A/N: You don't like the fact that I made Dwayne a good guy? Well, bite me. (Particularly this one spot, right below my ear...ooh, that's nice..) I never really made him a bad guy...just the dumb, easily molded guy. So, you'll just have to live with it. And I'll explain Fulton's secret love of country music in later chapters.
****
"Combat Boots and Clover, Chapter Three"
[FULTON GARRETT REED]
I sat alone in the dorm room, surrounded by Dean's things; most of mine were sitting in packing boxes at Uncle Bobby's house, and what was left was in the suitcase at my feet. Kyle and Lorraine had arranged something with the courts that let me stay in Louisiana for four months without them losing the right to be my foster parents. I didn't really care. They also, once again, brought up the idea of adoption. I was touched, but being sixteen going on seventeen--damned 'Sound of Music' song, get out of my head!--I really didn't see the point. Phoebe told me once that the Greens asked her if she wanted to be adopted...I think they do that with all their long-term foster kids.
Robby Moreau offered to drive me to the airport after school. Actually, I think that Connie asked him to. She would.
The door opens and Dean walks in. "Surprised?" I ask him softly.
"I thought you'd be gone already."
I shake my head. "Come with me, to the airport. Please?"
He smiles. "Of course. Let's go, hon."
****
The ride to the airport was a silent one. Robby just drove, and Dean and I just sat in the backseat. Dean reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. I looked over at him and he smiled supportively. 'Stop being so wonderful!' I wanted to tell him, 'You're making this a million times more difficult than it should be!'
Well, he'd had more than a week to get used to the idea. Granted, we spent a lot of time yelling at each other because he wouldn't stop asking me to reconsider for the first few days, but still...I was adamant. And so he'd told me Wednesday, "It's important to you. So I won't fight it. But goddamned if I won't miss you, Fulton. I love you." And I'd cried. I know it doesn't sound much like something I'd do, and believe me, it's not; Dean has this way of pulling all my emotions into the open. I think I might go crazy without him.
****
"Call me when you get in," Dean whispered as he hugged me tightly, "and write me tons of letters. I want to know everything you do there."
I laughed. "Dear Dean," I said jokingly, "I got up at seven o'clock and took a shower. Then Aunt Louise made what she calls breakfast and what I call a nuclear disaster. I fed the dog the bacon. Uncle Bobby bored me to death by talking about my cousin Cade. My mom looks like shit. The kids at school hate me. Next week, I'll be on the run from a mass murder charge; the preppies must die."
That earned me another smile. "Okay, not everything. Just write about that shower in excruciating detail."
"Pervert," I muttered, rising on my toes in order to give him a brief kiss. Robby cleared his throat behind us.
"Not to break up this lovely GLAAD moment, Fulton, but isn't your flight leaving in, like, soon? You still have to get though the metal detectors and find your gate."
"Right," I said, picking up my suitcase. It was small enough to be considered a carry on, so that was one less hassle. "Thanks for driving me, Robby."
"Don't mention it," he said. "Have a nice flight."
I checked my watch. "Crap. Fifteen minutes, gotta run. I love you, Dean!"
I was running toward the security checkpoint when I heard Dean yell, "Please don't do anything illegal, you look horrible in orange!"
****
A few hours later, I was standing around the airport terminal, looking for the Hamptons. They saw me before I saw them, and I heard them before I saw them.
"Fulton!" My Aunt Louise cried. I just barely hid my wince of pain. I forgot how awful she sounds when she gets loud. She's a chain-smoker, so her voice is harsh and gravelly at the best of times, like nails on a chalkboard at the worst. She reached up and grabbed my face; her acrylic talons grazed my cheek and scratched lightly. "Ohh..." she said, "You look wonderful! So tall, too, look at him, Bobby..." Releasing me, Aunt Louise turned to her husband, who eyed me critically and hitched up his jeans.
"Yep," he muttered, "'Bout tall as Cade, I'd guess. How was the flight?"
"Fine," I told him. Aunt Louise was nattering on about we should go to the car, she'll be making a pot roast for dinner doesn't that sound nice, and assorted other forms of bullshit that she was required to talk about but we were not required to respond to. We began heading for the doors. I glanced around apprehensively, "Cade here?"
"Nope, he's with his girlfriend," Uncle Bobby informed me. I sighed with relief--Cade and I get along like a cobra and a mongoose, meaning, we do our level best to kill or at least maim each other on a regular basis--but Uncle Bobby took it for a sigh of regret. "Well, he's around her a lot. He's excited that you're staying with us."
