Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Pierre’s voice carried the same exhausted complaint it had the 19 times before.

He was sprawled across Esteban’s bed, limbs stretched out carelessly, one arm flung over his eyes in a dramatic display of suffering. The ceiling fan above them spun lazily, moving hot air from one corner of the room to the other without accomplishing much else.

The heat had settled over the city days ago and refused to leave. Making even breathing feel like work.

Esteban rolled his eyes as he crossed the room toward his desk. His phone had finally finished charging, the screen lighting briefly when he unplugged it. The charger slipped free with a quiet click.

“Because,” he said, slipping the phone into his pocket, “I promised David I’d babysit Ollie today.”

Pierre groaned. A real groan. The kind usually reserved for physical pain. “You say that every time.”

“Because you keep asking.”

“That’s because I keep hoping the answer will change.”

Esteban snorted. He turned around and looked at Pierre properly. His boyfriend looked miserable.

His blond hair was damp with sweat, sticking slightly to his forehead. The collar of his t-shirt had darkened from the heat, and his cheeks were flushed pink. He looked less like a teenager and more like someone who had been abandoned in a desert.

Honestly, Esteban probably looked exactly the same.

The heatwave had turned everyone into a version of themselves they barely recognized. Everything felt slower. Heavier. The thought of moving was exhausting. The thought of leaving his room was worse. Still, he crossed the room and dropped onto the mattress beside Pierre.

The bed dipped beneath his weight. Pierre immediately rolled toward him with a dramatic sigh, flopping an arm claimingly over Esteban despite the heat radiating off of him.

“You promised you’d come with me,” Esteban reminded him.

Pierre cracked one eye open. “That promise was made under emotional vulnerability.”

“You made it willingly.”

“You manipulated me with a blowjob.”

Esteban laughed. The sound came easier than it should have. Maybe because Pierre always managed to make him laugh, even when he was being impossible.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.” Pierre looked at him in a fake offended way.

“You just want to lie here all day.”

“Exactly.”

Pierre finally looked at him properly. For a moment neither of them spoke. The room hummed quietly around them. The distant buzz of cicadas drifted through the open window. Somewhere downstairs a door slammed.

Pierre's expression softened. The exaggerated annoyance faded from his face, replaced by something warmer. Something familiar. Esteban felt it happen every time Pierre looked at him like that. Like he was the only thing worth paying attention to.

Pierre reached up first, fingers brushing the side of Esteban’s neck. “Still don’t want to go,” he muttered.

“I know.”

“But I will.”

“I know.”

“Only because I like you.”

Esteban rolled his eyes before tugging him closer to kiss him. The kiss was brief. Lazy. Neither of them had the energy for anything else It was warm and slightly awkward, their foreheads damp from the heat, their skin sticking together where they touched. The kind of kiss that happened after hours spent doing absolutely nothing.

When they pulled apart, Pierre immediately groaned again. “Now I’m even hotter.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

“It became your problem when you kissed me.”

Esteban shoved his shoulder.

Pierre caught his hand before he could pull away and laced their fingers together against the mattress. For a moment neither moved. The fan continued its pointless rotation overhead. The sunlight spilled across the floorboards in thick golden stripes. Outside, the world seemed to shimmer beneath the weight of the heat.

“You know,” Pierre said eventually, eyes drifting shut again, “if we stay here long enough, David might think you forgot.”

“He won't.”

“He could.”

“He definitely won't.”

Pierre sighed dramatically. “Worth a shot.”

Esteban smiled despite himself. Truthfully, he wasn't particularly excited about spending the afternoon chasing after Ollie either. But he'd made a promise. And besides the Bearmans had a pool.

A very large pool.

A pool that currently sounded like the greatest invention in human history.

—

Eventually, they managed to peel themselves off the bed. It took far longer than it should have. Pierre complained the entire time. The complaints started when Esteban stood up. Continued while he searched for his shoes. Escalated dramatically when they stepped outside and the heat hit them like a physical wall.

The air felt thick. Heavy. Like breathing through warm water. By the time they started down the road toward the Bearmans' house, Pierre looked personally offended by the existence of summer.

"You owe me for this."

"I owe you for a lot of things."

"You owe me specifically for heatstroke."

"I'll make up for it." Esteban took Pierre’s hand into his own. “I promise.”

Pierre shot him a look. The kind that suggested he knew exactly what Esteban had to do to make it up to him and he wasn’t sure that was enough. Esteban knew as well.

Still, he kept walking. Mostly because the promise of the Bearmans' pool was growing more appealing with every step.

The house came into view a few minutes later. Large. Neat. The flowerbeds perfectly maintained, despite the weather. The curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Even from outside, the place somehow looked cool.

Esteban climbed the front steps and pressed the doorbell. The chime barely finished ringing before the door flew open.

"Esteban!" The five year old practically launched himself into view. His entire face lit up. A grin stretched from ear to ear, bright enough to rival the sunlight behind him. The gap in his smile was smaller now. The missing front teeth that had vanished weeks ago were finally beginning to grow back in.

Flavy - a girl from a parallel class, who’s also babysitting Ollie - had spent nearly twenty minutes telling Esteban about it during lunch a few days earlier. Apparently it was very important information. According to her, Ollie had shown every person willing to look. Twice. Maybe three times.

Judging by the way he was currently smiling, that hadn't changed.

"Esteban!" The excitement in his voice hit with enough force that Esteban couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"Hey, Ollie."

Before the boy could even ask, Esteban bent down and scooped him up. Ollie immediately wrapped both arms around his neck. Comfortable. Familiar. Like this happened every day. Which, honestly, it almost did.

The boy settled easily on his hip as Esteban stepped inside. The difference in temperature was immediate. The cool air washed over his skin like relief itself. Behind him, Pierre actually made a sound. A quiet groan of appreciation.

Esteban turned just in time to catch his boyfriend closing his eyes for a second.

"So this," Pierre declared solemnly, "is what heaven feels like." He stepped right in front of the AC vent, letting the cold breeze wash over him.

Ollie giggled.

Esteban rolled his eyes and continued toward the kitchen. The house was peaceful. The kind of peaceful that came from adults preparing to leave. There was movement upstairs. The distant sound of drawers opening and closing. A muffled voice carrying down the hallway.

In the kitchen, David was already waiting. A coffee mug sat abandoned beside him. His car keys rested on the table. The expression on his face was relaxed, but tired in the way parents always seemed to be.

He looked up when they entered. Immediately, some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared. Not because he was desperate to leave. But because he trusted Esteban - and Pierre by proxy for today. Usually Pierre only picked up Esteban, or dropped him off, leading to nothing but a rushed greeting to the Bearmans before he moved on.

Either way, they trusted Esteban. And he had noticed that a long time ago. The Bearmans never hovered. Never called every thirty minutes. Never left pages of instructions. They handed Ollie over without hesitation every single time. A level of trust that still felt strange sometimes. Especially considering he was only 17.

"Hey," David greeted.

"Hi."

Ollie had already buried his face against Esteban's shoulder. Comfortable. Content.

David watched the sight with obvious amusement. "I see I've already been replaced as always."

Ollie immediately lifted his head. "No." A pause. "Maybe a little."

David barked out a laugh. "Brilliant."

Footsteps sounded from the hallway. A moment later his wife appeared. She looked significantly more prepared than David did. As usual.

David stood immediately. "Finally."

She rolled her eyes. "You survived five extra minutes."

"Barely."

The exchange was so familiar that nobody reacted. Not even Ollie. Especially not Ollie. He looked entirely used to this.

David turned his attention back toward Esteban. "We should be back around two in the morning."

