toot

“You should have a party,” Yvette had said, causing everyone's heads to swivel in her direction.

The news that Jack would be away for Halloween had come during their lunch break, to the surprise of everyone present, especially Angel. There had been some last minute business call he had to take, and would be gone overnight.

The thing was, Jack /never/ left, not without her travelling right along with him. It had happened several times in the couple years Rhys had known her already, and each time he had taken Angel with him, missed classes be damned.

So it was really out of nowhere that this would be happening /now/, but what’s the saying? Don’t look a gift in the something. Either way, Rhys was in, nodding along.

Angel had gone completely bug-eyed with both fear and revelation. Rhys was sure the thought had never even crossed her mind.

 “I can’t do that!” she hissed, conspiratorial, as if Jack was somehow listening nearby. “Jack would never allow it.”

“Well yeah, obviously,” Rhys said, “that’s why you don’t tell him.”

If Angel's eyes could have gone any wider, they’d have fallen out her head. “I /can’t/, I’m supposed to be staying at Yvette's.”

“And I can tell my parents we’re staying at Rhys’s, who can tell his parents we’re staying at Vaughn's, whose older sister can cover for us cause she’s cool like that,” said Yvette, pointing at each of them in turn. “We can cover this, easy.”

Rhys could see the whole idea was making Angel more than a little uncomfortable (try a step or two away from a panic attack) as she sat staring down at her hands and worrying them together. But on the other hand--a Halloween party at /that/ house? They’d make sure she didn’t get found out.

So he put a reassuring hand on hers, and giving her his most confident, charming smile, said, “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

A promise like that was easy to make.

Now

Rhys shook the piece of paper between two fingers in front of Angel's face, creased and crumpled at the edges from the time spent in his pocket. It was a flier, crudely drawn, with blocky, photocopied letters announcing the ‘KEGGATRON 9000 PARTY BLOW OUT SMASH!!! THIS WEEKEND!!!!!!!’

“Eh? Eeeeh?” Rhys wiggled his eyebrows.

Angel sighed, finally taking the paper from him for closer inspection. “They couldn’t have gotten someone from the arts department to do this?”

“It gets the basic point across. So, you in?”

It was a warm spring evening, and the gang, sure she would turn down the idea unless they asked in person, had dutifully made their way over to Angel's house to convince her to come out for the night. Up until now, she had denied all party invitations, so Rhys had decided to make it his personal mission to at least get her to one during the break. He could only let her waste her youth for so long.

“You know Jack would never allow it,” was all she said.

“Aw, come on, you at least have to ask,” Rhys tried. “This is a /spring break/ party. Way more fun and important than /regular/ parties!”

“Yeah, it’s practically a coming of age kind of deal,” Vaughn added. “Like a bar mitzvah.”

Angel just shrugged, her expression one sympathetic to their efforts but at a loss. It always came down to this, to what Jack would allow or what Jack wanted, and Rhys hated it.

“Lay off, you two,” Yvette said, “Maybe she doesn’t even want to go to this thing, you don’t know.”

Rhys glanced over at Yvette, momentarily annoyed, but when she gave him a small smirk he was quick to catch on to what she was doing.

“You’re probably right,” Rhys said as he made an exaggerated turn to leave. “Let's get going, she probably has better, more responsible things to do.”

“Stop it, I know what you’re doing,” Angel's tone was clipped, and she narrowed her eyes at Rhys as he turned back to face her, “and Jack does it better.”

Rhys's smugness immediately fell away. He had meant touch a nerve, but not badly enough to be compared to /Jack/. The look on Rhys’s face must have been telling, though, because Angel stopped him with a hand before he could begin to apologize.

She sighed. “Okay, I’ll... ask. But don’t expect anything. I mean it,” she added, as the trio swelled with excitement.

It would be good, Rhys thought, for Angel to rebel a bit more against Jack, to push back. He would know.

“Can’t hurt to try.” He beamed at her, but the look she gave him back said otherwise, and his smile faltered.

