Whoops, sorry for the double post...

Apparently, it’s physically impossible for me to write a one shot more than three pages long…. Okay! This one’s for Xanthofile´s Doll Contest! Go check out his stories if you hadn’t already! You can find him in my favorite authors list.

Edited by Amindaya!

Fornication Under Consent of the King

William loved his son.

William loved his son even if one time he had knocked over his CD tower.

William loved his son even when he had crashed the car after stealing it.

William loved his son even if it rained or snowed. He loved him when he had started high school. He loved him when he got his first high school A and his first high school F. He loved him when he had his first crush, sophomore year. He loved him even more when he started dating. He even loved him when he’d spend all night on the phone.

William was a loving man. He was all smiles and jokes. He was an easy going, hard working and well achieved man. Summer was his favorite season, the sun was bright and the streets full of playing children, laughter and lemonade.

He loved lemonade.

One summer afternoon, William poured lemonade into two tall glasses and settled them on the kitchen table. The table—the white and red checkered kitchen with white and red checkered curtains. He sat down with a smile on his face and waited, patiently, until the front door creaked open.

David came in, a huge toothy grin plastered on his face.

William loved his son. He loved his spiky hair (recently dyed blonde), his too-big mouth and his constantly laughing eyes. He even loved that he was wearing the t-shirt he had bought for him. Because what kind of seventeen year old would wear something his father had bought for them? David did, and William loved him for it.

He invited David to sit with him, have a bit of lemonade. It was hot out; David was sweating a little.

William wasn’t scared of talking to his son. He had talked to him about anything and everything. He had given him the talk about the bees and flowers and about Heaven – where grandma and grandpa were- and Hell. He had talked with him about his fights at school, about his homework, about politics, religion, fashion and so on.

But, for some reason, they had never discussed about David’s girlfriend. William was sure that, if his son was curious about something or had any doubts, he would come to him, asking anything. Because he loved him and he would answer with a smile on his face, as always. But David never asked. Not in the year or so they had been dating. He was sure that by now, they had to have done something. They were young and full of life and raging hormones. But still, not a single question, remark…no suspicious contents in his pockets, nothing.

William wasn’t worried. No, he was just concerned about his son’s health. He wasn’t going to interrogate him or force anything out of him if he wasn’t willing. He was simply going to ask. Just smile and ask and hope that the boy hadn’t gotten anyone pregnant.

No, he wasn’t worried.

And so he started by asking him how his day was. Was he having fun on his vacation? Was he excited about being a senior next year? Had he been looking up those college pamphlets? Is she pregnant?

David choked on his lemonade, barely managing to keep most of it in his mouth. William loved his son, he hated to see him panting for breath and blushing like he was right then. But he had to know, he couldn’t move until he knew if he was going to be a thirty-eight year old grandfather or if his son was just waiting until marriage.

After what felt like hours, David finally looked up. He wasn’t grinning his toothy grin and his always laughing eyes were dead serious.

William feared the heart attack he was about to have. He was sure it was going to be a painful one. At once the laughter outside died, the sun peaking trough the curtains felt cold and the lemonade bitter. David opened his mouth and William grabbed his chest.

“No, if I got the bees and flowers right I don’t think that’s possible.”

And just like that sound came back to the room. The buzzing of the fridge started over and William took a long swig of his sweet drink. All was good in the world again. Until he caught up on something. He asked his son what he had meant by that.

“I mean…there are no flowers, just bees, dad. His name’s John.”

William died a little that day.

At once all kind of thoughts came to him, the first one being something like “Joan. He said Joan, I think I heard Joan.”

Then he felt bad, he wanted grandchildren. How come David never said anything before? He loved him, they could talk about anything. Politics and religion. He played with the idea of all being a joke, but David didn’t joke with things like this. His son was g-g-gay. He was. He was, and William still loved him. And he loved that David had finally said something to him, and he was kind of glad there wasn’t any pregnant girl or early grandkids.

“Bring him over,” he said. “I want to meet him; it’s about time, don’t you think?”

David grinned. He loved his father.

--

John loved his boyfriend.

John loved his boyfriend even if he had punched him once.

John loved his boyfriend even if he was forcing him to meet his dad with not even a day’s notice. He had loved him for almost a year now and he expected it to last for a long time too. He wasn’t about to fight over something like this— he would go over, say hi, and leave.

Or so he thought.

John didn’t love William and William didn’t love John…in the slightest.

In fact, as soon as William sat eyes on the spiky dyed blonde hair (surprise, surprise), the squinty eyes and what looked like pajama bottoms and sandals, he frowned. Yes, William frowned and David didn’t like it. It was a foreign expression on his father’s face, it didn’t belong there.

John didn’t like it either, he felt self-conscious under his stare. This guy wasn’t the fruity guy David had described. He was just a pissed off dad, the very thing he feared.

But David pushed him inside before he could turn around and run.

William didn’t like that John kept staring at his feet instead of looking up. He didn’t like that his hair was same as his son and he didn’t like his little, frowning mouth. John was skinny, lanky and rude. He didn’t ask if he could come inside and he didn’t even say hello when he did.

There was silence and William was regretting this already. John was going to kill David later. He hadn’t even come out to his parents yet, why was he doing this? Oh, yes…he loved David. And if he had to put up with it, he would. So he mustered courage and lifted up his face, meeting William’s eyes, and smiled.

“Hello,” he said, and William was doomed.

Though his smile was small, his face darker and his eyes still resentful, his voice was soft. Soft as a child’s, soft as David’s.

William was a loving man and he loved summer. He admitted pajama bottoms were comfortable and sandals suitable for the heat. That afternoon, he settled three tall glasses on the kitchen table, the white and red checkered kitchen, and poured lemonade in them.