[Bob the hobo] A Celestial Wars Spin-Off Part 1380

PART THIRTEEN-HUNDRED-AND EIGHTY

[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2] [Ko-fi+2]

Saturday

It was a five-minute walk from the subway to Aunt Judy and Uncle Charles’ classic three storey brownstone home in the Upper East Side. Two buildings from their destination, Larry patted him on the shoulder and said, “I’ll see you back at the apartment,” and realm-stepped away before Boyd could reply.

Boyd’s knee-jerk response was to search the area to see if anyone had seen Larry’s blatant disappearing act. Then he remembered his best friend outside the apartment had reclaimed the Nascerdios surname, bringing the veil into play automatically.

“Asshole,” he muttered, reaching the foot of his aunt and uncle’s stoop a few seconds later. He looked up, taking in the richly tanned stone that framed the black wrought iron fencing leading up to the dark chocolate timber door. It was about as classic a design as New York had to offer. Nothing about it had changed in Boyd’s lifetime, or in the last hundred years for that matter.

He gave himself the once over and breathed through his nerves.

For nearly two years, he’d lived in the basement here, trudging up and down these steps countless times. The last time he’d left, it had been in a cab with his few meagre belongings, and he hadn’t been back until today.

The guilt and trepidation that crawled across his skin was no different from when he arrived after ‘leaving’ Quantico. He should have come back before now. If only to say thank you for letting him move in with them.

Maybe he should’ve asked Larry to come—No. You’re done hiding behind people, he told himself sternly.

He clenched his fists and breathed deeply once more, then forced himself to climb the stairs. His finger almost trembled as he reached out for the doorbell, and he flinched at the chimes that signified his arrival. No running now, Masters.

It was a few seconds, where he heard someone coming up to the door. He knew from the footfalls it was Aunt Judy, but the squeal she let out as she threw the door open and launched herself at him was both startling and strangely settling. Her arms snapped around his neck, dragging him down into a hug that Boyd reciprocated.

God, he was such an idiot for trying to leave this behind.

He hugged her until she was ready to be let go, then she latched onto his hand and all but dragged him inside. “Boyd’s here!” she called out to the house.

The smell of freshly baked goods in the air reminded Boyd of home and he knew his Uncle Charles would be out the back in his second favourite place in the house: the oversized kitchen that had been a combination birthday/anniversary gift to him from Aunt Judy nearly twenty years ago.

“I think the entire block knows that!” Uncle Charles called out. “Come on through, kiddo! I’ve got my hands full!”

Aunt Judy didn’t let his hand go. Instead, she pulled him behind her as she headed for the kitchen as if he didn’t know the layout of this house. But on the upside, not having to watch where he was going gave him the opportunity to look at all the framed photographs on the wall.

Every one of them was familiar. The large family portrait when Emily was a baby. Uncle Charles and Aunt Judy outside the opening of their first bakery in the East Village. Emily’s first day of school and her graduations of high school and college.

Even he was there: a dumb-ass eighteen-year-old standing in the middle of the living room (since he had refused to stand on the more photogenic top step outside no matter how hard Aunt Judy pleaded) with his arms folded over his brand-new construction wardrobe. He’d barely managed to look down and ahead at Aunt Judy’s camera when he remembered how badly he’d wanted to roll his eyes to the sky at her ridiculousness.

Boyd felt one side of his lips pinch inward, remembering even now, the amount of self-loathing he’d felt at the time for wearing a civilian uniform. He had been—and still was—such a mess. But at least he could see improvement.

At the very end of the hallway was a new one, four inches square in a white timber frame. An ultrasound. The entire picture looked like a cross-section of bone, but right in the middle was an oval of black with a solid, somewhat circular shape laying on the bottom.

Boyd pulled her to a stop. “Is that Peanut?” he asked, gingerly touching the picture. He knew it was, but to see living proof of it was another matter entirely. His cousin … the girl he still remembered taking to her high school prom … was having a baby.

Aunt Judy’s face lit up even more. “Our first grandbaby,” she said proudly.

“I’m carving Peanut a crib and mobile, so don’t worry about either of those.”

“Oh, she’ll love that.”

