Chapter Text
Twenty-nine-year-old Oliver Spring, forensic scientist, criminologist, PHD candidate and Heartbreak High fan fic connoisseur, stood in front of his childhood home cursing the name of his older brother. Olly usually only came back to Truham for Christmases, weddings and funerals.
But Charlie had to marry a bouncy Golden Retriever of a man, who became a fabulous teacher, who then returned to their old grammar school to mould the offspring of their previous school friends and foes into functioning humans.
Then the aforementioned Golden Retriever Charlie Spring was married to had the genius idea that to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Truham Grammar school, they would invite inspirational ex-pupils to give a series of lectures.
If Nick Nelson were not his brother-in-law, he would have told him to shove his lecture idea in an uncomfortable place, but well, it’s hard not to cave in to the Nelson-Springs when they're on FaceTime, giving you big puppy dog eyes, and angry-cat-who-is-about-to-swipe-your-favourite-mug-off-the-table vibes.
In hindsight, Olly should have stipulated that he would come, but with conditions. Specifically, that he got to stay in Nick and Charlie's spare room, and not his parents' house on Britannia Road. But one of Nick's rugby mates bagsied it first, and if Jane Spring found out that Olly had stayed in a hotel instead of his old bedroom, the situation would be more unbearable than actually staying at the house.
So here he was, suitcase in hand, wondering if he could invent a high-profile crime that he had to go and investigate. He would never wish for someone to be murdered, but a phone call asking him to come and wipe up blood with tiny cotton swabs would be brilliant right about now.
Before he could run back to his car and speed away, the door opened, and there stood his small but feisty sister Tori and her ridiculously tall and cheerful husband Michael.
Michael was also here for the lectures as a Silver medal-winning Olympic speed skater; he was fully qualified to give inspirational pep talks to teenagers.
Olly was also very used to giving lectures, but they were generally about trace evidence analysis and blood splatter patterns, and usually alongside people who had doctor or professor in front of their name. Olly would never diminish Michael's achievements; he knew the kids, parents and alumni who were visiting Truham for all the anniversary celebrations would lap up anything Michael had to say. Olly was more worried that, apart from a few geeky kids who were heavily into STEM subjects, he would not get half as good a reception as Sports stars like Michael, Nick's rugby-playing mate or award-winning film director Tao Xu.
Michael pulled Olly into a big hug, Tori gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and said, “Remember, you are a full-grown independent professional man.”
Olly laughed. If anyone can make a 29-year-old adult with multiple degrees who was used to dealing with horrific crime and criminals daily feel like an 8-year-old idiot who knew nothing about anything, it was Jane Elizabeth Spring. He gave it approximately 15 minutes before he regretted all his life choices, realised he had made a mistake and should have just married his high school girlfriend, settled down in Truham and become a data analyst or a lab tech at the local science institute. He and Molly could have churned out three depressed children exactly like himself and his siblings, and Jane could question all their decisions, too.
He did love his mum, and she loved him. She was, on the whole, a good mum; they had all the physical things they ever needed, they had love and affection, and she supported their chosen careers and partners – or lack thereof. She loved the grandchildren that Nick and Charlie provided them with, and was a good grandma. She just also managed to make her three successful kids worry that they had let not only themselves down, but her as well, in some way or other, on a semi-regular basis.
Jane and Julio Spring appeared behind Michael and Tori, and Olly struggled out of Michael's affectionate embrace to greet them.
Jane hugged her youngest son and then pulled back to get a good look at him. “You look pale; you should get out of that laboratory more.”
Before Olly could respond, his Dad was hugging him and saying, “You look great, it's wonderful to see you, son. Why don't you take your bag upstairs and freshen yourself up, and I'll put the kettle on.”
All praise, Julio Spring, king of tension deflectors. Olly thought as he climbed the stairs to his childhood bedroom.
Ten minutes later, when he had splashed water in his face and given himself a pep talk, he descended the stairs to the living room, where he was surprised to find his brother Charlie sitting on the sofa with Michael and Tori, their parents still in the kitchen.
“Everything ok?” Olly asked.
