A/N
**This is a part of my Ink-verse series, and it takes place almost two years into A&A's relationship, right before the engagement. Could be before Survivor or after, whatever floats your boat.
Credit to for the idea!
Inspiration from:
- "I Don't Believe You" (ch. 26) by R5AAFan - I read this fic a while ago and when I got this request I immediately thought of this story!
- "After Gabriel" (ch. 16) by Raspberry Lemon Lime (Ao3) - most recent fic that I just really loved and wanted to attribute some credit to, because that scene was so heartbreaking ugh
- "i wanna taste the sun" by Wonderstruck-Ambition - there's a jailbait and intricate designs reference somewhere in here lol
His heart is beating erratically. Palms are sweaty. Legs are shaky. Hair is wild.
Ally's steady hand on his arm brings him back to reality. He blinks at her; she just smiles.
It's July 3rd, 2022.
07.03.22.
The day his father is released from prison.
He's not nervous, no. Terrified is more the word he's looking for here. It's been six years since those girls r— since his dad was arrested for illegal possession of drugs and a DUI. He wanted to see him again, although he could never bring himself to go visit while he was still incarcerated. Now that he's out, Austin knows he has no choice.
After all, his dad has to rebuild his life now. He lost his home, all his money, no wife. The man really had no hope of finding a job anymore, what with having a criminal record and also being near the age of retirement.
Austin may not fully forgive the man for neglecting him, or for letting his prostitute friends destroy his innocence, or for making him grow up incredibly fast when he should have just been a kid… but for some reason, he felt like he owed him.
Ally had been furious when he brought up that concept. "You don't owe him anything. You were left to fend for yourself for YEARS. He just sat on his sorry ass and made things harder for you," she had reasoned.
It was true. Logically, he knew this. There's just this part of him that wanted to make sure he gets back on his feet.
He knows it will be awkward and painful, for the both of them, but the first step to success is enduring the uncomfortable.
So as they make the forty-six minute drive to Homestead, Florida, Austin's leg bounces up and down in anticipation. He bites his lip and rubs his right thumb over the crescent moon on his left wrist, reminding him that the man he's about to see is his family. Even if he hasn't seen him in years. They are still connected through blood, and Austin has to freaking remind himself that he can't resent his family. Especially not the only family he has left.
Can he?
Austin worked long and hard to reach the mental stability he's at today. Of course, he still has the trauma and those nightmares and an occasional fear of physical touch, because although the wounds aren't fresh — there are still scars. His therapist had spent hours upon hours reminding him that those scars don't make him weak.
Apparently he still needs a lot of reminding.
He's a tattoo artist, for crying out loud! His job depends on his tough reputation. Someone sees him crying and he feels like the president just saw him at his lowest and told his PR team to "humiliate the Moon, since all he'll ever be is a disappointment."
That's just his insecurities talking.
Ally always goes out of her way to make sure that he's alright. When he needs reminding, she's there to do the job. When he needs a shoulder to cry on, she immediately offers hers'. When his father is getting out of prison in an hour, she's there to drive him — because there is no way she's letting him drive in such an emotional state.
She glances over at him from the driver's seat.
"How are you, babe?"
His shaky, halfhearted laugh pierces her eardrums, "I could be better."
Her lips curl into a sad smile.
"Are you ready?"
"No."
There's really only so much she can say in this situation. So she hopes that this will do.
"I'm sure your dad will be delighted to see you."
"Yeah."
"And I think that you'll find closure, finally seeing him again."
He hums, staring at the passing trees as they turn onto the street leading straight to the prison. They are right near the everglades, and one day he wishes to explore them. It just sucks that he's there for such a dreary circumstance. Although it wasn't dreary at all: his father was getting out. He's not visiting, he's taking him home.
Except his dad doesn't have a home. Or a job, or money, or a wife.
Austin already feels a headache coming on and they haven't even arrived yet.
"Point-nine miles," Ally murmurs.
He inhales sharply. Less than a mile away. Now the nerves are coming full force.
Suddenly, yards and yards of metal fence appear. They drive down the private road slowly, before the GPS hits .1 miles and the prison comes into view. He hears Ally's window roll down and looks over at her in confusion. The he notices the guard standing before a gate, right under the guardhouse, and understands; they need to be permitted onto the property, before anything else.
