The Quahog Republic sat quiet now behind them, lights glowing low, the last echoes of music and laughter still lingering in the salty air. The band was sprawled across the lounge, quiet for once, a collective exhale.
Thane had disappeared into the bunk hallway, needing space to breathe, process, recover from the weight of what had just unfolded. His heart still beat heavy, full.
Gabriel climbed the steps onto the bus last, the old bass still in his hands. He stood at the front for a second, eyes sweeping across his band — his family — before slipping down onto the couch next to Mark, who was flipping idly through show notes on a tablet.
Mark looked up and gave a small grunt.
“That was one hell of a thing.”
Gabriel leaned back, bass across his lap like a sleeping animal.
“Yeah. It really was.”
Mark studied him, that steady, no-nonsense presence he always carried.
“You okay?”
Gabriel nodded slowly.
“It meant a lot. Him seeing me. Playing with him again. I don’t think I realized how much I needed it.”
Mark didn’t say anything at first. Then he set the tablet down and looked out the window, the low light catching in his gray fur.
“Not many people get that. Closure. Or a chance to show the folks who mattered how far they’ve come.”
Gabriel smiled softly.
“He doesn’t know everything. Can’t. But he saw what counts.”
Mark gave a small grunt of approval.
“And he saw you lead. Not just play.”
Gabriel looked down at the worn fretboard under his claws.
“I learned from the best.”
Mark smirked, then after a pause added:
“He’s proud. You can see it in how he watched you. Like the moon rose just for you.”
Gabriel blinked, eyes stinging again.
“Thanks, old wolf.”
Mark grunted again, but this time with a hint of warmth.
“Go get some sleep, pup. Tomorrow’s gonna be loud.”
The Next Morning: Viral Inferno
The bus rolled out under a pale gray sky, tires humming over old highway. Diesel was sipping his third coffee and muttering about early morning fog.
Emily sat crisscrossed at the front lounge table, her tablet propped up as her fingers flew across the screen.
“Uh, guys?” she said quietly. “You might wanna see this.”
Cassie leaned over. Jonah was still snoring. Gabriel padded up barepaw, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Thane stood behind the bench, arms folded.
Emily turned the screen.
The Quahog video — the father/son duet, the cheers, Gabriel’s speech — was everywhere. Music blogs, fan accounts, even regional news stations.
But then…
Rolling Stone posted it.
With the headline:
“The Bass Runs Deep: Gabriel’s Surprise Duet With His Father Breaks the Internet”
Over a million views already.
Dozens of celebs had shared it.
One of the top comments simply read:
“I haven’t cried at a bass solo before. This band is built different.”
Emily turned to Gabriel.
“Your dad’s already trending. So are you.”
Gabriel blinked. “Holy sh—”
“Hey,” Mark barked from the kitchenette, not even looking up.
“No swearing before breakfast.”
Thane smirked behind him, ice-blue eyes soft.
Gabriel just laughed. That deep, free kind of laugh that only came after healing.
He plopped into the booth beside Thane and leaned into his side.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who saw him now.”
Thane bumped his forehead lightly.
“Told you.”
The bus kept rolling. The world kept watching.
And the pack? They had more to give.