Yeah, you definitely got your looks from your father. From the black hair, to the tanned skin, down to the perpetual stubble on his face. Your faces are similar, your builds are near-identical- though you're slightly more muscular right now, which fills you with pride. The only real difference is that you took your mom's bright blue eyes, not his dark brown ones.
Well, that and you didn't inherit his fashion sense. You may wear nothing but wrestling t-shirts, but at least you don't own seven different Tom Brady jerseys, one for each day of the week. Sure enough, he's got the Thursday one on now- you can tell by the faint coffee stain over the lower part of the two.
You don't get much more of a chance to study your father before he embraces you tightly. You retaliate in kind, and the next few moments are full of much manly backslapping. He pushes you away finally, holding you at arm's length as he looks you up and down. "There you are!" he says, low baritone still carrying a light accent even after all these years. "Glad you made it!"
"I wouldn't miss it." You respond with a smile, and you find yourself slightly surprised that you're telling the truth. You'd have thought that after over two decades of living with your parents that you'd be eager to get out of the house again; but now that you're back here, you can't think of a place more comfortable for you.
A slight mewing from behind you grabs your attention, and you bend down to scoop up Gronk before he can start clawing at your pants. The Maine Coon rubs against you eagerly, making up for all this time that you weren't marked with his scent. Dad laughs and grabs the cat. Gronk isn't nearly so eager to nuzzle him, and signals his displeasure with a few strong swats.
You watch the byplay, chuckling. "Oh, what's that I remember?" you ask mockingly. "Was it some guy in this place saying that he'd never like this mangy animal? Was it you? Or was it someone else?"
"Must've been someone else." Dad jibes back. "Because I'd never dream of saying something like that." He holds the cat up and meets his eyes. "Seriously, I never did. Letting you stay was my idea."
Gronk gives him another swat and takes off. Dad watches him go with a fear that's only half-feigned. "My side of the bed is so crapped on." he mutters. "Thanks for that."
"Anytime."
"But that's a problem for later! Look at you!" he says again, staring at you like he hasn't seen you in years. "How goes the wrestling? How many matches have you had? You world champion yet? And are those muscles?"
You stand in shocked silence as you try and digest all of his questions. He waits, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, inventory completely forgotten. You've got no options besides just answering him. You raise a finger and start checking off his questions. "In order: it goes good. Nothing huge yet, but it's just… just great. Five so far, mostly losing, but that's about what I expected. And no. Anything else?"
"So many things!" he replies. "How about that teacher of yours? How'd she-"
"Tony!" Mom calls from the bar. "While you're back there gushing, we've got people out here who need a drink!" Her words are met by a rousing chorus of applause.
Dad shakes his head. "She's right. Not the time, not the time. Take a seat, grab the furred menace, make yourself comfortable. We'll continue this later!"
But despite Dad's words, you follow him out to the bar almost on a reflex. You've helped out here so often after school and before work that working Shifty's is like a second nature to you. You don't realize what you've done until you're pouring one of the newbies a Guinness and Mom starts glaring at you. "We didn't ask you visit to work!" she hisses, sounding completely appalled.
She doesn't however, tell you to stop. A key distinction. If Mom really wanted you not to do something, she'd tell you not to do it, and that would be that. So you shrug at her guiltily and get back to mixing drinks. Dad needs the help right now; there must be some party letting out nearby. The entire night is a marathon of new faces asking for new drinks.
Hours later, the last drink's been poured, the tabs have been settled up, all the glasses are running through the dishwasher, and you finally feel comfortable getting off your feet. You plop yourself down in your favorite booth across from Mom. Dad joins you a few moments later once he's shut down the register, and Gronk hops up into your lap for another nuzzling session. The gang's all here.
You trade idle chatter for a few minutes, talking about ordinary things- how Mom's new cookies killed at the last church bake sale, and how Dad nearly got the cops called on him again for screaming at some soccer fans. He still has a frown on his face when he talks about it. "Real football my left buttcheek." he says, wincing as Mom slaps his arm. "Everyone knows real football is played by men! Men who don't fall over if a fly lands on them! Imagine Welker flopping like that! You can't!"
