Simon's father corners him for a few words before shipping off to the Colonial Marine Corps. An unexpected guest arrives.
| Noble Two: Walls Painted Over |
| Summary: | Simon's father corners him for a few words before shipping off to the Colonial Marine Corps. An unexpected guest arrives. |
| Date: | 03/12/2012 (OOC Date) |
| Related Logs: | None |
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| Leonis, Bayliss City |
| Winter, 1997 |
The door to Simon's door opened, the trio of knocks to the wood preceded by a tiny little squeak that never seemed to go away. From the dim lighting of the basement hallway, the salt-and-pepper haircut that belonged to Alexander Noble leaned in to level a pair of old, tired eyes on his son.
"Simon, hey, you got a second?"
"Sure, pop, what's up?" Simon looked over his shoulder towards his father with a neutral expression. He'd suspected that this impending conversation was going to take place sometime that day, and it was better now than never. He took note of the nearly saddened expression on his father's face, and casually slipped into the sort of stoicism most men do wear they're about to have a father-and-son moment. "I know, it's still a mess, but I'm going to get it cleaned up before I'm out of here. No sense in leaving you a mess to clean up."
"What? No, it's okay. We're gonna keep it for you. Don't let that stop you from cleaning it up…" Alexander laughed, settle a bottle of dark liquor and two shot glasses on the edge of Simon's nightstand. "…even clean I have no idea how you ended up with all this stuff, though."
"I never throw shit away. You know I really thought I'd get more lead time before being called up. I'd take some of it I could but gods damn—"
"Seriously, Simon, it's okay. I'll keep her out of the room. After you go, I'll tidy up a little so that it still looks like it's your place when you get some leave." Alexander shook his head, interrupting his son. "It's no big deal. It's just stuff."
"Yeah, it's just weird." Simon replied, scratching the back of his neck as he turned towards his bed. On the messy, unkempt bed was a single bag, and none of it contained any of the breakable things that he loved. Instead everything in the rucksack was soft and underwear-like.
The sing-song sound of a bottle's lip tapping against a shotglass jingled softly between them. It was a sound that Simon was familiar with, and the smell that wafted through the air meant that his father had either broken into a secret alcohol stash, or had decided to buy something special for the moment. Damn him to hell. He waited until now to be sentimental.
"Here." An arm nudged Noble's side, offering over a filled shotglass. "Look, I know you're not wanting any long speeches or embarassing shit, so I'm just going to be straight with you and do this as painless as possible, okay? I just have something I want to say to you."
Pensive, Simon took up the shotglass and turned to face his father. Dumbstruck, he lowered his brows to hood over his eyes. Please don't cry, dad…you never do.
"I know you and I have had some problems. I'm not going to try to solve those. I'm not going to tell you that I'm proud of you, either, because I've always been proud that you're my son, okay?" Alexander leaned his shotglass in, motioning to tap his glass against Simon. "All I'm going to say, is that if you need anything I'll be right here, and that you're always welcome here. You're my son. Everything else is politics."
The sound of the doorbell being rung from the front door bing-bonged down the stairs and into the room.
Simon's lips flattened, and without anything to say in return, he brought the shotglass to his lips and tilted his head back. His father followed suit, and the two bite back the burn and whispered the fumes back out of their throats. The awkwardness at full bore, Simon let out a nervous chuckle, reaching out to wrap his arms around his father in a brotherly hug.
"I love you, Dad." Simon grunted into his father's shoulder, nose buried into a face-full of Alexander's plaid, flannel shirt. His father grumbled that he was sure was a response that he was loved as well. It was good enough for Simon. Truth be told, it had been a long time since his father and he had shared a tender moment, and he could afford to put some time between this one and the next. He loved his father, but his love for him was something he preferred over beers and Pyramid matches.
Another knock tap-tapped at Noble's chamber door. It hadn't occurred to noble that his embrace with his father had gone on past the comfortable point. Almost flinching, he disconnected from his father with a retreating pat of the man's upper arm. "Thanks, Dad, I—"
His words didn't quite catch in his throat, instead they slowed to a stop at the sight of mahogany brown hair flattened straight over a black cardigan sweater that was unbuttoned to reveal at midriff-baring tee shirt that read Troya Auto Parts across the chest. She looked like she was stepping into a temple, with a small degree of hesitation that wasn't sure if she was in the right place. It used to be her place, a place that she had fallen asleep and woken many times. She hadn't been back in nearly six months.
"Hi, Simon. Hey, Alex. Should I…?" Her words trailed off and her thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her blue jeans. She leaned towards the door, more than willing to give the two of them a little longer.
"Nope! Nope. It's alright, I've got to go get the car ready anyway, I'll get him for the drive over." Alexander smiled to Fiona, clapping his hand against his son's meaty shoulder. He glanced to Simon's eyes, saw that Fiona's presence wasn't an intrusion, and stepped towards the door. As he passed her, he gave her a little pat to her shoulder as well. He always did like her.
He closed the door, leaving the two to themselves. Like a ritual, Simon and Fiona stared at each other, weighing the body language in the room while the crunching sounds of Alexander Noble climbing the stairs couldn't be heard anymore.
Fiona made the first move. Her long, slender arms reached up to his neck and she pressed her body to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead on his shoulder, breathing softly while mentally flipping a coin on the words that she's had in her head all afternoon. Simon didn't have any words either, and out of fear of the answers to the questions where is he? and do you mean this? and why now?, he let out a soft sigh and cradled her head to his chest and brushed his fingertips through her hair.
I love you. He didn't say it. The words stopped in the center of his chest.
Instead, she looked to him and found his eyes, and then leaned up on her toes. Her lips were hot to the touch, and the soft kiss she brushes against his lips lingers until he returns it. She kissed him again and unfurled her arms from his neck to crane her shoulders back. The cardigan fell to the floor. Her painted fingernails reached for his belt buckle and blindly tugged the tongue of old, worn leather out of the clasp…
Upstairs, he father stepped into the kitchen and set the bottle of liquor on the kitchen counter. He gazed over the label, brushing his thumb over the guarantee of the finest oak-aged taste that money could buy. He smiled and twisted the cap off, pouring himself another shot, which he threw back slowly. Swallowing the burn from the expensive liquor, he exhaled the fumes and lowered his gaze to the window that ruled over the kitchen sink's back splash. Constance, his wife, was making the final preparations on her garden before their plans to have goodbye steak at Oriole's. She was pulling off her gloves and tucking them into the back pocket of her jeans.
She would want to come inside and see Fiona, or at the very least speak with Simon about her before they left. All it would take is the sight of her stylish, green pickup truck in their driveway and her playfully nosy instincts would kick in.
Leaving the bottle behind, Alexander stepped over to the sliding glass door and opened it. The house alarm beeped twice and a female voice announced that it was the back…door that had opened. He closed the door behind him and approached casually. She was one of the good guys.
"Hey…" He said quietly, taking another glance back at his house. Gently, he took her hand and started with her towards their gate at the back of their yard. "…cmon." He would lead her to the park, giving his son all of the space that he needed, for better or for worse.