Hi, so this story is basically just a series of one-shots from the lives of the Curtis Family. This one focuses primarily on Patrick. Hope you enjoy and Thanks for reading!

Sitting here in the living room, surrounded by pictures and memories of my childhood, I feel almost like a stranger. I'm nervous, my palms sweating something fierce, and my hands shaking. Nothing can calm me down. Not even the smell of Aunt Caroline's famous casserole filling the house. This is a bad idea.

I've spent the last few weeks wondering how to break this news, mulling over the consequences of an announcement in my head. At first, I debated not telling them at all. I played with the idea of just hopping on a bus and calling them later. Or leaving a note. But even I knew that was cruel beyond words. I can't do that to them, not after what they went through with my dad. So here I exercise the only option left to me.

I don't know why I chose tonight, family night. Maybe because it was easier and I'd have both my uncles in the same place. Mostly, I think it's because I have a feeling they won't yell at me in front of everyone. Either way, I'm going to be ruining the night for everyone. Not just my uncles, but the army of cousins who've gotten used to having me around. This is going to be bad.

I'm pacing now, nervously wiping my hands on my jeans. Sweaty palms are my tick, and right now it feels like my hands have just been coated in oil. Not that rubbing them off is helping matters, they're just getting itchy.

I catch a glimpse of my picture on the mantle. A grinning ten-year-old sitting in the back of the pickup truck with his four uncles. Uncle Ponyboy says that I look so much like my dad that sometimes he has to do a double-take when seeing that picture. He says the only vibrant difference was my size.

And maybe I truly am my father's son; with the stark resemblance and the ADHD. The love of cars and fast-paced action. The fact that I'm doing this. But right now that's not what I want, because I know it'll scare my uncles. When they hear, they're only going to think of one thing... and I am my father's son.

I wasn't one-hundred percent certain of my decision either. Am I really choosing this for myself, or am I still that ten-year-old boy trying to create a connection with his father? And standing here, I realize it might be a little bit of both.

"No, I don't know what this is about..." My uncles are leaving the picnic out back and coming to meet me. I gave them a set time to talk to me here because I thought asking them for a moment in private in front of everybody would be suspicious.

"Hey, Hot-rod." Uncle Pony drops to the couch, lazily swinging his feet up onto the coffee table. "What's up?"

Uncle Darry joins his brother on the couch, he stays sitting up but still manages to look completely relaxed. "Is everything ok?"

I nod, and that seems good to them for the moment. I'm glad neither of them can see this inner dilemma going on. The thoughts of backing out are still at the front of my brain; we can have this conversation another time. But I know if I put this off I'll never end up saying anything.

The words come tumbling out of my mouth, lacking any grace or tact. I'm stuttering, sounding less and less like an adult who can make his own choices.

It's only now that I dare to look at the folded flag, hanging on the wall in the corner of the room. I know what my two uncles are thinking. They're not about to hang another one underneath it. My gaze only lasts a few seconds, before setting on the faces of the men I've loved my entire life. Neither of them is relaxed anymore and I stand waiting for the reaction.

It's uncle Darry that speaks first, his expression betraying none of his thoughts or emotions. Like always, he's the epitome of composed. "You've thought this through?"

"Yes, sir." It slips out before I can stop myself. I never called either of my uncles Sir, unless I was in trouble. (Even then, it was only Uncle Darry). I must've said it now because I honestly think I will be in trouble.

"You've been down to the recruiting office yet?" Uncle Pony's joining the conversation now, looking every bit as composed as his brother.

I shake my head. "Not yet. I wanted to talk to y'all about it."

"How have you thought it through if you haven't talked to a recruiter?"

It'll only take them a moment to realize who I've been talking to. I brought the idea up to Uncle Steve a few weeks ago, though I've been thinking about this since graduation.

It took me a while to even consider asking him what he thought because Steve doesn't talk about his time in the military all that often. When he does, you usually get the sense he enjoyed it. Anything before the second of August 1968 is told with a smile, anything after that date is never mentioned. When I finally told him what I was thinking of doing, he looked at me for a good minute before pulling me over and sitting me down. We talked about it for hours, and he told me about his time in boot camp. He told me how joining up was a decision he wouldn't change. Even if he had the chance to.

Uncle Pony gets it first. "What'd your Uncle say?"

"He talked to me about his time in Bootcamp," I say tentatively. I don't want to get Uncle Steve in trouble with either of them. "He told me he'd support whatever choice I made."

"How long have you been thinking of this?"

"Since graduation." It was really a few days before that when a recruiter visited the campus and I overheard him talking to some other kids, but graduation was when I started to seriously consider it.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

It's not said accusingly or angrily. There doesn't seem to be an annoyance in the question, just curiosity. They both genuinely want to know why I wasn't able to come to them.

"I dunno..." Telling them I was scared to come to them would be like a kick in the teeth. To everyone. But, of course, Uncle Pony knocks it on the head. "Patrick..."

"I just..." I don't know why I'm breaking down like this. Normally, I'm a composed person. "I thought you'd get upset because of my dad. And... I didn't want to worry or scare you."

I sound less like a twenty-one-year-old and more like my eight-year-old cousin. But that doesn't matter because everything is out in the open now.

"Patrick, of course, we're going to worry and be scared." Uncle pony looks at me with a smile. "But not because you want to join the marines. It's because you're our kid and that's what we're supposed to do."

I always found that funny. Our kid. Not my, not Soda's, but ours. What's funny is that I've heard it from pretty much everyone. Uncle Darry, Uncle Pony, Uncle Two-bit, and Uncle Steve have all referred to me as our kid. And it's pretty much true because they've all been present throughout my childhood. They say it takes a village, and that has always been the case with me.

Uncle Darry's nodding along, "So, you're sure about this?"

I let out a breath. "Yeah, I am."

"Alright. Do you want us to come to talk to the recruitment officer with you?" They're launching into their supportive mode, and I can't help but smile. I don't know why I expected anything different from the two people that have been supporting me all my life. The two people who I love more than anything else in the world. I really am my father's son.

So, I had this planned for Patrick for a while, I just wasn't sure how to write it. Then I came up with this... I hope you liked it!