Sidestory:
Meet the Parents
They were in the park downtown near sunset, with the sky deepening into dusk. It was on the pretense of feeding ducks, an oddly endearing action, although with Jace attempting to bean the ducks with pieces of bread it lost most of its romanticism.
"Fucking ducks," she said idly, resting her head on her hand and staring disgustedly at a particularly wily duck and turning to her partner. "If I was a duck, I wouldn't eat mouldy breadcrumbs. I'd eat... what do ducks eat?"
Tossing the final piece of his own stash of bread at the ducks, Jack shrugged. "Plants?" he suggested. "I think I saw them at the whatchacallit... Watercress?"
"That doesn't sound too appetizing. Screw that. I'd never be a duck."
Jack slouched backwards on the park bench, giving her declaration some thought. "They eat what they eat," he finally answered. "You don’t have to. To be honest, never gave too much thought to what I wouldn't eat," he added.
Jace looked back at him, her position idle in her wheelchair next to the bench. "There must be some food you don't like, man."
Again Jack shrugged. "Not really." He turned slightly in his seat and half-smiled at his friend. "Heck, I actually like Mickey D's food and I've got Taco Bell in the fridge."
"And you still verge on thin and snappable? That's disgusting. Think of all that processed fat. Don't you cook or anything?"
"Well, I can do a decent omelet."
Her glare was withering. "Omelets isn't food. It's egg froth."
Jack shrugged, not fazed in the slightest by the Glare. "I put other stuff in it, too. Meat, veggies, cheese."
"Ugh!" Jace dramatically tossed her head back, combing through her crimson bangs absently. "Come on. That's shit and nothing. You need more protein, milk, and vitamins, as according to the bible set by Mama Kellen."
"Your mom cooks?" The childish wonder in Jack's voice would have been comical if his deep green eyes didn't reflect a barely tangible sadness as he turned to face his friend.
She looked at him curiously, searching his face before nodding, a smile breaking the usual stone-etched sardonic twist to her lips. "Yeah. All the time. Full dinners, breakfasts, and Saturday's baking day, regular as clockwork. I think she has this sort of panic that if she doesn't choke me and Dad full of food we'll die horribly."
"A mom and a dad and home-cooking," he commented softly. "Sounds nice."
"You don't get that sort of stuff?" The redhead settled back comfortably. "I should take you home. You can have mine. You'll be drowning in home-cooking and my parents before I can say jump."
"Eh, I don't want to bother you," Jack replied, raking a thin hand through his hair. "As for my... Parents..." He shrugged. "They weren't really... You know."
"You look like you need some good old-fashioned Kellen cooking. You look like your parents kept you in a cage with only bones to eat. Thin, unfattening bones. My mom would probably try to rupture your stomach."
Jack chuckled suddenly. "I doubt it. Bottomless pit," he announced mildly, patting his flat stomach for clarification purposes.
"You obviously haven't gone up against my mom's cooking. She should be Iron Chef Overdose."
Angling a half-smile at his friend, Jack raised a dark eyebrow. "Bring it on," he replied shortly.
"Hah. This Saturday. Your stomach versus Kellen cookery!"
Frowning slightly, Jack studied her. "You serious?" he asked. "Sure your parents wouldn't mind?"
"God, no. If I've heard, 'Jace, why don't you bring one of your little friends home for dinner?' once, I've heard it too many damn times." Pausing, she wrinkled her nose. "Sure you want to be exposed to my parents? They bred me, remember."
A sudden, winning smile broke out over Jack's thin face at the comment. "Well, I was gonna have to thank them sooner or later, right?" he replied, somehow managing to keep any sarcasm out of it.
Jace groaned, although she couldn't help laughing at Jack's full-on unavoidable Smile. "Ha, ha, ha. You suck!"
"Okay, then." Jack's smile dimmed naturally and he shrugged. "If you're sure about dinner then..."
"Of course I'm sure. You look thin and strung-out enough as it is. If you're sure about the horrors of meeting the Kellen Inquisition double team, then I can damn well stand you coming over for dinner, okay?"
"Then you have yourself a dinner guest." Jack stretched and rolled his shoulders back. "What night was that again?"
"Saturday. Come at six-thirty. Don't wear anything that reveals tattoos, don't wear leather unless you want to impress me, just wear anything else, they won't care - unless you come wrapped nude in a Republican flag or something. Capiche?" She beamed at him sunnily.
Jack nodded, returning her smile at a lower wattage. "No tattoos, no leather. Gotcha."
The redhead turned back to the ducks, trying not to look too pleased. "Now... hey, d'you think I could hit that one over there?"
Saturday night found Jack fidgeting on the Kellens’ front doorstep. Again, he glanced down at his ensemble, his usual mixture of jeans, t-shirt, and button-up. This time, however, it was all perfectly clean and pressed and matching. Sure, she had said wear anything but maybe he should have dug out his khakis for this occasion. Finally, he pressed the doorbell with a sigh. Too late now.
After a pause, there was a familiar shriek from the inside consisting of a frantic, "I'll get it, Mom!" - but to no avail. The door was opened by a medium-sized lady in her thirties or forties, with dark hair up in a bun at the nape of her neck and soft peach-colored eyes. Her face was different to Jace's, soft and rounded rather than angular, but there was the same sort of look to her.
She smiled at Jack warmly, suppressing a grin, a long pale skirt floating around her feet as she stepped back and gestured. "You must be Jack. Won't you come in? I'm Emily, Jace's mother."
Bowing slightly, Jack extended his hand politely, still hesitating on the doorstep. "How do you do, ma'am?" he murmured softly.
She shook his hand, her touch soft. "Call me Emily, Jack. Or Mrs. Kellen if you feel more comfortable with that. It's so nice to see a young man like yourself with manners nowadays, when - "
"When your own daughter swears like a drunk and would get kicked out of public places if she didn't rack up sympathy points?" Jace moved in beside her mother, appearing at the doorway in her wheelchair. Her spiky bangs were slightly damp, obviously from a shower, and she was wearing a neutral forest-green tank top with extremely cutoff jean shorts. Her cheeks were slightly flushed. "Just let the man into our house, Mom. You're making him stand outside like a hobo."
