, Pac has pushed himself from inside the tree to hang from the branch. Fit’s brain fires on, and Fit realizes he was correct in his earlier assumption that Pac was stronger than he looked. From his spot hanging, Pac lets go, falling to his feet with shocking grace. 

“It’s all good. All good,” Fit stammers, clearing his throat. “Didn’t see you there, but no harm done. What were you doing in the tree?” Fit asks, looking from Pac up to his resting spot. 

“Just resting,” Pac says. “It’s been a long day. I grabbed a beer to look at the water but forgot the opener. So I just pulled myself into the tree and watched from there.” Pac says, one hand shifting to push loose strands of hair away from his face. They fall back into place seconds later, and Pac shoots an annoyed look at the hair he can see in his eyes. Fit chuckles at Pac’s reaction, and Pac smiles as he reaches up and pulls his hair tie loose. Pac runs his hands through his hair several times to dispel any knots before tipping his head forward to gather more up into a tighter ponytail. 

“I see, I see. Well, it’s a good spot to relax. I always come here when I visit Phil.” Fit agrees. He stands in silence as Pac fiddles with his hair, unsure how to break the ice. This is awkward. He is awkward - he knows this. But goddamn it, he’s trying. 

“Can I have your beer?” Fit asks finally, looking to Pac. Pac stares at him in confusion momentarily before shrugging and reaching up to grab the bottle from its nesting place in the tree. 

“Sure. I can’t open it, so it’s no use.” Pac admits, handing the bottle over. 

It only takes Fit a moment to grasp the beer in one hand, the other steadying his arm. His prosthetic isn't fancy by any means, but the worn edges can be good for something sometimes. He pushes the bottle top into his arm at an angle and pushes down hard, popping the cap right off. He holds it out to Pac, ready for him to take. 

“There you go.”

“Wow. Wow, Fit. That was awesome. What a trick!” Pac says with glee, laughing as he takes the bottle from Fit’s hand. Fit smiles lightly, watching Pac tip his head back and takes a sip. Fit can practically see it travel down Pac’s throat, and that’s when Fit realizes he’s been staring. He hurriedly looks away, bringing his bottle to his lips to mask embarrassment. 

The pair look out over the beach, standing in calm silence. 

“You and Phil have been friends a long time? You seem to know one another well.” Pac states rather than questions. It breaks the ice in precisely the way Fit needed. He has answers to this question. 

“Yeah, yeah. Old man’s got a couple of years on me, but we met a few years back. He helped me gain a job and then lose an arm. Weird friendship, y’know?” Fit says with a casual tone that sends Pac reeling. 

“I am sorry. What?” Pac asks, shaking his head in confusion. His tone of voice isn’t heavy with shock and awe like most people when Fit relays his story. Instead, Pac seems amused. Confused but amused. 

Fit laughs and smiles at Pac. 

“Nah, it’s cool, it’s cool. I just like to give him shit for it now. You know his kid? Wilbur? Sings in a band?”

Pac squeaks out a yes. “Uhm. Yes. I am aware of him, yeah. They’re pretty popular now, right?” Pac says, praying he doesn’t come off badly. Upon meeting him, no one needs to know he’s a Lovejoy fanboy; that has to wait until at least their fourth interaction. 

“Mhm. Yeah, yeah. they’re pretty big. Anyway, uh, Phil got me a job as their head of security for a tour a few years back. It was a good time. I enjoyed doing it. Well, until someone tried to kidnap Wilbur. You remember that? It was on the news and shit for a while.”

“I do. The kids were babies then. Everyone here was so scared for him.” Pac admits with a nod. 

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. Remember how someone took the gunman down but got shot?”

Pac nods slowly, astonished. His eyes grow wide in anticipation. 

“Nice to meet you,” Fit says, holding a hand out for Pac to shake. “Fit. Former bodyguard, Ramon’s dad, dude with one arm.” 

“That was YOU?!” Pac all but shrieks. There’s that response Fit loves. Dark as it may be, Fit can never get enough of people’s reactions. It’s a boost to the ego and a pity party all at once. Story of Fit’s life. 

“That was me,” Fit admits with a nod and smile to ease Pac’s worries. 

“Oh. Meus Deus, I had no idea. I’m sorry if bringing it up was too personal?”

“You’re fine, you’re fine. It’s always easier to tell people early on; it makes things less awkward to explain later.”

“That is a good idea.” Pac agrees with a smile. “I wish I thought of that. I’ll have to try it.”

Fit laughs. “Oh yeah, break out the darkly funny story at a party; it’s a real crowd-pleaser. Awkward, but amusing. But yeah, yeah, that’s how I know Phil. Son’s bodyguard, got shot, got a new arm, got a kid, and moved here. All in the past few years. Been weird.”

“So it seems,” Pac says with a look Fit can’t read. Fit’s not sure how to respond now. It’s not an awkward silence; too much noise surrounds them - only a few dozen feet from the main party - but it is just a tad awkward. To be fair, Fit can’t say he’s often told how he got shot to potential roommates within an hour of meeting them, but his therapist is always imploring him to take on new experiences.

“So Pac, tell me a bit about yourself. Hopefully, it doesn’t involve getting shot.”

“Yeah, I cannot top that story. I only got nearly shot.” Pac says with a grin. The corner of his mouth tilts dangerously, and Fit’s attention is drawn to it entirely. Pac seems to notice and shakes his head to shift some of the dark hair out of his eyes from where it’s escaped his hair tie yet again. It’s distracting, and Fit almost wonders if Pac did it purposefully. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Fit laughs, quirking a brow. 

“Mikey and I got kidnapped once,” Pac says calmly, insinuating he’s also told this story dozens of times. 

“No shit? Kidnapped?”

“I am telling all truths!” Pac implores, holding his hands up to his chest in defense. “I swear!”

“Well fuck me. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Fit’s shocked reaction masks Pac’s eyes flitting at Fit’s words. Fit moves to ask more about this story but nearly falls as a small force runs into the back of his knees. 

“Ramon! Don’t scare people like that!”

“Sorry Fit. Sorry, person I don’t know,” comes a small voice, muffled into the back of his dad’s leg. 

Pac giggles as he drops to the ground without a second thought. Before Fit can react to Ramon, Pac sits cross-legged in front of him, eyes right at Ramon’s level. 

“Hello Ramon, I’m Pac. Have you met Richas? I’m one of his dads.” Fit notices Pac’s voice drop, not in an infantilizing way, but his voice is softer, the dark edge from moments before wiped away. 

“Richarlyson’s dad, Pac?” Ramon asks, head peeking out from behind Fit. 

“That’s me!” 

Ramon nods for a few moments, looking away into the middle distance. Pac turns his head to see if something has caught Ramon’s eye, but everything seems normal. He turns back to see Fit looking down at Ramon with a soft smile. He’s nodding his head slowly as if encouraging Ramon on something Pac isn’t aware of. It’s sweet, like Fit is cheerleading for his son silently. Pac only gets a moment or two to admire before Ramon’s thought comes to him. 

“He has so many parents. How does he find time?”

Pac bursts out laughing, a wheezy, freeing laugh. He knows people find Richas’s situation unique, to say the least, but he usually picks up on it when people are talking behind their backs and walks in on it, but here’s this little guy saying it to his face. It’s great. Refreshing, even. 

“Lucky for him, Richas is good at sharing,” Pac says with a wink. “He does like to trick us into giving him more snacks, though.”

“Richas is smart. He could make a lot of money selling snacks. Bobby would buy them all.” Ramon says, self-assured. He steps out from behind Fit, moving to stand in front of him. He gives Pac all his attention, a near-matching set of dark eyes beaming into one another. 

“You should be his business advisor, Ramon! You tell him how to do things and then splits the money.”

“Fit, Pac is smart,” Ramon says, catching Fit’s eye. 

“Sure is, buddy,” Fit says, looking down at Ramon and ruffling his hair. 

Ramon sizes up Pac again, looking him up and down.

“I like your shirt. It’s stupid.”

Fit is about to interrupt and clarify to Ramon not to call things stupid, but Pac jumps in before he can parent too much. And, to be fair to his boy, Pac is indeed wearing a hideous outfit. It’s some sort of aqua-colored set, both shorts and shirt adorned with Pac-Man making a series of awful emoji faces in the foreground. 

“Well, thanks you, Ramon. This shirt is pretty silly, huh? I like stupid, silly things.” Pac says with a beaming smile. 

“Oh. You are friends with Fit, then.” Ramon jokes, looking up at Fit from the corner of his eye with a mischievous grin. 

“Hey!” Fit yelps like a wounded animal. “I didn’t do anything!”

Ramon cackles, nearly losing his breath with laughter as he leans forward to contain his giggles. 

“Alright, troublemaker, what did you come over to ask?” Fit asks, dropping into a crouch to join the other two on the ground. 

“Fit, can I go swimming?” Ramon asks, big, dark eyes begging for permission. 

“Hmm. Who’s watching you?” Fit asks. There are plenty of responsible adults at this party. There’s also Quackity. Fit has to find the middle ground. 

“Bobby’s mom! And Tilin’s dad is there too, but we saved him last time when he tried to swim. So I think Bobby’s mom is better.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Well, Jaiden will be careful; go ahead. You know where your swim stuff is?”

“Yes, sir! Green bag, second quadrant, under the snacks.”

“That’s my boy. I’m proud of you. Go play with your pals, Ramon.”

“Thank you, Fit!” Ramon all but sprints off but remembers his manners after a few feet. “Thank you, Richarlyson’s dad, Pac!” He yells, spinning on his heels and out of earshot before Pac can respond. 

Fit rolls his eyes and shifts to apologize to Pac. When he looks over, Pac is staring after Ramon with a little smile. 

“Sorry about that. Ramon gets a bit intense when the other kids ask him to play. He doesn’t get out a lot.” Fit tries not to let his voice drop when talking about his son’s issues, but somehow, he’s convinced Pac won’t judge. Fit’s usually a good judge of character, at least. 

“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. He’s so cute. Very smart.” 

“‘S all good. He’s good. He doesn’t have many friends at school yet, but he likes hanging out with all these kids, so he’s good.” Fit states with a finality. 

“What about you?” Pac asks, eyes staring directly into Fit’s.

“Huh?” 

“Are you good?” Pac asks. There’s no tone to his voice, not the pitying voice Phil projects on occasion, and not the hopeful voice Wilbur asks with whenever Fit seems particularly down in the group chat. Pac is more assertive and more honest sounding than anything else. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Um. Yeah, I’m good.” Fit says, stuttering. He doesn’t have a quick answer. “Um. How about you, Pac? You good?” Fit knows how clumsy he sounds, uncomfortable at the question, but Pac seems to pick up on it. 

“I’m good, Fit. Thank you for asking,” Pac says with such ease. Fit finds himself jealous. He’d love to know how to talk like this without having responses already in his head. Pac makes the conversation feel so easy. While Fit ruminates on his own shortcomings, Pac unfurls his legs and straightens them out, shifting his hands back behind him to hold him up. Pac looks away from Fit and out to the water, watching the sun dip into the sea, casting a glow on everything surrounding them. 

“I will have to bring Richarlyson over sometimes if this works out. I think they’ll be good friends.  Though if they’re together too much, they might, I don’t know, take over the world or somethings like that.” Pac speaks with a soft tone, softer than Fit has heard before. It’s light and airy, and Fit can’t help but think of Pac’s voice riding alongside the breeze that wafts past. 

“If anyone could figure it out, it’ll be those two.”

Pac hums in response, turning to look at Fit with a soft smile. Something shifts in the trees above, like a squirrel jumping from branch to branch, and for a moment, Pac is lit up in the glow of summertime. It casts shadows on Pac’s face in all the right places, and Fit feels his eye twitch as he takes in Pac’s emphasized bone structure. He forces himself to look away, to quiet his voice to match Pac’s. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet. I’ve got to talk it through with Ramon first, just to be upfront.”

“Totally. I understand. Just possible, maybe?”

Fit nods. He wasn’t expecting the conversation to move on like this, but it’s better to be upfront from the start. 

“Hypothetically, if this works out and Ramon agrees, I will charge you less than the market price. You can stay for an honest price, and I get a little extra money a month for expenses. The place gets two parking spots, so you can take one; I barely use that side of the garage as is. There will be some ground rules, but nothing out of the ordinary. Just clean up after yourself and respect my kid, and we should be good.” Fit’s rehearsed this. He knows just what to say to get his point across. Hopefully, Pac agrees to his terms. 

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Pac says as his eyes meet Fit’s. He nods as he speaks, “Our sons are our priority.” 

“Mmhm. I’ll talk to Ramon and let you know. I was thinking $1200. Since it’s really just a room and bathroom, you’ll have to share the rest with us. You can let me know when you see the place if you think it’s worth it; no hard feelings. It’s only a three-bedroom, but if it works out, I’ll add a roll-away bed or something for Richarlyson to stay over.”

“Are you for real?” Pac asks, eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Sorry?”

“$1200? That’s it? You sure you don’t want more? You’re helping a lot.”

“I want to make your life easier, not harder, Pac. It’s more than a fair price for me.” Fit admits.

“...if you are sure?” Pac says, still unsure himself. He doesn’t want Fit to feel taken advantage of, no matter how kind of a man he is. 

Fit chuckles. “Alright, you a decent cook? I suck at it. Ramon complains all the time. You cook something edible, say, once a week for us all? Consider us even,” Fit offers with a smile.  

“Sim. Sim.”

“Sim? That mean yes?” 

“Oh. Uh yeah. Yes, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Pac blurts. He shakes his head and drops his gaze quickly before attempting to meet Fit’s eye. 

“Not a problem for me. You speak whatever language you want, Pac; I can figure it out. Just wanted clarification. Now I learned something new.”

Pac’s eyes bore into Fit’s, neither looking away. There’s something in Pac’s eyes that Fit can’t make out—an expression he can’t quite define. Fit can’t read Pac, and it makes him a little tense and a little thrilled. 

“Well, I guess I should make sure my kid isn’t drowning,” Fit jokes, breaking away from Pac’s stare to scramble to his feet. “Not sure if you’ve ever seen Quackity try and handle a bunch of kids on his own, but it’s basically a life or death experience.”

‘Ah. Yeah, good to check in on them. Uh. Let me…” Pac trails off as he digs through the pockets of his obnoxiously patterned shorts. He fumbles for a moment, nearly dropping his phone as he pulls it from his pocket but manages to recover. He pulls himself up to stand across from Fit as he speaks. 

“My number. For when you speak to Ramon,” Pac says, glancing quickly at Fit before opening something on his device. 

Right, right, Ramon. Yeah. That’s what Fit should be thinking about right now. 

Fit takes out his phone and types Pac’s name in the contact info. He hands it to Pac to fill in as he watches Pac’s fingers flit over the keys. Pac offers him his phone in return, and Fit copies Pac’s motions. 

“There. I messaged myself from your phone, so I have you, too. Just in cases.” Pac says with a closed-lipped smile. 

“Great. Thanks. Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you know. Text you sometime.”

“Please do.” 

The silence is deafening. Fit isn’t sure where to go from here, so he motions toward the pool. 

“Probably should. Y’know. Check on them.” 

“Sim, yes. We should.”

They both head off toward the pool, taking steps in turn and waking at nearly the same pace. 

“We’re both walking the same way.” Fit realizes, vocalizing his thoughts. 

“This is so awkward. We are so awkward.” Pac says quietly. 

“We really are. Phil would destroy me if he saw this.” Fit snorts. 

“Same. The others would tease me for weeks.” Pac admits with a sigh. 

“We’ll just have to keep it a secret then,” Fit says as they near the pool. 

“That sounds nice. Secret of awkwardness.” Pac responds with a soft smile. 

Fit looks to Pac and smiles back. This guy might actually be a nice roommate. 

Then, both are soaked to the skin as Quackity cannonballs into the pool, ruining the moment. 

Two hours, one change of clothes, and one sleepy car ride later, Fit finally arrives home with Ramon. 

“Bedtime, Ramon. You know the rules.”

Ramon sighs in agony, throwing himself face first into the pillows, groaning at the thought of bedtime despite having to be carried from the car to the condo. 

“But I don’t want to,” Ramon says, voice muffled by the pillow underneath him. 

“Well, if you get ready for bed now, I can tell you something important. But you gotta brush those teeth first and put on your PJs.”

Ramon rolls to the side just enough to catch Fit’s eye. His little eyebrow quirks in confusion as he processes Fit’s words. 

“Hm. Okay.” Ramon pops up within a second and dashes to the bathroom, standing on his little step stool to reach the sink of their shared space. He turns the water on to warm it up while sprinting back to change into his pajamas. Fit watches on with fondness. Maybe he taught Ramon how to be a little too efficient. Minutes later, Ramon returns and leaps into bed, grabbing his favorite stuffed animal, affectionately coined ‘Meathead,’ and waits for Fit to tuck him and Meathead in. 

“Did you have fun today, my boy?” Fit asks, knowing all too well that Ramon was having the time of his life. 

“Uh-huh,” Ramon assures, burrowing his sleepy face into his pillow. “It was very fun. And I made a new friend!!! Richarlyson is pretty silly, but I think he liked me.” Ramon says with an assured voice. 

“Of course he did! Richarlyson is a nice kid. On that same topic, actually, what do you think of Richarlyson’s dad?” Fit broaches the topic lightly. 

“Which one?” Ramon asks, and Fit can’t help but laugh. 

“Fair question. Pac, you met him today, too! He has long black hair and a funny shirt.”

“Oh! Mr. Pac was nice,” Ramon says, nodding into his pillow. 

“Well, Mister Pac needs somewhere to stay for a little while, and I was thinkin’ maybe we could let him stay here with us.”

“Here? In the condo?”

“If that’s something you were okay with. It’s just an idea for now.”

Ramon stays silent for a while, long enough that Fit begins to fidget without noticing. Long silences have never been Fit’s thing, and he immediately goes to speed bedtime up before the silence drags too long. 

“You can go to bed. Sleep on it, kid.”

“No.”

“No?” Fit repeats. A tiny part of him is sad that Ramon isn’t as into the idea as he is, but he pushes it aside, as Ramon explains. 

“I have to think about this. No sleep yet.” Ramon says, failing to notice the quickly dropping lids of his eyes as he speaks. Fit gives him a moment of quiet before he speaks again. 

“I want to paint my room.”

“What? C’mon Ramon, let’s wait until–”

“No. Richas told me his Pac dad paints pretty things and makes rooms look nice. I want my room paint, and I get to pick it out. If Mister Pac says yes, then he can live here.” Ramon finishes with the self-assuredness of someone decades older. 

“Ramon, you can’t tell adults what to do. It isn’t nice.”

“Suggest it to him then.”

“Ramon.”

“Fit.”

“...you’re not gonna go to bed unless I agree, are you?”

“No.”

“Jesus, alright, fine! Fine. I’ll ask Pac to help paint your room, and we will see what he says.”

“YES!”

“But you remember what happens if he says no, okay? We respect what?”

“People’s choices,” Ramon says with a practiced sigh. “Even if they’re dumb choices.”

“Good job, bud. Now you sleep.”

“Song?”

“Of course!” Fit clears his throat dramatically before beginning their nighttime ritual. 

“La cabeza, me duele la cabeza, la cabeza, yo necesito un doctor.”

Fit reaches over to tuck a little more blanket under Ramon’s chin. He’s nearly asleep with Meathead in a death grip, held between two little arms. Fit leans down to kiss Ramon’s forehead, turning off his bedside lamp and turning on the small redstone night light he got for his birthday last year. 

“G’night, baby boy.”

Fit closes the door to Ramon’s room and leans against it briefly to regain his bearings. He sighs, closing his eyes and processing the day. It had been a long one for sure, but luckily, it wasn’t too late yet. Tina is opening tomorrow, so Fit doesn’t need to be at the gym until nine, which is basically a sleep-in morning for him. He might get eight hours if he can get through his night routine quickly enough. 

Pushing himself off his son’s door, Fit shifts gears toward the kitchen. He fills a kettle with water to make tea, collecting the discarded party supplies as the water heats. Sorting his laundry from Ramon’s, he makes a note on the home whiteboard to run the laundry tomorrow before the piles get out of control. He has about three minutes until the kettle boils, so he heads to his bedroom, grabbing a small journal from his bedside drawer. Tossing it on the couch on his way back in, Fit pulls up some playlist on Spotify and hits play as he pours caffeine-free green tea into the “World’s Okayest Dad” mug Ramon got him for Christmas. He’s pretty sure Phil bought it on Ramon’s behalf, but it’s still one of his prized possessions. 

Setting his mug down to cool on the coffee table, Fit lounges across the couch, retrieving a pen from the side table. He opens his journal and writes about his day, going into detail and only pausing to take sips along the way. Journaling was suggested to him in therapy; he genuinely hates how much better he feels when doing it. It shouldn’t help him like this; he’s not weak, but it does help. He’s moved beyond the need for it. Most days, he does alright, but something about today made him want to write every moment down in detail. He adds a song to the end of the entry, just as he’s done for every day this year. When Fit mentioned it to his therapist, he suggested that Fit should do it daily and keep a playlist to peruse at the end of the year. Fit never backs down from a challenge. He writes “Waiting On A Friend” By The Rolling Stones at the bottom of the page and closes the book, setting the pen back in its original place. 

Fit sits in silence for a few minutes. It’s too early to go to bed but too late to work on anything notable. Deciding there’s no shame in an early night, Fit collects his things and shuts off the lights, checking twice that both locks are closed on the condo door, and heads to his room. He leaves the door just a smidge ajar, in case Ramon has a nightmare or needs him quickly, and strips down to prepare for bed. He settles on it being too warm to sleep in clothes, sliding on a loose, old pair of shorts to sleep in. Rather than go to bed right away, Fit opens the French doors that lead from his neutrally painted room onto his small balcony and takes in the world around him. The condo is in a nice spot, but Fit wishes he could hear the ocean waves from his balcony. Once he gets the loft above Fit’s Fitness converted, he’ll have it all. To do that, he needs money. He needs time. 

Fuck. He needs a roommate. 

His phone is in his hand before his brain processes the motion. He quickly opens his messenger and hovers over the newly added name for a moment, thinking. It’s only now that he sees Pac has put himself in Fit’s phone as “Pac - Roommate!?” Finally, he rolls his eyes at being such a wimp and begins writing the message, hoping desperately that Pac is still interested. 

“How does 2 weeks from now work for you?”

“Also, how do you feel about painting a bedroom rather than a deposit?”

Chapter Text

"Just a bit higher! Okay, lower. Little to the left. Yes! Right there, don't move! Give me one second… okay!"

Fit releases his grip and lets go with a groan, finally shifting to place the mirror exactly where Pac wants it. Why Pac owns a half-broken standing mirror straight out of the history books, he's not quite sure, but it's heavy as hell. 

"Thank you, Fit! That is perfect. Thank you for helping me; I'm sorry it is so heavy." Pac says with a kind, appreciative smile. 

"Anytime, Pac, no worries. Who needs an afternoon at the gym when you have mirrors to lift, right? It's a pretty solid arm workout." Fit jokes, interlacing his fingers to stretch his arms overhead. 

"Mhm. I can see this, yeah." Pac smirks at Fit, who immediately flushes. 

"You guys realize I'm still here, right?" Jaiden's voice cuts through the tension, and the pair both jump at the invasion. Jaiden leans against the doorframe after placing her stack of boxes just inside the entrance. 

"Of course, how would we ever forget you? Jean? Jade? What was it again?" Fit says with a smile, catching her eye. He doesn't know Jaiden too well, but they're friendly enough that he wouldn't oppose her teasing him back.  

"God Forever was right. You two are already gone, huh?" 

Fit's brow crinkles in confusion over her words. He's unsure what she's trying to imply, but he knows it can't be overly favorable if Forever said it. The man hasn't stopped sending him messages all week with "Pac facts," as he calls them. In the past few days, he's learned Pac's favorite color (royal blue), his birthday (July 26th), and how he enjoys his morning coffee (in large quantities). Fit's not sure why Forever is intent on selling the idea of Pac to him when they already agreed to be roommates, but that's Forever for you. 

And, he has to admit, if only to himself, knowing more about Pac has made this transition easier. 

"I have no idea what you're referring to, Jayne." Fit snipes back. Luckily, Jaiden has a sense of humor and snorts at his comment, rolling her eyes as she backs out the door. 

"Alright, alright! I'll see if there's anything else the boys need to unbox and third wheel Roier and Cellbit for a while!" Winking at the duo, she exits, voice fading slowly down the hallway as she yells for Roier.

"I will have to get used to your friends. They are all very, very kind and very odd." Pac says with a sigh and shake of the head. Fit has already coined this Pac's 'I tolerate you all, but I can't explain why sometimes' look in his head. Forever seems to be on the receiving end of it most often, and Fit is proud he's noticed its frequency. 

Fit can't say he's grown close to Pac before move-in-day, but they've talked a few times. Mostly, it's been about the move: how to pay, where to park- all the minutiae that comes with uprooting your life. Nothing particularly thrilling. Then, Fit invited Pac to look at the condo before agreeing to sign anything, and the air seemed to shift. The minute Pac entered his home, Fit felt borderline uncomfortable with how easy everything was. 

"So, you get the main bedroom. I hope that's okay with you."

"No, Fit! I am not taking your room! You are doing a kindness!"

"Relax, relax! It's not my room. I sleep in the other bedroom, the one across from Ramon." Fit sighs, turning his head to look toward their bedrooms. "He, uh, kid's been through a lot, you know? Sometimes he, uh. He still has nightmares sometimes, goes looking for his dad in the night. That's why I sleep in the room across from him. Usually, I wake up if a pin drops."

"Ah, I see. You are a light sleeper, then?" 

"You could say that, yeah. Never really been good at sleeping much; you know how it is. But I get by." Fit admits. 

Pac looks at him, and Fit can just tell. He can tell Pac knows there are words left unsaid here, things Fit is only hinting at but isn't ready to relay. Thankfully, one of Pac's key qualities is his kindness, so whatever he notices, he drops just as quickly. 

"Well, if you need any help with Ramon, do not be afraid to ask!" Pac says with a smile that drops almost as fast as it appears. "Not that you need help or anything, Fit! You are a great dad! I just mean I have Richas and babysit kids a lot. If you need anything, I'll be here."

Fit knows Pac is being polite, trying his best to ingratiate himself into their little household quickly and early, but Pac seems genuine. It'll be nice, he thinks to himself, to have another trustworthy adult around that Ramon can look up to. Maybe one a little more fun than he is. 

"May I look around a bit?" 

"Of course, of course. This is your home now. Maybe. If you want, I mean. Uh. Yeah, yeah, look around." Fit says with a forced smile, embarrassed by his lack of charm. Hearing himself say the words feels like a punch to the chest, but Fit knows how to control his expressions and emotions. He keeps it there, not letting Pac see how having someone else in the condo already affects him. 

Pac walks around the living space, taking in the very little there is to see. On the other hand, Fit has days' worth of things to process from his point of view. Pac looks out of sorts in the condo, too bright for the drab color palette Fit chose upon moving in. Pac's dressed less obnoxiously today. Gone is the blue summer set he wore to Phil's party, and although Pac looks a bit more put together, he doesn't look unlike himself. It's still that awkward time between summer and fall when kids are back in school, but the chill has yet to set in. While Fit keeps his outfit choices standard, workout clothes and simple t-shirts that go with everything, Pac's style is more varied. His dark jeans compliment his slender frame, and today Pac pairs it with an oversized white t-shirt and thin burgundy cardigan. He seems broader than Fit remembers, but well-fitting clothes tend to do that. Pac's hair is longer than the first time they met, and Fit wonders if Pac's the kind of guy to cut his own hair rather than go somewhere fancy. Haircare is a bit out of his area of expertise, but he's read a few things to keep Ramon's well-kept. Maybe Pac has advice on handling an eight-year-old's unruly waves. 

"This is a really nice place Fit, very modern." Pac finally speaks, and Fit's eyes catch Pac's, embarrassed for being caught staring.

"Thanks. I want to liven it up a bit, you know? Make it look more, I don't fuckin' know, lived in? Relaxing?" Fit stumbles, taking in his bare walls and neutral color palette. 

"Cozy," Pac says, head turning to take in every inch of the space. "Make it more cozy, maybe? It's a little…"

"Boring?" Fit suggests.

Pac laughs, and Fit flinches at the sound. Pac has a very interesting laugh. Fit can't explain precisely why Pac's laugh seems different, but he hopes to have more chances to analyze it soon. 

"No, not boring, Fit," Pac says with a smile, circling the kitchen island. "Clean. It's very organized. Well together. You just need to warm it up to make it cozy."

"Uh. Yeah. My fault." Fit says, lifting his hand to rub at the base of his neck. He needs to put a reminder on his phone to stretch before bed again; his muscles are tense. "We moved in a while back, and I meant to make it nice, but shit happens."

"Shit happens. " Pac's voice is quiet as he surveys the living and dining area once more before venturing down the hallway to the left. 

"Is this Ramon's room?" Pac asks, gesturing to the only door in the house with any color. It's splashed with drawings and little sketches Ramon has made. While Fit might be a fan of order, Ramon's room is his space. As long as he doesn't try to blow anything up (again), he's allowed to decorate his room however he wants. Pac looks to Fit to ask permission, and Fit nods in response. Taking a step in, Pac smiles as he surveys the room. 

"This is so cute. I can see why painting is in the contract now." Pac laughs. 

"Yeah, I gotta fix it before we can paint. There's a hole behind that dresser I never fully patched. And I think one behind the door still."

"Ramon have a bad day?" Pac asks with a light-hearted tone.

"Nah. He likes to tinker with shit. Take things apart and put them back together. I think the dresser incident combined his alarm clock and the remote for his lights."

Pac chuckles, stopping to run his hands over a few childish schematics Ramon has taped to the walls. 

"That is an interesting combination."

"Pretty sure he thought because his lights have a timer, he could use it on his clock so I don't wake him up for school on time."

"He's so smart!" Pac laughs. 

"Tell me about it. He didn't get it from me." Fit replies, joining in to admire his son's work taped to the walls. Ramon is far more intelligent than he'll ever be, and the kid doesn't even need to try. 

Pac's brow quirks just a bit at Fit's words but says nothing. 

"So, he wants to paint it then? Anything else?" Pac inquires. 

"Anything else? Sorry, whaddya mean?"

"Does he want anything else for his room? Just paint? What does he like? We could put some shelves here for little things. Or, oh! A little whiteboard for him to use for his experiments! Or maybe- "

Pac hasn't seemed to notice he's wandered off several steps into Ramon's bedroom. Fit watches as Pac mutters, primarily to himself, about floating shelves and things within the arm's reach of a child. Pac moves toward the windows, examining them and looking above to check out the curtain situation. Fit's in awe of Pac's attention to detail, watching as he holds his hand up to judge distances and feet. A few strides later, Fit finds himself in front of Pac, breaking his concentration. Pac goes to speak, but Fit reaches down instead, grabbing something atop one of the paper piles in Ramon's window seat. 

"Here," Fit says, pressing something into Pac's hand. "Write it down. You'll be annoyed you didn't later." 

Pac's head tilts as he takes a small pen and notebook into his hands. Now that he's thinking of it, Ramon's room is covered in stationery. 

"Thank you, Fit!" 

Quickly, Pac opens the small notebook to a clean page and writes a mile a minute. Fit can barely make out the scratches Pac calls letters, but he can see numbers and assumes Pac is eyeballing the room's dimensions. There are bullet points going down a page and a half until Pac's pen comes to a stop. Fit stays quiet, facing the window but watching from the corner of his eye as Pac's eyes scan the room a final time. It's hard not to smile at Pac's eagerness. His expressions are so readable that Fit can't imagine what that could be like. To wear your personality on your sleeve like that, to let people see who you are all the damn time. Seems exhausting. 

"My room used to be like this when I lived on my own the first time," Pac admits, sighing. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Or at least, when I had my own room. I didn't know how to care for everything, so I just put it all around me in piles to get to it eventually. A lot of ideas, thoughts, little things like that."

"You ever get to it all?"

"No, but you know how it is. Some things combine, some things outgrow, and some things stay undone, you know? What is the phrase?"

"I know what you mean; not sure of the phrase, though."

"It's from TV; it's on the tip of my tongue," Pac says with a shake of the head, looking to the sky to recall the words and entirely missing Fit's eyes darting and hanging onto Pac's lips.  

"Uh-huh."

"When something isn't finished, and they go to the next episode. It's like that."

"To be continued?"

"YES! That is it. Thank you, Fit! To be continued. Some things you can't do yet, so it is continued. That is what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, I get you. I get you."

A calm silence settles in between the two, less oppressive than when Pac first arrived. Fit was worried about clashing personalities, but Pac seems easygoing. 

"This is a nice place, Fit. If you are willing, I would love to move in." Pac turns to catch Fit's gaze, and the mouth that caught Fit's eye shifts into a smile. Fit finds himself brimming with pride that Pac likes his home. He responds before his brain can overthink the answer. 

"We'd love to have you, Pac."

--

A crash shakes Fit from his reminiscing. He comes to attention, shoulders back, head high, and turns toward the source of the noise. He's about to run into the next room to take care of whatever has gone wrong when he hears several high-pitched squeals of laughter. He recognizes Forever's voice over the rest, laughing and teasing someone. Immediately, Fit's adrenaline drops as he acknowledges that everyone is safe. He's fine, the condo is fine, his friends are fine. Idiots, but fine. He looks back into the room to search for Pac and make sure he's okay as well. 

For whatever reason, Pac is staring right back at him as though he's been watching Fit the whole time. 

"Fit? You okay?" Pac asks softly. "You jumped quickly there."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Fit relays with a huff. "Probably be better if some idiots weren't TEARING MY HOUSE APART!" Fit jokes as he raises his voice loud enough to be heard from the living room. "It's all good."

"You are so fast, Fit! I barely had time to react to the noise, and you already were in the doorway blocking it." Pac's voice takes a tone Fit can't place. It's not pity; he's not scared of Fit, but something there is not his usual mirth-filled retort. 

"Oh yeah, training, you know? Gotta be ready for anything. Sometimes, I just space out and forget where I am for a second. Honestly, I kind of forgot they were here," Fit admits with a small smile. "Should we go see what they broke?"

Pac nods in agreement, pushing the box he was organizing beside his bed with his foot. 

"Let's just hope it was something of yours, not mine."

"Hey! What a way to treat your roommate!" Fit argues, stepping out the door and to the side, allowing Pac to walk ahead.

"You are the one who invited Forever, Fit. Should have seen this coming, roommate."

---

Pac slots into the household in odd ways. Fit is grateful for how well Ramon has adapted to Pac being here, though he seems more concerned with keeping his things cleaned for Pac rather than for cleanliness' sake, but beggars can't be choosers. Fit keeps checking in with Ramon, making sure he's okay with Pac being here and nothing is bothering him, but the dead-eyed stare and roll of eyes he gets in return every time has kept Fit from pushing too hard. 

Pac works odd hours, coming and going as he pleases but never at times where it would cause problems. Fit's still determining what Pac does if he's honest. He knows his job but not what he actually does, so coming and going could be part of it. Fit would ask, he should ask, but there's never been a good moment. Pac seems content to be in his room most of the time, working on whatever he does, and Fit would hate to interrupt him to ask a stupid question he should already know the answer to. 

He does enjoy how Pac always seems open to Ramon, at least. They haven't hung out too much together, but every time they do, it's nice to see. Ramon likes Pac, Fit can tell. When Pac heads off to his room, he leaves his door open just enough that Ramon and Fit can see inside. Fit thinks he's probably being polite, but it's also lovely that Pac hasn't closed himself off to the household. It is awkward, but neither seems capable of breaking the ice right now. Despite the extra money, Pac's rent will bring in, finding the time to do anything seems impossible; even things as simple as asking your roommate if he wants to hang out feel exhausting. 

Most of the time, Fit schedules his day around Ramon. He wakes up early enough to make Ramon a healthy breakfast, drives him to school, and knocks back a protein shake on the drive to the gym. He does paperwork until his afternoon training session arrives and stops once it's time to pick up Ramon for school, either bringing him home for the day or, if Fit has to work late, bringing Ramon to the gym with him for a few hours before heading home for dinner. Generally, he wouldn't want his kid stuck at his job for hours a day. Fit had enough of that as a child himself, but as with most things in life, Ramon thrives where Fit falls short. At least being at the gym for a few hours has its charms, and Tubbo has never once not let Ramon sit in on one of his gymnastic classes. Tina, Foolish, and Etoiles also take their time with Ramon, already trying to convince Fit he should let Ramon learn how to use a sword under Etoiles' tutelage. Fit isn't against the idea, but he has yet to say yes. 

Today is one of those "Tubbo, please wear my kid out so he naps" kind of days. Fit has a new hire to bring in, many new memberships to register, and the creeping realization that he hasn't set up a grocery delivery yet for the week. No wonder Pac always eats out or in his room; Fit can barely remember to keep the house stocked with food. He's sure Pac already thinks he's a shit dad, but there's not much he can do about it now. He orders the groceries while printing applications, he's always worked better with paper in front of him than a screen, and he collects his files and son in one swoop. 

Ramon is nearly asleep in Fit's arms as Fit carries him up the stairs to the condo. Tubbo showed Ramon how to do a little flip today, nothing crazy, but Ramon took to it like a fish to water. Fit hates in some ways that Ramon has inherited his impulsive streak and love of competition. He blames himself for not being a good enough example, needlessly pushing himself to make ends meet these last few years. He wishes Ramon was the kind of kid who didn't overthink or need to impress, but some things remain a work in progress. At least Ramon tries. Ramon will try things repeatedly until he gets it, and then over and over again until either he improves or improves whatever was vexing him. Ever helpful, his Ramon. 

Fit shifts Ramon in his arms and places their bags at his feet as he attempts to fish his keys from his pocket. The second he has them in the lock, the door opens, sending Fit careening forward. Instinctively, his hands clutch around Ramon, protecting his head, before Fit realizes it's fine. He's fine. Ramon is fine. Pac has them both. 

Pac's hands flail out at the sight of Fit's unbalance, catching one on Fit's shoulder and leaning into Fit to hold him up just enough. To Fit's shock, the other immediately lands on top of Fit's within a split second, cradling Ramon's head. It's instinct, Fit tells himself, the instinct of a father, but as he straightens himself out, Fit realizes Pac could not have moved at all. Pac tried to protect his son. 

"You guys okay? Sorry to scare you; I thought I heard noise, so I figured I'd help." Pac says, voice laced with worry. He looks at a sleepy Ramon and smiles at him softly. "You okay, Ramon? Busy day?" 

Ramon wipes his eyes, now awake, and nods. 

"I did flips."

"Really? Wow, that is a big thing to do! Good job, Ramon! You must shows me later!" Pac says with joy Fit can hardly fathom. He stares at Pac in awe, blown away even further when Pac ruffles Ramon's hair before turning away. 

"There was a delivery while you were gone. I hope it's okay that I unpacked?" Pac questions. "I realized I broke my promise to you, Fit. I was thinking and realized I have not cooked since moving in! I am so sorry for this."

"It's fine, Pac; I didn't expect you to take it seriously."

"I take it seriously. I just forgot—Silly Pac and his bad memory," Pac jokes unconvincingly.

"What are you making?" asks Ramon, clambering to the floor from his father's arms. He nearly trips himself as he sprints to the kitchen but doubles back to take his shoes off at the door. 

"Well done, Ramon." Fit praises, and Ramon allows himself a prideful look before heading back to the food. 

"Your dad told me you like breakfast, so I thought, why not have breakfast for dinner?"

"Really?! You can do that?" Ramon asks, eyes wide. 

"You can have breakfast anytime! Whatever you guys want, I will make it! I don't know if it will be as good as your dad's breakfast, but it will be edible, I promise!" Pac assures with a beaming smile down at Ramon. 

"Can I help?" Ramon asks. 

Well. Fit wasn't expecting that. Ramon has never asked to cook with him, but, to be fair to his little guy, what Fit does in the kitchen barely counts as cooking. He buys the necessary foods for healthy growth and can knock out a mean sandwich, but cooking meals has never been his forte. 

Pac's brows raise at Ramon's question as well, though, like everything, Pac takes it in stride. 

"Woah, you want to help me, Ramon?! I am honored! But you should ask your dad first. I think his opinion would be good, right?" Pac smirks at Ramon and looks up to catch Fit's eye. "What do you think, Fit? Can Ramon help me with dinner?" 

Now, there are two sets of far-too-similar dark eyes pleading with him. Pac's face is far too expressive. He sees now why Pac is such a good father. He has interactions with kids down to a science. Fit still doesn't know how to talk to children despite having, arguably, the best one ever to exist, but Pac has the exaggerated expressions of someone who genuinely loves being around kids. Fit sighs as he takes in Pac's look of amusement and Ramon's determination, fully aware he has no backbone to deny them. 

"Hmm. I think you can help, Ramon, of course, but- "

Ramon cheers and immediately opens a low cabinet, attempting to pull out several pots and pans.

"BUT!" Fit says, clearing his throat and closing the cabinet door, ensuring Ramon's tiny fingers are out of the way. "There are rules, baby boy. You know this. What do we do when we get home from being out?"

Ramon sighs dramatically, looking up to Pac for help. Pac, in turn, shrugs down to Ramon as he nods. 

"We put our things away and wash our hands."

"That's my boy. Now go wash up and put your backpack where it belongs, okay? I know Foolish checked your math homework, but we both know he probably made it worse. Leave it on your table, and I'll look it over after dinner, okay?"

Ramon nods. Looking up, he shoves the pan he had retrieved from the cabinet into Pac's hand before running off to his room.

"At least he knows what to do," Pac says with a smile. "Are you sure this is okay? I don't want to overstep, but I don't feel like I've been helping enough."

"No worries, Pac, it's totally fine. He can help all he wants; just don't give him anything sharp, okay? And no need to help out; you've seemed preoccupied with work, so I wouldn't want to pull you away from anything important."

"To be honest, Fit, I haven't been doing anything important." Pac's face flushes as he speaks, and Fit takes a moment to notice how adorable it is. Fit's not sure what he's been up to while he and Ramon were out, but Pac's dressed much nicer than usual. Not that Fit takes issue with Pac's hoodies and grey sweatpants, but seeing Pac blushing in a dark blue button-down is a new look. 

"I have been a little, how do you say, unsure? Not sure? How to involve myself and help out. It's so embarrassing, and I'm a grown man! But Bagi, she said everyone likes food, so maybe I could bring you all the food, and that's when I remembered I hadn't cooked yet. I hope this is okay now."

Fit has yet to learn how he lucked out on the roommate thing, but he needs to send Phil a gift basket tomorrow. 

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Pac. I'm glad you're here. You can cook and do whatever around here;  no judgment. I dunno how to do this either. You're the first roommate I've ever had." Fit says with a laugh. "First times are something else, huh?"

Pac's face seems slightly red now, but Fit writes it off as too many cooks in his tiny kitchen. It's a tight squeeze, and lights are on; anyone would get warm in a long-sleeve. 

Pac goes to speak but is interrupted by a bolt of energy to the knee. 

"I'm all clean! We can cook now! I put my bag away and left all the homework out for you, Fit!" Ramon says, aggressively pulling on Pac's pant leg. "Now breakfast?!"

Fit laughs and drops into a crouch in front of his son. 

"Alright, good job kiddo. You listen to Mister Pac though. If he tells you to move back or stop doing something, we listen to our friends, okay?" Fit reiterates, reaching up to push Ramon's curls out of his face. "And keep your hair away from any cooking, okay? We gotta take you for a trim one of these days."

"I promise!" 

"Alright, my boy. You two have fun. I'm going to get cleaned up for dinner. If you need anything or can't find something, I'll be in my room, okay?"

"Thank you, Fit!" Pac says with a smile. "We'll let you know when it's done!"

Fit smiles back before grabbing his bag from the floor and heading to the bedroom. He could use a shower and a few minutes to sort through his paperwork for later tonight. If Pac is content with keeping his son entertained, Fit can't squander the chance for a few minutes alone. 

A half-hour later, Fit leaves his bedroom feeling like a new man. It only took him ten minutes to sort through the applications, only three in the bunch being worthy of a second look later in the evening. A shower had done him wonders after a full day at the gym, and he even treated himself to a new pair of pajama pants and a fresh t-shirt to wear for the rest of the evening. For the first time in days, he feels relaxed. 

He enters the living room from the hallway, just out of reach from where Pac and Ramon have their backs to him at the stove. They're giggling together, and nothing has caught fire as far as Fit can tell, so this dinner is already a win. Fit stays out of their sightline, content to lean against the wall and enjoy Ramon's honest happiness at this moment. It stings a little that he doesn't get to see Ramon like this often enough, but the only one to blame is himself. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he swipes open his camera and snaps a few photos of Pac at the stove, Ramon leaning into his side from his place atop his step-stool. 

Fit leans back against the wall, scrolling and smiling to look at the photos he's captured. He'll need to send these to Pac and see if he enjoys them. Something catches Fit's eye in the photo, and he zooms in, realizing Pac has rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing toned forearms that Fit had previously overlooked. Quickly, Fit locks his screen and shoves his hand in his pocket, flushing at the thought. He takes a moment to compose himself in the hallway and calms a little just as Ramon's voice screams from the kitchen. 

"FIT! DINNER IS READY AND IT IS SO GOOD!"

Usually, Fit would tell Ramon that yelling indoors is against the rules, but fuck it. Anything to get his mind onto something that isn't Pac's arms. Fit pushes himself off the wall and heads toward the kitchen, wiping any look that isn't neutral from his face. 

"Thank god chefs, I was wasting away out here! I'm ready for the best meal of my life!"

"No, no, no!" Ramon yells, jumping off his stool and pushing his arms against Fit's stomach. "You sit down! It's a surprise!" 

Fit throws his hands in the air to back off, following his son's orders. He sits in his usual chair to find the table already set. He only has a little in the way of utensils and dinnerware, and he probably forgot to rerun the dishwasher, so Ramon's Ninja Turtles cups and plates are coming in clutch tonight. 

"AHEM."

Fit looks up to see his son standing a foot away, excitement etched across his face. 

"DINNER IS SERVED!" Ramon says, bowing as he finishes. Within a second, he pulled himself into his dinner chair, ready to taste his creation. Pac follows a moment later, three plates piled high across the broad expanse of his arms. Fit knew he was broader than he thought, and now he has confirmation. Pac places a plate down in front of them one by one, leaving Fit for last. 

"And the most special pancake for you!" 

Fit is at a loss for words as he stares at the plate before him. Pac and Ramon had made pancakes, blueberry and chocolate ones at that, in the shape of a smiley face. It is entirely too cute, and Fit could cry at how much he loves this damn kid. 

"Ramon said it's your favorite," Pac says quietly before heading back to the kitchen to grab drinks for the table. 

"Ramon is right. Thank you, Ramon, you have a good memory."

"I know." His son says, already shoving bites of pancake into his mouth. "You never make it in the morning for yourself. Only me! So I told Mister Pac to make them for you." Ramon looks entirely too pleased with himself, and Fit can't blame him. 

"Thank you both, this looks delicious." Fit cuts into his first bite as Pac takes the seat to his left, and goddamn, who knew he had some chefs in the house. Fit all but groans at the taste, shaking his head in joy. 

"This is incredible! Pac, you can't do this again; I'll be asking you to make breakfast every day." Fit jokes as he continues to cut into the perfect pancake. 

"You don't need to ask, Fit." There's a quiet tone to Pac's voice that Fit recognizes, and he looks over to catch his eye. Pac is smiling at him, a small, patient smile that Fit can't help but return. He returns to his meal as the three dive in, nearly finishing before someone speaks. 

"Mister Pac, I think we need to talk."

"Oh?" Pac asks, shooting Fit a look to see if he's in on this. Fit shrugs in response, unsure of what's brewing in his son's mind. 

"Yes. We had an agreement. You need to honor it."

"Of course! Which agreement was this, Ramon?" Pac asks. He continues eating his dinner, and Fit is amused at how easily he's already given in to his son. 

"I said you could move in for one reason!"

"Well, that wasn't exactly how it went, Ramon, but-"

 "Ahhh! This is about painting?"

"Yes! Fit keeps saying to wait until you're here for a bit, but it's been SO LONG. You've lived here for AGES! Can we paint my room soon?" Ramon asks, big brown eyes peering up at Pac. 

Pac's gaze is soft and caring. He looks at Ramon like he's so amused by how smart this kid is, and Fit is never happier than when people are impressed by his son. Sure, his understanding of the passage of time may be, uh, a bit skewed, but everyone has their faults. 

"Yes. Yeah! Let's do it. How is the weekend? Fit, are you working?"

The truth is Fit is working every day. Even when he's not with a client, he's usually filing memberships, making training plans for new clients, or, as is his plan tonight, looking through the applicants for a social media manager. Fit never takes days off, but if his boy wants his room painted, he supposes he could ask Etoiles to lock up on Saturday. 

"I can make Saturday work if that's alright with you?"

"Sure. How about Saturday, Ramon?" 

Ramon responds with a big nod, smiling intently. He's got syrup dried on his face and powdered sugar in his hair, and he looks like the happiest boy on earth. 

"I'm all finished, Fit. Can I be excused? I have business to do!"

Fit laughs and shrugs, waving for Ramon to go. 

Ten minutes later, Pac and Fit are tag-teaming the dishes and general clean-up when Ramon comes rushing in, saying he's ready for his appointment. Pac looks over at him to find Ramon with a tape measure clipped to his jeans, a pencil behind his ear, and one of Pac's sketchbooks in his hand. 

"Ramon, what have I told you about touching other people's things?" Fit says sternly, not wanting Pac's work damaged. 

"I wasn't doing anything bad! I was bringing it! To help!"

"Wow, late-night client! Okay, Mister Ramon, tell me your vision!" Pac says, eyes bright. 

Ramon grabs Pac's hand, dragging him toward his bedroom. Fit's eyes widen at the action, and Pac matches his gaze. Pac looks surprised but smiles at Fit and shrugs as he allows himself to be dragged away. 

"I guess I'll take the dishes tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, you go with the CEO over there; I'll finish up."

Fit shakes his head, smiling at how much more open Ramon has become recently. Fit finishes washing the dishes and drying most of the dinnerware before giving in and leaving the rest to air dry. He's too curious about what's happening in Ramon's room to do this any longer. 

In Ramon's room, Pac and Ramon lay side by side on their stomachs across Ramon's bed, Pac's sketchbook between them. It's a sight that catches Fit off guard, to say the least. Ramon is comfortable with Pac already, and that is something he's only ever seen with Phil, and Phil has been in Ramon's life since Fit had him. Seeing Pac nod along with Ramon's rambling takes the breath from Fit, and he's so glad Phil brought Pac to them. He stands in the doorway, watching for a few more moments before making his presence known by sitting on the bed to Ramon's left side. He scratches Ramon's scalp, a move that always calms him down, but says nothing, allowing Ramon to continue rambling. He needs to get this out, and it's clear he's been thinking it through. In the meantime, Fit grabs Ramon's math homework off the bedside table, giving it a quick check. 

"Okay, so different colored walls then? Or the same color with designs?" Pac asks, his hand slowly moving his pencil across the page. Fit can't make much of anything out but sits and watches contently. 

"How dark can my room be?" Ramon asks, peering over his shoulder at Fit. "Dapper has a dark room, but is that okay?" 

"I would prefer it not to be black, but it's your room, Ramon; you can paint it however you want. But remember, Mister Pac is doing something nice for you, okay? Don't make it too hard for him!" Fit says with a wink at Pac. 

"Okay. So no black." Ramon says, looking at Pac. Fit's heart swells a little knowing his son listened to him. Sometimes, he's not a half-bad dad. 

"What about a red? Like a maroon? Sorta red-brown?" Pac pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes at a photo of him and Richas on his lock screen. Cute. 

Pac pulls up a few color charts and looks at them with Ramon until they've narrowed it down to a few choices. 

"Okay, so something on the red-brown side like this? And maybe a little gold? I have an idea, but it would be a surprise. It depends on if you trust me, Ramon."

Ramon looks at Pac with a stern look. He nods once and looks to Fit, holding his gaze. 

"It's your choice, Ramon. Whatever you want to do."

"Yes, Mister Pac. I trust your skills."

"Thank you, Ramon. And after I impress you with this design, you can call me Pac, okay?"

"Deal!"

Pac and Ramon share a smile. It's both heartwarming and heart-wrenching for Fit. He's happy Ramon and Pac are getting along so well, but he wishes he was more in tune with what his child wants. He would never have picked that color for Ramon's room, but if Ramon likes it, it's okay with him. 

Fit sighs as he runs his fingers back into his son's hair. 

"As much as I hate to say it, Ramon, I think it's time we get you into bed so Pac can get on with his night, alright, bud?"

Ramon sighs dramatically, per his usual bedtime routine, as he is hit with a huge yawn. 

"Yeah, okay. Thank you, Mister Pac." Ramon says, jumping onto his feet and sprinting to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

"No problem, Ramon! I am excited; this will be fun!"

"Thanks again for doing this," Fit says quietly to Pac once Ramon is out of earshot. "I didn't know he wanted a new room so badly."

"Eh, it's kids. They love things like this, you know?" Pac responds. "Richas had me rearrange his room three times last year! Do you know how heavy his furniture is? Meus Deus, we spoil him too much; he has so many things." Pac sighs, shaking his head in defeat. 

Fit wishes he could hear more about Pac's parenting life, but Ramon rushes back into the room, grabbing Meathead off his pillow before diving under the covers. 

"Good night, Ramon!" Pac says, leaning over to bop Meathead as well. "You sleep well with…whatever this guy is!"

"He's Meathead," Ramon whispers, yawning into Meathead's back.

"Of course, of course. Good night, Ramon and Meathead."

Pac pushes himself from the bed and heads out the door, nodding to Fit. Once Pac leaves, Fit leans down and kisses his baby boy's forehead and gives one to Meathead for good measure. 

"You did great today, kiddo. I'm so proud to be your dad." 

Ramon smiles, burrowing deeper into his pillow with the praise. 

"Song?" Ramon asks in a quiet voice. 

As if Fit could ever deny him. He sings their song, soft and low, hoping Ramon gets some good rest after a busy day. 

"G'night, Ramon. See you in the morning." 

Ramon's asleep before Fit turns on his bedside lamp. There's a quiet noise from the hallway that Fit waves off as Pac cleaning the kitchen, so he ignores it. He ensures his son's homework is secure in his backpack and places it in its spot next to Ramon's outfit for tomorrow. Taking a breath, Fit turns off the lights, pulling Ramon's door mostly closed. 

Fit turns into the hallway, noticing something on the floor. It's a page from Pac's sketchbook that must have fallen when he left the room. It's another batch of notes Fit can hardly read, but it might be important. Pac's in his own room when Fit enters the main space, so he leaves it lying on top of another book Pac left on the coffee table. With the dishes mostly done and everything else in order, Fit heads back to his bedroom, pulls out his journal from his hiding place, and heads to the balcony to write about his day and add a new song to his playlist. 

Back in the condo, Pac peers out from behind his door, ensuring Fit has entered his room before venturing out. He hadn't planned on staying to hear Fit and Ramon's song; it felt like an invasion of privacy, but the pages of his flimsy notebook had fallen from his grasp when he made it to the hallway. As he collected them, he heard Fit's deep, steady tones singing a silly song to Ramon, and Pac nearly teared up at the tenderness. Pac still doesn't understand why Fit underestimates himself as a father so much. The way Ramon looks at Fit makes it pretty obvious that Fit is his hero, his whole little world, but Fit seems to be wholly unaware. Pac's not sure what he can do to help, so he'll do the only things he can. 

The following morning, it isn't the blaring tune of his alarm that wakes Fit; it's the smell of bacon and eggs wafting under his bedroom door. 

Chapter Text

“Okay. I think we have everything.”

