(no subject)
Okay, addie71... I promised you a belated-birthday fic, and you iz gonna GET it. :)
Title: Promises Kept
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: Light NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Mr. Connor's always been accepting, but...
“You need to accept this.”
“It's not... that I'm not...”
“Then start showing it.”
Meredith's stern words shut Frank up as they washed dishes together, spending the last half of the chore in silence. Dishes were usually Casey's job, but Frank's wife had decided to say 'yes' to his wanting to go to... some club that allowed eighteen-and-ups, Frank didn't know or care... without consulting her husband. When he'd gotten huffy and annoyed, she reminded him that their son was of-age, and that they'd babied him too much over the years.
More frustration, there. It'd been Meredith, not Frank, who'd pooh-poohed their son from birth on. The woman still insisted on choosing Casey's clothes when they'd go shopping, instead of letting Casey do it. It'd been because of Frank telling his wife that their boy had his license and birthday money to spend the way HE wanted that Casey had come home after a trip to the mall-by himself-with more stylish, cooler clothing. “Thanks, Dad,” he'd said in a murmur as he'd passed him on the way to the stairs. Frank had grinned; that'd been HIS moment, right there.
It was Meredith still who was growing more and more emotional as time went on. While they'd helped Casey fill out college applications months before near the end of the summer before his senior year began, a small but hot debate had been struck when Casey's first choice came to light. Meredith had frowned and declared Boston too far away; Frank had been stunned.
“He's not going to get the right training in art anywhere around here.”
“But Boston?? There has to be somewhere closer--”
“Mom, it's... I might not even get in, but I wanna try...”
Frank had stopped the young man cold, right there, letting him know that if he wanted to shoot for the stars and get the best education he could, the college fund he'd shoved wads of cash into since Casey was born was there for him. Casey had smiled and filled the Art Institute's application out, and Meredith refused to speak to Frank until the next morning.
“You know, you've tried pushing him into things we know he doesn't like, too,” she'd spat out moments after Frank had come downstairs for his morning coffee... no lead-up or warnings involved. In some ways, she was right-in others, very wrong.
Frank had tried getting Casey into sports, especially baseball. During their 'Father-Son' trip to Chicago where they'd met Frank's brother Gary and HIS son, Justin, they'd gone to a Cubs game. Despite nine-year-old Casey's lack of interest, even his saying, “Can't we do something else?” on the way to Illinois, Frank had been convinced that Casey would cave and find a love for the game deep down somewhere, once in the stands. Instead, while Justin and Gary had whooped, cheered and yelled, Casey had spent most of the game with his hands over his ears and a deep frown on his face.
“Did you like it... at all?” Frank had asked.
“It was-too loud.”
That'd marked the end of it, and Frank could barely hide his disappointment. But that was where Meredith's argument ended: he HAD gotten over his dreams of Casey being a sports-loving jock being crushed and eventually found enjoyment in who his son really was; an artist and deep-thinker, someone who could spend weeks sitting in his room reading or drawing. In the end, Frank had been proud of both Casey and himself, the reason for the latter being that he didn't end up like HIS father, who'd tried living through him and Gary's younger days in pushing everything he liked on them.
But it was different now, and however long he'd suspected other oddities and behaviors in his son, he'd lost sleep over the confirmation that Casey was gay-confirmed by Casey himself, the admittance blurted out of nowhere over dinner the week before. Something had popped in Frank's ears, making him deaf and dumb for a full minute before Meredith's voice came through.
“Frank?”
Frank had turned to his son, who stared at him with unblinking eyes-panicking inwardly, that was assured. As much as Frank wanted to smile, say, “Okay,” he just couldn't. “I... need to take a walk,” he'd said instead before standing up from his untouched dinner, grabbing his jacket and heading out into the deep-autumn, chilly night. When he'd returned an hour later, he ignored Meredith's icy glare from her spot on the couch to head upstairs and tell his son that, no, he didn't hate him-but he needed some time to let it sink in. Casey had sadly but understandably accepted it.
But tonight at dinner, Frank had noticed the light purple bloom on Casey's neck, just under his jawline. As Casey slipped mouthful after mouthful of his mother's delicious mashed potatoes into his mouth, Frank had ignored HIS meal to stare at the mark. It hadn't been there this morning when Zeke Tyler, the guy Casey had been hanging out with rather a lot lately, had picked him up for school. Before he could stop himself, he'd asked, “Who gave you that?”
