Chapter Text
Connor had been sitting at his desk for the best part of an hour, trying to finish some stupid essay he'd been assigned for English. In all honestly, he couldn't care less about whether Jay Gatsby had changed his name, or how much he loved Daisy. He was, in Connor's opinion, an obsessed stalker in love with a ditsy girl who cried over shirts. Not to mention Nick. Nick was an idiot according to Connor. Yet here he was, trying to focus on an essay he didn't want to write about a book he didn't like.
His attempts to focus were made more difficult by his father. Adam Stevens had been relentless in his attempts to brush over what Connor had told him in the hospital. His son was gay. Done, dusted, and forgotten about. It didn't happen if they never spoke about it. But the thing is, Connor needed to speak about it. More than anything he wanted he wanted to clear things up. He finally had a name for what he was feeling. 'Gay'. It fit. 'Gay' didn't feel like he was wearing something that was three sizes too small.
Connor had been staring at the wall passed his laptop screen for about ten minutes, lost in thought, curser blinking on the screen, long forgotten. He'd been trying to figure out a way to talk to his dad. It had been long enough and he needed to address it.
He was snapped out of his trance by the smell of food rising through the floorboards. Adam was cooking dinner downstairs and feeling obliged to help, Connor grabbed his crutches and hobbled out of his room and to the kitchen down stairs.
"Dinner'll be ready in a minute, it's that pasta you like," Adam acknowledged his son from the stove.
"Sounds good," he pause, "hey Dad? Could I talk to you for a sec?"
"You should probably wash your hands, this is about ready to go."
"Yeah, in a sec, but um, Dad?" Connor asked tentatively.
"Careful though," he cut over his son again, "the hot tap's acting up again, so don't turn it up too high."
Connor sighed, "right," and took himself over to the sink, not fancying hobbling upstairs again on crutches to the bathroom.
Adam dished up and carried the plates over to the kitchen table. Connor followed, taking his usual seat across from his father.
"How was practice today huh?" Adam asked, searching for something to say.
"It was okay." Connor started pushing the pasta around on his plate.
"How's that new kid? Damien. Last game I saw he was pretty bad."
"He does alright."
"That kid really needs to up his game. He'll bring the team down if doesn't get up to scratch."
"I guess," he mumbled.
Conversation at the dinner table didn't much exceed that of 'the game' or 'the office' these days, nor did it particularly last more than fifteen minutes. In fact, it wasn't completely uncommon for meal times to pass without either of them uttering a single word to one another past a quick thank you for whomever brought the plates to the table. It was no surprise then that today's dinner, once the day's baseball practice had been discussed, that the two ate their food in silence.
As Adam cleared the plates, his empty, Connor's barely touched. Connor remained at the table.
"Dad," he said eventually. "Can I talk to you?"
Adam cricked his neck as he stood at the sink. "Have you done all you're homework?"
"Yeah, but I actually wanted to talk to you about -"
"All of it? You've done you Biology?"
"Dad, can you -"
"And that essay for English, what was it on? The Great Gatsby? Never like that book myself. How are you finding it?"
"Dad, please!" Connor pushed himself up from the table. "Just listen to me! Can we just talk about something real, for once."
"What's there to talk about Connor? You're gay. That's that. It's okay."
"I know it's okay, it's just -" Connor paused.
"It's just what, Connor?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, "you treat at me different," he admitted, quietly.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know, you look at me weird. You're quieter around me," to list but a few that came to mind.
"I do not look at you any different than I ever did," Adam raised his voice.
"Yes you do! It's like you don't even know how to be around me anymore. I'm still the same kid, alright?" He threw his arms up, wobbling slightly after forgetting why he was holding on to the table in the first place. "I still play baseball and soccer! I'm still good at math, I still like video games and I still leave my skateboards all over the house! I'm the same kid, Dad. I'm still your son." He spoke quickly, everything finally boiling over.
Adam stared at Connor for a moment. "Of course you're still my son."
"I'm still your son." He repeated, starting to sob.
"Of course!"
"Then why don't you accept me?" Connor asked, stray tears spilling down his cheeks.
"I do accept you."
Connor shook his head and looked away for a moment, "you won't even acknowledge it. You've hardly spoken about it since the hospital! Since you lied to Jude."
Adam lowered himself to look his son directly in the eye and gripped both of his shoulders.
"I accept you," he assured "and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like - if I've been treating you differently."
He backed away from Connor, "I'm trying to understand this - you and Jude. You need to understand that when I was at school, being gay was something to be laughed at." Adam thought for a moment, "but now I'm in a place where that needs to change and I'm learning, son."
Connor wiped his face with his sleeve and, trying to catch his breath, nodded.
"Look," he began, "why don't you invite Jude over for dinner. I can get to know him a little better."