If the world was ending you’d come over, right?

[Brayden Smith]

"Oh."

Jack confirmed it and Bray still didn't feel upset. Curious perhaps. He wondered... what it would be like, if he had to be honest. How it would work. Who would end up... doing what. And he didn't think of it now in a sexual context, merely perhaps he wondered about the logistics of it.

Bray himself... he didn't know where he stood. It was perhaps coincidence that his partners had been men, because women didn't seem to notice him. And he had so few partners in the past that he really didn't have any basis to say for sure which way he leaned. When he thought of romance, he didn't think particularly of a gender—more of a feeling, a connection with someone who took away that loneliness inside and filled him with love and feelings of tenderness and protectiveness. He wanted to love a person, not a gender.

"Actually..." Bay smiled. It was a smile that evolved slowly, but gained confidence. "Marge really loves us, doesn't she?" Her love was a different kind than theirs but he could see it in her eyes. He saw it in the way she hovered over them like a protective mother bear, worrying over them constantly. And she was trying her best to help them, too, which filled him with affection for her.

"I don't think... I mind. If you want to..."

He didn't know he felt that way until the words were out, but... He really didn't. He didn't want it to be any woman, though. Marge was a fixture in their lives; she was the exception, Bray felt.

[Jack Ripley]

"She does."

There was no denying that. She might be up in their grills and had a temper that could have rivaled a volcano but she loved them. She wasn't just anyone and if she needed help... Jack couldn't very well leave her hanging. If not him, then somebody. But he'd help her find a way that didn't involve a sad masturbation session in the shower. Jack knew all about those and they were terrible.

"Wait," Jack said, pausing. Because it sounded more like Brayden was contemplating it, not as if he were giving his boyfriend permission to be with somebody else. Like he was contemplating... being... a part of it? Jack raised his brows, not wanting to be too hopeful but still feeling hopeful nonetheless.

"Are you saying you want to...?"

[Brayden Smith]

Ah... he was giving Jack permission to go through with what Marge asked but it did sound like he was considering joining them, didn't it? And Bray really didn't know why he said it that way, either. He was fine with Jack helping her, since she sounded a little desperate. Joining in on the... the activities...? Did he... Was he that daring? That provocative? That adventurous?

Old Brayden Smith, perhaps not. Bray was no prude but he was definitely cautious in terms of what went on in the bedroom—if anything at all. Some called him frigid, others called him a tease, but he was hardly any of those things. He wanted sex. He wanted love. He wanted the two to be intertwined, for love to result in sex and intimacy. He wanted to be connected to someone body and soul, in all ways.

"I..." It didn't escape his notice the way Jack seemed hopeful. Earlier, though, Jack fought for their time alone and he practically banned Marge from the very bedroom they were in now. Clearly he wasn't simply in this for the cheap thrills, or to say he'd had a threesome the way some men liked to brag. Bray lowered his head, trying to hide his face with his hair.

"I think so?"

[Jack Ripley]

Look, he wasn't saying that Brayden alone didn't satisfy him. Not at all--and he hoped, in retrospect--that it wasn't how he sounded when he asked. Or that Brayden thought that might be where his hopeful tone sprang from. Jack could have Brayden a thousand times, and it just be the two of them--and that would be acceptable. More than acceptable. All he really needed in this life was him. All the rest of it was just sprinkles. A place to live together, that would be nice. A place on their own without a thousand adopted sons... even better.

That vision of them... together... all the ones where they were together, actually. He... he wanted all of them. And... he knew he had them all.

And maybe that was what made him so secure in this. Their relationship, their partnership. Whatever happened in any timeline or past life or alternative world... they always seemed to be in one another's lives. Jack gently swept Brayden's hair back.

"You don't have to say that for me," Jack said finally. "If it's too weird for you, I get it. Not everybody's into the multiple partners thing."

[Brayden Smith]

"It's not... weird." Bray didn't look up but he caught a hold of Jack's hand and he held on to it. "If it's important to-to either of you, I mean."

