Daddy's Boy

by T C Heffer

  Now if only his mind would quit racing and his closet would suddenly fill with better clothes, he wouldn't be in such a state.

  "Why the hell is all my stuff so damn stupid?" Pete laments, throwing garment after garment over his head without caring where in his bedroom they land.

  He usually likes his wardrobe, likes the graphic T-shirts and comfortable chinos and jeans that he's favoured since his parents decided he was old enough to start picking his own clothes, but none of them seem good enough for tonight. He should've gone shopping. He's known this date was coming for almost a whole week, so he should've prepared by buying a new outfit.

  Isn't that what people do when they're getting ready for dates? Especially if they want to impress—and especially in Pete's case, when it's his first date ever? Such a momentous occasion deserves a good outfit, but he's apparently inept, had spent too much time thinking of Jeremy and not the date itself.

  What an idiot he is.

  His heart races and he's close to tearing his hair out when his phone rings, the high he'd been riding all week completely obliterated by this unexpected crisis. He grabs his phone to see that Jeremy is calling him. He takes a breath and picks up.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey, baby," comes Jeremy's voice, deep and soothing, "I'm about to leave to pick you up. I'm just calling to give you some warning."

  Fuck, he's so considerate. Why can't Pete reciprocate with a nice outfit that shows he's taking their fledgling relationship seriously? He doesn't deserve Jeremy, he really doesn't. He's spiralling, and there's little that can bring him out of it again until he hits rock bottom. The only person who can usually prevent a crash is his actual Dad, and he'll be working all night.

  "Baby, are you there?" Jeremy asks him, sounding concerned now.

  Clearing his throat, Pete attempts to keep his voice level. He fails and stammers instead, giving himself away. "Yeah, I'm h-here," he answers, his tongue feeling big and unwieldy in his mouth.

  "Are you alright? You sound off."

  "Uhh…"

  "That cinches it. I'm leaving right now, and I'll be there before you know it, okay?"

  This only causes Pete to panic more because in no sense is he ready for Jeremy to arrive. "Wait!" he shouts down the phone, immediately wincing at the outburst.

  Jeremy says nothing for a moment, the line filled instead by the sound of a car door opening and closing, and then he cautiously says, "Yes?"

  Pete wipes his free hand down his face. It comes away wet. When had he started crying? "I'm not…I'm not ready."

  "Have you changed your mind about us?" Jeremy guesses, sounding incredibly sad.

  "No!" Pete denies. "No, I'd never do that."

  "Then what is it, baby? Tell Daddy. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

  "I…" Pete swallows tightly. His heart still beats fast in his chest, but now that he's actually talking to Jeremy, his problem seems really pathetic. "I can't figure out what to wear," he mumbles. The quality of the call changes slightly, right before Pete hears the engine of Jeremy's car start up. "You're not gonna drive while you're on the phone, are you?"

  "Hands-free. Now, don't try to avoid talking to me," the older man says, his voice stern but still somehow comforting. "Repeat what you said before, baby. You were so quiet that I couldn't understand."

  Pete sniffles as he sits down on his bed. "I can't figure out what to wear," he says, louder this time. "My clothes all seem so dumb all of a sudden."

  "And it's making you stressed?" Jeremy prompts.

  "Yeah…"

  "Gotcha. I want you to just keep breathing slow and deep, okay? Can you do that for me?"

  For Jeremy, Pete thinks he would do just about anything, as crazy as it sounds. "Yeah, Daddy."

  "Good boy. I'm almost there."

  For the next few minutes, Pete focuses on his breathing as he's been told, Jeremy talking nonsense to him all the while. He doesn't even really hear the words, but that doesn't matter. Just the sound of Jeremy's voice is enough to keep him from spiralling any further, and then the man tells him to come downstairs and open the front door for him.

  Getting up from his bed, Pete takes the stairs two at a time, his phone still clutched to his ear. He doesn't lower it until the door is open and he's wrapped in Daddy's strong arms.

  "You had me worried, baby boy," Jeremy whispers, kissing the top of his head.

