Chapter Text
Leave it to Paul and Celia Duke to cut short a Caribbean vacation in the middle of winter. A full week short, at that. Hamish rushed up the steps to his apartment, already dreading the coming confrontation. It was the way this always went. Normally, he would make an attempt to move back in a couple days before their arrival, so that the place actually appeared lived in. Otherwise it just led to uncomfortable conversations about where he was and what he was doing with his life. As if there weren’t already enough of those particular discussions.
Walking into the apartment, Hamish wasn’t entirely surprised to find his father in the kitchen, already pouring himself a scotch, or for his mother to exit his bedroom a moment later. There was a time when he would have been upset by her snooping but those days were long past. His life wasn’t here anymore. Everything important to him was kept at the Den, under the protection of a pack of werewolves that nobody would try sneaking around. Not that his mother tried to hide her actions…
“Hamish, darling. Where have you been? It’s been ages.” Celia Duke was largely responsible for her son’s eccentricities, as evidenced by her own classic evening gown. His mother had often fretted over being born into such a time as this, when the world lacked the class and sophistication of some romanticized age long ago. Hamish had received his first set of cufflinks as a toddler. A series of carefully chosen private schools had ensured that the dress code was not humiliated out of him at a young age.
"Sorry, I was working on a project for class,” Hamish fibbed. It was as close to the truth as he could get. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”
“But it’s so late?” his mother questioned.
“It’s a group project. We have to coordinate times and there’s a lot of conflicting schedules.” It scared him how easily the lies came these days. Once there had been a time when lying to his parents would have been inconceivable.
“Your classes are going well this year?” she asked, giving an encouraging little nod of her head.
“What’s the point, Celia?” his father grumbled. “We all know in another year or two, he’ll be studying Art History or some other worthless degree.”
“I’m working on my Masters in Philosophy, Father,” Hamish sighed.
Paul gave him an unimpressed look. “Exactly. And when you’re finished with that, you’ll realize you need to try something else, yet again.”
“Paul,” Celia chastised, not unkindly.
Paul shrugged it off, unperturbed. “I’m just saying.” He looked up at Hamish, raising his hands in mock surrender. “At least consider Finance. Maybe you’d get lucky playing the stock market.”
It wasn’t anything Hamish hadn’t heard before. He’d been getting the same disappointed looks since he’d told them he wasn’t going to pursue law school after all. And while he was happy with philosophy and could easily see himself pursuing his doctorate, he hadn’t immediately settled on his second choice degree, a delay that rankled his lawyer father even further.
His mother plastered on a false smile, uncomfortable as always with this argument between her two boys. “Enough of this unpleasantness,” she said sweetly. “Hamish, dear. Tell us, is there anything new in your life? A girl, perhaps?”
For a brief moment, Hamish worried that she’d found some scrap of evidence in her snooping, before remembering that Vera had never been to the apartment. This was just more wishful thinking on his mother’s behalf. Hamish, the screw up. Couldn’t decide what he wanted to do with his life. Couldn’t even settle down with a nice girl and pop out babies for his parents to spoil. A grand disappointment, all around.
Too bad he had zero intentions of telling them about Vera Stone. Vera was an amazing, strong, fascinating woman. She was everything they could have asked for in a partner for him. She was also older and, while that wasn’t a problem for him, his heir obsessed parents weren’t likely to view it the same way. Besides, his relationship with Vera was tangled in Order secrecy and that was just one more problem he didn’t want to have to explain away.
“I’m not dating, no. Overall, things haven’t really changed lately.” Lie. Flat out, blatant lie. If only he could tell them how much everything had changed this year. If only they could talk like they used to. But how do you tell your parents you gave up all your dreams to become a magical vigilante. He hadn’t known how to say it before and now that the wolves were part of the Order, Vera would probably kill him if he told.
As expected, his mother sighed heavily. “You haven’t dated seriously since that Cathy girl. Don’t you think it’s time to move past it? I know, it’s terrible what happened and I’m sorry you lost her, but you can’t hang onto the dead forever. You can find someone else. You just need to open yourself up to the possibility.”
Hamish clenched his jaw. There was never any point in arguing. Nearly a decade since Cassie first came into his life and they still couldn’t even remember her name. She’d been a passing fling to them. They’d never accepted her as his entire world. She hadn’t been good enough, in their eyes, and all these years later, she was barely more than a blip in their memories. They never understood that, for him, Cassie would never fully be in his past. Not when he had a whole pack of young, cocky werewolves to watch out for, each one as unexpectedly vulnerable as Cassie had been.
“Hamish, we’ve tolerated your fooling around for years now,” Paul Duke grumbled. “You could at least meet us part way and consider settling down. You’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Exactly. And you’ve got no direction in life. If you don’t hurry up and tie one of them down, the more eligible young ladies will start to realize as much and you’ll miss your chance entirely. Your mother wants grandbabies, son. Preferably while we’re still young enough to enjoy them. And as our only child, you need to start thinking of an heir as well. Unless you want the family fortune to go to that cousin down in Tennessee.”
“West Virginia, Dear,” Celia corrected. “But truly, Hamish, at least consider allowing us to introduce you to some young ladies.”
“You don’t need to go to the trouble, Mom. Truly,” Hamish protested.
“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I believe a contact of your father’s is in town for the weekend. He’s got an absolutely charming daughter. We should set something up!”
And just like that, Hamish understood why his parents had cut their trip short.
“I’m not interested in a blind date, Mother.”
“It’s not a blind date, Darling. You met once or twice as children, I believe. And your fathers’ know each other quite well. At least try to show a little interest.”
Hamish scowled. This wasn’t the first time his parents had tried to set him up. At least once a year, there’d be some mention of arranging something for him. Two years ago, his mother had even cried that ‘you don’t have to love her, Hamish’. But Hamish couldn’t explain to them why he wasn’t ever planning on marrying, or fathering children. Telling them that he didn’t want a wife or children, because he didn’t want to leave them alone when he inevitably died young because he was a werewolf was a non-option. So once again, he lied.
“This weekend, you say? I’m afraid I won’t have the time. There’s a research project I’m apart of that takes up most of my evenings and weekends.”
“Surely you can spare a few hours for dinner,” his father objected.
“You’ve got to eat, after all,” his mother chimed in.
“We order in,” Hamish explained. “Nobody leaves.” And then, because he knew he needed to go big to get them to buy this ridiculous excuse, he added, “It’s for the Chancellor.” That bit was sort of true, considering the Chancellor of Belgrave and the Grand Magus were the same woman. If this worked, he’d need to let Vera know he was going to be spending a lot of time at the Temple over the weekend. Maybe she could come up with an actual project or two to keep him occupied for a few days.
For once, his parents almost looked impressed. It was an expression he hadn’t seen on them in some time, but then a decade in college and several switched majors could do that to even the most supportive of parents.
“It sounds important. Perhaps another time, then,” his father relented.
Hamish should have known it wouldn’t be that easy…