Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time he meets Terry, he's four years old.

Daddy holds his hand as he pulls Trick out of the bright red truck, saying, “You're gonna be on your best behavior, right Tricky?”

“Ya ya!” he exclaims, puffing up his chest to show what a good boy he is. Daddy smiles and ruffles his hair, then reaches into the backseat and pulls out one of his old Dodgers caps. He settles it on Trick's short auburn curls, who giggles when the brim falls low over his eyes.

With a chuckle, Daddy twists the cap around so that it's backwards on his head, “There's my handsome boy. Come on then, Tricky.”

Daddy leads him into the building where he works, and Trick's eyes go wide at the interior. There's big tables everywhere! And they all have white blankets on them. “Daddy, can we make blanket forts?” he asks softly, tugging his hand.

“Not now, bud. Daddy needs to talk to his boss, okay?”

“Oh yea, I forgot.”

They walk over to an older lady with curly gray hair and big dangly earrings. When she turns and sees them Trick gives her a big dimpled smile and waves excitedly, “Hi!”

Her eyes narrow as she glances between him and his Daddy, but then she leans over him and offers a friendly wave. “Hello there, who might you be, young man?”

“I'm Trick!” he says proudly. “My Daddy says you're the boss. I like your dress, it’s pretty.”

She laughs lightly, “Well, what a little charmer you are, Trick, just like your daddy.” Her eyes cut to Daddy and she lofts a brow at him. “What I'm wondering is why he's here, Joey.”

“I'm sorry, Jeannine. I swear if I had any other option I would've taken it. The wife has to work late, and the sitter called fifteen minutes before my shift starts and said she's got the flu. I couldn't just leave the kid home alone.”

“Joey,” she sighs. “Bistro Huddy is a fine-dining restaurant, not a daycare.”

Daddy's hand tightens around his. “Look, he's a really well-behaved kid. Won't cause a scene or nothin’. I promise this will never happen again.”

She purses her lips. “And where exactly do you expect to put him? I'm not having a child sit unattended in the kitchen with you.”

“I mean… he could sit at a table, or maybe in the office?”

Trick glances around, growing bored with the conversation happening over his head. Nearby he spies a couple people that look like they're dressed for church, and he smiles brightly at them. The lady with the spiky red hair says something to the man next to her and heads toward a tall counter with lots of colorful bottles behind it. He receives a wave back from the man, but his attention is quickly pulled away when Daddy picks him up.

“Alright, buddy. Boss says you can stay in the office. But you need to be very good, okay? Don't mess with anything. I'll get you something to color on, does that sound good?” Daddy tells him, taking him toward the front of the restaurant and snagging a few kids menus and crayons.

“You coming too, Daddy?”

Daddy bites his lip. “I'll be here, but I won't stay with you. I'm sorry, Tricky. But I'll make sure someone checks on you a lot, okay?”

Trick frowns. “Okay.”

Daddy tucks him into a small room with a single desk and three chairs. Filing cabinets and stacks of paper and other miscellaneous items line the walls, but when Trick moves to inspect one, Daddy pulls him away and sets him in a chair. “Remember what I said, buddy. You can't touch anything, okay? Best behavior, right?”

Trick gives him a determined nod. “Right.”

After Daddy hands him off the kids menus and crayons, he gives Trick a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he's left all alone in the unfamiliar office, forbidden from exploring anything within. With a soft sigh, Trick sets to work on finding his way through the maze on one of the menus.

It takes him about twenty minutes to finish all of the games on the three menus he's been given. After that he tries to entertain himself by drawing dinosaurs fighting robots in the margins. Still, only about an hour has passed before he's run out of room to draw. Trick sighs and slumps against the table, kicking his feet in boredom. How long is he going to be stuck here? It's been forever and a half already!

The doorknob jiggles, and Trick shoots up in his seat. “Daddy?”

But his Daddy isn't standing there when the door opens. Instead, it's the church-man who waved at him earlier. His tie is kinda crooked. Mommy would have complained about it. He chuckles, “Sorry to disappoint, but no.”

Trick watches the man cautiously, uncertain how to interact with a stranger without his Daddy present as a buffer. “Hi,” he says shyly.

Smiling, the man crouches down so he's at eye-level with Trick. “Howdy, you're Trick, right? Yer daddy asked me to come check up on you.”

Nodding, Trick hops down from his chair so he can walk over to the church-man. “Yea, I'm Trick. What's your name?”

“Terry.”

“Wanna see my drawrings, Terry?”

“Sure, I'd love to, Trick.”

Beaming, Trick grabs Terry's hand and leads him over to the desk. He takes his time going through all three of the menus, showing off the Robot vs Dinosaur wars that have taken over every bit of space available. “The robots are stronger ‘cause they have lasers and lightsabers and stuff, but the dinosaurs are bigger and they can eat the robots! My favorite is this one, see? It's a t-rex.”

Terry nods along. “Wow, yer a real talent, Trick. I reckon this has got t’ be some of the best drawin's I ever done laid eyes on.”

Trick looks up at Terry, “Why do you talk so funny?”

“What d'you mean? I ain't the one here that talks funny.”

That gets him giggling, and he squeals, “Yes you do! I've never heard nobody talk like you!”

Terry grins at him, “Well, where I'm from, everybody talks like me.”

“Do they all go to church, too?”

The dark haired man laughs, “I mean, they surely do, why d'you ask?”

“Well, you're dressed all fancy, like Mommy and her friends at church. That spiky lady was dressed fancy too.”

Terry tugs at his tie and hums. “It's what me ‘n Deb gotta wear for work. Like how yer daddy wears his white chef's coat and hairnet.”

“Oooh yea. He looks silly.”

“I think he looks handsome in it.”

“My Daddy is the most handsome!”

For some reason, Terry's face turns a bit red, like he's got a sunburn. “Yea,” he replies softly, a dopey smile tugging at his lips, “I reckon he is.” Then he shakes his head and looks at Trick, “Listen, bud. I gotta head back out ‘n check on my tables. Y’all need anythin’ before I go?”

Trick pouts up at him. “You're leaving?”

Terry winks, “Not forever. We ain't very busy at all, so I'll try to come back when I can, since yer daddy asked so nicely.”

Mollified, Trick asks, “Can I have more paper?”

“Well, you surely can,” Terry tells him, moving over to one of the cabinets and pulling out a whole stack of paper for him.

“Thank you, Terry,” Trick tells him, so relieved to have something to do other than just sit there.

“Yer welcome. I'll be back a lil’ later, so make lots of cool art for me to see when I get back, deal?”

“Deal!”

The next time he sees Terry, it's just after he's turned six years old.

The last of his friends have long since gone home, leaving him with a small hoard of presents in his room. Trick doesn't really feel like playing with any of the nerf guns or action figures or slime makers, though. A nearby plate has the only remaining slice of pizza, but he doesn't even feel like eating that. It just kinda tastes like cardboard in his mouth.

Trick looks over at his clock. It's really late, past midnight even. His mom tucked him in for bed hours ago, but try as he might, Trick just can't fall asleep. The anxiety and disappointment and anger and sadness and every other emotion he'd felt throughout the day are just compounding, circling around a single thought:

Where is his Dad?

He hadn't been the only one to notice, either. His mother—who had tried to put up a happy facade—had been getting steadily more and more annoyed throughout the day. His friends had also asked him where his Dad was, which Trick had been unable to answer. Even Barney showing up—which, he couldn't believe that the Barney had come to his birthday party—hadn't been enough to distract him from his missing parent.

A noise out in front of the house has him peeking out of his bedroom window. Trick watches as a sleek black car pulls in front of their driveway. Someone gets out on the passenger side facing away from him, and Trick's heart leaps into his throat when he sees that it's his Dad.

The driver's window rolls down, and it takes Trick a moment, but eventually he recognises the man he'd spent an evening with at his Dad's job. Terry says something to Dad, and Dad laughs and says something back. Then Dad leans into the window, and he can't see what they're saying, but Terry must be proud of his Dad, because his hand pets through his hair just like Dad does to Trick sometimes when he's done a good job in school or soccer.

When Dad pulls back, Terry looks kind of red. They wave at each other, then Terry rolls his window up and drives away.

Was Dad with Terry during his birthday party? Tricks eyes water, and he sniffles. Does Dad like Terry more than him? Terry is really cool… maybe Dad prefers his friend to his son.

He tries to even out his breathing when his bedroom door creaks open a minute later, but by this point the tears have started and his nose is running with snot and he couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it.

“Trick?” his Dad calls softly, and Trick turns to face the door. His Dad is silhouetted against the low light from the hallway, face cast in shadow. The man reaches toward the wall and flicks on the light switch, and Trick blinks against the sudden brightness. Dad immediately clocks that he's crying, and he frowns and steps into the room. “Hey, Tricky. Why are you awake? Everything alright, bud?”

Lip quivering, tears streaming down his cheeks, Trick shakes his head.

Dad comes into the room and sits down on his bed, and even though Trick is upset with him, he crawls into Dad’s lap and clings to his shirt as he gets tears and snot all over it.

“Hey, hey, it's okay Trick. Shh, it's alright. Why are you crying?” Dad asks, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Y-You you,” he hiccups, “you like T-Terry more than m-me.”

Trick feels Dad freeze under him, and he hurriedly asks, “What are you talking about, Trick? I don't… I love you.”

He just shakes his head and cries, “You didn't come to my bir-birth-birthd-day party. I saw! You were wi-with T-Terry.”

There's a moment of silence while Dad holds him and he cries, before Dad hesitantly says, “That's not true, Trick. I was at your party.”

“No you weren't! Mom says not to lie. Don't lie to me. You were with Terry!” he says, voice gaining volume at the end.

Dad hurriedly shushes him, gently grabbing him around the arms and pushing him back so that he can look Trick in the eye. “No Trick, I was there, I…” he swallows, casting about for something to say. “Look, I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't want to ruin it for you. But.”

Trick frowns and rubs at his nose. “But what?”

“I was Barney, okay?” his Dad tells him. “Barney wasn't really at your party. It was a costume, like you wear on Halloween.”

Trick is silent for a moment, processing that. “You… were Barney?”

Dad nods. “Yea. I'm sorry bud. I didn't want to tell you, but I hated seeing you so upset. Barney… isn't real, okay? Even on tv, it's just someone wearing a costume.”

“Oh.”

Dad wipes away at his tears and runs his fingers through Trick's hair. “You okay?”

He nods. “You were really at my party? You saw me open all my presents?” Trick grins, and adds, “You saw when I won the nerf gun fight?”

Dad's eyes look off to the side as he smiles back at him, “I sure did. You're my little sharpshooter.”

Trick beams at Dad and leans forward to wrap him in a hug. “Okay, I'm sorry I was so angry with you.” He lets out a small grunt as Dad hugs him back, perhaps a bit too tightly, but he's not going to complain.

“Alright, Tricky. Time for bed now, for real, understand?”

Trick nods and crawls off of Dad to clamber under his Barney covers. As Dad is tucking him in, he asks, “How come Terry brought you home?”

Dad stills for a brief moment, then smooths the blankets around him. “He was helping me drop off the costume. But uh… hey, listen buddy. Let's keep me being Barney and Terry helping me return the costume between us, okay? I, uh, don't want to tell all the other kids that Barney isn't real, yet.” He winks down at Trick, “They aren't as grown up as you, after all. It would probably upset them too much. Deal?”

“Deal.”

When he and Terry cross paths the third time, Trick is almost ten.

For some reason, that distinction feels important. He's not nine, he's almost ten. In less than a month, in fact, he'll be hitting double digits.

Maybe, it's better to be almost ten when your parents are getting divorced.

His mom and dad have been separated for months, at this point. Them splitting isn't exactly new. Trick can still remember when he came home from school to the huge shouting match between his parents. They'd been yelling at each other more and more frequently, but for some reason this fight had seemed different.

She'd screamed at his dad and thrown Trick's favorite mug at the wall, shattering it into a thousand ceramic shards. Screamed that it was his fault their marriage was ruined. His fault that she was miserable. His dad had yelled right back, saying he hated her. He wished he'd never met her. That he knew what real love was and it sure as shit never came from her.

Maybe that had been the comment to break the camel's back. His mom had demanded that his dad get out, and his dad had hastily packed a suitcase. Next thing Trick knew, his dad was out the door without so much as a single goodbye. That night, his mom had fallen asleep nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels, leaving Trick to clean up the pieces of his shattered Batman mug.

A part of him had wanted to try to glue the pieces back together. But when something was that broken… no amount of glue would fill in the cracks.

So, that led them to today. Mom had told Trick to dress in his Sunday best. It's a bit itchy and small. They don't go to church anymore, since his dad left. His dad never liked church in the first place, but his mom insisted. He thinks he must have hit a growth spurt since then. She doesn't insist anymore.

Trick's watching the parking lot, keeping an eye out for his dad's red toyota. He wonders if his dad will even recognise him, after the growth spurt. Trick hasn't seen him since he left that day.

It's not his dad's pickup that pulls into a spot near the courthouse, though. It's a very familiar sleek black car. Now that Trick's older and knows about such things, he can tell it's a vintage Cadillac. He'd probably date it from either the late fifties or early sixties. There's only a moment to wonder why Terry's car is at the courthouse, when his dad steps out of the passenger door.

He's not sure what he is expecting, seeing his dad for the first time in months. Maybe he wants his dad to have a long, scraggly unkempt beard. Red-rimmed eyes and deep bags under them. Maybe he wants his dad to have lost weight because he was so worried about Trick and his mom. He wants his dad to look like his world has fallen apart.

Dad looks the same as he always does, though. And that's just not fair. Trick's mom and Trick both have been crying on and off for weeks, trying to wrap their heads around the fact that his dad isn’t there anymore. Trick hates him, a little, in that moment. For not having wounds so deep they threaten to bleed out on the steps beneath their feet. For not missing Trick as desperately as Trick misses his dad.