He was open to the idea of giving it a try. Bray couldn't rightly say that he disliked something without trying it, and if the idea of it didn't set off That Tone the way it did back at that Birdy Bee cafe, then he supposed... he wasn't opposed to it. The fact that it was Jack and Marge, two people he felt very close to, helped. If it were a stranger and Jack, no go. If it were a stranger and Marge, no go either. Jack and Marge together, forming the core of his new family?

Bray didn't mind that. It was another way of being close to them, sharing an intimate moment with two people he cared for.

Finally he looked up with a hesitant smile. "Really. I-I'm not doing it just to make you two happy, Jack. I guess... we could try it once...?" If he didn't like it then... Jack and Marge could carry on without him. Naively he supposed that was how it would work—Bray didn't know, he'd never been in a situation where he had to think about being involved in a threesome.

[Jack Ripley]

Important might not be the word Jack would have chosen. He loved Marge, in a mostly platonic way. But she was off the walls crazy without a man in her life. And Jack thought he could help her with her options but she was too stubborn. There was nobody else in her life off the top of her head, apparently, that would work. And it would keep her from doing anything crazy to his student--the one that they hadn't figured out completely. But if he was dead, it might be better if Marge didn't go around having sex with him.

The idea was a bit macabre and maybe it was somebody's kink but he didn't think it was Marge's. At least he hoped not. She didn't seem that excited to make that revelation...

"Hopefully, once is all we'll need before she gets herself a man," he said and he kissed Brayden's forehead, because he didn't want Marge thinking if they all did it once, they were going at it again for the rest of their lives. Again... love her but. Full stop, he wanted Brayden and... he wanted Marge to be happy. He somehow didn't know that she could be if she wasn't loved by somebody who felt as deeply about her as Jack felt about Brayden--and he was sure Brayden felt about him. It wasn't a ranking system. It was just... how it was.

But then again, there was no saying that three people couldn't love each other that way, either. Ahh. Jack didn't want to spend his time philosophizing for once. Beyond the agreement regarding Marge, though...

"Do you think her plan will work? To find my brothers?"

[Brayden Smith]

"O-oh?"

Bray was lost. He accepted the kiss and almost out of habit kissed Jack back on the cheek but... what was happening now? Was he—Brayden Smith—the one agreeing to some kind of tentative agreement for a threesome and was Jack—Jack Ripley, sexiest man about town according to totally non-biased sources—slamming the door on it after one time?

Was

Was Bray

Being more open to this idea

Than Jack?

He sat there a little stunned, gazing off into space as he tried to think this one through. Not even over-think, just think. Think it through. Bray wasn't about to suggest that they marry Marge and welcome her to the family but...?

He snapped back when Jack brought the conversation back to his brothers, and the plan that Marge proposed. "Oh! Oh yeah. Yes, I think it—it's not a bad plan. We could at least try it." The kidnapping thing was a little sketchy but the rest of it, well... Why not? What did they have to lose at this point? Bray reached up to touch Jack's jaw, turning his face slightly so that he could kiss him properly. It was so... bizarre. Everything that happened today, purely bizarre.

But this kiss, it was the only thing that made sense. Their love made sense, irrespective of Marges and threesomes, Raphaels and crazy revelations about dark king fathers and unknown brothers. Their love was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that withstood the test of time. Bray stayed close to Jack after the kiss ended. A little mischievously, he leaned... leaned... leaned against Jack until they fell back on the bed, where he could curl up against his lover.

"Can we... take a moment to breathe?" If they could just have maybe five minutes, so they could feel normal again—so Bray could feel normal again...

[Jack Ripley]

"Yeah..."

Jack laid back with Brayden. Poor thing, he sounded exhausted. How could anybody blame him? Today had been... one hell of a day. And it seemed like things just kept coming flying at them, not giving them a moment to simply breathe.

