DISCLAIMER: Wildfire belongs to ABC Family. So not my property.
Chapter 2
It was a little-known fact that tequila and regurgitated hotdogs could combine to create the singular effect of a throat having the texture of steel wool. Pablo Betart pondered this through a blistering headache. He thought that it would make an excellent addition to the "Don't Drink. Ever." sermon that Jean had delivered with an embarrassing lack of conviction to Matt when he turned fifteen.
He woke up after a pitiful two hours of sleep and got through the morning routine with the aid of a pair of a long-forgotten pair of sunglasses, lots of coffee, and the focused irritation that Kris would think that winning a race exempted her from chores. He went to her trailer with the intention of delegating the filthiest and most undignified work that he could think of, to nip this new arrogance right in the bud. He called for her name and then walked in, expecting her to be tired. Hungover, maybe. A little belligerant.
Upon seeing Kris naked and squirming beneath a bleary-eyed Junior Davis, Pablo hoped, prayed, begged the Almighty Lord himself that hallucinations could be a side-effect of a hangover.
When he realized that he was seeing the harsh reality, he stood outside, feeling awkwardly like a mother realizing that his baby girl was all grown up. All grown up and having sex with the neighbors. He'd mostly quit smoking four years ago, but right now he was craving a cigarette.
Having Junior Davis stumble out the door with a got-lucky, shit-eating grin and his bare ass hanging out…didn't help his headache much. Watching Junior's smile fade to panic upon seeing Pablo…kind of did.
Pablo decided to start off soft. "You better be hoping to God that I don't tell Jean about this."
Junior attempted an appeasing smile. The effect was a little weakened by a line of drool on his chin. "Now, listen, it takes two people to –"
His fist connected with Junior's nose, making a satisfying crunch. Junior fell back onto the steps with an embarrassingly unmanly yelp of pain. He looked up at him with surprised eyes.
Pablo looked down, kicked the dirt, and sat down next to him. He sighed. "She hasn't got a dad."
Junior gave him a frightened sidelong glance around the hands clutched around his nose, which was gushing blood at a truly satisfactory rate.
"Kris never really had anyone looking out for her before she came here. She's been through a lot of tough shit." Pablo gave him a look of half-hearted disdain. "Stuff you wouldn't understand."
Junior swallowed. It looked painful.
"She's my responsibility. But I don't know how to…approach…that." Pablo chewed and spat out the words like straw. He put his face into his hands and sighed with a sincere feeling of failure.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. "It's gonna be…uh, it's gonna be okay. You're doing…you're doing fine." Pablo lifted up his head and Junior snatched back his hand whipcrack fast.
Pablo suppressed what would have been a childish snicker. "Right."
"No, I mean it. I mean, Kris listens to you, she respects you. She, ah, she loves you." Junior looked profoundly uncomfortable.
He understood the feeling. "Uh, right. Yeah."
They sat on the steps for a moment that stretched on in awkward silence.
Finally he gave Junior a slap on the back that made the boy wince. Pablo stood up, stretching out the kink in his shoulder that just wouldn't go away. "Come on inside. Jean's made eggs and we can get some ice for that nose."
Even with blood gushing down his face, Junior could still give an admirably heart-tugging expression of puppydog gratitude. He stood up. "Thanks," he said, his voice ringing with sincerity. "I promise, this won't happen again." He extended his hand expectantly.
Pablo stared determinedly at the aluminum siding to the right of Junior's shoulder. "But, ah, first…why don't you put on some pants."
