Cheesecake, 2
Author: sunsetsinthewes
Challenge: 2. Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!
Word Count: 1558
Rating: PG-13 (for language, like usual)
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is After Curfew.
Summary: When Lena's over an hour late for her curfew, Johnny takes matters into his own hands.
Notes: This takes place in 2019. This is also for RATS Olympics: Cross-country Marathon for No Name Team.
***
By the time Lena's a full hour past her curfew, Johnny's yanking on his coat and jerking his keys from the hook with enough force to bring the whole thing tumbling down. Letting out a string of expletives, he shouts out, "Michael! Michael, get down here!"
Within minutes, the man appears, brow knitting at the sight of Johnny shoving his shoes on. "Keep it down, Emily's sleeping. Are you-- where are you going?"
"Lena's not back. 'M goin' out."
"She's not?" Michael's eyes flit toward the staircase. "It's after midnight, she should be-- where is she? She's okay?"
"I knew that, I wouldn't be fuckin' lookin' for her, would I?" At the flash of hurt across Michael's face, Johnny softens. "Sorry, babe. Just... worried."
"Yeah. Yeah, don't-- call me when you find her?"
Johnny nods as he rips the door open.
***
"What the fuck you mean she ain't here?"
Georgia shrugs, aiming for an air of nonchalance that's betrayed by the hint of fear in her eyes. "Like I said, Mr. Corlioni." There's a crash from inside the house, followed by a peal of laughter. "Guys, keep it down! Anyway, she and Roger left, like, hours ago."
Roger. He should have known. "Lena was supposed to be here. Girls' night out or some shit. What was Roger fuckin' doing here?"
Georgia involuntarily steps back, shoulders rounding in on herself. "Uh." She glances back into the house, searching for help. "He came by with some of our fri-- look, she's not here so you should probably go."
Johnny's fists clench at his sides, voice dropping to a snarl as he leans in. "Look, little girl. You're gonna tell me where the fuck my daughter is, or I'll be tellin' your parents 'bout the dozen underaged drunk kids currently destroyin' their house. Which the fuck you want it to be?"
Eyes widening with terror, Georgia squeaks out, "They were gonna take his car a few blocks over, where they're building the new houses? I don't know if they're still there or not, but-- look, you're not gonna call my dad, are you?"
Johnny has his back to her, halfway down the walk as he snaps, "You and your motherfuckin' 'friends' ever come near her again, you can fuckin' bet I will."
***
By the time Johnny spots Roger's pristine Toyota, he's more furious than he's been in years. Slamming on the brakes and jumping out before he's completely stopped, he rushes towards the kids and tears opens the back door. Barely registering Lena's shrieks, he roughly yanks her out.
"Baby," he orders with deadly calm, "go get in the car."
"Hey!" Roger appears, scrambling to zip his pants as he hurries after them. "Man, what the fuck are you doing?"
With one hand on the small of Lena's back, guiding her toward the Charger, Johnny lightly shoves at the kid with his free arm. Voice still eerily even, he replies, "I'm takin' my daughter home. Get back in your car."
"Hey! Hey, you can't-- she doesn't want to go. I'm not letting you fucking force her!" Roger reaches out, tugging at a sleeve in an effort to stop them. It's pure instinct that Johnny acts on, instantly spinning around to slam Roger against the driver's side. At the sound of Lena's frightened cry, he struggles to rein in his rage.
"You fucking touch me again," he hisses, pinning the little shit with his forearm, "I'll fucking rip your hand off." He straightens, turning to his daughter and harshly snapping, "Lena, I said get in the car."
***
"And when you say you're gonna be somewhere, I fuckin' expect you to be there. Damn it, Lena, you know better than to pull this shit." Fifteen minutes later and Johnny's only begun to lecture. Blood boiling, it isn't until her silence forces him to glance over that he notices the state of Lena's clothes; her skirt's crooked, blouse torn open, and her hair's wildly mussed. As his fury begins to rise once again, he sucks in a sharp breath. "Lena." When she doesn't look up from her feet (fuck are her shoes?), Johnny gently commands, "Lena, look at me. You been drinkin'?"
Lena's response is so soft that he almost misses it. "Y-yes."
Tightening his grip on the wheel and taking a left turn with more speed than he intends, Johnny sighs. "Baby, that's not you."
There's a long pause before Lena finally chokes out, "Roger said I needed to loosen up."
