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Chapter Text

The faucet was going to drive Andrew crazy. From where he was sitting, he could see it drip-drip-dripping into the kitchen sink. For how long had it been leaking? A dripping faucet could lose up to 10,000 gallons of water a year. He’d read that on the back of a Snapple cap six months ago. In June. They’d probably lost 5000 gallons since then. Vaguely agitated, he glanced down at the half-eaten turkey on his plate. It was cold now, but Katelyn was a good cook, and she’d used her grandmother’s “secret recipe”, and whatever she’d done tasted great. Andrew sawed off another piece and put it in his mouth.

Neil helped himself to more potatoes. He and Andrew crossed glances, but said nothing. Katelyn, sipping her wine, brightly said, “So, Andrew, Aaron told me you guys had just visited Moldova. How was it?”

“Fine,” Andrew muttered, uninterested in regaling any stupid tales about their vacation. This whole dinner was a massive disaster. Katelyn, in her new white knit sweater and perfect makeup, had greeted them at the door and taken their overnight bags to the spare bedroom. That had been around six pm. She’d poured them water and coffee, laid out some snacks, and apologetically informed them that Aaron was running late. His shift should have been over ages ago, but there’d been an emergency and neurosurg was swamped. They’d waited a few hours for him to get home, until Katelyn received a call saying Aaron was still working. She then reluctantly laid out three plates and served a Christmas dinner meant for four. 

They sometimes visited each other for Christmas, always staying the weekend because their schedules rarely lined up so well during the rest of the year. Now that Aaron and Katelyn were attendings, they had more control of their hours (or so Andrew thought, anyway). And now that he and Neil had retired from pro-exy, they had nothing but time and money to blow on expensive vacations. 

“Moldova was beautiful,” Neil responded. “The food is great. We loved Chisinau.” 

“That sounds magical!” Katelyn beamed, even though it objectively did not. Neil had barely said anything. Again, Neil gave Andrew a look, and Andrew made more effort in taking in the details. Katelyn’s tired eyes, her forced smiles, the empty chair beside her. Like Andrew, Aaron had chosen a partner who could lie. Except, Neil lied about his past. Katelyn was lying, in present tense, about her mood. 

“How was work?” Andrew pivoted, now intrigued. He could be a scientist too, after all. He could investigate.

“Oh, great, yeah, wonderful.” She nodded vigorously. Drip-drip-drip, went the faucet behind her. Andrew resisted the urge to rub his temple. Who honestly described eighteen hours in the pediatric ward as wonderful? 

“Save any lives?” Neil prodded, clearly latching onto the game. 

“Always.” And this—this smile was real, soft, proud, lighting up her eyes. The face of a woman who’d chosen her career well. “Yesterday, we had a baby go home after three months in the neonatal ICU. We didn’t think he was going to make it, but he’s a fighter. The nurses were all emotional as his parents took him home. It was wonderful.”

Again. At least Andrew could appreciate that she’d used the word correctly.

“Today was harder,” she admitted after a moment, reaching for a piece of garlic bread, her eyes downcast. “One of my favourites…I guess I shouldn’t have favourites. But I am—uh, was—pretty fond of her. I knew it was just a matter of time, the cancer had progressed too much and the therapies weren’t working. No kid…nobody…should have to go through that.” 

Oh god, please don’t cry. Andrew didn’t know how to handle it. He’d seen Katelyn cry a handful of times. When Aaron’s trial ended, he’d spotted her taking a moment to herself behind the courthouse, weeping into her hands from sheer relief. But after a minute, she’d collected herself, wiped her eyes, and gone to meet Aaron with a big hug and a smile. She cried when they watched a dog movie over Thanksgiving. The dog didn’t even die, but it apparently reminded her of a childhood pet. She’d also gotten misty-eyed at her med school graduation, and Andrew had witnessed the nauseating sight of his brother wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

Please, don’t cry.

Katelyn exhaled softly, lifted her gaze, and smiled again, looking tired. “These things happen, though. That’s medicine.” 

“Right,” said Neil after a beat of awkward silence.

