Long overdue Chrimbo-fic gift!
Title: My Goddamned Kitchen
Pairing/Characters: C/Z, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler
Rating: NC-17
Keywords: (none)
Synopsis: For frodosweetstuff... Zeke's parents are let in on a few things.
It was always a little more raw like this… always a little better, really, as the bed would get boring, and being completely naked was way too straightforward. When Casey had walked into the kitchen, yawning, scratching his balls and mumbling a “g’mo’nin”, Zeke decided that he wasn’t hungry anymore; not for Cocoa-Puffs and coffee, anyway. Zeke had stood up, walked over and taken Casey’s hips in his hands, just as Casey had gotten to the sink and turned on the tap. As Zeke began rubbing around to Casey’s belly, the boy chuckled lightly.
“Just woke up, baby,” Casey had sighed out.
“And that’s stopped me… when?”
“Maybe it’s time you learned…”
It hadn’t been, of course. Zeke always got his way in the end. The moment he’d started rubbing his hard shaft onto Casey’s ass, he knew the boy would relent, yet again. So warm--Zeke groaned deep in his throat, feeling the chafe of his boxers sliding over Casey’s underwear. The cloth was pressed hard into Casey’s cleft, and Zeke smiled shakily at the sight of Casey’s knuckles clenching onto the edge of the counter, going white.
“You’re such a whore in the morning… oh…” Casey went to say, but stopped when Zeke pushed his hand past the waistband of his jockeys, all to take a greedy handful of Casey’s bare ass. “Oh damn…”
Zeke’s breath shuddered as he lowered his mouth down to Casey’s shoulder and started a long, wet suck. Casey took in a sharp breath, then slipped a hand behind himself to push the front of Zeke’s boxers down and take Zeke’s swollen cock in his hand. It made Zeke rub harder, clench his fingertips into Casey’s skin--belly and backside--tighter.
“Fuck you right here… right here…” Zeke growled past his teeth now gnashing into Casey’s flesh. He jerked the underwear down with his wrist, letting it stretch and stay just over Casey’s thighs. When Zeke slid his fingers up and found Casey’s hole, he smiled. Barely any prep was needed, as the boy was still open enough to start with two fingers right off. His impatience was rewarded; after a quick spit for makeshift-lube and a third digit, Zeke pressed his dick carefully inside.
Casey’s knees knocked inwards and he hissed like a cobra. “Nice…” he muttered.
“Just ‘nice’? F-Fucker…” Zeke managed to reply, but lost all voice and vocabulary a moment as he made his first, solid push. “Show you nice…”
“OH Christ!” Casey yelped as the true-fuck began, experimental shoves moving quicker and smoother.
“Oh Jesus.”
Everything stopped. Zeke’s eyes went wide; a voice, not Casey’s, had come from behind them at the kitchen door. Though he hadn’t heard it in months, he recognized it right off.
~*~
Casey had shaken like a leaf in the rush to get his sneakers on, eyes wide with shock and terror. They’d gotten themselves past Zeke’s mother--AND father, to get upstairs and dress, though Zeke didn’t know how. Not a word had been spoken, until Zeke had rushed down the stairs after Casey in just his jeans.
“I’m sorry,” was all Zeke could say before Casey scrambled out the back door. His lower lip trembled as he watched the boy get to the side of the garage, hop on his bike and take off. Zeke stayed quiet and still until the sound of crunching gravel and frantic pedaling disappeared.
“Son…”
Zeke closed his eyes and snarled; he leaned on the doorjamb and rubbed his face with both hands. It was then that a hand fell on his shoulder; the action made his body jolt and head clear.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” he snapped. He turned, trying to keep from looking at his mother as he sped past her. His father was just ahead in the doorway leading to the front of the house, blocking his way. Zeke had to stop, even if for just a moment; he curled in a little, arms wrapping around his chest and stomach defensively. “Lemmee go, get out of my way.”
“Not until we’ve talked--” Mr. Tyler said.
“Not talking. I’m not fuckin’ talking, so get out of my WAY,” Zeke spat back. Before his father could reply, Zeke got by the man, prying himself past him using his arms and shoulders. He was followed, of course, even if he’d practically run up the stairs. As travel-worn as his parents had to be, they were pretty quick in keeping up with him. Zeke didn’t even have the chance to slam his bedroom door behind him, as his father shoved it open with his hand at the last second.