Then

Things were scheduled to start around eight, but the gang showed up at Angel’s around five to help her prepare. After Jack had dropped her off at Yvette's that morning, plans had been put into motion, and a communication chain had been created, convincing each parent that the everyone was at each other's places for the night.

Rhys was setting out bowls for candy and chips when Angel re-appeared downstairs after leaving to change into costume, floating into the kitchen as if the wings strapped to her back were real.

“That’s... very on point,” Vaughn said, pointing at the feather-covered cardboard.

Angel smiled. “It’s what I am every year.”

/They had just never seen her,/ Rhys realized. Off at their own events that Jack hadn’t allowed her to be a part of. The thought made Rhys upset at both Jack and himself.

“Where’s /your/ costume?” she asked, looking his outfit up and down with a scrutinizing gaze.

Rhys leaned forward, baring his teeth to give her a full view of the shiny pointed caps clipped onto his incisors.

Yvette rolled her eyes from across the room. “He’s a romance novel vampire.”

“Also known as lazy,” Vaughn said.

“Hey! It’s /clever./”

Rhys pouted dramatically, put out by his friends teasing, but when Angel started laughing, he couldn’t help but laugh too.

-----

They had only invited a handful of people directly, but it’s common knowledge that word spreads like wildfire among teenagers. All it had to be was an empty house, but a /mansion/ with a /pool/? What was originally a party of twenty ballooned into one of over a hundred in under an hour, and people were /still arriving./

Rhys hung near the back wall of the living room. In typical fashion, Vaughn had already outdrunk himself, and Rhys--being the great friend he was--had taken the poor guy up to the guest room and tucked him safely into bed. Now he was alone and out a wingman, because who knew where the hell Yvette had slinked off to?

At least Angel seemed to be having a good time, he thought as he watched her across the room. She sat with two girls Rhys recognized from school, laughing and clapping along as they flipped red cups on the coffee table. It was the first time he had seen her really interacting with someone outside their small circle, and despite some possessive feelings, didn’t want to interrupt.

His idle observing was interrupted by a voice from his right, so saturated with smugness it was practically dripping.

“Looking a little lonely there, pal. I’m surprised you’re not surrounded by your usual merry band of losers,” Vasquez said, saddling up beside Rhys and crowding into his space.

Rhys rolled his eyes, not even sparing him a glance. Vasquez had been trying the whole intimidate-and-manipulate thing since Rhys beat him for class rep back in freshman year, and quite frankly it had gotten old before it began.

He could feel Vasquez leering as he waited for Rhys’s reaction, and when one didn’t come tried again at a different angle. “What’s that you’re drinking? A cooler?” he scoffed.

“Hey, can you--I don’t know--fuck off?” Rhys said, taking a sip of his lime-flavored cooler, which was delicious and getting him adequately drunk, thank you very much.

“Whoa-ho kitty, put away those claws!” Vasquez said, pushing off the wall to face Rhys, though one hand remained planted just above his shoulder. Sometimes, if Rhys didn’t know better, he’d think Vasquez was into him. “I was just asking so I could grab you another.”

Like, really into him. Also full of shit.

“Or,” he went on, picking at his nails in feigned casualness, “I might have other, funner things. If you’re interested.”

The alcohol was making Rhys just stupid enough that this seemed like an okay idea, and even his sober self would have to agree that free was free. So he followed after Vasquez to the backyard, and stepped out with him into the mild autumn air.

Though still occupied, it was much quieter out here without the blaring music or people screaming over a game of king's cup. Rhys shuffled his feet as he watched Vasquez produce the joint from his back pocket and bring it to his lips.

Gross. Butt joint.

Vasquez patted for a moment at his pants. “Uh, got a light?”

Rhys groaned. No weed was worth spending this much time in close proximity to Vasquez, even if it turned out to be the best in the city.

“I’m going back inside.”

“Anyone have a light?” Vasquez said louder, looking around. “Have five seconds of patience Rhys, Jesus.”

“Never mind, Vasquez,” Rhys said, turning towards the door until he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“C’mon, I at least give you the courtesy of using your goddamn name--”

“You /want/ to be called Hugo?”

