Chapter Text
“C’mon kid, time to get out of here,” the middle aged man said swinging his arm around the younger man’s waist. His other hand gently caressed his cheek. From a few feet away, Lip watched the interaction as he smoked a cigarette, eyes fixed with curiosity. As he had originally watched the two traipse across the parking lot after the bar had closed, he had assumed the older man to be the kid's father, but their interactions were not indicating a familial relationship. As the older man slipped his hand down the front of younger guy's pants, he dropped the butt and stubbed it out.
“I don’t think I really want to,” the kid said weakly, trying to pull away from the man. “My friends…” He couldn’t seem to get his thoughts together enough to finish the thought.
"The other guys in that so called band of yours? All you do is make a lot of noise at these things," the older man teased back unkindly. He adjusted his grip in the kid's trousers, making the boy grimace. "They left you hours ago. No one else is going to take you home. If you come with me, you'll have a warm bed tonight and food tomorrow morning."
"But I... I don't..." the boy said, losing his thoughts again and crinkling his forehead when the rights words wouldn't come to him in the right order.
Memories of brief conversations with Ian of what had occasionally happened to him when he got too messed up while working at Fairy Tales sprang to mind. “Hey there!” Lip shouted from across the parking lot, raising his hand as he jogged over, finally deciding he needed to intervene. “Thanks for finding my friend. We’ve been looking for him for like an hour.”
“Oh? Really?” the older man said, aggravated that his plans were getting interrupted and clearly not believing a word out of Lip's mouth. “Then what’s his name?”
“Um?”
“Yeah that’s what I thought. Why don’t you get out of here and mind your own business?”
“I don’t want to go,” the kid slurred, again trying to pull away from the older man.
“I think he’s made himself pretty clear,” Lip said firmly, reaching for the boy.
“Yeah, whatever, you can have fun with him then,” the older guy said shoving the boy away. Unable to keep his balance, the boy tripped over his own feet and fell into a pile of slush.
“Asshole,” Lip muttered as the guy got into his car and peeled out of the parking lot. Turning to the kid in the slush he squatted down. “Hey you got a phone? Or someone I can call?”
“Just wanna sleep,” the kid slurred not moving.
“Well you can’t sleep in the parking lot of a bar,” Lip said, grabbing the kid and hauling him to his feet. As he patted the kid down looking for his phone, he asked, “What’s your name kid?”
“Slim Shady.”
“Ha ha, really funny,” Lip said pulling the phone out of the kid’s jacket triumphantly. “Gimme your thumb.” He maneuvered the kids hand to unlock the phone and immediately went to the contact list – looking for parents or another ICE contact. Most of the contacts didn’t have real names and just said things like ‘do not call.’ Finally, he found one called Mom and one called Mama. With a shrug, Lip randomly picked one and called it.
“Hello?” a feminine voice said on the other end.
“Hey, I found this guy in the parking lot of a bar and you’re listed as Mom in his phone if you want to come get him?”
“Where are you?”
“This bar on Main Street.”
“Chicago?”
“Yes?”
“His mom and I are in San Diego, in California. He’s drunk isn’t he?” The disappointment was clear in her voice, but Lip couldn't detect a hint of surprise.
“Yeah, drunk,” Lip said, deciding it probably wasn’t a good idea to worry the mothers that lived half way across the country that their son had been roofied because an old guy had been trying to have some fun.
“Do you think you could get him somewhere safe for the night? It would mean so much.”
“Um, yeah, I guess. Can’t leave the guy in a snow bank,” Lip said awkwardly while readjusting his grip on the kid.
“Thank you so –” The woman was cut off due to the phone dying.
“Well then, time to get you home,” Lip said to the boy, shoving the dead cell back into his coat pocket. He readjusted his grip on the boy and began dragging him towards his
house.
The house was quiet when they finally got there, everyone else asleep. "Easy now," Lip said standing in the front of the couch and helping the boy to sit and lie down. He weakly attempted to kick his wet sneakers off before Lip sighed and undid the laces for him. "Need water or anything?"
"Nnnn."
"Great answer," Lip said sarcastically, shoving a throw pillow under the other guy's head, throwing a blanket over him and making sure he was on his side in case he vomited during the night. Deciding the kid was knocked out at this point, Lip kicked off his own shoes by the door and went up to his bedroom. He pulled his clothes off before crashing onto his bed, pulling a blanket over him and briefly considered again why he had to intervene and make this kid his problem.
The next morning, Lip found a box of chocolate cereal in the fridge, a mostly clean bowl, and the last dredges of milk in the fridge to throw together for breakfast. He was leaning against the kitchen counter eating, still half asleep when Fiona came in before doing a double take over her shoulder. The boy that Lip had deposited on the couch last night was still in the exact same position.
“Who is that guy sleeping on our couch?”
“Didn’t catch his name,” Lip mumbled through a mouthful of cereal.
“You brought a stranger home without even asking his name?” Fiona asked, aghast, but still digging around the cupboard for her own breakfast.
“He said it was Slim Shady. I’m pretty sure his drink had been spiked at the bar and this creepy old guy was trying to get him into his car. So,” Lip finished, gesturing with his spoon towards the living room. "Kid didn't seem to be into the old dude."
“Maybe it was his dad or something. Kid doesn’t even look old enough to be in a bar,” Fiona said, finally giving up on breakfast and deciding to make coffee instead.
“Dude had his hand down the kid’s pants. He could barely stand up. What if it’d been Ian?” Lip asked.
“What about me?” the red head asked he also came into the kitchen. “There’s a boy on our couch. Are you being a cougar now Fiona?”
“No, Lip brought him home.”
