Content warning: Mentions of a past abusive relationship (physical / emotional / financial abuse), one instance of Greg's deadname being mentioned. Greg is trans in this, though it's not remotely the focus.

Set mid 03x07.


"You do love him, don't you?"

YES. The answer is an immediate yes … of course he loves him; he's family. It's the easiest answer that he could possibly form. An easy answer that comes too freely, a testament to relations from a boy who knows as well as anyone in this fucking miserable family that family means nothing. And he can feel from the look on her face that she doesn't buy that either. Finding solace in the treehouse, he's two drinks in, and he knows it shows in his face: baby blues are glossy, cheeks taken on a roseate glow. Glass in hand, he traces the rim idly with his index finger.

"That's, that's like a really strong word, man."

HE'S A DIFFICULT MAN. Prone to bursts of anger, but he's never raised his hand at Greg. Well … he's thrown things, backed him into a corner with plastic and burning rage. He's never touched him. No, that's not true … he's constantly touching him. A clap on the shoulder, a hand gripping Greg's tie, a palm at the small of Greg's back, strong hands cradling Greg's cheeks with a soft press of his lips to Greg's forehead. No … That's not true. That's not it, that is. A push, a smack, Greg shoved into the snow and left to lay there. Hard words spat at him, and the worst part was he understood it. But that was different. And not in the way Greg would write shit off before as that was different. THERE WAS A REASON FOR IT. Greg wasn't owed anything — no kindness, no love, no safety or security. Greg dropped a bomb, and that's how he reacted. It wasn't followed with a kiss, and a, it won't happen again, baby, I promise. It was prompted by a hey, your wife is cheating on you, dude, and not a I think I want to go back to work. He was difficult, but Greg could handle difficult.

HE'S A DIFFICULT MAN. He buys greg things — dinners, clothes, drinks. All the little morsels of culture that Greg's never been exposed to before, he's there to treat him to. Greg had asked him, once, if he was trying to seduce him. YES I AM, GREG. Greg wonders how much of it was a joke. He doesn't expect to be paid back. He buys Greg things because he wants to, and Greg thinks it's partly because he likes to. Like he gets some sort of satisfaction from introducing Greg to this new world Greg was technically born into, but never quite found his footing in. He doesn't hold the favors over Greg's head, doesn't keep a tally of all the kind things he does for him. Doesn't tell him that Greg's not allowed to work, that he'll watch Greg's bank account, that he'll keep an eye on the minutes he uses — every phone call counts, Greg, it's not cheap. The only time he's ever asked Greg for a receipt wasn't because he didn't trust him, but because he wanted to be able to write it off as a work expense. He was difficult, but Greg could manage difficult.

HE'S A DIFFICULT MAN. Sometimes he says things to Greg that cut straight to his heart. There's no shortage of cruel names and insults in his arsenal to be levied Greg's way. Venom spilled from burning vodka - soaked lips, just as easily as the rare soft-spoken sweetness, I would marry you's and you're family's spoken barely above a whisper. It took Greg too long to realize what was going on. Sure, some of the cruelty may be real. He figures there has to be some sort of tangible hatred to form that core. But it's a boy's game — locker room talk and playground bullying. He was no different than the snot - nosed bratty boys that pulled on his pigtails as if to say, LOOK AT ME, GRACIE! PAY ATTENTION TO ME! in that pathetically annoying way. But the insults stay strictly to things Greg expects: Greg's own stupidity, Greg's own naivety, Greg's lack of culture, of travel, of experience. Greg was an outsider — and so was he, sure — but he'd assimilated to the Roy - wealth so much quicker than Greg did. (He didn't have that same bite that Greg's cousins did, though. Insults were mulled over, it was easier for him to stick his foot in his mouth than up someone's ass.) But what was more important was that he seemed to know what was off - limits. His dad was never the punchline of the joke, his gender, or sexuality, the nightmares that he dared to share, or worse, the dreams. He's never taken something that fragile of Greg's and ground it to dust in front of him, tore him down until he started to believe it. He was difficult, but Greg didn't mind it.

LOVING HIM WAS EASY. And that was the frightening part. The little sprout of affection that Greg had for him started far too quickly. It started with stupid baby blues finding the smiling icy eyes — a smile that was contagious. He was plenty handsome, and plenty his type. This wasn't so much the beginning, as it was the spat out shell of a sunflower seed. Dinners, laughter, dances, drinks — nothing hurt, of course. From the moment he had asked Greg, would you kiss me? This affection was nothing more than a seed forgotten atop a patch of dirt. It showed itself at breakfast, with a warm hand on his wrist, and a gentle squeeze, a soft gesture to remind him you're not alone. From that little seed had sprung a weed, and Greg wasn't an idiot — he knew what would come from it. What was required was Greg reaching in, and ripping it out from its core, before it could tangle its vines and leaves deep inside Greg's chest, to wrap around his heart and squeeze it tight enough that it works double time. There's a reason greg doesn't let his gaze linger on him too long, because he's afraid to feed the fire. Like feeding Miracle - Gro to the dandelions. Yet, it's still there. It stays there, through an uncalled - for sleepover. Through a pep - talking motivational speech, a retreat on a yacht, a proposal. The kiss on the forehead might have been the worst, but even while Greg was wondering if these assaults on his punishment office were going to be ongoing, he couldn't fight the affection. Greg doesn't know what possessed him to straighten his spine, puff his chest, demand he PROVE the sexual prowess boasted to him. He doesn't know if that's the affection, or the desire. He doesn't know if there's a difference anymore. THis weed of theirs looks to him both a sprawling, spiraling mess of dead vegetation … and a fragile, lush array of lilacs and lavender, the flowers of first love, devotion, grace. He isn't sure which one frightens him worse. He thinks maybe the blossoming blooms — he's never seen them before. Even back when he wore his own engagement ring that sparkled in the sunshine, it always felt more like he was over - watering the plants, flooding them with love that wasn't wanted. Instead of holding open the curtains for daylight, he was fanning the flames against a wildfire with no chance of salvation. Greg's never felt that with him. Loving him was easy, and Greg has long since stopped trying to stop.

HE'S A DIFFICULT MAN, BUT LOVING TOM WAS EASY.

It was admitting it to himself that was hard.