Esteban nodded. "Okay."

"Maybe earlier."

His wife snorted. "Definitely not earlier."

"Fine. Maybe later."

"Much more likely."

David ignored her. "Traffic depends on how many idiots decide to leave at the same time."

Then his attention shifted briefly toward Ollie. The boy was listening now. Watching. The excitement from answering the door slowly fading as the reality of his parents leaving settled in. Nothing dramatic.

David crossed the kitchen and pressed a kiss to Ollie's forehead. "We'll be back before you know it."

Ollie nodded. A brave nod. One that said he was trying very hard to be grown up. "Okay."

"You going to behave?"

Another nod.

David smiled. "Good."

Then he looked at Esteban. For a brief second something sincere flickered across his face. Gratitude. Trust. The kind that couldn't really be put into words. "Thanks again." Then he looked at Pierre, “you too.”

Esteban shrugged awkwardly. "It's fine."

But it wasn't just fine. They both knew that. Watching someone's child wasn't a small thing. Especially not for twelve hours.

David knew it. And Esteban knew he knew it.

"Have fun," Esteban said instead.

"We'll try."

A final round of goodbyes followed. Then the front door opened. Closed. And just like that, the house fell quiet.

—

The second the front door closed behind David and his wife, Ollie grabbed Esteban's hand. Not gently. Not politely. Instead with the determination of someone who had been waiting for this exact moment.

"Come on!"

Esteban barely had enough time to laugh before he was being dragged toward the stairs. "Ollie-"

"Come on!"

The kid wasn't even looking where he was going. He simply trusted that Esteban would follow. Which, of course, he did. Within seconds they were halfway up the staircase.

Pierre sighed heavily and followed behind them. The cooler air from downstairs disappeared with every step. By the time they reached the second floor, the heat had returned in full force. With enough force to make the back of Pierre's neck feel sticky again.

Ollie burst into his bedroom. Esteban barely crossed the doorway before a bright red Hot Wheels car was shoved into his hand. No explanation. No introduction. Just immediate responsibility.

"This one is yours."

Esteban looked down at the tiny car. Then at Ollie. "Is it?"

Ollie nodded seriously. "It's fast."

"Good."

"It's the fastest. But mine is faster." With that Ollie dropped onto the floor.

Esteban followed immediately. No hesitation whatsoever. One second he was standing. The next he was sprawled across the carpet beside a five year old, holding a toy car like it was the most important thing in the world.

Pierre physically cringed. Just a little. Not because Esteban looked ridiculous. Well. Maybe partly because of that. But mostly because he couldn't understand how his boyfriend switched into babysitting mode so effortlessly.

There wasn't even a transition. One moment Esteban was a normal teenager. The next he was making exaggerated engine noises on the floor.

"Vroooom."

Pierre closed his eyes in second hand embarrassment. "Oh my god." Neither of them listened.

"You're going down!" Esteban announced dramatically.

"No!" Ollie shouted. "My car is faster."

Then he launched his own car across the carpet. Esteban immediately followed. The room filled with the sounds of imaginary engines, dramatic crashes, and increasingly elaborate race commentary.

Pierre remained by the doorway. Watching. Judging. Suffering.

He loved Esteban. Loved him enough to spend an entire afternoon babysitting. Loved him enough to walk through a heatwave for this. But watching him enthusiastically lose a fake car race against a five year old, while Pierre could feel the sweat running down his back was testing something inside him.

A few minutes passed. Maybe ten. Maybe fifteen. The race continued. The temperature inside the room continued climbing.

The upstairs wasn't nearly as cool as downstairs. The sunlight pressing against the windows certainly wasn't helping.

Meanwhile Esteban seemed completely unaffected. Or at least willing to suffer through it. Mostly because every time Ollie laughed, something soft appeared in his expression.

Pierre had noticed that before. The way Esteban looked at Ollie. Protective. Patient. Like spending time with him wasn't a chore. Like it was something he genuinely enjoyed. Pierre didn't understand it.

Children were loud. Messy. Sticky. Unpredictable. Ollie happened to be one of the better ones, but even then…

Eventually Pierre abandoned the doorway. If he was going to be trapped in a child's bedroom, he might as well move around. The room was exactly what he expected. Toy boxes. Bookshelves. Drawings taped onto walls. A small collection of stuffed animals sitting neatly on the bed.

His attention drifted toward the window. The curtains were half drawn against the sunlight. Maybe opening it would help. At least a little.

He crossed the room and pushed the curtain aside. Bright sunlight flooded through immediately. Pierre squinted. Then looked down into the garden. And stopped. A smile appeared before he could stop it. Outside, surrounded by bright green grass and sun bleached patio stones, sat the pool.

The protective plastic cover stretched across the water's surface, reflecting sunlight like glass. Even from here it looked inviting. Cold. Refreshing. Perfect.

Pierre stared at it for another second.

Then another.

The heat upstairs suddenly felt significantly more offensive.

"Why don't we go into the pool?" The question was directed toward Esteban. It wasn't Ollie he was asking. It wasn't even really a question and more of a suggestion. Maybe even a desperate plea. But before Esteban could answer-

"YES!"

Pierre flinched. Ollie was suddenly on his feet. One second he was sitting on the floor. The next he was practically vibrating.

"Yes yes yes yes yes!"

The toy cars were abandoned immediately. Forgotten. A casualty of war.

Esteban laughed. "Ollie-"

“I want to swim!”

The child had already decided. Esteban wasn't getting a vote anymore. Pierre watched Ollie bounce excitedly in place. Then looked at Esteban. Then back at the pool outside. For the first time all afternoon, babysitting didn't seem quite so terrible. Mostly because ten minutes from now there was a very good chance he would be floating in cold water instead of slowly melting upstairs. And judging by the grin spreading across Ollie's face, the five year old had reached exactly the same conclusion.

Getting Ollie changed into his swim trunks turned out to be significantly easier than getting sunscreen on him. The second Esteban appeared with the bottle, the kid's excitement vanished.

"No."

"Ollie."

"No."

"You need sunscreen."

The child looked personally betrayed. "But I don't want sunscreen."

"You also don't want sunburn."

"I don't get sunburns."

Pierre, already halfway through pulling on his own swim trunks, snorted. "That's not how that works."

"It is." Ollie countered.

"It isn't." Pierre had an edge to his voice that bordered on annoyance.

Esteban caught Ollie before he could escape. Barely. The boy twisted immediately.

"Ollie."

"Nooo."

"Hold still."

The sunscreen battle continued for another several minutes. Esteban managed to get most of Ollie's arms. Some of his shoulders. His hands required negotiations. His face required threats. By the end, both of them looked exhausted.

The moment Esteban loosened his grip, Ollie bolted. Actually bolted. The patio door slid open with a bang. Little feet slapped against the warm stone outside until he splashed into the pool. Through the window they could see Ollie resurfacing immediately, grinning like he'd won something. Which, honestly, he probably felt he had.

Esteban shook his head. The remaining sunscreen coated his fingertips. Rather than waste it, he rubbed it over his own cheeks, nose and forehead, smoothing the white streaks into his skin. The scent immediately surrounded him. Coconut. Salt. Summer. The sort of smell that lingered on towels and pool chairs and skin long after the day was over. The sort of smell only expensive sunscreen provided.

Outside, Pierre had already settled himself on one of the loungers beside the pool. A bottle of sunscreen sat beside him. His arms were already covered in a thin sheen of it.

When Esteban stepped outside, Pierre glanced up and instantly held out the sunscreen. "My back."

Esteban took the bottle. The plastic lid clicked softly in his hands. "Turn around."

