I've kept up this 'update a day' thing for nearly a whole week now. I'm seriously amazed, and I bet you are too.
What's also amazing is this is Chapter 50. Who would have thought I'd make it this far on an idea I had on the train home from London? But here were are, surpassing 100,000 words of story and such a landmark chapter, and I feel...a little teary-eyed. This story is far from over, and yet it's still gotten so grown up.
*sniffle*
While there is some FAX-y fluff in this Chapter, warnings for this update: Violence and insinuated rape. If you don't like it, don't read it, ok?
Thank you all who have stuck with me this far, and those that have found us during the story and added it to their favourites. Not just the reviewers, who I love for giving me feedback and crap, but the other 200 odd of you that have this story on their alert list and still quite possibly read it every time I update.
Also, this update is epicly long, 3,500 words, but there are breaks so you can have a breather ;D
Enjoy
Chapter 50
With the last of the ingredients in the pantry Fang whipped up a soup and rolls for dinner. It wasn't as fancy as the dinner the night before, but to kids who had lived on Max's filling but bland cooking all their lives, it tasted like heaven in a bowl. Once again Iggy demanded he wrote down the recipe, this time for Max to read later, so they could have it after he was gone.
In Martinez household tradition, Saturday night was spent alternating between cards, TV and board games until the little kids were too tired to care anymore. It was about 10pm when Gasman, determined to stay awake til midnight for the first time, fell asleep in Iggy's lap as they watched a re-run of iCarly. Angel had fallen asleep an hour before.
So much for seeing in the next day.
After she'd tucked them into bed, Max tiptoed back downstairs to continue playing cards. Normally she, Iggy and her father would have continued on at this point, but now her Father was gone she would probably retire once the youngsters were in bed. This week, however, they had Fang to fill a place, so the party would continue.
Fang's family had never been one for games. They'd had backgammon and Uno back at his old house down south, but he only ever played them with friends who came to visit, and not many of them came around his place. He preferred to keep them away, in case his Father had another lady friend around and they started asking awkward questions.
They stayed up much later than usual, til 2am as opposed to midnight, teaching Fang a wide variety of card games and noting down the rules for him. He seemed to have a knack with cards and started winning matches after the first few rounds of each game, thoroughly enjoying himself, the whole experience basically new to him.
He'd have to teach him Mum how to play.
Finally, Iggy's eyes began to droop, and Max could feel exhaustion creeping at her brain. With one last hand of Go Fish, which Fang would have won if Iggy hadn't asked for Queens, they set the cards aside for the night and headed to bed. Iggy padded up the stairs first while Max packed the cards away into the box. Behind her, Fang flopped on the couch and rolled onto his back, eyes closed against the dim living room lights.
Max slid the cards into their space on the bookshelf before turning to face him. He looked oddly comfortable on the sofa, as if it were the softest bed in the world, not a springy 20 year old hand-me-down from her Grandfather. She gave a gentle cough and grab his attention, and Fang lazily peeled the lid off of one eye to acknowledge her.
She bit her lip and turned her head slightly away, rubbing her left arm nervously. "The sofa isn't very comfy," she said, staring at a particularly interesting spot on the wall, still rubbing her arm uncomfortably. She flexed the fingers of her left hand as she tried to find the words. "You could, you know…uh…"
"The sofa's fine," the boy smirked, opening his other eye. She turned to look at him fully and her awkward arm-rubbing stopped. A little cough and Max was looking away again, her hands playing with the hem of her shirt. "But if you want…"
Her gaze returned to his. "If I want..?"
Pulling himself upright on the sofa, Fang held up his hands defensively. "I make a good body-warmer," he said with such a straight face, and Max couldn't help but smile a little. "And it's rather cold tonight. If you want…I could…"
Max was glad she wasn't the only one finding this conversation embarrassing. By now Fang was looking at the floor, his olive skin hiding the slight blush trying to cover his cheeks. Max wasn't so lucky, in that her pale skin gave away the bright red streak across her nose. Eventually she cleared her throat, holding out her hand to him when he looked up.
