Ten years earlier Ryan would have imagined himself a completely different way at thirty. He'd seen something like a big-shot lawyer with a trophy-wife and two point five beautiful children, senior partner in his own firm. When he'd joined the UBI and had thought about being thirty, he'd thought he'd either be a highly successful field agent, or maybe director of his own department. There had been no room for family in his thoughts when he was twenty-three. The truth of his life at thirty, really, had to be better than either of those. And much more surprising. He had graduated from Oxford nearly two years earlier, with honours, and while he was still based in Oxford, now a small, cozy house, he and Lucía lived part-time in Spain. He hadn't ever thought he'd be a novelist with five published books out of which three were on the London bestseller lists, two on the New York Times. And however much he'd always enjoyed music, he had never thought he'd find himself a ghost writer for uninspired rock stars, especially not one as highly respected in the industry as he'd ended up being. He might have once dreamed of children, but none of the dreams lived up to his real daughter. Lucía, known as Keely to everyone but Ryan himself, and Jon who still visited every few months, was five years and nearly three months old, and the most beautiful child he had ever seen, biased or not. Her hair had stayed her mother's golden blond, but it had the waves Ryan had stopped bothering to straighten out in his own, and the same texture as his. She had his eyes and soft, slightly rounded features, still tiny in her young face. And she spoke like an adult and was as smart as they came. Well, what else could he have expected as a result of the procreation of two Oxford students?

Now, really, wasn't actually the time to think about that, though. Ryan was in the 'formal' living room in his villa on Costa Bravo, which he'd bought when he realized that avoiding the press in England was more than a little hard and that most rock stars preferred having people think they wrote their own songs. He'd gotten it probably six months ago, and now that money wasn't a problem for him anymore he'd bought it the moment he'd seen it, big and pricey or no. Across from him was a young band whose record label had stated that only eight songs on an album was unacceptable, but the stressed out band members hadn't been able to come up with more without being given more time, and their manager and contacted Ryan. "So," he muttered, sipping his glass of sangría slowly. "Do you have any ideas what you want these songs to be? Themes, preferred chord arrangements, anything?"

The four young musicians looked sheepish, and their black, worn clothes looked completely out of place in the light, nicely furnished room. The lead singer finally shrugged. "It's not as though the album so far has any kind of a common thread," he stated. "But I guess we were thinking about writing something about the world today. You know, corruption, the way everything seems to be decomposing around us. We just didn't know how to do it." He shrugged again, teeth tugging at the hoop through his lip.

Oh, one of those bands. Ryan kept in the laugh and gave a slow, serious chuckle instead. "You guys are from Vegas, right?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow although he obviously already knew perfectly well. He waited for them to nod, though, before he continued. "So, how about rather than writing about how fucked up everything is, you take some of the things Vegas is famous for and make a big, ugly metaphor out of it? Or, I do, if you want." The guitarist was nodding eagerly, a grin trying to make its way to his scowling face, manoeuvring around multiple piercings and dyed-black hair. Ryan nodded back and grabbed his notebook from the table, setting his glass aside as he thought for a moment, somehow managing to refrain from biting the pencil out of habit. Finally he started jutting things down, random words at first before he thought he might know how the first verse, at least should go. "And a reference to the 'good old days'," he muttered, looking up to see how they reacted to that. At their nods he gave a small smile. "Sound of Music," he stated, writing down another few words. "But twisted."

All was silent for another ten minutes before he put a rough draft of lyrics down on the table, the first line visible being It's these ramshackle substandard hotels... The band looked it over for a few minutes before the bassist nodded. "That's really good," he stated, nodding. "And not too far from what we'd write ourselves."

The lead singer smiled in agreement. "Any ideas for the vocal arrangements? And a title, maybe? Something original, not just a line from the song. And provocative."

"I'll send you a demo with vocal arrangement and suggestions for instruments," Ryan stated, leaning back against the back of his chair, picking up his glass again as he thought over the title issue. "Build God, then We'll Talk."

The drummer's eyes grew wide for a moment before he grinned. "Fucking awesome, dude," he slurred. Ryan blinked. He'd thought that one was too stoned to speak.

"It sounds kind of like a title off Alban Lady's latest album," the guitarist stated.

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "And who did you think wrote Alban Lady's latest album?" he asked with a smirk, laughing slightly at the boys' awed gasps.

***

"Papa!"

It was Isaac's shrieks that woke Brendon and he did so almost violently, sitting up quickly and gasping. He looked around, remembering that they were currently in a plane, probably no more than an hour away from Spain. He immediately shushed his son, ignoring the stares of others around him and pointedly ignoring Spencer's snickering. Sighing, he unbuckled Isaac and brought him into his lap, wrapping his arms around the tiny waist and sighing when he kissed the darker-than-night hair. Isaac squirmed a bit, giggling, and slapped his father's arm. "Papa!" he said again, and Brendon rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he finally asked, once Isaac had started trying to climb onto his head to see the passengers in the seats behind them. He would never have imagined his son could have this much energy, but there he was, not the least bit tired, and mostly just cranky from the plane ride. He knew his son wouldn't answer him, he rarely did, because Isaac apparently thought that actions spoke much louder than words and had taken up miming instead of actually talking, though Brendon knew the boy could speak very well for his age. Whining a bit when he was brought back to his seat, Isaac folded his arms and pouted, kicking the seat in front of him incessantly until the person occupying the seat was forced to turn and glare. Upon seeing the child, the glare was transferred to Brendon, and Brendon huffed but put his hand on Isaac's legs and sternly told him to stop, much to Spencer's amusement.

He couldn't wait until they landed.

***

By the time they got to the hotel, Brendon was holding onto a wailing Isaac and Spencer and Jon were cringing as they spoke to the receptionist over the sound. The young girl behind the counter was staring at the four of them with barely concealed disdain and pursed her lips when she had to find them a room. When she handed them the key cards only to have Isaac slap them out of her hands, she glared at Brendon and said, with false politeness, that they would have to make sure to keep him quiet because they couldn't disturb the other guests. Brendon, who'd turned the most violent shade of red, gifted her with his best death glare before speaking. "My son is not a disturbance," he spat, and when she simply shrugged, clearly not believing him, he stormed out, declaring that she didn't know who she was talking to and that they wouldn't be staying any longer. Once outside, though, he rubbed a hand over his face, defeated. "Fuck," he muttered, and then immediately regretted it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Isaac whispered against his shoulder, still sniffling from the crocodile tears he'd been putting on a show of crying. Brendon closed his eyes tightly and sighed, turning to Spencer and Jon who'd, fortunately, stomped out with him. "Where are we going to go?" he asked, exasperated. When he looked up, Jon was smiling.

