Fix Me (Alternative ending)

Chapter 8

Tint trigger warning.

To get Remington away from the house for the day, Andy decides to take him on a walk around the lake nearby with a picnic.

He packs it all and, on the morning of the walk, finds Remington crying with a shirt in his hands. "Oh, sweetie, what's got you so upset?" He asks softly, crouching in front of the boy, who's on the floor by the wardrobe.

Remington shakes his head. "I-this-this makes me look fat," he explains, showing Andy the white shirt.

"Now now, that just isn't true."

"It is," Remington argues, "it is!"

Andy strokes his cheeks and takes the shirt. "Is not, kitten. Come on, it's okay. You can find another shirt, okay?"

"Can I have one of yours?"

The man smiles. "'course you can. Come here, have a hug." He pulls Remington into him and they stay like that until his crying has stopped, and then Remington finds one of Andy's shirts to put on, liking it much better now that it's more baggy.

Andy kisses his head and tells him he's beautiful, because he really is, and the two go down.

The weather is nice. Not too hot that they're melting, but not so cold that they're shivering. They walk, hand in hand, beside the still lake, a few rowing bots gliding across the water further out. Remington is smiling. He hadn't realised how much he needed the fresh air. "I like it here," he says, "with you."

"Me too," Andy agrees, "so I looked online and there's a hostel just less than a mile away with public picnic benches and a little shop. How's that sound?"

"I like that idea," the boy beams, and looks at Andy with one of his adorable grins. Andy grins right back.

The picnic benches outside the hostel are nice. Well looked after and in the gentle sun. Andy and Remington settle on one that's just under a large tree, half in the shade, and sort out the things Andy packed this morning. There's a box of pasta salad without mayonnaise because Remington won't eat mayonnaise, a bottle of orange juice, and a few small things like olives and grapes. Not a lot because Andy knew Remington would feel over faced by it.

"You're the best," Remington tells his husband, who hands him a plate. "I swear, you're not even human. That's how perfect you are."

"Says you, angel."

"Devil," Remington argues.

"No."

"Devil."

Andy chuckles. He spoons on a small amount of the pasta onto Remington's plate, happy with how the younger picks up his fork and eats it without a fuss. Fresh air really has helped today. "So," he begins, "I've got a busy few weeks in the studio from next week."

"Okay. As long as you're not home late. I don't like sleeping on my own."

"Don't you worry, I'll be back before ten every night, okay?"

Remington hums. "Okay."

"Good. Look, over there, a cat."

"D'you think it lives here?"

Andy shrugs. "Probably. I don't know where else it'd live around here. Unless there's a farm."

"Didn't we walk past a farm?"

"Oh, I think we did, yeah."

Remington stands up. "I'm going to buy a drink from over there," he tells Andy, "want anything?"