A Few Hours Outside Los Angeles, Thursday Morning Fandom Time
This had to be the most awkward car ride in history.
Roscoe was jammed in the back seat, headphones jammed in his ears, makeup on point even though the only people who were going to see him today were his dad and his grandpa. Not that he hadn't tried to get out of this. If he had his way, he would be... well, he wouldn't be in the car driving his dad to federal prison this morning.
Over the sound of his music, he heard his dad say, "Pop, are you serious right now? You're going half the speed limit."
Jeremiah's dry tone matched Roscoe's mood perfectly. "Are you in a rush?" When Marty leaned back in his seat, he added, "I didn't think so."
Despite his better judgment, Roscoe lowered the volume on his phone a few notches, listening in. "You know, you've got a captive audience back there," Jeremiah continued, more quietly now. "I mean, he's putting on a brave face, but he's really freaking out about today."
Grandpa with the truth bomb. What a surprise.
Sure enough, Marty turned around in his seat and gestured for Roscoe to pull his headphones out of his ears.
"What?" he snapped as he complied. He wasn't really in the mood for a whole hug-it-out session, not now.
"You want to talk about this?" Marty said.
"About what, dad?" Roscoe replied, adopting a calmer tone this time. If his dad wanted some closure, that was on him. Roscoe wasn't going to get worked up about his screw-ups.
"Look, you guys are driving me to prison right now. It's gonna be the last normal interaction we're gonna have in about six months."
"Yup," Roscoe agreed, not giving him an inch.
He could feel his dad getting frustrated. "Do you want to ask anything?"
Grateful for the opportunity to show his dad how much he really didn't care about any of this fake family bonding shit, Roscoe leaned forward in his seat. "Yeah. Grandpa, how much longer is the drive? All my friends are hanging out at Tom-Tom's birthday."
This wasn't what Marty had been expecting to hear, and he snorted. "Oh, it's Tom-Tom's birthday? Let's just turn the car around! Let's go to Tom-Tom's. No prison! We're going to Tom-Tom's."
"Alright, alright, alright," Jeremiah cut in, trying to bring down the tension. "We've gotta make the most of this time."
Roscoe rolled his eyes.
"Now come on," his grandpa continued. "It's good that you guys talk like this. Because there's no rule book as to how to feel."
Yeah, like he hadn't heard that one before.
"Well, it feels like shit," Roscoe snapped. "I mean, all my friends are at Six Flags wondering where I am, and it's my last day in town for the entire summer. This sucks."
He jammed his headphones back in his ears.
"Oh, okay," he heard his dad say before he could turn up the volume to drown him out. "I thought you meant about me. Yeah, I guess you're right. Both our days are gonna suck."
---
Roscoe climbed out of the car as they pulled up at the prison. His dad and grandpa were already talking, so he took a second to shove his phone and headphones into his pocket. He figured it was better to say goodbye outside. Going inside seemed... he didn't think he wanted to do that.
"Look," Marty said, pulling Roscoe into a hug that he reluctantly reciprocated. "I wish you didn't have to see that."
This felt really real, but Roscoe couldn't bring himself to drop the sarcastic attitude he'd had all day. He forced himself to smile, softening what he was going to say. "No, Dad, this moment right here? It's going right into my memory scrapbook."
Marty smiled back, not hurt by it.
"Listen," he said. "I'd give anything to not have to miss this time with you. When I get out, I'm gonna make it all up to you."
That sounded nice. He wanted to believe it.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, we're gonna go get those driving lessons. And take you to see whatever new dumb meta for Divergent movie is out." Roscoe snorted. "I'll take you shopping wherever you want."
"Now that's just crazy talk," he laughed.
Marty touched the side of his face. Roscoe didn't pull away. "You're all that matters to me, you know that?" he said seriously.
Roscoe nodded.
This time he initiated the hug, pulling his dad in with both arms. "Remember, you can trade smokes for almost everything inside," he teased.
Marty laughed. "Okay. Good tip, Al Capone."
They pulled apart, almost reluctantly.
Off to the side, Roscoe could see his grandpa smiling, and he had to agree it felt better this way. He didn't want to let his dad leave on bad terms either.
"Wait, Dad," he said, grabbing his father's arm before Marty could turn to head inside. "I just wish you didn't have to go."
His voice cracked, and Marty leaned in to hug him one more time. Roscoe pressed his face into his dad's suit jacket. He hated this whole goodbye thing.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay, alright?" his dad said, only pulling back when he felt Roscoe release him first. "C'mere."
And his dad started this stupid dorky father-son handshake they had made up together when Roscoe was nine, and Roscoe pulled it off perfectly, grinning reluctantly the whole time.
When Marty turned to go, Roscoe's grandpa watched him head inside, but Roscoe hurried back into the car so he could sniffle to himself in the passenger seat before Jeremiah got back in.
[[Taken from flashbacks in House of Lies season 4, episode 6, "Trust Me, I'm Getting Plenty of Erections." The episode titles on this show are so fun, right? NFI/NFB but OOC welcome!]]