***

"It's a ... friend... and he doesn't live there year-round, but he gave me a key so that I could come and visit whenever I wanted, or if ever I just needed a place to stay," Jon explained triumphantly as he unlocked the door to a villa which Brendon would have been happy to live in. They all trudged in, Brendon dragging a suitcase behind him and still carrying Isaac, who'd thankfully fallen asleep but seemed to be stirring already. He sighed and looked at Jon suspiciously. There was something off about his story, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Shrugging, he looked around the entrance and nodded, forcing himself to believe the story, and smiled a bit.

"Christ, I'm tired," he announced, Spencer nodded and Jon simply chuckled a bit.

***

Lucía was in her playroom, drawing that adorable little dog she'd seen the day before and planned to ask her Daddy to buy her, tongue between her teeth and lips in concentration when she heard the unmistakable sound of the door shutting. Maybe Daddy was home already and she could tell him about how much she wanted the puppydog, and she quickly slipped down from her chair, blond pigtails flying around her head as she ran through the door, a petrol-coloured summer dress whipping around her small legs. She loved the color, but Daddy didn't, so Uncle Jon had brought it for her last time he'd visited and she'd worn it as much as she could since. She ran down the stairs, one small hand clutching the banister as she reached the entrance hall. Daddy wasn't there, but after a moment she realized that her favourite uncle ever was, and with a squeal, she ran to him. "Uncle Jon! Uncle Jon!" she shouted, raising her arms expectantly with a wide grin on her small face.

Jon grinned widely and swooped the girl into his arms, covering her face with kisses, knowing that every time he did that she shrieked with laughter and damned if that wasn't one of his favourite sounds. Ignoring the no doubt dumbfounded faces behind him (plus Isaac), he looked down at Lucía. "How's the most beautiful girl in the world?" he asked; he shamelessly spoiled her rotten and had received many-a verbal beatings from Ryan for it. He set her down gently, still ignoring Brendon and Spencer, and crouched down to eye-level with her. Reaching out to tug gently on one blond lock of hair, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "And where's daddy?"

The girl giggled excitedly. She hadn't expected to see Uncle Jon so soon, and now he was here and she was so happy! "In Barca," she answered. "One of the bands have a concert and he was invited." She pouted slightly. "I wanted to convince him to get a puppydog tonight, though." She couldn't resist giving her uncle a hopeful look although she had a feeling she would need to convince Daddy even if she could get Uncle Jon to buy it. "And Señora Marina is cleaning, so I can't go in the pool." It was such a hot day, though, and she had really wanted to go swim and play. She loved the pool! But Daddy wouldn't allow her to go without a grown-up. "You're here, though, so it's all great!"

Jon chuckled, kissing the top of Lucía's head before standing straight again and holding out his hand for her to take. "I don't know if you're ready to take care of a puppy, darling. It's a lot of responsibility," he warned, though his tone was playful. He absently wondered when Ryan would be back, and knew the man would completely flip a cow at seeing Brendon here. And then he'd probably have a heart attack when he saw Isaac. But they couldn't just leave, now. Lucía was bound to tell her father that he had visited, and then go into detail about the three other people who'd been with him. He sighed a bit before turning to face said other three, bringing Lucía with him. "Here, I'd like you to meet a few people," he said, smiling uneasily. "They're very close friends of mine," he said, letting go of her hand to run it through her hair and push her forward gently. "The little boy's name is Isaac, the one holding him is Brendon, and the last one is Spencer," he said, and his two friends offered meek hellos but otherwise remained silent. Isaac, who'd woken in the commotion, stared at Lucía before turning to his father. "Regarde la petite fille!" he said, in French, which just made Brendon roll his eyes. Jenn had taught him, and the boy spoke more French than English because he seemed to know that not everyone could understand it very well. Brendon, Jon and Spencer were sure that the young boy got a laugh out of the usually confused faces, but then they would consider his age and shrug it off.

Lucía's eyebrows wrinkled at the odd sounds. She didn't know the language, but she did recognize some of the words from the Spanish she spoke almost fluently so as to be able to communicate with their housekeeper. She didn't know what 'fille' was, exactly, but she thought it must refer to her. "You're much smaller than me," she stated, sticking her tongue out, more than just a little affronted. Then she looked at the adults and smiled again. She was used to strangers, and used to being polite to them, and meeting new people was fun! When they weren't rude, that is. "I'm Keely," she stated, using the name most people called her by. Lucía came after Keely, after all, even though she liked Lucía better and Daddy and Jon did too. But Daddy had always said that it was their little thing, just the three of them. "Would you like me to show you mi casa? Because this is mi casa, and my house is in England."

Brendon, who'd heard Isaac muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'fuu-', glared at his son, because he would not have him repeating swear words to some little girl. He groaned when the boy settled on scowling and turning away, squirming in his arms. Before he could say anything like, 'hello, Keely, pleasure to meet you,' or demand to know who her father was, Jon was hastily ushering everyone into the living room. Once there, Brendon all but collapsed onto a chair and Isaac finally was able to squirm free. They were all sitting when Jon spoke again. "I think we'll just wait for your father and save the tour for later, alright, Honey? Do you know when he's supposed to be back?" he asked, smiling like they weren't in some random house (for Spencer and Brendon, anyway) and looking like he was completely at home. Brendon kept an eye on Isaac, who was currently running around the room, stopping, teetering dangerously, and then zipping off again. He sighed. He really was exhausted, but he wanted to stay up and find out just who this girl's father was, because the answer the voice in the back of his mind was yelling at him could. Not. Be. Right.

"He said when the small arm is at eleven and the big arm is at twelve," Lucía answered, pointing up at the clock on the wall. "But that Señora Marina is supposed to tuck me in before then, and we'll have breakfast together tomorrow." She smiled, climbing up onto her Daddy's chair and snuggling back. "And then we'll go swimming in the ocean, even though it's still a little bit cold and Daddy hates swimming in the ocean when it's cold." She frowned a little and decided that, really, the chair wasn't much fun when Daddy wasn't there to snuggle her, so she slipped back to the floor and went over to the couch, climbing onto her uncle's lap. Much better. "Señora has cleaned your room and everything and no one has used it. One of the rocker men said he liked it, but Daddy wouldn't let him use it because it's yours. Should I get Señora to clean rooms for your friends and the tiny, little boy who's much smaller than me?"

