AN: Hi People! Lol :)

I dont have much to say, so I'll say this... I have THE BEST SUPPORTERS IN THE WORLD. :)

Thank you ALL so much for supporting this story. :)

On to the story. Starts where last chapter ended.

Quinn, Dave and Dave Jr. are back.

I'm going to shut up now and just let you all read. :)

Please review. Be kind.

Enjoy!

Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3

Chapter 9

"David! David!" She then took a deep breath and screamed. "I'll take you there!"

Finally, well down the street, Dave Jr. came to a stop, turned around, and furiously stormed back towards his mom's house. In the driveway, his grandma Quinn was trying to catch her breath and finally did just when he angrily arrived.

"This had better not be a trick, grandma. Again!"

"Again?"

He didn't answer her. Instead, he marched to the passenger side of her car and got in. Quinn watched for a second before sighing and getting in the driver's seat. Silently, she started the engine and left Dave Jr.'s home.

It was a quiet ride for a while. Despite the slightly cool morning, windows were partially rolled down and the cool breeze did nothing to stop Dave's temper.

"Thanks a lot, grandma."

"What?"

"You SAID she was over it! You said she was fine!"

"She!…" she cleared her throat, clearly also affected by what just happened, "She said she was."

"Uh huh."

"David Alan Karofsky Jr.!" Suddenly, she veered off the road, slamming on the brakes hard! After putting the car in park, she glared at him, "She lied to me, Dave!"

He wouldn't look at her.

"She did! I didn't know she could be so…cruel."

"Whatever."

"Don't whatever me…boy."

He finally looked over at her. "Oh! Oh really? And just what was that back there, huh?!"

"I don't know!"

Neither said anything for a long moment. So, with no other recourse of action left but the obvious, she put the car in Drive and they left again.

Quinn made a right hand turn towards the only place she could take him. And when Dave Jr. saw the familiar grounds, it was hardly a consolation.

"David?"

"What?"

"Just because she's your mother, it doesn't make her right."

Dave said nothing. Instead, when she pulled up the long driveway, he was silent as the grave and didn't even move. And when she put the car in Park and killed the engine, he bolted out the door and up his grandpa's steps.

"Goddammit." Dave Jr. heard.

"Grandpa?"

"Why are you back here, boy?"

"Where are you?"

"Kitchen."

Dave Jr. all but trotted into the big farmhouse cooking area to see his grandpa on his back under the kitchen sink. Channel locks were in his hand and he seemed to be struggling with a pipe.

"Goddammit."

"What?" Dave Jr. asked, just as Quinn entered the kitchen.

"Well," the old man wriggled out from under the sink, "it looks like I have to go back to the hardware store and why the hell are you back here?"

"David?" Quinn asked from afar. Her tone. Her SERIOUS tone spelled trouble and the old Russian knew it.

"What?!"

"It…went all wrong. Carrie lied."

"Goddammit."

No one spoke for the rest of the morning. Or afternoon. Instead, the Russian duo simply got back to work. Quinn kept herself busy doing inconsequential things and she couldn't help but admire how they were so much alike.

Connected.

It was the farmhands' day off. So, the two Daves simply did chores around the barn, the old silo that could collapse with a strong windstorm, and truck garage. They fixed, painted, and strolled off into the fields once in a while. Two times, Quinn saw them and half-smiled. That's when an idea hit her.

She finally found them out in the garage. A pair of Russian bellies were sticking out of the bottom of a truck and Quinn had to suppress a laugh.

"Dave?"

"What?" replied both of them.

"I mean, Dave Jr."

The teen scooted on his butt, wide smile on his face, and looked up at her. "Yeah?"

"I need a bushel of apples soon."

"OK." He started to scoot back under the truck until grandpa Karofsky used the truck to pull himself out. The truck even wiggled a little bit.

"What for?"

"I'm making a Russian delicacy tonight."

"What?!"

"Yes, I am. I'm making Gous Yablokach."

"What?" Dave Jr. asked.

"Quiiiiiiin! I was saving that for Christmas!"

"Too bad." And then, she addressed her grandson. "Dave? The apples. In less than an hour."

"You got it, grandma!"

"Quiiiiiiin!" Dave Sr. whined.

"Oh, shut up."

As she turned to return to the farmhouse, she winked at him and walked back up to the house. Dave Sr. growled and the boy stifled a laugh.

Some time passed. As instructed, Dave Jr. brought a bushel of green apples to his grandma, who was already thawing the Christmas goose. He'd never had goose before and was curious. After that, he returned to his grandpa who had moved onto the barn.

Another hour passed and they could see the sun shifting in the sky. No one knew what time it was or cared. Work was work and you did it. And you didn't complain. That's farmlife.

Suddenly, Dave Jr's cell phone buzzed. He checked it and immediately groaned.