“We come home and find you… having sex in our kitchen, and you think we’re not going to talk? What is WITH you, Ezekiel?”
Oh good fuck, no one called him that, and it annoyed Zeke when someone did. “‘Our’ kitchen? That’s MY goddamned kitchen, and I’ll do whatever I want in it--have dinner, wash dishes, and fuck my boyfriend, DEAL with it.”
“You don’t pay the bills,” Mr. Tyler coldly replied, just as Mrs. Tyler arrived, looking tense and robotic.
“You don’t either!” Zeke yelled. He turned to face the man, though he couldn’t raise his eyes to look at him dead-on. “Sure, you send the cash, but who sends it OUT? Not you.”
“Zeke--” his mother tried.
“Fuckin’ put everything in those damned envelopes, I’ve HAD to for over a year now…”
“Stop your cursing and yelling,” Mr. Tyler warned.
“My house--my fuckin’ house, I’ll do what I want!” Zeke bellowed. “You think you’re gonna come home, give me some parental bullshit for ten seconds and expect a smile?”
“Have you noticed that we haven’t yelled back at you?” Mrs. Tyler interjected. “When we have every RIGHT to--have you?”
“I do what I want here. Mmkay? Because I GET to do what I want. Who’s around to tell me otherwise? Not you. Not you,” he said, shaking his head at each of them respectively. “Jesus, you could’ve called, but--I guess that takes actual effort. Taking a plane home is SUCH a fuckin’ chore already, having to visit your bastard mistake--”
“ZEKE!” Mrs. Tyler screeched.
“WHAT?! What? Did you guys finally get married, have some pretty Parisian wedding?” Zeke interrupted, still bellowing. He watched them glance to each other, sigh in unison and look back to him. Nodding, Zeke almost smiled. “Yea, thought not. So don’t get all ‘Zeke!’ with me, when it’s the goddamned fucking truth. I’ll bet you guys weren’t even in the same place together all this time or took the plane ride with each other. Who got to Ohio first?”
“Stop it, Zeke. Just stop it,” Mr. Tyler said.
“My house,” Zeke stated again.
Silence filled the air at this. All Zeke could do was stare at both of them, wishing them away--wanting to close his eyes, hear a ‘pop’, then find them gone without a trace. Instead, Mr. Tyler held up his hands and looked away. “We’re going to go unpack,” he said. He left the doorway first; the steely-eyed gaze Zeke set on his mother made her turn away and follow after the man.
~*~
“They’re not gonna… tell my parents, are they?” was the first thing Casey said after picking up and giving a nervous-sounding ‘Hello?’.
Zeke bit his lip and pushed the phone harder against his ear. The shake in Casey’s voice made him want to cry. “Highly-fucking-doubt it, Case. I’ll make sure it doesn’t even cross their minds, ‘k?”
“Okay,” Casey softly replied.
“Are you all right?”
“No… you?”
“Fuck no,” Zeke grumbled. His hair felt like it was going to rip out from his scalp with the way he was tugging at it.
“Are they still there?” Casey asked.
“They’re gonna be here for the whole weekend, so yea,” Zeke told him.
“Oh.”
Zeke looked towards the kitchen, where he could hear his parents ambling around; they were cooking something and mumbling to each other, most likely about their new ‘find’. “I hadn’t planned on this, Case. Okay? So don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, Zeke. I’m not stupid,” Casey groaned out.
It was then that Mrs. Tyler walked in with tentative steps. “Zeke?”
“I’m on the phone--do you mind?” Zeke snapped back. She gave him a hurt look and turned her head.
“I just wanted to know where you put the salt,” she said.
Zeke groaned and turned back to his phone conversation. “Gotta go.”
“Okay… bye.”
“Bye,” Zeke replied, wishing he could’ve said something sweeter, like he was used to doing. Instead, he clicked the phone off and dropped his hands listlessly. “It’s in the pantry, I think. I moved a bunch of shit since you’ve been gone.”
“I’d figured; it took me forever to find the silverware,” she replied, seemingly trying to sound light and casual. She was fighting a smile onto her face as well, but when Zeke didn’t show one back, it faded away. “Well… we’re making some pasta for dinner. I would’ve made better, but you haven’t gotten much lately. Did we send enough for groceries last month, or did you need--”
“I can’t cook for shit, I get takeout most of the time,” Zeke interrupted. He looked to her through slits of eyes. “Wanna tell me what a waste of cash that is? You can, if you want--play pretend like you’re my mom, or something.”
