ÿþ Title: Fascination and Fear Series: Reaching For the Stars (4/?) Author: Kristin W. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from "Dawson's Creek". I'm not trying to break any copywrites.. They belong to Kevin Williamson, producers, the WB, ect. Song lyrics are from the band "Human Drama", which also inspires the titles Distribution: You want it? Take it. Just keep this heading on it. Rating: PG-13, slash Fandom: Dawson's Creek Pairing: Pacey/Jack Spoilers: "True Love" and all that came before... Summary: Doug and Mr. McPhee attempt some heart to heart talks Dedication: To all of the lovely people who have sent me feedback. It's nice to know that people are reading it... and actually want more. <g> *Note*: If you want to see what the boys look like together, here's an address for a very well done pic from Craww's "UC Manipulatived Picture Archive": www.crosswinds.net/~craww/mp/pj1.jpg ~I can almost feel your heart beating See confusion in eyes so clear The line between fascination And fear~ -Human Drama ~Fascination and Fear~~ Steady breathing was the only sound that played in the dark room, although the faintest chirping of crickets could be heard through the open window. Shadows merged together until only the outline of a figure was visable, shrouded in covers and huddled around a large fluffy pillow. Upon much closer examination, it became evident that a smile was permanently etched across those lips--very likely to remain until morning. The young man in question seemed the picture of contentment, something the observer had not seen for years...since their family had fallen apart. Mr. McPhee closed the door to his son's bedroom with a sigh, cherishing a moment he feared would be all too fleeting. They had to have a talk... but it could wait until morning. * * * * * * * * * * Even on the faces of the people you most love there's always that one expression that you detest. It makes your stomach curl up, your head start to pound, and your voice heavy with sarcasm. Thus, in order to avoid certain confrontation, any intelligent person will "head for the hills" when a face begins that familiar shift. And Jack McPhee was no idiot. "Morning Dad. I was just about to take a shower..." Leaving a half-eaten bowl of cereal behind, Jack pushed back his chair from the breakfast table. "I'll probobly be out all day. See you tonight." He paused and squinted as his eyes protested against the sun light streaming through kitchen windows. //Just have to get out of the house without a conversation with Mr. I-Just-Want-To-Understand-My Son, and I can still have a pleasant day...// Unfortunately, as he was bolting for the door, a hand caught his arm in a gentle but firm grasp. "Do you have a minute?" Before Jack could respond in the decidedly negative, his father continued. "From what I heard last night, you don't have to meet Pacey for lunch until noon. That leaves us quite a bit of time..." The boy froze, eyes widening in shock as his mind pieced together what that statement meant and all of the implications that went with it. Then his eyes narrowed into slits and the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. //How dare he?!// "So, do you listen in on Andie's phone conversations too? Or is this just a precaution for gay sons?" Jack's voice was like ice and his body nearly shook with fury, yet he kept the volume low and the tone controlled. Unnerved, Mr. McPhee took a step back and tried to think of a way to disfuse the situation. As the silence grew and lengthened Jack began to pace back and forth, ranting under his breath as his father helplessly watched. It would have been almost funny, the older man mused, if their father/son relationship wasn't so delicate these days... "It wasn't planned. I wasn't spying on you Jack, I respect your privacy. I happened to be passing your room yesterday and heard you chattering with Pacey on the phone. When you mentioned your plans for the day I filed them in the back of my mind because *you're my son* and it's nice to know where you are. You never talk to me anymore Jack. I'd like to know what you're up to..." "You could ask!", Jack cut in, expelling the words with such force that his father felt he'd been slapped in the face. "Look.. I..." The elder McPhee paused to collect his thoughts, aware that his response would determine whether they would actually comunicate *anything* this morning or simply release pent up frustration. Seconds ticked by on the clock, seeming to echo throughout the room, and Jack waited, surprising himself with his patience. //Why aren't I just telling Dad to screw himself? Well.. maybe not exactly in those words..but.. This is *just* like him!...// And then he started, freezing then backing up his thought process. //Why am I so pissed?// And he was. Jack felt consumed with anger, ready to lash out at any provocation. Violence was in his every breath. He wanted-no, needed- to have something solid under his fingertips just give way; he needed to destroy. //But why is this getting to me so bad? Ok, he heard me talking to Pacey. It's not like we were plottig worldwide domination...