Permission to Join Your Family? (Chase)

Chase liked his outings with Jorge. Not only because they always seemed to entail going out to eat, which was novelty on its own, but because Jorge was cool. Jorge was fun to be around, and Chase liked the attention. He liked having an older guy who actually liked to have him around. And, Jorge was everything Chase aspired to be, at least in the boy’s mind—he had a cool power, which he used to help fight crime in New York City. Jorge, modest as he was, said he was just a cop, but Chase was fairly sure that he was a superhero. This was exactly what Chase wanted to be when he grew up. A superhero. But, he could also settle for being a cop, too.

Today, they were going to Chase’s favorite restaurant, the Chartreuse Bluejay. It was one within a chain of restaurants, with burgers, milkshakes, and all sorts of American comfort foods. They even had macaroni-and-cheese! And you could choose what could go with it! It was the best restaurant ever. The two were seated in no time. Jorge surveyed his full-sized menu, while Chase looked at his own, smaller-sized menu. He already knew what he wanted—a soda, and his mac’n’cheese, just like always. With those apples that tasted like they should go in apple pies, and a small bull of fruit. So, rather than skimming for what he wanted to eat, Chase had a crayon within his grasp, and was at-work on one of the many puzzles on the paper before him.

Jorge shifted his gaze, and the shapeshifter looked up. Jorge was smiling, so Chase smiled back.

>> “Now, I’ve never been here before, so you have any suggestions?”

Chase hummed, pausing in his puzzle-doing to think. He wiggled the crayon contemplatively, and gave Jorge the most honest answer that he could give.

“Well, I hear that all their burgers are really good,” Chase mused, “But I like the mac’n’cheese.”

Of course he’d heard that the burgers were good. Their menus proclaimed that they had the best burgers around.

Chase continued with his puzzle after he’d dealt his brief answer to Jorge, smiling faintly as he worked. Jorge was quiet as her perused the menu, but Chase didn’t mind. For him, it was a comfortable silence, and besides which, he had a puzzle to keep himself occupied. And, while more serious matters churned through Jorge’s head, all that Chase contemplated was how great the macaroni-and-cheese would taste once they ordered it and received the food.

Chase took a sip of the decaffeinated soda that they had already ordered, pondering over a grueling crossword puzzle. He shifted his gaze towards Jorge, and cracked a smile when he noticed that the detective was watching him intently.

>> “You know, I think I’ll have the mac-and-cheese too. It seems to have gotten rave reviews from you and I follow the treads.”

Chase nodded and reiterated, “It’s really good.”

The waiter arrived shortly, chipperly asking Chase what he wanted to eat. Chase shifted, giving a faint “um” as he redirected his attention to the menu. He was loud and unfamiliar, which Chase recoiled at, slightly.

“May I please have, uh,” Chase mumbled uncertainly, “The mac’ n’ cheese?”

“Sure thing, sport! What would you like to go with that?” the waiter continued onward.

“The… fruit, and the sweet apples, please?” Chase requested.

The waiter nodded and moved onto Jorge, “And what would you like to have, sir?”

>> “Hey Chase, ugh.”

Jorge awkwardly began to address Chase, itching at his head as he said the child’s name. Chase lifted his gaze, eyebrows arching.

“Yeah?”

It sounded serious, by Jorge’s tone. Chase’s brow puckered worriedly. They were only out to lunch, why would Jorge take such a serious tone? Was something wrong? Was something going to happen? Chase inclined his head, eyes flickering in confusion as his gaze met the detective’s.

>> “Listen, I need to talk to you about something. And, I don’t want you to freak out or anything, okay? But…would you mind if I asked your opinion on something rather important.”

Of course, the kneejerk reaction of any child, when asked not to freak out, was to do so. Because if an adult told you not to, that meant that whatever the situation was, it was freak out worthy. Chase shifted, setting down his crayon and sitting on his hands. Jorge had his full attention now. After all, how bad could it be? All that the detective wanted from Chase was his opinion.

“Sure,” Chase agreed, “No problem.”

His eyes still flickered with a melt of confusing colors, but simmered back down to their typical teal as Chase pressed-on.

“What’s up?”

Funny, how a little kid could be so matter-of-fact. Even though he was nine, Chase’s expression reflected the fact that he was now ready to talk business with Jorge. Man-to-man.

Chase watched as Jorge mulled-over what he was about to say, a fine tension settling in the air. Jorge cleared his throat, and the nine-year-old’s unyielding gaze searched the detective’s face as he began to speak. He began with Chase’s name. No cause for alarm. Chase smiled, made an affirmative sound, acknowledging his name. Jorge went-on to say that he cared for him a lot, liked the relationship that they had going.

“Me too,” Chase mumbled, not wanting to interrupt. He wore a small smile, which grew hesitant when Jorge said that he didn’t want to change things, but…

Chase’s expression grew quizzical, maintaining a decent poker face, yet flickers of orange and yellow, lime green, and black—the tints of inquiry, concern, and unease—were attempting to flicker through his placid blue, contrary to the best efforts of the child not to panic. Did Jorge not want to have fun, did he not want to enjoy the relationship? More confusion on the child’s behalf—was it supposed to be different?

