#friends and i were talking about pancake emmet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thezeekrecord · 1 year

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the best

[index/summary]

Gordon’s first full day staying over at Benry’s house seemed relatively fine to Benry. Gordon was a little quieter, more distant, but he was sure that could be attributed to staying up so late the night before; it wasn’t much of a surprise, then, that he went to bed pretty early. Without the company of his friends, Benry decided there wasn’t much point in staying up much later than him, and hit the sack early as well.

Benry was in and out of sleep that night, finding it difficult to stay down for longer than an hour or two at a time. When he’d stir, Beef would lift her head to rest on his hip or his leg, giving him a look that suggested she’d rather he stay still and not wake her again. He’d groan, scratching her nose absent-mindedly before closing his eyes to try again. Each time he woke, he felt like he was coming out of a strange dream; all he could remember about it, though, was that he was overcome by an indescribable sensation that seemed oddly familiar.

When he woke up again for the umpteenth time, he had the thought that he’d been in bed for a suspiciously long time. Sure enough, when he turned his alarm clock towards him, he saw no glowing red numbers. He rolled himself out of bed, jiggling the mouse on his computer to read the time: 5:32—much later than he usually tried to be up.

Beef leaped out of bed after him when he jogged up the stairs, rushing ahead of him to get a late start on her morning routine. When he reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found everyone else congregated without him—Emmet was stood at the back door, opening it for Beef to run out and do her business. Mama Moula and Gordon were talking while they ate; looked like breakfast this morning was pancakes and sausages. Benry wasn’t shocked to see Emmet abstaining—he was sick to death of pancakes. Benry hadn’t even thought they still had pancake mix in the house, because of that.

“...Yeah, like, he’s always going on and on about how those little juice boxes should be off the table completely. He’s fixated on them.” Gordon went on to Mama Moula. They were all preoccupied, clearly not noticing Benry, just yet. “I can at least sort of understand arguments against junk food and candy and all that. Like, I don’t completely agree, but I get where he’s coming from, at least. But how am I supposed to control whether or not the daycare gives him juice boxes? Am I supposed to make him feel like he’s not allowed to have fun stuff all the other kids get?”

“First-time parents can be pretty paranoid like that, sometimes.” Mama Moula sympathized. “You should’ve seen me with Emmet the first few years.”

“Huh?” Emmet asked, half-distracted as he filled Beef’s bowl up with her breakfast.

Benry just watched them talk for a few moments. The intricate array of threads stemming from Mama Moula and Emmet thrummed with life the way they always did. Emmet’s threads were resolute, standing strong and proud against the other threads intermingled around his. Whenever Benry felt overwhelmed, they were a good anchor—some people’s threads were easily impacted by others around them, but not Emmet’s. If they existed in the same physical space that their actual bodies did, Benry felt like he could easily use them as footholds to climb up into the sky. Mama Moula’s were much stretchier in comparison, though still just as strong. They could be bent, pulled on, or even tangled, but still snap right back to their original shapes like nothing had happened. The only thing was that, gradually, they were becoming much less vibrant and bright than they used to be. He could see the difference easily, comparing between hers and Emmet’s. He saw this in any manner of living thing—he just didn’t like to remember the context in which he’d seen it before.

There was one other thing about Mama Moula. She had something nobody else had. Benry usually forgot about it, but would find himself vaguely curious about it now and again: deep, deep inside the core of her being, there was a little black blob. It had always been there, as long as Benry could remember, and never shifted or changed or did much of anything. As if it were made from a thick, goopy substance, there was a long, thin line running down through her body from it, like it was always dripping. That line connected to everything else in the space between threads; really, she was the only one Benry had ever known that had something inside her that connected to the same space Benry really occupied. She never did anything out of the ordinary for a human, though, so Benry didn’t think much of it.

Gordon, though—strange, complicated, unsolvable Gordon—his threads outright hid from Benry, and they always had, ever since the very moment Benry laid eyes on him. There were some that had to come sneaking out of the void in his being sooner or later, to connect to other threads and anchor him to the world around them. Those threads were like frightened cats that hid under the bed most of the time, slipping their paws out into the wide open space for only moments to pull offerings of food or toys into safety. They were shockingly malleable, for what they were; it was just that there wasn’t much Benry could do with those particular threads. It had been a wonder that he’d managed to figure out how to give him the sweet voice at all, with so little to work with.

