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Santa Monica Beach, CA — 2003
It was a short drive from Beacon Hills to the West Coast. Jackson and Stiles slept like angels the whole way to the iconic pier. Noah called last night, a hoarse and tired voice, telling Peter to babysit Stiles for a while. Frank decided not to pry too closely and brought Jackson along so the two could bond, maybe become best friends. Who knows?
"Peter! Is this thing on?" Frank took with him his new Sony camcorder. The moms were telling; or so to say, humble bragging; camping trips and beach outings with their families that Frank just somehow had to up them in their game or his family would be the topic of discussion in strangers' dinner tables. Besides, Jackson deserves this much from a single parent whose busier than a fire ranger in a California wildfire.
Last PTA meeting, Frank had a talk with the mothers, worried about Jackson. Pity. How the children would feel apologetic after knowing him personally. Peter felt thankful that the kids didn't add insult to injury, but would they be able to support Jackson as he grow up? This bothered Peter, how cliques and groups can be evil during high school. This kid needed to be the school alpha, where no one can even dare belittle him.
It can be lonely once.
Peter explained to him the basics and what the red blinking dot was for. Frank started filming the people around them, the stalls, the beach, the magnificent view. "Wow... this is a first for me. I want to document everything," Frank, in awe, wandered around forgetting his main objective.
"That thing runs on batteries!" Peter shouted, being stuck getting the two kids out of the car. He woke Stiles up first by putting sunscreen all over his bare skin. "I don't care if tan is the new fad but I'm not risking you to skin cancer," a dollop from the bottle of Banana Boat, squeezed and smothered all over his hand, he smacked it on Jackson's arm.
"Jackson, get up sleepyhead." A soft murmur escapes the boy's mouth and he wished to drag Frank's ass back to the car to capture this moment. He shouldn't have let him go free.
Stiles, being the little jackass that he is, shook the other kid to his senses. "Hey! Wake up, dweeb!" This woke Jackson, upsetting him. Peter carried the weepy child to his chest, comforting him.
Peter bent down his knees to pick up the small sun hat for Jackson to protect him from the sunrays. He'll apply sunscreen once he's calmed. "Mikey, what did we say about names?"
Stiles, or Miecyslaw, grabbed his sun hat and put it on himself aggresively. "You always take his side," he pouts, crossing his arms and looking away from his favorite uncle.
"You know you're older."
"By three months!" He stood at his seat proclaiming. "We're like twins!"
"Still, you have to be there for your little brother," Peter sat the small boy down and grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and does the same as he did with Stiles. "Close your eyes."
Basically murmuring as Peter plays with his chubby cheeks with sunscreen. "How can we be brothers. We have a different mother!"
"We're not?" The Whittemore boy began to weep and Peter could only rub his back. He knew he couldn't force Stiles to treat Jackson a certain way, but by the looks of it, Stiles had been looking at Jackson with sympathetic eyes.
As guilt seeps the young boy's heart seeing the other hold onto Peter, Stiles moved and embraced the younger child. "Don't cry... sorry." Peter smiled brightly as Jackson loses his grip.
"Is okay..." he leans closer.
Little children will only be little today and they will grow up. "Don't fight anymore okay? You're brothers right?"
"Yeah! I'm the eldest!"
"By only three..."
This is good. "You got all that?" Peter had already noticed Frank filming since his 'dad' senses were tingling from the earlier altercation.
"You would've been a good fa-" the film ends, the battery ran out. "Well... that's disappointing."
"Who said I'm not? I signed those papers with you so technically I get Jackson in the divorce." The sun shone brighter that day, Peter just happened to bring his best aviators.
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Four Seasons Hotel, CA — 2003
"Hey world!" Frank focused his camcorder towards the three, having acquired a new spare battery at the gift shop at the hotel lobby. Costed him triple the actual value but who cares? He bought two more backups. "C'mon Peter say something to 10 years from now!"
"Invest all of your cash in Microsoft."
"I said in the future."
"It was a loss." Like a grudge, Peter went bitter not investing his trust funds on companies taking the world by storm. "Look for the next big thing! Invested some on Macintosh, might see my money's worth in a few."
"Now, how about you Jackson?"
"Be the king of the world!" The child raised his voice with his fists up in the air.
"And Mikey?"
"Make sure he's king of the world!" He soon copied, both looking amused.
"I got that all in film so you better keep your promises."
"Now tell us where we are eating at, Peter."
"It's a secret!"
Knowing Pete his whole life, he expects nothing but the best.
