InsaneJournal

Having traveled over fifty years into the future when he had dropped into Vallo, there was much that Pete was still actively finding himself needing to pause, recalibrate, and then wrap his head around even after having six months behind him. This was, of course, discounting the sorts of things like "getting lost in a weird magical maze" and "breakfast of bagels served by minotaur", which were just the wacky sort of quirks that people had come to simply expect in a world so seeped in magic as Vallo was. No, the sorts of things that really made Pete stop were rooted in the sheer amount of history and media that he had missed out on. Vallo wasn't the same world as home, but there was enough crossover that he recognized--movies, books, music, world events.

The world as he had known it had changed since 1969 and it turned out that one more very stark difference was right around the corner: Pride.

From Pete's perspective, the Stonewall riots were incredibly fresh. Rather than historical, they felt like current events to him. He remembered listening to the news coverage on the radio. He remembered exactly how it felt, how his heart and head had ached. He remembered how it had weighed on him before he came out to Al, then the immediate and indescribable relief that he'd felt once that weight was lifted and he was on the receiving end of his brother's love and support. Six months he had been in Vallo--and it had been only that and a handful of days more since it had all played out back home.

Needless to say, Pete still found himself pausing, recalibrating, then wrapping his head around the fact that he lived in a world where he could be his authentic self outside of his home and circle of friends without worry. Yes, he could learn and practice magic, but he could also love who he loved and damn if that wasn't great.

And so, that was how Pete found himself equal parts nervous and excited as he gave himself one more look over, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from fabric. His look was relatively tame, despite that he knew that there were people who went very all out from his research leading up to the event. His hair was styled normally and he wore an outfit he might wear any other day, jeans and a button up--though, this time the button up was left open to show a white t-shirt with a thin rainbow stripe running across the chest.

Eying that rainbow, he blew out a quick breath and turned to his brother. "What do you think? Too much? Too little? Just fine?"

When it came right down to it, Al was a supportive brother. He wasn't going to slap it on a business card or tell everyone within earshot who deserved to hear, but moments would pass and he would realize that he would do anything for Pete. When his twin has sat him down in the diner to tell him he was gay—which felt like a lifetime ago—part of Al already knew. Of course, he had thought that he was canoodling with Chuck, but when all the facts were laid out to him, it made more sense. And Al vowed to be there no matter what.

But that had also been nearly sixty years ago, and things had changed dramatically and drastically. Al figured it was for the better. They didn't need to hide their magic in Vallo, and they didn't need to hide who they loved. So hell yes, they were going to Pride. Somehow, Al felt more excited to throw his arms up and party with a bunch of people who Pete could feel comfortable with.

And, okay, Al maybe spent far too much time digging into the logistics—what to do, where to go, who to hang with, and what sorts of clothes people wore in June. There was a lot of time spent outside, it seemed.

He stumbled into the room with a bag of supplies, staring at Pete like he had been caught shoplifting every rainbow related item he could have grabbed. Supportive brother also meant panicked and overcompensating brother.

"Are you comfortable in it? Do you think it's too much or too less or whatever? I don't think there's any right or wrong way to wear something to Pride. At least not what I read? But I brought stuff." Al pointed to his bags. "And check out my shirt—" He promptly held up a black tee,with rainbow lettering that said Proud Brother.

As he took in Al's shirt, Pete felt a smile forming on his face all while a fist squeezed around his heart in the center of his chest. It wasn't that he needed a physical representation of his brother's support, of course--he knew that he had it, no matter what. Seeing that support, though, even through something as simple as a t-shirt, felt good in a whole new way.

"I like it," Pete replied, his voice a bit quieter and edging very much into sincere as he looked back up to his brother's face. "And--well. I don't know. I've seen pictures where people go real out there, which I don't think I'm totally ready for? Maybe next year?" Next year, which would require the two of them to still be in Vallo, which seemed a wild enough concept in and of itself. Pete didn't hate the concept, though. He liked it in Vallo, so long as Al continued to be there with him. (There were others he'd also like, too--but everyone knew he played twin favorites.)

That being said, his gaze dropped to the bag of stuff that Al was holding. "But I'm willing to maybe branch out and be a little bit more more. What do you have?"

Al would give up anything in the world to see that happiness come over Pete, again and again. It wasn't that Pete never smiled—in fact, he was the more amicable of the two and Al was constantly in awe of his ability to maintain that good-naturedness—but this was different. Genuine in a way Al could never truly replicate through a funny story or self-deprecating joke. He glanced down at his own shirt, pleased as freaking punch, and knew it was a small thing, but it made a big impact.

"Maybe next year," Al agreed, before holding up a hand to stop Pete from saying anything else. He did have stuff to show off. "But we don't have to wait until next year to at least push the boundaries a little, right?" He didn't want to say it, because he thought that might jinx them—but what of next year didn't happen? What if they went home tomorrow? He needed this time to count.

Out of the bag, in rapid succession came: glitter, a face paint pallet, brushes, aerosol spray that definitely wasn't for the room but for hair, knee-high socks with rainbows on them, nail polish in colors that he didn't understand (including a hot pink called Unicorn Puke which he questioned heavily) and a giant rainbow flag that he whipped around his body in a dramatic fashion to wear as a cape.

