Hey, it's Remington.

He looks at the message and then up at Andy, who's making tea. "I can't do it," he whines.

"All you gotta do is type 'hey, it's Remington, that guy who was really awkward the other night,' and send it."

"Not helping," Remington pouts.

Andy chuckles, pouring milk into the two mugs. "Sorry. Well what have you put?"

"'Hey, It's Remington.'"

"Perfect. Now send it."

The singer huffs. "Well that's the bit I can't do."

"Ah, I see."

"Don't laugh at me!"

Andy puts his arms in the air. "I'm not, silly. Send it!"

"Can you do it?"

"I'm making tea," Andy says as he's putting the milk away. He looks back at his husband sitting on the dining table and is so glad they're back home. He can see how much better the boy feels here. "Press send on three, two, one. Send!"

"Yeah, I didn't do it."

"It's just Gerard, hon."

"I'll hon you if you don't send it for me."

Andy laughs. "No offense, but that doesn't sound very scary, hon." He strokes Remington's jaw. "Number?"

The boy playfully swats his hand away. "Oh-um-fourteen."

"Thats great!"

Remington hums. "You know what else is great?"

Andy hands him a mug of tea. "What's that?"

"You sending this for me." He shoves the phone into Andy's chest and gets off the table. "Thanks!"

Shaking his head in amusement, Andy presses send and picks up his tea. "How'd you sleep last night?" He goes into the living room where Remington is stretched across the sofa.

"I had a weird dream."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, so I was at the prison, I don't know why, and then I realise that I'm-like-an inmate. And then they tell me I've got a visitor and Holly is there and it was weird because she was...different. She was nice. And she told me she was gonna get me out. I don't know why I was even there. But she was nice, Andy. It was kinda freaky. She wasn't insulting me or shit. She was actually nice."

"That does sound weird. I wonder why you were in jail."

Remington shrugs. "Probably because of one of those husbands I killed. What was his name?"

Lifting Remington's legs up, Andy sits down. "Bartholemnew, sweetie."

"Thats a stupid name."

"It is. Know what else is stupid?"

"If you say me then I'm gonna cry."

Andy smiles. "I was gonna say Trump, but that works too."

Remington glares up at him. "Now that's mean. You're mean. I'm going to sulk in my room now."

"Are you looking forward to seeing Abigail?"

"You have no idea. I wanna hug her so bad." He sits up to drink the tea. "Sometimes I wanna go visit Holly again just to tell her to burn in hell in person."

"I could make her actually burn in hell," Andy jokes, "there's a saw somewhere."

"Oh, yes please!"

"I was kidding. I hope you are, too."

Remington shrugs. "Not entirely. Where's the saw?"

Andy ruffles his hair. "As much as I want her to die, I don't want you locked up for murder."

"How about we burn the prison?"

"Let's talk about something else before you order a hitman or something."

Remington gasps. "A hitman! Andy, you are a genius."

"Who are you and what's happened to my Remington?"

The boy just grins.

"I'm proud of you, honey."

"What for?"

Andy raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean, what for?" He prods Remington's shoulder.

Smiling, Remington puts his tea down. "How do you hire a hitman?" 

"You worry me sometimes."

"I worry me sometimes. Anyway, a hitman was your idea, so..." The sentence ends with a shrug and he pokes Andy back. "Can we go on a date?"

Phone in hand, the man reads the text Gerard just sent Remington. "Where'd you wanna go? Also Gerard says 'Hi Remington, it's good to hear from you.'"

Remington snatches the phone from his hand. "I lost my ring," he says, "you know, the black one with the little skull?"

"That's a shame. What're you sending?"

"Yeah, it's probably on the bus. I literally have no idea. We should go camping." He looks up at Andy. "You know, with blankets and hot chocolate and stuff." He gives the man one of his adorable looks, big eyes all innocent. "Should I send this?"

The phone is handed to him, and Andy hums. "I'll see if I can find the tent. It's fine, send it." He hands the phone back and laughs when Remington hovers his thumb over the sending button, too scared to actually press it. "I won't give you a hug until you send it," he says, and stands up.

Remington frowns. "That's not fair!"

"Better send it then, sweetie. I'm gonna find the tent."

"Andy," the boy whines, drawing out the word and turning around on the sofa. "Andy!" All he gets in response is a laugh, and sighs dramatically. "I'll hire at hitman to attack you!"

"I look forward to it!"

"How do you get onto the dark web?" He doesn't get a reply this time, and gets up off the sofa and ascends the stairs with his phone, still trying to bring himself to send the message. The phone starts ringing suddenly and he jumps, freaking out when he sees who is calling him. "Oh, um, hi?" Remington answers, stumbling over the words.

"Hi Remington. I wanted to ask you about that song you wrote."

The singer sits on the bed. "What song? Oh! That song. Yeah, what do you wanna know?"

"When you can record it."

"I-what?"

Gerard laughs. "I wanna do it with you. When can you meet me and talk me through it?"

Remington bites his fist in excitement. "Sorry, I'm kinda freaking out," he says, "I can-um-well any time, really. We're off tour now. I'm just at home."

"Great! How does two weeks sound?"

"Holy fuck! Yeah, sounds great. Shit, I shouldn't be allowed to talk."

"You don't need to be intimidated by me. I'm just a guy."

"Um no, you're Gerard Way." He looks up to see Andy leaning against the doorframe, eyebrow raised. "I only just got over the fact that I'm married to Andy Biersack, so give me like...five years, and I might be able to talk to you without having a mini breakdown."

"I'll see you in two weeks, Remington."

Andy opens the wardrobe and finds a blanket in the back, turning around and holding back a laugh as Remington talks into the phone again.

"Okay, bye." As soon as he hangs up, Remington's mouth falls open in shock. "I think I'm having a heart attack," he says, "or maybe a stroke?"

Andy shakes his head. "I think it's called being bad at socialising, honey. At least you managed to talk to him. I found the tent." He throws a blanket at Remington.

"Oh my God, this is so soft!"

"You're so soft."

Remington pulls the blanket over his head and laughs when Andy does. "I don't know what's going on with me. I think the relief of being home is making me weird." The blanket is lifted off him and he grins stupidly at his husband, hair now messy. "Can I have a hug now?"

"Well did you send it?"

After hesitation, Remington shakes his head. "Well...no, but-"

"Mm sorry. No hugs for you." He folds the blanket over his arm, stepping back when Remington tries to grab him. "It's such a shame because you love hugs, don't you?"

Remington glares at him.

"You could get one of those other husbands to hug you."

"I could get one of them to attack you in your sleep."

"I love you too."

Frowning, Remington gets up off the bed. "If I started crying would you hug me then?"

"If you can cry on que then I'll buy you a fucking Ferrari."

Remington does actually try, though it doesn't work, and the two of them erupt into laughter.

Home is where one feels safe, and God does Remington feel safe here.