Another snapshot starring Henry and his brat after "Tough Dads". I've recently seen for the, what?, third time "Bollywood Homicide", and this idea just popped up in my mind by its own will. It was too hilarious not to give it a try.
It's just a mature, sweet father-son moment with no awkwardness at all.
...Just kidding, of course.
Enjoy.
P.S.: "Neutron star collision" obviously quotes my beloved Muse.
Dads Don't (Usually) Do Glitter
Let's make it clear: Henry Spencer was a skillful detective, and he said with almost no smugness. He just had the right and rare mixture of suspicious nature, common sense to handle it and guts to keep eating cheeseburger after gruesome crime scenes. The world around him usually was a background noise where he could catch wrong notes and stops, but there is a topic in which he had always been totally clueless. That is, his son's love life. Keeping tracks of Shawn's crushes was like following a paper plane in a very windy day: it didn't make any sense and probably stuck you with a hand wedged in a sewer cover. Because like paper planes they had no route, and that scared Henry way more than he was ready to admit. And for a good twenty years, Henry had stuck to rule to let it go and pray the Universe the mess was not too big.
Anyway, a good detective couldn't ignore some clues, both for his and his civilization safety. So when he got home from Pizza Planet and found Shawn not sprawled on the couch but at the kitchen table, bad sign, and not complaining for being hungry but busily working with papercut, worse sign, he could do nothing but ask.
-What are you doing Shawn?-
His thirty-two son launched on the table like a cat splatted by a van. -Nothing at all.-
-Shawn, you can tell me. You're no more three years old.- He cast him a sidelong glance. Mixing skillfully a bit of fellowship, mostly fake, and hurt, mostly true.
A sigh.
-I'm making a card.-
-Please, tell me it's a claim.-
-No, it isn't. It's kind of...kindofaloveletter.-
Henry's eyebrows bulged off his head. He took in the colored cardboards scattered on the cerata, the bunch of gluesticks and open markers rolling around the papers. -A love letter? You're not a little too grown for this sort of things?-
-Romance movies are full of love letters.-
-But not with glittery glue.-
Shawn gave him a scowl of perfect dismay. Henry pointed to the garish gold and red streaks on his face, smiling. And Shawn smiled too, way faster than years ago.
-C'mon, who is this time?-
-Someone who lives in "Notyourbunisennsville". Nice views, they have dolphins.-
-Shawn, last time you wrote a card I got a note from school with a restraining order. If you need to flee from the country it is my business.-
-No.-
Henry nodded, leaning a hip against the table. Totally unfazed. -Okay, so I'll deduce it. Someone of the PD.-
-I won't say anything.-
-You're just delaying the inevitable, son.-
-Try me.-
-Is someone you arrested?-
-No.-
-Someone you got arrested by?
-What? No, I...-
-Juliet? -
-Dad, please, it's...-
-Abigail again?-
-Noo-o.-
-The Smoothie Girl?-
-She has a nose bigger than mine.-
-The PD secretary with the eye tick?-
-Nope.-
-Annie with No Penny from the cat shelter?-
-No.-
-The Chinese girl who reads tea leaves near the port?-
-No.-
- The bipolar lady obsessed with orange juice?-
-No!- Shawn gritted his teeth, stretching out his chin in blatant challenge. Henry's gaze didn't quiver. -Oh, Hell, you know what? It's..-
They took a breath, eyes locked. Talked in the same instant.
-Karen Vick.-
-Lassiter. - Shawn got silent, elaborated what Henry had said, looked sick. -Wait, the Chief? No, I mean, no, not in a million years.-
But Henry didn't listen. Because his mind was still ringing with the name of his son's crush, and was doing it with the silent force of a neutron star collision.
-Oh. I see.- He commented softly. Trying hard to reach down, to find the anger, the disappointment, even the disgust.
Finding nothing like that.
Henry breathed in. Nodded again, shrugging. -Well, could be worse.-
Shawn looked as shocked as himself. -What? You just, you said — Could be worse?- he shrieked. -You know he's a man, right dad?-
-Yeah, I have had some suspicions about that.-
-But so why...?-
The answer poured out smoothly, as if it had waited just under the surface. Simple. Simple like it had never been talking with Shawn.
-Shawn, I've feared a lot of things for your future. Kidnappings, begging, prison, Thai prisons, working in a hot channel, illegitimate babies, a mormon chick.- He ignored his son's glare. -But this, this is something handleable. Don't get me wrong, there would be a cartload of problems, and I would need some time to recover, but it's not that bad. I mean, he's skilled, respectable, he's a cop and doesn't go along with your crap too much. So I say, go with it.- He turned back to the kid. - But Shawn, remember that a thing like that would turn upside down everything: his world, himself and his career too, however it ends. So I ask you, are you absolutely, absolutely sure? Do you feel like you would forever regret it if you don't try?-
Shawn held his gaze. Actually waited for more than five seconds to answer. -Kinda yes, Pope.-
-Good. So go with it. But don't glitter than thing.-
-You're not...disappointed?-
-Shawn, usually I'm disappointed more with the things you don't do than the ones you do. And what you plan to do is not even stupid, just risky as Hell.-
Henry stood back, messing up his son's hair. Finding himself smiling as he headed for the front door.
-Call me if you get shot. Otherwise, one month and he comes for dinner. Steaks, wear a good suit.-
Shawn smiled back, before Henry's words clicked in and transformed his face in a horrid grimace.
-You're not serious, right?-
He waited for Henry's chuckle, for a sneaky retraction. They didn't come.
-Right?-
Henry burst into laughter only when he heard Shawn's whining from the kitchen table.
-Dad!-