Terry steps out of the driver's side of the car and moves up to clap his dad's shoulder. He does look a little different. His short, curly black hair has a bit of salt starting at his temples, and there are new laugh lines forming at the corners of his eyes. There's a slight gut growing at his middle, too. Nothing like his dad's large stomach, but he wasn't a young man in his mid-twenties with an endless metabolism anymore, either.

The two men stroll up to Trick and his mom. “Joey,” his mom greets coolly. She doesn't even look at Terry.

“Glenda,” he replies, voice flat.

They walk into the courthouse together, and his mom abruptly turns to him. “Patrick, stay out here in the lobby, okay? I'll come get you when we're done.”

He nods at her, and she rushes away from them, as though she can't bear to be near his dad any longer than necessary.

Trick feels a hand settle on his shoulder, and he looks up into his dad's caramel-colored eyes. “Hey Tricky,” he says softly.

Trick shrugs off the hand. “I'm almost ten, dad. You should just call me Trick.”

His dad laughs, and the sound of it prods at an old wound he hadn't even realized was there. A growing ache forms in his chest. How long has it been since he's heard his dad laugh? “Right, right, sorry bud. So, how are you doing? Is your mom taking care of you okay?”

“She's around,” Trick says, when what he means is, You're not. “I'm okay.” You would know how I am if you stayed.

“Good. Good. I'll…” he trails off and looks over at Terry. Trick looks at him too, and he sees something uncomfortably tender in the man's gaze. Trick looks away first. “I best head in to get this over with,” his dad continues. “Do you think you could keep Terry company, for me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, champ.”

He watches his dad’s retreating form until it disappears behind the courtroom door, then he sighs and walks over to some chairs that are set out in the lobby. He throws himself into one, and a moment later Terry hesitantly joins him.

Trick doesn't particularly feel like talking, and Terry doesn't seem to feel the need to fill the silence. He wishes he had his phone, but his mom confiscated it a few days ago after he shoved a kid at school into some lockers. His dad would have probably been proud of him, on account of the kid he shoved had been bullying a girl. But his dad wasn't around, and his mom told him violence was never the answer, so now he didn’t have a phone.

“How come you're even here?” Trick finally asks, looking over at Terry.

The dark haired man is staring off into space, but Trick's voice makes him blink and look down at him. “Yer dad asked me to come fer moral support.”

Trick's eyebrows furrow. “What does he need that for?”

The way Terry looks at him makes Trick feel like his heart is going to break in two. “He… yer mama wants full custody of you. He's hopin’ they'll split fifty-fifty, but… from what he was tellin’ me, it don’t seem like it'll go that way.”

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Trick asks, “What happens if it doesn't?”

Terry sighs and looks away from Trick, hazel eyes peering forlornly at the courtroom door. “Then I reckon he won't get to see you too much. He'll just be on the line fer payin’ child support.”

Fear at the thought of never getting to see his dad again grips him, followed immediately by an anger for the man next to him. “Well, what are you sad for, then? Isn't that what you want?” he snaps.

“I'm sad ‘cause yer daddy's sad.”

“He's staying with you, isn't he? Dad's always with you when he isn't home.” His breath is growing ragged, and he yells, “And now you get him all to yourself.”

A series of complicated emotions runs across Terry's face, before finally settling on something between guilt and sorrow. “He is stayin’ with me. Joey didn't have nowhere else to go after yer mama kicked him outta his home.”

Trick balls his hands into fists. “She kicked him out because of you. Why is he always with you? Why…” his lip quivers, and he closes his eyes tightly. “Why does he pick you over me?”

“Trick…” Terry says softly, trying to find the words to comfort him. “Yer daddy loves you, more ‘n anything.”

“No he doesn't. He's never around.”

Terry sighs. “Bein’ an adult is complicated. When yer young, everythin’ makes so much sense. You think you know what's right ‘n wrong, an’ you think the first time you fall in love, it'll be the only time.”

Trick looks over at the wistful tone in Terry's voice. After a moment, Terry says, “Joey loves you so much, Trick. But bein’ in that home with yer mama is hard for him. ‘Cause while he would give you the world to see you smile, he just don’t love her anymore.”

Tears spill down his cheeks at the declaration, and Trick drops his gaze to his lap. Of course, objectively he knows that. When they were still living together, his parents fought constantly, making their house a miserable place to exist. But it feels different, hearing someone else say it.

“Fer what it's worth, I am sorry, to you.”

They don't talk again after that. Time ticks on, until finally the courtroom doors open, and his parents step out. Trick sees Terry lock eyes with his dad, and his dad shakes his head minutely. Terry's face crumples, and he nods.

His mom lingers near the door as his dad approaches him. Trick is shocked to see that his dad's eyes are red and watery. Slowly, his dad kneels down in front of him and sets his hands on his shoulders.

“Hey Tricky, err… sorry, Trick, I mean. I uh,” he exhales a shuddering breath. “Listen, bud. I'm… I'm probably not going to be around much anymore.”

Trick is frozen to the spot, struggling to come to terms with what was happening. Finally, he manages to croak out, “Dad…”

His dad closes his eyes, and then his hands slide up Trick's shoulders to cup his face. When his dad looks at him again, a few tears escape down his cheeks. “I love you so, so much, Trick. Never ever forget that, okay? I've done some bad things in my life, made some pretty terrible mistakes. But you are never one of them. I love you, son.”

“Dad,” he whimpers, wrapping his small fingers around his dad's wrists. “You're leaving?”

The man in front of him buckles, as though Trick might as well have physically struck him. He fumbles in his jacket pocket and pulls something from it. Unrolling it, he tenderly sets the old Dodgers cap on Trick's head, then twists it around. “Trick. I need you to promise me. Promise me. That if you’re ever in trouble, or you need help, you'll call me, okay?”

“Dad, please…”

“Deal?”

“...deal.”

Trick is thirteen the fourth time he talks to Terry.

He’s sitting in a chair, glaring at his arresting officer from across her desk. The woman is filling out some paperwork, seemingly unbothered by the death glare from the teenager in front of her. It takes a few minutes for her to finish, then she finally meets his eyes and sighs. “Alright kid, let's go. Time for you to call your parents.”

Trick scoffs, but doesn't put up much of a fight when she grasps his upper arm and leads him to a phone connected to the wall. He stares at it for a minute, dread pooling in his abdomen at the thought of telling his mom he'd gotten arrested. Then the last painful conversation he'd had with his father appears in the forefront of his mind.

A scowl marrs his features. No, fuck that. He presses the phone to his ear and goes to dial in his mom's number. His hand feels like it's frozen, hovering over the numberpad.

“Any day now, kid,” the officer tells him.

Jaw clenching, Trick punches in the number for his dad's cell. He hasn't used it in nearly four years, but he still knows it by heart. The dial tone rings once, twice, three times. Trick is starting to worry that his dad won’t pick up, when the buzzing cuts off.

“Dad?”

There's a pause on the other end, then, “Trick?” It's Terry’s voice.

Trick stiffens, completely unprepared for whatever this interaction was going to be. “Terry,” he bites out, “why do you have… nevermind. Just get my dad.”

“He's at work. Left his phone. I was gonna bring it to him in a couple hours when my shift starts.”

He groans and lets his head fall against the wall. Great. Just great.

“Everythin’ alright?” Terry asks.

“It's fine, Terry.” A pause. “Why do you care, anyway?”

He can hear Terry's exasperation through the phone, “Yer dad's been achin’ to talk to you fer years, but you never answer his calls. I figure the only reason’ you'd be callin’ him was if somethin’ was wrong.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “I got arrested.”

Trick's eyebrows rise toward his hairline when he hears Terry swear on the other end. “Yer mama can't gitcha?”

“I don’t want her to know. I mean… she probably will sooner or later, but I don't want her to know right now.”

The silence from the other end is long enough that Trick has a moment of panic thinking Terry hung up on him. Then the thick southern drawl comes through the audio, “What station’re you at? I'll come gitcha ‘n pay whatever fine there is.”

“...I don't want you to do that.”

“Well it's me or yer mama, ‘cause Joey's at work.”

Trick mulls that over, but in the end, it really isn’t a choice. He asks the policewoman the address of the station, then rattles it off to Terry.

“Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes.”

It's been closer to seven minutes when Terry steps into the precinct. Trick sees that Terry immediately clocks him, but the man heads up to the front desk, likely to make sure everything is done by the books. It's a few minutes before Terry is led over to him, but then they're standing face-to-face.

The few gray hairs Terry had sported last time Trick saw him have spread so that he's gone full silver fox at the temples. Trick's never-ending growth spurt also has his head at a level with Terry's shoulder now. This is the first time Trick's ever seen Terry not clean-shaven. Or rather, partially shaven, considering only one half of his face bears a five o'clock shadow.

Terry greets him, and Trick just glowers back. Then the man is filling out paperwork on his behalf, and signing over a check to pay his processing fee. The whole process only takes about fifteen minutes, then the two of them are walking out of the station.

“Well… thanks,” Trick mutters, then moves to slink away from the other man.

“Woah woah, where d'you think yer goin’, compadre?”

Trick sneers at him, “Uh, away from you?”

Terry gives him a look, one that sets Trick's hackles up while simultaneously making him feel like a douchebag. “Man, I just shelled out three hun’erd bucks to bail you outta there. Least you could do is lemme give you a ride home.”

“Fine,” Trick snaps, stomping toward the black Cadillac that he knows belongs to Terry. It's a bit older now; there's a dent in the fender that he hadn't seen last time. Trick wonders if his dad still has the red toyota.

Terry lets Trick pick the radio station as they pull out of the parking lot. He fiddles with it for a moment, twisting the dial back and forth before finally settling on one that was playing Eminem's new song Berzerk.

“So,” Terry drawls, and Trick slumps lower into his seat. Here we go. “What'd they book you for?”

“If you think you're gonna have some deep heart-to-heart with me and I'll magically see the light and change my ways, you can shove it and just drop me off here.”

“Hey, I'm just wonderin’ what you found was worth gettin’ a mark against yer permanent record for.”

Trick snorts, “Permanent record? This isn't school, you shithead.”

“No, it's worse. It's life,” Terry retorts. “What, did you play hookie? Crack a bat against some mailboxes? That was always a big one back home.”

He rolls his eyes. “This isn't the sixties, dude.”

“Ouch.”

Trick smirks over at him. Terry doesn't seem hurt or upset though. His posture is relaxed, and his attention primarily fixed on the road. After a moment, Trick says, “I was shoplifting.”

That causes Terry's face to scrunch up. “Ain't yer new stepdad a rich lawyer or somethin’? The fuck do you need to shoplift for?”

“Fuck you. He's a dick and so are you,” Trick fumes.

“Is anyone who's tryin’ to look out fer you a dick in yer mind? ‘Cause if so, I think you need to look up the definition of the word.”

“I don't want you looking out for me.”

“Damn,” Terry snarked, “too bad you don't get a say in who cares about you.”

Trick doesn't want to reply to that, so he stews in silence and turns the volume up to an ear-splitting roar. Terry winces, but doesn't move to scold him or turn it back down. They drive like that for long enough that two more songs can cycle through the airwaves, until the burning question in the back of Trick's mind has to be voiced. He turns the radio completely off and asks, “Why did you have my dad's phone? Is he still living with you?”

Startled, Terry glances over to Trick, then settles his eyes back on the road. “No,” he replies, “that was only ever a temporary thing. He got his own place ‘bout four months after the divorce.”

“Then why did you—”

“We hang out. He came over to my place last night. We are friends, you know.” Trick huffs at that, not really wanting to dig into whatever the weird relationship between his dad and Terry is.

The car pulls up in front of his house, and Trick is feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. He looks over at Terry once the car is thrown in park, and Terry simply meets his gaze.

“...can you not tell my dad about me getting arrested?” Trick asks.

Terry hums, “That's a mighty tall request to ask me to hide from my friend.”

“That's not a no,” he says.

The older man clicks his tongue. “I reckon it's not. Tell you what. I'll keep this to myself, long as you start answerin’ yer dad's calls.”

Incredulous, Trick asks, “What?”

“He misses you somethin’ fierce. I think he'd love to hear from you.” Terry holds out a hand and Trick clasps it. “We got a deal?”

“Deal.”

It's less than two months till he's fifteen, the fifth time he hears Terry.

Trick’s friend drops him off at his dad's apartment. He's pretty drunk, and he doesn't want his mom knowing about it. Twice before, he's used his dad's place to sleep off a night of partying with his friends. His dad was royally pissed both times, but he never turned him away. Nor did he tell Trick's mom, so frankly it’s a win-win in his book.

He's about to knock on the door and demand entry, when the sounds of raised voices come muffled through the door. Curious, Trick leans his head against the wood and tries to listen in.

“—understand why not. This is a huge thing. We don't have to hide anymore.”

“Who said we were hiding?”

“We've always been hidin’. That's the point. But now it's legal.”

With a jolt, Trick recognizes Terry's voice, as well as his father's. But what was legal? Had they been doing something illegal, before?

“I just… it just happened, aren’t you worried maybe we're going a little fast?” dad asks.

“ Fast ?! We've been together damn near ten years, Joey.”

“I've dated other people since Glenda, it hasn't been just us.”

“The entire time yer with them, you still come over to my place to be with me,” Terry yelled. “An’ I don’t complain or say shit about it, ‘cause that's all it could ever be.”

There's a lull in the conversation, and Trick can barely hear footsteps crossing the room.

“It's different now though, ain't it?” Terry asks, voice soft. “We could be more.”

“I… I don’t know if I want more.”

“Now that's bullshit, an’ we both know it. Yer just fuckin’ scared . Scared of people knowin’ about us. Scared of them knowin’ you love a man.”

There's a muffled thump, and Trick stands there, frozen, waiting for what must inevitably come next.

“Scared of bein’ married to one.”

