Keeper (Agnates in Elysium), 3/10 (R)
Posted to house_wilson and betteronvicodin
Title: Keeper (Agnates in Elysium), Part 3/10
Author: Dee Laundry
Rating: R
Summary: House and Wilson's son Jack passes one of life's crossroads and makes an unexpected connection.
Note: Begins in June 2033. Sequel to My Fathers' Son, set in an AU that crosses over with simple__man's Churchverse, which began with Brilliant. Grateful appreciation to daisylily for beta and to simple__man for creating something wonderful and letting me play with it.
Part One - Part Two
A month later, and Thursday night beers were a regular thing for Jack and Church. Mary had grumbled that she barely got time with Jack as it was, but he'd dropped the large-eyed pleading look he'd copied from his Pop on her, and she'd reluctantly relented.
Then she met Church, at his most vivacious and charming, and forgot her reluctance. When Mary went to get them more wine, Church turned to him, exceptionally smug, and Jack felt unaccountably proud.
***
The food court was packed, and noisy, but Church managed to get the two of them a decent-sized, halfway-clean table by a wall. Jack suspected bribery and/or coercion might've been involved, but he was hungry and the food was hot.
Over a large platter of bad tempura and decent yakisoba, they debated the summer TV lineup. Church was pro-neo-reality and anti-viewer-scripted; Jack favored the remixed reruns.
"There's no authenticity any more!" Church protested, waving his chopsticks. "What's the point of futzing around with shows that were perfectly fine to begin with? Just because you change some dialogue, or a subplot, or the color of the characters' skin doesn't make it a new show. There's no originality in scripted TV any more, none at all."
Jack shrugged. "There's nothing new under the sun, as was pointed out over two thousand years ago. Last year's Oscar winner was a rip-off of West Side Story, which was a blatant remake of Romeo and Juliet, which was a dramatization of Brooke's poem, The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, which traces its origins to the 1476 story of Mariotto and Gianozza of Siena by Salernitano. And I'm sure the first time someone read that, they thought, 'Hey, that reminds me of...'"
"Yeah, yeah, you made your point, Plato." Church had taken the opportunity to snag more than half of the remaining noodles, leaving the soggy fried vegetables to Jack.
Jack glared at him around a mouthful of mush and then took a new tack. "Besides, any fan of neo-reality can not claim to value authenticity."
"You're saying those scenes are faked? No way can stupidity like that be scripted. No writers are talented enough to come up with the crap those weirdos do. Like Hester! He's stunningly moronic."
Church proceeded to do a remarkably good imitation of the lisping, flailing, flamboyant teenager from Your Money or Your Life. If Jack hadn't been trying to finish his lunch, he would've belly-laughed himself sick, but unfortunately he could only snort and grin as he chewed.
The imitation was so successful - and ostentatious - that it caught the attention of a nearby table of boys in their late teens. They didn't seem to recognize the moves as Hester's, however, because they stared at Church as if he had two heads.
"Fucking fags," one of them snarled, and Jack was snapped out of his good mood.
He turned toward Church, who had dropped his hands and was staring at the surly teenager contemplatively. "Ohmigod," Church blurted suddenly, still imitating Hester's voice. He grasped Jack's arm and gestured. "Honey, that's the guy from the back wall at Bender's!"
Jack put on a puzzled expression that was only half faked. He looked back and forth between Church and the teen, and then broke out into a grin. "The one who asked us to do finger cuffs on him - you're right!"
Waggling his fingers at the boy, whose eyes had grown as big as saucers, he continued, "Hi, sweetie! That was so much fun!" He turned back to Church and said, "Honey, next time you have got to take the back position. The outside of his ass is lumpy and hairy, but the inside is so lovely tight."
"That would leave you getting the blow job." Church leaned in and stage-whispered, "Which frankly wasn't all that expert."
Jack swatted his arm and pushed him back to his own chair. "Don't be so harsh, darling. The poor little dear was just so excited he couldn't concentrate. Weren't you, sweetie?"
The teen's face had gone beet red, and his friends had edged their chairs a few inches away from him - in disgust or in fear his head would explode, Jack couldn't tell and didn't care. Glaring, the teen pushed back from the table and stalked past them on his way to the doors. "Fucking fags," he growled, his unimaginative repetition a nice illustration of Jack's earlier point.
"It's the non-fucking ones that are really sad," Church called poignantly after the teen and his friends in tow.
With a smirk, he turned back towards Jack and snatched Jack's soda. "Finger cuffs, huh? Done that before?"