“Dude, when’d you start playing for my team?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Lip said, clanking his bowl into the sink. “Some creepy, old man was trying to take him home and the guy was definitely not in his right mind. Drunk and probably drugged too.”
“Well he’s probably going to have a massive hangover. If he pukes, it’s your responsibility Lip,” Fiona said, treating the kid like a stray dog that had been brought home as she made a cup of coffee.
“Why not just call someone from his phone to come get him?” Ian asked, taking the pot from Fiona and pouring his own cup of coffee.
“I did. Had a ‘Mom’ and a ‘Mama’ in his phone. Lesbians. His family is in San Diego and hasn’t heard much from him for a couple months now. Rest of the names said things like ‘asshole’ or ‘never call’ and one that said, ‘if you’re thinking of calling this number, kill yourself instead’.”
“And his moms didn’t give you his name?”
“Phone died before they got a chance to.”
A groan started emanating from the living room couch. Lip grabbed a cup and filled it was tap water before making his way out the living room. “Morning.”
The guy on the couch scrubbed a hand over his eyes before squinting at Lip. “Ugh, yeah, I’m awake.”
“Thought you might want some water,” Lip said setting the glass down on the coffee table before sitting down in the arm chair. “You were pretty messed up last night.”
The guy sat up and grabbed the glass and started chugging the water, attempting to slake the desert that had taken up residence at the back of his throat overnight. “Slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”
When Lip’s advice wasn’t headed, the guy finished the tall glass of water before slamming the glass down. He briefly looked sick before leaning forward, head between his legs and throwing up water and stomach acid on the carpet. “Oh my god,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I’m so sorry. Let me clean that up.” He attempted standing up but a wave of dizziness had him hitting the couch before he managed to take one step.
“It’s fine. Not the first time this carpet has seen hangover vomit,” Fiona said coming into the living room and handing a roll of paper towel to Lip. With a roll of his eyes, Lip started unwinding some to soak up the watery vomit. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, Brandon. I’m sorry about crashing here. Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll get out of here,” he said, worry clear in his voice.
With a laugh, Ian said, “Yeah okay. You couldn’t even stand up without falling over.”
Lip gathered the soiled paper towel and the glass before going to the kitchen to dispose of the paper and refill the glass. He headed back into the living room and handed Brandon the glass and said, “Slower this time. Baby sips. I’m only cleaning up your vomit once.”
“Sorry,” Brandon said, clutching the glass with both hands, head hanging so his bangs fell in his face. “Uh, if you don’t mind be asking, how’d I get here?”
Lip, Fiona and Ian exchanged uncomfortable glances before Lip broke the news. “You were really fucked up last night. I think someone slipped something into your drink. This skeevy old guy was trying to take you home. I called your ICE contact in your phone and promised your moms I’d make sure you stayed somewhere safe for the night. Your phone’s dead now, but I’d be expecting a phone call from them – they sounded really worried.”
Brandon nodded his head lightly and took a small sip of water. He was missing the soreness in his lower half that usually followed a black out night. He briefly remembered an older man purchasing him a drink after his band had played their set. He'd been fairly drunk and had had a little Adderall in his system while they were playing. He remembered thinking the one mixed drink the guy had bought him should not have gotten him that messed up. He was so stupid for not going to the bar with the guy to watch the drink get made and directly take it from the bartender like he normally did, instead helping the band to put equipment away. He should have realized the drink was spiked when he started drinking it. "Thanks for, you know," Brandon said awkwardly, briefly glancing up at Lip before taking another sip.
"No problem man," Lip said.
An awkward silence fell with no one being sure what to say. Finally, Fiona stood, saying, "Well, I have to get to work, but Lip has the day off. Feel free to sleep some more, or take a shower. You got some vomit on your socks by the way." She made her way up the stairs without a glance back to get ready for work.
"Uh, yeah, here let me show you to my room," Lip said standing up. Brandon carefully slipped his socks off, turning them inside out to keep the vomit away.
"What should I do with these?" Brandon asked glancing at where Lip stood at the bottom of the stairs.
"If you go throw them in the washer in the kitchen, I'll wash them while you sleep."
Brandon quickly shuffled into the kitchen, pulling his coat more tightly around him and firmly tugging his sleeves down as he located the washer. There were damp clothes in it already so he moved them to the empty dryer, started it, and deposited his dirty socks in the washer. He quickly shuffled out and up the stairs that he presumed Lip had disappeared up. He found Lip in his room shaking his blankets out and kicking dirty laundry and stray objects under the bed.
"I'm not much of one for a neat and tidy bedroom," Lip said running a hand through his curls. He couldn't remember ever cleaning his room to impress a girl and here he was feeling a bit sheepish about his messy room for this strange boy he was just trying to be nice too.
"It's fine. After a life time of being forced to maintain a clean house, the mess is a nice change. Makes a place seem more lived in and real," Brandon said thinking about the times his moms had frantically cleaned house before home visits from social workers.
"Well I'll get out of your hair. I'll leave a change of clothes and towel in the bathroom down the hall for when you wake up." With that Lip quickly made his escape back downstairs.
He heard the dryer running and assumed Brandon must have been so kind as to have done that. He put some soap in the washer and started it before heading to the fridge for a beer. He plopped on the couch as he popped the twist cap off and flicked the TV on with the remote from the table and took a large swig trying to forget about Brandon, figuring he would sleep at least until the dryer was done.
Brandon slid the door closed after he was sure Brandon was downstairs before taking his phone out of his pocket and trying to turn it on. Right. Dead. He slid it back into his pocket before taking his jacket off and lying it on the end of the bed. He wiggled out of his jeans and laid them out before crawling into bed and closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt like he could sleep for hours more and felt a bit bad for infringing on this family he didn't know. He didn't have long to dwell on it as sleep claimed him.