(no subject)
Title: The Grand Scheme of Things
Word Count: 1431
Rating: Hard PG-13/R... I'm not quite sure
Summary: Angela knows her boys are too close, she just doesn't like to think about it.
Author's Notes: Okay here's the thing with this fic. It was inspired by a request made at spnstoryfinders about fics where Angela and John bond over their incestuous boys so... um... this is my answer to that? Yeah, I know, special hell. Whatever. Apparently Captain Mal Reynolds will be there with me so really, who's losing here?
She should have seen this coming.
Denial can really only last for so long, she thinks, and, despite the fact that she’s gotten very good at lying to herself, there’s only so long you can deny something like this is going on right under your nose.
She’d thought… but then it really doesn’t matter what she had thought, given the grand scheme of things. She’d known. She can’t deny that to herself. To others, yes, but in her own heart and mind… that’s a totally different story.
She’d thought they’d grow out of it. She’d thought Peter would grow out of it. She’d known about that, see. Their house may have been huge and almost too monstrous, but she’d had occasion to catch him once or twice when he’d been do anything to stop himself
He’d have been embarrassed if she’d walked in on him, so she’d politely shuffled away despite the fact that she’d clearly heard Nathan’s name passing from his lips.
Hero worship and misguided emotional impulses he couldn’t help, she’d told herself. It all didn’t mean anything.
So she shut it out and when Nathan came back, fatigues and bright smiles and a few stories that weren’t necessarily funny to anyone else but him. And Peter had listened to every single story with rapt interest.
She’d thought with Heidi… but that was a stupid thought really, in hindsight. Heidi had just been the cover, the thing to do because it had been expected of him and Nathan always did what had been expected of him in front of everyone else.
Behind closed doors is obviously another manner.
But she doesn’t like to think about it.
“This seat taken?”
Angela looks up and a man is standing there, dark bread and sparkling blue eyes and he’s not exactly smiling, but he’s not exactly frowning either.
He smells like alcohol, his hair is greasy and his clothes are dirty and big and look like something you’d get out of a salvation army or something. Homeless, but it’s not like this bar carters to anything more than low lives.
That’s why she picked it.
“I guess not.”
He snorts.
“Alcohol’s a great equalizer.” He mutters.
She straightens.
“I suppose it is.”
“Lots of different people here.”
“I think there are a few cops here. Mostly it’s working class people.”
“And you.”
Angela frowns.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He smirks at her.
“You kinda scream rich folk.”
Angela purses her lips.
“I suppose.”
“Ain’t no supposing about it. Real pearls, black suit, up do hair do. Kinda like Audrey Hepburn.”
“I suppose that’s a great compliment then.”
“You do a whole lotta supposing.”
“I’m just speaking properly.
“My guess is you came here so you wouldn’t have to speak properly. You come to a place like this to get drunk and forget.”
“Hmm… I suppose.” Angela smiles.
He smiles.
“Yes, well, least you didn’t tell me off for supposing too much. Most women I know would slap me and tell me to mind my own business.”
“Equalizer.”
He smiles again and it’s almost attractive, if she were drunker.
“I like you.”
“I’m married with two boys.”
“I’m married with two boys.”
“I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
“I don’t wear it anymore. My line of work… gets messy. Things get broke. It’s hard to keep it from getting lost in the shuffle you know.”
Angela nods. She may not know what he’s talking about, but she gets the general gist.
“So two boys you say.”
“Well they’re not really boys. My youngest is twenty-four.”
“Hmm… my oldest is twenty-four. My youngest is eighteen. Talking about college. Wants to be someone big.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
He takes a drink from his glass, something amber colored that Angela doesn’t even remember him ordering, but it’s there, warm looking and there. He drinks it like it’s water and Angela purses her lips.
“Maybe for folk like you. He’s got dreams, which are good. I certainly had dreams for him, but… there are more important things out there.”
“Than a good education. I wasn’t aware that things like that existed.”
“You’re boys are both lawyers or something, huh.”
Angela straightens. She doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Nathan being a lawyer, prominent and one day he’ll be a politician, a congressman and maybe even president one day.
Of course if the public ever finds out about some of the things he does with his little brother… Angela closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to think about that.
“My oldest is. My youngest… he wants to be a nurse.”
“That’s nice. People like nurses. Better than doctors anyway. Nurses are the people you talk to about life before the doctor comes in and makes you feel stupid.”
“I, too, think there’s nothing wrong with being a nurse. My husband seems to think differently.”
“I think a nurse is a good option. Must be a caring kid.”
“Perhaps a bit too caring.”
“You gotta let kids go or something. So I’m told. Sometimes I think it’d be a good thing. My boys… they’re too close sometimes. The trouble with moving around so much.”
Angela straightens even more.
Close, he says. They’re close. Perhaps she means the close that isn’t the close her boys have and why would he mention it so casually, so blasé. Like he’s not telling her something that’s sinful.
Or maybe he can see it. Maybe he can see her shame and he knows it as his own and he wants to commiserate.
Angela doesn’t want to commiserate.
“Well that’s…”
“Your boys are fucking too.”
