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Angela put her hair up. Then she put it down again. Then she put it up again. Then, frustrated and stressed, she throws the hair tie to the side and sighs. Loud.
Shawn comes up behind her, taking a look at them together in the full length mirror. Shawn, in his leather coat, boots and oversized pants. He looks casual, content with his arms wrapped around her waist. Angela wishes she could say the same. She's tried four different shirts, settling on a patterned purple shirt with her (ironed) blue jeans. She doesn’t know what shoes to wear–or how to do her hair. Shes never been this nervous before. Never really been outwardly nervous at all. Ever since that day, when she woke up and asked her Daddy where Mommy was, and he started to cry, she swore she'd never show emotion like that again.
Being with Shawn however, breaks down those walls. She can worry, be sad, feel everything wholly and completely.
She hates it (She loves it, and him.).
“Baby, Jon isn’t gonna care how your hair looks.” He tells her, a quiet laugh escaping him. She pulls his arms down from around her. “I care though,” she says, earnestly and a little defeated. You can do so much with microbraids, how come nothing looks good now? “I have to make a good impression Shawn.”
“A good impression? Angela, you were in class with him for like, two years.” Shawn says, voice quiet and more careful. He snakes his arms around her again and he can feel the tension leave her shoulders. She doesn’t necessarily want him to leave, she doesn’t want to let go of her touch. But sometimes when her head is stressed, any touch can make her even more stressed. Shawn recognizes those few seconds. He waits, noticing the little signs in her that show she’s okay now. “But it’s different now” she starts.
“It’s different cause he’s not just some teacher now, he’s your–” She trails off, not really knowing how to describe what Jon is to Shawn. He finishes the sentence for her anyway. “Cause he’s my Dad?” He asks.
“Yeah, cause he’s your Dad.” Shawn looks into Angela's eyes in the mirror, hers stare at her own reflection, self conscious in the way only going to meet the parents can make you. It’s even worse for her considering her and Shawns situation. Parents, such a hard and emotional subject for the both of them where anything other than a casual mention either leaves in brick, fortified emotional walls being put up or tears they can’t hold back. Parents are scary, and most of their love hasn’t been unconditional for them. So when you meet the good ones, its terrifying.
Angela only ever had her Daddy, which made Shawn stand up a little straighter around him. Shawns only ever had Jon, which makes her do things like this, freak out over what way to wear her hair. There’s a quiet understanding that washes over him. “Can I see that?” He points at the spare hair tie on her arm, not a victim of her stressed wrath yet. She hands it to him wordlessly, and he takes it and stands up straight.
Shawn gathers all her braids in his hands, making sure to leave a few out to frame her face. He pulls them up into a ponytail for her, a focused look on his face that only endears her to him. Outwardly, she looks a bit skeptical. Shawn has tried to help with her hair before. (He almost tapped out on wash day, and complained about his hands hurting when he took out her braids. Despite all of that, he still comes back to help every time.) It never looks bad, but he’s no stylist, having the kind of hair he could roll out of bed and look good in (maybe she’s biased.).
Shawn lets her hair go, and pulls out his boyish grin as he admires his work. He starts to rub circles into her arm, not able to go a minute without some sort of contact with her and speaks. “There,” he smiles, “even though you look beautiful either way.”. He adds on, a genuine afterthought.
“Thanks babe,” she says, then looks down at her feet. Socked, but no shoes. She starts to think, then apparently thinks about it for a second too long because Shawn breaks through her overcomplicated thoughts and says “Who’s looking at your feet anyway?”
“You’re right,” She says, determined, and pucks up a pair of ballet flats that have been hiding under her bed. “I’ll just wear these”
As Angela goes to put on her shoes, nerves temporarily gone, Shawn goes to grab her purse. He’s tapping his fingers against each other, trying to subtly keep his own nerves at bay. Yeah, he’s a little nervous. Not for Angela, but for himself. Jon will tell him, unabashedly and honestly, if he's not treating Angela right. What if Jon tells him he doesn’t deserve her? God knows hes thought that so many times. But as he turns to look at her, while she's walking over and grabbing her purse from his hands with a quiet thanks. He feels worse knowing that even if he said that, he doesn’t think he’d be able to let her go.
Shawn grabs her hand, opening the door for her and saying “Ladies first,” Ignoring the ache he feels in his chest, instead focusing on Angelas pretty laugh and the way her braids move behind her.
—
They’re not going out anywhere. Just to Jons apartment, Shawns home. It seemed like a good starting place, somewhere Jon can really host, grill Angela, (or Shawn, if he’s being honest,) between a bowl of pasta and a soda (that Shawn will still shake to see if he can find a ring in it.). It's homey, comfortable and lets Angela see another part of himself. What place could be better?
