Author: Lune Nightingale
Fandom: Original and Friday the 13th
Genre: Angst, comfort, romance
Notes: This is just a little back ground for a character I made. There is a bit of influence from the game Heavy Rain cause of the technology that he uses to do his cases.
Disclaimer: I do not own Clay, Harry Chapins “Cats in the Cradle” or the technology from Heavy Rain. But I DO own Michael and Lysander. And I love them very much. <3
Word Count: 3,294
What's in a Name?
Big watery blue eyes pinned on him, a small trail of snot running down over a quivering lip. Messy dark blonde hair was sticking up in wayward cowlicks and smooshed down against the scalp in others. A few tears tracked down soft chubby cheeks before dripping into the dirty t-shirt. The thought occurred to him that most big brothers would have gotten up and ran for their lives. Teary eyed little brothers bawling their eyes out were a parent's responsibility. Instead, he slid down to one knee to meet the eight year old eye to eye.
“'Leron...” Sniffling softly, the little boy pressed into his chest while little arms curled around his neck. Sighing quietly, he curled his arms about the tiny form and closed his eyes.
“Yeah, Ly?” Always careful. When he asked questions with any of his siblings, he was careful. It wasn't like he was a dad. He didn't know what to do.
“S-sera sa-said th-that mom lef' cause'a me...” Through the blubber, Aleron didn't miss a word. And as the muscles tightened in his back and jaw, he closed his eyes. What he wanted to say was 'I'm gonna kick her ass', but this was his little sister... no matter how much he'd like to kill her.
“S'not true, baby... you know that.” Pushing a hand into the soft hair at the top of the child's hair, he tipped his head down to press his lips to a temple.
“It is!” Lysander was the baby. For that reason he was the softest and most likely to cry... but this? This was more than he was willing to accept from their sister.
Pulling back a little, he slid a hand under the little boy's chin and tipped his head back. It was so easy to sweep his thumb over a little cheek and catch every tear. Aleron hated their mother. In the darkest part of his heart he held onto that with all his might even if he never said it. But he knew for certain... “It is not your fault. And I'll make sure Sera knows that, too.” With less gentleness.
Lysander sniffed hard and Aleron winced at how messy it sounded. His brother was going to make himself sick. Smiling softly, he pulled his sleeve down on his hand and slowly wiped the little boy's face off and then even his nose. Sometimes he wondered why he did things like that. Things a mom or a dad would do, but not a big brother in the midst of getting their college degree. “'Leron...” Hiccuping, his little brother pinned him with those same blue eyes he knew matched his own. “Does she not love us?”
Taking a deep breath, he recalled that same question that Seraphina and Xanthia asked him when they turned ten years old just two years ago. The very question he asked his father the day their mother was gone when he woke up that morning. It was the question that he and their dad just didn't know how to answer. And just like his dad, he said the same words... “She'd be crazy not to. Hey Ly....”
Listening to him sniff again, he rubbed at his eyes before speaking. “Yeah?”
“One thing I know for sure, baby boy? She's missing out on the time of her life...”
“Do you want me, 'Leron?”
This pulled the corners of his lips up into a smile as he leaned in closer and touched their foreheads together. “You know... when they brought Sera and Xan home? I told them to take those things back, I wanted a boy.” Lysander giggled through the sniffles and ducked his head. “When mom and dad brought you home... I remember leaning over your crib and saying 'Where have you been?'” The little eyes full of love and hope rose to his and the smile turned into a grin on his own lips.
“That's a dumb question, 'Leron.”
“You think so?”
“Umm...” Once again he lowered his head to hide the smile by pressing his lips together.
“Thought so. Look at me, Ly...” Only when those needy eyes rose to his did he go on. “You're my little brother. Everything I do... it's for you. For dad. For Xan... and even Sera who will get an earful later.”
“Then why don't you come home anymore?”
Sighing softly, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The long stretch of silence that filled the air was tinted with the low sound of his dad's radio in the other room. Words he'd heard many times...
My son turned ten just the other day
He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let's play
Can you teach me to throw", I said "Not today
I got a lot to do", he said, "That's ok"
And it felt way too familiar right now... why did he have to be the parent here? “I have to go to school, Ly... and what I'm doing means I can't stay around here.”
Kicking a little at the ground, Lysander stared at his feet and pulled at the hem of his shirt. “You work hard... but you cause trouble too.”
Smiling a little sadly, he closed his eyes. “Lysander...”
“Can I be like you when I grow up?”
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
And said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah
You know I'm gonna be like him"
“Nah. Just don't grow up like your sisters.” He forced a laugh at this and rolled his eyes. Dragging Ly into his chest, he hugged him tight and closed his eyes. “They're just nuts, kid...” As those arms wound about his neck, he scooped him up in his arms. “I'll try harder, ok?”
“You're my big brother... it's ok.” Why did they never stop excusing him?
“Swear it, baby boy...”
When he leaned back, the smile on that small face was brilliant and steady. Utter faith. “Love you, 'Leron.”