  "Sorry, Daddy…"

  "It's okay." Jeremy pulls away and uses his thumbs to wipe the rest of the moisture from Pete's face. "Now, show me the problem and we'll work through it together."

  Already feeling better now that Jeremy is there, Pete leads the way up to his bedroom.

  "Wow, you must've really worked yourself up before I called," Jeremy observes after stepping inside. "It's like a hurricane came through."

  Pete hangs his head, ashamed. "Yeah…"

  "Hey now, none of that," Jeremy says, putting his index finger beneath Pete's chin to tilt his head back up. "I'm not mad."

  "You're not?"

  "No, baby. I'd prefer that my boy tidy up after himself, but I'm not mad." Jeremy cups his other hand around the back of Pete's neck and grips it firmly, a touch that goes a long way to grounding him completely. "I get that you weren't in the best mindset when you did it, and it's an easy fix."

  Pete doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing.

  "Let's get this sorted, hmm?" Jeremy squeezes Pete's neck and them moves away. "First things first—let's pick up all these clothes and hang them back up."

  With Jeremy taking charge, lifting the pressure from his shoulders, Pete goes around his bedroom and retrieves every article of clothing from where he'd thrown them earlier. There are a lot of them, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jeremy holding up each piece and inspecting it before he returns it to its hanger.

  Five minutes later, Pete's room is clean again. Or cleaner than it was. The clothes are gone, at least.

  "Now, clothes for you to wear on our date," Jeremy says, working through the hangers.

  "They're all dumb," Pete murmurs, sitting down on his bed again.

  "Why d'you say that, baby?"

  "Because they are. None of them seemed right. I wanted to look good and everything I own seemed too simple or childish earlier."

  When Jeremy stops what he's doing and turns away from the closet to face him, Pete notices for the first time how his Daddy looks this evening. He almost drools.

  Jeremy's hair is artfully ruffled. His muscular legs are hugged by tight black jeans, and his torso is covered by a soft-looking purple henley with a deep V-neck. Completing the ensemble is a black leather jacket that has obviously been worn a lot but has also been treated with love over the years.

  "Baby, my eyes are up here," Jeremy says amusedly, catching Pete's attention again.

  Raising his gaze, Pete blinks a few times to clear his head of lust. "Sorry. I got distracted."

  "I could see that."

  "What were you saying?"

  "I was trying to tell you that I don't mind if some people might think your clothes are too childish for someone of your age," Jeremy responds. "I don't think that."

  "You don't?"

  "No." Jeremy steps closer and cups Pete's cheeks. Pete stares up into his eyes and wants to get lost in them. "It's completely fine for you to dress however you want, except for skimpy clothing in public—the possessive Daddy in me doesn't like the thought of others feasting their greedy eyes on my boy. And in case you've forgotten, you acting younger than your age sometimes—like right now, for instance—is kind of the whole point of our arrangement."

  Pete nods slowly. That makes sense.

  "Do you like your clothes?" Jeremy asks.

  Pete thinks about it. Before he panicked earlier, yes, he did. He says as much.

  "Then that's all that matters," Jeremy tells him. "And before you work yourself up again, I've basically just seen your entire wardrobe, and I love how you dress."

  "Reall
y?"

  "Yup. I like you for you, baby, and that includes your sense of style, comic book characters and all."

  Damn, this was just what Pete needed. Seemingly without having to even try very hard, Jeremy knew just what to say to make him feel better. No one's been able to get through to him so quickly before, not even his actual Dad.

  "Thank you, Daddy," he says. "I'm sorry for freaking out."

  "You shouldn't be, baby. We all have emotions, and it's healthy to let yourself feel them. Besides, what I just did was all part of me being a Daddy. I was just taking care of my boy."

  After placing a chaste kiss on Pete's forehead, Jeremy returns to the closet and finishes rifling through it. He pulls out a pair of black boxers, some bright-red chinos and a red-and-blue superhero T-shirt.

  "How about these?" he suggests, holding them up for Pete's approval.