Pierre obeyed. He twisted enough to watch Esteban while simultaneously pretending not to. The sunscreen felt cool against his skin as Esteban spread it carefully across his shoulders first. Then down his back. His fingers moved methodically, rubbing the lotion into skin already warm from the sun.

Pierre's muscles relaxed beneath the touch. Little by little. The tension leaving him almost visibly with every almost massage like rub Esteban was using to spread the sunscreen on his back.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. They didn't need to. The afternoon hummed around them. Water splashing. Birds singing somewhere beyond the fence. The distant buzz of insects hidden in the trees. Summer sounds. Comfortable sounds.

When Esteban finished, Pierre reached behind himself. "My turn."

Esteban handed over the bottle. A second later he found himself sitting between Pierre’s legs as he rubbed sunscreen across his shoulders. The touch was gentler than people would’ve expected. Pierre was always gentler than people expected, at least when it came to Esteban.

His fingers traced across the back of Esteban's neck. Down his shoulders. Across the skin between his shoulder blades. Careful. Unhurried.

By the time he finished, neither of them felt particularly motivated to move. The sunscreen needed time to absorb anyway. That was the excuse. The real reason was that the shade was pleasant. And moving required effort.

Pierre settled first. Then immediately pulled Esteban backward with him. Esteban barely protested. His back rested against Pierre's chest. Pierre's legs stretched around either side of him. One arm draped lazily across his waist. Comfortable. Familiar. Possessive.

The kind of position they'd fallen into hundreds of times before. The kind neither of them thought about anymore.

For a while, neither spoke. The water rippled softly nearby. Sunlight danced across the surface of the pool. Everything felt slow. Warm. Easy.

Pierre let his head fall back against the couch. His eyes drifted shut. This. This was nice. Actually nice. Not the babysitting. Not the sweating through a heatwave. Not listening to Ollie explain toy cars for twenty minutes.

Just this.

A house.

A garden.

A pool.

Esteban tucked against him. The steady warmth of him pressed against his chest.

Pierre imagined it for a moment. Years from now. A place like this. A pool. Maybe a dog. A toypoodle, preferably. Something fluffy and dramatic. Something with enough personality to annoy people.

He smiled slightly at the thought.

Esteban would probably argue for a cat. Several cats. An unreasonable amount of cats. Pierre could already picture the debate.

The image felt strangely peaceful. Comfortable enough that sleep started creeping at the edges of his mind. The warmth. The sunlight. The quiet.

His arm tightened slightly around Esteban. Just because he could. Maybe he could actually fall asleep like this. Maybe-

Cold water hit him square in the face.

Pierre jerked violently. "What the fuck?"

The curse word handed him a slap to his thigh from Esteban.

Laughter erupted from the pool. High. Triumphant. Evil.

Pierre wiped water from his eyes.

Ollie stood waist deep in the water holding a bright green water gun. The little menace looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I got you!"

Pierre stared.

The child grinned wider. Then pulled the trigger again. Another stream of water shot across the patio. This time hitting both of them.

"Ollie." The warning came from Esteban.

The boy immediately stuck out his tongue. Then fired again.

Pierre looked horrified. Esteban looked amused. Which was arguably worse.

"Ollie."

The kid just giggled, making the expression on Esteban's face shift. Just slightly. The kind of look Pierre had learned to recognize. Dangerous. Mischievous. A terrible idea forming in real time.

"Esteban." Pierre warned, trying to keep Esteban anchored to him.

Too late. Esteban was already moving. One second he was sitting comfortably between Pierre's legs. The next he was launching himself off the couch.

Ollie's eyes widened. "Wait-"

Splash.

The cannonball sent water exploding across half the pool. A wave crashed directly into Ollie. The boy shrieked. Not in fear. In delight. Pure delight. The kind that only children seemed capable of.

When Esteban resurfaced, Ollie was already attacking. The water gun fired repeatedly. Streams of water hitting Esteban's face and chest. Esteban lunged dramatically.

The boy screamed with laughter and tried to swim away. Tried being the important word. Within seconds Esteban had caught him. The resulting wrestling match was entirely one sided. Which didn't stop Ollie from fighting with all the determination of someone defending a championship title.

The water churned around them. Splashing. Laughing. Mock threats. Water guns changing hands every few seconds.

Pierre watched from the couch. Still damp. Still annoyed. The little gremlin was insufferable. Absolutely insufferable.

—

At some point, Pierre gave up pretending he cared. Enjoying the sun lounger was objectively superior. So while Esteban and Ollie continued whatever complicated water gun war they had invented, Pierre stretched out beneath the afternoon sun and closed his eyes.

The warmth settled over him immediately. Not the suffocating heat from earlier. Not the kind that made clothes stick to skin and every movement feel exhausting. This was different. The pleasant kind. The kind that seeped into muscles and made them loosen one by one. His arms rested behind his head. The distant splashing from the pool became background noise.

Occasionally Ollie's laughter cut through the air. Occasionally Esteban's voice followed. Then more splashing. Then more laughter.

Pierre ignored all of it.

Or tried to.

His eyelids felt heavy. The sunlight pressed pleasantly against his skin. For the first time all day, his mind felt completely quiet. Maybe he drifted off for a minute. Maybe five. He wasn't entirely sure.

All he knew was that suddenly the warmth disappeared.

A shadow fell across his face. Pierre frowned. Something cold landed on his chest.

Then another droplet.

And another.

His eyes opened immediately. Esteban stood above him. Grinning. Water dripped from his curls. His hair was darker now, flattened against his forehead. Tiny droplets clung to his eyelashes. And before Pierre could even process what was happening, Esteban shook his head.

Water sprayed everywhere.

"Esteban."

Another shake. More droplets.

"Esteban."

The grin widened. Pierre wiped water from his face. "You are unbearable."

"I know." The answer came without hesitation. Not even a little shame.

Pierre was preparing a proper complaint when Esteban suddenly grabbed his wrist. "Come on."

"No."

"Come on."

"I literally just got comfortable." Pierre narrowed his eyes.

Apparently Esteban didn’t think that was enough of an argument because a second later he was pulling. Hard. Pierre barely had time to protest before he was yanked upright.

"Esteban."

"Pierre."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." The teenager immediately began dragging him toward the pool.

Pierre dug his heels in. For approximately two seconds. Then he gave up. Mostly because resistance required effort. Partly because Esteban was laughing. And partly because he already knew how this would end.

"You're impossible."

"So I've heard."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Unfortunately, Esteban was right. Pierre loved Esteban to the mood and back, sometimes he hated that.

They reached the edge of the pool. Pierre immediately knew what was about to happen. "Don't you dare-"

Too late. Esteban pulled him forward. The world disappeared into cold water.

Pierre surfaced with a gasp. Water running down his face. His hair plastered to his forehead. Across from him, Esteban was laughing so hard he could barely stay upright.

Pierre considered drowning him. Briefly. Then decided the water felt too good to waste the energy. A few feet away, Ollie had become distracted by something floating near the edge of the pool. A toy. A leaf. A secret mission. Nobody really knew.

Most importantly, it meant he was entertaining himself. Which left Esteban and Pierre alone. Or as alone as two teenagers could be while babysitting.

The water reached Pierre's chest. Cool enough to chase away the lingering heat from the day. He let himself sink lower. Relaxing. Finally. Esteban drifted closer. Naturally. Like he always did. Pierre wasn't even surprised anymore.

One second there was space between them. The next Esteban's arm was sliding around his waist beneath the water. Pulling him closer. Pierre let himself be pulled. Without complaint. Without resistance. Without any of the usual fight he would put up if it was anyone but Esteban.

