Who: Johnny and Mason What: Field of Dreams and booze Where: Johnny's place When: After this
“I’ve decided I don’t like this movie,” Mason said after taking his... Actually, he wasn’t sure what number shot this was, but it had stopped burning, so that was a good sign. For him, anyway. “I can’t feel my toes,” he said as he began to snicker and tried to shift onto his knees. Getting onto his feet was becoming a problem as he ignored the black screen on the TV with the white credits rolling. He hated this movie. It was so... Simple and unrealistic. He understood why people liked it. The sentimentality of it, though, always made him nauseous. He wasn’t going to rag on it, though. It was Johnny’s favorite.
Flopping onto the couch, Mason let out a groan and took a deep breath. “But I do love me some tequila.” He wasn’t sure where the ice cream went and frankly he could care less. It was probably off in a corner somewhere melting and, no doubt, would make clean up in the morning sticky and uncomfortable. And not even in a good way. “Feel better?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes and glanced over at his best friend.
Johnny was drunk, he was feeling no pain at all and he chucked a couch pillow at Mason when he dared to say that he didn’t like Field of Dreams. “Who are you?” he said aghast. “No seriously, what kind of person doesn’t like Field of Dreams? Come on.” He said flailing his hands a bit, and bringing them back down on his knees with a loud smack.
He laughed, a huge smile on his face when Mason asked if he was feeling better. “Shit, I have no idea if I’m feeling better, but I am definitely not in any condition to care at all.”
“$10 bucks says that we won’t remember what we did tonight,” he replied with a grin, leaning forward - which felt like a chore - to grab the tequila bottle, and handed it to his best friend. Getting back to the subject of Field of Dreams, he sighed dramatically. “It’s just unnecessary dramatic and tries to play on those of us with daddy issues.” He paused and glanced at Johnny. “Or son issues.” He shook his head. “It’s shameful. Shameful!”
He still wore his smile, and for the briefest moment, he felt that old pang he’d always felt when he was around Johnny and he flashed Mason that smile and Johnny’s eyes sparkled the way they always did. Even if it was all in his head, it was enough to remind Mason of who he used to be and how much he hadn’t changed. While Johnny had gone on to become a hero, to some people anyway, all he’d become was a journalist who was still sometimes in love with his best friend who could never return his feelings. Shirking it off, he took the bottle and poured himself another shot.
“So, have you been to see him” he asked, raising his brows. If Johnny couldn’t feel anything, then this would probably be the best time to start discussing shit like men or something.
“I always remember,” Johnny said sighing. “Even if I don’t want to!” he laughed. He didn’t get drunk often, and when he did he always had a pretty good memory of what he had been up to. Even something as humiliating as kissing Max at the Halloween party. Urgh. No. He wasn’t going to think about that.
“It’s not a daddy issue conspiracy, that’s why it’s a good film Mason. You think it’s unnecessary and preying on daddy issues, that’s what art is supposed to do. It’s supposed to get you, pow! Right in the kisser, ya know? It doesn’t make it a bad movie, it makes it quite a good one actually. So look, your Field of Dreams hate just validates it’s place in the great movies of our generation,” he said a bit smugly.
Ah the son issues. Johnny nodded a few times very slowly, “Of course I have, like I would be able to stop myself doing that. I brought him some pie. We talked about home, we talked a little about his life. He’s definitely my kid, there’s no doubt in my mind. So...Yay?”
Mason rolled his eyes. He knew it was hopeless to argue the point with a man who, essentially, had framed all of his adult life growing up between the things his father told him, and this damn movie. No doubt, Johnny related everything to baseball and apple pie and the American way. It’d be charming if it wasn’t so damned old fashioned. But that was his Johnny, just a good ole country boy at heart.