With the ease of long practice you manage to tune Dad out; you've heard enough of the 'soccer is not football' rant to last you a lifetime. Next he'll get into the 'why does everyone like I like that thing?!' part, and then there'll be no stopping him. "Hey!" you interrupt before he can really get rolling. "I brought you guys some stuff!"
Dad cuts himself off as Mom leans forward. "Aw, honey!" she sighs. "You know you didn't have to! You need every cent you can muster right now!"
You shake your head. "If I can't afford to get you guys something, then you'll know I'm in trouble. Please, just take it." You reach into your bag and scoop out their presents; a small plant for Mom, and a Pat's picture for Dad. Both of them take their gifts the appreciative noises.
"Well," Mom hedges. "Since you already went to all the trouble, it'd be a waste not to accept it."
"It wasn't any trouble!" you protest. "And you-"
"Then that makes this easy!" she chirps, prior hesitation forgotten. "Here you go!"
The next thing you know there's a small bundle in your hand wrapped in red and green paper. You hesitantly rip it open to reveal a new wallet, still with that new leather smell. That was nice of them. And after all the protesting you just did, it'd be hypocritical not to-
Wait. A wallet. Did they…?
You peek inside the billfold. Sure enough, Benjamin Franklin's crisp green face looks up at you, right next to a few of his identical clones.
"Guys!" you sigh. "I don't need your-"
"It wasn't any trouble!" Your mom parrots. "Imagine what would happen if you tried to give it back to us though. We'd have to deposit it right away, and then the books would be off, and we'd have to hunt for the discrepancy for hours, and-"
Point taken. Accept, or they'll make your life miserable.
You thank them for their gift, and more hugs are exchanged. The three of you stay up talking for a while, stopping only to fill a few glasses with cider and move up to the actual house part of the bar. You tell some stories of your own, talking about your training and your matches, even pulling out your collection of your work when pressed. Mom, of course, thinks it's just wonderful. Dad's more concerned with your partners.
Or rather, one of them. "Who's that?" he asks, staring at Allie. "That a friend of yours? She's nice. You should-"
Mom elbows him so hard you hear a thump. "-you should enjoy your relationship, without any pressure from anyone else, no matter what kind of relationship it might be." she finishes, glaring daggers through Dad. You nod in thanks; you never were quite the same after Dad decided to get involved in your hunt for a junior prom date.
Soon after that, Dad lets out his first yawn of the night, and you take that as your cue to head back to your old room. It's just as you left it, posters everywhere and a thick green blanket left rumpled on the mattress. You'll have to ask about taking that back to Baltimore; even in your sleeping bag, things get a bit chilly in the apartment.
That's a thought for tomorrow though. As for right now, you throw yourself onto your bed- and actual bed!- and tuck yourself in.
It's good to be home.
Tommy has two days in Portland before he takes the bus back to Baltimore; New Years Eve, and New Year's Day. Most of that time will be spent with his parents, catching up and spending time. But some of it will be his own. After looking around, he's found a few things he could do with that time. What does he do with it?
[] New England Wrestling is having their big New Year's Eve show coming up. It's one of the biggest events on the local indy's calendar, and promises to be a solid card. It's probably too late to try and get on the show, but you can at least go and take it in. You never know what you might learn by watching!
[] Shifty's promises to be just as busy over the next couple days as it was today, and your parents have no intention of closing until they've wrung every cent they can from the people. You might as well help out some more. Mom might protest, but you can convince her; plus, you'll earn some good tip money!
[] An event reminder just dinged you on Facebook for a party one of your old High School buddies is throwing. It's been forever since you've seen any of the gang, and it might be good to go reconnect. Maybe something will finally top that scene that Cindy Sanders put on a few years back; you missed it, but from the pictures you saw it was wild.
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Mechanics Changes
Financial Changes
+1 Expense: It was take the money or start a fight. You took the money.