Rhys could see the gears turning as Vasquez tried to think up an appropriate and witty comeback, but halted whatever he was going to say with a finger.

“You--!”

“Shhh!”

Something was wrong.

All muffled sound from inside had abruptly ceased, replaced by a tense and ominous quiet.

Cautiously, Rhys slid open the back door and peeked inside. People were still there, but seemed to all be slowly shuffling towards the front, picking up their belongings and inebriated friends as they went. Stepping in, he followed the crowd, weaving between the guests towards their mutual destination. When he had nearly made it to the front door, he discovered with sudden heart-dropping, pulse-quickening, blood-running-cold dread why everyone was leaving.

In the middle of the foyer stood Jack, menacing and looking ready to kill, though he spoke flippantly.

 “That’s right, keep moving, /keep moving/. Did I stutter, cupcake? I don’t care if you have to drag your little friend by the arms, I want you /out!/” he boomed at a particularly unfortunate girl, trying her best to keep her friend upright and walking.

Rhys ducked out of Jack's line of sight, pressing up against the nearest wall. /Where the hell was Yvette-- Where the hell was Angel?

Angel.

Rhys took a moment to look at his options. He didn’t have many, and none were ideal. Option A: he could hang around, face Jack with Angel and probably get blamed for everything, knowing his luck. Rhys didn’t like this idea very much, so there was also option B: if he went now, he could probably leave the place unnoticed. Being a regular here meant he knew about the side door from the basement, or the part of the backyard fence that was easiest to hop. He could let the brunt of Jack's anger fall on Angel; maybe it would be mitigated by Vaughn once Jack realized he was asleep upstairs. He’d feel the guilt for months, but he could do it.

He could.

He didn’t know which option he hated more.

Now

Fifteen minutes had passed since Angel had gone upstairs, and then another five minutes till they decided to rock-paper-scissors over who would dare to eavesdrop. Then it would be a few more minutes of Rhys stalling and trying to pass the burden before finally, begrudgingly accepting his role and making his way up the staircase.

As quietly as he could manage, Rhys made it to about the three-quarter point before he stopped to listen, peeing through the bannister and down the hall towards Jack's office. At first, any sounds of voices were muffled, but soon they began to raise in volume until Rhys could make out words.

“Enough!” Jack said sharply, causing Rhys to wince. “Why do you ask for things like this, Angel? Do I not give you enough?”

The next few moments were quiet, which Rhys assumed were taken up by Angel before Jack started again. “Exactly! So why are you trying to break my heart? Haven’t I been hurt enough by your mother?”

From his vantage point, Rhys continued to watch the as another moment of quiet passed, the shadows in the light from underneath the door moving as if someone were pacing. Then the voices were back to an indistinguishable mumble.

When the door finally opened, Rhys was already retreating two steps at a time, but he still managed to catch Jack’s “I do this because I love you, sweetheart.”

“Act casual!” he hissed as he made his way back over to where Yvette and Vaughn were waiting expectantly, shaking his head to indicate that no, things had not gone well.

“You’re the only one--whatever.” Yvette said, looking past Rhys to where Angel was descending the stairs, closer on his heels then he had realized.

“So I’m guessing you heard all that,” she said as Rhys turned to face her fully, sheepishly running his flesh hand through his hair. But god--she looked defeated. Like she had been through much more than simply asking to go out on a Friday night. Rhys suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for pushing her, and a need to make things right.

“How about I ask him?” Rhys suggested, causing not only Angel to blanch.

“Uhhh, and how would that make any difference?” Vaughn asked. “No offense.”

Rhys looked at them all, flashing his deal making smile, “I’m the charming one, aren’t I?”

-----

Rhys found Jack on the upstairs balcony overlooking the front garden, leaning over the railing, smoke rising in a thin ribbon from the cigarette between his fingers. Jack only smoked after sex, or when he was more stressed than usual, so Rhys made a note to tread lightly.

“No,” Jack said firmly before Rhys could even cross the balcony’s threshold.

