Who: Tony W, Cate Adler, Kent Brightstar What: Brunch and some serious conversation. When: Sunday, July 21, 1 pm (backdated) Where: Les Nomades, a fancy magical restaurant in Portland. Warnings: Just a feels rollercoaster over here (the kind with a quick drop and a sudden stop).
Tony hadn't actually seen Cate or Kent in over a week -- he'd texted on Friday that he was home and that he wanted to take them out, but he hadn't gone over to join them at the Kestrel that night. He hadn't gone over to Cate's with them on Saturday, either, with the excuse of taking Nat and Stevie out shopping and to dinner: It would have been too easy to just fall into bed, and with the things he wanted to talk about, he didn't want sex clouding his decision-making. With that in mind, he'd asked them to meet him in Portland for brunch rather than just hanging out in Snowcap or at Cate's house.
He was already waiting as the maitre d' showed them into the private dining room he'd reserved, and he stood up to greet them, opening his arms to hug both of them tight for a moment, with a kiss to Kent's cheek and then Cate's. "Hey," he greeted them, pulling back to smile. "This is fancy, huh? Don't say I never take you anywhere nice. We've got our own mimosa bar."
Cate wouldn't have said she was nervous to meet Tony for breakfast, but there were definite butterflies in her stomach as she stepped into Kent's arms to apparate. Even though she was working fewer shifts at the Kestrel now, it had been strange not to see Tony on the nights she'd been there—and given all her professions about their friendship, she was a little surprised by just how much. The texts they'd exchanged before his trip had left her feeling oddly unsettled. It wasn't that he'd said anything bad, but the things he had said had left her wondering about things that hadn't really come up much. Suddenly, The Future had become something they needed to discuss, and she had no idea what that meant.
"Hey back," she said, smiling widely and stepping in for an equally tight hug and a kiss to his jaw. "I thought sugar daddy was on a budget," she teased as she settled into their booth. "What's the occasion? I mean, if you thought Mexico was gonna spoil us, think about what a mimosa bar might do. Though I can't say I'll mind seeing what Kent day drinking looks like." She flashed a grin at the other wizard.
The hug that Kent gave Tony was almost more like a glancing blow: just enough to be felt, but not at all lingering. When he wasn't at work, his mind kept circling back to the abrupt way that Tony had left and had stayed gone and, even when he came back, how he'd barely texted. It left him feeling like the universe was wrong. Or maybe it was settling back into that craptacular place that he'd come to expect, and being happy with the two of them had been what was wrong. With a flinty sort of smile, he slid into the booth on the other side of Cate. His jaw jumped as a frown tugged at his mouth. "Oh, fuck no. Hard pass. I've been way too altered in the past month. No day drinking for me. I'll stick with water. Besides, healer's orders. No stimulants stronger than coffee for the next two weeks." It should have been funny, but he was nothing but grim. "My body's still trying to purge the last of the billywig toxin. Being a giggling, floating mess is the last thing I think this conversation needs."
"This conversation," Tony echoed, gazing at Kent with something like a frown creasing his own brow. "Yeah. So." He sat down again, a hand sliding automatically onto Cate's thigh to squeeze reassuringly as he turned his smile back on to her. "You and I can drink Kent's share, I guess. Or you can, sweetheart, you know I'm a lightweight." He waved his wand vaguely in the direction of the bar, where the floating champagne and juice decanters started pouring themselves into glasses. "Orange and raspberry? Why not. There's pumpkin juice, but that's disgusting. You want something virgin, baby?" He glanced over at Kent again, more tentative than he usually was, because he didn't entirely know how to read this mood of Kent's or how much of it was his fault. "We can do bubbly water. I'll get the waiter back in, and we'll get something to eat." He slid the brunch menu across the table to them.
