Yestin has finally decided that romance was hard.

In fairness, it wasn’t really his idea to go on speed dating. More accurately, he just walked into his house one day and suddenly he had his sixteen year old son dragging him all over the room to make him look, quote unquote ‘the DILF you were born to be’.

So after thirty minutes of impossibly skinny jeans, V-necks that increasingly got lower, and an absurdly excessive amount of hair wax, his son was pushing him out the door again, forcing him into the car, and making him drive all the way downtown.

Eventually, he found himself awkwardly twiddling his fingers on the table of some second-rate, pseudo-Italian restaurant with tacky hearts scattered everywhere, a half-baked name tag with his misspelled name on it (It spelled ‘Houston’. They didn’t believe Yestin was a real name), and a pair of legs that were starting to grow numb from the lack of oxygen flow. He has never been more uncomfortable in his life.

Arthur didn’t really know what he was doing here.

Oh wait, he does. Flirt, Fuck, Fly. The three Fs he lived by (just like in High School).

So maybe he was a left a little more than emotionally raw after his last encounter with his son. So maybe he was left a little needy after the repeated rejections from Greg despite his advances (He still had pride too, and it offended him to think that Greg denied him). So maybe he was just looking to use a poor gal (or guy, he wasn’t picky) to spend the night with (he may or may not also have no place to stay) and fuck all his troubles away. But hey, he was a free man; he had all the right to be as much of a coward as he can (Yes, he knows).

He wasn’t expecting much from speed dates, really. But Jesus Christ did this one suck as hell. Everyone he had met were either hopeless romantics looking for romantic candlelit dinners (he knew from experience that he couldn’t handle that at all), or desperate losers looking for a one night stand at a probably cheap-ass motel. Okay, he admits that he’s one of those desperate losers; even call him a slut, or a whore, or whatever you like; but hey, at least he was a slut with standards.

Bottom line, the speed date sucked. He didn’t even bother hiding his obvious distaste for it; slouched against the chair with boredom written all over his face, not even listening to the chick (Erika? Angela?) who was babbling on about birds. Deciding that he’s wasted enough time on hopelessly looking for a decent one night stand, he let out a deep, forlorn sigh, reached for his name tag, and crumpled it.

“Sorry, Angela, Erika, or whatever--” he said half-assed, standing up from the chair and stretching his limbs.

“My name’s Veroni--”

“Whatever,” Arthur waved her off lazily, giving her a lopsided smile as a sort-of apology. “I’m out, see ya,” he saluted, giving her a wink before proceeding to slide his way out of the two adjacent tables.

He was just about to walk out the front door, when a distinct crash drew his attention back to the inside of the restaurant. Then, something—someone, had him stepping inside once more. Too hot, his brain registered.

“Hot damn,” he whispered to himself, smirking to himself at the same time.

He didn’t know where everything went wrong; in hindsight, things were going great with Iris (she’s into HTGAWM, HP, and LoTR); they even got as far as exchanging numbers with each other and promising to call (Yestin’s not going to lie, his first thought when all this had happened was ‘my son would be so proud of me right now’). But then, Yestin decided to drench her in water.

It was an accident of course; the timer had just ran out for the two of them, and the two of them had said their quick farewells as they were about to change tables. Before Yestin left though, he noticed that Iris had forgotten her bag on the floor. Calling her name and reaching out for the bag with one hand, Yestin intended to return it and greet her with one last friendly smile; instead, what happened was the other strap of the bag had gotten snagged at the side of the table, and as soon as Iris turned around, the table flipped, the cups of water flew, and consequently drenched the girl all over.

“—I am so sorry!” Yestin said in a panic, looking around for anything he could use to help dry her off. His eyes landed on the table covers, “Here, let me--” he yanked on it, and realized too late that with table covers, also came the contents that were on top of it. Thus, spilling more water on her, consequently making her scream.

“Crap, I’m so sorry!” Yestin panicked, frantically looking around for something—anything that could make things better.