Jon opens the door with a warm smile and outstretched arms. “Hey Hunter!” He says warmly, “Long time no see huh?” He asks, after welcoming Shawn and Angela in. He closes the door behind them and goes to hug Shawn, his son. Angela stands by Shawn, a little rigidly and clearly taking in the sights. There’s a loft above the kitchen (Seemingly Shawns old space), a couch with a respectably sized tv and a mini kitchen. It's homey, lived in and not sterile clean. She can see how Shawn got used to living here.
After a few seconds of catch ups and it’s been awhile, how are your classes? You passing them? He turns to Angela, smile not faltering. She’s a bit shocked. Not that she thought he’d be cold or anything, but this, to her, is just her old English teacher. And she’s his former student, but nonetheless he leans in for a hug. Angela freezes for a second, before hugging back until he pulls away
“Moore! You still writing?” He asks, his voice is warm but hinted with some nervousness. Huh, that makes her feel better. They both just want to make this a good night for Shawn, and get along. Shouldn’t be hard– in fact, more awkward than anything. “Yeah, I got to sell a story to a magazine earlier this week.” Shawn puts a hand around her waist, beaming at Jon like an excited little kid. “Isn’t she great?” He asks, sincerity so heavy in his voice it’s enough to make her melt.
“Yeah, she is. What’d you do to convince her to go out with you Shawn?” He asks so seriously, that it gets a laugh out of Angela. She laughs so earnestly that Shawn can’t help but look at her and simply say “I don’t know.”
Jon never planned on disapproving of Angela. She was one of the brightest students in his class, constantly offering perspectives and turning in essays that had him almost pleading with her to join the AP class, not just honors. She was smart, never rude (but outspoken, he’ll give her that.). So when Shawn first came home giggling, talking about a girl named Angela, who was really the one, he was skeptical.
Shawn had girls who were “really the one” every week. But as months went by, and it was always, Angela did this , me and Angela are going on a dat e. J on, what should I get Angela for her birthday? Jon, I’m going over to Angelas, she’s sick . She was constant, she was also, in Shawns words “the most beautiful and smart girl, like, ever. Don’t tell Cory I said that” (Maybe he should tell her that. Would that be funny? Or would she find it weird? How come he’s nervous? He thought that was the kids' job.)
It had been two years since those initial dates; So, Angela Moore was here to stay. And now, having her over for the first time, was basically Shawns own form of engagement. It wasn’t just some “sneak a girl over and pray for the best” this was a full fledged dinner, that he’d stressed for weeks about.
–
Jon is almost done cooking a casserole with hidden vegetables in it (he started doing it for Shawn, but now finds it helpful.) Yeah he doesn't like carrots, but if he can’t see them, he’s not eating them. He’s dwelling on how the same tricks he used to use on his kid work on him, a grown man, for a second too long when the phone rings.
Putting down the bright orange vegetable slicer (a well meaning gift from a seventeen year old Shawn, cause he ‘ looked like he was struggling with the knife ’) and made his way over to the phone.
“Hello?”
“Jon, Dad, Hey, you know how Angela and I are coming over next week?” Shawns says, talking a mile a minute, out of breath and concerned. And he called him Dad– Shawn doesn’t do that all of the time. Only when something is really serious to him, or he’s so upset he can't help it.
“Yeah kid, you told me” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Shawn is talking again “I know you aren’t– crazy, or something Jon, but–”
“But?”
“I really need this to go well.” Shawn says earnestly.
“I know you do, Hunter. You’ve already told me her allergies, where to go if we get bored, even gave me some neutral talking points. By the way, did you get that from Matthews? Because I remember–”
“What I may or may not have gotten from Cory doesn’t matter– look. Jon, I need this to go well.” He says, then in a smaller voice adds, “I really like her, Jon. She’s like the one person in the world who understands me. I don’t want–” Shawn pauses again, “I don’t want you guys to hate each other, because you’re two of the most important people in the world to me.”
Jon goes silent at the vulnerable admission from Hunter, taking in his words. Jon never hated having Moore in his class– she was a delight, infact. He didn’t have any weird outdated values, and he grew up around rich snobs. If he wanted to pretend he liked someone (which he’s certain he won’t have to do here.) he could.
“It’s gonna be alright Shawn, okay? Don’t worry yourself too much. “ He tries in his most reassuring, fatherly voice he can use.
“Okay?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence pass where the only thing he can hear is the muffled chattering of what he assumes are other college students.
“Okay.” Shawn says, after a heavy sigh of relief made its way through the receiver.
“See you in a week kid”
“See you in a week Jon”
The line goes dead, and Jon goes back to his gaudy vegetable cutter, wondering if he should give Alan Matthews a call on how to meet your kids girlfriend.
—
Jon, for some reason, did not make that call.
