Chapter Text
"We should be getting back," Jayden commented eventually, after they'd spent far too long laying together watching the sunset.
Antonio sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "I'll walk you home," he offered.
Jayden blinked, then frowned. "What do you mean? Aren't you coming with me?"
"Ah - "
"All Samurai Rangers stay at Shiba House," Jayden pressed on, looking insistent. "The others will already have them preparing a room for you."
Antonio cringed slightly. "It's not ... I appreciate it Jay, I do," he assured him. "It's just, I don't think it's such a good idea for me to stay there right now."
Jayden's frown deepened. "Why not?"
"Well, I haven't even formally met the team yet, right?" he pointed out. "And Ji lives on formality, I remember that much." Jayden still looked ready to argue, so he sighed. "And I already have a place in town."
Jayden hesitated, looking slightly disappointed. "You're sure?"
He nodded. After a moment, he grinned brightly. "But hey, I'll still walk you back. After all, I have to make sure mi princesa arrives home safely, no?"
The punch to the stomach was just as painful as he'd expected, but it was worth it.
****
"Papa, we talked about this," he sighed into his morpher as he glared around his new apartment. "I told you I didn't need a lot of space."
"Yes, you did," his papa agreed aimiably. "And we disagreed."
"What am I going to do with an extra bedroom and bathroom?" he demanded.
"Only one? Zack must have finally talked Aisha down after all."
"*Papa*."
"Training area," Papa said promptly. "And guest space if any of your teammates want a place to crash. It happens often enough."
"Why would they stay with me when they already live in a mansion?"
"Not everyone likes mansions. And hey, sometimes people need space."
"It's too big!"
"It's only two bedrooms."
"I have *five* closets! Even I don't own that many clothes!"
"Really? Well, we can get you more - "
"No!" he interrupted hastily. "No more clothes! I'm good!"
"Are you sure?"
"*Yes*."
Papa sighed, sounding vaguely disappointed. "Well, if you're sure. Do you like the furniture? Kat picked everything out."
He rubbed a hand over his face. It *was* his taste; all black and gold Asian-influenced pieces, excluding the overstuffed mattress on the bed and the lumpy-looking couch in the living room. For all that he'd complained about not needing it, the second bedroom had already been designated as his own mini-dojo, complete with mats, weights, a free-standing punching bag, and two large bookshelves of weapons and books - with locks. The kitchen was fully-stocked with every piece of cooking equipment he could possibly need and then some. Barstools surrounded the kitchen island - enough to fit the whole team if he wanted to - while the built-in computer desk had already been decked out by either Uncle Billy or Justin. Possibly Uncle Cam. Maybe all three.
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. He paused and sighed. "Tell her I really like the wall screen," he mumbled, because he did.
"Will do!" Papa agreed cheerfully.
"But really, Papa, the dojo?"
"Complain to your dad about it. In fact, here he is!"
There was a pause.
"Hey," his dad greeted. "Did everything go okay? You got there, you have keys? No issues?"
He rolled his eyes. "It went fine, Dad." Mostly fine, he amended to himself. But Dad would just get exasperated with him if he told him how he'd almost missed his golden moment. "The manager knew me right away - did you really ask him to keep an eye on me?" he demanded, because that had been horribly embarrassing.
There was an awkward pause. "So the apartment's nice? Joel seemed to think so."
He groaned. "You called Lightspeed, too?"
"Someone had to help move in the furniture your aunt ordered."
He flopped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. "Dad ... "
"So it's nice?"
He sighed. "Very nice. But you really didn't have to set up a whole dojo for me," he tried to argue. "And there's way more stuff here than I'm ever going to need!"
"You need a good place to train, where you don't have to worry about anyone seeing something they shouldn't," Dad said firmly. He paused, quietly adding "We just want to know that you're taken care of."
Which was Dad-Speak for 'We love you'.
" ... This couch is really comfortable," he mumbled eventually, adjusting to a new position. He couldn't find any way to lay on it that wasn't. "Tell Auntie she has good taste."
"You'll appreciate it down the road," Dad replied, sounding a little sad.
"I appreciate it now." He paused, biting his lip. "Are you still upset with me? For becoming a Ranger?"
"Antonio ... "
"Don't say you're not," he countered. "We both know that's not true."
"I'm not upset that you became a Ranger," Dad said quietly. "I know that's been your dream since before I even met you. And I'm proud of you for all that you've done to get this far."
"But," he prompted.
"But you're still my son. And I know what you're about to go through."
"Dad - "
"I'm sorry Antonio, but I just can't be okay with that."
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard as his hand tightened around his morpher. It wasn't disapproval exactly, and he knew that. But they both knew that this would always be a sticking point between them. "And I can't ... This is what I'm meant to do."
"I know."
He sighed, rubbing his free hand over his face. "I love you," he said finally.
"I love you, too." There was a pause. "Your mom wants to talk to you."
"'kay. Talk to you later." He scrubbed a hand over his face again, trying to force some levity to his voice. "Hola, Mama!"
"Hola, Azizi." He could hear the smile in her voice as she slipped seamlessly between the two languages. "So you like the new place? Is there anything you need that we forgot?"
He rolled his eyes. "Well, you did forget to pack Garrett."
"Don't you sass me boy, I'm serious."
"No, Mama," he promised, rolling his eyes again. "I've got everything I could possibly need right now."
"And?"
"And if I need anything, I'll call you."
"Good boy."
He shook his head, smiling ruefully to himself. He knew better than to argue with his mother. But still ... "But Mama, a queen-sized bed? What am I even supposed to do with a bed that big?"
"Antonio-azizi." She sounded far too amused. "You're nineteen years old, and you don't know what to use a big bed for?"
It took him a moment to follow, but when he finally did he shot up straight, wide-eyed in horror. "Mama! Dios mio!"