"As I was saying," her mother continued mildly, "won't you come in?"
Nodding, Jack stepped through the door obediently. "Thank you, Mrs. Kellen." Then he shot a lop-sided grin at his red-headed friend. "Not too early, am I, Jace?" he asked.
"Hell, no. You're fine." She sniffed the air pointedly. "Mom, I left Dad watching the food. It might be charcoal by now."
"Oh, dear. Excuse me." A worried look crossed Emily's face and she hurried back in the direction of the kitchen. Jace snickered happily and closed the door behind him.
"Ignore the decor," she said immediately. Obviously it was a sore point with her; there seemed to be a lot of pastel with ceramic figurines, most of them cute little animals. Not a lot of it matched, except for the universal lack of raised surfaces and a mildly concealed handrail in places. "My mom decided she liked the look of Tacky Weekly mixed with the too-trendy handicapped ideal. Want a drink?"
"If it's not too much trouble." Jack rolled his shoulders as he glanced about the room again. "I'm betting your territory looks different, huh?" he added lightly.
"Hah. Of course." Jace wheeled her chair forward from the lounge. "Down the hall, last room on the right. Why don't you go there whilst I get us some crappy soda? That way you avoid my mom and dad for as long as humanely possible."
Jack chuckled gently. "They can't be that bad," he answered. Then he obediently set off for the indicated room.
Jace's door was open when he got there, and it was an incredible contrast to the comfortably tacky decor of the rest of the Kellen residence. It was pure, undiluted Jace, and somehow sacred; not many people would have ever come in here.
The carpet was dark grey and worn, in some places with wheelchair tracks, and the walls were colored with abstract orange wash; the color of mandarins, or a sunset, but the watercolor just-thrown-on-water effect of it didn't make it bright enough to hurt the eyes. One half of her wall was a large window, stretching down from the ceiling to waist-level, flooding it with light. The progressively setting sun shone on the shelves in the corner - they were stocked heavily with weights and other exercise miscellany, and were as bright as if the girl polished them possessively each day. The only other noteable item was a shelf filled with books, a worn desk with 'FLEMING SUXORS' written across it, and a haphazardly made bed. Her pillow was lumpy, but this was probably because she'd hid a stuffed animal beneath it. There was some tiny writing in small black pen on the wall next to her desk, but Jack couldn't make it out from the doorway.
Wow, it was very Jace, Jack thought, looking around with a faintly amused smile. Hesitantly, he picked his way forward into the room. He wasn't quite sure of how far in he could go, how comfortable he could make himself before Jace would object. Noticing the tiny writing, he forced his eyes away. Something that small was bound to be private. Finally, he pulled out the desk chair and slouched into it, still careful to keep his eyes away from the writing on the wall. You know what they say about writing on the wall, he thought with a silent chuckle. If you don't read, plead ignorance.
Jace reappeared a few minutes later, two glasses of coke balanced on a tray in her lap as she carefully navigated her way inside.
"What do you think of my abode?" she asked, handing him one of them and closing the door.
"Nice," Jack answered simply. Then he sipped at the drink handed to him. "Thanks, by the way. For the drink."
"Don't thank me. Coke's got so much acid in it that if you put your teeth in it they'd be dissolved in two days." Notwithstanding, she took a long drink of it. "However, you're welcome."
Jack cocked an eyebrow at his friend. "'Zat true?" he asked, holding the glass away from him and studying the dark liquid within. "Huh. Lesson learned. We don't ask what's in our favorite foods."
"Yeah. Or we'd most likely eat nothing but nuts and berries." Jace took another long sip and managed to finish the drink, setting the glass down. "Speaking of favorite foods, hope you don't have any aversion to dinner - though, knowing you, you'd eat pond scum and gorilla feet if you didn't know what it was."
Jack shrugged good-naturedly. "Hey, I'm easy."
"Really? Because I've heard pimping is a damn good way of earning money and most of the Graikos girls look like they want to get in your pants, so if we just dress you in something tacky and charge them fifty bucks a pop - "
She could hardly believe it but there it was; Jack was coloring ever so slightly, his cheeks tinting pink at her comments. After a moment, he swallowed and shook his head. "No way, Jace," he muttered. "You're joking. Badly."
The redhead burst out in peals of laughter. "Oh, damn. There goes all job opportunity. You're such a disappointment, Reilly."
Pushing dark hair out of his eyes, he squirmed slightly. "Sorry but it's the truth, you know. Nobody'd bite at that line of sales, Jace."
She wheeled herself forward and put her hands behind her head, resting. "And I think you underestimate how easily sellable you'd look in tight leather pants. However, we'll close the issue whilst I have time to buy rohypnol to carry it out later."
"Closed." Jack shifted in the hard chair and glanced around the room again. "So what's the new topic then?"
"Hmm..." Jace looked outside. "Anything like your old home? What was your room like?"
"Um, big." Standing, he moved across the room to look out the window. "I had a nice view of the garden... But it wasn't bright like this one." Jack turned back to Jace and shrugged. "This is happier," he murmured. "Colors-wise," he added quickly, catching her look of puzzlement.
"What, you did it all goth-black?"
"Nah, it was just plain white. Boring."
"And you the artist?" Her brow furrowed. "Geez, boy."
Jack shifted slightly, forcing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Finally, he shrugged. "My dad was a bit... Strict on any, uh, decorating choices."
"Freaking color nazi," Jace said cheerfully. "You should have kicked his ass."
Smiling thinly, Jack shook his head. "I think I'd better leave that up to you, huh?"
"Good idea. I'll remember it if I ever meet your makers." Jace flicked on her light as the sun finally disappeared and dusk took over. She could hear noises in the kitchen, the muffled sounds of her parents talking and of pans being clattered. "Which I probably won't."
