Ceasefire

by DingDongFootball

Sniper always hated these quiet times, for he found they only augmented the realities and harshness of war. Thankfully for him Scout is always there to break the silence. Slash. Language.

19. Dethroned

Luc presses the pillow harder against his ears, the cotton moist with the sweat trickling down his temples, the fabric of the down cushion's case serving to overheat his flesh. His groan is more of a slight, breathy scoff in actuality, a balanced mingle of disgust and irritation. He turns, meeting the slumbering mass of Julie, the smile on her lips conveying the equilibrium the luxury of sleep bestows upon her. If he should have to be the one of the two to lie awake in such an obscenely early hour of the morning, so be it; if the alternative meant that Julie were to be the one subjected to the late night madness cruely fated of the insomniac, he'd be better at handling it at the very least.

He'd first laid his head to sleep at around ten in the evening, after a savory glass of wine with Julie at the kitchen table. Jack, Alex, and Lawrence had preoccupied themselves with a rather passionate discussion that covered the essentials of what it meant to be a Bostonian. The two elders had entertained the other with the standard small talk that often preempted sleep, the topic of the night having been Lawrence and his charming new friend. Luc had settled with responding only in short, professedly interested "hms" and "huhs" this time around, for the Frenchman had been a little too hung up with how a crackpot Aussie hunter who lived in a piss trailer embodied anything charming would usually demand of its subject to answer properly. The longer they'd spoken the heavier his lids became. And if the grunts of the affirmative sped it along, Luc was willing to pay the price with concurrence of whatever was on her mind.

'Charming indeed,' Luc spits quietly as he rolls on his side and wills himself the deafening of his ears for just this night, God willing.

They'd been at it for three hours.

Scout must've forgotten how thin the walls of his home are in the midst of his absence, the tidbits of knowledge the battlefield had brought with it shoehorning its way into Scout's mind like an intrusive visitor. Moreover, Luc could hardly believe his stepson's childhood bed could even support the weight of the two; the metallic squeaking hints that it too was working hard to keep up with its inhabitants. Just why they felt the need to conduct such business in the apartment when the seclusion of their camper awaited them just down on the street below was well beyond his realm of comprehension.

What made it all worse was that mumbled, stray words of Sniper's seeped in between the moans and yelps of the lusty Scout just on the other side of the wall. The sounds work together to form a sensual, passionate rhythm that would forever haunt Luc's memory. Who knew what sorts of dirty mumblings Sniper was whispering to his lover. Perhaps he was reciting poetry, or talking dirty, maybe he was explaining to him the entirety of Australia's history, or his thoughts on current politics.

Luc shudders, his eyes wide as he presses the pillow against his ears, the young man's cries for 'more' and 'harder staggering themselves in an ecstatic, unbridled crescendo until they lock in his throat, Scout's drawn out moans growing more and more desperate as they approach what Luc hopes is the orgasm they'd been working towards since midnight. Luc had always regarded the Australian's claim that he 'fucked like a stallion' to be self indulgent and highly exaggerated, though the man certainly had the stamina of one.

"Mon Dieu," Luc sighs, easing the pressure his hands command against the pillow with cautious optimism, now only Scout's tired heaves could be heard underneath Sniper's still audible mumblings. They must do much to arouse the younger of the two males, for Scout can be heard moaning as Sniper pauses.

He would most certainly be addressing this come morning.

Luc had no idea whether he should laugh, or shake his head at the sight that graces his eyes when he prods Scout's bedroom door open. Only a small trickle of light seeps in from underneath the doorway, the otherwise completely dark room swallowing all energy that slips its way inside, sound and motion stifled as the two inside still sleep, docile and unmoving. The Frenchman taps the door shut with his heel, treading lightly both because of the dark and caution; he didn't want to wake them, not yet. He scowls at their affectionate spooning, cheeks round with repulsion at the way Scout's arms hook around Sniper's neck, the way his chest serves as a comfortable rest for the young man's head, gentle against the bed of chesthair. Luc, who could never say he had any reason to've seen Sniper without any clothing in the past, had never known he was so fit.

He'd always struck him as being gangly, with untanned skin blanched in emaciated sickness, but the Australian actually possessed a rugged appeal to his person, his arms strong, chest broad and riddled with scars, though they did less to disfigure him and more to crown him as a champion of nature, the whole of him browned by the Bushman's experience. Jack's hand smoothes over the upper body the young man, the rest of their figures thankfully concealed underneath the fabric of the bedspread. Save a few gashes here and there, Scout's body has ultimately remained untouched of permanent injury; hairless, spotless, unblemished, though it was less of a childish purity and more a matter of untainted divinity; he certainly had the figure of an adult male, and he more than likely had hair adorning his, well, Spy didn't quite want to think about how hairy his 'anything' might've been. It was a lean muscularity, like that of the runner he was.

It seemed a shame to Luc that he would have to be the one to soil the display of masculine idealism, but as he snaps on the blinding bedside lamp and wrenches the moistened covers from in between their aroused bodies, Luc can feel his anger and resentment well inside him again, a geyser of unchecked outrage, the two men roaring from startled shock as the towering Frenchman glares down at them both. "Holy shit, Luc, you fuckin' perv!"

Scout wastes not even a second in directing his anger onto its usual target, even within the transition of sleep to instantaneous alertness. Sniper however is content with simply grunting, turning so he lies flat on his back, the palm of his hands shielding his eyes from blinding light and humiliation. "What'n the fuck do you think you're doin' in here, man?!" Scout spits, grabbing hold of the sheet in his stepfather's hands and covering himself and Sniper quickly.

"Peepin' on us, tryin' to catch us naked, fuckin' creep!"

"I imagine zhe whole neighbour'ood could be labeled a bunch of creeps considering we were all treated to zhe specatular show of your passionate endeavours!" Luc hisses, Jack still unresponsive unlike the young man beside him. "Yeah but I don't see the fuckin' Donaldsons in my bedroom checkin' out me and Sniper's dicks,"

"Trust me, Lawrence, I needn't see them! Zhe sounds of your love making last night did plenty to paint zhe picture!" Luc retorts through gritted teeth, Scout smirking, chuckling in prideful egoism. "Oh ho ho shit, you heard us, huh?" Scout smirks, an eyebrow raised smugly at the fuming man. "Did ya hear how loud Snipes was beggin' for me?"

"I 'eard 'im mumbling and you moaning," but Luc stops and wretches a little, hesitant to complete the sexual imagery of his stepson with a simile. "Me moanin'?! You must not've heard shit then, 'cause I sure as Hell wasn't on my back moanin'!"

"Don't lie, Lawrence, you're a screamer if there ever was one, love..." Sniper interjects wearily, hand still over his eyes. "'Ave you two not any idea 'ow loud you were?!" Luc asks in utter shock.

"I am not a screamer, shut up, and you ain't fuckin' Shakespeare, Luc, speak English,"

"Shakespeare spoke English you imbecile,"

"Fine then, don't speak no gay ass English,"

"Do you two not 'ave any idea how intrusive your actions were last night?!"

"Lawrence, just admit t'the man that y'got dominated last night so we can go back to sleep..." Sniper growls.

"Hey, hey fuck you, Jack!" Scout snaps, glaring at Sniper's smirk. "I do not want you to admit zhese zhings, I don't care 'ow 'ard who fucked whom, but razher why you zhought it appropriate to engage in such activites in 'ere in zhe first place! It is your child'ood bedroom! 'Ave you no shame?!"

"Where else are we gonna do it, dude?! On the fuckin' kitchen floor or some shit?! Just 'cause maybe you're into that, nobody wants to hear about your fuckin' kinks,"

"I'm not zhe only one, your mozher quite likes it on zhe kitchen floor as well,"

"Don't you fuckin' say that shit about Ma!"

"Calm down, love," Sniper sighs, sitting up and holding Scout back by his shoulders, the young man hunching them, fists balled and shaking. "Fuckin' nasty; you old people shouldn't even be fuckin' anyway,"

"In a good twenty years your Sniper will also be so old,"

"Oi, leave me outta this, mate," Sniper stretches, Luc groaning and shielding his eyes as Jack's naked frame slips out of bed, reaching for a pair of boxers and cracking his back. "I zhink not, you are just as guilty as 'e! You were zhe one who was," Luc darts his eyes, scratching behind his neck. "Sticking zhings into 'im,"

"I'm jus' goin' t'take a tinkle, 's no need to keep me locked in,"

"This talk is fuckin' creepy as Hell, dude,"

"You're lucky your mozher did not 'ear you!" Luc snaps as the bedroom door closes behind the Australian, Scouts arms folded across his chest, head cast to the side. "There wasn't even shit to hear,"

"Bullshit, your own mozher isn't even zhat loud!"

"Okay, okay! I get it," Scout whispers, cheeks reddening. "Now can we please just drop this?! I don't wanna hear about your grody ass sex life with Ma, I don't wanna talk about mine with Jack,"

"Zhen keep it in zhe camper, please! If you want to keep your sexuality from 'er, I suggest holding off while you're in town,"

"I ain't hidin' shit from nobody," Scout grunts, Luc rolling his eyes and ignoring his interjection. "You might not be so lucky next time, especially if you insist on being such a noisy bottom,"

"Who the Hell said I was on the bottom?!"

"Zhat wasn't Sniper I 'eard yelping in time wizh your squeaky bed, now allow me to change zhe subject; we are leaving for Chris's 'ouse at around one, please do not over sleep or plan for any ozher activities,"

"Listen to you, talkin' to me like I'm still a fuckin' twelve year old,"

-One o clock be ready to go, make sure your Bushman is well groomed and well mannered, I don't need two wild animals in your mozher's new car,"

Luc grunts as Scout forces him against the wall, the front of his shirt locked in Scout's aggressive grip.

