I have the right to this 7

Chapter 7: Acceptance

Summary:

    "Oh, Ice! He's going to do it," Pete announces, clearly happy.
    "You think?"
    "It seems. His face…"
    An alarm sounds on his phone, and Jake sees his dad requesting a video call. He accepts it and looks into his eyes.
    "I don't want Mav to be the only one who sees you at this important moment."
    Jake feels his stomach drop, but he nods.
    "Come on, give it here," his father asks.
    He hands him the phone. Mav switches the camera to the back and raises the device to chest level.
    "Okay, now tell us what you want, son," Pete encourages him, smiling.

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Part 6 of: The Lies We Told Each Other

Fandoms: Top Gun (Movies), Thunderheart (1992), Suits (US TV 2011)

Relationships: Brigham "Harvard" Lennox/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Sarah Kazansky/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Rick "Hollywood" Neven/Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe

Characters: Brigham "Harvard" Lennox, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Sarah Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Ray Levoi, Harvey Specter, Mike Ross, Original Adult Character(s), Original Child Character(s) 

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Trans Male Character, Asexual Character, Transphobia, Polyamory, Phone Sex, Adoption 

INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/i-have-right-to-this-lies-we-told-each.html

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Friday, April 3, 2020

 

San Diego, California, 4 pm

 

When Jake arrives home and sees Sam's car parked at the curb, he realizes he's out of time. He's in no hurry, though, so he eases into the basement parking space and calmly checks the space before locking the car and going up to the house. His sister isn't downstairs, so he makes a sandwich and washes the utensils before climbing the service stairs to the second floor.

In the hallway, the smell of fresh paint hits him hard. The door to his daughter's future room stands open. Inside, he can hear the music of Boys to Men and a female voice following them. His sister is playing the role of happy aunt to the spot.

Well, hurry up when things get tough.

"Hello," he greets as he enters.

He looks around and sees, happily, that Sam has made quite a bit of progress with the furniture reorganization. The moving crew didn't just move things between Mom Carole's old room, Jake's, and Bradley's. They also brought down some of their childhood things that Sarah, Carole, Tom, and Pete had packed into the attic out of sentimental stupidity—and because they grew up before the rise of consumerism.

"Hey," Sam replies casually, adjusting the side of a dresser. "It's about time you came up."

Oh, right, he forgot that the windows in this room face the front of the house. He's not going to justify himself to her anyway.

"Tell me what to do."

But Sam presses her lips together and gives him a calculating look. Finally, she shakes her head, slams the drawer shut, and sits on the still-sheetless bed. Her face is serious and determined.

"No, I'm not going to play house with you."

Jake nods, leans against the wall, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okay."

"You left me hanging on Monday, and then you dropped the bombshell at dinner. I'm guessing..." She pauses, her jaw tightening, and Jake realizes she's repeating something she doesn't believe, perhaps prompted by Elia. "I'm guessing you had to talk to Brig, and then with the baby and that fucking Uncle Wolf family, it slipped your mind. So I'm asking again. Will you please be the sperm donor for my baby with Elia?"

"My answer is the same, Sam. I can't."

"Come on, Jake, I'm just asking for a small thing that you flush down the toilet every time you sleep with Brig. What do you mean you can't?"

Now it's Jake who has to get a grip on himself, although the suggestion that he does such disgusting things with his boyfriend almost makes him shudder.

"I can't. And before you try to appeal to blood, Sean is also a Mitchell- Seresin."

"I want my baby to be Icepá's grandkid! I told you."

"Bad luck, sister. We don't get everything we want in life."

Sam clenches her hands into fists and hits her knees in annoyance.

"Then I think you owe me an explanation."

He raises his eyebrows, incredulous at her audacity.

"Of course not."

"Of course, yes! You're a man, and you refuse to give me a simple sperm sample. So something's wrong." Her eyes become restless, and her lips curl down in concern. "I'm a doctor, remember? Anything you tell me will stay between us."

"Anything...?" Jake repeats, confused.

"Yeah, anything," Sam assures him. "I've noticed your comments about sex are absurd, and when Brig's around, he always changes the subject. I don't know what you've read online, but erectile dysfunction isn't shameful at all. It happens to a lot of people."