Jack hesitated for a moment, leaning back against the wall and studying Jace's expression. He seemed to have found whatever he had been looking for and shook his head. "And you should be happy on that score," he replied softly.
She sighed. "Geez, Jacks. I'm sorry your dad's a complete ass. Some people aren't meant to be parents - like me, for instance."
"Ah, come on." He shook his head, pushed off the wall, and crossed over to stand near her. "How do you know that? You have plenty going for you if you wanted to, uh, go that way." A sudden grin broke out over his face and he tucked his hands back in his pockets. "Like, for instance, you're not an amoral idiot."
"Don't worry, I can try harder!" She took the tray and the now-empty glasses and nodded at him. "Sit tight. I'll just put these back and see how my uppers are mangling dinner, time-wise." With her usual speed, Jace navigated her way out of the room.
Left to his own devices again, Jack spun on his heel and wandered over to the bookshelf. Since she didn't seem to mind him being in her territory, he felt more at liberty. Anyway, you can tell a lot about someone by what they read, he thought. The notion made him pause, hand raised to brush sensitive fingers against a book's spine. I read comic books. Huh. Wonder what that says... Shrugging, he went back to perusing the titles on the shelf, occasionally touching one as if in confirmation of its existence.
The books were excessively varied - the only continuity was the much-thumbed copies of Shaksepeare tragedies. There was also thick copies of plays with author's names like Sophocles and Aristophanes, and peppered in the middle was, incongruously, Harry Potter. Most of the books looked like they had been read until disintegration point.
Carefully, Jack eased the Harry Potter out of the tight row of books. He'd been meaning to read these but had never gotten the chance. Maybe Jace would let him borrow it. He glanced towards the door again. No Jace. After another moment's hesitation, he slid down to sit on the floor, his long legs crossed underneath him comfortably. Opening the book, his eyes flicked upwards for a second. He froze. The tiny printing he had noticed earlier was now at eye-level. Quickly, he forced his eyes back to the book in his lap. It wasn't any of his business, he told himself again firmly. Even if it did look like a list of names.
Unfortunately, it was too late; his brain had already singled out his name, sitting neatly between 'Wilma Verbana' and 'Zach Albright'. It was a completely innocuous list, and could be mistaken for anything if you didn't know how to put it into context. What on earth was Jace writing?
Don't know, don't care, he told himself again. Determined even more, he focused on the book, hoping that Jace would be back soon. He didn't want to really think about why she had his name on her wall.
"Dinner's almost ready." Jace peeked her head around the door. "Getting into the Potter scene, are you?"
Caught by surprise, Jack almost cracked his neck, looking up quickly. "Um, kinda," he replied. "I've been meaning to read 'em."
"Hah. Well, get up and ready yourself - you can read it later. I've memorized the damn thing. You're about to be indoctrinated into the Way of the Kellen. Can we tattoo our family sigil on your ass?"
He closed the book and replaced in the shelf, a deliberately thoughtful expression on his face as if he were seriously contemplating the idea. Then he rose to his feet silently and slouched over to his friend. Stopping next to her, he looked down at the redhead with a blank face. "Nope," he finally said, a grin breaking over his face.
"Well, that's okay, then. We don't have one. It would have to be my initials and the date." Jace grinned at him smugly and set off down the corridor.
"Ah, you'd be doin' it free-hand, then?" Jack asked calmly as he followed her obediently.
"Of course. Wouldn't want to slip." She turned into the living room and down to the table. "Ready now, Mom?"
Emily wiped her hands on a tea towel and smiled. "I think so, yes. If your father has finally gotten the hang of an oven."
"Men weren't meant to use ovens," grumbled a large, darkly red-haired man from behind her, moving forward around the table to offer his hand to Jack. "They're too complicated. 'Allo, there. Survived your encounter with our little harpy yet?" His dark green eyes were twinkling.
"Oh, go away, Dad," Jace complained.
Jack half-smiled at her discomfort as he shook Mr. Kellen's hand. "Of course, sir," he replied. "She's great. Especially once she stopped threatening to blow up my place of employment."
"Well, at least she stopped. That must really mean she values your friendship."
"I'm rethinking on that," she muttered, moving into a place cleared of a chair and putting her elbows on the table mulishly.
Contrite, Jack eased over a step towards her and whispered, "Sorry, Jace." Then he studied the place settings. Wow. Eating at a real table with a family and everyone was sober and normal. This would take some getting used to. "Um, Jace? If you're not too mad," he murmured, "where should I sit?"
"Oh, next to me, stupid. I won't bite - hard." Jace saw her parents roll their collective eyes at her comment and stuck her tongue out. She was getting more and more nervous by the moment as she realized that, yes, Jack was having dinner at her house and nothing had exploded yet.
Emily pulled a tray from the oven and brought it up to the table, pulling off her oven mittens and walking back to the kitchen. "Do you like gravy with your potatoes and chicken and things, Jack?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jack drawled softly as he slid into the indicated chair beside Jace. "Thank you."
David brought down an indicated tray with a roast chicken down to the table and grinned at Jack as he carved it. Jace began to sweat inwardly as her father started up his act.
"So, Jack, how exactly did you meet Jace?"
Glancing at Jace before answering, Jack then refocused on Mr. Kellen. "She came into Home Depot to do some shopping." Then he realized how short that sounded and quickly added, "I work there and no one else seemed to be helping her find whatever it was that she, uh, was looking for so..." He shrugged eloquently.
"So he took me on and, um, things happened," Jace said, leaving out talking birds down her shirt. "It was just one of those things."
"Aha." David carefully placed some chicken on Jack's plate before offering it to his daughter who took a drumstick and poked it. "You've left school, haven't you, Jack?"
"Ohmigod," Jace moaned under her breath. "Don't start."
"Thank you... Um, yeah. I just graduated from high school."
"He's an artist," Jace supplied as her mother sat down at the table. "A totally starving artist. Can we un-starve him now?"
"An artist? That's interesting." Emily looked over at Jack before furrowing her brow. "Oh - um - would you like to say grace or something, if you need to? We don't, but if you do..."