"Oi, Lawrence!"

Luc glares down at the young man as Sniper pulls him back gently, Scout struggling to release his biceps from Sniper's steeled restraint. "Alright, zhen it is settled; and please do not forget to be a little less rough, Jack, I enjoy my sleep."

"Just get the fuck out, you prick," Scout hisses, his eyes rooted on Luc, who settles with a smirk before taking his leave, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

The sight of both men in a properly groomed state of presence, Luc must admit, surprises him quite pleasantly. He nods with terse, silent approval as Scout sulks his way into the living room, making a distinct point to avoid all eye contact with his stepfather. The part his mother had fashioned for her son definitely suited his youthful face, dapper all the while. The grey pants and light blue shirt replaced instead with a conservative pair of brown trousers and a dark grey polo, respectively; Luc had no idea a decent outfit even resided within the same plane of existence as his youngest stepson.

He could tell Sniper had to get used to his unmasked profile in the same sense he had to stifle the reflex to do a double take whenever he could see the entirety of the Australian's grey eyes. Luc'd been colleagues with Jack long enough to trust the man with the whole of his identity, the light blonde hair and its distinct ducktail that tapered near the back of his neck, his prominent nose and long mouth, his charming blue eyes. Luc makes an internal joke along the lines of "concealing my handsome face for your own sake", the only proof of its existence being a soft chuckle he emits to himself.

Luc's eyes widen as Sniper brushes past him, the distinct scent of soap actually lingering on the Bushman's flesh, an odor he'd learned to dissociate from Sniper after ten years of jarate jars and repulsive scent of aftershave he'd never seemed to want to change. To see them both generally inoffensive truly was a sight for the aging Frenchman to behold. "Larry honey I don't even wanna know what it is you do with these shoes, but good Lord, they're rank," Julie grimaces as she picks up the cleats her son had left absentmindedly by the couch, sniffing the inside and scrunching her face a split second later.

"Don't gimmie that smile, now take'em to your room before we gotta get the place quarantined," she snaps, throwing her son his shoes, fanning her hand in front of her nose. "I was wondering why zhe apartment suddenly reeked of rotting raccoon," Luc sneers. "He's just kiddin', sweetie, now go do what I told ya," Julie waves for Scout to get going.

"Everyzhing is all about Larry, non?"

"Well it has to be; he's a sensitive boy and his brothers never required the attention like he does,"

"We 'ave been wanting to get married for nearly five years zhis Fall and you won't allow it because of your twenty four year old son. Everyzhing is all about Larry,"

"I always promised my boys I'd never put a man before them, and you know he wouldn't take it very well!"

"But zhey are no longer boys, fleur, Scout is almost a quarter of a century old, and 'e even 'as romantic endeavours of 'is own,"

"Does he, now?" Julie beams, Luc biting down regretfully on his lip.

"Aw, well ain't that just sweet, I wonder why he hasn't told me!"

"It wasn't anyzhing serious," Luc tries to backpedal, eyes darting nervously for any signs of the one in question. "He always used to worry about the girls not findin' him attractive, and now look! I always told him he was a handsome boy and that he probably just needed to get out more! Now look! The ladies can barely contain themselves, did you see the way the Abernathy girl was watchin' him when he took the cans out last night? Oh, Luc, this is great! Was it one of the secretaries?"

"I, I do not know, forget I said anything,"

"Maybe I have more grandchildren on the way!" She squeaks, Luc motioning for her to settle down.

"Now who must we wait for? Alex?" Luc asks quickly, hoping that Julie has already forgotten the news of Scout's romantic success and the nonexistent potential for more grandchildren. "Alex isn't comin', he's out job huntin',"

"Well good for 'im,"

"Larry, did you put your shoes in your closet like I told you to?" She asks quickly of her youngest son, who re-enters the room.

"Yeah, Ma,"

"Alright then, sweetie, are you ready to go?"

Scout nods, his smile wide, Luc turning away so as not to laugh outright at his prominent teeth."Your brother's gonna be so excited to see you, I bet you he'll get a kick outta Jack, too,"

"Don't mind me, Miss Julie, I'll stay outta your way,"

"You ain't in the way, Jack," Scout smiles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Heh heh,I ain't very good with kids."

He was perfect with kids, Luc notes. Scout and Sniper had instantly warmed up to Ginny and her infant sister. Luc had prepared a pile of gifts for the eldest of his two granddaughters, the car however unable to transport the entirety of the family with gifts included in one single trip.

"Ginny knows the sound of that car, Luc, she can hear the muffler a mile away! And no one livin' in the Back Bay is drivin' around with a noisy muffler, they got the money to make sure that kinda thing never happens,so that girl hears that car chuggin' along, 'nd she know it has to be either Grandma or Grandpa pullin' up! 'Nd when Grandpa is in the car, she knows it'll be somethin' special!" Julie had explained to him once before, the general tone of animosity she usually harboured when discussing the rather shoddy red Plymouth replaced with a much gentler tone of matriarchal affection. Not that she wasn't thankful she finally had a car to call her own, but the rusted hood and faulty carburetor, loose brakes and aforementioned behemoth of a muffler was often more trouble for the dainty woman than it was worth. Especially considering that it often left her stranded about Boston on her own and hardly any extra cash to call a cab home.

"Paul was alright about fixin' it up the first few times for free, but ever since he started datin' that Rosa he hasn't been able to find time for his own mother, let alone any of his payin' customers, but Rosa can get anything she wants done on her car for free, 'nd he can always find time to get his you-know-what sucked,"

But Luc holds up a hand, growing queasy as the sexual escapades of yet another of his beloved stepchildren is forced into his mind for the second time that day. "But Mom needs a new muffler and the boy acts like he skipped town! That's one way to treat the one who raised ya and wiped your bum, I bet you Larry or Will would never treat me like that, those two were always good to me,"

Luc smirks, but withholds a comment protesting her claim, the Frenchman more than certain that a naked Jack would do just as much to distract Larry as a naked Rosa did Paul. "Even if she 'ears us coming, she will not be expecting gifts," Luc beams, wrapping an arm around Julie's shoulder. "I imagine she is much too distracted by zhe friendly new strangers she can get to play dressup wizh 'er,"

"I zhink she was quite taken wizh Jack," Luc chuckles, laughing at the memory of the blonde girl and the dreamy wideness of her auburn eyes as they surveyed the entirety of what must've been to her and her four years of experience the monstrously tall Australian."Well he is a handsome man. I think it might be the sideburns,"

"I am surprised to 'ear you say someone ozher zhan Lawrence is 'andsome,"

"Oh Larry is a very handsome boy, with those pretty blue eyes of his! I admit his little teeth are a little distracting, Lucien Rousseau, don't you dare laugh!" Julie snaps, Luc's devilish smile nearly bursting around the edges of his lips, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, the man obviously holding back his typical, snorting laughter. "Honestly, you're just as bad as one of the kids,"

"It's not my fault zhe zhought of 'is own teezh makes 'im want to cry wizh twenty four years old!"

"Well now you're just makin' me feel like a bad mom, if I could have afforded braces for him when he was twelve I would have gotten 'em in a heartbeat,"

"Zhere were zhings ozher zhan 'is teezh zhat were stopping 'im from getting laid, fleur,"

"Well I certainly didn't want my little boy goin' around doin' those sorts of things anyway, we were lucky enough that Paul never brought home any babies, Lawrence out there would've been just as bad!"

"Well now zhat Lawrence is old enough to engage in relations you'll see zhat 'is dental issue is stopping him from catching a nice woman's attention,"

"Well why don't you talk to someone on the base about gettin' him some braces? Better late than never, right? And I thought you said there was a girl on base who had her eye on him?!"

"I said nozhing of zhe sort, oh my look, we're here!" Luc sighs quickly taking the keys from the ignition, the car cooling noisily in the well paved driveway of the two storey home. He smiles nervously in retaliation to Julie's death glare, planting a darling smooch on her cheek. "Look, zhere is Ginny, looking out zhe window!" Luc continues to "distract" the woman, waving jovially at the giggling girl who quickly disappears once Grandpa catches sight of her. "'Elp me wizh zhe presents!"

"I wanna know who this girl is!" Julie insists, hoisting a pile of gifts into her arms. All Luc can do is pray silently that she doesn't rush to Scout for the answer to her question. "Hm, I see Marzha still keeps her yard," Luc takes a glance around the perfectly even cut grash, dark green, full and vivid, the small pear tree blossoming in the wake of spring; even its pedals float in synchronization to the ground.

"...perfect."

Luc sneers at the faded garden gnome that sits next to the concrete steps leading up to the door, a small brass sign with the family name "Fitzpatrick" rooted beside it. Christopher, the contender of the title of collegiate champion along with his brother Anthony, seemed so desperate to live the reciprocal of the very life he'd grown up to known. A full, flat yard, a gracious home with perfect, unchipped, light yellow paint, a welcoming beacon to the other neighbours in community as opposed to the cracked, dull red of his childhood home in Springfield. The yard, aligned with pointless knickknacks Luc is inherently surprised some rich little shit hasn't strapped to explosives as means to entertain himself, was better kept than the whole of his parents' living quarters.

