Parent-Teacher Conference
Alternate Universe: Family Matters
Webmaster Note: This story was rescued from a "data dump" of the defunct DrinkinNFightin list. It is possible that it is not the finalized version that was originally archived at the list's website, dnf.slashcity.org, which was successfully 'wiped' from the internet.
Buck rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how the hell he kept ending up here sitting with teachers on parents' night. It had been his idea to flip for the chore, but it seemed like he was losing too often lately, and that maybe this, like cooking dinner and signing report cards and doling out punishment, should return to the "Who did it last time?" approach.
"Wait a minute," he said, interrupting Vin's math teacher, "what are you saying?"
"I'm saying he could do better. He--"
"Better than what?" Buck challenged with a frown. "He hasn't brought home anything less than a 'C' since the third grade."
"Well yes, that's true, Mr. Wilmington, but we like to encourage the children to do their best, and let's face it, Cs aren't going to get him into a good college."
"Huh." Buck paused for a second, wondering if Chris weren't a bad influence on him because what he really wanted to do was tell this bastard to fuck off and then pop him one. He looked across the auditorium to where Vin "mingled," slinking near a corner of the bleachers with two of his friends and casting worried looks Buck's way. For the kid, Buck smiled reassuringly and waved a hand.
"You don't think his athletic record would squeeze him in somewhere, if he wanted to go to college?" he asked.
Mr. Meyers looked like he'd just found half a worm in his apple.
"Athletic scholarships aren't the thing to aim for in an academic curriculum, Mr. Wilmington," he all but reprimanded. "Perhaps, ah, Mr. Larabee would like to come in sometime this week to discuss the problem?"
Great, now the little shit thought Buck was just as dumb as he thought Vin was. "Sorry, pal," he said, and dragged up a smile, "I got the short straw, I get to deal with it." Not <<you,>> which was what he wanted to say, but <<it>>, which he really didn't know how to handle. At least when JD came along to this guy's classroom, he wouldn't get the shit Vin was obviously taking.
Meyers looked guardedly enthusiastic. "We have some excellent after-school programs," he pitched. "They're tuition-based, but they're very reasonable and could give him some extra attention and time for his studies."
No way was he going to force Vin into more classes when the boy worked so hard to get by in the ones he already took. "Let me think about it," he said anyway.
He let Vin drive them home, making sure to ruffle the kid's hair and reassure him that the math teacher--and the English teacher, for that matter--were pumped up on academic arrogance and hadn't impressed Buck at all. Vin seemed relieved, and Buck knew the boy had taken too much to heart whatever those teachers had said.
Chris's truck sat parked in the driveway, which meant that all their paperwork was filed and dinner would be waiting. Buck harangued Vin all the way into the house and settled down for the Chinese food Chris had picked up on his way home, smiling, telling Chris the parent-teacher conference had gone great and that the teachers liked Vin. If he could do undercover work with munitions dealers, he could sure as hell snow his lover and their boys.
"Okay, you two, Chris and I are gonna confab," Buck announced.
"Buck--" Chris whispered, a kind of irritated-sounding warning, and Buck hid a grin. The boys exchanged knowing looks and rolled eyes too, which was just fine by Buck. If they thought a little parent-to-parent nookie was about to happen, then Vin would have even less cause to worry that Buck was going to talk to Chris about those asshole teachers.
"Come on, Chris. It's Monday, they've got homework tonight and JD's got the basketball game tomorrow night. They'll clean up the dishes, won't you boys?" He cast a hopeful eye between them.
"Yeah, we got you covered, Buck," JD chirped. The kid had a really unhealthy interest in the frequency and intensity of his parents' sexual liaisons, but Buck figured it couldn't be bad for him; JD had never walked in on anything, and at almost fifteen he'd asked only the normal kinds of questions about sex, boys, girls, and the like. Buck had known a hell of a lot more about his own mother's habits, both on and off the job, by that age.
"Chris." Buck reached and grasped his lover's upper arm, squeezing tightly to convey a little more than libido. "Come on."
Frowning, Chris threw his napkin on the table and stood up. "Okay, boys," he said dryly, "we're confabbing. We'll be down in a little bit."
Predictably, JD snickered, and Buck wondered if maybe he ought to talk to the kid... but later. For now, he hustled Chris up the stairs with a hand to the neat, jeans-clad butt, and closed the bedroom door behind him.
"What's wrong?" Chris demanded.
"We need to find a different school for Vin, Chris. Charter, or uh, Montessori or--I don't know, I don't give a rat's ass, but I'm not sending our kid back to that high school if I can help it."
Chris paled a little. "What happened?"
"He's 'underachieving'," Buck snapped. "Underachieving my ass! He works hard for those grades, who the fuck do those teachers think they are to--"
Chris's chuckle broke through the beginning of Buck's tirade before he could really get a full head of steam.
"God damn it, Chris, it's not funny!"
"Yeah," Chris said, still grinning, "it's funny. Buck, who gives a shit if his teacher thinks he can do better?"
Buck, who had started pacing as soon as he closed the door, pulled up short. He couldn't have heard that right. "What?"