"Hi," Ally greets the officer.
The guard had short brunette hair and a badge with the name… Thomas... (he had to squint to see it).He stood authoritatively in front of them, with a stoic expression covering the entirety of his face.
"Hello," his gruff voice sounds. "Are you here for a visit?"
"Pick-up, actually."
Officer Thomas sends her a wide smile, scrolling down to something on his tablet.
"Well, congratulations. What's the, uh, former inmate's name?"
"Michael Moon."
They wait patiently as he searches for the information that can confirm they are, in fact, not lying.
"Aha, I have an Austin Moon listed as the person scheduled for pick-up today?"
He takes this as a good moment to raise his hand from the passenger seat and announce his presence in the car.
"I'm here."
Officer Thomas leans down to look inside the car, noticing the young man.
"I take it your his son?"
Austin nods.
"Alright," he stands back up and presses a button on the tablet. The gates leisurely open. "Go right ahead!"
Sending him one last smile and a small "thank you," Ally softly presses on the gas.
His eyes widen as the prison comes into view. Beige paint covers the building, and he can't ever imagine living somewhere so dull. Out of the blue, he's itching to run in there and pull his dad out. Good thing that's what he's there for.
When they park, silence fills the air.
Ally looks over to her boyfriend, finally understanding why he's so nervous; he's going to see his dad for the first time in six years and take him home from prison. That's a really big pill to swallow. Her heart sinks to her stomach just seeing the look of horror on his face.
She places a hand on his shoulder, making him meet her gaze.
"I know you're not ready. You'll probably never be ready. But that man, your dad, has been sitting behind bars for six years and Austin? I think he's ready to get out and see his son."
He visibly gulps, then nods.
"I know. I want to get him out of there, but—"
"But what?"
Austin's eyes divert to the air filter, and she sighs, placing her other hand on his other shoulder. He needs to listen. Once their eyes are connected again, she continues.
"Once prisoners have served their sentence and are released, they can leave the premises on their own. They can catch a bus and that's it, they're out. Austin, your dad was released at precisely ten-thirty this morning. It is now—" she glances at the numbers on her dash, "—eleven-fifty-three. He waited an extra, almost two hours, for you to come pick him up. He spent SIX YEARS in this grimy place and he could have just immediately caught a cab and left, but he STAYED. He's waiting for YOU."
Something flashes in her boyfriend's eyes. Then he nods, moving out of her grasp.
"You're right," he exhales the words. "Let's get him out of there."
Without any more thought, he opens up the door and steps out of the car. He squints his eyes at the morning sun as he slams the door shut, in a determined manner.
She follows suit, locking the car and stepping out of it. They meet up at the back of her 1998 Toyota Corolla and absentmindedly lock hands as they squint up at the building. She gives his hand a squeeze, as reassurance, before initiating their walk towards the front entrance.
Austin walks quietly beside her, notably moving slower than she was, but she knew better than to press. They had made it this far, after all.
When they approach the entrance, the blonde has to stop and take a deep breath. Or two. He's coming to terms with the fact that the letters on the glass spell out "Dade Correctional Institution" and that his dad is sat somewhere on the other side.
Ally gives his hand another squeeze, and waits for him to open the door. Tentatively, shakily… he pulls it open. He bites his bottom lip to stop from making any noise as he takes one step onto the tile inside. Then another. And another. He keeps going until both him and his girlfriend are safely inside the building and the door has closed behind them.
He intentionally avoids the people sitting in plastic chairs on either side of the room — his dad could be sitting in any of them, and he needed a few more seconds. The receptionist, a woman looking to be of African American heritage and in her mid-forties, looks up to greet him.
"Hi, what can I help you with today?"
Her voice drips with honey but not even the sweetest bee could calm his nerves.
Gulp.
"Um, I'm here to pick up someone. Michael Moon. He got out about an hour ago," he explains, keeping his voice low.
The receptionist sends him a smile, before averting her eyes over his shoulder — to someone who is apparently much taller than Ally.
"Well honey, all his paperwork is finished! He's right over there, okay? Go see your daddy," she points over his shoulder.