“I-I’m fine, I’m fine!” The girl stuttered, stiff from the cold of her drenched skirt as she tried to hold it away from her body. “J-Just… I’ll be right back, I gotta go and…” she motioned to herself, “Y-Yeah,” she sighed, not another word said as she made her way to the bathroom.

“S-Sorry!” Yestin called out one last time, guilt written all over his face before plopping back into his chair miserably. Thankfully, the staff had already taken the liberty of cleaning up his mess as he sulked. “Thanks,” he mumbled to them, giving them an apologetic smile.

“No problem, sir,” the waitress smiled back before finally leaving him to grieve.

“I’m a horrible person,” he mumbled to himself, resting his head on the table.

“—I don’t think you’re that bad,”

Yestin looked up in confusion. Then he just blinked. Confusedly. “—Um, hi?”

“—I don’t think you’re that bad,” Were the words that left Arthur’s lips before he realized it.

Arthur made sure that he made the sweep in when the going was good. Potential threat, in the can (literally), staff busy, everyone else too self-absorbed to give a passing glance to two men looking as if they were just having a friendly chat. In Arthur’s defense, he was looking for a friendly chat, just… with something more.

He greeted the male with a bold smile, though it came naturally given that the man’s innocent expression was so damn precious.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked with a chuckle, not waiting for an answer and just sitting across mister water-spill—Houston, his name tag said.

Houston only blinked confusedly a couple more times before nodding slowly. Damn it. “Uh…Sure,” he said.

“Name’s Arthur. Nice to meet you, Houston,” he outstretched a hand towards him, giving another toothy smile.

“Oh-um, it’s actually Yestin,” he mumbled, “Nice to meet you too, Arthur,” a slight tint of pink colored his cheeks as he shook his hand with a friendly smile-- Shit, Arthur thought, not being able to help the smile that spread on his face.

“Is your friend going to be okay?” he asked casually, not wanting to come off too strong.

Shame instantly washed over Yestin’s features—heaven forbid him to still look as gorgeous as fuck. “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t know even know what I was thinking pulling the table covers!” he exasperated, looking down at his lap like a kicked puppy and—Fuck, he wants.

“Hey, don’t worry about her; she said she’d be back, right?” Arthur gave a kind smile, playing it cool by slipping in another small chuckle to lighten the mood. The best part was, he didn’t even have to fake it; Yestin’s smile was that contagious.

“Yeah…” The brown-haired man sighed, and even in one breath Arthur swore the man was made of gold.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?” Arthur asked, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table, looking at Yestin fascinatedly.

Yestin blinked, “Uh—speed dating?”

Laughter left Arthur’s lips before he could stop himself; too cute for his own good, that’s what he was. “No, I mean, why are you speed dating? You don’t exactly look like you’re supposed to be here,” he pointed out with a smile. Not to mention how uncomfortable you look in your clothes, he added in his head; okay, that may have sounded dirty, but Arthur actually meant how ill-fitting the clothes that the other male was wearing. Although, the dirty meaning wasn’t that bad either.

“Oh, um…” A small chuckle escaped Yestin’s lips (no, Arthur wasn’t staring), a tenderness coming to Yestin’s eyes. “I, uh… Let’s just say I promised someone to finally put myself out there,” he explained, giving another soft smile—Jesus Christ, this guy was perfect.

“Sounds like a good friend,” Arthur remarked with a small nod of approval.

Yestin only smiled at that and nodded as well, “You could say that,” he chuckled.

For a while, Arthur just openly eyefucking the man across the table. From the mess of brown hair, to the soft blue eyes; he was just… perfect. Judging from the muscle, Arthur wouldn’t mind getting in bed with that too. Although… for some reason, it just didn’t seem right to flirt and fuck this one; Yestin seemed like a nice enough guy. Maybe he could take this one slow; he didn’t exactly do romance, but it could be fun. Plus, it could lead to great sex.

“Hey, if you’re not a piece of close minded trash, do you think we can hang out some time?” Arthur asked boldly, followed with a simple, yet charming smile.