A hand reached, squeezed kindly at his shoulder. "Hey, pal, teachers do dumb-ass things. They piss us off and sometimes that made us resent them, and sometimes it makes us determined to prove them wrong. It's no big deal."
"Chris, what the hell are you talking about? They're making Vin think he's stupid!"
"No," Chris said, sobering a little. "They're not. Hell, the only folks who could do that are you and me, maybe JD, and we're never going to. Relax."
Buck felt the strangest urge to pop Chris one, since the teacher wasn't available. "Do you have any idea at all what you're saying? You don't know what it's like, Chris, when teachers are riding your ass even when you're already trying, or singling you out when all you're trying to do is fit in. You don't know what it's like to feel like you're behind the other kids and you're always gonna be--"
"Listen to yourself," Chris interrupted. "What the hell do you mean, I don't know what that feels like? Yeah, I do. Everybody does. You too. I remember you told me once... you were the one voted least likely to succeed in junior high, or something like that? Look how you turned out."
"Yeah, but--"
"No buts about it, Buck. This ain't about Vin."
Buck twitched and tried to pace again, but Chris wouldn't let go of his shoulder. "This isn't about me, Chris," he said, intent, low.
"Yeah, it is," Chris asserted. "I know it, because I did his parent-teacher conferences last semester of last year, and a couple of folks gave me the same bullshit. I ignored it, and so did Vin. You should too."
It was the last thing Buck wanted to do. His instincts told him to defend Vin, like his own mother would have for him, if she'd been able. "Can't," he prevaricated. The underlying question still remained, the question Buck had asked himself more than once in his life, and that he'd been asking again all evening. "What if the teachers are right?"
Chris frowned, and squeezed his shoulder a little harder "Right about what?"
Buck blew out a breath of air and dropped into the room's only chair. "What if we aren't making Vin buckle down enough? What if he's losing a chance to do something he really wants to do, later?"
"Do you think your mom didn't make you work hard enough?"
Buck frowned, feeling his old defensive reflex at the idea of anyone saying anything bad about his mother, but Chris held up a hand, laughing, before Buck could dig up a protective comeback. "See my point?" Chris shrugged. "So maybe Vin's not going to grow up to be president, or get a phD. So? Maybe he doesn't want any of that."
Buck tried hard to avoid rubbing his hands, and leaned forward instead, elbows on knees. "But what if he does? What if I'm screwing up, Chris?"
Boots stepped into his field of view, and then jeans-clad knees bobbled out as Chris knelt down. A hand tugged at his chin and Buck, frowning, lifted his head to meet clear, quiet hazel eyes. "Those boys were in a dead hooker's flop house when you found them," he said gently. "Then they were in an orphanage, fucked up, nightmares, acting out, afraid of people. Vin was on a short road to a Colorado Youth Authority detention center and you know it." Chris reached out then, and grasped Buck's hands in a strong, undeniable grip. "Do us both a favor, Buck," he said, still gentle. "Don't ever imagine that you're failing those kids."
Buck got a little misty then, but he turned his wrists to squeeze back. "I just..."
"Don't, Buck," Chris repeated. "Come on, big guy. Don't."
Buck tried one more time, even though he figured Chris was right about whose problem this really was. He just didn't want Vin to have the same problems he'd had. "But wouldn't it be better to find him someplace different? Someplace that's maybe gonna be more responsive?"
Chris wedged in closer then, going to his knees and edging his hips between Buck's thighs. His hands slid up the outsides of Buck's legs until they rested naturally on Buck's hips. "Nobody in the world is more responsive than we are. And here's what you forgot when whatever idiots said whatever they said to you; Vin and JD are in the same school system. They look out for each other, and JD would hate it if Vin wasn't somewhere nearby. Vin would, too."
Buck sucked in a slow, calming breath, a weight he hadn't known he was carrying suddenly lifting. "Maybe we could look into something for both of them?"
Chris nodded. "We could. But not without talking to them first, all right? They've got friends here who they've known for years. You know what those family therapists told us; stability is the best thing they can have, and they've got it where they are."
Chris was right. Buck knew it, probably would have known it without prompting if his own past hadn't snuck up on him in that auditorium. "I want us to talk to 'em though, all right?" he urged. "Just in case?"
Chris leaned in even closer, and Buck accepted the chaste, slow kiss. "Yeah," Chris whispered, "we can talk to 'em." Then he leaned in again. Buck thought it was just comforting, until fingers slid up along his neck and threaded through his hair, and Chris's tongue slipped out to tease open his lips.
Buck tucked his chin to break the kiss and pulled away a few inches. "What about the boys?"
"What about 'em?" Chris grinned. "They already think we're in here making out, so I'm gonna feel mortified when we go back out regardless. Might as well make the most of it."
"I want to go check on Vin."
Chris frowned, staring intently, and his hands dropped purposely to Buck's thighs, fingers teasing and tickling up the insides until they met, tenderly, over his package and Buck hissed in a reluctant breath. All this time, and Chris could still light him up...
"We will," Chris breathed, and massaged lovingly. "In a little bit. They're not going anywhere."