Mason smirked. “You would bring him pie.” Not that he was any different. When they had left overs, he’d called Will over and shared that with him. Including pie. So, he wasn’t exactly the pillar of anti-farm boyness either. His brow furrowed, though, as he glanced at Johnny. “Think your parents knew?” His expression softened. “I mean he really does look a lot like you.” He grinned softly. “It took me a second when I first saw him to realize I hadn’t stepped into some sort of time portal.”
Johnny grinned and shrugged, “I had to bring something!” he defended himself and laughed a little. At his question he nodded his head, “If they met him, absolutely. Nothing gets passed my Mother, I’m pissed about it and all, but I’m sure she was livid,” he smiled fondly, “Well as livid as she gets anyway.”
“I didn’t like tell him, I didn’t know what to say, I mean...How the hell do you start that conversation? And what if he was underwhelmed? I have no idea how to approach this, but I feel bad with him not knowing. It’s like I’m keeping a secret that’s not really mine to keep.”
“So, you pussied out is what you’re telling me,” Mason replied and handed him the bottle of tequila. Truthfully, Mason didn’t blame him. ‘I’m your father’ isn’t exactly the best way to introduce yourself to a complete stranger. It has a very strange Darth Vader feel to it, and considering Johnny’s own issues about being adopted, he could see how that kinda shit would get to him. Not that Johnny was Darth Vader or anything. He was definitely more of a Luke Skywalker. Did that make Mason C3P0? God damn it. He hated this analogy.
Mason offered him a soft smile. “I highly doubt he’d be underwhelmed by you.” He paused. “Potentially overwhelmed. Or a general sense of whelm, but definitely not underwhelmed.” He tilted his head. “Can someone just be ‘whelmed’? I feel like they should.”
Mason could sympathize with Johnny’s uncertainty. He had a valid point. The boy did have a right to know, but how do you tell someone you know more about them and you had never met before? Wouldn’t that just increase the creepiness factor? “So, maybe you should be his friend first. Get to know him. Let him get to know you. Then maybe you can figure something out.” That wasn’t a horrible idea, right?
Johnny threw another couch pillow at him, “I did not pussy out,” he said narrowing his eyes. “It just seemed awkward having an introductory conversation and then telling him I’m his father.” He took the tequila and took a drink right from the bottle, because, well, he didn’t think he could get it in the glass anyway.
“You used to be able to, not so much these days,” he answered easily. “Underwhelmed is a fairly new word anyway. At least in the terms of modern language, it was more like a play on the term overwhelmed. But it’s used on occasion, just not often.” Johnny was such a nerd, there were no two ways about it.
He furrowed his brow, his drunk brain not exactly working incredibly well. “You know that’s almost worse. It feels like a lie, I don’t want to piss him off a month from now and be all “by the way I’m your father.””
Mason laughed as he dodged the pillow, but went serious when it was clear Johnny had his Serious Business face on. He felt a little guilty for being a little harsh even if he hadn’t meant for it to be harsh. Mason rolled his eyes despite the smile on his face. Johnny was the biggest nerd he’d ever met. “Today’s lesson on the origins of the word ‘underwhelmed’ brought to you by Mr. High Nerd himself, Mr. Johnny Copeland. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. He’ll be here all night. He has no life. But at least he has his books!”
With a sigh, he nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, but how’re you going to explain knowing you’re his father?” he replied. “I mean if he’s anything like you, he’ll at least hear you out when you explain why you didn’t tell him right off the bat, you know?” Mason wasn’t sure if there was a right way to do this. It’s not like there was a manual that came with uniting with a son you never knew you had. Ooh, maybe they could write that book. Make tons of money. Be rich. Wait, what? No. Bad idea.
“It’s not a lie. You wanted him to get to know you. You wanted to get to know him. Then see if maybe he still wanted you around. He’s going to be upset no matter how you approach this,” Mason said with a frown. Mason didn’t know how either of them would feel. Mason and Johnny might both be orphans, but Mason had the certainty that his parents weren’t going to be coming back into his life. Johnny and Jack didn’t have that. He didn’t know how they lived with that question mark above their heads. Except that wasn’t exactly true. Taking the bottle from his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the bottle’s neck and his thumb traced the edges of the lid.
