Trigger warning.

When Remington turns the light on in the middle of the night, Andy wakes, and furrows his brows at the boy standing by the door. "Remington?"

The boy is looking at Andy. "I don't understand why the idea of adopting is so stupid to you."

"It's the middle of the night," Andy says, "and I never said it was stupid, I just said that we're not ready yet."

Remington sits on the floor. "I don't care it's the middle of the night, I want to talk about this now," he demands, "I don't fucking understand, Andy!"

Andy sighs and yawns. "There's nothing to understand, Remington, just that I don't think now is the right time to be raising a child." He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at his husband on the floor. "Just come back to bed, sweethe-"

"Calling me sweetheart doesn't fix everything! I don't want to come back to bed, and you can't make me." He crosses his arms and glares at the older man. "If you want to go back to bed, don't let me stop you, but I am not getting back in bed until we've talked about this."

"Look, we can talk about it in the morning, but please just come back to bed. You're tired."

Remington frowns. "So what if I'm tired? I'm not going back to bed until we've talked, Andy, so start talking."

The older of the two throws a blanket from the end of the bed at Remington. "I don't know what I'm meant to say, pretty, because there is nothing to say other than I would love to adopt with you, but just not yet." He watches Remington reluctantly shake out the blanket and cover himself with it so he doesn't freeze.

"But why not yet?" Remington plays with his fingers underneath the blanket.

"Because we're not ready. Because you're still in the early stages of your recovery and you don't need a child to be responsible for."

"So basically what you're saying is that I'm fucking pathetic? Gee, thanks a lot." He looks down. "I just-I don't want to be waiting to be better forever when maybe this is it. How do you know I'll ever be able to recover? I can't even be trusted in the bathroom on my own anymore. I don't want my stupid disorder to ruin the chance of having a child."

Andy finds the sight of his lover sitting against the wall in a blanket hopelessly adorable. "I promise we will adopt, angel, just not yet, okay?" He hopes his soft tone will lure Remington back into bed, because he knows how jumpy Remington gets if he doesn't get enough sleep.

"Not okay, Andy, no! I don't want to wait! My whole fucking life is spent waiting for things to get better. I waited for Holly to leave me alone, I waited for the flashbacks to stop, I waited for the stab wound to heal, I waited to play shows, and now I have to wait until we can adopt? I'm so sick of waiting! Just once, I want to not wait, Andy. It's not fair. I didn't ask for all these fucking disorders, so how the hell is it fair that I have to sacrifice something that I want because of them?" He hugs his knees to his chest. "How the hell is that fair?"

Andy can hear the sadness in Remington's voice, and gets off the bed. He sits beside the younger and keeps his hands in his lap. "What's really going on, sweetheart? I know this isn't just about adopting. What's wrong?" The question is so gentle and Remington hates that Andy can tell something else is making him upset. He also loves how Andy knows something else is wrong.

"Nothing," he mumbles, "I just-nothing." He looks at Andy's hands and then back at his knees, which are hidden under the soft blanket.

"Princess, I love you, and when there's something wrong, I want to know about it, no matter what it is."

Remington is quiet for a moment or two. He yawns. "I just feel like...like I'm given some sort of 'special treatment'." He sighs. "When I-when I eat anything, people look at me like-like they can't believe I'm eating. It feels like no one-almost no one-really thinks I can ever get better. I mean, did you see how Emerson was watching me when we had lunch with Lonny? It made me feel-it made me feel so fucking useless, and I didn't-I didn't wanna carry on eating when I saw him watching me." He yawns again. "Andy, I-I don't want to be treated differently because of having a few disorders." His voice is nothing more than a murmur now; all the anger is gone.

"No one means to treat you like that, pretty."

"It doesn't matter if they mean to or not. It still hurts, and I've had enough of hurting." Remington stands up and turns the light off. "'m sorry, Andy, I've just been feeling weird lately. I don't know. Thanks for being so calm. I don't know how you do it." He crawls onto the bed and under the covers.

Andy joins him back in bed. "It's okay. Are you still mad, or can I hug you?"

"If you stroke my hair," Remington whispers, and settles in Andy's arms. "I'm not mad at you. I love you. I'm just mad at everyone else." He exhales, closes his eyes, and lets himself sleep.