Buck stared into Chris's eyes, recognizing a softness there that grown men rarely displayed, even when--maybe especially when--they were committed to the long term together.
Chris's hands never stopped stroking.
Buck smiled. "I get you all worked up?" he asked.
Chris said nothing, changed nothing; he just kept staring with his heart in his eyes, and kept stroking what was quickly waking up in his hands.
"You know, it's kinky that you get so hot when I go all parental."
Chris grinned at that, and Buck felt the tug on his zipper as his lover opened his fly. He broke eye contact then, glancing between their bodies to the place where Chris's hands worked with such enthusiasm.
Buck had always been a visual guy, and Chris's hands on his tender parts, his charcoal gray of trousers framing his erect dick and bare belly, and Chris's tenderly ministering hands, was at least as erotic to him as the touches themselves.
"You know," Chris said conversationally, "it's kinky that you get so hot when I go all lovey-dovey."
Licking his lips, Buck raised his eyes and met his lover's once more. "I'm easy," he breathed. "You always said so."
Chris's hands froze for a second, then slid up under his polo shirt. "Come to bed and make me glad I said yes that first time," he whispered.
When Chris put it like that, Buck couldn't think of one single reason to say no.
It took them a lot longer than it usually did, Chris so preoccupied with achieving that unspoken kind of connection that happened infrequently, with the constraints of time and work and children. Buck couldn't complain, not for the pleasure passing between them, and not for the feelings. He never doubted their devotion to each other; they were family, comfortable, safe, known. But it was easy to forget about it, to let it take a back seat to the trivial details of getting through the day.
Looked like tonight was the night to remember, and what began as a slow, steady burn flared into conflagration.
* * *
They must've fallen asleep in each other's arms. The clock on the nightstand blinked 10:23 p.m., and the knock at the door repeated, louder this time.
"You guys okay in there?" Vin yelled, and Buck distinctly heard JD snickering.
Chris jerked away, looking a little panicked. "Did you lock the door?" he hissed.
Buck chuckled and pushed back Chris's sweat-matted hair. "Don't worry about it, they don't want to see any more than you want them to." Then, louder, "We're fine! Go to sleep, you hellions!"
More laughter, and this time it was both of them.
"Confab," JD hollered. "I don't think I wanna start dating, Vin; I'm just gonna go on confabs."
"Smart aleck!" Chris yelled, frowning toward the door. "Get away from that door or you're grounded til you're eighteen!"
Buck's chuckles got worse, until he was laughing out loud and had to let go of Chris so he could wrap his arms around his belly.
"You too," Chris hissed, but it didn't help matters any.
Eventually he got control of himself and tried to slide out from under the covers, but Chris grabbed him tighter. "I'm just gonna make sure they went to bed," he promised. "I'll be right back."
"I'll go with you.'
Buck slid back into the clothes he'd been wearing, but Chris opted for sweat pants and an old Army tee shirt he kept around for cold nights. Hand in hand, they headed first for JD's bedroom, knocking without opening the door because almost-fifteen-year-old boys spent a hell of a lot too much time jerking off.
"You asleep in there?" Buck called quietly.
"Come on in. I'm just finishing a chapter."
"What do you want to bet it's science fiction?" Chris mouthed, then twisted the doorknob.
Buck grinned. "Six o'clock's gonna come early, kid. 'Night."
"Night Buck. Night Chris."
"Good night, JD. Sleep tight."
The last thing Buck saw before Chris snicked the door shut was the cocky grin of a secure young man who thought he knew everything; it was a beautiful sight.
"Vin?" he called, knocking again, because sixteen-year-olds were pretty much as preoccupied with their dicks as fourteen-year-olds were.
"It's open," Vin's muffled voice seeped through the door.
"Hey, kid," Chris smiled at him. "We fell asleep. Sorry."
Vin just shrugged. "No problem. We did our homework and watched Showtime."
"Hey, Vin," Buck asked. He had to ask. "You liking school okay?"
Vin shrugged. "It's all right." Then he frowned a little and ducked his head. "Old man Meyers, he thinks I cut up too much."
"Do you?" Chris asked, and Buck smiled thanks for the support.
"Nah. I just... I don't like math much."
"All right then," Chris said, letting it go at that. "See you in the morning."
Back in their bedroom, Buck felt so energized from the special loving that as Chris pulled off his tee shirt and wriggled out of his sweats, Buck decided maybe they could go at it again. But Chris grabbed his wrist in a police officer's grip and turned it back on him with a grin. "Six o'clock's gonna come damned early, stud."
Buck tried hard to look crestfallen. "Yeah, but--"
"I don't take 'yeah, but' as an argument from the boys, I'm sure as hell not gonna take it from you." Buck kept looking, and had to swallow a grin when Chris caved. "How about this, Buck?" he bartered, in full negotiation mode. "We get a decent night's sleep and I'll try and swing a little morning treat for you. How's that?"
Buck would have gone to sleep without the bribe, but he settled down and dragged Chris close, listening to the quiet hum of the circulating fan and the sound of the toilet flushing upstairs. No reason Chris should know that.
The End