Rhys stopped in the doorway, casually tucking his hands into his back pockets. “I haven’t said anything.”

Jack turned turned to face him, eyes critical and knowing. “But I know what you’re going to. ‘Please Jack, the greatest and most generous and handsome guy in the universe, let me take your perfect, untainted daughter to a thriving cesspool of degenerates and thuggery!’” He said, pitching his voice several octaves higher and talking through his nose.

“I don’t sound like that,” Rhys said, crossing his arms.

“Don’t know why you thought asking me personally would change my answer,” Jack continued over him, dropping the butt of his cigarette and grinding it into the slatted wood. “A college party? Rhysie, please, you might as well ask me to throw my daughter to the wolves.”

“A university party,” Rhys corrected as he stepped closer, as if it made a difference. As if a gathering of drunken eighteen-to-twenty-four-year-olds wasn’t a universal experience.

“The answer is no, kiddo.”

“Come on, Jack. We’ll be with her all night.”

Rhys knew he was pushing it, because now Jack was approaching him, and in just two long strides they were face to face. Despite his nerves, Rhys felt a little smug. Over the summer he had begun another growth spurt, and now stood a good two inches taller than Jack, who had to look up at him through his narrowed eyes.

The man was still intimidating as fuck though, and it wasn’t long before Rhys was shrinking his posture.

“Y’know,” Jack said, voice quiet and low, “you’ve got a lot of nerve after the shit you’ve pulled when it comes to Angel and parties--”

“Three years ago!”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Rhysie.”

“Jack… please.”

Why hadn’t Angel just lied?

Jack took half a step back, sighing as he crossed his arms, “Listen, I get why this is hard for you to understand,” he said, speaking slowly, like you would to a difficult child. “You’ve never been a parent--and considering yours let you go chopping your own limbs off, well...it’s not like you have great examples either--but I’m not the bad guy here, Rhys.”

Rhys stood, dumbfounded. /Where did he even begin with all that?/

So he didn’t. Instead he took a step forward, closing the space between them once more as he brought his flesh hand down and cupped Jack through his pants. It was a particularly bold move, surprising both himself and Jack as his fingers dug into the denim.

The moment that followed was tense and still, their eyes locking, Rhys’s hand firm but unmoving on Jack's dick. Suddenly, faster than lightning, Jack's hand was around his wrist, pulling it away, his grip so hard that Rhys couldn’t suppress a pained gasp. Jack's eyes on him were hard, and seemed unfocused, almost as though they were seeing past him.

“Jack.” Rhys winced as the hold on his wrist tightened, bones creaking at the pressure of the grasp.

Just as quickly as it had come, the grip on him was loosened, and Jack came back to himself. Rhys breathed a sigh of relief before he was being smacked in the face with his own hand.

“Ow! What the hell?!”

Jack cackled, finally letting Rhys go and breaking the tension as he doubled over with palms on his thighs. All Rhys could do was watch on, annoyed and rubbing his sore wrist.

When he had calmed down enough to get through a sentence, Jack finally straightened up, rubbing the tears of laughter from his eyes and composing himself.

“Classic,” he said as he returned to the edge of the balcony, turning his back once again. “Go to your party, or don’t. But Angel stays here with me.”

Then

Angel sat on the foyer stairs as the last of the guests cleared out. She looked absolutely petrified, bent over her knees and clutching her head, not daring to look up at Jack who loomed over her and watched as people left.

When he seemed sure the final person was gone, he knelt down in front of her, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he spoke in a hushed tone. Whatever he was saying was too quiet to hear, but Rhys could see the way it made Angel shrink further within herself, how her hands tightened in her hair, knuckle white.

“--but for now, it’s late, and you need to get to bed. Upstairs, chop chop!” Jack finished, voice now back to its regular volume.

Angel only gave a quiet and affirmative “yes sir” as she went, and didn’t even spare Rhys a glance, eyes focused on the steps in front of her. Rhys took that as his cue to move, too.

“Ah-ah, not you, Rhysie!”