Trick lurches back from the door, heart pounding in his chest. He suddenly wants to be anywhere but here. He can't… he can't listen to his dad confess his love to Terry. His stomach roils at the thought, and he sprints as fast as he can away from the apartment complex. When the building isn't much more than a speck in the distance, Trick hunches over under a streetlight and empties his stomach all over the pavement.

His head is spinning when he fishes his phone out of his jeans, and he quickly dials his best friend's number. “Jodie?” he rasps.

“Trick?” comes a groggy voice through the phone. “Dude it's like two am.”

“I'm drunk in the middle of nowhere. Come get me?”

“What happened?”

“I don't want to get into it right now. Just… come on.”

“... fine, I'll get my dad. But you owe me for this. Convince your stepdad to take us to Knotts or something this weekend. Deal?”

“Yea… sure. Deal.”

At seventeen years old, he meets Terry for the sixth time during his father's wedding.

Faith is about as different from Terry as one could get. She's a petite thing at five foot one, and less than a hundred pounds sopping wet. Where Terry is pale with rosy cheeks and thick black hair, Faith’s complexion is dark and freckled and she tends to dye her tightly coiled hair bright unnatural colors. For the wedding it's colored various shades of pink. She's also about ten years younger than his father.

His dad had initially asked Trick to be his best man. The old man is lucky that he even deigned to show up at all. Instead, in what amounts to some sort of sick joke in Trick's mind, Terry is the best man.

The ceremony itself is fine, he supposes. They’re holding it at a small house Faith's parents rented on Long Beach. There are a number of people in attendance from Faith's side of the family. Trick is the only blood relation of his father's to be present. His dad doesn't have a good relationship with the rest of their family. His mother, obviously, didn't show up. Still too much bad blood between them. Instead, the rest of the seats on his dad's side are filled with his coworkers.

Trick is sandwiched between a highschool burnout who says his name is Nico, and a man who looks older than Trick but acts like he's five years younger. Calls himself Pickles.

“I've like, never been to a wedding before, man,” Nico says. “How long does it usually last?”

“I don't fucking know.”

“Well, when my sister got married it was only half an hour, but then the party was another six,” Pickles pipes up. Somehow, he’s gotten his hands on a plate of cupcakes, which is weird because the food caterers haven't set anything out yet.

“Yea, well my dad ain't gonna last that long.”

“Woah… wait you're Trick?” Pickles asks.

“Yea.”

“I like your neck tatt bro, Joey never mentioned it before,” Nico says.

Trick smirks. “I didn't have it before. Heard my old man was getting married so I called up my artist to get this done. Thought I'd prematurely ruin all his wedding photos since this shit ain’t gonna last.”

“Ooh, harsh man.”

“Yea,” Pickles says, “I mean, Chef Joey looked really happy earlier.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “Trust me, I know my dad. And I know what he likes. They'll be getting divorced in less than a year, depending on how long that asshole can keep lying to himself.”

“What does that mean?” Pickles asks through a mouthful of strawberry cupcake.

Trick wrinkles his nose and turns back to the front as the Wedding March begins to play. “It means he's a piece of shit,” Trick mutters.

Faith looks radiant as she walks down the aisle escorted by her father. Her wedding dress hangs off of her shoulders and flares out around her waist, and her bouquet is filled with pink roses the same shade as her elaborately styled hair. But really, it's her smile that is the most beautiful, directed toward Trick's father who stands up at the altar.

The bridesmaids stand at his dad's left, and when Faith reaches him, she's next to Terry on her right. Trick is briefly confused at the placement, until they turn toward each other and his dad briefly catches Terry's eye over her shoulder. Of course.

Trick doesn't pay much attention to the words spoken; his focus is taken up by watching his dad's face. Throughout the vows, his gaze constantly flickers over to his best man. Terry's smile is a brittle thing, and he looks like he might cry. Pickles is crying next to him; he thinks the line cook's reason for crying is a hell of a lot more noble than Terry's would be.

When his dad finally focuses on his bride, it's during the ‘I Dos’. He holds her face gently, and they kiss, and Terry claps along with the rest of the crowd. Trick thinks they make for a beautiful lie.

It's later—much later—after the food and drinks and dancing are well underway, that Trick spies Terry alone out on the deck, nursing a bottle of beer as he stares out at the waves. His tie is loose around his neck, and his face is flushed. He looks miserable.

Trick smiles at the bridesmaid he's been flirting with and excuses himself. A brief stop at the bar nets him another whiskey sour, and he sips it as he approaches the older man. “You know,” he starts, causing Terry to nearly jump out of his skin, “this is a wedding, right? Happy occasion?”

Terry eyes him warily, “Yea?”

“You look like someone took your dog out back and shot it.”

“Yea well,” Terry takes a swig of his beer, “only so long I can keep smilin’.”

“Aren't you a server, dude? Isn't it your job to fake being happy?”

That earns him an eye roll, “I got promoted to manager a couple years ago. Ain't yer dad tell you that?”

“I don't listen to most of the shit he tells me.”

“Hmph, yea, that sounds about right.”

Trick watches Terry a moment, and the silence is long enough that Terry glances back at him with a cocked brow. “I don't know how you can stand to put up with him,” Trick says.

“It's complicated. There's more to it than I’m inclined to get into at his weddin’.”

“I know more about it than you think.”

Terry's beer pauses on the way to his lips, and he scrutinizes Trick carefully, wondering at the implication in his tone.

“If there's one thing I know about my dad, it's that he's a coward. That ain't gonna change for nobody. Not even you.”

Trick doesn't miss the way Terry's jaw tenses, even as the older man laughs and tries to play it off. “An’ I'm supposed to be takin’ life advice from the neck tattoo fuckboy?”

It's a cop out, but one that Trick allows. His dad isn't the only one who's a coward. Smirking, he rolls his head back to show off more of the ink. “You like it?”

“Makes you look like a criminal.”

“Damn, and here I was hoping to be the next Mr. Rogers.”

Terry grins at him. “I'm just surprised it ain't a dinosaur with lasers comin’ outta its eyes.”

Trick groans, “Fuck man, you remember that? It was like… twelve years ago.”

“Man yer dad's still got a lot of yer old artwork hung up ‘round his place. I see it every time I come over.” They both pause as the unacknowledged thing comes dangerously close to the light, before Terry hastily asks, “He seen it yet?”

“Nah, I've mostly been avoiding him.”

“Well, he's about to,” Terry says, nodding over his shoulder.

Trick turns just as his dad steps up behind him. Whatever his old man was about to say dies on his lips at the sight of Trick's new body art, and he scowls instead. “Surprised you even showed up. What's this shit all over your neck?”

“I had to come support you on your big day,” he says sarcastically.

“Uh huh, and you couldn't even rent a tux? You look like some hobo just crawled in off the street,” his dad snarks, reaching out to pluck at Trick's leather jacket.

“Whatever. Shouldn't you be with your new wife?” Trick feels only marginally bad when Terry flinches next to him.

“She's fine,” Joey says dismissively. “I needed to make sure my delinquent son wasn't over here stealing anything.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Trick asks incredulously. “What is there to steal out on the deck? I was just talking to your bo- best man.”

If either man catches his near slip up, they don't remark on it. Terry sets a hand on his dad's arm and gently pushes him back. “Joey, it's fine. I'm keepin’ an eye on him. Trick's right. Why don't you go back to yer wife.”

Hurt flashes across his dad's face, before his expression shutters and he gives them a short nod. “Fine.” His eyes lock with Trick, and he says, “But if I hear one word of you starting any shit or stealing, you're outta here, deal?”

“Deal.”

The seventh time he sees Terry, Trick is twenty-two and it's Valentine's day.

He's been saving up money for a couple months to take Margo to this restaurant. It’s a bit of a drive from where they live, and more than a bit out of his price range, but it’s also one of the few fancy restaurants he'd looked up that serves more vegetarian options than just salads. And he wants to treat his girl to something nice.

Even after scouring his closet for a nice shirt and slacks, the maître d’ still turns his nose up at them when they arrive. When Trick gives his last name, the man sneers and informs them that someone has already claimed that reservation, which is a lie because they're standing right there. He has to actually pull up the reservation on his phone before the man finally relents and shows them to a table. Which, whatever. At least it's not a shitty table near the kitchen or something.

The server doesn't have the same conniptions that the glorified host does, and Trick selects a bottle of pinot noir for their table. After a moment of thought, Margo places an order for some stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer, and the two of them are left to enjoy their date.

“I know I said it before, but you do look gorgeous, by the way,” Trick tells her, scanning his girlfriend up and down. She’s wearing a slender off-the-shoulder dress that comes down to about mid-thigh. The gown is a soft blue at the chest that darkens into a deep midnight the further down it goes. The color of it really makes Margo's stormy blue eyes pop, and a part of Trick is just thinking how he can't wait to slip it off her later.

She smiles coyly at him and reaches out to set her hand over his. “You're not so bad yourself, Trick Pony,” she purrs, circling her thumb along the tattoo on the back of his hand. “I didn’t even know you owned a suit jacket.”

He clicks his tongue a couple times and winks at her, rather than respond directly. No need to tell her that he'd just snagged this from his dad's closet. It's not like the old man could fit into it anymore anyway.

Their wine and appetizer are delivered, and they place their order for their meals and dig in. Everything is delicious, and Trick engages his girl in small talk over their meal. He's being intentionally flirtatious, enjoying the way she flushes at his teasing and quips. Margo nearly melts over her eggplant parm, and Trick's lobster risotto is probably the best thing he's eaten in months.

Margo wants to order dessert, so while she looks over the menu Trick excuses himself and heads toward the restroom to make space. It's as he's leaving to return to his table that he passes by a very familiar face. Trick freezes, but the other man doesn’t notice him and simply moves past him. He bites his lip, then moves off to the side to duck around the corner and wait for him to reemerge.

When Joey steps back out, Trick follows him at a bit of a distance to the other side of the restaurant from where his table is. Joey isn't currently married—obviously—but during their last conversation he'd mentioned the cute redhead he'd been seeing. One of the servers at his restaurant.

The man with wavy black hair sitting opposite his dad is decidedly not the buxom ginger he'd been told about. Trick knows who it's going to be the second he sees the table, but he casually circles the room anyway to have his suspicions confirmed.

Terry's face lights up with a dopey, love-struck smile as Joey returns, and to Trick's complete dumbfounded shock his dad leans down and gives the other man a chaste kiss before retaking his seat.

What the fuck??

Wasn't their whole thing like some secretive, fucked-up infidelity relationship? Skulking around behind Joey's girlfriend's—or wife's—back, never admitting to what they were doing aloud where other people could hear. What the fuck were they doing on a date in public? And on Valentine's Day of all days!

Did his dad dump the redhead he'd been talking about two days ago? After nearly twenty years, did his dad finally sack up and start dating Terry??

He stares at them. Long enough that a server comes over and asks if he needs anything. Reluctantly, Trick moves back to his side of the restaurant and his date. There's a chocolate lava cake on the table, which Margo is poking at listlessly.

She straightens as he returns and gives him a quizzical look. “Everything alright?”

Trick frowns at her, and it takes him a second to process the question. “Yea… I just.” He shakes his head and huffs. “Nevermind, it's fine. Sorry I took so long.”

“...anything you want to tell me?”

“I ran into my dad.”

That makes her blink. “Oh!” Her nose wrinkles. “Oh.” There's an uncomfortable pause, then she asks, “Did he… say something to you?”

“He didn't see me.”

“So, what's the issue then?”

Trick exhales and closes his eyes. There's a whole history with his dad that he just can't get into right now. Margo knows his relationship with his father is… strained, at best. One of the things he likes about her is that she doesn't try to pry into his shit. He hopes that she's not going to start now.

“Just drop it. I don’t want to talk about him. Fuck him.” And fuck Terry too.

“But Trick—”

“I said drop it, Margo,” he snaps, a bit more forcefully than he ought to.

She flinches, and he grimaces. Trick reaches out and takes her hand, “I'm sorry, baby. Look, let's just focus on us, okay? We were having such a good night.”

It takes a moment, but she eventually squeezes his hand and murmurs, “Alright Trick Pony.” She taps her fork against the side of the dessert plate and winks at him, “Let's get this boxed up and eat it at home while I give you your Valentine's day gift, deal?”

All thoughts of his dad and Terry flee his mind at her sultry tone, and Trick smirks back at her. “Deal.”

When Trick is twenty-four he meets Terry for the eighth time and asks him for a job.

He knows Terry is going to hire him regardless of what he says or does in the interview, so he takes the opportunity to fuck with him a little bit. Seems Terry wants to keep it professional though, asking him about his name and other stupid shit he already knows the answer to. He's almost grateful when his dad comes over and starts yelling. Almost.

A part of him definitely acknowledges that being in the same place as his old man for any length of time is a recipe for disaster. On the other hand, proving his dad wrong out of spite doesn't sound like a bad way to spend his time. Plus, working alongside a bunch of hotties is a nice bonus.

Speaking of, Trick follows behind Nicole as she leads him around the restaurant. He's really only half paying attention. “So that girl up at the front, Amber.”

Nicole pauses and turns to eye him up and down. “Less than an hour after getting hired and you're already sniffing around the hostess. Yea, you're Joey's kid alright.”

“So, they actually hooking up?”

“I mean, any day now, probably.”

He shakes his head. “Damn, poor girl.”

She tilts her head and asks, “What do you care?” Her nose wrinkles. “Don't tell me you're after your dad's sloppy seconds.”

“What? No, that's nasty as hell. I just feel bad for her. Seems like a nice girl, and my dad's a piece of shit who breaks the heart of every girl he's ever dated.”

Nicole lofts an eyebrow at him and smirks, “Oh, a bad boy with daddy issues. Never seen that one before.”

“Hilarious.”

They walk through the kitchen and she introduces him to some people he already knows, and a few he doesn't. When she gets flagged down for a table, he takes the opportunity to flirt with Amber purely because he knows it'll circulate back to his dad and piss him off.