Mrs. Tyler pursed her lips tight, turned away and went back into the kitchen.
~*~
Zeke didn’t say word one through the awkward, stilted dinner he shared with his equally silent parents. No one seemed willing to talk, but Zeke knew that they’d barrage him--and soon--at some point or another.
‘Like they have that right,’ he thought to himself as he sat alone on his porch-swing. He stared out onto the street, the bright, orange glow of the sunset making him feel hypnotized. It was only five-of-seven. Fall was arriving at a rapid pace, showing off such with leaves starting to turn color and the light flannel shirt Zeke had put on. He was just feeling comfortable when he heard the screen door open. His father stepped out; Zeke didn’t know by looking, which he refused to do. He could smell the cigar smoke, could hear the low rumble of the man’s throat clearing as he approached.
“We, erm… your mother found a few papers on the living room table,” Mr. Tyler said as he sat in the old, battered armchair nearby. Zeke didn’t reply any which-way, so he continued. “A few tests from school, and such.”
Zeke shrugged and kept staring ahead, feeling numb. “Uh huh.”
“They were all A’s, except for one--English Lit.”
“Ms. Burke is a bitch--she’s wanted me, and can’t have me. Told her so myself a few weeks ago,” Zeke blurted.
This revelation had Mr. Tyler fall mute for a few moments, but not for long. He wrung his hands and sucked in his lower lip before going on. “Well, either way… it’s great to see. MORE than great, really. You’ve come a long way since last year; we’re proud of you.”
“That’s thanks to Casey,” Zeke said. The small confused look Mr. Tyler wore made Zeke roll his eyes. “He’s the one you ‘met’ in the kitchen.”
“Oh. You hadn’t told us his name.”
“No, I hadn’t. So if you think that you had anything to do with my ‘educational awakening’, think again.”
“I never said…” Mr. Tyler started, but stopped abruptly to take a heavy, deep breath. “This is awkward.”
“No shit, eh?”
“Can we stop with the sarcasm and pissiness, please? It’s getting tiresome.”
Zeke scrunched up his nose and hissed lightly. He then shrugged, brought of his cigarettes and put one to his lips; he grunted while lighting it. “So… what comes first? Some belated sex-talk, or how I shouldn’t ‘fag around’?” Zeke mumbled past the filter stuck in his mouth. “I don’t know your views on either, actually. It was Mom that tried the whole birds and bees chat when I was fifteen… and I’d already gotten laid by that point.”
“If you’re trying to shock me, it isn’t working. We reached that peak a few hours ago,” Mr. Tyler replied. Zeke blinked against the wave of smoke that rose up to his face and eyes; the man went on. “It’s not as if me and your mother haven’t ‘lived’, Zeke. We’ve had our share of… romances, what have you…”
“‘Romances’? Funny way of putting it. Maybe try ‘orgies’, or whatever else I’d come across when I’d come down to one of your parties.”
“All right, we’d never had anything like that--”
“Maybe the clothes stayed on, but it was kinda fucked up to watch your mom make out with some guy you didn’t know. Then again, that was before I understood that not all parents got married… just everyone else’s but mine, but not all,” Zeke said. He turned to face his father and bit his lip. “I dunno how kids at school found out what being a ‘bastard’ meant, but that knowledge seemed to come at the same time they found out how my mom and dad had never tied the knot. And who knows how they found THAT out.”
“We don’t care if you want to have sex with guys, Zeke. If that’s your thing, that’s your thing,” Mr. Tyler rushed out, before Zeke could interrupt. “Just… really, why the kitchen?”
“Why NOT the kitchen? Why not the backyard, the den, my lab, living room… why not?” Zeke coldly replied. “Until today, I didn’t have to lock my bedroom door for privacy.”
Mr. Tyler tightened his jaw, looked away and leaned forward onto his thighs. He took a long puff from his cigar, finding it snuffed out. “Damn,” he muttered. He made a quick clip of the tip and re-lit it, shaking his head to himself. Once he was settled back into the chair, he sighed. “We came home… because come next week, I’m coming home to stay.”
“Uh…” Zeke uttered. “What?”
“Yea.”
“Stay, like--move back in?”
Rolling his eyes a little, Mr. Tyler grunted. “I’ve never really ‘moved out’.”
“May as well have,” Zeke replied. “So what--dad of the year’s your new goal? Maybe I like living alone, ever think of that?”