"You could…keep me warm," she offered nervously, feeling the blush spread across her nose again when he took her hand and stood up. She became acutely aware of how much taller he was than her at that moment, when she was forced to look upwards to meet his gaze. "But just keep me warm, nothing else. Ok?"
He smirked and kissed her hand. "I'd love to."
oOoOo
If anything, Fang was a man of his word. Despite every hormone pumping around his body his hands never left her waist and soon they were both asleep in Max's bed, covers up to their chins, his chest pressed to her back. At first Max had found sleeping in such close proximity to someone a little odd, being able to hear their breathing and the weight of an arm over her waist almost stifling.
Slowly, she got used to it. And within the hour she was asleep.
She found it highly amusing that her alarm didn't disturb Fang in the slightest the next morning. He was obviously not used to being woken up by a beeping device. She reached over and switched it off. It was 7am, meaning she'd have to leave for the shops in an hour.
Fang had promised to stay home and watch the kids for the morning. As she peeled his arm from her waist and wriggled soundlessly from the sheets, something she had gotten used to when Angel shared her bed, she wondered how they would cope without him next week. She'd have to take all the kids shopping with her.
Just the thought of it made her shudder.
Padding down the stairs in her pyjamas, Max rescued Fang's clothes from the drier and took them back up to her room, folding them neatly on her pillow. He hadn't moved an inch, his arm laying where she had left it minutes ago, and she couldn't help perching on the edge of the bed and wiping a few stray strands of hair away from his face.
Like her own, he had dark circles blemishing the skin around his eyes. She was pretty sure she could guess what was interrupting his sleep back at his house. The scar on his face was a constant reminder to her of the life he had at home and, though she hadn't seen any new cuts or bruises, she doubted his Step Father had spontaneously become a saint.
He hadn't actually told her, but she'd bet her life that's where the scar came from.
Max smiled at his sleeping form and stroked the back of his head, savouring the look of serenity on his face. He'd done exactly as he promised and just kept her warm the whole night, wrapping his legs under hers and his arm around her waist, making her feel safe and secure. As she got up to dress she wondered if she would be able to sleep tonight, when he had gone back home.
There were a couple of errands she needed to run before going into town, mainly general tidying and a stock check, so she decided to wake him up ten minutes before she left. He looked like he needed the sleep, and he wasn't likely to be getting it back at home.
oOoOo
Fang didn't want to go home that evening. Even though it was just his mum there now, by the time school finished on Monday, Mike would be back, and their strained life would resume as if no holiday from the asshole had ever happened.
He wanted to whisk his Mother away to a safehouse and hide her there. They could hash out an existence together without him if his Mother got another job. As he trudged home in the cold late Sunday night he wondered if Max would consider letting them hide in her house, but then shook the thought away as he approached their driveway.
That would put her family in danger, and that he couldn't do.
It was about halfway up the drive that Fang stopped dead, and his heart rate started to rise. Every nerve ending in his body was begging him to turn around and sprint back to Max's, to do anything but approach the front door, do anything but return home, but in his heart he knew he had to, for his Mum's sake.
Mike's car was in the drive. They had come home early.
oOoOo
Easing the door open, Fang was met with the familiar raised voice of Mike as he shouted down his wife coming from the kitchen. As far as he could tell he hadn't struck her yet, since her voice was still clear and calm, even if she was speaking a little quietly. Against her soft voice Mike's loud barking was a huge contrast, talking so loudly Fang could pick out every word as he stepped into the hallway.
"I told you he wasn't to fucking go anywhere!" He hollered as Fang slipped his shoes off, placing them next to the door in the shoe rack. He took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen, not leaving his tiptoes, to peek through the gap in the door. "You were to both stay here until I got back! Is that so fucking hard to understand?"
Though he couldn't see Mike from this angle, Nancy was in clear view, her back to the kitchen door as she washed dishes in silence. She always tried to find something to do to distract herself when an argument started, and a pile of dirty dishes was very alluring to her even when she wasn't under stress.
