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comeonpeters · 1 year

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i realized i never posted this on tumblr so

together we can take on the world

this was my troped round 3 contribution last year

Theme: Canonverse

Trope 1: Secret Places

Trope 2: Neighbors

Trope 3: First Kiss

Trope 4: Time Jump

find it on ao3

October 8, 1983.

The house is loud today. It’s not actually loud, because it’s Friday afternoon and that means Jessie still has homework to do, so their parents don’t really let the house get too loud. Alex’s mother is flitting about the house, baking and anxiously cleaning the already pristine house, however, so it feels loud. It always feels loud when his mom is being… a lot. He just wants to go outside, but she already told him that he’s not supposed to go outside until the cookies are done, and if he asks again, she’ll give him the look. It’s better if he just waits. His only homework (so far as homework goes when you’re six years old and six weeks into the first grade) is to read for thirty minutes, which he’s already done, and he doesn’t particularly enjoy reading, so he’s not going to do any more of it than he has to.

Instead, he taps a beat against the table and waits. He doesn’t think he’s being particularly loud, and he’s not even humming, but his mother comes and hovers over his shoulder within a minute anyway.

“Just go outside, Alexander,” she dismisses him, sighing and gesturing toward the sliding glass backdoor. He jumps out of his seat and heads for their backyard, ready to wander and adventure, some of the very best things a person can do when they’re alone. Other kids in the neighborhood haven’t ever particularly liked Alex, preferring his older sister or the other children in general for company, so he’s learned well enough how to be alone. He’s too finicky about dirt, too scared of getting in trouble, too prissy about rules, too particular about things being the way that they’re supposed to be, he knows. But, even if he’s all of those things, he’s not going to stop being those things. Stuff is supposed to be how it is! If it wasn’t it wouldn’t be. Other kids just… need to understand that.

He doesn’t stay in his own yard, but he never does. They don’t have enough trees, and trees are so much more fun than just getting into the dirt where nature keeps bugs, and while Alex loves nature, bugs are gross. The fact that nature needs bugs for stuff is just proof that the world just has to be gross sometimes, even if it sucks. And that’s okay. Alex just doesn’t want to be involved in it, so he climbs trees instead of being involved in the grossness. He’s going into the little park in their neighborhood (his mom is only a little angry at him if he says he left the house to go to the park when he explains where he was, usually, especially because it means that he didn’t cross the road) when another boy catches him by the wrist. Alex is proud of himself when he only jumps a little, and he spins around to find glittering green eyes and a smile with crooked teeth.

“Hi! I’m Reggie. Reggie Peters. I just moved in down the road,” the boy says, pointing at the house with the moving truck that had sent Alex’s mother into a tizzy just this morning. Every time someone moves into the neighborhood, Elaina Mercer works herself to the bone to look like an effortless housewife, a perfect mother, the picture-perfect figurehead of the PTA and of the homeowner’s association. Alex doesn’t figure that he’s supposed to be meeting the son of the family before she arranges it, but he slips his hand from where Reggie is holding his wrist so that he can shake Reggie’s hand anyway, anxiously flicking his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m Alex Mercer, I live over there. Want me to show you some of the cool stuff in the neighborhood? We have a park,” Alex offers, politeness and shyness both sticking together in his throat. Reggie’s smile flourishes into a grin.

“That sounds cool! Do you guys have lizards? I have this research book on animals and it says that sometimes, if you move from one area to another, different species don’t live in the new area that lived in your old area, and we moved from really far away, so I don’t know if you guys have lizards. My favorite is the Northern Green An-an-. Hm. The Green An-ole Lizard. They’re small, and not really fancy, but they come on the porch back home and they’re so friendly!” Reggie rambles this all very quickly, so quickly that it’s almost hard for Alex to keep up, but Alex finds himself so enraptured that he nearly trips over his own feet while trying to show Reggie the park. Lizards. They have lizards. He’s seen a lizard. Lizards are cool!

“We have lizards. Where’d you move from?” he asks, and that sets Reggie off again. He doesn’t actually answer Alex’s question at first, instead saying that it’s October 8th, which is true, but also that it was October 6th two days ago, which of course is also true, because that’s how math works, which apparently means that Reggie turned six two days ago and that he’s a Libra according to the magazines that Reggie’s mom reads aloud when Reggie paints her toenails. When he eventually remembers the question, Reggie says that he just moved to Los Angeles from Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a pretty small town in the mountains, and they’ve known each other a little less than five minutes and Reggie Peters might be the loudest, most obnoxious boy that Alex has ever met, and he absolutely has to be Alex’s new best friend. He’s pretty sure that Reggie Peters is his new favorite person in the world.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asks, and maybe it’s a test, but Reggie doesn’t have to know that.

“Red!” Reggie answers quickly, and with conviction. Alex nods. They don’t have the same favorite color, though Alex rarely does have the same favorite color as other boys. “What’s yours?” he asks, and Alex purses his lips. Now for the actual test of Reggie Peters. Is he like other boys? Or could he stand the first test of Alex’s general weirdness?

“Pink,” he says, quiet and shy, and he doesn’t look directly at Reggie when he says it, instead looking at the trees and wishing he was climbing one right now. He’s surprised when Reggie bumps their shoulders, a little rough but much gentler than other boys would be with Alex Mercer, weirdo extraordinaire.

“Pink is cool. I like pink flowers, the little ones that my grandma grows, beg- beg. Hm. Begonias,” Reggie says, stuttering over his words again like he did the other time, and Alex wonders how many words he keeps in his head that he trips over them even just talking. Reggie must be really smart. Alex looks around and realizes, suddenly, that they’re not really in the park anymore, that they’ve wandered further than the park’s little area of trees and toward the beach. That’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t know where Tennessee is (he knows that it’s a state, or he’s pretty sure anyway, because it’s one of the longer ones and that’s easier to remember), but a lot of states don’t have oceans, and oceans are pretty cool, in his opinion. Reggie will like the ocean. He takes Reggie’s hand.