Then Esteban leaned forward. A soft kiss brushed against his cheek. Not really a kiss. More a nuzzle. Affectionate. Absent minded. The kind that happened when Esteban was happy and didn't know what to do with it.

Pierre felt himself smile despite trying not to. "Needy."

"Mhm." No denial. Just a content little hum.

Pierre glanced toward him. Esteban's eyes were half closed. His arm still looped securely around Pierre. Looking entirely at peace.

Esteban couldn’t help but think about how this was the future he imagined himself in with Pierre.

A house. A family. A kid, or maybe two. Something permanent. Something stable.

The moment stretched comfortably between them. Water lapping softly against their skin. Sunlight dancing across the surface. Ollie humming to himself somewhere nearby.

Then-

"Estebaaaaaan?"

Both teenagers looked up. Ollie was floating nearby now. One arm draped dramatically over a pool noodle. The picture of suffering.

"I'm hungry." The declaration was immediate. Urgent. Life threatening, apparently.

Pierre groaned. The little gremlin had absolutely no shame in ruining his moment.

"Fine," Esteban said finally. "We'll make something."

Instantly Ollie came back to life. The dramatic exhaustion vanished. His eyes lit up. His whole face brightened. "Really?"

"Really."

The five year old cheered. Actually cheered. Before racing toward the pool steps as though food might disappear if he didn't reach it quickly enough.

Pierre watched him go. Then looked at Esteban. Then back at Ollie. The kid was already halfway out of the pool, before he himself decided to move to the edge and pull himself out as well.

—

Calling it dinner was generous. Very generous. The entire meal consisted of frozen nuggets and fries dumped into the air fryer while Ollie hovered nearby asking every thirty seconds if they were done yet.

Still, Esteban felt oddly proud when he pulled the basket open. The smell immediately filled the kitchen. Warm. Salty. The kind of food every child seemed to survive on.

He divided everything between three plates as evenly as possible. Ollie received a few extra fries. Mostly because he would notice if he didn’t. Then he carried the plates into the living room where Pierre and Ollie had somehow already made themselves comfortable.

The television glowed softly against the far wall. The AC hummed somewhere in the background. Outside, evening had started creeping into the garden, the sunlight turning softer through the windows.

Ollie immediately sat up when he saw the food. "Thank you Este."

“You are welcome.”

Pierre didn't even look up when he received the plate from Esteban, “thanks.”

Within seconds the three of them were eating. Or attempting to.

Esteban and Pierre used forks. Ollie apparently considered such things optional. The kid grabbed nuggets with both hands, occasionally dipping them into ketchup with enough enthusiasm to qualify as violence. Crumbs accumulated around him immediately.

Esteban wasn't even surprised. Pierre watched him for a second. Then deliberately looked away. Children were disgusting when they ate… Pierre preferred not to think about it. Instead, he picked up the remote and began scrolling through Netflix.

Rows of films flashed across the screen. Action. Comedy. Documentaries. More action. Something animated. Something terrible. Then-

‘The Ritual’. Pierre paused. The dark promotional image filled the screen. "We still need to watch that one."

Esteban looked up from his plate. Immediately suspicious. "No."

Pierre frowned. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no."

Before Pierre could react, Esteban leaned across the couch and stole the remote directly from his hands. The theft happened so quickly Pierre barely had time to protest.

"Ollie's too young for a horror movie."

Pierre looked toward the child. Ollie was currently attempting to fit an entire nugget into his mouth. The child looked completely unaware of the conversation.

"I think he'd survive."

"No."

"I survived."

"That's concerning, actually."

Pierre rolled his eyes. Esteban ignored him. Completely. As usual. Instead he turned toward Ollie.

"We're watching Spider-Man, right?"

The response was immediate. Ollie's entire face lit up. "Yes!"

There it was. That excitement. The genuine kind. The kind that always seemed to appear whenever Spider-Man was involved. Esteban smiled despite himself.

Flavy had spent most of their shared biology class a few days ago updating him on their progress. Apparently they had already finished the second movie. Which meant-

"Third one tonight." Ollie practically vibrated with excitement.

Pierre watched the exchange from the corner of his eye. Then sighed dramatically.

The movie started a few minutes later. The familiar Marvel logo filled the television. Ollie immediately abandoned all conversation. His attention locked onto the screen with complete concentration.

Even his chewing slowed down. Which honestly felt impressive.

The room settled into something comfortable after that. The kind of silence that only happened when everyone was content. The movie played. The AC hummed. Occasionally Ollie gasped at something happening onscreen. Occasionally Esteban smiled at the reaction.

Pierre mostly ignored both.

His phone occupied one hand. His fork occupied the other. He drifted between messages and social media and half paying attention to whatever disaster Spider-Man was currently dealing with.

The food disappeared eventually. Ollie's plate emptied first. Naturally. Esteban's followed shortly after. Pierre finished last. Not because he ate slower, mainly because he kept getting distracted by his phone.

When he finally set the empty plate aside, he realized Esteban had shifted closer without either of them noticing. Not leaning against him. At least not yet.

Pierre's gaze lingered for a moment. Then he reached out. His fingers disappeared into Esteban's curls. Still slightly damp from the pool. Still soft. Esteban immediately relaxed beneath the touch. Like a cat.

A quiet sound escaped Esteban. Content. Comfortable. Without looking away from the movie, he leaned slightly into Pierre's hand. Pierre rolled his eyes, but he kept doing it.

His fingers moving lazily through the dark curls. Twisting them gently around his fingers. Scratching lightly against his scalp. Maybe even using his grip in them to pull Esteban more towards himself.

Across the room, Spider-Man was probably saving New York. Again. Ollie sat cross legged on the couch, completely invested. Occasionally muttering predictions to himself. Occasionally pointing excitedly at the screen.

Pierre didn't particularly care. About Spider-Man. About children. About whatever Ollie was currently explaining to nobody. But for once, the presence of the little gremlin didn't bother him. Not really.

—

When the movie finally ended, the room remained quiet for a few seconds. The credits rolled. The soft music filled the living room. Ollie was still staring at the television. Completely captivated. As if Spider-Man might suddenly reappear if he waited long enough.

Esteban stretched beside Pierre, a quiet groan leaving him as he sat up. "I'll do the dishes."

Pierre barely looked up from his phone. "Mhm."

The response wasn't really an answer. More an acknowledgement that words had been spoken.

Esteban smiled anyway.

He collected the empty plates from the coffee table one by one. Ollie's first. Then his own. Then Pierre's.

Pierre made absolutely no effort to help. Not because he was lazy. Well. Not entirely. Mostly because the moment he had finished eating, his social battery for babysitting had completely vanished. The evening had already gone far better than he'd expected. He had survived several hours around a child. That felt like enough effort for one day.

So he stayed exactly where he was while Esteban disappeared toward the kitchen. A moment later the sound of running water drifted through the house. Pierre immediately unlocked his phone. Instagram appeared on the screen.
He scrolled.

Photos.

Videos.

Advertisements.

More photos.

A racing clip.

Someone's dog.

A football highlight.

His attention drifted comfortably from one post to the next.

Across the room, Ollie had apparently found another way to entertain himself.

The coffee table had been pushed aside. Paper now covered part of the floor. Crayons were scattered everywhere. Red. Blue. Green.

The occasional scratching sound filled the room. Crayon against paper.

Pause.

Crayon against floor.

Pause.

More scratching.

Pierre didn't look up. Children drew things. That was what children did. It ranked somewhere below watching paint dry in terms of things he cared about.

