#Please help my son who is made of dryer lint

[teaboot]

Please pray for my son.

There's nothing wrong with him, he just looks like a muppet

[lonestarbabe]

Mom’s In Town

T.K. struggles when his mom comes into town. The 126 and Carlos help him through, and prod him to make amends with his mother. (AO3)

---

“You didn’t tell me that your mom was in town,” Owen says. His tone is casual, but T.K. can feel the tension radiating from his father. The team stiffens, and they try to mind their own business, but T.K. doesn’t doubt they’ll hang onto every word, so he’s got to be careful with what he says. Just like he always was just before the divorce, during it, and then after. He’d always been sure to say the right the things to the right parent. He excels at splitting himself into different people based on what the situation requires.

His mom has been in town for just a few hours, and T.K. feels like a little kid again, standing between his parents’ fighting, feeling completely unheard. Gwyneth and Owen have learned how to play nice for his sake, but the old feelings always return in specks, built up and matted together like lint from the dryer. His parents are scarily cordial around T.K., but he knows that they talk shit about each other when he isn’t around. They had too many unresolved issues in their marriage to have zero unresolved issues during their divorce. The worst part is that T.K. knows that his parents still have gushy, fond centers for each other. They don’t hate each other. They just act like they hate each other because it is easier to be hateful than to acknowledge that they’d always love each other, even if tragedy made it impossible for them to ever be together again.

Owen was the one to mess everything up, but he’s a hero, and there’s not much T.K.’s ever been able to criticize Owen on that doesn’t somehow end up being about 9/11. Everything between them is about 9/11, but 9/11 is also something that they don’t mention expect to honor all those lives that were lost. Because nothing he says can compare to 9/11, T.K. finds himself being angrier with his mom about everything that went wrong with his childhood, even though she’s the one who actually gave a damn when, by some freak accident, he won his second grade spelling bee or when he starred in his fourth grade play about the planets or when he had ambitions of being a tennis star when all the sixth grade boys at his cushy private school thought that tennis was cool.

To keep his hands busy, T.K. gets to work washing the firetruck, and even as he’s handling this big machine, he still feels like that eight-year-old using his toy firetruck to put out the burning anxiety that raised voices have always caused. “I didn’t know that you needed to know everything mom does,” T.K. says with a terseness to his voice. It’s about as angry as he ever gets with Owen, especially since Owen’s diagnosis. It feels wrong to yell at someone who was sick.

“It just seems like something you’d mention.” Owen’s voice is still so casual, and it grates on T.K.’s nerves because he can feel himself being put in the middle and asked to show his loyalty. For nearly twenty years, he’s been asked covertly to take sides, and despite his bitterness, he’s almost always taken Owen’s.

“I didn’t ask her to come.” T.K. won’t admit that his mom being there felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d missed her. They weren’t that close, not like he and his dad, but sometimes, he still just wanted to be close to her and smell the perfume that she still wore even after all these years.

“It would be okay if you did.” That line was from the “How to Be Nice About Your Ex in front of Your Kid” handbook, and T.K. saw right through it with a stinging skepticism he always had when it came to his parents.

“I don’t know why she bothered. I probably won’t have time to see her, anyway.” She could enjoy the sights of Austin without him because seeing her would be too complicated. She’d be pissed off, but she’d been disappointed by Strand men enough to know not to get her hopes up.

“You can’t ignore you mom, son.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of hard to ignore.” The truth was that T.K. wouldn’t actually not see her. He wasn’t that much of a jerk as much as he wished he was. He couldn’t stay away if he tried.

“Why don’t you go to dinner one night? Bring Carlos along. Your mom would love meeting him.” She’d subtly hinting that she wanted to meet Carlos for weeks. T.K. had mostly brushed her suggestions off, but Carlos might be a good buffer. He was great with moms from what T.K. had seen. No one charmed middle aged ladies better.

“Yeah, maybe,” T.K. says before getting back to work. He doesn’t want that conversation to linger because there’s too many blisters that might just pop open if he pokes too hard. Even when Owen gets the message to let the conversation drop, T.K. still feels a grumpiness come over him.

---

Paul is the first of the 126 to bring up T.K.’s foul mood. He broaches the topic carefully, giving T.K. that knowing look, the one that says, “I’m not going to push you but prepare for some light prodding.” T.K. almost runs away when he sees that look, but he’s in the middle of lifting a weight, so he doesn’t have much choice but to stick around. He groans, and he’s not sure if it’s from heaving the weight up or the heaviness of what he knows Paul is about to say.

“My parents got divorced when I was young too, you know,” Paul says. “It sucks.”

T.K. sits up on the bench, and he really doesn’t want to be part of the divorced parents’ club. He acts like he’s over it. Pretends that it was best for everyone. Deludes himself into thinking that the divorce cured a lot of heartache. Maybe it helped his parents, but for T.K., the divorce was didn’t make anything easier for T.K. “It sucked more when they were fighting all the time. The divorce was a relief.” Relief was the wrong word, but it felt like the right thing to say, the thing that a well-adjusted kid of divorce would say. The divorce didn’t change anything. It just made things quieter, and the quiet only made T.K. feel more alone.