Brendon couldn't believe how much this child could speak when his own only deigned it worthy to slip in insulting comments or little discoveries every now and then. She was older, of course, but he suspected that she'd been talking for a long time. He smiled a bit, watching her, and when her warm eyes would land on him every now and then, he was forced to turn away, his heart thudding painfully. He drew in a shaky breath and gripped the armrest, instead turning his gaze to Isaac, who was now standing in front of a window, with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he stared outside.

Jon, who was beginning to believe that Lucía was, indeed, responsible enough for a dog, chuckled a bit. "No, I'll talk to her later," he said, and ran a hand through her hair again. He looked down at her for a bit and was startled when Spencer suddenly spoke up.

"Can I know what the-- what is going on!?" he asked, clearly agitated. Isaac turned away from the window to look at him curiously, and his eye slid to peer at Lucía after a few moments, as though he expected her to answer. Jon grimaced a shrugged a bit.

"Can I answer that later?" he asked sheepishly, knowing that Brendon was probably glaring at him, as well. "It's already 7:30," he said, glancing quickly at the clock, and hoping that they understood he would do some explaining once the children were put to bed. He looked down at Lucía and grinned. "You know, I've been away for so long that I forgot when your bedtime is! Isn't it very soon?"

"Nuh-uh," the girl answered, shaking her head so enthusiastically that her wavy pigtails flew around her face, tickling her nose and eyes. "When we're in Spain I get to stay up and watch the sunset unless I fuss or do something bad or rude," she stated. "The sunset is so pretty," she added. "But the sunrise is prettier because it's over the ocean." Then she suddenly grinned, tugging on her uncle's shirt. "Uncle Jon! The flowers you helped me plant have come up in the garden! You need to see our flowers!"

Spencer spluttered at the thought of Jon gardening and Brendon laughed so hard he had tears running down his cheeks. Seeing his father like this apparently had made Isaac very agitated because he rushed over and smacked his father's thigh. Hard. "Papa!" he yelled, glaring up with eyes that were identical to Brendon's own. "Bad, Papa!" he insisted, and Brendon smiled at the English. Immediately, Isaac calmed down, knowing that when someone smiled, it was a good thing. Jon, who had been offended by their reactions, glared and then scooped Lucía up into his arms as he stood.

"Show me those beautiful flowers," he demanded, and was happy to hear Brendon, Spencer and Isaac following, though Isaac ran to the front to be leader of the pack. Once they reached the garden, Jon sliding the door open for everyone, he gasped over-dramatically and smiled. "Well, we're quite a team, aren't we?" he said, indicating the flowers and winking.

***

Lucía was still smiling as Jon tucked her in. It had started out as a pretty boring day without her Daddy around and all, but it had turned out to be one of the best in a long time. Uncle Jon was here! She was still a little excited about that, even though she was more tired, yawning and raising a fist to rub her eyes. "Will you sing me a lullaby?" she asked, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes at her uncle. "It makes me sleep easier."

Jon chuckled and shook his head ruefully; he still remembered the first time he'd sung to her. "As long as you don't mind my horrible voice," he said playfully, and started humming to get into the hang of things. It had been too long.

***

It was five to eleven when Ryan stuck his head out of the car to press the standard code to the gate before driving through, confident that it was automatically closing behind him. The gate and tall fence had weirded him out in the beginning, but the security had come with the house and he'd learnt to appreciate it. Having a house like this one showed you had money, and if you visibly had money it was always best to have some kind of protection.

His ears and body were still thrumming from the concert, and there was a smile etched onto his face. He still couldn't get over listening to words and notes and arrangements he had written being played, and hearing them live, which he didn't often have the opportunity to, was a hundred times better. It might not be him up on the stage - thank God for that - but it was words he had written that the huge audience would scream back at the performers, and notes he had come up with that they all danced to. It was a singularly amazing experience.

After another few moments he pulled up in the garage and got out of the car, keys jingling in his hand as he made his way to the front door, blazer pulled tight around his slim form in the cool evening breeze. He'd go in, grab a bite to eat and bring that and a glass of wine up to the large balcony and watch the stars reflecting off the ocean in the creek under them, maybe write a few words of his newest book, and then go to sleep early enough to wake up around the time Lucía did so they could carry out their plans for the day. He loved spending time with his little girl, and could hardly wait for a whole day with her. Most of the time he was busier in Spain than in England, which meant that during their lengthier stays he had to make an effort to find time, but he always did and always enjoyed it.

He turned the key in the lock and walked in, dropping his keys on the small table that was in the entrance hall for that very purpose before kicking off his shoes without even really looking around. Then he opened the first door on the right, entering the kitchen.

When Jon heard what was, unmistakably, Ryan coming home for the night, he cringed. "Alright," he said hurriedly, looking up at the two men who were currently staring him down, and they looked quite menacing, despite the fact that Brendon currently had Isaac, who was refusing to sleep, curled up in his lap, thumb in his mouth despite Brendon's numerous protests. "You guys have to promise not to freak out," he said, and when they both reluctantly nodded, he got up and bounded to the kitchen. Stopping in the doorway, he leaned against it and smiled. "Hey," he said quietly, hoping not to completely scare Ryan.

Ryan jumped, but recognized the voice and turned around with a smile. "Hey there," he answered with a grin. "We missed you. Didn't say you were coming, though, or I would've stayed home." He walked over and gave the other man a quick hug. "How've you been? Since I talked to you four days ago on the phone, anyway?"

Jon chuckled and hugged Ryan back, squeezing him tightly. When he pulled back, he decided to completely ignore Ryan's questions. "Right, so, you have to promise not to freak out, but I kind of did something bad," he said, making a face. He scratched his head and shrugged a bit. "I just kind of... didn't think it through and... well, it blew up in my face," he muttered, and then smiled. "By the way, Lucía wants a dog," he said, grasping at straws as he tried to figure out ways to make the situation easier to handle. He found nothing.

"I know she does," Ryan answered. "She keeps looking at them longingly when we see one. Was thinking of saving it as a reward next time she does something really exceptional. Or Christmas, whichever comes first." Then his brow wrinkled slightly as he examined the quick words his friend had expelled before the dog comment. "I don't freak out, Jon," he stated with a laugh. "I'm thirty, age has mellowed me out, remember?" He shook his head in amusement, brown waves that had yet to see a bit of grey falling into his eyes. "What did you do, though?"