“Pac, no offense, but this has to be everything. I don’t think the store has anything else left.” 

Looking at the pile of supplies at his feet, Pac has to admit he might have gone a little overboard. 

“Alright, maybe yes, I did get a lot. But this is for Ramon! He deserves the best; that is what you always say. Right, Fit?” Pac turns to bat his eyelashes at Fit, a habit Fit is both pleased Pac’s picked up and also annoyed at how much it gets to him. 

“I see what you’re doing, you know. Using my son against me, how dare you, Pac? I’m just a silly bald guy; you can’t treat me like this!” Fit sighs dramatically, shooting Pac a look. To be honest, Fit isn’t really sure when his situation with Pac tipped the scales from awkward into slight-less-awkward, but it’s been a welcome change. Gone are the days of bumping into one another in the kitchen, unsure how to maneuver around the other. Neither has sat in awkward silence until Ramon speaks as of late either. Slowly, Fit has learned that the best way to integrate Pac into the household is to ensure he’s involved in conversations. How he never thought of that before makes him feel like an idiot, but at least he’s learning. 

“I’m joking Fit, I’m joking! But I am also right, aren't I? We have to make Ramon’s room the best children room in history!” Pac’s enthusiasm can be seen from space. He and Ramon have been looking at color palettes, trim, and pull-away wallpaper for the past few days after dinner. Fit was supposed to help with everything a few weeks ago, but life at work got in the way. Still, Ramon asked Pac not to do anything until Fit could be there, and Pac agreed. 

“It’s gonna look great once we’re done! I appreciate you for setting this all up last night. Sorry I couldn’t be here to help. Thanks for handling it.” Fit still feels guilty about having to duck out of their prep stage, but luckily, Pac has enough friends who can help move heavy things and prime four walls. Ramon had therapy, Fit had a training session go over time, and traffic was a pain in the ass. By the time they were home, all that was left to do was set down some drop cloths and bring in the supplies. 

“It was no problem, Fit! It didn’t take long at all and now today will be simpler.”

“Yeah, I’m still grateful though. I’m surprised you guys didn’t start painting last night; you probably could have gotten through a coat or so by the time we got home, even with me driving GTA-style.”

“But Ramon asked me not to touch anything until you were here,” Pac says, head tiling just a tad.

“No, yeah, he told me. He’s a good kid tryin’ to include me like that. Not sure why since you’re the expert around here, but I’m happy to lift anything or help as needed. Just tell me what to do.”

Fit looks to Pac’s eyes for confirmation but finds an unreadable expression instead. Pac looks part intrigued and part concerned, and Fit isn’t sure which he should be more worried about. 

“Everything alright?” Fit finally asks when Pac stays silent. 

“You are much more capable than you think.” 

Pac’s words relieve him like a lozenge after a coughing fit. Fit feels sudden elation, a bit of pride, and a strange feeling of calm at hearing Pac compliment him like this. Sure, Fit’s gotten a compliment or two in his day, but they’ve usually been gym-related or, in more recent times, related to what a great kid Ramon is. Fit feels the same emotions then, a mixture of pride and happiness, but the other things twisting inside him are new. He’s not sure what to say aside from thank you, but Pac beats him to it. 

“And I think you are very capable of setting the ladders up, yeah?” 

Cheeky. 

Fit rolls his eyes and smirks, dipping in front of Pac in a bow as he grabs the ladder from the floor. 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Fit speaks with a sarcastic tone, completely missing the raised brow Pac adopts at his words. Fit picks up both ladders, one under each arm, as he heads into Ramon’s room and sets them up in opposite corners. They’ve been over the plan for the day numerous times. Hell, Ramon made an itinerary, though he named the document “stuff fit and pac need to do TOP SECRET IMPORTANT,” just in case Fit wasn’t serious enough. They were starting on opposite sides of the room, painting downward from where the taped-over trim met the wall and then using the roller for the rest. Pac would start doing his secret plan while Fit began on the next coat, and hopefully, they’d finish in a day, maybe two. Ramon was spending the day at Phil’s and heading to a sleepover at Roier and Cellbit’s, which should give them time to finish it before he’s home. 

Pac pours the paint into one of the trays he set out and carries it over to Fit, ready to begin. 

“We good to go?” Fit inquires, setting himself up. 

“I think so. Do you mind if I put on music while we work? It might help.”

“Absolutely, absolutely. It’s your house, too, Pac. Play whatever you want!” Fit implores, almost aggressively. Fit wants Pac to feel comfortable at home, even if he has to bully him into it.

“Oh, thank you, Fit!” Pac’s smile beams at Fit, who can simply nod in response. If he doesn’t start painting now, he’ll spend all day talking to Pac, and even if that might be more enjoyable, the tirade his son will go on once he figures out his room isn’t finished strikes fear into Fit’s heart. 

Fit climbs up the ladder and begins painting, taking extra care. Pac sent him a few YouTube tutorials on painting when he admitted he hadn’t painted a room since a buddy asked him for help in college. Up until now, Fit’s always been fine with whatever when it came to decoration, always citing functionality over fashion. When he told Pac this, the look of disbelief on Pac’s face was notable. Pac kindly informed him the two go hand in hand, and why suffer with something that works when you can have something that works and brightens your day? They aren’t mutually exclusive; if a house serves its function of providing shelter, why not make that shelter a comfort? The statement changed Fit’s entire perspective on how to feel good at home. Pac seems to be doing that a lot lately, whether he’s aware of it or not. 

The first few strokes of the paintbrush are shaky, but Fit’s hand quickly adapts the cutting-in method to his muscle memory. He’s so focused on his task that he barely registers Pac on the other side of the room and the laid-back music playing from Pac’s phone. 

Two work quicker than one, and it takes surprisingly less time than Fit expected to get the rollers out to cover the central expanse of the walls. Sure, it’s an all-day affair, but Pac clearly has done this dozens of times, able to eyeball the perfect amount of paint needed for any particular section. For a moment, Fit watches Pac with the roller and his quick, precise movements. Pac approaches things so differently, Fit realizes. Fit watched an hour’s worth of tutorials and took notes, intent on making every single stroke perfect and pristine. Pac is just as precise but more confident, wiping away little mistakes or quickly pulling out his smaller paintbrush to make adjustments. It’s impressive to see, and Fit hopes Ramon picks up on more of Pac’s traits. Fit’s never been good at adapting quickly, needing time to settle into a routine before he’s comfortable. Sometimes, Fit hopes Ramon doesn’t follow in his footsteps.

“So, why are you doing all this?” Pac’s voice breaks through the quiet, waking Fit up from where he spaced out. 

“Painting? For Ramon, Pac. Did you not notice him begging all week?” Fit jokes, dipping his roller back into the paint and angling toward the closest wall. 

“No, yeah, I gets the painting, of course. I mean, why are you doing this? Renting a room to a stranger? Or why right now? It seems too good to be true that I got this lucky.”

Fit’s face reddens at Pac’s words, unable to process them fully. 

In what world is Pac the lucky one to be here?

“Same as all my answers,” Fit responds as he finds his voice. “For Ramon.”

Pac doesn’t respond immediately, so Fit clears his throat and continues. 

“The condo is nice. It’s a great space, but school-wise, it isn’t the best. When we moved here, it didn’t matter because Ramon was so young, but now he’s got to be in a certain district to be with his friends. Phil’s kids, Dapper, Bobby; they’re all in the same school. If we can renovate and move to the loft above the gym, he’ll be in the same district as them all.  It’ll save on rent, we’ll save on money and time going to and from school, and Ramon will be with his friends.” Fit stops his movement with the roller, finishing with his wall. He places it down and turns to face Pac, only to find him already finished and looking his way. 

“Ah. And more parents to help if you need,” adds Pac with a soft smile.

“Exactly, exactly. Though, I think I’ll need to start bribing some of Richas’ other dads at this rate.” Fit says, smiling in return. 

“Oh no, just stick with me. They’re all too much trouble. You’ve met Forever!” Pac says with a laugh. “This all makes more sense, though. When will you have the time to build?”

Fit sighs, looking down at his paint-stained sneakers.

“That’s the next big hurdle. I barely have the time to do everything I need to as it is; honestly, I’m barely keeping it together some weekends. But Ramon deserves it. He deserves the world. If this helps a bit, then, fuck it, who needs sleep, right?” Fit says with a tired smile.

Pac nods in response. “I’m glad to be helping, Fit. And I will help. However you need Fit, let me know, and I can help out. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re already doing a lot, Pac. Just being here has been a huge help, so thank you. Genuinely.” Fit is earnest in his thanks, making sure Pac looks him in the eye when he is thanked. Pac has to know how much he’s already helped around their place, not just with occasional cooking but with general loneliness. It’s been nice to have an adult to talk to after 4 pm, and Fit finds himself looking forward to going home more often when he’s working. 

“Can I come see sometime? The loft space?” Pac asks quietly, almost as if he’s worried his words will offend Fit. 

“Oh, Pac, for sure! Anytime you want to, you should come by! I can show you around the gym too, get you a membership.” Fit says with a loud laugh. “I’d love for you to check it out. I got ideas for the loft, but I’m shit at getting them on paper. Might help to talk it through with someone.”

“Yes! Anytime Fit, I would love to take a look. I bet it will look great once you can work on it often enough.”

“Thank you. I hope so, too.”

The conversation comes to a natural end, but the awkwardness doesn’t set in. It’s there a bit, sure, but nothing compared to those first few weeks. It’s a casual silence, nothing to worry about, and it’s far too easy for Fit to get used to. 

“Well, this coat still has a bit of drying to do. Wanna order lunch? My treat?”

“Please, yes, I am starving. I didn’t want to say anything, but I was wasting away. Help me, Fit!” Pac juts his bottom lip into a pout, and Fit rolls his eyes at his antics. 

“Alright, yeah. Come on, my phone’s in the kitchen. You can order whatever you want.” 

One coat of paint and a disgusting amount of chicken wings later, Ramon’s room is nearing completion. Pac touches the wall with the lightest hand, fingertips just barely grazing the surface. Fit’s brain short-circuits for a moment for reasons he hasn’t figured out, looking away to the window until Pac’s assessment reveals itself. 

“This is perfect; we picked a good day to do this! The weather helps. Everything seems dry.” Pac says, and Fit can hear the smile in his voice despite looking away. “Okay, I think we can do the last step tonight and be done. Can you help me with these?” 

Fit can’t stay away now. Helping is what he’s good at, so he turns back to Pac, shaking his head in affirmation. 

“Of course, of course. Whatever you need, Pac.”

Pac leans to dig through a pile of papers Fit hadn’t previously noticed. They’re large and oddly shaped, and in all Ramon’s room discussions, he doesn’t think they mentioned this aspect.

“What’s all this?” He asks, dropping down to join Pac. 

“Remember when I asked Ramon if he trusts me? This is his surprise. I hope he likes it.” Pac says with a twinge of nervousness. 

“Pac, you’re doing something nice for him. Course he’s gonna love it; it’s from you.” Fit’s emotions get the better of him just a bit, but he needs Pac to know how much he and Ramon appreciate Pac. 

“Thank you, Fit, I hope you are right.” Pac digs through the pile, lying out what looks to be a giant stencil. “He is so good at what was the word you used? Tinker? Tinkering? He likes putting things together, so I thought this would be a cool detail.” Pac unfurls the paper in his hand, showing a gorgeously designed stencil of some gears and bolts, each in a different configuration. “I thought the big ones would be good for the corners. We can put the rest wherever you think Fit, but I like them around the top and bottom. What do you think?”

Fit does not cry. He isn’t an emotional man by any means, but this might be the closest he’s gotten to crying out of kindness. For other reasons, sure. Pain mostly. Sometimes disappointment, but never kindness . Pac’s planned out this whole thing for his son, whom he has only known for a little while, just to be nice. After all this, Pac putting in all this effort for someone he isn’t even related to; how could Pac ever think he’s the lucky one in the house? 

“I think this is amazing, Pac. Genuinely. This is unbelievable. Ramon is going to lose his mind.” Fit finally responds, trying to push away his emotions to express his gratitude to Pac. 

“You think so? I found this nice gold color with a little reflective glitter. I think if we use this, it will make everything pop nice and bright even with the darker walls, yeah?” 

“He’s going to love it, Pac. I love it. This is amazing.”

Pac reddens at Fit’s comments, voice breaking as he responds. 

“Wow. Uh. Wow, thank you, Fit! I’m so glad to hear this. Would you help me tape them down? All we need to do is tape them tight to the wall and then sponge on the paint a little at a time. I think it will look nice when it’s done.”

“You just tell me what to do, and I’m on it,” Fit responds, moving to stand and take a stack of stencils. “Big ones in the corners, right?”

“Yes Fit,” Pac says, almost breathless in delivery. “Yes, you’re right. You listened!” Pac laughs, standing, hands full of the smaller stencils. 

Fit grabs a roll of painter's tape from the supply pile and heads to the first corner, doing his best to line it up with the wall. 

“‘Course I listened, Pac. You were talking. I always listen.”

Fit thinks nothing of the comment, more preoccupied with getting the stencil's edge as close to the trim as possible. Pac, however, stands frozen in place, staring at Fit as he works. 

“Thank you, Fit. Thank you for remembering.” Pac’s voice is quiet, muffled by the music playing from his phone. 

They work quietly, the only noise coming from Pac’s phone and the crinkle of the papers being taped down. When the corners are to his liking, Fit stops to see if Pac needs any help, only to find everything taped perfectly in areas Fit never would have thought of. Looking around the room, even without it finished, fills Fit with pride. Ramon is going to love this. Suddenly, Fit hopes Pac will stick around long enough to help him replicate it in the loft one day. He’ll have to ask when the time is right. 

“Ready to give it a try?”

That’s a loaded question if Fit’s ever heard one, but he nods silently, following Pac’s every move. Pac hands him a cup of paint and a sponge brush, walking him through the steps again despite Fit’s numerous YouTube viewings. 

Fit nods along, acknowledging Pac’s orders without speaking and interrupting his flow. Fit’s noticing more things about Pac in these situations, and if there’s one skill Fit does have, it’s staying quiet. Pac talks quickly and enthusiastically about what he likes as long as he’s not interrupted. He talked about color palettes for so long on Tuesday night that he never noticed Ramon fall asleep against his arm, but Fit took in every word, filing it away in his memory for when it would be needed. Pac rarely makes eye contact when he rants, eyes flitting around the room, watching their surroundings instead. Sometimes, when Pac is really tired or rambling, he will stop speaking English and toss in some Portuguese without thinking. Ramon started to ask him questions about it, and Pac proves to be a patient teacher, complimenting every try Ramon gives no matter how off-base it sounds. Pac is attentive, and Fit can’t think of anything more disrespectful than not returning the favor. 

“Okay, I think that is everything. You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Fit responds, dipping his brush into the paint and wiping off the excess, just as Pac taught him. He takes a breath before raising the brush to the wall and applying the first bit of paint. He is nearly done with the stencil when Pac interrupts. Fit’s sure he’s about to be ridiculed and chastised for not doing well enough, but Pac always flips the script on his expectations. 

“That’s so good, Fit! You’re doing an awesome job.” 

It’s rare Fit hears praise like this. It’s nice. 

“Try aiming a little more for those tiny cutouts. That’s it! You are a natural Fit.” Pac says, making sure Fit acknowledges his compliments with a nod. 

“Okay, loosen your wrist a little; you don’t want to hold so tight. It will give you more control.” Fit tries his best, but giving up control has never been a strong suit. He tries to loosen his grip, but he’s unsure how much is too much. 

“Here, let me.”

Fit shifts to let the professional take over but freezes when Pac instead lightly rests his hand on Fit’s. Pac’s hand is warm and a little sweaty, which is to be expected after painting all afternoon in a warm room, but Fit can barely handle it. Pac’s hand guides his own with ease, fingers wrapping around his wrist to show him the amount of pressure to apply. 

“See? Relax your arm just a little; it will relax your grip. You won’t need to press as hard.” Pac says, and Fit wonders when Pac shifted so close. He must not have registered it when his wrist was being controlled, but Pac stands just to Fit’s side on an angle, body turned toward Fit’s. Fit can feel the ghost of Pac’s left hand hovering around his waist, and he’s sure to be red-faced. They’re barely touching, but there’s a level of intimacy here that he hasn’t shared with anyone in years, possibly ever. Pac is entirely in his personal space, and Fit has given him the key. If he’s not careful, he may never lock the door again. 

“This better?” Fit croaks, clearing his throat directly after. “I think, uh. Yeah, I think I’m understanding.”

“You are, you are doing so well. Easier now, right? Your wrist won’t hurt tomorrow from the strain. I think you got this!” Pac replies, happy and proud.

“Thanks, Pac. You’re a good teacher.” Fit admits, more confident in his abilities. 

“I think you are just a good student Fit,” Pac laughs. His hand lifts from Fit’s slowly to not upset his rhythm. As he pulls away, a solitary finger softly runs over a forgotten scar on Fit’s wrist. 

“It’s old.” Fit stammers. “Like years ago. Nothing to worry about.”

Pac hums in response and shifts out of Fit’s personal bubble, bending to grab his own cup of paint. 

“Good to see it healed well,” Pac says, walking toward the opposite wall. “I’m much better at painting than first aid.” 

Fit snorts as he finishes his first stencil, stepping back to get a look at his work. 

“We even out then. I’ve dressed a lot more wounds than painted rooms, that’s for sure.”

Fit doesn’t mean for the statement to sound sad. It’s just the truth of his life. He’s no different than a lot of people with his upbringing. Detached childhood, joined the Army as a way to get out, realized everything about the world he thought he knew was wrong, and was saddled with the consequences for years after. 

“When you were a bodyguard? Or before? I suppose you would have to know that to protect people, huh?” Pac speaks so calmly it puts Fit into an odd state of ease. 

“Uh. Before. Though it helped with the other stuff. Y’know. Good shit to know, dressing a wound and all that stuff. I was in the Army for a while. I was a dumbass kid, signed up to get out of dodge, thought I knew everything. Turns out I didn’t know shit.” Fit scoffs at his own idiocy, unaware that Pac has turned to watch him. 

“I didn’t know this,” Pac admits. “I’m sorry if it is something you don’t like to speak about.”

“Naw, it’s fine, it’s fine. It was a long time ago. But yeah, I’m not so good at stuff like this, real detailed stuff. Usually don’t see the point. Or have the patience, I guess.” He pauses, not sure if he’s revealing too much. Pac doesn’t interrupt, so he keeps going. “Need someone to punch a guy in the face or move something? Give me a call. Need me to teach Ramon how to color in the lines and make shit look good? Not really my style. Glad he has you to learn this stuff from nowadays.”

Pac is quiet, too quiet to settle Fit’s nerves. He hopes he didn’t overstep in saying that, but he’s wording an apology in his head when Pac finally speaks. 

“Thank you, Fit.”

“Oh. Uh...you’re welcome? Not sure what I did.”

“For trusting me with Ramon. To teach him things. I don’t know if I am the best person from him to learn from either, but I am glad you believe in me.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, truth be told, we don’t know one another all that well, I guess,” Fit says, moving on to his next stencil. “But there’s nothing about you that’s made me second-guess anything. Maybe we’re both just selling ourselves short, huh?”

It’s Pac’s turn to snort in response, and Fit finally turns to see him staring back. Pac shakes his head a little and pops his lips a few times. 

“I think maybe yes. Maybe we’re better at this than we think.?” Pac’s voice is hopeful, and his eyes reflect the desire to believe in Fit’s belief in him. 

“I think you’re right, Pac. I think you’re right.” Fit smiles at Pac, who returns it warmly, eyes meeting. The comfortable silence has returned, only broken by a rumble from Fit’s stomach. 

“Shit. Better get to work. Already time for dinner, I guess,” Fit says, attempting to joke. 

“True, we are almost done! Let’s finish and order pizza. I need a shower.” Pac grumbles to himself as he turns back to the next task. Fit laughs and does the same, calculating how many more stencils to go. If they can finish this in an hour, he should be able to pick up a pizza down the street in no time. 

Focusing on the task at hand, Fit puts all his energy into relaxing his arm as he shifts from stencil to stencil, doing the best job he can muster. By the time he’s done, Ramon’s room looks unlike Fit could have ever imagined. The dark burgundy walls are complimented well by the white trim and golden detailing, and Fit is glad Ramon’s bedding will already match. Fit gave Pac extra money to pick up new curtains when he got the supplies, so the dark, blackout curtains he picked up also work with the color palette. He can’t wait for his baby boy to see his new space and feel more at home. 

“I think we’re done!” Pac exclaims from his side of the room. “Wow, Fit, it turned out so good! See, I told you! You just needed to be shown the way to do it and look! Yours looks just as good as mine!” 

Pac steps toward the wall Fit worked on, inspecting his painting up close. His smile radiates joy, and Fit can’t help but join in. 

“What can I say? I had a good teacher. Thanks, Pac.” 

“Anytime at all. This was really fun. Tiring but fun. I think we leave everything hanging up and check again in the morning? Just in case?”

Fit agrees and begins to clean up the things they’re done with for the night. Paint gets put back into its can, and brushes are brought to the kitchen sink for cleaning. They leave the drop cloths and stencils where they are for the morning and leave Ramon’s door open to air out and settle as they move to the living room. Pac cleans the brushes thoroughly as Fit hoists himself onto the kitchen island, reading pizza options out loud off his phone. It’s surprisingly comfortable after such a long day and once Fit yawns, he decides to skip pick-up, spend the extra few bucks on delivery, and splurge on an order of cheesy breadsticks. 

Clean but wet brushes are placed down to dry, and Fit decides that 40 minutes for delivery is the perfect amount of time to get in a shower. He tells Pac to get the door if it rings and heads to his room, ready to wash today off. Fit takes longer than usual, enjoying the heat on his back and the few minutes with his prosthetic off. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, his stubble growing quickly, but he can’t be bothered to take care of it tonight. He hears the bell just as he’s tossing on a clean, white shirt and heads out to the living room, where Pac is already closing the door behind the delivery guy. 

“That smells fuckin’ amazing,” Fit says, entering the kitchen. 

Pac looks to have taken a shower as well. His clothes have gone from old, tattered jeans and a t-shirt to comfy pants and a hoodie, and his hair is still wet, pushed back off his forehead. Neither of them put shoes back on after standing all day, but Pac has socks with little lobsters all over them. It's an odd choice, but one Fit finds remarkably endearing. 

“I think I might eat this whole thing myself,” Pac says, dropping the pitch of his voice. “I will fight you for it, Fit.”

Fit laughs, reaching into the fridge and pulling out two beers, popping the tops off both simultaneously before placing one in front of Pac. 

“Let me grab at least one piece, and then you can go crazy, my friend. Do we need plates?” Fit looks to Pac, who gives him a look of “c’mon now” in return, and Fit shrugs, opening the box. “Kitchen dinner it is.”

The pair dive into the pizza, eating as if they hadn’t consumed an ungodly amount of wings hours ago. It’s been years since Fit’s eaten straight out of the pizza box, usually trying his best to set an excellent example for Ramon and teach him manners. Tonight, he barely has the energy to care. Luckily, Pac doesn’t seem to mind, diving into his pizza and leaving the last bits of the crust to the side. 

“Not a crust man?” 

Pac shrugs as he chews, waiting until he’s swallowed before responding. 

“Depends. Why eat crust when you can save that space for more pizza and breadsticks?”

Fit can’t fault that logic. 

“You mind if I?” Fit trails, reaching halfway toward Pac’s pile of leftovers. 

“No, not at all! Help yourself.”

Sure, it might be extra carbs he doesn’t need, but after a day of painting and stress, Fit allows himself to indulge a little. There’s no time for conversation. It’s been a long day, despite it being too early to say it’s late just yet. Fit and Pac eat in relative silence, noise coming from the shifting cardboard of the pizza box against the counter and the tinny noise of the bottlecaps falling to the floor when Fit replenishes their beers. 

Saving cleanup for the morning, Fit shoves the now empty pizza box on top of the garbage can. The perk of eating over a box means no dishes to handle. Pac doesn’t move from his spot at the kitchen island across from Fit, happily scrolling through his phone. Fit pulls his out to check in on Ramon and finds two messages. One sent just a few minutes ago is a goodnight text that Fit replies to immediately, smiling as he sees Ramon opening it on his end. As lovely as it is to have a day off, he misses Ramon already. The other is a photo from earlier in the day from Phil with all the kids sitting together at the park. Ramon and Richas throw their arms around the other's shoulders, beaming and waving at the camera. 

“Did you see this? Phil just sent it to me.” Fit says, turning his phone to show Pac the picture. 

“Oh, this is so sweet! Richas sent me a photo, but he was just sticking his tongue out at me. That one is much cuter.” Pac says, eyes softening at the picture. 

“One sec, sorry your screen went dark,” Pac mutters, reaching to press the button to unlock Fit’s phone. His fingers brush against Fit’s, and Fit isn’t sure why he keeps feeling these little static shocks whenever Pac so much as grazes him. He’ll call the building supervisor on Monday morning; they have to run a humidifier here at this rate. Pac presses the side button to unlock Fit’s phone and immediately folds over in barks of laughter. 

“Fit, I am so sorry, but what is your photo?!” Pac inquires between guffaws, smiling in Fit’s direction. 

“Huh?” Fit questions, turning the phone back to himself to remember. Oh. Right. He chuckles to himself as he looks away, embarrassed. 

“Listen, Ramon had a particular idea last year; what was I supposed to do?”

“No, no, it is a great costume. You are a very committed dad. I just did not expect to see you dressed as Marty McFly. It’s a good look, Fit. Not too sure about the wig, but it grows on me.” Pac is giggling still, and Fit tries to throw him a glare, knowing it fails. 

“Listen, Ramon loves those movies and still won’t let me be Doc Brown. You have no idea how often I’ve asked, but he always says I can’t be Doc until I understand what a gigawatt is.”

“That is very cute. I cannot wait to see what you guys dress up for next Halloween.”

“Right, right. Halloween. Yes, that is what this was.” Fit stutters between his words, and Pac picks up on it instantly. 

“Fit.”

“Mhm?”

“...are you telling me this was not Halloween? This was just…for fun?”

“Uh. Well. Listen, Ramon is a very creative kid, alright? Lots of imagination. Sometimes, he likes to pretend he invented things like, I don’t know, elevators and time travel and stuff like that. I can’t stifle his pursuit of knowledge, can I Pac? What kind of dad would I be?”

Fit is clearly still embarrassed, but he’s toying with Pac now. The truth is, if Ramon asked him to put on a costume and look like a dumbass on a Monday afternoon, he’d grumble, but they all know he’d do it. Fit has one weakness, and it’s Ramon. And Ramon loves to exploit that. 

“Of course, Fit. You have to encourage this!” Pac says, trying to be as serious as possible and failing massively. “Next time, tell Ramon he can invite me too. I will dress up silly so you’re not alone.”

“Oh god, don’t tell him that. He’ll have you making costumes in no time.”

The quiet creeps back in, and Fit realizes he’s noticing it less and less. There’s a lull in conversation, but it’s no longer awkward or strained; just a lull—a beat. Pac notices too but says nothing aloud, silently contemplating how, for once, he doesn’t feel the need to force conversation. 

Fit busies himself by wiping down the counter and opening the fridge, quirking his brow at Pac to ask if he’d like another drink. Pac nods back, and Fit grabs two more bottles to enjoy together. As he tosses the caps into the pizza box, he catches Pac’s attention again. 

“Remember once you asked me why I gave you the master and took the smaller room?

“Yes, yeah. I remember.”

“Want to know the real answer?”

Pac cocks an eyebrow in curiosity. “Please.”

“Follow me.”

Fit leads Pac to his bedroom, heart racing. That statement has no implications, but now he worries Pac might think there were. Not like there’s anything wrong with that, Fit assures himself, but that isn’t his intent. Not now.

Pac follows dutifully behind, and Fit thanks his past self for ensuring his room is clean and organized post-shower. He’s left the French doors open, balcony on full display. Once Pac is in the room, Fit turns the overhead light off, leaving the pair bathed in the light glow of dim, off-white Christmas lights around the balcony door. 

“Oh wow. This is pretty, Fit.”

“Thanks,” Fit says, gesturing for Pac to follow once again. He steps onto the patio, unfolding a small chair from against the railing and setting it down for Pac to use. There’s a small round table in the middle and Fit’s matching chair on the other side, ready for his nightly relaxation moment. 

“I come out here every night after I put Ramon to bed to think. No real reason; I think I did it once and never stopped, honestly, but it’s a nice spot. If you lean a bit, you can see the library from over there, and Antoine’s coffee place is to the left. You know La Lune? The place with the clouds? It looks nice at night. Never realized those clouds had lights in them until I sat out here.”

“This is a beautiful spot, Fit. Thank you for showing me. I love it.” Pac’s voice sounds honest, and Fit flushes at the praise. 

“Oh. Well, uh. Good. You can come out here anytime and join me. Or if I’m not home, feel free. It’s a good spot; keeping it all to myself feels rude.”

The silence returns, and Fit turns to Pac to see if he’s ruined things by talking too much, but Pac is already staring back. 

“Is this where you write?”

“Huh?”

Pac’s eyes widen as if he’s said too much. Fit can see Pac recoil into himself, and Fit tries to keep his expression as open as possible, not wanting Pac to feel like he’s said something wrong.

“Um. I see you writing sometimes. At night, you know? I don’t sleep the best, so I get up, and sometimes I see you writing on the couch. Or it’s late, and your light is still on. Sorry for assuming.” Pac speaks in bursts, quickly getting the words out so Fit doesn’t have time to interrupt. 

Fit finds himself taken aback, surprised at how much Pac has noticed. 

“Oh, the journal? Yeah, I usually try to write a little every day; helps with my memory. Unless it’s too cold or something, but yeah, I typically like to write out here. Or just listen to music. Whatever the mood feels right for. 

“What mood is it tonight?” Pac asks slowly. 

Fit’s mouth runs dry as a breeze picks up, cooling him. Pac’s got his hoodie on at least, and Fit contemplates grabbing a throw blanket off his bed but decides against it. He feels like he knows what he wants to say, but it remains too much to contemplate, much less speak. 

“I want to know more about you.”

“Me?!” Pac exclaims, voice breaking. “You want to know about me?” 

“‘Course I do. What’s your story then, Pac? You know why I live here, why I invited you to live here, all that stuff. What about you?” 

“My story? I don’t think anyone wants to hear that. It’s all pretty boring.” Pac snorts at the idea, lifting his leg to rest his foot against the metal of the balcony railing. 

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t mind a boring story once in a while.” Fit hopes he’s coming off well. He wants Pac to feel comfortable in his home, their home now, really, but he doesn’t want to pressure him into divulging more about his life unless he wants to. 

“Don’t think you have to talk about it, though. If you don’t want to, it’s all good,” Fit assures. 

“No, it’s fine. Oh man, I don’t know where to begin.” Pac sighs, turning to look at Fit for inspiration. 

“Where are you from? Obviously, I know Brazil, but where did you grow up?”

“Oh. I. Uh. I grew up in an orphanage.”

“Oh shit.” Fit’s sure he’s fucked everything up now. Way to go, Fit. Ask your roommate to talk about his childhood. Great bonding experience. 

“Yeah. It was fine, though. As far as orphanages go. And I met Mikey there, so that’s how we know one another.”

“Oh really? I just assumed y’all were family. You talk about him like you are.”

“We are, but only in not related. Mike does have a cousin who lives around here somewhere, but yeah. We met at the orphanage and became friends, and then we aged out, and we’ve been on our own since.”

“Sorry to hear that. Seems rough.”

“It was, it was at times.” Pac sighs. “It was very lonely. But then we left and met the rest of the Favela, and everything got better. Mostly.”

“Makes sense why you’re good with kids then,” Fit muses, primarily to himself. 

“What do you mean?” Pac asks with a tilt of the head, seemingly confused. 

“Oh, just…sorry if I’m being presumptuous. I just figured if you grew up in an orphanage, you probably were around younger kids a lot then? You’re amazing with Ramon, and it's the same with Richarlyson. Whenever I’ve seen you with a kid, you seem to know all the secrets. Just figured that’s why.”

Pac stays silent for a moment, processing Fit’s words. 

“Do…do you really think so? That I am good with children?”

“Pac, I have a son. I can speak from experience when I say I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as good with kids as you are. Quackity is a teacher, for god’s sake, and those kids would destroy him in seconds if they could. You’ve got a real skill with little ones; they respect you. I’m kinda jealous, honestly. Ramon adores you. Took him ages to warm up to me.”

Pac hides the desire to question Fit’s phrasing, deciding against digging too deep. 

“Ramon is such a good kid.”

“He is! He is. He’s got good taste, too.” Fit smiles at Pac, who still seems to be processing Fit’s words. He turns back to look out into the town before him, not wanting to put extra attention on Pac if he doesn’t like it. 

“Ramon is only such a good kid because he learned from such a good dad, Fit. Do not put yourself down. He is so great because of you.”

Fit snorts and takes a long sip of his beer. Looking at Pac right now would spell disaster; he’s being too open. If Pac looks at him again with those honest brown eyes, Fit may crack. 

“Thanks, Pac. It means a lot,” is all he can manage. Needing to move the conversation back to Pac, he racks his brain for a segway. 

“So you all have been friends for a while?”

“Years and years. It’s odd, I know, but it has worked for us. Until now, at least. You’ve met everyone now, right? All of the Favela people?”

“Everyone but Bagi. I forgot to tell you! I was going through the applications for the job I posted, and I think Bagi applied. I can’t just say she’ll get the job, but she’s the most qualified. Her interview is this week.”

“Oh, she is the best. You will love her. She is the best of us all. She and Cellbit are brother and sister.”

“No shit?” Fit’s never met Bagi, but he’s seen a few photos, and now that Pac mentions it, the resemblance is there. 

“Mhm. And Cellbit is marrying Roier, you know that?”

“Oh, that I knew. I’ve known Jaiden and Roier for a while. I've only met Cellbit a few times though I can’t say we’ve spoken much.”

“Cellbit is…he is interesting. He and Roier are very sweet. They have so much love for one another, which is good. Cellbit needs someone to ground him, and Roier is never afraid of calling him out.”

“Yeah, Roier knows what he’s doing. He’s a good guy; he’ll keep Cellbit in line.”

“Yes, yes. And Forever used to be married to Cellbit. That’s how we all met.”

“Wait, what the fuck?” Fit does a double-take, shaking his head. This is news to him. 

“Yeah, they got married to adopt Richas and then divorced, but y’know. Histories.” Pac shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. Pac’s approach to this is strangely relaxed, and Fit wonders how often he’s been awkwardly asked to explain his previous living arrangements. 

“What about the other dad I met? Felps? Is that right?”

“Felps is Felps,” Pac says with a singular nod. 

“What does that mean?”

Pac shrugs and waves his hand into the air. 

“Felps is Felps. Hard to describe.”

“Alright then. Interesting group you’ve got there.”

“I love them so much. But I am glad they’re all doing their own thing now. Getting married, falling in love, starting new lives. It is very good for them.”

“Mhm. And not for you?” Fit asks too quickly. He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but he’s come too far now. 

“Excuse me?”

Fit takes a breath and pauses, trying to piece together how to word his response. He wants to learn more about Pac, wants Pac to know he can trust him. He also, admittedly, wants to know why the hell the people Pac loves neglected him in the first place. He’s not complaining, especially not after the day they’ve had together, but Pac deserves more than being an afterthought to anyone. 

“What about you? You said it’s good for them like you weren't included,” is what Fit settles on, hoping Pac isn’t offended. 

“Oh no, I just meant they are all doing big life things, and I am not, that’s all.”

“What, moving in with a single dad and his precocious son wasn’t on your bucket list?”

“Not exactly, but things change, things change,” Pac says with a chuckle. “The rest of the Favela just have a lot going on in their lives, and I don’t. I understand. They get distracted with what is important to them, and I just don’t have as many things to worry about.”

“Bullshit.” Fit mutters into his bottle, tossing his head back as he gulps.

“What?”

“No offense Pac, but that’s bullshit. Friends, family, whoever-they shouldn’t do that shit to people they love. I’m sure they’re all wonderful. Don’t get me wrong, every time I’ve interacted with any of them, I’ve enjoyed it, but just because their lives are busy doesn’t mean they get a free pass to exclude you. It’s bullshit, and I'm sorry they did that to you. You deserve better, and I hope they’ve realized they fucked up.”

Pac is silent. Fit knows he toed the line by being too aggressive about Pac’s family, but he hopes at least one of those idiots earnestly apologizes for being a dick.  

“Thank you, Fit. That is very kind.” Pac is quiet again, but he doesn’t sound angry. Contemplative perhaps, maybe even relieved, but not mad. 

“Ain’t kind, Pac, it’s just the truth. You don’t need to make excuses for them, not around me. They told you the house was changing at the last minute and then didn’t follow up; that’s on them. I just want you to know you don’t need to defend them to me. I like them all and won’t hold a grudge or say anything, but honestly, whatever. Their mistake got me the best roommate a guy could ask for, so maybe I should thank them.” Fit finishes with a flourish, adrenaline spurring him on. He winks at Pac, hoping to break the tension, but Pac holds his gaze and smirks.

“Send them one of those fruit gift baskets. But only the bad fruits.” Pac finally responds, and Fit bursts out laughing. The beer might be loosening him up a little, but god, he wasn’t expecting that response. 

“Holy shit, yeah. Do you think they make them with just like, all melon? I hate melon.”

“I left my phone on the counter; otherwise, I’d order it now. Send a message like ‘Thanks for screwing me over, guys! Now I have cheaper rent and don’t have to clean up after grown men.’ That feels good to say out loud.” Pac laughs as he finishes his beer, resting his head against the chair’s headrest and closing his eyes. 

“There we go! Gotta let that anger out. Why defend adults who fuck up when you can talk shit on a balcony with your roommate, right?” Fit jokes, smiling at Pac’s relaxed expression. 

“I love them so much, but they are all idiots. Wonderful idiots who I will forgive, but I am still mad. I have been pretending not to be, for Richas’ sake. They are all stressed, but that isn’t an excuse,” Pac speaks, eyes still closed, as if he’s reciting a mantra to believe in rather than an explanation. 

“Hell yeah.”

“Thank you, Fit. It feels nice to talk to someone different from Favela about this. I usually don’t like speaking bad about family, but they are too much sometimes. Not living with them all has helped, I think.”

“Hey, it’s understandable. Sometimes, you just need a break away from the people you love. Like, honestly, Ramon is my whole goddamn world. Love that kid to death. But this? Just spending a day talking to another adult? This has been one of the best days I’ve had all year,” Fit admits, allowing his head to loll to one side to look over at Pac. Pac’s already looking his way, the softest smile Fit’s seen etched on his face. 

“Want to know some kind of drama?” Pac asks, and Fit perks up immediately. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely I do.”

“I was picking up Richas the other day, and Forever was there ‘on accident.’ He said he got the days we pick up confused, but he was lying. Fit, I think he was there to see Bad Boy Halo!”

“WHAT?!” Fit shouts, immediately covering his mouth. “Shit, I forgot it’s late,” he says with a laugh. “But really? Bad Boy?”

“I saw it with my own eyes. He gave him a flower Fit. You know that means serious.”

“Holy shit. I did not see that coming.”

“Me either! I thought he had a crush on Phil, but maybe they are just best friends! It is tough to tell with Forever.”

“So you think something was going on there too, right?” Fit asks, eyes gleaming. “I’ve known Phil for years, and honestly, I still don’t know.”

“Same with Forever! I’ve known him a long time, but I can’t say for sure. He…Forever tends to wear his heart on his sleeve. He loves a lot of people. I just don’t know where Phil falls.”

“Phil is the exact opposite!” Fit says with a laugh. “He’s a lot more guarded than most people, but when you have a famous kid and other kids to care for, I don’t blame him for being cautious. I think he and Forever are just close, but who knows? Depends a lot on how the holidays go this year.” 

Pac laughs, smiling wide and in full force. It’s a good look for him. He seems more relaxed than Fit’s ever seen, and Fit’s glad their friendship appears to be flourishing, even if he nearly fucked it all up. 

“I never took you for the fofoca type, Fit!” Pac cheers with glee, shifting in his chair to face Fit more directly. 

“Fofoca? Is that right? That’s like gossip?” Fit questions. 

“Sim! Exactly,” Pac nods along, excited. 

“Good word for the day. Fofoca. I like that. And I love a good bit of fofoca, but only if it’s harmless. And about other people. No personal fofoca, that’s my rule.”

“This is true! It's boring, then. I like the juicy gossip. Where do you get yours? The house used to be central for gossips, but now…” Pac trails off, waving his hand in the air for emphasis. 

“Pac, my friend, you’d be surprised at the personal things people talk about in a gym. I know the lives of most clients and every single person on staff, whether I want to or not.” 

“Oh my gosh, this is my dream. I need to visit this wonderland.”

“You can come by anytime; I’d love to give you a tour!”

“And I could see the loft?!” Pac asks excitedly. His eyebrows quirk up with his question as he exaggerates his expression with a pout.

“Absolutely, Pac. I’d love to show it to you. There’s so much I’d love to show you,” Fit says with a grin. 

Pac’s eyes are glued to Fit. Fit can’t look away, feeling his face redden as Pac holds his look. There’s something unsaid, but Fit can’t quite place it just yet. He feels it in every atom of the air around them. It’s like the static shock earlier, except now it’s in the air, fighting its way into his lungs. 

“So, Fit,” Pac says, bracing his hands on his thighs. “Think of a story. I’m going to get us some more drinks.”

“What kind of story?” 

Pac stands, smirking. He looks down at Fit and winks. 

“Give me some gym fofoca. Tell me about your employees. You’ll think of something.”

Fit nods and turns his head back toward the city as Pac leaves the room. Fit has lots of stories, but he’s not sure what to tell Pac. Something light for sure. 

When Pac returns to the balcony with two opened beers, two still-closed bottles of water, and two throw blankets off the couch, dropping a blanket on Fit as he arranges his own. Fit is surprised Pac thought to grab one for him as well, but before he dwells too long, Fit dives in, rambling about Fit’s Fitness. Lucky for him, Pac seems entirely interested, curling up on the chair to listen with rapt attention. 

“I got a real motley crew running the place. You should probably come on a day when it’s just me; otherwise, you’ll lose your mind. I got Tina, she works the desk. She’s a little anxious and learning to control her anger, but she’s damn good at her job and will kick out anyone with a look. Then Tubbo, who’s like a fucking kid, he’s nineteen or something, but he teaches some gymnastics classes for kids. The kids are obsessed with him. It’s the cutest shit ever, but don’t let him know I told you that. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Fit pauses as Pac snorts in laughter, eyes still peeled to Fit. 

“Etoiles is the newest hire. He’s French and good at like, everything. He used to be a fight coordinator; I think that’s the right title. Stages fights for movies and TV and shit. He teaches a lot of self-defense classes with Tina and then weird shit like sword-fighting once a month. He’s been trying to convince me to let him teach Ramon sword stuff for a year. And then we have Foolish, the other personal trainer, aside from me. He’s the one all the ladies show up for, and I mean ladies. The average age of my Wednesday morning class is about 68 at this point, purely because Foolish is around that morning without fail.” Fit finishes with a laugh.

“Okay Fit, that is it. I am coming over tomorrow. This seems like a TV show!” Pac’s half asleep in his chair, half his beer already gone. Fit reaches over without thinking and opens a bottle of water, handing it to Pac before opening one for himself. 

“It’s ridiculous sometimes. Just a few weeks ago, we had someone come in and try to recruit Foolish to leave the gym to become a full-time stripper.”

Pac chokes on his water, and Fit immediately reaches over to pat his shoulder, too far away to thump him on the back. 

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“To be fair, they probably pay better than I do, but I think they’d be a bit stricter on the shifts. I let Foolish make his schedule, so no amount of abs can offset that.”

“That is. Forward of them,” Pac says with a shake of the head. 

“Yeah, but I get it. I mean, you’ll get it too once you meet Foolish.”

“Is he pretty?” Pac asks, voice dropping. 

“He’s a good-looking guy, yeah. Not my cup of tea, but I see the appeal. His husband is handsome too, but I’ve only met him a few times when he’s come to pick Foolish up.”

“Hm. What about the others? Tina? Etoiles, did you say? And Tubbo?

“Tubbo’s a kid. He has a crush on some guy who works by the pier, but I don’t know their deal. Tina is absolutely gorgeous and absolutely gay. Etoiles, I have no idea what he’s into. He’s French, so most people swoon around him even when he’s telling them they’re shit at whatever they’re doing.”

“What about you?” Pac quietly inquires. 

“Hm?”

“They are not your type, you say. So what about you?”

“I. Uh. Honestly, Pac? I’m not sure if I have a type anymore. It’s… embarrassing to say I ‘spose, but it’s been a while since I looked.”

“Having a kid makes a lot of things difficult. I know.” Pac nods, burrowing deeper into the blanket he’s wrapped around himself. 

“Mhm.”

Now, Fit recognizes the silence has turned awkward. Fit isn’t sure how to break it, and he’s a few beers in, so he decides, fuck it. Be honest. Pac’s been honest with him up to this point; he should return the favor. 

“The last guy I dated was alright up until he walked out on me. Us, I guess. Though he never was like a dad to Ramon or anything. Ramon doesn’t even remember him.”

“Sounds like an asshole,” Pac states plainly. 

Fit snorts. “He really was. What about you?”

“Same, really. Richarlyson is the only priority I have outside of work. There hasn’t really been anyone in a while.”

“Wow, we’re so cool.” Fit’s sarcasm is heavy, and Pac snorts. 

“To being super cool and not lame dads!” Pac says, tipping his water bottle in Fit’s direction for a toast. “One day, we will figure out our types.”

“Dark hair. Dark eyes. That’s about as much of a type as I’ve got.” Fit admits, taking a swig of his water and looking into the middle distance. “Good with kids. None of the flaws I have.”

“Good to know,” Pac responds. “I don’t think I have a type too much. It’s more a personality style, or however you say—people who make me feel alive. When I was younger, I loved adrenaline - doing crazy things. Now, I think I have grown. I like reliable people. People I can count on. People who are there, you know?” Pac’s voice breaks just a bit at the end of his rant, but Fit ignores both it and the shiver going up his spine. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Pac, I know exactly what you mean.” 

Pac smiles again, eyes glassy. He’s looking over the city now, and Fit stays quiet as he watches Pac’s eyelids flutter open and closed, clearly on the verge of sleep.

“Strong is nice too,” Pac mutters into the blanket, unable to gauge if Fit can hear. “Nice eyes. Strong. Good with Richas. Someone who wants a family.” Pac’s voice trails off, and Fit can tell he’s fallen asleep. Fit’s thankful, for once, that Pac is asleep, scared he’d be able to hear Fit’s heart beating in his chest. Fit checks his watch to note his heart rate, nearly as high as his usual workout and spots the time. It’s late enough to sleep. 

Fit looks to Pac to wake him but doesn’t have the will. Pac’s hair surrounds him from where his hood has come down, and he seems so peaceful wrapped up in Fit’s blanket. Rather than waking him, Fit stands, slipping through the doors to his bedroom and retrieving his journal from his nightstand. Pac deserves a little nap, and Fit has to write about today anyway, so he might as well let both happen simultaneously. Only when he’s sufficiently expressed his day in writing does Fit get up for real, putting everything on the balcony away before approaching Pac. 

“Hey. Hey, Pac. Wake up, buddy,” Fit whispers, crouching to Pac’s level. “C’mon Pac, we gotta get you into bed for real.”

Pac begins to stir and blinks his eyes open, looking right at Fit. 

“Fit. Hello.” 

Pac’s voice is gravelier than usual, rough from the nap and the alcohol. 

“Hey, Pac. We gotta go to bed. Ramon’s coming home tomorrow, and we need sleep to finish up, remember?” Fit keeps his voice calm and steady, not wanting to upset a newly awake Pac. 

“Right, yes. I remember.” Pac yawns as he shifts from his position, sitting up to let the blanket fall around him. One big stretch later, Pac stands, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. 

“Thank you for waking me, Fit. I think I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s all good. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make breakfast this time.”

Pac’s smile is soft and close-lipped but powerful all the same. Fit feels alive when Pac smiles at him like this, as though he’s just done something incredible. 

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Fit.” Pac heads out through the balcony doors toward the hallway to his room. 

“Fit?”

“Yeah?”

“We should do this more. This was the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Me too, Pac, me too. I promise.”

“Goodnight, Fit.”

“Night, Pac.”

Pac takes his leave, and Fit watches as the lights dim in the hall. Pac must be turning off the lights as he heads to his room. Ever considerate, his Pac. 

His Pac?

Where the fuck had that come from? Fit asks himself in a panic. His roommate, Pac . That’s what he is. Fit’s roommate. That’s all. 

But, as Fit climbs into bed, he allows himself the silent daydream of imagining so, so much more before being overwhelmed by sleep. 

Chapter Text

If Pac could discover a way to harness Ramon’s excitement, he’s pretty sure the world would never have another energy crisis. 

The moment Ramon is let loose into the condo, he runs at breakneck speed to view his new room for the first time and nearly ends up in the hospital, sprinting directly into his closed bedroom door. If Pac could draw comics, there would be a panel where Ramon’s outline imprints on the door as he slowly slides down. 

One shirt change and bloody nose later, Ramon can finally experience his new haven. 

Fit stands in the doorway, watching as Ramon judges their handiwork. Pac stands just behind Fit, hovering over his right shoulder and bracing himself for the harsh judgment of an honest child. Ramon walks around the room, little hands all over the walls, taking in every addition Pac and Fit have made. His old window seat has been changed out for some soft pillows in complimentary colors, and just before Ramon was dropped off, Pac screwed a whiteboard onto the wall at kid height, perfect for Ramon’s inventions. His black-out curtains are pulled back from the windows and secured into place with what looks like curved antique copper piping. Fit even bought Ramon a little black rolling filing cabinet, one of the smallest available, that he filled with the papers Ramon had left discarded all over the room. 

“Well?” Fit asks, impatient. “What do you think, my boy? Does it get your stamp of approval?”

Ramon is still looking intently at a wall, head cocked to his right. 

“There are different gears,” Ramon says, his tone intelligible. 

“Four different ones. I tried to make the bevel ones the biggest since those are your favorite.”

Ramon stills completely, frozen in place. Pac takes in a gulp of air, holding his breath. He’s unsure what he’s said or done wrong but needs to fix it. Slowly, Ramon turns his body away from the wall and nearly back to the door, his head holding its view on the wall before whirling to look at Pac. Pac waits, not wanting to jump the gun before he knows what the problem is, but his breath flows away with his resolve when he meets Ramon's eyes. 

Ramon’s welling up; fat, wet tears on the verge of slipping down his face. His lip trembles just a bit, and he turns his stare from Pac to seek out Fit. 

“That’s so nice.”

Pac barely hears him, but it’s enough. The tension drifts out of his body like a spirit possessed, and relief fills the space it occupies. 

“Anything for you, Ramon. We’re glad you like it.” 

Fit’s voice brings comfort to any situation. Pac’s realized over the past few weeks that Fit’s voice has a strange effect on him, not simply in the ways of attraction. Sure, Fit’s voice set fire to Pac’s brain in more ways than one, but he limits himself to thinking about that when he’s alone, locked in his room, and confident his roommate is asleep. 

Aside from that, Fit’s voice makes Pac feel grounded, almost aware of reality. Sometimes, it just takes Fit mentioning something on his balcony to pull Pac from his daydreaming. Other times, when Fit can tell Pac’s quiet, buried within his own nest of self-doubt, Fit comes up with a quip that pulls Pac back to the surface. His voice lets Pac know he’s there in more ways than one, and Pac is becoming increasingly dependent on its positive attributes. 

The same voice that comforts him does so for Ramon. His father’s words get to the heart of Ramon, and seconds later, he bounds from the other side of the room toward Fit. Fit can see it coming a mile away, sporting a megawatt smile and scooping his son into his arms before Ramon's long limbs can find purchase. 

Ramon buries his face into Fit’s neck, the tiny fist of his right hand rubbing away the tears in his eyes. From his place behind Fit’s shoulder, Pac can make out half of Ramon’s face resting on Fit’s broad shoulder. Fit’s rubbing a palm into Ramon’s back, muttering something in his ear that Pac can’t hear. Pac wants so profoundly to reach out and wipe away Ramon’s tears, tell him he deserves all the good things, but he doesn’t want to overstep. This is a family moment, and Pac is where he needs to be right now - teetering between two worlds. 

“Just so you know, I am not crying,” Ramon sniffles. “I am happy. I am not crying.”

“Got it, buddy. Not a tear in this house unless it’s from your old man, okay?” Fit says, the palm on Ramon’s back shifting to push the hair off his forehead.

”We all know you’re the tough guy around here.” 

Pac bites his lip to hold back his grin at Fit’s words. Annoyingly, he’s probably telling the truth. 

“Don’t forget to thank Pac too, buddy. He did most of the work.” Fit knows Pac is shooting him a look, but he can’t be bothered to mind. He leans Ramon away from his chest for a moment, hoping he’ll look to Pac to thank him, but as always, Ramon has other plans. 

Ramon releases his arms from around Fit’s neck, knocking him off balance for a moment, as Ramon leans further away from Fit and reaches out to Pac. 

Fit freezes. Ramon fell asleep next to Pac a few times while they were watching movies, but otherwise, the affection between the two has been verbal only. Ramon likes Pac a lot; he doesn’t hide this fact, but this is the first time Fit’s seen him physically express it, or express it this clearly.

Pac’s eyes look to Fit in surprise, but Fit quickly nods, assuring him that everything is fine. If his son wants to hug Pac, his son can hug Pac all he wants. Ramon’s spindly arms fly around Pac’s shoulders, and he all but climbs out of his father’s grasp and into Pac’s. 

Pac is shocked but knows how to handle the unexpected strength of a little boy. He finds his own arms winding around Ramon as he takes him from Fit, supporting him with his forearms as he finds a better position.

“Thank you so much, Pac!!!” Ramon says, screaming into Pac’s ear. “This is the coolest room ever! I can’t wait to show everyone! Dapper is going to be soooo jealous!!!” Ramon’s feet fly with joy, and Pac releases a surprised ‘oof’ when Ramon’s tiny heel comes in contact with Pac’s side. 

“Alright, buddy, let’s let Pac breathe too, okay? We’re glad you like it. I’ll give you my phone. Just this once, I’ll let you take a photo, and I promise to send it to Bad Boy, alright? I’m sure he can show Dapper for you.”

“Okay!” Ramon nods enthusiastically as he speaks, nearly giving Pac a bloody nose to match his own. “Thank you SO so much. It’s cool. I like it.” 

Ramon wiggles in Pac’s arms until he’s slipped down to the floor. He reaches into Fit’s pocket and procures the phone for himself, turning back to his room to try and find the best angle. 

“You okay? Sorry, he gets excited sometimes. Doesn’t happen often,” Fit assures. 

Pac understands Fit’s underlying words. ‘My kid is so happy; we can’t ruin this. You better be fine because he deserves this moment.’ Pac can almost hear Fit speaking into his ear to reiterate how important Ramon is to him. As excited as Ramon seems, Pac is almost certain he’s never seen Fit this joyous. Granted, they haven’t known one another for a long time, but Fit practically radiates joy as he watches his son process every single detail of his room. Pac wonders how much Fit has underestimated himself; this moment seems to be a milestone for him. Fit’s a much better father than he gives himself credit for, and seeing him react with such delight at his son simply being happy lights something deep within Pac. 

At heart, Fit is a family man. 

Something about this moment feels a little bittersweet. Pac can’t help but feel he’s intruding on a private family moment. No matter how long he’s lived here, it hasn’t been long enough for him to react so intensely to this father-and-son pair. At least, it shouldn’t be long enough. Yet, here Pac finds himself, watching two of the most deserving people he knows enjoying their happiness. He can’t bring himself to walk away and tear his eyes from this moment. 

