Flashpoint: Wayward Sons

Chapter 1

9 hours earlier

            "Clark, stop making her laugh, or she'll never settle down!"
Sophie Lane loved her son, but she didn't love wrestling with her infant daughter so early in the morning. This instance marked yet another failed attempt to get the child to eat breakfast calmly, and she knew exactly who to blame for that. Clark only offered her a crooked grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mom" he replied, crossing his eyes and tickling his baby sister, leaving her laughing wildly and flailing in Sophie's arms.

Sophie shot him what was supposed to be a glare, a threat to make him behave, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips only softened her threat until it was hardly a threat at all. It was impossible to be reprimanding when both her children were smiling so brightly. Clark didn't pay any mind to her, amused by the way she tried to remain serious while his sister was practically squirming out of her embrace. The sight was too ridiculous, and he was in too good of a mood. He chuckled and pat Isabelle on the head. She reached for him, and in return he tickled her again. Her furious giggling earned him a light smack on the arm from his exasperated mother. "Clark!"

He simply laughed.

"Clark, listen to your mother." The deep voice seemed to echo in their tiny kitchen, and all eyes moved to the doorway. His father always loved to make an entrance. The sound of heavy footsteps grew nearer until, sure enough, Ed Lane entered adorned in full battle gear. Intimidating as always, but Clark could recognize the twinkle in his eyes as easily as he could identify a vibrant color.

"Woah, woah! Don't shoot!" He mocked putting his hands up. He didn't cower under the weight of his father's gaze, challenging it openly with a smile still playing at the corner of his lips. This was a friendly confrontation (for once).

"One of these days..." Ed warned, leaving his threat hanging loosely. Clark rolled his eyes. He kissed Isabelle's forehead before slinging his school bag over his shoulder.

"I'll be home early this afternoon, my last classes were cancelled," he said to his mother before pecking her cheek. She didn't get the chance to respond.

"Why?"

Clark had to resist the urge to get defensive. His father's suspicion was common, but still just as bothersome as ever.

"Relax," he sighed, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "Everyone is preparing for the dance so they gave us a break."

"Okay, but if you're just skipping school-" Clark groaned.

"I'm not!"

Ed smiled. "Don't be like that, I just like to know what's going on in your life!" His expression feigned innocence and Clark had to scoff.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." He muttered on his way out the door. Just as he reached the front steps he heard his father laugh.

_____________________________________________________________________________

"Dad, don't forget to sign this. I need it if I want to go to the dance tomorrow," Dean called to his father, gesturing to the permission slip on the table in front of him.

"Sure, sure, I won't forget," Greg replied absent-mindedly. He was just missing one last file.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his father well enough to know when he wasn't listening. "I'm taking one of the girls in my English class. Her name is Taylor," he continued, eyes following his father's movements. He tried not to be too obviously amused.

"MmmHmm..." Greg sifted through the pile of mail on the counter. Where was it?!

"She's really nice, I think you'd like her." Dean watched his father scramble. It was days like this that put his father on edge and made his usually calm demeanor disappear. He was typically organized and collected, but sometimes, even Greg Parker succumbed to pressure. It was ironic that paperwork caused him more stress than his normal work did. Shootouts and bombings and hostage negotiations, but sure, a conference was nerve-wracking. Today, he was called upon to review everything his team had done over the past month, and he was undeniably worked up about it.

"Yeah..." Greg mumbled.

"You're not even listening!" Dean finally complained.

"I am!" Greg hardly spared his son a sideways glance. Maybe he left it under the coffee table.

Dean noticed the file on the chair beside him. "She is really looking forward to the dance," he said, grabbing it and laying it in his lap.

"Yup." Greg sprinted to the counter again, searching through the mail a second time.

"You know I'm thinking about starting drugs and joining a heavy metal band..." Dean chattered on, maintaining his tone without missing a beat.

"Yes, yes..." It took a moment for Greg to come up short and look at his son. "Wait a minute. What did you just say?"

Dean laughed. "What is it you said about you listening?" He said, waving the file in the air.

"Oh, thank you!" Greg exclaimed. "And sorry."

Dean shrugged. Greg Parker grabbed his bag and scooped up the rest of his things from the table, offering his son a small smile. "You better get to school," he said. Dean sighed and nodded.

"I'm going," he said, rising from his chair and snatching his bag from its place behind him. "I'll see you later. Try not to stress yourself out too much!" He called over his shoulder. "Oh, and I made you lunch, it's in the fridge. I figured you might forget."

As Dean slipped out the door, Greg paused for just a moment to watch him go. Sometimes, it felt as if he was the child. Dean had this way about him that was too wise for his own good. During moments like this, Greg couldn't help but acknowledge the role reversal. The more time he spent with Dean and the more years that passed, the more he found himself spotting the ways Dean did as much as he could to watch out for him. Sometimes it made Greg feel irresponsible, like he was less of a father because Dean always managed to take care of him in one way or another. Most times, it just made him immensely proud.

Unfortunately, Greg Parker was more than just a proud father. He was also the sergeant of Team One, and if he didn't start moving, he was going to be late for work.