"We're satanic, actually. We eat babies. Hah, hah!"
With some difficulty, Jack suppressed a chuckle at Jace's impatient quip. What did leak out was one of his off-center grins guaranteed to melt any stony heart. Then he shook his head. "That's alright, Mrs. Kellen. I'm alright."
She looked relieved and passed him a serving spatula. "Thank you. Do serve yourself, Jack - take as much or as little as you please. We aren't used to having any of Jace's friends over, so excuse our bad manners."
"It's because I don't have any." Jace poured some gravy over her potatoes and began carving up her food with a little too much enthusiasm at using a knife. "I'm anti-social. Jack's here out of pity."
"That's a lot of pity," her father remarked and smiled benevolently when Jace glared at him. "Lived here a long time, Jack?"
"Um, not really." Jack poked at the potatoes with a spoon, finally managing to dump a rather large mound on his plate. "I was born here but my family's moved around." He paused to pour some gravy over the potatoes and then looked up at Mr. Kellen. "They're still up in Rhode Island," he added, sensing what the next question would be.
"Your mom must be worried," Emily said in her soft way. "Especially with all the terrible things that've been happening lately."
"He can probably look after himself," her husband said dryly. "He's mostly grown up, dear."
"But he's so thin," she said indignantly. "Doesn't eat properly, like all you young people living alone."
Jace sighed theatrically. "Here it comes. The moment where she decides it's unhealthy for you to weigh anything under two hundred pounds and make it her crusade in life to feed you up."
"Won't be the food that gets him," David theorized. "You live inner-city, don't you? Dangerous stuff out there, like she said. Those young girls."
"He's not a girl."
"Duly noted, Jace. Congratulations on your sharp eyes."
Jack shifted slightly in his chair and absent-mindedly reshaped his potatoes with his fork. Was his mom worried? As much as he hated to acknowledge the thought, it was a toss-up these days whether she even noticed he was gone. As for his dad... Ha, the less thought, the better. Suddenly, he noticed a lull had arrived in the conversation and he looked around, blinking. "Eh, sorry," he apologized quickly. "Yeah. I mean, yes, Mr. Kellen. My apartment is kinda inner-city but it's a pretty safe place." He shrugged. "We haven't had much trouble or anything. Ever."
"Well, that's a relief," Jace's mother said briskly. "We get worried, sometimes, with Jace out there."
"Big bad Jack can protect me," the redhead said sweetly.
Her father smirked. "Or that other boy of yours, whats-his-name. Theodore, eh? Looks like you have an excess of protectors."
She immediately blushed. "Um, let's change the subject to something less controversial, okay? Like same-sex marriages or stem-cell theory. Or, even better, something normal."
"Ah." Emily saved her daughter delicately. "What kind of artist are you, Jack? Do you paint or what?"
Quickly, Jack swallowed his mouthful and nodded. "Kinda," he replied. "I sketch mostly. Colored pencils, markers, pastels. I've started water-color and that's working out well. Oils, I have yet to get the hang of, though."
"D'you do individual paintings or do you want to illustrate?" That was David, looking at him intently and resembling rather scarily like his daughter, dark green eyes piercing.
Jack shrugged. "I'm not really too sure," he answered honestly. "Right now it's all individual stuff... And my comic book... But I don't know."
"The comic book that has a character that looks like me in it," Jace said smugly. "It'll obviously be popular, with my sexy face."
"What'd you make her? A troll?" David popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and swallowed.
Her mother clucked her tongue. "You two are dreadful. Excuse them, Jack, they can't behave... You have to show us your work sometime. And then when you're a famous artist we can claim that we know you."
"Is this before or after he's dead? Artists are only famous after they're dead."
"That's composers."
"Well, sucks to you," Jace replied maturely.
Somehow managing to ignore Jace and her father's banter, Jack stared at Mrs. Kellen. "You really want to see my art?" he asked softly.
"Of course. I'd love to, if you'd be willing to show me. I never could draw myself, but I've always loved seeing other people's." She grinned suddenly. "The most art I get all day is fat crayon rubbings from my preschoolers."
Jack smiled shyly. "Sure, you can see it." His green eyes softened as he added in a barely audible voice, "Thanks."
"No, thank -you-." She looked gratified at his response.
"Geez, mom." Jace rolled her eyes. "Knew this was a bad idea. You like him more than me."
"You're not as polite as him," Emily said demurely. "Take a leaf out of Jack's book."
She shuddered. "It begins. 'Why can't you be more like Jack?'. Next thing you know, they'll be looking for adoption papers."
"You should watch your back. I've always wanted to replace you with something less obnoxious. Like a rabid dog."
"Do you have any siblings?" Emily inquired, obviously used to obliviously ignoring her husband and her daughter.
Reflexively, Jack flinched minutely and bit his lower lip. "Well," he replied slowly. "Kind of. I have a half-brother."
"Does he live with you?" Jace looked up at him curiously.
"Um, no. Actually... I've never even met him."
"Oh. Okay." She shrugged and made a memo to ask him later. "Guess we're both really just only-children, then."
Jack nodded. "Yep." Eyes downcast, he studied his plate and began remolding the potatoes again. After another moment, he took a bite and looked up with a lop-sided smile. "This is great, Mrs. Kellen," he announced, his voice a bit lighter once more.
"Why, thank you." She beamed. "It's so nice to get complimented once in a while."
"Great food, mom," Jace said innocently.
"You're just trying to ride his train, love."
"Nuts." Jace speared a couple of peas and ate them in a gory show of vegetarianism. "So, Jack, are you married with children yet? I just want to make sure. I'm planning to use all my friends' babies in my evil army of the night."
"You know I'm not, Jace." Jack grimaced at the very thought of him marrying. Then he raised his left hand, displaying long, sensitive fingers. "No rings for me."
"You could always ask Wilma if you're feeling lonely in that direction," she said smugly. "I bet she'd jump."