Jon hesitated for a moment, quite sure that Ryan would freak out, or at the very least be caught off balance. He chewed on his lip before motioning for Ryan to follow him as he lead the way to the living room, where Brendon and Spencer were immersed in conversation and didn't hear them arrive. Isaac, though, was standing and looking at them when they came in, the spitting image of his father, and he smiled toothily at both of them, but said nothing. Jon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to groan, and trying not to imagine what could possibly happen next.

Ryan momentarily faltered in his steps, eyes widening as he took in the occupants of his living room. Jon had apparently chosen the formal one, rather than the family room where pictures of him with Lucía and Lucía alone and some of Jon and Jaken were all over the walls. He supposed he could kind of understand that decision. He gulped slightly, taking in the differences to be found in his first ever boyfriend and the old friend he'd lost touch with years ago. They looked much the same, older, more mature, but not really that changed. Then there was the kid, and Ryan wasn't really surprised. He knew Brendon's father had always carried a lot of weight with the boy turned man, and that the order to get married and have an heir would probably be even more compelling without the king there. He wasn't as emotionally gripped as he might have thought he'd be, though. More wistful than sad or angry, but then he supposed that while the emotions still came back every once on a blue moon, he'd gotten over it more and more. Jaken, even though they weren't together anymore, had helped a lot. And time and distance had done its job. As had the glaring fact that if he and Brendon hadn't split, the most important person in Ryan's life would never have been born. It was awkward as hell, though. "Hey, it's been a while," he finally said after a long, pregnant silence. "Welcome, though." Since they were here, he concluded, they might as well stay for however long they needed. "Uhm, I guess I'll help you find rooms. You'll have to prepare them yourselves, though. Señorita Sanchez has left for the night."

Brendon's eyes snapped up the moment he heard Ryan's voice, and he stared at him with a growing expression of horror and shock. Before he could answer, though, to anything he had said, his son decided to introduce himself and Brendon just wanted to be swallowed up into the ground. "Con!" Isaac crowed, using the French word for idiot, and then proceeded to make faces at Ryan. "Oh, God," Brendon muttered, completely embarrassed. Were children supposed to do that? "Isaac Spencer! I don't want to hear that word come out of your mouth ever again," he finally said, sternly, and the boy glared defiantly at him before climbing into Spencer's lap and wrapping his arms around his Godfather's neck. He mouthed Spencer's cheek for a few seconds, getting it sufficiently slobbery and wet, before pulling back and grinning. Brendon groaned. Why did he get the weird kid?

"Hi, Ryan," it was Spencer who finally said it, smiling even though Isaac had just smeared saliva over half of his face. "I apologize if we seem a little surprised to see you, but someone," he glared pointedly at Jon, "didn't tell us who's house this was," he explained. He shrugged a bit and stood, hefting Isaac into his arms. He walked closer to Ryan and grinned. "Keely's beautiful," he finally said in a hushed voice. "And intelligent and sweet--" he broke off when Isaac started whining. "And she appeared to be very proud that this one was quite a bit smaller than she was," he chuckled. "And happy..." he trailed off and looked back at Brendon, who has looking out the window and apparently refusing to acknowledge anyone.

Ryan was immediately caught in fatherly pride, which tended to make him lose focus on everything except the person complimenting his daughter. "That would be her, yes. And she's around adults too much, honestly, and tends to be very obnoxious about it when she meets someone younger than herself." He smiled brightly. "And yeah, she is a very happy child. At least it seems I'm finally starting to do things right in my life, huh?" His tone was wry, but the smile was still there and he gave a slight wink at the end of it. "I just had to grow up first, which seemed to take me a while longer than it does for most people." He looked down at the sleepy boy in Spencer's arm. "Foot in the mouth disease?" he asked with a slight laugh. "Lucía had it too, a few years back. Was brutally honest and loud about every imperfection in every person she met." He glanced back at Jon. "Remember when she told that lady in the supermarket that her mole was ugly and looked a bit like that doggie poo Uncle Jon stepped in?"

Jon and Spencer chuckled, Jon nodding that he remembered. Brendon suddenly stood and came up to them, taking Isaac from Spencer's arms and looking over at Ryan. "Since I met your daughter properly... Ryan, this is Isaac," he said, very quietly, and at his name, Isaac looked up, first at his father, and then at Ryan. He patted Ryan's cheek, which Brendon took as a good sign, and then laid his head on his father's shoulder and closed his eyes. Brendon was silent for a few moments before smiling ruefully. "Well, I think he likes you," he announced, though his voice was as quiet as before. He smiled sadly and averted his eyes. He couldn't believe Jon had been talking to Ryan all this time, that he'd been spending his time with him and his daughter and that he hadn't told anyone. He wasn't angry, but he knew that he had never gotten over Ryan like Ryan had apparently gotten over him, and it hurt to be confronted with it.

Patting the small boy's head, Ryan felt his smile beginning to falter as he started to pick up on the fact that Brendon's mood wasn't the best. They should probably talk things through at some point, get it out of the way and clear the air, but tonight they were all a bit tired, which wasn't the best for something like that. "Hey, little guy," he greeted the boy instead, although he appeared half-asleep. "Well, we should probably get you some rooms. Jon, you know where yours is. Brendon, would you like to have Isaac with you, or a room each?"

Brendon shook his head, looking for all the world that he was horrified at the thought of leaving his son alone. "Together," he said definitely, hugging the little boy closer. Spencer sighed beside him, rubbing his back a bit, and then smiled at Ryan.

"Thanks for letting us stay," he said. "Some receptionist at the hotel we were staying at... well, let's just say that the hotel isn't made for people who have kids." He cringed at Brendon's angry glare, could tell that his best friend was clenching his jaw, and continued to rub his back soothingly. "Brendon's got dinners all week, and a couple conferences," he grimaced and so did Brendon. "So, we're really thankful," he finished.

"Welcome," Ryan answered immediately. "It's really no problem. The villa is large and we have people over on business quite a bit, honestly. It's why I bought it in the first place." He shrugged and started to climb the stairs. "I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow; everyone seems a bit too tired for it right now." They reached the second floor hallway, and Ryan nodded to the left. "That's Lucía and me," he stated, indicating the four doors. "One of the other rooms," he nodded to the left. "Is Jon's, but you're free to pick and choose between the rest. Most of the rooms have en-suites and there are sheets and blankets in the cabinets. Don't just use sheets, it gets cold at night." He paused slightly, trying to remember what other information he should give out. "Lucía and I are going to have breakfast at nine, and you can feel free to join, but otherwise Señorita Sanchez will cook up something whenever you need it. I think that's pretty much it unless there's something anyone needs to know."

