Trigger warning

Remington, only lit up from the lights that are on by the pool outside the window, strains his eyes, as though what Andy is saying hurts his head. He's trying to understand. God knows he is. But he doesn't get why Andy would hide this from him. Did he do something wrong?

He listens as the man explains how the adoption agency called, how they asked if they would foster Kacey temporarily. And when Andy has stopped talking, Remington closes his eyes for a moment or two, opens them, and sighs heavily. "I asked who was on the phone and you said Lonny," he recalls, "you lied to me."

This is such a mess. Andy shakes his head even though Remington is technically right. He did lie. "I was trying to do the right thing," is his tired, stressed defence.

"The right thing, Andy, would have been to tell me, obviously." Remington's voice is flat. This feels like being betrayed, shot in the back. "Why didn't you tell me?" He crosses his arms, waits for an answer. It's three am. They've been married for two years in twelve hours and what're they doing? Arguing. Fantastic.

Andy can't look at his husband. Seeing the younger's disappointed expression is too upsetting. "I didn't wanna ruin your day."

The boy laughs like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Well you did a good job there, mate." It hurts thinking about how fucked up this whole situation is. Does Andy really not trust Remington enough to tell him these things?

"Please look at it from where I'm standing, " Andy insists, "you think I wanted to not tell you? Of course I did."

"But you didn't, did you?" He looks across the room and the large wardrobe. "From where you're standing, Andy, is that you were asked to make a decision that includes both of us and you didn't even mention it to me once. How am I supposed to sympathise with that?"

The older shakes his head. "You don't have to sympathise with anything, Remington, just understand how this is for me."

"Why? Why should I do that? How is that gonna help?"

"Because I need you to."

"Oh, I see how this works."

"What?"

Remington looks almost bored. "You need me to? Well did you need me when they called? No. So basically you only need me when it suits you. Awesome. Love that."

Andy knew this would happen. Remington has such a tendency to throw little arguments into the deep end because he's so insecure about Andy leaving him. "No. Why would you even think that?"

"Because it's fucking true."

It's hard to hear Remington thinking so low of the love Andy has for him. "No it's not," Andy disagrees, "please just listen to me."

Remington huffs. "I have listened. What else could you possibly have to say?"

"I wasn't planning on keeping it from you. I swear on my life. I was stressed and you were happy and thought...what's the point of ruining your day as well as mine? Twist that any way you like, but that's all there is to it. I saw no point in bringing us both down. Because I love you and I want you to be happy."

"So you thought you could just destroy yourself for me? How is that helpful?"

"I don't fucking know, okay! I wasn't thinking straight-"

"Clearly."

Andy puts his head in his hands. "I wasn't thinking straight, Remington. I kept thinking about-you know what, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. I fucked up. I ruined the holiday. This is my fault."

"Kept thinking about what?" Remington questions, not liking how he cut himself off.

The man pushes his hands through his hair. "Nothing. It doesn't matter. You're right. I kept it to myself so that you wouldn't be stressed. If that makes me selfish then so be it."

"But I am stressed, so that was pointless."

"Um...hello! I do know that!"

Remington stands up out of bed. "You should've fucking told me when she called."

Andy doesn't watch Remington open the door, but he hears the handle clunk. "I fucking know that!"

Leaving the room, Remington turns on the lights as he goes, returning a minute later and pulling the bed spread off the bed. "Night," he says, monotone, not giving Andy a chance to ask what he's doing. The man knows, anyway. He's going to sleep on the couch.

Now alone in the bedroom, Andy lies back down, covering his face with his hands and closing his eyes in defeat. Of course tonight was the night they had to have an argument. He just has to hope that Remington wakes up in a better mood so they can talk about this without arguing again.

Remington sits on the couch with the bed spread pulled around him. He turns on the television because he can't sleep and watches the crappy movie that's playing for nearly half an hour before finally drifting off, but not before crying into his hands for a few minutes, muffling sobs because he doesn't want Andy to hear.

Andy does hear, though, and it only makes him cry, too. The worst thing in the world is when they've fallen out. God, it's awful. And it's not even like they had a massive fight or anything, which, in some ways, would be better. At least with a big fight he'd know where he stands. But when they've argued like they have, it's impossible to know what the other is really thinking, impossible to know if the other is really mad or if they're just confused.

That's what Remington is. Confused. And hurt. And regretting how he got so mad at something that he should've been supportive of. Andy's obviously struggling and instead of being gentle and understanding he let his stupid fucking insecurities get the better of him and now they're both upset, and it's his fault.

Why is everything always his fucking fault?