Happy F-ing Father's Day (Zeb)

[Jesse Adams]

Backdated to Sunday

There were a few days of the year Jesse detested. Some were personal, like the date Gabriel had been killed. Others weren’t as obvious.

Today was one of them.

Father’s Day wasn’t something he’d had to do much with since he’d gone to Hammel, but back home, it had been a big production. Cards, presents, attention, the whole nine yards. Jesse swore his father got a kick out of it, watching his children essentially be forced by society to give him undeserved attention. By the time he was leaving for Hammel, Jesse had been happy to leave the charade back in Los Angeles.

The past few years he’d more or less ignored the holiday, but this year a combination of things had spurred him into his current state. He’d been cruising the mall only to be bombarded with advertisements and decorations declaring the holiday coming soon, which had been bad enough. But the call his father had placed to him over a year ago frequently spooked him. He hated it, because with very few words, his father had effectively cowed him from a whole other state, and kept him cowed with his subtle threats.

Screw you, Dad.

Almost two hours had been spent in a bar, Jesse drowning his feelings with alcohol. He hadn’t drank much since leaving the MSAD compound, mostly because he’d only just turned 21 in January. Now he was legal, however, he was going to take full advantage of it.

When he was feeling nicely warm and a little fuzzy, Jesse got up and paid his tab before slinking out. He didn’t feel completely out of his mind, and he was feeling better about the stupid holiday. Before heading back to school, he stopped by a liquor store and picked up a bottle of fairly expensive Scotch – a brand he knew damn well his father liked. Might as well keep on toasting to the bastard with something he liked.

With the bottle safely stowed in his backpack, Jesse began to walk back. He knew better than to drive, despite feeling... relatively fine. His car was fine where it was parked, and he could come back and get it tomorrow.

The walk was a little longer than normal, but he finally made it back and slipped through the main doors. The dorms seemed further away than they normally did, but that was probably just the alcohol talking. ... Maybe he’d better stop at the vending machines and get some snacks.

He dug a few coins out of his pocket and fought with the machine for a moment before retrieving his prizes. The sight of the two chip bags made him unreasonably happy as he knelt to stuff them into his bag as well. Right. Now he was stocked and ready to further drown his feelings. He was still early for his curfew, and he felt like he was walking okay. He just had to make it to his dorm.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb had had a pretty uneventful Father's Day. He had called his father, of course, to make sure the man had received his card in the mail. The two hadn't talked long, his father wasn't one for long conversations on the phone. Eventually his mother had taken over the phone and Zeb had spent a half hour telling her about how his life was going. No, he didn't have a girlfriend. No, she wasn't going to die before she got to see her grandkids. Yes, he had talked to his sister and she was doing great. And so on. What were mother's for after all?

Still after the conversation, Zeb was feeling a little down. He usually didn't let his mother's timetable for him get him upset, but he really wondered if he would ever be able to celebrate this holiday with his own kids. He wanted to be a husband and a father more than anything. Still, his "kids" at Hammel gave him purpose.

He had just come in from a smoking his pipe outside when he spotted one of his so-called kids swaying by the vending machines. Though he and Jesse had never exactly been close, Zeb always kept a close eye on the boy. And it tore at him that he couldn't just reach out and hug him. Jesse always looked like he needed a hug.

Tonight he looked like he could use a strong cup of coffee too.

"Mr. Adams," Zeb called out as he walked down the hall to the boy. "Have you been..." he paused. Once he got close enough to Jesse it seemed pointless to finish the question, but he did anyway. "...drinking?"

[Jesse Adams]

In his planning for the evening, Jesse hadn’t factored in getting caught, but if he did, he had a plan. Sort of. He was 21 after all. No one could grill him over drinking now he was legal, and as long as no one saw the bottle in his bag, he’d be fine.

As long as he didn’t run into Dr. Neville. He could read minds and he’d know. Yeah, best to avoid him.

As he tucked the chips away and zipped his bag shut again, he stood up and swayed slightly as he found his centre of balance again. Throwing his bag back onto his shoulder, he was ready to go and restart his own little Father’s Day celebration.

A voice made him turn to see who it was. Too young to be Dr Neville, thankfully. ... Zeb. Yes, that was Zeb. Jesse tended to avoid the hell out of the dorm monitor, especially after he’d been sick and Zeb had tried to look after him. It had been uncomfortable and embarrassing, and the less he saw of the older man, the better.

