(no subject)
~*Happy Mother's Day, all!*~
...even though I hate it!
Oh, but I do. Still, no reason to keep our BOYS from celebrating, amirite?
Title: The Good Sons
Pairing/Characters: C/Z, Mr. and Mrs. C
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey and Zeke save the day. Sorta.
“Hey... c'mon in,” Casey hissed, waving Zeke inside.
“Don't even tell me she doesn't know yet.”
Grinning, Casey shook his head. “Nope. She's still in bed,” he said. He shut the back door quietly, turned and smiled even wider, seeing what Zeke held. “Oh... you got my mom fuckin' flowers.”
“Yea, well...” Zeke shrugged and held up the assortment of pink roses and daisies, wrapped in sparkle-infused tissue paper. “...She's been my second mom, always letting me stay for dinner and shit. Why the hell not?”
“She's gonna melt, man.” Casey went over to the coffeepot and poured out two servings. If Zeke was going to wake up before noon on a Sunday, all for the mother they both adored, he'd get a good, solid caffeine fix. He also grabbed a vase from the lower cabinet and filled it. “Here, use this.”
Zeke put the stems down into the pretty, blue-glass vase. “Nice,” he said. He turned back to Casey, took the offered mug and leaned against the sink as he sipped. “So... you're sure you don't want me covering my own chow?”
“Nope. Like I said, I've been saving up, big time,” Casey replied.
“Yea, for your mom-not me. You know I got the cash.”
“Zip it. This is MY gift.” Casey went over to the kitchen table where his wallet sat. It was thick with bills, mostly twenties; no clunky, homemade ashtrays or cheap, 'Fabulous Imposters' fragrances, not this year. After everything Mrs. Connor had done for him, from dinner every night since he'd been conceived to her working double-shifts at the salon to make sure his college fund was splitting at the seams, the least Casey could do was save half of every check in the last month from his part-time job at 'Quick-Mart' to make this Mother's Day a grand affair. In a few minutes, he'd be waking the woman and telling her to dress in her best, all to head out and enjoy the Mother's Day Brunch Buffet at the classiest place in town, 'Frederica's'. The beautiful bistro had opened only a month ago, and he knew she'd been dying to go after what she'd heard about it from her rich, well-to-do clientele. At forty bucks a plate, Casey wasn't cutting corners. He had enough for four and THEN some. Let no one say Casey didn't appreciate anything.
“If you're sure,” Zeke finally replied.
“Ugh... I smell coffee.”
Both boys looked to the entrance of the kitchen; Mr. Connor, still in his pajamas and robe, hair sticking out all over the place, had arrived. He wore a sleepy smile but his expression turned into one of confusion when he saw Zeke. “Oh... hey there, Zeke. You're here real early; you guys got plans?”
“Yea-is Mom still sleeping?” Casey asked.
“Yea, she was up late last night watching... I dunno, some crazy chick-flick on Lifetime. So, whatcha doin' today?” Mr. Connor asked as he poured a mug for himself.
“Well, it's been a secret... but you better go upstairs and get dressed. We're heading to 'Fredrica's',” Casey quietly announced, beaming.
Mr. Connor frowned, paused mid-pour and turned to Casey with wildly-blinking eyes. “Huh? What... are you talking about?”
“I saved up for their Mother's Day brunch. It's all on me; I made reservations last week, and--”
“Oh. Oh no, oh no... oh shit. Oh fuck, fuck.”
The man's sudden swear-fest made Casey and Zeke exchange bewildered glances. “What?” Casey asked.
“It's Mother's Day??” Mr. Connor asked with panic in his voice. At the boy's slow nod, he groaned. “Ohh my god. Casey. I'm a dead man.”
“Shit...” Zeke murmured.
“Dad, you didn't forget. Tell me you didn't forget,” Casey said. When all his father did was wince and moan, Casey slapped his forehead. “Hurry. Run. Go to Stop & Shop for flowers or some shit--”
“I can't! I spent all my...” Mr. Connor ran his hands through his hair, fingers clenching tight on the strands. “...My brother, the last-minute fishing trip he planned for next weekend, I had to throw half my check into the pot if I wanted to go... the Visa's maxxed...”
“Double shit...” Zeke said.
“Dad, for real-for friggin' real...”
“Isn't Mom's Day, like, at the END of the month?!”
