Airports were horrifying. Airplanes were horrifying. Maybe Connor was just generally horrified. By everything. Which was going to make for this being a long trip, especially since New York was such a crowded city. He wasn't going to have a moment of the peace and quiet he treasured until he flew home to his dorm room.

Connor rested his head against the side of the plane, looking down at the window. Adam was doing his best to give Connor space, but airplanes weren't known for being roomy, and so they spent a lot of time just leaning in other directions. Connor watched the clouds below and tried to have that be his only focus. Not the people that kept passing in the aisle to wait for the washroom. He didn't like sitting in front of the bathrooms, but he had to admit, he was glad that Adam remembered he didn't like having people be behind him. Now, there was no way that something could reach up behind his airplane chair back and grab him. There was no space behind it.

He jumped as Adam stood from his seat. Connor watched his father's eyes flash to his face and was able to see the range of pitiful expressions Adam cycled through before trying to hide the face he was making altogether. Connor wasn't fooled. His father didn't know how to lie to him. Before, Connor had hated it. But that was back when his father was insisting on his heterosexuality and muttering slurs under his breath. Connor could read the disdain in his eyes back then all too easily. Now, all of that was absent; there wasn't a single trace of it on Adam's face. That was what gave Connor hope.

Adam opened the compartment above the seats and pulled out his carry-on. Connor straightened in his seat to get a better view of what his father was doing, and then he immediately felt bad for snooping.

"I brought something for you to look at on the plane," Adam said, and then he pulled out something that was very familiar to Connor.

"Mom's scrapbook," Connor said. "I remember it."

He had spent hours with his mother, before she died, looking at those photos with her. He remembered leaning against her shoulder and flipping the pages for her, when her hands got too weak. Her voice strayed strong until just before the end, and it was her rasp that he remembered most about her final days. Adam passed him the book and Connor touched the front cover gingerly. He hadn't seen it since his mother's hospital room, when he had sat silent on the bed while his father packed up her things. He hugged the book against his chest and bowed his nose to the pages, inhaling, trying to see if it would give off his mother's scent. It didn't. By the end, she hadn't even smelt like herself. She had smelt like hospital and medicine, not like citrus and baking sugar.

He didn't know if he was imagining the smell of hospital or if it was just his memory summoning up the worst weeks of his life.

Connor closed his eyes as he felt hot tears begin to rise. He didn't want to cry. Not now. Not in public. He heard the compartment above them with a thud, and then Adam sat down again.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Adam said.

"You didn't." Connor realized how false that sounded. "I mean, I … This is the kind of thing that I wanted. This trip is about Mom, right?"

"About our whole family," Adam said. "About us, being father and son, and about remembering your mom."

As if his mother was ever too far from his mind. If he were cooking or studying or walking somewhere – just doing anything where his mind could wander – he would end up thinking about what she would say to him if she were here, or how she would react to the person he was. He would never get to know the answer for sure, but she was hopeful about how she'd see him. He had never questioned his mother's love for him and he was not about to start. He never wanted to start. He lowered his tray table and slowly put the scrapbook onto it. He just stared at the cover, not ready to open it yet without her.

"It's okay, Connor," Adam said. "Whenever you're ready."

"Thanks for understanding, Dad."

"It's what parents are supposed to be here for," Adam said, "and I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

Connor rested his hand on top of the scrapbook. Perhaps he would just look at the cover for a while longer.

(-.-)

Jude stuffed two clean pairs of jeans into the large duffel bag he always took home. He rubbed his hands over his face and checked the time. He was running late, but that was the price he paid for the late night with Connor. He had passed out after kissing his boyfriend goodbye and locking the door behind him and had woken up late in the afternoon – approximately the time that he had told his mothers that he would probably be home. He had sent Stef a quick text, saying he'd probably be back in time for dinner, and then had intended to start speed-packing. He wasn't that good at packing quickly, though, and he found himself moving even more slowly than normal. He opened his dresser drawer and started pulling t-shirts, and then his phone started to ring.