Cate shot Kent a look, because she'd never seen him like this before when it was just the three of them. Then again, she'd never really seen Tony like this, either. She put her hand over Tony's on her thigh, then nudged Kent's leg under the table with her foot. She was tempted to make it more of a kick than a tap, but she restrained herself for the sake of attempting to smooth things over, rather than instigating. She pulled over her glass and waved off the raspberry juice, still watching Kent. "I think I'll stick with the classic. Not often I get drinks served to me." She took a sip and nodded her approval, adding another smile for Tony.
"I'm gonna take waiter's recommendation on this one." It saved her needing to peruse the menu, which was probably full of fancy things she'd never heard of anyway. "I think we're all gonna be able to relax and eat better if we talk first. Am I right?" She squeezed Tony's hand.
The snark was so strong, and the effort to suppress it so great, that bile actually rose in the back of Kent's throat. He wasn't blind to the expression that Cate had given him, in the continued unhappy look that was lingering on Tony's face. Even an idiot would realize that it was his fault, and there was a part of his head that was screaming at him to snap the fuck out of it. It wasn't working. He felt hurt and wounded, and it was doubling back into anger. A nasty, vicious cycle. The worst ride. Zero stars, would never recommend. "Water's fine, thanks," he managed tightly. For a second or two, he shut his eyes and just focused on his breathing. Was it working? Not really. When he opened them again, it was to look directly at Tony. "Are you leaving?"
"What?" Cate said, her face scrunching up in confusion that was all directed at the wizard across the table from her. "Last I remember, we were talking about us leaving. Where is this coming from?" She looked between them, wondering if there'd been some exchange where she hadn't been included. "Of course he's not leaving. Right?" This last was directed at Tony, and while it was largely rhetorical, she couldn't help the edge of doubt that crept into the word and set her heart beating a bit faster. The possibility that this might be a break-up brunch hadn't even occurred to her before that moment.
The question -- almost an accusation, really -- made Tony stop with his glass halfway to his mouth, and set the glass back down without taking a sip. He met Kent's eyes seriously, his hand tightening around Cate's. "I'm not leaving," he confirmed. "Unless you two really want to, and then we can talk about it. The thing is, I -- I had some realizations in the past couple of weeks." He took a deep breath. "About what I want for my future, about what I want to do with the rest of my life. I'll be 33 in a few months. And I know that's not that old, but it's not young either, and there are certain things that if I'm going to do them, I need to start making some decisions and some plans, and…" He was rambling; he shut his mouth with an effort and looked down at the table, because it was too hard to watch Kent's face while he was saying all of this. "I need to know where this is going," he said to his plate. "If the three of us can last, if we can have a future, and a home, and kids. I want kids. I want to be a dad, and not in the misty future, but in the next few years, before I start getting old. And I know you're so young, Cate, and I know you said it's not in your five-year plan, Kent, and I know we're still figuring all of this out and it's probably not fair of me to ask right now, and I'm sorry, but I need to know if -- if it's even a possibility."
Once desperation was introduced into his thoughts, Kent had a very difficult time not blurting out the first thing that came into his head. Emotional honesty was not his forte, but he'd been trying so hard with the two of them. They were so important to them, but he couldn't shake that doubt that he'd find a way to screw this up, that he would be the reason that 'we' would become 'they' or even 'none.' But Tony's halting explanation had caused this wild hope to spring to mind, and something in that optimism rang false, like believing it would make it hurt that much worse when this all crumbled around his ears. "Four," he said after he knew he'd been quiet for much too long. Kent looked from Tony to Cate and then back again. When he took a breath, it was unsteady, like he couldn't get in air around this tightness that had formed in his chest. "Two boys and two girls, or whatever they want to be. I remember." He paused, lips pursing tightly, because that hope was devastating. A shoulder lifted, and he spread his hands in a slightly helpless gesture. "Plans change."