A weird burst of adrenaline courses through his veins, knowing just where he was in the room. So he shuts his eyes tight for a few seconds before snapping them open and turning around to look at his dad.
They lock eyes.
Instantaneously, he's not nervous anymore. Or terrified. He's filled with absolute joy as Mr. Moon walks towards him and wraps him in his embrace.
It's the first hug they've had since he was eleven. Austin suddenly has the realization that he had been touch starved for way too long.
He doesn't want to let go. Neither does his dad, it seems.
Tears bubble to the surface before he's even aware. So now his dad's shirt, which he remembers him wearing right before he was arrested, is covered in salty liquid — but he can't bring himself to care.
I have my dad back.
Austin feels the urgency in his dad's grip, almost as if he has no time left in the world and wants this to be the best hug to ever gift his son. He tries to communicate with his own grip (just as urgent, yet not as strong) that he misses his dad, but they still have a lot to discuss. Too much, even.
He just wishes to linger in this moment for as long as possible, so that they don't have to start talking, because then the hurt and anger will come back. He's had enough time to wallow in that stuff, and he's pretty sure his dad has had enough time to think things over in that cell.
Some correctional officers that are standing around the room exchange delighted glances. The office staff watches in awe. Ally… she feels tears of her own rolling down her cheeks.
The sight is just too pure. Everyone can feel the emotion pouring out from the reunited father and son. But everything that goes up must come down, and all good things must come to an end.
They pull apart, wiping away their own respective tears and letting out little awkward chuckles.
"I missed you," Mr. Moon says.
His voice is rougher than he remembers.
Austin cracks a weak smile, "I missed you too, dad. Let's go."
The ride home was quiet, albeit not uncomfortable. Awkward, maybe, but there was nothing uncomfortable about it.
Mike Moon sat happily in the back seat, enjoying the view of the outside world and a comfortable place for his bottom. Those damn beds really don't do justice for your backside, he knows. He's grateful to be anywhere but the correctional facility. And as much as he can't wait to catch up with his son — whom he is sure will have more than a few choice words for him — he is also very excited to meet the young woman who has captured his heart.
He's really starting to sound like an old man now, isn't he?
Ah, he doesn't care! It's been so long since he's seen his son, let alone talked to him. He's allowed to be a hopeless romantic for once.
Austin wasn't sure how to feel. They had all mutually decided to talk when they got to his apartment. Ally would cook something up for dinner while father and son caught up, but he had a feeling that his appetite would be nonexistent after such a conversation. He knows what he wants to say and he's not sure how his dad will react; some of his words are not kind. Ally had told him that they didn't need to be kind, because he was abused and abandoned and it was all his father's fault. Even if he wanted to reconcile with him, and earn back his trust, he needed to let the man see the damage he had done.
Mike Moon destroyed his life and in turn, destroyed his own. Austin still loves him, of course; he could never hate his father. And he knows that the man is blissfully unaware about what's coming to him, but he needs to know the truth. But he has made the choice to let him see the damage and there is no turning back.
He couldn't work up the nerve when he was younger, so now is the time.
Ally had turned on the radio — the silence was killing her. She knew they weren't ready to talk, but man. They must be thinking hard to be this quiet. She doesn't say a word, however. It will all work out at the end of the day, she knows.
When they make it inside Austin's apartment, shoes are kicked off and bags are set on the dining room table.
Austin rubs the sleep out of his tired eyes before turning to his dad, sitting on the couch looking just as exhausted, if not more.
"We have a lot to talk about, huh?"
Mike nods, following his son's movements as he walks around the kitchen bar to give his girlfriend a peck on the lips, before returning to the living room. He takes a seat across from his dad, on the lounge chair near the window.
Neither party says anything for a minute.
Then Mike speaks up.
"I'm sorry."
Austin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
He knows that he should have expected it, because it's what he's wanted to hear for years. But for some reason, he thought his dad was going to panic and say something shallow, like, "I see you took after your uncle with the tattoos," or "So, you got a girlfriend?" or the best and most cliché, "You've gotten so much older."
Looks like they're just… jumping right in.
He swallows, keeping a straight face.
"Are you?"