“It varies!”
“Oh good god, I wish you'd told me...”
Casey huffed. “I wanted to surprise her, surprise BOTH of you... 'not my fault you can't keep a calendar.”
Mr. Connor sighed shakily. “No, you're right. You're r-right.”
The wonderful, sunny weather outside was eclipsed with what was to come. Casey remembered the last Mother's Day his father had forgotten, more than five years ago-they all still carried the scars, like Vietnam vets and their barely-healed war-wounds. It wasn't that his dad never showed love or appreciation; but holidays, the ones catering to women specifically, always seemed to slip Mr. Connor's mind. He was a walking, talking sitcom.
Before anyone could come up with half-cocked, bad ideas to save the poor man's soul, a soft, yawning sigh came from the hall. Everyone froze and stared at the kitchen door, where Mrs. Connor was now shuffling through. “Good morning, every... oh!”
Everyone followed her line of sight; she was staring at the beautiful bouquet, an instant smile forming on her lips. She cooed and rushed over to brush her palms around the Queen Anne's Lace surrounding the blooms; she next whipped her head around to her husband. “And here I thought you forgot!”
“A... Actually--”
“Oh, pink. My favorite!”
Mr. Connor swallowed and stammered on his own breath. Zeke cleared his throat, stood straighter and smiled. “Yea, he done... good,” he said.
“Zeke! You're here early, aren't you?” she said, finally noticing the boy.
“Yeeea, I, um...”
“Dad's taking us out,” Casey blurted. He shot his moron of a dad a look then smiled. “Frederica's.”
“Fre-der-rica's??” Mrs. Connor said in a squeal. “Oh no, don't even say it-the brunch buffet??”
“Yup,” Casey said. “Zeke was invited, so that's... why he's here.”
Mrs. Connor looked beyond flabbergasted. She looked between them all with glossy eyes. “Oh... this is...” She now rushed to Mr. Connor and gave him a hard kiss to his red, red cheek. “...It's a dream! Oh my god, what do I wear??”
“The best you got. Classy place we're going to,” Casey said.
Giggling happily, Mrs. Connor looked down on her robe-clad self and raised her arms. “A shower then out we go! What time are the reservations?”
“Uh...” Mr. Connor faltered, giving Casey a panicked look.
“Um, you said it was... ten, right?” Casey 'asked'.
“Oh. Yes,” Mr. Connor said.
~*~
“Why did you use Casey's name?”
Casey and Zeke bit their lips as Mr. Connor made a nervous chuckle. “I'd-asked him to call them in. Hah,” he told Mrs. Connor.
“Oh,” she said.
Casey took her jacket for her and smiled. “Smells good, doesn't it?”
“Heavenly. You boys...” Mrs. Connor said. While Mr. Connor stewed by the check-in area, Mrs. Connor took Casey's hand and squeezed it. “Best Mother's Day on record.”
“Hah, yea, I know, right?”
“Mmm. Compared to your father's USUAL... I'll never forget the hand-held mixer gift. Oh yes, that was splendid,” she said with a sarcastic smile.
“Come with me, everyone; your table's ready,” their bright-eyed and bushy-tailed hostess said to them.
~*~
The moment Mrs. Connor had disappeared into the hall leading to the women's room...
“Anything. Anything you want.”
Casey and Zeke once again exchanged looks. Casey sighed. “Dad...”
“No, I mean it. What. Do. You want?” Mr. Connor said pointedly.
“I already said it was okay, we'd get through the day and never speak of...” Casey went to say, but stopped dead when he watched as Zeke picked up another crab leg, cracked it open and sucked at the open end. “...I'm spending next weekend at Zeke's.”
Zeke “Huh?”'ed, while Connor blinked furiously. “I... dunno how I could convince your... mother that...”
“You've got a week to figure it out,” Casey mischievously replied.
~*~
In the end, it didn't matter where this dinner had come from-who'd funded it. Meredith Connor, best mother in the world, was having the time of her life. She was eating the finest foods, including a thick slice of prime rib, red-bliss mashed potatoes and pancakes, all at once. Looks of her love and adoration were cast around the table, and though her husband deserved none of them, well... keeping the peace was more important than taking credit. That's what this was about, after all.
By the end of their meal, Mrs. Connor was flushed with joy. “Thank you, boys-Frank,” she said. “This was a lovely surprise.”