The sounds continued. Scratching. Shuffling. Humming. At one point Ollie seemed to be talking quietly to himself.

Pierre ignored that too.

The kitchen faucet shut off. Then started again. Esteban was still busy.

Then suddenly the couch dipped. Only slightly. But enough to pull Pierre's attention away from his phone.

He looked up. Ollie had somehow climbed onto the cushion beside him. A sheet of paper clutched proudly in both hands. The smile on his face suggested he had just created a masterpiece.

Pierre immediately felt concerned. Not because of the drawing. Because children always wanted opinions afterwards. And Pierre never knew what opinions they expected.

The paper was shoved toward him. "Look!"

Pierre looked. Or at least he tried to. The page contained a collection of colorful lines. Several circles. Something that might have been a stick figure. Or a tree. Or a car accident. Honestly, he had no idea.

He stared.

Longer than necessary. Trying desperately to identify anything recognizable. Nothing happened. Eventually he gave up.

"What is that?" The question came out more bluntly than intended.

Immediately Ollie's smile faltered. Just a little. The confidence slipping from his face. He pulled the paper back toward himself. Examining it carefully, making sure it was the right way up.

Apparently satisfied, he turned it back around and presented it once more. "It's Esteban."

Pierre looked again. Still nothing.

Ollie pointed enthusiastically. "That's him."

A crayon jabbed toward a vaguely person-tree-car accident-shaped collection of lines.

Pierre squinted. "Oh."

"He's turning into Spider-Man." The explanation continued immediately. Like this clarified everything.

Pierre glanced at the drawing. Then back at Ollie. Then back at the drawing.

No. Still confused.

Ollie pointed again. More urgently this time. "See?"

Pierre did not see. At all.

"That's the spider."

A small red shape near one corner of the page. "And then it bites him."

Another line. "And then he gets powers."

More lines.

The explanation continued. The drawing slowly transforming into a coherent story. At least in Ollie's head.

Pierre found himself watching the kid instead of the paper. Watching the excitement. The certainty. The absolute confidence that every detail made perfect sense.

Children were strange.

The drawing objectively looked like chaos.

Yet Ollie clearly saw something completely different. An entire narrative. A movie scene recreated from memory. His enthusiasm only grew as he explained. Words tumbling over one another.

Pierre looked at the page. Then at Ollie. Then back at the page. There was absolutely no chance he would have guessed any of that. Ever.

Eventually his attention drifted. Ollie was still talking. The drawing was still incomprehensible. And Pierre was getting bored. Which was how he ended up with an idea. A terrible one. The kind that appeared in his brain and immediately sounded entertaining.

Pierre unlocked his phone again. “Hey Ollie.”

"What?" Ollie asked suspiciously.

Pierre's mouth twitched. "Do you want to know what real big spiders look like?"

Immediately, Ollie's face changed. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough that Pierre noticed. The excitement from showing off the drawing faded slightly. The uncertainty appeared almost instantly.

Children were so easy to read.

"What do you mean?"

Pierre was already typing. A few seconds later an image appeared on his screen. He turned the phone around.

A massive tarantula filled the display. Every leg visible. Every tiny hair. The close up made it look even larger.

Ollie's eyes widened.

Pierre smirked. "That's a really big spider."

The five year old leaned back slightly. Not enough to flee. Enough to be cautious.

Pierre continued. "Some spiders get even bigger."

Ollie didn't answer. His eyes remained glued to the picture.

Pierre swiped.

Another spider. Bigger. Hairier. Worse.

"Some of them are venomous too."

Another swipe.

Another spider.

"Some can make people really sick."

Ollie's mouth opened. Then closed again.

Pierre couldn't tell whether the kid was fascinated or horrified. Probably both.

"Some are so venomous they can kill people if they bite them." That wasn't entirely accurate. At least not the way Pierre was presenting it. But accuracy wasn't really the point.

The point was watching Ollie's expression. The way his eyes got larger with every picture. The way he shifted slightly closer to the edge of the couch. The way he clearly wanted to stop looking but couldn't seem to look away either.

Pierre found it mildly entertaining.

A few more pictures later, he got bored. The joke had already run its course. So he simply turned his phone again and returned to Instagram.

The situation was over. Finished. Forgotten. At least for him. The effect lingered considerably longer for Ollie. He sat perfectly still. Quiet. Which should have been suspicious.

Then suddenly he scrambled off the couch.

Pierre barely glanced up.

Ollie was already halfway across the room. Small feet slapping against the hardwood floor. The drawing forgotten somewhere behind him. A second later he disappeared into the kitchen.

Pierre heard Esteban's voice.

"Ollie?"

Curious despite himself, Pierre followed. Not because he cared. Mostly because there wasn't anything else to do.

The kitchen was brightly lit. The last few dishes sat drying beside the sink. Esteban stood near the counter, drying a plate with a kitchen towel.

Ollie had attached himself to his leg. Literally. Both arms wrapped tightly around Esteban's calf. Like a bearhug.

Esteban looked down immediately. Concern replacing the relaxed expression he'd been wearing moments earlier.

"Ollie?"

The child buried his face against Esteban's leg.

"What's wrong?"

A small shake of the head.

"You don’t want to tell me?"

Another shake.

Esteban frowned. The towel paused mid motion. Pierre leaned against the doorway. Watching.

"Ollie." Esteban crouched slightly. Trying to catch the boy's eye. Nothing. Just another stubborn shake of the head.

"Maybe he's whiny because he's tired." Pierre offere.

Esteban looked up. The comment wasn't entirely unreasonable. Ollie had been running around all day. Swimming. Playing. Watching movies.

Esteban glanced toward the clock above the stove. His eyebrows lifted slightly. Later than he expected. Much later, but not as late as usually.

Normally, when he babysat, Ollie ended up falling asleep downstairs. Usually curled up on the couch halfway through a movie. Then Esteban would carry him upstairs afterward.

Esteban looked down again. "Ollie."

The boy finally tilted his head upward.

"Are you tired?"

"No." The answer came immediately.

Pierre snorted.
Esteban smiled. “Are you sure you aren’t tired?”

"No."

"I think," Esteban said gently, setting the plate aside, "it might be time for bed."

Instant outrage. "What?"

"You're tired."

"I'm not."

Esteban reached down and brushed a hand through the kid's hair. Soft. Patient. The same tone he always used with Ollie.

"We can read something first."

The resistance weakened immediately. Not gone. Just weaker.

Pierre watched the negotiation happen in real time. Watched him winning by proxy against Ollie.

Pierre watched as Esteban carried Ollie upstairs to his bedroom. He himself waited downstairs for Esteban’s return.

—

“You know,” Pierre said, already reaching for the hem of Esteban’s shirt, his fingers hooking into the fabric before Esteban had even made it all the way down the stairs, “I could really go for another swim.”

Esteban should have resisted. He should have pointed out that it was late. That they were both tired. That they should watch a movie until the Bearmans came back. Instead, he let Pierre pull him along on the shirt like its a leash, guide him through the sliding door and out into the warm night air.

The backyard was bathed in soft shadows. The pool lights glowed beneath the surface, turning the water an impossible shade of blue. Somewhere beyond the fence, crickets hummed lazily in the darkness.

Pierre stopped at the edge of the pool and turned toward him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Pierre tugged gently on Esteban’s shirt.

Esteban rolled his eyes. Pierre grinned. And somehow that was enough.

The shirt disappeared over Esteban’s head, followed moments later by Pierre’s. The discarded fabric landed in an untidy pile beside the lounge they had previously sat on, while Pierre was already stepping backwards toward the water.