// They hadn't been discussing anything important, just casual conversation. But... it was different-this was Pacey. Somehow, even if there was no concrete reason, things with Pacey were *private*. When he sat up late at night, talking with Pacey on the phone, it was as if they were living in their own little world. He felt so free-he could say anything. In those moments Jack felt like he was in a bubble, his only tie to reality lying in the almost living object cradled against his neck. He could lie back on his bed and stare at the ceiling, not really seeing it but looking through the plaster and wood into the great expanse of nothingness beyond it. Concentrating intently on the lively voice, Jack would lazily play with a pencil or ruler, twirling them in his right hand.... And to have proof that this *wasn't* a safe zone-that it could be breeched by his father like anything else-made a scream well up inside Jack, bursting to get out. "I'm sorry." His father finally broke the oppressive quiet. "How about we just start over. I'll ask..." He backed off further in a gesture of submission and attempted a friendly smile. "What are you doing today?" Jack looked at his father disbelievingly for a minute, then decided that he too could make an effort. "Umm...", he cleared his throat nervously, "I'm meeting Pacey for lunch at twelve, and then we're going to take `True Love' out for awhile. After that...", the boy shrugged helplessly, "I don't know." "That's nice." Some of the equilibrium restored to the conversation, the older decided to proceed with his earlier plans. "I've noticed that you've been hanging out with Pacey alot lately." "Yeah, so?", Jack countered defensively. "Nothing." His father backed up quickly. "I'm not accusing you of anything Jack. I'm simply...curious... Andie told me what happened with Ethan." The younger man let out a deep sigh and pulled out a chair. It looked like he might be here for awhile... "So, are you disgusted with me dad? I kissed another guy..." "*No*" The answer came back firmly. "I'm proud of you son. It took alot of courage to go after what you wanted. I'm just sorry that it didn't work out for you." "It's alright. I was discussing it with Pacey and we decided that it was just a crush-nothing to actually do with Ethan at all. He was the first gay guy I'd ever met... so I channeled all of my wants and needs into him. I was in love with the *idea* of Ethan." Mr. McPhee was surprised but pleased. "It appears that you've given this alot of thought. So you talked it over with Pacey? It didn't make him feel uncomfortable?" Jack blushed. "Pacey's really cool..." "Sounds like it." The older man tried to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible. "So... is this a ...." Cursing the generation gap with a vengeance, he fumbled with the words. "... a `special friendship'?" Jack was looking at him like he had become a strange new breed of platypus. This was not going well. In fact, this was not going *at all*. When did simple family relations become so difficult? For one solitary instance he wanted to be like other fathers, giving their teenage sons the "birds and bees talk" and lending them help with romance. But now... things had been altered in the most dramatic way. And he never knew quite what to say... when to quit or when to push... And he couldn't pretend that he understood what it meant to have a gay son-or even that he was comfortable with it yet. But he wanted to be a part of Jack's life. He wanted to learn. And there's no time like the present... "I've noticed that...do you think that..." Slow the heart rate, take a deep breath, and jump. "Does Pacey know how you feel about him?" Jack stared at his father in shock, his face a mask of horror. "I...shit." The shock was so absolute that he hadn't even registered his involuntary swearing. //I'm going to faint, I'm going to faint, I'm going to faint, I'm going to faint...// "Sometimes...." The older man's face softened, as he latched onto one thing that he *did* understand, one thing that he could offer. "Sometimes, when you look at him, it's just like your mother used to look at me." He gave a gentle smile and decided to leave the boy in peace-he'd have a few things to sort out. "If you want to talk later, just let me know". And then Jack was alone in the room, soggy Corn Flakes on one side and burnt toast on the other, staring at nothing and wondering when in the hell he'd stepped into the Twilight Zone... * * * * * * * * * * Doug tried to mind his own buisness. Really, he did. Simply go through the routine: report to work, perform the neccesary public services, come home, fall asleep, repeat. He filled his days and nights with noise-music, meaningless chatter with co-workers, television... Anything to avoid getting sucked into "real life" again. Anything to avoid the stagnant filth that followed his father wherever he went, whomever he touched. And anything to not see, *really* see his brother. He *couldn't* watch, not now-not anymore. He had tried, but damnit... It was just so *easy* to get roped into the kid's problems, to find himself giving advice, to begin to lie awake at night wondering when it would all be too much and the kid would just snap. It always had seemed inevitable--that final breaking point. One day he'd wake up and the kid would be gone. Maybe not dead, laying in the ground as a far-too-late public play of remorse danced itself out over his grave...Maybe not even out of the state, having flown to unknown reaches of the earth and never to be seen again... Perhaps simply empty, a shell of a human being who had stopped caring and just decided he was tired of fighting the role this town had carved out for him all those years ago, perhaps even before he was born... And Doug couldn't do it