Summary: Have you ever suddenly realize you'd forgotten to do something really, really, really just ridiculously important?
Rating: PG-13
Archived: 05/26/05 - 07/29/2005
Ben had intended to have the donuts polished off and his emergency pack of cigarettes snuggled safely inside his extra running shoes before Michael got home. He'd intended on pulling himself together, somehow, washing the newly formed worry lines off of his face, and opening all the windows to let cold air chase the smoky cigarette smell out of the room before Michael got home. He'd even intended on practicing what he was going to say a few times, maybe copying down some notes just in case he got stuck half way through the explanation before Michael got home. He'd intended on doing all of these things, because he hated seeing that look of sick worry skitter across Michael's face. Unfortunately, since his husband of three months was now standing in the doorway, taking in the half empty box of donuts, the worry lines and the wispy trail of smoke lazily drifting from the ashtray with a look that would have made a casual observer think the apocalypse had arrived, Ben realized that he had failed on all counts quite spectacularly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Michael finally asked. The tone in his voice was soft, but there was a question tinged with barely contained panic dancing across his eyes.
"Ahh, Michael sit down for me," Ben said, motioning to the empty chair to his right.
Michael didn't move, but worry blossomed across his face."Oh, God. Are you sick? Are the meds not working? Did someone call? Did someone else you know--did someone I know--where's Hunter?"
As if on cue, their lanky foster son chose that moment to saunter through the door, backpack dangling off one shoulder. "Right here, dude. Hey donuts!"
Swatting Hunter away from the box, Michael slid into the waiting chair. "Jesus, don't eat those. You won't eat dinner."
Ignoring the protest, Hunter pulled a sprinkled covered donut out of the box. "My stomach has room for all things edible. Part of the magic that comes with being a teenager."
"Smart ass," Michael mumbled. His diverted attention was short lived and the panic filled look was once again focused on Ben.
Reaching over, Ben took Michael's hand in his. "First, I need you to calm down."
"I can't calm down!" Michael shot back. "I'm the one who panics in this relationship. Remember?"
Chuckling, Ben gave Michael's hand a squeeze. "I'm not sick, but I do need to call my parents." Michael's eyebrows shot up and Ben raised his free hand in a plea for silence. "I don't need to call them for the reason you think I do. I'm not sick. I feel fine. There is nothing physically wrong with me. I just--for god's sake Hunter give me those!" Ben said, pulling the donuts safely out of the teenager's reach, but not before Hunter had snatched what would be his third treat out of the box.
After sliding the donuts between Michael and himself, Ben pulled his glasses off, and began to rub the bridge of his nose.
"Michael, you'd say we've been pretty busy these past few years, right?"
Michael blinked. Confusion was now warring with panic over what each considered to be rightly owned territory. "What--? Sure..what?"
"Well, there was our first meeting and then... um... the events that followed our first meeting. Then I was in the hospital for a while. Michael, I'm fine. Stop looking at me like that!"
"Oh, OK, I'll just look at Hunter for the rest of this conversation."
"Dude, that's creepy."
Leaning across the table, Michael snatched the stolen donut from out of the teenager's hand. "Hunter, not now."
Ben continued, "My teaching, your store, the difficulty with Debbie, finding out Brian and I had a previous... encounter, the surprise party, my misguided experimentation with steroids, my book, your movie."
"It's good to see we have so many bright and memorable moments in our relationship," Michael said dryly. "You know, my Uncle Vic died somewhere during all of that. You want to bring up that too?"
"There was also the wedding, Hunter, Jenny Rebecca, your mother's engagement, the creation of Rage and the Liberty Ride," Ben added quickly. "And we danced in the apartment to REO Speedwagon. Our relationship hasn't been completely fashioned out of pain and suffering."
"Oh, that is so comforting to know," Michael said.
"You guys probably fucked a lot too," Hunter added knowingly.
Ben sighed. "Thanks pal."
"What does any of this have to do with you needing to tell me about a call to your parents?" Michael asked.
A few of the sprinkles had fallen off the donut in Michael's hand, and Ben began to carefully pick them up one-by-one; letting them stick to the pads of his fingers. "I, ahh, maybe forgot to contact them and let them know."
"About what?" Michael said, frustration engulfing his voice.
"Pretty much all of it."
Panic and confusion suddenly vacated Michael's face, replaced by a whole new emotion. Disbelief. "Ben. Are you trying to tell me that you almost died, got married, decided to raise a kid and just forgot to tell your parents about any of it?"