"Yeah," he said again, closing his eyes. He understood exactly where Brayden was coming from. A lot really had happened in such a short time, for both of them. Brayden had been hurt so badly that he... died. Jack still didn't like thinking about it. Died or nearly died. He wondered if something similar had happened to Raphael, if they would be able to get to the bottom of it. But beyond that, the shit hitting the fan just wouldn't stop. Now there was apparently an evil father out to get them both and there were brothers to find and warn and save. And there were adopted sons to look after.

And damn if they didn't get any time alone to just... be.

Like this.

Jack turned his head toward Brayden to nuzzle him, to just breathe him in and soak in his presence. He didn't think he had ever been through such a thorough rollercoaster of emotions, not since he had discovered Keith was the real murderer all along. And that hadn't happened too long ago, either. Jack was still getting used to that information. And now all this other shit...

"I miss the days when we just had game nights," he said as he ran a thumb gently over Brayden's shoulder. "And it was just you and me and your popcorn."

[Brayden Smith]

It was one thing piled on top of another, piled on top of another. Bray didn't think he managed to breathe properly since the start of their afternoon date at the cafe, where that smiling young man propositioned them both! In between then and now, the world stopped making sense and neither Bray nor Jack had any time to sit down and think. Now, Bray knew that he was the over-thinker of the group and needed to do less of that, but this was borderline insane.

At least right now, there was a bit of time. He turned toward Jack, nuzzling him back, kissing him in lieu of a response at first. The kisses started out slow and remained slow. Loving. Just another way to show appreciation for his boyfriend, a way to let him know that even if nothing else ever made sense again, they still did. There was a port in this storm—this shitstorm, as Marge would have said—and it was within each other.

"We should still have game night." Just because Jack's crazy dark king father wanted to find him and bring him back into the fold, didn't mean their lives needed to be put on hold. They still needed something normal—one night in the week—to anchor them. Bray smiled, though, at the thought of their last game night. It sort of put everything into motion. Helped by Marge's wine.

"And you should still cheat to lose." He outright laughed there, as he stroked a line down Jack's jaw, down the side of his neck and over his shoulders. Bray couldn't help smiling at him. No one could ever tell him that this wasn't worth it. All the trouble they were in, the danger... It was still worth it just for this moment alone with Jack.

There were a million things he felt that they should cover, though. Some things he didn't want to share with Marge—as much as he loved her—and some things were definitely not meant for strangers like Raphael. Some things required thought and time to process, which he couldn't do when terrifying new developments kept happening. After a moment, his hands stilled and came to rest against Jack's jaw.

"Jack. Those visions we saw... There was one, I don't know if you had time to see it. It was us, and we were in a living room somewhere. I think it was another apartment or house? But we... you were reading to—I think they were our children. And I was sitting beside you, and there was a dog and a fireplace and..." Bray trailed off, smiling at the image that the vision left in his mind. They were a family. A real family, a whole, happy, complete family.

"Do you think... maybe... we could still have that? A family?"

[Jack Ripley]

"I do like watching you win..."

There were things Jack was competitive about but game night with Brayden was not one of those things. Honestly, most of the time, he didn't even really have to cheat to lose. That was just his cover for getting Brayden to bend down or to watch him get up. Then he'd play at switching cards or moving game pieces just to be playful. Not really caring if he won or lost. Just... enjoying himself.

That was what he missed. Being playful. In those moments, he wasn't thinking about the terrible secrets that ended up not being his. He was just Jack and Brayden was Brayden. And he was falling in love with him and a part of him knew he shouldn't but a part of him wanted it. So badly. And he did try. He tried not to, he tried to warn Brayden away. Now he wondered if he should have anyway. Things were turning out so bad.

But... he couldn't make himself believe that it was worthwhile to step back now. They had each other's backs. They had each other.

"Oh..." That one sounded... so familiar. Jack blinked, his hand going for Brayden's hand. "Yes... I saw something similar before. I think it was one of my first visions... I think that one's... for us. In this future."