Brendon shifted Isaac in his arms, who'd fallen asleep somewhere on the stairs. "This one will probably wake me long before I feel human, so we'll be joining you," he assured. "And he's probably going to be cranky because of jet lag, so I apologize in advance. Jenn said she would take him so that I wouldn't have to bring him everywhere, but I think letting my son see Spain is worth his crankiness and dragging these two along," he said with a slight chuckle, before he cut himself off. He'd been saying it more to himself, but part of him felt like he needed to justify bringing his son along when he'd be working a lot of the time they were here.

"It's all right," Ryan reassured with a small smile. "I understand what it's like to be a working dad." Then he looked around all of them. "Well, good night, sleep well. I'm off now." He gave a small wave and turned on his heel, walking past the door that led to his study before entering his room. Well, the balcony was out then, since he didn't want to disturb everyone else by walking up and down the halls. He walked to the fridge he'd installed in his own room to help cure bouts of insomnia and pulled out a pre-made sandwich, courtesy of their housekeeper, followed by a glass of wine, also kept in his room so he wouldn't disturb Lucía when he was up late. That done, he walked to the stairs on the side of the large master bedroom and climbed up, pushing the door open and walking out onto the flat roof where his table and chair and the magnificent view were waiting for him. There probably wouldn't be any writing tonight, but he still intended to enjoy some alone time before going to bed.

***

Isaac woke Brendon at exactly 8:15 the next morning by jumping up and down on his father's stomach and giggling rather loudly. Groaning, Brendon pulled Isaac off of him and turned onto his side, mercilessly tickling his son until he was laughing so hard he was panting. Pulling away, Brendon grinned at him before taking his hand and slipping out of bed, taking him to the washroom. Apparently their suitcases had been put in the proper room, and Brendon occupied himself with brushing his own teeth and then helping Isaac brush his. He brushed both their hair, which was so identical it was almost scary, and then dressed Isaac in one of his cleaner outfits, something red because that's what he looked good in. Half-heartedly pulling on his own jeans and t-shirt, Brendon scooped Isaac into his arms before heading out of the room and down the stairs, hoping he was on time for breakfast. It was rude, after all, to be late for such a thing, especially after having been invited.

***

Ryan was up and showered by 8:30, and dressed simply in a pair of black trunks, a green shirt and a pair of flip-flops as a preparation for the swimming he'd promised Lucía. He grabbed his sunglasses before leaving the room, stuffing them in his pocket before leaving the room to make his way to Lucía room where she was already running around in a bathing suit. Covering her in sunblock and getting her to put a sun dress on over the bathing suit was simple, and they ended up having ten minutes to snuggle and talk before having to go down, and those small, random moments were really Ryan's favorites so he wasn't complaining in any way.

Finally he got up and took his daughter's hand, walking down the hall and stairs with her and out through the door to the terrace where the table was already set and waiting. There was a jug of freshly pressed orange juice, along with milk and coffee and a large plate decked with still-steaming churros as well as small cups with hot, thick chocolate to dip them in and another plate with pinchos de tortilla as well as sandwich mixtos and mixto con huevos cut in halves, forming a traditional Spanish breakfast, even if it were a bit heavier and with more foods to choose from than most Spaniards preferred, but the housekeeper had soon learnt that Ryan and Lucía were used to more than just two tiny fried pastries and a glass of juice to start the day on.

Lucía climbed into her seat and Ryan sat down next to her, enjoying the view of the creek, the small fisher boats in the horizon and the sun shining down on it all. "Think anyone else will be up?" he asked as he heard movement in the living room. The girl nodded with a grin and looked at the door expectantly.

Isaac barreled in first, having evaded his father the minute they stepped off the stairs. He grinned widely, waddling over to Lucía, tapping her ankle with his left hand, and then walking over to Ryan to tap his thigh. Brendon was familiar with the greeting, and so were Jon, Spencer and Jenn. It confused strangers, but Isaac only touched people he liked, so Brendon took it as a good sign. He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, and sat down across from Ryan, letting Isaac crawl into his lap. He immediately pointed to the chocolate, a big grin on his face. "Chocolat, Papa!" he said, his voice whiny, and Brendon chuckled a bit.

"Jenn let's you eat too much chocolate as it is," he said by way of response, and knew Isaac had understood him by the way he slumped back and jut out his bottom lip. "Anything to recommend for a little boy who gets way too excitable when he eats a lot of sugar?" Brendon asked, looking up at Ryan and then letting his gaze fall on his daughter. It was scary how alike their eyes were, which, Brendon supposed, was probably what people thought when they saw him with Isaac.

Ryan pointed to the plate with finger foods, smiling slightly. "Pinchos de tortilla," he explained. "Basically bits of potato omelet. Filling, nutritious and doesn't really have anymore sugar than any potatoes do." He sent Lucía a stern glance as he spoke, and with a pout she only took one churro and put it on her plate, followed by three of the small tortilla pieces and a sandwich mixto. Ryan laughed slightly, shaking his head slowly. "If you can eat all that and not feel too full to swim you can have another churro," he promised, reaching out to ruffle her loose, blond hair which earned him a whine and a grimace. He picked up the jar of juice and poured his daughter a glass, before pouring some for himself and starting to stack his plate.

Brendon nodded, scooping up some of those-- potato omelet things onto his own plate, where Isaac just picked at them, sometimes eating, sometimes playing with the food until Brendon saw and told him to stop. He took a bit of everything for himself, tasting it to decide if he liked it and then eating hungrily. He let Isaac have a bit of chocolate, against his better judgment, and was surprised that his son didn't squirm or try to get away during the meal. At one point, he did point his finger at Lucía and narrow his eyes. Brendon hastily supplied her name, so that the poor girl wouldn't get offended by the pointing and glaring, and Isaac looked at her calmly for a few minutes before: "Lucía," he said it slowly, his French really coming out in that one, and Brendon smiled, kissing the top of his head. "You guys are going swimming?" he finally asked, looking up at Ryan briefly.

"We are," Ryan confirmed with a small smile, reaching into his pocket and taking out the shades, taking them on against the glare of the sun. He looked at Lucía and noticed that she was looking a little uncomfortable, and reached over to stroke a quick finger across his cheek. "And, well, sorry," he muttered, feeling uncomfortable at correcting a boy who was hardly more than a toddler. "She doesn't like strangers calling her Lucía. It's really just Jon and I who do. Her first name's Keely." He looked over at his daughter who sent him a bright, grateful smile, and smiled back automatically. "You can come down with us, if you want. The water's still pretty cold, but it's lovely down there."

