I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Fresh Digs
"Oh Dad, this is great!"
Will had seen the apartment, driven to Seattle for an in-person walkthrough.
Brought back pictures, floorplan printout.
For Dylan and Emma, it was the first time on site.
And Emma, to say the least, was taken.
"Look at those plate glass windows! It feels like I can see everything!"
Dylan was just taken with her taken with it.
"How did you afford it?"
Glancing over at Dylan, Will shrugged nonchalantly.
"Sometimes life just hands you cake instead of lemons, baby girl."
Dylan smiled.
They had talked.
Him and Will.
"There's about twenty-five thousand left after upping the bribe to the hospital. In light of recent developments, I wanted to offer it back to you again."
Dylan shook his head.
"Not a chance."
Will nodded, as if he had expected as much from the boy who loved his daughter.
"Well, in that case I'm going to use some of it to get a decent place for all of us in Seattle."
Dylan nodded.
"Perfect."
And now, here they were.
Just outside of Seattle, the city itself being well outside their price range.
It wasn't big.
Thousand square feet at the most.
Small eat-in kitchen. Living room hoarding the majority of the window allotment with the aformentioned plate glass.
Part of which slid open to lead onto a small deck overlooking the city of Seattle.
Two bedrooms. Separated by two back-to-back small bathrooms attached to their respective bedrooms.
The bedrooms themselves further removed from the main living space by full size closets.
And Dylan knew.
Will, ever cogizant of his daughter's feelings, had done his best to, within budget, select a living space that would afford her privacy.
Her and her new live-in boyfriend.
Dylan.
Of course, it might also be a little bit for him too.
After all, no matter how welcoming a parent is, those mentally healthy don't want to be subjected to the sexual exploits of their offspring.
Norma would have simply banged on the door . . .
"I never asked to hear my son screwing his girlfriend like a slobbering dog! Keep it down!"
. . . and bellowed like a bullmoose, assuring no more sex would be had for the rest of her offspring's natural born existence.
Will on the other hand . . .
"Figured you two'd take the bigger bedroom if you like."
. . . simply just acted in what Dylan was relievedly coming to realize was a much more normal manner.
"Thanks, Dad."
As well as spent his evenings in the accompaniment of a somewhat more relaxing musical selection . . .
"Never had sex to classical music before."
"Well, come here and let's practice."
. . . than Dylan had previously been accustomed to.
But was very, very willing to give it a shot.
The place was plain. Simple.
With none of the charm, warmth, or character of the humble Decody abode tucked in behind Artful Artifacts.
Yet.
It also lacked the strained, cloying, frequently dysfunctional air of Norma Bates' much more grand, more spacious house.
For which he was supremely grateful.
It was a blank slate.
An empty, cleaned out space.
Ready to be filled up with new life, new possibility.
Just like Dylan Massett himself.
"What do you think, Dylan?" Emma inquired excitedly, turning to him.
He looked at her.
Smiled.
And spoke.
"I like it."
New places always seem so exciting, so full of potential.
Happy 2018, everyone! Something else full of possibility and potential, yay!
Thanks to Lana Brown and Emily for your lovely reviews. I very much appreciate your time and effort. :)