Boyd nodded, for Emily had already said as much and he still wasn’t great with praise.

“Well, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?! Get in here, boy! Let me see you!”

Boyd headed into the kitchen, where Uncle Charles stood at the deep fryer, fishing out beignets and dropping them onto layers of paper towel. A banana cake and a red velvet cake were both iced and cooling on the racks on the centre counter. On another rack closer to the fridge was uncooked Pain au Chocolat—Caleb’s favourite.

“Are you feeding an army, Uncle Charles?” Boyd asked, as he rounded the counter and stepped up behind his uncle. He didn’t touch him though, waiting until he was finished what he was doing.

Charles didn’t deviate his movements at all. “I know your appetite, my boy, and I’m betting Lucas is a big eater as well. Can’t have my boys leaving here hungry, can I?” He placed the last of the beignets onto the paper towel as he spoke and covered them in sifted powdered sugar before transferring them to the rack where others were already sitting.

A timer went off and he grabbed the dishcloth, once more using it like an oven mitt to remove a tray of mini chocolate lava cakes from the centre rack and closed the door. “Nearly done,” he promised, dropping that tray onto another rack and grabbing the tray of Pain au Chocolat. He slid them onto the top shelf of the oven and closed the door, setting the timer for fifteen minutes.

“There,” he said, wiping his hands on the dishcloth before dumping it on the counter. “Now, come here, boy.” In much the same manner as Aunt Judy, Boyd felt himself being grabbed in a strong hug that lasted about a tenth of the time of Aunt Judy’s. “Damn, you look good,” he said, swatting Boyd on the arm for good measure.

“You, too, Uncle Charles,” Boyd said instinctively.

Uncle Charles blew a soundless raspberry. “Pul-lease. I’m getting greyer every goddamn day.” He then looked around Boyd’s bulk to the empty doorway behind him. “I think you forgot someone.”

Boyd knew he’d never hear the end of it if he had. “He’s coming,” he promised. “Caleb took one look at his car and fell in love, and since it was probably the only chance he’d get to go for a ride, I said I’d catch the subway.”

A suspicious frown flittered across Uncle Charles’ face. “Where’d you come in from?”

“The Seaport.”

A squint was then added to the suspicious frown. “And you beat him here?”

Boyd blinked. Yeah. That shouldn’t have happened. Without saying a word aloud, Boyd reached for his phone and dialled Lucas.

“Hey, love,” Lucas answered on the first ring. “You there already?”

Boyd looked at Uncle Charles and nodded with a smile, erasing the worry lines that had been forming on the older man’s face. “Yeah, I’m here. Where are you?”

“Still on the way. We’ll probably be another ten to fifteen minutes.”

Nearly an hour? Short of being stuck in a traffic jam, that didn’t make any sense. “Did you forget which direction the Upper East Side was in?”

“Funny man,” Lucas replied, unamused. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Caleb talked him into going for a joyride, didn’t he?” Uncle Charles asked.

Boyd wasn’t thrilled by his accusatory tone. “Lucas does like to drive his car, but punctuality is really important to him. He would’ve promised to take Caleb on a second drive this afternoon before being late this morning rather than keep us all waiting now.”

“How far away are they?”

“Ten to fifteen, by Lucas’ estimate.”

Uncle Charles went back to the counter, where he cut an inch-thick slab off one end of the iced banana bread and placed it on a sandwich plate. “Here,” he said, handing it to Boyd. “I saw you eyeing it before.”

Boyd accepted the plate with both hands; the heat from the fresh slice already warming the plate and seeping into his palms.

He couldn’t count the number of times he’d come home late—mud on his boots, temper riding too close to the surface—and found a slice waiting for him on this very counter. No lectures. No questions. Just food and space to cool off.

And in that instant, he realised why he’d been so drawn to Robbie. When it came to food therapy after a rough day, they were two peas in a pod.

Boyd broke off a corner before he could overthink it and popped it into his mouth, closing his eyes for half a second as the familiar sweetness settled somewhere deep and steady inside him.

Some things, at least, hadn’t changed.

* * *

((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))

I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here

For more of my work, including WPs: r/Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.

FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!