#wake up petscop fans i rewrote another petscop fic!!!! this should give you reprieve for like 10 minutes max

[fiendishartist2]

everybody knows that, nobody knows that, everybody's in on everybody's business- petscop

Paul adjusted his position on the floor, leaning back in his chair. It creaked under his weight, a high whine that showed its age. His back was aching, but he resolved himself to just put up with it. Anna had set up the room before he got here and Paul really didn't want to talk to her any more than he had to; so now he's stuck, sitting on a wooden chair in the dark, in the guest bedroom of his childhood home. He relaxed as much as he could and sighed, tired of hours of mindless exploration. Looking at his spread of half-written questions and hastily scribbled drawings, Paul couldn't help but feel like he was running in place, getting nowhere while tiring himself out.

"Paul!"

Paul jumped from his seat, heart racing at the unexpected shout. Anna was yelling for him– Anna never raised her voice if she could help it. The sound made Paul want to flee.

Paul hurried to the living room, heart in his throat despite himself. His constricted lungs wheezed with shallow breaths as he padded around in search of Anna. He spotted her dirty blond hair, lifeless against the black-painted walls, before he realised it was her. She stood over the kitchen table, setting down three sets of plates and cutlery. She smiled as Paul approached her, eyes crinkling.

Through the haze, the tinny sound of Petscop's demo theme reached Paul's ears.

He rubbed a hand down his face, skewing his glasses,"Jeez, calm down..."

"Would you answer the door, dear?" Anna asked sweetly, drawing out the last word. Paul grimaced openly at her misplaced care, but obliged. There was no reason to start a fight with Anna and ruin the fragile relationship she thought they had. He trudged towards the front door, swinging it open carelessly.

Out of the darkness, a pair of arms wrapped around Paul tightly, holding him to the chest of the intruder. Paul let out a scream, his earlier fear realised. He struggled against their grip, pushing against his unknown attacker. He felt rabid, consumed by the instinct to kick and scratch at any opening he saw– to scream and cry and beg to be let go. Eventually, he shoved them off, stumbling back into the house.

The figure guffawed in the doorway. They stepped into the hallway light, revealing a tall, broad woman with limp brown curls resting on the shoulders of her worn wool coat. Her big smile and laugh lined face were mocking in their mirth. The woman removed her blue mittens and wiped her eyes.

"Oh-oh you should have seen your face!" She shouted, "Fifteen years and you're still just as funny, Carrie."

Paul startled as Anna touched his shoulder lightly. She sidled next to him and pulled the other woman into a hug.

Anna squeezed his shoulder when they separated, "You remember your auntie Jill, right?"

Paul wrung his hands.

"Um-"

Jill loudly cut him off, "Look at how you've grown! Last I saw you, you were barely 3 feet tall!" She moved forward and attempted to ruffle Paul's unruly hair, easily brushing off how he jerked away from her. Jill elbowed Anna.

"Our little girl's back home, eh Annie?" Anna laughed lightly. Across from them, Paul's stomach lurched, a wave of nausea hitting him suddenly.

"Oh- uh- I'm not, um, who you think I am." Paul's monotone voice cut through their banter. Stiffly, he raised his hand in a meek wave, "I'm Paul."

Paul sighed and joined Anna and Jill in the kitchen. He sat at the table, choosing to sit alone across from them. Anna had obviously planned for this dinner; in the middle of the table sat a stained cast-iron pot, potatoes and chicken floating around in a deep orange sauce, chunks of onion and garlic stuck to the bottom. A bottle of name-brand sparkling water stood next to it, an assortment of mismatched mugs huddled around.

"Huh. Well Ca-" she stopped, letting out a short cough, "Paul, it's nice to see you again."

The two women walked into the kitchen, leaving Paul alone at the door. He ran a hand through his hair, catching on a knot at the back– of course the family had to come visit and of course none of them knew he was actually a man. It wasn't like he ever actually wanted to talk to any of them. Although he barely remembers an "aunt Jill", he understands who she must have been to him when he was still Anna's kid– irritating and abrasive.

Paul’s gaze drifted to the empty air next to him. Something was missing. In four general areas, the table sported white burn rings where too-hot bowls and plates had sat carelessly. Two on one side and two on the other. But for whatever reason, one of the chairs was missing. He stared into the void it left behind, flooded by vague memories of full tables. Someone sat there, he's sure of it, but now the space was only occupied by their absence. It made his heart race just looking at it.

"Paul?"

Broken from his stupor, Paul blinked wildly to reorient himself in the present. Anna frowned and got up to stand Paul's side, rubbing his back with her bony hand. The skin under her hand crawled.

"Are you okay?" Anna cooed. He nudged her arm away and forced a smile on his lips, refusing the urge to scratch at his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm fine."

Paul had the feeling they knew he was lying.

Anna served them all without a word.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Jill spoke up, "How's- how've you been? Y'know since- since you went to live with uh... y'know." Her loud voice was awkward and cautious, speaking around the toothy grimace that had fixed itself to her face. Anna frowned at her food.

Paul wasn't really sure what she wanted him to say– how could he condense fifteen years into one sentence?

Jill nodded, "That's right, Belle's college aged now, isn't she?" She paused for a second, sneaking a look at Anna, "How about you? Are ya' in school for anything?" Anna's excited grin emerged from her staring contest with her plate and she looked hopefully at Paul.

"Um. Fine, I guess." He winced, that sounded even worse than Jill's attempt. He wracked his jumbled brain for something else to say. Pride bloomed in his chest as he thought about his family.

"B-Belle's in school for- uh- to be a chemist." Paul took a long sip of sparkling water in lieu of replying further. It tasted bitter.

Under her joyful gaze, he squirmed; of course she was only interested in hearing about Paul– a fact that both made him deeply uncomfortable and indignant on Belle's behalf. He stabbed a potato, swirling it around on his plate. Eventually, he offered up a monotone, "No."

Anna leaned forward onto the table, her smile dripping with pity, "Aw, honey, why not? Don't you want to get a good job? You were so smart when you were little. Have a little faith in yourself!" Paul curled in on himself.

"I don't do well in school. Mom thinks I should take my time instead of feeling pressured into going." Paul replied shortly.

Anna's face scrunched like she had been punched square in the nose. Red hot embarrassment flooded her face in a vicious flush.

Jill suddenly clapped her hands and everyone at the table flinched, "Well! That was great." She picked up their empty dishes and stood abruptly from the table, "Thank you, Anna, for the meal. It was delicious." She placed the dishes into the sink and they clashed with the sharp sound of ceramic. Paul jumped violently at the noise.

"It was nice to see you again, Paul." With that, Jill hoisted Anna out of her seat and pulled her into the living room, patting her back and drying her tears with her sweater.

Paul watched Anna weep into Jill's shoulder and couldn’t make himself feel sympathetic. Of course, he felt weird that she was upset, the sight of her crying face sparking that familiar twisting fear in his gut. But those crocodile tears always reared their ugly head when she wanted to push and pull his emotions. Anna said she would never want to hurt him, ignoring just how well she had guilted Paul into handing over the channel and subsequently moving back in with her.

He placed his full plate gently on top of the others, shuddering at the way the delicate plates scraped with the threat of shattering. He crept back upstairs.

It had barely been one whole day and Paul could already feel himself getting sick of this family.