"Oh, um... sorry-- I think Jon might've..." Brendon trailed off uncertainly. Clearing his throat, he looked back down at his plate and nudged his son, telling him to call her Keely in hushed tones, a smile playing on his lips to show that it was okay, but Isaac simply ignored him and carried on eating. Brendon shrugged, because this was a normal reaction, and sat back a bit to watch him eat. His son had never been fussy about food, but he'd always picked at it, eating only very small amounts at a time, and Brendon found it fascinating how they could be so different. He smiled a bit and ran a hand through Isaac's hair, which was really getting too long. "Do you want to go swimming, Isaac?" he asked after a few moments, and he could see his son trying to figure out what that meant. "Matante," he finally said, with an air of finality, and Brendon chuckled. "That's code for yes," he said to Ryan, but didn't look up. "He's just saying that he wants to wear the shorts his-- Jenn got him, right, Isaac?" But he didn't receive a response here, either.

Ryan laughed slightly, dipping a churro in the chocolate sauce and taking a bite, relishing the salty-sweet taste. "Go get the shorts when we're done eating, then," he suggested. "We'll wait here and then we'll go to the beach. Maybe we should ask Jon and Spencer if they want to come too." He glanced at Lucía, raising an eyebrow. "How would you like to go swimming with Uncle Jon?" Her grin widened and she nodded nearly violently, causing Ryan to laugh and lean over to give her a one-armed half-hug, which she returned enthusiastically. After moments of silence, though, he turned back to look across the table. "What have you been up to all these years then?"

"I started a charity to help families torn apart by war... Spencer helps children who've lost their families. I'm actually here to have dinner with some of our diplomat, get them involved, and I have to sit through some peace conferences--" he cut himself off, making a face. "Which is probably very different from the last conference I went to, but I'd still rather not go," he admitted, and then shrugged a bit. "And then I had Isaac. His mother and I had dinner one night and I kind of knew," he smiled a bit. He'd never thought he would think of his son's mother in such a good light. Everyone knew they weren't together, of course, and that she'd been inseminated, but sometimes he just couldn't help telling people how great she was. He figured, from Ryan's lack of reaction last night, that the man knew all about what he'd done just to have Isaac, from his arguments with Spencer, to finding Jenn, to finally succeeding, to living together, right down to the birth. He felt a bit hurt that Jon had never told him about Ryan's daughter, but assumed that Ryan had made him promise not to.

Nodding slowly, Ryan looked down on Brendon's hand and was more than a little bit surprised to realize that there was no ring adorning any fingers. Then he looked up at the other man's face. "I'm guessing you divorced her, then," he stated. "No ring and all," he added as an explanation. "I never really follow the news much unless it has to do with literary or music worlds, so I wouldn't actually know." He shrugged with a small smile. "Never actually thought you'd marry a woman, though, unless someone was holding a gun to your head."

Brendon frowned at Ryan, shaking his head slowly. "Uhh... no, I didn't marry her," he said, a little disgusted at the thought and affronted that Ryan would think that. Hadn't Jon told him anything? "No, I met up with um... women that I thought would be good candidates for insemination," he said, then chuckled at the absurdity of it, still frowning a bit. "I'm gay," he confirmed, laughing a bit more. "In case you missed that part...?" And now he really felt like was going to burst out laughing, but restrained himself. "I haven't really dated," he finally stated. "At all," he shrugged. He hadn't wanted to date, and had never found it appealing, even when he'd been younger. And then there was the charity and Isaac and-- he just never had time, really.

Ryan gave an embarrassed laugh, blushing slightly. "Uhm, okay. That was obviously a really bad guess," he stated, taking a deep gulp of orange juice as he gave another shrug. "I just don't usually look at a kid and think 'hey! Artificial insemination', so..." He grimaced slightly, and felt a lot younger than he was for a moment before he managed to overcome his embarrassment and look up again. "You're still young, though," he added with a small smile. "All the time in the world to find the right guy. Not that I'm exactly convinced that there is such a thing as the very right person for everyone, but all we can do is hope we luck out, I guess." Seven years, though... Ryan knew it might sound a little slutty, but maybe that was what the years had made him; he just really couldn't imagine going without it for seven years. He didn't really think it would be exactly tactful to tell Brendon that, though, so he kept quiet. There was a tug on his sleeve and he turned to look at his daughter who had another churro in her mouth, plate empty and a proud look on her face. "Finish chewing," he instructed with an amused look on his face. "Then you can go wake up your uncle."

Brendon was sure he felt his heart shatter when Ryan said something about 'the right guy'. He quickly looked away, pretending to adjust Isaac on his lap, and made sure he had himself under control when he looked up again. "And I think Isaac would like to wake Spencer," he said, and he knew his voice was strained. He smiled down at his son, fighting down the urge to scream and yell and stomp around because he wasn't getting his way. How did Ryan not know that, even after all this time, Brendon knew that he was who he wanted? More importantly, how could Brendon have only admitted it to himself after he'd lost Ryan? Isaac slid off his lap before turning to stare at Keely, and Brendon quickly told her that Isaac was wondering if she was going to come upstairs. He couldn't read his son's mind, but he had learned to read his facial expressions very well, which was good because he rarely said anything of consequence.

Lucía slipped off her chair and walked to the smaller child, gripping his hand gently and leading him back into the house and Ryan gave a soft laugh at the sight. "Absolutely adorable," he stated. It was really a shame he'd only ever had one kid. Lucía would've been a magnificent big sister if she'd had the chance. Then he turned back, giving Brendon his full attention. He thought he saw a fleeting glimmer of something on the former prince's face, but it might just have been a trick of the morning sun. "It must've been lonely, though," he stated, continuing the thread of conversation that had come before the children leaving. He picked up a piece of tortilla, chewing slowly and washing it down with orange juice. Then he smiled wryly. "Maybe you ended up being the one remaining idealistic about love and sex and relationships, though," he stated with another shrug. "I guess I can't fault you. It's a beautiful thought. Maybe I've just gotten too cynical to find it very realistic."

