Chapter Text
The Utility Muffin Research Kitchen.
That was the nickname of the house Nate’s mom had bought—because of course it was. The place had once belonged to Frank Zappa, of all people, and somehow Marsha had just… acquired it like it was a quirky thrift‑store find.
When Rue and Nate pulled up the first time, they both just sat there, staring.
“You said your mom was letting us live in one of her properties close to school,” Rue said, eyes wide. “You did not tell us it was Zappa’s literal fucking house.”
Nate shrugged, smirking. “That’s Marsha for you.”
He hopped out and waved toward the driveway, where Fez was helping Adam out of the van with the kind of practiced ease that made it look like choreography. Lexi climbed out of the same car, backpack slung over one shoulder, mouth already hanging open.
She looked at Rue, mouthing, This house?
Rue and Nate both nodded.
Lexi blinked. “Like… the actual Zappa house?”
"I know right." Rue said.
Fez looked up at the sprawling, weird, beautiful structure—sunken living room visible through the windows, balcony wrapped in vines, the whole place humming with old music‑history energy—and let out a low whistle.
“Damn,” he said. “We really livin’ here?”
Marsha stepped out onto the porch first, sunglasses perched on her head, looking every bit like a woman who absolutely would buy Frank Zappa’s old house on a whim. Right behind her was a man about Nate’s height, grey‑black hair, easy smile, and the kind of relaxed confidence that said he’d already made peace with whatever chaos this household was about to bring.
“Hey, kids! About time you got here,” he called out.
Rue lit up instantly. “Hey, Todd!”
Todd opened his arms like he was greeting his favorite sitcom cast. “Look at you all. My god, you multiplied.”
Nate groaned affectionately. “Todd, please don’t start.”
Marsha ignored him completely, sweeping Rue into a hug first. “Sweetheart, you look wonderful. One year sober and glowing. I’m so proud of you.”
Rue blinked fast, caught off guard. “Thanks, Marsha.”
Lexi approached next, still staring at the house like it might levitate. “This is… really your place?”
Marsha smiled like she’d been waiting for that exact reaction. “Yes, but only technically. For the time you’re in college? It’s yours.”
Lexi blinked. “Ours… as in… we live here?”
Todd laughed. “That’s usually what ‘yours’ means, kiddo.”
Rue looked between them, still half‑convinced someone was about to yell prank. “Marsha, this is insane. This is like… music‑history insane.”
Marsha shrugged, casual as ever. “Frank had good taste. And you all needed a place close to campus. It worked out.”
Nate shook his head, still a little stunned. “Mom, you could’ve warned us.”
“And ruin the surprise?” Marsha said, patting his cheek. “Absolutely not.”
Fez whistled low, taking in the house again. “Man… we really livin’ in Zappa’s spot.”
Adam nodded, eyes wide. “This place looks like it’s haunted by a jazz band.”
Todd pointed at him. “Correct. But they’re friendly.”
Rue laughed, the sound bright and disbelieving. “Okay… okay. This is real. We’re actually doing this.”
Nate squeezed her hand. “Yeah. We are.”
Rue sat on the edge of the mattress—still wrapped in plastic, still smelling faintly like a warehouse—her palms pressed into the soft give of it. The room was sun‑washed, bigger than anything she’d ever lived in, with a balcony that looked out over the canyon like some kind of movie set.
She shook her head slowly. “Still can’t believe we’re living here.”
Nate was kneeling by an open duffel, folding his shirts with that quiet, methodical focus he got when he didn’t want to think too hard about how he was feeling. He glanced up at her, a half‑smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s kinda insane.”
Rue slapped her forehead dramatically. “Oh yeah.”
Nate paused mid‑fold, giving her that are you serious right now look. “Rue… you literally wrote a paper about him last semester.”
Rue groaned into the mattress. “I know! I know. I forgot! My brain is full of… like… metaphors and sobriety and whatever the hell Fez made for breakfast.”
Nate smirked. “Zappa was anti‑drug. Hardcore. Dude lectured people about it.”
Rue rolled onto her back, pointing at the ceiling. “Okay, but the vibe of this room still feels like someone hallucinated a dragon in here.”
Nate shrugged. “That was probably just Frank being Frank.”
Rue laughed. “Fair.”
From down the hall, Lexi yelled, “Rue, did you know Zappa didn’t even drink?”
Rue yelled back, “YES, LEXI, I REMEMBER NOW.”
Fez’s voice followed, calm as ever. “Man was high on life.”
Adam added, “And chaos.”
Rue sighed, flopping back again. “Okay, fine. No one did acid in this room. Probably.”
Nate sat beside her, nudging her knee. “You’re still allowed to be excited, you know.”
Rue smiled up at him, soft and real. “I am. I’m just… still getting used to the idea that my life is allowed to be good.”
Nate brushed her hair back gently. “Get used to it. This is just the start.”