It was strange, watching those threads slip out to connect to something else. It reminded him of when he was younger and would tug at loose threads—physical threads—in one of the throw blankets usually left on the living room couch. When he pulled on them, they’d go taught until they broke, then the new end of the thread would gently drift downward. The way the gentle curve at the end would straighten out was always mesmerizing to him. The physical threads from this blanket were such light and delicate things; it was as if even the force of gravity itself was afraid to pull on them too hard.

Gordon’s threads were delicate like that, too, but seemed to flow in reverse to the physical threads urged down by gravity—so perfectly opposite, that reversing a video of a snapped physical thread would produce pretty much the same effect. Gordon’s threads would shoot out of him before gently drifting to the desired connection. Truly, it seemed to Benry like they had minds of their own. They knew better than Gordon did, they sought connections without his apparent effort, and they moved and shifted in surreal ways that Benry had never seen before. It was fascinating to watch; so, he did. He just stood there and watched as Gordon talked to Mama Moula, and sure enough, two or three threads flew in and out of him at their whims, making fleeting connections to hers before moving on. If Benry could show this to Tommy, he was sure he would be able to figure out the meaning behind it all. He was smart like that.

Soon, Mama Moula’s eyes drifted during a lull in the conversation, and she spotted Benry hanging out against the nearby wall. “Oh, you’re finally up.” She said with a teasing smile.

“My alarm broke.” Benry griped. “Nobody thought to come wake me up?”

“What, is it my job to be your secondary alarm clock?” Emmet questioned as he started collecting dishes to put in the sink.

“If you don’t wanna be late for work, yeah.” Benry replied, pushing off the wall to grab some sausages to eat.

He didn’t get a lot of time to eat properly, but he could always delay work a little to get some food down when he got back from dropping Emmet off. Unlike the previous morning, Gordon didn’t seem too weird about staying behind while Benry drove Emmet out to town; he just set to work starting the dishes, so Benry grabbed the keys to the truck and followed Emmet out the front door.

In the truck, Benry made sure to start up one of his cassette tapes—someone he used to go to high school with took up making noise music, and Benry had bought a few of their tapes with some of the spare cash he’d saved up. Emmet was well past complaining about it, and they started off towards town in peace. Benry rubbed some of the remaining sleep out of his eyes as they headed down the long stretch of interstate.

“Hey, Benry.” Emmet spoke up after a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“...It feels like we’ve said this same thing over and over, but...” He sighed deeply, dragging his palm down his face. “I’m wondering if, um...we should try to find some other doctor to run some more tests on Mama Moula.”

Benry gripped the steering wheel tighter, already nodding out of habit. Like Emmet had said, this was a conversation they had frequently; they’d notice an uptick in fainting spells or fatigue, and they’d scramble to find somewhere else to get her an appointment at. Mama Moula would resist it, but she’d eventually go when they nudged her enough.

“I figure, since you have that computer, maybe you can find a new place we haven’t tried yet.” Emmet went on hopefully. “Ned at the diner said he found a great doctor for his daughter through the internet. So it can’t be far-fetched, right?”

“Yeah.” Benry replied with a nod. “Good idea. I’ll look.”

“I guess, there’s just a matter of payment...” Emmet murmured, almost like he felt guilty just for bringing it up.

“Don’t worry about that.” Benry told him. “I got savings from Black Mesa.”

Emmet cast Benry a doubtful look, but didn’t push it. Even if he clearly didn’t believe him, he was glad Emmet gave him the dignity of not asking how he’d come up with the money. He’d figure it out, eventually—they always did.

Soon, Emmet was dropped off at work, and Benry turned around to head back home.

****

Gordon and Moula had finally found some good, equal footing with conversation, after their discussion the previous morning—parenting life. It didn’t take much to get Gordon going about what it was like, becoming a single parent; Moula had similar experience, though, and shared her sympathies and wisdoms with Gordon as they cleaned up after breakfast.