Not another life but this one. And this one, because they were here now, living in it, was the important one.

[Brayden Smith]

"I think you liked dropping things and throwing things more," said Bray with a tiny note of disapproval in his voice, recalling the times that Jack Butterfingers Ripley let cards fly out of his hands or dropped little game pieces, and made Bray stoop to pick them up. Of course Bray did so, and quite good-naturedly, but sometimes he had suspicions. A few times he thought he caught Jack checking him out, and naturally he was quick to dismiss it as wishful thinking...

But now he thought maybe not. Definitely not. If Jack loved him, of course he would also check him out. Bray checked Jack out! (Especially when he was unclothed, and then he felt like a pervert and had to cover Jack up.)

Sighing, he turned his hand in order to hold Jack's, to pull it down to his chest and hold it there so that it could feel the beat of his heart. "Our future..." A brighter future than the present moment, with children, a home of their own, even a dog! Bray smiled but there was something a little... ticklish in his sinuses, and at the back of his throat and eyes. He cleared his throat softly.

"I think... You know, Jack, I think my parents knew. I mean, that you were innocent all along. I think they knew it even before we did, and they—she—my mother, I mean, tried to tell me that in her own way. She encouraged me to stay with you..." If she had known that Jack was a horrible monster, that he was responsible for killing all of those young men, she would never have let Bray stay with him. Yet, she did—she told him to be patient, to wait, to let Jack's truth come out naturally. Even if she didn't know for a fact, perhaps she sensed it. Or he sensed it, in his heart of hearts, and he refused to completely believe that Jack was... evil.

Yet Bray wavered. He dropped his gaze as the lump grew in his throat, recalling that horrible night when Jack's secrets tumbled out. In that moment Bray knew that he would never leave Jack, but... He wouldn't have agreed to start a family with him. If Jack had been responsible for those deaths, their future wouldn't have been this bright. Bray could not, in good conscience, bring a child into their lives with that hanging between them.

"They gave us their blessings. The last time I saw them, they... There was a door, you see. And they were on one side, and you and Marge were on the other side..." Bray paused to take in a shaky breath. He hadn't spoken of that day—the day he nearly died—since it happened and thankfully no one sought to press him. Perhaps they sensed that he wasn't ready yet to discuss what happened. This was one of those things that he wanted Jack to know about first, though, before anyone else—even Marge.

"They said that I could stay with them, or go back and I—I wanted to stay with them. So much. I was so happy seeing them again, being able to talk to them again, to hear their voices." He couldn't help it—the heat behind his eyes overflowed and he let it, thinking of his parents' voices, their smiles, the way they held his hand. Their love—he felt their love stronger than ever. "But they... they said I didn't need them anymore. And then I heard your voice. You told me you were crazy stupid in love with me."

Bray laughed through the tears, a sound half of joy, half of the sorrow of deep, significant loss. He couldn't help that either; his heart felt so full thinking of Jack, the way his voice sounded in that moment, full of passion and sincerity and love, too. So much love that it reached him even in the throes of death, to pull him back. "I miss them so much."

[Jack Ripley]

"Hm..." But there might have been the slightest lilt of amusement in the sound towards the end. So, he was that obvious, was he? Now, maybe. At the time, either Brayden was a Hollywood grade actor or he was realizing what it must have meant. Hey, he was a little bit desperate at the time; he was pining--as Marge would so say--and he wanted him and couldn't have him. That's what he kept telling himself. Plus, at the time, he couldn't tell if Brayden was even interested. Sometimes he said things... it sounded like he was. And then other times...

But he knew now. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Jack smiled as his hand was taken and held over Brayden's heart. He never told Brayden about how Marge showed him the light there and how it matched with his. The color, the beat. Sometimes, Jack wondered if that was the only thing that actually kept Brayden from dying that night. If his heart wasn't there, beating stronger and hard enough for the two of them...

But maybe that was just hubris.

Probably just hubris.