  Pete remembers dismissing that exact outfit before Jeremy called, but seeing them in the man's hands changes his mind. "They're nice," he opines.

  "Then let's get you dressed."

  Jeremy lays the clothes out on the bed, pulls Pete up and strips him out of his current outfit—a ratty white T-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Pete doesn't even feel self-conscious about being naked in front of Jeremy, about the body that, until last weekend, he always thought of as thin, pale and unremarkable. They've already had sex, and there's just something about Daddy's presence that makes Pete feel as if everything's going to be okay. The way Daddy looks at him as he helps him into the outfit they chose together also works wonders. If someone as attractive as Jeremy is looking at him like that, then Pete must be something to write home about after all.

  "There. All done," Jeremy says, smoothing the T-shirt down Pete's torso.

  "How do I look?" Pete asks.

  Jeremy smiles, his eyes full of affection. "You look beautiful. My beautiful boy."

  The praise makes Pete blush furiously, which only has Jeremy's smile stretching into a full-on grin.

  "Now that you're ready, do you have an overnight bag or something?" the bearded man asks. "If you're still up for coming back to mine after dinner."

  Pete shakes his head. "Just my toothbrush. I kinda liked that I smelled like you when I left last time, and I like wearing your clothes."

  "You do, huh?"

  "Yeah. They're so baggy on me that they make me feel snuggly and…safe. It's embarrassing, but I've worn your sweater every evening this week."

  Jeremy chuckles. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. I like that you like wearing my clothes. It makes it seem even more like you're mine."

  "But I am yours. I'm your boy, remember? You said so," Pete points out.

  "That's true."

  "And you're mine. My Daddy."

  "And what a fortunate Daddy I am. C'mon, baby," Jeremy says, taking Pete's hand. "Let's grab your toothbrush and get out of here. I bet you're hungry."

  At the mention of food, Pete's stomach rumbles, proving Jeremy correct.

  When they're in the foyer and he's put his shoes on, Pete grabs his house key and follows Daddy outside. "Where're we going?"

  "It's a surprise."

  Pete locks the door and puts his key in the pocket of his chinos. "Do I get a hint?"

  "Nope," Jeremy replies. "But I'll tell you that it's pretty much my favourite place to eat in the whole county. Their food is unparalleled, at least the stuff I've tried."

  "Sounds good."

  "Just you wait. Our bellies are gonna be stuffed full by the time we get back to my place."

  Pete hurries after Jeremy as Jeremy leads the way down the front path, to where his shiny silver Porsche is parked on the side of the street. "Are we still gonna fool around?"

  Jeremy smirks. "Once the food's settled, yes."

  "Awesome! What're we gonna do?"

  Jeremy opens the passenger door and helps Pete inside. "Like dinner, that's for me to know and for you to find out. Just leave everything to me, okay?"

  With anyone else, it would be tough, but Pete trusts Jeremy like he's known him his whole life. "Okay, Daddy."

  Jeremy buckles him in and kisses his temple. "Good boy."

  Pete is left alone in the car for a few seconds as Jeremy walks around the front, and then his Daddy climbs in behind the wheel and starts the engine. "Ready?"

  "Uh-huh!" Pete chirps, his earlier anxiety completely forgotten.

  "Then let's get this show on the road."

  — CHAPTER SEVEN —

  - Saturday, November 30th, 2013 -

  Adam Campbell sits at his desk in the police station and pores over some paperwork. It's incredibly boring, but it has to be done, and he'd feel bad lumping it off on someone else. He sips from a cup of cheap coffee as he reads, the brown liquid tasting bitter on his tongue but keeping him focused.

  Until his phone rings in his pocket, that is.

  It's rare that someone calls his personal number at this time, and not many people have the number in the first place. His first thought is that it's some sort of emergency, that maybe Pete has been hurt, so he hurries to get his phone out so he can answer the call.

  A quick look at the screen erases some—but not all—of his concern. It's not Pete calling him, but their neighbour, Mrs. Wilkinson. She's a woman in her mid-seventies who has always been a good friend to him. She used to babysit Pete all the time when he was younger.

