Post by “The Better Man” Warren Kidd on Mar 23, 2024 14:39:19 GMT
Warren Harper and Dawn Halliwell arrived together at Dean’s rental property. Warren pulled the bike up to the front and waited for Dawn to dismount before following suit himself. Warren knocked on the door. Dawn stood just off to the side of Warren as moral support.
Dean answered the door and looked surprisingly well rested for the last time Warren saw him when he hadn’t slept on the plane before they had parted ways. Dean looked at Warren then Dawn, “Come on in, I guess.”
Warren gestured for Dawn to enter first, ever the gentleman. He followed close behind. Dean shut the door behind them. Dean led Dawn to the living room, where Damien sat on the edge of sleep, barely paying attention to the educational program on the television. Bluey saw Warren and barked, startling Damien awake, who got up quick as a whip and practically jumped into Warren’s embrace.
“Dad! Have you come to take us home?”
“Not yet, kiddo,” Warren hugged Damien tight and kissed him on the cheek. “Your daddy and I just have a few more grown up things to sort out first, okay?”
“Okay,” Damien frowned, “I just miss you, Bluey does too.”
Bluey barked as if to back up Damien, Warren dropped to a knee to set Damien back down and pet the dog.
“See?”
“I know, I miss you too,” Warren said. “But Dawn is here to look after you whilst Daddy and I talk, okay? Be good.”
“I always am,” Damien said, proudly.
Dawn took her cue to lead both Damien and his beloved Blue Heeler puppy back to the couch, whilst promising Damien they’d watch something much more fun than whatever Dean had put on for him. Dean seemed uninterested in engaging Dawn on the matter and simply invited Warren to follow him through to the kitchen, so they could talk.
Dean left the kitchen door open just enough so he could keep an eye on Damien himself. As good and trustworthy as his sister was, Warren couldn’t fault Dean for being extra protective, especially after recent revelations. Warren afforded Dean the good grace to sit at the kitchen table without obstructing Dean’s view of Damien.
“I assume this isn’t a social visit.” Dean sipped some coffee out of a ‘Cheers, Queers’ mug that was far too tacky and cringey for Warren’s tastes. Warren preferred not to have his sexuality marketed back to him so distastefully. “Sorry, did we have something scheduled for today? I can barely keep track of what day it is since we got back, damn sleeping pills hit like a truck.”
“No, we didn’t have anything scheduled,” Warren said. “But, Damien is why I’m here. Well, his future anyway.” Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out the second copy of the legal letter and slid it across the table to Dean. “Consider this me trying to make up for never legally adopting the kiddo.”
Dean took the paper and scanned it quickly, “I assume into the account I setup with Maxine’s funds for college?”
Warren nodded solemnly, “Figured that made the most sense.”
“Do I need to sign it?” Dean asked looking over the letter at Warren, “Or is it something you don’t need my consent for?”
“I took care of everything so it’s a smooth and stress free transfer as possible,” Warren said. “The only thing that would prevent the automatic deposits starting on the date shown would be if you or Dawn legally contested my wishes.”
Dean glanced quickly across Warren’s shoulder, a quick visual check on Dawn and Damien in the living room and then back to Warren, “Are you dying?”
“”Not that I know of,” Warren said. “Just trying to make up for some things I’ve let slide for too long in our relationship, such as it is.”
“Look, if this is about Uriel or trying to make up for some twisted feeling of guilt, please don't bother. Damien and I are fine, I’ve never asked for your money because I’ve never needed it, I still don’t.” Dean took the letter and set it to the side with some other legal papers.
Filing for divorce already, most likely, Warren thought though he knew better than to say it out loud. They’d only end up fighting again and Warren was much too mentally and physically exhausted to deal with that right now. Though part of him felt hurt that since coming here, neither Warren nor Dawn had been offered anything close to the usual pleasantries. No offers of food or drink or anything. Clearly then, Dean wanted Warren gone as quickly as possible. At his most charitable, Warren could probably excuse it all as a direct consequence of Dean knocking himself out with sleeping pills, but deep in his heart, Warren knew there was something more to his husband’s coldness than that.
“This has absolutely fucking nothing to do with that slimy cunt,” Warren insisted. “This is something I had in the works before our trip to Scotland, I just couldn’t bring it up there, not with all the shit going on. I promised Max that Damien would always be taken care of, this is me trying to ensure that.”
“Okay. I won’t contest it.” Dean shrugged, “Anything else you needed or was that it?”
“Nah, basically that was it, yeah,” Warren said. “If you’re busy, Dawn and I can leave.”
“I’m not busy. It’s a lazy day for us.” Dean looked down at the coffee momentarily, and Warren weighed his options as he watched Dean sip. “Just wasn’t sure if you had anything else we needed to talk about.”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Warren said. “Unless there was something pressing thatyou wanted to discuss?”
“Damien wants a bouncy castle for his birthday. Wants to invite all his friends from the groups he’s in and stuff. What do you think?”
