Ficlet: Patchwork Quilt
The other post should be coming later. In the meantime, here's a little ficlet I put together.
Title: Patchwork Quilt
Series: Smoke And Lightning: Heavy Metal Thunder
Author(s): bloody_adorable
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: None specified
Rating: 13+ for language
Word count: 2,508
Beta: elandae
Summary/Notes: A peek into Jared and Jeffrey's early years.
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
Patchwork Quilt
It wasn't the knocking that woke him up. It was the flashing blue lights that slanted through the filmy curtains gently undulating in the summer night breeze. Breath hitching in his throat, Jeffrey sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa. Ever since she'd died, he hadn't been able to sleep in the bedroom. The sofa was neutral ground, in a way. He rubbed his hands over his face, forcing sleep back for now. The pounding knock came at the door again, thumping with the kind of bass that told Jeffrey the cop was rapping hard with his fist. A crackle of radio chatter could be heard as he stepped to the front door, wearing shorts and a faded Def Leppard T-shirt.
Cops.
Truth be known, Jeffrey was no real fan of the authorities. In his teens and early-twenties, he'd had one-too-many run-ins with the cops. He'd done his share of short jail sentences, sweated out community service along the side of trash-laden roads, until something within him finally clicked and he just got it. That was the only way he could describe it. Then, he got a job with the construction company. He was nothing more than a lackey for awhile, a go-to guy. But once he proved himself to the owner of the company, he quickly worked his way up to foreman. That's how he met Jared's mom. She was a corporate kind of lady, dressed nicely and always cool, calm and collected. She watched him from her office window for two weeks (he had seen her doing so, but didn't have the courage to even so much as wave to her) before she finally made her way across the street to talk to him.
He was the type to instantly know what he wanted, and once he'd met her, he knew who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. He even adored her little boy. Jared had been allowed to see his biological father for the first near-ten years of his life, until finally, he was cut off from visitation after hitting the boy in a drunken rage. After a year of being with the family, Jared confided in Jeffrey something he hadn't ever told his mother. "Dad told me I was a mistake," he'd shrugged.
"What?" He had almost laughed, thinking that Jared must be lying. No one would tell their child that. Would they?
"He said that I'm only here because Mom's a manipulative bitch and he never wanted me," Jared had continued. "That's why he hit me all the time."
"Wait, all the time?"
Jared had nodded, as if it was no big deal.
Gritting his teeth, Jeffrey had set a hand to Jared's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "You don't believe an ounce of that, JT," he'd told him. "Your Mom loves you. And so do I."
That night, Jared and his mom had to go down to the city jail and bail Jeffrey out. He had a busted lip and a black eye, but he was all smiles.
"How'd the other guy fare?" Sherri had unknowingly asked.
"Don't worry," he'd grinned. "He's a hell of a lot worse."
"I would hope so, Jeffrey Dean."
Jared's father never bothered him again. As a matter of fact, it took him almost a week to even get out of the hospital. Jared didn't care. And he never mentioned to Jeffrey that he had found out what had happened that night, how Jeffrey fought for him and pounded his biological father into the ground.
Charges were never brought up on Jeffrey, and they lived happily in Jeffrey's little suburb house for two years. Sherri got sick shortly after, and it seemed like no time before she was gone. The life with her that Jeffrey had planned out was suddenly gone. The months after that were somewhat of a jumble for him. He couldn't even imagine what her son was going through. Jared got in trouble for shoplifting, and ended up getting a record in juvy. He paid back what he stole and swore that he wouldn't do it again.
The cops on the doorstep attested otherwise. Again.
The pounding knock sounded again, leaving Jeffrey to grumble under his breath as he swung the door open. He looked out at the two uniformed officers, finding Jared standing between them looking brooding and defeated. He'd just turned thirteen two days ago. Jeffrey had made a big deal out of it and went into hock for a 125cc dirt-bike for the kid. Still, it hadn't seemed to matter. Jared was still as angry as always.
"Officers," Jeff greeted, not an ounce of warmth in his voice for the uniforms. Regardless, he knew he had to teach the boy some respect. Best to put away the prejudice thoughts for now.
"Jeff Morgan?"
They already knew who he was, why bother forming it into a question? "Yes, sir," he nodded.
"Are you the legal guardian of this boy?"
Smiling, Jeff leaned against the door and looked down at Jared. "Hey, kid," he teased. "You kind of look familiar. You live here?"