Then came the confusion on Yestin’s face again, until realization dawned upon him. “What-- Oh, oh, okay. Sure, no problem,” Yestin smiled and chuckled, fishing out his phone to look up his number (No, he doesn’t memorize his number).

Arthur did the same, though much more discreet in hiding the fact that his phone was beat up as shit. “Here—Sorry, my phone’s shit,” he chuckled, handing over the phone.

Yestin smiled, “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled as well—music to Arthur’s ears—and handed his phone as well.

The two exchanged numbers, and almost as soon as Arthur returned the phone to Yestin, Yestin’s phone buzzed.

For a moment, that old confusion crossed the brown-haired boy’s features once more; one look at the caller ID though, and his eyes widened in realization. “Crap, I gotta run,” he mumbled under his breath, already scrambling to get his stuff and stand up.

“Um, nice to meet you! I’m really sorry, I gotta take this,” Yestin apologized—even in distress the man looked perfect.

“No worries,” Arthur chuckled waving at Yestin, “I’ll call, okay?” he smiled.

“Of course, See you around! Just… tell Iris I’ll call her later,” Yestin smiled one last time before dashing out of the restaurant.

Arthur watched Yestin disappear to the corner of the street, and with a content sigh, he let a triumphant smile creep up to his face. “Score one for Arthur Patrick,” he chuckled to himself, humming satisfactorily. Almost immediately after though, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, did you happen to see a brown-haired guy named Yestin?” A girl with a name tagged “Iris” on it.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at her, before flashing his trademark grin, “Sorry, hotshot. Brunette’s mine,” he winked at her.

For a second, the girl had confusion written all over her face, but as soon as realization dawned upon her, her face instantly scrunched up in disgust. “Homosexual piece of shit,” she spat, already storming out the restaurant.

Arthur’s face immediately turned sour, “Homophobic bigot bitch,” he scowled, letting out a sigh as he shook his head. Looks like I saved you from that one, Yestin, he thought to himself. Then a smile crept onto his face; now you gotta deal with me.

“--I’m so sorry I’m late!” Yestin apologized as he scrambled back into his home—he’d been apologizing a lot lately.

“The only valid excuses I’ll take is you either got a date with someone awesome, or had a very terrible accident,” Trevor mumbled from the ever-famous lazy couch of theirs. Despite that, a smile still crept on the teen’s face, looking over at his dad hopefully. “No but really, did you meet anyone?” he asked, eagerness written all on his face.

“Just give me a second, Trevor,” Yestin chuckled softly as he shrugged off his jacket and chucked off his shoes.

“You’re not that old,” Trevor chortled, smiling widely at his dad.

“Yeah, but I’m not perfect,” Yestin stuck his tongue out at his son, joining Trevor on the lazy couch with a content sigh.

“I doubt that,” Trevor snorted, sitting cross legged on the couch and angling himself towards his dad. “So?” The blonde questioned, looking at his father impatiently.

“Fine,” Yestin conceded with a small smile, “I met a girl, her name’s Iris, we managed to exchange numbers—”

“Yes!”

“—Then I accidentally drenched her with water,”

“What, dad?!”” Trevor exasperated, smacking his dad’s (muscular) forearm.

“Hey, that hurt!” Yestin laughed but let out a sigh nonetheless, “Trev, I really don’t think speed dating will work out for me,” he confessed, giving an apologetic smile and shrug.

His son let out a sigh as well, “You’ll find someone, I know it. We’ll just find another way,” Trevor said determinedly, and honestly, it just made Yestin smile. He meant well, and if this’ll give his son the peace of mind, then he’ll keep at it.

“Come here, buddy,” Yestin hummed, throwing an arm over Trevor’s shoulder and pulling him close. “I’ll keep looking, okay? I promise I’ll tell you if I find someone,” he smiled softly.

“Promise?” Trevor mumbled, leaning his head on his dad’s shoulder.

“Promise,” Yestin assured, giving his son a kiss on the top of his head. “Love ya, buddy,” he chuckled.