“Oh, look at you in the uniform,” she says.

“You should see me out of it,” he replies.

Amber and the other girl, ‘Bridgey’, both laugh awkwardly. When Nicole returns and inserts herself into the conversation, the other two both give her looks before heading off toward whatever they were doing before.

“Back to finish my tour?”

“Yea, Aaron's gonna watch my section.” She grabs his arm and drags him away from the kitchen. “What did you mean earlier when you said he breaks hearts?”

Trick eyes her up and down speculatively, then asks, “How long you been working here?”

“A few years.”

“Long enough to have seen him dating other girls?”

She purses her lips and regards him for a moment, thinking. “You're talking about how he wasn't loyal when he was dating Kaitlyn.”

He leans back, impressed at her logic. “Damn, you know about that?”

There's a gleam in her eye as she murmurs, “I mean, I didn't have proof. But when she quit she told me it was because Joey was sometimes cagey about where he was some nights, and she swears that she caught him with a hickey once that wasn't from her.” Nicole glances around furtively then steps closer to him and lowers her voice to a whisper, “Are you saying it's true?”

Trick considers her. He suspects anything he tells her will be communal knowledge by the end of the day. Considering he only just got hired, if he reveals the truth about his dad and Terry and gets subsequently fired, it's not like it'll be any different than an hour ago before his interview. Still…

“I'm saying that every woman he's been with since my mom, he's cheated on. That pretty little blonde up at the front’s gonna be no different.”

There's a few seconds where neither speaks as she absorbs that information. “For the record, I think he's an asshole who's gonna hurt her too.”

“Congratulations, you got a functioning brain.”

She rolls her eyes at his sarcasm, then sighs, “Guess for Amber's sake I'll just hope we're both wrong, because there's no talking any sense into her.”

He shrugs, “Hope all you want, it's not gonna matter.”

“You seem pretty certain that he won't be faithful.”

“He won't.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Look gossip queen, if it's all the same to you, I don't really wanna talk about my dad's fuckin’ twenty year affair.”

“Ohmigosh,” she whispers, a truly dangerous grin curling her lips, “you know who he cheated on her with.”

Fuck.

He tries to play it off, “How'd you get that idea?”

“Please, ‘twenty year affair’? You have to tell me who she is.”

Trick turns away from her and starts heading toward the kitchen. “I don't gotta tell you shit.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like I'm ever gonna meet her.”

If only you knew.

Over the next few months, Trick works as a model employee. His dad is furious that he can't find a reason to get Trick fired. Eventually, Nicole stops pestering him about his dad's love life, though her brief romantic interest in him also fades when she realises that he won't put up with her bullshit. Fine by him, given he's got his sights set on a different server.

When the whole Sydney Sweeney debacle happens, Trick enjoys talking shit with Amber about his dad. The girl's pretty funny when she's not trying to tiptoe around her boyfriend's petty jealousy and anger management issues. Then his dad has to come up and make a big fucking deal out of nothing, and Trick just stops bothering. It was fun riling the old man up at first, but it's been months and now it's just annoying.

It shouldn't be a surprise when Trick is passing by the manager's office an hour later and he hears his dad's voice inside.

“I just don't get what the big fuckin’ deal is. It's not like I'm ever gonna meet Sydney Sweeney.”

Trick can hear the sound of clothes rustling and Terry's rushed, “Uh huh.”

“I mean, what right does she have to say who I can and cannot look at on instagram, huh?”

Fuck, his dad was such a goddamn hypocrite.

“Joey, I agreed to this on the condition that you don't fuckin’ talk about Amber or any other girl while we're together. Now shut the fuck up and put yer mouth to better use or get the hell out.”

Trick grimaces and steps back from the office. “You're such a fucking asshole,” he growls.

Though he means to just get back to bussing tables, Trick somehow finds himself back up at the host stand.

Amber looks up at him and frowns, “You're not supposed to be up here. What if Joey sees?”

It takes so much effort to not just drop it right then and there, leave her to her stupidity and naivety. “He's… otherwise occupied. And why do you give a shit if I piss him off, ain’t you two fighting?”

She looks down at her seating chart and frowns, “I guess. I dunno. He's just so infuriating sometimes.”

“Then dump him,” he states, as though it were the obvious answer. Mostly because it is.

“I don't…” she sighs. “You don't get it. Like, I'm mad at him, but I still really like him, you know? I don't want to break up over him liking a stupid instagram post.”

“Twenty-eight of ‘em, last I heard.”

Amber groans and hides her face behind a menu. “That doesn't help.”

“Good. It's not supposed to.” When she refuses to respond to that, Trick shakes his head. “Look, Amber. I promise you. Promise you. That you are so much better off without him. At least think about it, deal?”

“Trick, I know you have issues with him, but—”

“Just think about it.”

She sighs dramatically, then offers him a soft, “...deal.”

The next day, Amber and his dad make up and are back to acting like a couple in love. Trick feels sick to his stomach.

Trick sees Terry nearly every day in his mid-twenties.

He hadn't been lying to Aaron when he told him that he picked up on stuff. After only a few months, Trick feels like he knows all the ins and outs of the restaurant side of things. Which allows him to shift his focus toward the people he works with.

To his chagrin, Amber and his dad are still dating despite his efforts to talk sense into her. Their relationship is a constant battle of either non-stop fighting because both of them are insecure and jealous, or tooth-rotting flirting and dates that inconvenience everyone around them.

That's not even mentioning the Terry of it all. Whenever his dad and Amber are in a snit, the restaurant suffers but Terry is oddly cheerful. Trick knows this is when his dad goes back to the other man like a fucking addict. Then when the two lovebirds make up, Terry turns his attention to Clint and awkwardly attempts to flirt with the bartender. It's painful to watch, especially since as soon as his dad notices, he goes on a hair-trigger and any little thing anyone does—especially Amber—will set him off. And it's a whole miserable cycle that goes on for far too long.

It's not until he's been working at Bistro Huddy for almost a year that he finally decides he can't fucking take it anymore.

Terry's house is honestly about what Trick would expect for the other man. It's a moderately-sized ranch house with large windows and a well-maintained stone yard dotted with various types of cacti. His manager's black Cadillac is parked in the driveway, and thankfully it's the only car present.

After taking a few deep breaths to psych himself up, Trick hops off his motorcycle and strolls up to the door.

On the third knock, Terry answers, a confused frown curling his lips. “Trick? What the hell?”

“Sup, Terry.”

“...why are you here, at my house?” His eyes widen a fraction. “Did Joey tell you where I live? Is he alright?”

“Nah, I followed you home.”

That earns him an unimpressed look. “So that's a completely normal thing to say,” Terry replies dryly.

Trick shrugs, “I needed to talk to you.”

Now the expression morphs to disbelief, “And you couldn’ do it at work?”

“The walls have ears around there, and it's kind of more of a you and me conversation.”

“Hmph.” A beat passes where Terry just eyes him shrewdly, before he opens the door and steps back with a sigh. “Well, y'all might as well come in. Doubt this is an ‘out on the porch’ kinda talk.”

The interior of Terry's home is fairly open concept. The front door immediately lets out into a large living room, separated from the kitchen by an island just large enough for two people to sit at. Most of his furniture is fairly rustic, all warm browns and reds and coppers, but the art hanging up on the walls gives the place a more refined, modern feel. It's… comfortable. Homely, even.

Trick moves over to a plush leather couch as Terry steps into the kitchen. “Y'all want a beer?” the southerner asks.

“Yea.”

When Terry joins up with him in the den, he slides a corona across the coffee table to Trick and takes a seat on the recliner opposite him. The older man takes a sip of his own drink and asks, “So, what was so important y'all needed to catch me after hours?”

There's no easy way to say it, so Trick doesn't feel the need to beat around the bush. He came here for a reason, after all. “We need to talk about you and my dad.”

Terry grimaces and sets his beer a little too forcefully onto the table. “What about me ‘n Joey?”

“Don't,” Trick says curtly. “Don't… do that. You think after twenty fucking years I wouldn't know what’s going on between you two? You think I'm that stupid?”

“I know you ain't stupid, Trick,” Terry says softly, staring down at his beer.

“Then be honest with me. Tonight, at least.” Just to drive the point home, Trick adds, “Please.”

Trick watches a few emotions play across Terry's face, before the man closes his eyes in defeat. “Alright,” he replies, voice barely above a whisper.

He has to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Frankly, Trick thought he'd have to fight harder to get Terry to agree to talk openly about this… thing between him and his dad. But the other man looks exhausted, and Trick wonders if that's about more than just the long day at work.

“When'd you figure it out?” Terry asks.

It takes Trick a moment to think back through all the years. Eventually, he settles on, “For sure? I think when I was fifteen.”

That startles Terry enough that he looks up at Trick. “Ten years? Why ain't you said anythin’?”

“Because my dad is a grown ass man who can make his own mistakes. Same goes for you. Why should I be the one to point out how fucked up this all is?” he replies, an accusing tone coloring his words at the end.

Terry swallows and looks away from him, shame making his cheeks flush red. “Fair enough.” He takes a sip of his beer to cover the awkward tension in the room, then says, “I suppose I did suspect somethin’ after the weddin’. But when you never brought it up again… figured I was mistaken.”

“I just don't get why?”

“You'll hafta be a might bit more specific.”

“Like… why do this to yourself? For twenty years? Why all the secrecy and cheating and affairs? For that matter, why even start something with him in the first place, knowing he was married?” Every burning question he's ever had regarding their relationship pours out of him. Trick prides himself on being a fairly detached individual. He's done his utmost to make sure he is nothing like his emotionally charged father. But he's been biting his tongue trying to figure out the answers to some of these questions for over a decade. So yea, maybe he deserves a bit of slack for being invested in what Terry has to say on the matter.

“That's a lot to unpack.”

“We've both got time. And considering you're responsible for why I mostly grew up without a dad, I think you owe me some answers.”

Terry flinches at his words, but doesn't deny them. Trick thinks he might've punched Terry if he tried to.

“God, alright. Just… give me a second,” Terry mutters, standing and moving toward the backdoor. He's only gone for about a minute, and when he returns he's clutching a lit cigarette between his lips. Trick stares openly as Terry takes a drag from it. He's been working with the man for a year and known him even longer, and he's never seen him smoke before. Though, given how tense this interaction has Trick feeling, Terry is probably taut as a fucking guitar string.

A cloud of smoke spills from his lips as Terry says, “When I first met Joey… I thought he was the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on. Still think that, to be honest. This tall, broad-shouldered, sun-bronzed man with chestnut curls and a smile that promised t’ take you t’ hell, but it'd sure be the most fun you'd ever have in your life while you were goin’. A man whose laugh promised danger but made my nerves light up like a fuckin’ firecracker. First time I tasted his food, I swore Jesus'd fuckin’ weep that he never tried it ‘fore his last meal. I'd never met a man who wore his heart so openly. With Joey, yer always gonna know what he's feelin’ an’ why he's feelin’ it. Every thought in his head. Every word that comes outta his mouth. Every fuckin’ action he takes. It's all passion.”

Trick doesn't dare speak into the silence as Terry breathes through his cigarette. When the man exhales, he whispers, “‘Course I'd live in sin t’ be spared a second of his time.”

Terry's gaze is unfocused, fixed on a point somewhere in the past when he continues, “I noticed the ring on his finger. Ain't gonna pretend I didn't. But I also wasn't tryin’ t’ get into anythin’ serious, neither. It was just flirtin' at work. Harmless fun.” He rubs at his wrist absentmindedly, and Trick can practically see the memories playing across his face. “Then I found him in the walk-in an’ he begged me to keep an eye on you. I was hopelessly infatuated by that point, ‘course I folded like a stack of cards. That was the first time he kissed me.”

Anger and denial form an immediate lump in Trick's throat. He remembers that day. It's fuzzy and a lot of the details have been scattered to time, but it's also one of the earliest memories he does have. He doesn't know whether he wants to cry or laugh or punch a hole through the wall at the revelation that Trick was the catalyst that eventually led to his parents’ divorce. Probably a bit of all three. Instead, he just drains half his beer as he listens in numb silence.

The cigarette is half-ashed at this point. “Don't know when exactly it happened after that. Things just started progressin’ further and further. Next thing I know, I'm deeply in love with a married man.” Terry snorts. “Though, I suppose he wasn't married too long after that. Once the divorce went through, I figured we'd be open about it. I mean, we ain't had a reason to hide no more, an’ people were gettin’ more ‘n more acceptin’ of gay couples.”

“But you didn't,” Trick murmurs.

Terry nods and finishes off his beer. “We didn't. Couple months after Joey ‘n Glenda were officially split, he started datin’ Bethany. Seemed t’ me like he only wanted me ‘cause I wasn't Glenda, so I backed off’a him. That fuckin’ hurt.” The glance Terry sends his way is so brief, he would have missed it had he not been watching the other man. “Two weeks into their relationship, Joey started knockin’ round my door again. I coulda told him no. Coulda said that I didn't wanna be no fuckin’ side-hustle no more. I do own that.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “But I was desperate for him. Found myself comparin’ every other man I looked at with Joey, an’ I found ‘em all lackin’. So when he stood on my doorstep like the devil come a'callin’ and whispered lust an’ sin an’ poison into my ear… ain't nothin’ to do but invite him into my bed.”

“I could always justify what we were doin’ by that. All those other girls that caught his eye and hung off his arm, none of ‘em mattered ‘cause they were all just temporary. I was the one he returned to. I was permanent.”

“But he refused to marry you,” Trick says gently. He doesn't know why he delivers that blow so delicately, when it’s probably no different from shouting it the way Terry's face crumples in anguish at the words. Maybe because even after ten years, Trick thinks it's still the most cowardly thing his father has ever done.

“How could you possibly know about that?” The words are no more than a breath, and Trick has to strain to catch them. He does all the same.

“I was there.”