"Shut up, please!" he demands, revolted.

Erectile dysfunction? He's not sick! But Sam takes his grimace of disgust as evidence that she's hit the mark. She stands up and walks toward him, her face anguished.

"Jake, please. I know the mess our parents made with Rachel left you traumatized, and you don't know how to ask for help, but your sex life doesn't have to be limited because..."

He reaches out an arm to stop her.

"My sex life is perfectly fine, thank you," he cuts her off as calmly as he can.

Although that's not entirely true because he doesn't have a sex life, nor does he want one. Brig does, and he thoroughly enjoys the associated filth. Sam, who hadn't seen him for eleven years but before that was his twin in all but blood, realizes he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"No. You're lying to me. I can see it in your eyes. What's wrong, Jake?" She frowns, thinking. "Was it Maki?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jake doesn't understand. What does Sam know about Maki? What happened at Maki's is classified. Their parents wouldn't have dared to... But she keeps babbling, determined.

"It doesn't matter what happened. You don't have to be a genius to know it had something to do with airplanes and left you feeling bad. Post-traumatic stress disorder manifests itself in many ways, Jake. We can help, okay? Icepá will put you with the best psychiatrist in the Navy, even get you permission to see a civilian specialist, if you want. You know he's always been willing to do anything for you."

"Sam, no, Brig and I..."

Her sister's face twists with rage.

"Well, that's just peachy! Did he tell you he didn't care? That he still loved you? He took advantage of you! And now he wants to force you to adopt. I don't care that he's Uncle Wolf and Uncle Hollywood's son. He'll hear me! Just wait until our parents find out."

Jake stares at her, eyes wide open. What's going on? He knew about his cekpápi's protectiveness, that the whole family believes he's vulnerable to toxic relationships—because of his trauma, of course—but to think Brig would do something like that is... absurd. Bradley stayed by his side all these years to prevent it. Right?

"Sam, stop it!" he almost shouts to silence her, then tries to reason. "It's not that."

"Oh no? So what is it?"

Jake presses his lips together. She smiles triumphantly, but her eyes are sad.

"Tell me the truth, little brother. Please?"

Tell me the truth, little brother? How old are they, twelve? Jake feels rage suddenly rise in his mouth like bile. What's wrong with Sam? Why is she so obsessed with having a baby who's a direct descendant of Icepop? He moves to the side and gives her a disdainful look.

"I don't have to tell you anything. My intimacy with Brig is perfectly satisfactory—that much she can say without reservation—and it concerns only us. I can't give you a sperm sample, and that will have to be enough for you. Talk to Sean. Or better yet, use one of your eggs and have Cousin Dennys Eagle Bear be the sperm donor."

It's brief, but he notices his sister's pupils dilate slightly at the mention of her eggs.

"What?" He tilts his head, staring at her. "Is there a problem with your genetic material?"

"Don't change the subject! We're talking about you."

"No. We're talking about your fantasy of giving Icepop a biological grandchild and moving up the family hierarchy," he counters. "As if you need it," he snorts, pointing out the advantage she's always had over Bradley, Sean, and himself. "You're the only girl."

But she doesn't smirk at him. Instead... there it is! A slight twitch on her jaw before she explodes.

"And you're his only biological son! Why don't you want to give him this?"

"I said I couldn't, not that I didn't want to," he corrects her.

He lifts his right index finger and moves it from right to left.

"I'm not sick, Sam."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and I hear all kind of stupid stuff at my practice between the ignorance and the garbage they hear from Andrew Tate and his ilk. Listen to me, Jacob Raymond Mitchell-Kazansky, penises are good for two things: peeing and cuming. If they don't do both, something's wrong there" —she points with her index finger at her brother's crotch—" or there"—she raises her forearm to point at his head.

He is intensely tempted to tell her, but he resists. He is Iceman Kazansky's son, and he won't be swayed by mere provocation. He'll come out on his own terms, with the entire family present—except Bradley, in the worst case. Instead, he can take advantage of the unexpected opening and fight back.