Though there was no excuse for staying in the apartment now. It seemed, the more Luc thought about it, rather illogical that they still lived as if they were family of nine for whom a life on welfare seemed to be that of paradise. "D'aw, I can hear her cheerin' already!" Julie smiles, and the more Luc admires the golden castings on the front door, the more in the mood he is into look into better apartments. Julie giggles as the door opens, Sniper standing before them both with an excited Ginny atop his shoulders. "Well look at you, Jack!" she smiles, the little girl leaning forward and slinging her arms around his neck, hooking them so they rest upon his collarbone. "Grandma, Grandpa!" The girl shrieks hysterically, the Australian smiling up at the little girl who bounces excitedly on his shoulders. She stretches her arms out, Julie placing her handful of gifts onto the porch and going to grab her, Sniper grunting as a little black shoe knocks him on the side of the head.

"Where's Uncle Larry, sweetie?" she asks the rounded cheeked little girl, who motions for Luc to take her in his arms."Talking with Daaaddyy!" she sighs, burying her face in Luc's chest as Sniper flashes her a smile, taking Luc's abandoned present pile inside together with Julie. "Chris!" She calls, abandoning Luc and his chit chat with Ginny, though she mustn't go far to find him. "Mom, Mom, Mom, I've told you before to take your shoes off before coming inside!" the young redhead hisses, his fingers curling at the sight of his mother's heeled boots tracking invisible filth in her wake. "Is that really the way you're gonna greet your mother?" Julie smirks, taking her towering son into a hug, Christopher gesturing to a pile of neat shoes near the door nonetheless.

"You're lucky I got your brother to wear his loafers, if he would have worn those cleats of his you'd change your mind about this shoe business," she scolds, wobbling as she slips the shoes off her feet, balancing on her heel. "Did they smell that terrible?"

"Yes," Luc hisses, Chris smirking as Luc's unamused strain doesn't let up. "Oi, 's not that bad, now, I sleep in the camper with the mutant all the time 'nd I don't have t'fumigate it when he takes his socks off,"

"But I'm pretty certain you make 'im take zhem off and leave zhem in zhe bazhroom of zhe camper, non?"

Sniper reddens, the four laughing silently over Scout and his foot odor.

"'S not his fault though, he's a runner, 'course his shoes're gonna smell like musty swiss cheese,"

"Zhe boy needs to find a cure for 'is demented foot issue,"

"Daddy, can I open my presents?!"

"Of course you can, dear, we're just talking, go on ahead,"

Ginny grabs hold of Sniper's hand, leading him into the living room while her other hand grabs the present she presumably deemed most "interesting" with its ribbons and shinny purple wrapping paper. "You didn't have to bring any gifts, Luc," Chris smiles, Luc waving a hand of dismissal. "I figured she would enjoy it,"

"Yeah, but seeing Grandma and Grandpa is more than enough, plenty, you know she loves Lawrence, getting to see him is always very special for her, those two play tag for hours and never get tired, and she's completely taken with Mr. Mundy,"

"He's a real charmer, isn't he?" Julie smiles at Christopher, Luc rolling his eyes. "Yeah, real nice guy, I like him a lot, has some real interesting things to say. Dirty fingernails, though, I've been trying to find a way to drop a hint that he should maybe get them cleaned,"

"Good luck, I try dropping 'ints zhat he should bazhe quite often; does 'e listen?!"

"You mean he doesn't shower?" Christopher whispers behind his hand, alarmed at the very rumour. "He took a shower this mornin', dear, don't give the boy a heart attack," Julie scolds, Luc scoffing and raising his eyebrows haughtily. "I only exaggerate slightly,"

"It's a shame he doesn't live close by, it would be nice to have a babysitter that Ginny didn't intimidate with all her energy, where did you all manage to pick him up from, anyway?"

"Jack is a colleague of mine and Lawrence's best friend, zhey've been close ever since his deployment to Teufort,"

"Yeah, he was telling me about life on the base, about how it's boring. Sounds like Mr. Mundy keeps him sane,"

"Zhey are very close,"

"It is a risky friendship," Luc grumbles quickly, Christopher nodding from understanding. "And where is Larry, now you mention it?" Julie asks contemplatively. "He's upstairs with the baby,"

"Daddy! Look!" Ginny stalks in seconds later, dragging Sniper behind her, a long jumprope in her hand. "Nice, was that one of your presents?"

The little girl nods, turning to face Sniper. "This is a new dress," she bats her eyelashes at the Australian, curtseying and poking at the dark green velvet bows that align its hem. "'S that right? Well it suits ya right nicely,"

"Why don't you go ask Uncle Larry if he wants to play jumprope?"

"Oh Mom, come on, he doesn't wanna do that,"

"Me and Mr. Mundy and Uncle Larry are gonna go bake in the kitchen,"

"Now did you ask them if they wanted to bake?"

"No," the little girl responds simply, playing with her blonde curls. "When will Mommy be back?"

"She's still shopping, dear, she'll be home soon,"

"Well you two get caught up, I'm gonna go talk to Larry and see the baby," Julie nods at Christopher and Luc, Ginny instantly tugging the Australian into the kitchen. "Man, Lawrence has really changed, huh?" Christopher sticks his hands in his pocket, nodding his head delicately as if the motion supported his argumentative question. "Hmph,'ardly," the Frenchman scoffs, rolling his eyes. "He sure was talking like he'd grown a little bit, like life with BLU was really starting to give him perspective! He was telling me a bit about his missions, all the medals he's won,"

"Oh please, I 'ave been waiting for fifteen years for zhe boy to show a bit of growzh and maturity, and 'e knows we are strictly forbidden to disclose any information about zhe missions,"

"Oh, jeeze," Christopher winces. "Well he didn't mention anything specifically, just that he'd earned medals for being a good "Scout","

"'Is deadly skill is jogging," Luc snorts, Christopher folding his arms.

"So he's hired for BLU, huh? 'Nd you and Jack're RED; does Ma know?

"I'm certain she knows in some form of consciousness, but zhe knowledge disturbs 'er so deeply zhat she tends to oppress it until she forgets. I'd never 'urt 'im, zough - at least not lezhally! I 'ave a job to do, and I can only exempt 'im from so much of what zhe description calls for. Zhat does not stop 'im from being anyzhing short of an ungrateful brat,"

"Now I know you two have your issues, but I don't think you're being very fair,he used to not even be able to stand in the same room as you,"

"Zhe most I can say is zhat 'e's managed to avoid 'aving one of 'is tantrums 'ere, and even zhen it is only a matter of time, non?"

"Well, Ginny's the only one allowed to have a tantrum and get away with it, that's just her age,"

"No wonder 'er and Lawrence click so well,"

"Can you say one good thing about Lawrence? One thing,"

"Hmph,'e treats you all and 'is mozher very well,'e is loyal to 'is family,it is a trait rarely found in 'umanity today,"

"He was more of a dad to me than Dad was growin' up! You and Alex. Shame Larry doesn't realize what you did for us, Luc,"

"Hey, Lawrence," Luc responds animatedly, both men jumping as the door to the kitchen opens violently, the topic of interest standing in a fuming mass of pending aggravation, fists balled at his hips. "You!" Scout points at the Frenchman, who simply raises an eyebrow. "We are talking, Lawrence,"

"Yeah, well, I need to talk to you!" Scout snaps, Christopher giving his brother a nervous look.

"Is everything alright, Larry?"

"Dude's a fuckin' dick, but yeah, everything's just peachy," he snaps, Christopher and Luc sharing a glance. "It would seem I 'ave earned a real talking to zhis time, I wonder what I did,"

"Well, go ahead, I should probably check on Mr. Mundy and Ginny anyway, I fear your friend maybe getting a homemade haircut, Larry. The sideburns may be in jeopardy if I don't get upstairs quickly enough."

Luc follows his stepson into the dining room, but not before sighing disinterestedly, checking his watch as he rests his hip against the darkly stained oak table that sits in the middle of the vast room. "What?!"

"Don't you fuckin' what me, you know exactly what" Lawrence snaps, pacing the width of the rectangular dinner table, large enough to seat twelve. "Yes, because clearly I am a master of telepazhy! Zhis is very nice silverware zhey have here, I imagine it is real silver, zhen again your brozher only splurges on zhe best of everyzhing! Even as a child 'e was very 'igh maintenance,"

"I don't give two fuckin' shits about by brother's fuckin' spoon or no damn fork, I wanna know why the fuck Ma came up to me, talkin' about 'who's this girl I've been seein' back at Teufort'!"

"Now Lawrence, I can explain!" Luc begins nervously, admittedly guilty as the words he'd carelessly uttered earlier that morning prove to have yielded the very results he'd prayed against. "Good, 'cause if you couldn't I was gonna get my bat t'maybe give me some fuckin' answers where you couldn't fill in the gaps,"

"Lawrence please, let us discuss this as Gentlemen for once! Forget your bat, use your words, I've been tellin' you zhis since you were nine years old!"

"Why the fuck would you tell Ma I was seein' someone?! Why would you even put that idea in her Goddamn head?!"

"It slipped out, Lawrence, I was actually defending you, she tried to say you could not capture anyone's fancy, and I naturally zhought of Jack, 'e's a 'andsome, kind gentleman!"

"So what?! Let her think whatever the fuck she wants about me, point is now she's wantin' me to bring some girl that doesn't exist to dinner, now she wants grandkids! What am I supposed to fuckin' tell her?"

"Lawrence I cannot apologise enough,"

"Yeah, well, sorry doesn't fuckin' cut it, Luc, either I'm gonna have to bring home a girl or tell her I like a guy,"

"I do not see zhe issue? Tell 'er I 'ave no idea what I'm talking about, zhat I am a jerk and just trying to pull 'er leg! You never seemed to 'ave an issue saying zhis in zhe past,"

"Have you ever had a discussion with that woman? Now that you got the idea of Lawrence with a woman in her head she ain't ever gonna drop it. Now I gotta tell her about Jack!"