“Come see this.” He guides Reggie toward the sound of the ocean like he has any idea where they’re going, like he’s ever been in this area of the neighborhood, and he forgets to be scared when Reggie laces their fingers together. It’s time to show Reggie a little bit of the ocean, and that means walking through a few more trees, and then some underbrush, and Reggie chatters about ferns when he picks leaves off of a plant and passes them to Alex delicately, his smile still confidently in place. It strikes Alex suddenly that Reggie Peters is probably also very weird. It makes Alex want to squeeze his hand and show him the ocean and be his best friend and keep him forever, and so that’s what he plans to do. They’re nearly to the beach when Reggie scares him deeply.

“Woah, what’s that?! Lex, we gotta check it out,” Reggie says, and he uses their joined hands and Alex’s distraction to drag Alex along with him. When they stop walking, Alex finds himself standing on the land end of a half-broken, seemingly long abandoned dock, plants grown over enough of it to hide it from most plain sight. There’s about ten feet of dock left standing solidly in the water, looking like something out of a photograph before it gets to the broken, cracked off part. If Alex were to guess, he would suppose that an earthquake or a storm broke it. Immediately and without any regard or hesitation, Reggie makes to walk further down the dock.

“Reggie! What if it’s not safe?” Alex asks, fear ratcheting up through his chest. Reggie squeezes his hand exactly like Alex wanted to do just a second ago.

“We won’t know until we try. Come on,” he says, and it’s enough to make Alex come with him despite himself and every better instinct his mother has ever tried to instill in him. Together, hand in hand, they walk down the dock and test it out, though Alex keeps his firm grip on Reggie’s hand to make the other boy go slower than he originally intends. When they get to the very end, the dock is still safe. And the ocean is beautiful. The waves lap gently against the end of the dock and Reggie leans down to dip his hand into the salty water, coaxing Alex to lean down with him without even trying to, until they’re both dipping their hands into the Pacific with the hands that aren’t linked to each other.

And so, at six years old, and for a long, long time thereafter, the hidden, broken dock behind the neighborhood park becomes the secret place of one Reginald Peters and one Alexander Mercer.

September of 1989.

Not many people ask Reggie how things are going, but if one were to ask an eleven (nearly twelve!) year old Reginald Peters his opinion, he would say that things are awesome. Ever since Alex started drums during the summer, he’d been begging his parents to let him try out guitar (he was gonna try drums too, but Alex convinced him that guitar or something would be more productive, so that they could play together rather than playing the same thing, which made a lot more sense, but Alex is really smart, so), and when school started, they finally agreed! He knows that it’s because they finally realized that he’s actually in the smart classes this year- surprising, according to everyone who has to listen to him talk- and they want him to keep it up. If they had read any of the letters from the school at the beginning of the summer, they would have known, but… well… they didn’t. And they never do. And they probably never will. And that’s okay.

Things are going awesome! Elliot just started high school, so he thinks he’s too cool for anybody and everybody, so he’s not around as much, but who needs an older brother, really? He has Alex, and they’ve got Luke now! Reggie likes Luke a lot- he watches Star Wars, he plays the guitar, he’s funny, and he always goes along with Reggie’s impulsive ideas, and has impulsive ideas of his own to reflect right back. Best of all, Luke likes Alex just as much as he likes Reggie, which has been a deal breaker in the past with a few fair-weather friends that he and Alex had made in the past; you can’t just have one of them without the other. Luke might be the best thing about middle school so far.

He met Luke Patterson in guitar lessons, and the three of them are gonna form a band and everything is going to be great, and things are going awesome, and he has no idea why Alex is in such a bad mood, honestly. It’s a problem for a multitude of reasons. The primary reason, of course, is that Alex is obviously upset (Alex can pretend that he isn’t all he wants, Reggie knows Alex Mercerology, practically invented the study), and then the secondary problem is that if Alex is upset, Reggie is obviously upset because he can’t imagine a world where Alex is unhappy and he’s somehow perfectly happy. That world just doesn’t exist. It’s like a world where he doesn’t like Star Wars. Come on! It’s just not likely.

Because he’s the reigning expert on Alex Mercerology, truly the only professor of it, because neither of Alex’s sisters can claim this throne, Reggie knows that Alex isn’t going to talk about anything emotional with anyone else around. They don’t do the bro thing that other guys do where they get all closed off and gross, they never have, but Alex is a little bit more reserved around others than he is around Reggie. Their openness around each other is probably part of the reason why it’s always been so hard for them to get other friends, but if the alternative was to give that up, Reggie would take Alex any day. He made a commitment at six years old, and he’ll stick to it for the rest of forever, thank you very much. Anxious mess of a best friend and all. He sits Alex down on their dock and kicks his feet in the water, holding Alex’s hand like they always do.

“Talk to me, Lexi,” he says, an opener as good as any, given that he knows that he’s going to have to wheedle Alex either way. Alex looks at him sharply.

“About what, Peters?” the other boy asks, his tone harder than it usually gets in Reggie’s direction if they’re not fighting, and Reggie doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t even know what they’d be fighting about right now. Everything is supposed to be going great. He can’t help the way that his expression dips into a frown, his brows furrowing.

“You’re bein’ all mean and stuff. What’s up, Lex? You’re my best friend. Talk to me,” he repeats. He’s confused when Alex snorts.

“Am I your best friend? You’ve been pretty cozy with Luke lately,” Alex says, and Reggie straightens his spine. Pardon?

“Pardon?” he asks aloud, echoing his own thoughts, and he continues, “Alex, what are you talking about?” The hurt that laces through his voice, the way that he sounds like his mother, he hates how he sounds. He can’t decide between looking at Alex and looking at the sea. He looks at Alex. Alex looks away, his lips pursed.

“Ever since you and Luke met, you’ve been really buddy-buddy with the guy. You’ve hung out with him a lot. You let him convince you to try out the bass. He eats lunch with us. It’s… you’re my favorite person in the world, Reg. You’re my best friend. I don’t… I can’t. Do you like him better than me?” Alex asks, blurting the question out at the last second, almost like it’s an accident to ask at all. It feels like Alex reached into Reggie’s chest and shattered something essential, like he shook up Reggie’s bones and made a bone salad.