"Wilma?" Jack repeated slowly, blinking somewhat stupidly. "Wilma?"
"Oh, come on. You haven't noticed the fact that she expends buckets of drool over you yet?"
"Don't take her seriously, Jack. She's a horrid tease."
"It's my job to make him feel ill at ease," the redhead explained to her mother. "God knows that if we talk about comfortable topics he might feel strongly towards coming back. And then you guys might like him better than me."
"Stop worrying, Jace," her father said, comfortingly. "We already do."
Emily rolled her eyes, then turned back to Jack. "What do you like to do - other than paint, I mean?"
Jack shrugged one of his patented general shrugs. "Um, well, I like to make tapes and, uh, play cards." He nibbled on his lower lip. Man, I never realized how lame my life sounds, he thought.
"A good occupation," David noted. "I used to be a bit of a card shark, myself."
"Dad, you lose at 'Happy Families', for the love of Christ."
"It was only to make you feel better. Play any sport?"
Quickly, Jack shook his head. "Never got on with teams," he murmured.
"Really? Too bad. What a waste. You look fit."
"Dad's a little bit too into sports," Jace muttered. "Terribly disappointing when his own daughter wasn't born with a football ready to use."
"I'm fit?" After frowning at the question, Jack then smiled at Jace in a faintly commiserating sort of way. "Should've heard my dad when I talked my mother into signing me up for art classes instead of Little League. Not pretty."
"You wouldn't have made a good player anyway," she comforted him. "You don't scratch your butt or spit."
Jack turned a sudden, brilliant grin on his friend. "Oh, but I behave around you, right?" he teased gently.
"You're the idol of chivalry," she promised him. "You don't even sit with your legs too wide open."
"Watch out, Jack. She's whipping you into place," her father admonished him, taking his empty plate and Emily's to the kitchen.
"Are you?" Jack asked, turning to Jace. "Whipping me?"
"I don't know. Do I get a whip?"
"You mean you don't have one already?"
"No. Mom, can I have a whip?"
Emily sighed from the kitchen, returning to take their plates. "Now look what you've done, Jack... finished here?"
"Yes, ma'am, and I'm sorry." Jack raised a dark eyebrow as he shot a twinkling glance towards Jace. "She brings out the worst."
"Disloyal fiend. Do we have any dessert, Mom?"
"Vanilla ice cream, sugar, strawberries. Want to take it back to your room or something?"
"Yeah. I'm afraid that you and Dad's calming influence is beginning to give Jack soothing thoughts, like of becoming an accountant, or a teacher. I need to pull it out of him."
"Do try not to turn him into an evil angel of the night," David sighed, pouring some water into a kettle from the kitchen. "He looks so nice and innocuous."
"Can't make any promises."
Emily rooted around in the fridge and dumped two bowls into both of their hands, strawberries making red splotches in the white ice cream. "I hope the food was okay, Jack."
"It was wonderful. Thank you." Jack paused before following Jace and turned back to Emily. "Thank you very much." His few simple words were shaded by the look in his deep green eyes, however, into something far more heartfelt and thankful. A general thank you for a night of pleasant normality and a window into a happy family. Then he turned on his heel and obediently followed Jace back to her room.
"Isn't he nice?" Emily said wistfully as they both left earshot.
"Yeah. So why is he friends with my daughter?"
"Oh, stop being silly, David. She is lucky, though, isn't she? Jack sounds like a good person to have for a friend. So polite." She sighed again. "I always did want a boy, too."
"Hah. Think he's for real? He's so calm. Jace seems to trust him, though. Good enough for me."
"And for me, too. We should ask him over again." Her eyes took a gleam to them. "He really does need more feeding up..."
David just laughed.
"So." Jace pushed the door shut behind them once more and collapsed near her desk, looking at him wonderingly. "What do you think of 'em? Horrible?"
"Of course not. They're great." Jack slouched into the desk chair and nodded. "They're nice."
"My mom's not overbearing and my dad's not endlessly tactless like me?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You're tactless?" he asked. "I thought that was honesty."
"Good euphemism. Remind me to use it." Jace sighed and then, surprisingly, began to laugh. "God, I was worried. Thank goodness."
"Worried?" A flash of concern passed over Jack's face. "About?"
"I have no damn idea, you know?" She sucked a piece of vanilla ice cream off her spoon. "I was just waiting for you to despise my parents. Or for them to act totally stupid. But I was being paranoid. Who could be stupid to little Jack Reilly with his big grin?"
Jack poked at his ice cream, mixing the strawberries in thoroughly. "Little? Grin?" Jack raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you poking fun?"
"Me? Poke fun?" Jace attempted to look innocent. "I mean it! I mean, those big green eyes, that little button nose..."
Explosively, Jack burst out laughing and set his bowl down on the desk. "Little button nose? Man, Jace, you have a seriously distorted sense of size." With a long finger, he indicated his somewhat beaky nose. "This isn't small."
"Well, no. I was trying to be nice."
At the word "nice," Jack sobered some. "Thanks, then. Makes up for some of the ribbing I got as a kid."
"What, about your nose? They must have been really desperate to tease you." Jace snorted. "I mean, come on."
"Come on what?"
"Your nose isn't even bad. They could have gotten more original. Like claiming you had leprosy."
"Leprosy? Nah, too original for the kids I went to school with," Jack chuckled.
"Where'd you go? Hicksville Middle?" She took a bite out of a strawberry.
"A couple different places, actually," Jack explained as he extracted his own strawberry from his bowl. "Last one was up in Rhode Island."
"Well, that IS pretty hick. Poor you."
"What about you, though? You been here all the time?" Jack asked, eager to move the conversation away from him.
The redhead nodded "Womb to the tomb. Homeschooled for the first dozen or so years because of my parents, then I went to Fleming. Just lovely."
Jack smiled lop-sidedly. "Not a fan of the school, huh? I saw the carving."
"If only I could carve it into the teachers' faces. But they call that assault. Unfair, huh? The system hates me."
"And you hate it?" Jack inquired mildly.