From downstairs, Marsha’s voice cut through the quiet like a foghorn wrapped in pearls.
“Rue, Lexi—your moms are here!”
Rue shot upright so fast the mattress squeaked. “Oh my god, already?!”
Nate laughed under his breath. “You act like they’re the cops.”
“They kinda are,” Rue hissed, scrambling off the bed. “Emotional cops.”
Lexi appeared in the doorway at the exact same moment, hair slightly frizzy from unpacking, eyes wide with panic. “Did she say our moms?”
Rue nodded, grabbing her hand like they were about to face a firing squad. “Yep. They’ve arrived.”
Lexi inhaled sharply. “Okay. Okay. We can do this. We’re adults. We live here. We’re responsible.”
Suze sighed dramatically the moment she crossed the threshold, taking in the sunken living room, the vintage wood paneling, the unmistakable Zappa weirdness baked into the walls.
“I used to dream about sneaking up here and catching Dweezil Zappa in the shower,” she said, completely straight‑faced. Then she blinked, winced, and added, “Can’t believe I said that sober.”
Leslie burst into giggles, the kind that made her shoulders shake. “Oh my god, Suze.”
Gia followed them in, wide‑eyed, taking in the house like it was a museum exhibit titled Chaotic Bohemian History: Please Touch Everything.
Leslie stepped forward and wrapped Rue in a warm, proud hug. “Happy sobriety, baby.”
Rue melted into it, cheeks warm. “Thanks, Mom. You too, Mama Suze!”
Suze’s face lit up like someone had handed her a trophy. “Ohhh, I love when she calls me that,” she said, fanning herself dramatically. “Makes me feel like I’m in a sitcom where I’m the fun, chaotic aunt who drinks too much—except I don’t drink anymore, so now I’m just chaotic.”
Lexi groaned. “Mom…”
Suze pulled her into a hug anyway. “What? I’m embracing my brand.”
Gia wandered past them, looking around the house like she was trying to decide if it was haunted or just extremely weird. “This place smells like… old guitars and incense.”
“Correct,” Rue said.
Leslie laughed, brushing Rue’s hair back. “I can’t believe you all live here. It’s beautiful. And strange. And very… you.”
Rue shrugged, smiling. “Yeah. It’s kinda perfect.”
Nate came up behind her, resting a hand on her back. “They’re settling in.”
Suze pointed at him. “You better be taking care of her.”
Nate nodded. “Always.”
Suze raised an eyebrow, arms crossing as she took in the vaulted ceiling and the ridiculous amount of sunlight pouring through the windows. “You sure you kids can afford to live here?”
Before Rue or Lexi could panic‑babble an answer, Marsha swept into the room like she’d been waiting for that exact question.
“Oh, they’re fine,” she said, smiling as she brushed past Suze to straighten a crooked picture frame. “Electricity’s all solar, so they’re not worrying about power. Water’s cheap up here. And—well—I own the place, so they’re living rent‑free.”
Suze blinked. “Rent‑free?”
Leslie’s eyebrows shot up. “Marsha… this is extremely generous.”
Marsha shrugged like she’d just offered them a spare couch, not Frank Zappa’s former home. “They’re in school. They’re working. They’re building their lives. I’m not going to nickel‑and‑dime them while they’re trying to get on their feet.”
Rue’s mouth fell open. “Marsha… seriously?”
Marsha turned to her with that warm, matter‑of‑fact mom look. “Rue, sweetheart, you’ve worked hard this year. All of you have. Let me make the next part a little easier.”
Lexi looked like she might cry. “I… don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’ll keep the place clean,” Marsha said, pointing at Fez, who immediately pretended to be fascinated by a plant. “Especially you.”
Fez held up his hands. “I’m tidy. Mostly.”
Adam rolled in right on cue, wheels humming against the hardwood. “He may be a recovering ex–drug dealer,” he said, deadpan, “but he’s a neat freak.”
Fez pointed at him. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ clean.”
Nate didn’t even look up from the box he was opening. “Didn’t you say you saw that Laurie chick’s drug lab and walked out because of how dirty it was?”
Fez’s grin spread slow and wicked. “And that’s why I ratted her ass out when Bishop gave me that plea deal.”
The room went silent for half a beat.
Fez burst out laughing.
Rue, never one to leave well enough alone, pointed at him. “So that’s why Laurie had your house swatted and your brother in a wheelchair.”
The room froze for a split second—just long enough for everyone to register the bluntness—before Fez snorted.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like she’d just reminded him he left the stove on. “Actions got consequences. Hers just came with dust bunnies and bad vibes.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Bro, you cannot keep minimizing that like it was a parking ticket.”
Fez held up a finger. “I ain’t minimizin’ nothin’. I’m just sayin’—if you run a dirty lab, karma gon’ run up on you dirty.”
Rue winced. “Okay, fair, but still. That whole situation was… a lot.”
