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The doorbell rings. And then it rings again. Fox doesn't take his eyes off the switch, hoping Ponds will pick some other sibling to go answer it. He should have stayed upstairs. Cody and Wolffe are both down here somewhere, so he could blast his Taylor Swift break up songs in their shared room as loud as he wanted without complaint. Maybe even steal a ben and jerry's pint from the basement freezer to cry into, and face the consequences for the unhealthy breakfast later.
Fox will be the first to admit the whole scenario is melodramatic as fuck, but-- well. Quinlan's always made me do strange things, he thinks bitterly, this isn't any crazier.
He takes that ire, shoves it into it's designated "box" in his brain, and actively tries not to think like that anymore. He's not going to be angry about this. He's not.
He's been trying not to be angry, trying not to feel a lot of emotions actually, all week. It's getting old quick.
"Who is- Oh, uh- Fox, go answer the door please, thanks," Ponds says, already marching back to the kitchen after glancing out the living room window.
Fox rolls his eyes, tosses the switch onto a pillow and gets up. As he leaves makes sure to give Rex the death glare so his little brother doesn't snatch it up the second he leaves the room.
No neighbor or salesman would be crazy enough to come bother them in this storm, so it's probably something that got delivered. But the "answer the door" from Ponds intrigues him. He can't help himself from letting his imagination run wild a bit. Maybe it'll be Obi-Wan standing outside, ready to finally profess his undying love for Cody on the spot like a hallmark or soap opera. That'd be hilarious to watch. Both of them are secretly dramatic enough he can't entirely rule the possibility out.
But ready to be met with disappointment and forlorn amazon packages, he opens the door.
He is not met with either, but rather Quinlan fucking Vos.
"Hi," Quinlan says, with the too-big grin that means he's nervous.
Fox stares, the shock and the frantic beating of his heart making it hard to string words together, "Hello? I thought we weren't talking,"
Because I'm guessing you probably hate me now, he doesn't say, because that would be redundant. And hurt a little too much to say out loud.
Quinlan winces, "Yeah I- I'm sorry about that. So I uh. Decided to head over to talk in person?"
"In- in the pouring rain?"
“Yeah. I've broken a total of three umbrellas today already,” This is very believable, as Fox's friend? crush? is completely drenched, and is indeed holding the mutilated, sad and pathetic-looking corpse of a hello-kitty umbrella Fox recognizes as Aayla's.
"...I don't think your sister is going to be particularly thrilled about that,"
"Oh yeah she won't be, cause she's had it for what, a decade? Yeah, if she's sixteen now, then-"
"Fox Fett! Close the dam- the dang door before you flood the place!" Ponds shouts from the kitchen. Snickering follows, probably from Cody or Wolffe, no doubt about Ponds's close brush with cussing.
The two of them stare at each other, Quinlan looks like he's ready to bolt should Fox give the word, but-
"You better get inside before you get pneumonia or something, or Ponds says I can't have seconds at breakfast," He says, standing to the side as an invitation. Quinlan takes it luckily.
"Foxy, I think the last people who got pneumonic plague were in like...The middle ages. Black death or something," He says, scooting past Fox to stand next to him. Fox rolls his eyes and shuts the screendoor behind them before locking the real thing.
"You're an idiot,"
"Yeah, I uh," Quinlan's voice gets quieter, and oddly serious, and Fox's heart skips a beat, "I know,"
There's a beat of silence as they stand in the entrance hallway. Quinlan is dripping muddy water onto the welcome mat Ponds hates, the petrichor scent from outside mixing with the buttery and chocolaty smell of pancakes cooking drifting in, and the overhead light only does so much to combat the dimness of the half-daylight from the storm. Part of Fox really wishes this was happening in a less mundane spot so he could have his fantasy where this ends well. A spot that wasn't littered with junkmail and his sibling's shoes, for example. But the other part of him is still struggling to believe this is happening at all and content enough to take what he can get.
"I meant to text--"
"I did too, so I get that- uh, phrasing things is difficult. It's fine," Fox thinks of the notes app document of words that never sounded quite right. He hadn't known if it would be right to text Quin more anyways. Part of it was cowardice, but part of it was Fox knew how to read a room (unlike some Fetts), and could recognize running away after an impulsive make-out session and subsequent radio silence as the rejection that it was.
But maybe he still has Quinlan. Not in the way a selfish bit of him will always want, but as a friend, and that's all that matters.
"Yeah, I- well, no. I still shouldn't have left you in the dark like that man," Quinlan rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "I felt awful about the whole fucking thing, and like, you know my approach to homework, if I want it to be good I never get it done because-- well. I'd fucked up and I didn't want to let you down again, but nothing sounded right, so I sort of just...Sulked around until Dad kicked me out to make me talk to you in person."
"I've done worse in middle school," Fox says, because he really has, "It's fine."
"Is it?" Quinlan shrugs, "I-- uh. So I don't. Know how you feel about all this. But I," He hesitates, "I didn't run away because I don't like you that way. I Want to make that clear."
What. What.
Quinlan must see the bafflement on his face because he chuckles awkwardly, "Yeah, that adds another level of stupidity, I know. I just...I got too in my head about it and I thought hey maybe you deserved better, or wouldn't actually want to date me, or you regretted it already, or-- I don't know. A bunch of things like that, but it doesn't excuse what I did. Point is, I get if you don't, but if you still want to be frie-"
"We made out," Fox says, completely lost on how he came to this conclusion, "I've been giving you my extra peanut butter m&ms for years. Quin."
Quinlan blinks. Then slowly takes off his backpack and unzips the top to reveal two umbrella handles (so he wasn't kidding), which confuses Fox until he pulls out a small glass carton of fucking peanut butter m&ms.
Fox is going to go into cardiac arrest.
Wolffe will make fun of him for this in general. Cody will make fun of him for finding this romantic. Thorn will do both. They can never find out.
"In that case, speaking of M&Ms, found these at Costco, and they're not flowers or something, but-"
"Kiss me right now," Fox blurts out, and immediately regrets it. Regrets saying anything ever. Regrets existing in general, "Fuck. Uh."
Quinlan raises an eyebrow, a bit of his normal smirk creeping in.
"If...You'd like," Fox grits out, and fuck his face is on fire.
Quinlan takes a step closer and reaches forward to cup his hand around Fox's face.
"You're sure about this?"
"Very,"
Oh, and somehow despite being significantly more chaste, it's even better than the first. Fox has to work hard to not smile, he feels giddy, and Quinlan tastes like Dr Pepper, and-
They're interrupted by cheering, and Fox is overcome with bloodlust and pulls away.
"You fucks," He glares at his triplets peeking around the corner, the domino twins giggling next to them. At least Rex has the decency to be halfheartedly attempting to hide his amusement.
Quinlan groans, "Alright spit it out, how much of that did you hear?"
"All of it," Cody's grin would make the Cheshire cat proud.
"That's it. You all have to die,"
"Good luck trying, "Foxy". Anyways, about damn time," Wolffe says, slow clapping, and Fox flips him off.
"When'd this kiss happen?" Cody asks, because he's horrible.
"At your soccer match," Fox says without hesitation, relishing the disgusted look on his sibling's face.
"Really," Wolffe says, leaning forward in interest.
"So you two weren't actually watching me play?"
"Not at all,"
"What happened to bros before hoes man,"