Trigger warning bItCheS

Breakfast is awkward. Remington isn't at all in the mood for eating and neither of them quite kow what to say. Andy watches the younger poking at the piece of toast with his finger, feebly pulling pieces off, tearing those pieces into crumbs, and dropping them onto the plate in dissatisfaction.

"We should talk," Andy says, after an agonizing silence that is making them both uneasy.

Remington pushes the plate away. "No we shouldn't," he snaps, and stands up loudly, the chair clattering on the tiled floor.

The man, sighing, reaches for Remington's hand, grabbing his wrist, but not tight enough to hurt him. He knows he's delicate and that he bruises easily. "Sit," he offers, "it's our aniversary and I don't wanna spend it like this. Sit. We need to talk this out."

All Remington does is glare, too tired to be thinking about talking civilly. He didn't sleep well, which is no surprise. Sleeping on the couch makes him think about how Holly would kick him out of the bed. "Later," he says dryly, pulls his hand from Andy, and sulks out of the room.

"Awesome," Andy mumbles to himself, finishing his coffee and picking up Remington's discarded breakfast. The boy was doing so well with eating and one little thing like this has sent him right back to the beginning. He tips the remains of the toast into the bin and rinses the plate, leaving it in the drying rack and opening the sliding glass door that leads out to the pool.

The water in the pool is shimmering under the hot sun and Andy sits with his feet in the water, eyes closed, until his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's a message from the agency asking if he's made a decision yet. Andy doesn't respond. Why should he, anyway? What would be the point? Sloane's right. Kacey isn't his responsibilty. He doesn't owe her, or anyone at that agency, anything. Why the fuck do they think it's okay to pound him with this when they know damn well that he's in Greece just trying to enjoy himself?

For nearly an hour he sits there trying to clear his head, and then decides to go and check that Remington is okay and not sobbing uncontrolably into the pillow or something. Remington is fast asleep when Andy finds him in the bedroom, face down on the covers with his arms above his head, bent at the elbows. Andy, despite the argument they're in, can't help but to smile at his husband's natural innocence, at how he doesn't even have to try to be adorable. He wonders what Remington is dreaming about, if he is even dreaming at all.

When Remington wakes the sun is hot on his clothed body and he sits up, yawns, stretches, and gets off the bed. He contemplates changing out of the tracksuits he's wearing, but after standing infront of the mirror and pulling the hoddie up past his ribs, he shakes his head, frowns, and drops the fabric, leaving the room without changing.

He stops walking when he sees Andy through the large window from the living room, and for a moment, watches the man, who's sat in a sun lounger reading the same book as yesterday. He looks so peaceful, Remington thinks, and knows that that's not how Andy is feeling. They can never feel peaceful when they're like this.

Remington steps outside and Andy looks up, hoping the boy will say something, or at least let him explain. Remington wants to say something. He really does. But looking at Andy's almost pained expression makes him feel so guilty and for some reason, his voice just doesn't seem to work. And so he stays quiet.

Andy looks back down at the page infront of him. "This is wrong," he says, eyes cast on the words on the paper.

The boy doesn't know how to respond.

"We shouldn't be in a fight over this."

"Maybe you should've thought of that before turning this into a fight then," Remington responds, "I'm not the one who hid a life changing decision from my own husband." He sits on the side of the pool and rolls his sleeves up.

Andy closes the book almost angrily. "I already said this, Remington. I wasn't hiding it from you! I was-I am stressed and I was trying to save you from feeling like that, too."

"Stop playing the victim!"

The man shakes his head, fed up. "How am I playing the victim? I'm telling you what happened. If you think that's me playing the victim then that's your own problem."

"Great. Another problem to add to the list."

"I don't get why this is such a big deal," Andy says, unable to grasp the situation.

Remington laughs. "Of course you don't.

"Charming," the older mumbles, "this is just how I wanted to spend our aniversary."

"Would you just shut up? I get it! You're stressed! Maybe you shouldn't have answered the fucking phone in the first place!"

"Oh, so this is my fault? Sorry."

Remington lies on his front with his hand in the water, making ripples on the surface. "Well it's not my fault."

Andy wants to scream. "It's no one's fucking fault. Don't you start blaming me for this. I was trying to do the right thing! Sorry if that was wrong of me."

"Why are you shouting at me? What the fuck have I done?" He watches his hand in the water. "And this is your fault, Andy, because you didn't tell me who was on the phone when I asked. You lied. You're a liar."

"I'm a liar? Says the one who lied to literally everyone about not taking diet pills."

Remington is shocked that Andy would bring his eating disorder into this. "That's not fair. You can't blame me for that. It's a mental disorder. You know that."

"Oh, so when I blame you for something it's not fair, but when it's the other way round it's totally fine. Wow, that's nice."

"You're blaming me for having anorexia, Andy! Do you know how fucked up that is?"

"You wanna know what's fucked up? The fact that my own husband doesn't care that I'm fucking trying so hard to keep him happy! So you can tell yourself whatever the hell you want but don't you dare turn this into my fault when you know damn well that it's not." He sighs. "And I'm not blaming you for having anorexia. I would never do that and you know it." When he doesn't get a response, Andy stands up with the book and goes inside, leaving Remington lying by the pool.