A/N: Oh, goodness! It's...all over. Before we start the final chapter, I'd just like to thank all my reviewers. Everyone who supported me and helped me along on this lovely little twisted path...this is for you. And I, SchizoAuthoress, offer up my services as beta reader, request-fic writer, collaborator, and ideasmith. Anything I can do for any of you, I'll do it. Because you've all done so much for me; you've made me feel loved and wanted and accepted in a way that no other fandom bothers to. Quack, quack, quack, Ducks fans!
****
"Might as Well, Part the Last"
["Oh, there's nowhere to run/ No one can save me, the damage is done/
Shot through the heart, and you're to blame/ You give love a bad name/ I play my part, you play your game/ You give love a bad name."
--from "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi]
"Mornin'..." Dean greeted Fulton as they passed each other in the hall, Fulton heading back to their dorm room, Dean shambling toward the bathrooms at the end of the hall.
"Happy birthday," Fulton replied.
Dean blinked. Either he was still half-asleep, or he had forgotten something. He turned around to ask Fulton what day it was, but the other Bash Brother had already retreated to their room. Dean shrugged. The shower was beckoning him.
****
Dean consulted the KISS calendar hanging above Fulton's desk. Yes, it was Tuesday April 2nd, his birthday. Fulton had boxed the day in red and written 'Dean's party, Sheraton, 6:30' inside it. Behind him, Fulton chuckled and teased,
"That was supposed to be a reminder to /me/. I thought you'd remember your own birthday."
"Well, it's been an exciting second semester." Dean smiled at his own understatement. "Kinda slipped my mind."
He felt Fulton embracing him from behind and sighed with contentment. Fulton kissed the side of his neck and murmured, "Love you, baby." Dean buried his face in the soft sweep of Fulton's long black hair and breathed in the scent of Ivory soap. Fulton was probably the only person Dean knew of who never used shampoo and never would.
"You're the best, honey. I love you, too."
****
Someone had spiked the punch.
Fulton smiled wryly, recognizing the faint burn of alcohol as he sipped from his paper cup. /He/ hadn't done it, regardless of whatever other people might think, and he knew for a fact that Dean hadn't, because the birthday boy hadn't had a thing to do with the party at all.
"Just show up at six-thirty and look sexy," Fulton had counseled him when Dean pressed for something to do. "But not too sexy. I don't want the Portmaniacs to stalk you to the Sheraton." The last comment had earned him a very pleasant kiss. Dean had promised to try very hard not to build up an entourage, and then Fulton left to see how the preparations for the party were going.
Fulton self-consciously checked his reflection in the mirror hanging over the fake mantle as he passed it. He was wearing his nicest, non-ripped pair of jeans and a plain black shirt, long-sleeved. He'd even thrown his checkered Vans in the wash for the occasion, and while he realized that most of the guests would disapprove, he'd taken one of Dean's bandannas to wear. He sighed softly; he was white trash, he knew that, and he knew that it would always show. At least it was better than his old Smashing Pumpkins tee and the one pair of jeans with a rip up to the knee.
And someone had already--pardon the pun--beaten him to the punch and spiked the fruity concoction. Fulton gave the flask in his coat pocket a single pat, pondering whether he should add its contents anyway. He had no idea as to the alcohol tolerance of his teammates, outside of Portman--and Tammy Duncan, but that was another story--so it might be dangerous to their health if he did so. Not to mention that the adults would be pissed.
Fulton shrugged. Maybe later. He crushed the paper cup and tossed it in the garbage, wandering over to one of the tables and consulting the menu there. Phillip Banks had, after a surprisingly small amount of cajoling on Adam's part, shouldered most of the bill, but the food the team had chosen was simple. And they promised Dwayne that there would only be two knives, one spoon, and one fork at the place setting.
The hotel workers were setting up the stereo and karaoke machine--it would be a cold day in Hell before Fulton used that abomination. The caterers were stationed in the kitchens. Fulton mentally went over the guest list again, checking who had RSVP'd. Because it was, after all, a school night, the Ducks circumvented possible refusal by inviting their parents along.