"There's nothing wrong with my head or my vas deferens, thank you very much. But your insistence that Elia does all the work is suspicious. Tell me, Samantha Raina Kazansky-Seresin, why do you suddenly not want to use your genes?"

There are moments, brief moments, when a gesture, a few seconds' difference in reaction time, allows the trained eye to recognize the differences between the Kazansky-Mitchell-Seresin brood. Since barely a dozen people know the actual genetic makeup of the family, that kind of information isn't often used. Rarely used doesn't mean useless, of course. With what he's known for a few months, Jake can recognize the subtle differences that distinguish them when, like now, they're under pressure.

Goose and Carole's son: kind, optimistic, persistent, discreet, outwardly disciplined, yet skilled at bending the rules to benefit what he believes is the greater good. Growing up with two nurses, a military genius, and an aviator prone to insubordination made him lose all reverence for military hierarchy. The role of older brother gave him plenty of experience in mediation. He thus became the consummate peacemaker and cautious pilot everyone wants in their squadron.

After the impulsive attack at seventeen that brought out the worst of his Mitchell side and cost him almost his entire family, Jake learned his lesson. Before arriving at the USNA, he reluctantly became the perfect blend of his dad's calculating strategic mind and his father's performative audacity. He's loyal, meticulous, and has no patience for those beneath him in intelligence—like Iceman —or ethics—like Maverick. Above all, Jake can turn almost any situation to his advantage. It's no wonder the DoD gossip mill believed him to be Kazansky's bastard or the product of a cloning experiment. Until recently, that piss him off; now, it makes him proud.

Sean is a strange mix between Mavdad's desire to break boundaries and Iná's innate charisma. He was a cheerful child, a taciturn teenager, and a difficult cadet—yes, Jake paid attention to the rumors about Iceman 2, so what? His younger brother is the best proof that people see what they want because Sean has a loudmouth like no other, and he considers the rules of air combat as descriptions of limits yet to be overcome (Maverick) rather than ironclad instructions to guide actions (Iceman). However, where young Mitchell was accused of being "dangerous," young Kazansky earned the adjectives "creative" or "experimental." Then there's the movie-star smile he inherited from Mavdad and learned to exploit from Iná. Like Sarah, Sean is an expert at using his charm to manipulate and obfuscate. This leaves those who confront him with the (totally false) impression that they have decided on their own whatever it is that, coincidentally, benefits Kazansky the Terrible's scion.

Finally, there is Samantha, the little girl of the house. Although Sarah didn't have the character or the resources to let her grow up spoiled, her personality was always strong. As a child, Jake loved being her cekpápi. Sam couldn't stand for a snub from anyone and never believed that stoicism was the answer to her problems. She would get into fistfights with anyone or ask their older brother for help. Sarah and Tom worked hard to curb those tendencies, so unbecoming of a young woman of her social status, they argued. Although she eventually learned to deal with her problems strategically, there was always a bluntness in Sam, an instinctual tendency to use brute force, that distinguished her from her siblings. Sam Kazansky wanted what she wanted, and she got it: for Jake to learn Lakota, a Barbie doll, to sabotage the classroom's Thanksgiving celebration, to go to a tribal college, to seduce the most beautiful woman on the Pine Ridge Reservation. Before, Bradley, Sean, he, and Sam simply believed that she got that from Iná's obscure family or that she had spent too much time with Mavdad. Now that they know she's not just Sarah and Tom's daughter...

Well, let's just say the only shock that day wasn't learning Icepop is trans. The ghost of Troy Manning, Navy lieutenant and serial rapist, has clouded some good memories in retrospect. Jake looks back and wonders if their parents saw something darker in Sam's character. If all that effort to make her more traditionally feminine wasn't actually intended to prevent her insistence on getting her way from turning into a systematic disregard for the feelings or desires of the people around her. One thing is sure: Samantha Raina Kazansky-Seresin never accepted a "no" in her life. "Nos" are barriers to be taken down.

Until that day of revelation that united her and her siblings. Now, it distinguishes her.