"You said earlier you 'ad nozhing to 'ide!"

"Yeah, well, I do, do you have any fuckin' idea what would happen if anyone from the 'Fort ever found out we were together?! We're gonna get discharged and ostracized for bein' fags,"

"Now Lawrence, you know your mozher and I would accept you for who you are!"

"Like I give a shit what you think,"

"Zhen why are you so worried about your mozher finding out about you two? She likes 'im a lot, and your brozhers are all quite charmed by 'im, and I'm pretty sure little Ginny would be very jealous of you if she 'ad any idea 'er new Australian prince were already taken. Your mozher already defends everyzhing else wrong wizh you,"

"So there's somethin' wrong with me for lovin' Jack?"

"No!"

"You better watch and make sure you start sayin' the right shit, 'cause the way you're talkin', you're gonna get your fuckin' teeth knocked out,"

"I will 'ave you know zhat zhose little girls would be most displeased wizh you for knocking my fucking teezh out,completely forget you are taking away from zhe time zhey 'ave to spend time wizh zheir grandfazher,"

"They ain't even your real grandkids,"

"I love zhem more zhan zheir real grandfazher ever would,"

"Don't you dare fuckin' start on my dad, Luc!" Scout roars, though he swallows his next thought, for Sniper enters in through the kitchen, both pairs of eyes widening as the man sports very pink cheeks, lipstick smeared messily across his lips and chin. "You look...lovely," Luc croaks, using the opportunity of the dolled up Jack to turn his attention away from his fuming stepson, resting a hand in the pocket of his trousers. "Least she didn't touch zhe sideburns," Sniper sighs from relief, running a wet paper towel across his face, washing off an abundance of the cosmetic from his profile.

"So,'s goin' with you lovely people? I heard Lawrence 'nd though I better check on 'im,"

"Lawrence is pissed as always, I suspect he needs a juice box and a nap,"

"FUCK YOU!"

"Hey, hey, now, love," Sniper sighs, tilting his head and giving Scout a sympathetic look. "What'd the mean old Frenchman do this time?!"

"Would you at least 'ave the courtesy to wait until I leave before 'e begins to tell you 'is over exaggerated bitching?"

"Goodbye, asshole," Scout hisses, glaring the man down until he releases a pompous snort of a laugh, allowing the dining room door to close shut behind him with a light snap.

"Goodness, love, can you two not argue for one day?! Just one day?!" Jack sighs, pocketing the paper towel and giving the young man a look over.

"What the fuck're you gettin' all heated with me for?!"

"'S jus' a little outta place t'be spoutin' words like 'dick' 'nd whatever else in a house where there're little kiddies runnin' around? 'S ain't 2Fort, Lawrence, y'can't bring that sorta 'tude with ya back t'civilian life,"

"I feel like Ginny should know from the beginnin' that Grandpa is a fuckin' dick. 'S the least she deserves"

"What did he do, love?"

"What did he do?! He fuckin' told Ma I was datin' some secretary back at the 'Fort! Now she's gonna be tellin' everyone she knows I've got a "girlfriend", and she's gonna wanna see pictures, invite her to dinner, the whole fuckin' deal,"

"What? Why in the world would he say somethin' like that?! 'S he outta his mind?!"

"He said it 'slipped out', but what the fuck ever, I bet he said it just to be a prick,"

"Oi, least he didn't tell her we were t'gether. It was a misunderstandin', love, 'nd I'm sure Luc'll clear it up with 'er,"

"Right, this is Luc we're talkin' about,"

"I really doubt the man's out t'get ya all the time, he's prolly growin' too old for that sort o'silliness,"

"What the fuck're you tryin' to say here, Jack, if you ain't just as pissed as I am you must not understand what's goin' on,"

Sniper rolls his eyes, clearly at a loss for words. Arguing with Scout was worse than arguing with a wall; the walls, he snaps mentally, at least had the courtesy to not warp his own words against him.

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that. Y're makin' a mountain outta a molehill. Maybe you're not givin' 'im credit here,"

"Giving him credit? Seriously, Jack?!"

"At least he didn't tell your Mum we we're fuckin' 'nd kissin' in that you're a giant queer! Y'still haven't had t'deal with that part of a Son-Mum relationship!" Jack spits bitterly.

"At least," Scout rolls his eyes.

"I just think you're startin' to find shit at this point, love. Your brothers don't seem t'have any issues with him, maybe you jus' need t'calm down and really look at the situation with a step back,"

"'cause most of 'em moved out before they had to put up with his shit!"

"'Nd, I mean,how d'you know he wasn't payin' child support?! Were you keepin' track o'the finances at twelve years old?!"

"Well,naw, but,why the fuck were we livin' like that if Luc was supposedly supportin' us like you say he was?!"

"Imagine living in a nine person household on the money you're wranglin' in love,"

"Of course you fuckin' defend him!"

"I'm not defendin' him, Lawrence, 'nd you know I'll always be on your side no matter what, but y'have t'admit that maybe you're not lookin' at the bigger picture,"

"Like you are,"

"Oi, this is a fifteen year old argument, 'nd I'm not about t'throw myself in the middle of it. But he's been tryin' t'make amends with ya since you joined BLU, the danger you're in tears him t'absolute shreds,"

"Obviously you are jumpin' into this, tellin' me to look at the bigger picture,"

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that I heard his perspective 'nd,"

"'Course you were fuckin' talkin' about it behind my back, 'cause he can never say shit to my fuckin' face, makin' amends my ass, how 'bout he starts with bringin' my fuckin' father back!"

"I know you're hurt about your Dad, Lawrence, 'nd you have every right t'be! But I'm still just sayin' that you're both adults 'nd need to handle this objectively like you're the grown men y'are,"

"Look, I've fuckin' handled it already, Jack,"

"'Nd this is what makes me hesitant t'say you're handlin' this maturely in any way, mate,"

"Says the fuckin' dude who won't even call home, don't tell me shit about how I'm supposed to be handlin' my problems with my family when you're on the other fuckin' side of the world 'cause you've been tryin' to avoid your own fucked up folks for twenty years!"

"There's only so much handlin' I could do when my own Dad refused t'let me on my own porch, a loaded shotgun aimed at my face," Sniper snaps darkly, Scout's face still stink sour, though he has no words of his own.

"This wasn't a jab at my beaver teeth or sweaty cleat rash, mate, this was a loaded weapon ready t'blow my faggot arse off the face o'the earth if I even said a word,"

"You're a Sniper, you spend all your time fightin' guns with more gun. I don't see what the problem is," Scout sticks out his tongue, shrugging pompously. "I'm not fightin' my father, the one who's raised me, help gave birth t'me 'nd put me in this world t' "fag" it up to begin with, the man who was supposed t'be by my side 'nd love me no matter what; I'm not comin' at 'im with a bloody Sniper rifle, 'nd if you don't understand why not, then it's not Luc with the problem, it's you,"

"At least my Dad didn't fuckin' hate me!"

"Least mine had the courtesy t'tell me he did, he didn't jus' skip town on me! Rip on my Dad all y'want, mate, I'll be the first t'chime in with ya! But at least I have an idea where he is - I'd watch where and who you're swingin' that little fist of yours at, mate. I'll break every one o'them fingers so badly Luc'll be askin' me for tips," Jack warns, side stepping bluntly so as to avoid the red faced Scout's swinging fist, one the young man hurls at him with utmost intensity.

"Don't you ever, ever talk about my father that way again,"

"What're y'gonna do, bonk me t'death? Why, 'cause I'm right?" Sniper scoffs, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "Y'can't solve all your problems with baseball 'nd punches. 'Nd I guarantee ya it won't work t'bring 'im back, either; grow up, mate,"

Sniper's sneer falters as Scout, whose head hangs at his feet, shows no sign of responding.

"Lawrence?"

The sound of his name works as a trigger, Scout's stuttering breath catching in his throat, though he rushes to stifle himself within the very second his raspy gasp slips from his trembling lips.

'Oops', Sniper sighs internally, scratching behind his neck before inching closer to the young man, the fight drained from him completely in a mere second's shift.

"'Ey, love," he careens Scout's gaze upward so it meets his own, Sniper's awkward excuse of a sympathetic expression could better be described as a painful smirk, lips twist in a half frown, half smile, like an expressively confused snake. Comfort, Sniper reasons, was always his area of shortcoming; was a 'Sorry' or hug even the appropriate thing to say to someone for whom you've confront with the fact that his biological father never truly loved him?

Still, he does that what he feels is right, what he's seen others do in films, others do to others; pulling the young man against him and smoothing a broad hand over his back, another patting him in blunt claps against the cheek, Sniper frowns from uncertainty as the fabric of his shoulder stains from moisture, doused in the now unreserved physical manifestation of Scout's sensibility.

Scout had validity in his accusation; Jack was a star, the leading role in the disheveled performance of hypocrisy. Chastising the Bostonian for his inability to confront his stepfather and feelings was only an offense which boldly painted the word guilty across the Australian's hypothetical track record. Regardless, the older man continues his self conscious sort of consolation, the younger letting anger flow from his eyes as a dam breaks under heavy rain. The tough guise he paraded about Teufort had the others fooled, but Jack was not as weak willed, so gullible in his conviction. Perhaps it is why Lawrence wastes no more time in assuming the unphased facade of the haughty stoic,there was simply nothing left of Sniper to fool.

"Don't cry, love; 's no need for th' tears,"

Yet, Jack sighs, there actually was. The need for them has been present all along in actuality, suppressed in the air tight rage of a growing young man, sealed and locked, like a finely fermented wine bred from a vine poisoned with loathing. The suppression of Scout's emotive being and expression, the misguided hostility compressed within him after fifteen years flow ever still. No boy was supposed to cry; the thought wasn't even to cross the mind of any real man, especially not at the expense of another individual.

