Bond Brothers

Robbie just wants a peaceful fucking Sunday

Robbie sipped his coffee, pointedly ignoring his dad's close observation from across the table.

"You slept for 15 hours," Dad said mildly.

"I guess I did," Robbie replied, just as mildly.

He was scrolling through his phone, trying to convince himself that he wasn't obsessively waiting for a message from Matt.

"That's a lot of shut-eye," Dad added meaningfully.

"It's a Sunday," Robbie responded lightly.

He clicked on an advert for shoes. Matt needed new business shoes. Maybe he should send him the link?

"Maybe you should give your mom a call," Dad suggested.

"I don't think that's necessary," Robbie said, a bit tersely this time.

He saved the link as a bookmark instead. He didn't want it to look like he was pretending he hadn't done anything wrong and everything was normal.

Not that Matt knew everything. He didn't know Robbie had known about his mates for months. Yet. Robbie would need to confess that too, of course.

Whenever the alpha texted him back.

Robbie: Good morning x

Robbie: I hope you're feeling okay x

Robbie: Fly safe today x

Robbie: I love you x

All unanswered so far. Understandably.

"Good morning, boys," Rachel called, walking into the kitchen already dressed in leggings and an oversized, paint-riddled shirt. She had chopsticks in her sparsely grey-streaked hair and giant, hipster glasses perched on her nose.

Trailing in behind her was Sir Socks, distinguished knight, Lord of the Fuzzy Paws, and a royal pain in Robbie's ass. Robbie ignored the insufferable feline who willfully flicked up his tail to show off his butthole before claiming a kitchen chair as his throne.

"'Morning," Robbie and his dad mumbled back, both clearly chagrined with one another.

Rachel looked between them, mildly amused, and then perked up considerably more when she spotted the pot of coffee that was still half-full. "Oh, thank God," she groaned, quickly settling down with them at the little kitchen table with a mug filled to the brim.

Robbie tapped on his inbox again just to be sure his notifications weren't not coming through.

Still empty.

"I just think that maybe your mom-" Dad started again.

"I'm not calling Mum, okay!" Robbie snapped, too loudly.

Rachel flinched and coffee spilled over the rim of her mug, splattering onto the old shirt she wore.

Robbie wilted guiltily. "Sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just-- he's got better things to do than talk to me." The tang of bitterness in his voice was obvious.

"You know that's not true, kid." Dad's voice was gentle but stern. "You didn't become any less important to him because of-"

"Dad, can we just... not? Please? Just leave it. Please."

Their silence was awkward.

"Pancakes?" Rachel asked with easy brightness. Robbie appreciated her energy.

"You can't cook," Dad said, perplexed.

"I didn't say I'd be making them," she responded pointedly, but with a teasing smile.