[A/N] I was inspired by a pic on tumblr. Just letting out some feels. Btw the image isn't mine. It belongs to 'craivee' on tumblr.
You weren't sure when you started admiring him. You hated him for a fact when you found out he was banging your Ma.
You hated his guts for months; every chance you got, you'd kill him.
You hated him for trying to fill in that gap that your Ma needed. Your Ma doesn't need another man, especially one who's the enemy.
"Oh he's such a handsome fella... He knows how to sweep a lady off her feet." Your Ma once again giggled as she was washing dishes.
"Ma, tha' dude is trouble. If I was you, I wouldn't let him in." She turned to gaze at her son with his elbows on the table.
"Now darlin', I know you both work an' what not. But, let me enjoy this. I haven't felt this way before. Maybe he can be you're new fath-" Before she finished the sentence you slammed your hands on the table making her jump.
" HE AIN'T GONNA BE MY NEW DAD. I DON'T NEED A DAD."
And that was the last thing said before you stormed off. You later on apologized to your Ma about yelling at her, but never said anything about her mentioning the whole 'Father' thing. Though soon it didn't take too long before you were brought along on their dinner dates and picnics.
Being the youngest sucked. You had to endure them kissing and holding hands and doing shit that couples do.
Your Ma pushed you and him so you both could bond. Surprisingly, it went well.
And from then on you both had become so close, you could almost say it was the closest thing to having a father.
And you were happy for the moment.
"So yea, tha' asshole tried to come and block me but I was like 'fuck no' and smacked 'em with my bat. Then what you did with my team's Heavy was fuckin' AMAZING!" You rambled on about todays battle. He sat beside you, smoking a cigarette, his mind elsewhere.
"Uhh, hey, ya listening? Anyways, my Ma is wonderin' if ya comin' over fo' dinner next week-" He didn't say anything at all, just continued looking away from you.
"Hey DAD are ya-" You stopped half way into your sentence. It wasn't suppose to slip out.
You didn't mean it at all. Or did you.
He looked over, his face stuck between shock and a sense of disgust. It kinda hurt you, but you had to make sure not to show it.
"Look Spook, I aint' mean ta' call ya-" He held up a hand to stop you. There was a pit in your stomach making you feel sick. This is war, there's no time to be friendly with anyone here. You regret ever agreeing to go to that picnic. You're like a needy kid who needs his parents constantly, when you knew deep down it was sort of true.
"Scout, I appreciate jour family's hospitality. But."
He got up and fling his cigarette, crushing it with his foot. "As much as I love jour mother, I vill not pretend to be someone I am not." He had his back to you, not sparing another glance.
" Don't call me Dad."