The Bootstrap Paradox: Epilogue

[mokuyoubi]

Pete, Gerard and Ryan have been up since some ungodly hour, down on the beach making art. Usually Ryan’s a lot quieter about it, but throw Pete into any mix and you’re guaranteed an increase of at least twenty decibels.

Now that Pete has fulfilled his destiny as a timeshare salesman (every time Spencer points out that Pete was never technically a timeshare salesman in the first place, Pete very pointedly ignores him), he’s got these grand ideas about art studios and coffee shops and Patrick singing.

Jon grumbles when Spencer climbs out of bed, reaching and catching the waistband of Spencer’s boxers and tugging. Spencer staggers and laughs, landing with his elbow in Jon’s gut.

“It’s really great, Jon, that you could sleep through the nuclear holocaust, but some of us didn’t spend most of their lives on a ship full of noisy assholes,” Spencer says, but still lets Jon roll them over, trapping Spencer in sheets and winding limbs.

Spencer lies there for a minute, feeling Jon settle back into sleep. Over the distant crash of waves on the shore, Spencer can hear the strains of that shit that Gerard pretends is real music.

When he’s certain Jon’s out again, Spencer wriggles free, slipping from between fresh, clean sheets into the warm early morning breeze blowing through from the veranda. He steps out into the sunlight on his way to the bathroom.

Patrick and Ryan are under the gazebo, stretched out on their stomachs, notebooks scattered around them. Gerard is down by the shore with Frank, and it looks like they’re collecting seashells. Spencer smiles and hurries to brush his teeth and throw on some clothes to join them.

It’s been at least two weeks since he’s had any reason to wear anything other than swimming trunks and the occasional t-shirt when they go into town for dinner or groceries, or a visit to the club. Spencer’s spent the past several months happily building a wardrobe of nothing but different styles and prints of swimwear. When he and Ryan had gone to New York to pack things up, Spencer had left all his suits behind.

Michael is in the living room with Butcher, Sisky and Nate, playing video games. They have their own set up, but they like Brendon’s games better, and usually everyone gravitates towards one place during the day, when there’s nothing else to do.

These days Michael is almost completely at ease in the twenty-first century, but it’s been fun watching him acclimatise. Bill hadn’t stopped talking about Michael’s first car ride for weeks, and Spencer had to admit it was pretty hilarious, Michael clinging to the ohshit handle, eyes squeezed shut tightly, and the way he’d stumbled onto the curb after and got sick in the gutter. Of course, that might have had more to do with Gabe’s driving than anything else…

Other things, Patrick has assured Spencer, were pretty much the universal reactions for all their friends. Spencer was disappointed he hadn’t been around when Jon first got back, but watching Michael was almost as good—the way he spent hours staring at the microwave with equal fascination as he showed in the television, standing in front of the open refrigerator just to feel the cool of the air, flicking light switches on and off until Gabe declared a light switch rave and Patrick complained he was going to have a seizure.

Most nights there are still movie marathons which keep Michael on the edge of his seat, and he still listens to music pretty much every second of the day, one bud permanently in his ear, saying he has to play catch up with everyone who already knows all these bands and songs. Mikey had made him a pretty comprehensive playlist when Bill gave Michael an iPod.

It’s almost easy to imagine Jon’s own transition. He’s obsessed with film and photography, which isn’t surprising to Spencer in the least. Still, as much as Jon loves taking pictures, he still paints often, says photographs never get it quite right. Spencer always has to roll his eyes, because it’s stupid and romantic and it makes his breath catch and heart beat faster how much hearing Jon say cheesy stuff like that makes Spencer fall harder in love.

Jon’s also remarkably useless when it comes to using a computer. Sometimes Spencer can’t help but watch, laughing until his stomach hurts as Jon pecks at the keyboard, eyes trained on his fingers, only to look up and realise he hasn’t got his cursor in the text field. It’s probably for the best that Pete and Patrick handle most of the business aspect of their enterprises.

Brendon’s in the kitchen, similarly dressed to Spencer, hair sticking up like he’s already been in the ocean. He’s humming along to Gerard’s noise, hips moving with the beat, working on sandwiches. “Welcome back to the world of the living,” Brendon teases. “You know, you can only keep up the Gerard-is-a-vampire jokes when you’re still getting up earlier than him.”

Out of everyone, Brendon and Pete are the ones who look the most comfortable with their transitions. Brendon is really incredibly laid back about the whole thing, taking everything in stride. He’s easily pleased by new things, but rarely startled or confused by them. It’s really fascinating, the way he can be handed something new and have it figured out in a manner of minutes, better than Spencer or Ryan or anyone familiar with modern technology.

Brendon’s the best at video games, rivals Patrick at music stuff, got his driver’s and boat licenses first and with perfect scores. And, after hanging around Spencer and watching for a few days, Brendon is now able to do most things with a computer that Spencer learned through four years of college.

It makes Ryan stupidly proud. It makes Spencer feel less guilty about the fact that these people have been drawn from their lives, because really, they’re happy here, and they’re thriving.

Spencer squints at the clock over the oven. Just past one in the afternoon. He doesn’t usually sleep in quite so late, but he and Jon just got back from a recovery and while they were at sea their schedule got a little fucked.