“Where’s Aaron?” 

It was another forty minutes before the front door clicked open, and Andrew heard his brother’s familiar footsteps dragging through the hallway. He heard the rustle of fabric as Aaron shucked off his coat. Katelyn set down her knife and fork to greet him. Andrew followed after a moment’s lag, and was met with the disgusting sight of the two of them kissing deeply at the doorway, snow blowing into the house. 

“Shut the door,” Neil said helpfully.

Aaron, his hand on Katelyn’s shoulder, just offered a middle finger. All with his tongue in his wife’s mouth. Katelyn pulled away with a giggle, though, and shut the door for him. 

“Hey,” said Aaron, finally looking up at Andrew and Neil. “How was your flight?”

“You look like shit,” Neil said instead.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Aaron kicked off his shoes, stuffed his socked feet into house slippers, and ambled towards the kitchen. 

“We started without you,” Katelyn said, once again apologetically. Aaron glanced at their half-eaten plates. 

“That’s good,” he said after a tired beat. “It’s…” and then he checked his watch. “Holy shit, ten pm?”

“Is six hours of overtime normal?” Andrew demanded, as Aaron sank down in his chair. He mumbled a grateful thanks as Katelyn set down a fresh plate and a glass of wine. Aaron rubbed his eyes.

“Not always,” he said. “But there was a four-vehicle collision. A bus flipped over. Thirty people were hurt. Including bystanders. Black ice is a bitch. You’ll see it on the news tomorrow.” He glanced down at his plate, stabbed a potato with a fork, chewed hastily, and then said, “Actually, I’m going to shower before I eat. I feel gross. Ten minutes. Sorry. Be right back.” 

When Aaron came down again, he was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, looking very much like the sleepless student he used to be twenty years ago. Katelyn had fixed Aaron a plate in the microwave, but she and Neil had cleared the rest away. They graduated to the living room, where Aaron settled on his favourite reclining chair with his dinner balanced on the side table. Nicky had enforced traditions on them growing up, and it took years for them to realise that the traditions had actually taken root. What felt artificial at sixteen felt unnatural not to do at forty. So Andrew put on a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie and brought out the gifts from under the tree. 

Aaron had bought Katelyn a pair of emerald earrings. It earned him another kiss and an absolutely revolting little massage as she came up behind his chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear, rubbing circles where her hands rested. Andrew rolled his eyes as he watched Neil open his present. 

Running shoes. Nice ones. Not those beat-up shitty ones Neil refused to throw out. Neil flashed him a huge, teasing smile, and kissed him too. The were not very affectionate in front of other people, but it was worth it to hear Aaron mutter, “Yuck.”

Neil’s gift to Andrew was a gag gift, because Neil’s actual present wasn’t meant for other eyes. It was a watch with a picture of their cats on the face. It was so hideous it drew a snort out of Andrew, and a giggle from Katelyn. In fact, Neil's gift to Aaron, too, was a joke. A plastic skeletal replica of a hand with the middle finger pointed up. Aaron's gift to Neil, similarly, was a rubber mouse. 

"Actually, the cats will love this," said Neil with a smirk.

"Dammit." 

Katelyn had done better. They'd bought each other scarves. Hers was pretty, purple, silk. His was bright orange and woollen. She’d got Aaron an expensive shaving kit and a sweater, which was a particularly good gift, Andrew thought, because Aaron still got cold, even in the middle of July. Katelyn and Andrew even got gifts for each other, a tradition that had started after Katelyn married his brother, first out of Nicky-enforced politeness, and then out of habit. They were small gifts. Andrew bought her some gloves to match th scarf, and she’d bought him a really nice box of chocolates. 

And then it was just them. The Minyard twins. Andrew was dreading this. He’d bought the worst gift this year. He usually prided himself on his gift-giving skills. He noticed things other people did not, remembered their offhand likes and dislikes. But he’d spent the whole flight here anxious about the gift he’d got for Aaron. He just had no ideas. Neil had tried to comfort him (“Aaron doesn’t even care about gifts, you know this,”) but it didn’t matter. Andrew cared.

