Random headcanons/AUs that won’t get fics anytime soon. If anyone wants to add on/chime in/create something, feel free.
cw: parental death, death, grief/loss, drinking, (past) relationship issues/breakup
If I need to tag something, let me know.
First a wedding. Then a divorce. Now, a funeral.
After Smith’s best friend got married, Smith eloped with the girl he’d been seeing at the time and moved out West, just to forget about being in love with Trott since they were kids.
But, it didn’t work out. Both his marriage, and the forgetting part. He spends time from job to job as a listless bachelor, not really satisfied but not really knowing what to do with his life.
Then he gets a phone call- Smith’s only parent dies, and he’s left with an empty house to himself back in his hometown. Filled with regret and wanting to make up for all his years doing nothing worthwhile, he moves back home.
And who would show up at the funeral viewing but his former best friend Trott and his husband Ross.
“I’m happy for you, man,” Smith had slurred at Trott’s wedding, leaning into the groom heavily. He was happy for him, really, but his face looked far from it. His girlfriend had caught Ross’ bouquet and he’d caught Trott’s fucking garter hidden under his suit, the tease, and Smith had forced himself to laugh and smile back at the crowd of wedding attendees.
He could only take seeing so many photos of the happy couple in his facebook feed, could only handle seeing so many anecdotes about their honeymoon when they returned. Their first house together, their first anniversary…
He wasn’t jealous- he knew he wasn’t, but he felt so, so sick with loneliness.
Maybe if he was married, too, that would help. Maybe if he buried himself in his own relationship, he wouldn’t have to pick out the pieces of himself that were still in love with Trott.
He proposed to his girlfriend the next evening, in the parking lot of a brewery, and that following day they headed to Vegas.
A shotgun wedding, too much whiskey, shouting matches that turned into accusations of cheating… His own relationship went down in flames less than a year after they’d gotten hitched. His ex-wife was married to another guy now, with two kids and another on the way.
He wasn’t even thirty yet.
He felt too old and too young at the same time.
Smith as a rough-and-tumble bachelor, living in shitty apartments on the west coast, driving a motorcycle and keeping few belongings, taking up random jobs and slowly saving up money. For what, who knows. He rotated friend groups like roulette boards. Got into some debt, started working in a shipping warehouse to pay it off. It’s the first steady job he’s had in years.
Then he gets a phonecall.
His relationship with his dad had been rocky when he was a teenager, but it mellowed out as he’d got older, and they’d gotten close again.
He had gone home a few months after the divorce, to visit. sitting on the porch, drinking beer with his dad. talking.
Dad always knew how to fix things; he always knew what to say.
Smith hadn’t seen his dad in three months, but he knew then that his health was worsening. It shouldn’t have felt like a shock, given how much time he knew, but death takes without asking. He packed up and cut out of his apartment rental, sold his cycle, and boarded a plane across the US, back to the city he grew up in.
The funeral visitation is packed with dozens of people he doesn’t know. Smith keeps to himself, the only mourning family member there, and stares off into the distance at the closed casket. For once, he hadn’t turned to drinking to numb the occasion, and everything is too clear and focused. There’s too many people here, and it makes him feel overwhelmed, but he feels like he should be proud of that. That his dad was apparently a good guy to so many people.
Idly, Smith wonders if he’ll ever live up to something like it. Or if he’ll just end up a dull corpse in a casket that nobody cares about. He regrets the things he didn’t do for his dad, since he moved away to pursue a fruitless dream. Dad only wanted him happy, but Smith has never felt that he knew what that was.
The hand on his shoulder should startle him, but surprisingly, it doesn’t. It’s the words spoken afterwards that get him to turn around.
“Smith, mate. I’m so sorry.”
Smith has to do a double take. It’s Trott, his old best friend, who hugs him as he turns around completely and gapes in shock.
“Trott?” He hasn’t said that name aloud in a long time. He hasn’t felt these arms around him in a long time, and he sounds and smells and looks the exact same, fuck- “Trott, what are you- Why are you- How’d you get here?” he stammers.
Trott and Ross had married straight out of college. It turned out that they now lived in the area, too. They’d seen the name in the paper, and Trott wanted to be there for Smith if he could. What do you say other than give condolences, to a man you haven’t talked to in years? Smith doesn’t know, if he was in Trott’s situation. But it’s too easy to slip into the same banter and humor they’d had growing up. Despite, and because, of the circumstances. And Ross, too, Trott’s husband, has never been a bad guy. He’s easy-going, and has a good sense of humor. Smith’s never held anything against him, but he never really got the chance to know him, either.
After the funeral and the reception the next day, Smith hesitatingly has the two of them over at the house.
“I saw it coming. I knew it was only a matter of time, really.” He rotates the mug of tea in his hands, staring down at it instead of meeting Trott and Ross’ eyes. The house is a state. He’s embarrassed it got so bad. Dozens of unfinished projects, piles of garbage and leftover casino freebies are everywhere. “I avoided coming home, because I couldn’t bare to watch while he just…disappeared.” Smith heaves his shoulders, sighing. “Now he’s gone, and the house is empty. It’s too quiet.” Maybe it’s always been, he thinks.
And then Trott and Ross adopt this poor bastard, helping him fix up the house and making him meals, and that eventually leads to Hatsome. Because Trott starts entertaining the idea of being with Smith too, because poly, and Ross is like, “that sounds great.”