Luckily, the choice to stay or go quickly becomes Ramon’s decision. He runs back across the room and tugs at Pac’s arm, Fit’s phone shoved into Pac’s stomach. Pac has no say when confronted by an energetic eight-year-old. 

“Mister Pac, can you please take a better picture of the gears?”

“What’s wrong, Ramon? You a little too tiny there, shrimp?” 

Ramon looks annoyed at his dad, spitting back within a second. 

“The wall is too tall. I’m a perfect height, Fit.” 

Pac snorts at his comment, impressed. 

“See! Pac agrees!”

Pac laughs now, and Ramon stands proud with folded arms. 

“What the hell? C’mon man, you’re supposed to be on my side!” Fit teases. Pac meets his eyes above Ramon’s head, and there’s a moment of shared amusement. Sure, this might be a little over the top, but verbally sparring with Fit is a challenge, and Pac loves a challenge. 

Pac slides past Fit, far into his personal bubble. He winks as he passes Fit by, walking to join Ramon’s side across the room. He stands on his tip-toes, squats down, and nearly lays on the floor, eyes peering up at the wall with every pose. He finally stands with his hands on his hips, mirroring Ramon.

“Sorry, Fit. I am with Ramon on this one. The wall is simply too tall; we are the perfect heights.” Pac nods sagely to himself and then down at Ramon as he speaks, waiting for Fit’s dramatic response. Fit isn’t much taller than him, honestly, a couple of inches max. Nothing you’d even notice! And yet Pac was always getting teased anytime he reached for anything on a high shelf in his household. Fit loved to lord over Pac and Ramon that he was taller, asking Pac, “Need help short stack?” anytime he reached for an item overhead. Sure, Pac laughed every time, but he still rolled his eyes while he did it. That has to count for something. 

“I’m catching strays from short kings! What is this?!” Fit sighs, covering his face with his right hand. 

“You brought this upon yourself!” Pac asserts, arms crossed. “Look who’s laughing now! The short kings!”

“Yeah!” Ramon yells, holding his hand up for Pac to meet in a high-five. 

“I can’t believe it, my home, and yet it’s run by everyone other than me.” Fit’s smirking at them both now, crossing his arms to mirror Pac. 

“We all have our faults.”

Ramon’s words leave Pac breathless with laughter. Sometimes, he’s too old for his age, mimicking phrases he heard his dad say rather than speak plainly. It amused Pac to no end. Pac allows himself to sit on the floor, still wiping tears from his eyes as he regains control of his breathing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, funny guy.” Pac looks up to meet Fit’s eye and confirms this is all teasing. Fit is definitely not upset, beaming down at Pac with all the brilliance of the summer sunrise. 

“Now, how about we get these photos taken, guys? I think I have an idea of something to do this afternoon once you’re both ready.” Fit never mentioned this before. Pac wonders when their friendship moved from roommates to being allowed on family excursions, but he can’t complain. How could anyone complain seeing Ramon’s eyes light up in intrigue at his father’s words? 

“Hm. Interesting, Fit.”

Fit’s brilliant smile morphs into a knowing smirk as he and his son size one another up. It’s quiet moments like these that so vividly show Fit and Ramon are father and son. Ramon mirrors so many of Fit’s mannerisms, from his posing while he stands, down to his tone of voice. Ramon is emulating his father in every way his childish approach can, and Pac can’t fathom how Fit can see this devoted little boy and not know he’s a fantastic father. 

Pac is so far into his dream world it takes Ramon to snap him out of it. 

“Pac!” Ramon says, leaning far into Pac’s face. “Can you take pictures of the wall for me now?”

“Of course, Ramon! Of course!” Pac says, stumbling slightly on his prosthetic as he slides to rest on a knee. “I’ll get good shots, I promise!”

Pac angles the camera, taking photos of all the walls at different heights and distances. He doesn’t move far but gets a few good shots, scrolling through them for Ramon’s approval. 

“You know, this wall is pretty cool, Ramon. I think you could use it for other things, like a backdrop,” Pac mutters to himself, looking at the relatively empty wall space he finds his back facing. 

“Like for a movie?” Ramon asks, kneeling next to Pac. 

“Yeah! They’re usually green, but I think the burgundy is cool. It’s a neat background if you want to take pictures, hang something, or film a neat little movie.”

Pac’s eye is trained for this. He is hired to take awkward spaces and make them look alive, at least most of the time. He scans almost every room he enters, taking stock of the lighting, the windows, and the number of outlets. Details most people overlook can inspire an entire design for Pac, and Ramon’s room was a joy to pull together. He wonders how long he’ll have to live here before Fit allows him to take on the condo's other well-sized but poorly adorned rooms. 

“Can we make a movie, Fit?” Ramon asks, big eyes peering at his dad from beneath his hair. 

“If you want to, Ramon, sure we can. You have to think of an idea, okay? I’m sure Pac has no problem dressing up in costume for your film either, right Pac?”

That smug bastard. 

Pac would glare at Fit if it weren’t a damn good callback. Instead, he shoots him a look, raising his brows and fighting a smile. Fit looks far too proud of himself, and Pac begins wracking his brain to figure out how to playfully take him down a peg. Smug looks good on Fit, as much as Pac would love to deny it. His arms fold across his chest, and Pac’s eyes spend far too much time mapping the curve of Fit’s biceps and strong shoulders. Fit looks both confident and cocky, and it’s doing things to Pac’s brain that might end up calling him to bed earlier than planned. 

“Really, Mister Pac? You’d be okay dressing up if I make a movie?” Ramon’s big, dark eyes shift their focus to Pac, and how is he supposed to say no to that?!

“Just Pac, remember our deal?! And, of course, Ramon! Your dad told me all about Doc and Marty’s adventures. I would love to play with you as well!” 

Ramon’s bright, sparkling smile is worth whatever god-awful costume Ramon assigns him. 

“We should get some practice shots, Ramon, just to makes sure the lighting is good!” 

Pac lays back, propped up by one elbow. His hands circle around Fit’s phone as he gets Ramon in the frame. It’s a great shot with the silliest perspective, and Ramon’s big eyes staring down the lens send Pac into a fit of giggles. 

“Okay, action shot, Ramon! You’re Godzilla!”

Ramon jokingly roars as if he’s coming for Pac, and Pac can see Fit watching them from where he stands across the room. Pac’s focus on Ramon breaks because of Fit’s stupid arms again, and he neglects to see Ramon charge in. 

“RAWRRRR!!” Ramon shouts as he jumps on Pac. Pac yelps and drops the phone directly onto his face as Ramon sits on his stomach, knocking Pac back. The wind is knocked out of Pac momentarily, and it’s such a surprise that he can’t think quickly enough to react.

“You little troublemaker!” Pac finally exclaims, looking up at the little kid on his stomach. Ramon is giggling up a storm, and Pac can’t help but phase into dad mode, putting the skills he uses on Richas into practice. 

“You think this is funny, Ramon?” Pac asks, shooting him a stern look. 

“Yes,” Ramon says bluntly. Pac hears a peal of laughter echo through the room and turns to see Fit doubled over, laughing his ass off at them both. He wipes fresh tears of laughter from his eyes, sighing in amusement.

“Ramon, buddy, you can’t attack our friends like that. Get up and leave Pac alone.” Fit says, walking over and offering a hand to Pac to get up. 

Pac looks to Ramon, who seems to follow his every thought. Pac lifts his hand to take Fit’s and pulls hard once he has a good grip. Seconds later, Fit joins them on the floor as Ramon scurries off Pac and onto his dad, tickling him. 

“Nooo! I’ve been betrayed!” Fit yells between squeals of laughter. 

“It’s about time!” Pac jokes, watching Ramon poke and prod at his dad. 

“Oh, you’re one to talk! He’s been bullying me for years! You haven’t gotten nearly the abuse I’ve had!” Fit fires back, grabbing Ramon under his arm. “What do you say, my boy? Should we even the odds?” 

Ramon’s eyes are alight with mirth. He barely needs to be told what to do, and Pac braces himself. Ramon launches himself back at Pac, poking him in the sides to make him laugh. Pac can’t hold back his laughter and throws his own hands in every direction to fight back. 

He’s not sure how long they playfight for, but it’s enough to wear Ramon out for now. Pac rolls to one side and finds himself almost directly in Fit’s arms. He’s spread out on the floor next to Pac, Ramon recovering from his giggle fit in the small space between the two adults. Fit’s eyes are gleaming in the light, tinged with the stale tears of too much laughter. He looks relaxed and content and smiles softly at Pac over Ramon’s head.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Pac shouldn’t be lying on the floor laughing with his unbelievably handsome roommate and his far-too-adorable son, but this is where life has led him. He could deny it, get up, and make an excuse to leave the room, shoving his feelings deep in the hopes of getting over them quicker. That's what he should do. Probably. Maybe. 

Pac isn’t that person anymore. He’s not sure how it happened, but he doesn’t have the urge to run anymore. Maybe he’s worn out; perhaps he’s matured. Whatever it is, for the first time in his life, Pac wants to be exactly where he is right now, lying on the floor with this caring man and his sweet son, with not a care in the world. He can overthink this later if needed, but he’s too happy to care. 

Pac hopes the smile he’s returning to Fit is as brilliant as Fit’s, but he doubts it; he doesn’t see how it could be remotely possible. There’s so much emotion behind every one of Fit’s smiles; it's like he has a finite number and is rationing them out for special moments. Pac’s seen a few of these genuinely joyful smiles now. He hopes he gets to see them all. 

“Now, if we’re all sufficiently giggled out, how do we feel about lunch?”

“Fit, I am so hungry,” Ramon says, flipping from his back to his stomach, peering at both adults. “I think I will die soon if I don’t eat.”

“Dramatic but alright, thanks for that, Ramon,” Fit chuckles. “You hungry, Pac?” 

Fit’s giving him an out. He can say he’s got work to do (he does) or things to wash (he also does) or people to meet up with (okay, that one not so much). Fit is letting him out without feeling guilty, and the Pac of a few months ago would decline the invitation so as not to burden the group. Past Pac, however, never had to deal with two pairs of eyes staring down at him with pouts already forming. 

“I could eat, yes,” Pac confirms. He pushes himself from lying up to his elbows, rolling his neck a few times to get the cricks out. 

“It’s still early enough. I think La Lune will be open. Want to get lunch, Ramon? Maybe if we’re lucky, Antoine will have Pomme today! I think she usually hangs out on Sundays.”

Ramon bolts upright at the mention of Pomme. 

“Let’s go! I haven’t seen Pomme in forever. I have her Animporphs book to give her!” Ramon’s already pulling himself to his feet, running to the living room to check his bag for Pomme’s book. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Fit mutters, using one hand to push himself up to sitting. Pac does the same and gets to his feet first, dusting himself off. 

“I’ll have to clean all this up when we get home,” Fit says, eyes scanning the room for the remnants of stencils. They had put most of Ramon’s furniture back, but a few things lay looming in the corner, needing Ramon's instruction on where to place it. 

“We can do that after lunch, it’s not too much,” Pac asserts. “I have no plans today. I’m happy to help.”

Pac looks down at Fit to offer him a hand. Fit stares at him for a moment, shaking his head when Pac’s eyes meet his. 

“You’re too good to me, Pac.”

Fit’s words are meant to be lighthearted, but they only succeed in setting Pac’s brain ablaze. He wishes he was good enough for Fit. He’s trying to be, even if it embarrasses him to admit it. Fit has an odd pull on Pac, the kind that makes Pac want to help him do everything possible. Fit doesn’t need the help, but he deserves it. He deserves support and kindness and to have someone to lean on. Pac will be that someone if he can. Fit’s come through on every promise he’s made Pac thus far, from remembering the coffee he likes to studying painting techniques to helping him move in. Fit has been there for Pac since he walked through the door, and Pac hopes he shows Fit how much he appreciates it in his own way. 

Pac huffs at Fit, rolling his eyes. Fit takes his hand, and both freeze momentarily as Pac speaks. 

“I am not too good to you; you are too hard on yourself.”

One quick tug and Fit is on his feet, dangerously close to Pac’s chest. The height difference that didn’t matter before comes into play now that the two are so close, and Pac still does not see the downsides to being a little shorter. His head is about Fit’s shoulder height, which seems like a nice place to be. 

Not like he’s considered it or anything. 

“We should go before Ramon starts to hitchhike.”

“...La Lune is three blocks away.”

“Exactly. If we let him out without us, he'll be in Canada by dawn. You have no idea what he’s capable of.” 

Pac barks out a laugh, wheezing. 

“Stop making me laugh! My rib hurts.” 

“Sorry, sorry. Can’t hold back this top-tier comedy, what can I say?” 

Pac rolls his eyes again and steps back, centering himself before leaving the room with Fit hot on his heels. Fit heads to the living room while Pac continues his trek to his own bedroom, swapping out his lazy day clothes for black jeans and a white sweater, sliding on some sneakers, and tucking his bomber jacket over his arm before meeting the others by the door. Ramon vibrates with excitement, bag strapped to his side. He checks twice to make sure Pomme’s book is safe within and bounces from foot to foot as he tries to get the adults moving. Fit’s changed as well, dark jeans similar to Pac’s and a grey henley on top, complete with a fleece-lined denim jacket. 

Pac immediately thinks he looks like every Hallmark movie leading man who owns a Christmas Tree Farm. It’s not a bad look for him, in all honesty. 

“Alright, everyone set? Ramon, you can head to the elevator, but you gotta wait for us, okay?” Fit orders. Ramon nods intently, opening the door and checking the hallway before setting off. 

Fit gestures for Pac to walk ahead of him, pausing to lock the door and check it before joining. There’s a calm, relaxed silence as they walk alone, watching Ramon up ahead. 

“This has been really fun,” Pac says to fill the air. “This has been the best weekend in ages.”

“I’m with you there, Pac. I’m having a great time. Plus, that little playfight with Ramon was way more exhausting than expected. I’m counting that as a workout for today!”

“Yes, me too. I never took you for being ticklish,” Pac says with a teasing smile as he zips up his jacket, preparing for the drop in temperature. 

“Oh, Pac, you have no idea,” Fit responds with a wink. Pac is taken aback, stopping in place while Fit walks up ahead. 

“C’mon Pac! Can’t be late!”

That handsome, smug bastard.

Chapter Text

Tucked away in his dreamscape, Fit feels relaxed, warm, and cozy in his bed. The sheets feel somehow softer than ever before; the thread count must be astronomical. There’s a press to Fit’s back, someone’s chest, Fit quickly realizes, and he leans back into their hold. Arms tighten around him as a kiss presses into the back of his neck, and warmth surges through him. He shouldn’t be this warm. 

Fit can feel the sun on his back as he slowly wakes up. It’s nice, but the dream he was enjoying was far better. He stirs in bed, heat raking through his body as he rolls over, haphazardly tossing the covers to the side, uncaring of where they land. Still, waking up in a bed bathed in sunlight is a joy, or at least, it would be if Fit wasn’t late. The sun never hits his bed when he wakes up. Shit. 

Fit kicks the tossed covers to the bottom of his bed, right arm reaching out for his phone. He notes the time and groans. It’s not terrible; it won’t throw off his day too much, but Ramon will absolutely be late for school. 

Fit pulls himself out of bed and dresses quickly, just suitable enough to get Ramon started on getting ready before attempting it himself. He shrugs on the too-thin t-shirt from last night, alongside some sweatpants, and all but sprints to his son’s bedroom.  

Ramon’s bed is empty. Fit feels immediate panic before he assesses the situation, pausing to process his environment. Ramon wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling him. There’s no sign that anything went wrong in this room, and Ramon’s backpack and clothes he set out for school are missing. Ramon’s awake, that’s all. Fit takes a few deep breaths, centering himself with the assurance that his baby boy is fine. Turning on his heel, Fit heads straight to the living room, eyes peeled. 

Ramon’s there. Of course he is. 

Ramon sits at the kitchen island atop one of the high stools. He has a cartoon on Fit’s iPad, but Fit can’t determine which. He looks to be finishing his cereal, and Fit can see his bag and lunchbox ready by the door. 

“Ramon! Good morning, my boy! Sorry, I overslept.” Fit leans down to place a kiss atop Ramon’s head, sliding into the empty stool to Ramon’s right. 

“It’s okay, Fit. You’ve been very tired. Pac said you were up working really late. And to let you sleep longer.” Ramons is transfixed by his new favorite cartoon, oblivious to Fit’s shocked expression. 

Fit blinks in surprise. 

“Oh.”

He worked late into the night, only getting a few hours of sleep. The fall has brought with it contract renewals for machinery, and Fit’s not great at numbers. He only has a few days to sign off on everything, and the work is piling up. Fit has no memory of seeing Pac the night before. He must have entered the room when Fit was distracted or merely saw the light on. Whatever the reason, Fit’s flattered Pac went out of his way to give him some time. 

“Did Pac get you ready for school?” Fit asks.

“No. Well, kinda. I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, Ramon. I’m sorry to hear that.” Fit swivels on his stool to look at Ramon, ensuring he’s not just putting on a brave face. “You could have woken me up. You know I’ll always wake up for you, Ramon.”

Ramon rolls his eyes, nervous under his father’s eyes. 

“I know. It wasn’t that bad. I went to get water after I woke up, and I laid on the couch with Meathead. Pac woke up, saw me, and stayed until it was time to get up.” Ramon says everything matter-of-factly, barely dragging his eyes from this episode of Miraculous Ladybug. 

“I see, I see. Well, that was very kind of Pac to do.” Fit says, unable to find another way to word it. It was nice of Pac to do. Fit would have done the same if he came upon a sad child, as any reasonable person should, but it’s kind all the same. 

“Yeah. Pac’s really cool, Fit.”

Ramon’s tiny finger presses the screen, pausing his episode. He turns to look at Fit with an expression that conveys too much for his age. 

“Really cool. I like him a lot, Fit. I think he likes me too!” Ramon says with a grin. 

“ ‘Course he does, Ramon! You’re the coolest kid in town.”

“Don’t say anything, Fit, but the other day he called me a word I didn’t know, and I asked Richarlyson at gymnastics, and he said it meant son. Is Pac gonna be my dad?” 

Jesus Christ, Fit is not awake enough for this conversation. 

“Uh. Well. He. Uh. Listen, buddy, Pac is our roommate, okay? He is our good- uh—good friend and roommate. Pac spends a lot of time with you, so maybe it’s slang or something for a kid. I don’t know enough Portuguese to know, but if it bothers you, Ramon, I will talk to Pac, okay?”

Ramon’s dark eyes search Fit’s as his small forehead creases.

“Why would it bother me?”

Fit has no idea what to say. He’s formulating an honest yet child-appropriate response when Ramon speaks again. 

“I like Pac. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind.”

“Oh. That’s. Uh. Yeah, that’s good, Ramon. I’m glad that doesn’t bother you.”

“He could be a cool dad. Richarlyson said Pac is good at bedtime stories. Maybe he can tell me one? If I ask nice?” Ramon’s looking up at Fit again, and he has no idea how to respond to his baby boy. He wants to tell him yes, go! Ask Pac for a story; he’d love to hear Pac tell it, too. Fit wants to tell Ramon that Pac isn’t his dad, but yeah. Yeah, maybe he could be one day. Fit wants to tell Ramon he’s unsure what’s happening here, but Fit knows something is brimming, pulling him toward Pac’s affection all the time. He wants to tell Ramon how Pac makes him feel important and trustworthy when they hang out, and more than once, he’s caught himself staring at Pac just a smidge too long to be friendly. He wants to tell Ramon all of this. 

Then, Fit quickly remembers Ramon is an eight-year-old child, and he has adult friends and a therapist for these discussions. 

The bathroom door on the other side of the condo opens, and Pac steps through dressed like a fashion ad for the concept of autumn. A thick, brown sweater adorns Pac’s torso, paired with light-colored jeans and brown boots. Pac’s hair is freshly washed, not yet guided in place by Pac’s usual array of products. He looks fucking fantastic, and Fit looks like a man who just woke up after three hours of sleep. Typical. 

“Bom dia, Fit! Sorry, we did not wake you yet! You were up so late, I was worried a bit. But! I promise I had an alarm all sets once Ramon was ready for school.” Pac assures Fit, going so far as to lift his phone from his pocket to turn off said alarm. 

“No, thank you, thank you! Thanks for getting Ramon ready. It’s been a long week.” Fit can’t muster more than that, opting to shrug and hoping Pac can infer his intent. 

“It is no problem, Fit! It was fun; Ramon and I got to hang out a bit, didn’t we?”

“Fit, Pac said Richas likes this show, so we watched it, and it’s so good! You would like it.” Ramon informs Fit. Fit can’t be sure when Ramon started his video back up, but the kid is immersed. 

“Well, I’ll watch an episode with you tonight; how about that, Ramon?” 

Ramon nods rapidly, finishing the end of his toast as he watches.

“I figured you would not take the time to eat, but coffee is in the pot, and your thermos is over there. I made a sandwich for Ramon’s lunch and made you one too, so eat something instead of protein shakes.”

“Thank you, Pac, that’s so thoughtful.”

Fit heads to the coffee machine, immediately dispensing the dark liquid into his travel thermos. He returns the pot and walks to the windows, peering outside to get an insight on today's transportation. 

“Looks like a beautiful day, Ramon. Want to walk to school today? I can get the bus to work.”

“Yeah! Let me grab my sunglasses!” Ramon hops off his stool, the episode over. He sprints to his room to grab his glasses and wanders back in with them already on. 

“Alright, James Bond, get your stuff together; we gotta leave now to get there on time.”

Fit heads back to his room, thankful he packed his bag for work the night before. He changes at rapid speed, tossing extra clothes in his bag. He can shower at the gym anyway; there is no use in wasting time now. Ensuring he has everything, Fit throws his bag over his shoulder and meets Ramon and Pac at the door. 

“You guys have good days! I’ll see you tonight. Behave yourself, Ramon!” Pac scolds with a smile. Ramon heads into the hall, and Pac steps back to allow Fit to pass. 

“Have a good day, Fit.” 

“You too, Pac.”

Fit stares a bit too long. He’s horrifically aware of it, and the awkward feeling hits him for the first time in weeks. 

“Right. Uh. Sorry. Yeah. Bye!” Fit stutters to Pac, backing down the hall. 

Pac laughs and waves as the pair leave. 

“Real cool, Fit.” Ramon jokes, staring straight ahead at the flashing elevator button. 

“Quiet you,” Fit hits back, mussing up his son’s hair as the elevator doors ping their arrival. 

If Fit spends the walk to Ramon’s school daydreaming about what it’d be like to have a goodbye like that every day, no one needs to know.

It’s a short walk to the school, and Ramon bounces along the way. Ramon likes school despite none of his close friends attending, and Fit is so grateful he has such an understanding kid. Ramon knows the loft plan and doesn’t try to fight Fit on it, even if it might be a bit unfair. Ramon deserves a good life. He just needs to wait a little longer. 

“Alright, buddy. Text if you need anything. I’ll be here to pick you up in our usual spot.” Fit says, stopping to drop into a squat outside the school entrance.

“Gym day or home day?” Ramon asks, clearly planning his after-school activities already. 

“Not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I do, promise.” 

Ramon accepts that answer and his father’s hug before waving at Fit and running to the school gates.

Fit stands at the bus stop, contemplating his day thus far. It was nice having Pac say goodbye to him and Ramon this morning, and Fit finds himself wishing it would happen more often. Maybe he can convince Foolish to take a morning shift so he can return the favor to Pac sometime. He boards the bus, daydreaming about the surprised look on Pac’s face as he wakes up and is met with a homemade breakfast from Fit. And Ramon, of course. Maybe he could learn to cook something from Brazil? He contemplates whether it would be a nice gesture or too much. 

Sure, Fit would have to learn to cook first, but stranger things have happened! A handsome Brazilian lives in his home, so that’s pretty good proof. 

By the time Fit makes it to the gym, he’s blushing from the thoughts alone. Maybe he does have a little crush on his roommate. As he unlocks the employee entrance, he tries to shift into business mode, flipping the light switches, turning computers on, and starting up the machines before people begin to file inside. Despite being perpetually late, Tina is scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes, and Fit has a few training sessions in the morning and one in the afternoon. Lunch might help with getting the last of the paperwork done. Sure, he could ask Tina for help with filing; she’s much faster at this stuff, but he likes to let Tina work on her art when it’s slow. She has such talent, and he feels guilty for pulling her from her passion despite paying her to work. 

The morning passes quickly, especially when Etoiles and Tina show up. Tubbo and Foolish show up around noon to prepare fo the afternoon shift, and Fit smiles, knowing it’s been a good day. 

Then he gets the notification. It’s a calendar reminder he set weeks ago and completely forgot about.

EARLY DISMISSAL: 12:30 PM. PLEASE PICK UP YOUR CHILDREN IN THE USUAL LOCATION.  

Shit. 

Fit completely forgot Ramon only had a half-day. Initially, he was going to plan a little afternoon off with Ramon, but then Pac came into the picture, and Fit forgot to follow up on a lot of things. 

Who the hell can he even call to pick up Ramon? Fit would take the bus to get him, but he has training sessions until 12:30, and Foolish is already booked solid. It’s too late to cancel, and Phil and his other parent friends have to get their own kids from across town already. He could ask Tubbo or Etoiles, but neither drives. 

Tina takes pity on Fit as she watches his breakdown in real-time. 

“Fit. Dude. Why don’t you call your roommate?”

“Pac?” Fit croaks. 

“Duh. He drives. He’s home. You trust him with Ramon, right? Seems like your best option.”

Pac is the best option. Pac is responsible. Fit knows Ramon will be safe with Pac, and Ramon already thinks he’s ‘cool,’ whatever that means. Pac will do anything to keep Ramon safe -  maybe this idea could work. 

“Isn’t that too much? Or is it too much? I don’t want him to think I think he’s a glorified babysitter just because he lives with us.” Fit admits, looking sheepishly down at Tina. For being such a small woman, she was far too intimidating. 

“You are an idiot. He’s nice, right? He’ll do it. And Jesus, Fit. Let him help if he offers! Someone around here has to make you listen, you scumbag.” Tina grabs Fit’s phone from his hand, scrolling through his contacts until her finger hovers over Pac’s name. 

“Call him. Now.”

Fit nods as he takes the phone from Tina’s hand. She’s already pressed the call button and leans back to watch as he raises the phone to his ear. 

“Hi, uh. Pac?”

“Hello Fit! Wow, I was not expecting this; you never call me!”

“Heh. Yeah, yeah. I, uh. I need a favor. I promis-”

Pac interrupts and agrees before Fit can finish his sentence or explain. 

“Of course, anything.” 

“Oh. Um. Thanks, Pac. It means a lot. Ramon’s school is getting out early today at 12:30, and I forgot. I can’t get out of this session, and I don’t know who else to call, but-”

“I can do it no problem, Fit. Do I need to do anything special? I promise I will keep Ramon safes and bring him straight to the gym.”

“You’re amazing, Pac,” Fit breathes, unaware he even had that thought in mind before speaking. 

“Oh! Oh, uh. Thank you, Fit! You…you are amazing too.”

Fit’s face is on fire, but he can’t hold back his smile. He can feel disgust in the room, which means Tina must still be watching his interaction with Pac, no doubt fake gagging at Fit’s words. 

“So, um. You know the address, I think? I’ll call now and have you added to the permissions list, and I’ll let Ramon know to look for you. Is that alright with you?”

“Absolutely! I will take care of it, Fit. Do not worry yourself.”

“Thanks again. I won’t worry if he’s with you. See ya, Pac.”

Fit hangs the phone up and takes a breath, eyes closed. Seconds later, they snap open again as Fit enters business mode, already scrolling for Ramon’s school number. 

“Geez, Fit, that was so gay. Like I’m gay, and I have never seen anything so gay.” Tina snipes. 

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” Fit asks with a smirk, holding his phone to his ear. 

“Ugh. The closet is glass, bro. Just ask him out already! Geez. Actually…” Tina trails off, shooting Fit a wicked grin. The school answers and immediately puts him on hold before he can get a word out. 

“This means your precious roommate is coming to work today! Sorry, Fit, I gotta go. My fellow co-workers need me to inform them of any potential schedule changes, boss!” Tina darts from the room before Fit can stop her, and he sighs in defeat. His team may be small, but they will drag him for days because of this. 

“Sorry about the hold. How can I help you?” The voice at the other end of the line finally appears.

“Hi, I have to add a permission for my son, Ramon. Someone new will be picking him up after school.”

“No problem, sir. May I have the person’s name?”

“Pac.”

“Thank you. And should I mark it for today only or add them to Ramon’s list of approved guardians?”

It’s a basic question. It makes sense, all in all. Ramon can only have a limited number of people pick him up, and right now, that list is limited to him and Phil. It can’t hurt. 

“Add him to the list of guardians, please.”

Tina is not an idiot, despite what her coworkers may say. 

She is, however, surrounded by idiots all day long. 

Managing the front desk of a popular gym was never on Tina’s bucket list, but it could be worse. Fit is a pretty awesome boss, content with allowing Tina to follow her passions as long as her daily work is done on time. She was only hired to set up appointments, handle memberships, and manage the reception desk, but she finds herself working as Fit’s personal assistant through no one’s fault but her own. Fit would positively faint if he heard her say it, but the man needs help. He’s always working himself to the bone, and Tina likes to help people. If it were up to her, she’d restructure the whole place and have it running more smoothly, but that’s a lot of changes to drop on someone at once. One day she’ll give him her ideas. Fit has more important things to deal with than stupid scheduling issues and whether Gatorade is on standing order. It only takes her 10 minutes a day to check on things like this, and it simplifies Fit’s life, so why not? 

The post-morning rush/pre-lunch lull is particularly long, so Tina sketches through it, drawing her co-workers and people who walk through the door. She’s good at watching, good at picking up on personality traits. Customer Service sucks, but she’s got a skill for reading emotions, and it makes her a wiz at her job. You need to be the right combination of polite but strong-willed to handle people complaining about their bills, and Tina is an ace at it. 

Right now, however, those skills are being put to the test, along with her patience.

Fit is in love with his roommate. Judging from how Fit speaks about him non-stop, that was easy to pick up on. Half their pre-opening meeting today was “Oh, Pac said this last night,” or “Tina! Look at this cute sketch Ramon did of Pac!” Honestly, if it weren’t so sweet, it would be sad, but Fit deserves something nice. He’s so considerate to everyone around him; it’s nice to see someone show him a bit of appreciation. Or, at least, someone he’s not paying.

Tina is not stupid. 

The minute Pac walks through the doors with Ramon by his side, Tina understands everything Fit has been struggling with. Pac is pretty, the type of handsome that seems unreal at first glance. He’s got all the hallmarks of a leading man: thick wavy hair, dark eyes, and the kind of bone structure people pay good money for. Before he even reaches the desk, Tina picks up on how attentive he is to Ramon, bending down to tie Ramon’s shoe for him without being asked. Ramon is a great kid, and Tina adores him. Ramon giggles as Pac asks for help tying his shoes, and he pats Pac on the head just like Fit does to Ramon. If Ramon approves, Tina can worry a bit less and plot a bit more. 

Tina’s been running this desk for a long time, and she’s known Fit even longer, all the way back when she was just Foolish’s friend and lacking confidence. She followed Foolish to the gym once, needing a ride after, and Fit had no issue letting her stay. She made one comment about how female-friendly the gym was, and Fit began interrogating her on what to do to make it better. She gave honest opinions and didn’t fear being brutal since she never considered returning. Then, Foolish picked her up a week later and drove her to the gym, where she got a surprise job offer. Fit gave her a raise, control over hours, and helped implement her ideas. He was a real one, and there was no way in hell she’d ever let some super handsome guy break his heart. 

Annoyingly, Pac doesn’t seem the type. It’s almost too bad - she hasn’t gotten to throw anyone out of the gym for a while. The minute Pac and Ramon enter the gym, his eyes are peering every which way, taking everything in. He approaches the desk with a smile, Ramon quick on his heels. Tina stands to lean over the desk and fist bumps Ramon, who returns it and smiles at her. 

“Hi, Auntie Tina!” 

“Hey Ramon! How are you today, little dude?”

“Oh, you are Tina! Fit has told me so much about you! You are the one with the self-defense class, right? Fit told me I should come to it!” 

Fit told him about her. This is deeper than she thought. 

“Fit asked me to bring Ramon over. He had an early day at school. Do you know if he is busy or if I should wait somewhere with Ramon? I am happy to wa–”

Pac’s voice trails off, and Tina lifts her head from her work to see what Pac’s problem is. His mouth hangs open, eyes in shock. She spins behind her to figure out what has gone wrong, only to find nothing. 

Nothing but Fit, her boss, sparring with Etoiles. It’s a normal thing around here. Etoiles will beg anyone for attention if he’s bored for more than five minutes, but that doesn’t seem to be what Pac is taken aback by. Turning her head from Pac to Fit and back, she quickly realizes Pac has never seen Fit like this, and while Tina herself isn’t attracted to her boss, she can understand the appeal. 

Fit’s gym-branded grey tank top is practically glued to him with sweat, defining every muscle in his upper body. He’s a good-looking guy, tall and broad, but more of a wrestler’s body than a weight-lifter's. He weight trained with clients all morning, so he’s in tighter shorts than his usual basketball-style gym wear, and he’s got one of Etoiles' fake sparring swords in his hand. She guesses Etoiles is practicing for his next event and suckered Fit into giving up one of his small breaks a day, which is a feat even for Etoiles. The two stop to rest their swords against the wall as they shake hands, and Fit grabs at the bottom of his top, pulling it up to wipe away the sweat of his brow and leaving his defined abs on display. 

“Fuccccdgeing ack.”

Tina cannot, in good faith, qualify the noise that leaves Pac’s mouth as words. Her head snaps back at him, and the embarassment on his face makes her feel embarrassed for having heard it, immediately blushing. Pac falls to the ground, body hidden by the tall walls of the reception desk. 

“Oh my god, I am the idiot. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Pac mumbles into his hands, covering his face as he curls into his body. 

Tina holds back the need to laugh, stepping out from behind the desk and around to meet Pac and Ramon. 

“Pac? Are you hurt?” 

God bless Ramon, innocent baby. 

“Pac is fine, Ramon, he’s just a little silly, that’s all. Why don’t you tell your dad you’re here! He’s been so excited to see you all day. I’ll make sure Pac gets some water, okay, buddy?”

Ramon nods in quick succession, stopping to pat the top of Pac’s head before sprinting around to find his dad. Tina hears Etoiles’ loud voice booming a hello in French and knows Ramon will be distracted for a few minutes. 

“It’s okay, Pac. We all get hit with the gay panic sometimes.”

Tina may not be stupid, but she isn’t the most graceful with her words. 

“Oi! Pac!” Fit’s voice echoes against the gym walls, and Pac pulls himself together quickly, moving to stand as if nothing happened. 

“Hello Fit!”

“Thank you so much, Pac. You saved me today.” Fit’s beaming at Pac, still covered in sweat. Tina’s eyes watch Pac as Fit speaks, and good lord these two could not be more obvious if they tried. Stupidly, Fit is too nervous, looking everywhere but Pac, and completely misses Pac openly staring at Fit’s sweat-covered muscles. 

“It is nothing; I was watching TV and bored. Ramon and I had a good time.” Pac’s voice cracks as he speaks, and Tina uses all her willpower not to laugh at the awkwardness she’s witnessing. 

Fit moves to respond, but his phone rings, dampening the mood. He scowls at his phone, lip lifting into a slight snarl at the sight. 

“Oh shit. Uh, gimmie a sec, willl you? I’ve got to handle this. I’ll be back in a minute.” Fit’s giving Pac puppy eyes, and Tina can see Pac’s heart melting in real-time. His smile softens as he nods, shooing Fit away with this hand. 

“Of course, of course.”

Fit walks away, muttering to himself and leaving Tina and Pac alone yet again. Tina is starting to get it. This Pac guy seems to be a big ball of nerves, and it would be incredibly endearing if it weren’t a little sad. All of this over Fit?! Some guys get all the luck. 

Speaking of some guys…

“Oh shit, you’re Fit’s roommate!”

A new voice pipes in, and Tina sighs. Things are stressful already. Now, she has to deal with this moron, too?!

“That’s me!” Pac replies, and the soft smile is gone, replaced by a more guarded, fake one. Tina’s brow quirks at the shift, but that’s Pac’s business, not hers. 

“Holy shit! You’re like a guy. Just like a real guy!”

“Um. yes?” Pac looks to Tina, who simply shrugs in response. Some people just need to be experienced, not explained.

“Oh man, this rules. I was beginning to worry Fit was, y’know, losin' it! Making up a dude who lives with him, but the dude is a real dude, and it’s you! You’re the dude!”

“I am the dude!”

“This is sick. Do you work out man?” 

“Not very much. Here and there. You work here?”

“Yeah, man! I’m a trainer! It's like Pokemon, but not as cool. Tubbo can do flips and shit, and Etoiles has like swords, but I just, I just run a lot? And I lift things? Fit says I’m good with people and not too intimidating, so I just tell them what to do nicely, and bam! Got a job.”

“Fit’s a good judge for this, I suppose!” Pac admits with a shrug. He’s not sure who this is, much less what their relationship to Fit is, so he doesn’t want to put his foot in his mouth and embarrass himself, at least not more than he already has. It’s a bit hard to come back from being gay panicked into near collapse at a reception counter.  

“So do you lift?”

“Sorry?”

“Like, lift weights? Or are you more of a runner and stuff?”

“Uh.” Pac laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Not a runner. At least, not as much now. I swim sometimes.” Pac contemplates utilizing Fit’s ‘drop some heavy personal history and laugh’ approach, but he can’t find it within him to fuck with Fit’s employees on their first time meeting. He has a sinking feeling he will want these people to like him in the future. Luckily, whoever this guy is, he doesn’t seem to pick up on Pac’s apparent nervousness. Or maybe he’s ignoring it. Either way, it is a win for Pac right now. 

“HOLY SHIT, dude, you should totally come to the next beach day! No one ever wants to swim with me! I’m like a shark, man, just like splash splash, y’know. Can’t get me out of the water half the time.”

“That’s cool!” Pac says, not sure where this conversation is going. Beach Day does sound fun, and after seeing Fit nearly shirtless earlier, Pac can’t complain about the possibility of it happening again. 

“Hell yeah. My kid loves it, too. She’s fun as heck. Ramon knows her. Fit said you’ve got a kid, too, right? We should all go to the beach!”

“Foolish, let the man breathe!”

“Tina, he’s clearly breathing.”

“I mean give him some space, scumbag! You’re crowding him, and he just got here!”

“He’s fine, right? You’re fine, right, roommate? Wait, what's your name anyway? I’m Foolish.”

“Hi, Foolish. Uh. I’m-” Tina cuts Pac off before he can respond politely.

“PAC. Oh my god, Foolish, his name is Pac. How do you not remember this?”

Pac slowly steps back, not wanting to get pulled into whatever fight may take place. Either way, he’s got money on Tina. 

“Remember?! Sorry genius, we’ve never met before!” Foolish spits back, rolling his eyes at Tina. 

“FIT TALKS ABOUT HIM ALL THE TIME SCUMBAG!” Geez!”

“Fit talks about me?” Pac can’t help but cut in. He felt included when Fit told him about his work and invited him to see it sometime, but Pac never imagined a day like today. Knowing Fit trusts him to care for Ramon means so much to Pac; it’s the ultimate form of trust. Asking someone to watch over the person you love most means something, and Pac would have been pleased if the day ended here. But no, apparently, Fit talks about him at work . To his work family. Pac can’t hold back his smile, looking at Tina with hopeful eyes. 

“Oh yeah, like constantly dude, all ‘my roommate is so cool, my roommate this, my roommate that, my roommate painted Ramon’s room, it’s all the time,” Foolish answers instead. Somehow, it means even more having Foolish say this. Tina may sugar-coat it; she seems to have some emotional awareness, but Foolish is blunt and to the point. 

“Oh.”

Silence hangs in the air between the three. There’s tension between Tina and Foolish; Pac can feel it, but it doesn’t seem like animosity. They communicate with their eyes and small movements, conveying something Pac can’t understand. Tina is much better at hiding her face than Foolish, and Pac can tell Foolish will speak before he does. 

“Can you do pull-ups?”

“What?” Pac asks, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Pull-ups!” Foolish lifts himself onto the pull-up bar in one swift movement.

“You good at these?”

“Uh. I guess? Yeah, I can do them. My upper body strength is pretty good.”

“Oh shit. Wanna see how long you can hang?”

Foolish looks at Pac with a big, silly grin, and Pac senses he’s just been offered a spot in the family. Maybe they’re testing him to see if he’s good enough to associate with Fit and Ramon. Speaking of the two, Pac spies Fit a few feet away, still talking on the phone. Ramon is with the sword guy from earlier, Etoiles, Pac remembers. Etoiles seems to be sneaking Ramon a sword and attempting to hide from Fit’s sightline. 

This place is like a cartoon. 

“Oh fuck it.” Pac sighs. “Why not?!”

“Oh shit, you’re cracked at this, Pac! Can you do it with one hand like this?”

Foolish lets go of the bar with his right hand, hanging like he belongs there. Pac shrugs but reaches up to the bar again, pulling himself up once before dropping his left arm. 

“Sorry about that, it wa–”

Fit walks back into the room only to find Pac hanging off the pull-up bar with one hand, somehow doing one-armed pull-ups like they were fucking nothing. At some point, he’s lost the autumnal look from earlier, discarding his cozy sweater in place of the thin white t-shirt underneath. This time, Fit’s mouth drops open, eyes glassy as he watches his roommate lift himself with one hand, his shoulders and arm muscles igniting with every rep. Fit knew Pac was in shape; he’s seen him lift and fling Ramon and Richarlyson around several times in the past few months, but this was different. This wasn’t an adorable father-and-son moment. The view before him lights something within Fit that he hasn't felt in years, a feeling he wondered if he would ever feel again. Fit’s mouth is dry as Pac smiles confidently at Foolish, showing off his strength. 

It was fucking hot.  

“Fit! My broooo! Are you ready to go again?”

“Shut up, Etoiles!” Tina’s voice cuts through the haze in Fit’s mind. “Can't you see he’s having a moment?”

“What? What is going on here? Who is that?”

“Fit’s roommate! He’s here! He’s doing one-arm pull-ups with Foolish, and Fit is experiencing gay panic. You gotta let him work through it, man! Don’t go bullying the bossman now!”

“Fit. My brooooo!” Come on! You are a strong guy! You can do that too! Show him how strong you are! That will make him love you. Or fight him! Maybe if you beat him in combat, he will agree to marry you. It could work.” Etoiles says with a simple shrug. 

“Jesus Christ, Etoiles. How do you make it through the day?”

“What?! What is this Tina?! What have I done now? I am helping a friend! I am trying to use his strengths! I have done nothing wrong today, Tina.”

“You need to touch grass, scumbag. No wonder you don’t have a life.”

“WHAT?! WHAT IS THIS?! I don't have a life! Excuse you, Miss Special, I have so much of a life. I have a life you don’t even know about! I have so much life.”

“Outside of work? And fighting in your little matches?! You have a life?!”

“Okay, occasionally! I do things! I do so many things! 72 years I have worked here, and you only know this little about me? Wow! No wonder! I guess I will go fuck myself now since clearly, nobody cares about Etoiles!” 

“I. I didn’t know he could. Uh. Do that.” Fit mutters, eyes still peeled at Pac. It breaks the flow of conversation, leading all three trio members to stare at Pac for a few moments. 

“Yeah. Uh. I’m going to take a quick shower. Let him know I’ll be back in five, okay?” Fit says, turning to look over his shoulder at Pac one last time before disappearing into the locker room. 

“Nice job, now you scared him!” Etoiles fires at Tina, giddy at mocking her. 

“You are the absolute worst. Man was having a gay breakdown, and you’re over here talking about stick fights again! Read the room moron!” Tina snaps at Etoiles, bringing about another argument. 

Two figures stand feet away, taking in everything around them. 

“Uncle Tubbo, why is everyone yelling?” Ramon asks, confused. Tubbo readjusts his headband as he sighs, pulling Ramon by the hand. 

“Who the hell knows, squirt? They’re all dumb. Wanna see how many times we can flip off that pile of mats before your dad notices?”

A handful of minutes later, Fit reemerges from the locker room, fresh and clean. He’s glad he thought ahead and packed a change of attire, now sporting a pair of well-fitted jeans and a dark green t-shirt. His motley crew of employees still circles Pac like wolves, but Pac doesn’t seem to mind. Fit hears a loud cackle from another corner of the gym and assumes Ramon must be with Tubbo, probably breaking Fit’s rules and flipping off the equipment—typical Friday. 

As Fit approaches the group, he’s pleased and slightly surprised at how well they all seem to be treating Pac. In all honesty, Fit expected Pac to leave and head home once Ramon was safely dropped off, but he’s happy Pac stayed. As much as he loves to complain about his employees, they are important to him, and he would take their opinions to heart if they had any serious issues with Pac being a part of his life. 

“There you are!” 

Tina’s voice grabs the attention of everyone around as she stomps forward, pulling Fit closer to the group by the wrist. 

“You took freaking forever, man! I thought you drowned in that shower. I was two minutes away from sending Pac in to find you.” 

“-ack!”

Pac’s voice breaks as he speaks to the group. It’s adorable as Pac’s face reddens with embarrassment, so Fit steps in to cover for him. 

“Hey, hey! This is a place of business! Sometimes, a man needs a shower, that’s all. Don’t you guys have work to do?!”

“No.” A trio of voices answers back to him, and Fit can hear Pac stifle a snort. 

“Oh, don’t you start too!” Fit says, leaning his head in Pac’s direction. “Here I am trying to save you the pain of talking to these three more than needed, and what do I get for it?” Fit overdramaticizes. 

“No, No! Everyone is so nice, Fit! It’s okay.”

“Hmm. If you say so, Pac.” Fit smiles, catching Pac’s eye and winking.

“Ah. Yes. Okay, I see what is happening here. Tina, you were right.” 

“Oh, call the press!! Post it on Twitter! Etoiles admitted I was right about something for once!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, what happened? Did I miss somethings?” Pac asks, eyes falling on everyone in the group one by one. 

“Nothing Pac, these two are just being morons as usual.” Foolish chimes in. Tina and Etoiles turn to him and start ranting at him for things neither Fit nor Pac can understand. 

“Yeah. Uh. On that note, Would you like to see the loft now, Pac? I think everyone down here can take care of themselves for a bit,” Fit inquires, nodding his head toward the back of the gym. 

“Yes, please! I have been looking forward to this!” Pac admits. 

“Awesome. This way.” Fit guides them to the back of the gym, tucked away. He pops open a door disguised as a wall panel and walks inside. There’s a foyer back here and one glass door leading to the outside that’s nearly hidden. 

“I don’t use the right door too often,” Fit shrugs. “I gotta make it look pretty out there if we start using it. Usually, I just cut through the gym.”

Pac nods and commits this tidbit to memory. Maybe he can help Fit clear up the outside in the spring and tie it in with the loft. It’s basically a front door, anyway. 

“Stairs or elevator?” Fit asks, one arm outstretched in each direction. 

“Stairs, I think. But the elevator is a cool touch.”

“Yeah, it’s convenient for moving, that’s for sure.”

Pac follows Fit up the spiral stairs, already processing how a paint change would make these stairs much more of a focal point. The off-white is doing nothing to give the space character, especially not character reflective of Fit and Ramon. 

“Here we go,” Fit says, opening the door. The top of the landing opens into a vast space and Pac gasps at the sight. 

The natural light in this place is unreal, and Pac’s mind works a mile a minute as he processes the views. When Fit told him he wanted to be able to hear and see the beach, Pac never imagined a view like this. Pac can see the beach go on for ages from this vantage point, the smell of sea salt and sand wafting through as Fit opens a large set of balcony doors further down the space. 

“This is going to be my room.”

Fit stands in the open doorway, looking out to the sea. Pac pulls out his phone, daring to grab a photo of Fit from behind. He’s silhouetted in light, and Pac needs the dimensions of this place ASAP.

He snaps a few pictures before tucking his phone back into his jeans and walking to meet Fit. 

“This place is incredible! I can see why it’s so important for you to fix it up. It’s a beautiful place to live.”

“I’m glad you think so, Pac. It’s been a dream for so long; I hope to get it somewhat like I want. A lot of the walls are framed already, so the layout is mostly there, but it’s hard for me to visualize how it will look. My room here, that's for sure, and Ramon’s in the opposite corner over there. It’s above the reception desk, so it’ll be quieter for him at night. Plus, I splurged on the soundproofing, just in case, but there’s not much noise from downstairs, at least. Oh, and the kitchen has to go against that wall; the contractors said connecting the gas and water would be easier. Everything else will just end up where it ends up!”

Fit’s been ranting for a few minutes, but Pac pays it no mind. This is the most passionate he’s ever seen Fit act outside of Ramon, and it unveils a side of Fit Pac was unaware of. Fit is a big concept person, Pac has now learned. He may not know how to reach that big concept, but he’s determined and steadfast enough to get there. Fit thinks of his son before anyone else but also treats himself to a beautiful view, so maybe he is starting to pick up on the idea that he deserves nice things, too. Who knows? All Pac can say is he hopes he sticks around long enough to be here when Fit and Ramon move in. 

“It’s awesome, Fit! Is it okay if I look around a bit? I already have ideas.” 

“Absolutely, yeah. Oh, Ramon asked me to give you this, I forgot. Might be good to use now after doing his room.” Fit pulls something out of his back pocket and reaches to hand it to Pac. Their fingers brush as Pac takes the gift in his hands, sending a shock through his system. Fit feels it too, judging by how he jumps for a split-second, and Pac finds himself thrilled that it wasn’t one-sided. 

In his hand is a small notebook, a pocket-sized spiral that will fit perfectly in his jeans. Ramon has a dozen around the house, always grabbing one to have on him. Pac remembers Fit giving him one to write his ideas in when exploring Ramon’s room for the first time, and here he is again, reminding Pac his ideas are worth recording. Pac smiles as he slides the pen out from inside the spirals, flipping to a fresh page. There’s a message on page one, and Pac has to hold himself back from tearing up as he reads.

Pac. Dad says you like to write things down too! I have extra if you need more! 

~ Ramon :D

“Hope it helps.” Fit says quietly as he watches Pac’s reaction. 

“It will, yes.” Pac says, sniffling once. “Very much.”

Fit merely nods in response, which allows Pac to wander around the loft. The space is big, which Pac had expected from the size of the gym, but it would make a great conversion. Aside from the natural light, there are high ceilings, and the walls are already prepped for electricity and plugs. Several of the rooms are framed, just as Fit had said. Theoretically, if Fit decided upon the layout, Pac could have drywall done in this place in no time. He’s not an architect or builder by any means, but if the inspections look good, he’s happy to design a good flow for the space. He has several people he could reach out to for help. This could be Pac’s big way of thanking Fit for all he’s done. 

“How many bedrooms are you planning for?” Pac asks, talking into the air. He continues before he gets a response. 

“You could easily fit four or three and an office? You have an office downstairs, though, so I'm not sure if you’d need it. Four bedrooms is good, though. You could make those other two for guests or hobbies or anything.”

“We’d only have one spare room, so I figured it’d be a guest room I could convert to use for whatever we need.”

“Hm. Good idea. What about the other, though?”

“Oh. No, yeah. Three bedrooms and then one guest room. Me, Ramon, you and then a whatever room.”

Pac freezes. He’s included. Fit’s included him in the project. Fit wants him here.

“Does that work? I mean, I don’t know a lot about building and design stuff. Does that seem possible? For you?” Fit asks, the question bearing more weight than he thought. 

“Yes.” Pac says as quickly as Fit finishes his sentence. “Yes, all of this works really good for me.” Pac wouldn’t turn down the offer for anything on earth. 

Fit smiles down at Pac, big and broad. Nothing has been discussed, but there’s an insinuation here that Pac picks up on, and he hopes to god Fit is drawing the same conclusions. 

“Great. Wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

A pause passes between the two, hanging heavy in the air. There’s so much to say, but neither is ready to say it; instead, they are content with smiling at one another despite their rapidly reddening faces. 

Pac’s the one to finally break the stare-down, assessing his notes. 

“I think I’ve got all the notes I need right now. Lots of ideas.”

“Love to hear it. Are you ready to head out? We can softball some ideas this weekend if you’re around.”

“Yes. Yes, I would love to. This has been a surprising day; I never thought I’d do so much. I’m starving though, so we should bring Ramon home soon.”

Fit nods in response and leads the way back to the entrance. Fit guides Pac back down the spiral staircase, steadying themselves on the railing. It’s a little loose, nothing that would cause danger, but rickety enough that Pac adds it to his list of needed rehauls when he’s back on solid ground. 

Fit holds the door open for Pac to pass through first, ever the gentleman. Back inside the gym, Pac sees everyone at work. Tubbo has a few kids in a room, teaching them cartwheels. Foolish is with a client, and Tina is conversing with a new customer at the front desk. Closer to Fit’s office, Etoiles stands with Ramon, guiding him in the use of a small wooden axe. 

“This place is something,” Pac mutters, taking in everything he missed when he arrived. There’s a rock climbing wall to one side, tucked behind a row of treadmills, bicycles, and ellipticals. The patio leads to the outdoor pool, closed for the increasingly cool weather but impressive nonetheless. There’s some unused space to the side, and Pac wonders what they could do with it to make it more inviting. 

Fit. He means what Fit could do to make it more inviting. Not they. Well, maybe, but Pac doesn’t waste time contemplating. 

“Sure is.” 

Pac forgot Fit was next to him as they stand in silence. Fit speaks with such pride about his work and Pac’s heart throbs in his chest. Fit’s eyes examine the gym with amazement, as if he never thought this would come to fruition. Pac sees the delight in the eyes of everyone who works here and in Ramon, who loves to tell everyone he meets how his dad owns the coolest gym in town. Fit has made himself something to be proud of, and Pac feels privileged to be invited to see it grow. Maybe if he helps with the upstairs, Pac can pay Fit back for all the kindness he’s shown him. Or at least continue to be a part of their life. 

“We better go round up the boy, head home if that’s good with you?”

“Yeah, sounds great, Fit! Like I said, I was just starting to get hungry.”

“Awesome, yeah. You want to order Luigi’s tonight? I know they have that lasagna you love, and Ramon’s been on a real pasta kick. I’d doubt he’d mind another spaghetti night.”

Fit remembers his order. 

“Yeah, yes. Uh. That would be perfect. I am surprised you remember my favorite!” Pac tries to fake a laugh to hide his embarrassment, and thankfully, Fit is as oblivious as ever. 

“Of course, Pac! Gotta know what my, uh, roommate likes, right?! You want my phone? I think the usual order is saved in the app…I’ll get Ramon off the wall. Looks like he and Etoiles are badgering Tubbo.” Fit pulls his phone from his pocket, handing it to Pac with a smile. “The code is 0403, but that’s pretty obvious, I’m sure.”

Fit jogs off across the room to fetch Ramon, and Pac has never been so glad to have a few moments by himself. He holds Fit’s phone, fingers slightly shaking, when he realizes Fit just gave him his phone password. That’s…more than Pac expected. Sure, it wasn’t hard to guess his password would be Ramon’s birthday, but knowing Fit trusted him enough to say it like that, Pac isn’t sure how to process this. 

He does the only thing he can now: focus on what needs to be done. Right now, that’s the dinner order. He flicks through Fit’s apps to find their usual carryout app and types in the restaurant to find that it did indeed save their last order. Lasagna, spaghetti, carbonara, extra bread, and all the parmesan possible. Pac bites his lip in contemplation as he slides through the menu, deciding Fit won’t be upset if he orders a few cannolis as a treat. Smiling as he places his order, he exits the app and accidentally opens Fit’s recently used tab. In the rush to close it out, Pac taps the next most recently opened app, Fit’s gallery. It’s not his place to look, password or not, so he immediately goes to close it before noticing a shade of blue he’s positive Fit does not own. 

