The Good Son - 2. Chapter 2: Getting to Know

“I don’t want you to go to work tomorrow,” Arty mumbled as he lay lazily on Jack's office desk, his clothes in a crumpled pile on the floor. Jack clicked his tongue and tucked himself back into his boxer briefs before buttoning his pants and fastening his belt.

“I don't want us to go to bed,” the older man replied, leaning over the desk to kiss Arty, his husband wrapping his bare legs around Jack's waist and pulling him closer to him. Jack shook his head. “You’d be a good con artist,” he said humorously, letting Arty slip his arms around his neck and kiss him some more.

“Mm, why's that?” the brunette asked through a small smirk of delight at being named a con of mischief.

“You're good at convincing.” Jack looked into Arty's beautiful blue eyes, lightly illuminated by the porch light that showed through the window's thin curtains. Other than that, the office was dark, and most of their night together had been blind.

Arty chuckled and tightened his hold on his husband, keeping him from slipping away as he deepened the kiss, Jack's facial hair scratching his soft lips and chin, but he ignored it for the sake of the moment. He let the older blonde's tongue slip into his mouth, canvasing the hot canal. Arty moaned into the kiss and brought a hand down to caress Jack's cheek, his thumb grazing over the light scar that took Jack's cheek near his mouth when he and his brother got into a fight while building a shed together years ago. He'd won, of course, but not unscathed, even if the scar was hidden by his facial hair.

Jack felt a hand up Arty's soft, thin stomach, before breaking the kiss with a groan of agitation. Arty chuckled, gazing up at him.

“What?”

“You know what; work, and you have to watch the kids.”

Arty pouted but let Jack go anyway, because he was right, as much as sexually, he was wrong. “Okay, leave me here all alone, draped like a damsel-”

“Arty,” Jack chuckled, giving the sexy, naked man a sideways glance as he stepped back. Arty laughed and sat up on the desk.

“Fine, give me the tissues and let them work you as a slave,” Arty said with flair. He never said, but Jack always wondered if he had taken theater or drama classes in school.

“I happen to like my job, thank you very much.” Jack grabbed the box of tissues from the shelf beside his desk, which he handed to Arty as the brunette got up from the wooden surface.

“I know, I know. They just really work you.”

“No pain, no gain, babe.”

Arty rolled his eyes and started cleaning himself up, wiping his inner thighs of their passion. Jack knelt to grab Arty's clothes and tossed them to the man, who barely caught them in the darkness. He threw the tissues away and started dressing himself, and then he wrapped his arms around Jack's neck again once he was finished, pressing his body to his husband's.

“One more,” he said and pressed his lips against Jack's neck. His husband ducked out of Arty's hold.

“Keep me up any later and I'll have to call in sick.”

“Ooh.”

“Which isn't happening.” Jack took Arty's hand and dragged him out of the room, the younger man whispering small, flirtatious words to him. Jack glanced at him with a smile and almost said something in return, but Arty slipped away from him first. “What now?”

“I’ll be up in a minute, I want a glass of water,” Arty said and pointed off toward the kitchen. Jack let Arty give him a quick peck before continuing to the stairs to go to bed, his younger husband going of to the kitchen.

Arty flicked the kitchen lights on and stepped to the sink, where he reached up above the porcelain to grab a cup from the cupboard.

He hummed a tune lightly to himself, turning the sink on and holding the cup underneath the water to fill it. Once it was full, he shut the sink off and leaned over it, gazing into his glass at the water that bubbled lightly inside.

His humming came to a slow end, as his mind started to wander about something.

"What were you singing?" a sudden voice asked, startling Arty enough to make him lose his grip on his cup, but he quickly caught it before it fell and shattered. He set the goods inside of the sink and turned to look at the surprise guest.

Daniel sat at the kitchen table, with an empty plate in front of him and jars of peanut butter and jelly to the side closed, because of the respectful boy he was. The dirty butter knife on the plate told that he had just finished eating. Arty gave an awkward laugh.

“Wow, you uh, scared me. How long have you been in here?” he asked, turning from the sink shift leaning back against it.

“I came in here a while before, but I suppose I fell asleep. Sorry to startle you."

“Er, no, it's okay. Did you eat with the light off?" Arty asked curiously, furrowing his eyebrows. Daniel gave a light shrug and nodded.

“What was that song?” the teen asked again, putting his arms on the table and resting his chin on them, gazing at Arty with his dark eyes. The man gave a smile.

"It's just a Spanish lullaby. I might not like like it, but my dad was Mexican. He'd always play it on his guitar at night, mostly when it rained," he said proudly, though the pride was soft and careful.

Daniel didn't say anything, watching Arty like he expected more to be said. The man shook his head and looked at the China cabinet. "I never knew the words, but-"

"It sounded beautiful," Daniel said. Arty glanced at him and laughed, surprised.

"Um, thanks." He chuckled meekly, abashed. Then he pointed off. "We should head to bed; it's late and I don't want to be to blame if your sleeping schedule gets rocky." He picked the glass back up to drink from it before setting upside down in the sink, letting the drain suck down the leftover.