'Excited that he has someone to torture,' I thought darkly.
"Oh, yes, Ellie Sampson!" Aunt Louise exclaimed, "Cade's girl; you'll be meeting her soon, I do believe that he's bringing her to dinner..."
"How's Mom?" I asked as we approached the car. Aunt Louise fell silent and glanced at Uncle Bobby. I looked at him, too. He seemed to be considering his answer very carefully. He unlocked the car and popped the trunk. I set my suitcase in the trunk and slammed the lid.
"She's doing better." He told me finally. Aunt Louise relaxed and climed into the passenger seat. Uncle Bobby didn't move, and neither did I. He continued, "The doctor has her on a methadone program, but I think that she needs real treatment. The family's saved up enough money to send her to a clinic, but we ain't gonna do it 'less we know she's gonna stay."
"Guess that's my mission," I replied softly. He grinned.
"Guess so."
****
We pulled into the driveway. Aunt Louise and Uncle Bobby have a really nice house, one of the better ones in the neighborhood. As we were getting out of the car, I heard the front door slam.
A very quiet voice said from the porch steps, "Oh, my God, is that my baby boy?" and I turned around to see my mother for the first time in eight years. She had barely changed, maybe she was a little thinner, and her hair was going gray now, but she was basically the same person. Pale as paper, skinny as a rail, with a round face hidden behind wild brown hair. Her brown eyes looked too big for her face, brimming with tears and wide with surprise. She stood on the porch in her stocking-feet, wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt several sizes too large for her that read 'Istrouma High School'--Cade's, probably--on it.
I swallowed hard to dislodge the lump that chose that moment to stick itself in my throat. "Hi, Mom."
"Oh, Fulton!" she cried, running to me and nearly crushing my waist in a hug. She started to cry, babbling, "I missed you, baby, I'm so sorry, I never wanted them to take you away, oh, Fulton, can you ever forgive me?"
"I-it's okay, Mom," I managed to say. Really, I had no idea how to react to this. "I'm fine, it's okay. Don't be sorry."
"Patricia Lee," Uncle Bobby said gently, "let's go inside, all right? The boy's had a long day, and I'm sure he'd like to have a sit-down talk with you."
Mom sniffed loudly. She looked at her brother, then at me. Wiping her eyes, she mumbled, "Oh, honey, I got your shirt all wet."
I wanted to laugh. If Dean were here, he'd say that she sounded like me. But Dean wasn't here...
Damn. Fucking mood swings.
"Uncle Bobby, can I use the phone?"
****
I lay in the guest room, now officially my room, that night and stared at the ceiling. Aunt Louise hadn't unpacked my things; she said that she found it awful rude to do something like that, and I appreciated that. Dinner had been relatively uneventful, except for Mom accidentally spilling her water glass on Cade's lap.
He jumped up and got halfway through a curse word before both Aunt Louise and Uncle Bobby told him to be quiet and go change his clothes. His girlfriend, Ellie, giggled to herself as Mom apologized profusely and Cade went upstairs, grumbling to himself. I concentrated extra hard on staring at my potatoes and /not/ laughing at Cade.
Ellie had introduced herself to me, sticking out her hand and saying, "Hi, I'm Cade's girlfriend, Ellie. Eloise, proper, but nobody 'ceptin' my gram calls me that." She was a slender girl with gold-brown hair and eyes, dressed all in pink. I eyed her warily as I shook her hand. She had all the looks of a spoiled prep; the perfect girl for my brat-bastard of a cousin.
Cade is a junior at Istrouma High, the school I'll be going to on Monday. So is Ellie. Cade plays football, for the Varsity team. He looks somewhat like me, tall and pale with black hair and dark eyes. But he's a lot more muscular than I am, and he has this annoying way of wearing his hair...it's mostly short but he has this goofy-looking long piece of hair that he styles over to one side of his head; I guess he thinks that it looks polished and cool. Between him, Luis, and Dean, the world is going to run out of hair gel by the year 2000.
I told my uncle and my mom about Dean and let them both talk to him. Neither of them seem very bothered by it; in fact, I heard Uncle Bobby muttering calculations about how much the family would save by not having to buy my non-existant children anything. Whatever. [1]
Right now, all I cared about was the fact that I was alone in my room.