“First of all,” Reggie starts, and he hates the way his voice sounds, because he always sounds so stupid when he’s hurt, “you were both at the table when we were talking about me playing bass, and I thought you wanted that too, because, you know, drums and bass, they go together, and guitar and drums and bass, that’s a band, and we’re supposed to make a band, Lexi, that’s what we said-”

“I know what we said, Reginald, that’s not what this is about-” Alex interrupts him and Reggie can’t take it. Not right now.

“Alex!” he interrupts back, and he never does that, and Alex finally looks at him. He looks up from their still-clasped hands and sees Reggie’s hand yanking through his hair (Reggie doesn’t know when that started happening), and the tears at the corners of Reggie’s eyes (he doesn’t know when that started happening either), and the corners of his mouth turn down from their already downturned, collected sneer and he gathers Reggie up in his arms, hugging him for all he’s worth. Reggie, for all that he always does, sinks into the affection, buries his nose into Alex’s collarbone and smells the detergent that Alex’s mom uses mixes with Alex’s sweat and all of the other comforting smells of Reggie’s best friend, Reggie’s person, and he wonders how badly he’s messed up that Alex Mercer thinks that Reggie doesn’t want to live in this moment for the rest of his life.

“It’s okay, Reg. I’m sorry for getting mad. I’m sorry,” Alex soothes, smoothing his hand up and down Reggie’s back, and Reggie makes a noise of protest.

“I’m sorry I made you think that I don’t- that you’re not important. You’re the most important. We’re a family, Ali. I love Lu, I do, but part of the reason why I love Lu is because you like him too, and because he likes you. I can’t be friends with anybody who doesn’t like Alex Mercer. We’re a package deal,” he says, squeezing Alex’s waist and nuzzling further against Alex’s neck. They’re a family. Reggie’s parents might not be the best, and Elliot might not want to be around him anymore, and people at school might not like him, but Alex Mercer has always loved him larger than life, and that is dependable. Alex squeezes him back around the shoulders, and Reggie thinks he feels a kiss on the top of his head.

“We’re a package deal, Reg.”

December of 1992.

“You’ve gotta talk to Reggie, dude,” Luke says, parking his ass directly on top of Alex’s floor tom, though thankfully he’s just balancing on it this time, and not actually putting his ass through it like that one time. Their moms had been so fucking mad. He’s uncomfortably close to Alex’s person this way, but he usually is, given that that’s just Luke’s thing (as if it isn’t also Reggie’s thing, but listen Alex has just had his entire life to get used to Reggie’s things, it’s not like he still gets butterflies when Reggie grabs his hand, or dances with him, or lays on him; that would be absurd!). Anyway. So totally not the point.

“What do I need to talk to Reginald about?” Over the three years or so that he and Reggie have been friends with Luke, it’s fallen to him to manage Reggie and probably fallen to Reggie to manage him in a lot of ways. Luke has been picking up a few things here and there, but when behavior issues come out of the woodwork… turns out knowing someone since he was six years old really seems to do the trick. Since they’ve started high school, he has noticed some… weird things going on with Reggie, but he figured that he would settle things out himself. However, if Luke has noticed? Luke’s not dumb, none of them are dumb (Alex has decked people for saying less about Reggie and Luke, befriended Bobby for decking people for saying that about Reggie and Luke), but Luke isn’t always the most observant, so.

“He’s being a bitch to Bobbers and Bobinald won’t talk to anybody about it because he figures that that’s either just Reggie’s typical behavior or just what happens when people join the group, but you and I both know that Reggie is nicer than both of us combined so something has to be going on. I’ve tried to get it out of him, but he just shuts down on me when I try. It’s gotta be you,” Luke explains, his lips pursed. He hates it when one of them shuts him out, hates being the odd man out, but what can they do? For nearly six years, all they had was each other. For nearly six years, no one else would even talk to Alex Mercer and Reggie Peters, the weird kids from down by the beach. For nearly six years, all Alex had was a little brunet boy and his big smile and all of their combined attitude problems, so yeah, sometimes, they’re the only people in the world who know how to fix each other. It is what it is. He has to make a joke to break any tension in the room.

“Reginald Peters? A bitch? Language, Lucas!” For all that it’s just to break the tension, it’s also that Alex can’t resist commenting on it, he’s just a bitch that way. Luke rolls his eyes like he always does.

“You’re six months older than me, Alexander, I swear to fucking God. I can’t help that I’m still fourteen!” Luke grabs his songbook and heads out of the studio, huffing as he goes. Alex can’t help grinning after him. He’s so cute. Oh no. Nope. Don’t have time to unpack all of that. Better throw out the whole suitcase. Bigger fish to fry.

Reggie is home this afternoon, something about doing homework, but that has to be bogus and Reggie’s mom has always loved Alex, so if he’s the one to grab him, it’ll be fine. The walk from Bobby’s neighborhood to Luke’s neighborhood to Reggie and Alex’s neighborhood (because you can’t get to the last without going through the intermediary) isn’t awful, but Alex jogs it anyway. If something is wrong with Reggie, he has to take care of it. That’s his… they take care of each other. When things get out of hand in his head, Reggie helps him manage it, as best as he can. He spouts off whatever facts he can to keep Alex in the moment, tells him about pink begonias that bloom in June, or nocturnal flying foxes, and how someday, once they’re done being rockstars, maybe one day he wants to work with animals.

He thinks maybe he knows more about animals than he ever would have known without Reggie Peters, but the idea of without Reggie Peters once made him read an entire animal encyclopedia, so maybe not.

He’s sweating slightly in his pink hoodie by the time he gets to the Peters house, but Reggie’s mom still smiles when she sees him, which is more than Luke gets when he gets there, usually. It’s probably because he put a hole in their wall once, wrestling with Reggie and Elliot, but that’s none of Alex’s business. He’s a petty bitch who doesn’t make contact with Elliot unless absolutely necessary.