“I told you, ‘s Jesse,” he grumbled, more under his breath than anything. As for the question, he rocked back on his heels slightly. He had two options. Lying tended to get him into more trouble than it was worth, and really, he was old enough to drink. Zeb couldn’t fault him for that. After an internal debate, he nodded a little harder than he might have if he didn’t have a solid amount of alcohol in his system. “Yes. I was. ‘Cause I’m an adult now.” After a pause, he shrugged. “And today sucks. So... yep. Went to a bar.” And now that Zeb knew that, hopefully he’d let him pass.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

It was true that Jesse was an adult, old enough to legally drink and everything. But that didn't mean that Zeb didn't still see him as the young boy who'd first arrived at Hammel years ago. It also didn't mean that Jesse should be walking around obviously drunk. This was still a school after all.

And more importantly, Jesse was obviously upset about something. Zeb sighed a little. He could almost see the waves of sadness and anger coming off of the boy as easy as he could smell the alcohol.

"Sorry. Jesse," Zeb said, and he meant it. He tried to keep straight which kids didn't appreciate his Mr and Miss's, but there were a lot of students. And it was habit to be respectful.

Zeb reached out with one hand, worried that when Jesse rocked back he was going to loose his balance enough to actually fall over. "Yes. You are an adult. But you still live at a school. A school full of children. Being an adult doesn't mean you can walk around in a stupor." Zeb sighed again. Obviously something was upsetting Jesse. Oh...fathers' day. Zeb knew that he was lucky to have had a father who loved and supported him. He'd known enough students who hadn't been so lucky. He'd seen their nightmares.

"Listen Jesse. I'm sorry your having a bad day. But this isn't the answer. Why don't you come back to my apartment. I'll fix you some strong coffee and we'll talk this out? Okay?" Zeb suggested, reaching out his hand to put it on the boy's shoulder and help him through the hallway.

[Jesse Adams]

It felt like forever ago that Jesse had first come to Hammel. Lots had happened in six years, and he certainly wasn’t the same kid that had arrived at the school.

He’d thought that celebrating father’s day by getting a little drunk had been entirely appropriate. He just needed to finish the job in his room, where no one was going to bother him. Unfortunately, Zeb had now derailed those plans. He’d have to figure a way around that.

He avoided Zeb’s hand as he rocked back, the move a little wider than he would have usually pulled, but he stayed on his feet and that was the important thing. “Oh come on. Like you’d never drink before dealing with us.” Zeb’s job couldn’t be easy, and though Jesse did his best to avoid the dorm monitor, when he did have to deal with him, he knew he certainly didn’t make it easy. “Adults drink. Kids know that. And I’m not that bad.” Yet. Zeb really didn’t need to come back to the dorm in the next few hours.

He tended to forget that Zeb could dreamwalk. He dreaded to think about what Zeb had seen in his dreams, if he’d ever invaded them.

“Mmf. I’m fine,” he grumbled. “It’s just a stupid day and this was the... the best answer.” Zeb could argue that all he wanted, it was true. Though coffee might have been appealing, he didn’t want to talk anything out. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he tried again, keeping a wary eye on Zeb. As his hand rested on his shoulder, Jesse flinched, though his reaction was a little delayed, and stepped away. The sudden motion made his bag slide off of his shoulder and hit the ground. Not zipped up all the way, most of the contents made their way onto the floor.

Including a very nice bottle of Scotch. He dropped to his knees to scoop everything back in again, but it was probably too late. “... Shit.”

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb frowned as Jesse dodged, none too gracefully, away from his hand. He had seen the boy's nightmares and knew Jesse wasn't a fan of physical contact. So Zeb tried to keep himself from tackling the boy in a bear hug. It was hard. Really hard. Not that Zeb was overtly touchy feely usually, but there was something about Jesse that had always reminded Zeb of a lost, abused puppy. He could help but remember the 21 year old as the little boy who'd first arrived at Hammel.

"Actually I don't drink before dealing" with you," Zeb answered, making it clear that he didn't approve of that view of how he interacted with the students. It was true though. Zeb actually didn't like drinking. The few times he had drank had been special occasions and even then it was just a glass of wine or two. He'd only ever been drunk once in his life, during college. And he hadn't enjoyed the experience.

"Yes. Adults drink. But the don't return stumbling drunk to a building of underage students afterwards," he continued.