==============
The note reads, 'To the beautiful gay couple.'
"They're not half-wrong. Compliments to the chef," Peter slids it inside his jacket and grabbed the Merlot at the neck.
While perusing the goods, Frank asks. "Why did we get a bottle of wine for free?"
With a snide smile, Peter curls. "You tell me. Two racially ambiguous kids and two best friends enters a family restaurant. Let's get both of them to bed, busier day tomorrow."
"Are we going to Disneyland?!"
"That's right!"
"You're the best uncle in the world!"
"Don't let your uncle Frank hear it though," Peter snickers at Frank who just smiled back at him.
"But that means he's my favorite too because you and Uncle Frank are always together like mom and pop so that means you are one!" Claudia have told him about marriage and unions, being one with Noah, so to not Stiles have favorites between the two of them. Clearly, it was Claudia but who's telling Noah?
Peter couldn't hold his laughter at the embarassed reaction from Frank, and Jackson sat there looking back and forth the two men he considers as his fathers. He, too, had agreed with Stiles with a nod.
"Ah, man. Maybe we're meant to be together."
"Oh, don't shit with me Peter," Frank laughs back.
"What? And avoid profanity with the children please," Peter shrugs teasingly with a stern look after. Frank then clarified that it was the linens.
"Surely you've not moved on from Chris?"
"Who's Chris?" Stiles asks.
Peter smiles slyly. "No one important, just someone."
"You never dated since h-"
Peter cuts off. "There was that one time in college."
"Yeah sure, I've hung the sock more times than you."
"Sock?" The kid asks while Jackson remained oblivious.
"Let's stop here. Stiles, me and your uncle Frank are just good old friends, okay?"
"Oh," a long, unnerving pause. "Okay!"
"I'm sure he mistook that."
"Let it be then."
============
The kids are tucked together, lulled by Peter to sleep and Frank's on the counters accompanied by a Merlot and two wineglasses waiting to be filled.
"Good night munchkins," he softly said, closing the door behind him. Peter walked with a sated smile in his face, sat across of Whittemore, pouring him a glass. Frank's expression was sullen and tired. "Is something bothering you?" Peter asks.
"It's nothing," Frank swirls the contents of his glass, takes a whiff, and sips, his eyes not escaping what's in his grasp, he speaks his mind. "The other parents assume you're my boyfriend."
Surprised, Peter squints. "Are you seriously worried about that? Is that so bad?"
"I'm not worried about that," he tsks, placing the glass down. "Look, I'm worried about you," Frank admits and Peter just sighs.
"You don't have to worry about me. You've got Jackson to take care of as much as I do, and just like you, I've got no time to date if I'm already a parent."
As much as Frank hated to admit defeat, he chose to look over the horizon one more time before sounding like a big hypocrite. They've both been single for a long time, maybe not at the same time but still a very long time. Surely, they'd end up in a case study about ambiguous bachelors that live harmonously together, except Peter's really gay.
Whittemore opened his mind anyway. "We both know that's just an excuse." Not one ounce of a counterattack from Peter's expression.
"Yeah. Still got that date on Friday?" A way to segue to another topic, Frank met a lawyer back at a conference in Burbank. Veronica was the name, seemed really interested in him.
"Veronica? That was a bust."
"Being a single father to a kid you're not even related to isn't exactly a good icebreaker."
"Being a single father puts me off the market entirely."
"Still, there's those women from church."
"Bunch of judgemental red flags if you ask me." They both looked over the horizon, thinking whether God is making the strings of fate a tad shorter.
With nothing else to say, Frank raised his glass and drank. "Cheers, mate."
Peter entered the room shortly after to lay down on the remaining bed. Restless.
Frank, however, fell asleep on the balcony chair. With the wind and mosquitos. With the trees, swinging to the sea breeze. The white noise lull.
Peter kept thinking about his friend. How lonely it might be raising a kid on his own, especially now that Peter's got prior commitments to the family business, that the time he is spending with Jackson dwindles continuously. It can take a village to raise a child, and Peter is just one of the butter churners in the corner road. The PTA moms are doing what they can, the teachers too, even the community. For Stiles as well. Associates from the firm consider Jackson as family. Stiles got the hospital staff and the state department to watch over him.
His time, albeit short, still matters to them. Jackson is his child. No denying that. And since Claudia's gone, Stiles is, by default, a godfather's duty.
"Let's get you to bed, sleepyhead." He carried the weight of the world with a smile in his face.