Terry freezes, eyes widening as he looks over at Trick, panicked. His mouth moves soundlessly as he tries to find something, anything to say to that. Trick doesn't envy him.

“What d'you mean, you were there?”

“I was just outside his door. Heard the whole thing. Was gonna sleep off a hangover at his place, but when I heard you… I just left.” Trick doesn't give Terry time to recover. “Why did you keep going back to him after that? Surely you knew at that point that he'd never commit to you. You'd just be his midnight booty-call when whatever girl he was sleeping with couldn't satisfy his gay cravings,” he says, all venom and spite.

“Don't talk about Joey like that. That's not how it is at al—”

Trick slams his fist against the table, effectively cutting off Terry's words. “Fucking hell, Terry, do you even hear yourself? You've been pining over that piece of shit for twenty fucking years!” he yells. “Nothing's changed! Nothing's ever going to change!” Trick jolts to his feet and shoves away from the couch, turning his back to the other man. He can't even bear to look at him. “How many women have you hurt along the way by keeping up with this shitty situation, huh? My mom, Bethany, Laura, Faith, Kaitlyn… Amber. Probably more that I don't fucking know about.” His blood is boiling in his veins, years of pent up aggression and guilt and disgust spilling out of him like tar on pavement.

He whirls around to face Terry and snarls, “When are you going to grow a fucking spine and stop making excuses for him?!”

When Terry removes the hand he's pressed against his eyes, Trick is shocked to see tears streaming down his cheeks. He's never seen Terry cry, either. The man might've come close a few times over the years, but he's never openly wept before; not like now.

“Don't you think I know that?” he asks, voice thick with the grief that two decades of longing will get you. Dark spots dot his shirt as tears drip off his chin. “Don't,” his voice breaks and he looks down at his hands. “Don't you think I hate myself a little more, everytime he calls me at one in the mornin’ an’ asks to come over, ‘cause his girlfriend went home?”

Numbly, Trick stands there, unsure how to react to the very raw pain in the other man's voice. Terry isn't a loud crier. There's no wailing or sniffling or deep choking gasps. There's nothing to fill the silence that stretches on as Terry allows the misery he's been putting off for twenty years to wash over him.

“Three years ago,” Terry begins, “Joey took me out fer Valentine's Day. To a restaurant. Held my hand ‘n kissed me where strangers could see. Thought that meant he was ready to take a new step. Together.” He wipes away at his tears and lets out a hollow laugh. “Came to find out later that he'd made a reservation fer him ‘n Kate, an’ when she couldn't make it, he brought me instead ‘cause he still wanted to try out the food there an’ get some ideas for Bistro Huddy.”

He laughs again and smiles at Trick, and the actions don't make sense in his head, because how can a person sound and look so depressed while doing either? “Pretty fuckin’ pathetic that that date's one of the happiest memories I got in the last twenn'y years, ain’t it.”

“Terry,” Trick sighs. What a fucking nightmare this whole venture turned out to be. A cathartic one, maybe. One that needed to happen, definitely. Didn't make any of it any easier, though. “Amber doesn't deserve what you and my dad are doing to her.”

“She doesn't.”

“I've tried talking to her and getting her to see reason, but she won’t break up with him.”

“I know.”

The agreements are uttered so easily. Simple facts that Terry couldn’t refute even if he wanted to. A wariness settles over him at the calm responses from the other man, but he decides that it's time to talk about what he actually came here for. “You have to stop this. For your sake, if not hers. You've spent nearly half your life on my dad, and what has it actually gotten you other than heartache?” Trick hesitates for a moment, then adds, “You say you love him. Hell, maybe in his own fucked up way he loves you. But what you've been doing to each other? For each other? It's not healthy, man.”

Terry slumps, as though hearing the truth of the matter—and it is the truth, Trick knows this in his bones—has physically drained him of his energy. “I know it ain't.”

When he doesn't immediately get an agreement that Terry will leave his dad alone, he tries another angle. “What about Clint?”

“What about him?”

“I mean, I know you said other guys don't really compare to my dad—which I don't fucking get by the way, but you do you—but you've been flirting with him a bit, right?”

A blush colors Terry's cheeks at being called out directly, and he says, “Clint's… attractive. Reminds me of your dad when we first met, if I'm bein’ honest.” Ugh. Trick didn't really need to know that. “But I mean, there's… the age gap, an’ I don't even know if he likes guys.”

How the fuck was this his life, giving Terry dating advice? “Amber's a lot younger than Clint, and she's dating my dad. Once you're over twenty-one, it don’t really matter too much. As for whether Clint likes guys…” he shrugs, “you could just ask him. On a date. Worst he can do is say no.”

“Worst he can do is quit.”

“Eh, then he quits. So what? You’ve got Deb in the meantime to take the shifts, and there's probably a million hot young bartenders out there that can fill the roll of eye candy for old women.”

That earns a genuine chuckle out of Terry. “I reckon you’re right.”

“So, you'll leave my dad alone? For good?”

Terry stands and offers Trick a hand. “I'll do my best. An’ I'm sure you'll be around to keep me in line, anyway.” It's said jokingly, but Trick feels the role of designated cockblocker settle over his shoulders all the same. The thought makes him grin, and he grasps Terry's hand in his own.

“It's a deal then, Boss.”

By the time he's twenty-five, Trick has lost count over the number of times he's had a confrontation with his dad.

Hell, this isn't even the first time they've had a row over Terry, though the circumstances have certainly changed.

Their fights have never progressed to swinging fists before. For all the many faults that Trick can find in his father, he knows the old man would never lay a finger on him. Still, as they stand staring at each other in the back alley behind the restaurant, a slight shiver of trepidation goes through him at the expression on his dad's face.

“So let me get this straight,” Trick clarifies. “You're pissed because I'm… talking to my manager?”

“Oh, do us both a favor and drop the bullshit, Trick. Everytime I try to catch Terry alone to talk to him, you're right there sticking your fucking nose into our business. Calling him away for bullshit or saying something to piss me off and distract me. Don't think I haven't notice whatever fucked up game you're playing,” Joey snaps. “So tell me what the fuck is going on. Because now, my best friend won't even talk to me outside of work, either.”

Trick sneers at him. “Good. Glad he finally fucking listened to reason.”

Joey—and it is Joey right now, he can't think of this man as his father when he's like this—strides over to him and gets right up in his face. Trick’s always hated that his old man still has a couple inches on him, but never moreso than right now as Joey uses his height to his full advantage and looms over Trick. “Did you fucking say something to him?”

It's easy to jut his chin out stubbornly and glare up at Joey; he's had a lot of practice throughout his life. “Just what he needed to hear.”

“Oh yea?” Joey replies incredulously. “And what might that be?”

“That you're a piece. Of. Shit.”

Joey exhales angrily through his nose. “Kid. I ain’t never hit you before. But sometimes you really fucking test me.”

Trick scoffs at him. “Big words, coming from the biggest coward I know.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” Trick growled, shoving away from his dad. “Can't you just leave him the fuck alone? Haven't you already wasted enough of his life?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Do us both a favor and drop the bullshit, Joey,” he says mockingly, parroting his dad's words back at him. “I know all about the fucked up thing you had going on. I've known for years. And I'm so sick of having to pretend like I'm not watching you ruin the lives of everyone you come into contact with through this fucked up affair of yours.” Trick hates that he's yelling, but it feels so good to finally berate Joey for all the strife he's put everyone around him through. “You just… you just fucking take and take and take. You suck all the happiness out of people for your own selfish needs, and then toss them aside when you've used them up.”

He's trembling through his rage, everything he's held back over the years frothing on his tongue as he spits, “My mom loved you, and you left her alone to raise a kid while you went off and fucked your secret boyfriend. All the fucking naive women you’ve dated over the years gave you their hearts, and for what?! Terry loves you so fucking desperately, that he broke down in tears because you took him on a public date. Said it was one of his best memories in two decades. For a shitty date to a mediocre restaurant on a commercial holiday. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

Trick stares Joey straight in the eye as he screams. “I loved you. When I was a kid, my dad could do no fucking wrong. I looked up to him like he hung the fucking stars in the sky. And you know what that love got me?!” He kicks one of the trashcans hard enough that it clatters to the ground and spills debris all over the street. “It got me a dad who after a year of working together still thinks I'm gonna fucking rob the restaurant blind. Who calls me a scumbag before he uses my name. Who after six months still thinks I'm not good enough for Bridgette, my girlfriend, who I treat like a fucking angel.” Trick grabs up an empty beer bottle from the ground and hucks it at the back of the restaurant. Glass shards rain down around them, more beautiful than ceramic, but sharp enough to cut to bone.

His anger splinters among the thousands of glass pieces on the ground, and he asks softly, “What… what did I ever even do to you?” To his horror, Trick can feel a lump forming in his throat, and he swallows around it painfully. “I mean… yea, I shoplifted a few times when I was a dumbass teenager. But… is that really enough to make you hate me?”

Warm arms envelope him, and Trick is too worn out to struggle as Joey pulls him into his chest. He doesn't try to pull away, nor does he embrace the man back. Just stands there, numbly, as Joey tugs his hat off and gently runs calloused fingers through his hair. The gesture makes him feel small again. Scraped up knees, snot running from his nose, and his dad petting through his hair and murmuring soothing words, able to cure anything that ails him. He's not a child anymore, though, and the motions feel brittle and hollow; any moment this feeling will shatter like glass across the pavement.

“I don't hate you, Trick,” his dad tells him. “I could never, ever hate you.” When Joey sighs, his whole body melts against Trick. “I'm sorry that I don't know how to be a good dad.”

That's the second time in as many years that he's heard his dad apologize. If he were to try to talk right now, Trick is terrified that he'd have to choke back a sob, so he says nothing.

Joey’s never had an issue with filling up space. His words wash over Trick, all sorrow and exhaustion. “I didn't have a good role model for any of it growing up. My Ma… woman was a saint. She taught me the love of cooking. But she was also real sickly, so I rarely got to be with her. My dad… both older brothers… they're the worst sort of scum. Dangerous. Criminals.” His arms tighten around Trick, and he murmurs, “Sometimes when I see you, with your tatts and your petty thefts and those dark blue eyes you inherited from him. I… I'm sorry, Tricky, it ain't fair to you, but you look so much like my old man. And it scares the shit out of me, imagining you turning out like him. Puts me on the defensive. Because… because I did have to defend myself from him. And Vinny and Franky.”

Trick pulls away from his father's hold, who lets him go without protest. “You've… never talked about your family with me.”

“Well,” Joey swallows, “maybe I oughta.”

“You having a shitty dad doesn't excuse the way you treated me. The way you left me.”

“It doesn't,” Joey agrees. “But I'd like you to know anyway.”

Trick doesn't think anything his dad is about to say will ever make up for the last twenty-five years, but he can't deny that he is curious to hear about a part of his family that has been kept hidden from him all his life. “Let's hear it then.”

Joey fixes his gaze on a far off point, unable to bring himself to look at his son as he says, “Our whole family, Trick. My dad, brothers, uncles, cousins. All of them. They're… terrible people. When I was growin’ up, I was told family above all. Never seemed to apply to me, though.” He frowns and clenches his hands into fists. “I was the youngest, outta all of ‘em. By over a decade. My old man didn't want another kid. Left me to my ma to raise, until she couldn't do it anymore on account of her health. So he'd lock me up in a room while he conducted ‘business’ with the family. I used to cry and beg him to let me out.” His dad's face takes on a green tinge as he rubs at his jaw, lost in memory. “Learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut.”

He's never seen his dad so shaken before. Joey tends to exude an aura of confidence and bravado. It's… unnerving, seeing him hunch over as he recounts his childhood. “When I started school at five, I'd have to walk home alone for a couple miles, every day, ‘cause my brothers’ time was better spent extorting hardworkin’ people for money. I learned how to stitch up a wound when I was seven, Trick. I used to ask for cups of ice from the bodega on the way home from school so I'd have something for the bruises that I'd end up with before bed, praying that they'd look old enough the next morning that no one would notice and think something was wrong with my home.”

“Everyone… all of my classmates stayed away from me. The parents knew my family was dangerous, and told their kids to leave me alone. I don't blame ‘em, not a bit. But I was real lonely growing up.”

Trick tries to picture it, this life his dad is describing. His mind drifts back to his sixth birthday, surrounded by friends, presents, cake, pizza. His dad hadn't been there, but he'd paid for the Barney actor to come. Paid for the food and party games. He tries to imagine instead, a sixth birthday locked up in a dingy room, no gifts or screaming children. Still healing bruises on his arm where a man thrice his size had grabbed him too roughly. A lump on the back of his head from an older boy who relished in smacking around his baby brother, younger and weaker than him. His stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought.

“Wasn't ‘till I was fifteen that someone was willing to risk getting close to me. The only other guy in my home ec class. We always ended up partnering for assignments ‘cause the girls didn't wanna get stuck working with a boy. I'd make sure we aced the cooking units, and he took care of the sewing and design crap.”

The pause that follows that statement is long enough that Trick feels the need to say something before the silence becomes suffocating. “You made your first friend at fifteen? Explains why your people skills are so sorely lacking.” Unfortunately, his attempt at humor falls flat when his dad doesn't even crack a smile.

Joey shakes his head. “He wasn't just a friend. We were… he was the first person I ever dated. Secretly—it was the nineties—but the first time I really ever felt cared for by anyone other than my ma.” There's a distant look in Joey's eyes and a bittersweet note in his voice as he says, “Kept it up for over a year. We used to make plans about running away together once we'd finished school. Just gettin’ on my bike and riding west till we found a spot where I could open up a restaurant and he'd go to school and learn how to design his own fashion line.” The corner of his lips tug up slightly. “I'd always say we'll have a two story house with a big yard so we can have a bunch of dogs. He'd reply that we'd have a fancy rooftop condo in a big city and there'd only be room enough for two cats.”