After a long stretch of silence, Casey's staring at his father as he pressed his fingers over the bruising... “My... boyfriend.”
“And who's that?”
“You know already.” Casey had returned to the potatoes and ham steaks, eating fast before heading upstairs, changing for the club and running out to the curb where Zeke's GTO sat idling in wait.
Frank went straight to bed after the dishes were done, glad that his wife wanted to watch a new Lifetime original movie, chock full of the typical man-hating plotlines the station was fond of broadcasting, no doubt. It left Frank by himself, at any rate, something he needed. He hadn't expected to fall asleep with everything whirring in his brain as it all was, but he had.
Maybe he should've expected that brain to KEEP whirring with all the worries and fears that had been brought upon him-the doubts, disappointments and even anger conjuring up a dream involving Frank's walking down the bedroom hallway of their house, which seemed much longer than it really was. It was all dark besides the light coming through the bottom of Casey's doorway. Something squeaking, jostling-Frank opened the door and there on the bed, basking in the bright light of the room was his buck-naked son on his hands and knees, an equally-nude Zeke kneeling behind him to fuck the life out of the boy. They didn't stop, not even when both sets of eyes looked to Frank... Zeke smiled.
“Who's 'Daddy' now, Frank?”
Dream-Frank had lunged, fist out-the real Frank had lurched himself out of bed onto the floor, landing in a heap. His eyes opened and he tried to focus, but the room was pitch-black. “F-Frank?” Meredith said in a drowsy, sleepy voice from her side of the bed. Frank stayed still, saying nothing, until he heard her light snoring. Once he was sure she'd fallen asleep, he moved to a kneel and covered his face with his hands.
'Just a dream,' he thought. He sat there for what felt like forever... just a dream. If he'd actually walked-in on a scene like that, the boys would've jumped, hollered and been embarrassed, and while Frank would indeed feel sick and sad, he'd get over it. There'd be no smiles, no continuing-on with the sex. But there was no doubt in his mind that his son and that... rotten bastard WERE, in fact, 'doing things'. He really hadn't been too fond of Zeke as a friend of Casey's-now they were more than that, much more, and Frank had gone from rolling his eyes and shrugging their friendship off to wanting to strangle Zeke for daring to touch Frank's little boy as he most undoubtedly was.
When the sound of the front door downstairs reached his ears, Frank went cold and looked to the clock on the bedside table. One-thirty; a half-an-hour from Casey's two o'clock weekend curfew. THAT had been Frank's doing as well, wanting his son to have his freedom. He'd earned it, getting the grades he did... getting that acceptance letter from Boston that past Wednesday. The curfew-extension had been given before Frank had known what Casey would do with it, and with who. Clubbing with the boyfriend? Frank would've had his son in before the sun went down...
There were voices now, muted and low, right below him. Casey had brought Zeke into the house, apparently. Frank listened to the light clanking of the fridge being opened, some chuckling, more talking... for whatever reason, he stood, slipped his robe on then left the room to head downstairs. He didn't really know why, especially since he'd see his son and his 'beau' interacting for the first time since Frank had found out about them. Was he even ready for that? He'd find out, now that he was going down the hall leading to the kitchen. He made his steps quiet, as if wanting to go unseen. Now at the archway, he looked in and swallowed.
Casey wasn't expecting his parents to be up this late, going by the way he was allowing Zeke to press into him. Casey's back was braced at the counter, holding him still enough for Zeke to plunder Casey's mouth with his own. An unopened can of cola was in Casey's hand, another drink sitting on the counter next to two glasses full of ice. “Zeke...” Casey murmured and giggled past their kiss. “'Said you were thirsty...”
“Mmhmm,” Zeke hummed in reply, moving his hand to the back of Casey's head to make their kiss go even deeper.
Casey tugged himself away, turning his smiling face to where Frank stood. His eyes were closed, allowing him to say, “If I'd known you were in this mood, I wouldn't've let you in...” without knowing they were being watched.
“You got a half hour left... let's use up the rest of the curfew upstairs,” Zeke said. Frank's fists balled as Zeke moved on to kissing and nipping his son's neck, while Casey chuckled again.