Roger said. There's no way that this night is doing anything good to Johnny's blood pressure. "That boy doesn't know what the fuck he's talkin' 'bout. You're sixteen fuckin' years old. You're as loosened up as you need to be." There's an awkward stretch of silence before he forces himself to continue. "Lena, baby, gonna ask you a question. I want you to tell me the truth. You and that-- that bastard been having sex?"
There's no mistaking the sound of Lena's soft crying.
"You want it?" Johnny asks tightly through the clenching of his throat.
"Yes? I don't-- I didn't say no." At this, she begins to sob harder.
Johnny lets out a string of curses that would cause even David to blush. Pulling to the side of the road, he turns to gather her in his arms, stroking her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. As Lena dissolves, he gently murmurs, "Shh, baby, shh. It's okay. I'm right here."
"He-- he says it's harder for girls," she manages through her tears. "That it'll be easier after awhile. But-- but it doesn't seem--"
Johnny tenses. "I don't want you seein' that boy again."
Lena jerks back, eyes wide and voice wavering. "W-what? Papa, no! You can't--"
Something in Johnny's chest twists at the sight of devastation in her eyes. "I can and I will. He's not good for you."
"No! Papa, please! He-he loves me, Roger says so, he--"
"Oh, Lena, honey." He pulls her close. "Baby, he's got you sneakin' around and drinkin', he's hurtin' you just for his sake... that ain't love."
Johnny shouldn't be surprised by the force of Lena's response, but he is. She pushes herself against the door, snapping, "Don't touch me!"
He sighs deeply, turning away to start the car once more. The rest of the drive passes in silence.
***
As they come through the front door, Michael instantly pounces. "Johnny! Did you find-- oh thank god. Sweetheart, where on earth have you been? My god, what happened to your shirt?" Lena sidesteps them both, making a beeline for the stairs without another word. "Where are you-- okay, what was that about?"
Johnny drops his keys near the fallen hook. "She hates me now, 'parently."
"What? You? What the hell happened?"
"Told her she's not seein' that little prick again."
"Little-- Roger?" Michael sucks in a sharp breath. "Johnny, her clothes... tell me what the fuck happened, will you?"
Catching sight of the worry and fear in Michael's eyes, he nods. As he heads into the kitchen, shoes and jacket still on, he calls out, "Went to that Georgia cunt's house-- she's sure as fuck not goin' over there again-- only to be told she left with Roger hours ago."
Michael follows close behind. "I thought it was just gonna be Lena and a few of her girlfriends."
Johnny roughly opens the refrigerator, pulling out a beer and twisting the top off. Bitterly, he mutters, "Me too. Seems the little bitch took advantage of the empty house to invite a few boys over for some drinks."
Michael stares. "Drinks? Lena wasn't--" A single nod is all the answer he needs. Taking a moment to let this sink in, he cautiously asks, "Do I want to know where she was?"
"Few blocks over, parkin' with the little shit." Johnny takes a long swig, draining half the bottle.
Paling, Michael frantically demands, "For fuck's sake, Johnny, tell me what happened! He didn't-- she wasn't--"
"Raped? Good as." At Michael's choked sound, he quickly adds, "She consented. Not sure she wanted ta, but she did."
There's a long silence, heavy as it presses down between them. Eventually, Michael manages, "We need to call the police. Roger's eighteen-- even if she consented, that's still statutory. We-we need to call the police."
Johnny cocks an eyebrow. "We ain't calling the police, Michael."
"You're just gonna let that scum get away with hurting our little girl?"
"Who said he's gettin' away with it?" Johnny finishes his beer, slamming it onto the counter with more force than necessary. "'M goin' out."
"What?" Michael rushes after him, voice rising. "You can't!"
Stopping dead in his tracks, Johnny stares. "I can't? That motherfucker hurt my baby girl and you say I can't?"
"He's still just a kid, fucker or not! You can't just kill him."
"I ain't gonna kill him." Just make him wish he was. "Gonna make sure he never touches her again."
Michael takes in a deep breath, deflating. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Reaching out to lay an arm on Johnny's bicep, Michael leans in for a quick kiss. "Be careful. I don't want to have to bail you out tonight."
"I ever not careful?" Johnny returns the kiss softly. "Don't wait up."
Michael closes his eyes for a brief moment, nodding. By the time he opens his eyes, Johnny's gone.