Looking through the gallery, Pac finds photos of him and Ramon asleep on the couch. He doesn’t remember this, but they did watch Moana on Monday during dinner, so he and Ramon must have fallen asleep by the end. They’re cute photos in all; Pac wouldn’t mind a copy. His face burns knowing Fit could have taken a shot of just sleeping Ramon but included Pac as well. Fit’s always including Pac. 

Maybe that’s why Pac’s so head over heels for his roommate. 

He hasn’t admitted it to himself yet, but he knows something is brewing. Something about Fit feels so different than anyone else he’s ever had feelings for, and as scared as it makes him, it also makes him want to see it through more than anything. Fit is kindhearted, compassionate, hard-working, doting, steadfast, loyal, and incredibly handsome. He’s a dream made real, and Pac hopes this can become something. He must take it slow, but Pac doesn’t think Fit would mind. He’s told him about relationships and enjoying a slow burn, so Pac is ready if Fit ever decides to try. In the meantime, he wants Fit to know how much he cares for him. 

Locking Fit’s phone, Pac goes to the entrance to meet with Fit and Ramon. Ramon seems to be in one piece, so nothing too intense must have happened. 

“Tubbo, I told you, the foam cubes are for gymnastics! So no one breaks their skulls open! Whether or not they make suitable flotation devices for ducks does not mean we let them loose in the pool!” Fit sighs as he speaks, looking to Pac for help. “Back me up here, please, Pac.”

“I support Fit’s rights and wrongs,” Pac says with a nod, hoping that is enough. 

“Oh sure, Fit, of course your boyfriend would say that!” Tubbo bellows. “Hi, I’m Tubbo! You seem nice, king. If you can put up with his old ass all day, you’re probably a fuckin’ saint. Is he as annoying at home as he is here? Does he do anything embarrassing I can use against him? Bro friend & boyfriend partnership?”

“Oh god, I’m out! Let me close up the office, and I’ll be right back,” Fit says, leaving Pac to the wolves.

Pac bluescreens and stares at Tubbo, attempting a response. 

“Uh. Well. If I find anythings, you can be the first to know.”

“Fuck yes!” Tubbo shouts, pumping his arm in the air. “I’m gonna wreck his shit, but in a polite, boss and employee kinda way. No one is gonna get hurt. Oh, Ramon said you’re good at drawing and designing stuff. I want to build a machine that can launch golf balls at an alarming rate. Any idea how compact I could make something like that?” 

“What the fuck?”

Tubbo laughs soundly, collapsing and bracing his hands on his knees. 

“Fuckin’ hell, that was hilarious. Anyway, yeah, think you could help me come up with something?”

“Why do you want to launch golf balls?”

“Aypierre.”

“Who is Aypierre?!”

“My friend,” Etoiles interrupts, jumping onto the table outside Fit’s office like a guard dog. “He and Tubbo are locked in an eternal battle over which can be more insufferable.”

“I see.” Despite being sure he’s walked into a sitcom, Pac loves these people already. 

“Oh fuck off. Aypierre owns a mini-golf course behind my house, and his stupid balls always end up in my yard! So I want to build a golf ball cannon to return them all simultaneously.”

“Right.”

“Yup. It’s your pretty standard prank war.”

“Oh god, is Tubbo talking about Aypierre again? Call me when it’s over,” Tina says, exiting the conversation as quickly as she enters. 

“Alright, you ready, Pac? Sorry, had to close everything up in the office.” Fit says as he returns, jacket over one arm and Ramon’s backpack on the other shoulder. 

“Yep, I already ordered. It should be ready by the time we walk there.”

“Perfect Pac, Perfect! Thank you so much.”

“Anytime, it was no problem.”

Pac and Fit smile at one another, a smidge too long for everyone else to tolerate.

“Oh. I get it now. ROOMMATES!” Foolish says with light in his eyes. “Fuck yeah, guys. Congrats Ramon.” 

Foolish holds a fist out, and Ramon bumps it with his own. 

“Uh…yeah. Sure. Yeah, Foolish, we’re roommates. You knew that?” Fit questions. 

“Oh. Yeah, I did, but now I know you’re roommates, you know?” Foolish waggles his eyebrows at the pair, noting Fit’s flushed face. 

“Not really. I’m sure it’ll come to me. Now, keep this place together for me, okay guys? Don’t forget to lock up and Tubbo, take every single one of those cubes out of the pool, or they’re being replaced with your paycheck!”

“Aw, man.”

“Wait, you guys are getting paid?”

“GOODNIGHT!” Fit yells behind, tugging Ramon to the door. 

Fit holds open the entrance door, allowing Ramon and Pac to exit first. Fit gets situated, giving Ramon his backpack as he helps him put his jacket on. Once Ramon is bundled, Fit puts his own coat on, and Pac reaches down to take Ramon’s bag, alleviating Fit of one responsibility. 

“I got it, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Pac.”

Fit reaches down to take one of his son’s hands in his own, leading them down the street. Pac adjusts his outfit and Ramon’s bag, following along at their side until he feels a familiar pull on his sweater. He knows that tug. 

It’s a small hand pulling on his jacket for his attention. 

Pac looks down to find Ramon looking up at him, holding out his tiny hand to hold. Pac takes it in his own, and holds Ramon’s hand as they walk down the street. He misses Fit’s gaze in the corner of his eye, watching his roommate and son bond. 

The cool autumn air lends itself to quicker movements, and it’s not long until they find themselves outside of Luigi’s. 

“I’ll go grab the food; want to help carry the bags, Ramon?” 

Ramon nods enthusiastically, dropping Fit and Pac’s hands to attempt to open the restaurant door. 

“You okay with waiting?” Fit asks Pac. 

“Of course! I’ll wait for you to as long as it takes.”

There’s that heavy air again. Fit’s mouth turns into a small smile as he nods, guiding Ramon to open the door. Pac smiles as he watches them go, content with the day thus far. 

“Pac?! Pac, is that you!?”

Oh shit. Cellbit and Roier.

“Hello, guys!” Pac waves enthusiastically as his family approaches the sidewalk, doing his best to prepare himself for this conversation. 

“Where have you been, man? You haven’t been answering the group chat in a few days. Is everything okay?” Cellbit inquires. He seems genuine, but Pac remains on edge.  

“Everything is good. I’ve just been busy, you know. Work, making designs, life things; that’s all.” 

Pac knows Cellbit doesn’t buy his answer, but he also knows Roier isn’t going to let Cellbit start anything in the middle of a public sidewalk. Thankfully, Fit and Ramon save him at the last moment. They’ve been doing that a lot recently. 

“Alright, who ordered the extra cannoli’s for tonight, hmm?” Fit’s voice goes straight to Pac’s heart as he and Ramon exit Luigi’s. Fit’s back is to the group, using it to press the door open and guide Ramon, who carries the sides in a small bag. Fit uses a playful tone, a specific voice Pac has only ever heard Fit use for Ramon and himself. It feels special anytime Fit uses it, and Pac hopes the cold weather is a good excuse for his flushed cheeks. 

“I thought it would be a nice treat!” Pac admits with a smile. Only then does Fit look up and notice they’re not alone. 

“Cellbit! Roier! Nice to see you guys. How are you doing?” Fit smiles their way, and they return it, a look growing across their faces. 

“Fit! Well, I wasn’t expecting to run into you tonight, but this all makes sense now…” Cellbit says, trying to catch Pac’s eye. Pac is conveniently bent down, retying Ramon’s perfectly tied shoelaces. 

“Now I see why Pac is busy all the time! And why he hasn’t been answering messages.”

Fit’s brow quirks at Cellbit’s words, and he offers Pac a hand as he stands, securing Ramon’s boots. Pac sends Fit a look of embarrassed pleading, and Fit’s jaw clenches.

“Yeah, my roommate is a busy man! You know how life gets, guys. Following up on things is hard to remember sometimes, isn’t it?”

There’s a tension in the air now. Fit is never one to back down from a challenge, and while he doesn’t view either of these men as a challenge, he wants them to know he has Pac’s back through everything now. If they’re going to drop the ball with Pac again, Fit’s going to be right there to pick it up. 

"Sí sí! Stressful all the time. That’s life. Sometimes, you forget important things.” Roier chimes in, meeting both Pac and Fit’s eyes. He and Fit share a slight nod, and Fit knows everything will be fine. Roier is a real one and, more importantly, an honest one. If anyone will call people out on their bullshit, even family, it’s Roier. 

“Speaking of important things, how is the wedding planning going? The big day is coming up soon!” Fit’s ability to change gears is a skill Pac remains jealous of. Pac can’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve, making it hard to keep his emotions in check. Fit never seems to struggle with that, able to turn on a dime. 

"Sí sí! Next month! I think we’re good to go; at this point, I don't give a shit. Whatever happens, happens as long as we can get married. Right, Cellbo ?”

Cellbit, who was sending looks of concern to Pac until now, suddenly tunes back in.

“Sim, yes. That is what’s most important. It’s going to be so special. Thank you for being a part of it, Pac.”

Pac’s head shifts to meet Cellbit’s gaze. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Cellbit is family; even if Pac is upset at being forgotten, he still loves him. He loves them all so much. That’s part of his problem. He is still actively sorting through it, but some things are more important than holding onto anger. Being a groomsman at Cellbit’s wedding is more important. 

“What about you, Fit? Will you be joining us?” Roier asks. 

“Oh! Uh. Well, guys, this is awkward, but we weren’t on the invite list. Which is totally cool; we don’t know one another well. Just sayin.”

“What?! Oh shit. Well, come, come! There’s plenty of space!” Roier implores with a smile to Ramon. 

“Yes, do come! Pac, you had a plus one, right? I’ll just put Fit down as your plus one! And there’s plenty of space for Ramon. There will be many other kids there, so he will have friends!”

“Oh! Well, if everyone is okay with it, we would love to celebrate with you all. Right, Ramon?”

Ramon nods enthusiastically up at the adults. 

“Is Richas going to be there?”

“Of course! You guys can have fun together. I think you’ll be seeing a lot of one another soon.” Cellbit smirks at Pac as he speaks. 

“I’m excited!!”

“We’re gonna need to try your suit on tomorrow, Ramon! You gotta look nice for the party!”

“Aw yeah! Handsome bros, Ramon!” Ramon and Roier share a fist bump, already giggling.

“Well, we should get going. Lots of warm pasta to consume!” Fit says, beaming at the couple. 

“Yes, of course! You guys enjoy your family night! We will see you soon!” Cellbit says. 

Dinner is a quick affair, and everyone bundles into the living room to settle across the couch immediately after eating. It’s not long after Ramon falls asleep, head on Fit’s lap and feet buried under Pac’s thigh, nestled into the cushion between. Pac doesn’t notice Ramon’s fallen asleep until his favorite part passes without Ramon’s giggles. As he looks to his left, Pac’s heart jumps to his throat yet again. 

Ramon is peacefully sleeping, head lying across his dad’s lap. Fit’s hand slowly cards through his son’s hair, and he looks down at him with all the love in the world. Fit’s face is soft and relaxed, and for the first time, it hits Pac that he might be the only person on Earth who’s ever seen this look on Fit’s face. He is so lucky. 

“Thank you, Fit. For what you said back there.” 

Pac breaks the silence, fully aware that his voice cracks. He doesn’t care. Fit needs to know how appreciative he is and how important it is to him that Fit has his back. 

“I stand by it! Shrek is a better movie than anyone gives it credit for!”

Pac giggles far too immaturely for his own good. Pac’s flirted with plenty of guys before, dated an even smaller group and had relationships with barely any that mattered, but nothing has given him a rush like flirting with Fit. Or at least being around Fit. Pac isn’t sure what it is about Fit that turns Pac into such a newly shy man, but at least it seems to be working for him. 

“No. I mean, yes! I agree. But I meant earlier, with Cellbit and Roier,” Pac clarifies. 

“Nah. I didn’t say anything. Nothin’ that they didn’t deserve to hear, anyway. But you’re welcome. I’d do it again any day of the week.”

“I appreciate it. A lot.” 

“How's that been going lately? With them, I mean,” Fit tilts his head to end his sentence, clearly referencing Cellbit and Roier. 

“Eh. It is going well. Better. Much better, actually. A lot.” Pac says, almost assuring himself. 

“That’s good to hear. A lot better than before, but still not enough yet? I get that right?” Fit’s voice is quiet and calm. It's almost quiet enough that Pac questions if he indeed heard it. 

“Yes,” Pac whispers back. “That is it exactly.”

“Good. Progress.”

“Mhm. Baby steps.” Pac says with a smile. He waits for a beat before grinning and turning to look at Fit, who he feels is already looking at him.

Pac is right. Again. 

Fit looks at him with so much admiration and respect. Pac perceives something in Fit’s eyes, but he’s too scared to admit to himself what it is. Longing. Pac’s seen that look reflected at him in every mirror he’s passed over the last year. Maybe longer. 

Pac is suddenly reminded of being in the Favela watching Big Fish and being taken aback by the time-standing still scene. It’s burned into his memory now. Everyone at Favela was joking or aww’ing over the scene, but Pac was transfixed. He felt seen. That’s all Pac’s ever wanted: for someone to see him. Not part of the Favela, not as Pac and Mike, not as Richarlyson’s dad, just him. He wants someone to look at him the way he's looked at many people and been disappointed by. 

“Pac…”

Fit leans over his son’s body, leaning into Pac’s personal space. 

“Yeah?” Pac breathes, shifting to meet him slowly. 

“Fit?”

Ramon. 

Oh shit, Ramon. 

Fit and Pac lean back, both looking at Ramon. Just as in the movie, time moves in fast forward to catch up to Pac’s real life. 

“Hey there, Ramon. You ready for bed, bud?” Fit asks softly, hand returning to his son’s hair. 

“Mhm,” Ramon replies, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m eepy.”

“Alright, lil guy, let’s go.” 

Fit slides his leg out from under Ramon’s head and stands straight, leaning side to side to roll away the aches and pains. He bends at the waist and slides his hands under Ramon, picking him up to take him to his room. 

“G’night, Ramon! Sleep well.” Pac offers, smiling at the sleepy boy. 

“Come ‘ith.” Ramon orders, voice layered in sleep. 

Fit nods directly after hearing his son’s words. 

“I’ll get him changed. Give us a minute, and you can say goodnight, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, of course.”

Fit wanders off with Ramon as Pac stands to get a glass of water. He fills a cup for Ramon as well, just in case, and heads into his room to see if he’s ready. 

Walking in Ramon’s room always gives Pac a feeling of pride. A day doesn’t pass without Ramon thanking Pac for his room, and despite all the movies and shows Pac’s worked on, this little boy’s bedroom might be his absolute favorite. 

Ramon is under his covers, burrowing deeper as Fit hands him Meathead. 

“There he is! See Ramon, I told you Pac was coming. You want your song now?”

“Yes, please.” Ramon’s eyes are already closed, but he’s listening, pushing himself to stay awake for his song. 

“Sorry Pac, Ramon and I have this little song I always sing to him. Forgive me for my terrible voice.” Fit jokes, smirking at Pac before dropping his tone. 

“La cabeza, me duele la cabeza, la cabeza, yo necesito un doctor.”

“Goodnight, Ramon. Te quiero mucho mi huevito.” Fit kisses Ramon’s forehead and motions for Pac to follow his lead. 

“Goodnight, Ramon. I hope you sleep well.”

“G’night Fit. G’night Pai.”

Fit holds his composure, but his eyes dart to watch Pac’s reaction. To his credit, Pac seems to soften, leaning down to kiss Ramon’s hair and whisper to him. 

“Boa noite, filho.” 

Chapter Text

When Fit politely accepted the invitation to attend Roier and Cellbit’s wedding, he neglected to consider the absolute hell of getting an eight-year-old into formal wear. 

“Ramon, I know you want to wear a tie, but we don’t have one my boy! I’m sorry we didn’t try your suit on last week, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.” Fit sighs, running a hand over his face as Ramon pouts. His baby boy has taken refuge in the window seat of his bedroom, curling up against the window to avoid his dad’s eye. Most kids would fight tooth and nail to stay in their pajamas all day, and here’s his son throwing a tantrum because he can’t wear a tie to a formal event.

“Why can’t I use one of yours? I want to look nice too! Everyone is going to be there, Fit!” 

Fit’s heart breaks as he sees the wet tears building in Ramon’s eyes, threatening to break free. Nothing hurts more than his son being upset, and Fit wishes he had the forethought to get Ramon to try on his outfit earlier in the week. 

“I’m so sorry, kiddo. My ties are all way too long for you. You’ll practically trip on them if we’re not careful. The rest of your outfit looks good, though! No one will be upset if you’re not in a tie!”

“I know, but I’LL be upset. I just wanted to look nice.” Ramon says with the tiniest, weariest sigh Fit has ever heard. 

Fuck. 

Fit finds himself lost in the world of parenting at the best of times, but it’s moments like these, moments where he has no fucking clue how to handle a situation, that make him question whether he was ever suitable to be a parent in the first place. 

Fit wracks his brain, attempting to think of something he could do to make Ramon feel better - something to satisfy his need to feel accepted and part of the group. Maybe he could text Phil and see if Chayanne has an extra tie? He hates doing it - hates admitting that Phil is a better father than him in every way, but he’s willing to take the hit to his self-confidence if it pleases Ramon. 

“What’s going on? Ramon, are you alright?”

God bless Pac. 

“I’m okay,” Ramon states confidently before immediately sniffling and wiping his tears away. Fit might see Ramon cry occasionally, but Ramon tries to keep himself together around Pac. They’re not at that point yet, but Fit hopes with time, Ramon will open up to Pac the way Fit has. Pac would never hurt him. Them , Fit supposes. 

“Hm. Well, if you says so Ramon, I believe you. But if something is bothering you, maybe I can help? Your dad and I might be able to figure something out!” Pac offers an out, looking to Fit with raised brows as if to ask if this is something they can tackle together. 

“Fit tried. My tie is too short. I guess I grew.” Ramon sounds like the saddest kid in the world for having a growth spurt. 

“I see. And you want to wear a tie to the wedding, huh?”

Ramon sniffles again, this time nodding his head to respond lest the tears begin to fall. 

“Hm. Okay. Let’s see what we can do!”

Pac’s optimism is inspiring. Fit’s not sure how to fix this, but maybe they can figure it out together. 

“I’m trying to think of what we can do. My ties are all too long for him. We tried on the one that goes with his suit, but I guess I never realized how much he’s grown. The suit still fits well enough, but the tie is a bit too short. He wants to look nice for all his friends tonight.” Fit looks to Pac with a loaded stare, hoping Pac understands his underlying tone. ‘My son needs kids to like him, and this tie is apparently important.’ As always, Pac seems to follow along. 

“Okay, mine will be too long for him too. Let me - let me think. I have an idea, but I need to look!” Pac beams at Fit before stepping into Ramon’s space and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Do not worry, Ramon! You will be the best-dressed kid at the wedding, I promise!”

Pac smiles at Ramon, and to his credit, Ramon attempts a weak smile back. 

“I have an idea!” Pac turns, speaking directly to Fit. “Give me a minute?”

“Take all the time you need,” Fit responds, meaning every word. 

Pac bolts from the room with an excited grin and a plan in mind. In the meantime, Fit needs to soothe his son. 

“While Pac is working his magic, do you want to make sure we have everything? Check your backpack for things?” Fit offers anything to keep his baby boy from crying. If Ramon cries, Fit will inevitably cry the moment Ramon’s out of eyeshot, and Fit’s already braced himself for all the tears he’ll see today. He’s hoping the venue has a nice area outside or at least some decent bathrooms. Weddings always make him cry. 

“Okay.” 

Ramon hops out of the window seat and climbs into his bed, pulling his backpack into his lap. He carefully unpacks his items, and he and Fit run through a makeshift checklist to ensure he’s covered. He’s got Meathead for the ride home, snacks in case wedding food isn’t up to the eight-year-old palate, and colored pencils and coloring pages to ward off boredom. Fit lets him bring his headphones too, in case the party gets a little too loud later. They repack Ramon’s bag, and Fit brings it to the door to sit, ready to take with them when they go. 

Pac is somewhere in his bedroom. Fit only knows because of the muffled noise of moving boxes and the creak of dresser drawers opening and closing. Suddenly, Pac hits paydirt. 

“FOUND IT!” He yells, loud enough to be heard from the other side of the condo. Ramon’s eyes and ears perk up at Pac’s words, and he looks at Fit curiously. Pac rushes into the living room moments later, something white and brown in his hand. 

“I found it! Now, you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to, Ramon. It is up to you. But…” Pac trails off, squatting down in front of Ramon. “I stole this! A long time ago. Well, borrowed, I guess. Technically, the studio owned it, maybe, but never mind! I have this. If you want to use it,  you can.”

Pac opens his hand to reveal some type of scarf? Handkerchief? Fit isn’t fashion-conscious enough to know what it’s called exactly, but he’s seen these before on men a lot more stylish than himself. 

In Pac’s hand is a white piece of cloth decorated with lots of little brown mustaches. It’s absolutely ridiculous looking, but the fabric is clearly high-quality and well-made. Fit isn’t sure why someone would spend money on a silly thing like this, but if Ramon likes it, it’s the best item of clothing in history. 

“We can tie it around your neck and tuck it into your jacket, like a scarf! It’s not a tie, but I think you will look very fancy. And it’s a little silly too, right? You and I both like silly things, remember? Maybe this is silly and fancy enough for the wedding. What do you think, Ramon?”

Ramon’s eyes wash over the fabric, and he tentatively reaches out to feel it under his fingers. He traces over one of the illustrated mustaches and allows himself a small giggle and smile. 

“Are you sure I can have this Pac? It’s yours.”

Ramon’s voice is quiet, almost in shock. Pac’s face visibly softens at his words, and he closes his hand around both the fabric and Ramon’s fingers. 

“I want you to wear it, Ramon - If you want to, at least! I have to wear a different outfit anyway, so it would just be sitting in my drawer. If you want to wear it for the wedding, I would be honored.”

Fit has no idea what perfect universe created Pac, but goddamn he’s glad Pac’s in his. 

“What do you think, Ramon? Is it up to your standards?”

Ramon looks at the cloth in his hands, contemplating. It takes him a moment to process, and Fit uses the time to observe Pac. Or, more specifically, observe Pac observing Ramon. Pac’s looking at Ramon with so much care it lights something deep within Fit’s heart. Pac’s picked up on many of Ramon’s quirks by now, and never once has Pac tried to rush Ramon into speaking before he’s ready. Fit isn’t sure if it’s because of his parenting experience or Pac’s deep emotional awareness, but he’s grateful either way. 

“You’re sure I can wear it?” Ramon’s voice is quiet, tinier than Fit is used to. Pac smiles and nods at Ramon, hoping not to overwhelm him by speaking too much. 

“Thank you, Pac. I like it a lot. It’s stupid. But in a good way.”

Relief flows from Fit. He feels his muscles relax as he finally lets go of a breath buried within his lungs. Ramon is happy, Pac helped yet again, and Fit is along for the ride. 

“I’m happy Ramon! I think it will look super cool with your suit. Once you guys are all dressed at the wedding, we should take a picture!” 

It’s an idea Fit has thought about time and time again. It’s strange sometimes how many photos of Pac and Ramon Fit has on his phone, yet none of the three of them together. He’s been trying to figure out a way to get a photo of the three of them, but every idea seems too awkward or embarrassing. Fit’s glad Pac has thought of a way to make it happen without being overly contrived. 

“I think that’s a great idea!” Fit says, hoping it will get Ramon into gear. They need to leave within the next two hours to get to the venue on time, and Ramon hasn’t eaten yet. He’s pretty sure Pac is already late. 

“Family picture!” Ramon says with a giggle. He folds the scarf in his hands a few times, ensuring it’s long and thin enough to tie behind his neck. Fit’s blush is undeniable as he soaks in his son’s words. They are a family of sorts, aren’t they? He looks to Pac only to find Pac already looking back, a closed-lipped smile on his face. 

“Yeah, baby boy,” Fit says with a smile, holding Pac’s gaze. “Family photo day.”

Pac’s face reddens at Fit’s words. It’s possibly the best image Fit has seen in his entire life, and he has an entire album of capybara photos on his phone. Pac shakes his head and looks away finally, grinning down at Ramon. 

“Do you want me to tie it for you, Ramon?” Pac asks, reaching down to take the fabric. 

Ramon nods in response, shoving it into Pac’s open hands. Pac spins Ramon around with one hand, securing the scarf with the other before tying it off. He shifts it here and there, folding some bits down and fluffing some up until he’s satisfied. 

“There we go! I can straighten it out before we take a photo too, so we all look our best, okay Ramon?” 

Ramon smiles widely, already getting a look at himself in the small mirror a few feet away. 

“It looks so cool, Pac! Thank you!” Ramon squeals, turning back to Pac to throw his arms around Pac’s thighs. “It’s really cool. You’re really cool, Pac.”

“Aw, Ramon! You are the coolest, too,” Pac says with a wink. Ramon releases his grip and rushes to his bedroom to look in his big mirror. 

Fit melts a little, watching the interaction. He hates the idea of breaking up this moment, but they are all dangerously close to running late. Fit still needs to shower and get dressed himself. Luckily, everyone knows Cellbit is always late to his own parties, so they’re probably fine, but Fit would like to arrive as close to the schedule as possible. 

“Didn’t you have to leave, like, fifteen minutes ago?” Fit asks, checking his phone to confirm the time. 

“Oh, yeah, but who cares? I mean, it’s Cellbit; he will be late for his own wedding. This is more important. If I’m late for getting dressed fancy, who cares?” 

Pac’s nonchalance regarding the wedding sets off all of Fit’s alarms. Pac is never late unless he has to be, and he’s pretty punctual at the worst of times. Fit’s quite sure he knows what’s happening here, but if Pac doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t push it. 

“Thank you for helping Ramon out. I know he’ll be thrilled to wear it around all day. Glad it was worth being late for.”

Pac chuckles to himself, securing his bag on his shoulder and checking his phone for any last-minute messages. 

“Anytime. He looks very cute with it on. I forgot I had it honestly, so it’s good that someone will use it.”

“You should head out. We’ll see you there. If you need, uh.” Fit scratches at the back of his head, looking away from Pac’s eye. “Let me know if you need to get away for a bit. If things are too much. You’re always welcome to sit at our table instead,” Fit offers. “Or we say fuck it, let Phil watch Ramon, and we grab burgers. Whatever you need today.”

Pac’s smile beams at Fit, and Fit can see the tense muscles of his face relax to reveal the Pac he knows so well. 

“Thank you, Fit. I might do that. It’s a weird day. I am so happy for Cellbit! I really am! But it. I don’t know. It will be a long day. That’s all. I am already tired, and I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Well, the quicker you get there, the quicker we can come home, yeah?”

“Mhm. I am looking forward to coming home already!” Pac admits with a loud laugh. “But you are right, I'd better go. I will see you both soon!” Pac momentarily leans out of Fit’s space to yell goodbye to Ramon, who presumably ran off to take a photo of his excellent new outfit. 

“Goodbye, Ramon! I will see you at the wedding!”

“Bye Pac!!!”

“I’ll text you when we get there so you know. I’ll let you know what side we sit on. Don’t be surprised if Ramon waves to you the entire time from our seats.”

“Thank you, Fit. That would be great,” Pac admits with a laugh. “I think if I can see you and Ramon in the crowd, it will be a bit easier to get through it all.”

Fit leads Pac to the condo door, ensuring he has everything he needs before opening the door and ushering Pac through. He leans against the frame, resting his right shoulder against it as he crosses his arms. 

“Go be a groomsman. If I need to fuck anyone up at the reception, just let me know. Weddings should always include at least one fight, you know. Just to offset the the lovely-dovey shit.”

Pac giggles, nearly allowing his dry-cleaned suit to fall from the bag across his shoulder. 

“I will. But to be honest with you Fit, I've always been more of a public hanging kind of guy."

Fit laughs, the high-pitched, unguarded laugh Pac so rarely hears.

"Alright, alright. A man of taste, I see! I'll keep that in mind Pac, I'll keep it in mind." Fit jokes. "Now hurry, otherwise Cellbit is going to hang you for being late."

"Yeah, you are right. But it could be fun! Who knows! But yes, I'll go. See you there.” Pac says, walking backward down the hall from the condo. 

“See you soon.”

“Looking forward to the brawl!” Pac yells with a laugh one last time, waving at Fit from down the hall before turning toward the elevators. 

“Alright, Ramon, let’s get this show on the road,” Fit yells through the too-empty house, jogging to his bedroom to shower and change. 

The venue Cellbit and Roier have chosen looms over the rest of the area. It’s the latter half of autumn, and the brisk chill of winter is right on the precipice. The wedding is designated to take place inside, but large, ornate doors open to an expansive patio overlooking a man-made lake. A few of these small lakes and ponds are strewn around Quesedilla Island, and Pac has never noticed how pretty they are once they’ve had a little love put into them. 

The trees outside of the venue are covered in twinkly white lights, already prepared for when Christmas rolls around at the end of December. More lights line every path in and out of the large, almost castle-like mansion, guiding children and parents into a gloriously decorated wedding space. The theme seems to be black, white, and red, judging from the signs and balloons hammered into the ground outside the entrance. Pac parks near the back and takes a moment to himself in the car, bracing for the coming day. 

Spending time with Fit and Ramon this morning has already been the highlight, regardless of the mad dash to try and find something to appease Ramon. It was an excellent adventure and, honestly, one that Pac was thankful for. Digging for that old scarf took his mind off the day to come, and it helped him remember for a little while that life would move on even after the wedding. 

But for now, he has to get through today. 

Sighing, Pac unlocks his phone and checks the message from Bagi for the hundredth time. He knows where to park, where to enter, and how to get into the groomsmen's suite. For as late as he left, Pac made up good time on the road, only fifteen or twenty minutes late. He texted to let everyone know he was on the way, scoffing at the idea that they would even bother reading it. Resigning himself to his fate, Pac kills the engine and steps out of the car, unlocking the back door to retrieve his suit and bag. He prepared everything before leaving, hoping that a quick change into his suit is all that’s expected of him until the family photos. Pac ambles to the venue entrance, taking in the decor. It really is beautiful and clearly has the personal touches of Cellbit and Roier. They wouldn’t just book any old venue for their wedding; they had to make it theirs. 

For a fleeting moment, Pac wonders what he would choose on his wedding day if he ever gets to have one. This place is beautiful but a bit too fancy for his liking. Maybe something smaller, more intimate, but still on the water. That would be nice. He considers Fit for a moment, standing before him at an altar, wearing a variation of the suit he told Pac he was wearing today. The mere imagination sends a shiver up Pac’s spine as he hurries up the grand staircase that leads to the suites. He’ll have time to daydream again when he’s in bed later tonight. For now, he has a job to do. 

He can hear the voices of his family inside. Pac feels like a child again, overwhelmed with excitement and anxiety all at once. He takes a breath as he quickly raps on the door, signaling his arrival before turning the knob. 

Inside is not the chaotic scene Pac expected. 

The wedding isn’t slated to begin for another two hours, but everyone seems mostly dressed sans shoes. Pac isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Felps in a suit before, but he looks fantastic in the dark velvet suitcoat Cellbit picked for him. They’re all wearing variations of the same look: black suits in various styles. Felps’ black suitcoat is paired with a long velvet skirt of some style Pac can’t name, and judging by the neat row of shoes beside the door, Felps’ are the patent leather combat boots. 

“Oh, thank god you’re here, bro. I was getting stressed.” Mike’s voice drifts in from a hallway to the right, likely where the rest of the group is getting ready. Mike looks out of place in his suit, more dressed up than Pac has seen him since his own wedding day. He looks great in all black, and rather than a suitcoat, he wears a long black jacket more similar to a sherwani than anything else. How Mike manages to look futuristic and classic all at once, Pac is unsure, but he assumes Mine had something to do with it. 

“Worried about me? I’m fine. I just got a late start.”

Mike scoffs, offended. “I wasn’t worried about you. I’m just bored. Cellbit is being Cellbit, and I’ve talked him out of running away to the woods like three times today. I’m exhausted, bro. Your turn.” Mike laments, throwing himself face-first across the plush couch of the suite. 

“Thanks for that.” Pac retorts with a snark, only for Mike to lift his hand, still face down into the couch, and flip Pac the middle finger. 

“Idiot,” Pac mutters under his breath, a slight smirk on his lips. 

“He’s in there,” Felps points from his spot by the window. Somehow, as tall and lanky as Felps is, he’s managed to squish himself comfortably into the window seat, eyes closed as the breeze flits through his curls. For a moment, Pac sees Ramon in Felps' place, curled up with the window open and a book in his lap. He needs to remember to make sure there’s a window seat somewhere in the loft for Ramon, and, he supposes, in case Felps ever visits. 

Pac huffs a noise as thanks and follows the voices down the hall toward the bedroom. He can hear Bagi talking to Cellbit and Cellbit rambling nonstop. This is typical of a stressed-out Cellbit, so Pac takes a breath and steels himself, ready to turn on the patented Pac charm to cheer everyone up. 

“I’m here! Everything is saved, nothing to worry about!” Pac enters with a light joke, looking for Bagi’s eyes to assess the situation. She looks incredible as always, hair tied up and back in a braided configuration that would have Ramon fascinated. Once, Pac brought home ropes to determine what would look best for a project, and Ramon was fascinated with the different ways to knot them. Pac knew a ton of variations, all picked up on the job, and he and Ramon spent hours carefully untying and retying knots on the living room floor while Fit made dinner. 

It was a good day. 

Bagi’s hair looks nearly as good as the rest of her outfit. She’s in a full black suit with red embellishments spilling down her arms and chest as if a chandelier had fallen on her head, and rather than shake it off, she went with it as part of the look. It catches the light gorgeously and pairs with the exact shade of red Bagi has on her lips. She looks like she stepped off the runway, Pac muses, and her brother looks just as handsome. 

Cellbit only has two modes of dress: destitute private detective and high-fashion model. There’s minimal variation between them. When Cellbit puts forth an effort with his clothes, he treats them the same way he does other things he cares about, with great respect and dedication. His suit is simple, a classic all-black suit complete with a black shirt, but it’s tailored perfectly, emphasizing all the features Roier loves so much. Cellbit’s shoulders and waist are perfectly fitted to the jacket, and the pants end at just the right point, showing off the hand-sewn leather of his boots. Somehow, they even managed to control Cellbit’s wild hair, styling it so he looks less like a sleep-deprived detective and more like a leading man from a classic Hollywood Film. 

“Wow! You two look amazing! I cannot believe I have such gorgeous friends!” Pac means every word he says. Everyone in his family is beautiful. Standing before all their friends, he will look so ordinary and plain in comparison, but that’s okay. Today isn’t about him, and he’s confident no one would have noticed him even if he did try, at least not when standing next to his family. 

Bagi looks over from where she stands, relief in her eyes at seeing Pac before her. 

“Oh good! You’re here! I was worried you were going to be really, really late!” 

“No, it’s all good! Just had a late start,” Pac assures, hanging his suit on the hook at the back of the door. “Ramon’s tie was too short, so we were scrambling to find him one that fit.”

“Of course, Pac has his other family to worry about today too, eh?”

Cellbit has been like this for weeks. Ever since he and Roier bumped into Pac, Fit, and Ramon outside of Luigi’s, every moment has been an excuse for a little dig at Pac. To be fair, Pac has yet to chastise him about it, wanting to wait until after the wedding to talk to Cellbit, hoping his stress would even out. He’s tried giving Cellbit the benefit of the doubt for years, but lately, he’s one quip away from snapping. 

“I am here now. How can I help? Is there anything that needs to be done before I get dressed? I can do whatever!” Pac offers to be as helpful as possible, hoping that everyone lets things lie, but it never works that way. Not for him, at least. 

“I think we’re almost ready to go,” Bagi says, though her eyes look anything from calm. “Mike and Felps are ready. Forever is checking on Richarlyson and the rings, you’re here, and all Cellbit needs is his damn bowtie. One of you has to do that, though. I have no clue about this.”

Pac nods, stepping in to take over. 

“I can help with that if you want.” Pac offers, shooting Cellbit a look. 

“Please.”

“I’ll leave you two be. Meet us out there when you’re done.”

Pac nods to Bagi as she leaves, hoping she understands she can take a break now. He’ll handle this. He shifts to take the bowtie off the table, checking the length and looking to Cellbit to see if he’s ready. Cellbit nods and stills himself, waiting for Pac’s assistance. Neither speaks, though it’s clear to both that much remains unsaid. 

“It’s nice to have you back, even if it’s just for a day,” Cellbit states. Pac can feel the heat rise in his ears but concentrates on the task at hand. 

“I never went anywhere.”

“Oh, come on, Pac. Ever since you got back, you’ve been different. Ever since you moved in with that guy, you barely have time for us anymore.”

Pac wants to scream. He wants to scream that ‘that guy’ has a name, that his name is Fit, and that Cellbit has encountered him numerous times. Pac wants to scream that their son plays with Fit’s son all the time now, and there are multiple photos of Richalyson and Ramon together. Pac wants to scream that excuses only seem to ever work in Cellbit’s favor, never anyone else's, but he holds back, folding the tie between his hands and spinning Cellbit to face the mirror as he did with Ramon hours earlier. 

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to reply to a text?”

“Sometimes, yeah. It happens, doesn’t it? You forget things.” Pac doesn’t mean to sound as cold as he does, but he doesn’t feel guilty about it either. 

Cellbit goes quiet then, allowing Pac to finish his work. Pac ties everything slowly, ensuring the creases and knots look perfect before removing his hands. 

“There. Looks good.”

“Obrigado.”

There’s a tension in the air that Pac desperately does not want to confront, but he knows they need to talk about this. Cellbit needs to acknowledge what’s happening here. 

“I’ll go out there, give you a few minutes to change. Pictures are in about a half hour, and I don’t want to see Roier beforehand, so you guys have to make sure his photos are done before we go down, alright?”

“Sim, sim. I memorized the itinerary, Cell. Don’t worry. I know the plan.”

Cellbit searches Pac’s eyes for something. Pac isn’t sure how to respond or if he even wants to speak, but he gets his answer when Cellbit turns his back to him to leave. 

Cellbit exits, quietly shutting the door behind him, leaving Pac alone in the bedroom. He paces the room several times, taking quiet but steady breaths to keep himself in a good headspace. He loves Cellbit. He just wishes Cellbit would talk to him in something other than half statements and riddles. Every other member of the Favela has acknowledged how they treated Pac over the summer in some fashion, be it Bagi’s tears of apology as she realized what she had done or Forever’s attempts to solve the problem he helped create. Felps appeared to him one night on a walk, somehow coming out of nowhere to apologize for not paying more attention. Mike was the first to say something and press the others to do the same. To be fair, Pac blamed him less, only because he and Mike often message outside of the group chat, so Mike took the initiative to help before the others even realized there was a problem. 

Cellbit has said nothing. 

Roier’s passing comments in front of Luigi’s were more than Pac has ever gotten out of Cellbit. Cellbit seems convinced if he doesn’t mention it, the problem never existed, but Pac’s never been good at burying things for too long. He’s too emotional. At least that’s what Cellbit’s always told him. Pac reacts first and thinks later, though he’s working on it. Cellbit’s denial is what’s making Pac more upset than anything else. He’s mostly forgiven them all for the slight, as betrayed as he might feel, but he just needs Cellbit to acknowledge he fucked up before they can move on, and Cell seems decidedly against it. That’s what’s straining their friendship; Cellbit’s inability to admit when he’s fucked up. 

Pac tries to forget about it, opening his phone instead to see if he missed anything. His face cracks into a grin when he sees a message from Fit and swipes to open it in record time. 

Keep your eyes out for this handsome guy, reads the text, accompanied by a photo of Ramon in his suit. Pac can’t hold back the ‘aw’ that escapes his throat. Ramon truly is the cutest little guy. His dark brown suit compliments the scarf well, almost so much that someone would assume they were sold together. Ramon looks adorable, and now Pac can't wait to see Richarlyson in his custom suit if he manages to keep it clean long enough. He hopes to get a nice professional photo of the Richas and Ramon together. Maybe Fit will even agree to hang it somewhere in the living room. 

Pac also wonders what outfit Fit will show up in. He never saw Fit’s outfit before leaving, and Fit never mentioned what suit he was wearing. Pac will accept it as a little personal surprise to get through this part of the day. Once Fit and Ramon are here, things might be a little better- or, at least, a little less lonely. 

Unzipping his bag, Pac begins the process of getting dressed. It’s not a huge affair, just the usual suit stuff until he gets to the coat. Pac checks his hair in the mirror, adding a little more gel to keep his waves in place. Once he’s satisfied with his overall look, he carefully removes the suitcoat Cellbit picked out for him. It’s a standard coat encrusted with sequins and lace, giving Pac a radiant, almost dazzling look when the light catches. The bottom of the coat fades into a lacey collection of sparkle, and Pac has to admit he looks great. Better than anything he could have chosen for himself, at least. He feels confident in this outfit and preens in the mirror for a moment or two, taking it all in. Pac takes his phone from its place on the bed, angling it and moving toward the windows to catch the light. If he can’t get a few good selfies out of wearing this suit, what’s the point?

Content with his photos and his state of dress, Pac collects his items and packs them away in his bag. He leaves the room and heads back to the central portion of the suite, following the voices yet again. Just as he’s about to turn the corner to enter, a voice freezes him in place. 

“How is no one else bothered by this? He doesn’t care! He’s left us all for some guy.” Cellbit’s voice drips with ice and annoyance. 

“The same could be said about you, Cellbit! You started dating Roier, moved out, and now you’re getting married!” Mike’s tone is bitter, as if he’s rehashing this conversation for the tenth time. 

“Roier and I dated for months before moving in! I was still at home with you guys all the time! I didn’t run off to move in with a stranger!” Cellbit growls, glaring Mike down. 

“To be fair, it’s our fault he moved in with a stranger.” Felps’ cool tone seeps in from the corner of the room, stunning Cellbit momentarily. 

“Things change, it’s fine. Let him do what he wants.” Bagi adds. 

“We all know he makes bad decisions. He will sacrifice everything to keep people happy. How can you let him do this? We don’t even know this guy that well, and we’re supposed to be okay with this? Okay with Richas going to stay with strangers?!” 

“Now you’re just being an asshole. It’s your wedding day, dude! Chill the fuck out and enjoy it. If you’ve got an issue with him, you should have talked to him about it before today. You had plenty of time. Stop acting like a baby and deal with it.”

Mike is the best. Even when they fight, Mike has his back through everything. He wouldn’t trade Mike for the world, and if Mike is so willing to fight for him, perhaps it’s time Pac stood up for himself. 

“I just don’t want him making a mistake that will ruin his life!”

“Yeah, Cellbit. You’d know a lot about ruining lives with a mistake, wouldn’t you?”

There’s a shift in the air. It feels colder when Pac turns the corner to face his friends, teary-eyed. The last thing he needs right now is Cellbit being sanctimonious when Pac is standing a few feet away, one leg short, all because of Cellbit and his ‘mistakes.’

“Don’t. Don’t do this.” Cellbit’s voice is far too weary for a man about to be married. Pac wishes he felt bad about it, but he doesn’t have it in him anymore to care, not after what he’s heard. 

“I’m out of here. You need to talk about this. Text us when you’re ready for wedding pictures, Cellbit. And get your head out of your ass. It’s the best day of your life.” Mike shoots Pac a look, checking in with him. Pac returns a nod, knowing Mike will understand everything conveyed in the movement. Felps and Bagi follow Mike out, each throwing a look at the pair as they exit. 

“Pac. It’s my wedding day. I’m not about to start something.”

“And you’re not going to finish anything, talk about anything, or acknowledge anything either, are you? I have to hear one of my best friends talking about me behind my back like this? After everything we’ve been through over the past year?”

“Everything we’ve been through? Pac, you’ve disappeared! We barely see you anymore.”

“Yeah. Wonder why. Big fucking mystery why I wouldn’t want to spend all my weekends waiting around to hear how everyone’s date nights went or how great everyone’s life is. Face it, most of you only reach out to me to talk about yourselves, to vent about your nearly perfect lives. When was the last time we hung out for the sake of hanging out? Without you leaving halfway through to go be with Roier?”

“I apologized for that.”

“I know. I don’t hold it against you, but you must see why I’m not around as much. You never ask about me, Cellbit! You never apologized for not telling me you were moving out! How was I supposed to feel?! I came home, and it’s like I never existed in the first place! No one remembered to tell me anythings, and you never even tried to fix things. Everyone else did. You figured it would all go away like always, that I would just suck it up and deal with it and move on, but I’m not that person anymore, Cellbit. I’m angry and sad, and I’ve moved on, but I still miss my friend, idiot. I just wanted you to give a shit.” 

Pac is heated now, unable to stop himself. He knows he’s rambling, knows he’s getting closer to yelling rather than talking sternly. He’s finally got Cellbit in front of him, and he’s tired of carrying all this grief for their dead friendship. 

“I give a shit!” Cellbit claims with a shout. 

“When did I move in with Fit?”

“What?”

“I’ve been living with him a while now. When did I move in? You were there to help that day, even though I know Roier forced you to. What’s his son’s name? He’s played with Richas a ton of times. What’s his name, Cellbit? Do you know Fit has a prosthetic like me? Do you know he talks to me about what it feels like? What projects have I been working on, Cellbit? What have I been doing for the past few months? Do you know I have friends? Friends outside of the Favela? Can you name any of them? I’ve mentioned them a few times when we were all together.”

At least Cellbit has the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Face it, Cellbit; you’ve been so wrapped up in Roier and the wedding and moving out you’ve forgotten anyone who isn't around you all the time. You haven’t contacted me to hang out one-on-one in months. I thought you just didn’t want to be my friend anymore. You can’t act like I walked away from our friendship, not when, for me, it felt like ‘our friendship’ was another name for me being your therapist and you not being mine.”

Cellbit says nothing, jaw hardened. He looks away from Pac, though Pac can see tears form in the corner of his eyes. He’s never wanted to make Cellbit cry. All he wants is for Cellbit to get it. To get that Pac’s not on his own anymore, and even when he is, he can handle it now. He’s his own person and deserves better if Cellbit isn’t interested in repairing their friendship. 

Pac isn’t a different person than the man Cellbit knew; he just trusts himself more these days. He trusts he’s where he needs to be. Slowly, Pac is learning he doesn’t need to face everything alone. Still, he believes in Cellbit and trusts that he, they , can fix this. Together. 

“Face it Cell, the evidence is there. You don’t have a leg to stand on here. Which is weird because that’s kinda my whole thing.” Pac jokes, desperate to break the tension. 

Cellbit snorts and shakes his head, turning to stare at the floor. 

“Knew that’d get you.”

Cellbit smirks, still staring at the ground beneath his feet. 

“I think - I mean, I know. I’m scared. I'm afraid.” Cellbit's voice is quiet, almost childlike. He's barely audible over the blood pumping in Pac's ears, and he strains to take a single step closer so he can hear. 

“Okay. I’m listening,” Pac says softly and slowly. Finally, they’re getting somewhere. 

“I think marrying Roier is the best thing I could do, but I’m scared you’ll all leave me. You’re all doing your own thing now. What if Roier and I don’t work out? Where will I go if the Favela have all moved on? You’re the one who’s always there, and suddenly, you left to live with some dude, and I was moving out to be with Roier. Maybe I projected a few of my relationship worries onto you. I don’t know!” Cellbit finishes, nearly out of breath. Pac blinks a few times, trying to decode Cellbit-speak into emotions he can process. 

“Let me get this clear. You’re afraid we’ll stop being friends because you got married, and you’re worried we’re all making the wrong choices? So, rather than just tell us that, you decided to push us all away before we grew apart? Even though that leads to the exact thing you were afraid of in the first place?”

Cellbit shrugs, and Pac can’t help but groan at the movement. Cellbit continues to be the most stubborn man on Earth. 

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re friends, Cellbit. We will always be friends. But I can’t be the only one holding the Favela together anymore. I’m too tired. I was falling apart. I spent too many years trying to keep us all safe and in line. I need a break. I need to have my friends back so I can talk to them again as friends, not parent them. I can’t hold all of you together when I’m barely hanging on myself.” Relief floods Pac's brain, having finally gotten the words out. This is how he feels. He's exhausted and worn out, and he just wants his friends back. 

“Is he good at that?” Cellbit finally meets Pac’s eyes, red-rimmed. 

“What?”

“Holding you together. Your roommate. Fit. Dad to Ramon. Boss of the guys you went out with last week. Foolish and Tubbo? I think.” Cellbit finishes with a slight trace of a smile. “Sometimes I listen,” he admits.  

Pac stutters over his words, processing how to respond. 

“I. I guess in a way. But it’s not like you and Roier. We’re - I mean - it’s not that kind of thing.”

“Not yet, at least.” Cellbit quips. 

“Shut up.”

“Never.”

The silence in the room hangs, but it no longer feels as stifling as before. 

“I’m sorry Pac. I should have spoken to you. I fucked up.” 

Pac can feel his muscles relax with Cellbit’s words, already feeling lighter on his feet. This is what he’s wanted for so long, and he wants this bit to be over. He wants to heal, not trudge through this quagmire of 'are they/aren’t they' friendship for another day. 

“That’s all I wanted to hear. I want to know you’re sorry, you know what you did wrong, and you’ll do better. I want us to be friends again. I want to tell you things without you saying something mean and snarky back. I want to be as happy as the rest of you are. Life is getting better for me, Cellbit. If you want to be a part of it, I need you to care.”

Pac’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he takes the moment to reach for it. Usually, he’d never do this during a heated conversation, but he feels Cellbit might need a moment to process everything. 

Swiping at his screen, Pac sees another series of messages from Fit. His face softens into a smile as he taps the notification, eager to see what Fit and Ramon are up to. 

We’re here. 

Sitting on the left if you’re coming down the aisle. 

About six rows back 

Next to Phil. 

Ramon demanded the end seat. 

Be prepared. 

If you need anything Pac, I’m here. 

Just give me the word. 

Thank you Fit. I think everything will be okay now. 

It was not, but now it is. I’ll tell you tonight.

Right when Pac wants to blow his lid, Fit always seems there to talk him down. 

Sliding his phone back in his pocket, Pac turns to see if Cellbit has been thinking. He finds Cellbit staring at him already, head cocked to one side as his brain goes a mile a minute. Pac recognizes that look. 

“Was that him?” Cellbit asks quietly. 

“Yeah.” Pac retorts pointedly. “He’s here.”

“With Ramon.” Cellbit clarifies. 

“You remembered—good job,” Pac jokes. 

“I remember a lot of things. I guess I need to be better at telling you what I know.”

“Might help.”

“I’m sorry.” Cellbit seems genuine, and all Pac can do is place his trust in him one last time. 

“Me too. Sorry I yelled on your wedding day.”

“Eh.” Cellbit shrugs with a chuckle. “To be expected.”

“Are we okay?” Cellbit asks. “Or at least, are we on the way to being okay? To fixing this?” 

Pac takes in the room around him, doing everything he can to avoid Cellbit’s stare. 

“I think so, yes. I will give you another try. But you need to TRY, Cellbit. You need to be a friend, and I will let you back in my life.”

“I’ll do better.”

“Don’t overdo it. I don’t need you to be perfect, Cellbit; I just need you to try,” Pac emphasizes his words carefully, hoping they get through Cellbit’s skull. 

“Hug?”

“Of course.”

Cellbit marches across the room, grabbing Pac up in a bruising hug, his arms pinning Pac’s to his side. Pac manages to rest his head against Cellbit’s, relaxing momentarily before he speaks.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married before the rest of us.”

“Me either. I figured I’d be the last one, if at all.”

“Roier is good for you.” Pac means it. Cellbit has been a better human since Roier came along, and Roier is a great guy. He and Cellbit balance one another perfectly, and Pac doesn’t think he can name a couple more obviously in love. 

“He is the best thing about me,” Cellbit admits. 

“Do not sell yourself short, Cellbit. But top three, absolutely.”

“Fuck you.” 

Pac laughs and shocks himself at how genuine and natural it feels. He can’t remember the last day he laughed like this with Cellbit. He deserves to feel this happy all the time. They both do. 

“You better text Mike. He won’t believe it from me.” Pac mutters, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, he was ready to kill me. The only thing scarier than him might be that boyfriend of yours. The dude is intimidating as hell. I thought he would punch me in the street, right outside of Luigi’s.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but yeah, he’s... Well, he’s a lot softer than he seems, but if he asks, I didn’t say that. He looks scarier than he is, I promise.”

“Good to know. I’ll have to have a conversation with him later tonight. See for myself.”

“I think that would be a good idea,” Pac says as he shuffles across the room to grab Cellbit’s phone from the couch. “Now text Mike. You can’t be late for your own wedding.”

“Thank you, Pac. For everything.”

“No problem, Cell. That’s what friends do.”

Fit smiles at his phone, grinning at his latest snapshot of Ramon before sliding his phone into his pocket. Ramon spent an entire three minutes at his father’s side before getting distracted by someone else arriving, too overwhelmed by all the people to talk to. The kids are having a field day together as poor Phil attempts to chase them down, and Fit relishes in the quiet within the chaos. Fit takes a moment to claim a few seats for the wedding, sitting in one and spreading his arm across the back of another. He hasn’t had time to zone out all day, so he embraces the few minutes of background noise. Pac seems fine, but Fit would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly worried about Pac spending all day with his family, especially Cellbit. Pac doesn’t bring them up often, and Fit does his best not to press the issue, but he can tell Pac is forgiving some quicker than others. Mike was a no-brainer, and Pac always seems to have a soft spot for Bagi, so those made sense. 

Cellbit was the outlier. Pac mentioned they were close once, nearly as close as he and Mike, but something happened that pushed them apart. Fit assumes it was the housing thing, but he refuses to stick his curious nose where it doesn’t belong. If Pac wants him to know, he’ll tell him. He hopes Pac feels comfortable soon, though; there’s been a real lack of fofoca lately. 

Fit checks his watch, noticing the procession will start in a few minutes if all goes as planned. He doubts it will, but he should flag Ramon down nonetheless. After all, they have to have a good seat so Ramon can wave at Pac. Pac left before changing into his suit, and Fit can’t deny he’s brimming with nervous energy at the thought of Pac dressed up. His roommate is well-dressed on the most relaxed occasions, so Fit can only imagine how a suit might look on Pac's lean frame. 

Fit takes his phone out again, anxiety over nothing surging through him. He’s already texted Pac to tell him where they’re sitting and check-in. Despite Pac’s claims that everything is okay now, Fit remains on edge. Pac tends to undersell anything negative, and Fit feels he must fight his protective nature to text him again, or he’ll make Pac feel smothered. Even now, after living together for several months, Fit still feels like he needs a reason to text Pac. 

At home, things are different. Pac floats in and out of his and Ramon’s space like he’s always belonged there, happy to help Ramon with homework or take him and Richas to the park if Fit’s working late. Pac’s so attentive and mindful of how everyone is doing, and Fit wishes he knew how to express his gratitude for it. All Fit can do is try to put his trust in Pac and let him know he would do anything to protect him, even if that means punching the groom in the face. He’s done worse. 

Sliding his thumb across his lock screen, Fit wonders if he should switch up the photo soon. His thoughts again wander to Pac and his comments earlier. Maybe a ‘family photo,’ as Ramon so eloquently called it, would be a good opportunity for an update. Realistically, he needs to sit and think about Pac and what he means to him, but he already knows the answer. He’s just scared to say it aloud. 