"Jesse," Zeb asked. "Why do you have to lie to me? You're a bright boy...man. You have to know it's obvious you're not fine."

Zeb felt horrible for making Jesse flinch. He also dropped down to help pick up the contents of his backpack and felt his hand touch the bottle. Grabbing it, he pulled it up and held in up in the air. "Oh Jesse. What am I going to do with you?" Zeb wondered aloud.

"My office. Now." He said, still holding the bottle as he rose to his feet. He held out his hand to help Jesse if the boy wanted, knowing he probably wouldn't.

[Jesse Adams]

Very few people managed to avoid the knee-jerk reaction that came with touching the blond. Females always faired better, and Clement was okay, but men older than himself? It was almost a guarantee. It came from the treatment he'd received from his father, mostly, but also from frequent rough housing led by his older brother. In a way, buried under the layers of defence he had accumulated, he still was the sixteen year old who had first landed at Hammel six years ago.

Zeb had always seemed like a bit of a pushover, but his tone seemed to defy that. Tilting his head and sizing up the dorm monitor, Jesse quirked a pierced eyebrow. "What's your problem?" How Zeb managed to deal with them without alcohol was beyond him. "It was just a question. Jesus."

He didn't want a lecture. He wanted to go back to his dorm, drown his feelings in scotch, and pass out in a blissfully dream free sleep. Zeb was impeding that plan.

Being accused of lying made him wince a little. It sounded so close to something his father would say, and unpleasant memories of what tended to follow made him swallow hard. What would happen if this was taking place at home? ... Probably a hospital trip with the blame placed on his big brother. "N-no... I am. Fine. I am." Convincing. Not.

His green eyes widened as Zeb's fingers found the bottle first. This was a million kinds of not good. Being on probation, this probably wouldn't bode well for him. Dr Neville would get involved, and then he'd really be screwed.

The command was met with another wince, but now he knew better than to fight back. After pushing everything back into his bag, sans the alcohol, he got back to his feet to follow Zeb. "I'm gonna get kicked out." It was less of a question, and more of an observation. He didn't know how far the faculty's tolerance went with him, or if his months of good behaviour would count for anything. Maybe he could just hope that Zeb wouldn't tell.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb did have a repuation for being a pushover. And for the most part it was true. Zeb tended to let kids be kids whenever he could. There were very few times when he actually was firm with stepping in. Whenever a student was being bullied was one example. Whenever a student was acting out because they were upset was another. Unluckily for Jesse, the young boy fit the second example in Zeb's eyes. He knew Jesse could be quite the trouble maker, but in the recent past Jesse had been doing so well. Zeb knew there was a reason he had stumbled into the dorms, drunk, and carrying more alcohol.

And it was that reason that Zeb wanted to resolve more than what the boy's punishment would be.

Zeb knew that right now Jesse's words were more a defense and deflecting tactic than anything else. And so he wasn't really bothered by them. Though he did hope that deep down the boy knew that Zeb really was here to help him, and all of the other students. And that Zeb actually enjoyed his job, enjoyed helping them. He hated to think that any of the student would think he needed a drink to deal with them.

Zeb couldn't help but sigh a little as he walked back towards his office, Jesse's alcohol in his hand. What he really wanted was to scoop up the boy in a bear hug and tell him everything would be perfect, kittens and rainbows, from now on. But he knew that would never happen.

"No one is getting kicked out just yet," Zeb replied as they reached his office. He held the door open for Jesse, gesturing for the boy to sit wherever. He sat the bottle down on the table in his little kitchen and walked over to start a pot of coffee.

[Jesse Adams]

It was killing Jesse that one little stumble had now likely thrown all of his good behaviour under the bus. He knew the damn rules. He knew that bringing alcohol into the dorms was a big deal, and he’d done it anyway. His reasons probably wouldn’t matter, not to anyone that was actively looking for a reason to get rid of him. He could only image that his presence was an ongoing thorn in the headmistress’ side, and she’d probably be glad to have a reason to remove him from the school. He might not even have Dr. Neville in his corner this time...

Then again, Zeb was the only one that knew at the moment. He didn’t fully trust the dorm monitor, but maybe... maybe he could convince him to stay quiet. ... Somehow.