“You're welcome,” Mr. Connor said, his smile stiff and disappearing moments after speaking.
“Yea. Happy Mom's Day, Mom,” Casey said.
“Mmm. It feels pretty damned good... especially with the adopted son here, sharing it with us.” Mrs. Connor patted and rubbed Zeke's shoulder. “Thanks for coming with, Zeke.”
“Eh, free food,” he told her, winking.
~*~
Though 'flaunting it' cocked the eyebrows of Casey's parents, there was nothing wrong with the pair sitting in a snuggle on the couch together while watching TV. While Mrs. Connor ambled about in the kitchen, her husband out to rent them a movie, their dress shoes had been shucked, Casey changing back into jeans and a t-shirt. Zeke, however, was still in his nicer clothes. Casey ran a hand over the boy's knee.
“You ironed these, didn't you?” he remarked.
“Huh? Oh... well, they were clean, but... yea,” Zeke replied.
Casey chuckled and moved in even closer. “Sunday afternoon programming sucks balls,” he said of the infomercial they hadn't flipped away from.
“But it's funny. I mean... 'Slam Man'?” Zeke waved a hand to the screen, displaying the exercise-dummy, serving as a muscle-building, punching tool.
“Hey, boys.”
The two of them looked up; Mrs. Connor walked over to the recliner, the vase of flowers brought over to the side table next to it. Casey smiled and lifted the remote. “All yours, today,” he said.
“Ooh. The best gift a man can give a girl.” She winked, leaned forward and took it. The Slam-Man show disappeared in favor of the Hallmark channel. “Yea, it's girly, I know...”
“So?” Zeke said. “It's your day, screw what WE wanna watch.”
“Such a good boy.” Mrs. Connor wore a smile, though not the kind she'd put on for most of the day. It looked... sly. “I'm not even your real mom, and you give up the TV... and really, the flowers are so lovely.”
Both boys stiffened and shifted their gaze to her. “Uh... what?” Casey said.
“Uh huh,” Mrs. Connor said. She sighed, reached into her pocket and drew out a small envelope.
“Um...” Zeke muttered as she opened it, removed the small card and cleared her throat.
“'To my second mom-thanks for the awesome 'Taco Nights' on Saturdays. Love, Zeke',” she read aloud. The telling smile stayed on her face as she lifted her eyes to them again. “How did you know pink's my favorite color, sweetheart?”
Zeke's face paled then went absurdly pink, Mrs. Connor's favorite, in an instant. “I'd, uh... um, forgotten... that was... on there...” he replied, haltingly, nervously.
“So you did. What a darling boy you are,” Mrs. Connor said. She next turned to Casey. “And what, sweet son of mine, was the REAL reason that reservation was in your name?”
“It... just happened,” Casey replied.
“Just happened. Hmm.” Mrs. Connor's smile stretched wide. “Frederica's is still open. I could always call and--”
“Fine, I... it... ugh...” Casey shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I had to save him. He was terrified, Mom.”
“You saved up for it, big time-didn't you?” Mrs. Connor asked. Casey sighed again, then nodded.
“Yea. Pretty much,” he said. He reopened his eyes and gave her his best, pleading look. “Please, Mom. Please. It's our secret, okay?”
“Yes. It's out secret, sweetheart. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the garage.”
Casey and Zeke frowned as she gave them a wink, stood up-gave the roses one more breathy intake of air, a soft moan-then left them to watch 'A Mother's Sacrifice'.
“The garage?” Zeke echoed.
~*~
That Next Friday Night...
“Oh, for-Meredith!!”
“Yes, honey?”
Casey looked up from his dinner of grilled cheese and chips to his father, who returned from the garage with a panicked look on his face. “Have you seen my tackle box?? I always keep it in the back by the workbench, but it's not there! Oh my god, Pete's coming by ANY second now...”
“Your tackle box? How would I know where your tackle box is?” Mrs. Connor replied.
“Ugh! Case... have you seen it??”
Casey shrugged. “No? I don't fish.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Mr. Connor whined loudly. “He's here!”
“Hello?”
Zeke, letting himself in as usual. “In the kitchen!” Casey called out.
“Honey, I'm sure the game-shop is still open-you can stop there for what you need?” Mrs. Connor suggested as Zeke strolled in.
