superhuman

TEN

a/n // tw for some sad talk ))):

"Are you bipolar?"
Brendon's question is out of the blue and sudden; it takes him by surprise.
They're sitting cross-legged on Brendon's bed, which is where he'd ended up sleeping after being too exhausted after everything yesterday; he's lazily sketching Dallon, and Pete is technically reading, although he's more absorbed in the lazy pencil strokes and the way Brendon pokes out his bottom lip as he draws in a way that's actually pretty cute, his eyebrows furrowed.
"What makes you think that?" Pete glances up from V For Vendetta, eyebrows raised. Brendon shrugs, before sketching slowly the line of Dallon's lower lip, nibbling his own with his front teeth.

For a moment, Pete's entranced by the sunlight gleaming off his golden wedding band, and how it makes the ring twinkle, and thoughts of white weddings and candid kisses flurry through his mind.

"You were though, right?" Brendon cocks his head, staring up at him with chocolate browns, mouth set into a slight frown.
"You're the empath..." Pete shoves at his friend, smiling a little, "You tell me."

"Gimmie a sec," Brendon turns, moving the sketch book of his lap, taking Pete's hands in his. Pete focuses on the tattoo on Brendon's forearm instead of the way his eyes glow an almost ghostly white, or the way he winces slightly as Pete's hands start burning. He lets go, smiling at him sadly.
Brendon presses a gentle kiss to the back of Pete's palm, squeezing slightly before sighing.

"You really like him, don't you?"

Pete nods, still looking away. "He saved my life. He made me.. Like this. He changed everything. I..I think I love him."
Brendon grins. "I know."

"How!?"He goes scarlet, covering his face with his hands. Brendon wiggles his fingers at him, gigging - Pete shoves him playfully.
"What do I do?" He flops his head onto Brendon's shoulder, and the brunette shoves him off.
"I don't know! Spencer asked me out, I'm no good at this."
"You're no fucking help, Bren. I'm going to talk to your husband instead." Pete grins, flicking his legs over the side of the bed and strolling out. "Don't lose my fucking page!"

-
Dallon's office smells like freshly baked bread and new erasers - like Dallon, now that he thinks about it. Pete hovers around the door, fingers absent mindedly creeping into his mouth as he chews on the hangnail on his left ring finger, waiting for Dallon, who's too absorbed in a book, to notice him.
He leans against the top of a cabinet when a flash of pink catches his eye; hoping it isn't one of Brendon or Spencer's 'playthings', he loops his hand around it. It's soft, smooth fabric, like fluffy cotton; his tongue flicks out over his lip in concentration as he tugs it out.

It's a stuffed rabbit.

With floppy candyfloss pink ears and button eyes, it's certainly a child's toy; Pete holds it by the ear with his forefinger and thumb, holding it up as if it's toxic.

"I don't assume this is yours..?"
Pete breaks the silence and Dallon whips his head up, eyes wide.

"Don't touch that." He snaps, snatching it from him. Pete widens his eyes, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture.
"It's.. personal." Dallon stalks back to his desk, clutching the stuffed rabbit in one hand, the other carding through his brunette hair.
He flops back into the plush office chair, gesturing for Pete to sit in the other, which was angled to be a reasonable distance, perfect for conversation.

"It's.. important. To me, at least." He sighs, stretching out his fingers. The rabbit rests in his lap and Pete keeps his eyes trained on it.
"Before I met Brendon, and Spencer, of course, I was.. a very different man. I was a church man, a priest actually; I was married." He smiles sadly, his fingers curling around one ear. "I had two children, a boy and a girl; this is all I have left of my daughter. Her stuffed rabbit." He looks down at the rabbit, and Pete notices tears slowly making their way down his face.
Pete leans forwards, taking one of Dallon's much bigger hands in his own, and squeezing supportively.
"I'm the reason they're dead." He chokes out, "Ameile was 7 and Knox was 4 when they died." He shakes his head, looking away. "I tried to keep it down and away, but as you see.." He gently tugs Pete's hand away to wipe at the tears dripping down his cheeks.
"Whatever. It's not important anymore. That's not my life." He smiles sadly. "My life is here now. With Brendon and Spencer and Patrick and hell, even those little annoying teens. And you, of course." He wipes his eyes with the heels of his slender hands.

"He has bass player hands," Pete thinks, mentally comparing Dallon's squarish, but slender, long fingers and stubby nails to his own; he hasn't played bass in years, but he's still got the hands for it. Dallon's fingers brush across his soft brunette hair, pushing it back from his eyes and suddenly Pete realizes how he got not only Spencer but Brendon to fall in love with him; he's gorgeous, truly, with those huge baby blue eyes (reminding him of Patrick's) and his dark hair framing against light skin, brushing against neat eyebrows that naturally raise upwards and his sweet, lopsided smile. He looks at Pete with a look that's mixed adoration and kindness - he brushes his lips against Pete's forehead in a sweet, friendly kiss.

"Thanks for, well, you know, caring." He looks genuinely happy and Pete feels his stomach churn at the unexpected affection; it's incredibly sweet and he's almost concerned he'll start crying at it; being bipolar, he's never been good at controlling his emotions, and it feels as if now won't be an exception. He hadn't expected Dallon to be the affectionate one; maybe it's just the cold persona he keeps up for the under-20s and Gabe, but he's glad for the affection. It's.. cute.

There's a tentative knock on the ajar door, and Pete watches as Brendon nudges it uneasily, sketchbook tucked under his arm and a cup of what smells strongly of cinnamon-caramel coffee in his hands. Spencer appears beside him, a worried expression across his face.
"Dal, baby, you ok?" Spencer approaches, and presses a kiss against his head, arms winding around his waist. Dallon nods, shooting him a smile as Brendon gently passes him the drink, and he takes a shaky sip from it, Pete's hands rubbing at his back soothingly. He exhales shakily, and leans into the touch, letting out a light sigh as he absorbs himself in the familiar warmth of his husbands' skin, head almost dizzy from euphoria from the love he feels for his kind, smart, charming, beautiful husbands.
Pete smiles fondly, sitting in his spot still; Brendon unlatches one arm, gesturing for Pete to come hither, and when he starts to shake his head, Spencer pulls an arm around his waist, tugging him into the cuddle pile with a yelping squeak. Dallon giggles, nuzzling his nose into the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, and Pete smiles softly, the scent of fresh cinnamon and the musty office combining into a sweet smell that he breathes in like oxygen; he presses his lips against Dallon's forehead, before whispering a soft, "Thank you."

a/n // tysm for 1k!! now my tumblr follower count and my fic match n ice