Sam's shock was evident. How she took refuge in Elia—to whom she gave an almost complete account of the situation, minus the trans part. How she became more reflective in her interactions with their mother. There was suddenly an admiration, a respect, that she hadn't shown her since she entered adolescence. That wasn't Jake's problem until now. Not that he didn't feel bad for his sister and her iná, but he was busy processing his own identity earthquake: Rachel didn't exist, Iceman (who he had blamed for everything for a decade) was his dad, half of the goddamn DoD was right in the money. But it turns out Troy Manning has screwed up his life too because, apparently, Sam decided that, to compensate for being the biological daughter of a monster, she has to give Icepop a biological grandchild. Here they are, arguing about reproductive functions. Sam doesn't even try to respond. She just hugs herself and stares stubbornly out the window. Jake doesn't smile, this victory tastes like ashes to him, he just nods with his lips pressed together.

"We have the right to keep our secrets, Sam," he says reassuringly. "Talk to Sean, okay?"

She looks close to tears, and he steps forward with his arms open. She raises a hand, stopping him. Jake nods and turns to leave the room. But Iná and Mavdad (he's carrying shopping bags with the DC Comics logo) are standing in the doorway, looking at them uneasily.

"What happened here? What are you fighting about?" Sarah demands.

Jake goes to make up a simple lie, something from a conversation about their time apart that got too emotional, but Sam is faster.

"Jake has severe erectile dysfunction and refuses to go to the doctor."

He turns to her and can't believe her victorious, exultant expression.

The exclamations of surprise and horror behind him join the ringing in his ears.

 

Moapa Valley , Arizona, 9 am

 

It's only a four-minute drive. In fact, it took longer to buckle the child seat and leave the garage. Yet, it feels like an eternity.

"It's okay, yeah?" Brig assures him, looking in the rearview mirror. "We'll fix it."

In the back seat, clothes all disheveled and spilling out from between the safety straps, Dun Dun looks at him, face distorted with shame and pain. Their right hand compulsively scratches their left forearm.

"Stop scratching yourself, honey, or you'll open the wound."

He parks a little to the side but almost at the end of the lot to avoid being in the way. He quickly unties Dun Dun, gets them out of the seat, and, to save time, runs, carrying them in his arms, the few meters to Cutting Edge.

"Michelle?" he calls as soon as he crosses the threshold into the saloon.

She's organizing scissors and combs in front of one of the armchairs. She turns around quickly, her blond hair whipping around. She smiles at him, all business.

"Hey Brig , what's up?" But her expression crumbles as soon as her eyes fall on the person in his arms. She approaches them, face serious and determined.

"What happened here?"

"This is Dun Dun," his baby whines, face hidden against his neck. "When I woke up today, they were in the bathroom. They'd stacked two drawers to reach the counter and were cutting their hair with a pair of meat shears from the kitchen."

Michelle's eyes widen, her expression accusing and shocked.

"Hey! It's not my fault. We arrived twenty-four hours ago, and I haven't had time to install kids' lockers. Besides, yesterday, Dun Dun helped make dinner and acted very responsibly. I had no idea that…"

"You had no idea!" Michelle interrupts. "Men! Dun Dun," she gently places his hand on the small shoulder. "Dun Dun, I need to ask you a question."

Dun Dun turns their face slightly, looking at her with one eye. Michelle gives them a tender smile.

"Tell me the truth." Her expression turns mischievous, complicit. "Was Brig telling you how easy it is to cut hair?" She winks. "Did he tell you about me?"

Dun Dun pulls back slightly to face her. The uneven strands brush Brig's cheek, and he struggles not to grimace at the thought of the pile of hair on the bathroom floor his father was left cleaning up. He should be thankful they didn't cut off a finger.

"Are you Michelle?" Dun Dun asks with a shy voice.

"Yeah."

"Is it true that you were his girlfriend?"

She lets out a high-pitched, mocking laugh. Brig doesn't cover his face because his two arms hold the kid.

"He wishes. We're the same age, you know? And I worked here part-time during high school. He came in every month for a haircut and every week for a scalp treatment. He'd look at me like this all the time," she opens wide eyes and mouth and folds her hands in front of her chest, mimicking a puppy. "He could barely tell what service he needed. My mom would say, 'That Lennox boy is cute, but a little short on words.' Is he short on words with you, too?"