One corner of Jared's mouth turned up in a smile as he eyed his adoptive father.
With that smile, Jeffrey thought of the picture he'd taken before Sherri had gotten sick. He still had the photo, kept it in his car, on the dash. It was worn and cracked from the heat of summertime and the cold of winter, but Jeffrey loved it. The boy's smile had been so careful, measured, as if he had been afraid to let himself get too close. But it was sweet too, and Jeffrey was always dumbfounded by how Jared's father could have treated him so badly.
Before the boy could respond, the officer that had a hold of him spoke in a very stern voice. "Mister Morgan."
"Yes," he said, glancing down at the man's nametag. "Officer Briggman."
"This is no joking matter," he reprimanded, as if Jeffrey was around the same age as Jared. "Your son was caught vandalizing private property."
"I'm not his son," Jared pointed out, speaking in a boy's voice that was just beginning to inch its way towards manhood.
"You'd better learn some respect, boy," the officer said, shaking Jared by the collar, "or you'll find yourself in a lot more trouble down the road!"
Instantly furious, Jeffrey reached out and clamped a hand over the officer's wrist. He ignored the partner's movement, knowing very well the other officer was reaching for his snap-out steel baton. Jeffrey didn't much care for how Briggman had corrected him like a child; but more importantly, he didn't like how the man was handling Jared.
"Take your hands off my boy," he growled at the officer.
Briggman seemed oblivious. "Mister Morgan, the charges against your boy could be serious."
With his hand still clamped iron-clad to Briggman's wrist, Jeffrey smiled and nodded. "Cross that bridge when we get there," he said smoothly. "But unless you want a fist to your teeth, I suggest you let go of him."
"That's threatening an officer."
"Take it how you will," he returned. "But you're going to have a shitload of paperwork to do, what with bringing both me and my boy in."
The officer thought for a moment. He glanced over at his partner, a silent conversation in both their eyes. Chatter crackled on the CB radio, and Briggman reached for the mic strapped to his shoulder. "Central, this is one-twelve," he said. "Show us EOD."
Jeffrey smiled as Central confirmed the EOD status. He knew what the acronym stood for, but didn't let on that he knew.
"We have somewhere else to be," Briggman told him. "Just take him inside and make sure he stays there."
He pulled Jared over the threshold and into the house, knowing very well that the officers merely did not want the extra paperwork so late at night.
"What's EOD?" Jared asked. "Are we in deep shit?"
"Watch your language," Jeffrey said, closing the door and locking it. "EOD means Eating On Dash." Every state had their own code for such a thing. Jeffrey had been around the cops there long enough to figure that one out. "They're going to go get something to eat. They just wanted it to sound all big and bad."
"Close one."
Walking further into the living room, Jeffrey leaned down and switched on a light beside the sofa. Just one click on the three-way bulb so that the room was bathed in an amber glow. He turned find Jared already making his way out of the living room, towards the small bedroom he called his own.
"Not so fast, dude," Jeffrey said, grabbing hold of Jared's shoulder and hauling him back into the living room.
"What?" Jared shook out of Jeffrey's grasp.
"I may have stood up for you just now, but that doesn't mean you're off the hook."
He glared at him. "You're not my Dad," he reminded him. "You can't tell me what to do."
Jeffrey sat down on the sofa, making Jared go with him. "Well, you're right about one thing," he said, sighing as he leaned back. "I'm not your Dad. But I'd like to be."
Jared frowned, knowing very well Jeffrey had a point. "Why?"
"Why?" he repeated. "Because, JT."
"Because you promised my stupid Mom and now she's dead and you're stuck with me."
Jeffrey nodded, draping his arm over the back of the sofa, behind Jared's head. "I did promise your Mom," he agreed. "But I'm not stuck with you, dude. I want you here."
Jared curled his arms around his chest, lowering his head to sulk. "No one wants me," he grumbled. "Not my real Dad, not even my Mom."
"Whoa, back up the drama truck, big guy," he gently reprimanded. "Your Mom loved you. She wanted nothing more than to have just a few extra years with you."
"Yeah?" Jared spat. "Then why did she have to go and get sick then?"
Jeffrey shook his head sadly. "She didn't choose to, Jay."
It was silent for a moment as Jared took a deep breath and sighed. "I know," he finally said. "It's just easier to blame her."