“Here,” said Aaron, handing over a big rectangular present. Andrew tore the wrapping and went still. 

It was a book. A thick, painstakingly researched book on the Isdal Woman. Andrew had seen a documentary about her in January, and vaguely mentioned it over the phone to Aaron the next day. And Aaron had remembered.

“I know you’re into, like, weird liars,” Aaron went on, glancing at Neil. “So, yeah.”

“Who’s the Isdal Woman?” asked Katelyn.

“This woman they found dead in Norway in 1970. It’s a super weird cold case. Andrew thinks she was a spy.” Aaron’s expression was searching. “If you don’t like it, I’ll return it, it’s fine.”

“No,” said Andrew weakly. “It’s mine now.” 

It drew an all-too-smug grin from Aaron, who downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and set it beside his empty plate. “And it’s my turn,” he added, gesturing for the only unwrapped present on the coffee table. Andrew handed it over, hating himself a little bit more.

Aaron was the type of person to unwrap a present by peeling off the cellotape. Tidy, precise. Unlike Andrew and his tendency to rip off the wrapping, satisfying in the sound of tearing paper. 

Andrew looked away as Aaron opened it up to see a cup. 

It was a nice travel cup, insulated and large. It was built for Aaron’s caffeine addiction. But god, it was just a fucking cup. Aaron already had three of these. It was jet black, sleek, but it was just a fucking cup. 

“This is great,” said Aaron, with what Andrew could tell was genuine gratitude. “I’ve needed one. I lost my other one at the hospital. Thanks, Andrew.”

“Whatever,” Andrew muttered, clutching his book as he glared at the TV.

Katelyn, who had over the years developed a sixth sense for Minyard twin tension, leapt to her feet and began collecting all the wrapping paper. “I’ll put these away, shall I? Does anyone want more wine? Aaron, honey, do you want more dinner or shall I bring out dessert? I made pie.”

“I can help,” said Aaron, about to stand, but Katelyn shoved him down with a firm hand to the chest.

“No,” she said. “You’ve had a 36-hour shift. You sit.” 

“Thirty-six hours?” Neil piped up as she left the room. 

“Well…yeah,” Aaron muttered, turning to the TV. “It was supposed to be a thirty-hour shift, but you know, the collision…” He suppressed a yawn. Andrew’s eye involuntarily twitched. 

Once again, Andrew had to reluctantly concede that Katelyn was an excellent cook. The pie was decadent. Chocolate, because Andrew didn’t like any other flavour. She claimed cooking was simple chemistry, and she could whip up anything in the kitchen if she had the time. Katelyn came around to Aaron’s recliner and perched herself against him. It must have been a sturdy chair to handle their combined weight. Andrew could hear snippets of their whispered conversation as the Hallmark movie played in the background. He heard Candace…life support…was that today? And he saw Katelyn nod before Aaron squeezed her hand. I’m sorry…she was a tough little girl… 

At a certain point, the character on screen walked in into the room dressed like a Christmas tree, and Andrew said, “Do you remember when Erik dressed up like as Herr Weihnachten one Christmas?”

When Aaron didn’t immediately reply, Andrew glanced to the chair to see him tucked against Katelyn, fast asleep. She was carding his hair, wearing that sweet, simpering look that she and Aaron only ever got around each other. Andrew used to find it repulsive until Nicky pointed out he got the same look around Neil. 

Nobody spoke until the credits rolled. Katelyn began to clear their dessert plates but Andrew stepped in with a soft, “Leave it.” The Doctors Minyard and Mackenzie were tired. He and Neil could handle the clean-up. 

Katelyn backed off with a grateful smile and went to go wake Aaron. “Honey. Bed. C’mon.”

Aaron stirred, rubbing his face. “What?” He blinked in mild confusion at the black TV, and at Andrew grabbing his pie plate. “I slept through the whole movie?”

“You didn’t miss much,” said Andrew. “She left her corporate boyfriend for Santa Claus’ grandson, her childhood best friend, the long lost Prince of Christmasland.” 