Trevor smiled, “Love you too, dad,”

Yestin grinned broadly, “Wanna watch honest trailers?” he hummed.

“Oh my god, yes!” Trevor smiled back widely, already scooting off the couch to get his laptop. Once he came back, he plopped back onto the couch and opened flipped open his laptop.

As they waited for the laptop to load, Yestin looked over at his son, and couldn’t help but give another heartfelt smile. That’s when he remembered;

It was a relatively normal Saturday at the Parrish residence; well, normal being having father and son snuggled up on the couch, cross-legged, going through their collection of DVDs with bowl of caramel popcorn between them. This afternoon, they were watching a show called Falling Skies.

Trevor was glad that his dad was into the same thing as he was. Yestin, Trevor’s dad, was just glad he could spend his time with his son. They both loved the set-up, really; for a long time, it has just been them against the world. At this point, they trusted each other enough to talk about practically anything.

Yes, it was paradise for the father and son duo that is Trevor and Yestin Parrish. Because of the recent discovery between Trevor and Bryce, however, Trevor’s been spending more time out the house than in (Bryce insists on hauling him everywhere). While he wasn’t particularly bothered by spending time to get to know his brother once more, Trevor was more concerned for his dad than anything else. His dad, of course, being the gentle, passive soul that he is, insisted that he was fine. Trevor would say otherwise. Then he got to thinking…

“Why aren’t you seeing anyone?” Trevor suddenly asked, eyes not quite torn apart from the TV yet.

His dad jerked, making some popcorn fly out of the bowl, “W-What?” he sputtered, looking at his son in bafflement.

There was a short silence, the blonde boy seeming to think about it before he followed through, “Yeah, why aren’t you seeing anyone?” he asked again, this time finally tearing his eyes from the screen to look at his dad confusedly.

“I-I, uh… W-What do you mean?” Yestin stumbled on his words, obviously flustered judging from how fast he was blinking.

“I mean...” Trevor stressed, turning his body so he could fully look at his dad, “Aren’t you interested in anyone, dad? I mean, there’s gotta be someone out there you like,” he shrugged.

“Uh…” Yestin swallowed, he thought about it, but didn’t really know what to say, “I don’t know, I mean, I just never thought about it?” he tried lamely,

“Dad,” Trevor rolled his eyes, reaching for the remote before finally pausing the movie. “You telling me that no one’s ever liked you, or at least got into you?” he asked skeptically.

“W-Well, um… Not really--”

“Oh come on!” Trevor cried, throwing his hands up a little in protest, “Honestly speaking, dad, you’re a good looking guy!” he exasperated, “Not to mention your heart’s made of fucking gold,” he snorted.

Yestin blushed red at this, “Language,” he flustered, only to have his son give him the ‘you’re not changing the subject’ eyebrows. Yup, Yestin was trapped.

“I-I…I…” Yestin started, trying to form any kind of coherent sentence, and failing. “I just… Why do I need to see anyone?” he finally caved in, “I mean, I’m already happy with just the two of us!” he reasoned out, giving his son a shrug and a sheepish smile.

For a while, Trevor just examined his dad with mixed emotions—his dad had done nothing but think about him first ever since they had met, and here he was again, thinking about him first instead of himself. It just… It bothered Trevor how little his dad thought of himself, and for once, he just wanted to do his dad some good for a change. “Dad…” he let out a sigh; worry, love, and gratitude painting his face. “You know I’ll graduate eventually, right?” he asked softly, “And I’ll probably want to go to those fancy video game designing schools abroad,” he added, giving a shrug.

“Well, yeah,” Yestin nodded slowly, confusion painting his face. He didn’t really see what the problem was here, as they already had this talk a while back. “And I fully support you, you know that,” he nodded once more, giving his son another smile.

This, however, just seemed to frustrate Trevor more, “No, dad. You’re missing the point!” he sighed, “I’ll be abroad. In Japan. Halfway across the world. And you’ll just be here and… all by yourself,” Trevor exasperated with another deep sigh, it was taking more energy out of him than he thought.

