igrab
in
the_grrrrid
The Gay Unmarried Life of Flynns | Sam/Ed, Flynn/Alan
title. The Gay Unmarried Life of Flynns
author. igrab
pairing. Sam/Ed, Flynn/Alan
wordcount. 1,094
notes. It's an Ed day or something, idefk.
Sam's hightailing it for the roof when his cell buzzes in his pocket. Not the time, he thinks, but he answers it anyway, because what the hell?
"Sam," he hears, the short, sweet tone of the dearly beloved.
"How'd you like the show, Casanova?"
"Very clever." Dearest darlingest Dillinger Junior sighs, and static crackles as Sam takes the steps two, three, four at a time. "And I'll have you know it was countered with relative ease. Was that really the best clip you could find?"
"Hey now, short notice and all. If you'd told me the launch date sooner, I could've been more prepared."
"I didn't tell you so you wouldn't try anything. What are you doing now? Where - is that the roof door?"
Sam risked a look over his shoulder; the security guard was catching up, fat ass and all. "Gotta go, babe, wish me luck, life, and happiness!"
"Sam, wait - "
End of line.
+
The glassware clinks and the awkward, awkward silence stretches out between them. He's going to do it. Soon enough, he's going to get around to asking about my love life or suggest something about me and Quorra and I just do not want to have this conversation right now, this isn't happening, this is SO not the time.
"Wife? Girlfriend?"
"Dog," Sam cuts in, with an utterly breakable smile. Yes. Better to cut it off there, give a little bit of the truth and let the assumption take hold - that a man who says 'dog' when asked about his significant other doesn't even have potential.
We're not even going into the subject of my boyfriend, Dad. It's complicated even without the whole guy-guy factor, and you've been out of the loop for twenty years.
+
Now you're going to tell me a story.
"How's Alan?"
It's a question Sam expects, but it's the suddenness of it, the way it jumps out of his mouth like he's been waiting to say it, just needed enough time to do it justice. Or something. Sam doesn't even know.
"He's fine. Great. He's on the board at Encom, I... don't think the rest of the board likes him much." He chuckles nervously, rubs a hand at the back of his head. "We don't always get along but he's been there for me. Why?"
He only asks because his dad is giving him the weirdest of looks - like he's trying to look right down deep into his soul, like there's something Sam's missing entirely. There's a pause, then Flynn asks, "Wife? Girlfriend, boyfriend?"
Sam's eyebrows shoot way up. "Who, Alan?"
"Well, yeah." His dad shrugs. "Just, it's been a while. Wouldn't be surprised if he found someone else."
Been a while since what? "No, no one. I think - he used to be married, or something, but he doesn't even talk about her. Seriously, is this the gossip train or what?"
Flynn laughs. "Never mind, never mind. So tell me what's new in the world."
Boyfriend. He did say that, right? I'm not just hallucinating?
+
"You haven't asked how my dad was."
Alan stops, looking curiously back at Sam. He's leaning against the Tron console, picking at the edges of his sleeves. He doesn't look up.
"...You found him?"
"Sure did." Sam rolls to one side and sighs, his back pressed flat and hands still restless. He tells the very abbreviated story of what happened in short, choppy sentences, and only after he basically says that yeah, Flynn isn't coming back, does he turn and fix Alan with a pinning sort of glare. "He was asking about you."
"Was he?"
Alan tries. He tries to keep the crushing, soul-heavy sadness from his face and voice, but Sam's looking for it, he can see through him now. How could he not see it before? How had he missed so much? "Yeah, wanted to know if you were still single. Seemed pretty happy when I told him you hadn't seen anyone this whole time."
A range of expressions passes, from surprised to nervous to guilt to a sort of relief. "Sam - "
"Twenty years." Sam pushes off the machine and stalks toward him. "Twenty years, and you didn't tell me - not once - that you and my dad were..."
But he can't finish the sentence. He can't. He's never talked about this before, shit, he's been too busy trying to pretend like his own relationship isn't real, for a whole catalog of other reasons. They've never had The Talk, it's never been necessary, it has never come up. And now, Sam can't even find the words.
"...Lovers," Alan finishes for him, in a low, smooth voice with so much sad warmth that it melts right through the last of Sam's reservations. "Yeah. Loved that man more than the world some days. Still do." He looks down at his toes, and there, right there, Sam breaks. Fuck. He thought he was done crying.
"You never told me," he whispers in a shaky little voice. "I've been a bitch to you about... dad-ing me but that's it, that's who you are. Fuck. I'm your son, too."
Alan, ever the pragmatist, peers upwards and says, "Well, biologically, no..."
"Oh fuck that. Look, I'm - I'm sorry."
"Sam."
Alan looks down, Sam looks up, and they see each other for who they really are for the first time in, well, ever. "You're right. I should have told you. I just... didn't think it would make a difference."
Sam sighs, a rueful grin spreading on his face. "Trust me. It makes a difference."
+
The first thing Sam does when he gets home - after putting Quorra to bed and promising her that they can go exploring tomorrow, really, he just needs sleep - is flop on the couch and press speed dial 3.
"Out of jail already?" Ed's voice comes through, clean and prim.
