Characters: Isaac Adair, Piper Adair
Description: A fairly good sized blurb centering around Isaac, and his mother, Piper
Disclaimer: Isaac and Piper Adair belong to me.
Author's Note: Now I love Piper but she’s a horrendous mother I suppose. Incredibly irresponsible. Fun to watch – but now that I think on it she probably doesn’t make the best example for her son.
Warnings: Language, homosexuality, sexual references
Decidedly, ‘Good Morning’ is an oxymoron.
To make matters even worse, this particular ‘good morning’ seemed abnormally bright and fuzzy through the eyes of Isaac; both attributes of the dawn, of course, being labeled as ‘annoying as hell’—though in a kinder, softer manner so to act as a twin to Mr. Adair’s timid soul. But either way it was the same to the boy as his hand came up to rub furiously at his eyes and to wipe away the sleep they had collected. Perhaps all this in no more than a vain attempt to get his sight more attuned with the florescent light that hung above the kitchen table and graced the room with brief glimpses of the heavens—but only under the condition that you looked straight at it like a fool.
There was no crackle or spit of bacon being fried on a grittle as the teenager flopped down into a chair which made a definite squeak as the legs slid across the rather cheap linoleum flooring of the apartment. There was no remark to this unmannerly noise either—no scolding from the mother present on the opposite end of the room, behind the counter.
Instead, a pair of dull green eyes glanced up to meet with Isaac’s own honey-colored ones before quickly loosing interest and going back to the paper. There was a long awkward silence after that. Isaac was fiddling his thumbs, waiting for something to be spoken and preferably not by him. Fortunately, his mother did speak – once she was done reading the last comic strip, that is. She folded the paper back up grinning from ear-to-ear. “Mornin’ Ike!” She chirped cheerfully, arranging her things so that she was holding the newspaper under her arm, her coffee in one hand, a small plate with two pieces of toast [probably for Isaac, we assume] in the other hand and... Well... She still hadn’t figured out how to hold her own breakfast. Isaac mumbled something inaudible which begged for a “What was that?” from his mother, he repeated this time a little bit louder.
“Morning mom…” He murmured, looking down at his feet and just staring at them for a while before letting his gaze travel upward tentatively to find that his mother had decided to hold her own piece of toast in her mouth and was now, with newspaper, coffee, her son’s breakfast, and her breakfast in tow, was slowly making her way to the table.
She flopped down in the chair beside her son, which caused her drink to splash a little bit but it would seem that she didn’t bother to care. Shoving the plate of toast towards him she yawned and said “I only buttered them, if you want anything else you’ll have to put it on there yourself.” Which Isaac answered with a quiet “That’s fine.” She handed him the comics, and he carefully put them aside for now and just waited for a little bit… Not sure of how to say things. Maybe he should talk about something else first, before he decided to bring it up.
Blink. “Uhm…” The young man began, biting his lip and twiddling his thumbs nervously as he let his gaze wander to anywhere but his mother’s face. “Uhm… Drinking coffee black isn’t good for you…” He mumbled in just a shade above a whisper.
His mother was unfazed. She shrugged and merely said she liked it black: “It’s better that way…”
“But—“ Oh never mind, that method was never going to work. Perhaps he shouldn’t bring it up at all; he could just leave and skip the details. She wouldn’t mind would she? Of course, it must be a little suspicious, how he was already dressed and his hair was brushed and everything. Anything was better than telling her though. And nothing was better than going to see Christopher. Well… Now or never… Better say it soon before he lost his nerve.
“I’m uh…” He started, hesitating and pausing anxiously. Shit—he was flustered wasn’t he? Shit. “I’m uhm… I’m going out for the day….” He announced rather quickly, just to get it over with. There. It was over. He waited for something to be said but nothing was for a while, not until his mom swallowed her bite.
“Okay.” She replied, nonchalantly. A flood of relief swept over Isaac and he let out a small, inward sigh.
“Okay then…” He mumbled, scooting back his chair and wiggling his way out of it. The door now. Yes, the door is where he needed to be. He was as good as gone when—
“Wait, Ike…” Crap. The boy turned uneasily, glancing at his mother with an unrestful pair of eyes.
“Y-yes…?” He stuttered.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Hmn…? That was odd… Isaac didn’t think he was forgetting anything… Nothing his mother would know about at least. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at her and her apparent, smug all-knowingness.
“I don’t… Think so…” He replied, checking his pockets.
His mother grinned and snorted, extending her arm over to his chair and yanking off the jacket that had been hung there earlier. Oh right, Isaac's jacket, of course. She had been pestering him to wear it almost every time he had gone out lately. It wasn't that it was that cold, she just liked the color-- Waitaminute... Shit... She reached into his pocket and withdrew lubricant. “Aren’t you going to see Chris?” She asked, smiling cheerfully.
Isaac blushed. A violent red color, his eyes immediately darted down to the floor, too embarrassed to look his mother in the eye. “Y-yes…” He replied quickly and quietly so that hopefully she couldn’t hear him. She laughed and slid the jacket and… Stuff… Over to Isaac and he carefully picked them up.
“Call me when you get there.”
“Will you be back today?”
“Eh... Probably not.” Somehow the answer made him embarrassed.
“Well don’t expect anything fancy, I’m having TV dinners.”
Isaac peeked up timidly. “You're not... Upset by this...?” He inquired.
"You must be kidding," She snorted, taking a large gulp of rather hot coffee. "Chris is a cutie." 'Cutie' being an odd term for the boy, considering his wardrobe. But Ike didn't really press the matter.
“Have fun, sweetie!” His mother sing-songed. Isaac nodded solemnly, and left. Quite quickly.