#there's a smidge of vegamarch

[nerdy-flower]

@sinunamor here it is! This is part 1 of a 3-part headcanon I’ve had for a while, I really hope you like it! Sorry it took forever ;^;

Hugo knows change has come to roost when Ernest's dinnertime debriefs turn from reluctant, barely-there details to soap-opera recaps with all the accompanying comedy and tragedy.

“-and I didn't even know this, but Mackenzie told me later, that they were dating before he even dumped Emily, which is like- come <i>on,</i> dude. Did you look at all your options and pick the douchiest possible one?”

“That is very selfish,” Hugo says, frowning around a mouthful of chicken. “I always thought Pat was a nice young man.”

“So did I!” Ernest snorts, stabbing at his rice and sending some spilling over the side. “He's literally the only reason I've been hanging out with the theatre kids. The rest of them are so-”

Damien cuts in as Ernest briefly flails, searching for a word. “Dramatic?”

“Weak,” Ernest pulls a face, seemingly physically pained by the quality of the dad-joke, while Damien appears rather pleased with himself, chuckling into his hand. “Anyway, so Mackenzie said that Pat told her he was just going to keep it on the downlow, basically, until summer because Emily's moving, right? It won't be as awkward then. Except I guess they kind of forgot that their Insta accounts aren't private? So now everyone knows, and Emily has to stage manage her ex-boyfriend while he has a romantic subplot with her former rugby teammate. Because that's not going to go terribly at all.”

“Good heavens,” Damien replies after a moment, dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin. “I don't recall any tales so tangled from my youth, but then, perhaps I've repressed all that nonsense.”

“Didn't they get voted 'cutest couple' in the yearbook?” Hugo cringes as Ernest enthusiastically nods, kindly not answering with his mouth full. “Oh god, and that just went to the printers- No wonder Ms. Lee had aspirin with her lunch today.”

“Yeah, it's all like ten levels of stupid,” Ernest grumbles, not even distracted by Duchess' damp nose nudging at his lap. “I swear, I'm gonna have like no friends by graduation because I can't deal with everybody acting like they've found their soulmate and then dumping them in two weeks. No one our age is gonna get married until our thirties, anyway, shit's expensive.”

“Language,” Hugo chimes in, met with the usual roll of the eyes and offended huff.

“One's youth can be rather fraught and strained,” Damien adds with a knowing grimace, their cutlery clinking audibly against their plates in the quiet coziness of Hugo's dining room. “But you'll find people who don't engage with those sorts of theatrics. And besides, those who do will soon grow out of it.”

“Yeah right, I've heard that one before,” Ernest scoffs, returning to his food. He's quiet for the rest of the meal, and their walk through the park at dusk, Duchess and her boy running ahead. Damien's fingers find Hugo's after sending a quick check-in text to Lucien, and he feels a tentative kind of bliss run through him in the warmth of the setting sun.

***

Hugo's deep-down, etched-on-his-bones love for his job keeps him motivated through all the obnoxious students, righteously indignant parents, and illogical funding cuts, but he does keep a small, hate-fuelled torch burning for outdoor supervision. It's especially hard not to envision his student loan payments going up in smoke while breaking up fights, confiscating cigarettes, or discovering another hopelessly unoriginal piece of lewd graffiti.

Today has been blissfully quiet, if blanketed by damp warmth. He wipes sweat from his brow as he continues his circle around the middle school building. A new fast food joint had recently opened down the street and the promise of buy-one-get-one fries had draw most of the troublemakers away. With the bell approaching, he turns to head in and spots a familiar orange hoodie near the emergency exit ramp behind the library and sighs. No one is ever up to anything good behind the library.

He's still a good thirty feet away, obscured by the parked rustbucket cars in the student lot when he glimpses a shock of pink hair attached to one of his Comp Lit students from Ernest's grade. Tahereh is her name and she's giggling, along with his son, and leaning in awfully close- Nope.

Nope, nope, nope. He turns on his heel and walks away as quickly and quietly as he can. His son deserves privacy, and he had mentioned being paired on a geography project with that girl-

Hugo blows out a sigh, purposefully forgetting the follies of his own adolescence before he gets himself worked up over nothing.

***

A lengthy text conversation with Nick is an unusual relief. He would have preferred to do it by phone, but the man is in England of all places on a work trip. Besides, it's a little more private should Ernest come strolling in.

HV: You're sure you're okay with me taking the helm on this one?

NH: Oh yeah, I'm not worried. You're better at this kinda stuff than I am.

NH: I'll be home in a couple days so I can run recon if things go south lol

Hugo does manage to chuckle at that. Nick instructs him to break a leg and says he's turning in but to text if need be. A lengthy message pops in from Damien, having been Hugo's confidante the previous day, reminding him that his own similar chat with Lucien a few years prior was awkward at the time, but went a long way in maintaining good communication. As well as reassurance that Hugo is a wonderful father with no reason to doubt himself, and this is another prime example of it.