Unlike before, though, Moula reached her limit just a few dishes away from an empty sink. Gordon was more than happy to take over for the final stretch, humming to himself as he finished up in the kitchen. He was almost finished drying dishes himself to put away—they could’ve air-dried, of course, but it just seemed like an efficient use of his time—when the front door opened, and in walked Benry. Beef rushed to greet him, but instead of the usual way he saw him pat her haunches, he just scratched behind her ear for a brief moment before indicating for her to back off a bit. He had a distant look in his eyes as he stared at the stairs towards the basement.

“...Hey.” Gordon greeted.

Benry finally looked his way. “Huh?”

“...I said ‘hey’. I’m saying hi to you.”

“Oh. Hi.” Benry murmured, pulling his hood on over his head. “I’m gonna go get started on some shit.”

“Well, hey, we set aside the food so you could finish breakfast.” Gordon protested as he stalked towards the back door.

“Don’t have time.” Benry said simply before stepping out, shutting the door behind him.

Gordon hurried to finish cleaning up, throwing on his coat to follow after him. In the barn, he found Benry hard at work cleaning up after the cows, so Gordon picked up the second broom set off to the side and started in the opposite corner.

It seemed normal for Benry to spend plenty of time preoccupied with his own thoughts, leaving silence for them to work in. Gordon kept glancing his way, though; there was something off, this time. He looked like he was in a desperate rush, forgoing some of the detail work Gordon hadn’t seen him ignore before. He threw the broom he was using down carelessly on the floor in favor of sterilizing some of the milking equipment. He hadn’t been so tense before he left with Emmet, Gordon recalled.

“Hey, uhh...you alright, man?” Gordon finally asked.

Benry looked at Gordon in a daze. “What?”

“I’m just asking if you’re okay. You don’t seem okay.”

Benry turned away, evading Gordon’s gaze. “Huh? I dunno. You’re not okay.”

Gordon didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t help it—his curse was that if anything threw him off, his immediate response was laughter. He covered his mouth, taking in a deep breath to put on a serious face again. “I’m fine, dude, you’re the one who’s obviously not okay.”

Benry glanced his way, only for a moment before turning back to the equipment he was cleaning. “Y’know these milking machines we use, they’re like, called Mad Dog something-something machine? Like, that’s so aggressive for a milking machine.”

Again, that forced a laugh out of Gordon. “Okay, yeah, no, you’re right, that’s weird.” He admitted. “But, like...come on.”

Benry growled loudly, shooting a frustrated look Gordon’s way. “Jesus, leave me alone! It’s none of your business! Let’s just get this shit done so I can do other shit!”

Gordon held up his arms in mock defeat. “Okay, okay! Jeez, man.”

The cleaning solution Benry used came from a large bucket, something Gordon had seen Moula mixing together the previous morning—it was some sort of mix of cleaning chemicals diluted with water, like he expected to see in a restaurant kitchen. Even diluted, it still smelled pretty rancid; even so, Gordon preferred chemical smell over everything the cows naturally produced.

As Benry sanitized the milking equipment, Gordon focused on finishing up the detail work that Benry had ignored, unsure what else to do. He recalled what Moula had told him—Benry didn’t come around to hard conversations easily. Obviously, pushing it like this was just going to make it worse. He sighed, trying to settle in with the tense silence as they worked. Nonetheless, another curse of Gordon’s kicked in—he hated prolonged silence, so he ended up speaking again, anyway.

“So...would you rather...” He started, casting Benry an anxious look, “shower in one of those awful showers at the beach, where it’s just those stalls with flimsy curtains, or have to walk all the way home covered completely head-to-toe with sand?”

Benry looked at Gordon again, clearly thrown off. “Huh?”

“Would you—”

“Never been to the beach. Uhhh—shower, I guess.” Benry interrupted with little thought. He started setting out the milking equipment, ready to be assembled and used, so Gordon set aside his broom to try and connect it together the way he saw Moula and Benry do it before.

“Really? Well, I guess you grew up in a landlocked state...” Gordon acknowledged as he tried to fit a hose over a piece he thought looked right. “Ever been, uhhh...camping? Or backpacking, or anything like that?”