“Tough competition for Corporate Guy.” Aaron yawned again, peeling himself off the couch. He mumbled a vague goodbye as Katelyn hustled him out of the living room and upstairs to sleep. She made a point to knock on the guest bedroom door before she turned in. 

Andrew answered.

“Do you need anything? A glass of water? Extra towels?”

“We’re fine,” Neil supplied from behind Andrew.

“Go to sleep, Katelyn,” Andrew said instead. 

“Well, okay. Help yourselves to whatever you need. It’s your home too.”

It was inconceivable to Andrew, the casual way she said that. As if he would ever feel comfortable responding in kind. As if he would want her wandering his and Neil’s apartment unsupervised at night. How was she so okay with it? Why didn’t she care? It baffled him. 

“Thanks,” he said instead, and she waved goodnight to them both before heading off. 

Andrew was the first to wake up. Even Neil, who still went running, was curled into a ball, snoring. It was snowing anyway, miserably cold, and Andrew exited the bedroom to make some coffee. Aaron and Katelyn’s house was surprisingly small for a pair of doctors with few expenses and six-figure salaries. They didn’t much believe in spending. They had all their wealth locked up in index funds. Their cars were nice, but sturdy and sensible. They used to have a rescue pug that died of various pug-related respiratory illnesses. Now they just had plants. Every corner of the room had something green and lovely. A huge fishtank covered half the wall in the living room. The first time Andrew saw it, he understood his brother better. It made so much sense to him, this little oasis of peace Aaron had created with his wife. The fish swam soothingly in diffused yellow lighting. The plants softened the corners. 

For someone who had grown up poisoned by grey, starving houses rotting from neglect, Aaron and Katelyn’s calm, earth-toned nest was an antidote. It wasn’t to Andrew’s taste, but he couldn’t say he disliked it.  

He settled on the couch with a cup of coffee, bringing the throw over his lap before picking up his new book. He had about half an hour of peace to knock off the first two chapters before he heard the stairs creak. Neil was down next. Katelyn came down five minutes later, and the first thing she did when she saw them on the couch with their coffees was apologise. 

“Sorry! I should have been up earlier. Did you find everything okay?”

“You say this is our home,” Andrew muttered while flipping a page, “yet you apologise for inconveniencing us with living in it.” 

There was a brief pause before she shook her head and said, “It’s far too early to formulate a response to that.”

“Good,” said Neil, not looking away from the fishtank. And then, “Let me help with breakfast.”

Katelyn didn’t answer, but she also didn’t say no. She just went to the kitchen and returned with a cup of coffee for herself and a bottle of water for the plants. She sipped from her mug as she watered them, pausing to examine some of the leaves. 

Aaron was the last to emerge. It was already nine by then, and Neil and Katelyn had whipped up a stack of waffles. Andrew was a quarter of the way through his book, and nearly done with breakfast. Aaron blinked at the scene. “Oh shit,” he said, “I overslept. I was going to make the waffles.”

“You got eight hours of sleep,” said Andrew instead. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

“Shut up.”

Aaron and Katelyn shared a kiss and a soft “Merry Christmas”, before Aaron swiped Neil’s waffle off his plate and ate it with his hands. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Neil said, without much heat. 

Andrew glanced at Aaron’s bare forearm. A large, intricate cuff tattoo covered his skin up to the elbow, disguising the long, clean scar Aaron had given himself back in college. Back when it had happened, Andrew had offered to buy him an armband, but Aaron had hemmed and hawed and ultimately refused. Andrew knew that Aaron sometimes got asked about that scar. The tattoo made it hard to see, but not impossible, and his scrubs left him too exposed. Aaron never gave those questions a straight answer. Sometimes he just lied. But he never covered up his arms unless he wanted to, refusing to be limited by the mistakes of his past. Andrew would never tell him that he admired that. 

“You can go pick up lunch,” said Katelyn as Aaron sat down with his coffee. 

“From that Chinese place on Main?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, will do.” 