There is a bite of bitterness in his tone. At least his father has the decency to wince.
Mike's eyes are filled with so much genuine concern that Austin's almost ashamed he had to ask. But it's been years, and not one letter or even a single phone call. Austin didn't have to call him or visit him if he didn't want to, but this man had voluntarily neglected him, even in prison. It really didn't seem like he was sorry.
"I am, Austin. I truly am." His voice is deep, and raw… and sullen. There's a somber undertone in his words, and he knows that there's no way he's lying. His heart calms a little.
"I've had six years to think about everything. In the beginning, I couldn't see what I did wrong. You know, mom left. I took it badly…"
Yeah, that's an understatement.
"…and I did some things that I really regret. Drinking, those girls—"
"What about the drugs?"
Mike's eyebrows furrow in confusion before he remembers. "Oh, the cocaine. That was a false accusation, but the girls gave me so much pleasure and I couldn't let them lose their jobs, so…"
A shiver runs up Austin's spine as the prostitutes are mentioned, and he looks away to catch his breath.
He took the blame for prostitutes that merely pleasured him when he had no one else, while he abandoned his own son in the process. He ignored all of the signs saying that they had been molesting him, and instead of fighting for his safety, he let them keep their jobs and run.
The man valued the prostitutes over his own son's life.
He narrows his eyes, sending a glare to his father. His teeth grind together uncomfortably.
Apparently his dad notices Austin's change in expression.
"Is everything alright?"
Anger surges through him and suddenly, he's on a rampage.
"Is everything alright? Is everything ALRIGHT? I don't know dad, you tell me.
"Is it alright that my own father let five different girls take advantage of me at THIRTEEN YEARS OLD? Is it alright that you ignored me every time I tried to bring up the assault to you? Is it alright that the one time when I was able to get through to you, you take your belt and wack me with it until I'm bloody and black and blue and can barely stand? Is it alright that you called me a liar, and an attention-seeker, for being a victim?"
He stands, starting to pace the room in front of him.
"I went to therapy for four years. Four years. And you know what that got me? Just meds. And crappy coping mechanisms that have me hanging by a thread. I still get nightmares. I have trust issues. I flinch sometimes, when woman get near me. I can't watch sex scenes in movies. I can barely have sex. I'm twenty-one, and I live with my girlfriend, and we've only done it once because the PTSD kicks in and all I see is a prostitute looking down at me like I'm a prey, ready to be devoured."
He's crying now, but he doesn't care. He keeps talking.
"You know why I never visited you, dad? Because I knew that once I saw you, everything would come rushing back. All of my progress would be gone just because with one look at you.
"You caused it all. You kept coming home smelling like perfume and mom assumed the worst, and I don't blame her, by the way, because it turns out you were fucking these ladies you'd find standing outside the bar on your way home from work. You were cheating, and I don't know why it took me so fucking long to figure that shit out. But I did. So it's your fault she left.
"You came home drunk that same night, and you started drinking during the day, to the point where you missed work so many times that you were fired. So now no one in our house held a job and obviously your drunken ass wasn't going to go out looking for one, so I picked up the slack. At thirteen. I got a job, worked tirelessly, barely attended school but still passed somehow, just to avoid eviction." He scoffs, "You're welcome, by the way."
Austin glances at his father, who stares blankly at his apartment floor. His eyes are glazed over, hands have stopped fidgeting. He sits completely still, listening.
"And then you started bringing these different women home. My life fell apart. Imagine," he licks his lips with a shake of his head. "Imagine having your innocence just ripped away from you at thirteen. Imagine how it would feel for a grown woman to look at you like you were a meal, and how disgusting and dirty you would feel. How used. How worthless. Imagine not even being able to scream out for someone to save you because you knew that there was no one there; your dad is passed out, mom is gone, no friends, no neighbors that would care enough to spare a second to see whats going on.
"Imagine going through that: over, and over, and over again, for four years. And you're just barely in high school. Just how alone and weak would you feel? As a man, you'd be pretty embarrassed right? I mean, you can't show any emotion or you would be bullied and berated and called a pussy. Then you're expected to act tough and like none of it hurts you, because men don't feel things. Isn't that what you always taught me?"
He clears his throat.