As the smile falls from Joey's face, Trick feels dread pool in his stomach. There can only be one way for this story to end, and it's not a happy one. “We were young, and stupid, and eventually, we got careless. I'd been sneaking him up into my room for a few months, but he was always gone by morning. Until one day, we lost track of time. He fell asleep, and I thought he looked so beautiful. I just wanted to hold him for a bit longer…”

His expression hardens, and he spits off to the side to show his distaste. “Woke up to my brother Franky dragging us both down to my dad's office. Didn't even give us the chance to pull our clothes back on. Had to kneel on the floor in front of him, naked and shivering, and tell him that I loved the boy sitting next to me. That I wasn't gonna go into the family ‘business’, and we were gonna leave and make a name for ourselves and be together.” Joey closes his eyes, and Trick can hear the pain in his voice as he murmurs, “Maybe if I hadn't been such a righteous idiot, if I'd just kept my fuckin’ mouth shut, then we would've gotten out of that mess unscathed.”

When it doesn't look like Joey's going to continue, Trick says, “Tell me what happened.” He knows it's painful, but this is the most his father has ever opened up to him, and he needs to see this through.

After a moment, Joey sighs and tells him, “My dad had my brothers take us both out to the back of the house. Had Vincent fetch a tire iron from the garage. Dad held me up by the hair and made me watch as my brothers took turns shattering my boyfriend's legs. By the end of it, he was a mangled, bloody mess. There weren't even any bone shards long enough to stick out. Then dad told him that if he ever came near me again, they'd kill him. And if he ever told anyone who did this to him, they'd kill his family. And then Franky took him home.”

There are no words that can describe the horror and revulsion Trick feels at what Joey told him. What the fuck does one even say to that. Before he can figure out a response, his dad says, “My old man personally beat the shit out of me after that. Then told me if he so much as caught me looking at another man, he'd cut off my dick and feed it to me. And, well… he wasn't one for idle threats.”

“Jesus Christ, I'm… that's so fucked up.” His words feel hollow and pathetic in the face of what he's been told. Trick finds that for the first time in almost fifteen years, he wants to hug his father. But he feels paralyzed to the spot, and his mouth is dry as he asks, “What was his name? The… the boy…”

A faint flush colors his dad's cheeks, and he hesitatingly replies, “…Patrick.”

That is quite possibly the last name he expects to come out of his dad's mouth. He is… he's named after… Trick doesn't even know how to begin processing that.

What the fuck.

Joey doesn't give him time to linger in the moment. The next words tumble out of him as though to hasten his thoughts past that deeply unnerving revelation. “I left the next morning… broke into my dad's safe, got on my motorcycle and didn't look back. I think I ended up trading it for the pickup when I hit Indiana. Took up odd jobs here and there. Lied about my age when I could, and got outta town when anyone cottoned onto the fact that I was a seventeen year old runaway living outta my truck. Couldn't ever get anything worthwhile—didn't graduate highschool—but you don't need a degree to flip burgers. I probably could've planted roots anywhere, but I just kept heading west ‘cause… well. A part of me was probably still holding onto that idealistic kid making dreams with his first crush… a larger part wanted to put as much distance between me and my family as I could.”

Trick’s never heard any of this before. Oh, his dad has mentioned that there was no love lost between him and the rest of his family. But everything else… all the details. It's all new, and Trick is just… he can't believe he's thinking this, but he's so grateful for the stability his life has had, compared to his dad.

“That went on for about a year. I'd move on whenever the cops started sniffing around or whatever chick I was fooling around with got too attached. There wasn't… I just stuck with girls.” Joey leans his head back and looks up at the sky, and a lot of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. “Met your mother in… Arizona, I think. I was workin’ up in Flagstaff at one of those kitschy college-town diners. She was going to school up there, and we met at a bar.”

Honey-brown eyes flick over to Trick, and his dad frowns apologetically. “It wasn't ever supposed to be that serious, Trick. Which ain't fair to you, but it's the truth. Wasn't fair to us, either, when she told me she was pregnant. But she was a Christian, and I was raised Catholic, so I drove her up to Vegas and we got married in a shitty little chapel by some guy dressed like Elvis.”

“Wait,” Trick interrupts. “Like… you mean what Bridgette almost… you actually got married in Vegas?”

His dad exhales a bitter laugh. “Yea. Probably a sign our marriage was doomed from the start. But you gotta understand, I was an eighteen year old kid who'd just found out he was gonna be a dad, and a really shit history with the idea of fatherhood. By the time you were due, I'd be nineteen, but I had no money, no actual job that could support a family, and I was still living out of my truck. I was terrified, Trick.” He rubs a hand over his eyes and continues, “Your mom dropped out of school and we left for LA so she could be closer to her parents. They hated me.”

Joey scoffs. “And I won't even say I didn't deserve their hatred. I was the highschool dropout who knocked up their daughter and completely derailed her life. Me and Glenda… we tried to make it work, you know. I wanted so badly to not be like my dad. I worked my ass off in two jobs so we could afford to rent the house you grew up in. But I had this fucking sword of not good enough hanging over my head, and the pressure kept building and building.” There's a pause as Joey looks over at him, and his expression grows contrite. “Got into a huge fight with one of my managers. I broke his jaw and earned myself a few months of jail time. You were already born by the time I got out.”

In a morbid, fucked up way, it’s almost fitting that the man who'd missed most of his life hadn't even been there for the fucking start of it. But Trick just feels… sad. For him, for Joey, for his mom. None of it should have happened the way that it did. And yet…

“The first time I held you,” Joey says softly, “was probably the most scared I'd been in my entire life.”

“That can't be true,” Trick replies. “After all the shit you just told me about your childhood?”

Shaking his head, Joey tells him, “That was awful. It was anger and dread and loneliness and hate. But it usually wasn't fear.” His dad swallows, “Fear was holding this tiny person in my arms, this kid who was half of me, and wondering if I was gonna end up just like my dad. If you'd grow up praying I forgot you existed, because being left alone was so much better than being a target.”

Trick regards him for a long moment. This entire time, it's felt like his dad has been confessing his sins. And what is he supposed to do with all that? Tell him to say ten Hail Marys and all would be forgiven? “There are other ways to neglect a kid than just hitting them. You were never there.”

His dad doesn't try to defend himself from that accusation. Doesn't try to justify his actions with an ‘I was working’ as he'd done many times previously. Instead, they both stand there and finally acknowledge this chasm that has been widening between them for Trick's entire life. Trick understands his dad better; why he made many of the choices he's made. But all of the pain and hardship that Joey went through doesn't change the fact that for most of his life, Trick grew up without a dad.

Eventually, Trick can't bear the silence any longer, and he asks a question that's almost identical to the one he'd brought to Terry a month before. “Why did you start your relationship with Terry, even though you were married?”

The corner of Joey's lips twitch up at the question, and he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You really wanna get it all out there, huh?”

With a shrug, Trick replies, “I just don't get it, and I think I deserve to know the truth. Your version of it, anyways.”

“Hmph.” Joey gives him a slow look, and Trick isn't sure what he learns from it, but eventually the man says, “I hadn't been happy with your mom for a while. Like I said, us getting together, it wasn't ever meant to happen that way. When we moved out here she had all of her old friends and her folks and this huge support network of people to fall back on. I didn't have anyone. It felt like New York all over again.”

His gaze drifts to take in the back door of the restaurant, and Joey stares at it as though he can see Terry through the brick and mortar. “When I first started working here, it was the same. Just… faces I worked with, then didn't think about when I got home. That changed when Terry was hired.”

A fondness enters his dad's expression. “He came in with that Tennessee drawl and that southern charm, and within days had regulars that would come in just for his section. Anyone ever had an issue with him or the food, Terry was always real good at talkin’ himself out of trouble.” Joey shakes his head and adds, “‘Course, I was just a line cook back then, but the Chef at the time wasn't the most… reliable character. He'd be out back smokin’ or doing lines while me and a couple other guys would hold down the fort. More often than not, orders went through me.”

Joey actually chuckles a bit when he says, “Terry was a server, so of course he fucked up orders on occasion. But at some point, he decided the best way to deal with me losing my shit at him was to tease me and… well, no other real way to put it, he started flirting. And y'know, at first I was just so dumbfounded by it that it startled the anger right outta me. Then a bit of time passed and I guess… I dunno, I just didn't see the harm in letting him do it. A part of me even liked it, though I didn't acknowledge that for a long time.”

“Uh huh, and when did you acknowledge it?” Trick asks.

His dad frowns at the question and tilts his head thoughtfully. “At least a few years after we'd known each other. At some point along the line Terry invited me out for drinks with some of his buds. We had a great time, so he kept inviting me along. Eventually realized that we only ever wanted to talk to each other, though, so we started hanging out alone. I'd go over to his place and we'd just talk for hours. I told him about you and Glenda and all the travelling I'd done. He told me about his family and how he was just serving tables ‘till his art career took off.” Joey exhales and says, “Nothing ever happened, though. Terry would tease and flirt and charm as much as you please, but he never tried anything past that.”

Trick watches the man for a moment, then guesses, “You wanted him to.”

The laugh that bubbles past his dad's lips is almost hysterical. “God, did I want him to. Everything would've been so much easier if I could tell myself that he was the one who corrupted me. Instead, I just found myself growing more and more frustrated—with him and myself—as the months passed. Then one day your mom wouldn't go home to take care of you, so I was forced to take you to work with me. And I just remember being stressed that I might lose my job, and pissed at Glenda, and worried that you'd hurt yourself without anyone watchin’ you…”

Joey turns away from Trick and his voice falls a bit in volume. “It all just kinda boiled over. I was havin’ a meltdown in the walk-in. Terry came in and saw that I was, I dunno, having a panic attack or whatever, and asked how he could help. And I just… I… after months of build up and desire and stress and everything else. I kissed him. And it felt…” He closes his eyes, a blush reddening his cheeks. “It was the first time since Pat that I actually cared about the person I was kissin’. And Terry didn't try to push me away. He just held me and kept me from fallin’ apart.”

His dad swallows, “I don't think anyone had ever held me so tenderly before. Like I was precious to them. Like… he was gonna protect me from the world. No one's ever protected me.”

And Trick tries to squash down the pity that wells in him at his dad's words. He is, after all, talking about the first time he cheated on Trick's mom. But it's so, so hard to be upset now, hearing the softness in Joey's voice when he talks about Terry, and knowing all the bullshit that had brought him to that point.

Clearing his throat, Joey says, “I'll spare you the details, but things just kinda… progressed from there. I tried to be discreet about it, but the more time I spent with Terry, the more I realized I just wanted to be with Terry. It wasn't even about the sex—”

“Ew.”

“—it was just him,” Joey continues, as though Trick hadn't spoken. “He made me want to aspire for better things, grow as a person. He was—he is—an incredible person, and I couldn't help but fall in love with him. Found myself counting the seconds ‘till we were together again. Especially when the alternative was Glenda, who I'd never even loved in the first place.”

“If you love him so much,” Trick asks, voice accusing, “then why did you keep dating all those women? I know he asked you to marry him at one point. Which, maybe I'd've believed it if you just never wanted to get married again after my mom, but then like a year later you hitched yourself to Faith. So clearly Terry was the issue, not the marriage.”

“No,” Joey says flatly. “Terry has never been the issue. I mean, fuck Trick, we've been dancing around each other for twenty years. Of course I love him. Of course I want to be with him. But every time we've tried… every time we go out on a date or someone finds out about us, I just. My brain doesn't…” He grimaces and rubs his hand over his face, trying to put words to the specter that's haunted him for nearly thirty years. “It's like I'm reliving that moment in the backyard all over again. Not, you know, literally, but like… all the emotions. It's fine when it's just us two. Great, even. But as soon as more people are involved…”

With a sigh, Joey confesses, “I love taking Terry out. I know he loves it too. He's always so happy when we go on dates. But those days end with me curled up in my bed feeling like I'm gonna die. Struggling to breath. Everything smells like blood and all I can hear is that fucking tire iron and him screaming. Except instead of Pat, it's Terry, and I just. I just.” For a moment, Trick’s eyes go round and fear grips him as it seems like his dad might cry. Instead, Joey takes a beat and collects himself, then mutters, “Well, anyway. It's just hard.”

Cautiously, Trick asks, “Does Terry know about any of this?”

“I don't want him to know about it.”

“Well then get some fucking therapy or something.” At the incredulous look his dad gives him, Trick says, “I'm serious. I mean, fucking so help me, I believe you. I believe that you love Terry. I believe that you want to be with him. But fuck, dad, you can't ask a person to essentially be your mistress for twenty years and think they'll be content with that for the rest of their life. Like, sure, you have trauma, but you've let it control you, and in the process it's hurt Terry—and a lot of other people—pretty fucking bad.”

Before his dad can respond, the back door bursts open and Nicole comes tumbling out. “Holy shit, there you are. Trick your break ended like ten minutes ago, and I am not taking any more of your tables. Have you been out here this whole time? Wait, nevermind, that's not important. Because holy shit, you are not gonna believe what just happened.”

Trick and Joey eye each other warily, then Trick looks at her and asks, “What?”

Dramatic woman that she is, Nicole pauses long enough that Trick can feel annoyance buzzing in the back of his mind. “Terry just asked Clint out on a date. Like, a date date. And Clint said yes.”

From the corner of his eye he catches his dad's face drain of color, and Trick frowns and says, “Fuck.”

She blinks. “Uh, not the reaction I was expecting.”

“Fuck,” Joey mutters. Then, louder, “Fucking God damnit. Fuck.” He whirls around and grasps Trick by the shoulders. “Look, you were right. I fucked up. I fucked up so fucking bad. You gotta help me fix this.”

Trick glances toward Nicole, whose eyes have narrowed. He can practically see the gears turning in her head as she watches them. Swallowing, he looks up at his dad and says, “I don't know what you expect me to do about it. I was the one that convinced him to move on.”

There's a note of desperation in Joey's voice as he says, “I know I've had a million chances with him. I know it, okay? And I probably don't deserve another, but I can't lose him.”

