Trust Me Part Seven

[thebratqueen]

PART SEVEN

"Here, I made you this."

Angel looked up as Connor placed a sandwich in front of him. "What's that?"

"Peanut butter and jelly," Connor said, sitting down on the other side of the table. "Crunchy, the way you like it."

Angel sat forward and lifted the top slice of bread. "Okay. And the sleeping pills you added to it are hidden where, exactly? And before you even ask, I'm not giving you permission for whatever it is you thought you could do while I was unconscious."

Connor gave him a look. "It's just a sandwich. You were all broody. I thought you could use something to cheer you up."

Angel tried not to smile. He'd been a parent of a teenager long enough to know he had to tone the mushy stuff down whenever he felt like showing it. Instead he said, "Thanks."

Connor shrugged. "There's milk too."

"PB&J *and* milk," Angel observed, pouring himself a glass. "Wow. You know stuff like this almost convinces me I shouldn't use your college fund to buy myself a new sportscar."

"Does it convince you not to get mad at me if I tell you that maybe I got Tracy pregnant?" Connor asked.

Angel stared at him. "Tell me you're kidding."

"I'm kidding," Connor repeated, dutifully. "Actually I'm bribing you because I failed Calculus. Or maybe this is a pre-emptive thing. Can this bribe last me until the weekend? Because I was thinking of staying out past my curfew."

"You know what kind of car I like?" Angel replied. "The Viper. That'd be a sweet car to have. I could use it to pick you up from any of the three jobs you'll have to have in order to pay off all of your student loans. You'll be wearing a paper trainee hat of some kind and I'll be laughing from the comfort of my leather seats, possibly even standing up so I can do it through the opening of my sunroof."

"Could I borrow it on the weekends?" Connor asked.

"Maybe, if you bribe me again," Angel said. He took a bite of the sandwich, realizing for the first time how hungry he was. "So everything's okay with you? I don't have to talk with your teachers or make statements to the police on your behalf or anything?"

"Everything's cool," Connor said. He reached over to the counter and grabbed a bag of potato chips for himself. "School's fine, Tracy's fine, and last I heard *you* were the one getting the police record."

Angel cleared his throat. "Yeah, about that - "

"It's okay," Connor said. "I know why you did it. Hell, I wish *I* did it."

"You shouldn't follow my example," Angel told him. "Stuff like that is stupid, and wrong, and irresponsible."

"But you always told me to stick up for myself," Connor said.

"Well yeah," Angel said.

"And to stand up for other people if I know they're being hurt somehow," Connor added.

"*True*," Angel said. "And you should, definitely."

"Like that time my freshman year when I helped Tommy Littleford when that asshole Craig was beating up on him," Connor said.

"Absolutely," Angel said. "In no way is that the kind of thing you can condone."

Connor tilted his head thoughtfully. "So what you're saying is that I shouldn't follow your example, and by follow your example what you really mean is I shouldn't get caught?"

Angel opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded. "Well okay. But I swear that wasn't the message I started out with."

"Right," Connor grinned.

"If any of your teachers asked you tell them I said fighting is bad and wrong and you should always settle your arguments peacefully," Angel said.

"And not, for example, by breaking the other guy's arm," Connor said.

"I swear I didn't hit him that hard," Angel told him. "Though maybe throwing him into that dumpster did something."

Connor sat forward, his eyes wide. "You threw him in a *dumpster*?"

"You think I hurt my back while cleaning the kitchen?" Angel retorted. He sobered up, realizing this was probably not the sort of thing he was supposed to be talking about with his kid. Still, Connor *was* there. "Hey, you got a minute?"

"That depends," Connor said. "Do the next words out of your mouth involve me doing extra chores or anything?"

"No chores, promise," Angel said. "Though you're still on the eight o'clock shift for tonight. What I was actually thinking of was if you're free for us to talk. About the broody stuff."

Connor sat back, pushing his chips aside. "Okay."

Angel wondered how to word it. He'd been thinking it over for hours and still wasn't sure of what to do. "How do you feel about me maybe dating somebody?"

"That you should shave your head and move into a monastery because the thought of you dating *anybody* is about the grossest thing I can imagine," Connor replied. "Why?"

Angel threw a wadded up napkin at him. "Thanks a lot."