“I think that so long as he is happy and making friends, that’s all that should matter. You should totally let him have it, if you don’t, I will.”
“Wasn’t sure if he was getting two birthday parties this year is all. I don’t want to force you to be there for the one I’m doing so figured I’d ask. Maybe you’d prefer less kids running around, hopped up on sugar.”
“Sweetness, I have no plans. Besides, as his father, you should absolutely have priority on any party planning. And, kids running around out of their minds is what kids should do,” Warren smiled. “Anything that helps Damien feel like a regular kid, I’m behind completely. It’s not healthy just watching Bluey on a screen all day. Part of the reason I got him a dog was to encourage him to be more active and engaged with the world around him.”
“I know, we have been,” Dean nodded, and moved to the sink to busy himself with washing the mug, anything to avoid looking at him too long, Warren knew. An abrupt change of subject would follow. “Been a busy week. How are you doing?”
“Honestly? I don’t fucking know anymore, just trying to take it one day at a time, I guess.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Dean answered the door and looked surprisingly well rested for the last time Warren saw him when he hadn’t slept on the plane before they had parted ways. Dean looked at Warren then Dawn, “Come on in, I guess.”
Warren gestured for Dawn to enter first, ever the gentleman. He followed close behind. Dean shut the door behind them. Dean led Dawn to the living room, where Damien sat on the edge of sleep, barely paying attention to the educational program on the television. Bluey saw Warren and barked, startling Damien awake, who got up quick as a whip and practically jumped into Warren’s embrace.
“Dad! Have you come to take us home?”
“Not yet, kiddo,” Warren hugged Damien tight and kissed him on the cheek. “Your daddy and I just have a few more grown up things to sort out first, okay?”
“Okay,” Damien frowned, “I just miss you, Bluey does too.”
Bluey barked as if to back up Damien, Warren dropped to a knee to set Damien back down and pet the dog.
“See?”
“I know, I miss you too,” Warren said. “But Dawn is here to look after you whilst Daddy and I talk, okay? Be good.”
“I always am,” Damien said, proudly.
Dawn took her cue to lead both Damien and his beloved Blue Heeler puppy back to the couch, whilst promising Damien they’d watch something much more fun than whatever Dean had put on for him. Dean seemed uninterested in engaging Dawn on the matter and simply invited Warren to follow him through to the kitchen, so they could talk.
Dean left the kitchen door open just enough so he could keep an eye on Damien himself. As good and trustworthy as his sister was, Warren couldn’t fault Dean for being extra protective, especially after recent revelations. Warren afforded Dean the good grace to sit at the kitchen table without obstructing Dean’s view of Damien.
“I assume this isn’t a social visit.” Dean sipped some coffee out of a ‘Cheers, Queers’ mug that was far too tacky and cringey for Warren’s tastes. Warren preferred not to have his sexuality marketed back to him so distastefully. “Sorry, did we have something scheduled for today? I can barely keep track of what day it is since we got back, damn sleeping pills hit like a truck.”
“No, we didn’t have anything scheduled,” Warren said. “But, Damien is why I’m here. Well, his future anyway.” Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out the second copy of the legal letter and slid it across the table to Dean. “Consider this me trying to make up for never legally adopting the kiddo.”
Dean took the paper and scanned it quickly, “I assume into the account I setup with Maxine’s funds for college?”
Warren nodded solemnly, “Figured that made the most sense.”
“Do I need to sign it?” Dean asked looking over the letter at Warren, “Or is it something you don’t need my consent for?”
“I took care of everything so it’s a smooth and stress free transfer as possible,” Warren said. “The only thing that would prevent the automatic deposits starting on the date shown would be if you or Dawn legally contested my wishes.”
Dean glanced quickly across Warren’s shoulder, a quick visual check on Dawn and Damien in the living room and then back to Warren, “Are you dying?”
“”Not that I know of,” Warren said. “Just trying to make up for some things I’ve let slide for too long in our relationship, such as it is.”
“Look, if this is about Uriel or trying to make up for some twisted feeling of guilt, please don't bother. Damien and I are fine, I’ve never asked for your money because I’ve never needed it, I still don’t.” Dean took the letter and set it to the side with some other legal papers.
Filing for divorce already, most likely, Warren thought though he knew better than to say it out loud. They’d only end up fighting again and Warren was much too mentally and physically exhausted to deal with that right now. Though part of him felt hurt that since coming here, neither Warren nor Dawn had been offered anything close to the usual pleasantries. No offers of food or drink or anything. Clearly then, Dean wanted Warren gone as quickly as possible. At his most charitable, Warren could probably excuse it all as a direct consequence of Dean knocking himself out with sleeping pills, but deep in his heart, Warren knew there was something more to his husband’s coldness than that.
“This has absolutely fucking nothing to do with that slimy cunt,” Warren insisted. “This is something I had in the works before our trip to Scotland, I just couldn’t bring it up there, not with all the shit going on. I promised Max that Damien would always be taken care of, this is me trying to ensure that.”