"Easier to blame her for all the shit you've been pulling too, huh? Add sneaking out to that list now, hm?"
Jared looked at him, found out. "I won't do it again," he said. "I promise."
Sighing heavily, Jeffrey put his arm around Jared's shoulders. "See, that's the thing, dude," he replied. "You've promised me before. Each time the cops have dropped you off here, you've promised you won't ever do the same stuff again. And each time, you do. Your word doesn't mean so much anymore."
"It's not my fault."
He nodded. "Yeah, it is, Jay," he disagreed. He eyed him in silence for a moment, wondering how to get through to the kid. "You gotta stop doing this stuff, dude. One day, you're really going to regret it."
"Yeah, right." He'd heard it all before.
"Don't waste your life like this, Jared," he continued. "Find something that makes you happy and stick with it."
"Mom made me happy."
Jared's voice had been soft and sad. It tugged at Jeffrey's heartstrings and he blinked back a hot rush of tears that threatened to cloud his vision. He leaned closer and pressed a kiss into Jared's short brown hair. "I know, dude," he said. "She made me happy too." He watched Jared look away from him, down at his hands that now sat folded in his lap. Jeffrey wished there was something he could do to help the kid work out the anger he still felt towards his mother. The poor guy needed to just get mad and knock the stuffing out of the punching bag Jeffrey had put up in the garage. Jeffrey himself missed her too, but he'd moved past the anger stage of death, and was on his way to acceptance.
"You know, when I was a rough little guy like you," he began, breaking the silence between them, "my Mom -- she was this fantastic craftswoman. She made everything under the sun. She'd make you a...well, she'd friggin' crochet you a damn pair of loafers if that's what you wanted. And she was a mean sewer. She tried to teach me, but I just couldn't get it. Wouldn't get it. Anyway, she made me this god-awful ugly patchwork quilt one time, with these scraps of fabric she found at the second-hand store. God, it was bad. Everything was different shapes, colors and sizes. But she put them all together and made them fit. And it was the warmest quilt I'd ever owned." He looked down at Jared again, brushing the kid's hair away from his forehead. "You and me, Jay," he said. "We might not have as many colors and odd shapes, but we're still patched together. Sewn with your grandma's mean stitch. I think we're stuck with each other for awhile."
Jared smiled a little and looked up at him. "Was she really cool?"
"She was very cool," Jeffrey nodded. "She would have loved you, man. She would've hugged you until you turned purple." He sighed again and pulled Jared closer in a half-hug. "Alright. So, what'd you do tonight?"
Frowning, Jared turned his gaze back down to his own hands. "Me and Jim--I mean, me and a couple other kids painted Mister McLeary's cows."
A beat went by as Jeffrey worked on not laughing aloud. Jared was getting smart too, not incriminating those that were with him. "You...painted them?" he repeated.
Jared nodded, looking up at him. "Fluorescent orange."
"Jay."
"I know."
It was another few seconds before Jeffrey felt composed enough to not burst out laughing when he opened his mouth to speak. "Well," he said, clearing his throat. "Did you at least tip them over?" Cow-tipping was too humorous not to do to the poor unsuspecting animals. Especially if they were painted fluorescent orange.
"Three of them," he agreed.
"Three? Wow," he said, a little impressed. "I mean, no, of course you'll go to Mister McLeary's tomorrow and apologize. You should probably give the cows a bath too. Wash off the paint."
He shook his head. "It has to wear off," he told him.
"Oh. Well, then maybe you can help on the farm a bit."
Jared was slightly taken aback. "That's like...community service, Jeff."
Jeffrey shrugged. "Do the crime, pay the time, dude."
Frustrated that he hadn't gotten away with something, Jared stood from the sofa. "Christ," he mouthed-off, "for not being a Dad, you sure do sound like one."
Jeffrey only laughed in response, watching Jared walk away towards his room. "Hey, Jay?"
"What?" He was still sullen, but stopped and turned to look accusingly at his adoptive father.
"You're my boy," Jeffrey told him. "Remember that."
"I'm still grounded, aren't I?"
Jeffrey nodded. "One week, kiddo."
Sighing noisily and dramatically, Jared moved off towards his room. "I'm never getting out of this place."
"Who knows?" Jeffrey called over his shoulder. "Maybe someday, I'll just stuff you in the garage!"
He laughed, even when he heard Jared slam his bedroom door closed.