“Hey Mrs. Peters. Is Reggie around? Would it be okay if I borrowed him for a few hours?” he asks, flashing his most charming, adult-attention-grabbing smile, and Mrs. Peters opens the door for him at once.

“He’s in his room doing math homework. He’s all yours as soon as he’s done,” she says, and Alex knows damn well that that’s a lie. Reggie never has math homework. He always does it in class. It’s the one class you can always finish the work there, Ali, he can practically hear Reggie saying that to him, but he just nods at Reggie’s mom and follows the familiar path to Reggie’s room (only semi-familiar, because neither of them really use the door as much as each other’s windows, typically, but well). Alex’ll take his hoodie off and eat it if he finds Reggie doing calculus of all things. Reggie’s mom doesn’t bother to follow him past the entryway, but frankly, he’s surprised she answered the door, or that she was sober enough to hear him knock, really. They don’t talk about how much he doesn’t like Reggie’s parents. They don’t talk about how much he knows about them, either. They don’t talk about a lot of things. He just pushes open Reggie’s door when he gets there, not bothering to knock.

“Mom, I’m doing home- you’re not my mom. Hey Ali,” Reggie says, looking up halfway through speaking and immediately looking cagey. It’s understandable why; Reggie’s parents wouldn’t recognize it right away, but the notebook in his hands isn’t for homework. It’s his songwriting journal, which definitely keeps Alex from eating his hoodie. Score one for Alex. He breathes out through his nose.

“I’m not your mom and that’s not calculus. So, why are you pretending to do homework in your room instead of hanging out with us, dude? What’s the problem?” he asks, his voice on the careful edge between casually cavalier and gentle. If he gets too cavalier, Reggie will think that he’s only asking out of a sense of propriety. He knows how Reggie gets into his own head. If he gets too gentle, Reggie will clamp down even further, thinking that he’s being babied. In any case, Reggie looks back down.

“There isn’t a problem,” he insists. Alex resists the urge to snort, barely.

“I’ve known you your entire life. Try again,” he says, voice still carefully even. Reggie’s eyes are still on the floor. Alex doesn’t like it one bit.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” his best friend says, quiet and awful, and it’s heartbreaking in its own tiny way. Like glass in Alex’s chest. Fuck.

“Reg. Please?” Reggie’s expression twists.

“Then… not here? Can we go somewhere?”

“Our spot?”

“Yeah.”

Despite insisting that Reggie would have to finish his homework before leaving, Reggie’s mom doesn’t even try to catch them before they go; Alex doesn’t even see her. The walk is quiet, near silent without Reggie’s usual chatter, and it’s Alex who takes Reggie’s hand rather than the other way around when they get past the treeline. He laces their fingers together and squeezes Reggie’s hand immediately, his thumb running over whatever parts of Reggie’s hand that he can reach. They’ve held hands since they were six, nine years now, and he doesn’t plan on giving it up. No one is going to make him give it up. They’re a package deal. Reggie Peters is his person, and that’s forever. Reggie curls around his hand as they walk, his entire body listing toward Alex’s, and if it wouldn’t be weird, Alex might offer to carry him.

But that would be weird, right? That would most definitely be weird.

“Alright, Peters. Talk to me,” he says when they get to the dock, sitting down cross-legged in the center rather than letting his legs hang over the edge like they do in the spring and summer, and sometimes in the fall as well. Reggie goes to sit across from him, facing him, but Alex resituates, uncrossing his legs and pulling Reggie to sit back between them, which Reggie settles into with familiar ease. Sitting up like this without something to lean against will make Alex’s back hurt after a while, but he doesn’t care. He knows that Reggie feels better when they’re closer. He wraps his arms around Reggie’s chest and hooks his chin over Reggie’s shoulder for good measure.

“Do you remember… when Luke became our friend?” Reggie asks, and Alex feels it vibrate through his chest, and he has to focus on the words because he cannot focus on that. He hums.

“Yeah, I remember. What about it?” Alex can’t help but feel embarrassed about that entire era in his life, no matter how much Reggie assures him that it was just a time in their lives (even if Reggie does reserve the right to make fun of him about it occasionally, though never in front of Luke).

“When you… got jealous. I’m feeling that. And I need. Ali, I need. I don’t know. You’re still my favorite person in the world, and I love Luke, and I like Bobby and he’s our friend, but every time you guys are talking, I can’t help it, I get worried about you liking him more than me and not being your favorite person anymore, and it’s not healthy, and I don’t know what I’m doing,” Reggie rambles, and Alex is probably hugging Reggie’s person a little harder than a person should be hugged, but fuck. If this is how Reggie felt during that conversation, he’s sorry. He’s so, so sorry. God, they’re codependent. They probably need so much therapy, but the only kind of therapy his parents would ever send him to is-

“Reg, you are still my favorite person. My best friend. The only person I can think about when I’m calming down, the only person I can think about when I want to feel safe, you’re my safe place, this is my safe place, here with you, this place where we’re probably one wrong step away from getting drenched in the ocean, and we’re probably trespassing, but it’s ours, so I don’t really care. I feel safe here because it’s ours. I’m scared all of the goddamn time, but you make me feel safe, Reggie Peters. How can you- how can you think you’re not my favorite person when you’re the only person I can imagine coming out to? The only person I can imagine feeling safe enough to say those words to?” Alex asks, and he doesn’t mean to say that, but the words come out anyway, unbidden, stuttered out and just there, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Did he just come out to Reggie? As a part of a rant meant to reassure Reggie? Did he just-

Oh God. Reggie is climbing out of his lap and he’s never gonna sit in Alex’s lap again and he’s gonna hate him and he’s never gonna trust him again and he-

Reggie turns around and climbs into Alex’s lap facing him, arms around his neck and hugging him, forcing Alex’s arms back around his waist to catch him.