“Yeah. Not for a really long time, though.” Benry replied, pausing to give it a moment of thought. A small, hollow smile formed on his face, but he offered no story or explanation for it. He just stood and picked up the bucket of cleaning solution, deep in thought as he started to carry it back to the other corner.

Gordon glanced down, noticing his trajectory inches from disaster. “Hey, watch—”

Distracted, Benry’s foot caught on the broom he’d tossed aside earlier, sending him falling to the floor. The bucket of cleaning solution went flying, as did his hat. Face-down on the floor, he was powerless to stop the cleaning solution soaking his hat through.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Gordon asked, setting the broom aside to hold his hand out as an offering to help him up.

Benry pushed himself up, inspecting the damage done. It wasn’t just his hat—cleaning solution had sprayed on his face and front of his coat. He looked up at Gordon, slapping his hand away with much more violence than he deserved.

“Fucking—just—get off me!” He snapped, balling his hands up into fists as he pushed himself to his feet. He kicked the bucket hard, startling the cows and Beef before stalking out the door without his hat and slamming the barn door behind him.

“What did I do?” Gordon asked himself quietly with a scoff. “Asshole.”

He opened the barn door just a bit, watching him try to precariously wipe chemicals off his face as he walked to the side of the house, where there was an exterior door that led to a supply closet connected to the basement, down a short set of concrete stairs. Deciding it was best to let him cool off, Gordon shut the barn door, turning back to the mess left behind.

It didn’t take much effort to clean up, other than the hat. He picked it up by a corner, dripping with chemicals. It didn’t feel the way he had expected—the non-fur parts of it seemed to be made out of a soft, leathery material dyed blue.

Gordon had only been trying to help, he thought as he did his best to wring chemicals out of it over the bucket. Sure, maybe he’d pushed it a bit, but the bucket thing absolutely wasn’t his fault—so why lash out at him? Benry clearly needed some sort of emotional help. Not like Gordon—he was proactive, going to therapy and everything. He wasn’t perfect, but he liked to think he generally had his emotions under control. He wondered how it was acceptable to clean the chemical smell out of the hat. There was no tag inside with cleaning instructions, or any explanation of what the hat was made of. If it was just faux fur and pleather, he’d get some cold water and laundry detergent—which, of course, would probably come from the laundry room down in the basement.

Tentatively, Gordon headed downstairs, knocking lightly on his door. “Benry?” He called. “Uhhh...I got your hat.”

Benry made an indistinct groaning noise from inside. Gordon took that as a cue to enter, finding him underneath a lump of blankets in his bed.

“...What’s this hat made out of?” Gordon asked, turning it over in his hand.

Benry murmured a response, muffled beyond comprehension under the blankets.

“What?”

Benry moved the blankets a bit, peeking out at Gordon. “Deer skin and rabbit fur.”

“What—seriously? Real stuff?”

Apparently, Benry wasn’t interested in unnecessary replies. Gordon held it up again, suddenly feeling out of his depth.

“So is it okay to like...soak it in water...?” Gordon asked hesitantly.

Benry just stared at him for several moments, furrowing his brow before looking away. “Look in the cabinet above the washing machine.” He eventually said.

Gordon did as he said, opening the cabinet to find an assortment of cleaning supplies. He found two spray bottles with hand-written labels on them—one read leather, the other fur. When he picked up the fur bottle, he discovered a folded paper stuck to it, so he brought both down and gently took the paper from the bottom of the bottle to unfold and read.

The paper was clearly very old—it was stiff, brittle, and yellowing, covered in stains and ink partially blurred and illegible in places—but still, he was able to decipher most of it, realizing it was a set of instructions for cleaning the hat. It was all handwritten hastily; still, despite the issues, he got a good idea of what he was meant to do and set to work. The instructions were thankfully pretty specific. There were certain situations that called for different solutions, as he’d expect, and he assumed just using the spray bottles on it would be fine. He sprayed both the fur and the leather with the appropriate bottles, then brushed the fur out carefully. After that, he found what he assumed to be the correct jar referred to in the instructions to rest the hat on to air dry.

“Okay. Hopefully, it should smell normal later.” Gordon said, turning off the laundry room light as he left. “Uhhh...so...I guess I can go back out and try handling the cows myself, if...that sounds good.”