Brendon took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "No one would have made it less lonely," he finally said, and he made sure to say 'no one' and not 'no one else'. "I had Jon and Spencer-- well, Jon was gone a lot of the time, but I definitely had Spencer, and I'm surprisingly close to Jenn." He sighed again and shrugged. It hurt to hear Ryan say things like that. It was as though Ryan were purposely stabbing him in the heart, over and over and over, and then twisting the knife just for fun. He had so much that he wanted to say, but he couldn't find it in him. No relationship could have ever compared to the one he'd had with Ryan. He knew that, and it was probably just going to hurt him worse in the long run, but if he couldn't have Ryan, he wasn't interested in anyone else.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Ryan answered with a soft sigh. "It's a little less lonely for a while, but a lot of times it's just worse when it's over." He smiled in what he hoped was a supportive way, but really he was kind of preoccupied with his own thoughts. "I don't really have any regrets, though," he finally stated. "I had to go through what I went through to have Lucía, but then she came along and made things worth it. She made things a lot better." He gave a wistful smile. "Really, I know it sounds disturbed, but I sometimes think that the real meaning of 'the love of your life' is having a child. You won't ever love anyone as truly and unconditionally, and if you do things right, it lasts, and a lot of the time, your child is the only person you'll be able to spend a lifetime loving. It's a fight, sometimes, but I like to think I've done right by her, even though I personally can't imagine growing up without my mother." He snorted slightly. "With her mother, though, I'm very tempted to say that it's for the best."

Brendon agreed with Ryan, about children being the love of their lives, and he nodded absently while he listened. But he knew that Ryan was the big love of his life. And he didn't believe that you could only have one, but he did think that Ryan was meant to be his. Before he could say anything, though he couldn't think of much to say, he heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet rushing to join them, followed by the heavier sound of what he assumed to be Spencer and Jon. Sure enough, Isaac came barrelling towards him, Ryan's daughter not far behind him, and Spencer and Jon following, yawning and rubbing their eyes sleepily. They were both dressed for swimming, though, and Brendon was happy to see that Spencer had helped Isaac find his favourite swim shorts. He smiled and picked up his son. "Ready to swim?" he asked, receiving a loud 'oui, papa!' in return.

Lucía paused to wait for Jon to catch up and caught his hand before dragging the grown man along until she could take Ryan's hand as well, and Ryan rolled his eyes although he couldn't hold back a smile as he looked at his old friend. "Don't you get a backache from being wrapped around her little finger so tightly?" he asked with a laugh even though he knew it was a little hypocritical and that he might as well be speaking about himself. He shook his head slightly and grabbed his and Lucía towels from off the back on one of the chairs and walked off the terrace and into the garden where they hit a small path, following it until they reached the long stairs leading down to the private stretch of beach. There was absent-minded chatter and small conversations and the sounds of excited children as they descended the stairs, but then they were finally there, feet hitting hot sand, and Ryan soon dropped the towels on the ground, kicking off his flip-flops and kneeling to help Lucía out of her dress. "Don't get in the water until Jon or I am there with you," he instructed sternly, ignoring her pout as he stood back up and pulled the t-shirt over his head, shuddering slightly in the breeze. Well, best get this over with, he decided, and without further warning scooped his daughter up and threw her over his shoulder, laughing at her squeals as he bolted towards the water, ignoring how cold it felt against his feet, then his legs. He was nearly to his waist when he let himself drop under, letting go of the little girl for a moment before resurfacing, shaking water out of his hair and gasping against the cool temperature, immediately catching the still giggling and squealing girl around the waist.

Brendon sat in the sand near the towels, pulling his knees up to his chest as he watched Jon run into the water after Ryan and Keely, yelling that this was the best way to wake up. Spencer and Isaac made they way in a bit slower, Isaac clutching onto Spencer's fingers for dear life. The moment his toes his the water, he shook his head and backed up and would only go in when Spencer picked him up and slowly walked further until the water was up to Isaac's waist. Isaac shivered, wrapping his small arms around Spencer's neck, and watched his father, who in turn watched him. After a few minutes, the little boy turned back to watch Jon, Ryan and Keely, though he wouldn't let Spencer let go of him. "F-f-froid," he stuttered, pointing to the water and shaking his head. Spencer bit his lip and started to walk out, but stopped when Isaac let loose a blood-curdling shriek. Apparently he wanted to stay, despite the cold.

Ryan turned around slightly, confident that Jon was watching Lucía, to find out what the shriek was all about, and laughed as he caught sight of the flailing boy. "Yeah," he answered when they were back in easy earshot. "It's extremely cold, and the only reason we're all in is because we can't be outdone by a girl." He widened his eyes exaggeratedly, smiling slightly. "She'll get tired of it soon, though," he confided. "And then you can pick seashells with her along the beach. How's that sound?" He gave another, hopefully reassuring, smile, grateful for his experience with children. "For now... can you swim, little guy?"

Isaac looked at Ryan curiously, as though still not sure whether he could be trusted, and then stretched out his arms and leaned forward. "No, no, no, no," he said, causing Spencer to chuckle and take a step closer to Ryan to make sure the boy didn't lean too far and tumble into the water. "Jenn made sure he got those toddler swimming lessons," Spencer assured Ryan. "I've never been under the impression that he's very fond of water, though," he added. Isaac obviously wanted to get into Ryan's arms and he started squirming and whining, flapping his hands. "Fuck," he said, and Spencer threw back his head and laughed, too occupied with finding everything this little boy did hilarious to scold him for saying something his father had explicitly told him not to repeat.

Feeling another laugh bubbling up in his throat, Ryan gently gripped the small boy around the waist and pulled him onto his own hip. "Well," he said with a grin. "If you don't like swimming, I can do it for both of us. How would you like that?" When there was no screaming and no negatives, Ryan gently hoisted Isaac onto his back. "Hold on tight to my neck and shoulders, okay?" he asked and waited for the boy to do just that before he slowly let go of him. Ryan looked over at Spencer. "Keep an eye on him and grab him if he lets go," he instructed, a little anxiously. He'd done this with Lucía countless times, but Lucía was a few years older and maybe better at hanging on, and he wanted to be sure Isaac was safe too, even if he wasn't as comfortable in the water. Then, making sure he could still feel tiny arms clinging around his neck, he slowly kicked off and started a steady breast swim along the coastline, making sure not to get any farther out than he'd been when he'd started, and hoping that it was giggles and squeals he could hear over the waves, not the sound of a little boy crying in fear.

Isaac clung to Ryan's neck and kicked his feet, as though wanting to help Ryan swim. Once they'd been at it for a short while, though, his arms started to slip a bit because of the water, and when you were such a little boy, it was hard to keep your grip. Just as he was sliding off, Spencer was there, catching him and then bringing him in close to his chest again. "Have fun?" he asked, and Isaac smacked his hands into the water, sending it splashing. "C'est quoi son nom?" Isaac asked, pointing at Ryan, and Spencer was glad that Brendon had given him a crash course in French a few years back since he'd not remembered much from high school, and Jenn, who basically just spoke to him in French so that it would be easier when speaking to Isaac. "Ryan," Spencer answered, but Isaac kept pointing, a frown now on his face.