"What?" the surly grandpa asked.

"Oh…I…forgot something."

"What?" He repeated.

"I forgot to tell…Kevin that I'm still here."

"Mmm." Dave Sr. was looking up into the rafters of the barn. "You better tell him you're OK."

"OK." Dave Jr. used his greasy and sore fingers to fire off a text. "That's done."

"Did you tell him why you came back?"

"No. I just…I don't wanna do it by text."

"Mmm."

They worked on more panels and rafters for a little while longer, in silence. Some pigs oinked around them and they paid them no attention. Besides, the compost had been laid and they were getting their bellies full. The humans would be too, soon.

"You can stay."

Dave Jr. flipped his head over. "What?"

"I said, you can stay."

The boy looked down. "Th-thank you."

"Well, we can't have a homeless teenager, you know. You're a Karofsky. You have a good future. I just hope…"

"Hope what?"

Dave Sr. grabbed a cordless drill and approached a ladder. "That you and Kevin are OK."

"We are, grandpa."

"Are you?"

Dave Jr. looked up, confused. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Someone like him," he drilled for a bit into the wood and then stopped, "I could see him confronting your mother."

The boy chuckled. "Yeah. I could too. But he won't."

"Good."

And that was it. Another hour or two passed and they started struggling to find things to do. Dave Jr. could sense that his grandpa was running out of energy but didn't really want to stop. So, in the end, it was Quinn that saved the day.

"Hey! Where are you two?"

"In here!" Dave Jr. yelled.

A few seconds later, Quinn appeared. "I need help in the kitchen. When are you two gonna be done?"

"Well, I-"

"We're done, Quinn."

The boy and grandma looked at him with a little astonishment. When he realized he was being stared at, he said, "What? I'm allowed short days sometimes, too, aren't I? Now, get in the house, boy. Help your grandma."

"Yes, sir."

Grandma and grandson slowly walked back towards the farmhouse. Dave Sr. looked on as he put his drill and ladder away. And something akin to happiness filled his heart, then.

A few minutes later, Dave Sr. walked into the kitchen and immediately groaned. Quinn was berating Dave Jr. for not cutting the apples properly. And the goose was still not completely thawed. It was beginning to look like dinner wouldn't be ready for several hours. But that was OK for him. He just plopped down at the head of the kitchen table and watched the show.

He stifled a laugh though. Quinn had Dave put on an apron. Even with his old age eyesight, he could read what it said. It said, 'Don't knock my smock or I'll clean your clock!' It was such a Quinn thing to do and he couldn't help but admire her. She could get Karofsky men to do whatever she wanted and they didn't have a choice.

Suddenly, two shot glasses and a bottle of Stolichnaya were placed in front of him by his grandson. He looked up, only to see a truly, happy smile on the kid's face – the smile of gratitude and security.

"Hey!" This voice came from Quinn, who was sliding the huge bin in the oven. "I want some too."

"What?!" the Daves asked.

"Yeah. I'll take a shot. The Gous Yablokach is in the oven and it'll be an hour and a half before dinner. So…I'll do an aparatif too.

"That's Aparativ, Quinn."

"Well, whatever. I'll do it."

Dave Sr. warily looked at her. "You're driving tonight."

"So? I'll have one and that's it. It's custom, isn't it?"

The old Russian growled and asked for another shot glass. Three were poured and a round of 'skoals!' went in the air. Quinn coughed wildly for a second but held it together. And the guys just watched her. After that, they settled into a round of teasing, silliness, more aparativs which Quinn didn't share, and even the '1812 Overture'. Dave Jr.'s cell phone buzzed again and he excused himself to take a call.

"I'm OK…" they heard their grandson saying. "No, I'm still at grandpa's house….. Grandma's here too…. You'd love her. She's cool…. No, that's the stereo. Grandpa's playing the '1812 Overture' again….. I know, . No, no, it didn't go well. I'm still here and looks like I will be….. No. NO! Don't go over there!… Alright. Just…don't. I'll just…stay with him, I guess…."

Quinn and Dave Sr. looked at each other, serious expressions on their faces. He imagined her all those years ago in San Francisco, scared out of her mind of his fate in Vietnam and how he couldn't tell her he was scared for her in general. They shared so, so much with simple stares and understanding. Abruptly, Dave Jr. returned to the room.

"Grandpa? Is it OK if Kevin comes over tomorrow or something?"

"That's fine…" Dave Sr. replied, barely conscious of the question. He felt Quinn stroke his hand.

"What?" the boy asked.

"I said, yeah, that's fine."

Some more time passed and dinner was finally ready. The sweet, hearty goose with apples came out of the oven and both men inhaled deeply. And they ate like they were starved. Quinn hid her annoyance while they tore into their food like a pack of wolves. She watched them dive into the goose with their hands and when her grandson smiled, she was reminded of how men can be so easy.