Cate hadn't come into this expecting a break-up, but she also hadn't come into it expecting something quite this, well, big. They'd started this relationship very openly, with a sort of "we'll see" attitude about it, because none of them really knew how it was supposed to work. Slowly, but surely, it had taken all of the thoughts she'd had for her future and twisted them around into something she hadn't quite defined yet, because they weren't defined yet. And now Tony was saying they should define things, and for the first time in her life, she hadn't run sixteen steps ahead of her partner in imagining the future of the relationship. It left her momentarily speechless.
"I want kids, too," she said slowly. She glanced briefly toward Kent, trying to read the softening in his words versus the tension in his expression, but otherwise turned her attention to Tony. He was the one asking the questions right now. "But I have—" She gave a laugh entirely built of nerves and ran her free hand over her mouth to cover the mildly-inappropriate reaction. "I'm sorry, I just—I have so many questions. About us, about how this works. But I want it. A future, a family."
Tony honestly hadn't expected to get a positive reaction; he'd almost been prepared to hear that his instincts were right, that it was too early to talk about this stuff, that neither of them wanted kids anytime soon, or not with him. He just had to blink and stare for a minute while his mind caught up with the unexpected answers. "You want that… with me? With us?" He sat back, looking between Kent and Cate. "All of us? Because I'm in." He squeezed Cate's hand and leaned across the table to take Kent's, too. It felt necessary to complete the circle right now. "When we were in Mexico… I've never been that happy with anyone. Ever. I know that was vacation, but… it could feel that right in real life, too, couldn't it? Couldn't we make it work? We'd have to figure out how, legally and practically and so that we're all comfortable, but I can't imagine a better future than living with both of you and raising our kids. Maybe a dog. We could negotiate on that."
The enormity of what was happening, of what they were saying, was obliterating Kent's careful and preconceived notions of what his future might look like. Would look like. Now it was this giant blank space, and he had no idea what it would be, what shape it could take. As fertile--and self-harming--as his imagination could be, there were too many possibilities in this one moment. Nothing would stick. He twisted his hand in Tony's, but not to pull away. Their fingers wound together, and suddenly he was cursing the barrier he'd put between himself and the two on the other side of the table. That distance had seemed necessary at the time, and now it was just a hindrance. His jaw worked over as he pictured Tony's and Cate's hands joined under the table, knew that they would be.
"I'm scared," he admitted, and tried not to show what that cost him. "Terrified. Because I want that. So badly. So much that I think about it, and I just ache. I don't know how this works. The map doesn't exist anymore. I just--I just want you two to be my family now. I want a house and four kids and four dogs, maybe five, and I want a private practice and to be away from this imploding mess that's happening at the Reserve. But I don't know how, and that scares me. And when I get scared, I get mad. And I jump to all the wrong conclusions, and"--Kent's eyes stung as he looked at the two of them--"I'm sorry I'm being such an asshole about this. I don't know how to deal, and I'm taking it out on you, Tony, and that's so unfair, and I'm sorry. Something's wrong with me, and I...I don't know if you should have to live with that. Either of you."
Cate set down her champagne flute and held her hand out across the table. "It's not just you. I am, too," she said, and it was a miracle that she wasn't tearing up, because the tone of Tony's voice and the look on Kent's face struck chords deep in her core that she thought might have been created by this arrangement of theirs, or were at least reserved only for them. "We do work. I don't know how, but we do." To Kent, she added, "I don't have to live with it, but I want it. Want you."
She focused on Tony again. "Want us. I think...I think maybe a part of me has been avoiding thinking about it. Or making plans with it, anyway. Because, before we talked it out, I wasn't sure how you felt about me, how I felt about you, how that fit in with how we felt about him." Her eyes flicked to Kent again with an expression far softer than it had been only moments earlier. It was impossible to stay angry when he made such efforts to open up. "And because with the other relationships I've been in, it was so easy to dream about what the future could be, because that's a path that's been forged by a million people before me. Get married, have kids, have a future. With this, I haven't really let myself dream about it, because we've been making it up as we go along. But...it's not really that different, is it? I still have my questions—and there are a lot of them—but at its basic level, we're just people in love who want a life together, aren't we?"