“It'll run me up, BIG time, though... shit,” Mr. Connor said as he put his hand to his forehead. “I was gonna use the extra cash for a new pole, then the bars...”
“Well, nothing's wrong with your old pole, right?” Mrs. Connor said.
Mr. Connor let out another sad moan before putting his hands up and rushing back to the garage. Casey sucked in his lower lip, trying to hold back his grin. “Gee, Mom. This grilled cheese is really good,” he said.
“Why, thank you, baby. So... what have you boys got planned for the weekend?” she asked as she returned to the dishwasher.
“Eh, not much. Maybe see a movie, head to Columbus for this band Stan likes...” Casey replied casually.
“Mmm. If you need a few dollars for rubbers, all you have to do is ask.”
Casey winced, while Zeke blushed. “Yea. Yea, thanks Mom, we've got that covered...” Casey said.
“You'd better.”
“You asked for that one,” Zeke told the boy.
The sound of a car pulling in the drive and a car door opening came through the kitchen window. “Hey, Frank! Are you ready to--”
“No, damn it, I can't find my stupid tackle box!”
“Huh? Whattya mean? Frank, we gotta get rollin', I told Clyde we'd be meeting him at eight...”
“I know! I just...”
“You can use mine? Or we can stop off somewhere, but we gotta go, dude.”
“This is ridiculous, ugh!”
Mrs. Connor hummed a light, happy tune as she poured soap-powder in the resevoir, shut the dishwasher door and brushed her hands together. “I suppose I get a second Mother's Day, or really, a Mother's Weekend. This is gonna be fun,” she said. “You sure you boys don't want to come to my lil' get-together tomorrow?”
“Yeeea, we'll leave you to it. Thanks, but no,” Casey said.
“Mmm, too bad. We might get a visit from the police,” Mrs. Connor replied.
“Why? You gonna report dad's tackle box stolen?” Casey replied with a sly grin.
“No, no. Me and the girls have an appointment with the law.”
She left the room, humming again, Casey watching her go with a frown. “The hell is she talking about...?”
“They're getting a stripper. Finish that sandwich and let's motor,” Zeke replied, rolling his eyes.
...even though I hate it!
Oh, but I do. Still, no reason to keep our BOYS from celebrating, amirite?
Title: The Good Sons
Pairing/Characters: C/Z, Mr. and Mrs. C
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey and Zeke save the day. Sorta.
“Hey... c'mon in,” Casey hissed, waving Zeke inside.
“Don't even tell me she doesn't know yet.”
Grinning, Casey shook his head. “Nope. She's still in bed,” he said. He shut the back door quietly, turned and smiled even wider, seeing what Zeke held. “Oh... you got my mom fuckin' flowers.”
“Yea, well...” Zeke shrugged and held up the assortment of pink roses and daisies, wrapped in sparkle-infused tissue paper. “...She's been my second mom, always letting me stay for dinner and shit. Why the hell not?”
“She's gonna melt, man.” Casey went over to the coffeepot and poured out two servings. If Zeke was going to wake up before noon on a Sunday, all for the mother they both adored, he'd get a good, solid caffeine fix. He also grabbed a vase from the lower cabinet and filled it. “Here, use this.”
Zeke put the stems down into the pretty, blue-glass vase. “Nice,” he said. He turned back to Casey, took the offered mug and leaned against the sink as he sipped. “So... you're sure you don't want me covering my own chow?”
“Nope. Like I said, I've been saving up, big time,” Casey replied.
“Yea, for your mom-not me. You know I got the cash.”
“Zip it. This is MY gift.” Casey went over to the kitchen table where his wallet sat. It was thick with bills, mostly twenties; no clunky, homemade ashtrays or cheap, 'Fabulous Imposters' fragrances, not this year. After everything Mrs. Connor had done for him, from dinner every night since he'd been conceived to her working double-shifts at the salon to make sure his college fund was splitting at the seams, the least Casey could do was save half of every check in the last month from his part-time job at 'Quick-Mart' to make this Mother's Day a grand affair. In a few minutes, he'd be waking the woman and telling her to dress in her best, all to head out and enjoy the Mother's Day Brunch Buffet at the classiest place in town, 'Frederica's'. The beautiful bistro had opened only a month ago, and he knew she'd been dying to go after what she'd heard about it from her rich, well-to-do clientele. At forty bucks a plate, Casey wasn't cutting corners. He had enough for four and THEN some. Let no one say Casey didn't appreciate anything.