The usual expressions of affection at the close never fail to make Hugo smile. He types a slightly longer than necessary reply and pushes his glasses up. With a silent pep talk, he heads upstairs. It's not like he's going in blind. They've had plenty of very open talks since Ernest was small. About bodies and boundaries and babies. This topic isn't inherently uncomfortable, it's on him to shake that mindset.

Ernest's room is in its usual disarray, but he beckons him in quickly and takes his earbuds out. Flat on his back with his tablet held overhead. As good a start as any.

He assumes the best non-threatening parental figure pose, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. Ernest is way too clever to fall for the small-talk nonsense so he skips to the point. “I hope you're not upset by this, but I saw you and Tahereh behind the school last-”

“What the hell?” Ernest bites back, anger narrowing his eyes as he drops his tablet and sits up fully. “You're spying on me now?”

“Of course not!” Hugo answers, quick and even with hands held up. “I was on yard duty, I turned right around. The only reason I'm bringing it up is-”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Ernest spits back, blushing and running hot. He draws his knees up and hugs them, a habit leftover from his toddling years. “We just kissed because we're cool like that. It was whatever. Don't make a big deal out of it.”

“I'm not, I promise,” Hugo says, confused and not entirely convinced but trying not to let on. “But say you did find someone you liked and wanted to start dating them, your Pop and I wouldn't be opposed at all. I only wanted to check in with you about er, safety and-”

“Oh my god,” Ernest covers his face, dragging the last word out into a strangled note of exasperation. “I've had sex ed like five times already, I don't need this. Please just shut up.”

Hugo decides admonishing him via their no 'shut up' rule would only make things worse. “I know you have all the basics covered. I just need you to know that you can always come to me or Pop for anything, okay? Don't ever feel embarrassed.” He reaches into his shirt pocket, takes a deep breath, and removes the small cardboard container, pushing it across the comforter towards his son. “And if you need these at any point, don't-”

“Oh my god, no,” Ernest's scowl deepens, the blush creeping down his neck as he explodes in frustration. “No, no, <i>no</i>! I'm never gonna need those, so just get the hell out of here!”

Hugo feels the wrinkles crease on his face as he struggles to say the right thing. Had the divorce put him off the idea of relationships entirely? God, he's too young to be thinking that way, isn't he? “I just want you to have these in case, you know, you meet someone and you want-”

“I don't 'want,' I never have and I'm never going to!” Ernest throws his hands up, eyes still flashing. “I'm a fucking freak, are you happy now? Get <i>out!</i>”

Hugo does not, merely stills as Ernest mashes his face into his knees, actually vibrating from anger, sadness, or both. It nearly does him in, there's nothing that hurts him more than seeing his son in pain. Thankfully, he had said just enough for the puzzle pieces to snap together in Hugo's head.

When the boy's breathing evens out, Hugo dares to inch closer, the mattress sagging with his weight. “Ernest, you're not a freak. There's lots of asexual people in the world and-”

“Name one.” The snappish tone is muffled by denim and knobby knees.

“Well, I mean, I don't know any personally,” Hugo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they do exist, they're not unicorns.”

“Unicorns don't exist? This entire day sucks.” They both laugh hesitantly at that, a sigh resounding from under the orange hoodie. “Mrs. Finn said in health that people who say they're asexual are just dealing with like, trauma or whatever. We're all driven to make more people, so it makes no sense scientifically.”

Hugo silently counts to three in his head. “Have you ever been hurt?”

That finally picks his head up, glaring at his father again. “No!”

“Then clearly that's not true. Ca- Mrs. Finn is sadly misinformed.” And would be told as much, without directly mentioning Ernest. Seniority be damned, he was going to have words with the Board that's what it takes. He manages a small smile for Ernest. “If sex is only about reproduction, how do you account for gay people?”

“Gay people can still like- do what's necessary to make a kid.” Ernest waves a hand towards himself. “C'est voila, or whatever.”

Hugo snort-laughs at that, he does admire his son's wit even in serious moments. “Well, so can ace people. There's lots of ways to make a family.” Ernest merely grumbles in reply and looks away. “And- I know it really doesn't seem that way sometimes, but there's a lot more to relationships than the physical bits. They're important to some people, but not everyone, and not in the same way.”

Ernest stays resolutely silent, staring at a fraying movie poster on the wall. “You will find someone who loves you, mijo. It might take time, but you'll find them.”

“Yeah, when I'm finally old enough to join Virgin4Virgin dot net.” Ernest only slightly resists his dad's chastising ruffle of his hair, glancing down at the box of condoms with moderate disgust. “Can you throw those out and we pretend this never happened?”