Nate nodded. “A lot is an understatement.”
Lexi, hovering near the doorway with a stack of books, added, “Honestly, Fez, the way you talk about it makes it sound like a sitcom episode.”
Fez shrugged again. “If it was a sitcom, I’d be the one with the catchphrase.”
Adam deadpanned, “Yeah. ‘Clean your damn house.’”
Rue nudged Fez with her foot. “You’re lucky we love you.”
Fez grinned. “I know.”
Todd stepped into the doorway, clapping his hands together like he was running a very cheerful moving crew. “Okay, is there anything else that needs to be brought into the house?”
Rue looked around at the half‑opened boxes, the pile of shoes by the wall, and Adam holding a bag of chips like it was a newborn. “Uh… emotionally? Yes. Physically? I think we’re good.”
Nate snapped the tape off the last box and flattened the cardboard with one clean motion. “Think that’s the last of it.”
He leaned the broken‑down box against the wall, dusting his hands off like he’d just completed a heroic quest.
Rue watched him for a second, smiling. “Look at you. Domestic.”
Nate shot her a look. “Don’t start.”
Rue smirks.
Rue looked at her schedule, highlighter in one hand, forehead pressed into the other. The dining table was huge—big enough for a band rehearsal or a séance—and absolutely covered in syllabi, notebooks, and a half‑eaten bowl of grapes.
Fez was at the stove, humming, wooden spoon tapping the side of the pot like a metronome. Whatever he was cooking smelled like garlic, basil, and comfort.
Nate paced near the sliding doors, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he broke down another empty box with one hand.
“Yeah, Luther, I’ll meet this kid tomorrow,” he said, sounding half‑professional, half‑exhausted. “Wyatt Aymes? That’s the kid who does the voices when he plays video games, right?”
Rue snorted without looking up. “He does more than voices. He screams. Like… professionally.”
Fez laughed. “Man, that’s a job now?”
Adam rolled in from the hallway, munching on a cookie. “It’s a lucrative job.”
Before he could take another bite, Lexi swooped in like a hawk, snatching the cookie right out of his hand.
“No cookies before supper,” she said primly.
Then—without breaking eye contact—she took a big bite of the cookie herself.
Adam stared at her, betrayed. “That’s… that’s tyranny.”
Rue snorted. “That’s parenting.”
Nate slid his phone into his pocket, still looking a little stunned. “So this is something. Luther just gave me a side quest. He wants me and his son to manage some gamer.”
Rue’s head snapped up from her schedule, highlighter frozen mid‑air. “What—wait, hold on. When did this happen? Since the summer of last year you were working as this guy’s assistant, and now he wants you to manage someone?”
Nate shrugged, but it was the kind of shrug that meant I’m freaking out but pretending I’m not. “Yeah. Apparently he’s been planning it for a while. Says I’ve ‘proven myself.’”
Rue blinked. “Proven yourself how? By answering his emails? By carrying his coffee? By not quitting when he made you alphabetize his vinyl collection?”
Nate pointed at her. “That vinyl collection was a nightmare.”
Fez stirred the pot, amused. “Man promoted you ‘cause you survived his dad energy.”
Nate let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “And if I go through with this, he may wanna… set me and Byron up for success.”
Rue blinked, the highlighter slipping from her fingers. “Wait—what?”
Because she knew what that meant.
Lexi looked up from her planner, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t Byron, like… the heir to one of the biggest agencies in the country?”
Adam nodded. “And the only one owned by a Black family that big. Dude’s basically entertainment royalty.”
Fez added, “And he cool as hell. Helped me fix my phone once.”
Nate rubbed the back of his neck, overwhelmed. “Yeah. Byron’s… Byron. We went to school together. When I quit sports senior year, he was the one who helped me figure out college applications. He didn’t have to. He just… did.”
Rue softened. “Because he liked you.”
Nate shrugged. “Because he saw what was going on with my dad. And when Luther found out… he offered me that after‑school job. Said I needed somewhere to be that wasn’t jail.”
“And now,” Nate continued, voice low, “he wants me and Byron to manage a client together. Like… partners. Like he’s grooming us for something bigger.”
Fez whistled. “Man, that’s not a side quest. That’s a whole DLC.”
Adam nodded. “That’s the ‘you’re about to level up’ cutscene.”
Lexi smiled. “Nate… this is everything you’ve been working toward.”
Rue reached across the table, taking his hand. “You deserve this. All of it.”
Nate looked at her, eyes soft, a little stunned, a little proud, a little terrified.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… didn’t think it’d happen this fast.”
Rue squeezed his fingers. “Good things don’t always wait.”
Nate grinned, that slow, warm one he only ever gave her when he wasn’t trying to be cool. “Yeah, you’re right, Rue.”
She felt it—how the air shifted around him, how the weight of the day settled into something steadier, something real.
He wasn’t just stunned anymore. He was letting himself believe it.