“Well, you’re not going to be a ‘teen bachelor’ anymore. Not after next Sunday.”
The small shock of this started edging its way into Zeke’s brain. It’d been over a year now, with only one or two visits from--these two, that he’d been alone. “You think you can just come back like that,” he murmured.
“I’m your father.”
“And what about mom?” Zeke said. Mr. Tyler pursed his lips again and glanced to the front door. His silence was enough. “Yea, thought not. She’s probably got a few boyfriends back in China to get back to, or something.”
“Your mother’s your mother, and I don’t hold anything against her.”
“I sure as fuck do. You too,” Zeke said.
“You’re supposed to,” the man replied. “But I’m coming home. I moved the firm out as close as I could, because I need to be home. For you… and for me.”
“Yea?”
“Yea. Your mother hasn’t grown up, but I have.”
Zeke clucked his tongue and took a large drag. Smoke curled out of his mouth as he scoffed lightly. “Took you long enough.”
It was a surprise to see his father smile, even if it was so small, it was almost invisible. “I’m going on fifty… time to smell the coffee.”
There was a sudden, small acceptance now; something actually felt right about this, even if Zeke didn’t recognize it right off. But one concern reared its head through the haze. “Not a word to Casey’s parents. They don’t know… anything. Anything at all. They think he’s still got a thing for the head cheerleader, and that I’m just his best friend.”
“He’s welcome here anytime--I’m not gonna make a rule against that. Just… well, keep it in the bedroom, maybe,” Mr. Tyler replied, his smile growing. “No worries, Zeke. I won’t interfere like that, as long as you’re both… safe, and stuff.”
Zeke rolled his eyes, but felt a smile creep onto his face all the same. “Right.”
~*~
Two Weeks Later
“I can’t believe it…” Casey said past the straw sticking out of his milkshake.
“What?”
“You have a curfew.”
Zeke grumbled to himself as he turned the engine of the car on. It was pretty unbelievable for him to take in, as well. Taking a quick look to the clock on his dash, he found the time at ten-thirty. He‘d be getting Casey back earlier than usual, tonight. “Party’s over… ‘til graduation, at least. Dad might let up then.”
“And it’s better than mine, anyway. Even if it’s only by an hour,” Casey sighed out.
“Still sucks,” Zeke said.
“Well, hey… at least you won’t get lonely, going home so late after dropping my ass off,” Casey said. “Your dad ain’t so bad, either.”
“No… not that bad,” Zeke said. If he were to be perfectly honest, he’d have added, ‘He’s actually pretty awesome,’ but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Once home again, it was a sure bet that Zeke would be staying up with the man a while, catching the tail-end of a football game and eating chips. It was something permanent; gone was the paranoia that Zeke would come home to an empty house, where he’d be driven crazy by pin-dropping silence. Even his dad’s snoring was a welcome noise.
They arrived at Casey’s street quicker than Zeke would’ve liked, but he smiled anyway. “Dad’s gonna go out with some friends tomorrow night to catch up and stuff. It’s Friday… think your parents’ll let you over for the night?”
“Sure--I can ask,” Casey replied.
Once in front of his house, they looked over to the porch; the lights were on in the living room, but it looked safe enough to share a small kiss goodbye. Casey stayed still a moment, however, looking into his lap. “I wish I could tell them… you’re lucky. Your dad doesn’t mind us… y’know,” he haltingly said.
“I dunno, Case. I’ve seen your mom watching us,” Zeke said. “Your dad’s not so bad, either; not like you say.”
“Pfft… suddenly, Zeke Tyler knows all about parents, huh?” Casey teased.
“Eh,” Zeke shrugged.
“Maybe someday,” Casey mumbled. “But not now.”
“Whatever you want, Case,” Zeke said. He reached to Casey’s face and stroked his thumb by his ear. The boy turned with a smile, leaned in and took Zeke’s lips to his. The kiss was soft, sweet--and quicker than Zeke would’ve liked, but when one of the front curtains went back and Mr. Connor’s face showed through, Zeke backed off. “Dad.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’ll tell ‘em tonight,” he said with a smile.
“Whatever,” Zeke reiterated. He gave Casey a wink and watched him leave the car, go up the walk and to the front door.
And moments after he’d gotten through his own front door, Zeke’s hand was deep in a bowl of chips, the other one given a beer. He’d get just one, every now and again, but the feel of his dad giving him a friendly cuff to his neck, or having the man grin wide at a perfect-paper from school was better than Zeke drinking a six-pack, by himself.
