Work Text:
Spencer knew he shouldn't do it, but he also knew he would regret it if he didn't.
His parents were away with Jessica at a competition, and Spencer was home alone, as alone as one could be when the ghost of a pop star still haunted the house. BJC was feeling incredibly inspired and was therefore in his music room. Spencer sat in front of the television and watched a completely overrated TV programme. A talk show where they talked about old headlines from the music world.
Today, it was mainly about Billy. And one of the guests obviously didn't like him. Because whenever they discussed him, he tried to make him look bad. Some of his songs were monotonous, but he was a pop star, that was clear. Pop music didn't have that many chords.
Then they came to an old gossip magazine with the headline: ‘Is BJC a father?!’ It showed Billy in civilian clothes with a child in his arms, looking quite distraught at the paediatrician's office.
Spencer couldn't remember the incident. But he recognised himself in the picture, in his father's arms. The rumour about his existence had probably been bigger than he had known in certain years. Not that it was surprising; he knew how careless Billy could be. But since he had carried Billy's civilian surname until his adoption, many people who had investigated were probably rather confused. Hardly anyone had been looking for a Spencer Cohen. Sometimes he would still write the name on some of his personal belongings, and his parents never complain. They didn't want to take that away from him.
‘Well, if he ever had a child, I really feel sorry for that kid. Cobra as a father, that would be practically suicide,’ said one, laughing. Spencer waited for the annoyed denial.
Even Billy's fan who was present said, ‘I've heard the rumour, but I can't and won't imagine BJC as a father.’
‘Yes, not that I would rule out him having a child. But I can't imagine him being able to take care of it properly for more than two hours,’ another continued.
Spencer knew he should ignore it, but for some reason it made him furious. He didn't want to let it go. Usually you could call in to programmes like that, so he thought he'd ask BJC if he had a telephone he could use to call in to ‘Discuss with us’.
Billy stopped playing his guitar and took a green telephone from a shelf with telephones on it. There was even a number on it: ‘Whose is it?’, Spencer wanted to know. Billy glanced at it: ‘A solicitor. The programme has never liked me.’
If Spencer had understood everything correctly, when he called the studio with this telephone, it would show up on their phone that Billy Joe Cobra was calling. And because they were curious, they would take his call. At least, he hoped so. The longer they talked, the more annoyed he became. He knew, that he should keep his head down, let his existence be a rumour. But it seemed to be obvious to many people that Billy had a child, so the surprise would probably be limited.
It wasn't time for calls yet, but he tried anyway. He clicked on the programme's saved number on the phone and looked at the television at the same time. The host looked at his tablet and raised his eyebrows, then turned to his guests: "Mr Cobra is calling. Shall I put him through?" he asked jokingly and clicked a button on his chair, where upon the table opened, and a telephone popped up.
‘Oh yes, let's answer it. Let's see where the phone has wandered off to.’
Spencer watched as they answered it. And listened to it on the old telephone Billy had lent him.
‘Who's speaking?’ asked one of the guests. Spencer sighed; he hadn't really thought about what he would say if he got through. ‘My father wasn't a bad dad,’ was the first thing he said, and clear confusion was visible on the faces of the people around him.
The host was the first to recover: ‘Your father, are you telling me I'm talking to the son of BJC?’
‘Yes, and I'm only calling to tell you to stop talking as if he were the worst father anyone could have.’ His voice sounded strangely weak over the programme's loudspeakers, like that of a child.
‘Okay, let's say we believe you. Wasn't he still a bad father?’
‘I don't care if you believe me. And no, he wasn't a bad father. That's why I'm calling from one of his phones.’ Why did they insist that Billy was a bad father? Because he was dead and they wanted some drama? Or what else could be the reason?
The fan turned to the telephone: "Who was “My Little Love” written for? Do you know?" My Little Love was a song Billy had released shortly before his death, and after what Spencer had recently learned from his mother, there had been huge discussions about who or what the song was about. Since most of his songs were about himself, a song in which he sang about how sweet his little star or his little love was, was very out of the ordinary.
‘As far as I remember, it was for me. Just like Crying Bundle or Stay,’ he replied.
They murmured softly, ‘The lyrics really make more sense for a child.’
‘Did you know your father?’ the host wanted to know.
‘Yes, I lived with him until he died, so yes, I knew him,’ he replied irritably.
Strangely, it was the face of his annoying critic that grew darker: ‘If all that is true. Which, strangely enough, I believe you. Then you must have been quite young when he died. It must have been very traumatic for a child.’
"I wasn't with him on his travels, so I wasn't there when he died. I was with the people who later adopted me. So for me, he just didn't pick me up, and I waited almost two years for him to come. I mean, I was at his funeral, but I didn't really understand that it meant he was never coming back. So the real shock didn't come until a few years later," he explained, though it didn't sound as reassuring as he thought it would.
Someone started the picture again with the caption: ‘Is BJC a father?!’
