when babe comes back from visiting his family, ladened down with a plate of leftovers and a pile of clothing that his mother patched up for them, he can hear joe shouting in the apartment before he even manages to get the door open. “come on,” he says to the doorknob, trying to jiggle it open while the leftovers threaten to spill down his arm. joe’s insulting someone’s mother from inside.

when he gets inside, babe sets the plate on the counter and heads down the hall. light is streaming out from the bathroom, and when babe stops in the doorway joe glances up at him and grunts out a “hey.” he’s soaked, their bathroom sink looks busted, and there’s a thin film of water covering half the tile.

“the hell,” babe says.

joe grimaces and pulls his shirt over his head, the wet fabric peeling away from his skin. he wads it up and pushes it around the leak in the pipe. “that’ll hold it,” babe says, dryly.

“i need a different wrench for the nut,” joe says, gesturing. “it’s too small.” he pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his crutches from the floor.

babe shifts the pile of clothes in his hands and remembers, “ma asked me when i was gonna get a wife.” he rubs the bridge of his nose and then pushes the clothes toward joe, a clean shirt on the top. joe chuckles, says, “what? she doesn’t know you’re the wife?”

“aw, fuck you.”

joe laughs again - switching to a cuss as his crutch slips in the puddle on the floor. “these fucking things,” he says. “i get off balance and put my hand on the sink and the whole goddamn thing breaks on me.”

babe steps all the way into the bathroom, position himself between joe and the hall, and laughs. “jesus. my ma keeps telling you you got too much muscle, you’d be a hazard if you’re not careful.” joe pushes hard on his shoulder in return, using the leverage to hop past the water and onto the wood floor. as he readjusts his crutches, he grimaces, says, “that isn’t it.”

he heads down the hall before babe replies, calling out “gonna go borrow a wrench,” and slamming the door behind him.