Rhys froze in place, spine going ramrod straight. He heard Jack walk over, come up behind him and put a firm hand on his back. Let Jack guide him over to the living room, his eyes darting around, looking for any indication of what to expect next.

“Sit,” was all Jack said, once they had made it to the couches.

Rhys did as he was told without protest, sat on the far end of the couch and made himself as small as possible. He tried to focus on sobering up, on what and what not to say. Not on how hot Jack was when he angry and out of sorts like this. How his intimidation was also a total turn-on. How good his ass looked in those tight jeans. How /not to pop a boner right now for Christ's sake fuck/--

“Want a beer, cupcake?” Jack asked, snapping Rhys out of his thoughts and back to the moment.

“What?” Rhys asked stupidly.

Jack didn’t repeat himself, instead bringing over two frosty bottles.

Rhys didn’t even like beer--kind of hated it, actually, too bitter--but he didn’t decline the offer. He would choose drinking foul-tasting water over looking bad in front of Jack any day, and definetly wouldn’t relinquish the chance to be treated like an adult so casually.

Jack took a seat opposite him on one of the large chairs. Sinking back into the leather and propping his feet on the coffee table, he looking pointedly at Rhys.

“You and I have some things to sort out, Rhysie,” he said, gesturing towards Rhys with his beer bottle. “See, I know Angel is going to take all the blame for--” he waved his hand unspecifically around the room. “But /I/ know that just plain isn’t true, because I know my baby girl, and she would never even /think/ to pull something this stupid off.” He paused here, made sure Rhys met him eye-to-eye. “Not without some serious outside influence.”

Shit.

Shit shit /shit./

Rhys gulped so loud it was almost comical. This was bad, maximum levels of bad bad bad. Miles worse than just being scolded by Jack and having it done with, because unless he wanted to take full credit, which he very much did not, he was being asked to be a /rat./

Dammit! It hadn’t even been his idea! Not initially. It had been Yvette's--and where was she anyways? She should have been here, facing this with him--

“Rhys,” Jack said, tone warning and impatient.

“She wasn’t being serious when she made the suggestion,” Rhys spat out, his words running together in their speed.

“She?” Jack cocked his head.

“Yeah... Yvette... It was just a joke.” Rhys could feel his gut twist at the betrayal.

“And you? What about the other one, the shorty?”

“Vaughn and I...” Rhys stopped to lick his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “We didn’t... Well, I mean, we didn’t stop... it…”

“So what you’re saying is it’s all of your fault, but mostly Yvette's fault,” Jack said, an eyebrow ticking up.

Rhys nodded slowly.

It wasn’t a total lie. It /had/ been Yvette who started it, who came up with this genius idea, then booked it to who-knows-where once things went south. It had been Rhys who stayed, and no one could reasonably expect him to take the fall for something that wasn’t entirely his fault, right?

Finally, after a silence that had gone on too long for Rhys’s comfort, he asked timidly, “Am I in trouble?”

“Well, you would have been, if you had stayed quiet, or worse, let Angel take the blame.” Jack's tone was steady, but Rhys could see how his hand tightened around the neck of his beer bottle, as if to strangle it, then just as quickly relax as he went on. “But you didn’t! Really showed where your loyalties lie instead. It takes guts to do the right thing, even if it screws a friend.”

It felt even worse with Jack saying it out loud. For a second Rhys considered revising the lie, but then thought better of it. It was too late.

“You did good, kid,” said Jack, as if he sensed Rhys’s unease. He reached forward for the TV touchpad. “Now, you’re sleeping here on the couch, but I have a marathon of people trying to get through cruel but hilarious obstacle courses to watch, so you’ll be staying up with me for a little while longer.”

Despite everything, a part of Rhys’s hindbrain shot up in excitement. Time alone with Jack was rare and precious jerk-off material, after all. Rhys could think about the bizarre timing of Jack’s return much later, maybe question for a second where Jack's luggage was. He could worry about the consequences of his actions tomorrow--or more precisely, next week, when they found out Yvette was barred from coming over.