Jude swiped the answer button.

"Judicorn, I'm home and you're not home and I'm just wondering where you are," Mariana said.

"I'm still packing," Jude confessed. "Didn't you talk to Moms?"

"I did. I just thought that if I called you myself you might get this show on the road. C'mon, it's Christmas."

"Actually, it's still before Christmas. We've still got another few –"

"It's December, it's the spirit!" Mariana interrupted. "I have hats for us all to wear."

"What's Jesus say about that?"

"He doesn't get an opinion," Mariana said, while in the background, Jesus shouted, "Twins don't have to match."

"We have to today!" Mariana said.

"I have a blue santa hat for you," Mariana said. "I thought we should all have different colours and that it would be cute. Yours is just plain, I'm afraid. Callie has polka dots."

"Lucky Callie," Jude said.

"I'm sure you could convince her to switch if you wanted," Mariana said. "I just thought that she looked better in yellow than you did."

"Tell Jude this hat looks like it has the chicken pox!" Callie yelled.

"Come home and see what Callie's hat looks like," Mariana said.

"I'm almost packed, I will be there soon," Jude lied.

"Do you have a good reason for being late?" Mariana's voice dropped to the slightest whisper. "If it was Connor, I'll forgive you."

"You're right."

"Forgiven!" Mariana squealed. "But if you're not here in less than two hours, I will come find you."

"And we'd never want that," Jude said. "All right, I will be there."

"With bells on?"

"Don't push your luck," Jude said. "But I will be there."

"We're waiting!"

"I know. Bye, Mari."

"Bye!"

Jude hung up and slid his phone in his pocket. He grabbed a collection of t-shirts. He wasn't going to be there for the entirety of his break. He had a few shifts before Christmas, which he was going to drive back for. He'd rather spend more time close to his family while he had the time to do so, knowing that once he got into the routine of school and work, he was always forgetful about keeping in contact unless they were the ones that called or texted him first. Which, Callie and Moms were fairly regular about, but Jesus and Brandon were hopeless about. It wasn't as if he and Brandon had ever been close, but it was harder with Jesus. Sometimes he thought they should be closer, but they were both just too lazy and involved with their own lives.

Jude shoved his toiletries into a bag and then threw them on top of his clothes. Anything else? Check for food that might spoil and throw that out … and he was good to go. Almost. He pulled Connor's sweater over his head and took a deep breath. He hoped his boyfriend was doing okay. He just wanted Connor to love New York and have a great time. And he wanted to hear all about it. Because he knew he was going to have a good Christmas with his family, and he wanted it to be that way for everyone he loved.

(-.-)

The hotel was too extravagant. They had only been inside for a few minutes. Matter of fact, Adam was still settling details at the front desk. Even so, Connor knew that his father was doing far too much for him this trip. He didn't know how to say so, nor did he know how to express his gratitude for the things that his father was currently doing for him. Because Connor knew that it was all for him.

"Come on, Connor," Adam called.

Connor picked up his backpack, which he had used as a carry-on. The bellhop had offered to take it for him, but Connor was just too protective over his things. The important things were in his backpack, like his mother's scrapbook. It wasn't as if the bellhop were going to be out of his sight, but Connor held his bag tight. He just couldn't trust anyone that much. The elevator was problematic. He hid in the back, behind his father, while Adam made small talk with the bellhop. The bellhop divulged secrets, like good restaurants around the hotel, and what was open the latest, and when the hours for room service were. They got off at the third highest floor, and Connor trailed behind while they found the door.

The bellhop, whose nametag read Chad, gestured Connor in after his father. Connor gripped his bag until his knuckles were white and then slipped inside, disappearing away from the door so that he didn't have to see the bellhop again and could easily tune out the quick conversation with him that Adam was already starting. The hotel room looked more like an apartment, with a small kitchen off to one side, a nice bathroom, a bedroom with doors that could close, and a decent sized couch with a TV facing it. Too much, Connor thought again. He walked into the bedroom, noticing the balcony. He slid open the glass door and stepped outside. The air here was so much colder than he was expecting and he shivered slightly, sliding his fingers inside of his sleeves instead of turning to get a new sweater. He wasn't intending to be out here long.