And, as Jorge shifted gears, Chase’s confusion churned. Jorge really loved Gemma. Well, yeah—but how did that involve Chase? The child was missing the point, and missing it horribly. Jorge was beating around the bush, and Chase, as literal as he was, just wasn’t getting it. But finally, Jorge got to the meat of what he was trying to say—he loved Gemma enough that he wanted a family with her. Chase lifted his gaze from his hands, which he’d been staring at contemplatively, attempting to hide the uncertainty in his gaze. And you, Jorge added on, smiling kindly at the child. Chase smiled back, an absolute, relieved, contented dark blue taking over his gaze, reducing the typical teal to a rim around his pupil.

He wanted to be part of their family? That was it? For a moment, Chase had believed he was getting ousted, but no—Jorge was going to join their family, not break it up. And Chase… well, he rather liked that idea, except he was still, kind-of confused. Chase paused, as Jorge asked what Chase thought, and the nine-year-old rolled his lips together, searching for the right way to say it.

“I thought you already were part of the family,” Chase confessed, gaze shifting sideways in embarrassment, before looking towards Jorge. He was still kind-of missing the point, which was clear in the embarrassed expression that Chase wore, but he was also wearing a grin that was open and obviously in-favor of the idea, “I didn’t know you had to ask permission.”

What Chase had said was true, though—Gemma had taken Chase in and made herself his mother, without what seemed to be a second thought. And though Chase had at-first been absolutely horrified of Jorge—the gruff, intimidating detective of the NYPD—Chase had come to know him. Over time, he’d come to like him, and Chase liked him thoroughly. And, though Chase still called Jorge, “Jorge”, or internally, “the detective”, Jorge was still the closest thing that Chase had ever had to a real father. What more, he was dating Chase’s mother, which only helped to strengthen that connection, that idea. So, for all intensive purposes—at least, in Chase’s mind—Jorge already was family. Chase didn’t grasp that Jorge meant marrying Gemma, he only took Jorge’s inquiry for what it was at face-value. And, at face-value, Jorge was asking permission to be something that he already was. Part of the family.

Chase sipped his lemon-lime soda, smiling up at Jorge with those dark-blue eyes. Sometimes adults asked such funny questions.

Well, if that was it—Chase leaned back, sipping his soda casually—as Jorge said that he was glad to be part of the family, but he wanted it to be official. Official?

Chase sat up straight, watching as Jorge rummaged about in his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, and Chase sat up even more, tucking one of his legs under him as he craned his neck for a glance. He’d never seen a jewelry box, thus the tiny case intrigued him. What would you put in a box so small? Jorge opened the box, and showed it to him.

Chase went reverently quiet as the sparkly ring stared back at him, inclining his head at the thing. He was still smiling as Jorge clarified what he’d meant previously by wanting to be “part of the family”. He wanted to marry Chase’s momma. Ooh. Like, her husband. Which would make him Chase’s daddy. That made sense now. Or, step-father, whatever that meant.

That’s what he wanted Chase’s permission for.

“So, you’d be Mama’s husband,” Chase reiterated, “And my daddy?”

Chase smiled as he sat back down, fussing with his hands as he looked at the ring, and to Jorge. Saying that it was fine just didn’t seem to cut-it, or if Chase said he liked that a lot, that wouldn’t work, either.

Chase nodded his head, at least to begin with, trying to work his mouth

“Well I know Mommy loves you,” Chase mused, “And you’re already like a daddy to me anyways. I think it would make Mommy really happy. And it makes me happy, too.” Chase could feel his face heating-up as he spoke, a blush coloring his cheeks, “So… yeah. Yes, it’s okay with me.”

The nine-year-old looked at the detective before him, cracking a smile, as he clarified, “Can’t you be my real daddy though? I don’t even know what a step-father is.”

It wasn’t even a matter of Gemma saying “yes” or “no” in Chase’s mind. He knew his Mommy loved Jorge a lot. He was already curious about technicalities.

Chase’s response seemed to be the proper one. Jorge smiled luminously at him, which Chase only caught when he dared to raise his gaze. He then smiled back, not as broadly or brightly, but for once showing teeth, which was Chase’s equivalent of beaming.

It would be nice to have a daddy again. A good daddy. Chase was pretty sure that Jorge would be a good daddy. And, he met Chase’s inquiry with a very straightforward answer. It was good enough for Chase, so the nine-year-old nodded his head and gave a faint, “Yeah,” in agreement. That was where it really counted, was in their hearts.

Jorge was still all smiles as their food was brought to the table, Chase’s own plate a dwarfed version of Jorge’s, with miniscule bowls of fruit accompanying it—just how Chase preferred it. The two of them began to eat, though something seemed to be on Chase’s mind.

“When are you going to ask?” Chase inquired, his legs pin-wheeling absently beneath the table. Even though he was shy, Chase told Mama everything. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep his mouth shut.