“Thank you for telling me, and I love you, and I’m probably not straight either and we’re gonna be okay, Lex, I promise,” Reggie says, and he’s spilling into Alex’s lap and over him and Alex has to hold onto him to hold him in. It takes him a second to catch up to what Reggie said, too, and then he has to think about it for a second because- even in this- this- this thing that he thought was awful for so long, even in this, Reggie doesn’t let him go alone. His arms around Reggie’s waist grow tighter and he’s probably crying but he doesn’t care, because Reggie Peters is the most important person in his life and he’s gay, and Reggie doesn’t care in the best way possible, Reggie still loves him, and it’s the first time he’s ever- holy God. Holy God, he loves Reggie so much.

For this moment, he pretends that all of his love for Reggie Peters looks like friendship. They’re a package deal. A matched set. And he can’t afford to do anything to fuck that up.

July of 1993.

He likes Bobby’s bed more than he likes his own, which might say something about the state of his homelife, but Reggie doesn’t like to analyze things like that. He’s more for shoving things like that to the side and putting everything into the music instead, or just hanging out with his boys and pretending everything is okay that way. That’s cool too. He and Lu are kinda similar that way; Ali and Bobbers are the ones who are gonna make them take it apart and look at the reasons for their concerns, unless those concerns happen to do with Alexander and Robert’s own emotions. If that happens to be the case, well then, those can certainly be ignored, according to their resident Virgo and Scorpio. Honestly, Reggie doesn’t know how they function. A Virgo (Alex), a Libra (him), a Scorpio (Bobby), and a Pisces (Luke) walk into a band, and somehow it stays together.

Anyway, he likes to lay in Bobby’s bed pretty much as often as possible. It’s comfortable! Bobby has one, two, three- eight pillows, and still has three pretty large stuffed animals, and two heavy blankets, and stuff over the windows because he gets bad headaches, so it’s like a really comfy cave. He feels like a cave-dwelling lizard. It’s awesome. Until Bobby eventually discovers him burrowing in his bed, of course, and extracts him to come down to the studio for band practice, because he’s a party pooper who poops on parties.

“Practice is cancelled, I can’t deal with whatever is going on with Alex, dude. He keeps being twitchy and bitchy, and I’ve tried to help with his breathing and shit, but he won’t let me in. Far as I’m concerned, that’s your demon,” Bobby says, scowl present on his face and marring his features. Reggie can’t help the way that he recoils, but he tries to keep his footing anyway. His friends are not his parents. They’re his family. They consider him an equal, and they love him. They’ve pressed this into his skin enough for him to know this.

“Hey! He’s not-” He doesn’t get halfway through his response before Bobby folds.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. He’s just- stressing me out. Haven’t had a cigarette in four days, you know,” the other boy says, sideways and apologetic smile pulling Reggie back in. Reggie smiles back, nodding.

“I’ll take care of Ali. And I’m really proud of you, Bobbins. Keep it up, I’ll take you out for ice cream, I swear,” he promises, his smile becoming more genuine. Bobby huffs out a laugh.

“Take me out for ice cream with all two dollars in your wallet?”

“What can I say? You better be a cheap date.” Bobby’s eyes roll so hard it might just hurt.

“Go take care of your actual boyfriend, Peters. I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s a joke that Bobby has made before, and yet one still that Reggie always takes the time to deny. He doesn’t ever want it getting back to Alex; they’ve both come out to Bobby and Luke at this point, and the other two boys have come out in return (at which point all four of them had laughed over the overwhelming worry they had experienced beforehand), but Alex is still sensitive about being teased about it.

“Not my boyfriend, Bobbers. Love you bunches,” he reminds Bobby. Bobby rolls his eyes again, but Reggie catches his blush.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you more,” Bobby says back, and Reggie grins, waving as he leaves Bobby’s room through the window. He doesn’t have to- Bobby’s parents are never home, probably haven’t been home since they got out of school in the beginning of June- but it’s faster, and it’s kinda thrilling. He skips to the studio (because he’s fuckin’ whimsical), and finds Alex pointedly looking at his drum set, though not playing, as Luke lays shirtless on the couch, not doing much of anything.

“Get hot, Lu?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Luke grins up at him.

“Come on, babe, you know I’m always hot.” He should have been able to predict that level of flirtation coming out of Luke’s mouth, but he always forgets.

“You’re a menace. I’m grabbing Alex- Bobby says he’s not feelin’ up to practicing today. I’m worried he might be gettin’ one of his headaches or coming down with somethin’, if you wanna go check on him,” he says, which might be something of a lie, but Luke jumps up immediately, and blessedly puts back on his shirt, so at least there’s that. Alex gets up from the drum set without any argument, falling into step with Reggie as soon as he can. Even when he’s in a weird, shitty mood, they still go together. They’re still them. It assuages some of the tight feeling in Reggie’s chest, the one that never goes away when Alex is in a weird place, like the symbiosis of their bond won’t allow him to exist in relative peace if Alex isn’t okay. He’s okay with that, really. He doesn’t want to be okay if Alex isn’t.

Don’t have time to unpack all of that. Better throw out the whole suitcase.

He chatters inanely about his own classes, which are somewhat different from Alex’s; he takes more sciences and maths while Alex’s course load involves chorus and another music class, and musical theory. Those classes sound interesting, but Reggie’s parents would never in a million years let him take anything like that. He’ll be lucky when they let him take the art class that’s required to graduate. He likes science, though, and math isn’t awful. Calculus is pretty interesting once you get into it! The boys groan whenever he says stuff like that, but when they’re alone, Alex lets him talk about math theory for as long as he wants, even when he sounds weird and he knows he isn’t making as much sense anymore because he’s talking about universal theories and how they intersect with math, but Ali always tells him to keep going and-

It’s nice, you know? To be listened to. It’s nice.

He walks Alex past his own house and takes a turn before Alex’s house, guiding them past the park and toward the dock when Alex stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“Do you need to talk about something?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow. Reggie uses Alex’s loose grip to make it so that they’re holding hands instead, making sure that they’re far enough into the trees that it won’t freak Alex out.