He just wanted to look down at the cars and the barely visible people. He swept his eyes across the tall skyscrapers and let the sounds of sirens and cars sweep across his ears. It was crowded here and, despite his expectations, he was blown away by the sheer amount of people and the size of the buildings. Everything about it intimidated him. There was just so much here. Perhaps too much – he was starting to see a pattern of his experiences here, and he had only been here a short while.

Connor pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a photo, sending it to Jude.

Jude: It looks beautiful there. What do you think?

Connor: It's been five minutes

Jude: First thoughts?

Connor: I'm scared of everything but I'm excited to know more. I just don't think I'll have enough time to get used to it and enjoy any of the places before I'm suddenly back on a plane.

Jude: But then you can always go back, right? The more times you're there and the more you know, the better it'll be, right?

Connor: Maybe. I guess we'll see. It's only day one. We're probably not going to get too far from the hotel today.

Jude: I hope you have fun anyway.

Connor: are you having fun?

Jude: I just got home. I'm in a Santa hat. Dinner's almost ready.

Connor: How's the Santa hat look?

Just before he pressed send, his phone buzzed again, this time, bringing him a badly taken selfie of Jude and his sister, Callie. He was wearing a blue Santa hat, while Callie was wearing a bright yellow one with obnoxious red spots. It looked more suited for a clown that anything festive, but she looked happy to be wearing it, her arms casually around Jude's neck. Connor quickly deleted his message and instead typed out: that blue looks good on you.

Jude: Thanks. We're going to eat now. Do you want me to call you later?

Connor: would you?

Jude: sure. Let me know when you're not busy. You're four hours ahead?

Connor: three. I'll talk to you later.

Jude: later it is.

There were three heart emojis and one kissing face following it, which made Connor's heart thud a little too quickly in his chest. He closed out of the conversation and locked the screen, hiding his phone away in his pocket. He leant against the railing and then shivered from the metal. Inside. He should go back inside, but Adam was coming onto the balcony behind him, and Connor was cemented in place now.

"It's a big city," Adam commented.

"Yep," Connor said, not sure what to say but knowing he couldn't stay quiet.

"And a cold city. You should be inside," Adam said. "It's too cold to be out here. Come in, we'll get settled. Room service tonight or would you like to go out for dinner?"

"W-w-w-would room service be all right?"

"Sure. Nothing wrong with a quiet night tonight."

Connor stepped inside the hotel room, shocked at how much warmer he felt just by doing it. He closed the balcony door behind him and clicked the lock shut. It was a flimsy one, but what did that matter when they were this high up? And when they were this far away from home? And when anyone who would want to hurt him was in prison? Except, this was here his ex thought he had been the whole time. It was where his father had told anyone who would listen that he was going to school here. If his ex was going to look for him, this was where he would go. The thought made him shiver but he knew, absolutely, that his ex wasn't getting out of prison soon and, even if he did, Connor would be notified the moment that it happened.

He exhaled. Now was not the time to think about it. Now, was about Christmas and family and his mother.

"So, the bedroom is yours," Adam said. "I'll take the couch."

"Dad, that's not fair," Connor protested. "I can sleep on the couch."

"You'll be more comfortable in the bedroom on your own, I know that. I'll also be more comfortable on the couch. I like to work late and I'm pretty restless at night, remember?"

Connor remembered. From the time he went home to his father in late December to when he had moved to university in late August, he had never gone to bed before his father. Adam had always stayed in his downstairs office instead of his upstairs bedroom. There had been many late nights where nightmares had woken Connor and he sat, sweating and crying in his bed, desperately trying not to scream aloud, and to keep himself calm, he had listened to his father move about the downstairs, clinking dishes and simply pacing back and forth, as if trying to help himself think.