"It's pretty bad. I mean, the schooling and learning thing is okay, but the teachers are secretly skinhead nazis, and my peers are worse." Jace sighed
melodramatically. "Oh, for a school with only me in it."
"How much longer are you stuck there?" Jack set his empty bowl down on the desk and leaned towards her, chin resting in one long-fingered hand, elbow propped on the desk.
"Another year. Sucks to be me. I should just do a you and leave directly afterwards, but apparently I have to get a degree thing." She leaned back in her wheelchair. "Having to be a student and a senshi sucks complete ass."
"I can think of one good thing, though," he murmured. "Meeting people. Meeting you, Jace. It's, uh, one of the pluses of this mess."
"Meeting grumpy 17-turning-82 females, Jack? Not what I'd call one of the perks of the job." Her cheeks were turning pink. "But hey. Meeting you - not a negative thing. You're so easy to bitch at."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand across the wood grain of the desk distractedly. "And I wish you would, too. What I said, I mean. You know?"
"Not easy things to take," Jace defended herself, and then gave him a wry smile. "And I've had less damn practice at taking it than others. So forgive my ungraciousness."
"Course you're forgiven." Jack smiled faintly. "Easy enough to do."
"Hmph. You're too forgiving, Reilly."
Jack shook his head. "Not about everything, Jace," he cautioned vaguely.
"Really?" She looked interested. "So you wouldn't forgive me if I put you in a Pikachu suit and made you run around town shouting, 'Leper, leper'?"
"Ah, a little humiliation never killed anyone. Though that little yellow thing is... Awful."
Jace spooned some vanilla into her mouth. "Cool. Remind me to do that next Halloween, then."
Chuckling, Jack shook his head. "Jace, just 'cause I say I'll forgive you for it doesn't mean you have to go ahead and do it."
"You obviously don't know me very well yet. Give me an inch and I'll take... more inches."
"That sounds painful," Jack returned dryly.
"Obviously. Hey, do you think I should file my front two teeth into points?" Biting down on a strawberry viciously, the juices ran down her lips like blood.
Jack shrugged, glancing away from her mouth and up at the ceiling. "If you really want to go about terrifying small children... Sure thing, man."
"And I do." She grinned at him toothily. "Ten years from now, I want to be in prison because of that sort of thing. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Ten years time. Where d'you wanna be?"
Jack slouched deeper into his seat, thought lines creasing his forehead. Finally, he sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure," he murmured. "Still moved out on my own definitely. Maybe drawing professionally. Being called the crazy guy who paints." He shrugged.
"Do you want to be known because you painted crazily or because you painted well?"
"Eh, don't actually care if I'm known worldwide or not." A bright grin lit Jack's sober face. "I meant the local kids who hover just out of reach and make faces when I sit in the park and draw."
She laughed at that. "Huge aspirations there. I like 'em, though."
"Glad you do." Jack nodded at her encouragingly. "What about you? Other than scaring little kids? Any big plans?"
"Hah. Not really. Used to want to win a medal at the Paras, but that was a pipe dream. Get a job, do something with my life, earn large wodges of cash. Something like that."
Jack was silent a moment, mulling her words over for a minute. Finally, he nodded. "Why not the Paras?" he asked mildly.
"For these next ones - too soon, and I'm too late. Haven't been training like I should, what with the Graikos thing. And for the next ones... who the hell can tell whether I'll be there by then? Dunno whether I've got the damn focus any more."
"Gotta point there, I guess." Jack rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "Have to say my life's decided to go totally wack of what I thought was going to happen."
"Yeah." Jace smirked. "I mean, you've developed an unexpected taste for ruffles."
Pulling a face perfectly expressive of his disgust at that, Jack replied, "Yeah, well, I've seen your skirt, Jace. Kinda on the bare side, don't you think?"
"Hey. I did NOT hear you dissin' the uniform. That uniform is cool. It has big metal and everything, y'hear?" There was a grin, though. "Mr-bloody-Ruffles."
Jack tried to stifle his chuckles and almost succeeded. Only a bare hint of amusement leaked through as he replied, "Hey, contrary to what people seem to think, I'm still a teenage guy." The chuckle broke through, though, when he added, "And you get a short short skirt."
"Hmph. Remind me to steal your hat the next time we go out on patrol or something." Jace set her bowl down on her desk. "'Sides, mine isn't as bad as Leta's cheerleading getup. Seen it yet? No, you wouldn't have. Just wait."
"Um, she doesn't get pom-poms or anything, does she?"
"I don't think so, thank God. Just... lots of pink."
"Pink?" Jack repeated. "How much... Pink?"
"More pink than you could possibly imagine. More pink than a girl's cartoon."
Jack shivered. "Almost makes the ruffles sound good."
She played with her spoon. "Well, she's Aphrodite. I suppose the powers that be thought pink should be needed."
Grabbing onto that string of words, Jack frowned. "Powers that be. Are they the nuts who dress us? And why this stuff?"
"Maybe they're sadists. Who knows? Who knows if they're even there? Buggered if I can make any sense of the situation."
Jack answered with a shrug and slouched even farther in the hard chair. "It'll give ya a headache if you think about it too much, I bet," he cautioned.
Leaning her elbows on the desk, Jace grunted. "Bah. You're probably right. I'll just ask Perdy to explain it to me later."
A small smile flashed across Jack's thin face. "Which I think he really, really likes doing."
"What? Explaining? He was probably a schoolteacher in his last life." She smirked. "Poor thing, getting stuck with Sophie. She can't seem to stand the poor bastard."
"Picked up on that, too, didya?" Jack sighed. "And Leta repeatedly tried to strangle Percy... Do any of us have good bonds with guardians?"
"Apparently not. Zach has one but it's probably doped or drunk to cope with him."
"But you and I don't rate one, huh?" Jack tilted his head to one side and grinned just as lop-sidedly. "Does that make us lucky or out of the club?"
She chuckled. "We're probably lucky, actually, though if you're pining I could make you one out of a sock puppet."
