Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2023 02:00:00 -0700 From: John Henry Subject: Wish You Were My Dad Chapter 16 (Gay/Adult Youth) DONATION: Nifty is a not-for-profit organization that heavily relies on our donations to keep the site free and accessible. Your donations pay for web hosting fees and other day-to-day activities for the wonderful staff of editors/publishers. You can donate on the website at http://donate.nifty.org/ Every little bit counts. DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction, and contains explicit, sexual content involving adults over the age of 21 and minors under the age of 13, If viewing this material is illegal where you live, OR you're a minor under the age of 18, please stop reading his. If you're not sure about this legatilty, please stop reading until you have looked into your own, local laws. Any likeness or similarity between persons, places, products or concepts are purely coincidental. If you would like to leave any positive feedback, please let me know. Thank you. Chapter 16 Christmas was quickly approaching, and I still hadn't asked Mom about going to Dylan's parent's place. I was enjoying the fact that she had stopped making snide remarks about my secret boyfriend, and I felt that she might start again if I did. In fact, I did my best to not bring him up as much as I used to, so I wouldn't provoke an attitude. Mom was also under a lot of stress at work. The holiday season brought in a lot of customers into the store, and sadly, most of them had bad attitudes and would take their frustrations out on the employees. Mom normally didn't put up with other people's shit; however, she needed the job and tried her best to move passed it all. I used this as an excuse to keep from bringing up the invitation. Unfortunately, I wasn't given a chance to broach the subject. "Had Mikey talked to you about Christmas yet?" Dylan asked about a week after my birthday, as we passed him in the parking lot. "No," Mom asked questionably. "Huh," he replied, looking at me. "Well, my parents throw a small get-together on Christmas Eve every year, and my mother extended an invite to you and Mikey. Is that something you're interested in?" Mom gave me a look that plainly said we were definitely going to have a lengthy conversation in private...and not the good kind. She looked back at Dylan and said, "I'll have to see what my schedule is like, so I'll have to get back to you." Dylan saw the silent exchange between Mom and I. He looked about as thrilled as I felt. "Okay, well, please let me know either way." He was clearly uncomfortable as he walked to his truck. "Oh, I will," Mom replied, giving doubt to her statement. Once Dylan was out of earshot she said to me, "When were you planning on bringing this up?" "I don't know," I quietly replied, as we talked toward our apartment. "You and Dylan were getting along so well, I didn't want to say or do anything to make you hate him again." "I don't hate him, Michael," Mom said, with a bitter tone that made me believe otherwise. "You should've told me sooner. Now, I feel like I'll be the bad guy if I say no." "Then don't say no," I replied, hoping to recover the situation. "Nana is really nice--" "'Nana'?" Mom said, "Who the fuck is 'Nana'?" "Dylan's mom asked me to call her that." "Did she know? You know it's another word for Grandmother, right?" 'I guess." "Michael, this is the kind of thing that makes me question your relationship with him." "We're not in a relationship," I hastily stated. Luckily, Mom misread my panic. "I don't mean it like that. He's a grown ass man who you're calling your dad, and now, you're referring to his mother as Nana. Don't you get how inappropriate that is?" "It's not my fault I don't know who my real dad is." I didn't mean to say it out loud. I have always thought it, but I never dared to say it. Tears welled in my eyes, as fear and anxiety kicked in. "Baby," Mom said, in a softer, kinder voice, "I know it's not your fault. It's my fault you don't know, but I don't know, and I'm so, so sorry that has created so many problems for you. If I could change things for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. However, this thing with Dylan isn't healthy, Michael. He seems like a really nice guy, but as far as I know he could be a pedophile or something." "He's not a pedophile," I said, not sure what that was but it didn't sound very nice. "He's a nice guy who treats me like his son. He's the closest I'll ever get to a real dad, and he's okay with that. Why can't you be?" "Because I'm your real mom, Michael. It's my job to protect you." "You don't have to protect me from Dylan." I held my tongue firm, as I almost said, because he loves me. "I know you care about him a lot, which is why I haven't tried stopping you from seeing him, but he's now throwing you birthday parties and inviting us to spend Christmas with his family...I don't know, Michael, this all just seems...off, and I just don't know why. I really wish I did, so I could sort it out." "There's nothing to sort out, Mom. Maybe you've been burned too many times by men to see Dylan as one of the good guys." Mom actually gave my words some serious thought. We sat down on the couch, while she mulled over my words. "You might be right, Michael. Dylan hasn't done anything that I'm aware of to deserve my suspicions. He isn't like the other guys I've dated and had around you, either." There was a long pause, which got my hopes up, before she said, "Tell your dad we'll go to the Christmas party." I literally squealed