“My parents'll...” Casey started, but in opening his eyes he discovered that they were being watched. The blues went wider and he stood straight. “Dad.”
Zeke didn't jump or turn to look, but he definitely stopped what he was doing. Frank took a deep breath, watching the visible swallow roll up and down Casey's Zeke-moistened throat. He couldn't find the words to say, or the right ones, anyway-until finally, Zeke lifted his head away from Casey and set his gaze on the man. The silence was too much, enough for Frank to clear his throat, raise his eyebrows and say, “If you're so 'thirsty', take the soda my son got out for you.”
The tall, dark-haired boy made a strange smirk, one of both amusement and insecurity. “Nah, I'll... get... going,” he said.
“Drink. Your soda,” Frank said-or really, demanded.
Casey swallowed again, turned to the counter and poured out the colas with a shaking hand. Once they were filled, he took one and handed it to Zeke. “H-Here,” he muttered.
“Thanks,” Zeke said in a murmur. His eyes were set on the fridge as he sipped. There was a deep, unspoken defiance here, his not looking to Frank, give any explanations as to what they were doing, however half-cocked and ridiculous those 'explanations' would be. It was all too obvious, anyway.
“I'm... not late for curfew,” Casey said.
“I know,” Frank replied. He looked between them before setting his gaze on 'the boyfriend'. It was Casey he spoke to, however, when he said, “Go upstairs while I say a few things to this guy.”
Another pause followed, until Frank caught Casey shaking his head in the corner of his eye. “Just... say what you wanna, I'm staying,” Casey replied.
Whatever. Frank rolled his eyes, but fine. The less secrets and unspokens around here, the better. “I can't tell you not to be with my son, even if I wanted to. And by god, do I want to,” Frank opened with. He tucked his fists under his arms, willing himself to stay calm. “I've been sitting around, wondering what to do or think about when it comes to... this. 'Hard enough for me to come to terms with Casey's being who he is without him bringing you home.”
“Dad, it's--”
Frank went to say, “Let me speak, boy,” but Casey was shushed by Zeke, instead... literally, Zeke's gentle “Shush,” and holding a hand up to him silencing the young man. That made Frank switch gears, just a little. 'He's giving me some respect, there,' he thought before going on, “But I can't change it, and I ain't gonna try. Just know that I'm watching you-BOTH of you, like a hawk. I see anything wrong and I'm swooping down on you faster than you can blink.”
“'K,” Zeke said. While he only lifted his eyes to Frank for barely a second before looking away again, he'd acknowledged Frank enough.
“Clear?”
“Yea,” Zeke said.
Frank made one curt nod before looking to his son, who took a deep breath, shook his head and said, “Crystal, Dad.”
“Good,” Frank said. He turned halfway, said, “Finish your sodas then say goodbye,” then stepped away from the kitchen and headed into the living room, where he sat in wait. No way was he letting them make their goodbyes alone, not now, not tonight. They needed his presence, whether they liked it or not.
After ten minutes of listening to their muted, hissed conversation, Frank lifted his head to look to the hall. Zeke emerged first, then Casey. They went to the door, with Casey holding it open as they chatted. Frank steeled himself when Zeke dipped down to place a small, chaste kiss upon Casey's lips. “I'll call ya tomorrow,” he said.
“'K.”
Sniffing, Zeke smiled, rubbed the back of his neck then glanced to Frank. “Bye, Mr. Connor,” he said.
“Goodnight,” Frank said as cordially as he could. Relief flooded in when the boy left, Casey staying by the door to watch him go. Frank regarded the boy's expression carefully... he really was a boy in love, wasn't he? 'Fucking dangerous shit,' Frank thought, even if he wanted to be happy for his son. When the GTO's engine roared to life then sent Zeke down the road, Casey finally closed the door, stepped away with a sigh then looked into the living room.
“Thanks,” he said.
“For what?” Frank asked. Casey shrugged.
“For not stabbing my boyfriend dead.”
Frank sniffed and went to retort with, 'I'm surprised I didn't, myself,' when he saw another new item Casey was wearing-not a hickey, but a thick, corded bracelet of some kind. “What's that?” he asked, nodding to Casey's wrist.