"Nope," replied Jack as he grabbed his drink back. "Not so much as a threesome."
"Christ, you're boring," Church sighed, and began balling up the trash on their table.
"Yes, I am. I remembered 'finger cuffs' from this ancient movie called Chasing Amy." Jack blinked in surprise. "Which starred Ben Affleck, in fact. Why does he keep coming up in our conversations?"
"Because you've got a crush on him. Obviously. Give me the tray."
Jack retrieved the tray from under his chair and slid it onto the table; Church piled the trash on top in a structure that defied the normal laws of physics.
"I do not! He's like my Pop's age," Jack protested. "And a guy."
"Man crush then," offered Church as he rose from his chair.
"No crush at all. It's just a coincidence."
"Then why did you ask me why? Pointless question." Church dumped the trash in the can, managing somehow not to spill a crumb, and looked back at Jack expectantly.
Jack hauled his butt out of the chair and followed after Church. They ambled for a few minutes - Jack was there to buy a couple more dress shirts; Church had said he might pick up some belated Father's Day presents - until a thought occurred to Jack. "So, is there actually a Bender's in this town?"
"Yup," Church replied, popping the 'p' sound. "Jer and I went last week."
"Is there a back wall?"
Church's stare clearly said dumbass. "Upstate New York's going to have an open-air bar? Of course it's got a back wall."
Ducking around a mom and stroller, Jack rolled his eyes. "I meant: does it have a back wall that has activities like the ones you implied?"
"And you stated outright, you raunchy minx." Church pinched Jack's cheek and then veered off into a Hallmark store.
Jack followed Church into an aisle bedecked with more knick-knack-y crap than Jack had ever seen in his life, and reiterated his question. "Does it?"
"Don't believe everything you see in the movies. Do you think my Mom would like this?" Church shoved a sweet-smelling lace-covered box in Jack's face.
"You said he had a penis, so I'm going to go with no," Jack said with an involuntary sneer.
Church threw the trinket onto the wrong shelf and continued down the aisle. "You asked the wrong question, you know."
"What question? You told me your mom had a penis the first time you mentioned him."
Church waved him off and darted into the next aisle. "These calendars are cheap."
Jack sighed. "That's because it's after Fourth of July. Nobody needs a calendar now." He reached up to a nearby shelf and took down a box of very elegant but simple notecards. "Here."
"If you say so." Tucking it under his arm, Church headed toward the cashier. "The question you should've asked is 'Who's Jer?'"
"You're not getting a card?"
"Waste of money, when a short note in your very own hand makes Mom's eyes go misty and heart go flitter-flutter."
The cashier smiled at them as she rang up the purchase. "An actual letter to your mother; so sweet. I bet she's proud to have two sons like you."
"We're not married," Jack replied absently, mentally rearranging the displays near the cash register for a more harmonious appearance.
Church's eyes were bright as he smirked. "I think she was implying we're brothers."
The cashier nodded, clearly confused, and handed Church his bag. Jack smiled to put her at ease, but he wasn't sure it worked. "We're not that either, but thanks."
Church was still snickering as they headed down the escalator. "You're a weirdo."
"Takes one to know one," replied Jack, completely unfazed.
"To go back to the prior topic: Why didn't you ask me who Jer was?"
Jack shrugged. "I figured he was one of your friends. You're a great guy; you probably have a ton of friends I haven't met."
"Yeah," Church replied, looking away. "A ton."
***
Hey, Dad, it's Church.
Thank God you told me. Not being able to recognize your voice on my own, I would've had a hell of a time keeping up my half of the conversation while trying to piece together who you were just from context clues.
Whatever. So, I got myself a Wilson.
Wrapped around your little finger. That is, when he's not wrapped around my -
Dad, I'm not listening to that! This is somebody else who just happens to have the last name Wilson. His name's Jack; he's about my age; I met him at work.
I thought you said they were all idiots at your work.
They all are, except him. He's freaky smart, and he thinks about interesting ideas, and he knows how to handle bullshit.
Important skill in dealing with you.
I know, right? Nobody ever has a bad word to say about him, because he's just so pleasant, gets along with everyone. But there's something quirky going on under that buttoned down, friendly neighborhood pharmacist exterior. It's like he's a secret asshole, and nobody knows but me.
Sounds like you're in love. What about Jer?
Jer, well, Jer. I don't know. This thing with Jack, though, it's kind of like being in love, with one weird twist.
What?
I don't want to have sex with him.
Early-onset impotence, what a shame.