"Yeah, it seems that way."
Michael's lips twitched. It was a quick twitch, but Ben saw it. "Do they at least know you're gay?"
"They know that!" Ben said indignantly.
"Wait, do they know who I am?" Michael asked. Ben could hear some of the panic creeping back into Michael's voice. "Do they think you're still with Paul? Did they know Paul? How about the HIV? They know that? When exactly was your last contact with these people?"
"They know who you are. They know I have a partner. They just don't know they have a new son-in-law." Ben glanced at Hunter. "Or a grandchild."
This last statement got Hunter's attention. "I'm their what now?"
"Christ, do you know what my mother would have done to me if I had gotten married without telling her?" Michael said in astonishment. "I can hear the newscaster now, `Violence erupted today on Liberty Avenue when a large, red-headed woman was seen beating a rather dashing young man in front of a local diner.' How can you be so calm about this? I want to hyperventilate for you."
"I panicked earlier," Ben said motioning to the ashtray and the junk food.
"Dude, calm down," Hunter chimed-in. "You hate your parents and didn't want to talk to them. No big deal. Everyone hates their parents."
He threw his hands up in defense against Ben and Michael's withering glares.
"Did I say you two? I mean, like, the birth ones. People hate their birth parents all the time."
Ben started to shake his head, but Michael's glare didn't move.
"I don't mean Jenny Rebecca is going to hate you!" Hunter said defensively.
"This has nothing to do with hating anyone," Ben interrupted. "I don't hate my parents."
"Whatever, dude. No grief coming from this side of the table."
"When did you figure this out?" Michael asked.
"This morning, on my way to work." Ben confirmed. "I was riding down the street, and it dawned on me that I hadn't called my mother in quite awhile."
"Did you even go to work?"
Ben ducked his head, feeling sheepish. "I called in."
"And then swung by the local Krispy Kreme," Michael said motioning to the donut in his hand.
Ben nodded. "You know, they're cheaper since the last time I bought a dozen of them."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you just call your parents the minute you realized what a horrible son you'd been?"
"Oh, very funny. I wanted to wait until you got home."
Michael looked surprised. "Why?"
"I was hoping you'd hold my hand while I called."
"Oh," Michael paused. "This is going to be very ugly isn't it?"
Leaning across the table, Ben plucked the donut out of Michael's fingers, and took a bite.
"You have no idea how ugly."
The first time Hunter was dragged out of dreamland, it was seven o'clock. Michael was rattling around the apartment before heading to work, and the commotion had woken Hunter up. Luckily, it hadn't lasted too long, and even before Michael had bolted the door behind him, Hunter had once again fallen asleep. Then second time, Ben woke him up by coming into his room, and asking him if he wanted to go meet Michael for lunch. Hunter's response had been to mumble something along the lines of "go the fuck away" and bury his head under his pillow. That had been somewhere around 11:30. It wasn't that Hunter had anything against free food with his foster fathers; he just had a very carefully planned Saturday ahead of him. He was going to sleep until one, get up, raid the fridge, watched Michael's much loved copy of Spider-Man 2 and drool over Mary Jane until dinner. So when an unknown fucktard started banging at the door around noon, his first instinct was to ignore them. Unfortunately, whoever it was a-knock-knock-knocking at his chamber door was also a persistent fucktard. So feeling half dead, Hunter rolled out of bed, stepped into the jeans he'd left laying on the floor the night before (House rule number 437, "Thou shalt wear pants when answering the door") and stumbled his way through the living room.
Trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, Hunter checked that the zipper on his jeans was up, and unlocked the door. A woman was on the other side of it. She looked to be in her late 50s. Short curly reddish brown hair fell to her shoulders, framing a long face that was decorated with a fair share of crow's feet and laugh lines. She was taller than him, at least 5'9, and skinny in a way that reminded Hunter of a flamingo. Two blue-gray eyes peered at him from behind a pair of glasses. She wore jeans, and a long gray wool coat meant more for practicality than fashion.
The words "social worker" surfaced in his sleep-muddled mind, followed quickly by, "and you're wearing pants. Score." He was ready to move to the side and let her in, when he noticed a man of about the same age standing behind her. He was a little shorter than the woman, but it was something that you'd only notice on a second glance due to his size. He was broad shouldered, strong jawed, and looked as though he'd once had more muscle. Old age had introduced a bit of a stomach, though he was by no means fat. His hair was short, dark blond, graying at the sides and he was also wearing a pair of glasses though they looked almost out of place on him.