Over the past few months, Pac has become more than just a roommate. Fit’s not sure how to classify it, but they’re dancing around something serious. It’s been years since Fit’s felt anything the way he does for Pac. He’s been in love before and been in lust a few more times than that, but this is the first time Fit’s craved both in equal measure. All those years with Spreen never brought about these feelings, and Spreen was the most serious Fit's ever been about someone until now. Few things scare him in this world, and until this year, the main one would have been losing Ramon. Now, it’s losing Ramon and Pac. He can’t risk this by taking a chance unless he’s absolutely sure. 

That being said, he has an inkling Pac may have feelings for him too. Fit doesn’t like to allow himself the indulgence of daydreaming, but he barely needs to daydream when he catches Pac outwardly staring at him in the gym or watching him with soft eyes as he puts their sons to bed. It’s not a dream when Pac joins him on the balcony without warning, sliding into the chair Fit has now deemed Pac’s and handing him his journal. He hasn’t folded or moved the chair since the first night they shared on the balcony. Something about that space belongs to Pac now, and Fit doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

Pac is handsome as well, something that does not go unnoticed by Fit. For all the compliments Pac will throw his way, Pac’s ten times better looking than Fit could ever hope to be. Convincing Pac to work out when he visits Ramon and Fit after school was a genius move, if Fit may say so himself. Sure, it may have been Tina’s cajoling that convinced him in the end, but having Pac in his gym adds another layer to the confusing domesticity they’ve constructed together. Pac’s features and muscles are only enhanced by sweat, and Pac's gracefulness when running on his prosthetic takes Fit’s breath away. Fit admires Pac not only for his clear strength but also his fluidity, taking to everything he tries like a fish to water. He’s unsure what he finds more embarrassing: being caught openly staring at Pac doing mundane things or catching Pac staring at him. Both send a shock through his system in different ways, igniting him from the inside out in a way he's never experienced. 

Fit might be a little in love with his roommate, sure. Who wouldn’t be?

The quiet background music in the venue begins to swell, and the volume change signals guests to take their seats. Fit stands to chase down Ramon, only to be met by Phil and Baghera walking up the aisle, followed by a small army of children who all take their seats without trouble. 

“How did you manage this?” Fit asks as Phil squeezes past him to his seat. 

“Promised them extra cake later. Don’t even know if they got a cake, but fuck it. I’ll go buy a fucking cake if it keeps them quiet for the ceremony.” The exhaustion is obvious in Phil’s voice, and Fit slaps him on the back a few times in solidarity. 

“They’ll forget all about it by the time it comes,” Fit adds. “The quicker they have sugar, the sooner they crash.” 

Phil nods sagely, hoping for that exact situation. Just as he’s about to speak, the music changes, and the entire room shifts in their chairs as the procession begins. 

Just as he’s done since the day he entered his life, Fit looks into a sea of people, but his eyes only see Pac. 

“You ready?” Bagi asks, reaching up to fix Cellbit’s hair. 

“Very. Very ready. I want to get out there already!” Cellbit exclaims, hands shaking with excess adrenaline. 

“We’re all ready to go; we're just waiting for everyone to sit down!” Pac assures him. 

“You got this, Cellbit,” Felps adds, pulling Cellbit in for a one-armed hug. Mike joins them, reaching from his standing position to pat Cellbit on the back. 

The processional music begins, and the slow march starts. Forever and Richas lead the group, followed by Mike and Mariana, Bagi and Rivers, Pac and Jaiden, and finally, Quackity and Felps. Peeking around the corner, Pac can just make out Roier under the archway, looking handsome as ever in a crisp, white suit. When Bagi and Rivers make it a few feet down the aisle, Cellbit’s wedding coordinator, Niki, waves for Pac and Jaiden to begin. 

It’s strange seeing a wedding from this perspective. He’s never been this close to the moment before, having always sat at the back of weddings, hoping his overwhelming jealousy wouldn't infect the happy couple. This time, he feels like he’s on the inside looking out, and it’s far more intimidating. 

“We’ve got this,” whispers Jaiden as they begin to reach friendly faces. Pac is so grateful to be paired with her. 

Pac’s eyes fall on BadBoyHalo in the crowd, which means Fit and Ramon must be nearby. He scans the crowd, flitting his eyes between the walkway before him and the left side until he spies a flash of Ramon over someone’s head. There they are. 

Pac’s polite grin cannot help itself, shifting into a full blown, teeth-baring smile when he sees Ramon’s tiny hands waving at him. He looks so sweet in his suit, and Pac finds himself surprisingly choked up when he spies his scarf around Ramon’s neck. Pac dares to steal a glance at Fit—bad decision. 

Fit is - Pac can’t even describe it. His brain has to keep firing messages of ‘people are watching!!!!’ repeatedly, lest Pac fall to his knees in defeat before passing out on the floor over the state of Fit in a suit. Pac’s seen Fit in various stages of undress over the past few months, mostly due to gym trips or late-night showers, but nothing prepared him for just how sexy Fit would look with more clothes on. 

Fit’s suit is brown, several shades lighter than Ramon’s. It suits Fit’s complexion well, making him look tanner in comparison. Pac can’t make out much in this light, only that the suit is well-tailored, emphasizing Fit’s broad, muscular shoulders and back. Looking at the cut of Fit’s suit enhances how much broader he is than Pac, and Pac’s mouth runs dry at the thought of slowly taking that jacket off Fit’s body. Suddenly, Pac finds himself eternally grateful that they already agreed upon taking a family photo together; he needs a picture of Fit in that suit to keep for the rest of his days. 

Pac catches Ramon's eye as he and Jaiden approach Ramon’s seat. Once he knows Ramon is watching, Pac takes his left arm, the one not entwined with Jaiden, and flicks his wrist out just enough to make a fist. Ramon sees it immediately and leans over to meet Pac, fist-bumping him as he walks by. Pac can’t help but giggle as he does, tearing his eyes away from the duo immediately after. Little moments like this, making Ramon laugh or Fit carrying Richas around on his shoulders, make Pac happiest these days. Small acts of care. 

“Go for it,” Jaiden whispers as they near the front of the ceremony archway. “He likes you. Shoot your shot.”

Seconds later, Jaiden pulls her arm back, smirking at Pac as she goes to the right, taking her place behind Roier. Pac does the same on the left, taking his memorized place and turning to the correct angle to watch Cellbit walk down the aisle. As Cellbit makes his way, Pac can’t help but ruminate over Jaiden’s words. He likes Fit. He knows he does. He’s not sure if Fit feels the same or if Fit ever would be interested in a relationship. He wants to know so much about Fit, but he’s not the most forthcoming about his past, much less about his former relationships. Still, there’s something there. Pac’s caught Fit looking at him a few times. The first few he wrote off as being a newcomer to the gym; of course Fit would be keeping an eye on his form. But then he noticed it at home when Pac wanders around the house half-dressed while doing laundry or worn out after a long day. Those looks are softer and more intimate. They’re Pac’s favorite, and he craves Fit to be something more to him so they can look at one another more often without hiding their flushed faces. 

However, Pac doesn’t just get his heart broken if it goes wrong. He loses Fit, he loses Ramon, and he loses his home. It’s a lot to consider. 

Pac catches sight of Cellbit as he thinks and quickly realizes he’s never seen Cellbit look so happy. He’s already tearing up and only has eyes for his soon-to-be husband at the altar, never looking away from Roier his entire walk. What Pac wouldn’t give to have something like that: to know, without question, that you’re with the right person for the rest of your life. To have that reassurance that you’ve made the right choice and someone loves you as much as you love them.

Cellbit descends the aisle, and Pac pulls his eyes away for a moment, tears burning at the inner corners. He can’t cry like this, not before the vows, at least. Pac’s a crier when it comes to love and weddings, and no one needs him sputtering before the ‘I do’s.’ Luckily, no one pays him any attention. 

Everyone is watching Cellbit—or almost everyone. 

Fit is very clearly and very obviously, watching Pac. 

For a moment, they lock eyes, Fit’s steely, unreadable gaze meeting Pac’s, brimming with tears. Fit softens immediately and mouths to him, “You okay?” 

Goddamn him. Goddamn Fit and his compassionate nature and kind heart and chiseled jawline and ridiculously handsome face. 

Pac knows he’s blushing, fully aware that everyone can see. He doesn’t care, not right now. No one is looking at them anyway. 

“I’m okay,” Pac mouths back, smiling softly afterward. Fit seems to accept this, returning his grin. Cellbit is about to pass by, and Fit turns his head slightly to acknowledge Cellbit and raise his brows. His head immediately tilts just enough in Pac’s direction for Pac to realize Fit is asking, “Is he okay?” Pac nods back, finally shifting on his feet to watch the wedding before him, determined to be present for this moment.

Fit can wait for now. They have the whole night ahead of them. 

Chapter Text

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married! You may seal your commitment with a kiss.”

Elated cheers ring through the venue as the guests cat-call Cellbit and Roier’s first kiss as a married couple. Their kiss lasts for a length of time just on the right side of socially acceptable, though it would be hard to find a person present cynical enough to comment on it. Even the most misanthropic debbie-downer attendee can't deny the inherent and obvious chemistry between the two, wrapped up in one another like no one else is in the room. Cheers fade into loud, celebratory music as Cellbit and Roier break apart and wave to their friends and family. 

Without fully realizing it, Fit shifts into high-alert mode as the background music rises in volume, and the number of people in the room finally becomes noticeable. His eyes check every entrance and exit as he instinctively takes stock of where Pac and Ramon are. Usually his old habits are buried so deep they have their own headstone, but every once in a while, when presented with a large group, those instincts come back with a vengeance. Everyone is safe. Nothing terrible is happening, Fit has to remind himself. He puts an arm around his son’s shoulder, using the feeling of Ramon’s loud, jubilant cheers to ground himself. As he takes a deep breath, Cellbit and Roier begin their trek up the aisle and into the reception area. Seconds later, Fit finds his breath stolen yet again - not from the return of old habits but instead from the arrival of Pac. He’s smiling and laughing with Jaiden in his ear as he passes, and Fit’s never seen him look so carefree. Pac’s eyes meet his for a split second before they settle on Ramon’s, and all the air drains from Fit’s body. That glance will ricochet around his ribcage like a bullet, barely missing Fit’s still-beating heart. 

The rest of the procession passes by, though Fit can’t say he pays much attention. Luckily, Ramon seems aware enough for them both, tugging on Fit’s hand and guiding him out of his chair and down to join the celebration. Fit scrambles to grab his bag under his seat, but Chayanne has his back, nabbing it first and handing it to Fit. Entering the well-decorated reception area, Fit returns to his usual self as the ample space opens into the fresh air, inviting those willing to risk the cold to a gorgeous lake view. 

Fit takes advantage of Ramon’s enthusiasm and allows himself to be dragged toward the doors. He’s more than happy to take a moment for fresh air. He needs replenishing anyway, especially after the loud, overwhelming space began to close in. Ramon lets free a ‘woah’ as he looks out at the never-ending lake before him, the air just on the precipice of a chill. 

“It’s real pretty, isn’t it, Ramon? I think this place has some trails; maybe we can hike sometime,” Fit says tentatively. This is the kind of day out he’d love to have with Ramon, but he’s never sure if Ramon would want to. Despite Ramon being his son, he still feels the need to impress him at all times and prove that he’s, at the least, a semi-cool dad. He knows Ramon isn’t the most sport-inclined, at least not in the way Fit is. Ramon likes adventure, exploration, and discovery. He won’t be lining up to play little league baseball, but Fit thinks he could convince him to hike and find some cool wildlife. Maybe it could be a trade-off; Ramon goes on a few hikes with his old man, and, in return, Fit finally lets him have a swordfight with Etoiles. Fit wishes he knew how to better connect with Ramon outside of physical activity, but he’s at a loss. All he can do is try. 

“That sounds cool! Do you think there are bears out there?” Ramon’s small hands grip onto the railing, peering down over the edge. 

“Hope not. Probably not. Maybe some foxes, a coyote or two? I can check, but naw, I don’t think we’ll run into any bears on a hike.”

“Okay. Do you think Pac would like to come? Can he come with his leg? Or would that hurt him? It might be hard for Richas.” Ramon’s eyes are filled with a mix of concern and confusion. Fit’s heart beats with all the love possible for his son. How he raised such a good kid, he’ll never know, but he’s fuckin’ proud of himself for doing it. 

“Not sure, Ramon. I think that might be something you and Pac could discuss sometime.” 

“What could me and Ramon talk abouts?” 

Pac’s voice cuts through the cacophony of noise, momentarily stunning Fit. He never even heard Pac coming. 

“Pac! You did great. You looked great up there, too! Nice suit. Is everything going okay?” Fit fires off statements in a ramble, as if he has a time limit to speak. Pac’s bent over, hugging Ramon and smoothing out the front of his scarf, utterly unaware of Fit’s panicked expression. 

“Thank you! It was a lot  to deal with earlier, but everything is better now.” Pac stands, running his fingers through Ramon’s hair once, tugging his waves to the appropriate side. “You both look so good! I can’t believe I live with such handsome guys!” Pac laughs as his smile radiates down at Ramon, who in turn hides his face by the railing. 

“Aw! Don’t be shy, Ramon! You are the best-dressed kid here! Be proud of that!” Pac shoots Fit a look who shrugs in response. If there’s one thing Ramon loves, it’s a compliment. It also happens to be the one thing that makes him shy. Like any kid, Ramon thrives on praise, but the minute the attention is on him, he doesn’t know what to do with all the feelings that bubble up inside. 

Like father, like son. 

Ramon turns back to Pac and Fit, pulling Pac’s scarf over his nose to hide his face enough for his liking. It’s far too cute, and Fit can already tell Pac will never get this scarf back. 

“Thank you, Pac!” Ramon finally says, looking every which way but at Pac. “Fit, can I go play with Dapper? He’s right over there!” Ramon hops from foot to foot, ready to sprint at a moment's notice. 
Fit glances to the side and sees Dapper, Bad, and Richarlyson circled together, inevitably planning some mischief. At least Bad’s responsible. Mostly. 

“You can play, but - ” Fit says, grabbing Ramon by the collar when he attempts to sprint away. “You come the moment I call for you, alright? We have assigned seats when dinner starts, and I need you to come to me the moment I say. You understand, kiddo?” 

Ramon nods, turning his head to meet Fit and Pac’s eyes. 

“Yes, Ramon! You have to pay attention, okay? I thinks Cellbit and Roier will have people pose for photos before dinner, so we need to find you to take a nice one, right?! Just like you suggested!” Pac comes in clutch with his statement, and Ramon’s eyes widen at the possibility of it happening. 

“Really? Can we take a picture? Richas too?” Ramon inquires. 

“Of course, Ramon! Of course! Richarlyson is part of the family too, right? You go play and tell Richas to be ready, alright?” Fit and Ramon share a look as Ramon sprints off, yelling for Richarlyson and Dapper as he weaves and bobs through the crowd around him. 

Fit grins as Ramon grabs Richas by the shoulders, excitedly shaking him. He shifts to see if Pac notices the same thing, but it wouldn’t be possible. There was no way Pac saw their sons' cute interaction while staring at Fit like this. Pac’s look never falters, not even when Fit catches him looking his way. Fit chuckles and fights the urge to hide his face as Ramon did earlier. 

“Is everything alright? Do I have something on my face? Missed a spot shaving?” Fit tosses out ideas, hoping Pac will latch onto something, anything, so Fit can keep from turning beet red. 

Pac nods, swallowing nothing as he moves. He continues shaking his head, opening his mouth to speak before quickly closing it again, gathering his thoughts. Fit doesn’t interrupt or break their eye contact. Not knowing when Pac’s attention will be on him like this again, Fit soaks it up greedily. He can’t help but smirk, so utterly unaware of how to react. 

“Sim. I mean - no - sorry. Uh. Gosh, sorry. I am all over the place,” Pac admits with a sigh. “I meant no, you look fine, nothing missed. And I am alright, just, what’s the phase? I wasn’t here for a minute. Thinking.”

“Uh. I’m trying to think. Oh, like, zoned out? You zoned out for a minute?” Fit offers, trying his best to ensure Pac knows it wasn’t an issue.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it. Sorry. I was zoning out. But yes, everything is good.” Pac speaks all his words in one breath. He’s lucky Fit trusts him. Fit won’t push him to explain himself if he doesn’t want to. 

“Good, good. That’s uh. Good to hear, Pac.” 

The silence between them grows awkward, harkening back to months ago. There’s something Pac clearly wants to say, but Fit isn’t quite sure where the boundaries are on asking him. He’s a big proponent of not prodding too much into other people’s lives, but Pac has explicitly talked to him about his stress leading up to today. Everything seems to have gone well, but Pac seems antsy, looking everywhere but at Fit. 

Not wanting to push, Fit leans back against the railing, allowing his eyes to roam lazily across the wedding guests. Aside from Ramon, Richarlyson, and Bad, Fit can spy Baghera and Pomme talking to Cellbit a few feet away. Roier has Bobby on his shoulders, both having already ditched their suit coats. Roier and Mariana seem to be playing keep away with an actual child as Jaiden stalks behind them, ready to grab Bobby into her arms when he inevitably topples. Inside the doors, not brave enough to face the cool air, are Phil, the other kids, and Mike, chatting away. There are more people here who are strangers to Fit than friends, but he finds himself feeling far from out of place. 

His jacket bunches as Pac steps forward, pressing his shoulder to Fit’s as he slides into the space next to him, facing away. Pac leans his forearms on the rail Fit’s back leans against, and the two stand there in silence, shoulder to shoulder. 

“I talked to Cellbit.”

Ah. This is why Pac was trying to find words. 

“Did you?” Fit asks, knowing the answer. “And how did it go? You don’t have to tell me-”

“It’s okay, Fit. I know. I want to tell you.” Pac says, seemingly assuring himself more than anything. Fit waits patiently, watching the crowd as Pac finds his words. 

“It went okay. Good. Better than okay.” Pac pauses to breathe, looking out over the lake before them. “It was nice. He was an asshole when I got here. He keeps doing that thing I hate, where he makes little comments. But then I heard him talking about me to the others, and I-. I snapped at him. And everyone left, and we talked. He’s an idiot. But he finally apologized.”

Fit lets Pac’s words hang in the air, mainly so Pac can take a moment to process. 

“Did you accept his apology? Or are we - I mean. Are you still upset with him?”  Fit lowers his voice, leaning closer to Pac. He’s not speaking in his ear, but it’s as close as Fit allows himself without seeming suspect. Cellbit is only a dozen feet away, and Fit doesn’t want Pac to be embarrassed if his voice carries. 

Pac’s ears are red. Fit wonders if it’s too cold out here, and Pac’s too proud to say anything. He should make sure they get inside and warm soon anyway. 

Pac sighs with his whole body, and Fit’s arm moves in time with Pac’s. 

“I guess? I mean, I accept his apology. I know he is sorry, but I’m still nervous. I don’t think he will mess up again, but it is his turn now. He has to prove he will try to be a good friend. And I will not run around trying to make him one.” Pac says with an assured confidence. The way Pac speaks makes Fit think of himself, practicing what to say in the quiet solitude of his bedroom before he and Pac met. Pac’s said this affirmation before, and Fit bites back a smile at the mental image of Pac in his bedroom, speaking into the heaviest mirror Fit’s ever carried. 

“Hmm,” Fit responds. “Sounds like you guys talked it out. That’s a big step. Good job, Pac. I’m really proud of you for standing up for yourself.” 

Pac’s face burns under Fit’s praise. For a moment, he wishes Ramon was still with them so he could steal back his scarf and bury his face into it, but Fit’s right. He should be proud of himself. He is proud of himself. And he’s happy Fit is proud of him, too. 

“Thank you, Fit. I was scared, but it was good to do. We needed to talk. I think he will be better. I hope so.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Fit affirms. He pushes himself off the railing and turns around, mirroring Pac’s pose. The shoulder of his right arm now comes into contact with Pac’s left, and he feels so much more than before. The prosthetic is an extension of him, but the feeling of Pac pressing up against his right side is an entirely different sensation. 

“Plus, if he isn’t, he’ll have me to answer to this time too.”

Pac turns to face Fit, eyes narrowed. 

“Are you sure this isn’t just an attempt to punch someone?” Pac teases, leaning into Fit’s side to push him playfully. 

“I mean, well. There is that, sure.” Fit admits. “It’s more fun when it’s someone who deserves it through.” 

“Ah, I see, I see.” Pac laughs, smirking in Fit’s direction. The metaphorical bullet from Pac’s earlier glance ricochets around Fit’s ribcage and lands directly into his heart, skipping a few beats. Making Pac laugh is one of Fit’s biggest joys in life, even if his jokes are as terrible, which Pac and Ramon tell Fit constantly. It doesn’t matter as long as it gets results. 

“I could list people who deserve a punch to the face. But you have to let me watch.”

Fit chokes on air as his brain blue-screens. He visualizes himself punching someone for whatever slight, Pac standing just in his field of vision, watching with glazed-over eyes. Well. There’s something to think about later. 

“Didn’t take you for a voyeur.” 

Pac squawks loud enough for several people to turn their heads toward the pair. He removes his arms from the railing, elbows taking their place as he buries his face into his palms. 

“Meus deus. I was not thinking that,” Pac laughs through his words, leaning further into Fit’s personal space with every giggle. “But yes, I guess so. If you punch someone, I want to watch. I have never punched anyone, not really.”

“Seriously? No offense! You just, I don’t know. You seem like the kinda guy who could hold his own in a fight. That’s all.” Fit tries to deflect all he can, embarrassed at his own statement but amused nonetheless. 

“I have thrown a punch! It was mostly me throwing my fists around, hoping I’d hit someone. Or I try to kick them in the balls, but I’ve never been in a real fight, y’know? Like one of those big ones where people punch, and someone screams for the police, and everybody jumps over fences.”

“I think you and Ramon have been watching too many movies, Pac. What is this, West Side Story?” Fit laughs, bumping his shoulder against Pac’s this time. “It’s less chaotic than that sometimes, but yeah. I know what you mean. Rather you not get in any fights, though.”

“Yeah, what is the point of learning to fight when you’re here, right? You will protect me, won’t you, Fitche?” 

Pac’s floating. Today has gone better than planned. Fit and Ramon are here, and he has his friend back- at least, mostly back. It’s good for now. Everything is going so well; Pac can’t see the downside in letting himself flirt with Fit just a little. As a treat. Fit always stutters anytime Pac says his name like this. It’s a fun game only Pac is participating in. 

“I-uh. Yes. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, Pac. As long as I’m around, you don’t need to worry about fights, that’s for sure. I’m good for something.” Fit jokes along, stumbling over his words. 

“Oh, Fit, you’re good for so many things, I am sure.” 

Pac is practically purring in his ear now, leaning dangerously close into Fit’s personal space. Fit can’t help but flush at his words, his mind racing through all the possible connotations. He knows Pac is complimenting him on his other attributes, but his mind wanders to more physical possibilities for a second. ‘A wedding. You’re at a WEDDING,’ Fit reminds himself over and over, quelling the urge to jump into the lake and cool off or drag Pac onto the floor and kiss the life out of him. 

“Any specific things you want to name?” 

If Pac gets to fluster Fit, Fit surely can do the same, right? Pac’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing sharply, targeting Fit’s. They stare one another down for a moment, and Pac’s almost certainly running through a list of possibilities. Fit wonders if Pac has ever noticed he mouths words as he thinks. It’s charming. Fit has never had the heart to tell him. 

Pac’s mouth opens, and Fit braces himself for whatever quip he has ready, but an accented woman’s voice interrupts their moment. 

“Hi, sorry. Fit? And Pac? You’re one of the groomsmen, right?”

The pair jump in surprise as they turn, Pac’s hand coming to grab at Fit’s arm as he wobbles on his feet. Fit’s hand lands on top of Pac’s to secure him safely before they turn to respond to the question. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt! I’m Niki, Cellbit and Roier’s wedding coordinator! I apologize, but I’m trying to round up those we have listed for photos. Your sons? I think? Have been asking for a photo, and we have some extra time now. I’m afraid Quackity got stuck in one of the vents chasing after a little boy, and we’ve had to shift some of the group photo timing until he gets out.”

“What the fuck?”

At the end of Niki’s monologue, Fit's voice rings out, and Pac can’t help but double over in laughter. Fit joins him soon after, unable to hold on. Too many emotions are swirling inside him to focus on anything other than Quackity being somehow stuck in a vent. Thankfully, Niki seems to understand and giggles, fanning herself with her clipboard despite the cool air. 

“I know, I know. It’s ridiculous. Some little boy told him he couldn’t do it, and then, well…” Niki trails off, succumbing to the laughter. 

“Chayanne.” Fit and Pac say in unison, laughter unstoppable now. 

“Yes! That was the name.”

“Fucking hell. Good job, Chayanne. Gotta make sure he gets an extra slice of cake later.”

“Fuck the slice, give him the whole cake for this!” 

Fit and Pac double over in laughter again, bracing themselves on the railing as they visualize the scene. 

“Miss Niki? Are they okay?” Ramon and Richarlyson appear at Niki’s side, looking confused as their dad’s break down. 

Niki wipes away her tears of laughter and nods to the boys. 

“I told them about Mr. Quackity’s, uh, issue. I think they find it very funny.”

“IT’S HILARIOUS. HE LOOKS SO DUMB PAI!” Richas exclaims as he giggles, and Pac can’t help but wipe at his eyes with his free hand. His son has the personality of ten people wrapped up in such a tiny body. He adores him so much. 

“I’m so proud of you, filho. You did such a good job today. I am so proud to be your dad.” Pac’s emotions overwhelm him, and he scoops his little boy into his arms, spinning him a few times. 

“PAI YOU’RE SO WEIRD!” Richas giggles into Pac’s ear, throwing his arms around Pac’s neck and hanging on for dear life regardless. I LOVE YOU TOO! BUT PAI! WE HAVE TO TAKE PHOTOS!” Richarlyson yelps, scrambling out of his arms and grabbing at Pac’s hand in an attempt to drag him inside. “THEN WE CAN LAUGH AT QUACKITY.”

“You’re right, Richas, of course. Let’s go take pictures, then we can laugh at the idiot.”

Richarlyson takes the lead, dragging Pac as Niki guides them inside and down the corridor. Fit follows along with Ramon at his side, still chuckling to himself. 

“Were you and Pac having fun without me?” Ramon walks in pace with his father, resisting the urge to run ahead to join Richarlyson. 

“We were, actually! We were just having a little chat about his day, nothing important. Are you excited to take some photos, my boy?”

Ramon nods emphatically, obviously excited. “We don't have any photos in the house! Can we frame this one? Dapper has a big one of him and his dad in their house. I think we should have one, too!”

Fit falters momentarily, stumbling over his feet as he considers his son’s words. Are they true? He has hundreds of pictures of Ramon on his phone, but now that he thinks about it, he never has printed any out to hang up. The thought never occurred to him. Not that they have many guests, but maybe it would be nice to hang a few more photos around the house. 

“Yeah, sure, kid. We can do that. I never thought about it before, but sure. You can pick out your favorite photos, and we can choose a frame together. Father-son day out, how about that?” 

Ramon responds with a few excited nods and the big grin Fit loves. He takes a few steps ahead to catch up to Richarlyson, whispering something secret into Richas’ ear. One left turn later, and the group reach the area set aside for photos. 

Fit can see why Cellbit and Roier picked this spot. It’s on the other side of the venue, in an ornately decorated room of deep purples. It seems royalty would have resided here, so it is entirely appropriate for Cellbit and Roier. The room is well-lit, but the photographer appears to have opened the French doors and set up photos on the balcony. The view is stunning, especially with the late autumn trees spread across the landscape below, their heavy umber and inspired golds adding a sense of regality. It looks like something from one of Ramon’s storybooks rather than real life, and Fit feels a little too poor to be standing in a room like this. 

“Ah! Hello! You are the ones I was waiting on?”

Niki nods to the man with the camera, who she introduces as Pol, the wedding videographer and, for today, stand-in photographer. Pol looks slightly stressed as he does the job of two people, but he guides Fit, Pac, and the boys into position, allowing them to choose how to pose. 

“Okay. Let’s get a few photos of the four of you together. Then, we can move into some duo photos. I bet you’d love a photo of you two, right boys?” 

Richarlyson and Ramon squeak in the affirmative, dragging their dad’s along to pose with them. Fit and Pac stand together, each with a hand on their son’s shoulder as the boys stand in front. Pol snaps a few photos, offering small suggestions regarding their poses. The boys switch places at one point, with Pac’s hand on Ramon’s shoulder and Fit’s on Richarlyson’s. Fit smiles down at Richas as he beams a grin up toward Fit, paired with a giggle. Richas is missing a few teeth after an unfortunate run-in with one of Mike’s machines, but luckily they were already baby teeth on their way out. Nonetheless, the tooth fairy had blessed him as an apology, and he still loves to guilt trip Mike anytime he tries to discipline Richas. His broad, toothless grin makes Fit chuckle every time, and it takes all of Fit’s willpower to keep his hand on Richas’s shoulder so as not to mess up the photos. He’s far too used to ruffling both the boys' hair when they’re around. He may not be one for outward displays of affection, but he does love messing with other people’s hair, partially because they can’t fire back at him. 

After a few photos of the four together, Niki signals for Pac and Richas to take a few on their own, Fit and Ramon following right after. Pac and Richas’ photos are a lot sillier than Fit’s, primarily due to Richarlyson’s inability to stay still for too long, but Fit and Ramon have a few silly poses in the mix. Richas joins Ramon right after, the two throwing their tiny arms around one another’s shoulders for a friendly photo resembling dueling headlocks. Fit has to ask Cellbit and Roier for a few copies of that one; he’s needed a new photo for his wallet for some time. 

The boys finish their photo session, and Fit prepares to return to the venue when Niki calls out one last time.

“Wait! Do you two want a few photos together? I have to go get - “ Niki flips through the multitude of papers on her clipboard “ - Phil and family next, so we have time until I get them here!”

Pac looks to Fit with a raised brow. Neither considered posed photos of just the two of them, but hey, Cellbit’s paying. Why not?

Ramon and Richas play assistant again, dragging their dads into place before standing at Pol’s side. He bends down to show them how the camera works and lets them take a few practice shots for fun. 

“I have no idea how to pose for these things,” Fit admits with a sigh. “I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s easy. You just stand and smile. If they want us to move, they tell us.” Pac has done this so many times now he’s used to it. Mike’s wedding had a lot of photos, as have all the weddings he’s been a part of in the past. “Have you been to many weddings?”

“Not really,” Fit says, smiling at the camera. “A few, but none I was standing up in like you are today. Just always been a guest. I've never had my photo taken like this before. It’s kinda fun. A little intimidating, but fun.”

“PAI! YOUR HAIR IS ALL MESSED UP. YOU NEED TO FIX IT OR YOU’RE GONNA LOOK SO DUMB.” Richas, ever eloquent, squeals from behind the camera as Pol holds it up for him. 

“What’s wrong with it?!” Pac’s concerned eyes reach Fit as he desperately tries to smooth down whatever the issue might be. 

“Nothing! You look great!” Fit assures, smiling Pac’s way. He’s not entirely sure what the boys are referring to; Pac looks as handsome as always. 

“The side Fit! By his right ear!” Ramon yells over before ducking behind the camera. 

Fit squints to see what the boys mean, finding nothing out of place. He lifts his right hand and ghosts it over the tip of Pac’s ear, ready to tug down any errant strays. A light breeze passes through that disrupts Pac’s perfectly styled coif, and Fit shoots Pac a look, asking for permission to fix it. Pac nods, just enough for Fit to see, and Fit runs his fingers over Pac’s hair for the first time. He burns red at the feeling of the soft strands under his fingertips as they relent and follow his movement. Pushing the wayward locks down and back into place, Fit can’t help but get greedy as he pulls away, resting his thumb on Pac’s sharp cheekbone as he pushes down strands that were never an issue. A second later he pulls away, content, just as Niki walks through the door with Phil’s family. If either Fit or Pac was paying attention, they might have noticed the repeated clicks of a camera throughout their interaction, but neither pick up on it, too wrapped up in one another. 

Fit steps away first, looking back to see if Pac follows. Pac has a spaced-out look. Fit assumes he must be zoning out again and waits for him to catch up before exchanging pleasantries with Phil. They chat as Ramon and Richas crowd Pac, poking him in the side to bring him back to reality and pull him from the balcony. 

“Ramon, may I borrow my scarf? I think I need to hide for a minute; I think I might have a fever.”

“If you want it, sure, P-!”

Ramon’s kind words are cut off by Richarlyson’s hand coming to cover his mouth. 

“DON’T FALL FOR IT RAMON! Pai is just being dumb. He likes your dad, and it’s making him act stupid,” Richarlyson says with far too much wisdom for his age.

“Excuse me! What was that, Richinhas?!” Pac splutters. “Where did you get an idea like that!?”

“Pai Mike said you are sick with love! And you need to kiss tio Fit and get it over with!” Richas’s confidence spurs Ramon to join in, both children teasing Pac immediately. 

“I knew you liked Fit!” Ramon says with a gleeful smile. “He totally likes you too. He never talks about stuff, and he talks about you ALL THE TIME!” Ramon nods sagely at Richas, the two having their own private conversation while Pac freezes before them. “Does this mean we’re gonna be brothers? You’ll be a cool brother, Richas, but you can’t move my notebooks. They’re very organized really well. Also, don’t open the closet. I’m pretty sure there’s a monster living behind the wall.”

“WHAT THAT’S SO COOL?!”

“Meus Deus,” Pac mutters into his hands as the boys discuss what kind of monster lives in Ramon’s closet. 

“Hey guys! Dinner’s starting soon; we should find our seats!”

Fit’s voice rings from across the room, and Pac realizes he’s been standing with his face covered for far too long. Phil’s family is already having their photos taken, and Pac needs an excuse to get out of this room and straighten his head out a bit. 

“Yes boys! Why don’t we go sit down for food!” 

Pac all but sprints from the room, only pausing to wave to Phil. Fit waits for them at the door, guiding them out and back across the venue until they hear the soft classical music playing from the dining area. Servers move around with trays of bread, and Pac sees Mike waving him down from across the room. 

“I think Richarlyson and I have to sit up there with the rest of the wedding. We will find you after dinner. Is that okay?” Pac’s eyes look far too concerned for someone who will be sitting a few dozen feet from Fit and Ramon. Fit nods and shoos the duo away. 

“Go! Don’t get in trouble for hanging out with the regular folk like us. Niki seemed sweet, but I think she could kill us if she tried. We’ll see you after dinner.”

Pac and Fit share a small smile before Richarlyson grabs his dad’s hand, pulling him toward the head table where the rest of the favela sit. Fit watches him go with a faraway look, taking a moment to appreciate how well Pac’s suit fits. He stares a moment too long, only interrupted in thought when Phil smacks him on the shoulder. 

“Alright, mate. I think you’ve stared enough,” Phil cackles into Fit’s ear. We’re all at the same table; come with me.”

Fit scoffs at Phil’s words but follows along willfully, taking his assigned seat at the table along with Pomme, Baghera, BadBoy, and Dapper. He’s lucky to have such good people surrounding him, and Fit promises to bring Ramon around to hang out with Pomme more often. They get along far too well to only see one another at parties and assorted Sunday afternoons. 

Dinner passes quickly, and everyone is too hungry to talk through most of the meal. It’s all exceptionally delicious, and Ramon hands one of his many hidden notebooks to Chayanne so he can jot down recipe ideas. The more Fit watches Ramon interact with other kids he likes, the more determined he is to get the loft done. Ramon deserves to be with friends who are as considerate to him as he is to them. 

The end of dinner signifies the beginning of Fit’s least favorite part about weddings: the dancing. Fit claps and cheers along with the rest of the attendees as Cellbit and Roier take to the floor for their first dance. It’s a song Fit knows he’s heard before, but he can’t place the band or name of the title. Cellbit and Roier seem elated, giggling along with the lyrics as they mouth them to one another. They nearly topple as Cellbit attempts to spin and dip Roier into a kiss, but Roier’s senses allow him to catch himself at the last minute. He slaps at Cellbit’s arms as Cellbit pulls him back into his own, apologizing while hiding his face from the cat-calling crowd. The couple end their dance with a flourish, leaning into the embarrassment rather than trying to cover it up. It works well for them, and the entire venue is again endeared, seeing how perfectly matched the two are. 

The slow, romantic music gives way to a more uptempo beat as DJ Maxo invites everyone to join the happy couple on the dance floor. The children rush to the dance floor in a flash, already running circles around Cellbit and Roier. A few parents are pulled from their seats to join the celebration, but Fit and Phil hold back, sitting and watching. The other notable exception from the dancing is Ramon, who politely declines Pomme’s invitation to dance, saying maybe later. He turns his chair to mirror his fathers, facing out onto the dance floor. 

Fit’s eyes scan the dance floor before him, chuckling at Quackity’s attempts to dance with Tilin while simultaneously glaring daggers at Chayanne. His eyes fall to Pac, as they so often do these days. Pac is dancing around with Richarlyson, spinning him around at a velocity that is probably too fast for a wedding dance floor, but Richas doesn’t seem to mind. Fit can hear Richas’s loud laughter over the music and can’t help but smile. A few moments later, Richas spins and is swept up in Mine’s arms, who lifts him off the ground and dances with him as if this was a ballroom class. Pac watches Richarlyson and Mine dance together for a moment before turning to seek out Fit and Ramon, waving once he spots them at their table. 

“Hello! What is this? Why are none of you dancing? This is a wedding!” Pac exclaims, shaking his hips from side to side as he stands before the seated trio. 

“Ramon, do you want to join me and dance?” Pac eyes Ramon up, noticing immediately how his little eyes stare at his friends on the dance floor, yet his crossed arms perfectly mirror his father’s. 

“No, that’s okay. Thank you, though, Pac.” Ramon’s voice is quiet and slightly shaky. It’s clear to Pac that Ramon isn’t confident in his answer, likely trying to appease his father. Pac only knows how to handle Richarlyson when he gets like this and decides to take the same tactic: dramatics. 

“Oh. Okay, I get it, Ramon. Rejection happens, even to cool guys like me. I suppose if you don’t want to dance with the winner of 2017’s Best Dancer competition, I will just have to find another super cool kid who would want to dance with me.” Pac accentuates his dramatics, sighing as if it may be his last day on earth as he turns his head side to side, looking for another partner. To Ramon’s credit, he giggles immediately, looking to Fit for guidance. 

“Don’t look at me, my boy! If you want to go dance with Pac, go dance! I’ll cheer you on, how about that? Maybe take a few photos of you two being silly.” 

Ramon beams at his father’s response and all but throws himself from his chair, grabbing Pac’s hand. 

“Let’s go!”

Pac smiles down at him and allows himself to be dragged onto the dance floor. Upon arrival, the other kids cheer as Ramon joins them. Pac and Ramon swing around the floor, mirroring Pac and Richarlyson’s moves from minutes earlier. As promised, Fit’s phone is in his hand, taking an absurd number of photos. 

“He seems to be quite the natural with Ramon, huh?” Phil’s voice breaks Fit from his contemplation and huffs in agreement, sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

“He is. He’s too good, honestly. Sometimes, I think he’s a better dad to Ramon than I am.”

Fuck. 

Fit was never supposed to admit that out loud. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, mate? Ramon fucking adores you!” Phil retorts, turning in his seat to stare Fit down. 

“I know, I know! I’m not saying he doesn’t! It’s just. Y’know.” Fit trails off, but Phil’s gaze upon him never falters. “He’s just better at some things about being a dad than I am; that’s all. Like convincing Ramon to dance, bonding with him over his designs - shit like that. It all goes over my head, but it comes easy to those two. Just wish it was easier sometimes, I guess. To bond with him and stuff.”

Fit looks out onto the dance floor where Pac is between Richarlyson and Ramon, one tugging on each hand as they choreograph an intricate dance of their own devising. Fit can’t fight the smile on his face seeing them look so happy together. Part of him wishes he could get out there and join them, to be as carefree and unafraid as they are. That’s not Fit, though. He can’t get out there and embarrass himself in front of his kid, at least not in front of all these people. 

“I get it. But that’s the nice thing about living with someone Fit. You can even each other out - balance what you’re both good at. So Pac’s good at the emotional stuff, maybe, or at least he’s more used to dealing with it. You’ve been raising Ramon on your own for so long, and look at how fucking cool your kid is! Look how self-sufficient he is! That’s your doing, mate, no one elses. Maybe you can’t dance, who fucking cares? You love your kid, and that’s what matters.”

Fit takes Phil’s words to heart, nodding along. His voice may crack if he speaks, so he remains quiet but appreciates the words nonetheless. 

“Also, take fucking advantage of Pac being at home with you, dude! He clearly knows how to do things you can’t, and that’s fine. Talk to him about it! Find out what he knows and learn from each other if it bothers you! It’s fine to get help sometimes. You’ve been raising Ramon on your own forever. It’s okay to ask for help. Or, I mean, it’s fine to accept help when it’s offered. You’re not a bad dad for not being an expert on everything, mate.”

“How’d a dumbass like you get so fuckin’ smart?”

Phil chokes on air as he laughs, bending over to brace himself on his knees. He straightens as he speaks, voice still tinged with amusement. 

“A few years ago, some bald asshole smacked me around the head and told me I was a good dad when I was fucking up, and I listened.”

Fit remembers.

Wilbur had just left for his first tour, and Fit hadn’t yet been hired as his security. He visited Phil one day to find him in a bad place. Phil was too concerned with the kids getting hurt at any waking moment, he barely let them out of the house. Those days seem so foreign now, Fit thinks as he watches Luzu spin Tallulah while Chayanne and Bobby chase Quackity around abandoned tables. 

“Bald guys are always the smartest. There’ve been studies. I dunno where, but I’m sure someone studied it.” Fit relents with a laugh. “Thanks, Phil. I needed that.”

“Anytime, mate. You’ve got a good thing going on. I see what’s happening between you two. Fucking go for it, dude. You’ve got this.”

Fit’s eyes spy Pac as Phil speaks. He tilts his head in concern as Pac stands to the side of the dance floor in deep conversation with Cellbit. Pac must feel Fit’s eyes on him, and he waves over. Fit hesitates to wave back, but he can never deny Pac. He waves his hand just enough to constitute a wave and smiles in his direction. Pac smiles back, and Cellbit’s head turns to see what’s stolen Pac’s attention. Spying Fit across the room, Cellbit’s face takes on a manic grin as he turns to look between Fit and Pac twice. Fit sees Cellbit say something to Pac, who turns red and shoves at his arm, throwing his hands in the air. 

“I think I’m gonna get some air,” Fit sighs, bracing his hands on his knees as he pushes himself to stand. “It’s getting a little warm in here.”

“Think that’s just you, Fit,” Phil says with an overdramatic wink for effect. 

“Oh Phil, you do flatter me.” Fit laughs as he stretches for a moment. “If Ramon asks, tell him I’ll be right back. Gonna take a walk to the lake and back.”

“No problem, mate. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Fit nods to Phil, entrusting Ramon in his care. He waves at a few friends as he heads outside, filling his lungs with fresh air the moment he’s alone. It wasn’t overly hot inside, but it was a bit stuffy- stuffy enough to be noticeable, at least. 

The lake is gorgeous. Despite living in the area for years, Fit wonders why he’s never ventured out here before. Ramon would like it out here for sure. At least now, Fit knows he could plan a day out that Ramon would be interested in. He seemed excited about a hike earlier, even more so if Pac could come along. 

Pac seems to be at the forefront of Fit’s mind lately, no matter how hard he tries. Pac's presence has become such a forgone conclusion in his life that he couldn’t get away if he tried. Party invitations are now sent to “Pac and Fit” or “Fit and Pac.” Rarely does one get invited to an outing without the other these days. Pac picks Ramon up from school every Friday before meeting Fit at the gym and going out to dinner as a treat—more than once, they’ve been confused for being a couple on a night out with Ramon. 

Neither of them bothered to correct the person who assumed. 

Fit is beginning to accept what he knows as true: Pac's existence has dramatically improved his and Ramon’s lives. Pac simply existing in his space has changed Fit’s outlook on so many things, and he wishes he knew how to repay him aside from his constant affirmations. 

He also wishes he had the guts to tell Pac how he feels. 

Across the venue, Pac stands at the end of the floor, watching his friends and family dance in joy. It’s beautiful to see so many people he cares for in one room and for everyone to be happy and enjoying themselves. Nothing brings him happiness like other people’s happiness. He watches Mike and Richarlyson purposefully spin around Bad, tapping him on the arm and ducking out of view when he looks. It’s silly, but Richarlyson and Bad are giggling like fools, and Mike looks too proud of himself. 

On the other side of the room, Pac spies Fit sitting with Phil, arms crossed but still smiling. Pac never assumed Fit would be an avid dancer, but he did cling to a small hope that he could convince him to dance tonight. He would be lying to himself if he hadn’t spent a solid hour in bed daydreaming about dancing with Fit at some point, but it was a lofty idea. Still, Pac smirks at the thought of big, strong Fit tripping over his feet while trying to dance. 

Suddenly, a hand grabs Pac’s elbow, pulling him off balance. 

“Take a photo, Pac. It will last longer than staring until he’s burned into your retinas.”

Of course, Cellbit had to be the one who caught Pac staring. 

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere being married?”

“Eh. Roier and Mariana are arguing about who should catch the bouquet. We don’t even have a bouquet, so I’m not sure what they mean. I decided bothering you looked more fun.”

“Oh, thank you so much for thinking of me on your special day!” Pac says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. 

“Don’t mention it,” Cellbit smirks. He tips his head in Fit’s direction. “You go try and get the boy toy to dance? He doesn’t strike me as the type.”

Pac sighs, unable to hide from Cellbit any longer. 

“Not really his thing. He and Phil are fine, though. They talk a lot.”

“Mhm. Phil told me they’re close. That’s good. I’m glad he has someone to confide in, too.”

The ‘too’ does a lot of heavy lifting in Cellbit’s statement, and both know what he’s referring to. For years, Mike and Cellbit were Pac’s confidants, the ones he went to with all his problems. Time changes things though, and as they began forming serious romantic relationships, Pac pulled back, not wanting to bother them with his insignificant issues. 

Pac sighs, turning to meet Cellbit’s gaze. Why bother arguing?

“What do you want to know?” 

“Well - and this is me trying here, okay? What is going on between you and Fit? Roommates, I get that, but I know. I mean, I see it too, what you think you see. I know.”

They’re dancing so far from the underlying words that even Pac is starting to lose the metaphor. 

“Uh. Well. I guess we are in a weird place. It is good! It’s a good place, but it is, I don’t know."

“It’s at least something more than roommates, maybe?” Cellbit asks, head titling. 

“Yes, I think so. Sometimes, I am very sure, and then I feel like I know nothing,” Pac admits with a sigh. He steals a look over to where Fit and Phil sit. 

“But you’re in love with him, right? Or at least, endgame is you two together?”

God. Cellbit just had to say the quiet part out loud. Pac’s never had it presented so bluntly to him before. Part of him hates that Cellbit knows him so well, knows precisely why Pac struggles with the things Cellbit excels at. Part of him loves that Cellbit knows him so well, remembering his quirks and history no matter how long it’s been. The third part feels nothing, still mending what’s been broken. 

Pac swallows before answering as Fit turns in his direction and spies Pac watching. Pac waves in a sad attempt at navigating any awkwardness, and Fit smiles and waves back, a small gesture that sets Pac’s brain on fire.

Pac makes a decision. It’s a choice he never would have made a handful of months ago, but the longer this year goes, the longer his life leads, the fewer insecurities he has. What’s wrong with being vulnerable with Cellbit? In the best-case scenario, Cellbit listens and uses Pac’s trust as a foundation to rebuild their friendship. Worst case, Cellbit tears him down, proving to everyone he’s the asshole he tries so hard to be sometimes.  A few months ago, Pac would have chosen to drop it, happy to be non-confrontational; to assume everything is fine and pretend it is. 

At best, Pac gets his friend back. At worst, Cellbit loses more than he gains. 

For once, Pac knows that if Cellbit tried to knock him down again, Fit would catch him before he hit the ground. Suddenly, the choice is simple. 

“Yes. I think I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“And?”

“I mean, I get it. I just think you need to hear yourself say it. It helped me - us- Roier and me, I mean. Once I let myself believe it, everything got a lot easier. You must have hope!” Cellbit states, clasping Pac on the shoulder and squeezing him. 

Pac stares Cellbit down, seeing the friend he remembered. 

“I think he might; I think he has, uh, feelings. For me. Too.”

“Okay. Not bad. You’ll get there.” Cellbit smirks, squeezing once more. “But I see it too. Do you want the detective’s opinion?” 

Fucking Cellbit. Detective Cellbit was a nickname the Favela gave him when his investigative nature started compiling dossiers on everyone’s friends or potential romantic partners, whether he was asked to or not. It always started more trouble than it was worth, but why not indulge one last time?

“Fuck it. Why not.”

Cellbit’s features shift as his confidence returns. He stands a tad straighter and squares his shoulders just enough to be noticeable. The smirk returns, and Pac knows Cellbit must have been watching for him and Fit for a while or at least asking others about them, judging by the self-satisfied grin on his face. 

“He is good with people. He slides in and out of the conversation so well that you neglect to remember when he’s come and gone. Despite what you’d assume, he’s well-read, using language that is sometimes hard to translate. Doesn’t talk much, but a great listener because of it. Picks parts of conversations he hears to have a talking point if asked. Doesn’t like to stand out. Doesn’t approach people first. Needs someone who can support him, take a bit of the weight, I'd guess. He cares for his son so much, and he’s all the little guy has. Only interacts with people he son likes, I’d say.” 

Cellbit pauses to breathe and makes eye contact with Pac. Pac doesn’t have new information from this, but having all his thoughts confirmed by a third party does feel overwhelming but in a good way.

“Between us, He looks at you a lot. I noticed he watches every entrance and exit, and he’s always got his eyes on you and Ramon. I think if, God forbid, anything ever happened, like violent, he would have you and Ramon in a safehouse before the rest of us would know up from down. From what I gathered asking around, the only person besides you who’s ever taken Ramon home has been Phil, and you know how far they go back.”

Pac knows. After he picked Ramon up from school the first time, he and Fit had a small discussion about it, mostly Fit stuttering through asking Pac if he would be willing to do it again. Pac couldn’t think of a higher compliment Fit could bestow upon him than the right to take his son to and from school. 

“He takes photos of you with Ramon.” 

Pac’s head whips to catch Cellbit’s eye with a questioning look. 

“At least tonight, he was. He took a photo every time the two of you were dancing or doing things. It was sweet. He gets embarrassed easily, I can tell.”

“He is so easy to fluster,” Pac admits with a slight grin. It’s one of his favorite things to do, watching Fit blush and get stammery whenever Pac so much as bats his eyelashes Fit’s way. 

“And you’re good at that, aren't you Pac?”

Something hangs in the air for a moment: memories from long, long ago - so long ago that neither decides to dwell on them. 

“I am not so bad. As I have been told, at least.”

“Yes, of course, of course. Well, use it, idiot! As a third party watching this, I think he likes you. Flirt with him, Pac! See how he reciprocates! If he gets flustered, you’ve done your job.”

“You really think so?” Pac hates how his voice falters as he speaks, betraying him. 

“Jesus, yes! Or I don’t know. Figure out his type of love, or whatever that thing is called.”

“Love language.”

“Yeah, that shit. Design something for him, Pac! You’re the best in the world at it. Have you drawn him anything yet? I bet he would love that.” 

“He. Uh. Well, he wants to redo the loft above his gym. I was thinking maybe I could help with that?”

Cellbit’s eyes light up with Pac’s admission, and he slaps Pac in the arm again. 

“You can work on the project together then!  So it will be spending time together, talking out plans, do it as a Christmas gift! And then when you go to check out the place and start working, he’s all hot and sweaty, and oh, he doesn’t need a shirt, does he, Pac?”

“I will kill you,” Pac mutters, hiding his face in his hands. 

“You think you’re the only one good at flustering people, huh?” Cellbit jokes. “How did you think I got a husband?”

“You are the worst.”

“This is true. But still, it’s a good idea! Admit it.” Cellbit’s self-satisfied grin is so cocky, Pac contemplates waving Fit over and lying to get him to punch the smug look off Cellbit’s face. However, he can’t deny Cellbit just might be right. 

“It might work.”

“See! I am a genius. But do it, Pac. I think you’ll be really happy. I think you make him really happy. He just needs time.”

Pac is quiet for a moment, reveling in Cellbit’s words. He questions whether he should share his feelings with Cellbit, but if he doesn’t give him anything to work with, how can Cellbit prove his dedication to their friendship? 

“Uh. Earlier, Ramon joked about taking a family photo at the wedding, so we took a few with your photographer. Fit also invited Richarlyson to join us for the family photos because Richarlyson is part of the family.”

“Holy shit. Fit said that?!” 

“Yeah. I don’t know if he understood why I was so surprised, but I guess he meant it.”

“He considers you and Richas family. That’s pretty huge, Pac. I think that is the best sign you could ask for. When Roier and Richas started having fun hanging out without me, I knew it was a sign I had something good. Go for this. Pac. Be happy.”

“Thanks Cellbit.” 

“Anytime. We are family. And I promise I am trying.”

“Sim, sim. I can tell.” 

Cellbit and Pac share a small smile before Cellbit rolls his eyes and pulls Pac in for a hug. 

“We will both be happy, I think.” 

“I think so too. This has been a good day.” Pac replies. 

“Best day of my life,” Cellbit admits with a shrug. “Now, your man seems to have wandered off outside. Perhaps you should go track him down.” Cellbit’s brows raise up and down at Pac, leering. 

Pac’s eyes snap away from Cellbit and over to where Phil now sits alone. Knowing Fit, he likely went outside to get some air by the water. Fit always feels better by the beach, so the lake is the closest thing. 

“Thank you, Cellbit. I will go look for him now.”

“Enjoy yourself. I look forward to hearing what happened when I get back from the honeymoon.”

“Will do!” Pac yells behind him as he strides toward the doorway, leading out into the fresh air. Mike nods at him as he leaves, already knowing exactly what Pac’s plan is. Stepping outside, Pac squints as his eyes adjust to the light. It’s far cooler out here, and Pac rolls his neck a few times, allowing the stress of the day to dissipate for a moment. Once his eyes have fully adjusted to the change in light, Pac’s sight trails down the staircase, outlined by white fairy lights. At the bottom is a tiny lookout point close to the lake's edge, and Pac can just make out a figure leaning on the railing. 

Fit. 

Taking a breath, Pac maneuvers down the stairwell, waiting until he’s only a few steps away before yelling out a hello to Fit. 

“Oiiiii Fit!”

Fit jumps at Pac’s voice, spinning on his heel to face away from the lake to take in the sight of Pac. The way his entire face lights up at Pac’s arrival sends a shock through Pac’s system. How could he not have feelings for someone who looks at him like that?

“Pac! Oi! Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming!”

“It’s no problem, Fit. I was just talking to Cellbit and realized I did not know where you went, so I thought it was worth trying to find you! I needed a break anyway. It is very hot in there.”

“Yeah, same. It was getting a little stuffy, so I came out here to just, y’know.”

“Clear your thoughts?” Pac offers. 

“Exactly, exactly.” Fit quiets for a moment, looking Pac up and down. “The suit looks good. You look like you belong in a magazine, not the condo of a single dad and his hyperactive kid.” 

Pac preens under the attention, taking a moment to throw out his arms on either side and spin around, giving Fit a full view of his suit. 

“Thank you, Fit! You look so nice too! I like how you and Ramon’s match but are not the same. It’s very cute.”

“Oh, yeah, thank you! That was Ramon’s idea. And hey, nice job getting him out there to dance! I think he gets a little shy sometimes, so you really help him come out of his shell.”

“It’s no problem. He looked like he wanted to go but didn’t want to leave your side, so I am glad he decided to join the others.”