Charlie and his mother. Goldberg and parents. The Moreau family--three older brothers, Connie, and parents. Guy, his older sister, and his dad, because his mom stayed at home to watch the younger children. The Halls. Like Charlie, Adam only had his mother coming; his father was out of town on business and his brother Danny was away at college. Ken, Luis, Russ, Averman, and Dwayne--without parents. Himself, sans foster parents. The Duncans and their dad. Peter Mark and his older brother. Dave Karp and his grandparents. Dean. And Coach Orion's family of three. Thirty-eight people.
'Why did I let Connie and Adam talk me into this?' Fulton lamented, heading over to the punch bowl. Best to get rid of the evidence right now.
****
"You've been drinking," was the first thing out of Dean's mouth when he sat down at Fulton's table. "And you didn't wait for me."
"Somebody spiked the punch. I got rid of it." Fulton shrugged and picked up his water glass, swirling the ice cubes in it. "'Sides, you can do the honors and spike the fresh batch they made up."
"You deviate," Dean scolded him lovingly. "You stole my favorite bandanna, too."
"Did not. I borrowed it."
Dean smiled. "Well, it looks very good on you. Otherwise, I wouldn't let you wear it." Fulton huffed and tossed the menu at Dean. "Thanks, hon."
He looked around the room. The other tables were larger, but they held more people. The Moreaus and the Germaines were sitting together, and neither Guy nor Connie were complaining about it. (In fact, they looked very pleased with the arrangement. If nothing else, they had a friendly break-up.) Mrs. Banks and Mrs. Conway-Walsh were chatting very animatedly at their table, and so were Adam and Charlie. Averman was sitting with the Goldbergs--most of the laughter was coming from that table. Russ and Kenny sat with the Halls, Luis was seated with the Marks, and the Karps were putting up with Dwayne. Coach Orion, his daughter, and his wife occupied their own table, as did the Duncans. No problems yet, but knowing the Ducks, if there wasn't trouble, they'd make it.
****
"This is happens at all the parties I go to. People always want me to leave," mourned Dwayne as he sat down in Fulton's seat. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"What, and miss all your warmth and charm?" he asked dryly. Not only had Fulton abandoned him at a request by Tammy Duncan to dance, he had to put up with Dwayne's whining. Dwayne had tried to ask Connie to dance and was chased away by her older brothers. He'd been kicked off the dance floor once the older people started to cha-cha, and none of the conversations happening around the room wanted to include him.
Fulton suddenly showed up and kissed Dean on the cheek. "Sorry, babe, but Tammy wouldn't let me go 'til now."
Dean had never seen Dwayne move quite that fast without skates. At least he'd ditched Julie's company to come back to the team. Dean made a mental note to ask Luis just what he'd said to convince the Cowboy to do so.
****
After the dinner and dancing and cake and karaoke singing--Fulton was conspicuously absent from the last one, but Dean willingly belted out a rendition of Nirvana's "About a Girl," inarguably the best performance of all--there were presents. The original Ducks who hadn't gone on to the Goodwill Games--the Duncans, Karp, and Peter--gave him money and the invitation to come play a friendly game of hockey. With an air of slightly mocking ceremony, Charlie presented him with a Mickey Mouse alarm clock and warned him that he couldn't possibly do damage to such a wholesome cartoon icon without some kind of retribution. Dean, affecting a properly chastised air, accepted the clock and promised to be on time to the next practice.
Jesse and Terry gave him an earring about half the size of an Altoid. "It's only crystal, so you won't get a lot for it if you pawn it," Terry informed him with a cheeky grin. Guy's present was an AC DC poster, and Connie's was 'Ballbreaker'. They swore up and down that they hadn't coordinated gifts, but everyone only smiled knowingly and let it slide. The Goldbergs gave him a coupon to a local music store.
Adam's present was a set of 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy. His only explanation was that Dean needed some good literature to occupy his time. Dean raised an eyebrow at that and glanced meaningfully at Fulton, who had the presence of mind to blush and hit him.
Dwayne's gift was a cowboy hat. Kenny gave him a copy of 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure'. Metallica's Black Album came from Luis, and Russ gave him '2Pacalypse Now.' Coach Orion's gift was a nice blue jacket--sensible and not too expensive, as Fulton put it in an amused tone under his breath. Averman handed Dean his bandanna and said half-jokingly, "Use it well, grasshopper," and then placed twenty dollars on top of it.