~The End~
We have another little giftie coming soon, too. :D
Title: Patchwork Quilt
Series: Smoke And Lightning: Heavy Metal Thunder
Author(s): bloody_adorable
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: None specified
Rating: 13+ for language
Word count: 2,508
Beta: elandae
Summary/Notes: A peek into Jared and Jeffrey's early years.
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
Patchwork Quilt
It wasn't the knocking that woke him up. It was the flashing blue lights that slanted through the filmy curtains gently undulating in the summer night breeze. Breath hitching in his throat, Jeffrey sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa. Ever since she'd died, he hadn't been able to sleep in the bedroom. The sofa was neutral ground, in a way. He rubbed his hands over his face, forcing sleep back for now. The pounding knock came at the door again, thumping with the kind of bass that told Jeffrey the cop was rapping hard with his fist. A crackle of radio chatter could be heard as he stepped to the front door, wearing shorts and a faded Def Leppard T-shirt.
Cops.
Truth be known, Jeffrey was no real fan of the authorities. In his teens and early-twenties, he'd had one-too-many run-ins with the cops. He'd done his share of short jail sentences, sweated out community service along the side of trash-laden roads, until something within him finally clicked and he just got it. That was the only way he could describe it. Then, he got a job with the construction company. He was nothing more than a lackey for awhile, a go-to guy. But once he proved himself to the owner of the company, he quickly worked his way up to foreman. That's how he met Jared's mom. She was a corporate kind of lady, dressed nicely and always cool, calm and collected. She watched him from her office window for two weeks (he had seen her doing so, but didn't have the courage to even so much as wave to her) before she finally made her way across the street to talk to him.
He was the type to instantly know what he wanted, and once he'd met her, he knew who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. He even adored her little boy. Jared had been allowed to see his biological father for the first near-ten years of his life, until finally, he was cut off from visitation after hitting the boy in a drunken rage. After a year of being with the family, Jared confided in Jeffrey something he hadn't ever told his mother. "Dad told me I was a mistake," he'd shrugged.
"What?" He had almost laughed, thinking that Jared must be lying. No one would tell their child that. Would they?
"He said that I'm only here because Mom's a manipulative bitch and he never wanted me," Jared had continued. "That's why he hit me all the time."
"Wait, all the time?"
Jared had nodded, as if it was no big deal.
Gritting his teeth, Jeffrey had set a hand to Jared's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "You don't believe an ounce of that, JT," he'd told him. "Your Mom loves you. And so do I."
That night, Jared and his mom had to go down to the city jail and bail Jeffrey out. He had a busted lip and a black eye, but he was all smiles.
"How'd the other guy fare?" Sherri had unknowingly asked.
"Don't worry," he'd grinned. "He's a hell of a lot worse."
"I would hope so, Jeffrey Dean."
Jared's father never bothered him again. As a matter of fact, it took him almost a week to even get out of the hospital. Jared didn't care. And he never mentioned to Jeffrey that he had found out what had happened that night, how Jeffrey fought for him and pounded his biological father into the ground.
Charges were never brought up on Jeffrey, and they lived happily in Jeffrey's little suburb house for two years. Sherri got sick shortly after, and it seemed like no time before she was gone. The life with her that Jeffrey had planned out was suddenly gone. The months after that were somewhat of a jumble for him. He couldn't even imagine what her son was going through. Jared got in trouble for shoplifting, and ended up getting a record in juvy. He paid back what he stole and swore that he wouldn't do it again.
The cops on the doorstep attested otherwise. Again.
The pounding knock sounded again, leaving Jeffrey to grumble under his breath as he swung the door open. He looked out at the two uniformed officers, finding Jared standing between them looking brooding and defeated. He'd just turned thirteen two days ago. Jeffrey had made a big deal out of it and went into hock for a 125cc dirt-bike for the kid. Still, it hadn't seemed to matter. Jared was still as angry as always.
"Officers," Jeff greeted, not an ounce of warmth in his voice for the uniforms. Regardless, he knew he had to teach the boy some respect. Best to put away the prejudice thoughts for now.
"Jeff Morgan?"
They already knew who he was, why bother forming it into a question? "Yes, sir," he nodded.
"Are you the legal guardian of this boy?"
Smiling, Jeff leaned against the door and looked down at Jared. "Hey, kid," he teased. "You kind of look familiar. You live here?"
