Title: Memory Lapse
Rating: PG-13 language
Pairing: Ben/ Michael with appearance from Hunter
Summary: Have you ever suddenly realize you'd forgotten to do something really, really, really just ridiculously important?
Disclaimer: All rights are owned by Cowlip and Showtime.
Author's Note: All I know is that my mother would have murdered me.
Ben had intended to have the donuts polished off, and his emergency pack of cigarettes snuggled safely inside his extra running shoes before Michael got home. He'd intended on pulling himself together, somehow, washing the newly formed worry lines off of his face, and opening all the windows to let the cold air chase the smoky cigarette smell out of the room before Michael got home. He'd even intended on practicing what he was going to say a few times, maybe copying down some notes just in case he got stuck half way through the explanation before Michael got home. He'd intended on doing all of these things, because he hated seeing that look of sick worry skitter across Michael's face. Unfortunately, since his husband of three months was now standing in the doorway, taking in the half empty box of donuts, the worry lines and the wispy trail of smoke lazily drifting from the ashtray with a look that would have made a causal observer think the apocalypse had arrived, Ben realized that he had failed on all counts quite spectacularly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Michael finally asked. The tone in his voice was soft, but there was a question tinged with barely contained panic dancing across his eyes.
"Ahh, Michael sit down for me," Ben said motioning to the empty chair to his right.
Michael didn't move, but worry blossomed across his face. "Oh, God. Are you sick? Are the meds not working? Did someone call? Did someone else you know-did someone I know- where's Hunter?"
As if on cue, their lanky foster son chose that moment to saunter through the door, backpack dangling off one shoulder. "Right here dude. Hey donuts!"
Swatting Hunter away from the box, Michael slid into the waiting chair. "Jesus, don't eat those. You won't eat dinner."
Ignoring the protest, Hunter pulled a sprinkled covered donut out of the box. "My stomach has room for all things edible. Part of the magic that comes with being a teenager."
"Smart ass," Michael mumbled. His diverted attention was short lived, and the panic filled look was once again focused on Ben.
Reaching over, Ben took Michael's hand in his. "First, I need you to calm down."
"I can't calm down!" Michael shot back. "I'm the one who panics in this relationship. Remember?"
Chuckling, Ben gave Michael's hand a squeeze. "I'm not sick, but I do need to call my parents." Michael's eyebrows shot up, and Ben raised his free hand in a plea for b silenceb. "I don't need to call them for the reason you think I do. I'm not sick. I feel fine. There is nothing physically wrong with me. I just- for god sake Hunter give me those!" Ben said, pulling the donuts safely out of the teenager's reach, but not before Hunter had snatched what would be his third treat out of the box.
After sliding the donuts between Michael and himself, Ben pulled his glasses off, and began to rub the bridge of his nose. "Michael, you'd say we've been pretty busy these past few years, right?"
Michael blinked. Confusion was now warring with panic over what each considered to be rightly owned territory. "What-? Sure..what?"
"Well, there was our first meeting, and then….um…the events that followed our first meeting. Then I was in the hospital for a while, Michael, I'm fine stop looking at me like that!"
"Oh, OK, I'll just look at Hunter for the rest of this conversation."
"Dude, that's creepy."
Leaning across the table, Michael snatched the stolen donut from out of the teenager's hand. "Hunter, not now."
Ben continued, "My teaching, your store, the difficulty with Debbie, finding out Brian and I had a previous….encounter, the surprise party, my misguided experimentation with steroids, my book, your movie."
"It's good to see we have so many bright memorable moments in our relationship," Michael said dryly. "You know my Uncle Vic died somewhere during all of that. You want to bring up that too?"
"There was also the wedding, Hunter, Jenny Rebecca, your mother's engagement, the creation of Rage and the Liberty Ride," Ben added quickly. "And we danced in the apartment to REO Speedwagon. Our relationship hasn't been completely fashioned out of pain and suffering."
"Oh, that is so comforting to know," Michael said.
"You guys probably fucked a lot too," Hunter added knowingly.
Ben sighed. "Thanks pal."
"What does any of this have to do with you needing to tell me about a call to your parents?" Michael asked.
A few of the sprinkles had fallen off the donut in Michael's hand, and Ben began to carefully pick them up one-by-one; letting them stick to the pads of his fingers.
"I ahh, maybe forgot to contact them, and let them know."
"About what?" Michael said, frustration engulfing his voice.
"Pretty much all of it."
Panic and confusion suddenly vacated Michael's face, replaced by a whole new emotion. Disbelief. "Ben. Are you trying to tell me that you left you almost died, got married, decided to raise a kid and just forgot to tell your parents about any of it?"
"Yeah, it seems that way."
Michael's lips twitched. It was a quick twitch, but Ben saw it. "Do they at least know you're gay?"
"They know that!" Ben said indignantly.
"Wait, do they know who I am?" Michael asked. Ben could hear some of the panic creeping back into Michael's voice. "Do they think you're still with Paul? Did they know Paul? How about the HIV, they know that? When exactly was your last contact with these people?"
"They know who you are. They know I have a partner. They just don't know they have a new son-in-law." Ben glanced at Hunter. "Or a grandchild."
This last statement got Hunter's attention. "I'm their what now?"
"Christ, do you know what my mother would have done to me if I'd gotten married without telling her?" Michael said in astonishment. "I can hear the newscaster now, 'Violence erupted today on Liberty Avenue when a large red headed woman was seen beating a rather dashing young man in front of a local diner.' How can you be so calm about this? I want to hyperventilate for you."
"I panicked earlier," Ben said motioning to the ashtray and the junk food.
"Dude calm down," Hunter chimed-in. "You hate your parents, and didn't want to talk to them. No big deal, everyone hates their parents."
He threw his hands up in defense against Ben and Michael's withering glares.
"Did I say you two? I mean like, the birth ones, people hate their birth parents all the time."
Ben started to shake his head, but Michael's glare didn't move.
"I don't mean Jenny Rebecca is going to hate you!" Hunter said defensively.
"This has nothing to do with hating anyone," Ben interrupted. "I don't hate my parents."
"Whatever, dude. No, grief coming from this side of the table."
"When did you figure this out?" Michael asked.
"This morning, on my way to work." Ben confirmed. "I was riding down the street, and it dawned on me that I hadn't called my mother in quite awhile."
"Did you even go to work?"
Ben ducked his head feeling sheepish. "I called in, told them I was having a family emergency."
"And then swung by the local Krispy Kreme," Michael said motioning to the donut in his hand.
Ben nodded. "You know, they're cheaper since the last time I bought a dozen of them."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you just call your parents the minute you realized what a horrible son you'd been?"
"Oh, very funny. I wanted to wait until you got home."
Michael looked surprised. "Why?"
"I was hoping you'd hold my hand while I called."
"Oh," Michael paused. "This is going to be very ugly isn't it?"
Leaning across the table, Ben plucked the donut out of Michael's fingers, and took a bite.
"You have no idea how ugly."