"You're jus' human, love..." Sniper responds orally to his contemplative psychoanalysis of the completely overwhelmed young man he holds against him. "You're a right tough little mutant,but y'can't beat your feelin's t'death with a bat like you can everythin' else in life,"

Yet who was he to make such a claim, when he was the very one who'd explained to Scout that 'feelings' were for bludgeoning wives with golf trophies, that professionals had standards. No one could expect to be professional off the battlefield. "Y'know?" he asks Lawrence softly, surprised that when he catches Scout's eyes they are glassy, but not a hint of red or puff develops along his moist eyelids. "Cryin' won't do ya no good, love,'nd neither will yellin' or hittin' Luc,you need to sit him down 'nd talk to 'im,otherwise you're gonna be cryin' the rest of your life, 'nd until you talk to him, you won't even know why..."

"You sound like a fuckin' girl," Scout chuckles, sniffing and running the back of his hand to brush gracelessly against his eyes, only spreading the moisture about his cheeks. "You're the one cryin' like one…" Sniper retorts, relieved when Scout smiles smally, lowering his eyelids and allowing him to settle the matter with a soft, salty kiss.

"Yeah."

A sharp sigh escapes Lawrence's chapped lips, the young man shaking the tears from his eyes, swatting at the air, his emotions circling his head, persistent as flies. "Sorry you had to see that,"

"'Nd why should y'be sorry? You've every right t'cry, mongrel. Problem is you're keepin' it all in, y'know? Keepin' it in 'nd then lettin' it all out at the wrong person, at the wrong time. Y'have every right t'feel the way y'do, but y'need t'let the person who should know the most know that y'do,"

"Over here soundin' like a fuckin' - a fuckin' - I don't even know," Lawrence shakes his head, pulling a nice set of dishes and cutlery from the china cabinet and setting the table accordingly. "Like a what, love. C'mon, let's use our words, okay? I know you've had trouble tryin' to. Your mum told me that you've had some issues since you were a little boy,"

"Whatever." He sighs, and the anger he manages to hide between his pinking lips slink in thin veins across his cheeks like trickling tributaries. "The doctors always made it sound like I was slow, but I ain't, okay?"

"C'mon," Jack whispers, pulling Scout into his arms, holding him affectionately against his warm body. "Let's jus' talk about this." Lawrence shrugs, resting his head against the older man's chest. "I ain't ready to tell her about you,"

"I know, love, anyone can tell from a mile away," Sniper chuckles, Scout closing his eyes as the heaving of the man's broad front sends a comforting vibration to settle his aching mind. "'Nd I don't expect y'to be. 'S a lot t'deal with, I don't blame y'at all. If my own relationship with my folks 's enough of an indicator, there's really no time I'd say one could really get ready,"

"It's all just so fuckin' much on me. I go from jail, to war, to visitin' with a boyfriend. I kinda feel like Ma deserves a break,"

"'S heavy stuff, love. 'S why I wouldn't blame y'if you were to -"

"Don't even fuckin' say it, I ain't breakin' up with you,"

Jack chuckles once, taken aback by the young man's steadfast words of forceful protest.

"So? What d'you say we do? Your Mum might bring it up, but I'm sure you and Luc -" Jack's words are quickly droned out by Scout's long winded groan at the mention of the Frenchman, Sniper quick to regain both his breath and his words, "...will do 's much as y'can to either change the subject or let 'er know there's no lady in your life. Doesn't have t'be a huge comin' out ceremony, 'nd y'can drop this dame business altogether,"

"You don't get it though! Ma doesn't just drop shit. She spends years bein' obnoxious and nosy before putting anything down! Now every time we call it's gonna be DO YA GOT A GIRLFRIEND YET?! MY GIRLFRIEND FROM THE PARISH TOTALLY HAS A NIECE WHO HAS A FRIEND - Blah, blah, blah. Luc's set her off, that fuckin' asshole. She's a time bomb, and there ain't no squad in the world that can diffuse her ass,"

"Then when you're ready, tell 'er you've got me," Jack suggests firmly, swallowing rather heavily; he only hopes their relationship has enough momentum promised to it to keep it going so long for Scout to ever reach a point of readiness. "Y'don't think she'll take it badly, do you?"

"Who knows, Jack," Scout sighs, nuzzling the man's neck as the one he addresses massages his head, long fingers twirling his cropped hair in their tips. "I just know I hate Luc right now...more than usual..."

"Forget about 'im for a moment, 'kay?" Jack mumbles. "Jus' stay chill; 's jus' you 'nd me for now. They're chattin' in the livin' room, 'nd dinner prolly won't start 'til your brother's Missus comes home, I reckon. You've got plenty o'time t'jus' calm down, 'nd take it all as it comes,"

"Why can't it just be you and me all the time, wombat,"

"Well, it is for now, eh?" Sniper chuckles, not at all contrary to Scout stretching his arms to wrap around the back of his neck, the Bostonian bringing him into a slow, quiet and deep kiss. "Jus' try t'enjoy it." That Scout does. The darkness of the otherwise uninhabited dining room shrouds their intertwined figures, the arched, grandiose window facing the front lawn covered under the thick cloak of cotton carnation curtains. Still, Jack pulls them out of its sight for good measure; he laughs into the kiss Lawrence maintains despite the three steps sideways, falling into an ever growing sense of lust himself as Scout brings his hands to stroke along the man's chest, longing against the cotton of his button down shirt.

How he knew both wished they were in the van, Jack muses, pulling away from Scout, his flushed face and lips as tender as the hands he holds in his own. "No tears, 'nd no worries." The words only bring their lips together again, Jack falling into an intricately carved dinner chair, unaffected by the weight of Lawrence letting himself sit in his lap. The kiss itself is executed so calmly and delicately, the air is left undisturbed.

Backs turned to both shut doors leading into their dining room turned romantic haven, neither seem at all aware that one of them cracks open quietly; the Frenchman gasps slightly, eyes widening as he catches sight of his stepson and comrade completely lost in the depth of their affection. Somewhat sheepishly, he allows the door to close with just as much subtlety. Stunned for just a second, Luc resumes his otherwise nonplussed, casual sway into the living room, dropping onto the couch next to Lawrence's mother.

"You boys done now?" she snaps, Luc picking up a three day old copy of the newspaper, laughing weightlessly as he whips it open and hides his visage behind its grey width. The outdated headlines appear to phase Luc with the very same calm pleasantry as they had some seventy two hours ago, a small smile causing the blonde hairs above his upper lip to curl in tiny bows.

"We were done ten minutes ago, dear," Luc informs her, tiny smile ragiing everstill behind his inky façade.

"You're both still a couple of brats,"

Luc, who eyes the now smoking woman with wide, skeptical eyes and a slanted, questioning mouth, observes the way she swings an alluringly well sculpted leg to rest atop the thigh of the other. The thin white vine of smoke snakes in veiny roots atop the bedrock of tension between them, the Frenchman scoffing inwardly as he makes mental notes of how many times before the Bostonian woman had chastised him for smoking in her son's immaculate household.

The sitting room, with the mod chintz sofas (a yellow and gaudy floral print that was no doubt a stylistic choice of Mrs. Fitzpatrick), quickly floods with the clean scent of smoldering tobacco, a throwback to Parisian afternoons Luc himself remembers as maskless. Holding her silence, her tasteful red lipstick keeps its even form, mindful not to overstep the biological boundaries of her gentle lips, as if worried it would cross the woman to whom they belonged. The woman's long time fiancé seems to hold no qualms about doing so; with a deliberate look of smarmy sarcasm that threatens to lure her into a fiery tango of a feud with a mere darting of challenging eyes, Luc too produces a cigarette from a case kept in his breast pocket.

"'E's your baby boy," Luc chirrups, blonde hair fluffed as he strikes a pinkening array of fingers through the weightless strands.

"And what the Hell does that mean?" She tests coolly, Bostonian snark augmenting the question dangerously.

"Oh, you know," Spy begins lightly, reclining next to the thin woman, blowing smoke leisurely through his narrow nostrils. "Monkey see..."

"You better think twice before you try to say monkey do!"

"Well..." Luc's guilty song compliments his round, deliberate, tantalizingly playful smile.

"Well what?!"

"Well if now is any indictation -"

"Indication of what?!"

"'E certainly in'erited 'is mozher's drive for debate and stubbornness,"

"Right, well I'll have you know a single Ma ain't gonna take care of seven boys - one o'them bein' special - by rollin' over! You think Christopher came outta my birth canal this home trained?!" Julie rolls her eyes, Luc eyeing the tautening thigh as if the memory of her second eldest son's birth threatens to unhinge the woman's iron uterus.

"Damn right he learned it from me, Lucien Russeau; if that boy got his worst qualities from me then you better believe it's 'cause I ain't gonna back down for nobody!" she explains heatedly, Luc's more refined tongue choosing to withhold choice words his scholarly, non-native English, which would only work to further fuel their verbal fire.

"Monkey see monkey do all you want, sweetie, but tell me how I was supposed to do it all without a goddamn zoo keeper. And at the end of the day, I'm doin' the best I can, Luc, to this god damn day I still am!" The woman's shaking voice and rising nerves strain at the steeled muscles in her riled, feminine, though strikingly tempered face. Like meticulously iron fabric, the wrinkles of age slip away so as to better bring forth her expression of utter exhaustion, like a veteran who falters under the memories of war.