“Oh...” Casey lifted it up and smiled. “...It's a 'congrats' gift... for my Boston 'yes'. A hemp bracelet. Zeke makes 'em.”
Hemp. Weed. Something about Zeke screamed pot-smoker, but... it wasn't the time. When Casey went to sit next to his father, still sipping soda, Frank got a better look at the homemade gift. “Wow,” he said, honestly impressed by the intricate braids and knots, with black, red and blue beads tied into the loops in the middle. “He's talented, huh?”
“Yea, I like it,” Casey said. Again, the 'in-love' look returned as he ran a finger over one of the black beads. “He said... that he'd never made one for anyone else before, that not many deserved to wear a 'Tyler original'.”
Frank couldn't help the small, fatherly smile at this piece of information. “Oh yea?”
“Yea.”
“Well, when he's rich and famous someday, you can make a bundle in an auction or something.”
Casey laughed and turned to him to say, “No way, this ain't ever coming off.” He went pink in the cheeks, his making the boyish declaration, as if Zeke was in a boy-band and Casey was a preteen who swore he'd never wash the cheek Zeke had kissed. “I really like him, Dad.”
A noticeable shift happened deep inside of Frank; his heart felt heavy all of a sudden, but not necessarily in a bad way. 'By god, I just want my boy to be happy...' he thought. “Just... you be careful, okay? Promise me that.”
“Yea, I promise.”
Frank nodded, stood and groaned. “Let's get to bed,” he said.
Casey nodded back and joined his father in following him upstairs. Before Frank could return to the bedroom, Casey smiled as he passed by and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
Frank didn't have to ask, 'what for?' “Love you, Son.”
“Love you, too.”
The moment Frank had closed the bedroom door behind him and crawled back under the covers with his wife, he realized what had just happened: he'd kept the promise he'd made to Casey moments after the nurse had handed him over, all red-faced and swaddled tight in a hospital blanket. “Gonna love you, no matter what.” Frank stayed awake a while to cry quietly, knowing without a doubt that he'd done it right. Before he closed his eyes and sank back into sleep, he made another promise.
'You hurt him and they'll never find the body,' he silently, secretly thought at wherever Zeke was at the moment.
Title: Promises Kept
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: Light NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Mr. Connor's always been accepting, but...
“You need to accept this.”
“It's not... that I'm not...”
“Then start showing it.”
Meredith's stern words shut Frank up as they washed dishes together, spending the last half of the chore in silence. Dishes were usually Casey's job, but Frank's wife had decided to say 'yes' to his wanting to go to... some club that allowed eighteen-and-ups, Frank didn't know or care... without consulting her husband. When he'd gotten huffy and annoyed, she reminded him that their son was of-age, and that they'd babied him too much over the years.
More frustration, there. It'd been Meredith, not Frank, who'd pooh-poohed their son from birth on. The woman still insisted on choosing Casey's clothes when they'd go shopping, instead of letting Casey do it. It'd been because of Frank telling his wife that their boy had his license and birthday money to spend the way HE wanted that Casey had come home after a trip to the mall-by himself-with more stylish, cooler clothing. “Thanks, Dad,” he'd said in a murmur as he'd passed him on the way to the stairs. Frank had grinned; that'd been HIS moment, right there.
It was Meredith still who was growing more and more emotional as time went on. While they'd helped Casey fill out college applications months before near the end of the summer before his senior year began, a small but hot debate had been struck when Casey's first choice came to light. Meredith had frowned and declared Boston too far away; Frank had been stunned.
“He's not going to get the right training in art anywhere around here.”
“But Boston?? There has to be somewhere closer--”
“Mom, it's... I might not even get in, but I wanna try...”
Frank had stopped the young man cold, right there, letting him know that if he wanted to shoot for the stars and get the best education he could, the college fund he'd shoved wads of cash into since Casey was born was there for him. Casey had smiled and filled the Art Institute's application out, and Meredith refused to speak to Frank until the next morning.
“You know, you've tried pushing him into things we know he doesn't like, too,” she'd spat out moments after Frank had come downstairs for his morning coffee... no lead-up or warnings involved. In some ways, she was right-in others, very wrong.