There was something melting in Tony's core, and he thought it might have been the protective barrier he'd built over the last couple of weeks while he'd thought about this stuff and mostly expected that the answer to his question would be no. Unbelievably, it wasn't. He laughed quietly in sheer disbelief and growing amazement, shaking his head. "You two. You're incredible." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to Cate's lips, and smiled across the table at Kent. "She's right, Samael. We know you, and we still love you, and we want to be with you." He rubbed his thumb comfortingly along the side of Kent's hand. "Believe it. And as for how, we're going to figure that out together. I guess the first question is where. Look, I love Snowcap. We all grew up there, we all came back there as adults, but it's so small. We could go anywhere, and -- I don't know, I know I was in a weird place when I said we should leave, and I do want to be there for Nat and Zarya, but we don't have to be there. Maybe we could try somewhere else. After the baby's born and I'm sure Nat's okay, maybe we start looking for a place somewhere else. Together. Unless you need a ring on it first, in which case we could figure out how to do that."
His words were tumbling out like a rushing stream, less than planned but heartfelt, and his fingers were laced tightly with each of theirs, his drink and all thoughts of food forgotten for now. Tony smiled across at Kent, still amazed and full of bright, sparkling optimism about this future they could build together. "We can do this. We'll get you that private practice, and Cate will program until her fingers fall off, and I'll be a Wizzywood star -- we can do anything, baby."
Cate was relieved when Kent's hand slipped into hers, because it didn't seem right to be having this conversation without the physical connection. It was a little strange to be talking about these things without reserve; even in the most serious relationships she'd had—which, admittedly, hadn't been many—it had never gotten to talk of living together and kids and everything in between. Tony made it sound like the most natural thing in the world, which might have been funny, given the way the conversation started, if anxiety hadn't started to bubble up under the happiness.
"Actually, I—" She bit her lip and looked away briefly, without even really thinking about it. She'd always hoped she wouldn't even need to bring it up when the time came, but Tony had broached the topic, and it was important that they were all on the same page. "I do. Need a ring on it, I mean. Not because—ugh, this is going to sound like the least romantic thing ever, but it's the truth." She looked up again. "You know there's a chance that my kids might not have magic. A better than average chance, anyway." Maybe they did, maybe they didn't, but that wasn't the part that mattered as much. "If I'm married to a wizard and have a child who isn't magical, the child's a Squib, legally speaking. If I'm married to a No-Maj, or not married at all, the child's a No-Maj. No rights in the AWC at all."
"Fuck that." This answer was as abrupt as was the squeeze of Cate's fingers. Kent's thoughts had been cascading into one another, possibilities and logistics and about a million other criteria that they would have to have contingencies for when and if they arose. "Even if the legal system is a fucking joke—and don't even get me fucking started on the whole inequality bullshit—it makes the most sense for me to marry you. But the kids can be Tony's. And I'd sign away my legal rights as your husband, and he could take them over." His eyes were alight with the certainty of his belief. He forged on in a rush. "Tony would be Dad, Cate would be Mom, and I'd be supportive Dr. Kent who gives free checkups, because I'm thinking of going to medical school. And if it becomes a matter of Cate doesn't want to have four kids, then we can find a surrogate."
"No. Honey, that's--" Tony shook his head, leaning forward to meet Kent's eyes seriously. "No. If we have kids, they're our kids, all of us, and you're Dad to them. They are not calling you Dr. anything. Right?" He glanced back at Cate again. "Back me up here, Catey. We--"
There was a knock on the door, and the waiter entered, and Tony broke off to look up. "No, go away, just bring us a quiche or something. We're having a moment here." She backed out, looking offended, but Tony didn't have the attention to spare to feel bad about that. He shook his head and rubbed his thumb softly across Kent's knuckles. "Where was I? The legal stuff… we'll figure it out. We'll get us all rights to our kids. You can pay lawyers to do stuff like that, and we will get the best lawyers. I promise. It doesn't matter whose kids they are biologically or on the birth certificates, they will be ours."