Benry didn’t answer. He buried his face in his pillow instead, gripping the pillowcase tightly in one hand.

Gordon hesitated, trying to decide what the best thing to do was. Ultimately, he thought somewhere between a few minutes to an hour of lost time on the work day wouldn’t be too catastrophic, so he started heading for the door to give Benry space. As he reached the door, though, he heard his voice again.

“I can’t do it.” Benry said quietly.

“Huh?” Gordon asked, turning back around to face him.

“I know I gotta.” He went on, slightly louder and easier for Gordon to hear. “I want to. But everything else is too much, I just can’t right now.”

“What, the cows?” Gordon asked him carefully, abandoning the door to approach Benry. He turned his computer chair around to face the bed, sitting down to look at him closer to eye level. “I mean, hey, the beauty of being self-employed is choosing your own breaks and all that. We can take five, or ten, or whatever.”

Benry unearthed his face from the pillow to peer out at Gordon. “Not that. I gotta find a new doctor for Mama Moula, and figure out how we’re gonna pay the bills for it. We don’t have insurance.”

“Oh.” Gordon murmured, a pit forming in his stomach. “...Christ, man, that...that sucks.”

Benry rubbed at his eyes exhaustedly. It struck Gordon suddenly that, as he slowly came out of the blanket, this was the first time he was seeing him without any sort of hat or helmet. His hair was nothing out of the ordinary; it was jet black and buzzed down unevenly. If Gordon had just met Benry, he might assume he was wearing the big hat to hide a bad shave job. He just looked...normal. Very, very normal, like anyone he might see on the street. Yeah, he’d probably catch Gordon’s eye, but just the same way as any other interesting person might catch his eye. Really, though, this exhausted, miserable guy bundled up in his bed didn’t look like anyone who could change shape and size at his own whims and unleash horrifying, superpowered attacks.

“Uhh...” Gordon furrowed his brow, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, listen, the internet is a great resource for this kinda thing. Lots of doctors and financial assistance programs are starting to advertise their services online, not to mention word of mouth and all that. It’s how I found my therapist. We can figure this out.”

“...I don’t know where to start.”

Gordon paused thoughtfully before turning Benry’s chair towards his computer, wiggling the mouse to wake it. He had to take a second to change the mouse settings to left-handed, but after that, he opened up the browser—really? He only had Internet Explorer? He’d have to download something else for him later—and tried to ignore his dozens of other tabs to start typing: doctors financial assistance uninsured colorado.

“So...do you have any idea of what specifically is going on with her?” Gordon asked, looking over his shoulder at Benry. “That might help narrow the search down.”

“...Dunno, really.” Benry said quietly. “She was diagnosed with CFS a while ago. And then people keep saying she should be diagnosed with epilepsy, but whenever they try to test her for it, they say she’s fine.”

Benry sat up slowly as he began to describe the full scope of Moula’s medical problems. It had been going on as long as he or Emmet could remember. As Gordon had seen, she was progressively losing her strength and energy, and would faint if she overdid it. The fainting was rarely anything to do with when she stood up too fast; it would hit her in the middle of standing or walking, sometimes even sitting. She had trouble sleeping, obviously worsening her daytime exhaustion. When she wasn’t careful enough about resting up as much as possible, she’d act strange, growing very quiet and tense before maybe—just maybe—she’d admit to seeing things, or perhaps not knowing where she was. The scariest times, from Benry’s point of view at least, where when she had grand mal seizures.

She’d been on different medications for some periods of time, but even if they had worked, they tended to be very expensive without insurance. Gordon chewed on his lip as Benry spoke, his outlook of the situation quickly growing darker. It didn’t sound like something that, even if accurately diagnosed, could be easily treated on a budget. He dragged his fingers through his hair, thinking hard as he glanced at Benry’s computer again.

Perhaps it wasn’t his place to make alternate suggestions. If Benry and Emmet wanted her to see another doctor, that’s what he was going to help them accomplish. He turned back to the computer fully and navigated to the website of a hospital he knew well.

“How far are you able to go?” Gordon asked Benry over his shoulder.

