I'm still working out some plot issues with Give the World, but a rather new plot bunny decided to assert itself. This is the start of what will be a rather lengthy fic. Think of it as a teaser. This takes place in a very different future AU. (Title comes from TS Eliot's "The Waste Land.")
Newtown, 2180
Sam Evans stood out on the balcony that he had added to the small cottage he shared with Blaine Anderson, looking out as a spectacular sunset slowly ceded ground to the first stars and constellations of twilight. He had often wondered over the years why the patterns in the sky were so different from the ones he had learned back in Kentucky. Blaine, of course, had had the answer down pat: the more southerly latitude of their new home meant they saw a different part of the celestial plane than they knew as children.
Although his eyes were looking at upwards, his mind was drifting toward thoughts of his old home, as they often did this time of the year. He hadn't heard from or seen his parents in so long—since he and Blaine had settled in Newtown, really—and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to them. Deep down he knew there wasn't anything he could have done, but still it was the one regret, the one "what if" he couldn't let go of, regardless of how many times Blaine tried to reassure him that it really wasn't his fault.
Sam heard the door open behind him, but didn't turn around; he knew who it would be. "Are you going to be out here much longer? If so, I brought you a sweater."
"Did you think of it yourself, or did a certain mother hen we both know tell you to do it? He nagged me about it half an hour ago."
"I told you it wouldn't work, Ryder," said Blaine to the empty air around them. He was hardly surprised when an answer emerged seemingly out of nothing.
"I figured as much, but I had to try, didn't I? We all know how grumpy Sam gets when he's sick."
"I threaten to sell you for spare parts one time, and you never let me forget it. Sheesh," responded Sam to the AI that oversaw their house and their daily routines. Ryder at times was indeed far too overprotective of his charges, but Sam knew that he really did care. Besides, Ryder had saved their bacon so many times over the year that he was almost a part of their family. "I'll put the sweater on, OK? Will that make you happy?" He grabbed the pullover from Blaine and started putting it on.
"Absolutely ecstatic, Sam," chirped a clearly smug Ryder. "If there's nothing else you two need this evening, I'll put myself in standby mode."
"Thanks, Ryder, but we should be fine from here. See you tomorrow," said Blaine.
"G'night, Blaine."
Sam took that as his cue to take up his turn conversing with his partner. "So how are our little charges? And why are they alone? Now that Ryder's off for the rest of the night, don't you know how much damage they could cause?"
"Under normal circumstances? I'd be terrified about what the twins could be doing. But C's watching over them like a hawk. She wants her story time with her uncles bad enough that she's giving them her best death glare. They're too afraid to act up."
"That's my niece," beamed Sam about his brother Steve's daughter Cecilia. Not that the twins weren't his nephews—they were Stacy's kids, Philip and Dave, although Blaine had a tendency to call them "Phobos" and "Deimos" when it was just the two of them. They were more than a handful, and doubly so in a small town like Newtown. So it was little surprise that Steve, Stacy, and their respective spouses (Sifani and Amit) were relieved beyond measure when Uncle Sam and Uncle Blaine offered them a kid-free weekend so they could have some desperately needed quality time.
"But now it's time for Uncle Sam to read them their bedtime story."
"Can't you do it? You're almost as good at it as I am by now."
"Well, this was a special request," answered Blaine honestly. "Actually, they wanted us both to do it. And if you do a good job, we can play 'Arthur and Merlin' later as a special reward."
Sam grinned like a loon at that last comment. Even after all these years, the two of them still managed to keep things fresh in their romantic life. "You really do come up with the craziest ideas. I can't wait."
"After you, your majesty," said Blaine with a flourish, leading Sam to the door.
They entered the house, and went into the main living area, which had been rearranged to provide sleeping areas for their three young guests. Each was now comfortably laid out on one of the beds, although Cecilia was clearly in charge of this evening's activities. Sam turned to her and repeated the foolish bow Blaine had executed a moment before. "You wish to be entertained with a story, milady?"
"Yes, Uncle Sam," giggled Cecilia, before turning a bit more serious. "But I had a question for you first." Sam turned to Blaine, more than a bit suspicious that he was being set up. However, a quick look at Blaine's confused expression made it clear that he was just as much in the dark as Sam.
"What do you want to know?" asked Sam somewhat nervously.
"My teacher mentioned something strange in class. I didn't know what it was, and when I asked her about it later, she got this funny look and said I should ask the two of you about it."
Sam had a sinking feeling about where this was going, and Blaine's sour look showed he was on the same page as Sam. Trying to keep his tone jovial, he asked, "Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"I told her I wanted to know what happened to Earth."