“Come on,” he said. Like he already knew Esteban would follow. Like he always knew.

The water was cool enough to soothe skin still warm from the day, but not cold enough to make them shiver. The surface rippled around them as they settled into the familiar quiet, the world shrinking until it was only the two of them and the distant glow of the house behind them.

For a while, neither said anything. Pierre floated closer. Esteban watched him through half lidded eyes.

There was something unfair about Pierre in moments like these. The easy confidence. The effortless smile. The way he seemed capable of filling every silence without speaking a single word.

Water dripped from dark blond hair as Pierre pushed it back from his forehead.

His gaze lingered. Warm. Affectionate. Dangerous. Hungry.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Esteban murmured.

Pierre’s smile widened. “Like what?”

“You know exactly like what.”

A laugh escaped Pierre, soft and low. “Maybe I do.”

The distance between them disappeared slowly. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just inevitable.

Pierre's hand settled lightly against Esteban’s shoulder, fingers tracing damp skin. The touch was gentle enough to ignore, if Esteban had wanted to ignore it. He didn’t.

Their foreheads nearly brushed.

The pool lights danced across Pierre’s face, turning familiar features into something softer. For a moment, Esteban simply looked at him. And felt that familiar ache. The one that always caught him off guard. Because beneath all the teasing and the confidence and the endless jokes, Pierre had a way of looking at him that made the rest of the world fall away. As if there was nowhere else he wanted to be. As if this was enough. As if Esteban himself was everything to him.

Pierre’s thumb brushed absentmindedly along his shoulder. “You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve been very patient today.”

Esteban snorted. “Patient? That’s not a word anyone has ever used to describe you.”

Pierre placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Debatable.”

Another laugh slipped between them. The sound faded quickly, leaving only the gentle movement of water behind.

Pierre drifted closer again. Close enough that Esteban could feel the warmth of him despite the water between them. Close enough that his pulse betrayed him.

“You know what I think?” Pierre asked.

“I’m sure you will tell me.”

“I think I deserve some appreciation.”

“Do you?”

“Absolutely.”

Esteban shook his head, but there was no conviction behind it. Pierre saw it immediately. He always did. His expression softened. The teasing remained, but something gentler surfaced beneath it. Something real.

“I’m just saying.” Pierre said. He was impossibly close to Esteban now. So close their noses bumped together.

“You are never just saying.”

“You’re right I’m not…” Pierre locked his eyes on Esteban’s.

It didn't take long from there before Pierre was kissing Esteban.

His hands tangled themselves in wet black hair, pulling Esteban impossibly close. The water shifted around them as Pierre crowded into his space, their bodies nearly pressed together beneath the surface. Every breath felt shared, every inch of distance erased.

The kiss deepened quickly. Pierre's fingers tightened in Esteban's hair as he kissed him again, and again, drawing the moment out. Esteban made a quiet sound against his mouth, something halfway between a sigh and a protest, and Pierre felt warmth curl low in his chest.

"I've been so good today," Pierre murmured between kisses. "Playing along with everything."

A smile tugged at Esteban's lips despite himself. "Oh, have you?"

"I have." Pierre brushed his nose against Esteban's cheek before pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I deserve a reward, don't you think?"

"Pierre..." The warning carried no real weight. Not when Esteban's hands were still resting on his shoulders. Not when neither of them had pulled away. Not when Esteban could feel Pierre’s hard on pressing against him.

Pierre smiled. The water sloshed softly around them as they drifted closer together. His hand slid from Esteban's hair to the back of his neck, thumb tracing absent circles against damp skin before tracing lower.

"Pierre... we can't. Ollie is-"

"Ollie is asleep." The answer came immediately. Pierre started to press kisses against Esteban's jaw, stopping every now again to lightly nibble on an area Pierre knew his boyfriend loved. "He won't know a thing."

Esteban let out a frustrated noise that sounded suspiciously like a swallowed down moan. "That's not the point."

"Then what's the point?"

The question lingered between them. Neither answered. Because they both knew.

The house stood only a short distance away, its windows glowing softly against the darkness. Inside was the responsibility they had taken on to care for for today.

But out here it was just the two of them. The pool lights danced beneath the surface, turning the water into liquid blue fire.

For a moment, Pierre let himself enjoy that. The quiet. The closeness. The way Esteban always melted just slightly when he stopped thinking and simply existed.

Pierre had never been particularly good at resisting things he wanted. And right now he wanted this. Wanted Esteban. Wanted a few selfish minutes after an entire day spent doing something he hated.

His hands wandered lower, tracing familiar paths across shoulders and arms before settling at Esteban's waist. The movement drew them even closer together. The water shifted around them.

Pierre felt a strange thrill settle beneath his ribs. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour. Maybe it was the chance of being cuaght. Maybe it was the simple fact that he had never fucked Etseban anywhere that wasn’t one of their bedrooms.

Whatever it was, he found himself smiling against Esteban's mouth.

"You're impossible," Esteban muttered.

Pierre laughed softly. "And yet here you are."

That earned him a shove. A weak one. The kind that wasn't meant seriously. Pierre caught his wrist before he could retreat and tugged him closer again, pressing is own hardon deliberately into Esteban.

The night felt endless. Warm air. Cool water. The distant hum of insects beyond the fence. For one perfect moment, the world narrowed until nothing existed beyond the circle of pool light surrounding them.

Then-

"Esteban."

The voice cracked through the night. Small. Broken. Barely more than a sob.

Both men froze. The shift was instant. Pierre's smile vanished. Esteban's head snapped toward the house.

For a second neither moved. As if they weren't entirely sure they'd heard it.

Then it came again. "Esteban..."

The sound tore straight through whatever horny-teenager-haze had settled around them. The sound tore through everything. The warmth of the water. The haze that had settled over the evening. The feeling of Pierre's arms around him. All of it vanished in an instant.

Esteban pulled back immediately, turning so quickly that water splashed around them. His heart dropped the moment he spotted the small figure standing on the porch.

Ollie.

The five year old stood barefoot in the doorway, his teddy bear - Obbie - clutched tightly against his chest. His hair stuck up in every direction from sleep, and even from this distance Esteban could see the shine of tears in his eyes.

For a second, guilt twisted in Esteban's stomach. How long had he been standing there? How long had he been calling for him? How much had he seen?

"Ollie." His voice softened immediately.

The little boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hugging the bear even tighter.

Esteban was already moving toward the edge of the pool when he felt Pierre's arms tighten around his waist. A silent protest. A request for one more minute. One more moment.

"What's wrong, buddy?" Esteban asked.

Ollie's lower lip wobbled. "Had a scary dream."

The answer came out small. Fragile. The kind of voice that only existed in the middle of the night.

Something inside Esteban melted instantly. Every other thought disappeared. Every distraction. Every lingering trace of the evening. All that remained was the little boy standing alone on the porch looking frightened.

Behind him, Pierre let out a long breath. The sound wasn't angry exactly. But it wasn't happy either.

"Esteban," he said. There was enough frustration in his voice to make Esteban glance back over his shoulder.

Pierre remained where he was in the water, dark blond hair dripping into his eyes. The pool lights reflected across his face in shifting patterns of blue and silver.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Pierre knew. Of course he knew. He knew exactly what was about to happen. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

Esteban offered him an apologetic look. The kind that said everything words couldn't.

I know.

I'm sorry.

I have to.

Pierre closed his eyes briefly. Then opened them again. The frustration was still there, yet he moved his hand in the air in a motion that said “go on”.

"I’ll be quick," Esteban said quietly.

