Title: Dad
Author: Simon
Pairing: B/J and some Craig
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dinner with Dad
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP
Feedback: Hell, yes.
Dad
I know, but it's his birthday. Please, at least send a card. He'll be hurt if you ignore it completely."
"Like I give a shit."
"Justin…please." Jennifer gave him one of her looks, the one that said he was still her son and she was still his mother and this was non-negotiable.
"…Fine."
The look again.
"I said I'd do it, alright?"
"Please make sure that you do." She picked up her coat, kissing him on the cheek as she left. "I'll call you about dinner this weekend. And you can bring Brian, too."
Oh, fabulous. Just what Brian wanted to do—spend Saturday night eating Chinese with his mother and sister in law and watching an appropriate movie. Like that would ever happen.
His Goddamned father.
Damnit.
Like Justin cared that it was his stupid birthday. Like Craig had cared when he'd turned nineteen or when he'd been in a Goddamned coma or…
Oh, screw it. His mother would kill him if he didn't do something. He could pick up a card in the morning and mail…
Fuck it.
He picked up the phone. If you're going to do something, might as well do it right. Take the high road and all of that claptrap. He punched in the old number, the one he'd memorized when he was about seven.
"Craig Taylor's office, how may I help you?"
"Hi, Claudia. It's Justin. Is he in?"
"Justin, sweetie! Just a minute, OK? How are you doing? I never see you anymore."
"I'm good. Uh, is he there?"
"He's just sat down. I think he had a bad lunch so try to cheer him up, alright? Promise you'll come by and see us when you can?"
"Sure, Claudia. I will." Not. The phone made transfer noises.
"Justin? Are you alright? Is something wrong?"
Of course he'd assume that. This was the first time they'd spoken in almost a year.
"I just wanted to say 'Happy Birthday', that's all."
There was a brief silence on the line as Craig digested the concept of his son actually calling him. "Thanks, son. I happy that you remembered." Awkward pause. " I heard from your sister last night and she mentioned that you were going over to your mother's for dinner on Sunday. I'm glad to hear that you get over there."
Because you don't, you prick. "Yeah, well I was going to help Mol with a science project she was telling me about last week." Oh, what the hell. "Brian's coming, too. He helps her with her math—oh, and he gives her soccer pointers."
"…Brian knows something about soccer?"
"He was All-Eastern in college. I think he might have gone on a soccer scholarship." Justin could hear his father give that characteristic hissing sigh he always had when he was sucker punched.
"I thought you told me that you and Brian had split."
"We did for a couple of months, but we got back together." Justin smiled to himself. This was getting dear old Dad where he lived—him back with the pervert child molester who broke up the happy Taylor home. "So do you have any plans for your birthday? Dinner or something?"
"Well, no, not really. How would you feel about a night out with your old man?"
"Tonight?" Crap, he and Brian were going to some new place they'd heard about for dinner then they were going to hit Babylon. Shit.
"If you don't have other plans…Of course if you were going to…"
"Why don't you have dinner with me and Brian? We were going to that new Italian place downtown on Forbes—Angelo's, I think. It's sort of across from Kaufman's."
"The department store?"
"Right. Say at seven?"
Craig wasn't an idiot, well, most of the time, anyway. "I don't want to intrude, Justin, if you have plans we can make it another night or something."
"You wouldn't be intruding." Much. "Really, meet us."
"Well, if you're sure it's—Brian will be there?"
Like he'd just said that he would be. "Is that a problem?"
"How long have you two been back together? Is this recent?"
"No, not really, maybe a year or so. Something like that." Eleven and a half months, if you wanted to be exact. "Didn't Mom mention it to you?"
"I guess it must have slipped her mind."
Sure it did, like getting divorced slipped her mind. "She's been busy. We'll see you at the restaurant. Seven. Later." Justin hung up before his father could respond.
Brian would shit.
He might not even show and Justin knew that if he didn't tell Brian about Craig joining them he'd be just as likely to get up and walk out as soon as his father sat down. Shit.
This was going to be a mess.
He picked up the phone again, dialing. "Brian? About dinner tonight…"
The call hadn't gone well. Brian had told him, in no uncertain Kinney terms that it would basically be a fucking cold day in hell before he'd sit down and eat a family dinner with the bastard. Justin had asked, cajoled and finally made the point that they, or rather Brian—could stick it to Craig and prove that they were tight, that they were together despite everything and that he had been wrong about everything.
Brian had countered that he knew the prick was wrong and didn't need to prove anything.
Justin had finally dropped all of his manipulations and his wheedling and just flat out asked. "Brian, please? He's my father."