***
Challenge: 2. Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!
Word Count: 1558
Rating: PG-13 (for language, like usual)
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is After Curfew.
Summary: When Lena's over an hour late for her curfew, Johnny takes matters into his own hands.
Notes: This takes place in 2019. This is also for RATS Olympics: Cross-country Marathon for No Name Team.
***
By the time Lena's a full hour past her curfew, Johnny's yanking on his coat and jerking his keys from the hook with enough force to bring the whole thing tumbling down. Letting out a string of expletives, he shouts out, "Michael! Michael, get down here!"
Within minutes, the man appears, brow knitting at the sight of Johnny shoving his shoes on. "Keep it down, Emily's sleeping. Are you-- where are you going?"
"Lena's not back. 'M goin' out."
"She's not?" Michael's eyes flit toward the staircase. "It's after midnight, she should be-- where is she? She's okay?"
"I knew that, I wouldn't be fuckin' lookin' for her, would I?" At the flash of hurt across Michael's face, Johnny softens. "Sorry, babe. Just... worried."
"Yeah. Yeah, don't-- call me when you find her?"
Johnny nods as he rips the door open.
***
"What the fuck you mean she ain't here?"
Georgia shrugs, aiming for an air of nonchalance that's betrayed by the hint of fear in her eyes. "Like I said, Mr. Corlioni." There's a crash from inside the house, followed by a peal of laughter. "Guys, keep it down! Anyway, she and Roger left, like, hours ago."
Roger. He should have known. "Lena was supposed to be here. Girls' night out or some shit. What was Roger fuckin' doing here?"
Georgia involuntarily steps back, shoulders rounding in on herself. "Uh." She glances back into the house, searching for help. "He came by with some of our fri-- look, she's not here so you should probably go."
Johnny's fists clench at his sides, voice dropping to a snarl as he leans in. "Look, little girl. You're gonna tell me where the fuck my daughter is, or I'll be tellin' your parents 'bout the dozen underaged drunk kids currently destroyin' their house. Which the fuck you want it to be?"
Eyes widening with terror, Georgia squeaks out, "They were gonna take his car a few blocks over, where they're building the new houses? I don't know if they're still there or not, but-- look, you're not gonna call my dad, are you?"
Johnny has his back to her, halfway down the walk as he snaps, "You and your motherfuckin' 'friends' ever come near her again, you can fuckin' bet I will."
***
By the time Johnny spots Roger's pristine Toyota, he's more furious than he's been in years. Slamming on the brakes and jumping out before he's completely stopped, he rushes towards the kids and tears opens the back door. Barely registering Lena's shrieks, he roughly yanks her out.
"Baby," he orders with deadly calm, "go get in the car."
"Hey!" Roger appears, scrambling to zip his pants as he hurries after them. "Man, what the fuck are you doing?"
With one hand on the small of Lena's back, guiding her toward the Charger, Johnny lightly shoves at the kid with his free arm. Voice still eerily even, he replies, "I'm takin' my daughter home. Get back in your car."
"Hey! Hey, you can't-- she doesn't want to go. I'm not letting you fucking force her!" Roger reaches out, tugging at a sleeve in an effort to stop them. It's pure instinct that Johnny acts on, instantly spinning around to slam Roger against the driver's side. At the sound of Lena's frightened cry, he struggles to rein in his rage.
"You fucking touch me again," he hisses, pinning the little shit with his forearm, "I'll fucking rip your hand off." He straightens, turning to his daughter and harshly snapping, "Lena, I said get in the car."
***
"And when you say you're gonna be somewhere, I fuckin' expect you to be there. Damn it, Lena, you know better than to pull this shit." Fifteen minutes later and Johnny's only begun to lecture. Blood boiling, it isn't until her silence forces him to glance over that he notices the state of Lena's clothes; her skirt's crooked, blouse torn open, and her hair's wildly mussed. As his fury begins to rise once again, he sucks in a sharp breath. "Lena." When she doesn't look up from her feet (fuck are her shoes?), Johnny gently commands, "Lena, look at me. You been drinkin'?"
Lena's response is so soft that he almost misses it. "Y-yes."
Tightening his grip on the wheel and taking a left turn with more speed than he intends, Johnny sighs. "Baby, that's not you."
There's a long pause before Lena finally chokes out, "Roger said I needed to loosen up."
