(no subject)
WORD COUNT: 2044
Warnings: A little violence, very few thoughts of suicide.
Summary: Jodie loses his daughter, thinks about killing himself, and Burt realizes something. There's more, but that's very basic plotline.
Pairing: Jodie/Dennis.
Rating: About Pg/PG-13
Don't know if this is the place to post it, but honestly the fandom's reaaally dead, and this is rareslash, so what the hey, right? X-posted to user If you want me to delete this 'cuz it doesn't belong, just say so, no problem.
He was surprised at how quickly they took Wendy away. He was both hurt to see the police come with Carol, and overwhelmed with the thought of, had she not brought them, he and Wendy would have run away.
Danny had come just as Wendy and Carol were escorted away by a policeman.
“How you doin’?” Danny asked. It was a strange question, being asked so quickly, like being asked if it hurt ripping off a band aid the split second before you realized it had.
“All right, I guess. I mean, what would I do with a kid anyway? Fifteen years, she’d be wearing my dresses.”
“Yeah.”
The split second of no feeling was gone. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt in his life. He hugged his brother and started to cry. It sounded like Danny was saying something, distant, far away, but he couldn’t focus enough to hear it.
He hadn’t really understood the phrase ‘whispering sweet nothings’ before, beyond it was a cliché used in his mother’s mushy, poorly written books. But, suddenly with Danny telling him nothing instead of everything, he did.
Because right then, nothing was more than everything.
****
Jodie woke up early.
Except not really.
Except, it seemed like he was watching his life instead of living it. Watching someone drink the coffee he would have, sit in the chair he would have, kiss his mother on the cheek, even.
He watched himself rifle through Danny’s things that stood, stale and old in his brother‘s absence, in Danny’s bedroom.
He watched himself find and pocket the gun, and watched the steps it took to get to his own room.
Jodie sat on his bed and ran his hands across the metal of the gun, pulling it from his pocket, secure that his mother hadn’t seen him. He managed to check for bullets only by having watched Danny so many times; he’d never used a gun, he’d never cared to. Jodie wondered if it was possible to miss when you had a gun against your own temple.
He put it to his skull, and lowered it again. He couldn’t miss, he decided. He repeated the action, then cradled the gun his hands.
Jodie remembered when his father had shot their dog for chasing the neighborhood cats. He hadn’t seen his dad do it, only saw the lifeless body of his dog with matted, red hair all across its face.
‘It doesn’t hurt when you shoot someone in the head’, his dad had said, reaching back and tapping Jodie right behind his eye, ‘right there’.
He needed to get to his apartment, he decided, so that his mother wouldn’t see him, when he was done.
The next second was when he really woke up.
When Burt walked in asking if he wanted to go fishing, maybe.
He and Burt started at each other for a long while, then Burt’s eyes danced between the gun and Jodie’s face.
“So, uh, hey, Jodie, what’cha doing there?”
“Cleaning,” He said, wiping Danny’s gun with his shirt feverishly.
“Cleaning, pfft, yeah, cleaning? What’re you planning to use for a sponge, your brains?”
Jodie stared at him, shocked.
“Right, right, bad taste, I know. But, Jodie…” he crossed the room and took Jodie’s face in his hands, “Don’t do this. We’ll get you a puppy.”
“A puppy?”
“Don’t want a puppy? Fine, a fish. They’re easier to clean up after anyway.”
Jodie sighed, but couldn’t really think of anything to say. “Don’t tell Ma.”
“I think, what with the body of her son and all, she would’ve found out. It makes a big mess, you know.”
“Just don’t tell her, huh, Burt? It wasn’t like I was going to….here.”
“Jodie, don’t do it at all. You realize how worried sick your mother is already?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So just promise you aren’t going to…you know, you know?”
Jodie stared at him, then got up and walked around the room.
“So, all right, then. This is where you say, ‘I promise you, Burt.’”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t. It’s easy. Just ‘I promise you, Burt.’ Easy as that. Four words.”
“I just can’t, Burt.”
Burt sighed and rubbed his head, thinking, “Listen to me, Jodie. I hadn’t seen Peter for fifteen years. Then I do and what? Splat, dead. I know what you‘re going through.”