Dun Dun presses their lips together and thinks before answering.

"No. He told me he loved me very much. That's why I thought..." Their face creases, a sure sign crying is about to start again.

Brig gives Michelle a desperate look. She doesn't lose her composure.

"I know, honey. Look, I'll tell you a secret."

Dun Dun immediately forgets crying and leans toward her, eyes wide and expectant.

"The truth is that this," she touches the tips of the mutilated hair with her fingertips, "isn't a bad job."

Dun Dun and Brig stare at her with twin faces of disbelief. Michelle continues speaking with all the authority that comes with owning a hair salon.

"But it's a secret, you understand? I can't tell everyone, or I'd lose customers." Dun Dun nods, face serious and fascinated. "In my professional opinion, you did an excellent job in the preliminary phase. Now we just have to complete the style." She opens her arms. "How about you come with me and explain how you want the finishing touches?"

Dun Dun looks at Brig, eyes questioning. The man nods, even managing to smile.

"Go on, honey. She knows."

Dun Dun unclasps their arms around their father's neck and leans toward Michelle, who takes them easily. She strolls to the far end of the room, where there is a child-sized chair with colorful decorations and combs and scissors with handles depicting fantastical animals.

"Let's see..." she says thoughtfully as she arranges them, puts a cloth over their shoulders, and moistens their hair with a spray bottle. "I think you were going for a comfortable and easy-to-maintain style, right?"

Dun Dun nods. All their shame has evaporated, and they now puff out their chest proudly.

"I thought so. In these times when there are so many things to do, it's a very smart decision." She briefly turns to face Brig with an amused look. "Now, this is where you really need me. Here's a catalog." She hands them a folder with colorful images of children's faces in different styles, each protected by a plastic cover. "Take your time, okay? I'll be there with Brig," she winks, "to remind him that I wasn't his girlfriend."

Michelle's affable smile fades as soon as she moves away from Dun Dun. She walks to Brig, crosses her arms over her chest, and twists her lips in distaste.

"I have to admit I didn't expect you to fail so spectacularly so quickly."

He scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"So you know."

"It's a town of less than seven thousand people, Brig. Everyone knows! Did you expect to go shopping in Cappalappa with a child hanging off your hand who calls you Dad and no one but old Val would know? You'll be the talk of the church luncheon on Sunday."

"Don't you have anything else to talk about?"

She shrugs.

"Having a female president is no longer news, honey. You know the main purpose of Fyrosity Vegas Skytravel in Moapa Valley is to give us weird people to talk about."

"I thought our clientele helped local businesses?"

Michelle rolls her eyes.

"Please. Last week, a small group of your uncle's clients went to Pirates Landing. They wanted to order vegan, gluten-free pizzas. Gluten-free! Amy nearly had a heart attack right there. The people from outside... ugh!"

They both laugh, relaxed. She sighs.

"So, tell me what happened?"

"Honestly, I don't know. They had a run-in with a bee yesterday," she nods; she noticed the wound on Dun Dun's forearm covered by a blue Band-Aid with little gold airplanes. "While Leonard was treating the sting, their hair kept getting in the way, so he made a casual comment about making it more manageable. They looked panicky, and all I could think of was to divert the conversation by talking about you and how I used to come over every week during junior year of high school. I wasn't in love with you, mind you. I was just errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr … fascinated by your work.”

"Yeah, sure. Whatever calms down your super abrasive boyfriend. By the way, where is he?"

"In San Diego, putting together a nursery in record time. I suppose my mother-in-law is already putting child-safe lockers on the shelves in the house?"

Michelle gives him a sympathetic look.

"I hope so because you two are very into airplanes, but not into kids… not at all. So, Dun Dun's mother? How come you fit the one sailor stereotype no one expected? We thought you were gayer than Ru Paul."

Now it's Brig who's rolling his eyes. This super-conservative town's fascination with "RuPaul's Drag Race" is a paradox that defies political science. But this is good, he thinks. They'd better believe Dun Dun —he hopes they choose a more traditional name soon— it's only his. His brother wants Dunia gone, doesn't he? Well, it's best not to mention him at all.