"I don't want to bother you either," Adam said. "Besides, the couch is pretty big. It won't be a problem for me."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Not a problem. Here's the room service menu, why don't you think about what you want?"

"Sure." Connor took the menu from his father's hand, making sure not to touch their fingers together. He'd been too jumpy all throughout today. He didn't want to do anything wrong, especially when they had been quite well, so far. They'd had some conversation, very little of it awkward, and Connor hadn't had a single panic attack. That, at least, he knew was progress. He looked down at the menu, and the small print blurred in front of his tired eyes. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand and lifted the menu closer to his nose.

"Something wrong?" Adam asked.

"Just tired. Jude and I didn't sleep last night." The moment the words left his mouth, Connor realized how awful they sounded. He glanced at his father, who didn't have a disgusted face on, rather a politely uninterested but still parental face, but Connor still wanted to figure out a way to explain to Adam that he and Jude weren't having sex. Was there any way to do that without making things more horrendous? He bit down on his bottom lip and decided it was better not to say anything. He always got in trouble when he tried to explain himself further. He just wasn't good at it. "The chicken fajitas sound good to me, Dad."

"Anything else you'd like? You didn't eat or sleep on the plane."

"We could share some nachos, if you'd like."

"I'm always interested in nachos," Adam said. "I'll order right away. When it's done, you should take a nap."

Connor thought it might be better and try to power through his tiredness until he was at a more acceptable time to sleep. It wasn't really that late in the day – the sun was still shining, people were still working, and the city was still bustling. It's the city that never sleeps, Connor. If he fell asleep in an hour or so, whenever they finished eating, he would probably wake up at midnight and then he'd never get his feet under him in terms of a schedule. He didn't think that he would ever get to the point where he was going to be comfortable with New York City as a whole, even though his mother had been and he wanted to experience New York as she had. He knew it would never be the same, as badly as he wished for it to be.

While Adam was calling for room service, he went back into the bedroom that was his own for the next few weeks. He looked down at his bags and he wondered if it would make him feel better to unpack. There was a dresser in the corner, so it wasn't as if he couldn't. He opened the top of his suitcase, disorganized and messy from being thrown around the bottom of a plane, and then realized that he just wasn't ready to face anything. He shut his bag, zipping it up tightly, and then he fetched his journal from his backpack. It seemed the perfect time to do some writing about his day. He curled up on the comfortable bed and slowly began to write.

(-.-)

Jude was wedged tightly between Mariana and Callie, even though the three of them were the only two left in the room. Brandon and Jesus were on dish duty, and Moms had elected to keep the two of them company in the kitchen. Mariana toyed with the pom on the tip of her hat before tossing it backward to hang over the back of her head. She leant on the table, more toward Callie than Jude.

"I think Moms are worried about you," she whispered.

Callie pulled a small face. "What could they possibly have to worry about?"

"I only know this because I was eavesdropping on them when I first got here, and they were talking about the best way to talk to you about this. You know, you being an adult and still their kid," Mariana said. "You know they read your newspaper everyday."

"I know," Callie said.

It was really impossible not to know. Lena had taken to cutting out some of Callie's better pictures and putting them on the fridge. Jude had been standing with them when Callie offered to print out better quality pictures, but Lena had declined, saying that it was better bragging rights if people could see that the pictures, clearly, had been published in a newspaper. Callie had laughed, but Jude could plainly see how proud she was that she had made Moms proud.

"Which means they saw those photos of the drug den!"

"Drug den?!" Jude exclaimed, slightly louder than he should have.

Callie yanked on his arm. "Don't say it like that! It's not like I was doing cocaine and taking pictures of everyone using."

"How should I say it? Callie, I thought you were taking dumb pictures of school events and stuff like that." If Jude had gone anywhere near a drug den, Callie would have killed him herself.