Jodie avoided the topic, “I’m going for a walk.”
“No, you’re not.”
Jodie gave one, breathy laugh, “Sure I am.”
“Uh, no, you’re not.” Burt grabbed the gun from Jodie’s hand and walked downstairs with him.
“Hey, Ma.” Jodie said, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. He felt his heart speed up. He felt like she’d caught him doing it instead of Burt, and he was waiting for punishment, tears, something, but she didn’t know a thing. She just smiled, gave a small, ‘Hey, honey,’ and turned away from him again.
“Hey, Mar.” Burt said, nervously. She looked at him for a second, nodded, and then checked on a pot of water, boiling. Burt watched her, then, realizing he was still carrying a weapon, flung the gun beneath the kitchen table.
Jodie stared at the exposed gun and muttered, “That’s your hiding place? I wish you were around when Danny and I were playing hide-and-seek as kids.” and crawled under the table to retrieve the gun.
“Jodie, what on earth are you doing under there?” His mother asked as she set her pot of tea on top of the table.
“I thought I saw a mouse.”
“So you go crawling after it? Come out from there.”
Jodie shoved the gun up his shirt and shuffled backwards. He stood up, holding his stomach to keep from letting the weapon fall.
His mother, overly observant since he lost Wendy, bombarded him quickly, feeling his forehead, “Are you all right?”
Jodie nodded, grinning.
“You’re positive?”
“Sure I am, Ma. I’m fine.”
Burt scoffed loudly, and Mary wheeled around to look at him for a second, then looked back at Jodie.
Jodie edged toward the door, keeping his mother away from him, “Bye, Burt, see you, Ma.”
“No, Mary, he’s sick, I think we ought to keep him in the house.”
Jodie stared at Burt, incredulous, “I’m not going to…”
“To what?” Mary asked, folding her arms.
“To buy a puppy.” Jodie said, slowly.
“To buy a puppy?”
“Right. I thought I’d be able to use the crib, you know, set up some newspapers on the bottom, and I'd wheel it around in the little carriage…” He reached the doorknob and turned it with one hand, “And uh, but uh, Burt talked me out of it. Said I don’t have room for a puppy in my life. I should wait until have a better income. To support it.”
“I’m going with him.” Burt said to Mary, then to Jodie, “I’m going with you.”
“To what?” Mary asked again.
“To…to uh. Well, to uh, to not, uh, buy a puppy.” Burt said, rushing out the door with Jodie.
Mary sighed and then just sat down to have her tea.
****
“So what, exactly, are we doing?” Burt asked.
“I’m going to talk to Dennis, I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Burt shuddered, disgusted.
“You can go home, Burt. I’m not going to.”
Burt mentally weighed his decisions; talk to his stepson’s ex-gay lover or assume his stepson wasn’t lying about not committing suicide. He stopped walking, watched Jodie a while, then stumbled backwards, “Yeah. So, uh, I’m going home.”
Jodie shrugged, “Okay, Burt. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jodie walked one direction.
Burt walked another.
****
“Dennis?” Jodie called, while knocking on the door. He wondered if Dennis still lived there. Maybe it was inhabited by Dennis’ ex-girl instead. “Dennis?”
He smiled when Dennis answered. “Jodie?”
“Yep.” Jodie bounced in place and pumped his arms, “So, heh, can I come in?”
“Well, sure.”
Jodie had expected more resistance, but he walked in happily.
Dennis watched Jodie search for hints of other people living in the apartment, then said, “I told you it wouldn’t work out.”
“What?”
“Being with a woman.”
“Oh. Well, you were right.” Jodie went so far as to inspect the tops of the dresser, “Is someone else living with you, Dennis? You’re dustier than this, aren’t you? There’s someone else, isn’t there? I’m just going to leave.”
“No. There’s not.”
“Not?”
“Not anyone else.”
“Oh.”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” Jodie said again. “Well.”
“Well.”
“Well….”
And then Dennis moved forward and kissed Jodie fast, burying his hands in Jodie’s hair. Jodie exhaled in surprise, his eyes left wide and dilated until he settled into the kiss and pressed forward himself.