with joy and hugged my mom, which was probably the gayest thing I had ever done in front of her, which made her laugh. When I got to my room to send Dylan a text, I saw he had already sent one. "Hey, I hope you didn't get in trouble, but you should've told me that you hadn't asked her yet." I explained what happened with Mom and waited but got no reply. I assumed he was busy with Tiffany or something. Mom and I had dinner and talked about our plans for Christmas. The store was closed on Christmas Day, and since she worked on Thanksgiving she was giving Christmas Eve off. "We'll see your grandmother on Christmas Day, since we're going to the party, got it?" "Got it," I replied. We talked throughout the meal and watched some TV before I went to bed. I checked my phone again and didn't see any messages. I was concerned since Dylan usually responded right away. I took out the garbage as an excuse to go by Dylan's but the lights were off and his truck wasn't in the parking lot. I sent him another message asking if everything was okay or if he was mad at me, but I got nothing in return. I got as far as the front door when Mom stopped me,looking concerned. "Get your hoodie." "What's going on?" I asked, feeling scared. "There's been an accident," Mom said, trying to sound calm. "Just get your hoodie and meet me at the car. Hurry!" She added as I stood frozen. My heart raced as we drove to the hospital. Mom had been watching the news and recognized Dylan's truck in some footage about a small pile up a few miles away. I couldn't help but cry, and Mom just assured me that everything will be fine without invalidating my feelings. "Hi, we're looking for Dylan Miller," Mom said to a nurse in the ER. "Name?" He asked. "Clare Davidson. I'm his ex, and this is his son, Michael." The nurse did some typing, looked like he was going to argue but didn't. "He's in bed 330a. It's on the third floor, through the elevator at the end of the hall." We thanked him and made our way to Dylan's room. Fortunately, Dylan was okay. He had a mild concussion and a broken leg and arm, which was set in a cast. When we walked through the door, he was pretty doped up on pain meds. "Heeey, Buddy," Dylan said, reaching out for me to hug him. "Hi Dad," I said, fresh tears falling from my eyes. I gave him a hug and really started crying hard. "Shhh," he said, rubbing my back. "I'm fine, Mikey. I promise. I've been through worse." "How are you feeling?" Mom asked, as she took a seat near the bed. "Oh, I have no clue," he replied. I guess the look on his face was funny, because Mom started giggling. "They must have given you something good, huh?" "Oh yeah! But don't tell Mom! I'm not supposed to do drugs. Shhhh." I looked up and started to giggle. His eyes were wide, droopy and glazed over. Dylan looked very stoned, indeed. "What happened?" I asked. "I was on my way to pick up Tiffany when some asshat pulled out of nowhere and slammed into several of us." "Where is Tiffany now?" Mom asked, sounding worried. "She's with Nana and Papa. They just left a few minutes ago. They didn't have your number and my phone got busted in the accident." He looked very confused and asked, "Are you real?" I giggled and said, "Yes, we're real. Why?" He looked at me suspiciously and whispered, "Then how did you know I was here?" I leaned in and whispered back, "Mom saw your truck on the news." "Oh," he nodded. "That makes sense." "Then why are you still whispering?" "I'm not whispering. You're whispering." "Dorks," Mom said, smiling. "Like father, like son," Dylan replied, giving me another hug. Mom gave Dylan a ride home after he was cleared by the doctor who said that Dylan shouldn't be left alone for the next 24 hours. I, of course, volunteered. Mom agreed and said she'd call my school the next day. It was difficult getting Dylan into his apartment, since he had difficulty walking due to the cast and pain killers. Eventually, I got him into the bathroom, got his pants and underwear down, and put him on the toilet. Luckily, he only had to pee, but couldn't stand on his own to do that. While he was going, I took off his last, remaining shoe and sock, and started with his ruined pair of pants. The EMTs had to cut one of the legs of his jeans up to his hip to look at his leg. "It's a good thing I had on underwear, huh?" Dylan asked. "Yeah," I replied, smiling up at him. "I don't think Mom would've found it funny if your junk was flopping around on her car seat." "No, I imagine not." Dylan softly smiled at me, as I removed the rest of his clothes and gave him a quick sponge bath. After I was done, I helped him to his room and put him to bed. As I went to go to the kitchen, Dylan took my hand in his and said, "I love you very much, Mikey." There was so much emotion in his voice, I started to cry again. "All I could do was think of you and Tiffany, and how scared I was that I might lose you both." "You haven't lost me, Daddy. I'm right here." I leaned in and kissed him. "I love you so much." I went to the kitchen and got some juice for the both of us. I took off my own clothes and got into bed, too. Dylan put his arm around me as I snuggled against him. We stayed up watching movies and talking. He was happy that Mom agreed to the party and chuckled when I told him that she called herself his "ex," so we could see him. As much as sex would've been great, we just laid in each other's arms, with our naked bodies pressed against each other. Sex wasn't on our minds. We were too busy being in love and thankful we had each other. ***Coming Soon, Chapter 17***