"What do you want me to say?" Connor asked. "You're my dad. It's not like I can give you tips or anything. Oh God - you don't want me to give you tips or anything, do you? Because I really don't want to have to see Dr. Feldman again. Nothing is worth having to spend an hour a week doing lame role-playing exercises."

"I'm not asking for tips," Angel promised him. "And you don't have to go back to Dr. Feldman. But maybe we could relive that for a sec? Give me some feeling words. Maybe some 'I' statements too if you've got 'em."

"*I* think that the idea of you dating is sick and wrong," Connor replied, the light in his eyes giving lie to any real anger behind his words. "And I *feel* that you're probably going to force me to think about it anyway."

"Just so we're clear," Angel said, "you mean sick and wrong in the 'my dad's a thousand years old and I don't want to have to picture him on the dating scene' sense and not the kind where I really *do* send you back into therapy sense, right?"

"Right," Connor said. He got up to get a soda out of the fridge. "So who is it?"

"Does it matter?" Angel asked.

"Sure," Connor said, sitting down again. "If it's that lady you're always flirting with at the hardware store I'll have to let Rick know that she's off the market. If it's Anne I'll have to try to pretend that she never babysat for me. And if it's Kate again I'll have to tell you that you really shouldn't date anybody who could beat you up in a fight."

"It isn't - She could *not* beat me up in a fight!" Angel said, letting his pride distract him from the point for a minute.

"Dad, she *so* could," Connor told him. He held up a hand. "Not that I've got anything against that because we both know Mom could too."

"Well she cheated," Angel replied. "Or she would have, if it ever came up."

"Which goes to show she was smarter than you too," Connor said. He fiddled with the tab of his soda can. "So who is it?"

Angel watched him carefully. "It's Wesley. Or it might be."

"Oh," Connor said. He drank his soda, his expression shuttered.

"C'mon," Angel said, keeping his voice gentle. "I statements, remember?"

"*I* don't know what to tell you," Connor replied, staring into the contents of his drink.

"How do you feel about it?" Angel asked.

Connor shrugged, his posture the very epitome of a teenager refusing to give away any more information than he had to. "I dunno."

"Well help me out," Angel said, not wanting to risk the chance of Connor truly being upset. "Maybe we could break it down a bit. Does it bug you to think of me dating?"

Connor gave another shrug. "Whatever. Not like it's the first time."

"Does it bug you that it's somebody we don't know as well as we knew the other people I've gone out with?" Angel asked.

"I don't care," Connor said, slumping down further in his chair.

Angel was pretty sure the next question was one his son would rather die than have to talk about, but he pushed his luck anyway. "Does it bug you that it's a guy?"

"Didn't bug me when it was Uncle Doyle," Connor pointed out.

"Yeah, but that was - " Angel paused. "Wait. You *knew* about me and Uncle Doyle?"

"Dad," Connor told him, finally looking up. "*Everybody* knew."

"But you were fourteen!"

"Fourteen," Connor said. "Not stupid."

"I thought I was good at hiding it," Angel said. "I mean I figured you didn't *want* to know and - you're telling me it wasn't a secret?"

"To you, maybe," Connor replied. A hint of a smile played about his lips. "Besides, you suck at keeping secrets. Remember the year you tried being Santa Claus? Or that time you tried surprising Mom with that trip?"

"In hindsight I shouldn't have charged the tickets to our credit card," Angel admitted. "Though it *was* funny when she pretended she was going to call it all in for credit fraud."

"Yeah, she had you going the whole time," Connor said. "You kept trying to distract her, all 'Honey, let's go to dinner!' She *so* saw through you."

"Remember that time we tried to convince her that I didn't let you eat a sundae for lunch?" Angel asked.

"Hey, we could've gotten away with it if you'd remembered to hide the syrup," Connor said.

"Like the maraschino cherry stains on your shirt weren't going to be a giveaway," Angel said. "The jig was up as soon as she walked in the front door."

"Was that before or after you admitted it anyway?" Connor replied.

"What was I supposed to do?" Angel asked. "She was giving me the Look."

Connor laughed. "Yeah. She got two steps in and she was all 'An-*gel*!'"

"Right, right," Angel said. "With her hands on her hips like she was going to hit me with that bag of groceries."

"See?" Connor said. "She could've taken you."

"Oh no question," Angel agreed. "Sale on canned goods that day. I'd've been down for the count."