No. There are plenty of other people I want to have sex with, just not him.
(Continued)
Title: Keeper (Agnates in Elysium), Part 3/10
Author: Dee Laundry
Rating: R
Summary: House and Wilson's son Jack passes one of life's crossroads and makes an unexpected connection.
Note: Begins in June 2033. Sequel to My Fathers' Son, set in an AU that crosses over with simple__man's Churchverse, which began with Brilliant. Grateful appreciation to daisylily for beta and to simple__man for creating something wonderful and letting me play with it.
Part One - Part Two
A month later, and Thursday night beers were a regular thing for Jack and Church. Mary had grumbled that she barely got time with Jack as it was, but he'd dropped the large-eyed pleading look he'd copied from his Pop on her, and she'd reluctantly relented.
Then she met Church, at his most vivacious and charming, and forgot her reluctance. When Mary went to get them more wine, Church turned to him, exceptionally smug, and Jack felt unaccountably proud.
***
The food court was packed, and noisy, but Church managed to get the two of them a decent-sized, halfway-clean table by a wall. Jack suspected bribery and/or coercion might've been involved, but he was hungry and the food was hot.
Over a large platter of bad tempura and decent yakisoba, they debated the summer TV lineup. Church was pro-neo-reality and anti-viewer-scripted; Jack favored the remixed reruns.
"There's no authenticity any more!" Church protested, waving his chopsticks. "What's the point of futzing around with shows that were perfectly fine to begin with? Just because you change some dialogue, or a subplot, or the color of the characters' skin doesn't make it a new show. There's no originality in scripted TV any more, none at all."
Jack shrugged. "There's nothing new under the sun, as was pointed out over two thousand years ago. Last year's Oscar winner was a rip-off of West Side Story, which was a blatant remake of Romeo and Juliet, which was a dramatization of Brooke's poem, The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, which traces its origins to the 1476 story of Mariotto and Gianozza of Siena by Salernitano. And I'm sure the first time someone read that, they thought, 'Hey, that reminds me of...'"
"Yeah, yeah, you made your point, Plato." Church had taken the opportunity to snag more than half of the remaining noodles, leaving the soggy fried vegetables to Jack.
Jack glared at him around a mouthful of mush and then took a new tack. "Besides, any fan of neo-reality can not claim to value authenticity."
"You're saying those scenes are faked? No way can stupidity like that be scripted. No writers are talented enough to come up with the crap those weirdos do. Like Hester! He's stunningly moronic."
Church proceeded to do a remarkably good imitation of the lisping, flailing, flamboyant teenager from Your Money or Your Life. If Jack hadn't been trying to finish his lunch, he would've belly-laughed himself sick, but unfortunately he could only snort and grin as he chewed.
The imitation was so successful - and ostentatious - that it caught the attention of a nearby table of boys in their late teens. They didn't seem to recognize the moves as Hester's, however, because they stared at Church as if he had two heads.
"Fucking fags," one of them snarled, and Jack was snapped out of his good mood.
He turned toward Church, who had dropped his hands and was staring at the surly teenager contemplatively. "Ohmigod," Church blurted suddenly, still imitating Hester's voice. He grasped Jack's arm and gestured. "Honey, that's the guy from the back wall at Bender's!"
Jack put on a puzzled expression that was only half faked. He looked back and forth between Church and the teen, and then broke out into a grin. "The one who asked us to do finger cuffs on him - you're right!"
Waggling his fingers at the boy, whose eyes had grown as big as saucers, he continued, "Hi, sweetie! That was so much fun!" He turned back to Church and said, "Honey, next time you have got to take the back position. The outside of his ass is lumpy and hairy, but the inside is so lovely tight."
"That would leave you getting the blow job." Church leaned in and stage-whispered, "Which frankly wasn't all that expert."
Jack swatted his arm and pushed him back to his own chair. "Don't be so harsh, darling. The poor little dear was just so excited he couldn't concentrate. Weren't you, sweetie?"
The teen's face had gone beet red, and his friends had edged their chairs a few inches away from him - in disgust or in fear his head would explode, Jack couldn't tell and didn't care. Glaring, the teen pushed back from the table and stalked past them on his way to the doors. "Fucking fags," he growled, his unimaginative repetition a nice illustration of Jack's earlier point.
"It's the non-fucking ones that are really sad," Church called poignantly after the teen and his friends in tow.
With a smirk, he turned back towards Jack and snatched Jack's soda. "Finger cuffs, huh? Done that before?"
"Nope," replied Jack as he grabbed his drink back. "Not so much as a threesome."