Roger said. There's no way that this night is doing anything good to Johnny's blood pressure. "That boy doesn't know what the fuck he's talkin' 'bout. You're sixteen fuckin' years old. You're as loosened up as you need to be." There's an awkward stretch of silence before he forces himself to continue. "Lena, baby, gonna ask you a question. I want you to tell me the truth. You and that-- that bastard been having sex?"
There's no mistaking the sound of Lena's soft crying.
"You want it?" Johnny asks tightly through the clenching of his throat.
"Yes? I don't-- I didn't say no." At this, she begins to sob harder.
Johnny lets out a string of curses that would cause even David to blush. Pulling to the side of the road, he turns to gather her in his arms, stroking her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. As Lena dissolves, he gently murmurs, "Shh, baby, shh. It's okay. I'm right here."
"He-- he says it's harder for girls," she manages through her tears. "That it'll be easier after awhile. But-- but it doesn't seem--"
Johnny tenses. "I don't want you seein' that boy again."
Lena jerks back, eyes wide and voice wavering. "W-what? Papa, no! You can't--"
Something in Johnny's chest twists at the sight of devastation in her eyes. "I can and I will. He's not good for you."
"No! Papa, please! He-he loves me, Roger says so, he--"
"Oh, Lena, honey." He pulls her close. "Baby, he's got you sneakin' around and drinkin', he's hurtin' you just for his sake... that ain't love."
Johnny shouldn't be surprised by the force of Lena's response, but he is. She pushes herself against the door, snapping, "Don't touch me!"
He sighs deeply, turning away to start the car once more. The rest of the drive passes in silence.
***
As they come through the front door, Michael instantly pounces. "Johnny! Did you find-- oh thank god. Sweetheart, where on earth have you been? My god, what happened to your shirt?" Lena sidesteps them both, making a beeline for the stairs without another word. "Where are you-- okay, what was that about?"
Johnny drops his keys near the fallen hook. "She hates me now, 'parently."
"What? You? What the hell happened?"
"Told her she's not seein' that little prick again."
"Little-- Roger?" Michael sucks in a sharp breath. "Johnny, her clothes... tell me what the fuck happened, will you?"
Catching sight of the worry and fear in Michael's eyes, he nods. As he heads into the kitchen, shoes and jacket still on, he calls out, "Went to that Georgia cunt's house-- she's sure as fuck not goin' over there again-- only to be told she left with Roger hours ago."
Michael follows close behind. "I thought it was just gonna be Lena and a few of her girlfriends."
Johnny roughly opens the refrigerator, pulling out a beer and twisting the top off. Bitterly, he mutters, "Me too. Seems the little bitch took advantage of the empty house to invite a few boys over for some drinks."
Michael stares. "Drinks? Lena wasn't--" A single nod is all the answer he needs. Taking a moment to let this sink in, he cautiously asks, "Do I want to know where she was?"
"Few blocks over, parkin' with the little shit." Johnny takes a long swig, draining half the bottle.
Paling, Michael frantically demands, "For fuck's sake, Johnny, tell me what happened! He didn't-- she wasn't--"
"Raped? Good as." At Michael's choked sound, he quickly adds, "She consented. Not sure she wanted ta, but she did."
There's a long silence, heavy as it presses down between them. Eventually, Michael manages, "We need to call the police. Roger's eighteen-- even if she consented, that's still statutory. We-we need to call the police."
Johnny cocks an eyebrow. "We ain't calling the police, Michael."
"You're just gonna let that scum get away with hurting our little girl?"
"Who said he's gettin' away with it?" Johnny finishes his beer, slamming it onto the counter with more force than necessary. "'M goin' out."
"What?" Michael rushes after him, voice rising. "You can't!"
Stopping dead in his tracks, Johnny stares. "I can't? That motherfucker hurt my baby girl and you say I can't?"
"He's still just a kid, fucker or not! You can't just kill him."
"I ain't gonna kill him." Just make him wish he was. "Gonna make sure he never touches her again."
Michael takes in a deep breath, deflating. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Reaching out to lay an arm on Johnny's bicep, Michael leans in for a quick kiss. "Be careful. I don't want to have to bail you out tonight."
"I ever not careful?" Johnny returns the kiss softly. "Don't wait up."
Michael closes his eyes for a brief moment, nodding. By the time he opens his eyes, Johnny's gone.
***