“Uhh...well, we’ve gotten help looking after the cows before...we could probably do that again if we gotta.” Benry said, standing to lean over Gordon’s shoulder and look at what he was doing.

“This place is pretty great with money trouble. When I had to go for surgery, I applied for a grant, and they knocked off most of the expenses.” Gordon explained, opening a tab for the financial assistance form. “You’ll have to fill this out with all your income information for the past few months. I’ve done it before, I can help you out with that. This place is in New Mexico, so it’ll be a whole day to get there, do the appointment, then head back. And the first appointment will probably just be a consultation, so...”

“Yeah, yeah.” Benry interrupted, waving his hand dismissively as he leaned in closer to look at the form. “...Yeah. We could do this.”

Gordon stood to let Benry have the computer, poking around on the site quietly and staring at the financial assistance form. Gordon clarified what some of the more obtuse parts meant, but they’d probably both have to sit down with the business’s finances to really be certain they both understood what needed to get done. Eventually, Benry was making calls, and he had Moula booked for an appointment at the end of the month.

Once he hung up the phone, Benry’s whole body relaxed significantly, and he leaned back in his chair with a deep, relieved sigh. He turned to Gordon, an earnest expression on his face.

“...Thank you.” He said openly. “You’re like, the best guy ever.”

There was something about Benry’s face that was getting to Gordon. He thought, maybe, he looked more expressive without his hat, somehow; it wasn’t like it was so big, it covered parts of his face that might indicate expression. It was just...well, Gordon couldn’t explain it. He ended up snorting with embarrassment, turning away and fiddling with his hair. “No, no, it’s nothing. I’m just sharing the knowledge.”

“It’s not nothing. C’mon, you’re literally the best.” Benry insisted, jabbing Gordon obnoxiously. “Who’s the best? Say it.”

“No! I’m not gonna say it.” Gordon argued with a laugh as his face flushed, pushing Benry’s hand away.

“C’moooon, city boy!” Benry taunted, poking Gordon repeatedly. When Gordon walked away to avoid him, he stood, following to keep poking him. “Just say it, and I’ll stop.”

“No!”

At that, Benry got a good hold on him, bringing him down into a shockingly skillful chokehold. Gordon tried to break out, but he got the idea that maybe play-wrestling was something Benry had more experience with, having grown up with an older brother, leaving Gordon trapped.

“Why? Why do you want me to say it?” Gordon demanded playfully, still trying to break away, anyway.

“‘Cuz if you say something out loud enough, you’ll believe it.” Benry explained, shockingly thoughtful about it. “It’s what Mama Moula always tells me, anyway. So just say it.”

“God, you’re so annoying! Fine!” Gordon shouted with more uncontrollable laughter. He took a deep breath as he did what little he could to hide how hot his face felt as he murmured, “I’m the best.”

Benry didn’t immediately release him—instead, he let him stand up just a little bit taller. That allowed him to kiss his forehead, not unlike the way he did with his cows—long, loud, and obnoxious. Gordon felt light-headed, still laughing as he nudged Benry away.

As the two calmed down a little, a weird silence settled over them. Gordon couldn’t put his finger on why; it was almost like something massive in the room had suddenly vanished, and all he could think about was its absence. He cleared his throat, tugging on his hair nervously. Benry walked around Gordon, stepping into the laundry room to inspect his hat thoughtfully.

“I hope I cleaned it right.” Gordon said, mostly to fill the silence.

“It seems fine.” Benry reassured him, leaning in to sniff it. “You probably didn’t fuck it up any more than those other chemicals might’ve, anyway. Might have to ask Mama Moula to take it apart again.”