“Yeah, I get that, man. My dad was a new person once he divorced my mom. Happier. Mom took more time, but eventually, she was happier too.” The issue with T.K.’s parents was that no one was happier. The divorce left them all sullen and heartbroken.

“What about you? Were you happier?” T.K. could’ve been happier post-divorce, maybe, but for whatever reason, he’d never stopped being angry about it. After 9/11, he stopped feeling like he had a family.

“It took time. Less time than my mom but more than my dad. My sister took the longest of us all, but we figured it out. We learned to be a family again without being a family together. For a long time, I thought that coming out as trans would send ripples through my family and destroy the steadiness we’d finally found, but I realized that I couldn’t run away from myself to please them.”

“That’s an unfair burden to carry.” T.K. comments. He doesn’t like where this conversation is heading, but he doesn’t want to invalidate Paul’s feelings, especially because he doesn’t know exactly what trauma Paul has faced for being trans.

Paul gives a half-smile. “Yeah, but it turned out okay in the end. It took a little adjustment, but we survived it.”

“Sometimes surviving is all you can do.” T.K. picks up a weight and starts doing bicep curls. He looks down at the pendant hanging around his neck. “After 9/11, my dad never really came back to us. He got obsessed with the job, and to be a part of his life, I had to become obsessed with the job as well.” T.K. realizes that he’s said more than he wanted to, and he tries to backtrack. If only you could press the undo button on the things you say. “What I mean is that we worked out our shit.”

Paul quirks an eyebrow. “Is that so?” but he doesn’t comment on it any farther.

---

Judd is blunter when he brings it up. “You angry at your dad?” T.K. looks up sharply. They’re just supposed to be playing foosball, not taking a deep dive into T.K.’s psychological state. Everyone seems to have thoughts about how he must be feeling.

T.K. plays it cool because getting angry will be a dead giveaway that he’s defensive and when he’s defensive, he’s probably avoiding the full truth. “Nope. We get along great. We couldn’t spend as much time together as we do if we didn’t. I’m not sure why you think something is wrong.”

“You can get along great and still be angry. Feelings are complex.” Cowboy Judd was now an expert on feelings.

Judd doesn’t stop there. Of course, he doesn’t. Judd doesn’t stop until he’s drilled it through his head what he wants you to hear. He’s not about subtlety. “You know I love my dad, but we haven’t always gotten along. There use to be a time when we’d bicker all the time. Couldn’t be in the same room without fighting.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know. I guess we stopped dancing around each other and we started saying what we were really mad about. No point in keeping it hidden.”

“My dad and I don’t even fight, not really.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have stuff to fight over.”

“We’re fine Judd.”

“You’ve been tense ever since your mom came into town.”

“Then, maybe she’s the one I’m mad at.”

“Maybe or maybe she’s just the one you take your anger out on.”

T.K.’s defenses go up. “Whatever.” Judd gets the memo, and he goes back to focusing on the game.

Judd hits the ball, putting it into the goal.  “Game over, pretty boy. You can’t cheat your way into winning.”

“I don’t cheat.”

Judd laughs, “Sure you don’t, spin master.” Judd gets more serious. “You can’t run from who you are forever either.”

“I don’t try to,” But Judd’s words stuck with him. Sometimes the cowboy could pretty damn wise. Must’ve been Grace’s influence. She rounded out Judd’s edges. Judd and T.K. they were a lot alike- hot blooded and quick to fire up. They used their passion to be better at their jobs, but too often, their passion burned them.

---

Dinner with his mom starts as it always does. They hug and Gwyneth kisses him on the cheek, smiling broadly and saying how handsome he looks. Then, T.K. introduces Carlos to his mom, and she fawns over him, look positively delighted that T.K. found such a nice man. She’d hated Alex, and most of T.K.’s boyfriends before that.

They sit at the table, and T.K. can feel his anxiety rising up the longer they sit. Carlos is great. He’s filling the gaps of the conversation and the perfect balance of cheerful to T.K.’s sullen. Gwyn can’t get enough. Carlos has her laughing, and it sends a bitter jolt through T.K. that he’s the only one not having fun.

“So, Tyler, how’s your job been?” Owen had gotten T.K. in the divorce while Gwyn had gotten Tyler.

“What do you care?” T.K. snaps.

Hurt fills her face, and Carlos looks alarm at the shift in mood. “I’m your mom. Of course, I care.”

“You hate that I’m a firefighter.” She thought his job was too dangerous, especially after he got shot, but mostly, he figures that she was mad that he’d move across the country with his dad instead of staying behind with her.

She shakes her head, her smiling becoming tense, but she’s obviously trying to control her emotions. She’s an expert of controlling when she wants to. “That’s not true. It’s what you’ve always wanted to be.”

“Yeah, but you think it’s only because of dad. You’re bitter that I chose what he wanted instead of what you wanted,” he’s really lashing out now, and he can’t help the words rolling off his tongue. He’s doing the equivalent of yelling, but his voice is softer as to not cause a scene in the restaurant.

“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to do what made you happy. I worried you were just being a firefighter to please your dad. I never had a problem with you choosing to be like him. I fell in love with your dad in part because he followed his passions and wanted to help people.”

