Title: Tastes of Home

Writer: Azure K Mello

Part: 12

Thanks Jenn, for the beta

Feedback: Please! I wait for it like a trained dog, plus I like to know what people are thinking, it's reassuring. Thank you to everyone who has already sent me lovely note! And to the people who sent me corrections!

Other notes in prior parts.

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"I reserve the right to call the questions stupid."

"You call everything stupid. . . you're such a cynic."

"I know it turns you on."

"Why did your dad grow that beard?" asked Jackson with an indulgent smile at Ephram's words.

Ephram stared at him, "What?"

"That's my first question."

"Oh, umm he wanted to distance himself from New York and he told everyone it was to be more "country doctor-y"."

"I see," he said slowly and then shot out the next question quickly like a cop on TV interrogating a criminal. "Do you like it here?"

"It's cold, I have no friends, it's not home, it's dull, and everyone is in everyone else's business. I fucking hate it. But I can't go. Mom must have had a reason to want us to move here, she couldn't have sent us to this godforsaken place on a whim. And I'm finally getting along with my dad. We aren't friends but we rub along, I mean we're not *that* openly hostile anymore. That's good right? We can have a civil conversation without shouting, or him putting his foot in it, or my marching off. I can't just run away from my problems here, it's like," he paused and looked at Jackson for some form of affirmation, "it's like we're an actual family for the first time ever."

"That's good." Jackson smiled as he stroked Ephram's face. "Third and final question: this good son act? It's not an act is it?"

Ephram looked away for a moment, "I," he paused, "back home I didn't know what the hell to do. I had you and our friends, most of whom never really liked me. We had a huge group of friends, thirty or forty people and none of them knew me they just. . . idolized me. Is there still a fan club for me?"

"I think they changed the title from, "We Love Ephram Brown," to "We Love Orlando Bloom,"." He grimaced, "Sorry."

"What a pity," said Ephram dryly. "So I had you, and a few people who gave a damn about me. And Mom was busy with Delia and Dad was busy with everyone who *wasn't* his family. So I did what any normal teenager would do. I got drunk, got a piercing, got arrested."

"12 times. But you don't have your eyebrow ring now?"

"Dad held me down and pulled it out the day before we moved. I hated him for it."

"I like your hair." He said running his fingers through his short hair, "I was a little surprised when I saw it being natural and not say, purple, but I like it. It's. . . different." He smiled.

"Most people would think purple was different-er." He said it dryly and looked away to cover his smirk.

"Look at this, I arrive and within twenty-four hours you can't make your mean little digs without smiling."

Ephram smiled and rolled back into Jackson's side. "But see, now, I don't need an eyebrow ring, I don't need to get arrested." He blushed. "I already have all the attention I need. He pays enough attention to rip pieces of metal out of my face. That shows he cares. That's all I ever really wanted. I hated him for not being around. Now he's around. He's figured out how to make toasted cheese sandwiches and that's all I really wanted. Have I now lost all my hardcore-ness and street cred?" he spoke in his special sardonic that made most people assume that he hated them. They never realized the only person Ephram truly hated was himself.

"No. . . you just seem happier. I like the look on you. It's nice to see you," he smirked, "well adjusted."

"Was that an insult?" asked Ephram incredulously.

"No, I'm serious, it's just odd to use you and well adjusted in the same thought."

"Thanks," Ephram said sarcastically. "But really, this is coming from the same boy who responds to the statement "I need to piss," by tightening his grip."

"I knew you wouldn't. That lays beyond you on the kinky scale."

Ephram smiled peacefully, "Question?" Jackson nodded. Ephram nodded to the jacket on the floor. "Where's your passport?"

"Oh," Jackson laughed, "I got a safety deposit box. The glove compartment just didn't seem safe enough anymore."

Sitting up Ephram stared at him, "And *I'm* the newly well adjusted one?"