Pairing/Characters: C/Z, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler
Rating: NC-17
Keywords: (none)
Synopsis: For frodosweetstuff... Zeke's parents are let in on a few things.
It was always a little more raw like this… always a little better, really, as the bed would get boring, and being completely naked was way too straightforward. When Casey had walked into the kitchen, yawning, scratching his balls and mumbling a “g’mo’nin”, Zeke decided that he wasn’t hungry anymore; not for Cocoa-Puffs and coffee, anyway. Zeke had stood up, walked over and taken Casey’s hips in his hands, just as Casey had gotten to the sink and turned on the tap. As Zeke began rubbing around to Casey’s belly, the boy chuckled lightly.
“Just woke up, baby,” Casey had sighed out.
“And that’s stopped me… when?”
“Maybe it’s time you learned…”
It hadn’t been, of course. Zeke always got his way in the end. The moment he’d started rubbing his hard shaft onto Casey’s ass, he knew the boy would relent, yet again. So warm--Zeke groaned deep in his throat, feeling the chafe of his boxers sliding over Casey’s underwear. The cloth was pressed hard into Casey’s cleft, and Zeke smiled shakily at the sight of Casey’s knuckles clenching onto the edge of the counter, going white.
“You’re such a whore in the morning… oh…” Casey went to say, but stopped when Zeke pushed his hand past the waistband of his jockeys, all to take a greedy handful of Casey’s bare ass. “Oh damn…”
Zeke’s breath shuddered as he lowered his mouth down to Casey’s shoulder and started a long, wet suck. Casey took in a sharp breath, then slipped a hand behind himself to push the front of Zeke’s boxers down and take Zeke’s swollen cock in his hand. It made Zeke rub harder, clench his fingertips into Casey’s skin--belly and backside--tighter.
“Fuck you right here… right here…” Zeke growled past his teeth now gnashing into Casey’s flesh. He jerked the underwear down with his wrist, letting it stretch and stay just over Casey’s thighs. When Zeke slid his fingers up and found Casey’s hole, he smiled. Barely any prep was needed, as the boy was still open enough to start with two fingers right off. His impatience was rewarded; after a quick spit for makeshift-lube and a third digit, Zeke pressed his dick carefully inside.
Casey’s knees knocked inwards and he hissed like a cobra. “Nice…” he muttered.
“Just ‘nice’? F-Fucker…” Zeke managed to reply, but lost all voice and vocabulary a moment as he made his first, solid push. “Show you nice…”
“OH Christ!” Casey yelped as the true-fuck began, experimental shoves moving quicker and smoother.
“Oh Jesus.”
Everything stopped. Zeke’s eyes went wide; a voice, not Casey’s, had come from behind them at the kitchen door. Though he hadn’t heard it in months, he recognized it right off.
~*~
Casey had shaken like a leaf in the rush to get his sneakers on, eyes wide with shock and terror. They’d gotten themselves past Zeke’s mother--AND father, to get upstairs and dress, though Zeke didn’t know how. Not a word had been spoken, until Zeke had rushed down the stairs after Casey in just his jeans.
“I’m sorry,” was all Zeke could say before Casey scrambled out the back door. His lower lip trembled as he watched the boy get to the side of the garage, hop on his bike and take off. Zeke stayed quiet and still until the sound of crunching gravel and frantic pedaling disappeared.
“Son…”
Zeke closed his eyes and snarled; he leaned on the doorjamb and rubbed his face with both hands. It was then that a hand fell on his shoulder; the action made his body jolt and head clear.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” he snapped. He turned, trying to keep from looking at his mother as he sped past her. His father was just ahead in the doorway leading to the front of the house, blocking his way. Zeke had to stop, even if for just a moment; he curled in a little, arms wrapping around his chest and stomach defensively. “Lemmee go, get out of my way.”
“Not until we’ve talked--” Mr. Tyler said.
“Not talking. I’m not fuckin’ talking, so get out of my WAY,” Zeke spat back. Before his father could reply, Zeke got by the man, prying himself past him using his arms and shoulders. He was followed, of course, even if he’d practically run up the stairs. As travel-worn as his parents had to be, they were pretty quick in keeping up with him. Zeke didn’t even have the chance to slam his bedroom door behind him, as his father shoved it open with his hand at the last second.
“We come home and find you… having sex in our kitchen, and you think we’re not going to talk? What is WITH you, Ezekiel?”