Pierre huffed out a breath through his nose. "Better be." The answer sounded reluctant.

Esteban pulled himself out of the pool. Water streamed from his body as he climbed onto the stone deck, leaving wet footprints behind him. The night air felt cooler now against damp skin, but he barely noticed. His attention was entirely fixed on Ollie.

The little boy hadn't moved. Still standing there. Still clutching the bear.

By the time Esteban reached him, Ollie's eyes were already drooping with exhaustion.

"Hey." Esteban crouched down in front of him.

Immediately, Ollie stepped forward, seeking comfort. Esteban wrapped his arms around him and lifted him effortlessly. Ollie buried his face against his shoulder almost immediately. The tension left his small body all at once. As though simply being held had fixed half the problem already.

"You ok?" Esteban murmured.

The little boy nodded against his shoulder. His grip on the teddy bear loosened slightly. Behind them, Esteban heard the soft splash of Pierre climbing from the pool as well.

Ollie's breathing was already beginning to slow. The fear that had dragged him from sleep fading with every step.

Esteban adjusted him higher on his hip and started toward the stairs. By the time they reached the hallway, Ollie's eyes were half closed. By the time they reached his bedroom, he was already drifting back toward sleep.

His head rested heavily against Esteban's shoulder, one small arm wrapped around Obbie while the other hung limply around Esteban's neck. The fear that had sent him stumbling onto the porch seemed smaller now, dulled by exhaustion and the comfort of being held.

The room was dark except for the soft glow of a nightlight plugged into the wall. Stars. Tiny plastic stars projected across the ceiling. Esteban remembered Flavy mentioning buying it months ago after one particularly difficult bedtime. Apparently every problem in life could be solved with either snacks or unnecessary purchases. Sometimes both.

Tonight, Esteban was grateful for it. The gentle light painted the room in shades of blue and gold as he crossed to the bed.

"Alright, buddy." He lowered Ollie carefully onto the mattress.

The moment his back touched the sheets, Ollie immediately curled onto his side, clutching Obbie against his chest like a lifeline. Esteban pulled the blanket back over him before dropping into a kneeling position beside the bed.

That way they were eye level. No looming. No rushing. Just listening.

"Do you want to tell me what your nightmare was about?" he asked quietly.

Ollie's fingers tightened around the teddy bear. For a moment, he looked down at Obbie instead of answering. Then finally: "T'was spiders."

"Really big spiders." He swallowed. "The really scary ones."

Esteban felt his chest tighten immediately. "What were they doing?"

Ollie's nose wrinkled. "They tried to eat me."

The answer came so matter of factly that it nearly broke Esteban's heart. The little boy pulled Obbie even closer, pressing his face briefly into the bear's worn fur.

"They were bigger than me." A pause. "And they had lots of eyes."

Guilt hit Esteban instantly. Spiderman. Of course. "I'm sorry, Ollie." The words came softly. Sincerely. "We probably shouldn't have watched Spiderman so close to bedtime."

Ollie blinked at him.

"It wasn't real, okay?" Esteban continued. "It was just a movie. Nothing from it can hurt you." He reached over and brushed a hand through the boy's messy curls. "The spiders weren't real."

At that, Ollie frowned. A serious little frown. The kind that suggested Esteban had just said something completely ridiculous. "Spiders are real."

Esteban paused. "...yes."

Pierre would have laughed at him for walking directly into that one.

Ollie nodded firmly. "Pierre showed me."

The guilt vanished. Confusion replaced it. Esteban blinked. "What?"

"The big spiders." A small shudder ran through Ollie. "The really scary ones."

Esteban frowned. "When did Pierre show you spiders?"

"When you were cleaning." The answer came immediately. Like he'd been waiting for someone to ask. "He showed me pictures." A beat. "The really big spiders that kill people."

Esteban closed his eyes. Slowly. Very. Very slowly.

Of course he did. Because apparently leaving Pierre unsupervised with a curious five year old for twenty minutes had been a mistake. A terrible mistake. An entirely predictable mistake.

"What kind of spiders?" Esteban asked carefully.

Ollie's eyes widened. "The giant ones."

Not helpful.

"The hairy ones." Slightly better.

"They were this big." His arms stretched apart dramatically. The distance grew larger halfway through the demonstration.

"I see."

"They had fangs." Ollie put his fingers to his lips to demonstrate.

"I'm sure they did."

"And they ate birds."

Esteban pinched the bridge of his nose. Somewhere downstairs, Pierre's future was becoming increasingly uncertain.

"Ollie."

The little boy immediately looked up.

"There are no dangerous spiders here."

"But-"

"No dangerous spiders." Esteban smiled gently. "The spiders around here are very small."

"Really?"

"Really." Esteban reassured him.

"And they don't eat people?"

"They definitely don't eat people."

Ollie's expression eased slightly.

Esteban continued before another terrifying fact from Pierre's educational spider presentation could emerge. "They're much more scared of you than you are of them."

That earned him a skeptical look. "A spider can't be scared of me."

"It can."

"I'm little."

Esteban smiled. "So are they."

Ollie considered this. Carefully. The way only children could. "But what if one comes in?"

"It won't."

"But what if it does?"

Esteban suppressed a laugh. "If one somehow gets inside, I'll deal with it."

"You promise?"

"I promise." The answer came without hesitation.

Ollie's fingers loosened slightly around Obbie. "But… can you stay?" The words came so quietly he almost missed them. "So the spiders don't get me?" Big brown eyes stared up at him from beneath tangled curls.

Something in Esteban's chest melted. "Of course."

Ollie's shoulders relaxed against the pillow. "Promise?"

Esteban reached over and smoothed the hair from his forehead. "Promise."

The little boy nodded once. Satisfied. Within minutes, his eyelids began to droop again. His grip on Obbie loosened. His breathing slowed. And Esteban remained exactly where he was beside the bed, listening to the quiet sounds of the room.

The stars continued drifting across the ceiling. The house settled around them. Ollie shifted closer to the edge of the mattress, seeking comfort even in sleep, and Esteban's attention returned immediately.

Esteban wasn't sure how much time had passed. Ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Long enough for Ollie's breathing to settle into the slow, even rhythm of deep sleep. Long enough for the fear to finally leave the little boy's face. Long enough for Esteban's legs to start protesting the awkward position he'd been kneeling in beside the bed.

Still, he didn't move. A promise was a promise.

The stars from the nightlight drifted lazily across the ceiling, painting faint blue shapes over the blankets. Obbie had somehow ended up wedged between Ollie's arms and his face. The sight made something warm settle in Esteban's chest.

A soft creak broke the silence. Esteban looked up. Pierre stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Shoulder resting against the frame. Annoyed. Not furious. Not genuinely angry. Just annoyed in the very specific way Pierre got when reality interrupted whatever plans he'd had in mind.

His damp hair had mostly dried by now, falling messily into his eyes. He'd thrown on a t-shirt at some point, though judging by the wrinkles he'd done it with all the enthusiasm of a hostage negotiating terms.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Pierre glanced from Esteban to the sleeping child. Then back again.

"You done?" The question came out flat. Hopeful despite itself.

Esteban stared at him. Actually stared. Then rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt.

Pierre looked offended. "That bad?"

Esteban carefully glanced toward Ollie to make sure the conversation hadn't disturbed him. The little boy remained asleep. Only then did he push himself up slightly from the floor and lower his voice.

"Maybe it wouldn’t be this bad, if you hadn’t told him about spiders that kill people?"

Pierre blinked. "What?"

"The spiders."

Another blink. Then realization dawned. "Oh."

"Oh?" Esteban repeated.