Dennis broke from Jodie, “I missed you.”
“Well, the truth is, I’ve missed you, too.” Jodie said.
“I mean, not just this, either.” He said, giving Jodie another kiss for demonstration. “Everything. You're smart, and--"
“So are you.” Jodie said, distracted, his hands already going beneath Dennis’ shirt, “Let’s go to the bedroom…” He looked around quickly, “No, no, I forgot, sofa’s closer.” He said, pushing Dennis towards the couch.
Dennis, surprisingly, was trying to win him over with loving conversation, “You’re a funny guy.”
“I just hope you don’t laugh at what we’re going to do next.” Jodie pushed Dennis down onto the couch and straddled him.
Dennis stopped trying to converse.
****
He spent several days with Dennis, talking, laughing, kissing, everything; showering, even. He hadn’t forgotten about his daughter, or his life, but he had put it off. He’d fallen in love all over again, even harder than he had before, because suddenly Dennis was a replacement for everything and everyone he lost.
“Did you mean it, about giving up football?”
“It’s a pretty stupid thing to lie about, Jodie. You’d leave me the second you found out I wasn’t going to.”
“So yes?”
“Yes, I’m going to give it up.”
Jodie gave a ‘hmm’, then kissed Dennis and smiled against his lips, “Not for a little while, though.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t been to work in almost a week. I’m guessing I’m fired.”
****
Burt was worried. Absolutely worried.
He checked the obituaries in the same paper three times, phoned the morgue twice, and managed to get in a fight over the phone with some guy at a hospital. “The jerk.” Burt muttered at just the thought of it.
He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d even started liking Jodie, much less seeing him as a real son instead of just a stepson, but he couldn’t think of sleeping, of eating, of doing anything but sitting by the phone and looking through obituaries.
It took him a while to even think of calling Jodie’s apartment, but when he did, it didn’t matter, because there was no answer.
His concern was so great that he couldn’t even remember where it was Jodie had said he was going, so he didn’t even think of calling Dennis Phillips.
He just sat and worried, and read the obituaries for the fourth time.
****
Jodie entered the house without knocking. He was nearly tackled by his mother and Burt.
Mary kissed his face, “Oh, Jodie, Jodie. We were so worried…”
“Ma, I was fine! I’m fine.”
“You still could have called.” She said, kissing him again.
“I’m sorry. I got caught up.”
“With what, exactly?”
Jodie smiled, “I met a guy in an apartment.”
Burt stared at him, hands still on Jodie‘s shoulders. “Yeah, well, I hear there are a lot of them in apartments these days.”
"No, Burt.” Jodie lifted his eyebrows to mime the way Burt did when talking about women, grinning widely, “I met a guy.”
“Oh.” Burt stood there a second. “Oh. Oh!” He leapt back and wiped his hands on his pants.
“Who?” Mary interjected.
“Dennis.”
“Dennis who?” His mother asked.
“Dennis Phillips, ma.”
“Jodie, you shouldn’t do that.” She said, smacking him gently on the hand.
“Do what?”
“Get back together with ex-boyfriends. Believe me, I know.”
“It’ll work, Ma. I know it.”
Mary made a skeptical sound but backed off.
Burt shuddered slightly, “Can we, uh…Not talk about, y’know, that, tonight?”
“Sure.” Jodie said, beaming, “We can talk about it tomorrow. He’s coming here for dinner.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Yeah. Why, is that a problem, Burt?” Jodie asked, moving to the fridge and pulling out contents to make himself a sandwich.
Mary elbowed Burt in the side. Burt squawked, “No, no, no problem. No.”
“Well, good.” Jodie gave him the broadest smile he could, then kissed his mother and left with his sandwich, “Bye, Ma; Burt.”
Burt waited, civilly disgusted, until Jodie was out of possible hearing range, before turning on his wife, “Mary, Mary, I thought we were making progress.”
Mary seemed equally upset, though for different reasons, but finally said, “He’s happy. That’s all I care about right now, Burt.”
Burt snorted, “Oh, well, pfft, me too. I mean, c’mon.”
He gave one last disgusted shudder as Mary left the room, then followed her upstairs.