Oh good fuck, no one called him that, and it annoyed Zeke when someone did. “‘Our’ kitchen? That’s MY goddamned kitchen, and I’ll do whatever I want in it--have dinner, wash dishes, and fuck my boyfriend, DEAL with it.”
“You don’t pay the bills,” Mr. Tyler coldly replied, just as Mrs. Tyler arrived, looking tense and robotic.
“You don’t either!” Zeke yelled. He turned to face the man, though he couldn’t raise his eyes to look at him dead-on. “Sure, you send the cash, but who sends it OUT? Not you.”
“Zeke--” his mother tried.
“Fuckin’ put everything in those damned envelopes, I’ve HAD to for over a year now…”
“Stop your cursing and yelling,” Mr. Tyler warned.
“My house--my fuckin’ house, I’ll do what I want!” Zeke bellowed. “You think you’re gonna come home, give me some parental bullshit for ten seconds and expect a smile?”
“Have you noticed that we haven’t yelled back at you?” Mrs. Tyler interjected. “When we have every RIGHT to--have you?”
“I do what I want here. Mmkay? Because I GET to do what I want. Who’s around to tell me otherwise? Not you. Not you,” he said, shaking his head at each of them respectively. “Jesus, you could’ve called, but--I guess that takes actual effort. Taking a plane home is SUCH a fuckin’ chore already, having to visit your bastard mistake--”
“ZEKE!” Mrs. Tyler screeched.
“WHAT?! What? Did you guys finally get married, have some pretty Parisian wedding?” Zeke interrupted, still bellowing. He watched them glance to each other, sigh in unison and look back to him. Nodding, Zeke almost smiled. “Yea, thought not. So don’t get all ‘Zeke!’ with me, when it’s the goddamned fucking truth. I’ll bet you guys weren’t even in the same place together all this time or took the plane ride with each other. Who got to Ohio first?”
“Stop it, Zeke. Just stop it,” Mr. Tyler said.
“My house,” Zeke stated again.
Silence filled the air at this. All Zeke could do was stare at both of them, wishing them away--wanting to close his eyes, hear a ‘pop’, then find them gone without a trace. Instead, Mr. Tyler held up his hands and looked away. “We’re going to go unpack,” he said. He left the doorway first; the steely-eyed gaze Zeke set on his mother made her turn away and follow after the man.
~*~
“They’re not gonna… tell my parents, are they?” was the first thing Casey said after picking up and giving a nervous-sounding ‘Hello?’.
Zeke bit his lip and pushed the phone harder against his ear. The shake in Casey’s voice made him want to cry. “Highly-fucking-doubt it, Case. I’ll make sure it doesn’t even cross their minds, ‘k?”
“Okay,” Casey softly replied.
“Are you all right?”
“No… you?”
“Fuck no,” Zeke grumbled. His hair felt like it was going to rip out from his scalp with the way he was tugging at it.
“Are they still there?” Casey asked.
“They’re gonna be here for the whole weekend, so yea,” Zeke told him.
“Oh.”
Zeke looked towards the kitchen, where he could hear his parents ambling around; they were cooking something and mumbling to each other, most likely about their new ‘find’. “I hadn’t planned on this, Case. Okay? So don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, Zeke. I’m not stupid,” Casey groaned out.
It was then that Mrs. Tyler walked in with tentative steps. “Zeke?”
“I’m on the phone--do you mind?” Zeke snapped back. She gave him a hurt look and turned her head.
“I just wanted to know where you put the salt,” she said.
Zeke groaned and turned back to his phone conversation. “Gotta go.”
“Okay… bye.”
“Bye,” Zeke replied, wishing he could’ve said something sweeter, like he was used to doing. Instead, he clicked the phone off and dropped his hands listlessly. “It’s in the pantry, I think. I moved a bunch of shit since you’ve been gone.”
“I’d figured; it took me forever to find the silverware,” she replied, seemingly trying to sound light and casual. She was fighting a smile onto her face as well, but when Zeke didn’t show one back, it faded away. “Well… we’re making some pasta for dinner. I would’ve made better, but you haven’t gotten much lately. Did we send enough for groceries last month, or did you need--”
“I can’t cook for shit, I get takeout most of the time,” Zeke interrupted. He looked to her through slits of eyes. “Wanna tell me what a waste of cash that is? You can, if you want--play pretend like you’re my mom, or something.”