Without Dean.
~~End Part Three~~
[1] Teensy homage to the "Queertet" series. I love you, Vic and Star!
****
"Combat Boots and Clover, Chapter Three"
[FULTON GARRETT REED]
I sat alone in the dorm room, surrounded by Dean's things; most of mine were sitting in packing boxes at Uncle Bobby's house, and what was left was in the suitcase at my feet. Kyle and Lorraine had arranged something with the courts that let me stay in Louisiana for four months without them losing the right to be my foster parents. I didn't really care. They also, once again, brought up the idea of adoption. I was touched, but being sixteen going on seventeen--damned 'Sound of Music' song, get out of my head!--I really didn't see the point. Phoebe told me once that the Greens asked her if she wanted to be adopted...I think they do that with all their long-term foster kids.
Robby Moreau offered to drive me to the airport after school. Actually, I think that Connie asked him to. She would.
The door opens and Dean walks in. "Surprised?" I ask him softly.
"I thought you'd be gone already."
I shake my head. "Come with me, to the airport. Please?"
He smiles. "Of course. Let's go, hon."
****
The ride to the airport was a silent one. Robby just drove, and Dean and I just sat in the backseat. Dean reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. I looked over at him and he smiled supportively. 'Stop being so wonderful!' I wanted to tell him, 'You're making this a million times more difficult than it should be!'
Well, he'd had more than a week to get used to the idea. Granted, we spent a lot of time yelling at each other because he wouldn't stop asking me to reconsider for the first few days, but still...I was adamant. And so he'd told me Wednesday, "It's important to you. So I won't fight it. But goddamned if I won't miss you, Fulton. I love you." And I'd cried. I know it doesn't sound much like something I'd do, and believe me, it's not; Dean has this way of pulling all my emotions into the open. I think I might go crazy without him.
****
"Call me when you get in," Dean whispered as he hugged me tightly, "and write me tons of letters. I want to know everything you do there."
I laughed. "Dear Dean," I said jokingly, "I got up at seven o'clock and took a shower. Then Aunt Louise made what she calls breakfast and what I call a nuclear disaster. I fed the dog the bacon. Uncle Bobby bored me to death by talking about my cousin Cade. My mom looks like shit. The kids at school hate me. Next week, I'll be on the run from a mass murder charge; the preppies must die."
That earned me another smile. "Okay, not everything. Just write about that shower in excruciating detail."
"Pervert," I muttered, rising on my toes in order to give him a brief kiss. Robby cleared his throat behind us.
"Not to break up this lovely GLAAD moment, Fulton, but isn't your flight leaving in, like, soon? You still have to get though the metal detectors and find your gate."
"Right," I said, picking up my suitcase. It was small enough to be considered a carry on, so that was one less hassle. "Thanks for driving me, Robby."
"Don't mention it," he said. "Have a nice flight."
I checked my watch. "Crap. Fifteen minutes, gotta run. I love you, Dean!"
I was running toward the security checkpoint when I heard Dean yell, "Please don't do anything illegal, you look horrible in orange!"
****
A few hours later, I was standing around the airport terminal, looking for the Hamptons. They saw me before I saw them, and I heard them before I saw them.
"Fulton!" My Aunt Louise cried. I just barely hid my wince of pain. I forgot how awful she sounds when she gets loud. She's a chain-smoker, so her voice is harsh and gravelly at the best of times, like nails on a chalkboard at the worst. She reached up and grabbed my face; her acrylic talons grazed my cheek and scratched lightly. "Ohh..." she said, "You look wonderful! So tall, too, look at him, Bobby..." Releasing me, Aunt Louise turned to her husband, who eyed me critically and hitched up his jeans.
"Yep," he muttered, "'Bout tall as Cade, I'd guess. How was the flight?"
"Fine," I told him. Aunt Louise was nattering on about we should go to the car, she'll be making a pot roast for dinner doesn't that sound nice, and assorted other forms of bullshit that she was required to talk about but we were not required to respond to. We began heading for the doors. I glanced around apprehensively, "Cade here?"
"Nope, he's with his girlfriend," Uncle Bobby informed me. I sighed with relief--Cade and I get along like a cobra and a mongoose, meaning, we do our level best to kill or at least maim each other on a regular basis--but Uncle Bobby took it for a sigh of regret. "Well, he's around her a lot. He's excited that you're staying with us."