"He's got his problems, Luc, I know it. I've known it for twenty years, and even then this is after seven kids' worth of problems. Pretty soon kid shit muddles together after raisin' seven boys that by time I knew what really was kiddie shit and not Larry actin' up, it was already too late. He's got issues, and I dealt with 'em the best way a shit poor single Ma could on her foreign boyfriend's income. No matter what, I worked through 'em with him, 'cause that's what Mas do. So what if I cursed or spanked their asses when they deserved it, so what if they learned a bad thing or two from their hard headed mother?! At the end of the day, I gotta congratulate myself; I didn't do half bad raisin' 'em," she snaps finally. "You give it a damn try if you think you could do any better..."

The finality in her aside is met with a weary but no less audible sigh, Luc's shoulder heaving as he restrains a quick roll of his blue eyes.

"Never said I could, Cherie..."

"Your comment made it sound like it,"

"My comment?! You're zhe one who opened up zhe comment floodgates by calling us bozh brats!"

"'S 'cause you two are, you're both bickerin' like toddlers over what's probably nothin' while your little grand daughter plays more peacefully than you two have and prolly ever will!"

"Why must you rope me into zhis?!"

"'Cause it's true!" Ma retorts, cigarette smoke blowing away from the source and about the sitting room like anxious rabbits avoiding the leery eyes of man. "I've been tellin' you for fifteen years that I agree, Larry is in the wrong about a lot o'things when it comes to your relationship, but you're the adult here! You can't expect a child that is clinically diagnosed with some fundamental emotional issues to come at losin' his father and another man steppin' in to take his place very easily, Luc! For God's sake, that's hard on a child -!"

"And zhat is just it, Julie!" Luc snaps aggressively, hands curled as if encased in cement, forever expected to maintain the gnarled gesture in which he holds his twisted fingers. "'E is not a child, but a grown man! 'E is twenty four years old, zhis problem is damn near twenty itself, and I don't care 'ow many diagnoses 'e 'as, from 'ow many doctors, at some point it 'as to become Lawrence's responsibility to see to it zhat 'is issues are kept in check!"

Julie says nothing, but instead stares blanky ahead of her, cigarette pincered in her fingers, elbow rested atop her knee. Pensively, she blinks rapidly every twenty or so seconds, Luc rubbing his forehead quietly as it becomes clear that neither wish say another further word in response to the Frenchman's rebuttal for the time being. A rich mahogany grandfather clock chimes languidly about the width of the rectangular sitting room, and the wind chimes that dangle on the perfectly painted edge of the ridged roof echoes a tune, spring clouds gusting their musical message along. Julie watches the golden weights swing like heavy rectangular hands, five tomes of low pitched notes causing the dusted ceramic of the vases to vibrate against the marble coffee table that rests inoffensively before their still feet.

"You're more of a father to that boy than his damn sperm donor," Julie mutters callously, shaking her head as she brings the very same blue eyes her youngest son had inherited to her lover of twenty years. "You're more of a father to all o'them, you know that? Why stick around for me, after all this time, Luc; the Hell is makin' you stay?"

"I love 'im, you know zhis..." Luc begins quietly, hands folded neatly atop his round knees. "I love all of your sons as if zhey were my own - zhey are my own. I love you just as much; zat is not somezhing you should 'ave to question. I can take zhe blame for 'ow I treated 'im growing up; I can furzher claim responsibility for not trying do deal wizh 'is be'aviour zhe way I should 'ave. But at some point, as Lawrence nears zhirty years old, it becomes 'is duty to take care of 'is emotions,"

"Well, listen..." Julie mutters, allowing the man to take the cigarette in her hand and crush it in a glass ash tray against the table. "You two are both at fault. I know you two love each other more than you'd ever admit to each other's faces, I ain't dumb. But the whole deal with the arguin' and bringin' it with you everywhere you go - you either need to settle it out there, in New Mexico," the woman swallows, careful to avoid the term "battlefield". "Or just ignore each other for the rest o'your lives. I wasn't a perfect mother, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you both bring that madness into my son's house," she snaps, Luc now refusing to conceal his eyeroll and stroking her waist affectionately.

"I don't care 'ow authentic 'is wife can manage to decorate zhe 'ouse so as to imitate zhe look of zhe Parisian Renaissance," Luc heaves, eyeing choice artworks that adorn the lilac walls impressively. "Zhe last name Fitzpatrick leaves be'ind a legacy zhat infects more zhan zhe name on zheir mailbox, Cherie."

Julie sneers, though be it one of tempting delight.

"Zhe son of yours most turned off by chaos is secretly zhe one who needs it most,"

"Uhuh, and just where do you get that idea from?"

"Hmph," Luc smiles himself, peering narrowed eyes in between the folds of thick, linen curtains. "You act as if I didn't raise Christopher myself."

Twenty three ticks to a tock was all it took for the golden tome of the grandfather clock to remind Luc that the RED base had one similar to it years ago in the atrium. The middle aged Frenchman chuckles to himself curtly as he observes his reflection, cast along the width of the polished cherry. It isn't until he realizes the angle of the light gives him a long, rather protruding nose, that neither Lawrence nor Jack had emerged from the dining room. Quietly, Luc twists his neck to gander upon the peacefully stationary door, unable to hear even small voices from the other side. "You know, I haven't seen Larry or Jack in a bit,"

This wasn't the first time Luc had ever silently wondered whether or not the woman could read minds. He folds his lips downward, in innocent contemplation. Years of acting allows him to convince her that he had no idea where the two could have been, nor that he had walked in on them in quiet romance some twenty minutes ago. The gesture itself passively nonchalant, Luc pulls her closer to himself, dragging a broad hand across her hip. "They can't be in much trouble, huh? Not after what you guys must deal with out there,"

"Hmm," Luc titters quietly in response.

"Did you see the way that man plays with Genevieve?" her incredulous sigh is followed by a soft fluttering of her delicately made up eyelids. "It's too bad there ain't a base around here, or I'd make you three transfer and have Jack babysit! God knows Chris has been lookin' for a reliable one for months,"

"'E-'e certainly never let on 'e 'ad a zhing for children, in all zhe years I've known 'im," Luc clears his throat, growing more and more wary of how long the conversation appears to want to remain on the Australian before Julie were to attempt to find him herself. "A man like him's certainly the last one to ask, ya know?" Julie adds rather sharply, a thinly plucked eyebrow raised somewhat skeptically. "Still, guess it goes to show ya just how little a person's outside can be held for truth, huh,"

Luc would have laughed raucously were he not certain doing so would incite another short tempered rant from Julie. The man with his often questionable ethics, rough appearance, less than tasteful practices, and drug habits, was still very much the last man he would have pegged as being a suitable baby sitter for his granddaughter. He'd come to know Jack Mundy through cold blooded murder, and when he didn't know the man of eternal swears and sweaty rifle scopes, he coddled a cocaine addiction in his free time.

Regardless, Spy had pitied Jack over the years, empathetic in regards to such a lost, a waste of youth. He really had made a rather drastic change, Luc notes to himself; he'd only recently become aware of the Australian's long since started friendship with Lawrence. Retroactively, however, he cannot help but notice that the man really had managed to turn his life around since knowing the Bostonian. "I'm tellin' ya - nine times outta ten Larry's in his own little world, but I think he did a good job with Jack, hm? He seems sweet. Maybe a little too rough for my style, but it's nice to see someone finally break Larry outta his little shell,"

'If only you 'ad zhe pleasure of 'earing just 'ow passionately 'e enjoys breaking your son's "shell" earlier zhis morning' the Frenchman scoffs inwardly.

"I gave up on Larry findin' friends a long time ago, Luc, you know that," she sighs, blinkning slowly as she peers longingly through the curtains and across the street. "I'm glad to see Larry found one so good he was willin' to drive him all the way over to see us. That's a good friend, alright, a rare one! I hope Larry knows damn well how good Jack must make it for him,"

"Trust me," Luc almost regrets the words as soon as he speaks them allowed. "Zhey are aware of 'ow lucky zhey are to 'ave each ozher."

"Look at your little lips," Jack chuckles quietly into Scout's ear, the young man pressed gently against the dark wall, his arms curled around Sniper's thick neck. Puffed and red, Lawrence feels the blood beat against mouth, raw and tender from the silent and slow half hour's worth of deep kissing he'd shared with the man before him. He feels the tip of Sniper's long nose slip affectionately against his cheek, the flesh growing rosy with glowing warmth. The few inches of space along the wall his back has occupied for what felt like forever are so warm Scout fears, in a brief fit of quiet, illogical worry, that the floral print wallpaper scorches underneath his equally heated back.

"Love you, mongrel."

Scout rests his head atop the broad shoulder of the older man, blinking as his lips fumble a quiet "Love you, Jack," in return. Both smile as they lean in again to share an equally encouraged kiss, Scout smiling into the way their lips slowly pry themselves from their fleshy partners as they pull away once more. Their mouths, perhaps, were just as reluctant to end it as they were themselves. "No matter what, 'kay? 'Lways stay bucked up, love," Jack narrows his eyes, dragging his thumb along the freckles tops of the smiling younger man's cheeks. "I've got y'no matter what."

Scout attempts to slip free from the broad, calloused hands that root at his lean waist. The eyes Lawrence meets (unobstructed by sunglasses now discarded somewhere back at the apartment) track his own with the presumed accuracy the title of Sniper called for. He freezes, eyes widening as the Australian allows the natural grey of his pupils to grow cloudy with a quiet want for the one he holds. Scout himself senses it all, can hear it acutely in his ears, humming with a drone of a live wire.