"Umm, yes?" Hunter asked uncertainly.
Neither the man nor the woman said anything. Both of them seemed to be too busy staring at him. He'd been onced over many of times in his life. By tricks that wanted to scope out the goods before they made their purchase, by his mother who'd looked at him with a calculating shine in her eyes. Even by Ben or Michael when they would just look at him, sometimes with pride, sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with complete and utter exasperation, but this was different. The two people at his door were looking at him, as though he were some rare endangered animal they never thought they'd get to see. It was really freaking him out, and as usual when frightened or nervous Hunter fell back on old habits.
"I said, 'what the fuck do you want'?" he snapped shifting his stance a little so that he blocked the way into the apartment. When he once again got no answer, Hunter narrowed his eyes and moved to slam the door in his gawker's faces.
Seeing the door sliding shut, the red haired woman seemed to jerk awake. "Wait, wait!" she cried shoving her foot into the doorway. Hunter momentarily considered slamming the door on her foot so that when she pulled away with a broken toe he could close and bolt the door, but in the end decided the lawsuit Ben and Michael might have to deal with would be more trouble than hearing her out.
"My name is Charlotte Bruckner," she said hurriedly. "This is my husband Jeff. We're Ben Bruckner's parents." She paused,and then a smile seemed to tug its way across her face."And you must be Hunter."
Hunter could only remember snippets of the conversation Ben had had with the famous Bruckners two days ago. He'd been playing with his Gameboy at the time, but he had a hazy image of Ben sitting at the kitchen table clutching Michael's hand.
"Mom, I can't say I'm sorry more than I already have!"
"Ben, your grip's getting a little tight here."
"Mom, please stop yelling."
"Um? Ben I can't feel my fingers."
"If you give me a minute to explain I-"
"Sweet heart I really need you to let go of me."
"No, mom I haven't forgotten how the phone works, things have just been a little- Jesus Christ mom would you just let me-"
"Ben?ok, ow!"
"No, don't put dad back on! I am not-!"
"BEN!"
He didn't think the Bruckners had mentioned driving down from New York to Pittsburgh to pay them a visit this weekend. In fact, he knew they hadn't, because Ben wouldn't have just left him here if he'd known they were showing up.
Seeing Hunter's rather surprised expression, Charlotte Bruckner turned to face her husband, but kept her foot planted firmly in the door way. "Jeff, show him your license."
Jeff Bruckner raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"We can't expect him to let us in without proof of who we are," she responded. "We could be serial killers for all he knows."
"It's our son's apartment, not LaGuardia Airport," her husband mumbled as he fished out his ID, and handed it to his wife.
Hunter took the two licenses from her hand. Charlotte Bruckner, Age 59. Jeffery Bruckner age 58. They matched their photos.
"Um, it's cool then I guess," Hunter said handing them back. "Come on in."
The Bruckners shared a look of relief as the stepped past Hunter. As he locked the door behind them, Hunter wondered what the hell he was going to do with them now that they were inside. He didn't do small talk. He was sixteen for fuck's sake! Ben did small talk, Michael did small talk. He grunted a lot, and avoided conversation with strangers at all costs. Luckily for him, the Bruckners seemed to be quite happy to entertain themselves by wandering around the apartment.
Charlotte was strolling casually through the living room, studying the combination of Tibetan wall scrolls and comic memorabilia that lined the walls. Circling around the couch, she let her hand trail across the upholstery then bent down and sniffed. "He managed to give up smoking," she mumbled approvingly.
Continuing her walk, she paused when she reached Hunter's open doorway.
"Your room?" she asked looking at Hunter.
Hunter swallowed wrapping his arms around his chest. He was suddenly very aware that he hadn't put a shirt on. "Yeah."
She nodded, and moved on.
"Ben's not here," Hunter said as she studied the many bits and pieces that made up his home. "But, I can call him for you."
Charlotte gave him a warm smile. "No, no. I'd like this visit to be a surprise." Hunter wasn't sure but he thought he heard, "Don't want to give him the opportunity to make a break for it" mumbled under her breath.
"Right," Hunter said. "I should go put a shirt on."