“If you're sure,” Zeke finally replied.
“Ugh... I smell coffee.”
Both boys looked to the entrance of the kitchen; Mr. Connor, still in his pajamas and robe, hair sticking out all over the place, had arrived. He wore a sleepy smile but his expression turned into one of confusion when he saw Zeke. “Oh... hey there, Zeke. You're here real early; you guys got plans?”
“Yea-is Mom still sleeping?” Casey asked.
“Yea, she was up late last night watching... I dunno, some crazy chick-flick on Lifetime. So, whatcha doin' today?” Mr. Connor asked as he poured a mug for himself.
“Well, it's been a secret... but you better go upstairs and get dressed. We're heading to 'Fredrica's',” Casey quietly announced, beaming.
Mr. Connor frowned, paused mid-pour and turned to Casey with wildly-blinking eyes. “Huh? What... are you talking about?”
“I saved up for their Mother's Day brunch. It's all on me; I made reservations last week, and--”
“Oh. Oh no, oh no... oh shit. Oh fuck, fuck.”
The man's sudden swear-fest made Casey and Zeke exchange bewildered glances. “What?” Casey asked.
“It's Mother's Day??” Mr. Connor asked with panic in his voice. At the boy's slow nod, he groaned. “Ohh my god. Casey. I'm a dead man.”
“Shit...” Zeke murmured.
“Dad, you didn't forget. Tell me you didn't forget,” Casey said. When all his father did was wince and moan, Casey slapped his forehead. “Hurry. Run. Go to Stop & Shop for flowers or some shit--”
“I can't! I spent all my...” Mr. Connor ran his hands through his hair, fingers clenching tight on the strands. “...My brother, the last-minute fishing trip he planned for next weekend, I had to throw half my check into the pot if I wanted to go... the Visa's maxxed...”
“Double shit...” Zeke said.
“Dad, for real-for friggin' real...”
“Isn't Mom's Day, like, at the END of the month?!”
“It varies!”
“Oh good god, I wish you'd told me...”
Casey huffed. “I wanted to surprise her, surprise BOTH of you... 'not my fault you can't keep a calendar.”
Mr. Connor sighed shakily. “No, you're right. You're r-right.”
The wonderful, sunny weather outside was eclipsed with what was to come. Casey remembered the last Mother's Day his father had forgotten, more than five years ago-they all still carried the scars, like Vietnam vets and their barely-healed war-wounds. It wasn't that his dad never showed love or appreciation; but holidays, the ones catering to women specifically, always seemed to slip Mr. Connor's mind. He was a walking, talking sitcom.
Before anyone could come up with half-cocked, bad ideas to save the poor man's soul, a soft, yawning sigh came from the hall. Everyone froze and stared at the kitchen door, where Mrs. Connor was now shuffling through. “Good morning, every... oh!”
Everyone followed her line of sight; she was staring at the beautiful bouquet, an instant smile forming on her lips. She cooed and rushed over to brush her palms around the Queen Anne's Lace surrounding the blooms; she next whipped her head around to her husband. “And here I thought you forgot!”
“A... Actually--”
“Oh, pink. My favorite!”
Mr. Connor swallowed and stammered on his own breath. Zeke cleared his throat, stood straighter and smiled. “Yea, he done... good,” he said.
“Zeke! You're here early, aren't you?” she said, finally noticing the boy.
“Yeeea, I, um...”
“Dad's taking us out,” Casey blurted. He shot his moron of a dad a look then smiled. “Frederica's.”
“Fre-der-rica's??” Mrs. Connor said in a squeal. “Oh no, don't even say it-the brunch buffet??”
“Yup,” Casey said. “Zeke was invited, so that's... why he's here.”
Mrs. Connor looked beyond flabbergasted. She looked between them all with glossy eyes. “Oh... this is...” She now rushed to Mr. Connor and gave him a hard kiss to his red, red cheek. “...It's a dream! Oh my god, what do I wear??”
“The best you got. Classy place we're going to,” Casey said.
Giggling happily, Mrs. Connor looked down on her robe-clad self and raised her arms. “A shower then out we go! What time are the reservations?”