That had done it.
He had agreed to be at the restaurant at seven but had made it clear that he made no promises that he would stay.
It was all that Justin could reasonably hope for and knew it. He smiled in some relief. He could make this OK.
Probably.
At seven ten Justin was sitting alone in the booth, convinced that he'd been stood up. The waitress came by, smiled and asked if he would like something from the bar, raising her eyebrow at his beer order. Damn. "A coke, please."
Fifteen after seven. He called Brian's cel. It was turned off. He never turned his cel off. Shit. His father's office was closed, he got the recording call back between nine and five tomorrow and they were sorry that they had missed his call.
He wished that he'd brought a book or a newspaper or something. He memorized the pictures on the walls.
Twenty after and he was handed another glass of soda.
Twenty-five after Craig finally showed up.
"Justin, I'm sorry. I really am. I was caught in a meeting and then I couldn't find a parking place."
The office closed over two hours ago and there was no traffic downtown in Pittsburgh on a Tuesday at seven in the evening.
Bullshit.
Justin smiled, stood and hugged his father hello.
"I'm sorry I'm late, son. Couldn't be helped."
Bullshit. The two of them sat down in the booth, facing one another. "That's OK. You want a drink or something?"
"I think I'm ready to order if you are."
"I'd like to wait till Brian gets here. I called his cell and he was just finishing up some things. He'll be here as soon as he walks over.
Craig ordered a couple of beers for them. "What made you two decide to get back together?"
Jerk. "I guess we couldn't live without each other."
"Son, Justin…I see."
"Good." Justin sipped his beer.
"Justin, that's not what I meant."
"Sure it was and cut the crap because he's here." Brian was walking towards them, his expression neutral. He sat beside Justin, not offering to kiss him and not seeming to expect it in return. He looked at Craig as if he was studying him under a microscope and the older man was a deformed ant of slight interest at best. They didn't shake hands.
The waitress appeared with bread and asked if they were ready to order. God, yes, anything to not have to make conversation for a few minutes. The various pastas ordered along with the garlic bread and the antipasto and they were stuck again. The silence was awkward and went on too long.
"Um, so Dad, did you have any plans for your birthday other than dinner tonight?"
"Well Susan and I were going to a show tomorrow…" The new girlfriend. Of course. Justin nodded, Brian just stared.
"How's school going, Justin? You enjoying PIFA?"
"I was suspended for six months for working against Jim Stockwell's campaign and now I'm looking at an offer to turn Rage into a movie." He said it nonchalantly as a throwaway.
"Rage?"
"It's a comic I've been illustrating for a year or so. One of Brian's friends had the idea—we work on it together. He writes it, I draw."
"And you say there's some interest to turn it into a film? My God, Justin—I'm proud of you!"
Justin couldn't help himself. "Have you seen an issue? I happen to have a couple with me if you're interested." Craig nodded but realized immediately that he was being set up. Opening his messenger bag, Justin slid an issue across the table—the issue with the blowjob cover. It was impossible not to recognize the two main characters—sitting in front of him. Craig went pale then his face tightened.
"Is this your idea of a joke?"
"Actually that issue sold out, didn't it, Brian? We ran a second printing of that one and that sold out, too."
Craig stared at Brian. "This is your doing, no doubt. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you'd encourage something like this smut."
Brian laughed to himself. God, this was so fucking predictable. "Actually I had nothing to do with it. Like Justin just told you, he and another friend came up with the idea, I just pose occasionally."
"And the money has come in handy since I needed to pay tuition after you cut me off." Justin was giving Craig an almost innocent look.
"Evidently you don't need tuition now. You don't have to turn out porn."
Justin took a drink from his beer. "I don't have to, but I like to."
This was fucking Kinney's influence—and encouragement, no doubt.
"Does your mother know about this?"
"Of course."
Their food arrived and was ignored while Craig stared at his son. "Was this the reason you called me today, asked me to meet you two here—so you could set me up like this?"
"This wasn't a set up, just a little update about what I'm up to these days."
"That's crap, Justin and I don't appreciate this—and Kinney? You're the alleged adult here—you have a son, don't you? Turn the tables since you undoubtedly had something to do with this—see how you'll feel if your son pulls the same sort of garbage on you in a few years." He stood up, picking up his coat. "I've lost my appetite, if you'll excuse me." He walked out.
Justin's smile was growing. "The bastard—that should take him down off his damned high horse."
He started to laugh, gleeful and was surprised when Brian didn't crack a smile.
"He's right—you set him up and that was a crappy thing to do to him."
