Trigger warning - mentions of abuse, homophobia.

Mothers are supposed to be nice, Kacey thinks, and sits on the bed where she is told to sit. Mothers are supposed to want to know when you're not okay. Mothers should care. Why doesn't her mother care?

"Who were they?" The woman, Christine, asks, cigarette between her fingers as usual.

Kacey looks at her hands in her lap. "Remington and Andy," she says.

Christine laughs. "Remington and Andy. God, never heard such bullshit before. I don't want you near fags, Kacey, they'll turn you gay."

The girl would laugh if she wasn't so utterly fed up with her mother's antics, with her awful attitude and inability to look at life from anyone else's perspective. "That's not how it works, mum. And they're not fags. That's not a nice word."

"Yes they are. They're gay fags. What did they tell you, hmm? What lies did they feed you?"

"They just told me about their cat, Jenny, and their-"

"Bullshit!"

Kacey flinches.

Christine takes a long drag of her cigarette before saying, and rather harshly, "gay men aren't real men."

Kacey stays quiet. It's better to just listen to the mad woman's rambling and pretend it doesn't upset her.

"They aren't manly enough to control a woman so they stick their scrawny penises up each other's arses and call it love."

That's not right, Kacey thinks. They don't need to be with a woman to be a man. They can be whoever they want to be.

"Listen to me, if you ever see a gay man I want you to tell them they're a fag, okay? Tell them they're disgusting and have no right to be called a man anymore."

Kacey nods. She doesn't want to do that. She refuses to do that but she nods anyway.

Christine flicks her cigarette at the ground, despite the no-smoking sign above the door. "And if you ever see Remington and Andy again, you're to tell them how sick they make you." Her phone starts ringing on the bed. She huffs. Picks it up. Answers. "What?" She snaps, "oh, fuck off, Jane, no one gives two craps about that. No. Get over it. No, I won't. No. No. Bye."

Jane. Kacey knows who Jane is. A woman who is supposedly her mother's friend. Went through a divorce last year. She was properly in love with the guy and he broke it off anyway. Christine should care.

Andy listens to Remington's song, the one he said he wrote for the man. He stands by the piano, watching the younger's fingers on the keys, his face as he sings, and just stands there, still, even after Remington has stopped playing and it's gone quiet.

"What d'you think?" Remington asks, cheerful.

Andy smiles. "You wrote that?"

"Yep. About you."

"Wow, it's-wow."

The boy grins. "We're recording it next week!"

The older, so in love he swears he can't think properly, tells his husband to stand up. He sits at the piano and plays a few random chords, laughing when Remington manoeuvres himself into his lap. "Here, play your song again. Lemme try something."

Remington does what Andy says with ease, starting his song again and smiling when Andy sings into his ear, echoing some of his words. They burst into laughter when Remington nearly slides off Andy's lap, Andy grabbing his waist and pulling him back up. And for a while, they sit there on the piano stool, playing the occasional note, quiet and not needing to talk. Sometimes being in love does more talking that saying anything could ever do.

Eventually Andy has to stand up because his legs are numb, and he pushes Remington off him jokily, slowly so he doesn't bang his head on the piano. "Sorry," he laughs, getting off the stool and stretching his legs out.

"Dick head," Remington responds, grins, and crawls into the middle of the room. "I'm supposed to have lunch with Em in half an hour."

"And you don't want to?"

The singer shrugs. He's sitting on the floor now. "Dunno. Not in the mood for lunch."

"I'm sure it'll be okay. You got this."

Remington smiles. "I got this. But you know what I don't got?"

Andy plumps up a cushion, amused because he knows what Remington's about to say. "What might that be, kitten?"

"Your hoodie."

"But I'm wearing my hoodie," Andy says in a whiny voice.

Remington huffs. "Well can you take it off?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I want it, please." He looks up at Andy with a pout.

The man chuckles. "You'll have to come get it, then, sweetie," he teases, and leaves the room.

Remington follows him out, chasing after him up the stairs and grabbing him just outside the bedroom. "Mine," he laughs, pulling at the bottom of the hoodie and making Andy laugh, too.

"You're odd."

"I know. Give it," Remington whines, jumping on Andy. "Andy."

The man just laughs as he grabs Remington's thighs to keep him from falling.

Remington licks his neck.

"Ew, nasty."

"You smell like oranges."

"It's the shampoo. You know, the one you chose?"

Remington giggles. "Oh yeah, duh."

Andy walks slowly into the bedroom, lying Remington on the bed and throwing a pillow at him. "Want the hoodie? It's just here." He puts his hood up and watches Remington pouting at him. "You just gotta get it off me, angel. It should be easy."

"You're easy."

"You're odd."

"You said that."

"I know."

Remington grabs Andy's arm and pulls him towards the bed, shoving a hand up the inside of the hoodie and kissing Andy at the same time. "Mm, hoodie," he says against the man's lips.

"Mm, what're you doing?" Andy asks, feeling Remington's hand on his chest.

"Nothin'," he slurs, biting Andy's bottom lip and laughing. "Hoodie, pretty please."

The man pokes his cheek.

"I'll love you forever and ever until the world explodes."

Andy hums. "Won't you love me after the world explodes, too?" He asks, playfully pushing Remington back onto the bed. "And anyway, kitty, I'm sure a hoodie won't change the love you have for me."

The singer, pulling Andy down with him, giggles. "You calling me kitty now? Hmm...I like it!"

"Indeed, kitty suits you." He strokes a hand over Remington's cheek. "I've still not got the hoodie, though."

"Fuck you, tiger."

Andy smiles. "Tiger?"

"Yeah, tiger. Don't ask. Anyway, hoodie. Give. Now."

"Anyway, no thankyou, not yours. Sorry sunshine."

The boy whines and Andy presses a finger to his lips.

"Now now, kitty cat, you're too cute. I just have to give you my hoodie now." He sits up and takes the hoodie off, dangling it above Remington's head with a cheeky smirk.

Remington grabs it, tugging it from Andy's hand and hugging it to his chest protectively as he, too, sits up. "Thanks, tiger," he says, kisses Andy, and slides off the bed.