The last present that Dean opened was Fulton's. Dean lifted a pair of army surplus boots out of the box and exclaimed, "Something I really needed. New boots!"
"With matching laces," Fulton added, grinning. Dean gave him a funny look.
"What?"
Fulton pointed to Dean's feet. "Your bootlaces are different colors. The one on the left is black, but the right one is navy blue."
****
By nine-thirty, everyone was leaving or had already left. However, Fulton refused an offer from Charlie's mom to drive them back to the dorms. Dean said quietly,
"You realize that they're the last ones to go. What are we gonna do, ride the bus?"
Fulton shook his head. "This is such a nice hotel, I thought we could...spend the night."
"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"
"Well," Fulton said in a would-be innocent voice, "I /do/ have a reservation that it would be a shame to waste..." He smiled slightly, "And you haven't gotten your present yet."
"Yes, I did," Dean replied.
Fulton laughed and kissed him. "No, no. Your /other/ present. The one I have to give you in /private/," he explained, leading Dean toward the elevators.
"Oh. That one. I'm gonna like that one..."
****
The next morning, they took a cab back to Eden Hall. Fulton snuggled against Dean in the back seat and sighed, "I love you, Dean." In response, Dean tightened his arm around Fulton's shoulders and dropped a warm, possessive kiss on his temple.
"Love you, too, honey." He whispered in Fulton's ear. "Thank you."
"You've said that. You've said that a lot." Fulton smiled. Dean said simply,
"That's because I'm very, very grateful."
****
The letter had come earlier that morning, and was handed to Fulton as they passed the dorm supervisor's desk in the recieving area. Fulton tucked it into his back pocket without a glance at it. But when they got up to their room, he gasped as he read the return address.
"What?" Dean demanded, "What's wrong?"
"It's a letter from my mom," Fulton choked out, looking up at Dean with disbelief in his dark eyes. "She's never, never written to me before. And she's in Louisiana with my Uncle Bobby."
"Read it!" Dean cried, but Fulton was already ripping open the envelope as he said this. Scanning the letter quickly, Fulton sat down heavily as he finished it.
"My mom ran away from a treatment center in St. Paul and she's staying at Uncle Bobby's house. They're trying to talk her into going in for detox again....he wants me to come stay with her."
~~End Might as Well~~
To be continued in the sequel: "Combat Boots and Clover"
****
"Might as Well, Part the Last"
["Oh, there's nowhere to run/ No one can save me, the damage is done/
Shot through the heart, and you're to blame/ You give love a bad name/ I play my part, you play your game/ You give love a bad name."
--from "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi]
"Mornin'..." Dean greeted Fulton as they passed each other in the hall, Fulton heading back to their dorm room, Dean shambling toward the bathrooms at the end of the hall.
"Happy birthday," Fulton replied.
Dean blinked. Either he was still half-asleep, or he had forgotten something. He turned around to ask Fulton what day it was, but the other Bash Brother had already retreated to their room. Dean shrugged. The shower was beckoning him.
****
Dean consulted the KISS calendar hanging above Fulton's desk. Yes, it was Tuesday April 2nd, his birthday. Fulton had boxed the day in red and written 'Dean's party, Sheraton, 6:30' inside it. Behind him, Fulton chuckled and teased,
"That was supposed to be a reminder to /me/. I thought you'd remember your own birthday."
"Well, it's been an exciting second semester." Dean smiled at his own understatement. "Kinda slipped my mind."
He felt Fulton embracing him from behind and sighed with contentment. Fulton kissed the side of his neck and murmured, "Love you, baby." Dean buried his face in the soft sweep of Fulton's long black hair and breathed in the scent of Ivory soap. Fulton was probably the only person Dean knew of who never used shampoo and never would.
"You're the best, honey. I love you, too."
****
Someone had spiked the punch.
Fulton smiled wryly, recognizing the faint burn of alcohol as he sipped from his paper cup. /He/ hadn't done it, regardless of whatever other people might think, and he knew for a fact that Dean hadn't, because the birthday boy hadn't had a thing to do with the party at all.
