#well i still have it but now we're in sniffly territory

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Birthday! Can I get some Kana/Hatori from Fruits Basket? If not, do whatever!!

When everything settles, when no one is going to jail but Ian, and they've at least contacted the appropriate authorities about the treasure residing beneath the church, Patrick takes his son aside and says, "I hope you don't think - not that she's not lovely, of course - but what I said, before, you didn't take it the wrong way, did you?"

What do you have? his own voice echoes in his mind. Him?

Ben blinks. They're still covered in dust and oil and sawdust and maybe this could wait, except it really can’t. “Well, Dad, I don’t know why you’d think I would ever take anything you say the wrong way.”

What a brat. “Riley’s a good kid, I mean. Man. A good man. I didn’t mean – I just meant that I wanted you to have something steady, and not the two of you galivanting across the globe chasing fairytales.”

“Don’t worry about Riley,” Ben laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t take it personally.”

It wasn’t Riley who he was worried about, but now he’s wondering if it should be.

~

Weeks turn into months so quickly when there’s so much history to catalogue and examine and distribute.

Patrick likes Abigail. She’s a fantastic girl. Sweet, funny, whip smart.

She reminds him of Ben’s mother. And Ben has always been a little bit too much like him, no matter how hard they both try to deny it.

But his son has done what he couldn’t, had found the treasure their family had spent generations looking for. Maybe he can do this too.

Still.

Abigail had met his son at his best, up to his neck in the exact type of trouble he knew how to get out of. Often, maintenance is more work than performance.

~

Riley is sitting at his kitchen table, going over all their schedules while Ben and Abigail are going over the Egyptian catalogue in the living room.

Patrick puts a cup of coffee next to his elbow and says, “Ben doesn’t have much luck with friends.”

“Thanks,” he says, picking up the mug. He pauses with it almost to his lips, his brain catching up with Patrick’s words. He puts the coffee back down and turns towards him. “What?”

“Or people, in general,” he continues, then forces a smile. “He gets that my side of the family, probably.”

Emily knows where to hit where it hurts most, but she’s better at pretending to be normal than he is. Ben is the best of them, but some days he’s the worst of them too.

“Ben has friends,” Riley protests, then his mouth falls into a frown.

Discovering the lost treasure would be the perfect time for old friends to come out of the woodwork. Riley and Abigail screen their calls now.

Ben doesn’t have to.

“He can be a little – impulsive,” Patrick says, “when something – he doesn’t always think things through, and makes decisions without thinking of the consequences, or if the outcome is worth the sacrifice.”

Riley is unphased. “I know,” he says, “I know Ben, Mr. Gates.”

“I know you do,” he says quietly.

For some reason, that’s what tips him off, and red flushes Riley’s cheeks. He looks back down at his laptop. “It’s – it is what it is. It’s fine.” He glances up again, lips painfully pulled into a lopsided grin. “I don’t have the best luck with people either.”

Patrick squeezes his shoulder but doesn’t dispute it.

Falling in love with a Gates man is quite unlucky, after all.