Benry carried it out of the laundry room, heading for the basement door to start up the staircase. Gordon followed suit, finally noticing the sounds of their TV—a serene narrator was saying something about dark depths and vital nutrients. Sure enough, when they reached the top of the stairs, they found Mama Moula sat on the couch as she watched a nature documentary. Gordon watched the screen curiously, feeling slightly nauseous when he realized what was going on—there were close, exploratory shots of deep sea animals eating a whale carcass. He didn’t mind some gore, when it was in movies or in documentaries about land creatures, but something about it seemed a lot more visceral to him when it was underwater. There was no blood; it had already long since lost at least most of that, on its way down to the ocean floor. Pale, broken skin and viscera bloated and swayed in the light current as dozens of fucked up, alien-looking creatures worked in tandem to crawl over every inch of available surface. Every bit, every piece, every shred or crumb of flesh and guts would be eaten and carried away in every which direction, digested, taking new form and disposed of, never to be recognized again as the majestic whale it had once been. The idea of it made him feel itchy and uncomfortable. He turned his gaze away from the screen, trying to forget the imagery.

Mama Moula noticed the creaking of the stairs underneath Gordon and Benry’s feet, turning down the volume on the TV. “Hey.” She greeted with a curious look in her eyes. “How’s work going?”

“We got sidetracked.” Benry admitted, taking his hat to Moula and sitting beside her on the couch. “This got soaked. Can you dry it out?”

Moula accepted his hat, sniffing it curiously and feeling the material. “It’s getting pretty old. I’m starting to worry about taking it apart so much.” She told him, running her fingertip down the seams. “Why don’t we just make you a new one?”

“Nooo, man.” Benry complained. “I like that one...”

Moula sighed with defeat, running her palm over his bare head affectionately. “Alright. Next time, though, I’m just putting together a new one, so you better take care of it while you can.”

Benry frowned deeply, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ve worn it every day for...god, over ten years, now.” Moula reminded him as she stood. She reached into a cabinet near the TV, pulling out a box full of sewing supplies—including a very old-looking sewing kit—to take into the kitchen, both Benry and Gordon following loosely behind. “Clothes don’t last forever. Especially the ones we like the most.”

“Fine, yeah, whatever.” Benry muttered noncommittally. “So, uhh...other than that, I got you an appointment with a new doctor.”

Moula shot him an exhausted look as she sat down at the table, taking a seam ripper to the hat to take apart. “Benry...you know we can’t afford that. What’s a new doctor gonna tell me, anyway? The same thing I’ve heard a million times, already?”

“Don’t worry about the money. Gordon’s helping.” Benry pointed out, nodding back at Gordon.

A look of embarrassed horror spread on Moula’s face.

“I-I’m not taking anything out of pocket.” Gordon said immediately, knowing that would be his own concern. He left a certain sentiment unspoken—if that didn’t work out, he’d be willing to pull some from his emergency savings to help them pay off the bills. His ex-husband would probably chew him out for it, but so what? He was here to help Moula and Emmet. What was the point if he wasn’t all in? “I just showed him some forms for financial assistance. We just need to give them info about your income.”

Moula relaxed just a little, but still avoided his gaze, gripping Benry’s hat tightly. “...That’s very kind of you, Gordon. Thank you.” She said awkwardly. “I’m just skeptical that there’s anything useful a new doctor could tell me.”

“I mean, hey, this hospital is really good.” Gordon told her carefully, sitting down across from her at the table. “I mean, I qualified for assistance, even on my Black Mesa paychecks, and what I needed done was super expensive. I think even considering that, the odds are a lot more in your favor than they were for me. With the financial stuff taken care of, it’s not like you have anything to lose from just going to get another opinion. Besides, they have lots of modern equipment in there—I don’t know what sorts of tests you’ve had, already, but you might be able to get something new you haven’t had done before.”

Moula stared down at Benry’s hat, continuing to rip seams, rather than look at them. “...Yeah. I guess.” She said half-heartedly.

Benry circled around the table, standing behind Moula’s chair to wrap his arms loosely around her shoulders and rest his cheek against the top of her head. “Just go, okay?” He requested quietly. “Please?”

Moula sighed deeply, closing her eyes and pausing her work on his hat to put her hands to his. “...Alright.” She caved.

Benry planted a kiss on top of her head. “Cool.” He replied, releasing her to let her continue working. “Thanks for the hat.”

Moula chuckled quietly as she went back to it. “Of course. It’s something to do, at least.”

After that, Benry and Gordon left her alone to work, returning to their own chores for the day. With some careful focus, they were able to get back on track for the day, not finishing too much later than the previous evening. When Gordon went to bed that night, he felt satisfied.

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