Frank had tried getting Casey into sports, especially baseball. During their 'Father-Son' trip to Chicago where they'd met Frank's brother Gary and HIS son, Justin, they'd gone to a Cubs game. Despite nine-year-old Casey's lack of interest, even his saying, “Can't we do something else?” on the way to Illinois, Frank had been convinced that Casey would cave and find a love for the game deep down somewhere, once in the stands. Instead, while Justin and Gary had whooped, cheered and yelled, Casey had spent most of the game with his hands over his ears and a deep frown on his face.
“Did you like it... at all?” Frank had asked.
“It was-too loud.”
That'd marked the end of it, and Frank could barely hide his disappointment. But that was where Meredith's argument ended: he HAD gotten over his dreams of Casey being a sports-loving jock being crushed and eventually found enjoyment in who his son really was; an artist and deep-thinker, someone who could spend weeks sitting in his room reading or drawing. In the end, Frank had been proud of both Casey and himself, the reason for the latter being that he didn't end up like HIS father, who'd tried living through him and Gary's younger days in pushing everything he liked on them.
But it was different now, and however long he'd suspected other oddities and behaviors in his son, he'd lost sleep over the confirmation that Casey was gay-confirmed by Casey himself, the admittance blurted out of nowhere over dinner the week before. Something had popped in Frank's ears, making him deaf and dumb for a full minute before Meredith's voice came through.
“Frank?”
Frank had turned to his son, who stared at him with unblinking eyes-panicking inwardly, that was assured. As much as Frank wanted to smile, say, “Okay,” he just couldn't. “I... need to take a walk,” he'd said instead before standing up from his untouched dinner, grabbing his jacket and heading out into the deep-autumn, chilly night. When he'd returned an hour later, he ignored Meredith's icy glare from her spot on the couch to head upstairs and tell his son that, no, he didn't hate him-but he needed some time to let it sink in. Casey had sadly but understandably accepted it.
But tonight at dinner, Frank had noticed the light purple bloom on Casey's neck, just under his jawline. As Casey slipped mouthful after mouthful of his mother's delicious mashed potatoes into his mouth, Frank had ignored HIS meal to stare at the mark. It hadn't been there this morning when Zeke Tyler, the guy Casey had been hanging out with rather a lot lately, had picked him up for school. Before he could stop himself, he'd asked, “Who gave you that?”
After a long stretch of silence, Casey's staring at his father as he pressed his fingers over the bruising... “My... boyfriend.”
“And who's that?”
“You know already.” Casey had returned to the potatoes and ham steaks, eating fast before heading upstairs, changing for the club and running out to the curb where Zeke's GTO sat idling in wait.
Frank went straight to bed after the dishes were done, glad that his wife wanted to watch a new Lifetime original movie, chock full of the typical man-hating plotlines the station was fond of broadcasting, no doubt. It left Frank by himself, at any rate, something he needed. He hadn't expected to fall asleep with everything whirring in his brain as it all was, but he had.
Maybe he should've expected that brain to KEEP whirring with all the worries and fears that had been brought upon him-the doubts, disappointments and even anger conjuring up a dream involving Frank's walking down the bedroom hallway of their house, which seemed much longer than it really was. It was all dark besides the light coming through the bottom of Casey's doorway. Something squeaking, jostling-Frank opened the door and there on the bed, basking in the bright light of the room was his buck-naked son on his hands and knees, an equally-nude Zeke kneeling behind him to fuck the life out of the boy. They didn't stop, not even when both sets of eyes looked to Frank... Zeke smiled.
“Who's 'Daddy' now, Frank?”
Dream-Frank had lunged, fist out-the real Frank had lurched himself out of bed onto the floor, landing in a heap. His eyes opened and he tried to focus, but the room was pitch-black. “F-Frank?” Meredith said in a drowsy, sleepy voice from her side of the bed. Frank stayed still, saying nothing, until he heard her light snoring. Once he was sure she'd fallen asleep, he moved to a kneel and covered his face with his hands.
'Just a dream,' he thought. He sat there for what felt like forever... just a dream. If he'd actually walked-in on a scene like that, the boys would've jumped, hollered and been embarrassed, and while Frank would indeed feel sick and sad, he'd get over it. There'd be no smiles, no continuing-on with the sex. But there was no doubt in his mind that his son and that... rotten bastard WERE, in fact, 'doing things'. He really hadn't been too fond of Zeke as a friend of Casey's-now they were more than that, much more, and Frank had gone from rolling his eyes and shrugging their friendship off to wanting to strangle Zeke for daring to touch Frank's little boy as he most undoubtedly was.
