"You wanna pick a movie while I go grab popcorn?" Atticus offered, setting his empty mug on the desk for a moment while he stretched. Kaz cracked a grin as he nodded.
"Sure. That gives me time to find a good movie before you can stop me," he joked, Atticus rolling his eyes as walked towards the door. He went to open it, but was stopped by a tall, tired-looking man opening it for him. Atticus swallowed nervously as he looked up at his grandfather, and Kaz shrank back towards the bed out of habit.
"Atticus, what are you doing yelling about boobs when you know your abuela and I are trying to sleep?" Mr. Morales grumbled, obviously congested and annoyed as he looked down at his much shorter grandson. Atticus seemed to shrink into the collar of his stained blue turtleneck, fiddling with the hem of the garment as he struggled for words.
"It was my fault, Mr. Morales," Kaz piped up, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could realize it. "I made Atticus laugh really hard in the kitchen, I didn't know that you and Mrs. Morales were sick. Sorry," he mumbled, sinking sheepishly into the hood of his sweatshirt as Atticus glanced over at him. Mr. Morales just sighed, cleaning his glasses habitually with the ends of his shirt before placing them back on his nose.
"Just keep quiet, okay? It's almost nine anyways, you two should be getting ready for bed," he finally said before walking down the hallway and back towards his room. Atticus closed the door quietly behind him, letting out a shaky breath as he looked over at Kaz.
"Why'd you cover for me, man?" he asked as he plopped down on his bed, looking down at the taller boy as Kaz turned to face him.
"I dunno. You get in enough trouble because of me already, the least I can do is take the fall for once," he said with a shrug, downing the rest of his coffee and setting the empty mug on the desk. He shifted in place a little, rolling onto his back as he laid down on the floor.
"You know, you keep taking the fall for people like that, it's gonna get you in some big trouble," Atticus finally said, turning to lay on his stomach as he looked down at Kaz. The other boy just laughed, propping his head up on his arms as he looked up at him.
"Nah, man. I don't think I can get in any more trouble than I already am. I mean come on, I've got it all going for me. Immigrant? Check. Orphan? Check. Gay? Check. Shitty adopted family who totally hates me except for Michael? Check," he droned on, counting on his fingers as he spoke. Atticus scoffed at him, rolling his eyes.
"You kidding, amigo? Let's see, immigrant? Check. Orphan? Check," he began, but Kaz cut him off with a raised hand.
"You don't count as an orphan if your mom is dead and your dad's in prison for life. He's still alive, so it doesn't count," he said before motioning for Atticus to continue. The other boy rolled his eyes, tossing a raggedy pillow at him while Kaz laughed.
"Okay, anyways. Losing my boobs to cancer at 15? Check."
"Ah, doesn't count! You wanted to lose your boobs anyways, dumbass," Kaz chuckled, squeaking as Atticus threw another pillow at him.
"Okay, trans, check. Bisexual, check. Let's see, that's...five to your four, so ha!" he exclaimed, waving his hand in the air as Kaz tossed one of the pillows at him. He caught it, laughing as he set it back on the bed. Kaz went to throw the other pillow at him, but Atticus held out a hand. "Hey, hey, calm down a minute. We gotta chill because my abuelos are sleeping, remember?" he said, laughing a little as the boy on the floor pouted.
"Okay, okay, got it," Kaz assured him. He laid there for a moment in silence before speaking again. "Should we turn the lights off or something? That way when, or if, we fall asleep, we won't be bugging your grandparents with the lights?" he suggested. Atticus nodded, hopping up to flick the light off before clambering back onto the bed.
"Your mattress is in its usual spot," he said, pointing beneath the bed as he reached for the TV remote. He began to turn the volume down a bit while Kaz reached beneath the bed, tugging the spare mattress out from beneath it and moving it so that it was a few feet from the bedframe. He stood up for a minute, walking over to the dark, paint-splotched dresser a little ways away. He couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face as he pulled a few thick blankets off the top of it. Atticus tended to keep spare blankets on the dresser since he spent most of his weekends at the salvage yard now, which he thought was kind of nice. You wouldn't see his aunt bringing him a blanket when he fell asleep in the game room hunched over homework.
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