Fully clothed, he came back out to find the Bruckners taking a census of the photos on the fridge. There were a total of four pictures, one playbill and one history test covering its surface. One photo was of the whole Liberty Avenue gang crowded together in the booths at the diner. One was of Ben standing behind Michael, his arms wrapped around the other man's waist. One was of Michael's Uncle Vic, Debbie and Carl Horvath sitting at the kitchen table at Michael's childhood home, and one was of Mel, Lindsey and Michael on the day Jenny Rebecca was born. The playbill was for someone Michael knew named Devina Devore. The history test was Hunter's. The first test he'd (finally) gotten a B on. Michael had jokingly slapped it on the fridge. Hunter had been meaning to take it down, and bury it some place.
"Oh, yeah. We're kicking his ass," Hunter thought he heard Jeff mumble. "We're not even on the fridge."
Noticing that the teenager was in hearing distance again, Jeff and Charlotte both straightened up. Hunter sighed. He had at least two more hours until either Michael or Ben would be home, the Bruckners didn't want him to call them, and he somehow got the feeling that they weren't going to leave any time soon. Shifting from foot to foot, Hunter played the only card he had left.
"So, ever seen 'Spiderman 2'?"
Around five o'clock, when the sun was just beginning to think about setting, a cab pulled to a stop in front of the Novotny-Bruckner's apartment building. The door opened, and Ben slid out. Taking a minute to stretch, he then turned around and reached back into the cab in order to help Michael. Making sure that his left foot was securely on the ground, Michael grabbed onto Ben's hand. Once he was half way out of the cab, Ben wrapped his arm around the other man's waist, and making sure not to jar the right ankle, pulled him onto the sidewalk. Michael, in return, wrapped his arm around Ben's shoulders.
"I already paid him," Michael said nodding to the driver.
"Don't put any weight on your ankle," Ben responded. "Just hang onto me."
As the cab pulled away, the two of them shuffled towards the door in what looked like a crazy three-legged race.
"You know," Michael said. "I think the nurse thinks I'm an abused spouse."
Ben shot him a surprised look, the glare from the streetlight glinting off his glasses.
Michael wiggled his fingers at him. "In the span of three days, we've been to the emergency room twice, and the same nurse helped us out."
Ben grimaced. "No, wonder she kept glaring at me." He paused. "Have I apologized enough for almost breaking your fingers yet?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll figure out some way to make it up to me. Are you sure we have a pair of crutches in the apartment?"
Ben nodded. "Somewhere."
Practically lifting Michael up the front step, he nuzzled the other man's ear. "Do me a favor. Don't ever get run down by a police officer again."
Michael snorted. "Just as long as you promise to never tell anyone that the cop was on a bike. I still can't believe that cop was on a bike. It's not like you expect to walk out of a restaurant after having a perfectly nice lunch with your husband, and get mowed down by a cop on a bike. With my luck the guy probably knows Carl, and my mother will be down here within the hour. Look at it this way, the ankle's not broken, just sprained, and the fingers aren't even bruised. But, the next time you have to call your parents I'll stand on the other side of the room and offer moral support through concerned looks."
Chuckling, Ben pulled the two of them through the front door. As it swung closed behind them, Michael groaned.
"Oh, shit. Stairs. Why do we live in a building with no elevator? What do we-Jesus Ben!"
Sliding one arm underneath Michael's knees, and positioning the other arm behind his back, Ben had lifted the smaller man off his feet, and proceeded to carry him.
"Whenever you do this, I'm never sure whether it's humiliating or sweet," Michael mumbled, wrapping his arms around Ben's neck.
"Let's settle on it being 'needed'," Ben grunted as he climbed.
Ben put him back on his feet as soon as they'd reached the front door.
"I can't believe we still have dinner at my ma's to look forward to after this," Michael said letting his head droop onto Ben's shoulder as Ben both held him up, and unlocked the door. "I'm exhausted."
"Two hours of waiting in the emergency room will do that." The door unlocked with a snick, and Ben rested his hand on the doorknob. "Ready to move again?"
Making sure they wouldn't go tumbling the minute they moved, Michael nodded. "Just get me to the couch."
Pushing the door open with his elbow, Michael let Ben usher him inside. The sight of an unfamiliar body sitting on the couch next to Hunter caused them to pause.
At first glance, the skinny profile, and red hair had Michael expecting Hunter's mother who, ankle or no ankle, he was going to tackle to the floor if she were actually anywhere near his son. When the woman turned around, and he saw an unfamiliar face he felt himself physically relax. Ben on the other hand seemed to tense up.