“I think you do, buddy. Come on,” he replies, and Alex digs his heels into the ground for a second, obviously not thinking he needs to discuss anything, but Reggie can be just as stubborn as Alex is when he needs to be, so he squeezes Alex’s hand, pulling him along. He only has to pull him for a second or two before Alex acquiesces, slumping onto Reggie for a second and startling a giggle out of him. “Come on, you mess,” he repeats, pulling the boy off of his shoulder and making him walk for himself fully. God, he loves this boy.

“I don’t know what you think I need to talk about,” Alex says before they even get to the dock, breaking their earlier moratorium on discussion of private events outside of the dock. Reggie waits until his feet hit wood to respond.

“You’ve been acting weird lately. Some would call it bitchy, but you’re my best friend, so I would call it… bitchy,” Reggie says, unable to make himself look Alex in the face when he’s talking about something that might… well it won’t make Alex happy, if you catch his drift. He’s not so good at the angry part. His dad… it’s not important. It’s not about him. This is about Alex. This is about standing on the dock with their hands still held together and waiting for Alex to get mad at him and not getting panicked about it, because it’s just Alex, at the end of the day. Even if Alex is angry with him, even if he deserves it, Alex has never hit him. Alex has never even yelled at him, not really.

“I’ve not been acting-”

“Alex,” Reggie says, makes himself say, because Bobby asked him to do this. Bobby and Luke always ask him to do this, whenever Alex gets too keyed up and his anxiety makes him mean, and maybe Bobby and Luke always ask Alex to reign him in too, he doesn’t know, they always end up here. Their place. The dock. Sometimes, they come just to hang out, just the two of them (they’ve never brought anyone else here, it’s just for them), but usually it’s for things like this. Alex folds.

“I think I- IhaveacrushonLuke,” Alex rushes out, nearly incomprehensible, but Reggie understands, his years in the study of Alex Mercerology never going unused, and certainly not in this moment. He looks up at Alex and is nearly rocked off of his feet by how scared Alex looks, is nearly taken out by how scared he is, how much he loves Alex and how he wishes- don’t go there. Okay, so Alex has a crush on Luke. We can work with that, he tells himself, because he and Alex are a team. They work together on things. Anything Alex Mercer is anxious about, they figure out together. He’s broken down enough anxiety attacks into statistical probability to be able to handle a crush on a teenage boy, he can handle- he can handle this. No matter how much it- don’t go there. Everything is fine.

“Alright. What’s freaking you out?” Reggie asks, his voice much more level than he’s feeling, carefully curious. Alex looks at him like he’s certifiably insane.

“You- I- he’s our best friend! He’s our bandmate! He’s literally the guy who made the rule about dating inside the band! And he’s Luke! He flirts with everyone and literally everyone flirts back, because he’s gorgeous and how the fuck am I supposed to compete with literally every human person in the world, Reg, I’m not- I’m just-” and Reggie knows not.

“Pump the breaks, Mercer,” he interrupts, “because I know you’re not about to disparage my totally hot best friend, Alexander Mercer, who could totally bag Luke Patterson, if that is what he so desires. You’re hot, and you’re mad fucking talented and you’re smart and you’re incredible, and you can do and anything you want and bang anyone you want because you’re Alex fucking Mercer, and that’s that on that. Anybody would be absolutely fucking blessed to have you.” He taps on Alex’s chest with the hand that’s not holding Alex’s own, just for good measure. Alex is his best fucking friend. He’s not gonna let anybody talk shit about the guy, least of all Alex himself. Alex catches that hand too and holds it to himself.

“You’re so weird, and I love you,” he says simply, and Reggie grins.

“I love you too, man,” he replies, his hand splayed flat on Alex’s chest, and he can feel the other boy’s still racing heart. He doesn’t think about his own. He doesn’t take his hand back either.

“But what do I do if he does like me? Like I know you probably have a million counter arguments for why I’m awesome and Luke’s awesome and things aren’t gonna go horribly, so I’m not gonna cover what if things go wrong? side A of the tape, but on side B, what if things go right?, like, Reg, what do you even do if someone likes you back? I don’t know how to date someone! I know how to hold a hand and how to cuddle, you made damn sure of that, you little rat bastard, but I have no idea- how do you go on a date? I’ve never kissed anyone! What if he expects me to kiss him? What if any boy that I date expects me to kiss him? I don’t know how kissing works! How do people do this? How do- please interrupt me, I don’t know where I’m going with this,” Alex sputters out, breathing hard by the time he gets to the end of his tangent, and Reggie keeps his hand on Alex’s chest, still flat, and uses it to guide Lex through breathing with him before he talks.

“First of all, kissing is not something anybody should expect from you, and if anybody ever makes you feel like they expect you to do anything you don’t wanna do, even and maybe especially Luke, let me know and I’ll punch their lights out,” Reggie begins, because that’s mega important and he should begin with the mega important stuff, especially if it’s gonna make Alex smile like it immediately does.

“I want to kiss someone, Reg, I’m just… I’m not scared. I just don’t want to be bad at it because I’ve never done it before,” Alex says, clearly and boldly lying about not being scared, but it’s a good effort. That’s when Reggie gets an idea. It’s probably a bad idea, because a lot of ideas that he gets on his own are, well, bad, but, well, Alex is here, so if it’s a bad idea, usually Alex can stop him from his bad ideas before they can get out of hand.

“What if you had done it before?” he proposes, looking up at Alex and trying, his own heart absolutely racing, to ignore how Alex’s heartbeat picks up.

“What do you mean, Reg?” Alex asks, though he thinks the other boy knows, because his voice is so soft that it sounds like it could break beneath the waves on the shore. Reggie gives him a smile just as soft, humor just barely creeping in at the edges.

“You’re comfortable holding hands and cuddling because of yours truly, Lexi, what’s trying out one more thing?” he asks in return, his own voice so much softer than he means as well, and maybe this is less of a joke than he means, but this isn’t about him. He won’t mention that this is his first kiss too, because he’s never talked about that; he flirts just as much as Luke does, talks to girls and boys at gigs just as much as Bobby does, no one ever questions what he does when he goes off with someone at a party. It doesn’t matter that all he does is let girls do his makeup and paint his nails, because no one ever asks. What’s more perfect than Reggie Peters and Alex Mercer having their first kiss together?