'Excited that he has someone to torture,' I thought darkly.
"Oh, yes, Ellie Sampson!" Aunt Louise exclaimed, "Cade's girl; you'll be meeting her soon, I do believe that he's bringing her to dinner..."
"How's Mom?" I asked as we approached the car. Aunt Louise fell silent and glanced at Uncle Bobby. I looked at him, too. He seemed to be considering his answer very carefully. He unlocked the car and popped the trunk. I set my suitcase in the trunk and slammed the lid.
"She's doing better." He told me finally. Aunt Louise relaxed and climed into the passenger seat. Uncle Bobby didn't move, and neither did I. He continued, "The doctor has her on a methadone program, but I think that she needs real treatment. The family's saved up enough money to send her to a clinic, but we ain't gonna do it 'less we know she's gonna stay."
"Guess that's my mission," I replied softly. He grinned.
"Guess so."
****
We pulled into the driveway. Aunt Louise and Uncle Bobby have a really nice house, one of the better ones in the neighborhood. As we were getting out of the car, I heard the front door slam.
A very quiet voice said from the porch steps, "Oh, my God, is that my baby boy?" and I turned around to see my mother for the first time in eight years. She had barely changed, maybe she was a little thinner, and her hair was going gray now, but she was basically the same person. Pale as paper, skinny as a rail, with a round face hidden behind wild brown hair. Her brown eyes looked too big for her face, brimming with tears and wide with surprise. She stood on the porch in her stocking-feet, wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt several sizes too large for her that read 'Istrouma High School'--Cade's, probably--on it.
I swallowed hard to dislodge the lump that chose that moment to stick itself in my throat. "Hi, Mom."
"Oh, Fulton!" she cried, running to me and nearly crushing my waist in a hug. She started to cry, babbling, "I missed you, baby, I'm so sorry, I never wanted them to take you away, oh, Fulton, can you ever forgive me?"
"I-it's okay, Mom," I managed to say. Really, I had no idea how to react to this. "I'm fine, it's okay. Don't be sorry."
"Patricia Lee," Uncle Bobby said gently, "let's go inside, all right? The boy's had a long day, and I'm sure he'd like to have a sit-down talk with you."
Mom sniffed loudly. She looked at her brother, then at me. Wiping her eyes, she mumbled, "Oh, honey, I got your shirt all wet."
I wanted to laugh. If Dean were here, he'd say that she sounded like me. But Dean wasn't here...
Damn. Fucking mood swings.
"Uncle Bobby, can I use the phone?"
****
I lay in the guest room, now officially my room, that night and stared at the ceiling. Aunt Louise hadn't unpacked my things; she said that she found it awful rude to do something like that, and I appreciated that. Dinner had been relatively uneventful, except for Mom accidentally spilling her water glass on Cade's lap.
He jumped up and got halfway through a curse word before both Aunt Louise and Uncle Bobby told him to be quiet and go change his clothes. His girlfriend, Ellie, giggled to herself as Mom apologized profusely and Cade went upstairs, grumbling to himself. I concentrated extra hard on staring at my potatoes and /not/ laughing at Cade.
Ellie had introduced herself to me, sticking out her hand and saying, "Hi, I'm Cade's girlfriend, Ellie. Eloise, proper, but nobody 'ceptin' my gram calls me that." She was a slender girl with gold-brown hair and eyes, dressed all in pink. I eyed her warily as I shook her hand. She had all the looks of a spoiled prep; the perfect girl for my brat-bastard of a cousin.
Cade is a junior at Istrouma High, the school I'll be going to on Monday. So is Ellie. Cade plays football, for the Varsity team. He looks somewhat like me, tall and pale with black hair and dark eyes. But he's a lot more muscular than I am, and he has this annoying way of wearing his hair...it's mostly short but he has this goofy-looking long piece of hair that he styles over to one side of his head; I guess he thinks that it looks polished and cool. Between him, Luis, and Dean, the world is going to run out of hair gel by the year 2000.
I told my uncle and my mom about Dean and let them both talk to him. Neither of them seem very bothered by it; in fact, I heard Uncle Bobby muttering calculations about how much the family would save by not having to buy my non-existant children anything. Whatever. [1]
Right now, all I cared about was the fact that I was alone in my room.
Without Dean.
~~End Part Three~~
[1] Teensy homage to the "Queertet" series. I love you, Vic and Star!