“I beg…”
“It’s not written all over your face. I used to think it was.”
“I have no idea…”
“Yeah, you probably deny it, right. I did for years too.”
“Why are you telling me this? My children are none of your business.”
“They aren’t children. You said so yourself.’
“They’re kids to me.”
They are. She may not act like it. She’d been raised a certain way, you see. Raised to believe in certain things. In raising your kids a certain way.
She’d brought Nathan up that way. Made him a strong man and she looks at him and sees all the qualities he possess and knows that he is the man that she had always wished to raise.
Peter, on the other hand, is another story. She’d been lenient with him. Caring and as warm as possible while still keeping that image. Not as lenient as she could have been, but she’d been raised a certain way after all.
They’re her boys though. Her children and she likes it that way.
“Your boys will always be kids to you. My boys are kids to me. Even if…”
“Please.”
He takes another drink and looks at her. Really looks at her and Angela feels a bit exposed, a bit under a microscope.
“Yeah, denial fits here.”
“Yes it does.”
“It’ll be good. Sam going to college.”
“I’m sure he’s very brilliant.”
“Stanford offered him a full ride.”
Angela’s eyes widen.
“That’s a very good school. Nathan considered going there, but he said it was too far.”
“Part of the appeal for my boy.”
“Yes, Nathan had considered it, but Peter had begged him not to go so far.”
“I imagine Dean will do some begging.”
Angela nods. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.
~*~
She sees them kiss exactly once.
It’s after Peter’s dead and Angela thinks that they’re probably not thinking clearly. Nathan has Peter pinned against the wall of a dark hallway in the house and Angela wishes that they’d gotten that bigger house they’d been looking at.
They don’t notice her, they never notice her. Nathan’s hands are everywhere and Peter’s moaning and she wishes she could look away.
But it’s her cross to bear. It’s always been her cross to bear as their mother.
“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare fucking do that again.” Nathan whispers harshly.
“I can’t…”
“Don’t tell me you can’t promise me. Just don’t.”
“Nathan, I’m going to blow up all of New York. I think taking a bullet to the head might actually be a good idea.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Nathan.”
“Don’t talk like that. Just… don’t… we’ll figure this out.”
She thinks it should have been her first hint. Nathan begging. She’s never heard Nathan beg anyone before.
Except when it’s Peter.
It makes her wonder about that note she got a long time ago, the one taped to her door. The one she should have been worried about, but Angela knows people and she doesn’t worry.
The one that said I was wrong, he didn’t beg.
Given the grand scheme of things, she really wished Nathan didn’t beg either.
FIN
Word Count: 1431
Rating: Hard PG-13/R... I'm not quite sure
Summary: Angela knows her boys are too close, she just doesn't like to think about it.
Author's Notes: Okay here's the thing with this fic. It was inspired by a request made at spnstoryfinders about fics where Angela and John bond over their incestuous boys so... um... this is my answer to that? Yeah, I know, special hell. Whatever. Apparently Captain Mal Reynolds will be there with me so really, who's losing here?
She should have seen this coming.
Denial can really only last for so long, she thinks, and, despite the fact that she’s gotten very good at lying to herself, there’s only so long you can deny something like this is going on right under your nose.
She’d thought… but then it really doesn’t matter what she had thought, given the grand scheme of things. She’d known. She can’t deny that to herself. To others, yes, but in her own heart and mind… that’s a totally different story.
She’d thought they’d grow out of it. She’d thought Peter would grow out of it. She’d known about that, see. Their house may have been huge and almost too monstrous, but she’d had occasion to catch him once or twice when he’d been do anything to stop himself
He’d have been embarrassed if she’d walked in on him, so she’d politely shuffled away despite the fact that she’d clearly heard Nathan’s name passing from his lips.
Hero worship and misguided emotional impulses he couldn’t help, she’d told herself. It all didn’t mean anything.
So she shut it out and when Nathan came back, fatigues and bright smiles and a few stories that weren’t necessarily funny to anyone else but him. And Peter had listened to every single story with rapt interest.
She’d thought with Heidi… but that was a stupid thought really, in hindsight. Heidi had just been the cover, the thing to do because it had been expected of him and Nathan always did what had been expected of him in front of everyone else.
Behind closed doors is obviously another manner.
But she doesn’t like to think about it.
“This seat taken?”
Angela looks up and a man is standing there, dark bread and sparkling blue eyes and he’s not exactly smiling, but he’s not exactly frowning either.
He smells like alcohol, his hair is greasy and his clothes are dirty and big and look like something you’d get out of a salvation army or something. Homeless, but it’s not like this bar carters to anything more than low lives.
That’s why she picked it.
“I guess not.”
He snorts.
“Alcohol’s a great equalizer.” He mutters.
She straightens.
“I suppose it is.”
“Lots of different people here.”
“I think there are a few cops here. Mostly it’s working class people.”
“And you.”
Angela frowns.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He smirks at her.
“You kinda scream rich folk.”
Angela purses her lips.
“I suppose.”
“Ain’t no supposing about it. Real pearls, black suit, up do hair do. Kinda like Audrey Hepburn.”