"Fuck," he said in astonishment. "Mom?"
Before the woman could answer, a voice from their left made himself known. "Don't forget me." An older, well-built man, was standing in the kitchen holding a glass of water. Neither of the intruders looked very happy.
"Ahh, this is unexpected," Ben said.
Jumping up from his spot on the couch, Hunter joined his fathers. "Where the fuck have you been!" he hissed. "They've been here since noon and this movie only has so many special features." He suddenly noticed that Michael was standing in flamingo fashion, his ankle held off the ground, with only Ben holding him up.
"Holy shit! What happened to you?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "It's a very uninteresting story. You wouldn't like it."
Ignoring Hunter, Michael caught the eye of Ben's mother. She smiled at him, her eyes looking unusually wet.
"Hello," she said moving across the room. "I'm Charlotte Bruckner."
"Hello," Michael responded. "I'm Michael. I'd take your hand, but I'd probably fall over."
The woman only nodded, the movement making her gray streaked curls bounce and spring. "It's so wonderful to meet you." Her gaze moved over Michael's head, and frosted over. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances. The man in the kitchen is my husband, Ben's father, Jeff."
Jeff gave Michael a salute with the glass he was holding. "Hello."
"Nice to meet you," Michael said. His skin suddenly felt as thought there were small electric shocks zipping through his nervous system. He was not prepared for this at all.
He was hoping that they weren't going start a conversation right then and there, but he need not have worried. Their gazes were both fixed on the man standing to his side. The Bruckners had found their prey, and while he would come next, at the present moment they had bigger fish to fry.
Gently prying Ben's fingers from his waist, he threw an arm around Hunter. "Hunter, help me hobble to the bedroom."
"OK," the teenager said a bit too enthusiastically.
Glancing over his shoulder, Michael threw Ben what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and then hobbled into the other room. Hunter closed the French doors behind them.
"Thank Christ you guys got back when you did," Hunter said helping Michael ease onto the bed.
"Oh, come on," Michael scoffed. "It couldn't have been that bad."
"They kept LOOKING at me! I didn't know what the fuck to say to them, and then the movie ended."
"We have other movies you guys could have watched."
"Oh, yeah. I'm sure they would have loved Night of the Living Dildo."
"We don't even own a movie called-! You know what never mind. Now what are you doing?"
Hunter was carefully cracking the French doors open an inch. A thin trail of light slid across the wooden floors, as the teenager pressed his eye against the opening.
"They're gunna yell, so we'll be able to hear what they say. But I want to see what they're going to do too."
"This is none of our business," Michael snapped. "Now, close the door and get your ass back over here!"
"The fuck it's not our business. They're your in-laws. I'm their grandkid," the last word was said with a fair level of sarcasm. "Everything we do is going to be their business. Only fair that everything they do is ours."
At the word "in-laws," Michael felt the previous electric shocks send a sickening jolt to his stomach. A mother-in-law he could handle as long as she wasn't a homophobic cunt, which from what Ben had told him, was something Charlotte Bruckner most definitely was not. However, in-laws included a father-in-law, and Michael's track record with the fathers of gay men hadn't been great so far. Brian's had been abusive, his had been absent in more ways than one, he'd never known Ted's, Emmett's father had practically run his son out of town, and Justin's was a colossal prick. To be honest one of the only decent straight guys he'd ever had much to do with was Carl. He wondered how difficult it would be to climb down the fire escape, and make a break for his store with a hurt ankle.
"Help me up."
Charlotte's voice was the first one to drift in. "I am so angry, so hurt, that I can hardly look at you."
Ben's face crumbled. "Mom, please."
"Explain to me, tell me the reason, the exact reason you couldn't take five minutes out of your life to call us and tell us you got married!"
"I, I'm an asshole."
"You're right," she snapped.
"I should have called you and dad. I should have told you within the hour that it happened." He glanced over at his father who was watching with arms crossed.
"I'm still listening," he said. "And you're nowhere near done talking. Is it that we never supported you? Because sure, we had our little freak out back when you were 18, and you first told us, but past that I'd say we've been pretty god damn supportive of you."
"I'm the President of the New York chapter of PFLAG, and your father's the treasurer, for God sake!" Charlotte cried. "You're our son, we love you and we wanted you to be happy! But you don't get to be happy without letting us know about it first!"