He was desirable. Lawrence knew full well his youthful features offered a fierce contrast to his prominently sloped jaw, his curvelessness masking no doubt that it was a man whom Sniper cupped in hands growing tighter, bolder as they trail along the small of the Bostonian's back. Whether or not he was able to see it in himself was irrelevant in so far Scout could read the words so plainly in the eyes of Sniper.

When Jack nips at his neck, it is too late; Lawrence melts, and he allows a quiet moan to bob its way out of his dried throat like a beached fish claws onto the only droplets of the shore it has left. The thud of Scout hitting the dining room wall with added force stops them both momentarily. The wall vibrates as if it too were stimulated, and reverberates their own charged affection back at them, their love racing back into their bodies like crackling branches of white hot lighting.

Lawrence's lips are soaking wet when his eyes part, a blood red and teased into paralysis, strings of saliva connecting their tongues like a biological shackle. His fingers lock into Jack's thick hair, the entire width of their chests touching as if perfect fits to the simplest of jigsaws. His eyes are wide when he registers the mortified figure of Chris behind them, and his skin shrivels with shame as the light turned on just seconds ago exposes his emotion before the world.

Curling his head onto the Australian's breast, Lawrence's hands tense around Sniper's neck as his brother croaks abruptly from the shared door to the kitchen.

"Lawrence!"

The young man brings his head up to sit straight atop his long neck, the whole of his hollow throat suffocating under an air heavily weighted. The two split apart quickly, Jack's tanned skin draining of all healthy colour, leaving it a sickly yellow. His small grey eyes dart quickly across Christopher's figure, who tenses, back hunched slightly out of what Sniper assumes is defense. Regardless, Christopher's blue eyes challenge his youngest brother with a piercing, accusatory glare. He huddles against the soft, lilac walls, hands gripped onto the curtains as if choking the fabric would avert his brother back to his business.

"What are you doing to my brother, you sick pervert?!"

Jack, mouth nervously agape, sends an instinctively protective hand to fly onto Scout's shoulder as the man stomps heavily toward them both. A shrill "HUH?!" barks madly from his reddening face, the young man taking a couple steps backward, hiding his own mass behind Sniper's own.

"The Hell is he doing to you, Lawrence-?!"

"N-nah-" Scout chokes, his brother too preoccupied with his contemptuous glare aimed at the Australian taller than them both to start at the sound. "Stop!"

"I said what are you doing to my brother, you sick freak!" he roars, Jack's chest risking a great heave as he swears the motion triggers the older Bostonian's reflex to swing. He awaits a pain that never comes, and instead entertains the silence longer still. Lawrence breathes shortly and quietly through his still swollen lips, and he can feel his fingertips catch in Scout's, clammy with sweat.

"Why are you letting him do this to you, Larry!" the man rounds on his brother quickly, irately, Jack wholly takenaback as the youngest of the Fitzpatricks visibly backs down, shrinking against the wall as Christopher corners him against it.

"The fuck is he doing to you?!"

"He ain't doin' shit to me!" Lawrence snaps, his brow slowly retracting inward, furrowing grooves of anger into his unblemished forehead. "Nothin' I ain't never said I didn't want!"

"So then what, you mean-" Christopher blanches, stumbling over his own anger and casting a look of utter disgust back and forth between them both. "You mean you actually want this faggot touching you like this?!"

Scout resists replying, straightening quickly, muscular biceps clenching tightly as his whole body freezes in tense, silent rage.

"So then that's the deal, huh? You show your face around here, after all this time-" Christopher scoffs, gesturing incredulously at them both. "And you pull this shit?" He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head. "What else you got, Lawrence? Then again I'm not surprised it's you who turned out to be the cocksucker - there's one in every family, they say -"

"Oi!" Jack starts, narrowing his eyes. "Y'can say whatever the Hell y'want to 'bout me, mate, I heard it all from blokes whose opinions matter twice 's much as yours. Call me the bigges' bloody fairy this side o'the Atlantic, even - but you're sure 's Hell gonna watch what y'say 'bout Larry," Jack warns, his large hand pointed acutely at Christopher's chest. "Y'call him out o'his name again 'nd y'won't have the teeth in your mouth t'say sorry-"

"You bring a faggot into my household, and he has the audacity to threaten me?! What's next, Lawrence! Is he a Jew too-?"

The swing at his jaw did not come from Jack, but from Lawrence himself. Even if it did not connect, the uppercut aimed to unhinge his mouth was enough to silence him, though not enough to rid him of his disgust. The man seemed to dodge his brother's fist more out of fear of contamination as opposed to physical pain.

"'S not worth it, love," Jack mutters quickly, swinging an arm around his shoulders in an effort to keep him close. The Australian may as well have had the verses and back up dances memorized when it came to the "disturbed beyond all reason" scene. It is only for the Bostonian's sake that he feels as phased by Christopher as he does.

Lawrence grimaces at his stoic older brother, who smirks sadly.

"I should have known you were a cock sucker, even coming home from war you're still probably the same soft little duck boy you always were; once a dick goes in your ass there isn't nothin' that can get it out again, huh?!"

It happens quickly: Scout makes yet another swing, interrupted by Chris' violent push of the young man into the china cabinet, which is then met in turn by Jack lunging for the red headed sibling.

The violent brawl that plays out in front of Scout elicits a shocked wail from the young man. Uninterested in the dishware that now lies broken upon the finely stained wooden floor as a result of his earlier stumble, Scout gasps as the fight sends Jack's back slamming harshly against the dining room table. His brother's bleeding nose lurches at his tumbling stomach as well.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PSYCHOPATHS DOIN' IN HERE?!" Julie snaps, rushing into the room, together with Luc. The blue eyes all six of her sons must have inherited linger on the broken china, the door of the cabinet knocked askew. She eyes the bleeding nose of her son, the sweat drenched faced of the other. She gasps at Jack's swollen eye, Luc brushing past her in order to enter the dining room properly.

Luc clears his throat.

Lawrence is finally able to separate Jack and Christopher, the two glaring at each other so fiercely, Scout pulls Sniper close to himself, bringing a maudlin hand to snake atop his shoulder. "Quite an interesting show going on in 'ere, non?" Luc chuckles in an attempt to lessen the tension, sighing however as he catches sight of Larry's arms holding onto the Australian affectionately. "I heard the crash! Now what the Hell kinda circus are you boys pullin' in here?!" Julie snaps again, her hysterical outburst heard by a silent crowd. "I could hear you boys screamin' from the livin' room! Jesus Christ!"

"Invoke him indeed, Mother," Christopher sneers, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "C'mon, Chris," she tutters shortly, and Luc ambles quietly towards the window. "What's goin' on,"

"Your youngest is a cocksucker," Christopher admits flatly, his hands raising slowly, only to clap against his dully against his thighs. "The baby's a faggot,"

"Christopher I don't care what it was Larry did, you know damn well I won't tolerate that kinda speech!"

"If it weren't the truth, maybe I wouldn't have to use such language,"

"Ma…" Lawrence croaks dryly, making to start toward her slowly, choosing to linger as Sniper tugs gingerly on his hand behind him. "Larry,what's goin' on, sweetie,"

"I told you what is going on! Lawrence brought his dirty Australian missus into my household!" the young man's sibling roars, slamming a heavy fist against his lacquered dinner table. "Chris, that's - that's nonsense!" Julie snaps, folding her arms and gesturing wildly to the Frenchman. "Luc, say somethin'!"

"What, Cherie?"

"Anythin'!"

"Well, I," Luc starts, his voice catching in his throat quickly, growing nauseated at the thought of officially outing Lawrence and Jack on their own behalves. "I do not know what it is you want, dear?"

"You wanna know what I want?! YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT THE HELL IT IS I WANT?!" Julie shrieks with such intensity that all four men visibly jump. Watching carefully what the Bostonian woman does with the off white shards of destroyed china, the four choose to wisely hold their silence whilst signs of a rant begin to surface on her lipsticked mouth.

"I wanna know why the Hell I can't just have a normal, NON FREAK OUT DAY WITH MY GODDAMN CHILDREN! I'M TIRED OF IT! I'VE BEEN DEALIN' WITH YOUR TANTRUMS FOR THIRTY FIVE DAMN YEARS!"

"Ma," Scout attempts again, but is instantly swept away under the shrill scream of his mother's words.

"ALL I WANT IS A DAY WHERE I CAN LOOK MY GROWN ASS BOYS IN THE EYE AND SAY 'YEAH, I DIDN'T FAIL AS A MOMMA'! I WANT A GODDAMN DAY WHERE LARRY AIN'T CRYIN' ABOUT SOMETHIN'!"

"Ma,"

"WHERE LUC AIN'T STARTIN' SOME-SOME SORTA SHIT!"

"Ma,"

"WHERE YOU, CHRIS, AIN'T CRINGIN' AT ME, IN MY SECOND HAND DRESS, THINKIN' YOU'RE TOO GOOD FOR THE DAMN VAGINA THAT I PUSHED YOU OUTTA TO BEGIN WITH NOW YOUR PASTY ASS MARRIED INTO MONEY!"

"Ma..."

"I WANNA DAY WHERE MY DAMN KIDS ACT LIKE THEY WEREN'T RAISED IN AN IMBRED BARN, WHERE I CAN SHOW MY FACE IN THEIR THIRTY SOMETHIN' YEAR OLD LIVES AND NOT HAVE TO THINK TWICE ABOUT NEEDIN' A DAMN DIAPER BAG!"

"Ma,"

"I WANT A DAY WHERE YOU ALL GROW THE FUCK UP!"

"MA!"