"Christ, you're boring," Church sighed, and began balling up the trash on their table.
"Yes, I am. I remembered 'finger cuffs' from this ancient movie called Chasing Amy." Jack blinked in surprise. "Which starred Ben Affleck, in fact. Why does he keep coming up in our conversations?"
"Because you've got a crush on him. Obviously. Give me the tray."
Jack retrieved the tray from under his chair and slid it onto the table; Church piled the trash on top in a structure that defied the normal laws of physics.
"I do not! He's like my Pop's age," Jack protested. "And a guy."
"Man crush then," offered Church as he rose from his chair.
"No crush at all. It's just a coincidence."
"Then why did you ask me why? Pointless question." Church dumped the trash in the can, managing somehow not to spill a crumb, and looked back at Jack expectantly.
Jack hauled his butt out of the chair and followed after Church. They ambled for a few minutes - Jack was there to buy a couple more dress shirts; Church had said he might pick up some belated Father's Day presents - until a thought occurred to Jack. "So, is there actually a Bender's in this town?"
"Yup," Church replied, popping the 'p' sound. "Jer and I went last week."
"Is there a back wall?"
Church's stare clearly said dumbass. "Upstate New York's going to have an open-air bar? Of course it's got a back wall."
Ducking around a mom and stroller, Jack rolled his eyes. "I meant: does it have a back wall that has activities like the ones you implied?"
"And you stated outright, you raunchy minx." Church pinched Jack's cheek and then veered off into a Hallmark store.
Jack followed Church into an aisle bedecked with more knick-knack-y crap than Jack had ever seen in his life, and reiterated his question. "Does it?"
"Don't believe everything you see in the movies. Do you think my Mom would like this?" Church shoved a sweet-smelling lace-covered box in Jack's face.
"You said he had a penis, so I'm going to go with no," Jack said with an involuntary sneer.
Church threw the trinket onto the wrong shelf and continued down the aisle. "You asked the wrong question, you know."
"What question? You told me your mom had a penis the first time you mentioned him."
Church waved him off and darted into the next aisle. "These calendars are cheap."
Jack sighed. "That's because it's after Fourth of July. Nobody needs a calendar now." He reached up to a nearby shelf and took down a box of very elegant but simple notecards. "Here."
"If you say so." Tucking it under his arm, Church headed toward the cashier. "The question you should've asked is 'Who's Jer?'"
"You're not getting a card?"
"Waste of money, when a short note in your very own hand makes Mom's eyes go misty and heart go flitter-flutter."
The cashier smiled at them as she rang up the purchase. "An actual letter to your mother; so sweet. I bet she's proud to have two sons like you."
"We're not married," Jack replied absently, mentally rearranging the displays near the cash register for a more harmonious appearance.
Church's eyes were bright as he smirked. "I think she was implying we're brothers."
The cashier nodded, clearly confused, and handed Church his bag. Jack smiled to put her at ease, but he wasn't sure it worked. "We're not that either, but thanks."
Church was still snickering as they headed down the escalator. "You're a weirdo."
"Takes one to know one," replied Jack, completely unfazed.
"To go back to the prior topic: Why didn't you ask me who Jer was?"
Jack shrugged. "I figured he was one of your friends. You're a great guy; you probably have a ton of friends I haven't met."
"Yeah," Church replied, looking away. "A ton."
***
Hey, Dad, it's Church.
Thank God you told me. Not being able to recognize your voice on my own, I would've had a hell of a time keeping up my half of the conversation while trying to piece together who you were just from context clues.
Whatever. So, I got myself a Wilson.
Wrapped around your little finger. That is, when he's not wrapped around my -
Dad, I'm not listening to that! This is somebody else who just happens to have the last name Wilson. His name's Jack; he's about my age; I met him at work.
I thought you said they were all idiots at your work.
They all are, except him. He's freaky smart, and he thinks about interesting ideas, and he knows how to handle bullshit.
Important skill in dealing with you.
I know, right? Nobody ever has a bad word to say about him, because he's just so pleasant, gets along with everyone. But there's something quirky going on under that buttoned down, friendly neighborhood pharmacist exterior. It's like he's a secret asshole, and nobody knows but me.
Sounds like you're in love. What about Jer?
Jer, well, Jer. I don't know. This thing with Jack, though, it's kind of like being in love, with one weird twist.
What?
I don't want to have sex with him.
Early-onset impotence, what a shame.
No. There are plenty of other people I want to have sex with, just not him.
(Continued)