Jack fell silent as Brayden spoke, a melancholic tone threading his words as he spoke. The words were so hopeful but... they were also tinged in regret. His mother, Jack thought, must have known. She wouldn't have urged Brayden to stay with a murderer. Maybe in death, she saw her son's life, the rest of his life. His life with Jack. Maybe death was just a stop in the timeline but she stuck around to make sure her son was on the right path. So did that mean this was the right path? This? Them? Jack lightly ran his thumb over Brayden's hand, over the ridges of his knuckles.

The door part, though. What did that mean? He turned his head to get a better look at Brayden and his expression. A door...? Did that mean... that Brayden had been given a choice to follow his parents to death--or what came next--or Jack?

So why did he sound... like... he regretted his choice?

Jack swallowed hard, turning his head back, gaze swinging upward at the ceiling. Obviously, he didn't want to be the reason Brayden stayed alive if this was why. If his parents... Jack didn't know. It just felt wrong all of a sudden. Jack would choose Brayden first, of course, over his parents but... Brayden had good parents. Nice parents. Practically perfect parents. Why would he want to leave that behind... for this?

No, no. He couldn't think like that.

He wasn't the murdering piece of shit he once thought he was. But it took more than a little time to recover from feeling like one. He could be dealing with the repercussions of that for the rest of his life. And it made him wonder if it was even worth knowing if it was always going to haunt him.

It is. The peace of mind, the relief, the absolute joy he felt when he realized that it wasn't him, that it was never him! But, he was still somewhat responsible. He was close to those people. He loved those people, just like he loved Brayden now. But this time, it'll be different. Jack knew things now. He had friends on his side. Powerful friends. But then, so did Keith, apparently. And Keith himself was nothing to sneeze at, either. Jack took in a deep, deep breath, trying not to let the conflicting emotions inside suffocate him.

"I did say that," he said, hating that Brayden was in tears. Even though he laughed... it was such a sad sound. Not hollow. But not happy, either. Jack moved closer, nuzzling Brayden, kissing his throat because that was where his lips happened to be. Lifting his head to kiss his chin. Tilting his head so that their lips met.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. He wasn't usually the apologizing type. Brayden had that trait under lock. But he was truly sorry for Brayden's loss. Although he wasn't around when they died and had nothing to do with it, he was sorry that Brayden didn't have them at his side anymore, that they weren't with him, that they wouldn't be around to meet any children they might ever have. Or even... him. Although...

"I saw her for a few seconds," Jack confessed. "When you... were pulled into that weird golden dream thing. I was there. Not long but long enough to see her. She radiated so much warmth..."

[Brayden Smith]

It seemed like an easy choice, a choice that in storybooks would have been made without hesitation. In fairy tales he would have opened that door and stepped right out into Jack's arms, and he wouldn't have looked back because who would choose death over life? Who in their right mind would want to stay with their parents over the man who loved him?

But this... it wasn't a fairy tale. It wasn't a fictional tale. It was Bray's life, his loss. The kind of love that he lost when he lost his parents couldn't be expressed. It was so profound, it formed a permanent scar in his heart that no one and nothing else could ever erase. And a part of him would always wonder—what if. What if he stayed with them, in that warm and golden place? What if he didn't come back, and let death claim him in favor of a peaceful afterlife?

They offered him a choice: stay or go. He heard Jack's voice and the decision seemed to be made for him and so even if he sounded sorrowful, even if the tears that he shed seemed to indicate regret, he didn't regret his choice. He walked away from the kind of warm, accepting, unconditional love that he had always known to test his heart with a strange, foreign, new love. He stepped through that door, back to Jack, back to this life that he was living now.

"Thank you."

He let Jack comfort him because he needed it right now. Bray needed that soft kiss to the base of his throat, to his chin, to his lips. He needed someone to try and understand his loss and to be sympathetic in the moment, and Jack was perfectly suited to the task. No, Jack didn't know how it felt to lose parents who loved him, and whom he loved, but he didn't have to. The sound of his voice, the soothing kisses, the way he came closer so that their bodies could curl around one another, offering silent strength of a different kind, was more than enough.

