Chapter Text
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”
Ruben recognized the voice, careful and lilting, the moment he heard it. He squeezed Chris’s hand and sighed. “Bee,” he said. “I told you guys –”
“Beatrice,” she corrected, pulling him into a hug, a little too tight to be affectionate. “And there was no way we were going to let you shack up in some two-star hotel for your trip. You’ll stay with me and Lenny, no arguments. We have all the room you need.” She pulled back, her eyes sliding over to Chris. “You must be Christopher.”
“Chris is fine,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Beatrice.”
“Christopher,” she said, shaking his hand momentarily before letting go, “You are…not what I expected.”
Chris lifted his eyebrows, looking over at Ruben. “Oh?” he asked. “What did you expect?”
Beatrice, in her effortlessly beautiful way, wrinkled her little nose and shrugged her shoulders. Model nonchalance, given away only by the way she was looking over at Ruben now, scrutinizing and shrewd. “Ruben said you were an actor,” she said as an explanation.
“I am,” he said, a little shyly. “Not – not on the same caliber as your mother, though,” he said, glancing over at Ruben as he said it.
Ruben read in his look what Chris didn’t give away on his face. A little ass kissing might make this a little less uncomfortable.
“Well, come on,” Beatrice said, clapping her hands. “I’m sure your bags have already been picked up, and you must shower before dinner.”
“Bee, we aren’t –”
“Lenny and I are hosting Mom and Dad for dinner tonight, so you will be there,” she said evenly. “You can go exploring after.”
Ruben looked over at Chris, who shrugged, but his eyes were taking in Beatrice, in her all-white suit and long, wavy blonde hair. She looked too rich to have come to pick them up herself; Ruben wondered if she would have sent a driver to get them if she wasn’t worried about them deciding not to stay with her.
He would have preferred the driver.
There was a slick black car waiting for them outside, their bags already loaded in the trunk. Beatrice climbed into the front seat, leaving Ruben and Chris in the backseat alone. Chris took his hand again, squeezing it gently.
“Christopher, you’re not one of those picky gays, are you?” Beatrice asked from the front seat.
“Bee –”
“We have a lot of those here,” Beatrice continued like Ruben hadn’t spoken. “You know, always on some new fad diet, constantly downing alcohol to compensate from the food they’re not eating, things like that.”
“I – I’m not picky,” Chris said tentatively.
“Lovely,” she said, giving him a pinched smile. “And I assume you’ll eat anything?” she asked Ruben. “I mean, you went to New York with nothing –”
“I didn’t eat out of a trash can,” he protested. “I had a job –”
“Sure,” she said absently. She’d already stopped listening. “Dinner is in an hour or so, so make sure you get in the shower and dressed quickly so you can come say hello.”
“Yes, Commander,” Ruben said flatly.
“My house, my rules,” Beatrice shot back, her airy voice sharpening.
“We could just go to the hotel –”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, and it was almost a snap now, her blue eyes bright when she turned around to look at them both. “We haven’t seen you in almost a year. Not that you were present while you were here before.”
“You think you’d be used to it by now –”
“So, uh, Beatrice,” Chris interrupted. “It’s very gracious of you to host us for a few days. Uh, Ruben didn’t tell me what you do for work.”
Beatrice looked over at him, her eyes flickering down to where his and Ruben’s hands were joined. “I work in real estate,” she said stiffly. “It’s my passion.”
“Really?” Chris asked, and Ruben could hear the fake enthusiasm in his voice. “That must be very rewarding out here in LA. All of these beautiful homes –”
“It is,” she said shortly. “You know, Ruben, I could find you a place if you wanted to stay –”
“No,” Ruben said. “I mean, no thank you.”
Everyone lapsed into silence, Ruben’s hand gently holding onto Chris’s leg as Chris looked out at the highway, taking in the shadows of mountains, far out in the distance. Ruben watched his profile, searching for regret, for anger. But Chris’s face was impassive, like he wasn’t remotely bothered by this turn of events, and Ruben wished, momentarily, that he could do what Chris did – could wipe his face clean of everything he felt so no one would know.
The house was a mansion, not a house. Ruben could see Chris’s mouth drop open for a moment when the car pulled up, but he snapped it closed almost immediately. The car pulled up and dropped them off at the door before driving away, leaving their luggage out on the sidewalk.
Beatrice ignored the mechanics and walked up to the door, opening it without unlocking it.
“Your rooms are up the stairs, second and third door on the left,” she said.
“You gave us separate rooms?” Ruben asked.
She blinked at him. “Of course I did.”
“It’s fine,” Chris muttered to him.
“We’re staying in the same room,” Ruben said.
Beatrice blinked at him, Chris completely forgotten between them. “You’re in my house –”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Ruben hissed. “Or did you want me to act like he was just my friend?”
“It wouldn’t kill you,” she snapped back. “Doing something for this family for once.”
“Ruben, it’s fine,” Chris said, tugging on his arm, feeling like a child as he did it. “It’s okay, babe –”
“Aww, see? He agrees,” Beatrice said, turning on her heel and leaving them in the foyer.
“I’m not staying here,” Ruben said when she was gone. “I don’t care how angry she gets, I’m not staying –”
“Let’s give them dinner,” Chris reasoned. “Sit through the ordeal, and if you still want to leave, we leave. We cancel lunch, pretend we never saw them.” He squeezed his hand gently. “We can do this.”
“We shouldn’t have to.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “But in an hour, we could be in a taxi on our way to a hotel.”
“I’m not staying here,” Ruben said again.
“Okay,” Chris said soothingly, and then, just to see him smile: “Let’s see if they have expensive wine to steal.”