Bearly Tolerable

Category: Culmets. RickyVerse. Fluff. Humor.
Time Frame: Early. Pre-series.
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge Only.
Summary: What's a family gathering without a little teasing, anyway?
Note: Another Ricky story, because I just can't help myself. This one is a direct sequel to the first story in this series, Bearing Witness.

Hugh's full name sounded from the living room in a sharp voice he'd recognize anywhere.

And though he was two rooms away in the kitchen, Hugh jumped to attention and carefully put down the spoon he'd been using to stir the sauce on the stove.

Then he answered the summons.

He joined his mother and Paul in the living room.

When he got there, he found it just about as he'd expected. His mother had her arms crossed over her chest and was giving him a not-quite-glare from her position in the corner of the couch. Paul sat next to her, looking a little scared and a lot amused.

As Hugh cautiously approached, he noticed a tan bit of fluff sandwiched between the pair, and his brow furrowed, but he put his curiosity aside and addressed his mother.

"Yes, mama?"

"Paul was just telling me the most interesting thing," she answered, picking up the tan thing next to her and holding it so Hugh could see, then continuing. "And how could you?"

Hugh's curiosity morphed into full-blown confusion.

"How could I what?" he asked, stepping over and attempting to take the teddy bear from her hands.

She pulled it away at the last moment.

"No, sir," she said, shaking her head. "Nobody who thinks I would get rid of Ricky deserves him."

"When did I say that?"

Hugh stared at his mother for a moment, then slowly shifted his attention to Paul, as a look of understanding bloomed on his face.

"Paul?"

Paul held up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me. I just said you were surprised to see him."

"All I said was that I didn't know what happened to him!"

Hugh's mother cut into the conversation. "You could've asked," she said, sniffing with disdain. "I can't believe you."

"Mama!" Hugh was exasperated, and he sounded about eight years old.

It was then that his mother started to chuckle, and Hugh realized he was being teased.

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, then gave the pair on the couch a dismissive wave.

"Whatever. I'm going back to my sauce," his voice was petulant, but his grin gave away the fact that he wasn't actually too upset.

Two smirks that were too similar considering their sources were all that answered him, and Hugh pursed his lips at the pair on the couch, giving them a mock glare.

"You two are ridiculous."

Paul bit his lip to stifle a chuckle. Hugh's mother didn't bother. She giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Oh, my boy," she said. "You were always such an easy mark."

Paul laughed, and Hugh gave him a disbelieving look.

"Et tu, Brute?"

Paul reeled himself in, but his eyes shone with tears of merriment when he answered.

"Well, she's right, you know."

Hugh threw his hands up in the air.

"I don't have to take this," he said, still trying to look upset but fighting a grin. Then he left the room and headed back to the kitchen, where his sauce, which did not smirk, giggle, or laugh, awaited him.

He spent the better part of an hour in only its company, but when it was finished, he served his mother and his boyfriend a fine dinner. The teasing was forgotten, and the trio talked well into the night.

And for most of that night (after Paul cleared and cleaned since Hugh cooked), Ricky, wearing a permanent almost-smirk himself, watched everything from the crook of Hugh's arm.