“Okay. I won’t contest it.” Dean shrugged, “Anything else you needed or was that it?”
“Nah, basically that was it, yeah,” Warren said. “If you’re busy, Dawn and I can leave.”
“I’m not busy. It’s a lazy day for us.” Dean looked down at the coffee momentarily, and Warren weighed his options as he watched Dean sip. “Just wasn’t sure if you had anything else we needed to talk about.”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Warren said. “Unless there was something pressing thatyou wanted to discuss?”
“Damien wants a bouncy castle for his birthday. Wants to invite all his friends from the groups he’s in and stuff. What do you think?”
“I think that so long as he is happy and making friends, that’s all that should matter. You should totally let him have it, if you don’t, I will.”
“Wasn’t sure if he was getting two birthday parties this year is all. I don’t want to force you to be there for the one I’m doing so figured I’d ask. Maybe you’d prefer less kids running around, hopped up on sugar.”
“Sweetness, I have no plans. Besides, as his father, you should absolutely have priority on any party planning. And, kids running around out of their minds is what kids should do,” Warren smiled. “Anything that helps Damien feel like a regular kid, I’m behind completely. It’s not healthy just watching Bluey on a screen all day. Part of the reason I got him a dog was to encourage him to be more active and engaged with the world around him.”
“I know, we have been,” Dean nodded, and moved to the sink to busy himself with washing the mug, anything to avoid looking at him too long, Warren knew. An abrupt change of subject would follow. “Been a busy week. How are you doing?”
“Honestly? I don’t fucking know anymore, just trying to take it one day at a time, I guess.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
~~~
A black leather jacket clad Warren Harper stood in front of his prized grey and red Suzuki Hayabusa sports motorcycle, arms folded across his chest.
Liberation.
Trust me there’s no other feeling in the world quite like it. Not that many of you have the first fucking clue what I’m talking about. Damn near all of you were born with the privilege and most of you live your entire pathetic little lives abusing it rather than cherishing it. You consider your freedoms to be God given. You expect liberty to be a basic human right, but none of you are as intimately acquainted with the notion of your right to exist as your own fucking person in this world being constantly challenged.
If not outright fucking violated.
This won’t be the first nor the last Roulette match where the odds are against me.
That is kind of the whole fucking point here isn’t it, fight the odds and survive.
For most of you over privileged assholes, that is a most infrequent occurrence in your day to day existence in this world, but for me it’s always been something of a way of life. Most days are a struggle to survive and a fight against constantly rising tides, and it’s been that way for me for as long as I can ever fucking remember. I wish I could say it all stemmed from my being queer, but the truth is that my fight to belong began long before my sexuality was known to me or anybody else.
My bastard stepfather told me I didn’t belong in his family.
My biological father told me I don’t belong in his industry.
Swathes of society told me I don’t belong here.
And at High Stakes, twenty-nine of you will try once again to tell me I don’t belong in the main event of the biggest show of the year. Hell, my win-loss record against Dean Harper being what it is, he probably believes I don’t belong in the ring with him anymore than I belong in his personal life. The fact is I’m no stranger at all to being told what I do and do not deserve out of my own fucking life. Everyone I’ve ever known and everyone I’ve ever fucking loved has had an opinion on where I belong in the pecking order.
Not living up to people’s expectations used to terrify the fuck out of me.
Not anymore. Not after what I’ve seen firsthand and the personal hell I’ve been through over the last few weeks. The whole fucking shitshow really opened my eyes and now I see things more than a little differently. All my life I’ve been relegated and defined by other people. I let them push me any which way they wanted, so long as I was spared the rod.
Their morality became my morality.
It was all a dreadfully vicious cycle, one I fell into many more times in my life than I ever fucking should have. I’m better than that, I know it. Now I just have to believe it long enough to pull off the biggest win of my life. I need to defy not only the expectations of each and every single one of you that have ever stood in my way in this business but also my own. As much as the odds are against the rest of you, they are against me even more. Where you all have to worry about overcoming others, I have to worry about overcoming others and then myself.
Nobody has ever stood between me and my destiny more than myself.
Nobody has ever stood between me and my husband more than myself.
Nobody has ever stood me and my World Championship more than myself.
None of you really expect me to pull it off this year. None of you expect me to finally go all the way and finally win the match that I’ve been a staple of at least half a dozen times in my career. I haven’t every other year I’ve featured, after all, so why should things be any different this time around?
Maybe when all is said and done, they really won’t be.
But I owe it to myself to try, really fucking try.
By all means please continue to underestimate me and count me out, because this year I won’t be a slave to anybody’s expectations, least of all my fucking own.
By all means please continue to underestimate me and count me out, because this year I won’t be a slave to anybody’s expectations, least of all my fucking own.
This year I set myself free, truly free.
This year I stand as my own man, for the first time in my life.
This year I fucking soar, alone.
Alone together, with my dearly beloved husband.
One more time.
One more time.
One last time.
Will we live happily ever after?
Not bloody likely.
Sorry, Sweetness.
Well howdy there pardner.