The next few hours were quiet, almost too pleasant. Andrew would never get used to the calm. The years of peace had softened his edges, though, and he didn’t complain when their Facetime call with Nicky and Erik lasted for forty-five minutes. Neil and Aaron fought over the remote like children, but Katelyn won when she told them to shut up. She wanted to watch her baking reality show. Andrew glanced at the screen now and then, fascinated by the batter and icing. 

Around eleven, Aaron and Andrew had both showered, with Andrew trailing after him as Aaron grabbed his coat and car keys. “What?” Aaron asked. “You want to come with me to pick up lunch?”

“Yes.” Because he hadn’t seen Aaron in six months and his brother had spent the last several hours asleep. But Andrew would rather die than admit to that, so he added, “I want to see their menu.”

Aaron chuffed out a laugh. “Okay,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. He’d become irritatingly good at seeing right through Andrew’s defences. And Andrew had grown irritatingly lazy about putting them up. 

They were still in his driveway when Aaron’s phone rang. He put the phone to his ear with a sigh. 

“Hey…yeah…No, I can hear that, that sounds like a bad cough…Yeah, I can do that. No, it’s not a problem. Drink plenty of fluids. I know you know. Good. See you.” 

Aaron hung up, put his hands on the steering wheel, and let out a long, exhausted exhale.

“Who was that?”

“One of my residents. Wait here.” He put the car in park and hopped out. Andrew watched him re-enter the house, and waited five minutes before Aaron emerged again, carrying two large plastic bags. Katelyn followed him to the door, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame. As Aaron hefted the bags to the back seat of the car, Andrew observed Katelyn’s expression. The worry in her eyes. 

When they were finally on the road, Andrew glanced over his shoulder at the bags in the back seat. “What’s all that?”

“Leftovers,” said Aaron. “We need to run an errand first.” 

Aaron started asking questions about the Isdal Woman and whether Andrew was enjoying the book. Andrew answered robotically, watching his brother from the corner of his eyes. They balanced light conversation with comfortable silence as Aaron stopped outside the pharmacy. Andrew followed him out.

“Why are we here?” 

“Like I said, I gotta run an errand.”

“Is it even open? It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah. This one is.”  

The pharmacist obviously knew Aaron, because he lit up and said, “Dr. Minyard! Happy Holidays! Are you here for the—”

“The insulin,” said Aaron. “Thanks,” he added, as the pharmacist began to pack it up for them.

“Why do you need insulin?” Andrew glanced at Aaron up and down. Since when was Aaron diabetic, and why wasn’t Andrew informed?

“It’s not for me. It’s for a patient.” And then, sighing, he added, “We help out some unhoused people with their prescriptions. My resident was supposed to do this today, but she’s got the flu and I don’t want her to go out in the snow. It won’t take very long.” 

“Even when you’re not working, you’re working,” Andrew muttered under his breath. Not softly enough, evidently, because Aaron shot him an annoyed look. 

“Here you go,” said the pharmacist, handing over a paper bag.  

“Thanks, Luke. Happy holidays.” Aaron shoved the paper bag in his coat pocket and led the way out. 

Neither spoke as Aaron drove downtown. This part of the city was derelict, forgotten, the shops shuttered and the roads empty. A few people milled around outside a homeless shelter. 

“She should not be out in the snow,” Aaron chided to himself, his gaze zeroed in on an old woman on the sidewalk. She was bundled fiercely in a cornucopia of mismatched coats. Her whole life was spread before her: a cart overflowing with clothes and random household items. Beyond her, Andrew spied two men with crack pipes. 

“You should not be in this neighbourhood.”

Aaron followed Andrew’s gaze and actually laughed. “I have access to more and better drugs every time I go into work. I’m not so easily triggered anymore.” 

Huh. Right. True.

Aaron parked, jumped out, and Andrew, uncertain, followed him. He made straight for the old woman, and Andrew heard her say, “Dr. Minyard! You’re looking especially delicious today. And ooh, you brought a friend—a twin!” she smirked through her shivering. “I didn’t know I was going to meet two handsome men today. The Lord is kind.”

It annoyed Andrew somewhat, but Aaron chortled. “Yeah, he’s a hoot. I’ve told you a dozen times, Carol, don’t sit out in the cold. I know the church has room.”