After dinner, Dave Jr. helped her clean up and Dave Sr. helped himself to more vodka. He watched them together, laughing and being silly. This time, he gave Tchaikovsky a rest and played 'Firebirds' by Stravinsky on the stereo. A chorus of gorgeous sounds then filled his house for the first time in nearly fifteen years – song, laughter, and singing.

And full bellies, of course.

When they were done cleaning up, they joined Dave Sr. at the kitchen table. Another one of those uncomfortable moments passed when no one said a word. That damn elephant was in the room again and no one knew what to do about it. Quinn watched her friend and her grandson exchange glances that were incredibly serious. That's when she decided to act.

"It's time for me to go."

"Already?" the Daves said.

"Yes. I have to get home." Quinn said, getting up. "Besides…I think you two have a lot to talk about."

Neither of them said a word and she compassionately smiled. She crossed the kitchen and grabbed her purse.

"Take some goose home, Quinn."

"No, that's fine. That's more…" she pointed at the both of them, "YOUR thing. Not mine."

"Quiiiiiiin!"

"Oh, shut up." Then, she turned to her grandson. "Take care, Dave." Both men rose. "I can see…" she placed her hand to her nose, "I c-can s-see myself ou-out."

She practically ran out the door. And, of course, the guys followed. As soon as she was at the end of the porch, she heard the screen door open again.

"Grandma!"

She came to a stop and turned around. He so, so badly wanted to say something, anything to comfort this situation. But when no words came to him, she simply blew him a kiss. Then, she looked over his shoulder and did the same for her friend of over forty-five years. Briskly, she turned, got in the car, and drove away.

The wild strings of 'Firebirds' set their teeth on edge when they returned to the house. Dave Sr. almost angrily ripped the album from the player and hovered over it. Lights cast a dark gloom as the grandson watched him standing there, somewhere between his life and the life that could've been. A shadow crossed the room. Quinn's headlights leaving the property sealed that they were now completely alone.

"Grandpa?"

Long pause. "What?"

"Play the '1812 Overture'."

An even longer moment passed before the old Russian placed the record on the stereo and the familiar, beautiful strings could be heard. Dave Sr. retreated back into the kitchen, grabbed the Stolichnaya and returned to his chair. Dave Jr. merely sat down.

No one talked. No one moved. The few lamps that were turned on put them in a cast of gloom that neither wanted to admit existed. Out of habit, Dave Jr. checked his cell phone for more texts. When he saw there were none, he simply moved his eyes along the baseboards, noting that he would have to vacuum soon.

"Grandpa?"

He took a swig right from the bottle. "Yeah?"

"What do I do?"

A long sigh escaped his lungs along with a harsh series of coughs. "I…I don't know, boy."

"I…I can't go back home." Dave Jr. said, rubbing his fingers over his thumbnail. "I mean…" his voice quivered, "she hates me."

"No, she doesn't."

"I've been kicked out."

"You'll always have a home here. Or with your grandma."

"I just…" Dave Jr. stood up just as the soaring French horns played, "I KNOW I'll be OK…I guess. I just… I don't know."

The old man shifted on his sore hip. Another round of coughs. Yet another clutch to his heart. And then, he said, "Then, maybe you should hear the rest of my story." Dave Jr. said nothing. "It might help."

"Sure. Fine."

Suddenly, the boy jolted at the smash of glass on the wall! Vodka dribbled down the wall and with incredible speed, the old man was up at at him!

"YOU WILL BE FINE, BOY! DON'T YOU KNOW THE ADVANTAGES YOU HAVE NOW?! YOU CAN BE WHO YOU ARE WHEN I COULDN'T!"

Dave Jr. just stared up at him. Almost instantly, the old Russian turned and hobbled into the kitchen. A few seconds later, he returned with two shot glasses and another bottle of vodka. Dave Jr. didn't dare say a word.

He poured two shots. "You are so lucky, Dave…"

"Um, beg your pardon?"

He handed his grandson a shot. "You have…" he 'skoaled' and downed the shot. "You have Kevin. Don't let him go."

Dave Jr. swallowed his shot. "I…I won't."

"Then listen, boy. And like I said before, don't let go of things you're TOLD you should. You'll…" he looked away, "regret it." Dave Jr. went silent and the Overture turned violent. "So, where was I? Oh yes. The kiss. Well, what happens next is ugly and maybe we should save that for when Kevin comes tomorrow…"

"Grandpa!"

"Oh, shut up, boy." He said, getting up. "In fact, I'm…I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed. When Kevin gets here tomorrow, we'll continue this story. Good night, boy."

"Good night, grandpa."

Dave Sr. left. Dave Jr. turned the stereo off. And all the lights went out for the night.

.

AN: Thank you all for reading. Let me know your thoughts.-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3