Actions

Work Header

The Love Child Grows Up.

Chapter Text

THE LOVE CHILD GROWS UP.

CHAPTER ONE.

THE MORNING AFTER THE PARTY.

Dillon Flynn sat up in his little single bed, and switched off his alarm clock. Quite why he had his alarm going off so early was a mystery.
He had no job.
Not since he got the sack last week.

He yawned expansively and hugged his knees.
Staring around the room that had been his sanctuary since childhood.
All his things were around him, not that it amounted to much; photos of himself as a child, one with his mother, a snap of his dad, his home made models, records and cassettes, his posters.
In many ways it was still the room of a child. It never bothered Dillon before, but now it did.

Everything in his life was turned upside down.

A short time ago he'd been happily ensconced with his Gran. She was all he had.
It had always been just the two of them, for as long as he could remember. She'd stepped up to the plate when his parents died.
Took care of him.

Now his grandad had popped up out of the blue, with his wads of cash and his antipodian swagger, and thrown everything into confusion.

Threatening to take his Gran away. Round the world. The very idea!

Coupled with that, he was now unemployed.

His job as an accounts clerk may not have been Shangri-la, but it was a job, and the pay was reasonable, there had also been the prospect of promotion....until he'd buggered it all up. Until he'd fallen foul of 'Elvis' and 'Cliff'........got stoned.....and horribly drunk, and ended up in a police cell overnight, causing him to have a vicious hangover, which, in turn, caused him to wipe half his clients from the office computer.

The stupid computer, which regularly mocked him.

Then there was Dillon's love life. That had come as a bit of a shock.
Up until recently, his love life had been severely limited. A quick fumble at the Ice Pit with Melanie, the punk rocker, or his own hand.
Now things had changed. Drastically.

Bernadette.

With her grubby squat, and her wonderful artwork and her crocodile earrings.

Bernadette, who was soft and warm and willing, and said he had lovely skin.
Dillon had finally popped his cherry, and very enjoyable it was too.
He wanted more where that came from......and so, apparently, did she.

As he sat there, in his stripy pyjamas, under his rocket and spaceman bed linen, contemplating the world in general, he heard Maurice.....his newly acquired grandad, pad along the hallway and go into the bathroom.

A cacophony of roaring farts followed in his wake.
Dillon frowned to himself with distaste.

Ye Gods, was this what his gran was prepared to shackle herself to for the remainder of her natural?
God help her!

oOo

"Morning Dill." Gran was frying eggs and bacon, a fag dangling from one corner of her mouth.
"I'm doing you a lovely cooked breakfast."

"Gran, I've never eaten a cooked breakfast, I don't want a cooked breakfast. I don't even like cooked breakfast."

He sat himself down at the plastic clothed table with its novelty salt and pepper pots and it's ketchup bottle in the guise of a plastic tomato, she handed him a mug of builders tea.

"Suit yourself! Your grandad'll eat it then!"

Dillon watched the ash from Gran's butt end lengthen, and teeter, before falling off into the pan.
He grimaced as she stirred it hurriedly into the lard that the eggs were frying in without comment.

Maurice joined him at the table presently. Scratching his large rounded belly in anticipation.

"G'Day Dillon! Lovely mornin'."

"Spectacular!" His grandson replied sarcastically.

"What are your plans for the day then, son?" He asked jovially.

"Goin' down the Job Centre. See what they've got. They won't give me no dole money, so I gotta find somethin'. I need to earn some dosh. I wanna buy something nice for Bernadette."

"Awww! That's sweet. Ain't that sweet Mo? Bless him, look.....he's all in love."

"Shut up Gran! I'm not in love. I've only known her a coupla weeks!"

"Well, I think it's nice! She's a nice girl. Shame she lives in that bloody squat though."

"Yeah, well, one day when she's a famous artist, she'll have one of them swanky penthouses, overlooking the River. You mark my words, I know she will. She's clever, and she's good....I like her stuff."

"She give me one of 'er pictures......boats! Lovely it is.....all dreamy, and colourful." Gran placed the swimming plate of eggs and bacon in front of Maurice.

"There ya! Sunny Jim! Get yer laughing gear round that!"

Maurice stared at the plate with a pained expression.

"Bloody hell Edith! That's a chuffing heart attack right there, strewth!"

Dillon laughed, and drained his mug.

"I'm off out. Down the Jobby. See you later Gran. Grandad."

Reaching for his jacket, he made his way to the door, calling a last cheery goodbye.

Edith turned to Maurice, as the door slammed shut behind him.

"What am I gonna do about that boy?" She sighed.

"You've gotta tell him Doll. He's a man.....he's gotta fend for himself at some point. You baby him too much!" Maurice pushed the untouched plate away.

"But he's delicate, and he's sensitive. How can I bugger off round the world and leave him?"

"He'll have to toughen up! I'll make sure he's alright, don't you fret. Sort him somewhere to live, make sure he's got somewhere.......somewhere better than this bloody dump anyway."

"Bloody cheek.....I told you.....I've bin trying to get us rehoused."

"He needs to make his own way in the world! Not spend the best of his days with his Gran!" Maurice retorted.

"I wanted one of them new places, I thought it might encourage him to strike out on his own.....told him it was only for senior citizens, and that he'd have to find somewhere on his own......but all he did was get upset, and said I thought he was an impediment! I'm all he's got!"

"Well, you're all I've got too. And I wanna whisk you off, and enjoy some life, before it's too bloody late! Dillon's young.....whole life ahead of him......he'll sort himself out, don't you worry."

"I spose! You can tell him though! I'm not going to! But not just yet.....eh? Let's let him get a job, get himself settled again first.....otherwise I'll be fucking worrying about him every five minutes!"

"Too soft for your own good Edith....that's what you are.....a martyr to your cause!"

"Yeah, well.....I know what it's like to be bloody abandoned.....don't I Mo?!" She glared at him pointedly.