Cate didn't realize what sort of horrified expression was frozen on her face until she caught a glimpse of the waitress, and it was enough to jolt her out of her momentary paralysis. "Of course they're not going to call you Dr. anything!" she said emphatically, not even needing Tony's urging to break in with that. She narrowed her eyes at Kent. "Though keep going down those paths, Doctor, and I'll find the most horribly embarrassing name for 'Dad' that there is and make sure they call you that." She turned her hand and slipped her fingers through his, holding tightly, because what she really wanted to do was kiss him until it pulled him out of those dark places in his head, but that wasn't quite feasible at the moment. "For the record, unless I'm physically incapable, no talk of surrogates, please and thank you. And well, it does matter whose kids they are, biologically, because medical issues are a thing that could happen, but there's no reason that we couldn't have kids fathered by each of you, right? And put whatever name on the birth certificate makes the most legal sense."
For the space of a couple of breaths, Kent wondered if there might be a word stronger than admonished, because this was definitely what he was feeling under the weight of both of their reactions. The suggestion hadn't been offered lightly, nor had it been a rash or errant thought, although he could certainly understand why it might be perceived that way. His face grew warm with embarrassment, but he forced himself to stay present, to stay with them, and not to withdraw into his own thoughts again. And speaking of being with them: he withdrew his hand from Cate's, but only to grab his wand. With a tap, the edge of the table nearest the wall seemed to take on a watery quality, and Kent slid right through it to join them. The surface went back to being solid again as he settled in close to them. "Sorry," he murmured. "I… sorry."
Tony scooted over to make room for Kent, a hand falling to his thigh as he sat between him and Cate. "No, don't be sorry, this is good, right? Talking about it, not making assumptions? Hey, c'mere." He turned Kent's face toward him with a couple of fingers on his cheek, and kissed his mouth gently. It was a reassurance for himself as much as for Kent; he felt so off-balance talking about things that had only existed as worries and yearnings in his head, but at least now the possibility of the family he wanted so much was out there in the world. "Talk to us, baby," he said, and leaned back so he could look at Cate, too. "We want to know what's in that genius head. We always knew none of this was gonna be easy, right?" He cracked a smile. "But we're smart people. Well, you two are. We can figure this all out together."
Cate made room and immediately leaned into Kent's side, cheek dropping against his shoulder as she reached for his hand again. Despite her fiery words, she wasn't actually upset with him, but rather worked up on his behalf. "No, Kent's the smart one. I'm, weirdly, the practical one. You're the pretty one." She lifted her head enough to flash a grin at Tony, at that, then settled so that she could see both of them. "You know we love you," she said, specifically to Kent. "Help us understand what's going on in your head."
Sitting now, between the two of them, Kent wished with the entirety of his being that he really could have shut off the thinking part of himself. He wanted so desperately to lose himself in the touch of Tony's lips, and the warmth and secure hold of Cate's hand and that smooth cheek resting so briefly against him. Why couldn't it just stay like this? Why did he have to put his thoughts out into the world, where he couldn't take them back? But they had asked, and he needed to answer, even if every other part of him railed against it. His stomach clenched painfully. "You want kids. I want kids for you. But I can't help but entertain the very real possibility that I would make a terrible father. I'm not patient. I'm not particularly kind or understanding. So what if we do this, and all I end up doing is emotionally tormenting whatever kids we're raising? I would never"—he choked on what he was saying as it caught in his throat—"I would never be intentionally cruel, but suppose it just slips out. A few damaging words said at the wrong time, and I've scarred them for life. How could I live with myself, much less ask that of either of you, if there's even a chance?"