"I was! I mean, I am. It's just a small paper, Jude, and I take photos of everything. I'm their only photographer. So, I just go with anyone and take pictures."

None of that was new to Jude. He stared at her, trying to perfect that annoying sibling stare she had always given him but that he had never been able to make quite as compelling when he tried to use it. Callie sighed.

"It was in broad day light. I wasn't alone. It was with one of the reporters, Mark. I'm not stupid. I wouldn't go to a place like that alone. And the police had just raided it. Which was why we wanted to get photos of it, anyway. I'm not stupid. I'm not going to put myself in any danger."

Mariana held up her hands. "You're a big girl. I know you can take care of yourself. I'm just saying, you might want to prepare a speech for Moms."

"Thanks for the heads up," Callie said.

"Are you sure you're being safe?" Jude asked.

"Oh, absolutely, Mom."

"If I did that you'd lock me in my apartment."

"Only maybe," Callie said. "Why? What have you been doing?"

"Connor, from the sounds of why he was late to family dinner!"

Jude's cheeks went red from Mariana's comment. "What? No, no, I haven't – You know what, I don't need to respond to that."

Mariana rubbed his shoulder. "I just think you did."

Jude fumbled around for something to say; he just wanted anything that would distract Mariana. He glanced at Callie and blurted, "Is Mark the reporter you have the crush on?"

He only felt a little sorry for throwing her under the bus. He saw Mariana's dark eyes light up and was glad that she didn't have any clues as to who Callie had interest in. Otherwise, it never would have worked.

"Yeah, is it?" Mariana asked. "Have you said anything to him yet?"

"Mariana, even if he were, and I'm not saying he is, we work together. In a tiny office, with very few other people. I don't want to make a work relationship awkward."

"Okay, but sex in the supply closet –"

"And this is where I leave you," Jude said, pushing back from the table.

"I'm only a little sorry," Mariana said, and then she shifted into Jude's seat to better corner Callie.

Jude hurried into the kitchen, hoping that the conversation between his mothers and brothers would cover the sound of his sisters.

(-.-)

Connor jerked awake as he heard the sound of water running. His heart racing, he nearly knocked over the lamp in an effort to get some light into his room. He sat up and took a moment to remember, New York City. The water running was simply his father in the shower. He didn't remember falling asleep, but his journal was spread out on the bed beside him, and he remembered eating with his father before returning to the bedroom to finish his journal. Adam had closed the doors to Connor's room, he remembered, because he was making a business call and they hadn't wanted to bother one another.

Connor grabbed the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was half past midnight. Jude! He was supposed to talk to Jude tonight! His brain was too sluggish for the adrenaline that his body felt, and he struggled to calculate what time it was for Jude. Nine-thirty. It wasn't too late for a phone call. He fumbled for his cell phone, feeling guilty when he realized that he had missed texts from Jude.

Connor: I'm sorry! I fell asleep.

Jude: Do you want me to call you now?

Connor: Are you busy?

Jude: No. Everyone's left. I'm just watching TV.

Connor's thumb hovered over the call button, and he hated himself for his hesitation. He'd called Jude first before! And Jude had said it was all right to call him! He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that it was just the new place getting to him and he wasn't actually about to relapse into that way of thinking. He pressed call without opening his eyes and looking at the button. Doing that made things better, somehow.

He tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear. Even though Adam was in the shower, Connor didn't want to go anything that he could possibly hear and that could possibly disturb him. And, he never knew what he and Jude might end up saying to one another. Particularly, the things that Jude said to him. He was sure that he and Adam would be more comfortable if Adam couldn't hear anything.

It took three rings for Jude to answer.

"Hey, baby."

Jude's voice was soothing, and Connor instantly felt better; it was like aloe to a sunburn. "Hi, Jude."

"You sound tired."

"I woke up from an impromptu nap. I feel tired. And a little fuzzy." And gross. He had fallen asleep in his clothes. He bent down and opened his suitcase, rifling around for pyjama pants and a t-shirt.

"How's the hotel?"