The brilliant Jack smile appeared out of nowhere at her amused offer. "Really, Jace?" He adjusted his posture to a more human, upright one and directed the smile at her. "Best offer in a while, really," he added lightly. "You're great."
Jace burst out laughing at his sincere grin. "It's not like I have any use for socks anyway! You're a card, Reilly. One day I'll understand your damn motives."
"Motives? You think I have motives, here?"
"Everyone has motives. For life, for work, for sock puppets - how you live. I just have to figure you out." She narrowed grey eyes at him. "And I'll do it,
believe me."
Furrows appeared in Jack's forehead as he seemed to contemplate her words. Finally, he shook his head. "Why not just ask me?"
"That's no fun!"
"But it'd be easier."
"The easy road, Jackson Reilly, is the lame one," she said with an air of great sage. "I will always walk the hard road... the bumpy road... the road most
likely to get me owning a hardcore porn business."
"Huh. That's an aspiration you didn't mention," he commented dryly.
"Well, I'm sure you'll congratulate me later when I turn you into a famous porn star." Jack blinked, staring at her with wide eyes. "Me? A... Um, a what star?" he stuttered slightly.
"Did I say that out loud? Whoops," Jace said mildly. "I'll just key your car."
A few more blinks and Jack returned to himself with a faint smile. "Beat ya there," he replied gently. "Don't have a car. Don't like 'em."
"Then how'd you get here? Walked? Took a bus? Put on spandex and flew?"
"Well, I took the bus as close as I could and then walked." Jack shrugged. No big deal to him.
Her look was plainly fierce. "Then my dad's dropping you home tonight. It's too dark out by now. Stupid ass."
Jack cocked his head to one side and studied her look of determination. Finally, he shrugged. "No one ever bothers me, Jace." Not really arguing but trying to calm her down.
"You just haven't met anybody who's into the bothering business."
"Jace... I used to... Well, be one of those sorts, right?" Jack ducked his head, not quite certain why he was sharing that tidbit with her.
The redhead was obviously disbelieving. "You? You wouldn't hurt a goddamn fly. Hell, you're probably part of the Fly Preservation Society, or Young Men Against The Abuse of Flies."
Jack shrugged. "Don't believe me if you want," he said softly. "But I don't lie... And flies? Jace, I have a nice big swatter back at my apartment. Hate
the damn things."
"Hmph." The hard line of Jace's mouth was softening, but her eyes were still like rocks. "Still want Dad to drive you home, though. Save you the busfare."
Jack smiled faintly, his way of giving up. "Whatever you say, Jace."
"Good boy." She nodded approvingly. "Now all you have to do is grow your goatee a little more and affix horns to the side of your head and you'll be a perfect minion."
"Oh, so I'm a minion now? When did that happen?"
"You've always been my minion. The rest of the team makes lousy minions, so I chose you."
"Since day one?" Jack raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Yes. I mean, you had a -hat-." The phenomenon had obviously impressed her deeply.
"Feel free to borrow it," Jack chuckled. "I'm not so sure I don't look like a complete idiot in it."
"You look like a cowboy!" she enthused. "Like, a cowboy hooker."
"Oh, perfect." Jack chuckled. "Just the look I was hoping for."
"Hey, the 'cowboy prostitute' look is in at the moment."
"Really. Hmm, guess I'd better start reading those fashion magazines again, huh?"
"I don't think you have fashion magazines anyway. Your usual mode of clothing is one deemed 'slum'."
Jack looked down at his current outfit, much neater than his usual garb. Then he glanced back up at Jace. "And here I thought I'd cleaned up good," he muttered dryly.
"Never said I didn't like slum," she protested. "Like slum. Comfortable with slum. Better than people who wear iron-pressed clothing and whose heads wear suits even when they're in their underwear..." Jace stared off into the distance for a moment and when she came down, she shook her head. "No. Like slum. I slum. Though, of course, nobody cares what I wear so long as it isn't a sign saying, 'LOOK, DEFORMED.'"
"Which would be an outright lie 'cause you're not."
Jace smiled at him kindly, an action that involved teeth. "Actually, I am, Jacks. Born like this. Hundred years ago I would have been left out on a windswept crag to die."
Jack returned the smile faintly. "Aren't ya glad that we've evolved since then?" he asked.
"I don't know. Windswept crags are pretty cool."
"Maybe if you're doing a werewolf movie, huh?"
"I don't like werewolf movies. They're always so lame. And they never eat enough people."
Jack chuckled. "Only you would use that against the movies," he teased gently.
"I know. Everybody else sucks."
Jack looked down at his hands for a moment, contemplating something. Finally, he sighed and smiled up at Jace. "Hey, Jace," he said with a touch of
forced casualness. "We should go to the movies some time so I can hear you bitch for real."
All she did was beam cheerfully. "Good idea. I won't even bring rotten tomatoes."
"You're too kind. What sort do you like best? Action, artsy, romance?"
"Not fussed, so long as it isn't romance. Ones where people die a lot suit me."
Jack nodded understandingly. "Stallone and Schwartenegger, huh?"
"Preferably with a minimum of grunting. And they're ugly."
"Wouldn't know," Jack shrugged. "Don't pay much attention to how they look." A faint, ironic smile flashed over his neutral expression. "Or how they
act."
Jace leant back a little more, causing her wheelchair to wobble precariously. "They don't act."
"Exactly." Jack studied Jace's positioning with some concern. "Um, Jace, be careful, huh?"
"Don't worry. The worst I can do is give myself horrible brain damage."
"Which I don't wanna witness, right?" Jack reached forward and brushed light, sensitive fingers over one of the arms on her wheelchair. "Shift it, will ya?"
he asked softly. "For me?"
Very surprisingly, she did as she was told, setting her wheelchair down and rolling her eyes at him with minimum of fuss. "If you say so, Jackalope."
"Thanks, Jace." A brilliant smile sparked into life out of relief at her cooperation. "I can relax now."
"You worry about the silliest things," she complained.
"As in?"