"AFTER ALL THE SHIT I PUT UP WITH, AFTER ALL THE CALLS OF MA I ANSWER - I THINK I DESERVE ONE GODDAMN DAY WHERE EVERYTHING IS JUST OKAY! NO BROKEN THIS, NO TEARS, NO YELLIN', NO BROKEN THAT-" Julie sighs, sighing scathingly, heavily, through her now parched throat, her chest sweating as she fans herself.

"Jesus. And you all wonder why the Hell I spend so damn much on anti wrinkle cream, it's 'cause of you! Because o'all the sacrificin' I do for you, because o'the last thirty five years o'sacrificin'! Is a normal day visitin' my Granddaughter with my lover and two sons too damn much to ask for?! Or have I not earned a request o'my own yet?!"

"Ma, I'm gay," Scout interjects, stoic in both his words and expression.

Luc loosens, thankful that Lawrence was the one to reveal it after all. He shares a brief exchange of glances with Jack, sun kissed skin paper white as he awaits his technical mother in law's verdict on the statement. His adams apple bobs in his long throat, and Lawrence parts his lips slowly as he dares to speak again. Careful to avoid everyone's eye but that of his quiet mother, Scout feels Jack's hand grip his own behind his back.

"You wanna know what's wrong? Well there you go," Scout snaps, somewhat braver now. "I know you're tired Ma, I know it ain't easy. I know here and now ain't the place to come out, or, or complicate things. I know I'm difficult, and I know I ain't perfect. I know I ain't never done shit right, and I know comin' out now ain't gonna make things easier. But that's it; I'm gay, there you go,"

Jack would have laughed out loud were it not totally inappropriate; Luc buries his face so severely in his hands, his fingers dig noticeable grooves into the flesh they claw. It was certainly a steadfast way of presenting the reality before them all, Sniper muses, though one that obviously takes its toll on Scout; he trembles slightly, even under Sniper's touch.

"Larry, the Hell are you goin' on about?"

"He's a faggot mom, I told you already; with him, Jack," Chris spits, gesturing bluntly toward the tallest man in the room. "As if it weren't bad enough, the dude is fuckin' the youngest of us; there are about four of us closer to his own age, but he's gotta target on the youngest like the fuckin' pervert he is-"

"Larry," Jack whispers coldly in response, calming Scout down before the words of his brother can even rile him up properly. Everyone ignoring Chris outright, Julie sputters over her own disbelief.

"I don't understand, Berry Bunny - where did I go wrong with you? I - I don't understand why you ain't found yourself a girl yet, was it something I didn't do as a Mommy? Did I not teach you somethin'?"

"That ain't how shit works, Ma, and I ain't gonna explain it to you neither. Point is, Jack's my man, and ain't nothin' gonna change it. You wanna disown me? Do it now on the same day with all the other drama that way maybe tomorrow you can have some peace,"

"Excuse me? What the Hell kinda person do you think I am, Lawrence Fitzpatrick?! You got some damn nerve, talkin' to your Momma like that!"

"Well there ain't nothin' wrong with me and Jack; he's the only one who treats me like a damn human being," Larry snaps, glaring at Luc.

"Larry that's ridiculous, and if you think I'ma treat you or Jack any differently, then you weren't payin' any damn mind to how I wanted my children to be. I had a feelin' this whole time you and Jack had to be special friends, sweetie - you two weren't really hidin' it..." Ma scoffs, though Luc chuckles lightly behind his pursed lips, knowing personally that the woman would have carried on otherwise oblivious had her son not come out himself.

"And you're just gonna take that, Mom?" Christopher pipes up again, aggressively striking fault with his mother as he glares the short but easily tempered woman in a marvelous display of bravery as well. "Then again it's not a surprise, when you think about it - queer never could get a date -"

"You shut your goddamn Mouth, Christopher!"

"And if you zhink, for even a moment..." Luc begins slowly from his otherwise uninvolved corner. "Zhat your mozher and I would ever side wizh you and call out your brozher in such a way, you are sadly mistaken,"

"Damn right you are; my baby's my baby no matter who he loves; you like men, sweetie? Fine!" Julie snaps somewhat hysterically.

"Neizher your mozher nor myself raised you boys to be 'ateful bigots," Luc responds sternly, flashing his second eldest son a challenging look.

"You ain't too old to get an ass whoopin', neither!"

"And that's it? You accept it so easily? Sick, all of you!" Christopher snarls. "Well I am neither so easily fooled nor impressed as the rest of you. You, you fucking pervert! Don't think you ever have the right to step anywhere near my mother, my house, or my children again -"

"Point the finger at Jack all you want Chris, 's still your ass with the broken nose," Scout sneers. "And if he ain't allowed I ain't comin' near your stupid ass neither-"

"No matter what, Larry, you and Jack are always welcome at home; me and Luc ain't got no problem with you, sweetie; we love you the way you are,"

Lawrence grumbles, eyes fixed on the floor.

"And if your brozher wants to implement such 'ateful tactics, zhen 'e should no 'e 'as no place in your mozher's 'ouse until 'e accepts you for who you are!"

"'Cause I sure as Hell didn't raise you that way!"

"Well fine, but this is my house; they may be allowed in your filthy home where anything goes, Mother, but in my house they have no business here,"

"Right, 'nd we're leavin'," Jack explains calmly, taking Lawrence by the hand and nodding curtly to Julie and Luc. "Ma, pleasure meetin' ya; you're a right fine Mum, 'nd's nice t'see where it is Larry's got such great character; Luc, I'll see y'next weekish, business 's usual, eh? 'Nd you; y'haven't got t'worry 'bout seein' us 'round your swept little Hell hole; feel right bad for your little girl. Oh, 'nd mate, for a man who hates fags 's much 's you, y'sure do decorate with the taste o'one. 'Lright luv, 's hit the road. No use stayin' where we're not wanted." Lawrence glances reproachfully at his mother, who kisses him quickly on the cheeks, allowing Jack to drag him out of the house without another word. Jack, who opts for a silent exit himself, is certain to flip a heavy handed bird to Lawrence's red headed sibling before slamming the door behind them promptly.

"I dunno why you're still sittin here; just drive."

The words barely slip from in between Scout's lips. Sniper lifts his head to face him, taking his attention away from the keys that have warmed and moistened within the few silent minutes he'd settled with twisting them in the palm of his hands. His expression is completely stony, his eyes narrowed, focused on nothing in particular.

Now would be as good a time as any to cry,though whether Scout does not from a will not to or a stunted hurt so powerful that he is beyond tears, he does not know. Jack makes a motion to start the van, chuckling humourlessly within himself as he imagines how stupid he must look, hand level with the ignition with the key wrapped in his fingers, though he sits still as if completely dumbfounded.

"Y'sure y'don't wanna say goodbye a final time? You hardly gave your poor Mum a proper goodbye,"

He knows however that even if the young man answered in the affirmative, seeing her a final time in her hiccupping, hysterical state would be most unwise,it would only set her tears off even further.

Scout settles with a short shake of his head, and Sniper takes it as a final cue to begin their early trek back to the 'Fort.

"I'll call her when we get back,just to make sure she's alright…"

Sniper'd almost forgotten Lawrence was beside him when the young man actually spoke forty five minutes later.

"I'm sorry, love,I,I shoulda never brought ya."

Scout had only warned him going home would result in some sort of clusterfuck of an experience,that his best way with coping with his family was by not coping at all.

"Nah, it ain't your fault, Jack,it ain't at all…"

"I'm sorry that Chris, that he had to,y'know…"

Sniper sighs, the memory of the Bostonian's brother walking into the dining room causing a shiver to run down his spine.

"…find out that way.'

Scout shrugs, lifting his hands as if to say "What can you do?"

"'Nd I never expected him t'take it like that, either,"

"Do you really think he meant that?! When he said I wasn't allowed back in his house again? That we were perverts?"

Sniper sighs. No one says that sort of thing with the intention of it being the pinnacle of humour.

"I dunno, love; I really don't. He might've just been overwhelmed with,well,imagine if you hadn't seen your brother in nearly three years 'nd he drops on ya outta nowhere 'nd is kissin' this random bloke you'd only met two hours prior,he wasn't exactly in the wrong, so to speak,'specially with Ginny runnin' around,it was wrong o'me t'do it in the first place,"

"What, kiss me?"

"It wasn't the time,you were just so down 'nd I didn't know what else t'do,"

"I see what you mean,but that still don't mean he had the right to call us all those things, 'nd yell 'nd say I was to never come near him and his family again,"

"I'll admit he might've maybe taken it a little far with the insults, but again, for all he knew we were about t'make love on his kitchen table,he was completely surprised with the situation,I'm sure he would have reacted differently if you'd told him calmly you were gay, without him just walkin' in on it,"

"Yeah…"

"Give it time, love," Sniper sighs; time was all the two had over the next three days. "'Nd try not to stay so hung up on it; I'm sure things'll work out in the end,your Mum 'nd Luc really fought for us back there, at the very least you'll always have,"

Sniper cuts himself short, for completing the thought of Lawrence 'always having Luc' was bound to open up a whole other can of worms entirely.

"Yeah, I,I really appreciate what they did back there,"

"Your Mum was sad t'see ya go early, but I feel like it might've been for the best,"

Scout nods.

"Like I said, give it time; give your brother a chance for it all t'settle in,your Mum'll prolly be able to talk 'im down. You're a strong little mutant, love,'nd no matter what, you've got me,"

"Hm,yeah,"

"Y'act like I'm not a professional runaway; 'nd there's always room in the camper for another,"

Sniper's expression softens as he manages to fish a tiny hint of a smile from the dregs of Scout's utter shock, bringing a hand from the steering wheel to curl in his hair.

"You don't ever have t'set another foot in Boston,we can stay in here for the rest of our lives."