Happy Wednesday. Have more of the Teenage-Jonah fic.
Thanks for tagging me @whatsintheboxmh
Officer Stevenson strokes his handlebar mustache. He looks older these days, thinner but sharper for it. “You owe me one, Reyes.” Turning his attention to Jonah, he puts his thumbs in his belt, draws himself up taller. “And you, young man? I don’t want to see your or your friends out vandalizing this town, you hear me? Your dad can’t always bail you out.”
There used to be this reflex, this bracing each time someone mentioned Carlos being Jonah’s dad like they would surely be corrected. Carlos? God no, he’s not my dad!
It never happened. Not even when Jonah was little and he could hold his tongue even less than he can now.
Carlos stopped bracing for it. Maybe he should have, because Stevenson turns to his car, only to turn one more time to say, “Don’t let him off too easy. You know, your pops would have never let you off with just a warning. You’d be in the back of my cop car, stewing there longer than most kids, just to teach you a lesson.”
The worst thing about this is that Carlos immediately believes Stevensn’s words. There’s no proof for it, no trouble big enough that Carlos or his sisters ever got into. For all he knows, his dad would have called in a favor too. Years passing by and he still feels confused about his childhood, about his relationship to his father.
But it pales in comparison to the old wound of what he was robbed of. He wishes he could call him up now, ask him what he would do. What he had said to Luisa when she came home drunk, because Carlos had to leave the room back then. What he would say about Carlos being a father-figure and if he thought he did a good job.
He feels Jonah move under the hand Carlos kept on his shoulder. “He’s-- he’s a real asshole.” For a moment Carlos is angry before he understands Jonah means Stevenson, not his father. “Don’t listen to h'm.”
“Don’t insult law enforcers,” Carlos chides, because he has to. He also has to kiss his kid’s head to thank him for the bit of solidarity that comes so naturally to Gwyn’s sons. “Now come on. We’ll talk in the car.”