“Oh my God,” Nicole gasps, her eyes darting rapidly between Trick and Joey. “Terry? Twenty year affair is Terry?!”

“You told her?!”

“Not on purpose!” Trick defends himself.

“Holy fucking shit, Joey!” Nicole exclaims, grinning like a cat that got the cream. “You've been cheating with Terry for twenty years? Wait. Is that why you and Amber broke up? Did she find out?”

Joey groans and buries his face in his hands. “This can't be happening.”

“How the hell do I not know about this? Bridgette should have at least told me… wait, you didn't tell Bridgette?” That accusation is directed towards Trick, and he winces. “That's a pretty big secret to keep from your girlfriend.”

“One that wasn't mine to tell,” he counters.

“Bull shit. That's the kind of thing that affects all of us. Oh my God, this is insane.”

“Would both of you shut the fuck up!” Joey snaps. “I just found out I'm gonna lose the love of my life, I don't want to hear you fucking bickering.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “First of all, rude. Second of all, don't be such a dramatic bitch, Joey. They haven't even gone on the date yet. We can still salvage this.”

“We?” Trick repeats, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Duh. This is like… the juiciest story I'm ever gonna be a part of in my life, and you think I'm gonna leave it up to you two chucklefucks to fix it? No way. I mean like, you are gonna tell me every single detail later, as the first part of my payment for helping.”

Sometimes Trick forgets how similar he is to his dad, but when Joey lofts a brow at her, he's sure they look quite alike. “Payment?” he asks, panic momentarily falling away in the face of his amusement at her words.

“What, you think I'm gonna help for free? As if.”

Humoring her, Trick asks, “And what's the second part of this ‘payment’?”

She looks over at his dad and smirks, “I want to be Maid of Honor at your wedding.”

Some of the color finally returns to Joey's face as it heats up. “Who says we're getting married?”

That has Trick scowling and he glares at his dad, “If you don't marry that man after everything you've put him through, not only will I not help you get back together with him, I'll never fucking talk to you again.”

Nicole’s smile widens. “So gentlemen, do we have a deal?”

Trick looks over at his dad. Examines the desperation and hope and panic etched into his face. Considers the last twenty-one years, and weighs them against what he's learned tonight.

Joey must see him reach his decision, because they both turn to face her and say, “Deal.”

It takes the three of them a week to come up with a plan.

Well, really it's Nicole's plan. After they'd explained the situation to her—minus the part about his dad’s trauma, it was already almost too much that Trick knew—she'd been understandably pissed off at Joey. It took a lot of convincing on Joey's end, and a bit of reluctant support from Trick, but eventually she agreed to help. Only on the condition that she's allowed to loop their coworkers in on the plan as well, though. Joey refuses, at first, saying those clowns couldn't keep a secret if their life depended on it.

They go back and forth a bit, before Nicole puts her foot down and tells them that she's not gonna just spring that on Clint after he agreed to go out with Terry. Nor is she going to do that to Amber, who is still a bit touchy about her and Joey's break up a few weeks ago. And if she's going to tell Amber, then she has to tell Bridgette. At which point they might as well tell Brad, who would know something was up anyways.

Trick concedes that she has a point about Clint and maybe Amber. But as much as he loves Bridgette, she can't keep a secret to save her life. And while Brad might be able to keep quiet, he wouldn't be able to keep from ribbing Joey about it, and that would surely give the game away.

“Besides,” Trick tells her, “don't you like the idea of knowing something they don't, for a while?”

That's the thing that finally convinces her, though she's still adamant that Clint and Amber need to know. Which, fair enough. Joey's annoyed about it, but they do manage to convince him in the end.

Telling Clint goes about as well as it could. The bartender tells them that while he is a bit disappointed, he also hasn't even gone on the date with Terry yet, so he doesn't feel too slighted by losing the chance.

Trick isn't actually present when his dad talks with Amber. Joey had told them that it was a conversation he needed to have with her alone. All Trick knows is that when she came into work the next day, it seemed like a lot of the tension she'd been carrying since the break up had bled out of her.

So, that brings them to today. The stage is set, and it's time for Operation: Crazy, Stupid, Love—and genuinely fuck Nicole for the ridiculous name—to begin.

The restaurant is positively packed, which is fairly typical given it's a Saturday night. Trick had been a bit skeptical about going through with the plan in the middle of the dinner rush, but Nicole is adamant that the only way this would work is if Joey is as public as possible about it. After all, hadn't that been their whole issue these last twenty years? The secrecy of it?

Trick and Nicole are—for once—working their asses off all night to make sure that their sections don't have any issues. Upon Trick's request Bridgette is on her A-game tonight as well. Brad, thankfully, falls in line when Nicole promises that he'll be rewarded with some of the best entertainment they've had in years. Aaron is a lost cause, but Trick and Nicole have managed to somewhat keep him from fucking up too bad. Terry only has to comp one or two orders in his section, and that's really the best they could've hoped for.

All in all, Terry is in an excellent mood tonight.

The heaviest part of the dinner rush has just passed, leaving people to enjoy their meals while also making sure the kitchen isn't drowning in tickets, when Nicole deems it time for Joey to make his move. She gives a nod to Trick, then goes to fetch Terry while he heads back to talk to his dad.

When Trick walks into the kitchen Ruby and Pickles are the only ones on the line. His brow furrows and he asks, “Where's my dad?”

Ruby scowls—well, she's always scowling, but her expression grows even more derisive if possible—and replies, “He went into the walk-in five minutes ago.”

“Yea, he said we were out of shallots, but uh…” Pickles glances down at the cutting board he was working on, where he is, in fact, cutting up a shallot.

“He's been weird all night. Barely yelled at all, even when Aaron put in an order for a well steak that was meant to be medium rare. And he keeps looking into the dining room,” Ruby says.

“I think he might be sick,” Pickles adds.

Trick shakes his head and heads toward the walk-in. Ruby calls after him, “Tell him to stop fucking around and get back here. We're already down a man with Nico quitting last week.” He waves her off and pokes his head into the walk-in.

Joey is leaning up against the vegetables, one fist curled into his chef's coat over his heart, and the other pulling at his hair through the hairnet. Trick grows alarmed when he realizes that his dad’s shoulders are shaking with his rapid breathing, and he hastily closes the door behind him. “Dad?” he asks cautiously.

The man doesn't even seem to register his voice, just stands there hyperventilating and working himself up into a panic.

Shit.

He steps over to his dad and grasps his shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”

“Trick,” Joey gasps. His pupils are barely more than pinpricks, and his breathing grows even more labored at the sight of his son. “I—I can't do this. I can’t. There's too many— what if something happens. I can't. I can't,” he chokes out.

It's unnerving, seeing his dad like this. Of course he'd told Trick about his panic attacks, but to actually witness one? He doesn't ever want to see him like this. Trick swallows, then takes an exaggerated breath through his nose, and exhales just as loudly. It takes a minute, but eventually Joey begins to follow his movements. Trick doesn't try to speak up until Joey has stopped trembling and his breathing is steady.

“You said you love Terry,” Trick says.

“I do. I do,” Joey assures.

“If you want him, if you want to be with him, you can't hide that anymore.”

“...I know.”

“You've been keeping him a secret for over twenty years. Terry won't just believe you've had a change of heart. Nicole is right, this needs to be something you can't take back.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Joey grips onto Trick's arms and whispers, “What if… it's too late?”

“Then you fucked up,” Trick replies, equally as soft. It's uncomfortable, being this gentle with his father. Trick is unpracticed at it, and he still isn't convinced that the old man deserves his sympathy. In the end, though, Trick wants to be a better man than his father, and so he adds, “Don't you want to do everything in your power to try, though, before you give up on him?”

Joey closes his eyes and confesses, “I don't want to give up on him.”

The words sting, because sometimes it feels like Joey gave up on Trick long ago. Eventually, there will be time to mend this fragile bridge forming between him and his dad, but Joey's chance with Terry has nearly slipped through the cracks. So Trick swallows back the bitterness in his voice.

“Then you have to tell him. Now.”

With a final nervous exhale, his dad nods and straightens up. “Okay. Okay… you're right. I have to do this. For him.” Joey steps out of the walk-in, Trick close on his heels. Pickles calls over to them, but Joey resolutely ignores his line cooks and leaves through the kitchen doors.

“What's up with him?” Ruby asks.

Trick smirks back at her, “You're probably gonna wanna see this.” Then he follows after his old man to watch the show unfurl.

Nicole has Terry engaged in conversation in the middle of the dining room, though when she sees Joey approach she makes a rapid excuse and moves away. She catches Clint's eye, who nods and subtly shifts the volume down on the music. When Terry turns and sees Joey standing behind him, he pales a bit and mumbles something as he tries to slip around the chef.

Joey catches his arm, “Terry wait.” The words are spoken loud enough that a couple nearby diners glance over.

The manager smiles awkwardly at them, then looks at the other man. “Joey, let go’a me. What're you doin’ out here?” he hisses.

“I have something I need to say to you.”

More patrons are turning to regard the scene. “Now ain't really the best time,” Terry scoffs.

Joey's eyes are smoldering as he stares at Terry. “I think we're both tired of waiting.” 

When Terry doesn't immediately respond, Joey raises his voice. “Hey! Everybody shut up. I gotta say something, and I can't do it with all your yapping.” The entire restaurant falls silent as every eye in the place turns to lock onto Joey and Terry.

Terry's deer-in-the-headlights look is enough to rival even Aaron, and he whispers, “Joey…”

His other hand raises until he's gripping Terry by both shoulders. “Terrence Fletcher. When I met you half a lifetime ago, I was a lonely man surrounded by people I couldn't stand. Every day it was the same monotonous garbage, and it felt like I'd never escape this overwhelming misery that had caged me. I was living in a gray world, and the only bright spot was my son, who I didn't get to see too much anyway ‘cause I was workin’ two jobs to support him.” Joey’s smile is soft and fragile. “And then I met you, and suddenly there was color again. You made me try new things. Go out to places again. Learn how to have a life that wasn't just work and sleep. I could laugh and joke and tease people without feeling like it was all fake. Cooking turned back into something I loved doing, not just an obligation to make sure my son had a roof over his head. You made me want to aspire for greater things. I never would have made the effort to even try for Executive Chef if not for you, because my whole life I've never been good enough to be exceptional.”

There are more than a few phones out now, recording Joey's confession. “I am so, so sorry for the midnight phone calls. For the stolen moments in the back when no one was looking. For all the pain and heartache I've given you. For twenty years of keeping you hidden like some dirty little secret. Because Terry, I'll never regret a single moment spent with you, but I'll never forgive myself for leaving you. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to be open about this. About you. But Terry, I am deeply, madly in love with you.”

A collective gasp rings out around the restaurant.

“I love you more than words can express. I love how deeply you care about people. I love how kind you are. I love that you always try to see the best in everyone, and you push people to be better than they were. I love how you get flustered at the smallest bit of affection. I love how selfless you are, willing to go out of your comfort zone or put yourself at risk to take care of those you love. I love the way you take charge and make sure that everything around you doesn't dissolve into chaos.” One hand slides up to cup Terry's cheek. “I love how your smile lights up a room. I love the way words drip from your lips like sweet molasses, all Tennessee charm. I love how even after two decades, you're still just as handsome as the day we met.”

Someone lets out a wolf-whistle, and a blush colors Joey's cheeks. Terry has been steadily growing redder and redder since the first ‘I love you’ came out. The grin Joey's wearing turns rueful, and he says, “I know you've given me a million chances. Frankly, I probably don't deserve another. But Terry, I swear I will never, ever hide my love for you again. I want to whisk you away to see the world and show you off in every city we pass through. I want to take you out every night for the rest of our lives and give you the most expensive desserts, just so I can kiss their taste from your lips. Hell, I want to spend all my savings and rent a billboard in Times Square just to tell the world that you're the love of my life.”

Joey's voice grows soft, and he gently tucks a lock of hair behind Terry's ear and rubs his thumb along the man's cheek. “I'm not a perfect man. God knows you wouldn't've put up with me for over twenty years if you thought I was. I can't tell you that I won't screw up or say the wrong thing in the future, because we both know I'm an idiot who is very good at making a mess of things.” That gets a watery chuckle from Terry, so Joey smiles and continues, “But I'm not gonna take back anything I've said today. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can't take it back, given all the damn phones pointed our way.”

More laughter follows that remark, so Joey swallows and asks, “So, what do you think? Willing to give us a million and one?”

It feels like time slows to a standstill as Trick watches the pair of them. Really, everyone in the restaurant is waiting with baited breath to hear Terry's response. It's almost like watching a play-by-play as Terry slowly reaches up to hesitantly trace the edge of Joey's jaw.

“I reckon I've loved you in some fashion since I first laid eyes on ya. Gave you my heart a long time ago, an’ watched you take turns lovin’ it an’ throwing it away. It's a broken, fragile thing now. I can't take bein’ the second fiddle no more, Joey. That just ain't somethin’ I can recover from.”

Fingers clasp around the hand at his cheek as Joey leans his face into the touch. His face crumples at the reproach in Terry's voice, and he replies, “There's no one else for me, Terry. You're the only choice I want to make.”

For the first time since Joey started speaking, Terry looks away from him to take in the restaurant. Customers are gawking at them. Brad, Bridgette, and Aaron all seem floored by what they've witnessed. Amber is peeking at them from over a handful of menus, her face bright red. Nicole has her phone out, recording the whole thing. Terry briefly catches Clint's eye, who just nods encouragingly.

When Terry finally looks at Trick he can feel the weight of the conversation they'd had a few months ago drawn taut between them like a bow string. Hell, he can feel twenty years of being the only other person present throughout this lifelong affair settle before them like a sleeping dragon. Everything they've experienced drops onto one side of the golden scales, weighed against a single brow that Terry lofts in his direction. Can I trust him?