The church across the street loomed against the grey skyline. 

Carol waved him off. “Oh, those idiots. I don’t like them.” 

Apparently, this was an old argument, because Aaron rolled his eyes but didn’t push. He just pulled the insulin out of his pocket and said, “Let’s have you take this, and then you can eat. My wife made some turkey.”

“When are you going to give that woman a baby?” Carol teased, as Aaron helped her out of her coat. “Bloody fuck, it’s cold!”

“I know, I won’t be a second. Unless you want to come to the car—?”

“I don’t trust those things.”

Aaron gritted his teeth. “Okay. And to answer your question, Katelyn has enough to deal with at the hospital with the kids. If I gave that woman a baby, she’d kick my ass.” 

Despite himself, Andrew bit back a smile. He had a hard time picturing Katelyn kicking Aaron’s ass. It was more likely that she’d pout and he’d roll over. Aaron swabbed Carol’s arm before administering the shot. 

“You have the softest hands,” Carol cooed. “The other doctors make it hurt.”

“Oh really?” 

“Really.” 

“I’ll have a word with them.” He gave her the rest of the bag. “You know what to do, right? Please don’t sell this, it’s for you. You need that.”

“I know, I know.” 

Andrew watched as Aaron helped her with her coat again, and then ran to the car to retrieve the food. “Here,” he said, handing it over. “That’s turkey, potatoes, greens, and some pie. Please go to the church. It’s freezing out here.” 

“It’s not,” said Carol, opening one of the food boxes. “You’re just a pussy. It’s okay, though, because you’re cute.”

“All right.” Aaron just rubbed his forehead with a gloved thumb. “You take care. Do you need anything else?”

“Need you to gimme a kiss,” she teased. “But I’d never do that to Katelyn.”

“Boy, you really want her to kick my ass, don’t you,” Aaron laughed. 

Andrew said nothing as Aaron waved Carol goodbye, and said nothing as they got back to the car, and said nothing still as a dark look crossed Aaron’s face. The silence was stiff now, bitter with a dozen complicated feelings Andrew knew too well but didn’t know how to voice.

He finally managed to say the only thing that seemed accessible. 

“Aaron. When do you rest?"

“What?” He glanced at Andrew before looking back at the road. “What are you talking about? It’s literally my day off.”

“And yet here you are,” Andrew intoned, gazing out of the window. “Playing doctor.” 

“It’s not…I mean,” Aaron sighed. “The holidays are busy. It’s not always like this. And as I said, my resident was supposed to meet Carol today, I’m just filling in.”

“You obviously do this enough that she knows you. She flirts with you.”

“She’s harmless.”

“That’s not the point. You work thirty-six-hour shifts and then do charity work on your day off?”

“Shut up.” Aaron’s tone was hard. “It’s not—I don’t—this doesn’t even accomplish anything. How the fuck can you manage type 2 diabetes when you’re living on the street in the freezing cold? When your family doesn’t want anything to do with you because of mild dementia? Every day I worry that Carol won’t make it to morning. And nobody will even mourn her. Nothing I do makes a difference.”

“You do it anyway.”

“What other choice do I have?” he snapped. “Do I just ignore her? Let her die?” 

“You need a break.”

“Andrew, drop it.” 

They pulled up outside the restaurant, and Aaron marched out without a backwards glance. Andrew watched him for a second before getting out and storming after him. Aaron steered the conversation onto safer topics. The Isdal Woman. Moldova. Neil’s Strava. Andrew played along, an irritation burning low but hot.

He’d always known Aaron to be an obsessive workaholic. But he’d always assumed it was temporary. Something he had to do for med school. Those brutal years of residency. Now, he was an attending. Now, he had more money, more time. He’d ‘made it’. They always talked about Foxes making it. Making it out, making it big. Aaron had that, the security and stability he’d lacked as a child. 

He still wasn’t stopping. 