"Just show up at six-thirty and look sexy," Fulton had counseled him when Dean pressed for something to do. "But not too sexy. I don't want the Portmaniacs to stalk you to the Sheraton." The last comment had earned him a very pleasant kiss. Dean had promised to try very hard not to build up an entourage, and then Fulton left to see how the preparations for the party were going.
Fulton self-consciously checked his reflection in the mirror hanging over the fake mantle as he passed it. He was wearing his nicest, non-ripped pair of jeans and a plain black shirt, long-sleeved. He'd even thrown his checkered Vans in the wash for the occasion, and while he realized that most of the guests would disapprove, he'd taken one of Dean's bandannas to wear. He sighed softly; he was white trash, he knew that, and he knew that it would always show. At least it was better than his old Smashing Pumpkins tee and the one pair of jeans with a rip up to the knee.
And someone had already--pardon the pun--beaten him to the punch and spiked the fruity concoction. Fulton gave the flask in his coat pocket a single pat, pondering whether he should add its contents anyway. He had no idea as to the alcohol tolerance of his teammates, outside of Portman--and Tammy Duncan, but that was another story--so it might be dangerous to their health if he did so. Not to mention that the adults would be pissed.
Fulton shrugged. Maybe later. He crushed the paper cup and tossed it in the garbage, wandering over to one of the tables and consulting the menu there. Phillip Banks had, after a surprisingly small amount of cajoling on Adam's part, shouldered most of the bill, but the food the team had chosen was simple. And they promised Dwayne that there would only be two knives, one spoon, and one fork at the place setting.
The hotel workers were setting up the stereo and karaoke machine--it would be a cold day in Hell before Fulton used that abomination. The caterers were stationed in the kitchens. Fulton mentally went over the guest list again, checking who had RSVP'd. Because it was, after all, a school night, the Ducks circumvented possible refusal by inviting their parents along.
Charlie and his mother. Goldberg and parents. The Moreau family--three older brothers, Connie, and parents. Guy, his older sister, and his dad, because his mom stayed at home to watch the younger children. The Halls. Like Charlie, Adam only had his mother coming; his father was out of town on business and his brother Danny was away at college. Ken, Luis, Russ, Averman, and Dwayne--without parents. Himself, sans foster parents. The Duncans and their dad. Peter Mark and his older brother. Dave Karp and his grandparents. Dean. And Coach Orion's family of three. Thirty-eight people.
'Why did I let Connie and Adam talk me into this?' Fulton lamented, heading over to the punch bowl. Best to get rid of the evidence right now.
****
"You've been drinking," was the first thing out of Dean's mouth when he sat down at Fulton's table. "And you didn't wait for me."
"Somebody spiked the punch. I got rid of it." Fulton shrugged and picked up his water glass, swirling the ice cubes in it. "'Sides, you can do the honors and spike the fresh batch they made up."
"You deviate," Dean scolded him lovingly. "You stole my favorite bandanna, too."
"Did not. I borrowed it."
Dean smiled. "Well, it looks very good on you. Otherwise, I wouldn't let you wear it." Fulton huffed and tossed the menu at Dean. "Thanks, hon."
He looked around the room. The other tables were larger, but they held more people. The Moreaus and the Germaines were sitting together, and neither Guy nor Connie were complaining about it. (In fact, they looked very pleased with the arrangement. If nothing else, they had a friendly break-up.) Mrs. Banks and Mrs. Conway-Walsh were chatting very animatedly at their table, and so were Adam and Charlie. Averman was sitting with the Goldbergs--most of the laughter was coming from that table. Russ and Kenny sat with the Halls, Luis was seated with the Marks, and the Karps were putting up with Dwayne. Coach Orion, his daughter, and his wife occupied their own table, as did the Duncans. No problems yet, but knowing the Ducks, if there wasn't trouble, they'd make it.
****
"This is happens at all the parties I go to. People always want me to leave," mourned Dwayne as he sat down in Fulton's seat. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"What, and miss all your warmth and charm?" he asked dryly. Not only had Fulton abandoned him at a request by Tammy Duncan to dance, he had to put up with Dwayne's whining. Dwayne had tried to ask Connie to dance and was chased away by her older brothers. He'd been kicked off the dance floor once the older people started to cha-cha, and none of the conversations happening around the room wanted to include him.
Fulton suddenly showed up and kissed Dean on the cheek. "Sorry, babe, but Tammy wouldn't let me go 'til now."