"Well, tell me what you worry about."
Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, my friends, I guess. My mom. Will I make next month's rent." He shrugged. "Stuff like that."
"Rent? Oh, yeah." She looked wistful. "Lucky you, getting to live alone. All I get is the disabled benefit'n crap."
Jack half-smiled at the look on his friend's face. "You've never seen my apartment," he replied. "One room, studio. Downtown. You wouldn't be knocking the benefits if you saw it."
"Is it a slum?" Jace asked, girlishly excited. "With cockroaches and cocaine?"
"Well, I don't personally have cockroaches -or- cocaine in my place," Jack chuckled. "Can't vouch for my neighbors, though." He paused and then tilted his
head to look at the red-head. "If you wanna, you're welcome to check it out yourself."
"Cool. I'll take you up on that sometime. And I'll bring you some cockroaches and cocaine, seeing as you're missin' out."
"You're all heart, Jace," Jack chuckled warmly.
The redhead nodded modestly. "I know."
Jack slouched back in his chair, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're lucky," he murmured.
"May I ask why the hell why?"
He shrugged vaguely. "Plenty of reasons."
"Give me one."
"Fearlessness." Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You can say whatever comes into your mind."
"Well, yeah," she acknowledged. "But that doesn't exactly get me brownie points."
"Well, it does with me... If that means anything to you."
"'Course it does," Jace said cheerfully. "You're my sidekick. Your opinion counts. Sometimes. When I feel like it. If it isn't retarded," she amended.
"Which makes me happy enough." Jack half-grinned and shrugged. "It's nice to be counted."
"You're probably the only one I -do- count, Reilly." Jace propped her chin up on one hand. "It's just you and me against the big bad world, so to speak."
"Can we make more minions, though, Jace? You've changed my mind about friends. They're a good thing."
"Only if they're not obnoxious pricks. Like Sophie, for instance. As in I could handle Sophie as a minion, not that she's an obnoxious prick." Jace glared at him mildly. "And so long as I get to keep your hat."
"'Course you can keep the hat. It looks stupid on me." Jack leaned back in his chair, a lazy half-grin fixed on his lean face.
"Not as stupid as my Playboy Bunny bow." Jace made a face. "The Powers That Be hate me... and at least you look good in ruffles."
Jack snorted. "Oh, thank you, Jace. That makes me want to run out and get some for every day."
She gave him a girlish grin. "Only if you want me to beat you up every morning as a warning shot."
"When you put it that way... Nope." Suddenly, Jack glanced down at his watch and a faint spasm of a frown marred his vaguely amused expression. "Speaking of morning, though, I should probably get going. I open the Depot tomorrow."
"Sure thing, working boy." Jace raised her voice. "Daaaaaaaaaaad! We're taking Jack home whether he likes it or not!"
"Sure thing," David hollered back, muffled. "Your tender tactfulness stuns the both of us, I'm sure."
"You sure he doesn't mind?" Jack suddenly whispered to Jace, green eyes slightly worried. "The bus is still running, y'know."
"Reilly, this is my -father-. He likes driving. He likes discussing boring things on the way home and missing the green lights. And you did hear the
'whether he likes it or not' clause, didn't you?"
"I did but..." Realizing that it was useless to argue with her, Jack shrugged. "Okay."
"Right." She wiggled into her wheelchair as David opened the door. "I'm coming too, Dad, so we'll take the Cripplemobile."
"I wish you wouldn't call the van that," David sighed. "C'mon, Jack. Let's get you home. Just go make sure you say goodbye to my wife, but try to ignore her if she starts hugging you."
"She always wanted a son," Jace said in a stage whisper.
"We'll get rid of you and adopt him," David said in an equally loud stage whisper.
"I hate you." Jace wheeled herself forward. "C'mon, Reilly."
Obediently, he unfolded himself from her chair and
followed. "Right."
Emily intercepted them in the hall, tiny arms immediately wrapping around Jack as Jace gave a theatrical groan. "It was -so- nice to meet you, Jack," she gushed warmly. "You will come over again, won't you?"
Actually turning a faint pink, Jack nodded against her shoulder. "If you want, ma'am," he murmured, breath driven out of him by her forceful hug. "I'd
like that."
"David and I would like that too. And call me Emmy."
"Mom, ixnay on the squashing-Jack's-ibsray," Jace sighed. Emily quickly detangled herself in case of injury.
"No worries, Jace," Jack assured his friend. Then he turned a full-on grin towards Emily, relief and gratitude behind it. "I had a great night. Thank you."
Emily smiled back at him, soft orange-peach eyes gentle as she surveyed him. His own smile had obviously melted her even further. "I'm glad."
"If you're done embarrassing me, Mom...?"
"Oh. Oh, yes. Your fragile ego." Emily pecked Jack on the cheek. "See you soon, Jack. Make sure our daughter doesn't annoy you."
Jace made a very rude noise as Emily waved and went back into the kitchen.
Turning back to Jack, she could see an even further blush coloring his cheeks. Suddenly, he ducked his head and chuckled. "Like her," he announced gently.
"She likes you too," the redhead said gloomily. "My days are numbered." Giving Jack one of her quick grins, she beckoned with her hand. "C'mon, boy. Let's get you out of this madhouse."
Jack stood on the front step of his apartment building and waved as the van pulled away. Then, watching it disappear down the road, he kicked the door fully open from its former position, trapped slightly open by his foot. As he made his way up the stairs to his second floor studio, he smiled to himself. What a nice night. It was so… Normal and yet so… Abnormal in such a good way. The Kellens were wonderful people.
He chuckled faintly when he reached his own door and unlocked it, pushing it open with the toe of his boot automatically. And Jace was just the most interesting person he’d ever met. Honest and forthright and not afraid to tell people she didn’t like to go to hell. Maybe I could learn something from her. Yawning, he rubbed the back of his head. Later, though. Right now, it was time for all good little Home Depot drones to be in bed. Even if they were newly adopted or superhumanly-empowered. The time clock waited for no man.