“Love you, too, Ly.”
No one could say he didn't worry when the golden blonde got like this. Focused. Working. Intense. And wearing those glasses as he was 'prettying' himself in the bathroom. Meeting Michael the first time, the last thing he expected him to be was a workaholic. But for all the less than kosher behavior, the FBI agent went at his work with the same tenacity he'd gone after him. Which brought up the question of why the man always got shot down before. It would never occur to the man, however; that Michael hadn't tried that hard for anyone else before.
But more predominantly in his mind was the mutters coming from the bathroom as Michael recorded comments on evidence and file analysis. No matter how many times reassured him that the glasses were necessary and that he'd be careful... it never set well on him. One thing about Michael though... was that he was stubborn like a rock and listened about as well when he felt strongly about something or someone. A blessing and a curse.
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man on the moon...
The musical tune coming from the desk made the brunette turn his head and pull out of his musings. Frowning a little at the song, he pinpointed the smart phone vibrating across the table. “Michael, you're phone is ringing.” Calling out loud enough to be heard, he waited but no reply came. A small amount of fear rose in his chest as his mind supplied images of rivulets of blood slipping down pale skin.
“When you comin' home, dad?” I don't know when, but we'll get together then, son...
“Just answer it for me, Clay! I'm almost done!”
Rolling hazel eyes to the ceiling, the look said 'why do I bother', but the feeling was relief. He had to wonder though... if he'd always have that fear in his mind. “Lazy.” Pushing to his feet, he marveled at the lines of the song.
You know we'll have a good time then...
Breaking out of the curious daze, he pushed the call button not looking at the name or picture on the screen. With a furrowed brow, he put the phone to his ear and fought off the awkwardness in his voice. “Hello?”
Silence followed for a second and he could hear the shift of the phone before a voice answered that sounded way too much like his lover's. “I know I dialed the right number, who is this?”
Clay blinked a few times and considered hanging up the phone, but he had a suspicion that voice was important and dealing with a pouting or flustered Michael wasn't worth it. “Michael's in the bathroom, can I take a message?” Polite was best to get things over with, right?
Too bad he wasn't aware that the entire Walker family was as persistently annoying as his lover. “Wait... you're Clay aren't you?” Was that a hint of realization in that voice? Oh, that did not bode well.
“Yes?” Did he really want to answer that?
“So you're the guy that turned my big brother into a girl.” The voice was suddenly thick with amusement, and Clay was tempted to start laughing right there.
“I guess so. And you must be Gabe.” If there was one thing he picked up about Michael's family... it was the dislike of their first names.
“You know, you can call me Lysander.” But that was shocking. “So are you as hot as he says you are, or is that him exaggerating?”
“I'd say he was exaggerating, but I'm not the person you should asking that question.” Ok, so maybe he was a little amused to know his boyfriend talked about him like that to his little brother. Michael was never going to live this down.
“Honesty.” He could hear the approval as much as the amusement. “Aleron is like a thirteen year old girl with a crush when he gets started.”
“Oh?” The slightest curl of his lips hinted at the desire to ask him to go on, but he held it back.
“Definitely. Never thought he'd like guys... then again, Sera said he'd never be serious about anything but work or us and he proved her wrong.” The voice was softer this time, thoughtful, maybe even a little bit relieved. “So is he being a girl and getting 'pretty' in front of the mirror?”
That did make him laugh.
“I knew it. 'Leron's total girl now.”
“Should you be talking about Michael that way?”
There was silence for a moment, and Clay felt the worry rise. Had he said something wrong? It wasn't like he'd ever talked to any of his lover's siblings and Michael kept them so close to his heart, he often wondered if he'd ever meet them. Not that he'd ask. Family... family wasn't a good topic. “Clay... why don't you call him Aleron?”
Of all the things he wondered Lysander would ask him... that wasn't the one on his mind. And from his stunned silence, it seemed the teen got that cause he went on. “'Leron hates his name, you know. Cause mom gave it to him. He thinks we don't know he feels that way... but he's wrong. Either way...” Clay could almost see that same flippant hand gesture Michael did when he wanted to say 'moving on' without words. “You should. Even if it's when no one is around. It's his way of saying he loves us... God, maybe I should start looking at guys, he's making me sound like a girl!”
And for the life of him, he couldn't stop the fond smile. Lysander was his lover's 'mini-me' to the core. “I'll excuse it this once.” Keeping his tone light, he heard the return relieved laughter.
“Thanks, man. But I'm serious you know... I know how he is. He... doesn't have time for anyone. He's always working... always doing something...” The tone was heartbreaking as it carried over the phone. “But when he answers to that name for me... I know I mean the world to him, ya know? So... if he is a big idiot for you, then try it. Cause if he answers you, you know you're most important to him. And there ends my brotherly advice.”