Bray lifted a hand to wipe at his damp eyes, smiling through the tears. "She wanted to meet you, I think. That's why she let you in. I remember it. We were sitting with her, right? And I asked you if we were best friends... and you said yes." He laughed again, this time a slightly happier sound. "She liked you. I know she did. I told her about you before we became friends, in the few times I saw her in my dreams. And she didn't like Wyatt, you know, even if she let me make my own mistakes with him. But she liked you. They both did." If they didn't, they wouldn't have given their blessings for Bray to return to Jack. He knew that for a fact; they wouldn't have urged him to return to the land of the living, when they loved him so much that he knew... they wanted him to stay even more than he did. Infinitely more than he did.

"But they were right, Jack. I don't need them anymore... because I have you." He tipped his head forward to kiss Jack again, a sad little, sweet little kiss. "I'm so glad you didn't... kill all those people. And I'm sorry I ever—ever thought you could have."

[Jack Ripley]

"Yes."

He remembered that, the best friend question. The answer. He remembered the warmth and the golden aura about everything. Somehow, he hadn't realized it was a death dream. Jack didn't know if he ever would have experienced any such thing at all. Whatever fairy type he was, it didn't appear to be the same as Brayden. Which... was good right? It meant they weren't related in any way. But he had to wonder if there were some kind of politics about this. Being the son of a man who wanted to rend the wings from all fairies and him, being in love with the nicest fairy he'd ever met...

Kind of... bad news.

But nothing they couldn't at least try and handle.

"Maybe she did know me," he mused as he thought it over, about Brayden's mother liking him when he was just somebody Brayden talked about. So... Brayden talked to his parents--or at least his mother--about him, did he? What kinds of things did he say? Did he tell her about that weird story he was writing where, for some reason, Jack was the villain? Jack's lips quirked into a twitch of a smile before he glanced over at Brayden in amusement. He was going to have to ask about that.

Not yet, though.

Gladly, Jack accepted the kiss and he smiled into it before kissing Brayden back. He reached up and stroked his hair. His heart wrenched a little, though.

"Yeah..." He hated thinking about it. About what he perceived he had done. For so long, he held onto so much pain. Although it lifted with the realization it wasn't him... It had hollowed him out for a good long portion of his life.

"...and I can't blame you, Brayden... I thought I did it, too." His voice softened. "But I'm glad it wasn't me. The nightmares... There were so many times I..."

[Brayden Smith]

Jack had been haunted for so long by crimes he thought he committed. Bray couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of psychological damage that would do, what horrors still laid in wait when he closed his eyes and let that unconscious part of his brain that had been twisted and manipulated take over. None of that was Jack, though. Jack didn't do any of the things his memories claimed; it was Keith, by all accounts, who committed those murders and then tried to pin them all on Jack.

It still made Bray's skin crawl to think that anyone would go to those lengths just to... to drive another man mad. What was the end-game there? Bray refused to believe that Keith did it out of anything other than purely evil intent. Even if he tried to lay claim over Jack, even if his words from that night still echoed in Bray's thoughts, he could never be convinced that this was love—twisted or not. It was malice. Pure and simple.

"It's okay..." He reached out to drift his fingers over Jack's hair, stroking the side of his head comfortingly. "You don't have to talk about it now, if you don't want to. I just—you know I'm here if you ever feel like talking."

There was nothing he couldn't tell Bray—nothing he could reveal that would drive Bray away. He had a feeling there was more, but he wasn't trying to push Jack into spilling out all of his innermost thoughts. Things like this took time to accept, to adjust to, to think through fully. Even Bray had a hard time accepting that Jack was the killer, and then to suddenly be told that he wasn't, and all of his memories were a lie. The shock hadn't fully worn off yet, either, and with all of these new revelations he had a hard time catching up.