“I suppose that’s a great compliment then.”
“You do a whole lotta supposing.”
“I’m just speaking properly.
“My guess is you came here so you wouldn’t have to speak properly. You come to a place like this to get drunk and forget.”
“Hmm… I suppose.” Angela smiles.
He smiles.
“Yes, well, least you didn’t tell me off for supposing too much. Most women I know would slap me and tell me to mind my own business.”
“Equalizer.”
He smiles again and it’s almost attractive, if she were drunker.
“I like you.”
“I’m married with two boys.”
“I’m married with two boys.”
“I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
“I don’t wear it anymore. My line of work… gets messy. Things get broke. It’s hard to keep it from getting lost in the shuffle you know.”
Angela nods. She may not know what he’s talking about, but she gets the general gist.
“So two boys you say.”
“Well they’re not really boys. My youngest is twenty-four.”
“Hmm… my oldest is twenty-four. My youngest is eighteen. Talking about college. Wants to be someone big.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
He takes a drink from his glass, something amber colored that Angela doesn’t even remember him ordering, but it’s there, warm looking and there. He drinks it like it’s water and Angela purses her lips.
“Maybe for folk like you. He’s got dreams, which are good. I certainly had dreams for him, but… there are more important things out there.”
“Than a good education. I wasn’t aware that things like that existed.”
“You’re boys are both lawyers or something, huh.”
Angela straightens. She doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Nathan being a lawyer, prominent and one day he’ll be a politician, a congressman and maybe even president one day.
Of course if the public ever finds out about some of the things he does with his little brother… Angela closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to think about that.
“My oldest is. My youngest… he wants to be a nurse.”
“That’s nice. People like nurses. Better than doctors anyway. Nurses are the people you talk to about life before the doctor comes in and makes you feel stupid.”
“I, too, think there’s nothing wrong with being a nurse. My husband seems to think differently.”
“I think a nurse is a good option. Must be a caring kid.”
“Perhaps a bit too caring.”
“You gotta let kids go or something. So I’m told. Sometimes I think it’d be a good thing. My boys… they’re too close sometimes. The trouble with moving around so much.”
Angela straightens even more.
Close, he says. They’re close. Perhaps she means the close that isn’t the close her boys have and why would he mention it so casually, so blasé. Like he’s not telling her something that’s sinful.
Or maybe he can see it. Maybe he can see her shame and he knows it as his own and he wants to commiserate.
Angela doesn’t want to commiserate.
“Well that’s…”
“Your boys are fucking too.”
“I beg…”
“It’s not written all over your face. I used to think it was.”
“I have no idea…”
“Yeah, you probably deny it, right. I did for years too.”
“Why are you telling me this? My children are none of your business.”
“They aren’t children. You said so yourself.’
“They’re kids to me.”
They are. She may not act like it. She’d been raised a certain way, you see. Raised to believe in certain things. In raising your kids a certain way.
She’d brought Nathan up that way. Made him a strong man and she looks at him and sees all the qualities he possess and knows that he is the man that she had always wished to raise.
Peter, on the other hand, is another story. She’d been lenient with him. Caring and as warm as possible while still keeping that image. Not as lenient as she could have been, but she’d been raised a certain way after all.
They’re her boys though. Her children and she likes it that way.
“Your boys will always be kids to you. My boys are kids to me. Even if…”
“Please.”
He takes another drink and looks at her. Really looks at her and Angela feels a bit exposed, a bit under a microscope.
“Yeah, denial fits here.”
“Yes it does.”
“It’ll be good. Sam going to college.”
“I’m sure he’s very brilliant.”
“Stanford offered him a full ride.”
Angela’s eyes widen.
“That’s a very good school. Nathan considered going there, but he said it was too far.”
“Part of the appeal for my boy.”
“Yes, Nathan had considered it, but Peter had begged him not to go so far.”
“I imagine Dean will do some begging.”
Angela nods. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.
~*~
She sees them kiss exactly once.
It’s after Peter’s dead and Angela thinks that they’re probably not thinking clearly. Nathan has Peter pinned against the wall of a dark hallway in the house and Angela wishes that they’d gotten that bigger house they’d been looking at.
They don’t notice her, they never notice her. Nathan’s hands are everywhere and Peter’s moaning and she wishes she could look away.
But it’s her cross to bear. It’s always been her cross to bear as their mother.
“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare fucking do that again.” Nathan whispers harshly.
“I can’t…”
“Don’t tell me you can’t promise me. Just don’t.”
“Nathan, I’m going to blow up all of New York. I think taking a bullet to the head might actually be a good idea.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Nathan.”
“Don’t talk like that. Just… don’t… we’ll figure this out.”
She thinks it should have been her first hint. Nathan begging. She’s never heard Nathan beg anyone before.
Except when it’s Peter.
It makes her wonder about that note she got a long time ago, the one taped to her door. The one she should have been worried about, but Angela knows people and she doesn’t worry.
The one that said I was wrong, he didn’t beg.
Given the grand scheme of things, she really wished Nathan didn’t beg either.
FIN