“Blow me,” Spencer mutters and Brendon pouts at him.

“Be nice, or I’m not making any lunch for you,” Brendon says haughtily, but laughs when Spencer sneaks a wedge of cheese from the plate Brendon’s preparing.

Spencer helps Brendon bringing the trays of food down to the beach. There’s already a cooler of beer and soda sweating in the shade of the boathouse. When Gerard spots them he gives Spencer a sheepish look and shuffles to change the music, settling on something a little less abrasive.

Pete has set up umbrellas just at the right spot for the foam of the tide to spray their feet as it comes in, far enough away to keep the food safe. Ryan comes wandering down from the gazebo, notebook in hand, looking adorably ridiculous in boxers and a lightweight robe.

“You guys were late last night,” Ryan comments, dropping down at Spencer’s side. Spencer nods agreeably. The sunlight is really bright and he still doesn’t feel entirely awake, everything glowing around the edges like a dream. “Find anything cool.”

“So cool, Ross,” Spencer says. Patrick perks up, his attention on Spencer. “Looks like it’s mostly intact, which means the paintings and valuables should still be on board. Jon says we should probably head back out before Tuesday. The weather doesn’t look very promising, after that.”

Patrick hums his approval. “I’ll make sure all the paperwork’s squared away. Stacey’ll have a fit about preserving the anthropological integrity of the project if we don’t talk to the Dutch Embassy and local government first.”

A little thrill of excitement and anticipation goes down Spencer’s spine. He’s only recently finished up all his certifications for diving. Before now he’s always just been along for the ride, rather than an active participant. He never imagined he’d see the day he was an honest to god treasure hunter, but it’s sort of incredibly fun and exhilarating, not to mention lucrative.

“So we’re going to be hanging out in Curaçao for a while,” Ryan says, and maybe someone else wouldn’t be able to tell how excited he is, but Spencer’s known him long enough to pick up on it.

Ryan’s flourished in the Caribbean, happier and more confident, and best of all, really motivated. He’s happy with what he’s creating, both lyrically and musically and he’s fascinated with the oral histories and literature of the various islands. He and Brendon spend a lot of time jumping from island to island, and always travel with Jon, Patrick and Spencer when they head out. He’s doing research, planning on putting together a book of adaptations on the mythologies and what Spencer’s read so far is awesome.

“It’s really gorgeous,” Spencer said. “Jon’s found this house we can rent, right on the harbour in Willemstad. It looks fake from the outside, you know, Dutch architecture, and it’s bright blue and pink; you’ll love it.” He gives Ryan a teasing smirk and Ryan elbows him just because.

Spencer loves travelling to all the different islands in the area and beyond, but he’s glad they have this one to call home. The little chunk of beach owned by Patrick et al stretches a good few miles, dotted with most of their homes.

Some, like Gabe, Travis and Will, and Mikey and Alicia prefer their condos and apartments in the city, but they’re only twenty minutes from the club and Spencer likes the slower speed here, living at his own pace, sleeping in with Jon, making love anytime they want, walking around in swim trunks and bare feet, jamming with whoever’s around whenever he feels like it.

Several yards down and further out to sea, Nate, Joe and Greta are messing around on their boards while Bob and Darren tread water at their sides. A short way down the beach Victoria comes tripping out her back door, Gizmo trotting ahead. Hobo perks up and bounds across the sand to meet halfway, while Hemmy and Boba are content to watch from their place in the shade.

Ryan and Spencer couldn’t have dogs in New York. Their lease allowed it, but they’d both agreed it was cruel to keep pets just to have them locked inside for long hours everyday while their owners were at work. Now they’ve got their dogs, and Brendon’s, and all of Jon’s crazy cats and it’s just one more thing Spencer had sacrificed in the past that he’s allowed to have now.

Victoria, Gee and Frank are always happy to take care of the pets when they’re travelling; Victoria keeps her boutique in town and while Frank helps Mikey managing a lot of local bands, Mikey does most of the travel.

Sometimes it’s difficult for Spencer to look back on the past, short six months and recognise his life. And he means that in the most awesome way possible.

“You’re a cheater, Spencer Smith,” Jon bellows from the back deck.

Ryan bends his neck back to glance at Jon upside down and says, “We’re just good friends,” with a suggestive drawl and Spencer chuckles.

Jon trudges across the sand, flip flops leaving trails of sand as he goes and drops dramatically on the blanket in front of Spencer, getting sand on Spencer’s plate. “Sneaking out of bed when I’m asleep,” Jon says, and pouts.

Spencer dips a carrot in ranch and shoves it in Jon’s mouth. Jon hums happily and shuts up, laying his head in Spencer’s lap. Spencer lets his fingers tangle in the curls, still all messed from bed, takes the roach Pete’s passing around with his free hand, pressing it to Jon’s mouth when he swallows.

Something mellow is playing now. It’s vaguely familiar, one of the bands Brendon in particular likes, with lots of strings. The sound of it, combined with the waves and the lazy feel of the day makes Spencer’s eyes drift shut. Without seeing, he almost feels like he could be existing two-hundred years ago.

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