Cate's expression shifted from one of inquiry to one of concern as he explained, and she slipped her fingers through his again to get a tighter grip. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she could see his point—not the particular application of it, but at least where the thought originated. "Two counterpoints. First, and most important...we're talking about someone you'd love here. A part of you, or of Tony, and of me. You are exceptionally good at taking care of people you love. I'll fight anyone who wants to argue that point with me. Even you," she said, dropping a quick kiss to his shoulder. "And second is that you're a quick learner. If you want to be a good father, I one hundred percent believe that you would be."
"Two hundred percent," Tony agreed, and squeezed his thigh supportively. "Cate's right, like always. You can do anything you want to, baby. But…" He sucked on his lower lip for a moment, his eyes on Kent's face. "I guess the question is, do you want it? To be a dad to our kids? And not just because you love us, but because you want it? Because if you don't, then…" Tony shrugged one shoulder, looking away even as his heart clenched on the idea that Kent didn't actually want kids with them, that this reluctance was less fear about his parenting skills and more a lack of desire. "We can't do this if it's a, a, an obligation or -- kids deserve to be wanted," he finished with more vehemence than he'd intended. "Kids deserve parents that want them more than anything."
His mouth opened and then closed again, just as quickly. The truth was that Kent didn't know. It was a newly broached topic, and, while he'd given significant thought to logistics and probabilities, he had utterly failed to take into consideration the emotional component. This would always be his fatal flaw. He was very still as they touched him and allowed himself to get sucked into that part of his mind that did feel things, that made an effort to connect, that was already so wrapped up in the two people surrounding him that he wasn't sure he could function on any human level if he didn't have them in his life anymore. And that was what this was about: a crossroads where both paths led to complete unknowns. "I don't know."
That was utterly insufficient, and what was more was that it was completely unequal to the question being poised, so he flung himself headlong into something more. "I don't think I have an answer for you. Not right now. I realize now that it can't be enough for me to want whatever kids may come along with the two of you, just because you're right, Tony"—he looked at him, and hated every word coming out of his own mouth, because they sounded like coffin nails—"it's not fair to bring a life into the world just to please someone else or for some selfish attempt to keep someone. But I just don't know, and I wish I did, because I think not knowing is...is going to cost me. I can't—"
Kent broke off with a vicious shake of his head. "Fuck," he muttered. "How the fuck do I keep making this about me? How the hell do you put up with me? Why the hell do you put up with me?"
Cate felt a little like her heart had dropped into her stomach. She hadn't been the one who broached the topic, hadn't even really been thinking about it, but now that it had been, she could understand why Tony had been acting so strangely. "I'm confused," she said, keeping her voice as level and calm as possible. "You want a family and kids with us, but you don't want kids? Or aren't sure you do. I don't understand how those things aren't mutually exclusive. I wouldn't—well, I wouldn't have been quite so pushy if I'd…." She trailed off, looking up at Tony for assistance. The truth was that she wanted to be pushy, even if she knew it was selfish.
But she couldn't make Kent feel bad about this, and so she raised up enough to kiss his cheek. "You're not making it about you any more than the two of us are. It's not a small thing." Even if it did hurt to hear it.
Tony felt sunken, like the joy that had started bubbling up in him had turned heavy and dragged him down, but he squeezed Kent's thigh again before releasing it to reach for his drink. He drained it and set the empty glass down with an unintentionally final-sounding thump. "He wants to give us what we want," he told Cate. His voice sounded strangely distant in his own ears. "He wants to keep us, however he can."
He looked away again, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I guess… it's not a no, right? So maybe we take a couple steps back and just think about it before… before we make any decisions about where that leaves us. I know it wasn't fair of me to just spring this on both of you, and I'm sorry." Tony glanced back at Kent and Cate, managing a smile. "It's not an ultimatum, like, kids or I walk. I needed to know where we stood, and I guess now I do."