He followed Zeb through the hall, his head firmly down as he was led to his possible doom. He’d never actually been in any of the dorm monitor’s apartments, but there was clearly a first time for everything. Slinking through the door, Jesse set his bag down awkwardly by the couch before starting to pace anxiously. Being tipsy wasn’t exactly helping at the moment. His gaze kept flicking to the bottle on the counter. Part of him wanted to destroy the evidence by drinking it all in one go, while another wanted to toss it in the trash. “Bringing alcohol back to the dorms is against the rules,” he reminded Zeb, his tone clearly showing his anxiety over it. His weak excuse of not thinking he’d get caught was probably far from good enough. “Everyone wants me out anyway.” Jamming his hands in his pockets, he kept pacing like a caged animal. “Just kick me out and get it over with.” His original plan to convince Zeb otherwise was clearly out the window now, his nerves taking over.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

"I know the rules Jesse," Zeb said, still staring at the coffee pot. He sighed heavily, torn as usual when it came to disciplining his students. It was always difficult for him to be the bad guy. Well in most cases. There were a few times when justice was deserved. But that usually involved when one student was tormenting another.

But Jesse was tormenting himself.

And that made it hard. It wasn't like Zeb could step in between Jesse and Jesse's past. At least not in the waking world. And he really didn't want to have all of Jesse's good behavior tossed out the window because of one stupid mistake.

Then again, it was a very stupid mistake. And Jesse was 21, even though Zeb had a hard time seeing the boy as an adult, that's what Jesse was. And sooner or later he was going to have to learn that his mistake had consequences. Usually even more so when they were stupid mistakes.

"You know that's not true," Zeb said, finally turning to look at the boy. "Right? Not everyone is out to get you. Not in this school. Especially not it this room."

[Jesse Adams]

"At least someone does," Jesse grumbled under his breath. Yes, he knew the rules too, but at the time of his purchase rules hadn't exactly mattered. What had mattered was getting his damn father out of his head the fastest. Now he was belatedly realizing that it had been a poor decision.

Hey, at least he hadn't driven back to the school. There was a tiny bright side.

He continued to pace, keeping his hands in his pockets and a wary eye on Zeb, as well as the bottle on the counter that currently had him in such trouble. It was hard to relax when he knew it was only a matter of time before his fate was decided. Chances were he'd be in Dr Neville's office in the morning, if not the headmistress. God, he was such a screw up. He was always screwing up like this. One foot scuffed at the ground as he waited.

What Zeb said... was not what he expected to hear. Pausing in his anxious pacing, he looked up at the older man. "Might as well be," he argued, one hand on the back of the sofa to steady himself. "Everyone who knows what I did makes out like I'm a leper or something." His free hand came up out of his pocket to nervously rake through his hair. "Not that I don't deserve it, acting like an asshole back then." Now the words were just spilling, partially as a results of the drinking, and partially to aid in distracting Zeb from the impending punishment. "But I learned from a goddamned asshole and it's all his fault I'm all screwed up." The alcohol in his system had loosened his tongue a little, and he had no problem verbally berating his father. What did he care, anyway? He was a million miles away in California, sitting in his little empire of a home, probably just as glad his former golden boy was so far away. Yet he still held power over him, as proved when he'd called out of nowhere, just to spook Jesse back into submission. There were few problems he couldn't blame on his father, but right now, everything was his damn fault.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

"Why don't you sit down?" Zeb said, gesturing towards his seating area. The back and forth passing was just too much. Especially since Zeb was worried Jesse might stumble and tip over at any point. The kid wasn't exactly steady at the moment. He wasn't going to force Jesse to sit down, but he really wished he would.

"Would you like some?" Zeb asked, finally pouring himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip without bothering to let it cool down much. More for something to do and give him time to think about his next move than because he needed the caffeine. After all, it was pretty late.

Zeb walked over to Jesse, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder to make sure Jesse was looking him in the eye. "I'm not out to get you Jesse. I care about you. You know what I don't care about? Whatever mistakes you've made in the past. Okay? Because you're turning your life around now. That's what matters. You got that?" Zeb held Jesse's gaze for a moment longer before removing his hand and taking a seat on the couch.

"Which is why this was really stupid," he continued.

And finally Zeb connected some of the dots. Of course. Father's Day. Jesse's father. Zeb had been lucky enough to have a father who was a positive role model in his life. It was something he was extremely grateful for. Even more so because he knew so many students who hadn't been so luck. Students like Jesse. "Son, you are not your father," Zeb continued.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse didn’t want to sit down. Sitting down at this point would make him feel oddly trapped, and he didn’t want that. But if he disobeyed Zeb now, it would just add another reason for him to be in trouble. Torn, he finally made his decision and slunk around the side of the couch. He pressed himself as close to the arm as he could, and as close to the edge as he could without falling off.