And it pissed Andrew off. How was he supposed to keep doing this—saving lives, helping the people who fell through the cracks—if he was sitting here, talking about bullshit and nonsense while clearly fighting sleep? Aaron did more for the world in one day than Andrew had done in his life. And what about himself?

He hated martyrs.

A big, carb-heavy lunch had them all sleepy and warm. Aaron went up immediately, struggling to stay awake. Even Neil was feeling it, curled up on the couch with the blanket from their room spread over his knees. Katelyn was in the den, doing some watercolour. It was a hobby she’d taken up in the last few months, and Andrew had filed that information away for a gift next Christmas. 

He stood by the door.

“You can come in,” she said without looking up, and Andrew approached. He said nothing for a moment, watching her work. She was doing some sort of scenery, lots of greens and blues. 

“How often does this happen? With Aaron?”

She gave him a look. “Do you mean the long shifts? Or the holiday volunteering?”

“Both.” 

“Often. I help out too with the volunteering sometimes. But I manage my time better. Aaron overworks himself a lot.” She sighed. “We’ve talked about it. Argued. If you can help him see sense, be my guest.” 

“He’s going to burn out.”

“I know.”

“Do you remember the last time he burnt out.”

Katelyn winced. The Adderall relapse. The suicide attempt. 

“What do you plan to do about it?” she countered. 

“Me,” Andrew echoed. “Handling him has always been a team sport.”

This is a better present than that stupid cup. 

Use it. Don’t bitch. 

-Andrew 

Aaron held up the message in front of Andrew's face, so Andrew reread it. “What the fuck is this?” Aaron said, his eyes bright from shock and the rest of his body still hazy from his nap. There were pillow impressions in his cheek. Neil, still on the couch, laughed into his hot chocolate.

“It’s an email,” Andrew said. 

“It’s two tickets to Italy! All expenses paid! What the fuck, Andrew? I didn’t ask for this. I don’t have time for this. I can’t just—”

“Katelyn already got you the time off. Will you shut up.”

Aaron whipped around to where she was sitting, by the fishtank. “What the hell? How’d you get two weeks off?”

“I made a phone call, Aaron,” she said, daintly taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Do you know you have over two months of unused vacation time?”

“I—do?” he finished, his brain almost misfiring at the information. 

“Yeah!” She grinned. “And if you don’t take it, Andrew here is going to keep sending us tickets to expensive places and forcing you to take a break. We discussed it.” 

“I specifically told you not to bitch,” Andrew added, moving from his spot on the couch. “You never did take instruction well.” 

“Just say thanks,” Neil piped up, watching Andrew wander off to the kitchen. 

“I don’t need—”

“Yeah,” Katelyn said, “you do.” 

Andrew heard footsteps as Aaron marched into the kitchen after him. “I don’t need you to pay for me. You pay off my student loans without asking—”

“You were a broke med student.”

“Well, now I’m not.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes. He reached for two cups and the hot chocolate mix. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you took your own health as seriously as you seem to take everyone else’s.” His gaze dropped to Aaron’s exposed forearm. And Aaron caught him staring. “I’m not having a repeat of that.”

“That’s not…” he looked down at the tattoo. His eyes were blazing. “That’ll never happen again.”

“Okay. Prove it.” Andrew added milk to both cups and stirred in the hot chocolate mix. “Take the break. Don’t complain.” He shoved the cups in Aaron’s hands. “And microwave these. Where do you keep the marshmallows?”

Aaron huffed. He shook his head, exasperated, defeated, even amused, and said, “In that cabinet, there.” He gestured with his head. The faucet in the sink drip-drip-dripped. Aaron put the cups in the microwave and went over, rubbing his face. “Gotta call the plumber, too. God, I’m so tired.” 

Andrew hummed. Aaron took the marshmallow bag from his hand, and dropped a few extra into one of the mugs. He pushed that one towards Andrew. 

“No thanks necessary,” Andrew said, but warmth slipped into his tone anyway, and he nearly clenched his jaw. He had grown far too soft. He missed the deadness of his youth. (Though, god, he did not miss it at all). 

“Shut up,” Aaron said, but smiled way too easily, and their shoulders brushed on their way out.