“Yeah, he gets nervous easily. I guess he inherited something from me, at least. But hey, you looked great out there dancing! I didn’t realize you liked dancing so much.”

"Fit, I'm from Brazil. I think I learned to dance when I was so young I don’t even remember. I just always have done it.” Pac admits with a shrug. It comes easily to him, moving in time with any beat. It’s why he likes jogging to clear his head despite having to switch his prosthetic out for workouts. It’s worth it to hear the beat in time with his muscles, to get a rhythm going so intensely he can enjoy his workout without even thinking. 

“That’s amazing. I have no rhythm at all. Total white dude stereotype over here.” Fit laughs, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his head. Pac fights his need to smile, knowing the movement is one of Fit’s go-to’s when he’s feeling embarrassed. Fueled by his discussion with Cellbit, Pac decides to take a chance. 

“Would you like to dance Fit?” Pac’s voice breaks a bit halfway through the sentence. “With me? I mean.” 

Pac can’t believe he’s got it out. He can’t believe he said it out loud. 

He also can’t believe Fit hasn’t responded. 

“Um. I. Well, Pac. I’m sorry, but I-”

“Oh.”

“Pac, it’s not that I don’t want to. I don’t know how.” 

“It’s okay, Fit. I understand.” Pac hopes he can mask his feelings of rejection, but he’s never been good at hiding his emotions. Not from Fit, at least. “I can go and let yo-”

“No!” Fit says hurriedly, embarrassed at the volume of his voice. “I mean, uh, no Pac. Don’t go. You’re uh. Fuck. I’m sorry.” Fit groans. He runs his hands over his face, hiding from Pac. Pac’s seen this move before; it only happens occasionally when Fit loses his composure.

Despite everything, Pac stays.

“You’re good, Fit. It’s just us here. I won’t laugh at you or anything like this, I promise.” Pac wishes he could reach into Fit’s head or his heart and rearrange the way it processes words. He knows Fit prioritizes all his shortcomings rather than just asking Pac for help. One day, he hopes he can help Fit break that habit. 

“Okay.”

Pac waits, allowing Fit to get his bearings. 

“I don’t know how to dance. Never done anything like that, is all. I wouldn’t mind learning; it’s a good skill to have. Just never been taught. And I’m good with being taught, just not in front of my son’s friends and their parents, if that makes sense. Not there yet with these people. They’re the problem, not the dancin’ part.”

Pac should have seen this coming. He knows this about Fit but never put two and two together. Of course Fit doesn’t want to try something for the first time around people who could judge him. He tries so hard to be the perfect dad and handle everything on his own. Fit and Ramon are so similar in that way - both desperate for affection but afraid of looking anything other than perfect in front of others. 

“I think I understand.” Pac takes a moment to gather his words before speaking again. 

“You need more time to do this. In front of other people, at least. Not ready to join in yet?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s. That’s it. With everyone else here, I’d just feel stupid. I wouldn’t want to be the one dad who doesn’t know how to look half-decent out there. I wouldn’t want to embarrass Ramon in front of his friends.” Fit gets his words out and looks embarrassed for having said them. Pac wishes he could wrap Fit in a hug and tell him no one else’s opinion matters, but he knows it wouldn’t help. He does think of another alternative, however. 

“But…” Pac trails, waiting to see if Fit is paying attention. 

“Hm?”

“If it was me? Just me, and maybe we were not here at a wedding of people who are strangers to us? If we were not here, we were at home?”

“Just us?”

“Sim, you and me and Ramon. At home. If it was just us at home, would you try?”

“Yeah, Pac. I think I’d try anything if you’re there to help.”

It sends a shock through Pac to hear. Fit’s more intelligent than he gives himself credit for, sure, but Fit knows what’s happening here. They both do at this point. There are feelings here, romantic ones that surprise them both in a way. Pac has become ingrained in Fit’s life in a way neither could have predicted, but they're still not sure how this whole thing works. Pac thinks Fit might be the most perfect partner he could have dreamed of. Pac knows Fit thinks the world of him, ready to do things he’d never want to otherwise just for Pac. It makes Pac feel confident, strong, powerful even. All these emotions just because a handsome, compassionate man is willing to do anything for him. What a rush. 

“Good to know.”

“You have to promise me something, though, if I let you teach me.” Fit’s eyes twinkle when he speaks, and he seems far more upbeat than moments ago. 

“Anything.”

“If you teach me to dance, it only seems fair I get to teach you something. I'll learn how to dance, and then I’ll teach you how to throw a proper punch, alright? Just in case you ever need to, and I’m not there.” 

Pac’s face burns at the thought. He and Fit alone in the gym, practicing throwing punches. Fit’s hands are on his, helping to guide him. Pac’s hands are on Fit’s shoulders, trying to get him to loosen up for a simple dance. It’s almost too much for him to handle, but he manages. 

“Yes! Yes! That is an awesome idea, Fit. I would love this. I know that Ramon is the most important thing to you, so I will always keep him safes and fight if he needs me.”

“I thought you might,” Fit laughs. I’ll feel better knowing you can protect yourself, too, if anything happens. I mean, I know you’d be fine, you're smart and tough as hell, but this would be like extra insurance, you know?”

“I agree, yes. I would love to learn. Maybe I can invite Cellbit or Mike along after I learn and get practice with a real person. That would be fun!”

“Pac, you can’t punch people for fun.”

“Why not?! What if they deserve it?” Pac pouts purposefully, giving Fit all the puppy dog eyes he can muster. Fit’s noticeably flustered by the action, and Pac files away his reaction to contemplate later. 

“Oh. Well, if they deserve it, then be my guest Pac! I support your rights and wrongs.” 

Pac giggles at Fit’s devotion, mirroring it back. 

“I support all your rights and wrongs too, Fit!”

They smile at one another as a breeze rolls in. The chill in the air is now hitting full force as the sun has gone, and Pac shivers in the cold. Despite how good he might look in his suitcoat, sequins and lace are not the most helpful when it comes to staying warm. 

“Let’s head back inside. The boys will be wondering where we ran off to.” 

Pac nods, following Fit’s lead back up the stairs into the venue. Just before the top step, Pac slips a little on a wet leaf, leg nearly coming out from under him. Luckily, Fit is there in a flash, wrapping an arm around Pac’s side and grabbing his hand with the other. It’s the closest they’ve ever been physically, and Fit's entire spine goes tingly at the feeling of Pac’s muscular arm under his grasp, the thin material allowing Fit to feel so much more than he expects. 

“Obrigado, Fit.” 

Pac’s face is dangerously close to his own. If their positioning wasn’t so awkward, Fit could convince himself to kiss Pac like this, right on the stairs. Alas, Fit is a romantic at heart, even if he doesn’t have much experience in that department. If he’s going to build up the nerve to kiss Pac one of these days, it can’t be out of nowhere like this. It has to be perfect. It has to be worthy of what Pac deserves. 

“Of course, of course,” Fit says, releasing his grip on Pac as he situates himself. “Anytime.”

Fit’s word sounds like a promise Pac is determined to collect upon. 

As they go back inside, eyes adjusting to the shift in light, Fit breaks the tension. 

“So. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course! Anything.”

“What did you do to be Best Dancer in 2017?” Fit’s eyebrow quirks as he smirks Pac’s way. Cocky Fit is something Pac can hardly handle on a good day. Cocky Fit in a well-tailored suit is almost intolerable. 

“Oh, Fitche. Wouldn’t you like to know?” Pac winks in Fit’s direction before walking backward onto the dance floor, allowing himself to be spun off into a group by whoever links his arm first. 

Fit stands at the edge of the dance floor, laughing as Mike and Pac have a dance-off, both trading over-the-top moves. He watches for a few minutes, content that Pac and Ramon are safe, before mingling with the other attendees he knows. 

After a few hours of conversation (and far too many desserts), Fit again sits at the edge of the dance floor, this time alone. Phil is a few tables away, conversing with some people Fit doesn’t know. He knows if he went over, Phil would absolutely introduce them, and it wouldn’t be too awkward, but he’s enjoying his solitude at the moment. 

“Hello, Fit.”

At least he was enjoying it. 

“Cellbit. Congratulations! I hope you and Roier are happy together for years to come.”

Despite his conflicting feelings regarding Cellbit, mainly concerning how Cellbit has treated Pac in the past, Fit does have manners. He won’t be purposefully antagonistic on a man’s wedding day unless he really, really deserves it. Cellbit gestures to the empty seat next to Fit, and Fit nods, giving him the go-ahead to sit and join. 

“Obrigado, Fit. I appreciate you coming. Ramon looks to be having a lot of fun. He and Richarlyson have been getting along really well lately. Richas likes Ramon a lot.”

Cellbit might be trying to butter Fit up, but he appreciates his words either way. Ramon adores Richarlyson, and Fit couldn’t be prouder at how quickly his son makes friends. 

“Richas is an amazing kid, Cellbit. You guys have done a great job raising him. Little guy has more personality in a missing tooth than most adults I know in their whole bodies.”

Cellbit laughs, throwing his head back in the process. 

“Do not tell him this; he will be so proud he will talk about it for weeks, I swear,” Cellbit tells Fit, nudging his arm. “But thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely, yes. You are an impressive man, Fit. Richarlyson is the best son I could ask for, but he has a lot of parents to teach him about life. Ramon only has you, and he is incredible. I don’t know how you do it alone; sometimes, I can barely handle my son despite the help. I admire you.”

Cellbit’s voice seems genuine, and Fit finds himself flustered at the compliment. 

“I see. Well, uh. Thank you Cellbit. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. I’m glad someone thinks I’m doing well. I feel lost a lot of the time too,” Fit admits, giving Cellbit a look of commiseration. 

“Lots of people think you’re a great dad, Fit. I can think of one in particular.” 

There it is. Fit knew Cellbit came over for a reason, and now he understands why. 

“That so? Hm. Wonder who it could be.” 

Cellbit snorts.

“So secretive, aren’t I? Well, there is no need to be coy then. I wanted to thank you.”

“What?”

“For being there for Pac. I know I have been an asshole the past few months, but Pac and I spoke today, and I apologized. I promised him I would be a better friend, and I swear I will not disappoint him again.”

Fit remains stoic, keeping his face neutral. He wants to trust Cellbit, but he’s also wary. It’s a fine line to walk, but protecting Pac is worth it. Everything is, really. 

“I hope you don’t make a liar of yourself, Cellbit. It wouldn’t go well for any of us. I’m glad you and Pac talked it out. He deserves people around him who care as much about him as he cares about them.”

Cellbit nods, and silence passes between the two. Both watch the dance floor where Pac is slow dancing with Tallulah, her small feet finding purchase on top of Pac’s dress shoes. 

“You’re an intimidating man, Fit. I won’t betray Pac’s trust in me again. I can’t say I will be perfect, but I will do everything possible to make things right.” Cellbit waits for a beat before continuing. “Also, because you scare me very much, and my husband likes my face very much the way it is.”

Fit bursts out laughing, a loud, bombastic laugh that takes Cellbit aback. Fit rarely laughs like this, but this moment is so ridiculous it’s worth it. Other attendees look over, confused, including Pac, whose eyes widen seeing the pair together. Cellbit joins in after a moment, laughing as well, brushing tears from his eyes. 

“Thanks, Cellbit, I needed that. I believe in you, but if you fuck with Pac again, your husband may be sad. Use that for motivation too if you need.” Fit’s tone is light, but Cellbit knows he speaks the truth. 

“You are good for him.” Cellbit says, which raises a blush to Fit’s ears. “And I hope he is good to you. Take a chance. I think you will be happy together.”

Cellbit says his final words and nods at Fit, who reciprocates. Cellbit stands as Quackity rushes by, being chased by Mariana. He sighs, bringing a hand to pinch between his eyes, and mutters something to himself before chasing after them. 

“Well, that looked entertaining.”

Fit is surrounded by nosy Brazilians tonight. Luckily, this one is a lot more tolerable. 

“I don’t even want to know what’s going on, but I think Quackity might be having the worst wedding experience ever.”

Pac giggles at Fit’s words. He wonders if there’s some divine intervention happening to give himself such a great day that left Quackity plagued instead. Perhaps it’s deserved. Who knows. 

“It’s been an interesting night, to say the least. You doing okay?” Fit’s voice is laced with concern but more out of interest than actual worry. 

“It has been very fun. I’m exhausted, though. I forgot how tiring it is to entertain so many children for so long.”

Fit stands to match Pac, shoulder to shoulder. 

“I don’t think you’re the only one exhausted around here. Looks like someone had a long night,” Fit chuckles, gesturing to a small pair of boots sticking out from under table 8. Pac smiles softly at the sight, dropping into a squat to peer under the table. Fit does the same, flipping back the tablecloth to get a better look. Under the table, curled up together, are Ramon and Chayanne, who quite possibly passed out during a hide-and-seek game. Ramon’s once tidy hair is unruly, Pac’s scarf being used as a makeshift headband to push his hair off his forehead. 

“I guess it is time to take him home, huh?” Pac mutters. Fit nods in response, leaning in further to scoop his son into his arms. Pac leans back to give him room, scanning his eyes to see if Phil is near. Pac spots him a few tables away, sitting quietly and watching Tallulah dance with Pomme. Pac waves to him and mouths “Chayanne” while pointing toward the table. Phil seems to get the memo, leaning his head back to laugh and waving in Pac’s direction. By the time Pac has his exchange, Fit comes scooting out on his knees, a sleepy Ramon curled in his arm. 

“We should probably head out,” Fit says quietly. He looks down at Ramon as he speaks, ensuring he isn’t speaking loud enough to wake him immediately. 

Pac nods and pushes himself up to stand, offering Fit a hand once he’s found his own balance. 

“Can you give me ten minutes? I need to get back to the groom's suite to get my things.” Pac mutters as Fit finds his feet. 
 
“Oh. Pac, if you want to stay here with your family, that’s fine! It’s been a big day. I can get this little guy home myself. Phil drove us here so I can ask when he’ll be ready to head out.”

Pac weighs his options. The wedding has been a surprisingly good time, and he’s glad he and Cellbit are on the road to repairing their relationship. It would be nice to spend a bit more time with the favela family, but in searching around the room, Pac finds himself displaced again. Roier and Cellbit are dancing together in the middle of the room, looking so in love Pac could crumble at the sight. Mike and Mine sit at another table, conversing with a drunk and giggly Bagi and Baghera. Felps is dancing with himself and the still awake eggs, and Forever snuck away ages ago. 

“No. It’s okay,” Pac says, turning to smile at Fit. He lifts his hand to push more of Ramon’s hair away from his eyes, and he can feel Fit’s eyes on him. “It’s been a good day with them, but I want to go home now. If that’s okay.”

“Never going to hear me complain about you coming home.” 

Fit says as a joke, but there’s something heavy in the air between them. To his credit, Fit looks surprised at his own words, opening and closing his mouth twice, clearly trying to figure out how he should have worded that sentence. Pac snorts as he pulls away from Ramon’s hair, watching with amusement as Fit stumbles over his words. 

“Sorry, that’s not - I mean, I - “

Pac waves him off, nodding in understanding. 

“I know what you meant, Fit. It’s okay. I feel like this, too. I get it.” Pac offers, doing his best to express his understanding. He knows what Fit means. Pac would have reacted the same way if the tables were turned. There’s something nice about knowing when the other will be home; a palpable excitement always surges through him when he knows Fit’s on the way. It’s a nice feeling, and Pac assumes it’s the same Fit inexplicable emotion Fit feels. Or, at least, he hopes it is. 

“I should go say goodbye to Cellbit and Roier. Do you have all of Ramon’s stuffs? My keys are with my things, but I’ll be fast, I promise.”

“No rush, Pac. I don’t think Ramon is gonna wake up anytime soon. Pretty sure he’s all wiped out from the sugar crash. I’ll wait outside for you once I’ve grabbed his stuff, okay?”

Pac nods, smiling. 

“I’ll be back soon!” Pac says as he turns on his heel. His eyes zero in on Cellbit and Roier as they comically spin across the dance floor, looking every bit in love despite being far more disheveled than hours before. He waits for a good moment to step in and be pulled into their orbit, spinning along with them. 

“Hey guys! I’m going to head out!” Pac exclaims with a laugh as Cellbit and Roier jump from the intrusion. 

“Holy shit! Fuck you scared me, pendejo!”

Roier grabs at his chest with mock shock but continues moving, never letting Cellbit’s hand out of his own. 

“Sorry! It is hard to grab your attention when you’re looking lovey-dovey! What was I supposed to do?!” Pac jokes, twirling around Roier in jest. 

“It’s so late already? I didn’t notice the time,” Cellbit shouts over the music, pausing his spin to pull his phone from his pants pocket to check. “Oh shit, it’s nearly midnight!”

“Sim, Ramon is passed out already, and I think Richarlyson and Bobby are playing pranks. I would stay away from the rest of the cake; they keep pushing it into people’s faces. I don’t know where it’s been anymore,” Pac states, shuddering at the thought. On a typical night, he’d stop Richas from being such a menace, but it’s a special day for him too. He’s gained a whole new side of the family, so he deserves a little chaos with his new brother if he wants. 

Also, if other adults want to keep an eye on Richas, who is Pac to complain? 

“Ah, okay. Go take Ramon and your man home then, Pac,” Cellbit says with a wolfish grin. Roier snickers at his statement, and Pac rolls his eyes at them both, fighting not to allow himself to smile. 

“I will take back my wedding present if you don’t stop.”

“No, no, no! Cellbit was just kidding, weren’t you, Cellbo?” Roier offers with a smug grin, the kind that only grows more defined as Cellbit blushes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Go. Go home, Pac. Can’t have an angry husband already, can I?”

“Psh. More like can’t have an angry husband ever, idiota.” Roier pushes at Cellbit’s arm with no malice in his voice. It’s almost gross how happy the two look, but Pac finds it just the right side of endearing. 

“Thank you for inviting me, this was a beautiful wedding. I hope you two have a nice time without the rest of us,” Pac says with a wink, backing away from the two. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He says, at last, waving goodbye.

“That doesn’t mean much!” Cellbit yells after him, only to meet with Pac’s retreating middle finger in the air. 

Pac says goodbye to a few other partygoers on his way to the groom's suite, bounding up the stairs two at a time to collect his things. He’s beyond exhausted, physically, emotionally, and mentally, but he thinks of Fit’s words from earlier that morning. The faster they get something done, the faster they can go home, and all Pac wants right now is to change out of his suit and exist at home. 

Pac’s grateful he’s lived with Fit long enough to pick up a few of Fit’s habits. Fit’s always prepared, something Pac admits he’s never been quite so adept with, but he’s learning. Pac made sure to pack his bag the moment he was done changing into his suit earlier, so retrieving his things takes only seconds. If this were last year, Pac would take at least ten minutes to shove everything haphazardly into his bag, and even then, Bagi would inevitably find something he forgot later in the night. Tonight, he knows where everything needs to be. Pac tosses his bag over his shoulder and makes his way back down the stairs, a wave of emotions rolling off him. 

It’s over. He did it. Nothing went wrong. 

Pac smiles as he passes the ballroom again, seeing his family enjoy their time out of the corner of his eye. It’s sweet, and Pac is thankful he came, even if the day had been more tense than expected. With one last glance, Pac turns and opens the venue door, stepping out into the cool autumn air to find Fit and Ramon. There, waiting right where he said he’d be, is Fit. Ramon is still asleep and bundled in his arms. His other family is waiting for him. 

“All set?” 

Fit’s voice reassures Pac in a way that he could never begin to explain. For whatever reason, hearing Fit speak helps Pac feel more confident in every decision. 

“Yup,” Pac says, digging his car keys out of the pocket in his bag. “But you’re driving. I don’t want to risk falling asleep if that’s okay.” 

“Of course, of course, Pac. I don’t mind.” 

Pac mutters thanks as he tosses his keys to Fit before remembering he’s carrying Ramon. His eyes bulge for a moment to apologize, but Fit doesn’t notice. He simply raises his hand to catch the keys in his palm while his other arm holds Ramon tight—dad instinct.

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking,” Pac grumbles, wiping at his sleepy eyes for a moment. The adrenaline rush of running around the venue begins to wear off, and Pac doesn’t remember feeling this exhausted twenty minutes ago. 

“s’all good. Let’s go home, get you into bed.” 

Pac’s face burns at Fit’s words, but he follows along dutifully as Fit leads them into the parking lot. It isn’t until halfway that Fit turns and admits to Pac that he has no idea where Pac parked the car. 

Fit pulls the car into the underground lot for the condo, effortlessly backing into Pac’s parking space. Pac’s car stands out next to his in their assigned corner; the electric blue of Pac’s speedy sedan up against the dark gunmetal of Fit’s mid-size SVU, winner of every road safety test on the market. Fit’s car is spotlessly clean, while Pac’s, though clean enough, is plastered with obnoxious bumper stickers galore. It’s a small reminder for Fit of their differences, but both cars are perfectly safe for Ramon. 

At the thought, Fit tips his head back to check on his beautiful baby boy. Ramon is sprawled across the back seat, somehow still with his seat belt intact despite his limbs lying in every direction. Pac fares better, his head resting against the seat, facing Fit. Sometimes Pac falls asleep on the couch with Ramon, but those moments are quick and fleeting. Pac’s a heavier sleeper than Fit but tends to wake up anytime the movie gets loud, adorably blinking himself awake every time. It’s rare Fit gets to see Pac look so relaxed and carefree, and he selfishly wishes they could stay in this car for a bit longer, if only so he can commit Pac’s sleeping face to memory. 

Sadly, Fit is more reasonable than he’d like to be and begins waking his boys up.

The trek to the condo door takes far longer than usual as two sleepyheads now burden Fit. Lucky for him, Pac is awake enough to help, reaching out to take Ramon in his arms while Fit leads the way and opens the door. Pac heads straight to Ramon’s room, lying him in his bed and removing his shoes while Fit locks up. Upon entering Ramon’s room, Fit double-takes at the sight of Pac helping Ramon into his PJs, taking the time to remove the scarf from Ramon’s neck just to tie it around Meathead’s instead. Ramon clutches onto his stuffed animal the moment it’s in range of his tiny hands, and Fit waits, watching in the doorway as Pac half sings something to Ramon under his breath. It’s definitely not the song Fit usually sings to Ramon, but his boy looks happy anyway, curled up and back asleep before Pac finishes. 

Pac turns back to the door and spies Fit standing and waiting. Pac looks so exhausted but happy. Fit steps back from the door, allowing Pac to pass through before turning off Ramon’s light and pulling his door close to shut. 

“I am so tired I think I may sleep standing up.”

Fit snickers as Pac throws a hand over his forehead dramatically. 

“Yeah, yeah. All right, fancy boy. Get out of that suit and head to bed. We’re all allowed an extra long sleep-in tomorrow.”

Pac’s sleepy state overtakes him as he throws his suitcoat onto the floor as he and Fit re-enter the living room. The shirt underneath is far more comfortable, and Pac rolls up his sleeves before he faceplants into the couch. 

“Smooth,” Fit cackles, pouring a glass of water in the kitchen and leaving it on the coffee table closest to Pac’s prone form. 

Pac grumbles something intelligible, and Fit heads to his bedroom to quickly change out of his own suit, leaving it lying over the back of his chair. He can clean and sort everything in the morning. Right now, he needs sleep. Fit throws on an old tank top and sweatpants, heading back to the living room to double-check the locked door. 

Pac still lays across the couch, but now he’s rolled onto his back, eyes closed and looking at the ceiling. There’s an enjoyable quiet in the condo, sounds kept to an absolute minimum. Fit retrieves a glass of water for himself and puts away a few things before tapping Pac’s shoulder and ordering him to sleep. 

“Want to hear something funny?” Pac’s voice cuts into Fit’s thoughts. He jolts at the noise, having thought Pac was already asleep. 

“Fofoca? You know I do.”

Pac smirks, opening his eyes as he pushes himself onto his elbows. 

“You know the scarf I gave to Ramon?” He asks.

“Of course. What about it?”

“It’s worth $2,000.”

“Say WHAAAAAT?!”

Fit’s high-pitched tone sets off Pac’s giggles, and the two actively attempt to suppress their laughter to not wake Ramon. 

“How the fuck is that possible?” Fit asks incredulously. “It’s a goddamn scarf. How expensive can one of these be?!” Granted, Fit knows nothing of fashion, but he understands money and that much of it for a little scarf is highway robbery. 

“Pac. You gave my kid a scarf worth fuckin’ two grand? You’ve got two grand to spend on scarves? Holy shit, Pac!”

Pac is laughing so hard that he nearly rolls off the couch. He waves in Fit’s direction for him to stop talking so he can explain, and Fit raises his brows as high as possible, waiting for Pac’s reasoning. 

“No, no! I did not buy it!”

“Oh, thank god,” Fit says with a sigh. He was beginning to be concerned with Pac’s money management skills. 

“I stole it.” 

“I’m gonna have a heart attack,” Fit mutters, shifting from his feet to sit on the couch. Pac lifts his legs from the couch to give Fit room before immediately placing them in Fit’s lap. 

“I designed the set for a little movie, and the actor in the scene had to pick it up and throw it around. They let him pick the scarf. He picked that one, then decided the day of filming he hated it, and they had to get another. So I added it into the set, kept it when we tore down.”

“That,” Fit says, sighing in shock. “Is fucking bonkers.”

Pac is still giggling at the end of the couch, wiping tears from his cheeks. It’s nice to be home like this, adults wrapped up in a conversation on the couch. These are the moments Fit daydreams about during his worst days at work. This is what he wants to come home to. 

“We can never tell him about this,” Fit finally says, turning to catch Pac’s eye. 

“No. Never.” Pac nods in agreement, smirking with pride. 

“We also can never let him leave the house with it again. He won’t know, but if anything happens to that thing, I will be stressing about losing $2,000, even if I never had it in the first place.”

“Do not worry, Fit, I’m already on it. I have a seamstress I work with. Her name is Mouse. She can replicate anything. I already asked her to make a few copies we can switch it for.”

“You’re too good to me, Pac.”

Pac lifts his head from the couch and stares Fit down. His expression is unreadable, which makes Fit a little nervous. Pac is clearly trying to figure out what to say, and Fit leans his head back onto the couch as he watches Pac search for his words. 

“Fit. I think we are good to each other.”

Pac’s words ricochet around Fit’s brain, body, and soul. 

“Damn right, Pac. Damn right, we are.” 

Chapter Text

Ten days. 

It’s been ten days since Fit and Ramon have seen Pac in the flesh. 

‘It had to happen sometime,’ Fit thinks when Pac drops the news. It’s nearing the holidays when Pac informs him and Ramon that he’s leaving right before Christmas. The Favela have had their ups and downs this year, to say the least, and everyone agreed to hit the reset button on their assorted friendships. With so many having their own families and responsibilities, renting an Air BnB for a ten-day vacation seemed like the perfect way to celebrate the holidays together before everyone splits off for their personal commitments. Fit knows Pac has other things going on and can’t be expected to spend all his days with Fit and Ramon, but it’s a shot to Fit’s gut that he doesn’t anticipate when Pac tells him of the trip. 

On the day of Pac’s departure, Ramon and Fit help with his bags, tossing them into the back of the van Mike rented for the journey. They’re not going far, just a few hours' drive, but it immediately feels like it will be eons until they see Pac again. When the time comes, Pac scoops Ramon into his arms and spins him, pressing a kiss to his temple as he says his goodbyes. He promises to be back to celebrate Christmas day, and Ramon nods, trying to hide the tears in his eyes from Richarlyson, who peers at them through the backseat window. 

When Fit finally gets his chance to wish Pac well, he’s taken aback by being grasped and pulled into Pac’s arms. It’s not the first time they’ve hugged, but those have been half hugs, only one arm around the other in a friendly way. This hug is more of a real goodbye as Pac’s arms grasp at one another, resting across Fit’s broad shoulders. It’s cold, and Fit laments the fact that Pac’s coat is too thin for the chilly air of December, as stylish as it is. Fit tries his hardest not to melt into Pac’s hug, awkwardly nervous about where to place his hands. He settles for spreading his hands wide and lying them across Pac’s back, pushing Pac closer rather than hugging him tight. It’s been so long since Fit hugged someone that isn’t Ramon that he forgets how his limbs work, but the feeling of being wrapped up in Pac’s arms will coax him to sleep for the next ten days. 

“I’ll be back before you know it!” Pac speaks to the side of Fit’s ear. One of them shivers, but neither can discern which it is or why. It could have been the hug or the cold, but both will think about it many more times. 

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Fit rumbles back, sighing as he releases Pac and pulls away, forcing a smile. “Have a ton of fun with everyone. And stay warm! I keep telling you that coat isn’t going to be enough,” Fit sighs, shaking his head. 

“I will be fine, I promise. And if I am too cold, I will just come home and warm up when I get back!” Pac’s joy is contagious, and Fit can’t fight the smile that springs forth for long. “I will send you photos and stuff. Ramon! Make sure your dad sends me a photo of your science project, okay?”

Ramon looks up and nods sagely at Pac. The pair had been working on Ramon’s project for three days, a little pipe-cleaner bridge for his art class. They were tasked with building something 3-D over break, and Ramon had gone straight to Pac for help. Fit might have felt cast aside if it wasn’t so adorable watching the two hunched over the living room table, sketching out designs and folding pipe cleaners over and over again. 

“I promise I’ll send some. Now get going, you guys! You don’t want to be the last ones there; you know the others will choose all the nice bedrooms first!” Fit does his best to lighten the mood, unsure of to whose benefit. 

“Okay, okay! We’ll go!” Pac laughs, pulling Ramon in for a last hug with one arm as Mike revs the engine. “Be good without me, you two!”

Ramon steps to his Fit’s right and grips his arm the second Pac leaves his side; the universal Ramon sign for ‘pick me up, Fit, please. I’m sad.’ Fit snatches Ramon up and into his arms in a second, both waving in tandem as the van begins to drive off.

“Tchau!” Pac yells, head sticking out of the now open window Richarlyson occupied minutes before. 

“Bye!” Fit and Ramon yell. “STAY WARM!” Fit adds as a last declaration.

He swears he hears Pac’s laughter as the van tears down the empty road, but maybe he’s just imagining things. 

“Fit?” 

“What’s up, my boy?” Fit asks, already reaching into his pocket to grab his house keys. 

“I miss Pac.”

Fit chuckles as he opens the door to the lobby and heads to the elevator, Ramon bundled in his arms. 

“Me too, buddy. Me too.”

“Fit?” Ramon’s small voice startles Fit from his daydreaming as he takes stock of how his Christmas meal is turning out. He’s pleasantly surprised at his growing culinary skills, even if he’s nowhere near as talented at cooking as Pac. He can’t honestly say he can tell the differences between the spices and seasonings Pac’s stocked their pantry with, but at least he knows how to use them now. 

“Yes, Ramon? What can I do for you, my child?” Fit turns all his attention to Ramon, suddenly wracked with guilt that he’s daydreaming rather than giving his baby boy the attention he deserves. 

“Nothing. I just miss Pac. Is he coming home soon? Do you miss him too?” 

‘Isn’t that a loaded question,’ Fit thinks before composing a child-friendly answer. 

“I do, Ramon. I miss Pac a lot. It’s getting closer, though! He should be home later today!” Fit pauses to check his watch, taking note of the time. “I think Mike was planning on leaving at noon, so Pac should be home around dinner.”

“Okay. I want to stay up late to make sure I’m awake when he gets home,” Ramon exclaims, moving from his place at Fit’s side and rushing toward the living room, narrowly missing the Christmas tree in the process. “I started making him a sign! Can you hang it up when I’m done?”

Ramon’s hands sort through a pile of papers onto which he’s spelled out the words ‘WELCOME HOME PAC’ in various colors and designs. Fit nearly chokes on the now-forming lump in his throat, falling back on nodding to Ramon until he regains his composure. 

“Of course, of course! We should probably make this place look nice for him, shouldn’t we?” Fit asks Ramon, fully aware of his answer. 

Ramon sprints back to Fit, papers and crayons in hand, nodding emphatically. He puts his artwork and supplies down on the kitchen island and returns to the living room, dropping to his knees to organize the rest of his supplies into neat piles, all within labeled plastic containers. Pac helped him pick them out a few weeks ago when they went to the mall, and Ramon has been diligent about keeping all his things organized since. 

Lately, Ramon has been venturing to Pac more and more, asking him for help on his drawings and designs. When Fit denied Ramon the chance to take the humidifier apart for the tenth time, Pac suggested Ramon draw out what he wanted to do with it in the guise of helping Fit understand how it works. It also got Ramon thinking about different ideas before disassembling household appliances, so everyone won in the end. 

“All right, let’s do a quick clean of everything, and then we can hang your sign together. Does that work for you, my boy?” Fit questions Ramon, already knowing this is what Ramon’s been waiting for. The pair dive in, cleaning up what is, honestly, quite a tiny bit of mess around the condo. Most of the wrapping paper Ramon shredded on Christmas morning is already bundled into a bag by the door, but a few stragglers remain. There’s still a small pile of gifts under the tree for Pac and a gift for him and Ramon to open together, so Fit is well aware the room will only be tidy for a few hours. Despite that, cleaning is as good of an excuse Fit could ask for, desperately needing a distraction lest he end up as on edge as Ramon with Pac’s imminent return. 

Fit focuses on the kitchen, ensuring everything is tidy and in the right spot while preparing what he needs to finish dinner tonight. He’s cooking the usual lot of Christmas dinner he and Ramon have had in the past: potatoes, turkey, and a solid helping of healthy vegetables, but he’s also attempting something new this year. 

Pac's return from vacation coincides with his first Christmas as Fit and Ramon’s roommate, so it only felt natural to try and cook something that makes Pac feel at home. After googling around, Fit settles on a recipe for feijoada, Brazil’s National dish. If it’s good enough for the entire country of Brazil, Fit hopes it’s good enough for Pac. His cooking is nowhere near good enough for a dish beloved by a whole nation, but seeing as all the Brazilians he knows that could help are currently locked in a van, he hopes the meal at least shows he tried. 

Fit removes the remaining makings of tonight’s dinner from the fridge and pantry, carefully setting aside all the pots and utensils he needs. It might be a bit early, but there’s nothing wrong with being prepared, and he has to keep his hands busy. 

Ramon finishes in the living room, returning his crafts and books to their proper shelves and straightening up everything on the coffee table. Pac’s been leaving things around the condo more frequently, little things that more and more often make the condo seem like a home and less like Fit’s place Pac happens to live in. 

First, one of Pac’s throw blankets migrated from his room to the shared couch during a movie night, never returning. A few notebooks followed next, pens and pencils immediately after. A novel has been sitting next to the table lamp for three weeks. Every night, Fit reads a chapter or two, curious about Pac’s taste in books. It’s the second time Fit’s done it. After he finished the first book, he mentioned it to Pac in passing. The way Pac’s face lit up at the opportunity to talk about a book rendered Fit breathless, and he decided the next day he’d ask Pac to recommend another one. 

Before Pac even woke up for breakfast, Fit noticed a new book in its place. 

Little things keep combining Pac’s living space with theirs, eliminating the neutral-on-neutral color palette. Bright blues, deep greens, and a few smatterings of the rainbow now find themselves at home, from jackets laid carefully over the backs of the dining chairs all the way to the bright, overlapping pieces of art that now adorn Fit’s fridge. One night, after the power cut to the building for a few hours, Pac bundled Fit, Ramon, and Richarlyson into sweaters and wool socks and passed out fancy markers from his personal collection. They filed into Pac’s room, drawing whatever came to mind, sprawled across Pac’s bed while waiting for the electricity to return. 

Fit smiles as Ramon calls for him, rushing to leave a sweater on the island. 

“Fit, I think this is yours. Or it’s Pac’s, I dunno.”

“Thank you, Ramon!”

Fit reaches to his left and wipes his hands on the tea towel to keep the sweater dry. Holding it up, his brain ignites, recognizing the sweater as his own. 

Pac told him he looked handsome in this sweater. 

It was one of those weekends where there was nothing to do. There were no pressing issues to solve, no birthday party to bring Ramon to, and no overwhelming pressure from work. Tired of lying around the condo, Pac dragged Fit and Ramon to the mall, spending hours window shopping and indulging in a few new things. One of those things was a heavy-knit sweater in a dark golden brown that caught Fit’s eye immediately. He had barely touched the fabric when Pac appeared at his side, encouraging him to at least try it on. Unable to say no to Pac, Fit searched for his size and slid it overhead, carefully keeping the fabric away from any sharper edges of his prosthetic. 

It isn’t often Fit finds himself compelled to buy something unless it’s for Ramon, but the look in Pac’s eye, when Fit turned to model the sweater, made his decision simple. 

“How’s it look?” He asks. Fit thinks back to the last time he went shopping with someone other than his son, realizing he couldn’t recall ever doing this. A man who owns a gym scarcely needs fancy or even nice clothes. More often than not, Fit will wear a pair of well-fitting pants and a button-down if he ever needs to be presentable, with sweats and T-shirts being found far more often in his closet. 

“You look so good, Fit!” Pac exclaims, eyes trailing up and down Fit’s body as if on display. “It fits you so nicely. I think it’s the perfect size.” Pac’s hand reaches out to touch the fabric, his slender fingers squeezing around Fit’s bicep. “You look handsome. It’s a really nice color! It brings out your eyes.”

“Oh! Uh, thank you, Pac! That’s good to know. Good to know.”

Two minutes later, he was at the checkout, buying a far too expensive sweater and realizing quickly the power Pac has over him. 

Tonight might be the time to wear it again. 

Nodding to himself, Fit carefully drapes the sweater over a kitchen stool, keeping it far out of the stove’s range. He finishes in the kitchen, checking the time and setting several alarms on his phone to remind himself to take certain items in and out of the oven, ensuring everything is warm and ready for Pac’s arrival. 

Ramon finishes cleaning up his things moments later, and the next hour is spent carefully punching holes through the corner of Ramon’s paper signs and stringing them together with yarn to create a banner worthy of Pac’s return. Fit pulls out a small stepladder, acting as handyman as Ramon stands in the doorway, instructing Fit exactly where to hang it so Pac will see it the moment he enters. It’s sweet how much Ramon wants to impress Pac, and Fit wishes time would hurry up and pass so Pac would be home already, and both their anxieties could subside.

Lucky for him, between hanging Ramon’s signs and immersing himself in the kitchen, time flies surprisingly quickly. It isn’t long until his Christmas dinner is complete and laid out on the island for him and Ramon to serve themselves. Fit has only just managed to get Ramon to take his seat when something slams into their door, thudding to the ground. Ramon is up and running before Fit realizes what’s happened, and despite his constant instruction not to open doors unless he knows who it is, Ramon flings it open — Pac’s home. 

Ramon launches himself onto Pac before Pac can react, nearly knocking him off balance. The weight of his backpack throws him off, but Fit makes it to the door just in time, grabbing Pac around his back and pulling him to his feet. 

“Hi, Pac,” Fit breathes, equally worried and elated. “I think Ramon missed you.”

Pac smiles and makes no move to shift from Fit’s grasp. “I missed you too, Ramon!” Pac says, reaching down to ruffle Ramon’s hair from where it presses into Pac’s side, Ramon’s arms still clenched around Pac’s waist. 

“We missed you so much!!! We saved so many presents for you, and Fit made a really good dinner, and he didn’t burn any of it!” Ramon squeals happily. 

“Woah?! Is this true, Fit? You didn’t burn any parts at all?” Pac teases, smirking at Fit as he speaks.

“A guy accidentally burns one pop tart, and suddenly he’s the worst chef in the world. What kind of treatment is this?!”

Pac giggles and lifts an arm to shove at Fit playfully. Fit’s arm is still wrapped around Pac, a looser hold than before but a constant reassurance pressing into Pac’s back. 

“And what about this? Did you miss me too, Fit?” 

Pac’s voice sounds different, a far cry from the light, upbeat tone moments prior. This voice is searching, yearning even. It’s as though Pac seriously means it, unsure whether Fit really did miss him while he was gone. Fit’s eyes search Pac’s for any hint of amusement but find nothing. If Pac is being genuine, Fit should be as well. 

“More than you can know, Pac,” he admits. He holds eye contact with Pac, so he knows he means it and knows how important Pac is to his life. The truth is, Fit was going a little bonkers in the ten days Pac was gone. Now that he’s become so ingrained in his and Ramon’s lives, Pac being gone felt like something was legitimately missing, as though part of himself was away on vacation along with Pac. His life has been irrevocably changed over the past few months, and Fit has begun to realize through this time apart that he never wants to live like this again. 

           Fit’s going to tell him. 

It took approximately four days before Fit realized he could no longer function without Pac’s input. Simple things feel lonelier with Pac away. Ramon’s bedtime routine, while unchanged, suffers from the lack of a presence in the doorway, a quiet mutter into Ramon’s ear before he drifts off to sleep. Fit’s journal entries are a little more basic, not seeing the point in writing down that he’s finding it hard to be spontaneous on his own. Even his favorite nightly habit of sitting on the balcony feels hollow without Pac sprawled out on the chair beside him, limbs resting on every available surface. 

In truth, the past ten days have sucked. 

After yet another sorrowful gym session, Tina corners Fit, demanding to know why he’s been BadBoyHalo levels of emo lately. He tries to hide his emotions from the workplace, but even his employees can tell he’s less energetic than usual. Tina finally pries the truth from Fit; he’s in love with his roommate, who is currently on vacation, and he has no idea how to handle either of those problems. 

Per usual, Tina told him what to do as bluntly as possible. 

“Geez, dude, just tell the guy you want to make out or whatever! You’re pining has lasted long enough! Get it together! Buy him a nice present and kiss him already.” Tina ordered, her perfectly manicured nail poking into Fit’s chest with every word. 

“Uh-huh. Maybe I will. MAYBE I WILL, Tina! And don’t pretend I’m the only one with a crush around here. You’re not subtle either,” Fit fires back, lips forming into a cocky smile as Tina’s face flushes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, scumbag!?” Tina’s voice cracks as it pitches higher, and Fit fights back a laugh.

“Oh, nothing important. I totally have not noticed you ogling the new girl, hm? Bagi’s only been here a few weeks, and you’re already daydreaming about a Spring wedding; I know that look.”

Fit neglects to admit he recognizes the same look in his mirror most days. 

“Wha-psh. I don’t know what you’re talking about! This is hearsay. This is preposterous!” Tina rants, hands on hips. “Bagi and I are merely co-workers and mutual admirers of good fashion, something you know nothing about.”

“Mhm. Suuure. I do know a few things about flirting with Brazilians, though, so let me know next time you look in the mirror and realize you’re pining.” Fit winks at Tina as she glares back, boiling with annoyance. 

“I think you’re right, though,” Fit says, to Tina’s shock. “I do need to tell him. I’m going to tell him. I'll tell him as long as he doesn’t hate me.”

Tina’s face softens at Fit’s admission, and she smacks him on the shoulder in the way only a friend who wants to strangle you can. 

“I believe in you, Fit. He likes you. I’m sure of it. Just tell him and let yourself be happy, idiot.”

“Thanks, Tina,” Fit says with a genuine smile. “I think Bagi’s good for you. She’s already making you less of a jerk.” Fit laughs as he shifts away, already preparing to run when Tina’s brain catches up to his words. 

“Oh, you’re fucking dead scumbag,” Tina mutters before turning on her heels to chase Fit around the gym. 

That was a week ago. Now, Pac is home and standing in Fit’s doorway, waiting for Fit to make a move. 

“Oh! Uh. We should head inside. I just finished dinner if you’re hungry. Let me take some of these,” Fit mutters, breaking his hold on Pac to reach down and scoop his bags from the floor. Pac only has one suitcase and a duffel bag aside from the backpack strapped to his back. They aren’t particularly heavy, and Fit lifts them in one motion, opening the door to usher his boys inside. Ramon remains plastered to Pac’s right leg, giggling as Pac drags him inside and points out the sign he made. Pac loves it, beaming at Ramon as he compliments his color choices.

“Do you want these in your room?” Fit has Pac’s duffle in his left hand, the suitcase pinned between his right arm and body. 

“Sim, please,” Pac says between peals of laughter. Pac looks to Fit to catch his eye, and much like in the store weeks ago, drags his eyes across Fit’s well-dressed form. 

“You’re wearing the nice sweater!” Pac exclaims, stepping closer to Fit and raising a hand to Fit’s bicep again. This time, he’s beholden to the weight of the bags as Pac runs his fingers over the sweater fabric. 

“It still fits great.” Pac looks as if he’s almost blushing, but he also has a backpack and a small child strapped to him, so it may just be exhaustion. Either way, Fit preens under the attention. 

“Yeah, you mentioned you liked it, and Christmas is a good excuse to dress up a little, right?”

“Mhm, yes. Right, right.” Pac’s eyes stare Fit down, and the two exchange a silent conversation until Ramon grows bored. 

“Fit? Pac? Can we eat now? I want to try Pac’s special dish!”

Pac’s eye line breaks as he looks down at Ramon, tipping his head in confusion. Fit uses the break to traipse down the hallway to Pac’s room, leaving his luggage just inside the door. 

“Fit made you special food, and it smells SO GOOD, Pac! He said he’d save some for Richas when he comes over tomorrow, but I might eat it all by then.” 

Pac’s head tilts in Fit’s direction as he re-enters the room. Pac drops his bag to the floor, sliding it over to a corner near the couch, deeply interested in Fit’s new culinary skills. 

“You made me foods?” Pac’s voice is less questioning and more a proclamation than anything. “How? What did you make?!”

Pac turns toward the kitchen, where Fit has some items on a low simmer. 

“Well, I figured you couldn’t be in Brazil for the holidays, and I don’t know how many good holidays you had while you were there with, uh, the stuff you told me before. So I thought it might be nice to have some Brazilian food for your first Christmas here with us, y’know? A little of your culture in our very white bread dinner?”

Fit’s fully aware he’s rambling, but every time he tries to meet Pac’s eye, he feels overwhelmed. Hopefully, Pac understands what he’s trying to convey. 

           This is your place. This is my condo. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it our home. 

“That is very thoughtful. Thank you, Fit.” 

Fit smiles lightly, ducking his head down and out of the way of Pac’s gaze. Suddenly, he feels shier than ever and instantly grabs the lid off the dish to use the heat as an excuse for his red face. 

“Uh. I don’t really know if I got the recipe right, but I tried! I’m not actually sure how to pronounce it, but it’s my attempt a - “

“Feijoada,” Pac says, stone-faced. “Caraca. You made me feijoada.”

“Tried to at least. I think I might have let the meat cook fo - “

Fit’s words are cut off by Pac rocketing himself at Fit, arms coming to wrap around Fit’s shoulders yet again, height difference be damned. 

“Thank you, Fitche. This means so much to me.”

Pac is warm against Fit’s side. Fit wishes he could wrap his arms around Pac in return, but he has a warm stove to his side and a lid in his hand. 

“Anytime, Pac. Anytime. Hopefully, it tastes all right.” 

Pac laughs into Fit’s collarbone before pulling away. Fit can’t tell if it’s the kitchen's steam or if Pac’s eyes are a little misty. He wouldn’t call it out either way. 

“I’m sure it will be incredible! You are too good to me, Fit.” 

“I. Uh. Yes. Sim! Right? That’s yes, right? I’ve been, uh, practicing with Ramon while you were gone on that app thing. I’m getting better - I think,” Fit’s back to rambling, desperately trying to busy himself with dinner as he feels Pac’s eyes boring through him. 

“All right, Ramon, ready for dinner?” 

“Can we open gifts after?!” Ramon’s excitement over the holidays and Pac finally arriving is palpable. He nearly falls to the floor trying to serve himself mashed potatoes but is saved by Pac’s quick motions before the room is covered in potatoes. 

“If you can eat without covering my walls in food, then sure. I’m sure Pac is worn out from traveling all day anyway; you guys can open your gifts whenever so he can get some sleep.” 

“I agree with your dad, Ramon! Let’s have some food and then open presents. Then, if we’re not too tired, you can show me all the fun stuffs your dad got you, okay?”

Ramon nods, steadying himself as he carries his plate to the table. Fit follows, scooping a little of everything onto his plate and following his son, setting drinks down for them all. Pac stands in the kitchen, inspecting Fit’s attempt at feijoada and taking a photo. Fit already knows he will be teased about this by every Brazilian he knows, especially Bagi, but it will be worth it if Pac deems it half-decent tasting. Pac treats himself to a sizeable helping, clearly more confident in Fit’s abilities than Fit himself. The three tuck into their meals, chatting idly about Pac’s trip until he tries Fit’s creation for the first time. Fit attempts to look nonchalant as Pac eats, nervous as all hell. Then Pac does something Fit never expected. 

He moans. 

The moment the food hits Pac’s tongue, he moans in enjoyment, smiling as he does so. Fit goes red immediately, thoughts racing at the sound. Technically, Fit thought of what that noise may have sounded like before but never presented to him like this. He doesn't know how to act, but thankfully, he has a son for moments like this. 

“Isn’t it so good Pac!? I told Fit he was doing good. It smelled so tasty all day, but he was super nervous about it, which is dumb. If it smells good, it will taste good. That’s like a rule! Bobby said so,” Ramon informs Pac with a serious look. 

“It is incredible Fit, especially for a first try! Wow. I am shocked. Not that it’s good! Just that you thought of this, it takes kinda long to make. But this is worth it. It’s so good.”

“I’m glad you like it, and it’s, you know. Edible. I wanted to try to make something, but when I started looking things up, I realized I didn’t know where you lived in Brazil, so I went with this one. It seemed doable.”

“Well, I give you applause. This is very good. I am impressed! The favela will be very jealous when I send them the picture.”

That statement sends Pac into a spiral of stories about the trip, everything from Richas getting stuck locked in a bathroom on accident and Felps, who, despite not arriving with the group, was found asleep on the couch the following morning, regardless of no one admitting to letting him in. 

Ramon begins to yawn a bit after Fit clears the plates from the table, a sign, if any, that it’s time to open gifts before everyone is too tired. 

“Alright, my boy. I think it’s time for you two to open your gifts. What do you think?” Fit asks, turning to wink at Pac as Ramon suddenly wakes up. 

“YES! I’ll go set it up!”

Ramon sprints from the table, again nearly knocking the tree over with his enthusiasm. He crawls under the tree, grabbing the few remaining gifts and stacking them into piles: one for himself and one for Pac.

Fit and Pac follow, sitting on the couch with Ramon on the floor between them. There aren’t too many gifts, but Fit spoiled Ramon with presents before Pac even arrived. All that’s left are the ones Fit wanted them to open together and a secret gift Ramon had set aside for Pac. 

“Well, the gift I have for you two is a bit of a group gift; you have to open it together,” Fit says, eyes flickering between them. 

Ramon’s eyes light up excitedly at the thought of sharing something with Pac. 

“Ooh, somethings for us, Ramon!” Pac says with a laugh, raising his hand to give Ramon a high-five. “I also have something for you both. Who should go first, Ramon?”

Ramon looks to the ground before him, studying the small stack of piles. Pac knows Ramon well enough now to tell when he’s processing information and weighing his options. Pac leans back onto the couch and rolls his head side to side, working the stiffness from his neck. He turns to look at Fit, who is staring at his son with the most loving look possible. It’s sweet to see, and Pac allows himself to indulge in Fit’s profile until Fit turns and catches him looking. The air feels different tonight; neither sure if it’s the holiday spirit or the long days of travel and cooking that have changed the vibes, but it’s far from a bad thing. 

“Fit has the biggest gift, which is for two people, so I think we should open it last. I think I should open my gift from Pac, then Pac can open our gifts, then Fit’s gift, and then the big one we open last,” Ramon finally says, having worked his way to a satisfying result. 

“This sounds like a great plan, Ramon; good job.” Pac reaches for his backpack a few feet away and tugs it open, removing a little wrapped box from inside and handing it to Ramon. 

“Here you go, Ramon. It’s nothing exciting, but I hope you like it.”

Ramon takes the present carefully, looking it over before tearing it into the paper. Fit has no idea what it is and finds himself leaning forward, elbows on knees, to watch the unveiling. Under the paper is a wooden box, clearly hand-carved. It has little gears carved into the sides and Ramon’s name etched into the top. 

“Woah!” Ramon says, running his tiny fingers over the letters. “This is so pretty.”

“Open it up, filho,” Pac says fondly, mirroring Fit’s pose. 

Ramon follows his orders and opens the box to find a velvet lining and what looks like some copper pipe to Fit’s eye. Ramon’s eyes widen as he carefully removes the copper item from its resting place. Pac reaches over to Ramon and shows him a button on the side, encouraging him to press it. Ramon does so tentatively, and the front part pops out just a bit, enough for Ramon’s fingers to pull it more, exposing the gift for what it truly is. 

A spyglass.

“Wow! Ramon, I’ve only ever seen these in movies! That is a super cool gift.”

Ramon looks amazed, holding the spyglass to the light and inspecting every detail. Fit glances at Pac, who looks at Ramon with all the love in the world. Pac looks almost as excited as Ramon does. 

            I have to tell him. 

“Try it out, Ramon! Look at your dad with it!” 

Ramon holds the spyglass up to his eye, careful not to scratch his glasses. 

“THIS IS SO COOL PAC!” 

Pac laughs as Ramon moves around the room, staring at the Christmas tree next to him before standing up to inspect more things, including Fit’s bald head.

“Yep. Sorry, Fit. Definitely still bald,” Ramon says, exploding into a giggle fit over his joke. 

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh!? C’mere you!” Fit jokes, grabbing Ramon around the waist to pull him into his lap. “Let me get a look at this thing.” 

Ramon holds it up and lets Fit peer through it, moving it from the twinkling lights that adorn the room to Pac, sitting a few feet away. 

“I thought you would like it! I saw it, thought of you, and then found the little boxes with carving on them, so I think it is cool enough to be kept in a fancy box, right?” 

“It’s so cool, Pac! I love it a lot. Thank you!” 

Ramon wiggles off his father's lap to climb across the couch to Pac’s, throwing his arms around Pac’s neck as he is scooped up. 

“I’m glad you like it so much, nenê. You deserve a cool gift! Cool gift for a cool kid, right?”

Ramon beams at Pac and vice versa, leaving Fit to look the other way momentarily, or he’ll also be a victim of misty eyes. 

“Your turn, Pac!”

Ramon reaches into the pile at Pac’s feet, handing him a small gift that he clearly wrapped himself. Even Fit wasn’t allowed to know what Ramon got Pac, so this moment is just as interesting to him. Pac tears the paper carefully, not wanting to damage whatever it contains. It’s a flat gift, something made of paper perhaps, and Pac peels the wrapping back delicately to take a look.

“It’s all our inventions!” Ramon squeals, “I asked Tio Bad about book things because he works at the book place, and he said it costs A LOT of money. So he got me this instead!”

Pac looks down, in awe of Ramon’s ingenuity. It’s a small binder with a drawing of Pac and Ramon behind the protective covering. Pac opens the binder and is presented with ‘Ramon and Pac’s Million $$$ Inventions, Volume 1.’ Each page of the binder is a plastic sheet protector, and each sheet has Ramon’s ideas and inventions inside. Some he talked to Pac about, Pac can recognize his scrawl in the margins, but the rest are entirely original Ramon ideas.

“Ramon, this is incredible. You are so smart, Ramon. How did you do all this? Did you know this?” Pac asks Fit, teary.

“Not a thing. Ramon wouldn’t tell me, would you, Ramon?”

“It was a secret!! I wanted to invent cool things we could make together! Also, I tried the one on page 7, but it didn’t work. Sorry, Fit. I think you need a new electric shave thing,” Ramon looks sheepish but smug, knowing Fit will forgive him.

“I wondered where it went! You’re lucky it’s Christmas, you little troublemaker.”

“I did my best, but the razor part wasn’t big enough,” Ramon sighs. 

“I did notice you were looking a little more scruffy than usual! More beardy! I thought it was a style change,” Pac laughs. “I should have known.”