“You would do that? You would kiss me?” Alex asks, and it brings Reggie back out of his head. He’s almost offended that Alex has to ask.

“Dude, of course! Did you not hear my little speech earlier? I can give you a reprise. Alex Mercer is an absolute ten and anybody with eyes would absolutely-” He’s cut off by Alex’s hand slamming over his mouth roughly enough that he can feel it in his teeth a little. It’s not bad enough that it hurts, but Reggie is still pouting when Alex pulls his hand away, not least of all because Alex unlinked their hands. He takes the stolen hand back in his.

“You’re as much of a menace as Luke,” Alex says, rolling his eyes fondly. Reggie’s pout slips easily into a grin.

“Yeah, probably, but I’m adorable and you love me, so… can I kiss you?” he asks, because he’s already swung out and proposed it, might as well actually ask. He’s half-surprised when he gets a nod, but the hand on Alex’s chest slips to cup Alex’s jaw anyway, natural as you please. He looks up into Alex’s eyes for one last confirmation, suddenly and absolutely nervous as he could possibly be, but Alex just smiles at him, leaning down the last little bit necessary to connect their mouths, and in the next moment, Reggie feels completely different.

He’s had thoughts about Alex’s mouth over the years, okay? He’s a healthy teenage boy, and he has a hot best friend, and they’ve been best friends his entire life, and he’s not a monk. He knows what he’s working with here. Alex’s mouth is soft and pretty and Alex leans down to kiss him and moves his lips carefully at first, but then, as he gains confidence, he grows more intense as well. Alex’s free hand moves to cup Reggie’s jaw, tilting his head as he pleases, and Reggie’s face has never felt more delicate than this moment. He’s never felt more cared for than this moment, and yet he’s never felt more set alight. He’s never felt more absolutely right than in this moment, in this exact space, kissing Alexander Mercer on the dock that the two of them discovered as children, in this secret place they chose together.

Alex just told him that he has a crush on Luke, and Reggie might very well be in love with the best friend he’s ever had. For this moment, for the only one he may ever get, he presses closer to Alex and he kisses him for longer, holds him closer, and tries his damnedest not to cry. For all that Alex has loved him more than anyone ever has, he won’t ruin this moment of his own making. He asked for this. He might as well do what he can with it. He lets Alex pull away after maybe a minute, probably far too long for a first kiss, but Reggie wouldn’t really know anyway.

“Wow, um. Okay. I definitely like kissing as much as I thought I would,” Alex says as he rests their foreheads together, laughter tinting his words. Reggie smiles. He lets his heart crack in his chest.

“I’m sure you’ll knock him dead, Lexi. You did great.”

August of 1993.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but… I miss Bobby. And Reg, but. I miss Bobby,” Luke says, his voice slightly muffled against Alex’s shoulder. Alex snorts, but contemplates it.

“We saw him an hour ago, but I think I know what you mean,” he replies, thinking about Reggie. And isn’t that the problem?

“Just, like, how they leave us alone all the time? I don’t really dig it,” Luke continues, sounding put out as he picks his head up to look at Alex well enough to pout at him. He receives nothing but a raised eyebrow for his troubles.

“You realize that you’re literally in my lap right now, right? That’s something that you’re aware of? It’s important to me that you know that,” Alex says, looking down at where Luke is, in fact, straddling his lap, though it’s not like they’re really doing anything right now. Luke, like Reggie, just happens to be particularly tactile, and has told Alex that he likes to be held, so Alex takes the opportunity to do so whenever he can. And, the kissing is nice. He actively doesn’t compare it to that one time, because he loves kissing Luke, and he loves Luke, but-

And isn’t that the fucking problem?

You get kissed by your best friend in the fucking world one fucking time and now you think you’re- well. He and Luke are in a relationship. They’re happy. It’s just like when they were friends, except now they kiss sometimes! It’s great. Alex is probably the second most observant member of the band (used to be the most observant member, but Bobby goddamn Wilson just notices things, like some kind of wizard), so he’s noticed that Reggie has kind of… pulled back a little, since he and Luke started dating. Bobby has too, in his own way, but it’s more noticeable to him that Reggie has, because of the way that he and Reg have always been. They’ve always been attached at the hip and the shoulder and the everywhere else, so he just doesn’t know what to do now that Reggie is acting like they aren’t. It’s not his fault. It’s making him want weird things. He wants to- God.

He wants to hold Reggie’s stupid hand, and he wants Reggie to sit in his stupid lap, and he wants to run his fingers through Reggie’s stupid hair, and kiss Reggie’s stupid, pouty mouth, and he has no idea what to fucking do with that last impulse because he has a fucking boyfriend and Reggie helped him get that boyfriend because he’s the best fucking friend in the world and Luke is a good friend and a good boyfriend and Alex is a bad fucking person. He numbs out all of his negative thoughts against Luke’s mouth and Luke is more than happy to let him, because Luke has no idea. And he won’t.

That feeling lasts until their next gig, because that’s when the bubble pops. It’s just a studio gig where they invite a bunch of people they know to come listen to them play, so it’s not like it’s a huge amount of stress, but after they’re done playing is more the problem. Reggie is hanging off of Bobby like it’s the only place he wants to be, and he’s flirting with girls and boys and anybody who will listen, and Alex feels like he’s going to snap one of his drumsticks in his hand like a pencil, which is pretty much impossible, and yet. He should be talking to some of the people who were invited by their extended friends, network with the people they don’t know, but he’s not in the right headspace for it; if anything, he’d drive them away. He doesn’t even notice Luke’s eyes on him until people are starting to leave, Alex himself having only talked to a few people, mostly having stared at Reggie and Bobby (mostly Reggie) all night.