“Uh...” Mr. Connor faltered, giving Casey a panicked look.
“Um, you said it was... ten, right?” Casey 'asked'.
“Oh. Yes,” Mr. Connor said.
~*~
“Why did you use Casey's name?”
Casey and Zeke bit their lips as Mr. Connor made a nervous chuckle. “I'd-asked him to call them in. Hah,” he told Mrs. Connor.
“Oh,” she said.
Casey took her jacket for her and smiled. “Smells good, doesn't it?”
“Heavenly. You boys...” Mrs. Connor said. While Mr. Connor stewed by the check-in area, Mrs. Connor took Casey's hand and squeezed it. “Best Mother's Day on record.”
“Hah, yea, I know, right?”
“Mmm. Compared to your father's USUAL... I'll never forget the hand-held mixer gift. Oh yes, that was splendid,” she said with a sarcastic smile.
“Come with me, everyone; your table's ready,” their bright-eyed and bushy-tailed hostess said to them.
~*~
The moment Mrs. Connor had disappeared into the hall leading to the women's room...
“Anything. Anything you want.”
Casey and Zeke once again exchanged looks. Casey sighed. “Dad...”
“No, I mean it. What. Do. You want?” Mr. Connor said pointedly.
“I already said it was okay, we'd get through the day and never speak of...” Casey went to say, but stopped dead when he watched as Zeke picked up another crab leg, cracked it open and sucked at the open end. “...I'm spending next weekend at Zeke's.”
Zeke “Huh?”'ed, while Connor blinked furiously. “I... dunno how I could convince your... mother that...”
“You've got a week to figure it out,” Casey mischievously replied.
~*~
In the end, it didn't matter where this dinner had come from-who'd funded it. Meredith Connor, best mother in the world, was having the time of her life. She was eating the finest foods, including a thick slice of prime rib, red-bliss mashed potatoes and pancakes, all at once. Looks of her love and adoration were cast around the table, and though her husband deserved none of them, well... keeping the peace was more important than taking credit. That's what this was about, after all.
By the end of their meal, Mrs. Connor was flushed with joy. “Thank you, boys-Frank,” she said. “This was a lovely surprise.”
“You're welcome,” Mr. Connor said, his smile stiff and disappearing moments after speaking.
“Yea. Happy Mom's Day, Mom,” Casey said.
“Mmm. It feels pretty damned good... especially with the adopted son here, sharing it with us.” Mrs. Connor patted and rubbed Zeke's shoulder. “Thanks for coming with, Zeke.”
“Eh, free food,” he told her, winking.
~*~
Though 'flaunting it' cocked the eyebrows of Casey's parents, there was nothing wrong with the pair sitting in a snuggle on the couch together while watching TV. While Mrs. Connor ambled about in the kitchen, her husband out to rent them a movie, their dress shoes had been shucked, Casey changing back into jeans and a t-shirt. Zeke, however, was still in his nicer clothes. Casey ran a hand over the boy's knee.
“You ironed these, didn't you?” he remarked.
“Huh? Oh... well, they were clean, but... yea,” Zeke replied.
Casey chuckled and moved in even closer. “Sunday afternoon programming sucks balls,” he said of the infomercial they hadn't flipped away from.
“But it's funny. I mean... 'Slam Man'?” Zeke waved a hand to the screen, displaying the exercise-dummy, serving as a muscle-building, punching tool.
“Hey, boys.”
The two of them looked up; Mrs. Connor walked over to the recliner, the vase of flowers brought over to the side table next to it. Casey smiled and lifted the remote. “All yours, today,” he said.
“Ooh. The best gift a man can give a girl.” She winked, leaned forward and took it. The Slam-Man show disappeared in favor of the Hallmark channel. “Yea, it's girly, I know...”
“So?” Zeke said. “It's your day, screw what WE wanna watch.”
“Such a good boy.” Mrs. Connor wore a smile, though not the kind she'd put on for most of the day. It looked... sly. “I'm not even your real mom, and you give up the TV... and really, the flowers are so lovely.”
Both boys stiffened and shifted their gaze to her. “Uh... what?” Casey said.
“Uh huh,” Mrs. Connor said. She sighed, reached into her pocket and drew out a small envelope.
“Um...” Zeke muttered as she opened it, removed the small card and cleared her throat.
