Gil’s son was a complete and total idiot. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Malcolm a lot. But damn was that kid hard to take care of. Always flinging himself into copious amounts of danger. Never eating or sleeping. He was Gil’s kid though. Which is why he was taking him to dinner. The best way to make sure that Malcolm was actually eating something was to watch him do it. He couldn’t do it with sleep but at least he wouldn’t starve to death.
Gil glanced at the kid in his passenger seat, not nervous, just curious. He was looking out the window watching the world go by.
“An Italian place I found the other day. I thought you would like it and I want some company for dinner. You’re the only available one.”
“Because Dani has a date and JT is spending time with his wife?”
Gil huffed. “I know more than three people Malcolm. Just so happens that they all are busy tonight. That’s why I called you. You’re never busy.”
Malcolm pouted at him. “You never know, I could’ve been busy. I do things sometimes.”
The restaurant was a little hole in the wall and Malcolm was overdressed in his usual suit. Although to be honest, Gil probably was as well. Even in his slacks and turtleneck. Despite this, they went into the restaurant and were seated at the window table. They were the only people in the restaurant, with it being so late at night. Despite that, it didn’t close for another hour or so Gil figured they were okay.
They were served by a young Italian man who took their order for drinks and slipped behind a door into what was presumably the kitchen. Gil and Malcolm both perused the menus and Gil knew he needed to lay down some ground rules.
“You’re going to order an entree, and actual one and you are going to eat at least half of it. Then you are going to take whatever is leftover home with you and eat that at a later date. Clear?”
Malcolm sighed. “Crystal. I was thinking of the pear pasta, what about you?”
“Leaning towards the Fettucine myself.”
The man that came back to get their drink order wasn’t the same as before. He was a heavy-set, middle-aged man. He gave them a smile and asked for their order in a heavy accent. Gil cocked his head to one side.
“What happened to the kid?”
“Ah, that is my son. I sent him home to bed. It is too late for him. I’m the owner and the cook. We don’t get a lot of customers this late. It’s nice to have a few though, as long as you don’t mind me cleaning up around you guys?”
“No, we don’t mind. I’ll have the Fettucine and he’s going to have your pear pasta and an extra order of garlic bread, please.”
Malcolm shot Gil a look. He was expected to eat the pasta and the garlic bread? How was he supposed to fit that much food inside of himself? He never ate that much. Gil raised an eyebrow back at him. Their cook grinned at them.
“It’s so nice to see fathers and their sons going out to dinner, eh? There aren’t enough good father-son relationships in the world. I’ll get started on this. If you need anything, just yell for me.”
With that, he went back to the kitchen to make their meals. Malcolm felt a blush rise to his cheeks and couldn’t seem to stamp it down.
“You’re my kid. I may not be your biological father, but you better believe that I’m your dad.”
The blush got worse and Malcolm desperately avoided eye contact. Gil wasn’t having any of it though. He reached across the small table and took Malcolm’s chin in his hand. He made sure that Malcolm was looking him dead in the eye and then he spoke.
“You are my kid, Malcolm. That monster was not your father. I am. Don’t ever forget that. Remember that every time you fling yourself into danger. Remember that on your darkest nights. Remember that for you. You are my kid. Clear?”
“Good. Now, what do you want to talk about? How are your mother and your sister doing?”
“They’re good. Really good. My mom is working with a lady who helps human trafficking victims and my sister’s career has taken off. They are both doing well.”
The silence was interrupted by the chef returning holding two plates of steaming food and a basket. “Fettucine, pear pasta, and lots of garlic bread. Now, do you two need anything else, or is that it?”
“I think we’re good. Thank you so much. This looks delicious,” Gil said taking a piece of garlic bread for himself. The chef nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen. Gil turned back to Malcolm. “Half of the entrée and at least two pieces of garlic bread.”
Malcolm gave a sigh but started on his plate of food. The chef bustled about while they were eating. Cleaning off tables, stacking the chairs, and mopping the floors. He was in and out regularly. Always making sure that they were okay with what they were eating and that they didn’t need any refills.
Despite the fact that his eating habits were atrocious, Malcolm managed to eat more than half of his meal. He chalked it up to the delicious food that had been placed in front of him. Once the finished their meals and had paid the chef had stopped them with a hand on Malcolm’s arm. Gil had been ready to tear it off if it had been malicious, but it wasn’t.
“I know that the two of you aren’t related. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t father and son. Don’t ever let this relationship go. You both need it more than you can even tell. You seem like such lovely people, don’t let the world ruin it.”
And with that, he disappeared back into the kitchen without a word. Malcolm and Gil glanced at each other and left the restaurant.
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