Dean had never seen Dwayne move quite that fast without skates. At least he'd ditched Julie's company to come back to the team. Dean made a mental note to ask Luis just what he'd said to convince the Cowboy to do so.
****
After the dinner and dancing and cake and karaoke singing--Fulton was conspicuously absent from the last one, but Dean willingly belted out a rendition of Nirvana's "About a Girl," inarguably the best performance of all--there were presents. The original Ducks who hadn't gone on to the Goodwill Games--the Duncans, Karp, and Peter--gave him money and the invitation to come play a friendly game of hockey. With an air of slightly mocking ceremony, Charlie presented him with a Mickey Mouse alarm clock and warned him that he couldn't possibly do damage to such a wholesome cartoon icon without some kind of retribution. Dean, affecting a properly chastised air, accepted the clock and promised to be on time to the next practice.
Jesse and Terry gave him an earring about half the size of an Altoid. "It's only crystal, so you won't get a lot for it if you pawn it," Terry informed him with a cheeky grin. Guy's present was an AC DC poster, and Connie's was 'Ballbreaker'. They swore up and down that they hadn't coordinated gifts, but everyone only smiled knowingly and let it slide. The Goldbergs gave him a coupon to a local music store.
Adam's present was a set of 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy. His only explanation was that Dean needed some good literature to occupy his time. Dean raised an eyebrow at that and glanced meaningfully at Fulton, who had the presence of mind to blush and hit him.
Dwayne's gift was a cowboy hat. Kenny gave him a copy of 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure'. Metallica's Black Album came from Luis, and Russ gave him '2Pacalypse Now.' Coach Orion's gift was a nice blue jacket--sensible and not too expensive, as Fulton put it in an amused tone under his breath. Averman handed Dean his bandanna and said half-jokingly, "Use it well, grasshopper," and then placed twenty dollars on top of it.
The last present that Dean opened was Fulton's. Dean lifted a pair of army surplus boots out of the box and exclaimed, "Something I really needed. New boots!"
"With matching laces," Fulton added, grinning. Dean gave him a funny look.
"What?"
Fulton pointed to Dean's feet. "Your bootlaces are different colors. The one on the left is black, but the right one is navy blue."
****
By nine-thirty, everyone was leaving or had already left. However, Fulton refused an offer from Charlie's mom to drive them back to the dorms. Dean said quietly,
"You realize that they're the last ones to go. What are we gonna do, ride the bus?"
Fulton shook his head. "This is such a nice hotel, I thought we could...spend the night."
"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"
"Well," Fulton said in a would-be innocent voice, "I /do/ have a reservation that it would be a shame to waste..." He smiled slightly, "And you haven't gotten your present yet."
"Yes, I did," Dean replied.
Fulton laughed and kissed him. "No, no. Your /other/ present. The one I have to give you in /private/," he explained, leading Dean toward the elevators.
"Oh. That one. I'm gonna like that one..."
****
The next morning, they took a cab back to Eden Hall. Fulton snuggled against Dean in the back seat and sighed, "I love you, Dean." In response, Dean tightened his arm around Fulton's shoulders and dropped a warm, possessive kiss on his temple.
"Love you, too, honey." He whispered in Fulton's ear. "Thank you."
"You've said that. You've said that a lot." Fulton smiled. Dean said simply,
"That's because I'm very, very grateful."
****
The letter had come earlier that morning, and was handed to Fulton as they passed the dorm supervisor's desk in the recieving area. Fulton tucked it into his back pocket without a glance at it. But when they got up to their room, he gasped as he read the return address.
"What?" Dean demanded, "What's wrong?"
"It's a letter from my mom," Fulton choked out, looking up at Dean with disbelief in his dark eyes. "She's never, never written to me before. And she's in Louisiana with my Uncle Bobby."
"Read it!" Dean cried, but Fulton was already ripping open the envelope as he said this. Scanning the letter quickly, Fulton sat down heavily as he finished it.
"My mom ran away from a treatment center in St. Paul and she's staying at Uncle Bobby's house. They're trying to talk her into going in for detox again....he wants me to come stay with her."
~~End Might as Well~~
To be continued in the sequel: "Combat Boots and Clover"
