Been thinking about Remington a lot these past few days. I'm posting this chapter because it's an easy read, but please do tell me if you don't think I should be updating. I understand it's a sensitive time and I'd hate to upset anyone.

Brief mentions of the usual, nothing heavy.

Kittycatrem: Soooo...in a bad turn of events, the hospital kicked me out because I'm a man and am not important. Back home with my love @andybiersack, and back to battling this shit without the constant help I know I need. If I suddenly stop posting selfies on my story, it's bcos, to put it simply, I've starved myself to death. Anyway, here's a photo of my cat.

Palaye Royale: Hey! You! Go flood Remington with love and support!

"I rearranged the living room," Andy says brightly, unlocking the door. "Because I got bored."

Remington steps into the house and drops his bag. "We should paint it. I like pastel pink."

"Babe, you don't want pastel pink walls. It'll feel like a damn candyfloss factory."

The boy pouts. "Well then fuck you, you're no fun."

Andy closes the door behind them. "I'm lots of fun."

"Keep tellin' yourself that. Why would you put the couch there?" Remington asks, looking up at Andy. "Hug please, thank you."

"Sure thing, you're welcome." He wraps the boy in his arms. "D'you wanna hear one of my new songs?"

Remington perks up at this. "Obviously!"

"There are two that are recorded," Andy says, swaying. "I play them both."

"Connect your phone to the speakers."

The first song Andy plays is an upbeat, fast one, and he smiles at the sight of his husband dancing around the room. He can't help but to join in, dancing to his own unreleased song. It's a beautiful moment. For Remington, the joy of the song pulls his mind away from his eating and gives him the rare ability to genuinely have a clear head. He doesn't care if he looks like an idiot.

The second song, titled 'Family of Four' is much slower. It begins with a piano solo, before Andy comes in with the words 'We're a family of four. Couldn't ever want anything more.'

Remington realises the song is about him and looks at Andy with wide eyes.

I know you. I know you know me.
With your fragile thoughts, oh, such a fuckin' masterpiece.
You and your Harley, head on my chest,
Goddammit, you're the fuckin' best.

The boy wraps his arms around his husband, staying quiet and listening to the music.

Jenny with her mice,
You with your Harley,
Oh, you and me, such a pretty family.
Such a pretty family of four.

And I know you. I know you don't believe me,
I wish you'd believe me,
Oh, my darling,
I wish you'd believe me.

Because you're perfect.
To me, you are.
You're perfect.
To me, you are.

You're beautiful,
To me and everyone else,
You're beautiful,
The whole world thinks so.

But not you,
No, not you,
Oh, darling,
Why not you?

Remington feels tears slip down his cheeks.

Jenny with her mice,
You with your Harley,
Oh, you and me, such a pretty family.
Such a pretty family of four.

Family of four.
My family of four.

For it's you that I adore.

You, my darling,
You, my perfect family of four.
Yes you, oh sweet boy,
You, who's name begins with R,
Oh, you.
You, I adore.

My family of four.

The song comes to an end but Remington doesn't say anything, not for a while. When he does speak, the words are soft. "I adore you, too," is what he says, and pulls away to look at Andy, who wipes his tears. "You made me cry."

The man smiles. "I had a feeling it might do that to you."

"God, you're so perfect."

"No, you."

"Family," Remington whispers, and then, "you're the best family." He places a kiss to his lips. "So what's this thing you got for me?"

"Oh, I see how it is, huh?"

The boy whines.

Andy kisses his cheek. "It's on the bed."

"Andy?"

"Hmm?"

"I got you a present, too."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You did?"

The boy nods, grins, and announces, in a loud voice, "me, bitch!"

Laughing, the older picks him up and spins around. "Damn right, it is! There ain't no better present than you. Come on, come see what I got."

Remington squeals.

"What'd you think of the song?"

"It's perfect like you."

"But you're more perfect," Andy insists, pulling him towards the stairs. "You gotta try it on, alright?"

"What is it?"

"You need to learn what patience is, don't you?"

"No," Remington beams, bounding into the bedroom and picking up the folded boiler suit. "This is fuckin' beautiful," he exclaims, "it has my name on it!"

Andy stands in the doorway watching with a smile. "Yes it does."

"How'd you get this? It's the damn epitome of my entire fashion sense!"

"You did it again," Andy says.

"Did what?"

"Been perfect."

"Shut up."

The man chuckles. "Try it on, sweetie."

Remington does, doing a spin once it's buttoned up. "It's so pretty," he grins, looking at himself in the mirror.

Andy stands behind him. "You look very pretty," he whispers. He runs his hands down Remington's arms and over his hands. "Number?"

"Uh...Twenty one."

"How're you feeling about being at home?"

"Better than I thought I would. The song and this-" he gestures to the boiler suit "-helped. We'll see what happens, won't we?"

"We will. And you tell me if things get hard again, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good boy."

Remington hums. "Your song's in my head," he mumbles, looking at their reflections in the mirror. They stand there for a few minutes, quiet and calm, and for now, everything seems okay,