Warnings: A little violence, very few thoughts of suicide.
Summary: Jodie loses his daughter, thinks about killing himself, and Burt realizes something. There's more, but that's very basic plotline.
Pairing: Jodie/Dennis.
Rating: About Pg/PG-13
Don't know if this is the place to post it, but honestly the fandom's reaaally dead, and this is rareslash, so what the hey, right? X-posted to user If you want me to delete this 'cuz it doesn't belong, just say so, no problem.
He was surprised at how quickly they took Wendy away. He was both hurt to see the police come with Carol, and overwhelmed with the thought of, had she not brought them, he and Wendy would have run away.
Danny had come just as Wendy and Carol were escorted away by a policeman.
“How you doin’?” Danny asked. It was a strange question, being asked so quickly, like being asked if it hurt ripping off a band aid the split second before you realized it had.
“All right, I guess. I mean, what would I do with a kid anyway? Fifteen years, she’d be wearing my dresses.”
“Yeah.”
The split second of no feeling was gone. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt in his life. He hugged his brother and started to cry. It sounded like Danny was saying something, distant, far away, but he couldn’t focus enough to hear it.
He hadn’t really understood the phrase ‘whispering sweet nothings’ before, beyond it was a cliché used in his mother’s mushy, poorly written books. But, suddenly with Danny telling him nothing instead of everything, he did.
Because right then, nothing was more than everything.
****
Jodie woke up early.
Except not really.
Except, it seemed like he was watching his life instead of living it. Watching someone drink the coffee he would have, sit in the chair he would have, kiss his mother on the cheek, even.
He watched himself rifle through Danny’s things that stood, stale and old in his brother‘s absence, in Danny’s bedroom.
He watched himself find and pocket the gun, and watched the steps it took to get to his own room.
Jodie sat on his bed and ran his hands across the metal of the gun, pulling it from his pocket, secure that his mother hadn’t seen him. He managed to check for bullets only by having watched Danny so many times; he’d never used a gun, he’d never cared to. Jodie wondered if it was possible to miss when you had a gun against your own temple.
He put it to his skull, and lowered it again. He couldn’t miss, he decided. He repeated the action, then cradled the gun his hands.
Jodie remembered when his father had shot their dog for chasing the neighborhood cats. He hadn’t seen his dad do it, only saw the lifeless body of his dog with matted, red hair all across its face.
‘It doesn’t hurt when you shoot someone in the head’, his dad had said, reaching back and tapping Jodie right behind his eye, ‘right there’.
He needed to get to his apartment, he decided, so that his mother wouldn’t see him, when he was done.
The next second was when he really woke up.
When Burt walked in asking if he wanted to go fishing, maybe.
He and Burt started at each other for a long while, then Burt’s eyes danced between the gun and Jodie’s face.
“So, uh, hey, Jodie, what’cha doing there?”
“Cleaning,” He said, wiping Danny’s gun with his shirt feverishly.
“Cleaning, pfft, yeah, cleaning? What’re you planning to use for a sponge, your brains?”
Jodie stared at him, shocked.
“Right, right, bad taste, I know. But, Jodie…” he crossed the room and took Jodie’s face in his hands, “Don’t do this. We’ll get you a puppy.”
“A puppy?”
“Don’t want a puppy? Fine, a fish. They’re easier to clean up after anyway.”
Jodie sighed, but couldn’t really think of anything to say. “Don’t tell Ma.”
“I think, what with the body of her son and all, she would’ve found out. It makes a big mess, you know.”
“Just don’t tell her, huh, Burt? It wasn’t like I was going to….here.”
“Jodie, don’t do it at all. You realize how worried sick your mother is already?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So just promise you aren’t going to…you know, you know?”
Jodie stared at him, then got up and walked around the room.
“So, all right, then. This is where you say, ‘I promise you, Burt.’”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t. It’s easy. Just ‘I promise you, Burt.’ Easy as that. Four words.”
“I just can’t, Burt.”
Burt sighed and rubbed his head, thinking, “Listen to me, Jodie. I hadn’t seen Peter for fifteen years. Then I do and what? Splat, dead. I know what you‘re going through.”