"The mother isn't interested, trust me."

Michelle gives him an intense look. She realizes there's more there, but it will be useless to push further now, with Dun Dun just a few meters away, so she goes back to her client.

"Have you decided yet, darling?"

Dun Dun nods, pointing at one of the pages. Brig can't see which one, only that they look at Michelle fearfully again.

"Excellent choice!" The hairdresser's enthusiastic reaction surprises Dun Dun. Then she whispers something, and the kid laughs while nodding vigorously. "Let's go then."

Brig decides to sit down and grab one of the Vogue magazines from six months ago.

Fifteen minutes later, Michelle turns her chair around, flourishes with her hands, and bows.

"Tan tan tan tan! Here we have the new and styled Dun Dun."

Brig puts down the magazine, looks, and oh! A mop cut. Yes, an excellent choice. Michelle managed to take advantage of the uneven cuts made with the meat shears: she kept the hair slightly longer on the top and evened out the back and sides. The bangs soften the forehead, giving a bit of shadow to the big eyes. Since this cut has a messy and unstructured finish, it's androgynous. Between that casual bob and the T-shirt and shorts wardrobe, there's not much left of Dunia right now.

Other people who arrived in the meantime, including Cutting Edge staff and customers, turn to look at his little one. There are smiles and signs of approval. Dun Dun only has eyes for their father and awaits his reaction. Brig decides he needs to be very clear because he realizes it is a big step. He stands up, walks over to the chair, bends down, and looks straight into their eyes.

"Is this what you wanted?"

Dun Dun bites their upper lip but nods, eyes defiant.

"Well, you look great, honey." He holds out his hand. "Shall we have breakfast?"

 

San Diego, California, 5 pm

 

Jake doesn't wait; he turns around and is in his room in three strides. He closes the door and leans his back against the wood. This can't be happening! He can hear Sarah yelling at Sam, furious and shocked. He knows the distraction won't last long. After she's given his sister a piece of her mind, Iná will come for him. She'll want to know what led Sam to such a bizarre conclusion. How long will it take?

A knock on the bathroom door startles him. He'd forgotten about that door and Mavdad. Determined not to lose control of the situation, Jake heads toward the door, takes out his phone, and starts dialing. He opens.

"Yes, come in, no problem," and he goes to sit on the bed.

Maverick stares at him in confusion. He was expecting some resistance, but he accepts the offer, walks into the room, and closes the door behind him.

"What your sister said…" he begins.

"Is not true," Jake interrupts, holding the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing. "She misunderstood everything."

His father exhales, clearly relieved.

"So should I leave? Because..." he points to the phone.

"No, no. I want you here for this." Finally, the line connects, and he puts the device on speakerphone.

"Jake! Is everything okay?" Kazansky asks, worried.

"Everything's fine, Dad. I just have something to tell Mavdad and you."

"Hey, Ice," Pete says, letting him know he's there. He sits on the other side of the bed.

"And Sarah?"

"She's busy scolding Sam," his husband explains.

"Did your sister did something to you?"

"She tried. Don't worry, Dad, I don't…"

"Don't excuse her, Jake. What Sam just did was highly irresponsible. She betrayed you as a doctor and as a sister."

"Are you sick? Should I fly to San Diego?"

"No, Dad, I'm not sick. Sam thinks I'm sick, and that's why..." he snorts. "I know she did it because she's scared for me, okay? It was wrong, but she did it out of love. We know a lot about that in this family."

Pete clears his throat uncomfortably. Across the water, Tom grumbles but reluctantly lets out a strangled.

"That's the truth. So why are you calling?"

"Because what Sam misunderstood are real characteristics of my personality and I want, I have to tell you that..." He runs his tongue over his suddenly dry lips.

"Oh, Ice! He's going to do it," Pete announces, clearly happy.

"You think?"

"It seems. His face…"

An alarm sounds on his phone, and Jake sees his dad requesting a video call. He accepts it and looks into his eyes.