Just like the man he was falling for. Never ceasing in talking until he's said something embarrassing that he would pick on him about. Either it was a Walker trait, or Lysander had set out to be his brother's little mynah bird. And for as intimate and sad as Lysander's words were, he saw a truth in them... and he saw how the teen missed his brother. “You miss him.” It was like a revelation to himself more than a question. Why wouldn't he miss Michael?
“Something like that, but it'll take a miracle to get him to come home to visit. He doesn't like coming home.” There was a short pause before he asked tentatively. “Will you ask him to visit?”
“I don't think I have that much sway over him, Ga.... Lysander.” In a hurried reply, he knew he sounded uncomfortable. Like he was meeting the family and he'd been put on the spot. Why would Lysander think him asking would make any difference?
“Your wrong ya know. But whatever... Tell him to call me?”
“Thanks, man. Guess I'm gonna end up with a lot of brothers, huh? Not that any guys would be dumb enough to marry our sisters. Man... they're crazy.” The conspiring tone was cut off by an older man in the background chastising him and a poorly covered receiver as the teen answered. “C'mon, dad! I'm allowed to complain!”
Clay shook his head. Yeah. Definitely related. “Anyway, nice meeting you, Clay. Hope we can talk again sometime!” And the sound of silence in his ear told him that Lysander hung up instantly after he said those words.
Staring at the phone a long moment, he didn't even hear Michael walking out of the bathroom till the bed sank next to him. Turning his head quickly, he watched the shorter man rub his closed eyes while setting the glasses on the bedside table. Finally that hand moved down to pull the glove off his right hand without a word. Hazel shot back to the glasses with a hard look.
“Who was it?” Voice light, Clay's attention snapped back to sky blue eyes that looked tired and a little too blue with only pinpricks for his pupils. He'd used them too long.
His eyes widened at this and he flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Great... I don't even want to know what he told you...” Clay watched the heated flush run up his lover's neck from from under the unbuttoned collar of his deep blue button up shirt.
Smiling a little, he noted the arm draping over his lover's eyes to hide from Clay. Cute. Then his eyes traveled down the lithe form and to the rise of the smooth material revealing a sliver of muscled abdomen that disappeared into black slacks. Michael hated dressing up. But he looked good. Very good. “Oh I don't know... it wasn't too bad.”
“Which translates to, 'I'm totally going to snipe you with it later'.” For the accusation, the smile on those lips told him that Michael wasn't that upset. Shifting to turn and face his lover, he bent over the smaller form and slid one hand under the the other man's shirt to splay the large hand over the toned stomach. The muscles skittered under his skin and his torso rose with a deep shuddering breath. Clay inched the hand upward, dragging the shirt with it. Michael began to squirm a little and only pulled his arm away from his eyes when fingertips grazed a nipple. “Nn!”
Michael was vocal. He actually liked that about the FBI Agent. But when he met those eyes that had still yet to dilate after being closed, his heart sunk a little in his chest. “You wore them too long.” Voice desperately quiet, he let his eyes slip down to look at his lover's neck as he curled his other hand into the slender curve of his side.
“Clay... I'm fine...” The voice was harried, guilty, and trying to justify the slow destruction of his brain. There was no justification for it, damn it!
“Please stop... Aleron.” It was so quiet, he wondered if he'd actually said it out loud.
Michael stopped breathing the moment the syllables of his first name met his ears. One second... two... and then he breathed in again slowly. He didn't dare look up. Michael went to great pains to pretend that name didn't exist. He shouldn't have... “Say it again.”
Blinking, he lifted his head only to feel Michael's fingers threading into his hair cupping his head. Meeting wide almost needy eyes, he couldn't not smile just a little. “Aleron.”
Lips parted in a shuddering breath and brilliant blue eyes half closed. “Again...”
Clay felt his heart skip a few beats as he rose up onto his knees to bend over the supine form of his lover. One button at a time was popped open on his shirt as the taller man dipped closer to kiss Michael's stomach earning him a shiver. “Aleron...” It was so soft, so worshipful.
“Clay...” He could feel the tightening of fingers in his hair, but never painful.
“Why did you pick that song for Lysander's ringtone?” Voice still soft, he dropped another kiss to his lover's stomach as the final button was freed.
“To remind me of what could happen between us. Who I don't want to be.” Michael's voice was so melancholic, so honest. “Clay...”
“Yes?” Big hands slid up his lover's sides possessively, claiming and holding him without words. “What is it?”
Hazel eyes rose to meet those blue eyes that were almost too blue. “One more time...?”
“Only if you tell me why...” The answer surprised himself. He never pushed for anything, but why did something so simple... make Michael seem to fall apart?
“Because... it feels like love...” Michael's eyes drifted up to the ceiling, and something told him the man was fighting back tears. “Like maybe she didn't have me just to spite me.”
Tightening his grip on the soft pale skin, Clay lowered down to press his lips just below the blonde's ear as he whispered. He may not have said those three words, but he put all the feeling behind them into the syllables of his lover's true name. “Aleron...”
And if he tasted saltiness on his lips, he didn't call him on it. Not today.