Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 117

Remington sulks into the living room after returning from the disastrous group therapy. He flops down onto the couch and groans into the arm rest.

"What's the matter, love?" Asks Andy from the doorway, open laptop in his hands. He clicks on something and closes it. "Rem?" He asks again, putting the laptop down on the coffee table.

The boy groans.

Andy kneels on the floor by Remington and puts a hand between his shoulder blades. "Come, now, tell daddy what the matter is."

Remington huffs in response.

"I'll tickle you."

"Piss off," the boy mumbles.

"How was therapy?"

"Wonderful."

Andy hums knowingly. "What happened?" He asks, rubbing Remington's shoulders.

"Nothing worth repeating," says Remington in a quiet, fed up voice. The sort that suggests tiredness and boredom all at once. Then he adds, "people are the worst."

"I know, kitty, people are awful. What happened, huh?" Andy begins gently massaging the back of his neck and the curves of his shoulders gently. Remington hums but says nothing. "I saw Sebastian today," Andy says, "he was hoping to catch you for a day sometime soon. I said you'd call him."

"'kay."

"And there's a new series of Schitt's Creek on Netflix."

"Yay," Remington mumbles, "my favourite."

Andy smiles. "You're very tense, I can feel it."

"Bad day." He sighs into the cushion. "Can you do it under my clothes?"

Complying, Andy slips his hands under Remington's hoodie and continues the soothing massage, saying, "you've got such smooth skin."

"Shut up," Remington whines. "You'll never guess who was at therapy."

"Who? Satan?"

"Would'a preferred that."

"Oh no. Who was it?"

"Fucking Emerson," he says with a huff, beginning to relax at the comforting touch of Andy's careful hands. "But I don't wanna talk about it now. I just want a while where I don't gotta talk about any of it."

"Of course, baby boy, we don't have to talk about it right now." He moves a hand down and tickles his husband's ribs, chuckling when he squirms. "Cutie pie," he then whispers, "just like a little kitten."

Remington strains to look at him. "You're telling me that's why you call me kitty?"

Andy raises an eyebrow. "Duh."

"Oh. I thought it was because I did a good cat impression."

The man laughs. "Hate to break it to you, but your cat impression... Not that good."

"It so is. Listen. Look, listen." He makes a high-pitched, vaguely recognisable meow sound, and Andy laughs again.

"It is because I love you that I must tell you, it isn't good. Sorry, kitty. It's a no from me."

Remington giggles.

"Let me take you away for a bit."

"Huh?"

"Have you ever been skiing?"

"Skiing? No, never."

Andy leans down and kisses the back of his neck. "I'm gonna take you skiing. I think you'll like it," he decides, taking his hands away when Remington sits up.