After school special

Who: Dylan and Frank
Where: Alden residence
When: Mid afternoon/after school

Dylan had told Nate that he had better things to do and that he didn't really need a ride home from school but when classes had ended for the day and he had nowhere else to be, he gave up pretending and headed home instead. He had stomped his way home through the snow and by the time he walked into the front door of his home, his legs were soaked and he was cold. At least Nate's car wasn't in the driveway so that meant he wasn't home and Dylan was glad. He had successfully avoided his older brother for most of the day and wasn't ready to see him again yet. He didn't know what he wanted to say or if he should apologise, if he even wanted to. No, it was safer not to think about that stuff yet. He headed into the bedroom to pull on a pair of dry sweatpants then headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. Frank was already there working at the kitchen table. He wasn't surprised. He was there regularly working on insurance papers or something, Dylan didn't ask for many details about it. It always sounded boring whenever he got the briefest of answers about it. Well, when he did ask anyway.

Dylan mumbled a hello as he headed to the fridge and opened the door. He wasn't even that hungry but it was habit to look anyway. It was almost always the first place he went to when he got home from work so he peered into it anyway and stared blankly at the shelves. Finally he shut the door and moved to prop himself up onto a kitchen counter. He wriggled to get himself comfortable and watched his father across the room. "Dad," he said after a while when Frank barely seemed to notice him and he got sick of being ignored. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment then spoke up again. It had been on his mind for most of the day and he needed to know, "Are we leaving soon? Nate said we probably would."

It wasn't insurance Frank was working on, not this time, not anymore. What really had his full attention now was the upcoming war, he didn't need to be told there was one and nobody could convince him there wasn't one. It could be smelled in the wind, every event building up to something big. The paperwork was Doc's, but Frank was looking up real estate. Joe's house was nice, it had been a good starter, free and probably a great place for a temporary stop but it wasn't a good safe house.

He looked up when Dylan spoke, surprised by the question. "Nate said that?" He asked. "And where are we going? Or is it just you boys?" He shook his head and looked at the computer again, bemused with their antics. He just had to remember they were teenagers, not making sense and jumping to conclusions were a part of their make.

Dylan shrugged and watched his father closely. He had expected outright denial, a flat 'no of course not, kid' but he hadn't got that. Instead it was like Frank was dodging the question but why? "It's just what he said and he'd want to stay here if you did. I don't want to go either; I've got friends and there's this girl I really like and... Please don't make us go yet."

"Ain't going nowhere," Frank muttered. "Where's your brother anyway?" He asked and looked back up at Dylan. "He didn't drive you home from school? And what was that text you sent me all about anyway?" He'd need to have a little talk with Nate if the boy was making Dylan walk home, Frank was decidedly not cool with that.

Dylan pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it but there were no new messages on it so he set it down onto his lap again. "His boyfriend's, I think. Uh, or...friend, I don't know." Shit, he needed to stop thinking of Kavin like that. He bit his lip for a moment then shook his head. "I don't know, I didn't want to ride with him anyway. Or share a room either, can I have the attic?"

Two things hit Frank at once. The insinuation that Nate might be... gay. And the fact Dylan didn't want to share a room anymore. The latter shouldn't make him suspicious but with everything that had been going on... "Hold up there," he said sternly. "Put away that phone and talk to me. What's going on with you boys?"

Dylan didn't want to talk about Leija with his father. He had never really had a dad growing up but the way they acted on TV, well, talking about girls and things led to lots of awkward conversations that neither of them would be good at. He shrugged and stared down at his lap. "He's just being a real jerk about something. Can I move into the attic?"

"I don't want you sleeping up there," Frank said and there were too many damn questions running through his head now. Sadly, a werewolf son would be easier for him to handle than a gay one, he wasn't sure he could handle it if his own son started prancing around in colorful clothes, bringing home boys, being obnoxious. Live and let live and all that, but Frank didn't want that in his house. It also occurred to him that the attic was where Nate smoked (as if he didn't know about that), what if Dylan was going down that same path? With an inward groan he thought about how there should be a rent-a-mom service for men like him.

"Where else am I supposed to sleep?" Dylan mumbled. He didn't want to be in his bedroom with Nate anymore, not after their fight in the car. Jessalyn had done her best to make him feel better and convinced him that Nate must have just been saying it to make him forget about Leija but it still bothered him that he'd even try such an underhanded move. He sighed and looked up at his father. "I'm not staying in there with him, I don't trust him any more."