When the sound of the front door downstairs reached his ears, Frank went cold and looked to the clock on the bedside table. One-thirty; a half-an-hour from Casey's two o'clock weekend curfew. THAT had been Frank's doing as well, wanting his son to have his freedom. He'd earned it, getting the grades he did... getting that acceptance letter from Boston that past Wednesday. The curfew-extension had been given before Frank had known what Casey would do with it, and with who. Clubbing with the boyfriend? Frank would've had his son in before the sun went down...
There were voices now, muted and low, right below him. Casey had brought Zeke into the house, apparently. Frank listened to the light clanking of the fridge being opened, some chuckling, more talking... for whatever reason, he stood, slipped his robe on then left the room to head downstairs. He didn't really know why, especially since he'd see his son and his 'beau' interacting for the first time since Frank had found out about them. Was he even ready for that? He'd find out, now that he was going down the hall leading to the kitchen. He made his steps quiet, as if wanting to go unseen. Now at the archway, he looked in and swallowed.
Casey wasn't expecting his parents to be up this late, going by the way he was allowing Zeke to press into him. Casey's back was braced at the counter, holding him still enough for Zeke to plunder Casey's mouth with his own. An unopened can of cola was in Casey's hand, another drink sitting on the counter next to two glasses full of ice. “Zeke...” Casey murmured and giggled past their kiss. “'Said you were thirsty...”
“Mmhmm,” Zeke hummed in reply, moving his hand to the back of Casey's head to make their kiss go even deeper.
Casey tugged himself away, turning his smiling face to where Frank stood. His eyes were closed, allowing him to say, “If I'd known you were in this mood, I wouldn't've let you in...” without knowing they were being watched.
“You got a half hour left... let's use up the rest of the curfew upstairs,” Zeke said. Frank's fists balled as Zeke moved on to kissing and nipping his son's neck, while Casey chuckled again.
“My parents'll...” Casey started, but in opening his eyes he discovered that they were being watched. The blues went wider and he stood straight. “Dad.”
Zeke didn't jump or turn to look, but he definitely stopped what he was doing. Frank took a deep breath, watching the visible swallow roll up and down Casey's Zeke-moistened throat. He couldn't find the words to say, or the right ones, anyway-until finally, Zeke lifted his head away from Casey and set his gaze on the man. The silence was too much, enough for Frank to clear his throat, raise his eyebrows and say, “If you're so 'thirsty', take the soda my son got out for you.”
The tall, dark-haired boy made a strange smirk, one of both amusement and insecurity. “Nah, I'll... get... going,” he said.
“Drink. Your soda,” Frank said-or really, demanded.
Casey swallowed again, turned to the counter and poured out the colas with a shaking hand. Once they were filled, he took one and handed it to Zeke. “H-Here,” he muttered.
“Thanks,” Zeke said in a murmur. His eyes were set on the fridge as he sipped. There was a deep, unspoken defiance here, his not looking to Frank, give any explanations as to what they were doing, however half-cocked and ridiculous those 'explanations' would be. It was all too obvious, anyway.
“I'm... not late for curfew,” Casey said.
“I know,” Frank replied. He looked between them before setting his gaze on 'the boyfriend'. It was Casey he spoke to, however, when he said, “Go upstairs while I say a few things to this guy.”
Another pause followed, until Frank caught Casey shaking his head in the corner of his eye. “Just... say what you wanna, I'm staying,” Casey replied.
Whatever. Frank rolled his eyes, but fine. The less secrets and unspokens around here, the better. “I can't tell you not to be with my son, even if I wanted to. And by god, do I want to,” Frank opened with. He tucked his fists under his arms, willing himself to stay calm. “I've been sitting around, wondering what to do or think about when it comes to... this. 'Hard enough for me to come to terms with Casey's being who he is without him bringing you home.”