"It's hard to do that. Especially when you're going through something that no teenager should ever have to go through."
Austin pauses his rant to take a look at the man who's caused him so much pain — the man he still loves despite all of it.
His eyes are glazed over as he stares at the floor, clearly in a trance. For a short moment, Austin's afraid that he's broke the man. But then Mike slightly shuffles his feet, so he takes a deep breath and continues.
"Dad," he croaks out, making his father's eyes meet his' once more.
He shakes his head.
"You put me through hell, and I'm not gonna just," he exhales, "forgive you for it. At least not yet. I mean, you'd think that after six years I'd be all good now. But I'm still suffering, and I don't think I'll ever truly be okay again."
"Austin, I— I don't know what to say."
Mike looks simultaneously ashamed, regretful, and disappointed. His hands shake and his knee bounces, letting gravity take his anxiety on its course. A steady stream of salty tears flows down his cheeks and onto the floor below him.
Austin hesitates, waiting to see if he will say anything else, before he speaks again.
"Despite everything, I'd lying if I said I didn't miss you. I do, dad. I… I still love you. And I have some room to offer a second chance to you."
The recently-released prisoner looks up at his son, gaping in surprise.
"What?" He manages to whisper.
"I mean what I said. It'll take you a lot of time to gain my trust back, but… I'm willing to start over. Just, don't expect too much from me."
There is a pregnant pause, in which Ally stops making noise in the kitchen and Austin holds his breath.
Expressing his feelings to his father had been one thing; that, he wasn't nervous about. What worries him is whether his dad will accept his offer, and become a part of his life. Years of feeling like a disappointment had long prepared him for the moment when Mike would disown him. That moment had happened years ago, but he's not confident that it won't happen again.
His anxiety over the matter disappears when Mike fervently nods his head.
"Son, I would do anything to earn back your trust. I want to be your father again, and I will never forgive myself for what I did to you. I have been a terrible father and a bad person and I don't deserve forgiveness. I would never expect that from you. Ever."
Austin takes a tentative step towards the couch, and sits down next to him. It's a few seconds before he turns to look in his direction.
"Dad, you're not a bad guy. You just did some really shitty things."
"That makes me a bad person," his dad argues.
The tattoo artist doesn't say respond, opting to run a hand over the big tattoo on his bicep. Mike follows the movement, and his eyes widen when he sees the design etched onto his child's skin.
He whispers in realization, "Survivor…"
It's just the one word and nothing else. Austin nods, peering down at the ink.
"I knew that if I were to ever get a tattoo, it had to be meaningful."
Mike hesitates.
"Did… did my brother give you this?"
"He did. It was my first one. Then he taught me how to design, and now I do it for a living."
Then he looks up to meet his father's gaze, slightly squirming at his expression. Pride. He hadn't seen that look on his face in years. It almost as if he was being pranked because it was such a rare occurrence.
"I'm so glad to hear that you're doing what you love."
His heart suddenly fills with warmth, and his eyes soften. He offers his dad a weak smile, wiping away any stray tears.
"I am. I've never been this happy before."
It's then that his girlfriend decides to join — she shuffles into the room with two glasses of wine in one hand and another glass filled with water in the other. (Yes, it's only 1:45 in the afternoon, but it's quite a stressful day). After setting down the wine glasses on the coffee table, she sheepishly hands the water over to Mike.
"I wasn't sure what you liked," she says quietly.
"Water is more than fine. Thank you…" Mike trails off, wondering how to address the young woman.
"Ally."
"Ally, he repeats, testing he name on his lips, "Thank you, Ally."
Austin beams as he accepts the glass of wine handed to him, then graciously takes a large sip. His girlfriend walks over to his side of the couch and places a gentle hand on his back.
"It's no problem, Mr. Moon," she says with a smile.
She leans down to whisper in her boyfriend's ear, "Are you alright? Do you need a minute?"
He shakes his head, so she leans away from his face and lightly squeezes his shoulder. She takes a seat on the arm of the couch, and is unable to stifle her squeak of surprise when Austin's arm snakes around her waist and pulls her on top of his lap.
Mike stares at the couple, a ghost of a smile covering his face.
"Girlfriend?" He asks, treading lightly.