Maybe it was ego, maybe it was to prove to himself that in the 6 years since Shawn Hunter had lived with him (on and off, that is) he had this parenting thing down.
He does not. He falls back on some embarrassing Dad conversation (which maybe does prove he has this parenting thing down) “You know, I've heard alot about you Moore.” He starts, making his way back over to the kitchen to start fixing plates. Shawn and Angela sit comfortably on the couch, one of shawns hands rubbing circles into Angelas arm. One of her legs touching his.They’re attached at the hip, it’s kind of cute.
“Have you?” She asks, turning to Shawn with a grin on her face. Shawn pales, and even from here Jon can see the way his face turns red, all the way up to his ears.
“Oh yeah, for months. You couldn’t believe how much time we spent at men's warehouse for that prom suit. Went through about a hundred options,”
“Jon–” Shawn interjects, embarrassed but not upset. Seeing no real discomfort on Shawns face, Jon continues.
“Oh but Angela said never wear a tie again, so I can’t. But this color doesn’t match her dress– now this color matches her dress too much. ” Jon recounts, remembering how Shawn had been a sort of bride-zilla for a prom suit. It was tiring, yes, but it was sweet to know he cared so much for her.
“Did he now?” Angeola asks, staring directly at Shawn. “I could’ve helped y’know. I wouldn’t mind watching you try on some suits.” Shawn laughs nervously, somehow even more flustered than before.
“Wanted to surprise you, y’know?” He says, in a quiet voice. Angela laughs, but the fondness in her expression is clear. “Well you did, you looked pretty” She says.
“Pretty? Not handsome” He asks
“No, you looked pretty.” Angela affirms. There’s a warm look in Shawns eyes that he can’t describe.
“I can get behind that”
“Y’know he did the same thing for your birthday,” Angela shoots back, and Shawn looks at her, feigning betrayal on his face.
“Angela, baby–”
“We went to so many stores, wanted to find the nice cane decorations for you, and a good motorcycle keychain. He wanted to find one exactly like yours. It was cute”
“You both are ruining my reputation”
“What reputation? I think that player one died a few years ago,”
“Well–” Shawn starts, before being cut off by Jon.
“And if we’re being honest, that bad boy one doesn’t work too well on people who know you.” Jon tells him, and Angela nods.Shawn sighs (dramatically, that is) “My girlfriend and my Dad teaming up on me, I should’ve known this would happen.” Angela and Jon laugh a little, both used to Shawns antics.
Jon makes his way over to the living room, handing Angela and Shawn their plates. “Alright,” he starts when sitting down. Jon isn’t old, by any means, but an accident and not being in your late 20s anymore can make it less easy. He makes his way back to get his own plate and sits on the couch with them. The two are practically on top of eachother, so he’s not crowding their space by any means.
Jon starts to talk to Angela, featuring vaguely at her plate as he talks. “There’s no pineapple anywhere in this pasta, I swear. And there’s no– what was it?” Jon pretends to forget.
“Paprika, Jon. Did you add–” Shawns face flips to concern so fast it’s almost funny. “There’s no paprika in it Shawn, you reminded me a hundred times.” the anxiety Shawn’s holding in his shoulders deflates immediately. Jon quickly realizes maybe this wasn’t that funny for Angela, and moves to apologize. She stops him before he can.
“No, no it’s fine. You can scare him a little. I’m not deathly allergic or anything.” Jon looks at Shawn accusingly “Oh, you’re not?” he says, still talking to Angela. She shakes her head “I get like, some hives and I itch a little but, nothing that won’t go away.” She thinks for a second “pineapple though, I can’t have any of that”.
Jon nods seriously, taking notes for the future dinners, or breakfasts, or any events they’ll have at his apartment.
“What, did Shawn make you think I was gonna die?” Angela turns to the aforementioned Shawn, and smiles.
“Well, I might’ve exaggerated a little but, the doctor said–” Shawn starts, and Angela continues the words like he's said them a hundred times. Maybe he has. “The doctor said if I keep eating it the allergy’ll get worse. I know, babe”
Jon makes a weird, slightly concerned face. Okay, maybe Shawns concern
isn’t
unwarranted. Shawn mumbles something under his breath and starts to eat his pasta wordlessly, Angela begins to pick up her plate when Jon says:
“Well maybe Shawns right, can’t have my future daughter in law dying to some seasoning, y’know?”
Shawn starts to choke on his paprika free noodles.
“Shawn!” Angela starts to hit him on the back (very hard, but hey, he’s choking.) And Jon scrambles. Was that too weird to say? Too much of a teasing Dad thing? Maybe he should’ve held back on that, until the third or fourth dinner. But it’s too late now, and now his son is going to die a very marinara-filled death.
Jon puts his plate down and begins to help Angela, while she gets up and moves to the phone, ready to call if he chokes for a bit too long.