Jodie avoided the topic, “I’m going for a walk.”
“No, you’re not.”
Jodie gave one, breathy laugh, “Sure I am.”
“Uh, no, you’re not.” Burt grabbed the gun from Jodie’s hand and walked downstairs with him.
“Hey, Ma.” Jodie said, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. He felt his heart speed up. He felt like she’d caught him doing it instead of Burt, and he was waiting for punishment, tears, something, but she didn’t know a thing. She just smiled, gave a small, ‘Hey, honey,’ and turned away from him again.
“Hey, Mar.” Burt said, nervously. She looked at him for a second, nodded, and then checked on a pot of water, boiling. Burt watched her, then, realizing he was still carrying a weapon, flung the gun beneath the kitchen table.
Jodie stared at the exposed gun and muttered, “That’s your hiding place? I wish you were around when Danny and I were playing hide-and-seek as kids.” and crawled under the table to retrieve the gun.
“Jodie, what on earth are you doing under there?” His mother asked as she set her pot of tea on top of the table.
“I thought I saw a mouse.”
“So you go crawling after it? Come out from there.”
Jodie shoved the gun up his shirt and shuffled backwards. He stood up, holding his stomach to keep from letting the weapon fall.
His mother, overly observant since he lost Wendy, bombarded him quickly, feeling his forehead, “Are you all right?”
Jodie nodded, grinning.
“You’re positive?”
“Sure I am, Ma. I’m fine.”
Burt scoffed loudly, and Mary wheeled around to look at him for a second, then looked back at Jodie.
Jodie edged toward the door, keeping his mother away from him, “Bye, Burt, see you, Ma.”
“No, Mary, he’s sick, I think we ought to keep him in the house.”
Jodie stared at Burt, incredulous, “I’m not going to…”
“To what?” Mary asked, folding her arms.
“To buy a puppy.” Jodie said, slowly.
“To buy a puppy?”
“Right. I thought I’d be able to use the crib, you know, set up some newspapers on the bottom, and I'd wheel it around in the little carriage…” He reached the doorknob and turned it with one hand, “And uh, but uh, Burt talked me out of it. Said I don’t have room for a puppy in my life. I should wait until have a better income. To support it.”
“I’m going with him.” Burt said to Mary, then to Jodie, “I’m going with you.”
“To what?” Mary asked again.
“To…to uh. Well, to uh, to not, uh, buy a puppy.” Burt said, rushing out the door with Jodie.
Mary sighed and then just sat down to have her tea.
****
“So what, exactly, are we doing?” Burt asked.
“I’m going to talk to Dennis, I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Burt shuddered, disgusted.
“You can go home, Burt. I’m not going to.”
Burt mentally weighed his decisions; talk to his stepson’s ex-gay lover or assume his stepson wasn’t lying about not committing suicide. He stopped walking, watched Jodie a while, then stumbled backwards, “Yeah. So, uh, I’m going home.”
Jodie shrugged, “Okay, Burt. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jodie walked one direction.
Burt walked another.
****
“Dennis?” Jodie called, while knocking on the door. He wondered if Dennis still lived there. Maybe it was inhabited by Dennis’ ex-girl instead. “Dennis?”
He smiled when Dennis answered. “Jodie?”
“Yep.” Jodie bounced in place and pumped his arms, “So, heh, can I come in?”
“Well, sure.”
Jodie had expected more resistance, but he walked in happily.
Dennis watched Jodie search for hints of other people living in the apartment, then said, “I told you it wouldn’t work out.”
“What?”
“Being with a woman.”
“Oh. Well, you were right.” Jodie went so far as to inspect the tops of the dresser, “Is someone else living with you, Dennis? You’re dustier than this, aren’t you? There’s someone else, isn’t there? I’m just going to leave.”
“No. There’s not.”
“Not?”
“Not anyone else.”
“Oh.”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” Jodie said again. “Well.”
“Well.”
“Well….”
And then Dennis moved forward and kissed Jodie fast, burying his hands in Jodie’s hair. Jodie exhaled in surprise, his eyes left wide and dilated until he settled into the kiss and pressed forward himself.