Mrs. Tyler pursed her lips tight, turned away and went back into the kitchen.
~*~
Zeke didn’t say word one through the awkward, stilted dinner he shared with his equally silent parents. No one seemed willing to talk, but Zeke knew that they’d barrage him--and soon--at some point or another.
‘Like they have that right,’ he thought to himself as he sat alone on his porch-swing. He stared out onto the street, the bright, orange glow of the sunset making him feel hypnotized. It was only five-of-seven. Fall was arriving at a rapid pace, showing off such with leaves starting to turn color and the light flannel shirt Zeke had put on. He was just feeling comfortable when he heard the screen door open. His father stepped out; Zeke didn’t know by looking, which he refused to do. He could smell the cigar smoke, could hear the low rumble of the man’s throat clearing as he approached.
“We, erm… your mother found a few papers on the living room table,” Mr. Tyler said as he sat in the old, battered armchair nearby. Zeke didn’t reply any which-way, so he continued. “A few tests from school, and such.”
Zeke shrugged and kept staring ahead, feeling numb. “Uh huh.”
“They were all A’s, except for one--English Lit.”
“Ms. Burke is a bitch--she’s wanted me, and can’t have me. Told her so myself a few weeks ago,” Zeke blurted.
This revelation had Mr. Tyler fall mute for a few moments, but not for long. He wrung his hands and sucked in his lower lip before going on. “Well, either way… it’s great to see. MORE than great, really. You’ve come a long way since last year; we’re proud of you.”
“That’s thanks to Casey,” Zeke said. The small confused look Mr. Tyler wore made Zeke roll his eyes. “He’s the one you ‘met’ in the kitchen.”
“Oh. You hadn’t told us his name.”
“No, I hadn’t. So if you think that you had anything to do with my ‘educational awakening’, think again.”
“I never said…” Mr. Tyler started, but stopped abruptly to take a heavy, deep breath. “This is awkward.”
“No shit, eh?”
“Can we stop with the sarcasm and pissiness, please? It’s getting tiresome.”
Zeke scrunched up his nose and hissed lightly. He then shrugged, brought of his cigarettes and put one to his lips; he grunted while lighting it. “So… what comes first? Some belated sex-talk, or how I shouldn’t ‘fag around’?” Zeke mumbled past the filter stuck in his mouth. “I don’t know your views on either, actually. It was Mom that tried the whole birds and bees chat when I was fifteen… and I’d already gotten laid by that point.”
“If you’re trying to shock me, it isn’t working. We reached that peak a few hours ago,” Mr. Tyler replied. Zeke blinked against the wave of smoke that rose up to his face and eyes; the man went on. “It’s not as if me and your mother haven’t ‘lived’, Zeke. We’ve had our share of… romances, what have you…”
“‘Romances’? Funny way of putting it. Maybe try ‘orgies’, or whatever else I’d come across when I’d come down to one of your parties.”
“All right, we’d never had anything like that--”
“Maybe the clothes stayed on, but it was kinda fucked up to watch your mom make out with some guy you didn’t know. Then again, that was before I understood that not all parents got married… just everyone else’s but mine, but not all,” Zeke said. He turned to face his father and bit his lip. “I dunno how kids at school found out what being a ‘bastard’ meant, but that knowledge seemed to come at the same time they found out how my mom and dad had never tied the knot. And who knows how they found THAT out.”
“We don’t care if you want to have sex with guys, Zeke. If that’s your thing, that’s your thing,” Mr. Tyler rushed out, before Zeke could interrupt. “Just… really, why the kitchen?”
“Why NOT the kitchen? Why not the backyard, the den, my lab, living room… why not?” Zeke coldly replied. “Until today, I didn’t have to lock my bedroom door for privacy.”
Mr. Tyler tightened his jaw, looked away and leaned forward onto his thighs. He took a long puff from his cigar, finding it snuffed out. “Damn,” he muttered. He made a quick clip of the tip and re-lit it, shaking his head to himself. Once he was settled back into the chair, he sighed. “We came home… because come next week, I’m coming home to stay.”
“Uh…” Zeke uttered. “What?”
“Yea.”
“Stay, like--move back in?”
Rolling his eyes a little, Mr. Tyler grunted. “I’ve never really ‘moved out’.”
“May as well have,” Zeke replied. “So what--dad of the year’s your new goal? Maybe I like living alone, ever think of that?”
“Well, you’re not going to be a ‘teen bachelor’ anymore. Not after next Sunday.”