When five seconds elapsed without an answer, Mike's anger grew. "Answer me, you cunt." He growled. "I told you he would visit that whore. That's where he went, wasn't it?" The woman continued to scrub the dishes in silence, viciously attacking something that had dried onto the edge of the plate. From off to the side he heard Mike let out a single, loud, snort, but it wasn't in laughter.
"I don't believe this," he muttered, before raising his voice. "You want him to go visit the girl? Do you want to be a grandmother already? Do you want that little shit to make the same fucking mistakes as his parents? Or is it that you're tired of your older child and want a new chilld to fuss over?" He stepped into view as he said that, his voice harsher and grittier than usual.
Nancy's arms froze in the water, either from shock or fear, as he forcefully grabbed her around the waist and pressed his mouth to her ear. "If you want a little bastard to love," he growled so loudly Fang could hear from the door, "I can give you one." His Mother began to shiver as his hand crept from her waist and down her thigh, a single tear escaping from her eye. "All you had to do was ask…"
As his hand trailed its way towards her trouser button, Fang'd had enough.
Bracing his hands on either side of the hallway, Fang lifted his good leg and kicked the kitchen door in with all his might. It flew open and slammed against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster before recoiling a little.
The noise did exactly when he wanted it to do. Mike recoiled from his Mother, who jumped out of her skin when the door hit the wall. Fang returned his leg to the floor and set his shoulders back defiantly.
"Get the fuck off my Mum."
Suddenly Nancy was forgotten as he strode from the sink towards his Step-Son, and she took full advantage of the situation by slipping out of the side door and into the back living room, so quietly Fang barely noticed her leave.
While Mike drew closer, it dawned upon Fang that he had failed to effectively think this whole operation through. His ultimate goal, rescue his Mother, had been a big success for the time being, but now he was faced with a very angry, heavily built Step-Father and no option but to face the man dead on.
He could run, but Fang didn't fancy himself a pussy.
A wide hand clamped itself onto the skinny boy's shoulder and Fang found himself hauled into the kitchen and thrown towards the counters at the far end. He regained his balance a few feet from hitting one square in the stomach, and span to face his assailant, who seemed to be going purple around the gills.
"How DARE YOU," his Step Father yelled as he approached the lad, who backed into the counters behind him. The counters encompassed two thirds of the kitchen area, cutting it off from the dining area of the same room. Now he was backed in between them there was no immediate escape routes, and the knowledge of this sent a pang of concern through Fang's heart.
The concern quickly turned into fear when Mike picked up the nearest weapon – a knife.
Last time it had just been dinner cutlery, but this time it was a butcher's knife, made to cut flesh from bone. Fang backed up as far as he could go then hung into the counter for a little support, afraid his legs would keel over if he didn't.
I should have fucking run, the thought as he surveyed his options, trying to keep an eye on Mike as he approached. He was already within swinging distance and escape routes were eluding Fang's fear-clouded mind. Before he could even consider any a burly hand closed around his throat and lifted him from the ground, slamming the boy's body against the fridge.
Mike held the knife barely a millimetre from Fang's face, staring into the boy's eyes, content to see fear shrouding them as he stared back in horror. "Next time you're told to stay in the house, you'll fucking stay there." He seethed, spit flying from his teeth and onto Fang's cheek as he pressed the knife into the lad's chin.
Trying in vain to pull Mike's hand from his neck, Fang refocused his energy keeping his body from shuddering as the cool blade pressed into his flesh. He tilted his head up as high as he could to keep away from the blade, but Mike just pushed it deeper into his chin. A slight prick of pain told him the knife had pierced his skin, and his Step Father's eyes gleamed at the blood on the blade as Fang squirmed to get free.
Not breaking the lad's eye contact, he slowly withdrew the knife from his chin, a sadistic smile on his face as he brought the blade edge to the front of the boy's trousers. "Next time you see that bitch," he whispered so softly, the words barely registered in Fang's brain after all the shouting. Especially now there was a knife pressed between his thighs. "I'll cut your balls off."