One corner of Jared's mouth turned up in a smile as he eyed his adoptive father.
With that smile, Jeffrey thought of the picture he'd taken before Sherri had gotten sick. He still had the photo, kept it in his car, on the dash. It was worn and cracked from the heat of summertime and the cold of winter, but Jeffrey loved it. The boy's smile had been so careful, measured, as if he had been afraid to let himself get too close. But it was sweet too, and Jeffrey was always dumbfounded by how Jared's father could have treated him so badly.
Before the boy could respond, the officer that had a hold of him spoke in a very stern voice. "Mister Morgan."
"Yes," he said, glancing down at the man's nametag. "Officer Briggman."
"This is no joking matter," he reprimanded, as if Jeffrey was around the same age as Jared. "Your son was caught vandalizing private property."
"I'm not his son," Jared pointed out, speaking in a boy's voice that was just beginning to inch its way towards manhood.
"You'd better learn some respect, boy," the officer said, shaking Jared by the collar, "or you'll find yourself in a lot more trouble down the road!"
Instantly furious, Jeffrey reached out and clamped a hand over the officer's wrist. He ignored the partner's movement, knowing very well the other officer was reaching for his snap-out steel baton. Jeffrey didn't much care for how Briggman had corrected him like a child; but more importantly, he didn't like how the man was handling Jared.
"Take your hands off my boy," he growled at the officer.
Briggman seemed oblivious. "Mister Morgan, the charges against your boy could be serious."
With his hand still clamped iron-clad to Briggman's wrist, Jeffrey smiled and nodded. "Cross that bridge when we get there," he said smoothly. "But unless you want a fist to your teeth, I suggest you let go of him."
"That's threatening an officer."
"Take it how you will," he returned. "But you're going to have a shitload of paperwork to do, what with bringing both me and my boy in."
The officer thought for a moment. He glanced over at his partner, a silent conversation in both their eyes. Chatter crackled on the CB radio, and Briggman reached for the mic strapped to his shoulder. "Central, this is one-twelve," he said. "Show us EOD."
Jeffrey smiled as Central confirmed the EOD status. He knew what the acronym stood for, but didn't let on that he knew.
"We have somewhere else to be," Briggman told him. "Just take him inside and make sure he stays there."
He pulled Jared over the threshold and into the house, knowing very well that the officers merely did not want the extra paperwork so late at night.
"What's EOD?" Jared asked. "Are we in deep shit?"
"Watch your language," Jeffrey said, closing the door and locking it. "EOD means Eating On Dash." Every state had their own code for such a thing. Jeffrey had been around the cops there long enough to figure that one out. "They're going to go get something to eat. They just wanted it to sound all big and bad."
"Close one."
Walking further into the living room, Jeffrey leaned down and switched on a light beside the sofa. Just one click on the three-way bulb so that the room was bathed in an amber glow. He turned find Jared already making his way out of the living room, towards the small bedroom he called his own.
"Not so fast, dude," Jeffrey said, grabbing hold of Jared's shoulder and hauling him back into the living room.
"What?" Jared shook out of Jeffrey's grasp.
"I may have stood up for you just now, but that doesn't mean you're off the hook."
He glared at him. "You're not my Dad," he reminded him. "You can't tell me what to do."
Jeffrey sat down on the sofa, making Jared go with him. "Well, you're right about one thing," he said, sighing as he leaned back. "I'm not your Dad. But I'd like to be."
Jared frowned, knowing very well Jeffrey had a point. "Why?"
"Why?" he repeated. "Because, JT."
"Because you promised my stupid Mom and now she's dead and you're stuck with me."
Jeffrey nodded, draping his arm over the back of the sofa, behind Jared's head. "I did promise your Mom," he agreed. "But I'm not stuck with you, dude. I want you here."
Jared curled his arms around his chest, lowering his head to sulk. "No one wants me," he grumbled. "Not my real Dad, not even my Mom."
"Whoa, back up the drama truck, big guy," he gently reprimanded. "Your Mom loved you. She wanted nothing more than to have just a few extra years with you."
"Yeah?" Jared spat. "Then why did she have to go and get sick then?"
Jeffrey shook his head sadly. "She didn't choose to, Jay."
It was silent for a moment as Jared took a deep breath and sighed. "I know," he finally said. "It's just easier to blame her."
"Easier to blame her for all the shit you've been pulling too, huh? Add sneaking out to that list now, hm?"