"I don't want Mav to be the only one who sees you at this important moment."

Jake feels his stomach drop, but he nods.

"Come on, give it here," his father asks.

He hands him the phone. Mav switches the camera to the back and raises the device to chest level.

"Okay, now tell us what you want, son," Pete encourages him, smiling.

"I'm asexual."

His father's smile falls.

"What!?" comes from Hawaii.

"Asexual," he repeats. "It's a sexual orientation, like being gay or bisexual."

"Okay," his father agrees, although he has a strange expression of confusion mixed with disappointment.

"What did you think I was going to say?"

"Well…"

"That you were going to marry Brig," his dad replies. "Please, Pete, give the phone to Jake. I want to talk to him face to face."

After the technical adjustments, Jake doesn't try to hide his surprise.

"Marriage? Seriously?"

"Well, you've been together since..." Kazansky furrows his eyebrows mockingly, "forever?"

"If we don't count your attempts in the most passionless fake romances in history," Maverick adds. "I swear, your relationship with Hannah Bondi on the USS Eisenhower was like sitting back and watching an iceberg move. What did you see in her?"

"Nothing," Jake admits with a sigh. "Brig chose her precisely because of how bland she was."

That does catch the attention of both men.

"Did he choose her?" his dad repeats, his tone carrying a note of hostility that's impossible to ignore.

"Ice, please don't jump to conclusions," says his husband, trying to calm him down. "I'm sure Jake can explain everything to us," but he can't hide his concern either. "Right, son?"

"It has to do with what I told you before, I'm asexual. I don't understand physical attraction, I don't feel sexual arousal, all that exchanging fluids," he can't contain a grimace, "repulses me. But when I was at USNA, I realized that if I didn't pretend to be straight, things may go badly, so I talked to Brig, and he selected a girl, Victoria Nelson. I even planned to dump her that February 14. Bradley's accident only precipitated things. When I was in Corpus Christi, I used the notes he'd given me to select Maya. That didn't go well. So when we were on the USS Eisenhower, I asked him to select the next girlfriend. After Maki, I no longer… I no longer had the energy to pretend anymore, and I realized that Brig was what I had always wanted.”

His parents look at him with identical expressions of disbelief.

"So, you and Brig weren't together since the USNA?" Pete asks slowly.

"No."

"But he was in love with you," now Tom sounds almost accusatory.

Jake feels himself blush with embarrassment.

"Yeah, I know. I wasn't trying to make him suffer or anything, I just didn't realize."

"Because you're…" his dad says the word with difficulty, "asexual."

"So you're not in love with Brig either?" Maverick tries to understand.

“Being asexual isn’t the same as being aromantic, Mavdad. Loving is more than groping. It's just that I don't…" This part is really embarrassing but unavoidable. "I didn't want to be gay, okay? I wanted to be normal, and since I wasn't physically attracted to anyone, I was able to convince myself it was just friendship. After Maki, I guess PTSD caused my internalized homophobia to collapse. Brig was all I wanted. I knew it, viscerally. I stopped caring about decorum, and discretion. I became so possessive," he covers his face with his free hand, "but we grew out of that, too."

"There's something I don't understand," Ice says from Hawaii. "Is Brig asexual?"

"No."

"But you don't have sex with him."

"No."

"So..." His face twists into a grimace of disgust. He rests his right thumb on his temple and rubs his forehead with his other four fingers. "You know what? I'd rather not ask. Just please tell me everything is safe, healthy, and consensual."

"Everything is safe, healthy, and consensual, Dad. Boy Scout honor."

"You weren't a Boy Scout," Ice retorts, but his words have no heat.

"I do have a question that I think needs an answer. Why does your sister think you have severe erectile dysfunction?"

A series of expletives and curses come through the phone. Jake lets him vent his anger before answering.

"Because she asked me for a sperm donation for her baby with Elia. She wants to give you a biological grandchild, Dad. Do you understand? I didn't want to come out to her by force. I simply told her I couldn't, but she didn't understand. So she took my refusal and what she called "absurd opinions about sex" as a sign that I was hiding an illness. Most sexual people believe that those of us who claim to be uninterested in sex are sick, dead, or lying. It's not like that, really. I'm honest when I say that I've never seen the point in exchanging fluids as proof of love."