"I'm Ryan," Ryan confirmed with a small smile, trying to figure out what the small boy was on about. He didn't know a lot of French, but his high school understanding was still mostly in place - enough for him to get the basics in any case. He was interrupted a moment later, though, when Lucía bounded through the water and grabbed his arm.

"Me, Daddy!" she squealed. "Me! Me! Me!" And Ryan laughed and picked her up, letting her find her grip as she had done so often before. And then he dived, breaking surface to find his daughter spluttering and laughing. He turned half-way and pressed a small peck to her cheek before setting off at a steady swim once more. So maybe it wouldn't be just the two of them that day after all, but he was sure it would be fine anyway.

Isaac giggled and clapped his hands as he watched Ryan and Keely, kicking his feet so that the water splashed around him. When he started shivering again, though, Spencer decided to bring him back up to the beach. Brendon would flip a cow if Isaac ever got sick. He trudged out of the water, holding Isaac close to him until he started squirming too much and then put him on the ground and Isaac was running to meet his father. He wrapped his arms around a smiling Brendon's neck and made himself comfortable in his lap. And then he went back to watching those in the water, sometimes pointing to Ryan so that his father would watch and see what they were doing.

Jon, who'd been watching his Goddaughter, was laughing and swimming in circles around both her and her father. He would splash them every now and then, just to keep them on their toes. He'd missed being with them far too much, but he knew that staying with Spencer and Brendon had been the right decision. He'd gotten closer to Spencer, though he knew he would always be Brendon's best friend, and was anxious to see where things were going between them. Sometimes he caught Spencer looking at him, just studying him, and then he would look away quickly when caught, and those moments made Jon happier than he'd ever been; they were pretty much tied in with every moment he'd spent with Lucía.

After another while of playing and splashing with Lucía, Ryan declared that he was getting cold. "You'll look after her until she tires of it?" Ryan asked Jon, not really waiting for confirmation before starting to wade out of the water. He knew he didn't even really need to ask. He was shivering slightly and hurried to the towels, picking up his own and wrapping it around his shoulders before dropping down on the sand. "I don't get it," he stated. "Lucía is about as skinny as I am, but she never seems to get cold." Over the years he'd filled out a bit around the shoulders, frame becoming a little more solid and less of the gangly, lithe, all-awkward-arms-and-legs form he'd had when he was younger, but he was still a little too thin, no matter how much he ate. He wasn't about to complain, though. At least he wasn't getting fat. "So," he started, looking at Brendon and Spencer. "Are you going into Barca tonight, or did you come early to have a bit of a vacation, or what?"

"Came in a bit early so that this little guy wouldn't completely freak out if I just suddenly left the moment we got here..." Brendon answered, kissing the top of Isaac's head. He didn't know if Isaac really would have cared either way, but he didn't want to take any chances. "Plus Jenn wanted us to take some pictures for her, or something, though God knows she could have just come with us, since I did invite her..." he trailed off and made a face, realizing how potentially awkward that could have been, now. Jenn would have made friends with Ryan; she made friends with everyone. And then she would have had embarrassing stories and had everyone laughing. Essentially she would have had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand, it was just the way she was and it was one of the reasons Brendon loved her. "Oh, um, did you guys have plans for tonight?" he frowned and sighed. "We're completely imposing on you," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Ryan said with a shrug. "Lucía loves having you around, and I don't mind company myself. I was just asking because I could've given you a ride in. I'm picking up a friend in the airport." He laughed slightly. "God knows Lucía will be excited enough to bounce off walls to have both of her favorite uncles around even though..." He grimaced slightly. "Okay, it might become a little awkward, just so you're forewarned. Jon's never liked Jaken at all, so there's usually a lot of ignoring going on when they're in the same place at the same time."

Spencer frowned a bit. "Jon doesn't like Keely's other uncle?" he asked, somewhat confused. Sure, Jon was known for not liking people, but it usually wasn't just random. At least, not as much as it had been in school. Spencer looked over at Jon, who was still in the water with Keely, splashing around and laughing loudly. He'd never seen his friend have more fun than he was having right now. "I mean... he doesn't even make an effort for her?" he asked, and he was only getting more confused. He knew Jon well enough to know that, for people he loved, he would do anything, including pretend to like someone.

Ryan grimaced slightly, but didn't say out loud that it might have had something to do with Jon, not forewarned at all, walking in on a certain activity several years ago and never getting over it. They'd had the biggest row of their friendship, shouting and screaming about how some things shouldn't happen in a small apartment that also housed a toddler and Ryan hotly answering that he was a grown man, knew what he was doing and damn well didn't need a big brother who was four years younger than himself. In the end Jon had agreed to tolerate Jaken's presence, so long as he didn't have to talk to the other man or pretend to like him, but also agreed not to say a bad word about him in front of Lucía, which was as much as Ryan could hope for. Jon never seemed to have liked anyone Ryan had a relationship with, and even though Ryan and Jaken were mostly just friends nowadays, it seemed to have continued. Maybe that had something to do with Jon being perceptive enough to know that they still fucked. "He's just overprotective," he finally said as a way of explanation, even though he knew perfectly well that it wasn't really an explanation at all.

"Well, I'm sure it will be perfectly fine," Brendon spoke up. "It's your house and we're your guests; the very least we could do is respect other guests," he said, and was promptly slapped in the face by Isaac, who'd apparently been trying to catch his attention. Looking down, Brendon raised his eyebrows expectantly. When his son didn't say or do anything else, Brendon frowned. "I think you know better than to hit, Isaac," he said sternly. "You'll get time out if you don't behave, and there are no toys in your room here like there are at home," he warned, and Isaac pouted a bit before pushing himself away from Brendon and climbing into Ryan's lap, taking Spencer's hand on his way by. Brendon sighed; well, his son really knew how to make him feel like shit, that was for sure. But he'd been told that some children just did that, and then they grew out of it until they reached their teenage years. He didn't even want to think about Isaac as a teenager, though.

Ryan smiled, still feeling a little awkward, and patted the small boy's head. "Yeah," he agreed to Brendon's first comment. "It'll all work out." Then he looked up to see Lucía and Jon approaching, Lucía babbling about seashells and Ryan lifted Isaac to his feet. "Want to go find some pretty seashells?"