Frank sighed and rubbed his temples with calloused fingers. "I doubt your brother will strangle you in your sleep, Dylan. You have your own bed, sleep in that." He leaned back in his chair and gave Dylan a curious look. "Why don't you trust him anymore? Did something happen?" The possibilities were too many and all too ugly, Frank didn't want to let his thoughts wander there, better to try to get the truth out of Dylan first.

"He would if he got Leija," Dylan mumbled under his breath. He knew he was probably being ridiculous and Nate seemed sorry about what he'd said, kind of, but hearing that the girl he crushed on didn't even like him back? That had hurt. So did the fear that maybe Nate was right and she preferred his older brother's company. No, it was safer just to stay away so they didn't end up saying any more hurtful things. "No, not really," he finally said after a moment. He hopped off the bench and shrugged. "I might smother him in his sleep or something. Just let me have the attic, please Daddy?"

"It ain't healthy to sleep up there," Frank grumbled. Typical that his son would run out on him while they were supposedly talking. Was he ever going to get a straight answer about anything from those boys of his? "Why do you want to smother Nate?" He asked, looking fairly displeased though of course he didn't take it all too seriously.

"It's healthy, it's clean. I won't let Nate up there to fill it with..." Dylan paused. Did he want to tell his dad about how Nate got high up there? Normally it would have been a clear no and he would have stuck to loyalty over honesty but right now he was mad, hurt, and feeling spiteful. "With his pot smoke. He does it every night and he won't be able to do it as much if I'm up there, it just makes sense if I get it."

"It's the damn attic," Frank sighed. At least it sounded like Dylan wasn't getting high with Nate, that was something. "The insulation and ... You're not sleeping up there, Dylan. You're sleeping in a proper room in a proper bed and that's final. We may be moving soon and you'll get your own room. Until then, you best deal with it."

Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. "You just said we weren't moving! So now we are and Nate was right?" He stomped his foot for added effect and shook his head. "You're such a liar. Mr. Martens said you're a cool guy but this just sucks!"

"We ain't moving away from Marquette," Frank groaned. "And what the hell you on about with Martens? You called him? Didn't I say it was just for emergencies?" Why oh why couldn't Dylan fall in line as easily as Nate did. Even if just for pretenses. It sure as hell would make his life easier and he really could do with that.

"Yeah but..." Dylan faltered. He had meant to let Nate's pot habit slip but he hadn't meant to tell on himself about calling. He had felt like it was important at the time though now, he couldn't remember why that was. "Yeah but Dad, it was... I had to ask him something and I couldn't ask you, you were mad at me. Besides, he said he didn't mind."

"Well, I'm working with him so don't you go pester him for nothing," Frank sighed. "I ain't mad at you, so what did you need to ask him?" He gestured at the chair on the other side of the table and half expected Dylan to storm off instead of sitting down. Had he been this difficult when he was a boy? He didn't think so but then, who knew.

Dylan nibbled on his bottom lip and looked at the door instead. For a moment, he thought about running away and locking himself up in the attic or something stupidly dramatic like that but then he sighed heavily and sat down in the chair. He stared down at the top of the table and shrugged. "It was just about those fliers and he said it was cool and I could ask him stuff any time and I don't know, he said you wouldn't mind. I was just asking him some things about the weekend."

Oh. That. "The fliers checked out, they're the genuine article," Frank told him. "So we're letting that person do their job, you don't have to worry about it unless you got bit." He couldn't help but study Dylan and search his face when he spoke, needing to know if the boy would flinch at all.

Dylan kept his head low and let his hair flop over to hide his face. It didn't matter any more, the person putting out their fliers had been too late. Those werewolves, those people, had already been killed by some over-zealous hunter. He nibbled on his bottom lip and shifted the chair back away from the table, ready to get up and leave again but first, he looked up at Frank. "The people who got bit got killed, Doc told me. Someone was in the hospital and killed them. A hunter, Dad, like you."

"Whoever it was, he didn't get all of them," Frank said quietly. "You keep that to yourself, son. I don't know who it was, even Martens doesn't know who it was." He thought about this one before speaking. "That hunter was nothing like me, Dylan. I don't take out defenseless people who ain't done any harm."

Dylan watched Frank closely and chewed on his lip to keep his thoughts to himself. Doc had said Frank wasn't like that too but Dylan wasn't sure if he believed it. It was easy to say something, another to actually stick to it and maybe Frank had broken too many little, unimportant promises back in the day for him to really believe in his word any more. It wouldn't be a good idea to tell him that though so instead, he just stood up and shrugged. "Yeah, I know, you've said that before." He looked across to the door then back to the older man still sitting across the table. "Dad, I want to learn how to use a gun. Not for werewolves or anything but just... Like, for the thing that killed Mom. I want to learn what to do when I find it."

