Boris Yelton prompted me with the idea of a story along the lines of Charlie being asked to baby-sit for the busy club and using that as a vehicle for thinking about what his dad did.

"If worse comes to worst, you'll need to call nine-one-one and Mrs. Rodowsky - in that order. Now, Jackie hasn't been to the hospital in a while, but the possibility that he'll go back is always greater than zero."

"You make this kid sound like a bomb waiting to go off."

Kristy rolled her eyes. "I'm just trying to make sure that you don't go in blind. Jackie's a good kid, but he can be a real handful."

Charlie raised his hands up, palms out. "You seem to be forgetting that you're not the only babysitter in this family. We're talking about a seven-year-old here, not a wild animal. I can handle this."

There were certainly better things for her to get worked up over. It wasn't as if Charlie couldn't tell this kid from Adam. Why, if not for him, Jackie might never have sent a fly ball straight through a car's window!

The left corner of Charlie's lips perked up. That was what they could do this afternoon: work some more on his aim! Even if he had improved between now and the last few Krushers' meetings, a little extra practice never hurt.

Kristy sighed. "Look, whether he wants to or not, Jackie attracts trouble. Don't be surprised if your job gets a little hectic."

Did she honestly believe that he hadn't learned a thing or two about dealing with trouble living in this mad house? If she was really this worried, then why'd she bother offering him the job in the first place?

Charlie bit his tongue, swallowing back the questions bubbling in his throat. Just because his kid sister had never learned to stop putting her foot in her mouth didn't mean that the same could be said about him. He took in a breath through his nose and then slowly exhaled it through his mouth before speaking again.

"Your warnings have been duly noted." He motioned towards the front door with his thumb. "Now, I think that it's about time that I got going. We'll certainly have trouble on our hands if I'm late."

Kristy nodded. "Whatever you do, keep an extra careful eye on Jackie."

Charlie smirked. "That's what I'm getting paid for, isn't it?"

What did Kristy think he was gonna do if things went south - walk out?

"You still haven't applied to college?"

"You make it sound like the end of the world."

"You can't just keep pushing this off."

Charlie smirked. "What do you mean? It's worked pretty well for me so far."

Sarah leaned her head upwards and groaned. "Be serious, Charlie. This is your future you're talking about."

"You're starting to sound worse than Mr. Liebowitz." Getting grilled by his guidance counselor and mom was one thing - like a mosquito's bite on a muggy July day, it was unpleasant if not unexpected. Having his girlfriend get up in his face? It was more like the hard smack of a yellow jacket's sting. "I don't remember you being so excited about all these applications."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "I'm not. That doesn't mean that I completely ignore it."

Charlie leaned further back into his seat. The world outside his windows was bright and clear, the temperature surprisingly warm for an early March day. Maybe the reason that it was so nice outside was because of the massive storm that was brewing inside his beat up old Volvo.

"You know," Charlie said, meeting her gaze, "this wasn't the sort of thing that I thought you'd want to discuss when you said we should go for a ride together."

Sarah groaned. "Is this seriously a joke to you? You do realize we won't be in high school forever, right?"

Charlie's throat tightened. Would it really be so bad if they were? If his parents had taught him anything, pre-calculus tests and pep rallies certainly beat the nine-to-five. What was life after high school, after all, if not a minefield? Sure, he might get a good job and a house with a picket fence - why, with all the TV shows about it, it had to be a possibility - or he might...

Charlie bit his lip. There was no guarantee he'd get a happy little sitcom. He'd already learned that lesson once before. One afternoon, Patrick had pulled into the driveway. Then, every day after, the garage had sat empty. With no explanation or warning, his father - if he really even deserved to be called that - had all but fallen off the face of the earth.

Who was to say he might one day not do the same?

Much as he tried to push the thought away, sooner or later it always got its chance to speak. Though it made bile rise in his throat, it wasn't as if, on some level, Charlie couldn't understand what had happened. Who the hell wanted to deal with four kids?

I'm different. Charlie reminded himself.

But was he really? Up until Patrick left to buy milk, Charlie would never have guessed that one day he'd find himself the man of the house. If he couldn't envision that possibility, then what weight did his other predictions really hold?

Hell, for all the time he'd spent passing notes in biology, who was to say there wasn't anything genetic about this? Watson could parade him around all he wanted. That didn't change the blood running through Charlie's veins.

But then again, who was he to jump straight to the worst case scenario? There was no guarantee, after all, that one day he'd find himself walking in Patrick's shoes. Sure, he'd once called Bradford Court home, but there was no telling what path life would lead him down next.

"Quit worrying, okay? I'll figure things out."

And why keep pulling his hair out until he did? The last thing Charlie needed was to try and make the future come faster than it already was.

We now have explored the point of views of two whole male BSC characters! If Charlie and Richard ever speak to each other in a future fic, then they might just pass the reverse Bechdel test.