Yestin only furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about it before slowly nodding his head, “Yeah but… you’ll visit, right?” he asked softly, chuckling quietly as he smiled tensely at his son.

“Not all the time,” Trevor confessed, worry now evident in his features as he swallowed, “I can’t just hop on a plane and come back to visit you anytime I want; that’ll cost too much and I’m not going to bankrupt you because of it,” he shook his head, “A-And you can’t come with me either ‘cause you put your heart into the Café,” he croaked out, obviously distressed by the situation.

At this point, Yestin’s smile had slipped away, and was replaced by a heavily troubled, almost heartbroken look. He swallowed, head trailing down with tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he took a shaky breath. “I-I just… I-I didn’t think you’d think that far ahead,” he finally croaked out, sniffling softly as he wiped his eyes.  

Trevor swore that it was the exact human version of a kicked puppy look and—God, he was an asshole.

“I-I just… I didn’t think there’d be a time where you won’t need me anymore,” Yestin’s voice cracked, and what made it more horrible to Trevor was that his dad even had the nerve to let out a chuckle, as if everything would be okay.

“What? Dad, no!” Trevor cried out, slight panic rising in his chest. He immediately reached out for his dad’s hands with both of his and held them tight. “Dad, I’ll always need you,” he stressed out, voice shaky in distress. He didn’t mean to upset his dad, not like this. “I-It’s just that…” he trailed off, trying to find the words, “I don’t want you to be alone when I leave,” he whimpered, eyes glassy and sad.

A quiet swept over the both of them, with only his father’s sniffles filling the room. They held each other’s hands between them, squeezing and comforting the other in silent communication. They just stayed there like that for a considerable amount of time, before Yestin made the first move.

“Come over here,” he croaked out, letting go of his son’s hand. In turn, Trevor scooted close to his dad and wrapped his arms around his waist, head on his dad’s shoulders and soon enough, he was wrapped in his dad’s warm embrace too.

“Love you, dad,” Trevor croaked out, sniffling himself.

“Love you too, buddy,” Yestin sniffled out, pulling Trevor closer, head leaning against his son’s.

“You think you can find someone? For me?” Trevor whispered, just burying his head into the side of his dad’s neck. “I just… I just don’t want you to be alone,” he mumbled.

His dad was quiet for a while, thinking it over as he rubbed circles on his son’s forearm. Then, he smiled, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “I’ll think about it,” he promised, wiping his eyes on his other sleeve.

“Thanks, dad.” Trevor rasped out, smiling gratefully against his dad’s neck. “Love you.”

He smiled gratefully, lovingly at his son, “Love you too, buddy. Love you too.” He gave his son one last tight hug, before easing up.

“You think we can watch alien invasions now?” Trevor joked quietly.

Yestin chuckled, “Sure we can, buddy,” he hummed, letting out a deep, relieved sigh. He reached out for the remote and played the episode. They watched in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it’s one of those moments where they felt most comfortable with each other.

Yestin’s mind thought about what his son had said, and he was right in saying that the thought of him here without him was a lonely, and scary one. He looked down at his son, and smiled softly. His son was thinking about him, and how he would do, and he just felt proud. He wrapped an arm around the side of Trevor’s head, and placed a kiss at his temples.

For him, he thought, I’ll find someone. For him.

With that thought, he relaxed, the knot in him loosening. Right now, he can enjoy his time with his son, because it was the only—

“Hey, that guy kinda looks like the guy you’ve been crushing on,” Yestin pointed out, tilting his head curiously.

Trevor tensed and drew in a sharp breath.

Yestin was confused for a fraction of a second; then it clicked. “That’s why you chose this over The Walking Dead!” he realized with a big grin.

Trevor blushed furiously, quick to snatch a pillow and smack his dad on the face with it, “Shut up!” he whined, already red.

His dad just laughed, before holding his hands up defensively, “You wanted me to find someone for you,” he teased, which earned him another pillow smack to the face.