The blond had no idea what alcohol and coffee would do to the system. Probably dilute whatever effects he was feeling, which he didn’t want. It defeated the purpose of drinking in the first place. He quickly shook his head. “No.” For once, he didn’t want it to keep himself awake. Any power he may have held over his own dreams would certainly be muddled tonight, but sleeping would take him out of having to deal with any thoughts currently hanging over his head. He’d just hope that the alcohol would make him flat out sleep, instead of dream. Hope was cheap, but sometimes it was all he had to go on.

When Zeb touched him, every instinct told him to flinch away, especially now. He was in trouble, and the usual result for trouble was physical. Instead of flinching he simply braced himself. No, Zeb wasn’t his father. He wasn’t even his brother. But the threat still existed, and he just waited. Keeping eye contact was hard, but he swallowed and did it in a tiny effort to please Zeb. What he said, however, made him blink and shrink back a little.

No, he didn’t really believe that everyone was out to get him, but sometimes it was just easier to think like that. But Zeb was different. Jesse hadn’t had much to do with him, not before he ran away, and certainly not since his return. But this whole not judging thing was new to him, and in his current state it was sort of... nice. In a very weird way.

The mention of his father made him snap back to reality, though. Scowling, he pulled his feet up on the couch and curled into himself. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but how do you know? You don’t know the bastard.” The idea he was like the man in any way still made him feel ill. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

[Zebadiah Hayes]

Zeb took Jesse's not wanting coffee as a good sign actually. Maybe the boy would just sleep it off. After all, what else could you really do with a drunken teen but let them pass out. It would be much better talking in the morning. Though Zeb also had a feeling that the worry about being in trouble was having an awakening effect on Jesse at the moment. Nothing worked better than sobering you up like some harsh reality.

Zeb was starting to wonder if any of this discussion was going to be remembered in the morning. Not that he had a problem repeating himself. He really did care for Jesse. As he cared for all of his students. But the ones who had troubles and the ones who had similar abilities to his own really stood out to Zeb. And since Jesse fit both of those criteria, Zeb had always tried to keep an eye on the boy. From afar of course. Maybe this rule breaking would be a blessing after all, meaning it would give Zeb a reason to be more active in Jesse's life.

Zeb sighed at the scowl. Most kids hated the idea of becoming like their parents during their teenage years. But it was students like Jesse that had real reason to fear that possibility.

"You're right I don't know him," Zeb said, refusing to repeat the profanity, but allowing it to slide. "I know you. You came back. You're trying to right the wrongs. You're trying to make something better of yourself. To redeem yourself. Does that sound like your father to you?" Zeb hoped he wasn't overstepping himself here. He didn't know many details about Jesse's father. And what he knew hadn't come from Jesse, so he hoped the boy wouldn't feel like his personal secrets were being shared around the school.

Zeb sipped his coffee, wishing for the thousandth time that he had some sort of magic wand to fix the world. Or at least his "kids".

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was used to harsh realities. They seemed almost commonplace these days. Especially with his meetings with Dr Neville wearing down his resistance against talking about Gabriel, only to learn he’d essentially been little more than a pawn to the older man. Not loved, not anything but used. He still had a hard time with that one, and part of him struggled against it still.

He had a hard time with the idea that people cared about him at Hammel, too. He’d spent so long with the idea that very few people cared about him, with that list able to be counted on one hand. Zeb had always been nice enough, sure, but nice and caring didn’t always go hand in hand. It was just his job to be nice to them, after all, no matter how big a pain in the butt they all were.

He gave Zeb a sideways glance before rolling his eyes a little. “No,” he relented a little. “But that doesn’t mean much.” He tucked his arms around himself and shivered a little. “When I graduate, if I go back home, he expects me to do some stupid internship at his stupid law firm where he gets stupid criminals off the stupid hook.” No, his vocabulary wasn’t very extensive at the moment, but he didn’t care. “And then I’ll be just like him.” The truth was, he didn’t want to go back to Los Angeles. He wanted to stay in Vermont. It held bad memories, sure, but it was also starting to hold good ones, too. And good people, like Clement. He just worried for his mother and sister. “... Or when I get expelled.” His gaze went back to the bottle on the counter. Just another screw up in a long, long line of them.