After five more good hits, Shawn dislodges the poor noodles that have been stuck, and he takes a few good gasps of air. Shawn says a hoarse “I’m alright, I’m alright” then adds, “I need.. Uh, water” and gets up rigidly, walking to the bathroom and closing the door. The water starts to run.
Now, Angela slowly makes her way back to her seat. face calm. Jon is sure his worried expression is quite clear. (Angela is worried, but her tells aren’t as obvious. I twirl of a braid here, a scratch of her arm there. It’s little things to expel the worry so it won’t show on her face.)
Jon starts first “I’m sorry,--”
“Don’t be Mr.Turner” Angela says, and Jon thinks for a second. "Please, call me Jon.”
“Okay,” she starts again, “Jon. It’s fine, you know he’s not really hurt or anything. Just needs a second.” Angela twirls a braid a little too tightly on her finger, and struggles to unwind it.
“Yeah, I caught him way off guard. I don’t mean to overstep, I’m just–”
“New at this?” Angela asks, perceptive in a way that’s a little scary. That’s the kind of perception Shawn needs, though.
“Yeah, still very new.”
“So are we. I don’t even take offense to it, because I know he’s not saying he doesn’t want to marry me” Angela says marry me in a small voice, like the concept is foreign to her too. Jon won’t ask her why, or even speculate on he reason. He’ll respect her privacy, because that’s what she deserves.
“I think you just put the possibility in his head. That’s all” Maybe it’s the comfortable feeling this house gives her, or the fact that Shawn has been so kind, so worried about her, but it gives her the confidence to be a little vulnerable. if not for Shawns sake, for her own, to know that Jon– now a part of the family Shawn has allowed her into, will understand.
“I don’t have much family either,” Angela starts, and Jon sits up straighter, paying attention to the young woman he knows is going to be part of his family one day. “So, I get why Shawn is worried. We can’t afford to lose anymore people. You know?”
“Yeah, I know” Jon thinks of the call he got the week Chet died, Shawn saying through tears, he knows the man didn’t care for him, but how could he leave him so permanently? How could he have nobody left?
“When Shawn first met my Daddy, I was so scared, I was afraid of him– and our relationship, and everything else–” She won’t mention her Mom, not yet. “He’s probably feeling the same way. You mean so much to him, Jon. And for us, it’s hard to let people in. When we do, we don’t want to have to just– kick them out.”
“There has never been a better adult in his life than you.”
Jon smiles, a real, genuine smile. Angela is so understanding and that she trusts him enough to tell her this. “Thanks, Moore.”
“He really cares for you too. I’ve never had him bring a girl over and
really
get nervous. He wants us to– I don't know, get along. I was kind of trying to do that whole, embarrassing Dad stories thing” Jon tells her, cause to be honest, he’s sure it was awful.
Angela laughs a little, “Yeah, I could tell. It worked too”
They sit in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, until Jon starts to talk.
“I’m glad you’re the one who’s sticking around Moore.” Jon says, completely honest. The way Shawn smiles around her, how he can’t let go of her for even a second and is so full of concern. How Angela cares for him too, is so perceptive of everything around her. He can see why they fit.
There’s a hint of shock in Angela's eyes that she quickly masks. “Thanks.” she says in a quiet voice. “I’m glad you are too.”
They lapse into silence again, food cold and forgotten (Jon has to-go plates on hand, it’s fine.) and Angela points at a photo on the tv stand. It’s a photo of a 17 year old Shawn with a shorter haired Jon (it had to be cut after the accident, and that devastated him more than the injuries themselves.). Shawn is beaming at the camera and Jon is wearing a natural smile. “When was this?” she questions.
“Oh, this was the summer after your Junior year– I told Shawn I'd take him to Paris if he got his grades up when you all were Sophomores, but then I–” the words fell off my bike, almost died, and went into a coma are left unspoken.
“But– with all the medical bills and stuff, y'know, I couldn’t really take him to Paris.” Angela nods solemnly “Shawn though, he didn’t care. He said,
‘Why don't we just go to Paris, Texas?’
” Jon gets up to grab the photo, and hands it to Angela. She smiles at it fondly “That sounds just like him”.
“There wasn’t much to do, but we had a good time with each other. I’ve got more photos– If you want to see, of course”
Angela looks at him, the most serious he's seen her the entire night (bar Shawns choking,) and says “I’d love to.”
—
When Shawn leaves the bathroom, he’s thoroughly refreshed, hydrated, (yes he drank water from the sink, but he commited to walking in there, so what else could he do?), and his embarrassment is gone. He finds Angela and Jon on the couch, laughing with a scrapbook full of photos of him and Jon.
He smiles at them for a second, before noticing exactly
what
photo Jon is showing Angela.
“Jon, you said you threw away the photo of me with the perm–”