"It's beautiful, Jude. I haven't seen much of the city at all yet, but from how I remember Mom, I can understand why she loved it here."

"Yeah?"

"She was larger than life, Jude, really. Before the hospital and before she got sick, she was just life. She was always playing music, and we were always baking or dancing or doing things. And she had so many friends. People were always calling or stopping over." Connor walked over to the large, balcony windows and pushed the curtains out of the way. The sky was dark, but the city was still alive with lights and colours. The flow of traffic hadn't slowed since the daylight hours. Matter of fact, it might have even increased. "I had baseball practices a week. Mom would take me to the first one, on Tuesdays. On Fridays, though, Dad would take me. That was our time together, and Mom would go out with her friends. She'd come back happy and she'd smell like cigarette smoke, even though I knew she didn't smoke. I think it was her best friend who did. She was always home by my bedtime. I was allowed to stay up until ten. She'd tuck me in and tell me that she had been dancing. Sometimes, she would tell me about the drinks she had tried. She'd tell me that, when I was older, she'd teach me those recipes too. After those, though, I would always get a small lecture on drinking responsibly."

"She sounds like a fun woman," Jude said.

"She was. She … was," Connor repeated, unable to put his mother into anymore words. He still remembered her, with her best make-up, painted nails, and a flowy red dress on, organizing his baseball uniform for him. "I guess the point I wanted to make is that she would have fit in here. It feels as alive as she felt to me. I was scared I wouldn't feel like this and feel a connection to her here. But, just looking at it from the window, I feel that."

"Just imagine how it's going to be when you and your dad start going places."

"Exactly. I think we're doing the more touristy things tomorrow, but I know he's taking me to her favourite restaurant for supper, though. I'm a little surprised it's still there."

"I'm sure it'll be really great."

"Me too." Connor let the curtain fall closed. He needed to put his pyjamas on. "How's home?"

"Jesus is trying to get Brandon to go out on a double date with him. I guess he's run out of friends to drag into those kinds of things with him."

"Is Brandon going to go?"

"I don't know. I think he might, if only to see Jesus make an ass out of himself." Before Connor could ask anything else, Jude added, "but I don't think he'd have to go out on a double date to see that."

Connor chuckled. "What else are you thinking?"

"That I've gotten used to you being next to me," Jude said. "This couch feels massive. I've got too much room when laying down."

"That doesn't sound like a reason to miss me," Connor said.

"Maybe I like being squished," Jude said. "And it's not nearly as warm."

Connor pulled his jeans off. "You're the warm one."

"It's no fun being under a blanket and trying to keep myself warm."

Connor knew Jude well enough by now to know when his boyfriend was trying to flirt with him. The tone that Jude was using now was exactly that. Connor's cheeks heated and he blushed like he normally did when Jude did anything even slightly seductive, but the fact that he was standing in a hotel room by himself, wearing Jude's sweater and his underwear made his breath catch in a whole new way. It had only been last night when his fingers were on Jude's bare chest and his boyfriend's leg was glued to his hip and they had been kissing, Jude panting and attractive under him.

Connor's body hardened and he felt like his cheeks were going to burn right off his face. He quickly pulled his pyjama pants on, as if the slight bit of modest could equate to something like a cold shower.

"L-l-let's talk about something else. How, um, are Stef and Lena?"

"They're great. You okay? You sound funny all of a sudden, baby."

"Um. Don't worry about it."

"Is it a big deal?"

"No, not at all," Connor sound quickly.

That assurance was all Jude needed to tease him. "What? Is the thought of me under a blanket getting you all hot and bothered?"

"Jude," Connor whined.

"Was I right?" Jude chuckled. "Baby, you thinking about me?"

Connor whined again in the back of his throat, crawling under his blankets and shoving his head under his pillow. He kept his phone tight to his ear, though, because he didn't want to ignore Jude.

"I'm usually thinking about you," Connor admitted.