“Dad, it's--”
Frank went to say, “Let me speak, boy,” but Casey was shushed by Zeke, instead... literally, Zeke's gentle “Shush,” and holding a hand up to him silencing the young man. That made Frank switch gears, just a little. 'He's giving me some respect, there,' he thought before going on, “But I can't change it, and I ain't gonna try. Just know that I'm watching you-BOTH of you, like a hawk. I see anything wrong and I'm swooping down on you faster than you can blink.”
“'K,” Zeke said. While he only lifted his eyes to Frank for barely a second before looking away again, he'd acknowledged Frank enough.
“Clear?”
“Yea,” Zeke said.
Frank made one curt nod before looking to his son, who took a deep breath, shook his head and said, “Crystal, Dad.”
“Good,” Frank said. He turned halfway, said, “Finish your sodas then say goodbye,” then stepped away from the kitchen and headed into the living room, where he sat in wait. No way was he letting them make their goodbyes alone, not now, not tonight. They needed his presence, whether they liked it or not.
After ten minutes of listening to their muted, hissed conversation, Frank lifted his head to look to the hall. Zeke emerged first, then Casey. They went to the door, with Casey holding it open as they chatted. Frank steeled himself when Zeke dipped down to place a small, chaste kiss upon Casey's lips. “I'll call ya tomorrow,” he said.
“'K.”
Sniffing, Zeke smiled, rubbed the back of his neck then glanced to Frank. “Bye, Mr. Connor,” he said.
“Goodnight,” Frank said as cordially as he could. Relief flooded in when the boy left, Casey staying by the door to watch him go. Frank regarded the boy's expression carefully... he really was a boy in love, wasn't he? 'Fucking dangerous shit,' Frank thought, even if he wanted to be happy for his son. When the GTO's engine roared to life then sent Zeke down the road, Casey finally closed the door, stepped away with a sigh then looked into the living room.
“Thanks,” he said.
“For what?” Frank asked. Casey shrugged.
“For not stabbing my boyfriend dead.”
Frank sniffed and went to retort with, 'I'm surprised I didn't, myself,' when he saw another new item Casey was wearing-not a hickey, but a thick, corded bracelet of some kind. “What's that?” he asked, nodding to Casey's wrist.
“Oh...” Casey lifted it up and smiled. “...It's a 'congrats' gift... for my Boston 'yes'. A hemp bracelet. Zeke makes 'em.”
Hemp. Weed. Something about Zeke screamed pot-smoker, but... it wasn't the time. When Casey went to sit next to his father, still sipping soda, Frank got a better look at the homemade gift. “Wow,” he said, honestly impressed by the intricate braids and knots, with black, red and blue beads tied into the loops in the middle. “He's talented, huh?”
“Yea, I like it,” Casey said. Again, the 'in-love' look returned as he ran a finger over one of the black beads. “He said... that he'd never made one for anyone else before, that not many deserved to wear a 'Tyler original'.”
Frank couldn't help the small, fatherly smile at this piece of information. “Oh yea?”
“Yea.”
“Well, when he's rich and famous someday, you can make a bundle in an auction or something.”
Casey laughed and turned to him to say, “No way, this ain't ever coming off.” He went pink in the cheeks, his making the boyish declaration, as if Zeke was in a boy-band and Casey was a preteen who swore he'd never wash the cheek Zeke had kissed. “I really like him, Dad.”
A noticeable shift happened deep inside of Frank; his heart felt heavy all of a sudden, but not necessarily in a bad way. 'By god, I just want my boy to be happy...' he thought. “Just... you be careful, okay? Promise me that.”
“Yea, I promise.”
Frank nodded, stood and groaned. “Let's get to bed,” he said.
Casey nodded back and joined his father in following him upstairs. Before Frank could return to the bedroom, Casey smiled as he passed by and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
Frank didn't have to ask, 'what for?' “Love you, Son.”
“Love you, too.”
The moment Frank had closed the bedroom door behind him and crawled back under the covers with his wife, he realized what had just happened: he'd kept the promise he'd made to Casey moments after the nurse had handed him over, all red-faced and swaddled tight in a hospital blanket. “Gonna love you, no matter what.” Frank stayed awake a while to cry quietly, knowing without a doubt that he'd done it right. Before he closed his eyes and sank back into sleep, he made another promise.
'You hurt him and they'll never find the body,' he silently, secretly thought at wherever Zeke was at the moment.