“We need to talk, dude,” Luke says, balancing on his floor tom and looking endearing like he always does, except that he kinda looks… not quite pissed off, but certainly not happy either. Immediately, an anxious thrumming starts under Alex’s skin.

“What happened? Did I do something? Did someone else do something?” he asks, panic building up in his throat so quickly it nearly hurts to talk. Luke reaches out and takes his hand, but it’s not nearly so calming as- it works. It calms him down a little. It works enough. Luke shakes his head.

“Whenever Reggie is doing his promo flirting thing that he does, you get super jealous and weird about it. You don’t even get jealous about it when I do that stuff. I don’t think we’re working out here, man. I don’t think… are you in love with Reggie? It’s okay if you are. I don’t wanna do this if you are, though. You should talk to him,” Luke explains it all in a jumbled mess, a very Luke-like jumbled mess, and he’s very cute, and Alex wishes very much that he was in love with him. He’s a sweet guy and a goof and a good kisser, and an okay boyfriend too, when he remembers that there’s more to being a boyfriend than songwriting, but he also might be right. Just this once. Can’t let him get a big head about it.

“I’m really sorry, Luke,” he says quietly, dipping his head down. He likes the fact that he and Luke dated, but he wishes he could have had that without either of them getting hurt. Luke gives him a smile.

“It’s okay, buddy. Don’t tell him, but I might have a thing for Bobbins. So much for not dating in the band, right?” he says, his smile flashing fully into a grin. Alex rolls his eyes.

“You made that rule up before the rest of us even came out, dumbass,” he replies, a familiar jeer that puts him back on even ground. Luke shrugs.

“I stand by it. I also stand by the fact that you should talk to Reg. It’s getting a little ridiculous, and I think he might surprise you,” Luke says, and then he stands up off of the floor tom and leaves the studio entirely, presumably to go find Bobby like he usually does after any emotional conversation. Bobby is an emotional void (i.e. he makes everyone else deal with the emotions once he identifies the fact that emotions need to be dealt with), so he’s a good landing place when one needs to be without them. Alex startles when he’s spoken to again.

“Talk to me about what? That’s all I heard, I swear,” Reggie says, coming in as Luke leaves. Alex huffs a laugh at the circumstance alone.

“Luke and I just broke up,” he says, which isn’t what Luke was talking about at all, but it’s important, probably. Reggie looks affronted immediately.

“What? Did he- did you- I would hate to have to do it, but if he hurt your feelings, I can totally beat him up,” Reggie says, and Alex can’t help it. He laughs outright. He laughs because Reggie offered and he laughs because Reggie might actually think he can and he laughs because Reggie might actually think he should and he laughs because he’s the one who might have hurt Luke and he laughs because that sucks and Jesus Christ, what is his damage that that makes him laugh? The laughing might lead to tears or the thinking might lead to tears but either way he starts crying and Reggie comes across the studio in a flash, standing in front of between his stool and his kit, thin body carefully maneuvered to hold him close, to cradle him in and keep him safe.

“We broke up,” he says again, and he can’t get the rest of the words out because Reggie is stroking his hair and holding him for the first time in at least a month, and he’s overwhelmed. Reggie hums.

“I know, Ali, I’m sorry,” Reg says, and he thinks that might be the first time Reggie has called him a stupid nickname in a month too and this is so stupid.

“We broke up because I’m in love with you,” he finally chokes out, and it’s out there, and Reggie’s hand in his hair stops and for a moment, the entire world stops, and Alex swears it’s going to crash down around his ears, he can feel the way that the world is going to end, he can feel the way that his best friend in the world is going to reject him, he knows it’s going to happen. But Reggie’s careful hands pry him away from the boy’s soft stomach and those careful hands cup his face so gently, as if it's made of the precious things, and Reggie wipes away the tears that are still on Alex’s face, and he just looks at Alex for a moment. God, how he fucking looks at him.

“You know, when I said anybody would be lucky to have you, Alex Mercer, anybody included me. I love you… so, so much. Tell me this is real,” Reggie says, his voice breaking, tears welling up in his eyes too, and Alex has to stand up to hold him. He can’t do this without holding Reggie how he’s always held him, and holding Reggie has always meant being taller than him, because no matter how much Reggie has grown, Alex has always outpaced him by an inch or two. He wraps an arm around Reggie’s waist and pulls Reggie flush against him, closer than he’s been in a month’s time, and it feels so good that he can hardly breathe, can hardly focus at all, and he leans down to put their foreheads together gently, just like after they… just like when they kissed.

“This is real, Reg. This is so real that I’m terrified, but I’m not, because it’s you. I’ve loved you my entire life. If there’s one thing I shouldn’t be scared of, it’s loving you, isn’t it?” he asks, the feeling burning through his chest, and the touch of Reggie’s holy fire hands against his skin enough to make him ready to cry again, but he won’t, not now. Reggie leans up, and he leans down, and somewhere, the waves crest against their dock and flick up against the shore, and he kisses Reggie for the first time in two months and it's the best thing that’s ever happened to him all over again. He bites Reggie’s lip and relishes in the noise he makes, chases it with his tongue, follows the sound and does whatever he can to make this beautiful boy make more beautiful noises like it. He holds Reggie’s face in one hand and it’s like holding the entire world, everything beautiful, and he never wants to leave this moment.

Eventually, Reggie pulls away to breathe, and Alex lets him. He doesn’t want to, but, well, needs must. Reggie pecks his nose and smiles at him, so it’s not all bad. A pretty boy is still in his arms and smiling at him, after all.

“Not bad for our first real kiss, huh?” Reggie jokes, and Alex immediately shakes his head. The first kiss, while it wasn’t the confessional that this one was, was real in its own way, raw and unfiltered, and so new that Alex doesn’t know how to describe it. But it was real. He can’t imagine anything with Reggie not being real. Reggie is the most real thing in the universe, maybe. Alex presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“The first one was real too. Everything… everything with you has always been real, Reg. All of it.”

#ralex #it's a 10k fic so i recommend reading on ao3 #reggie peters #alex mercer #bobby shaw #luke patterson #jatp #mine #troped

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