"How are you thinking about me?" Jude asked. "Good thoughts or …"

"I … just, it was, I … Jude." Connor exhaled and curled into a ball.

"All right, all right, leave me to my own devices to imagine what you're thinking about."

"Why do you have to tease me like that?" Connor asked, but he tried not to sound so serious about it. He didn't mind, that much. He was embarrassed, but he knew that Jude wasn't really mocking him. He didn't think Jude had ever really made fun of him.

"It's a little fun," Jude admitted. "Unless you really hate it."

"I don't," Connor whispered. "You know I don't."

"Mmm, I thought so. I just didn't want to be the jerk that didn't ask."

"Well, you did promise me you'd ask before assuming things anymore."

"I remember, I remember. I guess taunting you isn't being overprotective."

"Definitely not," Connor agreed. "You've been doing better with that, though."

"I'm glad you think so. How's your dad?"

"Quiet. That's not new, though. The most he talked was on the plane. We went through some of the pages in Mom's scrapbook. I remember most of the stories that she told me, but, um, he gave me a few more details. Some things that she couldn't tell me when I was younger. Nothing too bad. She used to smoke weed when she was in high school. That was Mom's deep dark secret."

"How scandalous."

Connor laughed. "We didn't talk about too much. Dad said some of the conversations were going to get harder. I don't know what he means by that. I'm not sure I want to know."

"You're going to find out."

"Yeah. When he's ready to tell me about it. I'd rather wait until then to ask any questions. I don't want to make it worse by putting him on the spot."

"Also smart. I hope there's some good stories mixed in with the bad."

"Me too. They came here on their honeymoon, you know? Mom loved it here so much."

"Where would you go on your honeymoon?" Jude asked.

Connor's heart constricted at the word. He was going to spend his honeymoon in Mexico, in Cancun, after getting married in the town where his ex-boyfriend's grandparents and parents had wed. It had been all laid out. He had never had a chance to say what if we did this? What if we went to this place? What if we looked at these flowers? Nothing. But that was what was so bad about weddings. They were one sided. Never did both people want to get married. It was just assumed that they would end up there. That was the downside to most things in love. One person always gave more, while the other always took. He closed his eyes. Things got even worse after 'I love you' was said; for him, hearing those words and then saying them back had been like sealing a pact with a demon. He'd never go back there again. 'I love you' unleashed hell into people's lives. It was never worth it.

"I'm never going to get married, Jude. You know that."

"Fine, don't play along." Jude sighed, and Connor quickly replayed it in his mind, trying to make sure that Jude really had been as playful as he wanted Jude to be. "Where would you go if someone gave you an all-expenses paid vacation?"

"Hmm. I think this does count as an all-expenses paid vacation."

"Outside of America," Jude specified, and then he laughed. "You're not very good at this game, baby."

Connor had never been that great with games. Particularly when he hadn't been aware he was playing them. "Well … I don't know. I guess, somewhere in Europe? Scotland, Ireland … I guess England is cliché to say, but I guess a lot of people go there because there's something to see, right?"

"Right," Jude said. "Want to play another game?"

"What kind of game?"

"How well do you know your partner quiz," Jude said. "It's only ten questions."

"Okay," Connor agreed. "Let's do it."

"Do you know my birthday?"

"That's too easy," Connor said, because he knew that one. He'd been stressed about Jude's birthday for weeks before it had happened.

"What's my favourite colour?"

"Blue. Easy again, Jude."

"Hopefully they get harder," Jude agreed. "Anyone who doesn't know these probably shouldn't be dating. Oh. Do you know my shoe size?"

"Shoe size? No. Um. Eight-ish?"

Jude laughed. "You underestimate me!"

"Sorry!"

"Do you have my phone number memorized?"

"Yes."

"Childhood hobbies?"

"Taking on-demand photos for Taylor and playing too many video games?"

"Yeah, that was basically it."

"Do you know where I'm ticklish?"

"Your ribs, mostly. Your neck, depending on how I touch you there. How many more questions?"