And the amazing thing is, Trick doesn’t have to think about it. Doesn’t hesitate as he smiles at Terry, and tries to convey that if there's one thing he can wholeheartedly believe about his father, it's that he loves Terry, and would do anything to keep him.

It feels like a lifetime passes in that moment between them. He supposes, in a way, it has. For everyone else though, it's only a few seconds before Terry turns back to his dad. “All I've wanted, from the moment we met, was t’ be with you. And Lord help me for bein’ a fool, but that's still all I want. You say you’ve changed, Joey Cattaneo? Prove it t’ me. Every day, here on out, rest of our lives. You prove t’ me that waitin’ twenn'y years was worth it. Prove that you deserve my heart, worn ‘n bruised as it is. Prove that I'm someone yer actually proud t’ be with.”

Joey moves closer until his lips are but a breath from Terry's. “Deal.”

Then Joey gently cups the back of Terry's neck, and closes the distance between them. A cheer and applause rings out from around the restaurant as they kiss. Tim lets out a few whoops and ‘roll tides’, while Pam dabs at her eyes and holds a hand over her heart. Bridgette and Amber are clinging to each other and openly weeping, and Nicole wears a self-satisfied smirk like she just rigged a lottery. Hell, even River and Poppy aren't complaining, though Trick doubts she'll stand for not being the center of attention for long.

“Well, at least someone around here is getting a little action. Good for you Terry, and hey, if you ever want to give him up, you can always throw him my way.”

“Madge!”

Trick is thirty when Terry officially becomes a part of his family.

The last five years have been full of many ups and downs. So much has changed, and yet so much is still the same.

They weren't in a church or a fancy beach house or a shitty chapel run by an Elvis impersonator. Instead, they'd all driven a few hours north to Yosemite National Park, where Joey had rented a ranch that offered a beautiful view of Half Dome summit over the trees.

He looks out into the crowd of people gathered as he contemplates everything that had led to this moment. Half the chairs are filled with people he doesn't know. But people he supposes are going to be a part of his family too, going forward. Terry's parents and grandmother fill the first row. Further back are his brothers and their wives and kids. Cousins and Uncles and Aunts. The southerner has mentioned his large family tree before, but Trick is still surprised by the sheer number of Fletchers in attendance. All here to support Terry.

The other side of the crowd is smaller, in comparison, but more meaningful in every way that counts. Filled with not a family of blood and happenstance, but a family that was chosen. Pickles and Nico are the only people present who had been to one of Joey's weddings before. At least this one is going to last. Pam's been crying non-stop since she sat down, with Tim frantically trying to console her. Amber—whose since become a bartender to replace Deb when the woman won a million dollar scratch off again—and Clint sit together and are murmuring and laughing about something. As of three weeks ago, the couple are officially engaged. Aaron and Sam—the server who replaced Brad when he quit to finish law school—are chatting with Gwen, the young hostess that'd gotten hired a couple months back. Brad—who is still a part of their weird family, even if he no longer works at Bistro Huddy—and Ruby sit on Bridgette’s right.

His wife looks positively radiant in her beautiful lavender dress. A crown of orchids is threaded through her curly red hair, and she's positively glowing in the late afternoon sun. Every day Trick falls more and more in love with her, even with the last of the baby weight still softening her curves. More of her to love. She's holding their daughter, Ellie, a precious little six month old girl with curly black hair and Trick's deep blue eyes.

Said eyes slide just to Bridgette's left, and he has to amend his earlier thought. There is, after all, one blood relative of Joey's amongst all their chosen family. It'd taken Trick the better part of a year to track the woman down. Trick's grandmother—“please, call me Nonna, sweetie”—is a diminutive old woman, whose kind and hearty personality overshadows her frail figure. Trick has always wondered if his dad is just like that or if he learned it somewhere, but meeting Nonna hasn't left any doubts in his mind about where Joey gets his attitude from. She's loud and fussy and funny and generous and Trick has only known her for a few weeks, but he can see why she was the one bright part of his dad's childhood. He already loves her. He's working on getting her to stay with them instead of returning to New York once this is all over. Nonna is rather enamoured with his children, so Trick keeps them close to her in the hope it'll entice her to stick around. Bridgette, his beautiful co-conspirator, is fully on board with the plan.

“I still can't believe we're finally here,” Nicole says. True to his word, she is Joey's Maid of Honor, standing right next to Trick, who proudly bears the title of Best Man. Terry's twin sister, Charlotte, is across the aisle from them. “I mean, I know you've been a part of this longer than me, but still, I thought they'd tie the knot a lot sooner.”

Trick smirks at that. “They've loved each other almost as long as I've been alive, but they weren't ready before now.”

Which is true. They'd had to rebuild the fragile trust between them, starting with Joey going to therapy for his unprocessed trauma. Terry had also invested in therapy to address some of his self-worth issues. It also took a few years of public dates and a lack of any cheating or affairs before Terry finally settled enough to even think about broaching the topic of marriage. No, both men had needed time to heal from the damage they'd done to each other, before taking this next step.

“I know I've asked before, but surely now that it's almost time, you’ve got to feel a little weird about Terry becoming your stepdad, right?”

Memories of all the times Terry's been there for Trick throughout his life wash over him. Trick hasn't always appreciated Terry's support. At times, he downright hated him for it. But looking back… “Nah, I think I've been waiting for him to take that spot all my life.”

The music that the band is playing swells, and Trick catches sight of his dad and Terry at the back of the crowd. One of Terry's nieces skips up the aisle and scatters flower petals along the grass. Neither of the grooms wanted anyone to give them away, so they stand, arm in arm, and proceed forward together. Terry is smiling bashfully and waving to his family—both blood and chosen—but Joey's gaze is locked on his fiancé. Trick doesn't think even an act of God could pull Joey's focus from his lover.

There's been a few times in recent years where Trick has seen his dad truly proud and happy. His own wedding is near the top of that list, along with the births of his two children. The first time his son had presented his grandpa with a poorly-made clay mug. Terry accepting his proposal.

All of that truly pales in comparison to the way Joey is glowing right now, practically vibrating out of his tux with excitement as he and Terry stop in front of Deb. A few months ago she'd jokingly offered to officiate their wedding. Given neither man was particularly religious—and Joey had actually been dreading the thought of dealing with another minister—they'd taken her up on the idea, even offered to pay her to get ordained. To be completely honest, Trick was rather taken with the idea himself when he heard about it. After all, even though she hasn't been nearly as involved as him, Deb has been there from the very beginning of Joey and Terry's relationship, just like Trick. Seems fitting that she be a part of beginning the next chapter too.

“Dearly beloved,” Deb begins, “family of all kinds. Y'all've come here today t’ celebrate these two idiots finally pullin’ their heads outta their asses ‘n gettin’ hitched.” A laugh ripples through the assembly at that, and Terry ducks his head sheepishly. “I'm meant t’ ask if anyone has a good reason why these two can’t marry today, but I swears if anyone pipes up I'll knock you silly ‘n you can wake up when the weddin’s over.” That earns even more laughter.

“None'a y'all’re here to listen to me gab though, so I'll give them the floor to tell y'all why yer here.”

Terry takes his dad's hands as they turn to face each other. His expression is so tender and loving as he looks up at Joey, and when he speaks it's the voice of someone who's fighting back tears. “Joey, when I met you I swear I thought to myself, ‘I'm gonna marry that man someday’. ‘Course, never coulda reckoned that it'd take damn near thirty years t’ be standin’ with you at the altar.” Trick laughs along with the rest of the guests, and the first few tears spill down Terry's cheeks. “Yer one of the most frustratin’, stubborn, ridiculous men I've met in my life.”

Joey gently wipes away at Terry's tears, and the southerner gives a wet laugh and catches Joey's hand against his cheek. “I've never hated the time I got to be with you. Even if only the two of us knew, I was so grateful t’ be a part of yer life. To be with you fer all yer joys ‘n sorrows ‘n achievements ‘n failures. I was content fer a long time with just that. But I suppose, in the end, I'm a rather selfish creature. Somewhere along the line, I stopped wantin’ to share.” He sighs softly and says, “I don't really care t’ relive all the troubles ‘n turns we dealt with on the long road t’ get here today. What I do wanna say is that I am so grateful that even when things got their hardest, I could never truly give up on you. An’ you know why?”

Terry shifts to press both hands along Joey's jaw, gently cupping his face. “Because you are so easy t’ love, Joey. You deserve to be loved, an’ I'm so happy that you’ve finally found people who know that just as much as I do.” That makes the breath hitch in Trick's throat, and he coughs and swipes a hand across his eyes. Nicole isn’t even trying to pretend she isn't sniffling next to him.

“I will cherish every single mornin’ I get t’ wake up next t’ you, an’ every night I fall asleep in yer arms. I will stay by yer side even when you fuck up—which we both know you will—an’ support you when yer strugglin’.” Terry's lips quirk up and he pulls Joey down so they can rest their foreheads together. “I love you a million ‘n one, darlin’.”

There really isn’t a dry eye in the house by the time Joey collects himself to begin his vows.

“Terry, you are a marvel. There really ain't anything new I can tell you today, because I've made it a point every day since you agreed to give me that one last chance to tell you how much I adore you. I can't believe it took me so long to realise that you're my other half. Well, I guess I can. We've already established that I'm a bit slow when it comes to these things.” Joey grins to take most of the bite out of his words, and he wraps his arms around Terry to pull him closer.

“I treasure you, Ter. Every second I'm with you I just can't believe how lucky I am. My life might not have been perfect. I'm sure if given the opportunity I'd probably go back and change a couple things, as long as all paths led back to you. But here, now?” Joey laughs and stares at Terry adoringly. “I just can't imagine a single person on this planet who could possibly be luckier than me. ‘Cause I'm the one who gets to stand here next to you, and when we go home tonight, I'm the one who gets to call you my husband. Those poor shmucks don’t know what they're missing.”

“And you know what? Good. Because I'll tell you, Ter, I'm not nearly as strong as you are. How you still stuck with me and all of my bullshit after so long, I can't even fathom. Because it only took a month of you ignoring me and flirting with someone else before I was positively losing my mind. Thank God my kid was around to smack some sense into me, because losing you would’ve been the worst fuck up of my life.”

Joey presses a quick kiss to Terry's lips, to a squawk of indignation from Terry and laughter from everyone else. “Sorry, I know it's not time for that yet, but I just couldn't help myself,” he chuckles. “And anyway, all that is to say, I love you, Ter. I love every single bit of you. And I can't wait to kiss you as my husband.” Then he turns to Deb expectantly.

She laughs at them “Yea yea. Honey, can we get the rings up here?”

Trick's son looks positively endearing in his little suit. Bridgette had attempted to tame his fluffy red curls that morning, but they were already frizzing out from the careful quaff she'd styled earlier, haloing around his head. The four year old has a look of fierce determination on his face, tongue poking out against his dimpled cheeks, honey brown eyes locked onto the rings resting on the pillow in his hands. He slowly wanders up to them, then smiles brightly and hold the rings aloft.

“I brought these for you, Grampa!” he squeals happily, raising the pillow toward Joey. Pride for his son swells in Trick's chest, and he winks at the little boy, who giggles.

“Thanks, Ben,” Joey says. He and Terry each take a ring, and Trick gently pulls Ben closer and holds the excitable child in front of him.

“Terry,” Deb states, “d'you take this man t’ be yer lawfully wedded husband, t’ live together in matrimony, t’ love him, comfort him, honor ‘n keep him, in sickness an’ in health, in sorrow an’ joy, t’ have ‘n t’ hold, from this day forward, as long as y'all both shall live?”

“I do,” Terry says, sliding the golden wedding band onto his dad's finger. It's been over ten years since the last time Joey's worn a wedding ring, but Trick thinks this is the first time that the sight has made sense.

“Joey… ditto?”

His dad cackles and is nearly bouncing on his heels with how giddy he is. “I do. I do. A million and one times, I do.” He holds Terry's hand and lovingly pushes the ring onto his finger.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce y'all Mr. and Mr. Fletcher! You may kiss yer husband.”

Terry surges up towards Joey and wraps his arms around his neck, and his dad nearly staggers back at the sudden movement. Cheers and hollars burst from their assembled loved ones as everyone jumps to their feet and applauds the newlyweds. Trick catches his wife's eye from where she's standing, arms full of infant daughter and unable to wipe away the tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. She beams up at him, and he returns the smile as he lifts Ben up into his arms. The toddler may not realise the significance of what's happening, but he’s clapping along and laughing with everyone else, enjoying the upbeat mood.

It takes Terry and Joey more than a minute before they're willing to break apart, grinning at each other like lunatics—or rather, two people very much in love. Deb snags their arms before they can go at it again, dragging them off to go sign the necessary paperwork.

“Aunt Nicky crying,” Ben says.

Nicole laughs and dabs at her eyes, trying to avoid smudging the makeup that she'd probably spent over an hour perfecting that morning. “Yea Benny. I'm just really happy,” she tells him.

“Daddy says we're gonna have cake later, so I'm happy too!”

Trick laughs and sets the boy down. “You wanna go get Nonna and see if she'll take you to where the cake is?”

Ben nods eagerly and toddles off, and Trick watches his son with a deep sense of contentment swirling in his chest. What an incredible life this has turned out to be.

“God, I can't believe they did it.”

He hums cheerfully. “Think you'll be next? After Clint and Amber, that is.”

She huffs, “No way, I'm not really the marriage sort.” As she says this though, her eyes dart towards someone on Bridgette's right.

Trick smirks at her, an idea forming in the back of his mind. Who says Nicole's the only one allowed to help move a relationship along? “I'll bet you a trip to Tulum that you'll be eating those words in the next two years.”

Nicole tilts her head and stares up at him, eyes narrowing at the cocky expression he's most certainly wearing. After a moment, she reaches out a hand and grasps his in a firm hold, shaking it once. “Fine. And when you lose, just know that I only go for five star resorts.”

“It's a deal.”