Author's Note: S10E10 tag.
For Whatever It's Worth
"It's not really about the family ring. You know that right?" Tony leaned against the kitchen counter adjacent to the sink. They'd gotten home late after the movie ended. They'd driven home in companionable silence.
Senior decided to cook. Something simple. Pasta with store bought sauce. Tony had washed the dishes, stacked them carefully in the dish rack. His apartment may have looked modern, may have been a tad bit on the expensive side, but it still didn't have a dishwasher. Sometimes he let his plates and glasses sit for days. Let them sit there until he ran out of plates and glasses in the cabinets. Like an act of defiance of the dish gods.
But the truth was, Tony never cooked. He had to pull the soap and sponge from under the sink, and the dish rack from the nearby closet. Plates and glasses were nothing compared to the mess created while actually making an effort.
And Senior had sure made a mess, in several ways. A good mess. A much needed mess.
"What was that, Junior?" The older man was already heading towards the living room, a mixed drink in hand. The TV was on; the local news was set to begin. The fire was lit again. The candles, too. The small apartment was clean and festive. Tony had managed to straighten the mess of books on his table. Now instead of a disorderly heap, there were semi-orderly stacks. It was a definite relief that - this time - he knew that his father wasn't harboring the neighborhood bicycle in his bed. He'd been supervising the man for the past several hours. They hadn't killed each other. Hadn't yet rescinded on their hugs and "I love you's."
Maybe it was a sign. Maybe a new leaf had finally turned.
Yeah, right. And the Pope's not Catholic.
"The ring. I appreciated the gesture," Tony said. "It, uh. It was nice." He still leaned against the counter, still looked towards his father's retreating back.
Wasn't that a familiar sight. Actually, maybe it wasn't. Years ago, it might have been a success to get even a glimpse of his father. Usually he was entirely absent, like something that should be there but never was. But Senior was who he was.
Someone not exactly mythical, because he existed.
Someone not exactly familiar, because he wasn't.
"I appreciated that you didn't leave," Tony went on. He wasn't into this sort of thing. This raw baring of feelings and emotions and things. But Senior wasn't getting any younger, and Tony never knew if tomorrow was the day he wouldn't be coming home from work. As morbid as all of that sounded, it was about time for Tony to grind that axe he'd been wrestling with for years.
They didn't have forever to make amends. Tony had wanted to say so many things to his mother. So many things he never got to tell her. Things he still carried with him. Hidden and secret. But now his father – flesh and blood – was standing in his apartment. His sanctuary. Together they'd passed the precipice from which they once dangled. Tony let out a little breath. Of acceptance. Of remorse. Not even Tony knew his own motives. "I appreciate that you…" he suddenly seemed embarrassed. "That you want to…"
Senior turned around. "Want to what?"
They looked at each other for a long moment before Tony answered. "I want to forgive you, dad. I want to let it all go. All of it. I've always wanted to tell you, 'it's okay. It's okay because I'm okay.' But it's hard because sometimes I'm not. I'm not okay with everything. I want to be because it's ancient history, everything between you and me. I don't want to care that you were never there. After mom…"
"I loved your mother—" Senior began to reply quickly, voice suddenly hard, defensive.
"I know, dad. I know." Tony studied the flooring and noticed a few stray Snickerdoodle crumbs. His mom's recipe; Senior hadn't been lying. But still they lacked something.
Tony never baked, just like he never cooked. He didn't even know he owned a cookie sheet, let alone cooling racks.
He moved away from the counter, suddenly frustrated. He paced, which made Senior pause in the doorway.
The night had been going so well. The sentiment of the family ring had wrapped up the entire evening with a gi-fucking-gantic happy bow. In front of his friends, his family, he'd told his father he loved him. But maybe he hadn't thought it through.
Tony had his father's charm, but his mother's emotions. Complex and sensitive, hot and cold. Clear and blue, then tempestuous and black. Complication began anew, clawing to the surface. Complication, obtuse and convoluted. Tony was fucking things up again, wasn't he?
"But you weren't the only one who lost her," Tony finally said. "I know she meant a lot to you, even when things were bad. But she meant a lot to me, too. After mom, you couldn't even look at me."
"That's not true, Junior."
Tony stared at him, as if daring the older man to deny it once more.
Senior looked away. "You had – you have your mother's eyes."
The vindication Tony felt was short-lived. It died as quickly as it had flared. Shriveled up and wasted away to nothing but dust. "So the family ring? That barely scratches the surface."
"I know, Junior. I know there's too much. Too much that I've missed. But like I said before, I'm not going to change."
Tony squeezed the bridge of his nose with the pads of his fingers. He felt a headache coming on, a really bad one that was probably clamoring to accompany the stubborn kink in his back.
Senior wasn't finished. "For whatever it's worth, I always liked you, Junior. Always loved you."
Tony almost laughed. He shook his head. "Dad, to be honest, it's not worth much—"
The older man frowned and opened his mouth in an attempt to argue the point.
"—but it's worth something," Tony finished. He was smiling weakly now. He let the earlier frustration and anger boil down to nothing. Let his mood shift back to neutral. "What I was trying to say before… I appreciate that you want to try. Someday we'll be okay, as long as both of us keep trying. Deal?"
Senior grinned and took a few steps back into the kitchen, closing the distance between himself and his son. He put both of his hands on Tony's shoulders and squeezed. "Deal," he affirmed with a nod.
"Oh, and dad—" Tony gestured meaningfully towards the fish bowl. "-no more hanky-panky in front of Kate. I mean it."
FIN.