“Yeah, it’s been a little more stubble than usual. I figured I left it at the gym or something. I’ll get a new one this week since I probably look like an idiot now.” 

“No!” Pac exclaims, hand thrusting out to grab onto Fit’s arm. “I mean, it is not a rush, that’s all. It looks good this way. Really good, actually.” Pac’s eyes stare at Fit’s jawline for a moment before darting away and pulling back his hand. 

“Oh. Well. Noted.” 

Ramon sits, eyeing Pac and Fit, looking from side to side as they tiptoe around each other. 

“Here, Pac! Open Fit’s gift now!”

Pac and Fit flinch, forgetting Ramon was present, before settling back into their places. 

“Meus deus Fit! This is too big of a box! You should not be spending money on me; it’s not right!” Pac protests but heaves the large box from Ramon’s hands onto his lap. Fit leans back into the couch, right arm thrown over the back of it, hovering just over Pac’s shoulder. 

“Stop it with that. I have money for important things, Pac. You’re important to me.”

The earnestness in Fit’s voice is something neither expects, but no one comments on it. Instead, Pac rips through the novelty paper to reveal a completely non–descript white box. He raises an eyebrow in Fit’s direction for clues, but Fit only smirks more, looking far too self-satisfied. 

“G’on. Open it.”

Pac takes a breath as he rips through the tape at the box’s edge, pulling off the lid. Inside, under a nicely folded sheet of tissue paper, is a warm, fancy new winter coat. 

“I had to text Bagi to get the right size, but hopefully this works. Tina helped me pick it out, so it’s stylish and not, in her words, ‘something only a gym bro who doesn’t own a comb would wear,’ so I think she approves. What do you think?” 

Pac’s still staring at the gift, unable to tear his eyes away. He’s always been fine when it comes to winter, bundling himself in hoodies and sweaters. Coats are expensive, even if they last a long time, and until recently, Pac never saw the point in spending so much money on himself when other people he loves could use a coat first. He’s always been fine making due, but this is another level of care. Fit wants him to be safe; he wants him to be warm, comfortable, and cozy. Fit cares for Pac’s well-being, which is nearly enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

“It’s amazing.” 

Pac finally pulls the coat from the box, holding it up in front of himself. It’s a single-breasted wool topcoat, perfect for bracing against the unyielding winter wind. Despite Quesadilla Island not being too snowy in the Winter, the wind is always a concern no matter what time of year. Pac runs his fingers along the collar, noticing it can be flipped up to protect his ears from the wind. It’s a lovely dark grey, the type of color that can go with anything, and Pac already knows this will match with his entire wardrobe. 

“It’s perfect. Fit, this is incredible; I never expected this!” Pac says breathlessly. “This is too much.”

“Stop it right there. It’s a nice warm coat that you deserve. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it. I assumed you noticed how often I told you to dress warmer!” Fit’s warm laugh and soft eyes burn Pac from the inside, and he’s so enamored he doesn’t know how to thank Fit enough. 

“I figured you were just nagging me,” Pac jokes, winking at Fit once he pulls himself together. “This is perfect, though. I am so excited to wear it out!”

“Let's go on a walk tomorrow!” Ramon squeals from the floor. “Then Pac can try on his new coat, and we can get lunch. Right Fit?”

“I see what you’re doing, Ramon, and it’s working. Sure, kiddo, we can take a walk with Pac and his new fancy coat tomorrow if he wants to.” 

Fit’s been putting the ball in Pac’s court more often recently, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Since Cellbit’s wedding, Pac has noticed a new type of confidence in Fit, just in how he carries himself. He’s more assured in his choices and a little more open with others. It’s a pleasant change, and Pac secretly hopes he helped develop it. 

“I would love this!” Pac replies to Ramon as he stands. “I want to try it on now, though! Just to make sures it fits!”

Pac pushes himself to his feet and undoes the solidary button holding the coat closed. With a practiced ease, he swings the coat around himself, sliding it on smoothly.

“I think it fits good!” Pac exclaims with excitement as he stretches and bends. “Wow, it is so cozy, this is amazing.”

“It looks great, Pac. Very handsome. Stylish.” Fit looks a bit awestruck by Pac in the coat, which fuels Pac into spinning around a few times, shifting into silly poses for the benefit of Fit’s eyes and Ramon’s giggles. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Pac says, bowing with a flourish. He stands and slides the coat off his arms, folding it carefully and placing it back in its box. 

“Now it’s your turn, Fit! I have something for you, but you must promise me something before you open it.”

Fit’s brow quirks as he processes Pac’s words. He gazes down at Ramon, who returns his look with a simple shrug. He’s not in on this plan either. 

“Actually, Ramon, go sit with your dad! You should see this too!”

Ramon follows Pac’s orders, jumping from his place on the floor to hop onto the couch and perch himself on Fit’s leg. 

“Okay. You must promise to tell me if you do not like this or if something is wrong. I can change things, but I want you to see.”

“Ominous. I like it,” Fit states. “I promise I will tell you once I understand what’s happening here.”

“You sure?” Pac clarifies again, nerves clearly surging through him.

“Pinky promise!” Ramon declares, sticking the pinky of his right hand out for Fit and Pac to take. Fit nods and entwines his pinky with Ramon before they both turn, entirely in sync, for Pac to join. Pac beams down at them from his standing position and wraps his pinky with theirs, shaking up and down a few times to cement the agreement. 

“Okay. Hold on.”

Pac reaches into his backpack again and removes a plastic file folder, something clearly inside. “I didn’t want it to get wet or anything, so I was careful.” 

With a shaky hand, Pac reaches out and hands the folder to Fit, hovering as he opens it. Fit pulls several pieces of paper out and stares at them in silence until Pac can’t take any more. 

“Um. So it’s t-”

“The loft. Holy shit. Holy shit, Pac. This is the loft. This is our loft.”

Fit’s in disbelief as he scrutinizes the pages in front of him. Pac’s drawn the loft from memory, offering an artistic rendering of how it should look with color palette options attached and a complete blueprint of how it could be structured, all the way down to the locations of lights and electric sockets. 

“It’s easy to change anything, but I tried to remember everything you told me before. Like Ramon’s room is in the corner where it is quietest, and your bedroom is right where you showed you wanted, with the big windows. I hope it’s okay.”

“Look how big my room is, Fit!” Ramon squeals, rocking on Fit’s lap. “LOOK! There are so many rooms. Which one is yours, Pac?!” 

Fit’s head snaps away from the papers in his hand and meets Pac’s eye. Pac stares him down with a slight smile that grows as the seconds pass. 

“Here,” Pac says, moving to sit beside Fit and reaching toward the paper. “This one, the one next to your dad’s room.”

Fit’s eyes are transfixed on Pac, unable to look away. 

            I have to tell him. 

“Pac. This is. Wow.” Fit says honestly. “This is more than I ever expected. It’s perfect. You remembered everything. I can’t believe this.”

“You deserve it.” Pac’s voice drops just shy of a whisper. Even if others were in the room, no one would be able to hear outside of them. “You deserve a space perfect for you. This is my way of saying thank you for inviting me into your home.”

Fit struggles to find the words, instead reaching out to grab Pac’s hand and squeeze. Ramon follows suit, putting a little hand on top of theirs and laughing. 

“Whenever you’re ready to start working on it, I will be there every step of the way. I know people who can help too. We can get a lot done very quickly, I promise! You will be in there in no time!”

“Thank you, Pac. This is…incredible. I can’t believe it. You captured everything I wanted out of the space.”

“You’re welcome, Fit. I’m glad you like it. And I’m glad you’re excited about your room, too, Ramon! I have lots of fun ideas for it when the walls are all done!” Pac says, shifting his hand to grab at Ramon’s.

“It’s gonna be the coolest room ever!” Ramon replies with a cheer. “Everyone is going to be so jealous because I’ll have a cool room and a pool downstairs!”

“It’s going to take a while to get done, Ramon, but I’m glad you’re excited, my boy. If we can move in by the end of summer, you can go to school with your friends! I’m going to do everything I can to make the deadline, I promise.”

Fit stares into his son’s eyes, and Pac can see how truthful and sincere he is. There is nothing on this Earth Fit wouldn’t take on to ensure Ramon has a good day, and Pac finds his dedication to those he loves intoxicating.

“Now, I think it’s time for my two favorite people to open their gifts; what do you think?”

Ramon shrieks and climbs off Fit’s lap, getting comfy on the floor in front of the last gift. Fit also shifts to his knees, pulling the heavy box toward Ramon.

Pac is still trying to process being referred to as Fit’s favorite. It fires up a part of Pac’s brain he hasn’t indulged in lately, but the more he considers it, the more he realizes he wants to be that and so much more to Fit. Wants to be referred to in the plural as though Fit and Pac are FitandPac; a team. A family, even.

The box nudges against Pac’s right leg, bringing him back into the present. He stares it down, wondering what on Earth Fit could have purchased for both him and Ramon to share. Pac shifts, sitting at the very edge of the couch, and leans forward to open the lid so Ramon can dive inside.

“Ready, Ramon!?” Pac asks.

Ramon’s frozen in place, waiting to strike and reach into the box the second Pac pulls away the lid. Pac removes it quickly, tossing it on the floor to the side, and peers within. The sight nearly makes him cry.

No wonder the damn box was so heavy. It’s laden with ornate photo frames, clearly thrifted from some store in the area.

“Oh, Fit…” Pac murmurs, reaching in to grab the closest frame.

“I remember what you said about decorating the condo a bit more, Ramon; how we don’t have many photos hung up. And Pac, you mentioned once how to pick a color or a style, and we can go from there, so, uh, this is what I came up with. I hope it’s doable.” Fit’s words rush out like liquid through a sieve. Pac can tell there’s something he’s holding back from saying, but he knows better than to push the issue. Fit tells him things when he’s ready, never before.

“These are incredible, Fit! You got them all at the thrift store?!”

Pac pulls an ornate gold frame from the box, complete with flourishes around each side. It’s busy but eye-catching, which seems to be Fit's theme. Gold, big and flourishy.

“All the big ones, yeah. The little 4x6 ones are all in one more modern set, but that’s why I left the photos out. I figured you two would want to pick your favorites to hang up.” Fit’s sheepish for no reason, worried that he’s overstepped their invisible line, but Pac nods along immediately to quell his worries.

Ramon digs through a stack of printed photographs, already separating his favorites into piles.

“Pac! Look! It’s you and Richarlyson!”

“What?! How? Where is this from?!” Pac asks, smiling as he remembers the day in the photo. They all went to the park for lunch to meet up with Pomme and Antoine, the three kids spending 90% of their playtime chasing their dads around the playground. Pac went home with sore muscles and a headache, but he couldn’t deny the fun he’d had.

“Uh. Some are from the wedding, some are from Phil and the other parents, but I already had most of them on my phone. Just got them printed finally,” Fit admits, embarrassed.

“Can I put some in my room, Fit?” Ramon asks, a pile already in his hand and a few smaller frames stacked to his side.

“Of course, Ramon! That’s the whole point! I can print the photos and lug the frames around. I can hang them up for you, too, but I don’t think I’d know which photos to pick or where to hang them. I thought maybe you two would enjoy doing that together, and then I can help hang anything wherever you want.”

“Fit, this is the sweetest thing. I love it. Seriously, this is amazing,” Pac confesses, eyes misting slightly at the sight of the Favela friends together at Cellbit’s wedding. “How did you get the wedding pictures already!? I don’t even have these!”

“I know,” Fit says with a proud smirk. “I did the adult thing and asked Cellbit. I told him my idea, and he jumped at the chance to help. He even picked out some of them himself since there were so many to go through. In fact, he picked out the last little gift I have for you both…”

Fit pushes himself up to stand and leaves the room, heading to his bedroom. Ramon and Pac share a look and a shrug as he leaves, and Ramon shows Pac his favorite photos so far. Moments later, Fit returns, a substantial golden frame in hand.

“I wanted to have one ready to hang up. Cellbit sent a folder of the ones he liked most, and we went with this. To go right above the couch so everyone can see!” Fit huffs slightly as he leans over Pac and Ramon, stepping onto the couch to hang the frame.

Pac can’t see it initially, blocked by Fit’s broad upper body. Ramon sees it first, and judging by his happy reaction, Pac is in for a doozy.

“YOU DID IT! JUST LIKE I ASKED! FAMILY PHOTO!” Ramon cheers, jumping up to hug his dad’s leg as he descends from the couch and stands.

“Of course! Anything for you, Ramon!”

Pac finally gets a glance at the wall, and the air leaves his lungs. Just as Ramon said, Fit has hung a framed photo for anyone to see the moment they enter, only it isn’t a simple posed photo of Fit and Ramon.

It’s a family photo.

Fit is there, looking devilishly handsome in his suit. He’s standing at a slight angle, and the pose emphasizes his incredible jawline (that Pac thinks about far too much). Standing in front of him but to the right is Ramon, adorable as ever in his small suit and mustache scarf.

On the side of them are Pac and Richarlyson.

It’s a fantastic portrait. Richas looks mischievous but beams at the camera with his arm slung over Ramon’s shoulder. A hand rests on each boy's shoulder, Fit on Richarlyson’s left and Pac’s on Ramon’s right side: four very different people, but one family.

Pac can’t hold back from letting a few tears spill.

“I love it. I love it so much,” is all Pac can express, wiping his eyes quickly. “It’s exactly what this wall needed, don’t you think?”

Ramon throws himself off his dad and into Pac’s arms, squeezing him tight.

“I think it’s what the house needed, don’t you think?”

Fit speaks directly to the photo, unable to look at Pac, knowing he’ll also tear up. There’s something monumental to Fit about finally putting anything on the walls. It’s a sense of home, a sense of permanency that Fit has always worried about getting accustomed to, far too used to upheaval in his life. Now, though, is the right time.

“The first thing on these walls had to be special. This was the only thing that felt right.”

Pac can’t take much more. Gripping the couch with one arm, Pac shifts to his knee and stands, lifting Ramon with him. He turns to Fit and doesn’t give him time to react before shifting on his feet to fall into Fit’s arms. Ramon giggles as his head thumps into his dad’s shoulder, and Fit’s arms immediately come to lock around them both, pulling them into a hug. Pac can’t figure out how to express his emotions right now, settling on saying thank you over and over, leaning his head onto Fit’s shoulder. Fit stiffens against him for a moment before relaxing, and the next thing Pac feels is a kiss pressing to his head and a giggle from Ramon, who must be receiving the same treatment.

“You guys are too good to me,” Fit says, breathless. “I know I’m not good at this stuff, talking about things. But I hope this says it well enough.”

Pac’s still formulating his thoughts on how to respond when quick-thinking Ramon answers for them both.

“We love you too, Fit.”

And Pac does, he realizes, as Fit lets them both go to spin Ramon around a few times. He is absolutely in love with his roommate. He’s in love with Fit.

“Now, I think it’s time somebody heads to bed, don’t you think?” Fit asks, looking down at Ramon, who is already rubbing his eyes. “You’ve had a big day! We can work on the photos tomorrow.”

“You’re probably right, Fit,” Ramon says with a big, over-the-top sigh. “You had a long day, Pac; you should sleep!”

Ramon barely gets his words out before doubling over with giggles. Fit can’t help but guffaw with him, throwing his head back to laugh. Every day, he is increasingly proud that this snarky little guy is his son. 

“You’re probably right, Ramon. I am pretty tired. But you’ll be up late-late, right? So I can sleep in your bed! Me and Meathead will have a nice evening!” Pac begins to head to Ramon’s room as Ramon chases him down, side-stepping Pac to launch himself into bed and grab Meathead himself. 

“Noooo, it’s my bed! I’ll sleep, I promise!” Ramon assures, grabbing Meathead and his pajamas from his bedside and rushing off to the bathroom to change. 

“Reverse psychology, nicely done.”

Fit leans in his bedroom doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest. Pac lets his eyes wander for a moment, committing to memory the way the fabric of Fit’s sweater swells over his biceps and chest, his muscles on display in a way that makes Pac’s mouth water. 

“We use it on Richas all the time. He’s too smart otherwise. He’s like Cellbit in that way; you have to distract him, or he’ll never give in, even if it’s good for him. I am not above tricks!” Pac shrugs. “Whatever to get my kid to sleep, consider it fine.”

“See, this is why I need you around,” Fit says, shifting from his spot in the doorway to stand at Pac’s side. “Where else can I get parenting advice that works?”

Fit’s tone is light, but Pac is still reeling from the events of the evening. Later, he may blame it on being overwhelmed or overly tired, but right now, he can only be honest.

“Is that the only reason why you need me?” Pac asks. His tone is playful, his pitch low. Fit’s brows raise at Pac’s words, and Pac braces himself for rejection.

It never comes.

They hear the toilet flush, which means they only have seconds before Ramon rushes back to his bed in their sightline.

“I think,” Fit speaks, voice emanating from deep in his throat, “there’s a difference between need and want, Pac.”

The bathroom door flies open then, and Fit steps away, ready to tuck Ramon in. Pac blinks at the space Fit once occupied, face growing hotter by the second.

I have to tell him. 

Pac replays Fit’s words over and over in his mind as he turns to watch Fit sing Ramon to sleep. He walks over, almost floating, and presses a kiss to Ramon’s hair and another to Meathead, smoothing the blanket around his arms.

Ramon mumbles a ‘goodnight’ to them both, practically asleep before they enter the hallway.

The hallway is tense, Fit and Pac staring each other down without meeting the other’s eyes.

“Um. Are you tired? If you’d like to go to bed, I totally understand! But if not, uh. I did buy some wine? We could have a glass on the balcony if you’d like?”

Fit’s adorably nervous, fidgeting as he speaks and shifting his arm behind his head; his telltale sign. Pac couldn’t say no if he tried.

“Get the glasses. I’m going to change clothes; I’ve been wearing this for too long.”

Fit processes Pac’s words by looking him up and down, borderline leering. Pac is too attractive at the best of times but slightly sleepy, pajama-laden Pac is Fit’s favorite.

“Same. Meet me whenever you’re ready, Pac. I’ll wait for you.”

It feels like there are layers to Fit’s words, but Pac is too overwhelmed to work through the metaphor right now. He simply nods and turns away, grabbing his backpack off the floor as he heads to his bedroom to freshen up and change.

Fit follows only long enough to detour to the kitchen, retrieving the bottle of wine and some glasses. It’s not a cheap red, but not an expensive one either—something Baghera recommended as palatable and tasty, perfect for a relaxed evening like this.

In the bedroom, Fit opens the balcony doors, checking the weather. It’s cold, but not terrible. Nothing a blanket and sweater can’t fix. Despite his desire to change into loungewear, Fit only exchanges his jeans for sweatpants, opting to keep his sweater on as is. He saw Pac’s face when he was leaning in the doorway; he’s not giving up the possibility of Pac ogling him like that again tonight.

Fit pours two glasses and sets the bottle on the floor as he hears Pac pad into the bedroom. Per usual, Pac leaves the door ajar enough to hear Ramon if need be but closed enough not to bother him while he sleeps.

Pac makes himself at home, their routine committed to memory. He takes his seat to Fit’s right, sliding in the chair and pulling a blanket up and over his legs, feet up on the rail before him. He takes a glass from the small shelf against the rail and waits for Fit to sit before speaking.

“This was a really nice holiday,” is what Pac settles on, taking a sip of his wine.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Christmas is always nice. Even if life isn’t going well, everything seems a little brighter on the holiday, don’t you think?”

Fit nods slowly, thinking it over. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’ve never spent today with anyone other than Mikey,” Pac admits, looking out over the island.

“Really?” Fit shifts in his chair, turning to face Pac as he speaks.

“It used to be just us, then all the Favela, then Richarlyson. This was the best day. I got to see them all this morning and spend tonight with you and Ramon! That is basically a present. And I got a nice new coat and Ramon’s designs! It’s a great day for me.”

“That’s…that’s nice to hear Pac. I’m glad Ramon and I helped make it memorable for you. Sorry if I got a little carried away in there. I’m not good at, uh. Saying how I feel about things. I tend to be more of an action’s kind of guy.”

“There is no need to say sorry, Fit. Everything was perfect.” Pac quiets for a moment, taking a deep breath and another sip. “I cannot believe you made feijoada for me. No one has ever cooked for me before, not like that.”

“No shit? Damn.” Fit snorts, shaking his head from side to side. “You’ve been hanging out with too many losers, Pac. Cooking for people is like, the best sign you care. Or at least, that’s what I was taught.”

“Oh.”

Fit cares about him. Pac knows this. Fit shows it in many ways, but this is Pac's confirmation. So many times, Mikey told him to stop looking for little signs, look for the billboard. This is as close as he can imagine getting.

Pac is about to do it, about to spill the beans to Fit and tell him how he feels, but Fit speaks first.

“Want some fresh fofoca?”

It may not be the ideal discussion, but who is Pac, if not a lover of all things fofoca? Also, hearing Fit attempt the pronunciation never ceases to amuse Pac.

“More than anything. Tell me anything,” Pac implores.

Fit smirks and learns forward in his chair, elbows on knees.

“Bagi started at the gym right before you guys left.”

“Yes! She told me! It seems like she likes it a lot already. She is the best; you will do well with her there.” Pac knows Bagi’s work will stand up for itself; she’s one of the most intelligent people he has ever met, but bragging about her, especially to her boss, can’t hurt.

“Oh, she’s fantastic! Everyone already likes her a lot. She fits in well.”

“Fit! That is so great. She is gonna be so excited about working there. She told us she had a lot of ideas!” Despite Bagi only being his friend, Pac feels a sense of pride in how well Bagi has taken to living on her own and trying new things.

“Mhm. I'm glad. I’m sure she’ll do a great job, but that’s not the fofoca!” Fit’s looking incredibly eager as he takes another sip from his glass, waiting for Pac to ask for more.

“Hm?”

“When she came in, she stopped at the desk to check in, as usual - and wouldn't you know, I think I saw some sparks flying…” Fit trails off, wiggling his brows at Pac as he tilts his head.

“Oooh!” Pac leans forward to mirror Fit’s pose. “Tina?!”

“I’m not going to say anything, but they weren’t exactly hiding their interest at work either, so I guess we’ll see what happens.”

“Huh. Bagi and Tina. That would be cute, actually. They’re both so great. I hope they give it a try.”

“Me too. Tina deserves someone nice who is as equally terrifying as she is. I think Bagi suits that in the best way possible.”

Pac hums in response, imagining Bagi and Tina together. They would compliment one another quite well, even if they wouldn’t have been Pac’s first thought.

“What’s that in Portuguese, by the way?” Fit asks, breaking Pac’s concentration.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Which word?” Pac shrinks into himself slightly as he apologizes, shaking his head to wake up. The tiredness is catching up with him, or perhaps the wine.

“Oh. Uh, cute. That was the one.”

“It’s a good word to know! It’s ‘fofo.’ Fun to say, too.”

“Fofo,” Fit repeats a few times, doing his best with the pronunciation. Portuguese may be Pac’s first language, but Fit’s attempts at learning are appreciated and quite cute themselves. Fit’s been attempting a few more words and phrases since the wedding, even encouraging Ramon to learn some basics with Pac as well. He’s never discouraged Pac from speaking around the condo or singing along with lyrics Fit can’t understand. Whenever Pac attempts an apology, Fit waves him off, telling him he can do whatever he wants, and Fit can use context clues. For the first time in a long time, Pac isn’t nervous if he slips from one language to another. How can he be when Fit looks at him with glassy eyes anytime Pac speaks more than three sentences in a row?

“You’ve got it, that’s right!” Pac assures Fit, brimming with pride.

“I think my Portuguese might get better with wine. Either that or I’m too tipsy to notice,” Fit giggles, sipping from his nearly empty glass.

“I was about to ask if you drank too much, but –“ Pac lifts his empty glass in shame “- I guess I’m not one to talk.”

“I don’t think we’re even tipsy; I think we’re both just worn the fuck out.” Fit sighs, closing his eyes and sitting up straight, twisting at the waist, working out muscle soreness.

Pac watches at Fit moves, far more graceful than he has a right to be. Fit moves with surprising ease for a relatively built guy, slipping in and out of rooms and conversations without so much as a passing nudge. With shoulders as broad as Fit’s, Pac isn’t sure how it’s possible, but then Pac will be in the kitchen, moving something from one pot to another, and Fit will be there, standing at his side without Pac noticing his arrival.

The combination of Fit’s muscles in the sweater Pac loves and the newly formed scruff at his impeccable jawline, Pac finds himself transfixed on Fit. He’s so handsome, so strong in a way Pac isn’t, and it makes Pac’s thoughts race as Fit turns to look at him, eyes half-lidded. It’s likely the exhaustion rather than anything else, but a man can dream. And he should be doing it right now. 

“Well, I guess we should head to bed soon?” Pac offers, half hoping Fit will shut him down and demand he stay.

Fit sighs, leaning his head back against the chair and looking up at the calm night sky.

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” Fit responds, turning his head to face Pac, still leaning onto the back of the chair.

Pac has the hood of his sweater pulled up over his head, and Fit can’t speak to how much it helps fight the cold, but it allows Pac’s long, layered hair to frame his face in the most enticing way. The soft chill of the wind passing through only adds to Pac’s handsomeness as small strands tinged with blue spill from their hiding place and fall across his face, perfectly emphasizing the hollows of Pac’s cheekbones. A thicker piece crosses right into Pac’s eyes, and he huffs as he attempts to blow it away. The wind also takes Fit’s inhibitions, as without thinking, he reaches across the short space between them and takes the strands between two fingers, sliding them away from Pac’s vision. Pac’s hair is something Fit adores. Having none of his own, Fit yearns for the moments to touch Pac’s and dreams of helping Pac pull it back and tie it up one day. There’s something obscenely intimate about being trusted with another’s hair, and if Fit had any, he would let Pac do whatever he wanted with it.

It isn’t until Fit feels Pac’s breath on his hand that he fully realizes what he’s done. His eyes widen and he shoots Pac an apologetic look, only to find Pac’s eyes closed. He’s not asleep, that’s clear, but he seems relaxed as Fit’s fingers continue to graze lightly over Pac’s skin. Fit concentrates on keeping his touch light, almost barely there, as he slowly pushes the last bits of hair from Pac’s face as the wind dies down around them. Once he’s clear of any wayward strands, Fit pulls his hand away, dropping his elbow to the chair’s armrest and allowing his hand to fall in the foot or so of space between them. The motion brings Pac back, and Pac’s eyes slowly blinking open, framed by gloriously long lashes, will be a core memory of Fit for the rest of his days. Pac looks so serene and handsome like this, but an underlying fire is coming from his eyes. Everything else about Pac right now reads as languid, but his eyes are sharp, staring Fit down as if he were prey.

It is infinitely attractive.

Fit says nothing, only holds Pac’s gaze as he can feel his body alight under Pac’s watchful stare. His heart pumps, and the nervous pins and needles return to his right arm. He opens and closes his fist a few times, hoping to wake himself and his body, but Pac beats him to it. Pac’s hand falls from his hoodie pocket, reaching over to latch onto Fit’s own. He doesn’t entwine their fingers; there’s no handholding of the sort. Pac merely grabs onto his fingers beneath the knuckle, squeezing and releasing repeatedly, pausing only to run his thumb over the knuckles in time with a squeeze.

It’s almost shameful how desperate Fit finds himself for human touch. ‘Touch starved’ was a word he’d heard before in support groups, something that happens from living too long without the need for physical human interaction. If he’s honest, Fit always thought it seemed like bullshit to him, or at least bullshit for him. He would never consider himself touch starved, knowing that if he asked Ramon for a hug, he’d get one any time. He and Ramon always touch, so how could he be starved for human touch?

Now he gets it.

Pac’s hand barely grasps his, and Fit can already feel himself struggling to breathe. This tiny move feels so different than any hug he’s shared with Ramon or Phil. Nothing has felt like this before, and if he were a more paranoid man, he would think something was wrong, that this situation called for the utmost awareness, but for the first time in a long, long while, Fit feels safe. Pac feels safe.

Now is the time. He was waiting for the perfect moment, and it’s here.

“Pac,” Fit croaks, stopping to clear his throat before he continues to unveil his heart to Pac.

“I know, we need sleep,” Pac says with a smile and scratchy voice of his own, dropping Fit’s hand to brace both of his own on his knees. “It is pretty late, and I have a lot of pancakes to make tomorrow.”

Fit feels like he’s spiraling. The loss of contact throws him for a loop, and his hand feels infinitely worse now than it did earlier, pins and needles be damned. He turns away to blink into the wind, hoping to wake himself up slowly. Clearly, this wasn’t the moment.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Should get some rest.”

Fit knows his tone is unconvincing. He mirrors Pac’s pose, pushing himself to stand. Pac follows along, and they stand facing one another, waiting to head back into the cozy home they’ve built together.

“I promise I’ll make the best pancake for you.”

Fit giggles, actually fucking giggles, at Pac’s words, but he’s too emotionally drained to play it off.

“Thank you, Pac. I’d appreciate that.”

“Goodnight, Fitche,” Pac whispers, barely loud enough for Fit to hear.

“Goodnight, Pac.” Fit drops his pitch to match Pac, smiling.

They’ve done this dozens of times before. One of them signals the evening has ended, and the other agrees. They stand and stretch, making idle chatter until one says goodnight first, then the other. It happens nearly every time they share this late-night balcony space, down to a T.

Tonight is different.

The beats are all the same, but the outcome changes.

If Fit were a betting man, he’d blame it on a hundred different things. Write it off as chance or an accident, but he knows the truth. Fit gave up betting on things long ago.

The only thing Fit can count on is the present, and what is presently happening is everything.

As Fit says goodnight, before the words finish leaving his mouth, he finds it predisposed. Pac leans in and places a soft, gentle kiss on Fit’s lips, lasting two seconds. It’s just short enough to feel like a dream, just long enough to not be without a reason.

Pac pulls away suddenly, and Fit chases his lips before regaining his composure.

“Meus Deus.” Fit hears Pac mutter, almost too quiet to hear. Pac’s looking at him, eyes conveying a flurry of emotions. Fit recognizes worry, he sees it daily in his own, but Pac also looks curious. Confident even, as the seconds tick by.

Pac goes to speak, but Fit cuts him off at the pass, unable to take it any longer.

Unable to deny it any longer.

“Please don’t, Pac.” Fit pauses to catch Pac’s eye, and he doesn’t try to run. “Don’t apologize. I’m not sorry.”

Pac’s eyes bulge in surprise at Fit’s words. Fit’s always loved how expressive Pac is; wearing his heart on his sleeve must be tiring all day. Pac’s so open-hearted and caring; seeing Pac’s face pass through so many emotions has Fit reeling. The fact that he, of all people, could stand in front of the most incredible person he’s ever met and make him feel things? Fit didn’t know it could be possible, not with his personality.

“I. Um,” Pac starts, pausing to clear his throat and fix his cracking voice, “I was going to tell you I did not plan to do that, but I wanted to.” Pac’s nervous. Pac always taps his thumb to his thigh when he’s nervous or anxious. Fit makes him nervous. That fact shouldn’t affect Fit the way it does, but he gains a strange sense of pride at the realization.

“Fitche.”

“Yeah?” Fit’s mouth is dry, and it feels almost painful to swallow. Never in his life has he felt so tense. 

“Fit. Would you. Uh. If I kissed you again, would that be alright?”

“God, yes.”

Pac moves purposefully, once again stepping forward to lean into Fit’s space, but this time, Fit is ready for him. He stands waiting, allowing Pac to move within his personal bubble. Fit’s shaking. He’s unsure if Pac can sense it, but Fit can feel the nerves shooting down his right arm. His hands hover in the air, hoping against hope that Pac will let him touch him. Fit knows this won’t take long; he won’t be able to revel in it for as long as he wants, but any moment touching Pac’s skin would be worth a lifetime of torment afterward. 

Fit’s hands hover in the air around Pac’s waist as he dares to try and catch Pac’s eye. Pac’s already looking at him and nods before Fit can say anything. Perhaps Pac is just as hopeful as Fit. Moving before he can doubt himself, Fit reaches forward enough to rest his hands on Pac’s waist, holding back a moan as he feels the warmth radiating from Pac’s skin under his sweater. Pac’s breath hangs in his throat as Fit puts his hands on him, and a shot of adrenaline and pride runs through Fit’s brain. 

Fit can feel Pac shivering a little as he holds him, and he uses his hands on Pac’s hips to guide him, turning him so his back is to the balcony's glass doors. Fit knows his body type. He’s a lot wider than Pac and a little bit taller. Now Pac shouldn’t be as cold with Fit’s body to block the wind.

Plus, this position makes it much easier for Pac to wrap his arms around Fit’s shoulders and pull him down for a kiss.

Which is precisely what he does.

The second kiss is better than the first, a tale as old as time. The first is always great, sure, but the second is where the fun begins, where the exploration starts.

Pac has always been more adventurous than Fit.

Pac pulls Fit in with his arms, knocking Fit off-kilter. Fit braces himself by pressing his left hand against the door, just to the side of Pac’s head. Pac’s eyes light up at the move, and Fit finds himself pulled into Pac’s orbit moments later, lips on his own.

This kiss is as soft as the first; both participants still concerned with pushing the other away. The kiss is tentative, Pac’s lips yearning to do anything more than simply press, but taking it slow is vital here. ‘Baby steps,’ Fit once said to him about something else entirely, but it’s a phrase that defines how Pac thinks of Fit. He’ll get there in his own time if he has guidance.

Pac changes the pressure, pulling his lips just enough away where Fit leans in to chase and catch them again. They never separated, but the mere inkling that it could happen is enough to spur Fit on. He parts his lips, just enough to be noticeable, before kissing Pac, this time taking the lead. He’s also afraid of moving too fast, but for his own sake, not Pac’s. It’s been a long time since Fit’s even kissed anyone like this. If he doesn’t control himself, he’ll be lost in his head too soon.

Pac fervently responds to Fit’s parted lips, taking Fit’s bottom lip between his own. He doesn’t bite (though he’s desperate to), doesn’t run his tongue along the skin (though he’s desperate to), or swallow Fit whole (though he’s desperate to). Instead, Pac sucks lightly, making sure Fit is pressed against him.

Fit’s entire body feels equally aflame and on a cloud. The dichotomy of Pac is essentially that; all the perfection and all the passion in one. Pac pauses to breathe, pulling away from Fit, and Fit uses the break to his advantage. Sliding his right hand from Pac’s waist, he makes his way up Pac’s body, stopping not to cup Pac’s cheek but to run his thumb just under Pac’s jawline. Pac’s head leans back, pliant for Fit’s nimble fingers. Pac’s neck is on display, head thrown back and tilting side to side depending on the direction of Fit, and Fit feels powerful. Pac’s got his guard down, and he trusts Fit enough not to take advantage of it.

That being said, Fit isn’t too sure Pac really minds.

He’s rusty. Fit will be the first to admit it, but he hopes what he lacks in skill he makes up for in unadulterated passion. He uses his thumb to tilt Pac’s neck to the side slowly, bending down to place a small, closed-lipped kiss just under Pac’s jawbone. Pac shivers at the feeling, and Fit smirks against his neck, continuing his way up to the space below Pac’s ear. Pac hums in approval, which sets Fit off, wishing he had a way to record that sound forever.

Instead, he shifts his kisses from Pac’s jawline to his neck, traveling down to worship Pac, to show him how reverent he would be with him, how loved he already is.

Once Fit’s had enough, he shows Pac that worship manifests in many ways.

He bites. It’s a nip, really, but it’s a little nip just at the base of Pac’s neck. Fit’s always enjoyed a nip here and there, a hidden hickey only he knows about. He tries a slight nip to test the waters, and Pac responds to it like a sailor to a siren. He leans further into Fit, a groan forming in the back of his throat and hands shifting from around Fit’s neck to digging into his shoulders, unsure if he wants to push Fit away or pull him closer.

Fit leaves him with that, shifting his face back to meet Pac’s gaze, hand shifting to cup Pac’s face properly. He’s so beautiful it should be studied, and Fit is willing to put in the hours for a Doctorate.

Fit’s self-satisfied smile as he pulls from Pac’s neck sets Pac off. The hands digging into Fit’s shoulders pull him in again, and Pac makes it his mission to steal every ounce of oxygen from Fit’s lungs. The kiss is still chaste by modern standards, but Pac keeps his lips moving constantly, barely letting Fit process the movement before he shifts again, switching between bottom and top lip with no rhyme or reason. Fit follows Pac’s lead, chasing after him with no thoughts aside from the feeling the kisses bring. Fit barely remembers to breathe when he does get a moment’s reprieve, allowing Pac to overwhelm him and trusts Pac won’t let him die. Pac has all the power over Fit and vice versa.

A few seconds or minutes later, neither can fully tell; Pac pulls away, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. Fit’s chasing him still but knows better than to push it, dropping his head and resting his forehead against the warm fabric of Pac’s sweater. He shifts his hands back to rest on Pac’s hips, waiting for him to catch his breath while he attempts to regain his own.

“What…” Pac whispers, the heat of his breath against Fit’s head sending shockwaves through Fit’s exhausted body, “Does this mean?” Pac takes another deep breath, slowly coming back into the present moment. “What does this mean for us?”

Fit regretfully pulls his head from Pac’s body, straightening to look at him but keeping his hands in place.

“I don’t know,” Fit admits, never having dealt with being in love with a roommate before. “Maybe we take it day by day? See how we do?” Fit takes a deep breath before finally telling Pac what he’s been waiting to say for weeks.

“I don’t know how these things work. It’s been a long time. But I just. Um. Well, I care about you. A lot. And I want to do more of this.” Fit’s nerves start piling up as he prepares to say the words he’s practiced in his mirror for weeks.

“Gosto de você.”

Pac giggles immediately, shifting to cover his mouth with his hands. Fit can tell he’s not laughing at him, not with the wet eyes Pac has.

“Sorry, I probably butchered that…”

“No! No, it was very cute. Gosto de você, também.”

“Oh.” Fit laughs, embarrassed. “Fofo! I remembered.”

“You always do,” Pac states with a smile.

“We should. Um. Probably go to bed now.” Fit says, stammering. “Our own beds, I mean. Not that I. I mean, I would never, uh. Fuck. I’m so bad at this.” Fit closes his eyes and looks to the sky, red-faced and embarrassed.

“Stop! I know what you mean. Baby steps, right? But yes, I am. I wouldn’t mind either—one day. Soon, maybe,” Pac says slyly, reaching out to push a hand against Fit’s chest.

Fit’s eyes bulge as he looks down from the sky at Pac’s hand on him. Pac’s eyes convey everything Fit needs to hear in a glance, and it’s much easier to handle. Fit reaches down to grab Pac’s hand with his right, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to Pac’s knuckles.

“Soon, yeah. Baby-steps.”

Pac nods and pops onto his tiptoes, pressing another small, chaste kiss to the side of Fit’s mouth before losing his balance.

“G’night, Fitche. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“G’night, Pac. I’ll dream about you.”

Even in the moonlight, Fit can see Pac’s face flush with his words before he steps through the doorway and pads across Fit’s bedroom to head to his own.

Maybe Fit’s not as out of practice as he thought.

Chapter Text

“Fit?”

Pac’s voice sounds as lovely as ever, even if a bit tinny coming from the speaker of Fit’s far-too-old iPhone. Pac doesn’t call him like this often; if anything, Fit is the one who randomly calls Pac during the day just to hear his voice. The moment he hears Pac’s voice, all his thoughts are only of him, making it easy to forget the stresses of running your own business. A pleasant buzz reverberates through Fit’s head like a bug trapped indoors on a sunny day. 

“Well, hello handsome! ” Fit attempts to sound seductive, sultry even, but he’s out of practice. His voice comes out a little too eager than he’d like and far more cheerful than sinful, but Pac’s too distracted to notice. 

“Fit, I think you should come home.”

Pac uses his serious voice, which Fit has only heard twice before. The adrenaline coursing through Fit’s body at the sound of Pac’s voice shifts to a trail of ice, and Fit stands from his chair immediately, shutting his computer off and throwing anything he can reach into his bag.  

“Is everything okay? What’s going on? Is Ramon alright? Are you alright?” Fit is frantic; attempting to be calm only adds to the pressure to get the fuck home now, but his belongings keep toppling from his bag. 

“It’s okay. He’s fine—well, mostly fine. He isn’t hurt! His heart is just a little sad. He is very upset, Fit, and I don’t think I can do much in this situation. I think he needs his dad.”

Pac’s voice drops as he speaks, possibly nervous Ramon might overhear his conversation. This could also be the moment Pac realizes that whatever is going on between himself and Fit hasn’t yet evolved into the ‘instructions on caring for your roommate’s son when he’s sad, but you’re also semi-dating his dad’ phase. 

“I’m on my way; what happened?” Fit asks, stepping through his office door and searching to spot any of his employees. He waves Tina down, and she reads him like a book, quickly picking up on the fact that there is an emergency. 

“I’ll handle your clients. Go. I’ve got it,” Tina whispers as he passes by, mouthing ‘thank you’ over and over. 

“I picked him up from the party, and he was upset, I could tell,” Pac’s voice trails off a bit as he collects himself. “Ramon is always quiet when he’s upset and thinks too much. Once we got home, he started sniffling. Fit, I am so stupid. I thought he was sick, but he was crying. I’ve never seen Ramon cry like this before, you know? Bobby said something mean to him, and I don’t think he knows how to process it, and I don’t want to make any mistakes. I think you might be the only one who will understand.”

“I’ll be home in 10 minutes.”

Fit pushes open the gym doors, squinting into the sunlight and reaching reflexively into his bag for his sunglasses. It’s cold as hell but wonderfully sunny. Fit thought it was going to be a good day. The gym was relatively quiet for a weekend; Ramon was at a birthday party for a few hours, and Pac promised to pick Ramon up if Fit picked up dinner. He was looking forward to a relaxing evening with his boys. 

“Did you drive today?”

Fuck. 

“No, I walked. Shit. I’ll grab an Uber; it won’t be long.”

Quickly, Fit switches to his headphones and opens Uber, requesting whichever would get him home the fastest without breaking his bank account. There is a three-minute wait, and then it's a nine-minute drive with traffic—perfect. 

“Don’t stress too much, Fit. Ramon is in his room. He just needs to be alone. But Fit, he is very angry. He will scream, I think, so you should be ready. He is angry with you, but I don’t know why. He wouldn’t say what Bobby said, only that it was mean but also that you are the worst. I just- I’m sorry, Fit. I tried my best, but he is going to fight with you.”

The frantic nature of Pac’s words put Fit on edge. Pac sounds as if he’s on the verge of tears, and Fit wishes he knew how to make that stop as soon as possible. All he can do is get home and hopefully fix whatever went wrong today. 

“Pac, Pac. Breathe. Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I can deal with my kid's anger; it has to happen sometime. I'm not sure what I did, but we’re going to figure this out, alright? We’ll figure out what’s going on with him together, and it’ll be fine.”

Pac sighs, one of his deep, heavy sighs that Fit hates to admit he loves. Pac usually only sighs like this when he’s being dramatic and desperately wants something. This version isn’t nearly as cute, nor is Pac collapsing into his shoulder with this sigh like usual, which removes much of its appeal. Fit’s phone beeps at that moment, alerting him his Uber is turning the corner. 

“The Uber is pulling in. Do you want me to stay on the phone? I will; it’s totally fine.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Pac says softly. Fit can hear the exhaustion in his tone and the smile on his face. 

“Okay.” Fit asserts, pulling open the door and waving hello to the driver. “See you soon, Pac.”

“See you soon, big boy.”

Fit bolts from the Uber only minutes later, remembering just enough of his etiquette to thank the driver as he shuts the car door. He forgoes the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time despite the number of flights. He chuckles in annoyance as he yanks the door to his floor open, the handle bouncing into the wall behind. All these years of working out to keep his body in peak physical condition, and the only thing he’s used all this stamina for is running to console his son. His keys are in his hands as he approaches the door, carefully pushing it open as it’s secured in the lock. It’s silent, which in this household is more unnerving than anything.

“Hey guys, is anybody home?” Fit tries to keep his voice steady, monotone, and unwavering. 

“GO AWAY.”

Ah. Okay, so Ramon is mad. Fit’s not sure what’s happened, but he places his bag by the door, toes off his shoes, and quietly heads to Ramon’s bedroom. Peeking inside, Fit can see Ramon crying on his bed, a shell-shocked Pac sitting at his side, rubbing his back. 

“Hey bud. What’s happened?” asks Fit from the hall, willing to allow Ramon some space. 

“GO AWAY!”

“You know I can’t go away, Ramon. Not when you’re upset like this.” Fit’s heart is beating out of his chest with worry. He searches to think of what he might have forgotten, but nothing springs to mind. He’s been better at keeping a calendar now that he and Pac are whatever they are. Two kids mean two worlds colliding and twice as many excuses for children’s parties. Fit sent Ramon off with the outfit of his choice, a present, and a card for the birthday kid. He checked it all off his list. Hours ago, he didn’t have a problem in the world. 

“It’s all your fault!” Ramon’s voice sounds nearly raw from tears already, and it squeaks painfully as he attempts to shriek his last words. 

“It might be. If it is, maybe we can talk about it. What did I do, Ramon?” Fit’s trying to stay calm, but he’s panicking. Ramon has never behaved like this before, and it’s been years since Fit’s been afraid for his son. Neither of them has any idea how this works. 

“No.” Ramon is beginning to wear down, sounding more tired with every shout. 

“Ramon.”

“NO!” It’s a shriek accompanied by big, heaving breaths—the kind of panicked breathing Fit hasn’t heard from Ramon in years. A chill runs down his spine, and he enters the room. He remains a few feet away but close enough to look Ramon in the eye. 

“Ramon! We don’t scream at people, remember. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But I need to know you’re okay, and I want to apologize if I did something bad. If you want to talk, let me know. I’m going to sit right here.” 

Fuck the stairs, this is Fit’s real test for stamina. How long can he last sitting on his son’s floor, watching his beautiful baby boy bawl his eyes out without knowing if there’s anything Fit can do to fix this? 

“I can’t,” Ramon’s voice drops, and he sniffles as he speaks.

“And why is that, Ramon?” Pac pipes in, seamlessly leaning into Ramon’s space to give him a sip of water. Ramon gulps it down with a satisfied ‘ah’ and smiles up at Pac before remembering he is very, very mad. 

“Because it’s mean and made me really mad, but I don’t want to make everyone else mad. And I don’t want to think about it anymore. Bobby is stupid. They’re all stupid, and Fit is stupid, and everyone sucks."

Well goddamn. 

Fit blinks at Pac as the two make eye contact over Ramon’s head. Fit thought he was following, but he’s unsure how he got pulled into this. He doesn’t want to make this worse, not if that’s something Ramon is afraid of, but Ramon is also very overwhelmed. Fit wishes he remembered more from the parenting books he took from the library years ago, but Ramon’s always been such a dream that he never considered arguing with his son. 

“Ramon? Nenê? What does your dad have to do with Bobby being mean? Did he say something mean about Fit? It’s okay to tell us; no one gets in trouble. We just want to make sure this can be fixed—or made better. Not super bad, okay?”

Ramon nods his head, lifting it a little but pausing to send a glare at Fit. Pac is just as lost as Fit, constantly looking up over Ramon’s head to try to read Fit’s reactions and determine if he understands what’s happening here. At first, Pac thought this was a familiar familial thing, something the two of them did once in a while, like he and Richas playing hide and seek, but this is something different. Pac’s not sure what’s brought it on, but Fit looks baffled, so someone must have gotten into Ramon’s head and upset him. Pac has no idea how this all connects. He’s just happy to know he’s not the only one utterly confused. 

“I was playing at the party, and Bobby told me I couldn’t play with him and Richas because. Um.” Ramon trails off, nervous ticks arriving. He steals a glance at Fit, still sitting peacefully on the floor, and shrinks into himself, not in fear but more like embarrassment. “He said only the people with two parents could play, and since Fit is alone, I can’t play with them for the game. And I said that it was stupid because his dads JUST got married!” 

Ramon’s small chest is quivering now, his voice upping in pitch. He’s upset, embarrassed, ashamed, and fighting back tears that are too big for his body. 

“But Bobby said it didn’t matter. And I said Pac lives with us too, but Bobby said it didn’t count, and then he pulled Richas away and, and,” Ramon sniffles again, fat tears running down his face, “Richarlyson just went with him! He looked sorry but he didn’t say anything, and I. I thought we were friends. Why would they say that? I wasn't being mean to them or anything!” Ramon’s voice is near a whisper. Fit is actively fighting the tears in his eyes from falling, and he can’t bear to look at Pac, or he’ll send himself over that edge. 

“So it’s all your fault, Fit!” Ramon spouts, wiping angrily at the wet marks on his face. “If you weren’t alone, I would still have Richarlyson as a friend! Why don’t you and Pac just get married or whatever?!” Ramon’s voice breaks as he breathes, turning to look up at Pac at his side. 

“Why can’t you be my parent, too? Richas gets to have all the parents to do fun things with, and Bobby has a mom, too! Why don’t I get to? We always have fun, but Bobby said it doesn’t count, and I only have Fit! And nobody else! It’s always just us, and, and, and, why isn’t that enough? What did I do wrong? I don’t want us to be lonely, Fit.”

Fit’s up in a shot, ambling toward Ramon’s bed to grab his precious little boy and hug him for days. His kid has his first bullying situation, and rather than fight, Ramon is worried about Fit. For a moment, Ramon fights it but relaxes his body a moment later. He's still stiff and full of rejection but is not fighting his father’s touch. 

“Oh, Ramon. I’m so sorry you had to deal with this today. You did a good job, my boy. Don’t worry about me, Ramon; I’m not lonely, and we’ve got each other.” Fit does his best to reassure Ramon, but this isn’t really his forte. He releases his son from his grasp and scoots back down the end of the bed to put some space between them. Ramon helps shove him away in defiance but notably leans against Pac’s personal space. 

“It’s still your fault,” Ramon says with a pout. “It’s still all your fault, and I’m still mad. Now you should go away and leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Fit says as he shifts off the bed, standing and centering himself. 

“I’m going to pick up dinner for us, but we are going to have a chat when I get back, young man. Do you understand me?”

Ramon nods, head still buried into Pac’s side. 

Fit stands and walks to the other side of Ramon’s bed to get closer to Pac. 

“You okay watching him for a bit?” Fit knows the answer, but it’s a good excuse as any to check in with Pac after the emotional tirade he witnessed. 

“Of course, of course. We’ll pick a movie to put on or somethings like that. Don’t worry about us.”

“I’m going to get food and run an errand beforehand,” Fit says, looking at Pac and hoping he understands what Fit is trying to imply. Pac raises a brow and dips his head, and Fit nods in return, knowing Pac is following his logic. 

“Do what you need to,” Pac assures. He has one arm wrapped around Ramon, carding through his hair, and shifts the other to grab at Fit’s own momentarily, squeezing his fingers once. It’s a move they’ve developed since their kiss on the balcony. They’re not ready to let Ramon and the world know what’s brewing between them; a small squeeze is all they need to let the other know they’re there and not alone. It’s just enough reassurance for Fit, and he gathers himself to head out. Before he leaves the room, he pauses in the doorway for a moment, stopping to look back. 

“Ramon, I love you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you for telling us what happened. It was very brave of you. I’ll be back soon, and we can talk about it.”

Ramon mumbles something as Fit walks away, and although he may not have heard it, Fit is assured everything will be okay. 

Fit exits the condo in a rush, shoving his keys into his pocket as he leaves. Fit judges his choices for a moment, opting to blow off anger and adrenaline by taking the daunting flight of stairs down rather than waiting for the elevator. It isn’t a long journey, but long enough to work out some emotions bubbling inside. Truthfully, Fit knows Ramon loves him and didn’t mean what he said, but the fact that those ideas were put into his head is a rude awakening that his boy is growing up. Life will start throwing more at him every day that passes, and Fit has to learn how to handle these situations before they come up again. 

Reaching the lobby, Fit bursts through the door and heads into the biting January air. It’s not snowing yet, but the smell of it permeates Quesadilla Island. It figures it would snow or storm on an already stressful day. Barreling down the street, Fit follows the curves in the road and, without thinking, turns toward Roier and Cellbit’s home, his muscle memory firing on all cylinders.

Fit can hear laughter as he approaches the front door, steadying himself to control his emotions, keep his composure, and only express the facts. Bobby was being mean. Bobby probably didn’t understand how what he said could hurt Ramon. If he had to guess, he’d assume Bobby is so excited about having a new dad and brother he’s afraid of anything that might take them away, including another extended family member. Fit isn’t mad, at least not in a way he’d willingly express to his peers. He just needs Roier to talk to Bobby about other types of families. 

Fit presses the doorbell and steps back as it rings through the home. There’s a thud and more laughter, and Fit almost feels guilty for interrupting a family evening. 

Almost.

As he calms himself, he thinks of the tears in Ramon’s eyes as the shadow of a figure sends waves of darkness through the stained glass adorning the front door.

“Fit?” Roier’s cheerful voice peeps from behind the door, and Fit can just make out Roier’s profile through the small window. “Gatinho, it’s Fit!”

Roier opens the door with a smile and holds out his hand to give Fit a friendly shake. 

“Fit! Hey man, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you in a while!” Roier asks, dropping Fit’s hand and leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey Roier, I’m just peachy. I just came to talk to you about something important for a second—something that happened today with Bobby.”

“Bobby?! My Bobby?! He’s right here. What happened? What did he do?!” Roier asks. He stands at full attention and pulls the door slightly more closed to keep the boys from overhearing. 

Fit sighs, deciding to drop it all on Roier at once rather than try and sugarcoat it. 

“Pac picked Ramon up from the party today, and he was pretty upset. Real pissed at me, a lot of yelling and crying. Once we got him to settle down and explain himself, he said he was mad at me for not being married.” Fit sighs again, taking a breath before catching Roier’s eye. 

“Apparently, Bobby told Ramon his family isn’t as good because his dad isn’t married, and he didn’t want to play with Ramon because he only has one dad and not two parents. Ramon made it seem like Bobby pulled Richarlyson into it as well. He’s pretty pissed off that his friends excluded him for something he can’t control.”

“Ah. Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Cellbit? Can you come here for a minute? I think you should hear this.” Roier yells behind him before returning to look at Fit. “I’m fucking sorry about this, man, we will get it figured out.” 

“One sec!”

Fit hears another thump as Cellbit likely rolls off the couch. Disjointed phrases in Portuguese are heard from the living room, which Fit aptly recognizes from his own life. He’s almost sure Cellbit is warning the boys not to destroy the entire place in the two minutes he’s gone. Pac sounds the same when trying to tell Richas and Ramon to calm down.  

“Fit! Nice to see you, man. What’s going on?” Cellbit’s face is kind and softer than Fit has seen before. Cellbit slides into the open space next to Roier and drags an arm around his waist. Roier rolls his eyes out of Cellbit’s gaze, and Fit has to admit, even if he’s a bit upset right now, these two are annoyingly adorable. 

“Fit was just telling me about something that happened at Baghera’s today, at the party.” Roier’s voice is calm but serious, and Cellbit straightens up as he realizes something is wrong. 

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a good thing if you’re here right now. No offense.” Cellbit sighs. “What happened?”

“I was just explaining it to Roier, but Pac picked up Ramon, and he was an angry, shouty mess. Hates me a lot right now, which isn’t the issue, but it's still a bit hurtful. Anyway, after he got the shouting out of his system, he said Bobby informed him that his family wasn’t as good as Bobby’s because his dads are married, but since I’m alone, Ramon couldn’t play the game with them.”

“Fucking-fuck. Shit Fit, I am so sorry this happened.”

“Listen, I know it’s not something you two instilled in him or that he had any malicious intent. I think he’s just a kid who is really fucking excited about his new family, is all. His excitement might just be, uh, manifesting in ways that, y’know, aren’t the best?”