With that, Mike retracted the knife and finally dropped the teen to the floor, who gagged for breath against the cold fridge. Calmly his Step Dad slipped the knife, with blood still on the tip, into the knife rack and straightened his dishevelled shirt, his back to Fang as he pulled himself to his feet, his legs wobbly from adrenaline.
Without even looking back at him, Mike strode towards the kitchen door and surveyed the damage to the wall. It was superficial and easily repaired with a little plaster. With a shrug of indifference and a mental note to make Nick repair it himself, he pulled the door wide open, leaving the handle in the dent as he moved to leave.
"If you touch my Mother tonight," Fang stated from the other side of the kitchen. "I'll fuck you up."
A cold smirk spread itself across Mike's lips, and he turned to face his now eldest child, amusement playing in his eyes. Across the room, still encased by the kitchen counters, Fang's face had knotted into something close to hatred. He no longer supported himself on the countertops and his hands were empty by his sides, his mouth taunt and his breathing harsh.
Mike stepped back into the room. "What're you gunna do about it, you little shit?" He challenged the boy, cockiness showing in his stride. He kept his eyes on the teen the whole time as he casually put his hands in his pockets and swaggered back across the room. "I'll fuck my wife whenever I want to. It's my right. And no scrawny little bastard is going to tell me otherwise."
He got to within a few inches of Fang, his extra inch in height barely affecting the lad's eye-line as they tried to stare each other down. He let a cocky smirk turn up the corners of his mouth when Fang's body stiffened in what he assumed was fear, and he bend very slightly to be exactly at the youngster's eye-level.
"Now," he whispered every so softly. "Say that again. To my face."
Without a second's pause he punched the man in the gut, the force of which caused Mike to bend over in sudden pain. He used the opportunity to try and land a punch to the guy's face, but Mike was much more accustomed to fights than the lads Max had fought from school, and he recovered much faster. He blocked and knocked Fang's punch way off mark, causing him to stumble, before aiming a punch right into Fang's falling body.
The teen's stomach absorbed the hit, and pain shot through Fang's abdomen before he hit the ground, smacking his head on the countertop on the way down. He landed in a heap on the tiles, sprawled haphazardly at Mike's feet. Now he was down, Fang was demoted to a punching bag. Mike rained him with punched working out his frustrations on the boy's body, battering almost every part of the lad as he lay helpless, semiconscious on the kitchen tiles.
The ordeal lasted just minutes, but to Fang it felt like a lifetime. He barely noticed when the pummelling stopped because he was already in so much pain, but when he peeled his eyes open he found he was alone in the kitchen.
Mike had turned the light out and left him there for the night.
As he struggled to pull himself up the stairs Nick could hear his Step Dad's raised voice coming from their room, but couldn't make out any of the words. He limped to his room and opened the door as quietly as possible, closing it just as gently to not draw any unwanted attention to himself.
Pulling off his clothes was a nightmare. Every muscle and bone ached and complained as he tried to change into his pyjamas. In the end he only got his shirt off before giving up altogether, removing his belt and resigning himself to sleeping in his clothes. The words were clearer through his wall, his parent's room right next to his, and his Step Dad's demands leaked through the thin plaster with disturbing clarity as Fang used his last ounce of strength to pull the covers up to his neck.
A few minutes later and his Mother's muffled cry sounded through the wall as Mike pushed her into the pillows, taking what he wanted from his wife, whether she consented to it or not. Laying an arm across his eyes Fang tried to remove himself from the cesspit that had become his everyday life. He imagined himself back at the Martinez household, playing scrabble and Texas Hold 'em with the kids, making them dinner from whatever he could find and walking them to school with Max every day.
His mother's whimpers continued to seep through the wall for an hour, punctuated by the occasional cry and the grunting of her so-called Husband as he defiled her. No matter how hard he tried Fang couldn't distance himself from reality and was forced to listen to the whole ordeal. When Mike was finished with her he simply rolled off and went to sleep, leaving her to cry quietly to herself for many hours into the morning.
Fang didn't sleep a wink that night. He wasn't sure he ever would again.