“Our house has become a Truham rugby team reunion, and I just needed a breather,” Charlie explained.
“You came here for a breather?” Olly said quietly. “Who are you and what have you done with Charles Spring?”
“Well, seeing you, Tori and Michael are here, I thought I'd come and share the angst.”
“Oh my God, Harry Greene isn't there, is he?” Olly enquired.
“God no, according to his Facebook, he is going to be in Dubai. Or in the real world, he wasn't asked to speak, so he decided he wasn't coming to any of the centenary events at all.”
“Even Harry can't think that the current students of Truham want to hear about his convenience store empire,” Tori said. “Just a minute, are you telling me you're friends with Harry on Facebook?”
“Nick is,” Charlie rolled his eyes.
“Well, at least that's one arsehole we don't have to worry about bumping into this week,” Olly said, at the exact time his Mum entered the room with a tray of drinks.
“Oliver, language,” she frowned.
“You had noticed that he is nearly thirty years old?” Tori said, earning herself a scowl to go with the frown.
“I just thought it would be nice for us all to be together,” Charlie said. “If you don't want me here, I can go to Yan’s. Tao should be arriving soon. Marvel have given him permission to show an exclusive clip of the movie.”
Olly manages to let out a cough that sounds very much like the word Hypocrite.
“Just be thankful you are talking on Thursday, not Friday. Somehow, Michael and Otis have got to engage a whole bunch of teenagers who just want to see a 30-second clip of Pedro Pascal and Tom Hiddleston,” Charlie sighed.
“At this point, I think Nick has helped organise this to up his cool credibility points with the students. Are there going to be any people he doesn't know?” Tori pointed out.
“He only knows six of the speakers,” Charlie said defensively.
“Six?” Tori said.
“Yes, us three, Tao, Otis and Christian,.” Charlie said. The final name made Olly's stomach churn with anticipation.
“Aww, he was your favourite when you were little, Olly,” their Dad said in that way parents do, as if you don't remember the events of your own life.
Olly gave Charlie a warning look, but he laughed and said, “Aw, Ol’ you were so cute. If we went anywhere with the rugby lads, you'd shadow him everywhere we went.” Suddenly, Olly felt like he was the eight-year-old who thought Christian McBride was so cool. Or the 12-year-old who realised that he definitely liked boys as well as girls, when Christian came back to Truham one summer during his time at University. Or the 16-year-old who hoped that now he was older, that the boy he liked, who was now a man, might notice him in more than a his mates little brother way. Or the 17-year-old who got drunk at his brother's wedding and kissed the man he'd had a crush on since he was eight years old, who gently pushed him away.
All those childish moments, the memories of the overwhelming crush. The memories of attraction, affection and rejection that Olly never quite got rid of from the back of his mind.
Unlike his brother, who shrank and tried to disappear, Olly went the opposite way and entered what he now called his Bratty ho’ era. He earned an interesting reputation in his last year at Truham. When he left for UCL to start his degree, he went crazy and lived the full-on irresponsible freshers' life, and stuck his penis in any available orifice until he caught something itchy and had to take two courses of antibiotics to get rid of it.
After that, he became a little more discerning and a lot more strict about condoms and dental dams. He started on PrEP, got tested regularly, and entered his Bratty, yet responsible ho’ era.
Olly had had short-term girlfriends and boyfriends and one genderfluid partner, but no one made his insides go all mushy and his heart beat so hard he thought he might be having an infarction like Christian McBride. He fancied people; he often saw beautiful people he wanted to fuck. Rarely did he want to snuggle up with them and do domestic shit; Christian was the only person he could ever imagine doing something like going to a garden centre with, or brunch, and actually not thinking it was lame.
As far as most of his friends were concerned, he was aromantic. He didn’t get the continuous crushes and flirtations, jumping from being in love with one person to another, hunting for the one. Maybe it was because he’d found his one, but in this case, one and one didn’t make two. It made one and another one. It was an inconsistent equation, and it didn't add up for Olly.
His brother's embarrassing crush on a presumably straight rugby lad had worked out well, but unfortunately, lightning doesn't strike twice.