  Adam hits Accept. "Hello?"

  "Hi, Adam, dear. I don't mean to bother you. I know you're working right now," Mrs. Wilkinson greets.

  "It's okay. I'm not doing anything too important at the moment."

  "Ah, well that's good."

  "Yes. Not to be rude, though, but why are you calling?"

  "Oh, right! I was just watering the plants on my windowsill when I looked up and witnessed something…strange. I wanted to check in and see if you knew about it."

  Adam sits forward in his chair. "What is it?"

  "It's Pete. I saw him getting into a very fancy-looking car with a much-older gentleman."

  Definitely odd, Adam thinks, but he staves off negative emotions by telling himself that there's probably some perfectly innocent explanation.

  "And here's where it gets truly strange," Mrs. Wilkinson continues.

  "Go on."

  "Before they drove off, it looked like they kissed."

  Okay, now Adam is beginning to understand why she called him. "That is strange."

  "Yes. I know Pete is eighteen now, but, as I said, the other man was quite a bit older than him."

  "How old are we talking?"

  "Well, I can't say for sure. I wasn't exactly very close to them, but I'd say maybe around forty or so? Very handsome too."

  Adam immediately comes up with a theory. He hadn't missed how Pete looked at his friend Jeremy during the basketball game a couple weeks ago. It was obvious that his son developed a little crush that day, but as soon as the game was over, it was out of Adam's head. He thought nothing could possibly come of it anyway.

  Now he's not so sure, but he needs more information.

  "Can you describe the man to me? Any identifying characteristics?"

  Mrs. Wilkinson hums on the other end of the line. "Well, he had short, dark hair, stubble, was around the same height as Pete, maybe a little taller, and he looked like he visited the gym quite often."

  Adam closes his eyes as his suspicions are confirmed. "I see," he says, keeping his voice calm so Mrs. Wilkinson doesn't detect how shocked he is. "Thank you for telling me."

  "Do you know what was going on? If I didn't know any better, I'd say it almost looked like a date!"

  That's what I'm afraid of, the Chief thinks.

  "It's fine," he lies. "I'll look into it, but I should really get back to work now."

  "Of course, dear. Have a good night, Adam."

  "You too."

  When the call ends, Adam sets his phone down and leans his head over the back of his chair to stare at the ceiling. "Son, what are you doing?" he asks the em
pty room.

  — CHAPTER EIGHT —

  - Saturday, November 30th, 2013 -

  Jeremy is in excellent spirits as he and Pete near their destination. For the majority of the drive, the pair have just sat with nothing but the radio to fill the silence. It's been comfortable, which bodes well for the future of their relationship. With the vast majority of the partners Jeremy has had in his love life, just sitting quietly together had been awkward. It was as if they both felt compelled to speak but couldn't think of anything of worth to say. But with Pete, Jeremy doesn't feel the need to speak at all, and from the way Pete stares out the front windshield, likely attempting to figure out where Jeremy is taking him for their first date, he guesses that his boy feels the same way.

  After just over half an hour of driving, they reach the next town over, in which Jeremy's favourite diner resides. Aside from the good food, Jeremy thought that this would be a good place to go out while they're still keeping their relationship a secret. It's not in Leraine, so it's less likely that anyone Pete knows will see them.

  "We're here, baby," Jeremy announces, turning off the road and into the parking lot of the diner.

  "This looks…interesting," Pete says, staring at the slightly rundown facade.

  Jeremy chuckles and pulls up the parking brake. "I know it doesn't look like much from the outside, but just trust me."

  Pete nods right away. "Of course I trust you, Daddy."

  Damn, just hearing Pete call him that always sends a thrill down Jeremy's spine. He wonders if it will ever wear off. He hopes not.

  "C'mon, baby boy, let's go get your belly filled," he says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  "Wait!" Pete calls, grabbing his arm before he can open his door.

  Jeremy pauses, concerned. "What's the matter?"