It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

19. Socks and Ties

"So, remember: you have to pick up your suit from the dry cleaner's at three. Actually, they're kind of uptight there, so make it two forty-five."

Connor rolled his eyes at his mother's antics. It had been only five days since the shooting. Five days since the surgery. Five days since Cheryl's slow recovery began, and she was assuming Connor still wanted to use Dustin's old suit? That he still wanted to spend the night at a school dance? Sitting at the bedside of his hospital gown clad mother, needles positioned strategically in her dartboard arms, he didn't even want to talk about himself. But, as usual, she only thought about him.

Connor wanted to sigh until his lungs shrivelled and she couldn't possibly make him go because, just as normally as her constant selflessness, he hated letting her do that. "Mom, I'm not going to the dance." He concluded, in a voice that meant business. "I'll call Mr. Howell and tell him to get a kid from Yearbook to take the pictures. I'm not leaving."

Troye shifted his weight from where he stood, at a distance from the mother and son duo. "We don't want you to be lonely." He added softly, cautiously, after a moment of consideration. He really did want to go, but his supportive butt-in was worth it, because Connor smiled at him gratefully. He was thankful that somebody had his back.

Still, Cheryl didn't latch onto the boys' pleas, rolling her eyes endearingly. "You guys are sweet, but I won't be lonely." She insisted, pressing a button to bend the automatic bed, as if it would heighten the success rate of her persistence. "Brandon will be back from school in a few hours, and Dustin and Nicola said they are flying up and should be here by tonight. I'll have three of my four kids with me, and I'm grateful for even one, so I'll be more than fine." She gestured jerkily for Connor to get off his chair. "Go! Go to your dance!"

Connor laughed like uh, I don't think so; like she was a kid trying to tug him into a nasty, dirty ballpit. "You're so stubborn sometimes, Mama." He joked reverently. "I told you I'm not leaving and you can't convince me to."

"Are you sure about that?" Cheryl raised her eyebrows almost comically, totally sceptical that her son really wanted to pass this up. But Connor was really quite sincere, and when he looked at her incredulously, like she was absolutely ridiculous, she threw her hands out in pleading. "Come on, Connor!" She whined. "You're seventeen years old, don't be boring! Go have fun! Go spend some time with your boyfriend!"

"I can be with Troye whenever."

"But just look at him!" She gestured wildly to Troye. "Just look at those puppy dog eyes, and that pout! He's so sad that his boring ole' boyfriend doesn't want to take him out dancing, he just won't say it!"

Connor actually laughed out loud at that. "Troye's not sad, that's just his face."

"Hey!" Troye scrunched his nose up in mock offence. Then he chuckled, as he had been the entire time he watched the two argue. He fucking loved this family.

"It's okay, babe." Connor grinned impishly. "You can't help that your eyes are the size of Jupiter."

Troye fake scoffed. "Well, you're um...uh..."

"A-ha! No comeback!" Connor cheered, making Cheryl roll her eyes deeply.

"Okay, I know I'm Cool Mom and everything, but please be couply elsewhere my dears." She pointed at them sternly, her face cracking with a little laughter. "And by elsewhere, I mean the dance."

Connor leaned back and sighed dramatically. "You're not going to let up, are you?"

"Nope."

"We're going to be talking about this all night."