Fit is unsure how he’s supposed to express how ridiculously upset he is without coming off like an asshole. All he can hope for is for Roier and Cellbit to understand that he’s trying to help them by informing them of what’s happening between their kids. 

“Sorry. Honestly, I’ve never had to do this before. Ramon’s never really been that upset or shouted at me like that, so…I don’t know. I just felt like I had to come over and say something, just so you know, in case he says it to one of the other kids with a single parent. I can take it, but I think the kids can’t. Shouldn’t.”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry, Fit. I understand you completely. I promise I will talk with Bobby.”

“We’ll talk to Bobby AND Richas. Tonight.” Cellbit says with a nod to Roier. “They’re brothers now, but they should know not to treat their friends like this, even if they are excited. Sorry about this, Fit.”

“No worries, guys. Being a dad is fucking confusing sometimes. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Ramon will get an apology next time he sees Bobby, I promise. You’re a good dad, Fit. Thank you for coming over to say something. I’m glad you did.”

“Mhm. Same. Is Ramon okay? Poor little guy must be exhausted if he was screaming that much.” It’s nice of Cellbit to inquire about Ramon, at least. Fit allows himself to relax a bit, just enough to sigh and drop his stone-faced expression. 

“He’ll be alright. He usually doesn’t get super emotional, so I think he’s trying to figure out what to do with all these feelings. Pac’s with him, which is good. He usually calms down a lot when Pac’s with him.”

“Good, good. He couldn’t get a better person to be with if we tried. Pac is great with people having an emotional breakdown; I know from experience. He’ll know how to handle things.”

“Exactly, Ramon will be good. And you will have to be good to Pac for helping, eh?” Roier shoots Fit a sly smile that takes Fit by surprise. He hadn’t prepared for this—he wasn’t expecting someone to rib him lightly, so he has no response saved up. Instead, he stammers a few times before Roier’s smirk breaks into a smug smile, and Fit gives up, looking up to the sky and smiling himself.

“Yeah, Roier, sure, sure.” Fit shakes his head as he looks back down, knowing he’ll hear about it in a few days as it makes its way around the Island rumor mill. Despite everyone’s side-eye and constant cajoling, he and Pac have yet to tell anyone about their situation. It’s far too new for the kids to know about, and together, they realized if they did tell any of their friends, their mouths would run so quickly the kids would hear within hours. It is better to wait and make sure this is worth committing to before upheaving all their lives. 

Still, Fit can’t help but smirk, assured in the knowledge that everyone they know is rooting for them. He feels proud that he was right; Pac is the perfect man for him. 

“What?! I’m just saying, we aren’t blind, you know? Go home, Fit, take care of your man. And your boy, too.” Roier’s tone is as playful as ever. Despite his comedic personality, there are few people on the island Fit trusts more to come through on their promises than Roier. If he says he’ll talk to the boys and get it sorted, Fit has all the confidence in him. 

“Yeah, Fit. Get a bottle of wine or something to share with Pac after Ramon goes to sleep. You both deserve a little treat after dealing with this shit, I know from experience,” Cellbit says with a sigh, looking to Roier. 

“The first time those two fought,” Roier says, jerking a thumb toward the two boys inside, “I thought Gatinho and I would never work out. And now look! Everything will be fine. Go talk to Pac, if you know what I mean.” Roier’s laughter is heavy with insinuation, and Fit doesn’t miss Cellbit trying to hold back his own giggles. 

“Okay, okay. Maybe I should pick up some wine. We ran out last time after…well. You know how it goes, don’t you guys?” Fit smirks right back at the pair, quirking an eyebrow as Cellbit shoots him a quizzical look. 

“Wait…Fit?! What are you saying?” Cellbit questions, turning to look between Fit and Roier a few times. “We were just teasing! Are you two-”

“Nothing, nothing at all. Catch you guys later!” 

Fit takes his leave, nimbly hopping off the porch and heading down the street without a second glance, leaving a confused and amused Cellbit and Roier in his wake. 

The walk home lets him think about the situation and how to handle it. Roier and Cellbit will talk with the boys, and the boys will apologize to Ramon. Ramon will accept their apology out of politeness and also because he craves the approval of those he loves dearly. He’s getting better at remembering he doesn’t need to give gifts to his friends to get them to like him, but this incident might slow his progress. Then again, when Fit worries about things like this, he goes to Pac, who always says the same thing. 

“He’s eight.”

Sometimes, Fit forgets he’s raising a little boy and that he’s allowed to be a kid and make mistakes. Fit always wants to protect him so badly, but he can’t. Until Pac became so ingrained in their lives, Fit thought his protectiveness was a character flaw. Now he can see he’s just being a good dad who puts his son’s well-being above his own, and it’s okay to embrace that. Fit’s a good dad, and Pac’s told him enough times he’s finally starting to believe it. 

Distraction is what Fit needs. He crosses the street as he approaches Ramon’s favorite take-out spot and places his usual order, complete with dessert for a treat. Ramon may be pissed at him, but they all need to eat after a day like this. Hopefully, Ramon can get a good night's sleep after he’s had some food, and Fit can finally sit with Pac and tell him everything he needs to know about why Ramon and Fit are the way they are. 

The food is a quick affair, and Fit is on the move less than twenty minutes later. He has no idea what he will come home to or whether Ramon will still be upset, but he has to get to the bottom of Ramon’s worries and talk to Pac about defining what they are. Ramon has to know soon, and Fit needs to know Pac is in this for the long haul. Luckily, Fit’s worries are exclusively tied to his son. Somehow, he knows Pac will understand. 

Fit pauses as he reaches the condo and enters the lobby. It’s been a long day, and he’s ready for the elevator. 

Inside the condo, things have calmed immensely. Ramon relaxes once Fit has left, though the guilt over potentially making his dad sad is clearly eating away at him. Pac convinces Ramon to wash his face and put on his pajamas so he can be ready when Fit returns with dinner, and Ramon agrees without much of a fight. Settling on the couch, Ramon curls into Pac’s side yet again as Pac navigates the TV to find something lighthearted that would steal Ramon’s attention. Magic School Bus it is. Ramon’s enthralled by the episode, making small comments under his breath. Despite all of Fit’s insecurities about his relationship with Ramon, he never seems to notice Ramon only does it because Fit does, too. 

Pac has dealt with situations like this before. Richarlyson is the most perfect kid a father could ask for, but his big personality tends to get him into mischief. Pac’s used to the yelling and crying occasionally, but not from Ramon, of all kids. He’s the kind of kid older adults would describe as ‘mature-for-his-age,’ which, in Pac’s vast experience, has come to mean ‘forced to grow up too quickly.’

Pac doesn’t want this for Ramon, but it’s hard to deny it’s already happened in some degree. He isn’t quite sure what Ramon went through before Pac met Fit, but there are small indications that they had a very different life before the island. Pac trusts Fit implicitly. If Pac needs to know anything about his past or Ramon’s life, Fit will tell him, and Pac has to trust in that. 

That doesn’t mean Pac doesn’t notice things. 

Ramon and Fit’s relationship is much more formal than most other parents in town, but it doesn’t manifest in coldness. The opposite, really, Pac muses as he looks down at Ramon pressed into his side. Ramon loves his dad so much it’s blinding. Ramon and Fit look at one another as though they have a secret bond no one but them will ever understand, even if they’re not as loud about it. 

Ramon has nightmares. Fit is in his room before Ramon can cry out for him every single time. 

Pac first noticed it before any bonding took place between the three. Feeling awkward in the condo when they were all in the same space, Pac often worked late at night in the living room or on his bed with the door open. He watched as Fit ran to Ramon’s room a few times after a particularly loud nightmare, staying until Ramon was once again asleep before trodding to his own room. 

Fit’s dedication to his son is heartwarming and inspiring. It makes Fit even more attractive in Pac’s eyes if that’s even possible at this point. 

Ramon doesn’t call Fit Dad. 

Pac has been living here for months, and he’s never heard Ramon say anything about it. He only ever refers to Fit with his name, no affectionate nickname or parental title. Always just Fit. Pac has interacted with them both together and one-on-one hundreds of times, and he’s never heard an inkling as to why that is, especially considering Fit isn’t much of a man for formalities. There’s a difference between being polite and being formal, and Fit always stays just on the correct side of polite, even when it isn’t warranted. Still, Pac knows Fit would never ask Ramon to call him by his name, which makes Pac assume it was a Ramon choice, but that doesn’t compute either. It’s baffling, but Pac accepts it for what it is. 

One episode of Magic School Bus ends, and Pac grabs the remote to start the next without contemplation. Ramon can zone out and enjoy his show all night if he wants, and Pac will be right here to keep him company. Plus, this episode is where Ms. Frizzle turns into a bat, so Pac wouldn’t turn it off even if Ramon wasn’t interested. 

Pac and Ramon get about ten minutes into the episode when the familiar scratch of a key in the lock breaks their concentration. Ramon looks to the door with a panic and then to Pac. 

“Fit?”

“This means we can have dinner, Ramon! Phew, I was getting hungry, weren’t you?” Pac smiles, encouraging Ramon to sit up for Fit’s return. 

Ramon nods, turning back to watch the door swing open. Fit walks through, arms laden with plastic bags from Ramon’s favorite take-out spot. He seems less tense than when he left, and Fit smiles as he enters, testing the room's vibe and how Ramon will respond to his returned presence. 

“You’re back?!” Ramon’s voice is small, squeaky, and laced with confusion, unlike his usual loud, well-spoken self. 

“I am! I got dinner, just like I said. If you’re not hungry, that’s okay, Ramon, but you need to have something to eat before you sleep, my boy. You deserve a good rest,” Fit says, lifting the take-out bags higher. “Figured it was a good night to treat ourselves, so I got your favorite.”

It took Pac a while to see it, but Fit shows his love differently than he’s used to. Pac is used to love being platitudes, kind words that do all the heavy lifting. Before Fit, love was the occasional gesture, a few compliments here and there, and a willingness not to leave. Fit is so different. Pac spends an entire night googling what love feels like as if it were a mild medical condition he needs to understand rather than a feeling he needs to put trust in.

Fit compliments Pac, but it’s never to a self-serving end. Fit includes Pac in everything, even running to Target and picking up some forgotten groceries. Fit buys Pac’s favorite take-out anytime he’s had a bad day and always does the dishes without being asked. Fit brings home little things for Pac that he sees when he’s out in town. At this point, there’s half a drawer of writing utensils in Pac’s desk, all handed to him by Fit, who swears Pac had a pen dying on him this week and figured you could never have enough backup pens. Pac has enough backup pens to last the rest of his professional career. 

The moments are small, too, things only for Pac and Fit to see. Pac wakes at 3am feeling uncomfortable but warm, realizing Fit has thrown a quilt over him as he sleeps on his drawing table, working late into the night. Fit never wakes Ramon and Pac up when they fall asleep on the couch, fully aware they both need the rest they constantly fight off. Fit tries more Brazilian recipes, sometimes with Pac’s guidance and sometimes just for fun. Fit changed his work schedule to free up his Fridays since that’s always Pac’s standing day with Richarlyson. Pac assured him he didn’t need to, but Fit insisted he stay free, just in case.  Pac has never felt more seen than he does in this house. 

“Oh, good. Um, I thought you might not come back. I thought maybe you’d leave, too.”

Pac’s eyes widen as he looks down at the small boy at his side, too shocked to ask Ramon to clarify. Who left him with the impression that this could be a fear? Fit’s never mentioned anything like this before, and Pac files it away for a conversation later. 

“What?” Fit places the bags of food down on the counter and kicks off his shoes, stumbling to his son’s place on the couch. Fit kneels in front of him so he can hold his eyeline. 

“Ramon, I am never going anywhere, okay? It’s you and me forever, remember, my child? I will always come back for you, no matter what. I’m sorry your friends were mean to you today, and I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to give you the kind of family you want yet. But I will never leave you, my boy. I promise.”

Ramon nods, barely noticeable. 

“There is no one and nothing I love more on this Earth than you, Ramon. One little fight is not going to push me away, okay?”

Ramon nods more aggressively now, the tears spilling again. 

“Please don’t leave us,” Ramon cries out. “I’m sorry I was so mean, Fit.”

Fit scoops Ramon up into his arms before Ramon can continue his thought. Fit cradles him close, running one hand up and down Ramon’s back to soothe him. Pac slowly drags his eyes away from Ramon to check how Fit is faring. His ears are red, and his neck looks a little splotchy, a tell-tale sign that he’s emotional. Fit doesn’t cry often and rarely allows himself to show any tears. What he does do, however, is hold it in until his body fights him, reddening his face, neck, and chest as though his body is attempting to communicate its need for comfort to the world. Fit not might be able to say it, but Pac can read him perfectly. Red splotches mean Fit is emotional; all Pac wants to do is wipe away the tears that escape.

If Fit feels pained watching the scene before him, Pac is fairing just as severely. Again, Pac finds himself stuck between Fit, the man he loves, the man he’s kissed, the man who Pac is sure loves him too, and his wonderful little boy, Ramon, who has no idea that his dad and Pac are as good as dating. It isn’t time to tell everyone, not when they haven’t had a proper date yet. Fit wouldn’t allow it, and Pac knows better than to ask. Fit, for all his claims of being touch-starved, out of practice, and bad at expressing emotions, is a hopeless romantic. Pac adores the juxtaposition of this strong, confident man brought to his knees because Pac brings him a flower on a random weekday afternoon. 

Never in Pac’s life did he feel more powerful than standing before Fit, rose in hand. 

Pac’s simple, natural gestures seem like defining life moments to Fit every single time. Pac brings Fit a rose? Fit blushes for hours. Pac cooks breakfast for him and Ramon? Fit compliments him on it for days. Pac flirts with Fit in public for a moment? Pac considers if their living room needs a Victorian fainting couch with all the swooning Fit does. It’s wonderful and sweet, and Pac wants to scream at everyone he knows that this man chose him. Of all the people in the world, he chose Pac. 

Pac would choose Fit and Ramon hundreds of times over. Again and again, until he couldn’t speak, he would always choose these two, he thinks to himself as he watches Ramon cry in his father’s arms. 

Fit shifts Ramon’s hair out of the way and looks through it to catch Pac’s eye. They stare one another down for what feels like ages before Fit’s hand leaves Ramon to reach up and out for him—reaching for Pac to pull him into this family hug. 

Pac accepts, pushing himself off the couch and taking Fit’s open hand as he falls to his knees. Ramon shifts without looking, knowing exactly where he slots against Pac’s torso, small arms squeezing both he and Fit for dear life. 

Pac can’t help but press a kiss into Ramon’s hair, reassuring him that he’s not alone. Yes, he has Fit, but he has Pac, too, and no matter what happens, Pac will always be there for him. 

A slight bit of pressure startles Pac, and he flushes once he realizes his situation. Fit mirrors his kiss to Ramon onto Pac, leaving a kiss right above Pac’s ear. Fit rests his head against Pac’s a moment later, and Pac wishes he could find this as exceedingly romantic as it is, but he feels one of Fit’s tears fall onto his ear. In all the chaos with Ramon’s outburst, Pac almost forgot how badly Ramon’s words may have hurt Fit and swears then to ensure Fit has a good night’s sleep and a proper kiss to go with it. 

Fit shifts back onto his heels, slowly letting go of the hug. He reaches down to wipe some tears from Ramon’s cheeks, and Ramon blushes, attempting to hide his face. 

“No hiding from me. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for dinner, okay? We can talk if you want.” 

Ramon looks up at his dad and allows himself to smile just a bit, enough to satiate Fit’s heart that his son isn’t terribly angry with him anymore. A moment later, Ramon reaches up and repeats the motion to Fit, using his tiny hand to wipe away the remnant of tears left on Fit’s face. 

“Sorry, Fit. I didn’t want to make you sad, so I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t like it when people are mad at me.”

“I know, my boy. I know. You didn’t make me sad, don’t worry. I appreciate you trying to keep me safe, but these are big emotions we can talk about, okay? Anytime you want to talk about anything, I am here to listen—even if it makes me sad or upset. And if you want to talk and you don’t want to talk to me, I’m sure Pac is more than willing to listen to you as well, alright, kiddo?”

“Sim, nenê. You can talk to me about any things. I will always listen.”

“Are you guys gonna get married one day? Like Bobby’s dads?”

Fit coughs, choking on air as he processes Ramon’s inquiry. 

“Right, um. Well, when I meant to talk about anything, I wasn’t expecting it right now, but we can talk about this now if you want to, Ramon, and if Pac is okay with it.”

Fit looks to Pac imploringly. Pac’s let Fit navigate the pace of everything in their relationship since he moved in. If it were up to Pac, he probably would have screamed their status from the rooftops, but he was waiting on Fit’s confirmation. This seems to be it. 

Pac smiles and nods, happy to finally move forward. 

“Ramon, your dad and I are not ready to get married. We are very different than Bobby’s dads. But that doesn’t mean it will never happen. We’re just a different type of family to them, that’s all. If we decide to do anything like that in the future, we will talk to you and Richarlyson about it first, okay?”

“Okay,” Ramon says, attempting to hide his smile. “Wait.”

Ramon’s head turns to look at the adults in the room. 

“Does that mean you guys are dating? Can you really be my Pai now, Pac!? This is so cool!!!!” Ramon grabs Pac’s shoulders, shaking him in any direction he can. Ramon isn’t hiding his smile anymore, laughing as he watches Pac pull faces as he moves. 

“I’m glad you think so, Ramon. Pac and I are figuring it out, okay? Baby steps. We haven’t told anyone yet; you’re the first one to know our little secret.” Fit looks to Pac and winks as Ramon releases him from his grasp. Soon, Pac smiles and blushes at Fit’s words and Ramon’s notable excitement. 

“Ramon, can you do me a favor? Just for me?”

“Of course!”

“I like your dad so much, Ramon! It’s very important to me that we take time to figure things out, okay? If you can, please don’t say anything about us dating until we speak to Richarlyson first. Is that okay? I would like to make sure both of our boys know before anyone else finds out.”

“MY LIPS ARE SEALED! I promise Pac, I’m really good at keeping secrets. I can even pinky promise!” Ramon thrusts the pinky of his right hand into Pac’s face, and Pac wraps his own around Ramon’s in turn.

“Good job, thank you, Ramon.”

“Now, I think it’s time you get washed up for dinner, okay? We can keep watching, uh? Magic School Bus? Is that what you guys were watchin’? We can have dinner in front of the TV tonight, alright Ramon? But then it’s bedtime right after; you’ve had a very long day.”

“Ok Fit!”

Ramon runs to the bathroom to wash his hands as Pac and Fit shift to stand, rolling out their aching muscles. 

“Not how I necessarily imagined telling him, but it works all the same,” Fit mutters, turning to face Pac head-on. Fit pulls Pac into his chest, resting his head against Pac’s own. “What a fucking day.”

Pac returns Fit’s earlier motion, angling his head to press a kiss to Fit’s head. 

“You handled that very well, Fit. You are an amazing dad.” Pac can feel Fit stiffen against him, indicating Fit is embarrassed. “You kept your cool and communicated very well, and Ramon is so happy. You were right to tell him. He deserves to know now that we’re…you know.”

“Dating?” Fit’s voice is magic to Pac’s ears. Having Fit speak into his ear like this sends a massive shiver through him, one he couldn’t hide even if he tried his best. 

“Yes. We are dating now. It’s been going well so far, right? You’re happy?”

“Sim,” Fit all but hums in Pac’s ear. He knows what he’s doing, the bastard. 

“I’m so fucking happy Pac, you have no idea.”

“I mean,” Pac says, pulling away from Fit’s head to look him straight on, “I think I have some idea.”

Fit laughs, a genuine, honest laugh that lights up his entire face. Fit’s smile will always be Pac’s kryptonite. Only a second later, Pac pulls Fit in for the kiss he’s been waiting to give all day. 

It’s soft and sweet, a kiss to reassure rather than romance. It’s a slight press of the lips to the other, a lovely moment before Pac pulls away. Fit whines for a moment, so quiet it’s nearly unhearable, but Pac has become a master at picking out Fit’s noises. Pac goes in again, forgoing Fit’s lips for his face in general, pressing a kiss above both eyes and following it with a small series of pecks to Fit’s cheekbones. Pac can feel the heat in Fit’s face as he blushes beneath Pac’s ministrations and relaxes into his arms. The fact that Pac can make Fit fall apart so easily with just a few kisses floods Pac with pride. 

Too often, he imagines what Fit would be like if Pac were more aggressive with him, allowing his hands and mouth to wander more than they’d dared with an eight-year-old at home. 

“Ramon needs a sleepover soon,” Pac mumbles against Fit’s lips, kissing him again. Fit laughs in response and winds his arms from Pac’s waist to the small of his back, resting there as Pac leans further into Fit’s space. It’s a slow, romantic kiss that would quickly develop into more if a small voice was already asleep rather than standing in the doorway, groaning. 

“I dunno about you guys dating if you’re gonna be gross and kiss all the time.”

Ramon’s voice breaks their makeout session, and both turn to face him with embarrassment. To his credit, Ramon looks far more amused than upset, rolling his eyes at them both before stomping to the kitchen for his plate. 

“That will take some getting used to.”

“Mhm, you think?” Pac snarks, smiling and rolling his eyes. He grabs Fit’s hand and drags him to the kitchen. “I’m starving! I’m wasting away here, Fitche; get to work!”

One dinner and three episodes of Magic School Bus later, Ramon is on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. 

“Hey Ramon, we can watch more tomorrow, alright, bud? You gotta stop falling asleep on Pac,” Fit groans, shifting from his seat on the couch to slide his arms under Ramon’s sleepy form. Fit lifts Ramon like he weighs as much as the pens he brings home for Pac. Fit hoists Ramon into his arms and sets off for the bedroom, Pac rising to follow along. 

Fit stops at the side of Ramon’s bed, waiting for Pac to step past and pull back Ramon’s covers. Fit plops him down like always, and Ramon still laughs despite his sleepy state. Pac leans over and kisses Ramon on the head, wishing him a good sleep. He sidesteps Fit, who takes his place and does the same. 

“G’night Pai Pac. G’night dad.”

Fit freezes in place at Ramon’s words, and Pac looks back and forth between them. Fit reacts like he’s never heard the word leave Ramon’s mouth, which answers one of Pac’s questions. 

“Ramon…” Fit trails off, kneeling to look at Ramon more clearly. The pair are cast in pale light. Aside from the light filtering down the hall, a small nightlight is the only thing that allows Pac to make out the expression on Fit’s face. 

“It’s okay, Fit. I know you said I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Fit looks to the ground and shakes his head a few times, taking a deep breath or two. He’s fighting back his emotions again, and Pac shifts forward just enough to put his hand on Fit’s shoulder. Fit’s gaze never leaves the floor beneath him, but his hand snakes up, grabbing Pac’s fingers and squeezing. 

“I’m glad, Ramon. You let me know if that changes.”

Ramon smiles sleepy-eyed at his father, and Pac takes it as his cue to leave. He squeezes Fit’s shoulder twice in quick succession and starts to make his way out of the room. 

“Not all the other kids call their parents mom and dad, and I know you said it’s okay not to say it, but I dunno. I think I want to now,” Ramon admits nervously. “It’s kind of nice having a dad that I remember.”

“Ramon,” Fit’s voice breaks as he says his son’s name. “ I’m so proud to be your dad. You are the best fucking kid, Ramon. The absolute best.”

Ramon beams back, alight with praise. 

“You’re pretty okay, too, Dad Fit.”

Fit barks out a laugh he’s sure Pac can hear from wherever he wandered to. He appreciates Pac giving him this moment alone. If Fit had to date again, he’s glad he’s dating another father. Pac understands moments like this in a way few others would, making Fit love him that much more. 

“Get some sleep now, my child. We’ll do something fun tomorrow, all three of us, okay?”

Ramon neglects to respond, already sound asleep with Meathead clutched between his arms. Fit pushes the hair off his head and watches him sleep momentarily, overwhelmed by his love for this kid. He tucks more of the blanket under Ramon’s sleeping form so he stays nice and warm and backs out of the room, leaving the door just a smidge open in case of emergency. 

Now, to tell Pac everything.

Pac is more than happy to leave the room to allow Fit and Ramon some time alone together after what seems to be a shift in their dynamic. They wouldn’t push him away if he joined, but they’ve both had a long, emotional day and need a moment of quiet as a family. In the meantime, Pac does what he always does when he’s anxious: he makes himself useful. Pac heads to the kitchen and finishes the last of today’s dishes, only pausing to fill and turn on the kettle. Fit prefers a dandelion tea on stressful days, so Pac gets it going, already knowing Fit will want one for their discussion. 

For the first time in his life, Pac isn’t scared knowing he and Fit are about to have a serious conversation. In every other relationship, serious discussion meant something was wrong, and almost every time, it was Pac’s fault. This time, Pac knows there’s no one to blame for anything that happened today. Bobby, perhaps, but he’s a little kid with a new lifestyle to accept. Any kid would lash out when their world turns upside down, and Pac hopes Roier and Cellbit check in on how he’s coping with all the changes. 

Fit enters the kitchen a few minutes later, red-faced and worn out but looking lighter. His eyes are shining positively despite being red-rimmed from crying.

“What a fucking day,” Fit says, walking up to Pac and winding his arms around him. “Thank you for being here. You have no idea how much it helped both of us to have you here. I’m sorry you had to deal with this too, but I’m so thankful I wasn’t alone.”

There’s that patented ‘I’m not good with emotions’ honesty from Fit. He really has no idea how good he is at these things, but acceptance takes time, Pac presumes. Until then, Pac will keep hammering the point home. 

“Thank you for letting me be here. I wanted to give you guys a little space before Ramon went to sleep; I hope that was okay.”

“It was perfect, Pac. You’re perfect, Pac.”

Fit’s voice is far too honest as he sighs against Pac’s head and melts into his arms, allowing Pac to support most of his weight. 

“I’m so lucky.”

Pac is burning up now, flushed under the quiet compliments Fit casually dishes out. 

“What can I say? I’m a real catch,” Pac jokes, pulling away from the hug to catch Fit’s gaze. “I made you dandelion tea. I think it’s a good day for it, yeah?”

“Fuck yes. Thank you again.”

“Then we can sit on the couch and talk if you want. Don’t feel like you have to Fit! I know how you are. If you want to tell me some things, do it, but only because you want me to know. I am patient; I do not mind.”

“No, no! I mean, I appreciate that, Pac, I really do, but I think there’s a lot I should tell you. None of it is bad, really. Nothing will change anything between us, at least, I don’t think. But you should probably know some things about Ramon that I don’t tell the others.”

“Mhm. Go sit down. I’ll get the tea. Relax!” Pac orders and Fit follows his command with a sarcastic salute. Pac rolls his eyes with a grin, pouring hot water from the kettle and making Fit’s tea just how he likes it. Pac knows Fit well at this point, and though they haven’t had many pre-planned, deep discussions, Pac knows Fit struggles with emotions. If Fit is willing to be open with him and talk, the least Pac can do is make it easier for him to get the words out by ensuring he’s comfortable. 

Before Pac allows this discussion to begin, he aligns himself into the optimal position. Pac carefully assesses his seating options as he places the tea carefully atop their novelty coasters. Fit never likes to look anyone in the eye when he’s talking about how he feels, so Pac relaxes, shifting on the couch to lay across it with his head in Fit’s lap. It’s a pose they’ve only sat in a few times, but it’s clear that Fit has a real thing for Pac’s hair. His hands play with the strands flowing from where they’ve escaped Pac’s hair tie, and Pac can feel Fit’s body relax under him like a muscle massaged with the barest touch. If Fit can focus on something tactile, like playing with Pac’s hair, he might be able to get the words out. 

“Where do we even fucking start?” Fit asks, eyes closed. “What do I start with? How do you just start talking like this?” 

Pa’s mouth twitches slightly at Fit’s comments, ever amused. 

“I just say things. I don’t think people listen very much, but I just talk, and they stop me when they want to talk,” Pac replies honestly.

“I listen. I promise.”

“I know, Fit, I know.” Fit’s right arm rests between the back of the couch and Pac, and Pac pulls Fit’s hand onto his chest, leaving a kiss on his knuckles. 

“But I can ask you things, or you can pick a topic and go from there, or I can tell you what to talk about, I guess. What works best for you, Fit.”

Fit takes a deep, cleansing breath, eyes still closed. 

“Ask me a question. I need to rip the band-aid off.”

Pac thinks for a moment before he asks the first question that comes to mind. 

“Why does Ramon never call you dad?”

“Ah. Shit. Okay.”

“If it is too much or not my business Fit, I understand. It is just a thing I have noticed-”

“No, you’re fine. It. Uh. Yeah. Yeah, it makes sense to ask. It’s a bit different than most families, huh?” Fit says with an unamused chuckle and shake of the head. 

“So. Um,” Fit trails off, trying to find the right words. 

“Ramon doesn’t call me dad because he had a dad. Before me.”

Pac blinks a few times, tearing his gaze from the ceiling to hazard a glance at Fit. 

“Ramon is not my son.” Fit pants and Pac freezes for a moment, awaiting his next words. “Well, I mean, he’s my son, you know? That’s my fuckin boy in there. My son. But he’s not my DNA or whatever. I mean, he is, but he isn’t. Biological. He’s not my biological son.”

“That I understand; there are lots of kids like this, Fit. It isn’t a problem.” Pac wants to alleviate Fit’s worries, but he’s not sure why Ramon being adopted is so out of the ordinary. Half the kids around the island are here because of adoptions, and most parents are very open about it. 

“No, I mean. Yeah, Ramon’s adopted, but not in the way you think.” 

Pac raises his brows and catches Fit’s eye. He stays quiet, allowing Fit to explain before he jumps in with questions. 

“Technically. Uhm. Ramon is technically my nephew. He’s my brother’s kid, biologically, at least.”

“Oh? I see. You took in Ramon, then?” Pac doesn’t want to push more than Fit is comfortable with. There’s a time and place for fofoca and jokes, and it’s not right now when Fit is willingly vulnerable. 

“They, uh. They died. My brother and his wife. Ramon’s mom. There was an accident, and they didn’t make it, so Ramon was alone. He wasn’t with them when it happened, thank god. He was around three and a half then, so I think he was at daycare. Honestly, I can barely remember the details of what happened. There was just. A lot was going on, Pac. A lot.” 

Fit looks down at Pac, sees Pac’s slowly tearing eyes of concern, and forces himself to look away before he cries himself. 

“I don’t think they ever thought about what to do if something like this happened. Why would they, though, I guess? They were so young, and Ramon was just a little guy. There was no plan when it happened. No will or anything to guide us on their wishes. It was a whole thing, lots of uh, family shit, along with trying to bury them. But yeah, the dust settled, and I walked out of the funeral with Ramon, and suddenly I was a dad.”

When Pac contemplated how the conversation tonight would go, this was not it. Perhaps they’d talk about how to handle Ramon if something like this happened again, where the boundaries were for Pac as a roommate vs. Pac as a boyfriend caring for Fit’s son. He presumed they’d discuss the errand Fit ran before getting food or even how they would inform their mutual friends and family that they were now an official couple. This was not what he expected. 

Pac wracks his brain for the right words to say, something that will assure Fit that Pac is here for him while also acknowledging the impossible position he found himself in. 

Of course, Pac is only human, so he instead blurts out the first thought in his mind. 

“What the fuck?!”

“Yeah.”

“I. Oh wow. I’m sorry, Fit. I did not know anything about this! I’m sorry if I forced you to talk about sad things; I didn’t mean for that,” Pac cringes at his carelessness as he speaks. 

“No, Pac, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s you. I don’t mind talking about this shit if it’s you. Honestly, you’re the first person I feel comfortable talking about this with. Ramon and I had a little chat about this before, and he agreed it was okay to tell you. He doesn’t want everyone to know. Maybe he’ll be more open with it when he's older, but only a few people know right now.”

Pac grasps Fit’s hand again, pressing it to his lips over and over. He wishes he had the right words, but all he can offer is what comes to mind. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Fit. It means so much to me.”

“Yeah, well. Thank you for being so worthy of our trust.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Oh shut up,” Fit says, pulling his hand away from Pac’s chest to slap at it playfully. Seconds later, before Pac can react, Fit leans down and kisses the tip of Pac’s nose. 

“Every time I do that, you turn into a tomato,” Fit chuckles. “You’re a cute little Brazilian tomato.”

“I hate you,” Pac says, covering his face with his hands. “You are the worst.” Pac’s statements mismatch his tone as he laughs through his embarrassment. 

“Okay, tell me more. How did you get here? How did Ramon handle everything? Is that why you had a moment when Ramon called you dad tonight?” Pac files away more questions for later, not wanting to overwhelm Fit immediately. 

“I think when I gave you a condo tour - do you remember that?” Fit asks, his hands moving back to play with Pac’s hair. 

“Of course!”

“Right.  When I showed you around, I mentioned I have the smaller bedroom, right?”

“Sim. You said it was to be close to Ramons’. And the balcony.”

“Yes! So uh, I was careful to word it this way, but I think I said, ‘sometimes he wakes up at night looking for his dad.’”

“You did, I remember.”

“Well, yeah. There you go.”

Pac thinks for a moment, mulling the implications over in his mind. Oh fuck. Oh, poor, sweet Ramon. And poor, sweet Fit for being the father he never asked to be. 

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah.” 

“That must have been difficult at first,” Pac leads, carefully keeping his tone balanced. 

“Ramon…he was so young when it happened. He’s still so young, Pac. He’s just a kid; he was so much smaller back then. When it all happened, he was upset, but he doesn’t have a lot of memories of them either, which I think is almost as painful as losing them. He knows he had a dad. He knows he called him ‘dad,’ but he can’t remember ever doing it. When he first moved in with me, he would have a nightmare and call out for his dad, but then I would show up, and he just knew something wasn’t right. After a while, he asked if he could call me Fit. What are you supposed to say to that? I told him he could call me whatever he felt most okay with, and he went with just Fit.”

Pac stays quiet, allowing Fit’s hands to work through his waves while he lies listening. 

“It’s gotten better—a lot better, actually. I think. Without sounding too presumptuous, I think it helps to know you’re here, too. I think Ramon knows two people are here to keep him safe, which makes him feel less anxious. More like himself.”

“I will always be there for you and Ramon. I promise a hundred times,” Pac implores, catching Fit’s eye. 

“I know, Pac. I know.”

Pac uses the short break in conversation to sit up. This has been much deeper than he expected, and he feels that Fit deserves more of his attention if he wants it. He comes to a seated position and shifts, carefully angling his legs over Fit’s lap. His hands pull Fit’s own closer, and they move just enough for them to look at each other. Pac melts at the adoration in Fit’s eyes. Fit loves him; he knows it. He hasn’t said it; neither has, but Pac feels it. He would do anything for Pac and vice versa. Reaching down, Pac plays with Fit’s fingers, running his softer ones over the hard callouses on Fit’s from climbing at his gym. 

“So you took Ramon in all by yourself? And moved here? No one helped you? Not the rest of your family or friends or anything like that?”

“There weren’t many people to ask if I’m honest. My sister’s got her own kids, and my parents are grieving and too old to be chasing around a toddler. Ramon’s mom didn’t have much in terms of family, and none of their close friends were equipped for a child. I think Ramon’s social worker just worked through all the best-case scenarios for Ramon, and we all agreed.”

“That’s very brave. When we adopted Richarlyson, it was a decision we made together. We all got a say, and so did Richas. I still get worn out with him, and he has so many parents to help out. I am impressed you did this all by yourself. I’m sorry you had to, but I am proud of you.”

“Thank you, Pac.”

Despite the nature of the conversation, Pac leans in and brushes his lips lightly against Fits’. It’s less of a kiss of passion and more a way to say, ‘I’m here now. I’m proud you’ve made it here, too. Together, we can handle it all.’ Pac ends the kiss slowly but stays in place, enjoying the closeness. Fit’s nose brushes his, setting off a slew of giggles Pac can’t hold back. Leaning back, Pac turns to bring the attention back to the topic. 

“So you really did this all on your own, huh?”  

“Yeah, pretty much. Like I said, my sister has a whole gaggle of her own kids to look out for. My parents are too old to worry about a toddler destroying half their townhouse; there wasn’t really anyone left to take Ramon. Why would they have the time to help the one that did?”

“I get it, it just feels shitty of them. How did no one reach out to you? Friends? A partner? Boyfriend?” Pac asks. Truthfully, he and Fit have only spoken about exes in the broad sense that they’ve both had them, and they are no longer relevant to their lives. Pac’s alluded to past loves before but never a full relationship rundown. Thinking about it, he isn’t sure if he’s ever heard of Fit referencing past relationships. 

“I had. Uh. I don’t think we’ve really talked about this stuff before, so um. Sorry this is so awkward, I’m terrible at this shit.”

“No! No, Fit, you are doing so great. It’s okay; we don’t have to talk about our whole lives tonight. Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I will be here every other night, too.”

“You’re too good to me, Pac.” Fit smiles, taking one of Pac’s hands to ground himself. 

“I don’t mind you knowing, it’s just. Awkward. To talk about this stuff. All the times where things went bottoms up for me. But fuck it.” Fit sighs and shakes his head, hyping himself up to air all his dirty laundry to this perfect man on his couch.

“In terms of serious relationships, I’ve only had one. Spreen. It was a long time ago; looking back on it now, I realize it wasn’t a very healthy situation. We were off and on for a few years and finally got engaged. I think we both thought we were too fucked up to be with anyone else. As an older and wiser adult, I hate to say it, but in hindsight, I think the fact that we were engaged might have been a factor in why my family still doesn’t help out with Ramon much. Either way, that was up until I got Ramon. It’s just been the two of us since.”

“Up until? Do you mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, Pac.” Fit nods. “He couldn’t take the idea of Ramon being a real thing that would be with us the rest of our lives. We were engaged for a bit and…I don’t know. Did you grow up always knowing you wanted kids? That you wanted to be a dad one day?”

The question is barely out of Fit’s mouth when Pac answers, “Yes.”

Fit snorts. “I figured as much. Well, that’s not me. Or it wasn’t me, I guess. I’m not really sure anymore. But I never planned on having kids and was never interested in that kind of life. Things had to change, but I’d never make another choice. There was no way I was leaving Ramon. Spreen couldn’t deal with that, and I can’t blame him. We got engaged on the assumption we were on the same page about how the future would work out, but. Yeah.”

The pair allow silence to overtake them for a moment. Now, all of Fit’s concentration is placed into Pac’s hand, and he runs his fingertips over every scar and vein. 

“I’m sorry to hear this, Fit. But I’m glad you’re not like that now. You have friends here; you have all of us. It’s okay if you never wanted to be a dad. Sometimes things just happen in life, and you change with things that come.” Pac offers his best grin to Fit, twisting his own fingers to squeeze Fit’s hand as he speaks. 

“Can I ask…”

“Anything,” Fit responds before Pac has fully trailed off. 

“Before things changed, was it a good relationship?”

Fit whistles slowly, like a deflating balloon. 

“Well, that’s a loaded question.”

“I’m sorry if it’s-”

“No, no, I get you. I would say, at the time, yes, it was a good relationship. Looking back from the outside years later? It was two people who were not ready to change and were trying to keep it together. But we weren’t terrible to one another or anything. I think we were just scared and dumb and young. He did leave with some money, and I’m still pissed about that more than him not wanting to be in Ramon’s life.”

“I’m sorry, Fit, what? He stole from you?!” Pac stiffens, sitting up straight and staring Fit down. 

“Yeah. It’s why we moved here, in part. It's much cheaper out here than back in the city where I used to be. Spreen and I broke up, and three days later, our joint account was nearly depleted. I called him, and he said he took the money and left so he could ‘get on his feet again’ as if suddenly raising a fucking kid I barely knew was a fun vacation idea. Luckily, we had separate accounts as well, so I was able to keep us afloat, but yeah. If I still had the money, I would have bought the loft outright and done it up when I bought the gym.”

“Meus Deus, Fit. That is a lot to deal with. I’m so sad you had all this happen but also so happy you’re here now, you know? I wish you didn’t have to suffer like this, and Ramon too! But I’m glad you’re both here now. I’m glad you are here with me.”

“I’m glad too, Pac.” 

Pac attempts to send Fit the most adoring gaze possible, but anger still runs through his veins. 

“I’m also glad I never met Spreen. I think I’d hang him, knowing this.”

Fit attempts a laugh and ends up choking on the air, coughing to clear his throat. 

“Sorry, I’m good. The visual there broke me for a minute.” 

Pac smirks, pleased. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier. I wasn’t trying to deceive you or anything like that purposefully. It’s just hard to talk about sometimes. A lot of things happened at once, and I wasn’t the best at dealing with them. The time between being shot, losing my brother, gaining Ramon, Spreen walking out, and Ramon and I moving here was probably too short for anyone to process healthily. I wanted to make sure we were sure about us before I brought up anything to Ramon. I can’t risk putting him through anything like that again.” 

“I understand Fit. It is not a problem for me, I promise. We have to figure ourselves out first sometimes, you know?” Pac smiles softly Fit's way, reassuring him he has no plans to go anywhere. 

“Who else knows this? About you and Ramon?”

“Just Phil. I don’t think the kids know, just Phil.”

“You and Phil are very close.” Pac’s words are a statement, no indictment or leading question to catch Fit out. “I’m glad you have him in your life. I didn’t realize how long you’ve known one another.”

“Yeah. I don’t tell the old man enough that I appreciate him, but that’s not really our friendship, you know? Phil just knows. He knows, and I know he cares, and that’s fine for us. But yeah, he was the first one to find out—the only one, actually, who isn’t my parents and stuff. Phil already had Chayanne, so I thought he could give me some advice. It turns out his advice was to pack up and move out here. I think he knew it would be easier to keep me from running myself into the ground if he could see me.”

“I know what that is like.” Pac’s been on the receiving end of one too many wake-up calls from Mike in the early hours of the morning. Mike always looked out for Pac, putting him back together after he faints from exhaustion or falls asleep standing up due to sleep deprivation. Pac’s never been the best at sustaining himself, and though he’s improved leaps and bounds over the past few years, Mike is always there, checking in. 

“I bet. It’s sort of like you and Mike, but not the same. Different, but still important. And know that I understand that, okay? I get that you and Mike have something that you and I don’t, and I’m not going to be weird about it. That’s your business and your life. If you trust Mike with your life, I trust him with it, too.”

“Thank you, Fit. A lot of people don’t get it.” Pac’s been down this road before—potential partners who seem like the one until they meet Mike and accuse Pac of wrongdoing. Fit’s the first person he’s been with who’s never once asked Pac for an explanation. Fit’s only ever provided unwavering support, and Pac is determined to return it in droves. 

“Yeah, well, a lot of people haven’t been shot or kidnapped or made out with their roommate on a balcony, so we can’t blame them.”

“They’re missing out,” Pac retorts with a smirk. 

“Absolutely,” Fit chuckles. “It builds character.”

“Have you seen him since?” Pac’s tone is light, with no accusations flying around. He is genuinely curious if this guy will rear his head again or if Fit has completely cut ties. 

“No, but he has started calling lately. Not a lot, three times in the past year. Nothing to worry about; he’s not wanting back in our lives. He just keeps leaving me voicemails saying he has something to give me, and that’s it.” Fit doesn’t see the point in keeping this from Pac. 

“When? Does he say why he wants to give you things?” Fit might have moved on, but Pac doesn’t trust this guy’s intentions. If he’s stolen money from Fit before, there’s a good chance he might try again. 

“A month or so. He’s in town then for some reason. He never asks for a call back or anything like that. Just says he has something to give me, and he’ll be in town at some point and wants me to have it. I don’t know what would be worth him doing it in person if it is something I owned, and I don’t recall anything missing when we broke up. I’ve admittedly ignored thinking about the whole thing.” Fit’s honesty is straightforward, and he seems more confused by the situation than anything else. 

“Are you going to meet with him?”

“Genuinely? I haven’t decided. I keep going back and forth on it: whether I need it as closure, whether I need closure at all, or whether or not I just want to go so I can punch his lights out the moment I see him. I don’t know what to do, Pac.”

“I think you should let me go with you,” Pac says matter of factly. “That way, I can kill him if need be. Ramon needs you; you can’t be in jail for his childhood. Kids will be ruthless with the bullying if they know Ramon’s dad is in prison. I can handle it, though. Again, I guess!” 

Pac’s sarcasm is palpable, and he laughs along with his words, but there’s a truth in Pac’s eyes that drives Fit to the brink of sanity. 

“Fit?”

“Sorry, sorry. I just imagined you beating the shit out of Spreen, and I blue-screened.”

Pac bursts into considerable, euphoric laughter. He may also be blushing more than ever before, but it’s worth it for the look in Fit’s eyes. He seems almost hungry, and it’s pretty clear he’s daydreaming about something risque. Pac has to look away to control his reaction before speaking, a smirk already present.

“I didn’t realize that did it for you. I will have to start my vigilante career, huh?”

Fit groans and tosses his head back to rest against the couch, covering his face with his hands and muffling his speech. 

“Oh god, stop. Too much spandex to think about; my brain may never recover.”

“So now you like me punching people and wearing spandex? I am learning so much about you tonight, Fit.”

“Stop it, you,” Fit grumbles. 

“No! It’s cute! It’s cute that you think I could be cute while beating someone up.”

Fit snorts, shakes his head, and removes his hands from his face. His head turns to take in Pac, and he deliberately looks Pac up and down with the kind of slow, steady gaze that people write romance novels about. Pac feels as though he’s burning from the inside out as Fit’s eyes rake over every inch of him, clearly admiring. Forget everything Fit has said before; he is more seductive than he gives himself credit for. Pac knows Fit could ask him for the world now, and Pac would bend space and time to make it happen. 

“Oh no, Pac. I don’t think it’d be cute; I think it’d be hot. Like really fucking hot.”

Fit’s voice reverberates under Pac’s skin, raising goosebumps across his limbs. The powerful feeling returns and Pac can’t believe this man has such an effect on him. A cold shower would solve everything, but Pac has never been one to back down from a challenge just because he is a bit embarrassed and a lot turned on. 

Pac shifts from his seat, half across Fit to press himself even closer, lifting himself enough to catch Fit’s hands in one hand, pull them in, and drag Fit in for a kiss. Pac leads, and Fit follows, attempting to match this kiss's far more intimate nature. Pac nips at Fit’s lips, never staying in the same place for long. He leaves soft and sweet pecks all over Fit’s face again before returning to his lips and giving Fit a kiss that leaves him panting, silently begging for more. 

“I understand what you mean, though,” Pac mutters into Fit’s ear as he places a final kiss on Fit’s left jawline. 

“About whether or not I need closure?” Fit would usually be embarrassed by how much his voice squeaks while speaking, but fuck it. Pac understands. Pac would probably take pride in it if he noticed. 

“Oh. Uh, no, not that. We will have to talk about it more, I think.”

“Yeah. What part, then?”

“About you short-circuiting thinking of me beating someone up,” Pac states matter-of-factly. “Remember when you were willing to punch Cellbit for me?” 

Fit hums in acknowledgment. 

“I thought about it a lots, that’s all. It is a really good visual. You are strong, and Cellbit is Cellbit. It would not be fair, but it would be a fun watch.”

Fit grins at Pac’s words, nodding slowly and thinking as his eyes wander around the room. 

“What?” Pac asks, waiting for Fit to say something. 

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything!”

“No, but you look like you want to. Spit it out! Don’t tease me, I want the fofoca!”

“It’s nothing! I was just thinking about how it wouldn’t be fair for me to take on Cellbit like that. He’s a good guy and all, and I think he’d get a few sneaky shots in, but c’mon, Pac. It’s an easy win." Fit adds more base to his voice as he smirks at Pac, eyes alight with mischief. "Wouldn’t you rather I take on a bigger threat? Wouldn't it be a bit of a longer fight? Maybe I’d take a few punches but shake them off easily? How about that?”

“Oh my god, you are the worst. This is the worst.” 

Pac buries his face in his hands and crumples into Fit as Fit’s laughter takes over. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it; we’ve all had these thoughts before.”

Pac snorts, rolling his eyes as he uncovers them. 

“You’ve thought about me beating people up before? And looking good doing it?” Pac’s voice is sarcastic, but the tinge of interest lingers. 

“No, no. Of course not, Pac. It’s just. You know. Usually, when I think about it, you’re sword-fighting.”

“What?”

“Uh. You know! You did that sparring thing with the guys at work. That was. Uh. Y’know. Nice to watch, is all. You’re real strong, Pac. It was a good viewing experience; that’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Huh.” 

Pac takes a moment to process this information. He remembers the day. Etoiles was nearing a breakdown due to boredom and dragged Pac into an instructional sword-fighting session, regardless of Pac’s interest. He showed Pac a few moves, and he, Etoiles, Foolish, and Tubbo fought for an hour or so until they were too worn out to continue. He remembers Fit being there, of course, but never noticed if he had a vested interest in the matches. 

Pac’s strength has never before been something he’s considered attractive about himself. At least, no one has told him outright that they have found it a turn-on in any capacity, until now. Fit keeps surprising him. Considering Fit’s profession, Pac’s always considered him the strong and sexy partner in this relationship, but perhaps sharing that role wouldn’t be a problem. Pac allows his mind to wander for a moment, considering how Fit would react if Pac acts more aggressively with him now that he knows this information. 

“Yeah.” Fit sighs his words, eyes glassy as if he is also daydreaming about something unsaid. “I don’t know how we got on this topic. My brain feels like jello at the moment.”

“I do not know either. We should head to bed soon. Though I forgot to ask, I assume your errand was to see Roier?” Pac asks. 

“Yeah, yeah. I went over there to let them know what happened. I don’t know if I handled it well, but Roier and Cellbit said they’d talk to Bobby and Richarlyson about it and apologized. I think the boys will probably say sorry next time they see Ramon. Roier is a good one; I believe him if he says he’ll talk to the boys.”

“He will. Cellbit too. He would never let Richarlyson get away with that. Richas struggles with saying no to people. He loves everyone so much; he does not like to let people down, so he will understand how he hurt Ramon’s feelings. I will talk to him, too.”

“Thank you, Pac. For everything. Especially today.” Fit grasps for one of Pac’s hands and kisses his knuckles again. He’s never done this before, but it seems that Fit’s found a new gesture he likes, and Pac will never complain. 

“There is no need to thank me, Fit. I was just here and tried to help the best I could. Today was a good day. I mean, it was bad, but after the bad parts were over, it went good. Better. Ramon is so sweet; I’m happy he understood.”

“Mhmm. Oh, on that note, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Fit! Go ahead.”

“What Ramon said earlier about calling you something, Pai? Was that it? That’s like dad, right? Is that okay for him to say? Would you be offended if he said it? Because I can talk to him if that’s a lot to handle.” 

Pac nearly tears up at Fit's care for him. Fit's consideration and compassion seem to come so naturally that it seems as if Fit’s never even thought about being kind; it’s simply an innate part of who he is. Pac has never felt so much like a priority to another person before. 

“No, Fitche. I love it. He can say it if he wants; it does not bother me at all. I appreciate you asking.”

“I just want everyone to be on the same page. It’s a lot for all of us, I know. I want this to work, and I want us all to be honest and open and say what we need to.”

“Mhm. Me too, Fit. This is why I think we need to get some rest now. I think I am about five minutes from falling asleep on you. You are very cozy, Fitche.”

“Glad to be of service.” Fit’s fingers have moved on from Pac’s own, now tracing intricate patterns onto Pac’s inner forearm. Pac feels as though Fit is spelling his name for a moment, but he shrugs it off. 

“I just thought of somethings. Your birthday is coming soon, Fit. What would you like for it? I will get you anything in the world!”

“Anything?”

“Within reason. I will not go to jail again, but petty crimes are fine,” Pac jokes. 

“A date.”

“What?”

“With everything going on, we haven’t been able to have one yet—a real date. Let’s go on a first date, and then we can tell everyone. That’s what I want for my birthday: one date with you.”

Fit’s nerves bubble to the surface momentarily. Pac notices the signs and jumps to action to quell them quickly. 

“Fit, that is…yes. Yes, I would love to go on a date with you. I will make all the plans; we will have a big birthday date! I’ll find someone to watch the boys, and I will plan the whole thing for you. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. Thank you, my beautiful Brazilian boyfriend.”

“Stop it! It is too late for me to be embarrassed; I am too tired. I have to go to bed soon.”

“You could stay. With me, I mean,” Fit suggests, stammering. 

“Hm?”

“I mean…he knows now. Y’know? About us. You don’t have to go running back to your room. You could stay, and we could sleep together. Not like sleeping together but sleeping together, you know? Fuck I am awful at this. I can’t even be suave by accident!” Fit bemoans. 

Despite Fit’s lack of confidence, Pac finds himself over the moon with the suggestion. 

“I would love to stay. Let me grab my phone, and we can sleep. Together!” Pac giggles. 

“Together.” Fit mutters to himself. “Like the sound of that.” Fit beams an overly large, cheesy smile at Pac, who rolls his eyes like it’s a muscle reflex. 

“You would.”

“Get your stuff before I change my mind! Mouthy little brat,” Fit grumbles, pushing Pac’s legs off him as he shifts to stand. 

Pac smirks at Fit before heading to the hall, rushing to his room to grab his phone and quickly change into better pajamas for a shared sleeping experience. Basketball shorts and a years-old t-shirt aren’t going to cut it; he needs to bring out the comfortable but well-fitting pajamas for tonight. 

Minutes later, Pac wanders into Fit’s room, carefully leaving the door slightly ajar in case of late-night nightmares. After everything Ramon’s been through, there’s a possibility of one tonight, and the last thing he wants is for Ramon to feel shut out because of Pac’s presence. 

Fit’s back is to Pac, and Pac swoons momentarily as he takes in Fit’s taut muscles in motion. Fit pulls the balcony doors closed and locks them before straightening the curtains. Without a shirt, Fit is a sight to behold. Pac lets out a low-pitched wolf whistle, causing Fit to spin around. 

“Jesus, Pac, I’m too old to get scared like that. My heart could go any day now.”

“Who is the whiny brat now, hm?” Pac retorts, placing his phone face down on the nightstand as he slides into the side of the bed he’s claimed for himself. 

“Still you. I’d need a year just to come close to taking your crown,” Fit fires back, joining Pac. 

“Hey,” Fit says, rolling to the side to meet Pac halfway. He leans in and kisses Pac softly, nothing more than a few brushes of lips before bed. Pac returns his motion in kind, pulling away to leave one on Fit’s forehead before snuggling into the pillows beneath him. He and Fit find themselves on their sides, facing one another as they drift off. 

“Pac? You still awake?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can, but I might be asleep before I answer,” Pac responds honestly. 

“Do you know what gatinho means?”

Pac snorts but smiles at Fit’s words. 

“I do! It’s like a kitten? Why? Does Ramon want a cat now?”

“No, no. I mean, yeah, he’d love one, but this is different.”

“Hm?” Pac’s trying so hard to stay awake and indulge in Fit’s conversation, but his vision is going, and he can feel his body melt into Fit’s incredibly soft, high-tread count sheets. 

“It’s nothing; just when I was at Roier and Cellbit’s earlier, that’s what Roier called Cellbit.”

“WHAT?!”

“Hold on, hand me my phone! I need to destroy him in the group chat for this. Bagi will never let him live this down. You are too good to me, Fitche!”

“Anything for you, Pac,” Fit says as he rolls toward Pac, carefully avoiding Pac’s elbows as he holds his phone aloft, quickly texting Bagi. Pac’s phone is placed back on the nightstand almost as soon as it’s held, and he shifts in bed, angling his arms to invite Fit into them. It takes a moment to navigate the new space for a comfortable position to be found. Finally, Fit’s head buries into the crook of Pac’s neck as he relaxes his right arm across Pac’s torso.

A moment later, Pac’s hand lifts from its space on the bed, entwining his fingers with Fit’s before both are asleep, dreaming of a date to come.