Pierre winced slightly. The reaction alone was enough to confirm his guilt.

"Ollie had a nightmare about them." Esteban deadpanned.

At that, Pierre straightened. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

For a moment genuine guilt flickered across his face. Not much. But enough. Then, predictably, self preservation kicked in. "How was I supposed to know that would happen?"

Esteban stared. Pierre stared back. The silence stretched.

"You showed a five year old pictures of giant spiders."

"They were educational." Pierre defended.

"They were eating birds." Esteban pointed immediately.

"Exactly. Educational."

Esteban pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. Somewhere deep inside his soul, something tired simply gave up. "I cannot believe you. He is five."

Pierre opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "...they were very interesting."

A strangled laugh nearly escaped Esteban despite himself.

Pierre seemed to realize he'd lost the argument. His shoulders slumped slightly. "Okay, maybe the spider thing wasn't my best idea."

"Maybe?"

"Fine." A pause. "It was definitely not my best idea."

The peace lasted approximately two seconds. Then Pierre's gaze drifted toward the clock hanging on Ollie's wall. Esteban followed it automatically.

9:46 PM.

Pierre sighed dramatically. The kind of sigh usually reserved for tragic deaths and severe personal betrayals. "Will you be done soon?"

There it was. The real reason he'd come upstairs.

Esteban looked at him. Then looked at Ollie. Then looked back at Pierre.

"No." The answer arrived instantly. Without hesitation.

Pierre stared. "You didn't even think about it."

"Neither did you when you showed him spiders and caused this."

Pierre's jaw flexed. Not because he disagreed, still that didn't stop him from being irritated. A clicking sound escaped his tongue. Sharp. Annoyed. Disappointed.

Esteban recognized it immediately. The Pierre equivalent of a sulk. For a second neither spoke. The room remained quiet except for Ollie's steady breathing.

Then Pierre finally pushed away from the doorway. "Fine." The word carried approximately six different complaints inside it. Eventually he shook his head before he turned around.

Esteban watched him disappear down the hallway. Listened to the floorboards creak beneath his footsteps. He expected the irritation to linger. Expected guilt. Expected frustration.

He knew Pierre would complain. Loudly. Probably tomorrow too. But eventually they’d make it up to each other. That was just how they worked.

A minute later, Esteban settled back onto the floor beside the bed. The stars continued drifting across the ceiling. Ollie slept peacefully. And somewhere downstairs, Pierre was undoubtedly planning exactly how much he intended to complain about being abandoned for a toddler and a teddy bear.

The thought stayed with Esteban long enough to make him smile again.

—

Esteban must have fallen asleep. There was no other explanation for the disorientation that hit him when he finally opened his eyes. For a moment, he had no idea where he was. Everything felt wrong.

His neck ached. One leg had gone completely numb. The room around him was dark, illuminated only by the faint blue stars still drifting lazily across the ceiling.

Then someone touched his shoulder. "Esteban." The voice was gentle.

Esteban jerked awake immediately. His head snapped up so fast that pain shot down the back of his neck. For one panicked second he thought something had happened to Ollie. That he'd missed another nightmare. That something was wrong. But then his eyes focused.

It was just Terri - Ollie’s mom - standing in front of him. The hallway light behind her spilled into the room, creating a soft golden rectangle across the floor.

Enough light for Esteban to recognize his surroundings. Enough light to remind him exactly where he'd fallen asleep. Still sitting on the floor. Still beside Ollie's bed. His head had apparently been resting on folded arms on the edge of the mattress.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Slowly gathering himself. Across from him, Ollie remained completely asleep. One arm was wrapped around Obbie. The blanket had somehow become tangled around his legs. Otherwise, he looked peaceful. The sight immediately relaxed something inside Esteban.

"Sorry," Terri whispered. There was amusement hidden in her voice. The kind adults reserved for finding someone asleep in a position that absolutely should not have been comfortable. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's okay." His voice came out rough. Sleep heavy. Embarrassingly so. Esteban scrubbed a hand over his face. Then immediately realized another problem. A much worse problem.

He looked down.

Swimming trunks.

He was still wearing swimming trunks.

The realization hit him with enough force to make his stomach drop. Oh God. Heat flooded his face instantly. By the time he looked back up, he could feel the blush spreading all the way to his ears.

Terri's expression remained remarkably neutral. Which somehow made it worse.

"Right." Esteban stood far too quickly. His sleeping leg immediately disagreed. The world tilted. His knee nearly buckled. He caught himself on the side of the bed before disaster could strike.

Terri bit the inside of her cheek. Very clearly trying not to laugh.

"I should-" Esteban pointed at the door.

"Probably."

"Yeah." A pause. Then: "Sorry." The apology slipped out automatically.

Terri's smile softened. "For what?"

Esteban gestured vaguely at himself. The room. Everything. "I fell asleep."

"You wore him out and he wore you out. It’s ok." The answer came so easily it caught him off guard. Terri glanced toward the sleeping child. "He looks pretty happy."

For a moment, Esteban simply looked at Ollie. The little boy hadn't moved. Still curled around the bear. Still sleeping peacefully. The knot of guilt he'd carried all evening loosened slightly.

"Thank you," Terri added quietly. The words made him look up. Her smile was tired. Genuine. "He talks about you all the time, you know."

Esteban didn't know what to do with that. So he simply nodded. A little awkwardly. Then escaped before the embarrassment could become fatal.

Downstairs, the house was silent. The living room lights had been turned off. Only the kitchen remained illuminated by a small lamp over the counter where David was sitting, counting out the money Esteban woudl get for babysitting.

Esteban’s clothes sat exactly where he'd left them. Folded. Or at least folded by Pierre standards. Which mostly meant they had been relocated into a pile. Esteban changed quickly. Dry clothes never felt so good. The damp swimming trunks disappeared into a bag and instead dragging a pair of denim jeans over his legs. His shirt followed. His shoes came next. Only once he was fully dressed again did he notice something missing.

Pierre.

The house felt strangely empty without him. No sarcastic comments. No dramatic complaints. No impossible amount of energy for midnight. Nothing.

Esteban frowned slightly. Then pulled out his phone. The screen lit up immediately.

One unread message.

Hours old.

His stomach sank before he'd even opened it.

[was bored. went home.]
10:31 PM

Esteban stared at the message. Then checked the time. 1:44 AM.

Somehow Esteban could practically hear the annoyed tone behind the words. He imagined Pierre sitting alone on the couch for twenty minutes. Then thirty. Then forty. Growing increasingly annoyed.

Eventually deciding that if Esteban was going to spend the night guarding a sleeping five year old from imaginary spiders, he was perfectly entitled to go home.

The image made him smile. A little. Then it made him feel guilty. A little more.

He typed out a response. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that one too. At nearly two in the morning, nothing he wrote felt worth sending.

Tomorrow. He'd deal with Pierre tomorrow.

After coffee.

Possibly several coffees.

The walk home passed in a blur. The roads were empty. Dark. The kind of quiet that only existed in the middle of the night.

By the time he unlocked his front door, exhaustion had settled into every bone in his body. His shoulders ached. His neck hurt. His eyes burned. And somehow he still smelled faintly of chlorine.

The house greeted him with silence. No television. No music. No parents who have fallen asleep in front of the TV. No Pierre stretched across his bed complaining dramatically about being abandoned.

Just stillness.

Esteban barely managed to kick off his shoes. His phone landed somewhere on the bedside table. His shirt followed. The mattress welcomed him like a trap. For one brief second he considered setting an alarm. Then decided tomorrow could deal with itself.

His eyes closed. And before his head had fully settled into the pillow he was asleep.