"Sit your ass back down," Frank said and there was darkness there in his voice that hadn't been there before. When I find it - was not something he wanted coming out of Dylan's mouth. If he'd said for protection, to feel safer around the guns that would have been a different matter. But vengeance against something that big... "You listen to me and you listen good," he said when Dylan was seated. "That thing that killed Jade," he paused, a twitch going through his jaw that betrayed what he was feeling at that moment. "I've been up against one before, it took three of us to take one down, three seasoned hunters. What makes you think you can kill that thing by your lonesome?"

Dylan didn't want to sit but he did as he was told. There had been something in the way Frank had asked - no, demanded - that scared him into obeying. He stared at his dad with wide eyes. He hadn't heard about Frank's work before, not specific cases like this, and if three professionals struggled with the monster? Well, maybe he didn't have a chance but he had to try. It had killed his mother, he had walked in on it eating her bloodied flesh. He shivered and hugged himself, suddenly feeling colder than the house actually was. "I have to," he finally said. His voice was small and he shrunk down in his seat. "I need to try. It ate her, Daddy, and I saw it. I don't want to see that monster again but, man, I've got to. I just... I can't explain it. I just know it's something I have to do. Not right now but, like, learn and then find it."

Frank stared at him, the cogs in his head turning and turning and he didn't like this, not one bit. He wanted to tell Dylan that he didn't need to find it because Frank was always looking, he had people he knew keeping their ears and eyes open and once that thing got flushed out, Frank would be there on the front line, ready to do damage. But he couldn't tell Dylan that because he knew it wasn't that sort of a need. Dylan didn't need to find it because nobody else was, he needed to find it because it had killed his mom. He needed to see it torn to pieces before he could feel any peace in his soul and Frank understood that. "I tell you what, son. I'll teach you." He paused, stared at Dylan and hoped the kid got the gravity of this, hoped he'd god damn listen and not run off on his own. "When the time comes, we take it down together if you're ready. If you're not ready, you still get to be there, just stay out of the way and do as I tell you. I promise you this if you promise you don't go off and do something stupid on your own. Do we have a deal?"

"No, Dad, I have..." Dylan had been all ready to fight that he didn't even listen to hear that his dad said. When it did click though, he stopped and stared at his father with wide eyes. His dad had agreed? Frank had agreed to teach Dylan and help him go after that monster he'd seen in his kitchen? Even if they didn't find it right away, at least he'd be prepared for when they did. It might take years, decades maybe, but he needed to find it and kill it. Frank probably did too, he had loved Jade in his own weird way. They could do it together. His confused expression turned into a small smile and he nodded. "I won't go looking for it," he promised and pushed the chair back again. "But I still want the attic or I'm putting masking tape across the floor and keeping Nate off my side of the room."

"We're shaking on that deal before I let you go anywhere," Frank told him and held out a thick, calloused hand expectantly. "You do what you gotta do. There's some tape in the garage, in the drawer behind the old engine parts. Just make sure he can get to the door, you boys are late often enough as it is."

Dylan didn't like that idea and with the way his smile dropped, it showed. He had hoped after their chat, their first father-to-son one that didn't involve grumping at each other the whole time, that maybe Frank would come around about the attic thing too. No luck. He sighed and stepped closer to take his father's rough hand. It was a cautious move. Except for the stolen hugs and the way Frank held him the morning they told him about the supernatural, Dylan hadn't had much physical contact with his dad since he came to Michigan. Before, either, but he got enough of that from his mother to make up for it. Now it just felt weird, unwelcomed in a way even though Frank had been the first one to offer his hand.

"Deal," he said and gave one firm shake before he pulled his arm back. "But you're being unfair about the attic thing. Why do I have to look at Nate's dog-face every freaking day?" He let out a grunt of frustration, stomped his foot and headed out to the garage to find the tape. He just hoped Nate stuck to his boundaries.

Frank didn't have a chance to answer before the boy was stomping off and he watched him go with mild amusement. He couldn't help but wonder about what was going on between the boys. Had they really known each other long enough to be at sibling war already? Frank had no idea, he'd never had siblings of his own. His initial worry had subsided a little but he still couldn't help that nagging feeling that something bad was going on with Nate.