we are the innfolk

Back to the Grind
By Dialecticdreamer/Sarah Williams
Part 2 of 2, complete
Word count (story only): 1285
[Morning of Friday, 10 November of 2017]


:: Jules returns to the embassy, but his attention is divided. Loudmouth pulls him aside for a chat. Part of the “Lodestar” arc, set in the Polychrome Heroics universe. ::

:: Author’s note: computer crashes ate a good chunk of the day, so this is shorter than I’d planned. ::




Jules considered in silence.

Loudmouth waited.

After two full minutes, the young man hummed thoughtfully. “I wish that we could pair up with another father-son team who are three or four years older than dad and me,” he whispered. “I’m trying to make sure that Blainn feels included, but last night, it felt like Dad and I just… kept missing each other. Like we were talking about two different movies playing at the same time.”

“I can ask around on the job boards. There are social boards, too, but those sometimes wander into relationship details, rather than relationship details,” Loudmouth offered, then waved a hand vaguely.

Jules burst out laughing. “That’s a ridiculously vague statement, but yeah, I get what you’re implying. The job board implies a very different focus.”

Relieved, Loudmouth nodded. “Look, I absolutely suck at relationships, but…” She took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “Why don’t you talk to Blainn about what you’re worrying over. Not fitting together, accidentally overwhelming somebody, including yourself, leaving someone out, whatever. The list has probably half a dozen more worries on it, amI right?’

“You don’t suck at -” Jules began to protest.

Loudmouth blew out a sharp breath. “Have you seen me around Griffin before you left for your year abroad?”

Jules shrugged. “I don’t recall anything specific, but so what?”

The redhead pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really, really screwed up, and said something in front of Griffin that could’ve gotten me kicked into low Earth orbit if I’d said it to a stronger black hat. I apologized to both him and to Co-- I mean, Joshua-- but I still can’t seem to find a decent balance with Griffin. We’re distantly polite. I owe him a specific, appropriate practical apology, but I can’t figure out what that should be. Still.”

“So, talk to him,” Jules challenged. “You want me to talk to Blainn, who is only a few years younger than I am. You can do the same thing with Griffin, because he’s a legal adult now, too.” He paused, then shook his head. Words teased out one by one. “Unless the problem is bigger than ‘you’re the grownup’ and should’ve known better?”

Loudmouth narrowed her eyes. “I absolutely should have known better. I like pushing people’s buttons, especially over rules that are contradictory or nonsensical. I overstepped. I used that excuse in a situation when it really did not apply, and Griffin was hurt emotionally. And… I’m grateful that he isn’t egging my house every other weekend, frankly.”

Snorting, Jules shook his head. “Have you ever tried a simple, two-word phrase?” He waited a beat. “I’m. Sorry.”

“But--” The redhead sighed. “This is much bigger than a simple verbal apology, Jules. It’s not the same category as bumping someone so they spill their drink.”

The younger man nodded. “Yeah. But you’re forgetting something.”

“What?” The word seeped dread in the aspirated ‘t’. Loudmouth shifted both hands on her mug.

“Some people need the words more than they need the performance of apology. Or love, or hate.” It was Jules’ turn to shift restlessly. “Griffin’s going to hear you out, if you’ve got the guts to just say the words.”

Loudmouth nodded, as a smirk settled on her lips. “Don’t you think that Blainn will hear you out, too?”

Jules squirmed again. “How did you build a life away from your parents, after realizing… that it wasn’t working between you?”

She laughed quietly. “It was a… Look, we tried hard to understand each other, but… it just didn’t happen. That didn’t stop us caring or loving each other. Physical distance made it more reasonable to call instead of visiting in person, and that alone gave us all room to breathe. It took the pressure off. We wanted the kind of relationship that we just couldn’t manage to create, and that hurt. Being physically two or more time zones away was a good thing.”

“I don’t want that with Blainn,” Jules whispered. “Or…” His throat worked silently. “Or my dad. He’s trying hard to treat me like a peer, when what I miss is…” Absently, he rubbed at the back of his right hand. “I miss that special je ne sais qua that means Dad to me, even if I couldn’t describe it in a thousand words.”

Loudmouth nodded. “Then tell him. You’re the one who reminded me that some folks need the words.” She leaned to the side, lowering her voice to a whisper. “That’s not all that you’re worried about, is it?”

“It’s childish,” Jules whispered. “I know it is. It’s absurd. My brain knows that, too.”

The redhead’s smirk softened into something familiar, and melancholy. “That doesn’t help me much, either. So what is it? Afraid your dad’s going to start bringing partners home?”

Laughing, Jules shook his head again. “No. He never has, and he won’t. He’s meticulous about both consent and boundaries.”

“So, if it’s not worrying about the next girlfriend, boyfriend, themfriend, or polycule,” Loudmouth prodded, with only a trace of her usual snark, “what is it?”

“Blainn needs Dad more than I do now,” he answered slowly. “In a practical sense. I’m worried that he’ll forget how much I still need him… emotionally.” He bent his head until his chin touched his sternum.

“I don’t want to feel like… there’s a shortage of time or emotional buffers, or anything else. When I feel like it’s so much harder to connect with Blainn right now, I worry that they’ll have an easier time connecting with each other than with me.”

Jules swallowed audibly.

After a moment, Loudmouth drummed her fingers on her mug. “You seem to like our betting culture. If I propose a bet about this, are you going to find that a step too far?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Frankly, it depends on the bet.”

“You talk to Blainn, and I bet that he’s got either identical or complementary worries,” she declared.

“And if he doesn’t?” Jules prompted.

“I’ll have that uncomfortable conversation with Griffin. Complete with the actual two-word apology.” Loudmouth took a sip of her coffee, but it didn’t hide all of the wry twisting of her lips.

“So what do you get if you’re right about this?” Jules prompted.

She considered for long enough to take two deep, utterly silent breaths. “I’d like to look over the five offers from the job board that you think are worth doing after you finish with the paper files. That’ll give me an edge in setting up side bets, and I’m willing to add information that you might need. I don’t care whether you take any of the five, if they’re things that you’d genuinely consider doing. That part is what makes the side bets more accurate.”

Jules blinked. “Why would you care about side bets? I mean, what do you get out of side bets about me?”

“Dog_the_Kicked,” she murmured. “I need a little extra reinforcement of the idea that you’re okay, that we don’t have to set the attack lawyers on the schools here, or the local PTA, or whatever. Missing a kid who needs us eats at me. Being able to swear that I’ve done my best to make sure that the online handle is tradition, not an active problem, is… It’s worth a lot.”

“Peace of mind, huh?” Jules nodded. “Okay.” He offered a hand.

“Here’s hoping that you get peace of mind, too,” Loudmouth answered as she closed her fingers around his.

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