"What the fuck are you talking about? He's been a complete prick to you and me and my Mom and even to Molly—he deserved it."
"He came here to try to rebuild something with you and he was even willing to take me as the price to do it and you blindsided him."
"C'mon, Brian—he just got a little of his own back." What the hell was this?
"He came here to try and you sucker punched him."
"Brian—it wasn't…"
"Yeah, it was." He pulled a couple of bills out of his wallet to cover the meals no one was eating. "I have some things to finish at the office—don't wait up for me."
"Brian?"
Justin decided to walk back to the loft instead of taking the bus and the three miles went fairly quickly.
This wasn't how he'd expected the evening to end up—he'd thought that he and Brian would either lambaste or laugh about his father's still homophobic and rigid positions, have a decent meal and then work up some energy at Babylon and spend the rest of the night releasing it back at the loft. This was…hell, this was making him fell like he'd screwed up big time and he hated the feeling.
Alright, he'd sort of maybe set Craig up, he'd admit that but it wasn't like he didn't deserve it or anything after the crappy things he'd done and the shitty way he'd acted the last couple of years.
Screw this—Craig had gotten a payback, pure and simple—and a slap in the face to let him know that his worthless, disappointment of a son could do just fine on his own. Fuck'em.
And Brian—what was that about? He was taking Craig's side; well sort of, anyway.
Brian hated Craig, hated the way he'd treated his family and his ridiculous attitudes. Hated the man, hated what he had to say and the way he thought—hated everything about him as far as Justin could tell.
He let himself into the too cool loft. It was dark and the heat had been turned down during the day when no one would be home. He pushed the thermostat up a few degrees and put the food from dinner in the kitchen, then realized that he was still hungry and decided to heat up his Alfredo for himself. He knew the pattern; if Brian was pissed—and he was—then Justin shouldn't expect him for hours and then there'd be no explanation about where he'd been or what he'd been doing. He might as well just get comfortable for the rest of the evening.
Four hours later he was still alone, still watching TV and starting to think that maybe he'd made a mistake tonight.
Alright, fine. Craig had seemed willing to try some kind of rapprochement and he'd been sort of not helpful but the bastard got what he deserved.
So what if he was his father? So what if he missed him? So what if the prick was moving ahead with his life with the new girlfriend and all of that—so was his Mom. And so was he—moving back in with Brian, making a success out of the whole Rage thing, maybe having it made into a movie—they were all moving right along when you came down to it—moving on, getting past the crap from his senior year as much as anyone could get past assault and battery and prejudice.
They all were moving forward and here he was, taking six steps backwards and shoving his father's face in it when he was willing to—to what? When he was willing to meet his son and try to have a normal conversation for the first time in a couple of years.
And like a stupid jackass, he'd blown it.
So what was he supposed to do? Fall down and thank his lucky stars that Craig was big enough to overlook his little 'problem'? Be grateful that maybe his own father would be willing to be seen in public with him after the dishonor he'd brought to the proud Taylor name?
Maybe he should call the man and suggest that they all get together as a family again—him and his new girlfriend, Mom and her no one, Molly and him and his beau—partner—lover—whatever, Brian. Wouldn't that make a nice Kodak moment?
But Dad had made the first move for them to get back together. He had, he'd called and everything. He'd even agreed to meet with Brian and he'd been—decent when they were all together.
Stupid.
Craig was willing, through reluctantly, to sit down and eat a meal with Brian; his son's child molester of a couple of years ago.
Alright, his father had acted like a jackass back hen, but in his fucked up way he was doing it to protect his son and his family. He was—he screwed it up, but that was what he was trying to do.
Justin had, he'd blown it. No, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't end up in another argument, but it was worth taking the shot, anyway. And the damn truth was that he still—despite everything that had happened—he still missed his father. He did. There was still part of him that wanted to be able to talk to his dad. Time had passed and they weren't the same people they'd been four years ago, but hell…
Maybe that was stupid, maybe it was unrealistic, but it was worth a try.
Maybe, anyway.
He dialed the phone, asking information for the number and heard the ringing on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Dad?…Look, I'm sorry about tonight. Could we maybe have dinner together tomorrow? Just the two of us?"
"Justin? I…yes, of course. Are you sure you want to?"
"I am and just you and me, alright? Brian can make it another time if that's good with you."
"…I think Number One is close to your campus—will you be in classes tomorrow?"
"Til six, yes—Number One at six-thirty good for you?"
"Six-thirty is good, I'll be there. And I'm glad you called, son."
The only thing that went through his mind was the old cliché; "The longest journey begins with the first step".
Maybe.
1/8/05
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