Daniel stood up from the table and took up the plate and jars, where he carried the dishes to the sink to set them inside. He brushed his arm against Arty's, the man not noticing as he offered to take the jars from Daniel and put them away.

"So, are you liking your room?" A the man asked while setting the jelly in the fridge. Daniel nodded.

"The bed is very soft and comfortable, and it's quiet."

"Were there more kids in the foster home?"

"There were three more, and they were always loud."

“Mm. Well, come on, I’ll walk you to your room," Arty said and waved for Daniel to follow him as he headed to the kitchen archway. Daniel did so, and the two walked to the stairs together. Whatever more questions Daniel had, he waited until they were upstairs to ask, while Jack and Geil were most likely sleeping. He looked at Arty.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked. Arty nodded whilst walking the teen to his room.

“Sure.”

“How long have you and Jack been married?”

Arty chuckled and shook his head. “Well, seven years. It’ll be eight in exactly three months.”

“March 23rd?”

“Yep, March 23rd. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long though, it still feels just like yesterday,” the man said softly. Daniel could see the fondness in the his eyes. “I know that’s what all married couples say, but honestly. It's like, Geil was just a toddler yesterday!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice. Daniel nodded while smiling softly.

“I can see it. Can you come into my room?” he asked, looking at Arty. The brunette feigned thinking it over before nodding.

“Sure, I’ll come inside.”

Daniel opened his bedroom door and walked inside. Walking to his bed and sitting, he watched Arty step into the room and sit at Daniel's desk, pulling the chair out and turning it to face the teen. “Is something wrong?” he asked. Daniel shook his head.

“Can you tell me how you two met?”

“Me and Jack?”

“Yes.”

Arty huffed and gave a little laugh. “Well, when I was sixteen I had this job at a grocery store, and he came in a few times with his wife of the time, but they were always bickering. What kind of bread, who had the car keys, who was gonna pay me... Then one day, he came alone and we chatted."

“He was been married before?”

“Yeah, he was maybe… his early forties? We got married on my twenty first.”

“Your birthday is March 23rd?” Daniel asked, sitting forward on his bed. Arty nodded.

“Yep, that’s it.”

“How long did you date before getting married?”

Arty reached up to rub his neck, and Daniel knew then that he wasn't going to answer. “Daniel, it’s um, really getting late,” the man said softly and stood up from the chair. Daniel pressed his lips together and watched Arty as the man turned the chair back and pushed it in.

“...Goodnight, then,” Daniel spoke up and Arty looked over at him. The man gave a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Daniel. You’re lucky it’s Saturday, that means you don’t have school tomorrow,” he said before stretching, arching his back. This time, Daniel didn’t say anything, watching Arty stretch and then letting him pat his head as he left the room.

l.l

“Wait, wait! Jack!” Arty jumped up from the kitchen table to run after Jack, who had just passed the kitchen with his work suit on, in the process of doing his tie.

“Dammit, Arty, I’m already running late!” Jack stopped to look at Arty, the man rushing to him and stopping him in his tracks. Daniel watched them through the kitchen arch for a moment before looking beside himself, where Geil ate his omelet with his hands, his little fingers coated in ketchup. Hearing Arty and Jack talk in the background, Daniel leaned on the table with an elbow, watching Geil as the child ate poorly.

The blonde boy didn’t look like he was aware of the dark eyes, touching his plate with his dirty fingers. Then Daniel tapped the table in front of Geil, getting his attention. The child looked at Daniel with his big blue eyes, his lips full with boyish youth.

“Why is your hair so long?” Daniel asked, looking at Geil’s feathery hair that touched his shoulders. The question seemed to go over Giel's head, as he stared at Daniel. The teen sat silently for a moment before asking again. "Why is your hair so long?”

Geil spoke up this time.

“Daddy likes it, he says it's pretty,” the boy said shyly, and Daniel glanced back out of the archway, where Jack was motioning off while talking to Arty. He looked back at Geil.

“Which daddy?”

“Daddy!”

“Nice daddy, or old daddy?”

“Nice daddy,” Geil took a bite of his omelet with his small teeth and Daniel turned back to his own plate when he heard the front door shut, pulling his arm off of the table and taking up his fork again.

Arty came into the kitchen with a sigh, walking to the counter beside the stove to start picking things up from cooking; the eggshells that Geil helped crack, the mixing bowl, frying pan.

“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked, cutting a piece of his omelet to eat. Arty looked at the two from where he stood beside the stove, and he eventually gave in with a huff of defeat.

“I lost my necklace. It's on a silver chain, and I always wear it." He put the things down to put a hand on his forehead to try and remember where he would have taken it off, if he had.

“Is there a more detailed description?” Daniel asked, putting his fork down to give Arty his full attention. The adult just shook his head slowly in self agitation.

“There's a locket on it. It's not too big at all.”

“I have a locket!” Geil called out, but Arty ignored him because he knew he was just saying things. He sighed deeply and decided to finish picking up before leaving the kitchen again. Daniel furrowed his eyebrows.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m gonna look in Jack’s office. Would you mind watching Geil for me, please?” Arty asked and looked back at Daniel, who looked at Geil. The teen nodded.

“Sure.”