Chapter Text
"You and Robby.. sorry, did you say married? Legally?"
Abbot laughed. "I'm not sure how we'd be illegally married. I mean, quite a few of our friends had to wait until 2015, but our relationship was too much of a mess at the time to properly celebrate the fact."
"Wow." He looked down. "I don't know how to feel."
"Dennis, you know you're not sinful." He put his hand on his knee.
He'd gone through this act with Trinity. She tried to convince him that there was nothing wrong with this sin. The fact was so attractive to him, really. Trinity, now Robby and Abbott, they were nothing like the people his pastors had described. They were no evil predators. It was easy to hate gay people, as a concept, but it was hard to hate them in the flesh.
"I have a support group that I'm in."
Dennis perked up at that. "A support group? So you're working on it?"
"Fuck, no.." He took a bite of his own toast, processing, as though Dennis' words had physically weighed him down. "No, no. We formed to support people.. like us. Like you. Who have been told that their feelings - natural feelings - are wrong. Because they aren't, Dennis."
He didn't believe a single word. But he also wasn't trying to lose the possible financial support Robby and Abbott could provide. "I get it, yeah."
"Did you want me to refer you?" He was already pulling a pad of paper out of his pocket. Just like Robby, he always kept one nearby. Abbott scribbled down an address. His handwriting was looped, unlike his husband's (the term felt strange in his mind), who had blocky letters that somehow remained in permanent italics. He tore it off and tapped on it twice before sliding it over to him. Dennis sheepishly took the slip of paper, folding it over in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then pocketed the thick square with no intention to look at it again.
The doorbell chimed. "That'll be Santos."
"Trinity?"
"I promised that I'd let her come see you first thing." He waved his hand in lieu of explanation, noticeably more groggy than when he started the conversation, and opened the door.
He could tell Trin was furious because she looked immaculate. Whenever she was in a rage she would channel it into her appearance. Her nails were bright red, filed down, her makeup done with a harsh wing that only strengthened her glare.
"We need to talk."
Abbot scratched his chin. "Well, Robby's asleep--"
"Go wake up your fucking husband and get him in the living-room before I do something drastic." How the she know that they were husbands? Clearly he had a lot to catch up on.
Abbot submitted with a small smile, which only served to make her more pissed. She just about slammed the door behind her. They sat together in the living room. There were leather couches, real leather, not the faux kind. He'd learnt the difference growing up on the farm. Dennis was far too soft to actually aid in slaughtering the cows but his brothers tortured him sometimes by locking him in the barn on meat day once they'd been culled. It was a sickening sight. He never ate the beef at the dinner table. He glanced away to take his mind off of it. There were papers on the table. Medical journals. Naturally.
Robby dug his fist into his eyes and plopped down opposite them. Jack saddled up to his side.
"Jack." Trinity bore daggers into the man's eyes. "I don't appreciate how you handled things yesterday. I have a genuine concern. A good one. Two superiors taking their heavily inebriated subordinate home, and they say they don't want anybody to know what they're doing to him? Then you treat me like another one of your patients, charming me, calming me down, and then having the gall to say that I'm the one who'll be embarrassed in the morning? Do you listen to yourself?"
"I.. um, I see how that could be misinterpreted."
Dennis' shoulders rose to his ears. He hated this. He hated fighting. Why was everyone always fighting?
"Misinterpreted?!" She snapped. "I think I'm interpreting perfectly correctly."
Dennis became distracted by a ping on his phone. He looked at the person who sent the message. Fuck.
When he looked up, Trinity and the two men looked a lot calmer.
"-It was an asshole thing to do, Santos. I'm sorry. Your concerns were valid and I completely dismissed you because I was only thinking about how I saw it." He turned to Trinity. "I think that it's best if we let Dennis stay with you."
"I think it's best we let Dennis decide what he wants." Dennis squeaked. He turned to all of them, who were looking the calmest he'd seen them in weeks. Wonders what an adult conversation could do to a group of angry bastards. "I- I'd still like that cleaning gig. For the extra money, please. I need it. I've had a personal emergency and I need some to cover it."
Robby intervened. "If you need some cash, I can just give it to you. "
"So you can hold it over his head? No thanks." Trinity shook her head vigorously. "Are you okay, hucklefuck? What do you mean, emergency?"
"Look." He fisted the leather of the chair. It made an awful rubbery scraping noise, like a squeegee, and he quickly let go. "I don't want handouts. I've never wanted them, and I won't take them. If we do it through a job, then we can draft up a contract so I'm safe, and then we can give that to HR. I'll move in with Trinity. Then I'm protected, as much as I can be, and everyone's happy."
"Is today the day you get the shared braincell?" Trinity asked, standing. He nodded. Dennis moved to get his bag from the room he was staying at.
It couldn't help to do some other odd jobs, you know. Just to work up the money. God would forgive him. It was in the name of salvation. And when he reached salvation, he would be absolved of everything it took to reach it.
Fuck. He never should have messaged his mom back. She had such a stranglehold over him, he knew that. Just days ago he was swearing he'd never do it again. He really thought that things were going well over here. Now to know that every single person in his life was overtaken with the same lust that got him kicked out? No. He couldn't stay like this. It transported him right back to Broken Bow. Right back into his old mindset.
This would be fine. He'd get the money, get fixed, run away from these bad influences. His family would finally love him again.