“'To my second mom-thanks for the awesome 'Taco Nights' on Saturdays. Love, Zeke',” she read aloud. The telling smile stayed on her face as she lifted her eyes to them again. “How did you know pink's my favorite color, sweetheart?”
Zeke's face paled then went absurdly pink, Mrs. Connor's favorite, in an instant. “I'd, uh... um, forgotten... that was... on there...” he replied, haltingly, nervously.
“So you did. What a darling boy you are,” Mrs. Connor said. She next turned to Casey. “And what, sweet son of mine, was the REAL reason that reservation was in your name?”
“It... just happened,” Casey replied.
“Just happened. Hmm.” Mrs. Connor's smile stretched wide. “Frederica's is still open. I could always call and--”
“Fine, I... it... ugh...” Casey shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I had to save him. He was terrified, Mom.”
“You saved up for it, big time-didn't you?” Mrs. Connor asked. Casey sighed again, then nodded.
“Yea. Pretty much,” he said. He reopened his eyes and gave her his best, pleading look. “Please, Mom. Please. It's our secret, okay?”
“Yes. It's out secret, sweetheart. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the garage.”
Casey and Zeke frowned as she gave them a wink, stood up-gave the roses one more breathy intake of air, a soft moan-then left them to watch 'A Mother's Sacrifice'.
“The garage?” Zeke echoed.
~*~
That Next Friday Night...
“Oh, for-Meredith!!”
“Yes, honey?”
Casey looked up from his dinner of grilled cheese and chips to his father, who returned from the garage with a panicked look on his face. “Have you seen my tackle box?? I always keep it in the back by the workbench, but it's not there! Oh my god, Pete's coming by ANY second now...”
“Your tackle box? How would I know where your tackle box is?” Mrs. Connor replied.
“Ugh! Case... have you seen it??”
Casey shrugged. “No? I don't fish.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Mr. Connor whined loudly. “He's here!”
“Hello?”
Zeke, letting himself in as usual. “In the kitchen!” Casey called out.
“Honey, I'm sure the game-shop is still open-you can stop there for what you need?” Mrs. Connor suggested as Zeke strolled in.
“It'll run me up, BIG time, though... shit,” Mr. Connor said as he put his hand to his forehead. “I was gonna use the extra cash for a new pole, then the bars...”
“Well, nothing's wrong with your old pole, right?” Mrs. Connor said.
Mr. Connor let out another sad moan before putting his hands up and rushing back to the garage. Casey sucked in his lower lip, trying to hold back his grin. “Gee, Mom. This grilled cheese is really good,” he said.
“Why, thank you, baby. So... what have you boys got planned for the weekend?” she asked as she returned to the dishwasher.
“Eh, not much. Maybe see a movie, head to Columbus for this band Stan likes...” Casey replied casually.
“Mmm. If you need a few dollars for rubbers, all you have to do is ask.”
Casey winced, while Zeke blushed. “Yea. Yea, thanks Mom, we've got that covered...” Casey said.
“You'd better.”
“You asked for that one,” Zeke told the boy.
The sound of a car pulling in the drive and a car door opening came through the kitchen window. “Hey, Frank! Are you ready to--”
“No, damn it, I can't find my stupid tackle box!”
“Huh? Whattya mean? Frank, we gotta get rollin', I told Clyde we'd be meeting him at eight...”
“I know! I just...”
“You can use mine? Or we can stop off somewhere, but we gotta go, dude.”
“This is ridiculous, ugh!”
Mrs. Connor hummed a light, happy tune as she poured soap-powder in the resevoir, shut the dishwasher door and brushed her hands together. “I suppose I get a second Mother's Day, or really, a Mother's Weekend. This is gonna be fun,” she said. “You sure you boys don't want to come to my lil' get-together tomorrow?”
“Yeeea, we'll leave you to it. Thanks, but no,” Casey said.
“Mmm, too bad. We might get a visit from the police,” Mrs. Connor replied.
“Why? You gonna report dad's tackle box stolen?” Casey replied with a sly grin.
“No, no. Me and the girls have an appointment with the law.”
She left the room, humming again, Casey watching her go with a frown. “The hell is she talking about...?”
“They're getting a stripper. Finish that sandwich and let's motor,” Zeke replied, rolling his eyes.