Jared looked at him, found out. "I won't do it again," he said. "I promise."
Sighing heavily, Jeffrey put his arm around Jared's shoulders. "See, that's the thing, dude," he replied. "You've promised me before. Each time the cops have dropped you off here, you've promised you won't ever do the same stuff again. And each time, you do. Your word doesn't mean so much anymore."
"It's not my fault."
He nodded. "Yeah, it is, Jay," he disagreed. He eyed him in silence for a moment, wondering how to get through to the kid. "You gotta stop doing this stuff, dude. One day, you're really going to regret it."
"Yeah, right." He'd heard it all before.
"Don't waste your life like this, Jared," he continued. "Find something that makes you happy and stick with it."
"Mom made me happy."
Jared's voice had been soft and sad. It tugged at Jeffrey's heartstrings and he blinked back a hot rush of tears that threatened to cloud his vision. He leaned closer and pressed a kiss into Jared's short brown hair. "I know, dude," he said. "She made me happy too." He watched Jared look away from him, down at his hands that now sat folded in his lap. Jeffrey wished there was something he could do to help the kid work out the anger he still felt towards his mother. The poor guy needed to just get mad and knock the stuffing out of the punching bag Jeffrey had put up in the garage. Jeffrey himself missed her too, but he'd moved past the anger stage of death, and was on his way to acceptance.
"You know, when I was a rough little guy like you," he began, breaking the silence between them, "my Mom -- she was this fantastic craftswoman. She made everything under the sun. She'd make you a...well, she'd friggin' crochet you a damn pair of loafers if that's what you wanted. And she was a mean sewer. She tried to teach me, but I just couldn't get it. Wouldn't get it. Anyway, she made me this god-awful ugly patchwork quilt one time, with these scraps of fabric she found at the second-hand store. God, it was bad. Everything was different shapes, colors and sizes. But she put them all together and made them fit. And it was the warmest quilt I'd ever owned." He looked down at Jared again, brushing the kid's hair away from his forehead. "You and me, Jay," he said. "We might not have as many colors and odd shapes, but we're still patched together. Sewn with your grandma's mean stitch. I think we're stuck with each other for awhile."
Jared smiled a little and looked up at him. "Was she really cool?"
"She was very cool," Jeffrey nodded. "She would have loved you, man. She would've hugged you until you turned purple." He sighed again and pulled Jared closer in a half-hug. "Alright. So, what'd you do tonight?"
Frowning, Jared turned his gaze back down to his own hands. "Me and Jim--I mean, me and a couple other kids painted Mister McLeary's cows."
A beat went by as Jeffrey worked on not laughing aloud. Jared was getting smart too, not incriminating those that were with him. "You...painted them?" he repeated.
Jared nodded, looking up at him. "Fluorescent orange."
"Jay."
"I know."
It was another few seconds before Jeffrey felt composed enough to not burst out laughing when he opened his mouth to speak. "Well," he said, clearing his throat. "Did you at least tip them over?" Cow-tipping was too humorous not to do to the poor unsuspecting animals. Especially if they were painted fluorescent orange.
"Three of them," he agreed.
"Three? Wow," he said, a little impressed. "I mean, no, of course you'll go to Mister McLeary's tomorrow and apologize. You should probably give the cows a bath too. Wash off the paint."
He shook his head. "It has to wear off," he told him.
"Oh. Well, then maybe you can help on the farm a bit."
Jared was slightly taken aback. "That's like...community service, Jeff."
Jeffrey shrugged. "Do the crime, pay the time, dude."
Frustrated that he hadn't gotten away with something, Jared stood from the sofa. "Christ," he mouthed-off, "for not being a Dad, you sure do sound like one."
Jeffrey only laughed in response, watching Jared walk away towards his room. "Hey, Jay?"
"What?" He was still sullen, but stopped and turned to look accusingly at his adoptive father.
"You're my boy," Jeffrey told him. "Remember that."
"I'm still grounded, aren't I?"
Jeffrey nodded. "One week, kiddo."
Sighing noisily and dramatically, Jared moved off towards his room. "I'm never getting out of this place."
"Who knows?" Jeffrey called over his shoulder. "Maybe someday, I'll just stuff you in the garage!"
He laughed, even when he heard Jared slam his bedroom door closed.
~The End~
We have another little giftie coming soon, too. :D