“I'll put them in the bathroom cupboard. I'm not saying you will, but if you ever did want to be with someone that way-” Hugo tucks the box in his pocket as Ernest's pained groan cuts him off. “Listen, this could have been much worse. Before I went to my first party, your Abuela made me sit at the dining room table and wouldn't let me leave until I correctly put a condom on a banana.”

“You're lying,” Ernest replies blankly, only for his eyes to bug out at Hugo's unfailing stare. “You're serious? Oh my god, that's- I can't believe Abuela is capable of such savagery.”

“You don't know the half of it,” Hugo chuckles darkly, then carefully touches Ernest's shoulder. “Hey, I'm really glad you told me. I won't tell Pop, that's your conversation to have with him.”

“Thanks,” Ernest glances down, frowning and fidgeting in place. “Can I like, go now? I promised Carmensita I'd help her set up for open mic night.”

Hugo smiles stiffly, moving out of his son's way. “Yeah, you can go now. Text me when you're there, alright?”

Ernest makes a non-committal noise and hurries down the stairs, drawing the attention of Duchess. Hugo shuts the bedroom door behind him with a small sigh.

***

Carmensita's dad comes with the most fringe benefits by far. Not only are they allowed 'backstage' provided they help out and don't cause trouble (Ernest never has, something about how calm Mat is kinda intimidates him to be honest, it's the ones with the longest fuses that you have to watch out for), they get to enjoy the whole show for free and eat/drink anything leftover at the end of the night. Even if some of the acts are a little weird, it's still way cooler than sitting around watching TV.

“Hugo knows he's picking you up, right?” Lucien asks over the roof of his secondhand car, keys in his hand. “I've got plans after.”

Ernest grins wide. “Man, don't ask him out if you can't even say his name right.”

Lucien somewhat-gently shoves him as they cross the small parking lot. “Hey, have you ever heard about shut the hell up?”

He disappears into the crowd and Ernest soon finds Carmensita. He's been spending way more time with her lately. Girls aren't gross about sex like all his guy friends are now, making “that's what she said” jokes literally every five seconds. She's also one of the last vestiges of sanity in his grade, as off-put by the constant dating drama as he is. They sit in the back kitchen, chatting with the younger, more anxious performers and talking about 'Hamilton' between sets.

“I'm pretty sure I'm gonna listen to the cast album once a week for the rest of my life,” she says, cheek full of Right Said Banana Bread, or whatever it's called this week. “And I'm totally okay with that.”

“Oh, once a week minimum,” Ernest nods eagerly, leaning out to watch some college kid plunk away on an acoustic guitar. Bo-ring. “I would straight up sell my soul to write that good. Like, find me one lyric that doesn't land. One, I dare you.”

“It doesn't exist,” she concurs, picking a crumb out of her front braces. “Oh! You'll never guess who's finally putting out a new album!”

“Who?”

And on and on it goes. Even though the linoleum hurts his butt, chilling with Carmensita is his favourite part of the week. No fighting, no bullshit, just goofs and talking about whatever. She's basically the funniest person he knows, doing an impression of Damien that has him choking on his own spit. It makes him forget everything else. Well, almost.

Once everyone files out, they pick up their brooms and try to clean up quickly while Mat counts the money. He heads into the back to put a bank bag together and leaves them jamming to the music still playing over the speakers.

Ernest stops polishing the counter to the beat, his curiosity getting the best of him. “Hey, 'Sita?”

Carmensita glances up, still doing something between the mashed potato and the tootsie roll while sweeping, not in the least caring about the backlit glass storefront behind her. He wishes he were that cool. “Yeah?”

“Do you think asexuality's like, a thing?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Carmensita replies, knocking a couple muffin wrappers from beneath a table like she's going for the slapshot. “Why?”

“Eh, no reason.” Ernest shrugs and keep polishing. “Just seems kinda weird to me, is all?”

“Not really though,” Carmensita pushes her pink glasses back up, tucking the broom under her arm to gesture. “It's like that thing in that Bruce Willis superhero movie. If there's someone at one end of the spectrum, there's gotta be someone else at the other end, plus all the people in the middle, right?”

Ernest makes a considering noise, pitching his scrubber into the sink. “Yeah, you're right.”

Mat returns and they lock up, Hugo's car humming in the empty street. Ernest fist-bumps Carmensita as she heads off with her dad. “We're still on for the fair next Saturday right? I'm retaking my skee ball title this year!”

“In your dreams,” she sticks her tongue out and waves to him. “Don't get grounded, okay?”

“I won't!” Ernest grins, turning and shuffling towards the hopefully not-awkward, air-conditioned comfort of his dad's car.