T.K. rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I like those things about T.K. too,” Carlos chirps, trying to ease some of the tension, and it only does enough that T.K. shuts up, trying to get through the dinner. He gets through. Just barely, and not without getting in a few snippy remarks.

Carlos is seething after the dinner. They get back to Carlos’ apartment, and T.K. just wants to blow off some steam, but Carlos isn’t in a kissing mood. “Why were you such an asshole to your mom? You’d never yell at your dad like that.” T.K. doesn’t want to have to keep defending himself to everyone he knows. They don’t know what it was like back in New York when he was a kid trying to balance out his parents’ wishes, and always having to be a disappointment no matter what he did.

“Because she doesn’t give a damn about what I want. She’s upset that I chose to be a firefighter instead of a lawyer or whatever else she wanted me to be.”

“She only asked you how your job was, and you flipped out! You got mad at her when she asked anything about you.”

“That’s how my parents are! Everything they say is a chess game trying to make me choose a side. Every time they ask about my interests or what I want, they’re really just trying to test who I love more. That question about New York… that was her trying to get me to say that I like her home better than his.” She had asked if T.K. missed the city. T.K. said he didn’t, but T.K. would always miss the city, at least a little. He loves Austin, and Austin has healed him, or started to. It has given him a family, and friends, and Carlos, but New York would always give him a special kind of rush. He grew up there, and it would always feel like home even if it wasn’t always where his heart was.

“Maybe she’s not the one you’re angry with.”

“Have you been talking to Judd?”

“What?” Carlos sounds confused.

“Judd said basically the same thing.” Having a family meant a lot of meddling.

“When there’s a pattern, you shouldn’t ignore it,” Carlos says, voice still biting.

“Just because I’m not as close to my mother as you are with yours, it doesn’t mean I have some bigger issue that I need to work out. Sometimes, parents and children just don’t get along.”

“I mean that maybe she’s a stand in for the person you want to yell at.”

“Yeah?” T.K. seethed. “When did you get your psychology degree?”

“I’ll drop it if you answer this one question honestly.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did you become a firefighter?” Now, that is a loaded question, one he couldn’t answer without reaffirming some of what Carlos was suggesting. T.K. doesn’t want to think about the truth. He doesn’t want to vocalize it and start to unpack all those feelings he’s been packed away since he was a little kid.

“Because I wanted to save people.” He did want to save people. When he sees a person in trouble, he wants to save them, even if it means sacrificing himself, especially kids. When he sees a kid in danger, he wants to keep him safe because no kid should feel unsafe, unloved, or unworthy of being helped.

“You could’ve chosen a dozen career paths if that saving people the main reason, but it’s not.”

“I don’t know, Carlos. It was convenient.”

“Convenient? Really? It doesn’t seem to me that you do things because they’re convenient.” The anxiety was revving up in T.K. again. All those repressed thoughts, bubbling in his consciousness.

“It’s easier to be mad at her,” T.K. admits.

“Why?” Carlos presses.

“I wanted my dad to love me, but he left. He checked out, but she was always there. I knew she would be there. I knew if I yelled at her, she wasn’t going to go away. When my mom got upset, she’d get mad, but she never left. When dad got mad, he couldn’t’ t handle it and would make an excuse about having to work. It wasn’t his fault. He was going through a lot and a bratty kid didn’t help anything, but I always worried that one day, he wouldn’t come back, so I learned not to yell at him. I learned to avoid his triggers. I learned how to keep him in my life.”

Carlos sighs, some of the anger dropping from his face, “You can’t keep that all bottled up, T.K., and it doesn’t help anyone to keep being angry at your mom about something that has nothing to do with her.”

“I know that. It’s just so fucking messy in my head.” He’s starting to feel sick to his stomach. He needs to talk to his mom. “Can you do me a favor?”

Carlos brushes a hand down T.K.’s arm, “What do you need?”

“Can you take me to my mom’s hotel.”

For the first time since they got to Carlos’ apartment, Carlos smiles. “That can be arranged.”

Carlos drops T.K. off and parks the car, giving T.K. the chance to have a few minutes alone with his mom. He nervously knocks on the door. She opens it, looking surprised to see him. “Tyler? What are you doing here?”

He throws his arms around her and drops his head to her shoulder. “I’m so sorry mom for treating you like shit all these years.” She ushers him into the hotel room and sits him down on the chair.

“It’s okay,” she says, combing her hand through his hair, which only makes T.K. feel worse for the way he’s treated her. He knows she’ll never hold it against him. She’ll love him just the same, and he wants to try to be a better son for her. He wants to let her into his life and mend all the bitterness he unfairly feels against her. He knew he’d need to talk to her, and his dad. It would take time, but maybe somehow someway, his mom being in town wouldn’t have to feel like bad news because it was good to feel close to her. “I’ll always be by your side.”

[gaywitch821]

[id: tags which read "#Ollieposting #Him crusty lil face just before towel-bath is fucking vacant #Please help my son who is made of dryer lint #Lopsided lil ass #Cats" /end]

Please pray for my son.

There's nothing wrong with him, he just looks like a muppet