longer-he didn't *want* to do it any longer. He wasn't cut out for this job, gluing the pieces back together and knitting up stretched seams of self-esteem. This wasn't his mess. The world broke Pacey, so why was it Doug who had to fix him? Yet when he saw those eyes, dull with bitterness and battered pride, he couldn't tune him out. And Pacey's buisness became *his* buisness. Because he *knew* that look-he'd seen it looking back at him in the mirror for way too many years to ignore it. Which is why, instead of sitting down to a nice breakfest of toast and eggs while watching the morning news, Doug was talking with his brother. "You've been busy lately. I hardly see you anymore-not that I'm complaining." He snickered good-naturedly, but was slightly disturbed to see honest surprise on Pacey's face. He hadn't been aware that his brother kept track of his presence. "Do you run into Joey often?" Pacey flinched in preparation for the stinging pain of betrayal in his gut...but nothing came and he relaxed. "Nope, it's not that hard to avoid the `happy couple'. I know all of their hangouts..." "I told you how it was going to go down, didn't I? I was right." In another tone of voice, at another time, from another person, those statements would have been arrogant and bordering on cruelty. But instead they came across as straightforward and almost caring. "Yeah. You were right. But you know... I'm kinda glad. It never would have ended-the Dawson and Joey Soulmate Parade. Now it's like...starting over." "Hmm... Starting over huh?" Doug leaned forward in his seat with deliberate casualness, but it wasn't fooling his younger brother one bit. He had seen the signs before-his brother was preparing for a predatory swoop. "Starting over with Jack..?" Smiling in satisfaction, he let the question hang in the air. "What?! I...?!" Pacey was genuinely rattled. Jack was his friend. And Pacey liked girls-and women also as the occasion warranted. //Ever heard of bisexuality? No!! Shut up! Shut up!// Sure, he felt very comfortable around the other boy. And sometimes that smile sent little tingles down his arms... But Doug was implying... //It doesn't sound nice? "Starting over" with Jack... being able to capture those fingers in yours whenever you want... having them paint pictures down your spine? Ok, so I haven't thought about it before...well...not really. But I've just been doing what felt good, what felt right...going on instinct... And it *worked*.// He could just continue to roll with it, run with it. Why not? "Yeah. Maybe." Pacey was shocked at how calm his voice was, like they were chatting about the weather instead of the sexual implications of his closest friendship. "Good." Doug relaxed against his chair, now satisified that his little brother was aware of what he was getting into and not wanting to completely invade the kid's privacy. "Just checking in. Doing my brotherly duty..." "Umm...thanks. I'll just get ready to leave then. Catch you later..." Pacey practically sprinted from the room before he could blurt out anything stupid. * * * * * * * * * * Sometimes the entire universe is against me, Pacey decided. //Hell, sometimes I think even *I* am against me// The sidewalk was overflowing with pedestrians, blocking his progress at every turn. The sun beat down hard, heating his cells almost from the inside. A dog barked loudly, causing him to jump in alarm then cringe with the wash of humiliation that gets buried deep down inside-ready to resurface later at the next scheduled "pity party". //Just three more blocks to go. I can make it.// An idiot on a bicycle sped past, missing his foot by an inch. Gum ambushed the bottom of his left shoe. And then, finally, the diner. Quaint, touristy, but not "Leery's Fresh Fish"-a definite bonus. //What kind of name is that anyways? "Leery's Fresh Fish"...sounds like a cannery. Couldn't they have come up with a name that possessed at least a minute amount of dignity?// Pressing both hands against a brightly painted door, Pacey slipped inside and spotted Jack almost immediately, feeling all of the stress melt away and his body relax. Jack sat in one of the booths, staring at his hands as they skimmed the surface of a glossy wood table. The fingers spread themselves out, investigating irregularities and gauging the texture. Watching the silent play before him, Pacey felt a fluttering in his stomach. It stretched across his insides and tied them in knots. And it was beautiful-it was butterflies. A fleeting memory--coffee, rare words with his brother that night in jail: "...Somewhere along the line you just lose the butterflies. So question is, little brother, what are you going to do about it?...Look Pacey, uhhh, in my experience you don't come across that many people with the ability to give you butterflies. You just don't." Perhaps the dork had a point-even if he *did* have a alphabetized diva collection... "Hey." Jack looked up, startled, and burst into a wide smile. "I missed you." The words sent a tingle of heat into Pacey's belly and he gave a grin of his own as he took a seat. "There was an equal quanity of missing on my side as well-you tend to rub off on a guy." A rehearsed speech from the waitress abruptly broke the fragile mood. Eyes returned to the surroundings and expressions turned serious in contemplation of the menus. But a warm hand brushed against Pacey's and settled lightly over it, once again kicking the butterflies into full gear.