Trigger warnings: mentions of suicide, death, depression

"Where are we going?" Andy asks, getting out Emerson's car and looking around. They're in the centre of town.

Emerson begins walking towards a café. "Don't be mad," he says.

"Mad why?"

"Just say you won't be mad."

Andy grabs his shoulder. "If you've done what I think you've done-"

"Just be nice."

"Be nice? Says the guy who's set me up."

"I've not set you up, I'm just trying to sort this out because clearly you'd stay locked away unless I did something."

"This is why I have trust issues," Andy mutters. "Alright, fine. You're paying."

Emerson smiles, accomplished. "Good."

"No, it's not good. I'm being set up by a man who reads about death all day. Not good."

"I don't read about death."

"The book I found on your shelf last night begs to differ, Mister Barrett. Which way is it now, huh? Is it that way, down deceit lane, or is it that way, up bullshitting avenue?"

"You're such a drama queen," Emerson says. "It's actually straight ahead, down good friend street."

Andy groans and folds his arms. "It's a wonder you're still alive after everything you've done to me."

"Done to you? You mean stopped you from dying?"

"It's not a favour if what I wanted was to die, is it? Think about that."

"Yes it is," argues Emerson. "Because otherwise you would be dead."

"Duh. And you're supposed to be the clever one." Now, he's shoved playfully to the side, smiling for a moment.

Emerson shakes his head. "I know you're going through stuff but don't take it out on me, alright? I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need help. Who said I need help?"

"You're such a bad liar."

"Says the man who claims he doesn't read about death."

"I don't read about death."

"Yes you do, suck it up."

"You suck it up."

"This is an endless cycle so I'm not saying anymore."

Emerson hums.

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

From behind them comes a voice, saying, "Why don't you both shut up?"

They turn around and there stands Sebastian and Remington, who looks at Andy like he's seen a ghost. A very attractive ghost. "You shut up," Andy says, the smiles sarcastically. "I don't appreciate being dragged here."

"Hello to you too," Sebastian responds. "Aren't you just a ray of sunshine afternoon?"

"Piss off." He looks at Remington, finds his stare slightly disturbing. "Right, well the only reason I'm still here is because I'm hungry, so can we just fucking go in?"

Remington's eyes flicker down now, away from Andy.

Emerson pushes Andy towards the door. "You're being rude," he mutters aggressively. "You're trying to sort things out, not blow them up. All you're doing is making him scared of you."

"Stop lecturing me, I'm older than you," Andy mutters back, then finding a table and sitting down. He puts his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, visibly annoyed, as the others join him, Remington uneasy. Andy picks up the menu and says nothing.

"Alright," Sebastian begins. "Here's what's gonna happen. Remington, you listening?"

The boy looks up. "Huh?"

"Are you listening?"

"To what?"

"To what I'm about to say."

"No, because you're not saying it. How can I listen to what you're about to say if you're not saying it yet?"

Andy almost snickers at that, hiding his smile with the menu.

"Put you're hands on the table, Remington," Sebastian says. "Andy, you too. Come on."

"Why?" Remington asks.

"Just do it."

"I don't take orders from you."

Andy hides another smile and Sebastian sighs. "Fine, then we'll sit here until you do."

Remington slouches in the chair. "Why are we here?"

"You tell me," Sebastian replies in the tone he'd use when Remington was a teenager.

"Why am I here?" He asks again, sinking further down in the chair.

"Sit up."

Remington huffs and slides all the way off the chair and under the table. Andy can't help but to laugh, covering his mouth and silencing himself. "There," comes the singer's voice from under the table. "I'm sitting up."

"This is your fault," Andy says to the two remaining brothers, amused. He leans back in his seat and smiles.

Emerson and Sebastian share a smug glance.

Remington grabs Andy's legs and pulls himself up so he's kneeling with his torso against the man's calves. "I can't spend another minute with him," he whispers, once Andy is looking down at him. He reaches up and pointlessly pulls at the elder's jacket.

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You knew this would happen."

"Yes. Yes, we did," confirms Sebastian. "It's pretty simple. Just treat him like a kid and he comes running straight back to you. Always has, always will. Now buy him lunch and be done with this."

"Make him leave," Remington whispers. Then he puts his head in Andy's lap and exhales.

Andy puts a hand on his head, watches Emerson and Sebastian leave. Then he looks back at Remington. "You can come out now," he tells the boy. "Carefully. Don't bang your head."

"What if he's still there?"

"He's not."

"Don't make me go back with him."

Andy chuckles. "Was it that bad?"

"He made me eat broccoli," says Remington in a horrified voice. "Save me from the broccoli."

"You know, you haven't changed a bit. Come on, come out. I'll buy you lunch. With no broccoli." He moves his chair back from the table, keeping a hand on the back of Remington's head as he crawls out, should he hit the table.

Remington grins. "Sorry about making you sad."

"And I'm sorry about making you upset with me. C'mon, sit down."

"Is this a...restaurant?"

"Not quite. It's a café. Similar, but less fancy."

"Oh. Okay. Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss?"