"Options. I asked the person at the store what to get for my first Pride and I admit, I was worried when they got this little glint in their eye as if I just said let's commit a crime. But, this is a good start, yeah?"

Pete could help it as his small smile grew little by little as Al revealed the purchases that he had made, ending it all with the cape flourish of color. It was more evidence that pointed toward just why he appreciated his brother as much as he did; Pete may not have bought these things himself, might have told himself that he didn't want any of it, but now that Al presented it to him he knew exactly how much he did.

"This is a really good start," he confirmed with a nod, reaching out and just happening to pick up the Unicorn Puke nail polish. Pete had never painted his nails before, but there was a first time for everything. How hard could it be, really?

After looking his fill at the tiny writing on the nail polish's label, Pete glanced back up to Al. "Thank you for getting all of this. I barely knew where to begin, so it's good I've got you."

"You think I know what to get?" Al asked, for once not going for modesty or trying to sound like he knew more than someone else. Especially not Pete. Some humility would go a long way when they were a long way from home. "I held out my basket and the shopkeeper kept throwing things in. Good thing vampire documentary crews unknowingly pay well. Nadja's graduation gift that wasn't the portrait—" which was currently leaning against the main wall in the dining nook; Nadja was right, it did have good light in there,"—was a can of kidney beans, a spatula, and solid gold bars. It might have been a tip."

Making sure the bag was truly empty, he seemed to run out of the burst of energy he had, and Al mellowed out and turned more serious. "You don't have to thank me though. Not just because I can't take credit for the nail polish, but because I'm your brother. I'd do whatever you need. I just want to be there for you." It was cheesy, sure, but Al thought it was worth mentioning often.

"And if being there for you means getting every rainbow item I can find, and painting your nails even though it's going to look terrible, or even drawing a flag on your face, I'm going to do it. We're not in 1969 anymore, and I think both of us should take the opportunity to do what we might not see for a long time."

Part of Pete thought that perhaps it was too early in the day to be getting emotional, but he had a feeling that he was going to be spending most of the day emotional so he might as well get used to it. This was a rollercoaster of emotions that he was willing to ride, after all. And even if what Al might have been saying was at the risk of sounding cheesy, it meant everything to Pete.

"I know that you don't need me to thank you, but I'm thankful anyway--for all of that. I've always been pretty thankful that it's you that I got stuck with for a twin." That was an understatement if there ever was one, but Pete didn't know how else to put it into words. Pete and Al had been through a lot in their very short lives and while much of that a lot was thanks to trouble that they themselves had waltzed right into, they had always waltzed into it together and that's what mattered most at the end of the day.

With the bottle of nail polish still in his hand, Pete strode forward and raised his arms. "I'm going to hug you now," he announced, as he did exactly that, "and then we can get ready."

"Oh no, we're hugging? I didn't agree to a hug..." Al said, hands going up in surrender, even though he didn't put up much of a fight. If anyone could get away with hugs it was Pete. Sometimes Al didn't realize he needed the embrace until he was in it, and when Pete came in for one, Al clung back. It was like he could pour all his feelings into the physical gesture, and he wanted Pete to know that he would always be there for him. And fight assholes, and whatever other shit came their way.

A hug was a pretty good way to show it.

"I'm glad I was stuck with you too. You're pretty okay for a brother." There was another squeeze from Al before he let go, hands on Pete's shoulders to give him a once over. And maybe also prevent him from coming in for another hug because Al was scarily close to showing emotion like tears. They may have looked the same, and had the same life growing up, but Al wasn't stupid to think Pete would be free from harm and all the probability made Al feel fierce and sad at the same time.

But not today, not on Pride. He grabbed the bottle of nail polish out of Pete's hand. "I'm going to tell everyone you have unicorn puke on your hands, and see what they say. And we have to get a rainbow flag on your face. A tiny one."

Already imagining the faces of those who were told about unicorn poop, Pete grinned. In the grand scheme of trouble and adventures that they had embarked onto, shocking people due to a hue of nail polish was definitely small in comparison to what they had pulled off before--that didn't make it any less fun, though.

"Unicorn puke nails and a little rainbow. All right, I think that I can handle that." It was more than his original plans, after all. Al's support was infectious as well, making Pete want to dip his toes in a bit further than he had been initially thinking. It made him excited at the prospect of everything else that he might get to experience in Vallo. (At least, it made him excited about the potentially fun things. He was ready to pass up another round of getting nearly eaten by a cube of jelly. Two times was more than enough.)

"I think that you have to let me paint your nails, too, to give me the practice. Doesn't have to be puke colored, though. Maybe--" He paused, picking up a blue-green shade, chuckling as he read the color aloud, "Teal The Cows Come Home."

"Don't get so excited," Al said, dangling the nail polish bottle out of reach. He wasn't fast enough to steal the teal from Pete, but it would be a matter of who was faster catching each other's hands. Al was a pretty quick draw. "Today's about you. If we have time, I will let you paint mine. But I need full freedom of my hands if you don't want this stuff to go all over you."

He sat at the table, pushed all the other things he pulled out of the bag to the side, and presented the open space for his brother to settle across from him. Al began to shake the bottle, grinning ear to ear.

"Happy Pride, Pete."