The small shock of this started edging its way into Zeke’s brain. It’d been over a year now, with only one or two visits from--these two, that he’d been alone. “You think you can just come back like that,” he murmured.
“I’m your father.”
“And what about mom?” Zeke said. Mr. Tyler pursed his lips again and glanced to the front door. His silence was enough. “Yea, thought not. She’s probably got a few boyfriends back in China to get back to, or something.”
“Your mother’s your mother, and I don’t hold anything against her.”
“I sure as fuck do. You too,” Zeke said.
“You’re supposed to,” the man replied. “But I’m coming home. I moved the firm out as close as I could, because I need to be home. For you… and for me.”
“Yea?”
“Yea. Your mother hasn’t grown up, but I have.”
Zeke clucked his tongue and took a large drag. Smoke curled out of his mouth as he scoffed lightly. “Took you long enough.”
It was a surprise to see his father smile, even if it was so small, it was almost invisible. “I’m going on fifty… time to smell the coffee.”
There was a sudden, small acceptance now; something actually felt right about this, even if Zeke didn’t recognize it right off. But one concern reared its head through the haze. “Not a word to Casey’s parents. They don’t know… anything. Anything at all. They think he’s still got a thing for the head cheerleader, and that I’m just his best friend.”
“He’s welcome here anytime--I’m not gonna make a rule against that. Just… well, keep it in the bedroom, maybe,” Mr. Tyler replied, his smile growing. “No worries, Zeke. I won’t interfere like that, as long as you’re both… safe, and stuff.”
Zeke rolled his eyes, but felt a smile creep onto his face all the same. “Right.”
~*~
Two Weeks Later
“I can’t believe it…” Casey said past the straw sticking out of his milkshake.
“What?”
“You have a curfew.”
Zeke grumbled to himself as he turned the engine of the car on. It was pretty unbelievable for him to take in, as well. Taking a quick look to the clock on his dash, he found the time at ten-thirty. He‘d be getting Casey back earlier than usual, tonight. “Party’s over… ‘til graduation, at least. Dad might let up then.”
“And it’s better than mine, anyway. Even if it’s only by an hour,” Casey sighed out.
“Still sucks,” Zeke said.
“Well, hey… at least you won’t get lonely, going home so late after dropping my ass off,” Casey said. “Your dad ain’t so bad, either.”
“No… not that bad,” Zeke said. If he were to be perfectly honest, he’d have added, ‘He’s actually pretty awesome,’ but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Once home again, it was a sure bet that Zeke would be staying up with the man a while, catching the tail-end of a football game and eating chips. It was something permanent; gone was the paranoia that Zeke would come home to an empty house, where he’d be driven crazy by pin-dropping silence. Even his dad’s snoring was a welcome noise.
They arrived at Casey’s street quicker than Zeke would’ve liked, but he smiled anyway. “Dad’s gonna go out with some friends tomorrow night to catch up and stuff. It’s Friday… think your parents’ll let you over for the night?”
“Sure--I can ask,” Casey replied.
Once in front of his house, they looked over to the porch; the lights were on in the living room, but it looked safe enough to share a small kiss goodbye. Casey stayed still a moment, however, looking into his lap. “I wish I could tell them… you’re lucky. Your dad doesn’t mind us… y’know,” he haltingly said.
“I dunno, Case. I’ve seen your mom watching us,” Zeke said. “Your dad’s not so bad, either; not like you say.”
“Pfft… suddenly, Zeke Tyler knows all about parents, huh?” Casey teased.
“Eh,” Zeke shrugged.
“Maybe someday,” Casey mumbled. “But not now.”
“Whatever you want, Case,” Zeke said. He reached to Casey’s face and stroked his thumb by his ear. The boy turned with a smile, leaned in and took Zeke’s lips to his. The kiss was soft, sweet--and quicker than Zeke would’ve liked, but when one of the front curtains went back and Mr. Connor’s face showed through, Zeke backed off. “Dad.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’ll tell ‘em tonight,” he said with a smile.
“Whatever,” Zeke reiterated. He gave Casey a wink and watched him leave the car, go up the walk and to the front door.
And moments after he’d gotten through his own front door, Zeke’s hand was deep in a bowl of chips, the other one given a beer. He’d get just one, every now and again, but the feel of his dad giving him a friendly cuff to his neck, or having the man grin wide at a perfect-paper from school was better than Zeke drinking a six-pack, by himself.