"Remember when she wouldn't let us use the real pots and pans that time we camped out in the backyard so we had to eat directly out of the cans?" Connor asked. "Oh! Or how about that time she got into that fight with Mrs. White during the Science Fair?"

"How could I forget?" Angel asked. "Barb *still* gives me the evil eye at church sometimes. Serves her right, though. She shouldn't have helped Jason with his project."

"Mom wasn't really going to tear her hair out though, was she?" Connor asked.

"You kidding?" Angel replied. "Mom was a real fighter when she was your age. And when it came to defending you she would've killed someone with her bare hands if she had to. You did your assignment fair and square. You should've won."

"Instead we had to spend the afternoon in the Mr. Harrington's office talking about sportsmanship," Connor said, munching on chips again.

"Yeah, and I had to come down and tell him Mom was only acting like that because she was tired from her trip to visit her aunt in Florida," Angel said.

"Which was a total lie," Connor pointed out.

"All in good cause," Angel reminded him.

"And then *you* nearly got into a fight with Mr. Harrington before Mom dragged you off," Connor said.

"You should have won!" Angel insisted.

Connor grinned. "That was pretty cool."

"It was, yeah," Angel agreed. He tore the crust off his sandwich, chewing it thoughtfully. "God - everything your mom did. I love her so much, Connor. You've no idea."

"You always do that," Connor said.

"What?" Angel asked.

"Say you love her," Connor said. "Present tense. Not that you *loved* her."

"I do love her," Angel told him. "I always will. Just because she got sick doesn't mean that I've stopped caring about her. I'm not going to stop loving you either, no matter what happens."

"This'd be a good time to tell you I put a dent in the car, right?" Connor said, ducking his head.

"I'm serious," Angel said. "No matter *what*, Connor. Fail out of school, get Tracy pregnant, get so angry with me you tell me to drop dead - doesn't matter. I will *still* love you."

"Wouldn't tell you to drop dead," Connor mumbled.

"Yeah, but I've bet you've thought it a few times," Angel replied, giving him a grin to take the edge off of the words.

"Maybe," Connor admitted. He ate a few more chips. "Why Wesley?"

"I dunno," Angel said. "I like him. He's a good guy. I think I'd like to spend more time with him."

"You're practically stalking him already," Connor said, rolling his eyes.

"So now I'd like to make it official," Angel said, then amended, "If he's interested."

"Should be," Connor said. "You're okay enough. I guess."

"My ego grows by leaps and bounds," Angel retorted. "So would you be okay with this?"

"Would it stop you if I said no?" Connor asked. "Would you stop seeing him?"

"For the record I haven't *started* seeing him," Angel said. "And also for the record I'm not entirely certain how much the specific details of what Wes and I do together are any of your business. But your feelings matter to me. If I'm doing something that hurts you I want to know so I can make it better. If I'm not - then your blessing is important to me."

"Can I hang out with my friends on Christmas night?" Connor asked.

Angel blinked. "If I say yes that means you'll be okay with this?"

"No," Connor replied. "I just thought I'd throw that in there while you're feeling like you might need to bribe me."

"Know what else I could spend your college fund on?" Angel asked. "A trip to Ireland."

"So can I?" Connor asked.

"I was hoping we'd spend Christmas together," Angel said, going along with Connor's conversational whims for the moment.

"Yeah but then we're always done at, like, nine anyway," Connor said. "And Jake's gonna throw this big party for everybody on the hockey team and since we're graduating this year and we're never going to see each other again for the rest of our *lives* I thought - "

"Okay, okay," Angel said. "Man can you pile on the drama. Fine. But not until nine and I want you home at a decent hour or I'm selling your video games on EBay. Got it?"

"Thanks," Connor said.

"Now can I get an answer to my question?" Angel asked.

Connor rolled his soda can back and forth between his hands. "If you want my *blessing* or something…. That just sounds weird. I don't know if I can do that. I mean everytime I think about you with somebody I want it to be Mom."

"I know," Angel said. "I've got times like that too."

"But since it can't," Connor continued, "then yeah. Okay. I guess Wes is all right or whatever."

"Thanks," Angel said.

"And - " Connor hesitated, then looked up. "It's the same. For me, you know. No matter what you do, I - you're still my dad. Even if you did something I wasn't happy about I'd still care about you."

"Thanks, son," Angel said, and doubted that anything else in the world could make him feel happier.