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Serving Time (Warren and Hank)


“Christ.” he mumbles, halting in his swinging so he can look at the now risen boy pacing in front of him. So basically, the kid had thrown a giant temper tantrum, and was now having to pay the proverbial piper. Granted, Hank doesn’t agree with the fit the blond had gone into, but he can’t exactly say it was unfounded. Fingers twitch on the chains of the swing, and for once he’s glad that he’d left his Marlboros 100s at home. He’s the first to say he’s not role model material, but with all the shit this kid’s gone through, the least he could do is try to be a good influence. Warren slowly stops his rambling with an apology and a sheepish look. The brunet lets out a shallow sigh and rises to his feet, hand dragging off the chain as he prepares to give his responding speech. 

“First of all, kid?” he begins softly. “Property damage is never the answer, okay? Especially not when you’ve got disgustingly expensive shit lying around.” Blue eyes fix the freshman with a pointed stare. “I don’t care how pissed you are, I better not hear that you’ve taken a golf club to anything other than a golf ball ever again.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“Society kids are assholes. I mean, look at me.” He chuckles in an attempt to put the boy at ease. “Prime example.”  He shrugs, and a brief pause follows as he considers how to approach the next subject. The junior ends up deciding he might as well just go for it, and he takes a step closer.

“And this is probably going to sound really weird, and yea, still not okay with his methods, but your dad might just be pushing you so hard because he cares about you.” He worries his bottom lip with his teeth. He’s starting to lose steam, and he’s not sure if this in particular is something that he should be discussing, if it’s his place or if the kid’s even listening. “I’m sure you won’t believe me, but trust me on this, okay? Thing’s would be a lot different if he didn’t.” He should know. Hank and Warren both grew up with fathers who were somewhat neglectful, one of the curses of being wealthy, well-known men in their respective fields, but where Mr. Worthington was trying to mold his son into whatever image he saw fit for him, voicing his disappointment if he doesn’t feel that the boy’s “trying” hard enough, Dr. McCoy would sometimes forget he even had a son. It sounds like an exaggeration, and he only wishes that it were. He’s still undecided as to which situation is worse.

“Look, Warren.” A hand comes out to rest on a slim shoulder, in a way that would hopefully be received as comforting. “I know you want to make him happy. But you deserve to be happy, too.” He gives the shoulder a light squeeze, hoping that the kid’ll get it. Lord knows it had taken him long enough to grasp the concept. Maybe Warren would be able to understand it better.

There was a flash of something, not quite kind in Warren’s eyes at Hank’s scolding about the golf club.  Warren had been pushed down far for his status, and being scolded by someone he saw as an almost equal wasn’t helping.  He looked up to Hank, he saw the boy as an older brother, more of a father than his father was, and yet not.  It was a difficult thing to put a label to Hank McCoy, so he didn’t try.  He was just Hank.  The problem at the moment being his temper was riled at at the surface, and pride was battling sanity.  Pushing his hands into his pockets, he looked away rather than answering, pressing his lips together.  

First step to working on temper, would likely be not yelling at the person you called for help and then unloaded on them.  At least he was thinking before he acted at the moment.  

Glancing to the other, twisting on one heel and letting out a sigh, he raised his eyebrows.  ”You can be an asshole,” He admitted, a slip up from the attempt to hold back that hurt pride at being brought down a few pegs by someone only three years older than him, but he struggled to rein it in, looking at the swings and licking his lips.  ”But I can be one too.  It’s why I’m stuck where I am.  I mean, yeah, society kids are assholes, like us, but at least I know how to act around them.  The kids at school?  I don’t know how to do it, like this Summers kid I have to do a project with.  I’m struggling to even find time for the project with him, what am I supposed to do with that uneasy silence?  He doesn’t even know what dressage is.  And he plays some sports of some kind, don’t really remember what, but hell, how do I even relate when all of my stuff is just me?”  

That was the first real lost look tonight he gave, other than his temper and being out of place.  It was where Warren really had issues.  He had training since he was a toddler on how to smile and be polite at parties and deal with adults, nothing told you how to interact with other children your age who were in class gaps. 

Warren’s gaze shifted up about his father, looking beyond skeptical, leaning forward a little and shaking his head.  ”He cares about me as his heir, Hank, he cares about me as who is going to take over his business, I’m his pet.  And I’m even acting like it.  I’m a stupid lap dog.” He paused, making a face.  ”No, I’m worse.  I’m a canary. I sing for mother when she asks, and I pose pretty for them, and preen and look perfect, but…when you take me out of where I live…” He glanced around the park, biting his lip.

A small uneasy smile slipped across Warren’s lips.  Deserve to be happy?  It may have been a shaky smile, but it was a real one.  ”I don’t think anyone I’ve met is really happy, Hank.” He admitted with a shrug.  ”I don’t expect it.” It was blunt, it was casual.  There was no depression in the words, just something he felt was fact.  

(Source: wingedmenace)