‘Are you in that picture?’ asked the host. ‘Yes, but I can't remember what was going on. Maybe it wasn't particularly wild. He was always a bit dramatic.’ His father had once called a doctor because Spencer had fallen over. He had just fallen over in the garden and scraped his hands and knees, as children so often do. ‘But he quickly called a doctor or drove to one because, as far as I can remember, he couldn't see blood without almost fainting.’
His mobile phone, which was lying next to him on the sofa, rang: ‘MOM’ She was probably also watching the programme and was calling to tell him to finally hang up. ‘Oh, my mum's calling. I'd better hang up.’
‘No, wait!’ cried the fan, and Spencer paused. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘You said you lived with Cobra. If that's true, what was it like? Did he play with you or sing for you?’
Spencer laughed softly: "He sings in almost all of my memories. Even when cooking breakfast. Or when he tucked me into bed. Sometimes he would sit on the edge of my bed with his guitar and sing me lullabies. Whenever he was away for a long time and brought me to my current mum, he would sing me a farewell song, and when he picked me up, he would sing his “I'm back” song. That's the song I would most like to hear him sing again. But it's one of the few songs that doesn't seem to exist in any recording. And since I have no musical talent whatsoever, I'll probably never hear it again," he concluded. Feelings he thought he would never feel again came flooding back, and a lump he hadn't felt in a long time formed in his throat. ‘I'm really bringing myself down here and I'm not supposed to talk to the press, so I'm hanging up. I stand by my point, he was a good father. Probably not the best, but he always did the best he could,’ is still doing the best he can, added Spencer in thought's to himself and clicked the red button on the phone to hang up.
All you could hear on the programme was a beeping sound, so Spencer turned off the television and picked up his mobile phone: ‘Sorry, Mum. I couldn't help myself.’ He heard a sigh: "I can imagine, my dear. It surely isn't easy when people talk about you and your father like that. If you want to go public, your father and I would of course support you, but I think it's a bad idea. It would be a stigma that you would probably never be able to shake off. But if you want, we can talk about it when we get home."
‘It's okay, Mum, I'm sorry,’ he muttered. He had no intention of appearing as BJC's child. But he didn't want to argue with his mother right now either.
‘Please don't talk to the press again until we're home,’ she added. ‘Okay, I promise, Mum. Say hi to Jessica for me. I'll watch her fight in the morning from here,’ he promised, and his mother said goodbye and hung up.
He didn't even know exactly why, but he felt like crying. It had all happened so long ago. And he had his father here. But still, he felt weirdly down. Maybe he went to Billy, sat down on one of the soft chairs in the music room and listened to him play for a while. But when he turned around to walk to the lift, he saw BJC just standing there in the air by the wall, staring at him.
‘Billy? Is something wrong? How long have you been here?’ he asked, walking towards the ghost. "I came down a while ago to ask you whether the cello or the piano is better.But then he stopped and looked at Spencer. He reached out his hands and placed them on his face. ‘You knew all along?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘What?’ he replied, not very intelligently. ‘Spenc, you knew I was your father all along and you never told me?’ Oh, so he had been standing there all this time. As Spencer searched for the right words, he felt his eyes well up: ‘I didn't know if you remembered me. You didn't say anything and I didn't want to overwhelm you by telling you,’ he murmured, and now he was sure that tears were welling up in his eyes. Before he could do anything about it, Billy pulled him close: ‘Don't cry, my little star. Daddy's here,’ the pop star murmured over and over. Spencer couldn't hold back any longer and cried bitterly in the ghost's arms. ‘It's okay, my little crybaby, it's okay. I've got you. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with you, this time’ After a while, he felt his dad lift him up and carry him to his room. When he had calmed down a little, he said through his tears: ‘In my defence, you didn't tell me anything either.’ Billy stroked his hair: ‘I thought you had forgotten your old father. After all, we spent more time apart than together. I didn't want to force my way into your life.’he said with a smile, and Spencer recognised his father in the overexcited ghost who always tried to support him in every way possible.
"I'm sorry you found out this way, Papa. I was just so annoyed with them on television. I should have told you differently,‘ said Spencer, sitting up on the bed. Billy waved his hand dismissively: ’I could have told you too. And believe me, it wasn't nearly as bad as the first revelation that I was a father. You should have seen me when I first got you from court. It was rough, and I secretly had four different DNA tests done.
Spencer laughed, and Billy looked at him irritated for a moment: ‘Hey, I was panicking. They had recently taken you away from your mother. When I didn't hold you, you just screamed, like a Banshee. But you were so cute when you did. My own little screaming bundle, full of love,’ Billy reflected.
Spencer bit his lip; he couldn't just ask something like that now, the situation was certainly a lot for Billy too. He didn't want to overwhelm him and risk one of his celebrity quirks. But nothing helped when his mouth was faster than his brain again: ‘Will you sing me the “I'm back” song ?’ BJC paused and looked down at him, then stroked his brown hair again: ‘As often as you like.’
That evening, Spencer lay in bed and his father sat on the edge of the bed with a guitar, playing quietly to himself. As the teenager's eyes grew heavy, he heard only: ‘Sleep well, I'll cook breakfast for us tomorrow. I'll be home when you wake up, my little one, I promise. I'm not going anywhere’