Glancing up at him, he quietly asked, “Do you still think about them?” His birth parents that is. It had been a subject that Mason hadn’t brought up since they were eighteen. A) Because Johnny had been upset and making him upset was the last thing he ever wanted to make Johnny, and B) there was that silly period in which Johnny dropped out of his life without so much of a goodbye. Mason stared down at the bottle as if it were the most interesting in the world because in his head, he thought maybe looking at Johnny might break him for asking that question and having the audacity to try and stare at the wound he’d just burst open again.
“I like books,” he said pathetically. And he resented that he had no life, he had a life...Just a very strange one. “You can’t say I have no life when you’ve had the month I just had.” He added shrugging a bit.
There were good points on all sides of this argument. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell him at all. I mean it would be weird if I tell him now, it’ll be weirder if I tell him later, it’ll probably seriously disrupt his life. I don’t want to seriously disrupt his life, Mason. That’s messed up, besides, if anyone finds out about this, or finds out about me, he could get seriously hurt,” he was pouting. Tequila made him exceptionally pouty it seemed.
Johnny shrugged and shook his head, “Not really, they aren’t really worth my time and effort. I did, and felt sorry for myself for a good long time. But I had a good life I think, an awesome family and I think I wound up lucky in the end. I mean...Imagine if I’d been stuck with those idiots who didn’t even want me?”
“I meant your real life self,” he replied quietly, the grin washed from his face, “not your secret life self.” Except was that part of Johnny’s life not-him? Or the real him? It was a new question in the dimension of Johnny Copeland. Who knew Johnny could have so many mysterious layers?
“Disrupt his life how exactly?” he asked quirking a brow. “It’s not like he’s twelve with a mommy and daddy already in his life to confuse him.” Well, not literally. He had his grandparents, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like Johnny was going to swoop in and try and take that away. “He’s an adult now.” He paused. “On the verge of being an adult, anyway.” Johnny had a point, though. If Johnny was serious about this vigilante business, then Jack could definitely be a target. But didn’t Jack have a right to know where he came from?
Mason’s thumb grazed against the mouth of the bottle. “I still think about them,” he said softly. “You know, I can’t remember their faces.” His brows furrowed as he thought back to his own parents. “I mean I had pictures and stuff, but when I think about us. The few memories I do have and...” He shook his head. “Nothing.” He smiled softly. “I remember their laughter, though.” His smile faded. “I dream about them sometimes. Like sometimes for the smallest minute I feel like I’m going to open my eyes and I’ll be back on the farm and they’ll be laughing and making pancakes and my aunt’ll be talking about how hot your dad was in high school.” He sighs. “But then I’m 34 and alone.” He glanced at Johnny. “Get to know him. Tell him. Let’s not make him feel alone like we do sometimes.” Because as much as Johnny seemed okay, he was just as lonely as Mason was sometimes. Especially around the holidays.
“Ugh.” Mason took a deep cleansing breath and shook his head. “Enough of the shitty depressing thoughts.” He laughed and got to his feet, moving toward the radio and slipped it on where soft Christmas music was playing. “It’s Christmas!” He smiled broadly. “Let’s be happy for pie, and family, and...” He took a deep breath and glanced at the cat that perched itself on the arm of the sofa. “And for Timothy Mittens.” God, he still couldn’t believe that Johnny had named him that.
Johnny was far from okay, he was pretty alone most of the time and being away from family during the holidays really wasn’t helping. And for that matter neither was Mason’s depressing nostalgia and nothing really made him happier than when Mason decided to stand up and change the damn subject.
He raised the bottle up in the direction of Mason, “To pie and family,” he pointed the bottle toward the cat, “And Timothy Mittens, the great love of my life,” he said and had to laugh before he took another very long drink.