"Fluid exchange? Is that what you call it?"

Jake responds to his father's mocking tone without missing a beat.

"Oh, Ice! The kid's finally getting married. We'll be able to cry at the wedding and all that."

"Uh, excuse us for being a little old-fashioned," Maverick responds sarcastically. "You're going to adopt a girl with him. We got married before you were born."

"And I married Sarah before I conceived Sean."

"Oh, yes, true traditionalists, you three. I don't know if you remember, but Brig and I have the slight problem of the Navy's fraternization rules. If we get married, one of us will have to leave the squadron. I think you'll have better luck convincing Sam and Elia to tie the knot."

"True," his father looks disheartened for a moment but smiles again. "At least we got a granddaughter out of all this."

 

Moapa Valley , Arizona, 10 am

 

As usual, the service is a little slow at Cablp, but Brig doesn't mind. Leonard texted him what he wanted, and he joined them at the table a while later. He's not short on compliments about the haircut.

"But what elegance. I almost didn't recognize you, Dun. Dun."

It's the perfect phrase. The gray eyes shine with joy.

"Michelle said I can now touch up my haircut once a month and that's it. I don't have to do my hair!"

"Not so fast," Brig tries to curb their enthusiasm, "you don't have to braid your hair, but you should comb it, sweetheart, or it will get tangled."

The idea seems to confuse Dun Dun. They lower their eyes, bite their upper lip, and then look back at him pleadingly.

"Do I still have to brush it fifty times each night?"

Fifty times!? Is that some kind of torture?

"No, no. You just have to use the comb every morning and after washing your hair." He sees the waitress approaching with his food and tries to close the subject. "Look, we'll talk about it when we get home."

Dun Dun nods happily and quickly digs into the chocolate pancakes. They finish eating before them, swallowing the sugary treats like there's no tomorrow, so soon they are tapping their fingertips on the table and looking around. Luckily, Cablp is a business prepared for that kind of desynchronization. Leonard points to a fenced-off area in the center of the room with toys and a small exercise bar.

"Go on, go burn those calories."

Dun Dun doesn't need to be told twice. They jump out of the chair and run to the playground. Brig turns his head to watch them. His father pats him on the shoulder.

"Come on, what's going to happen here? Do you hear any bees buzzing?"

Brig shakes his head, smiles, and focuses on his Costa's Western Omelette.

Dun Dun is trying to figure out how to use the monkey bars —which were forbidden in his old family—when two other boys approach him. One is blond and thickset, the other is red-haired, thin, and wears glasses.

"Hello."

Dun Dun stares at them, uncertain. He takes a step back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Hello," he says at last.

"I'm Troy," the bespectacled boy says, "this is my brother Arthur. Are you new?"

"I'm visiting. My grandfather is Mr. Wolfe."

The two children nod.

"The airplane man. Do you fly airplanes too?"

"No," he notes the slight expression of disappointment on their faces and adds, "not yet. You have to be an adult to fly planes, you understand?" he explains in a nonchalant tone as if he knows a lot about the subject. "But my dad does fly planes. His name is Brig Lennox."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. So what's your name?"

"Dun Dun," his heart sinks at their puzzled, incredulous expressions.

"That can't be," Troy replies firmly, pushing his glasses up with his index finger.

"What do you mean?" Dun retorts Dun and takes a step forward aggressively.

The redhead doesn't move. However, his brother Arthur takes a step, too, and growls softly.

"Dun Dun isn't a name. Maybe a nickname? I've heard that in China, people are called Pao Pao or Zhing. Zhong." He looks him up and down. "You don't look Chinese. Is your father taking you to China and wants your name to stick there? You'd still attract attention. You're white. Or were you born in China and given a Chinese name, and they just brought you to America? Did you learn English in China? Do you speak Chinese? I'd like you to teach me."

Troy's verbosity is unstoppable. He feels like his high-pitched voice and the constant questions he answers himself are drowning him out.

"Shut up! My name is Pete, okay? Pete."

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