Dennis broke from Jodie, “I missed you.”
“Well, the truth is, I’ve missed you, too.” Jodie said.
“I mean, not just this, either.” He said, giving Jodie another kiss for demonstration. “Everything. You're smart, and--"
“So are you.” Jodie said, distracted, his hands already going beneath Dennis’ shirt, “Let’s go to the bedroom…” He looked around quickly, “No, no, I forgot, sofa’s closer.” He said, pushing Dennis towards the couch.
Dennis, surprisingly, was trying to win him over with loving conversation, “You’re a funny guy.”
“I just hope you don’t laugh at what we’re going to do next.” Jodie pushed Dennis down onto the couch and straddled him.
Dennis stopped trying to converse.
****
He spent several days with Dennis, talking, laughing, kissing, everything; showering, even. He hadn’t forgotten about his daughter, or his life, but he had put it off. He’d fallen in love all over again, even harder than he had before, because suddenly Dennis was a replacement for everything and everyone he lost.
“Did you mean it, about giving up football?”
“It’s a pretty stupid thing to lie about, Jodie. You’d leave me the second you found out I wasn’t going to.”
“So yes?”
“Yes, I’m going to give it up.”
Jodie gave a ‘hmm’, then kissed Dennis and smiled against his lips, “Not for a little while, though.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t been to work in almost a week. I’m guessing I’m fired.”
****
Burt was worried. Absolutely worried.
He checked the obituaries in the same paper three times, phoned the morgue twice, and managed to get in a fight over the phone with some guy at a hospital. “The jerk.” Burt muttered at just the thought of it.
He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d even started liking Jodie, much less seeing him as a real son instead of just a stepson, but he couldn’t think of sleeping, of eating, of doing anything but sitting by the phone and looking through obituaries.
It took him a while to even think of calling Jodie’s apartment, but when he did, it didn’t matter, because there was no answer.
His concern was so great that he couldn’t even remember where it was Jodie had said he was going, so he didn’t even think of calling Dennis Phillips.
He just sat and worried, and read the obituaries for the fourth time.
****
Jodie entered the house without knocking. He was nearly tackled by his mother and Burt.
Mary kissed his face, “Oh, Jodie, Jodie. We were so worried…”
“Ma, I was fine! I’m fine.”
“You still could have called.” She said, kissing him again.
“I’m sorry. I got caught up.”
“With what, exactly?”
Jodie smiled, “I met a guy in an apartment.”
Burt stared at him, hands still on Jodie‘s shoulders. “Yeah, well, I hear there are a lot of them in apartments these days.”
"No, Burt.” Jodie lifted his eyebrows to mime the way Burt did when talking about women, grinning widely, “I met a guy.”
“Oh.” Burt stood there a second. “Oh. Oh!” He leapt back and wiped his hands on his pants.
“Who?” Mary interjected.
“Dennis.”
“Dennis who?” His mother asked.
“Dennis Phillips, ma.”
“Jodie, you shouldn’t do that.” She said, smacking him gently on the hand.
“Do what?”
“Get back together with ex-boyfriends. Believe me, I know.”
“It’ll work, Ma. I know it.”
Mary made a skeptical sound but backed off.
Burt shuddered slightly, “Can we, uh…Not talk about, y’know, that, tonight?”
“Sure.” Jodie said, beaming, “We can talk about it tomorrow. He’s coming here for dinner.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Yeah. Why, is that a problem, Burt?” Jodie asked, moving to the fridge and pulling out contents to make himself a sandwich.
Mary elbowed Burt in the side. Burt squawked, “No, no, no problem. No.”
“Well, good.” Jodie gave him the broadest smile he could, then kissed his mother and left with his sandwich, “Bye, Ma; Burt.”
Burt waited, civilly disgusted, until Jodie was out of possible hearing range, before turning on his wife, “Mary, Mary, I thought we were making progress.”
Mary seemed equally upset, though for different reasons, but finally said, “He’s happy. That’s all I care about right now, Burt.”
Burt snorted, “Oh, well, pfft, me too. I mean, c’mon.”
He gave one last disgusted shudder as Mary left the room, then followed her upstairs.