"Three. Do you know my favourite funny movie?"

"I think you like stand-up comedians more than any of the comedies we've watched. Does that count? Because you're always okay to re-watch John Mulaney."

"I think that counts, just because you're right. Oh, this one might be hard."

"I will do my best."

"Can you recount your lover's basic life philosophy?"

"Word for word? Probably not, because I don't think I've ever heard you say anything like that."

"What's your best guess?" Jude asked.

"Well, I think that the most important thing to you is loyalty. You'd do anything for your friends or your family. Especially your family. So, I would say that your philosophy is to be true to yourself and the people you love."

"I don't think I could have said that any better myself."

Connor wondered if Jude could name his. Jude probably could have a really great idea, but that idea would undoubtedly be: be afraid of anything and everything. At least, that was the most flattering version he could think of.

"Have you ever surprised your lover with a gift that was perfect for them, but that they wouldn't have found on their own?"

"Um. You would've bought hot chocolate on your own."

"Not the cactuses," Jude reminded him. "And I love them."

"Then I guess I have," Connor said. "You know, I brought Ampelos with me to New York."

"How's he liking it?"

"He's stuffed. He doesn't like things. But I like having him here. He smells like you. I think that's comforting."

"I'm glad," Jude said. "Last question, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Can you sing the melody to all of your partner's favourite songs?"

"Yes," Connor said, "but you're not going to convince me to."

"I know you well enough to know that," Jude teased.

"I think at this point, you know me better than anyone."

Jude hummed a few bars of One More Day and Connor rubbed at his eyes, pretending it was exhaustion, not tears.

"You falling asleep on me, baby?"

"Um. No. Just getting comfy."

"You sure?"

"A little sleepy."

"I should let you rest."

"No! Please? I'd like to talk to you a little longer."

"I'll talk to you as long as you want," Jude said. "You're my only plan for tonight."

Connor pushed himself up on one elbow and picked Ampelos off the pillow next to him, pulling the elephant into his arms instead.

"That makes me happy to hear."

"So," Jude said, "have you thought about what you'd like me to make you for supper when we return from break?"

"I thought you were going to surprise me."

"Oh, you'll be surprised at how bad it'll be," Jude said. "But I'm going to try for you, baby."

"Thank you."

"So, what would you like me to try? Chicken, beef, fish? Lamb, I guess, but I feel like that's not fair to do to me. Do you even like lamb?"

"Sometimes. Mostly only from authentic places. I don't know if I've ever liked it homemade. I don't like my own lamb."

"We'll cross that off the list. So, chicken, fish, beef."

"Fish is very vague. Lobster?"

"Fancy. I mean, I know you're that quality of date, but you usually don't ask for it."

"You're sweet."

"And unable to make lobster. Chicken would be easiest, you know."

"I know. I'm not going to make you work for me. You always put in too much effort."

"How about I make steak for you?" Jude suggested. "I can find a marinade to make for it. How's that sound?"

"I thought you wanted chicken."

"I just said it would be easiest. Not that it was the only thing I'd make for you. Would you like steak?"

"Yeah, I would," Connor said.

"Then, it's settled! Let's talk sides."

Connor pulled the covers tight around him and let Jude do most of the talking. He was always happy to listen.

The chapter's title is after the song. If you have a song that reminds you of Barefoot And Bruised and would like it to be on the playlist – and possibly a chapter title – send it in and let me know! I'd love to hear your playlist suggestions! (Chapter titles are mostly chosen via shuffle.)

So, on tumblr I'm: we are all of legend now (with dashes between every word). If you want to find my replies to anon reviews, add backslash tagged backslash anon dash replies. If you want to see anything I post about Barefoot And Bruised, go to my tumblr URL and add backslash tagged backslash barefoot dash and dash bruised dash. Punctuation is spelled out due to Fanfiction's restrictions. If you're having any trouble accessing the tumblr content please send me a pm and I can format it for you in a different way.

~TLL~