Austin nods as said girlfriend responds with a short, "Yep!"
"How long have you been together?"
"Almost two years," his son replies.
"We actually met at the tattoo shop he works at," Ally chuckles, "He gave me an ear piercing and then we went on a date."
Austin smiles at the memory, watching as he swirls the glass of wine in his hand.
"I'm so glad you two found each other. You deserve to be happy."
It didn't have to be clarified — to whom that last statement was meant for.
"Thanks, dad," Austin says softly.
There was still a long way to go.
Mike had moved in with his brother, although he still makes a point to see his son as much as possible. He wants to make up for lost time.
When they see each other, it's usually just for a quick lunch. There is sometimes the drive back to Austin's uncle's house from the CareerSource, where they discuss which jobs he applied for and the status of his criminal record expungement (as of now, it's still pending; but Mike just found an awesome bartender job that he seems pretty excited about so maybe it's not the worst thing if the record-clearing is unsuccessful).
Ally is insanely proud of her boyfriend. Not only for reconciling with his dad, but for having the guts to do it. Taking him home from prison was hard enough, but letting him back into his life after all he's put him through? That's a tough feat, and she just wants him to know how amazing he's doing.
That's why she sets up a nice dinner, with roses on the table and candlelights and indie music playing through the speakers. It's why she calls Trish to ask if their boss will let Austin home early. It's why she wears sexy lingerie at six in the evening, with red lipstick and a perfume labeled Champagne Toast.
This display of affection that's been prepared for her boyfriend was well warranted. He had been so brave in the face of his demons, and the least she could do is reward him with her love.
Austin arrives home with a huff, ready to complain to Ally about how his boss was insistent on cutting labor hours, even though he and the other tattoo artist had only worked a three hour shift so far. He also wanted to groan just thinking about the fact that he had to give a dozen, jailbait girls the cliché infinity symbol on the wrist. Intricate tattoos were his specialty, not boring ones.
But his annoyance was cut short when he entered his apartment. His mouth hangs open, heart hammering in his chest. A smile slowly stretches across his face.
"Ally, what—"
She shh's him, taking strides in his direction and then seductively placing a hand on his chest. He licks his lips, overtly and unapologetically running his eyes over her half-exposed figure. As he takes his time ogling her, she rubs her hand up and down his arm. Then, when he meets her eyes, leans in to place a sweet kiss on his lips.
"You need a night to relax. With your dad getting out and work and everything, I know it's been stressful. So, just… spend this night with me. Whether you want to do anything or not, that's up to you; you know that I'd never want to make you uncomfortable. We can have dinner, watch a movie, or have some pleasurable sex. Or all three," she smirks.
He chuckles, setting his bag down by his feet. Then he tenderly cups both of her cheeks with his hands, and brings their foreheads together.
"I love you."
It's a whisper, but she hears it.
"I love you too. Please be proud of yourself."
He doesn't have to ask what she means.
"I'm trying," he pecks her lips. "I promise."
"I know."
Their lips connect once more, and Ally finds herself reaching up to grab his hair. She pulls, eliciting a moan from her partner.
"Dinner after," he mutters.
Then he grabs her waist and hoists her over his shoulder. She squeals, and as he walks them over to the bedroom, she proceeds to repeatedly tap his butt like she's playing the drums.
"Hey, stop that!" He throws her backwards onto the bed. She giggles, and they only intensify when he uses his vantage point as leverage to attack her sides with his fingers. She gasps for air, "Austin!"
"Fair and square," he laughs. He makes her suffer with the tickles for only ten more seconds, just so he can listen to the melodious sound of her laugh, before pulling his hands away and allowing her to breathe again.
Once they fall into a tranquil silence, he lowers himself on top of her. He places his lips onto hers', moving slowly at first before letting Ally take control. The kiss becomes deeper, more passionate, and they lose themselves in it.
Ally can feel the content curl of his mouth, and knows that he needed this. She's happy to provide him with such comfort.
The night passes, filled with amorous declarations of love and a fruitful collaboration that neither would forget.
Damn, that was 5.3k words. I spent so long on this, but I had so much fun writing it. I'm honestly so proud of this, so please favorite and review!
xx Elisabeth