Sam laughs a bit wetly. "You won't believe what I have to tell you."
author. igrab
pairing. Sam/Ed, Flynn/Alan
wordcount. 1,094
notes. It's an Ed day or something, idefk.
Sam's hightailing it for the roof when his cell buzzes in his pocket. Not the time, he thinks, but he answers it anyway, because what the hell?
"Sam," he hears, the short, sweet tone of the dearly beloved.
"How'd you like the show, Casanova?"
"Very clever." Dearest darlingest Dillinger Junior sighs, and static crackles as Sam takes the steps two, three, four at a time. "And I'll have you know it was countered with relative ease. Was that really the best clip you could find?"
"Hey now, short notice and all. If you'd told me the launch date sooner, I could've been more prepared."
"I didn't tell you so you wouldn't try anything. What are you doing now? Where - is that the roof door?"
Sam risked a look over his shoulder; the security guard was catching up, fat ass and all. "Gotta go, babe, wish me luck, life, and happiness!"
"Sam, wait - "
End of line.
+
The glassware clinks and the awkward, awkward silence stretches out between them. He's going to do it. Soon enough, he's going to get around to asking about my love life or suggest something about me and Quorra and I just do not want to have this conversation right now, this isn't happening, this is SO not the time.
"Wife? Girlfriend?"
"Dog," Sam cuts in, with an utterly breakable smile. Yes. Better to cut it off there, give a little bit of the truth and let the assumption take hold - that a man who says 'dog' when asked about his significant other doesn't even have potential.
We're not even going into the subject of my boyfriend, Dad. It's complicated even without the whole guy-guy factor, and you've been out of the loop for twenty years.
+
Now you're going to tell me a story.
"How's Alan?"
It's a question Sam expects, but it's the suddenness of it, the way it jumps out of his mouth like he's been waiting to say it, just needed enough time to do it justice. Or something. Sam doesn't even know.
"He's fine. Great. He's on the board at Encom, I... don't think the rest of the board likes him much." He chuckles nervously, rubs a hand at the back of his head. "We don't always get along but he's been there for me. Why?"
He only asks because his dad is giving him the weirdest of looks - like he's trying to look right down deep into his soul, like there's something Sam's missing entirely. There's a pause, then Flynn asks, "Wife? Girlfriend, boyfriend?"
Sam's eyebrows shoot way up. "Who, Alan?"
"Well, yeah." His dad shrugs. "Just, it's been a while. Wouldn't be surprised if he found someone else."
Been a while since what? "No, no one. I think - he used to be married, or something, but he doesn't even talk about her. Seriously, is this the gossip train or what?"
Flynn laughs. "Never mind, never mind. So tell me what's new in the world."
Boyfriend. He did say that, right? I'm not just hallucinating?
+
"You haven't asked how my dad was."
Alan stops, looking curiously back at Sam. He's leaning against the Tron console, picking at the edges of his sleeves. He doesn't look up.
"...You found him?"
"Sure did." Sam rolls to one side and sighs, his back pressed flat and hands still restless. He tells the very abbreviated story of what happened in short, choppy sentences, and only after he basically says that yeah, Flynn isn't coming back, does he turn and fix Alan with a pinning sort of glare. "He was asking about you."
"Was he?"
Alan tries. He tries to keep the crushing, soul-heavy sadness from his face and voice, but Sam's looking for it, he can see through him now. How could he not see it before? How had he missed so much? "Yeah, wanted to know if you were still single. Seemed pretty happy when I told him you hadn't seen anyone this whole time."
A range of expressions passes, from surprised to nervous to guilt to a sort of relief. "Sam - "
"Twenty years." Sam pushes off the machine and stalks toward him. "Twenty years, and you didn't tell me - not once - that you and my dad were..."
But he can't finish the sentence. He can't. He's never talked about this before, shit, he's been too busy trying to pretend like his own relationship isn't real, for a whole catalog of other reasons. They've never had The Talk, it's never been necessary, it has never come up. And now, Sam can't even find the words.
"...Lovers," Alan finishes for him, in a low, smooth voice with so much sad warmth that it melts right through the last of Sam's reservations. "Yeah. Loved that man more than the world some days. Still do." He looks down at his toes, and there, right there, Sam breaks. Fuck. He thought he was done crying.
"You never told me," he whispers in a shaky little voice. "I've been a bitch to you about... dad-ing me but that's it, that's who you are. Fuck. I'm your son, too."
Alan, ever the pragmatist, peers upwards and says, "Well, biologically, no..."
"Oh fuck that. Look, I'm - I'm sorry."
"Sam."
Alan looks down, Sam looks up, and they see each other for who they really are for the first time in, well, ever. "You're right. I should have told you. I just... didn't think it would make a difference."
Sam sighs, a rueful grin spreading on his face. "Trust me. It makes a difference."
+
The first thing Sam does when he gets home - after putting Quorra to bed and promising her that they can go exploring tomorrow, really, he just needs sleep - is flop on the couch and press speed dial 3.
"Out of jail already?" Ed's voice comes through, clean and prim.
Sam laughs a bit wetly. "You won't believe what I have to tell you."