"Her and ma are going to get along just fine," Michael mumbled from his spot.
"I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am," Ben said softly.
Jeff gave him a wane smiled. "We'd like you to try."
Ben nodded. "There is no explanation, there's no excuse for this, other than I'm an insensitive prick, and a really horrible son. Things got crazy out here, but that's not an excuse. I should have called, written, e-mailed, something. I should have had Michael meet you."
"Oh, you're god damn right we're going to meet him," Jeff snapped. "And you know what? The way things are looking right now, we just may like him more than we like you!"
"I'm assuming he called his mother?" Charlotte asked tersely.
Ducking his head sheepishly, Ben folded his hands behind his back. "Actually, Michael's mother was with us at the time."
"Oh Ben," Michael mumbled with a shake of his head.
There was a pause then, a terrifying eye of the hurricane stillness that griped the room. Jeff began to chuckle, the words "wow, just wow" muttered with a crushing incredulous kind of humor.
Pressing her lips into a very thin line, Charlotte took a deep breath, letting the air whistle out of her nose as she exhaled. "We're not even going to touch that one right now. There are too many other things I need to ask you, and the answer to that question might cause me to physically harm you." She took another breath. "So, I'm going to ask a question I know you can answer. Your contact with home fell off about two years ago. We knew you were dating a Michael Novotny at that time. We knew it was serious, that you'd moved in together. Tell me exactly what was so life shaking, that your phone calls suddenly dried up."
Ben looked away from his mother, to his father, and then back at his mother. "Paul died, I panicked, and I started using steroids."
Charlotte's shoulders slumped, her thunder momentarily stolen. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I know how much he-" She blinked. "You tried steroids! Are you out of your mind!"
From their spot behind the doors, Hunter glanced at Michael, worried. "If Ben's parents kill him, social services will still let me stay with you, right?"
Michael nodded. "Of course. Now get me the phone, I have a feeling we're canceling dinner with my mother."
The Bruckners had been hissing at each other like cats for more than an hour. During that time, there had been crying, shrieking, shouting, angry claims, heart-felt pleas, and finally silence. Hunter and Michael had given up about halfway through the ordeal, unable to watch anymore. Michael had retreated to his bed, ankle elevated on a stack of pillows where he continued to at least listen to the disaster going on in the other room. Hunter had camped out next to him, and fallen fast asleep.
At first, Michael thought that the sudden quiet was nothing but a quick breather, but when the silence persisted, he got worried. He was debating on whether he should try to hobble to the door to make sure Ben was still alive, or waking up Hunter and making him do it, when the door opened. Jeff Bruckner entered carrying a bag of frozen peas.
"Hi," he said.
"Hey," Michael responded. "Are you the only survivor?"
Jeff chuckled. "No, but Ben and his mother are currently holding one another and sobbing on the couch right now."
Michael blinked. "You made him cry?"
Jeff shook his head. "No, he made me cry. Then I made him cry and..well in the mess of it all I can't remember who made Charlotte cry, but I pulled together first so I thought I'd come in and see how you two were doing."
Michael nodded, his mouth dry, his vocabulary AWOL. He gave Hunter a small nudge with his knee, hoping the teenager would wake up and help keep the conversation afloat. "Thanks."
"You should ice that," Jeff said. Kneeling down at the foot of the bed, he laid the bag of frozen peas over Michael's ankle. "It'll make the swelling go down."
"Yeah, they told us that at the emergency room, but I didn't have time to run to the freezer-"
"Before Charlotte and I pounced on our son like a pack of jackals? Yeah, I noticed."
Before Michael had the time to agonize internally over what he was going to say next the French doors opened, and a puffy eyed Charlotte stepped into the room. Cleaning off her glasses with the hem of her sweater, she slid them back on, took a breath and nodded. "All right, I'm all right now."
Behind her, came Ben, no less puffy eyed and looking like he'd just ran a marathon. His eyes immediately found Michael's.
Taking in the sudden population growth, Charlotte's eyes narrowed, resting first on Michael, then on Hunter and finally on Ben. Walking around her husband and over to Michael's right she sat in the only chair in the room.
"Well, Ben," she said. "Why don't you come in here, sit down, and introduce us to your family."
Ben, still looking a little dazed, but finally coming out of it, nodded. "Yeah, I think that would be an excellent idea. Mom, Dad, this is Michael, and Hunter."
There may be a part 4 in the future.