Watch him try to be commanding (Peter, Lydia)
Mar. 14th, 2011 04:15 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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darker_londonSpiders were one of the things Peter feared most. He felt ridiculous admitting that, considering some of the things he had been through, but it remained a fact either way. Deep down beneath the Vatican, he had encountered several spiders and whenever he dreamt of that horrible place, the spiders were always there in his dreams, lurking in dark corners, waiting.
The spiders of his nightmares were what caused him to overreact when he happened to see them around the house. Sometimes he screamed and called his thirteen-year-old daughter, Anna to come dispose of them. Other times he was less fortunate and he had actually picked up something with a spider on it. Those were the times when he tended to throw the spider-infested object across the room and then jump about until he had built up the courage to investigate whether or not Anna was required to dispose of the offending arachnid.
Today it was Lydia’s backpack which had a spider on it she had probably carried in from outside. She had been home an hour or so, just shorter than he had been home himself, and the backpack was on the floor. He had picked it up to hang it on the hooks by the front door when the spider crawled over the pack, as if to say hello. Peter squealed and he flung the bag across the entryway where it smashed against the other wall, spilling it’s contents over the tiling. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh spidery fuck,” Peter hissed, jumping from one foot to the other before he could convince himself to go check on the bag.
There was no spider to be found in the mess (it would resurface later in Anna’s room, and she would set it on a tree outside, sending it safely on its way after its rude ride) and Peter was left feeling guilty he had tossed Lydia’s things across the room. “Augh, mess.” Peter set about picking up the mess, making sure he hadn’t broken anything valuable. The only thing Lydia seemed to have in her backpack, however, were books and papers, which Peter dutifully cleaned up.
It was when Peter lifted Lydia’s history book off of the floor that he caught sight of the little baggy which was full of a substance Peter very much recognised. During his battle with cancer, he had been prescribed marijuana to help with the pain he experienced and the use of it had lessened his symptoms by incredible amounts. And now it appeared Lydia had marijuana in her school bag.
Peter’s heart nearly stopped. Marijuana wasn’t a drug Peter had problems with, not really. It wasn’t heroin, which Lydia's mother had been addicted to. It wasn't man-made like meth or cocaine. What it was, was an addictive substance, no matter now much less addictive it was than anything else, and Lydia was the child of two addicts. Lydia’s mother, Katherine, had been a junkie who had tried and failed to rid herself of her heroin habit, and Peter was an alcoholic. Lydia was not someone who should be messing with any substances even if they were mostly harmless. It could lead to anything, especially if she was hiding it. That was the big issue here. Peter always told his children he would support them in anything and any mistakes they made didn’t matter, he would still love them. He wanted them to be upfront with him about things like this. Peter had to confront his daughter. He had noticed she had been going through some changes lately, but this he had never expected.
Peter strode up the steps, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. When he knocked on Lydia’s door, he hardly waited for an answer and he was inside his daughter’s bedroom right as she said, “Come in!”
Fifteen-year-old Lydia was seated on her bed, texting away. She was probably talking to Kismet, who only lived next door. She was Lydia’s best friend and they texted almost constantly. “Uh...hi, Dad?” she said, looking up at him when he barged in.
“I need you to explain this to me, young lady,” Peter said, holding up the bag of marijuana before he shoved it into his pocket. “I found it in your school bag. Why do you have weed in your school bag, Lydia?” Peter crossed his arms and he felt a little ridiculous acting like the angry and imposing father figure since it wasn’t really him at all. But he was angry and worried and he needed Lydia to know he wasn’t joking around here. This was a big deal.
“You went in my school bag?!” Lydia shrieked and she threw her mobile onto her bed so she could concentrate fully on Peter. She crossed her own arms and glared at him and there they were, facing off. Lydia was so much like Peter and had anyone else witnessed the standoff, they probably would have been slightly weirded out by the both of them.
“We’ll get to that, but it isn’t really the issue here-“
“It’s the issue for me,” Lydia shot back, her eyebrows raised.
“Lydia Ashley!”
Lydia sighed loudly and theatrically. “My god, Dad. Do you really think I would have anything like that in my bag? It’s not mine!”
“It’s not yours!?” Peter asked, incensed. “It was in your school bag!”
“I know! Dad, I’m not stupid! Stop saying 'school bag'! I’m not going to put that shit into my body! I don’t want to end up like Mum. Or, you know, you.”
Peter cringed slightly at that, though she had a point and that was why he worried. “Lydia, you’ll have to pardon me for having a hard time believing you.”
“Well that’s not my fault!” Lydia shouted. “It’s still not mine!”
“Okay,” Peter raised his hands in surrender. “Who does the weed belong to then?”
“I can’t tell you,” Lydia said with a groan. “But- Look, it was a friend’s and I took it off her because she’s an idiot who is going to get into trouble and I didn’t want her to go get fucked up. Okay? Are you happy? You have to believe me, Dad. I can’t tell you who’s it is because it’s not my thing to tell, but it’s not mine. Do you believe me?”
Peter considered it for a few moments and then he said what set him apart from a lot of parents. He said, “yes. I believe you, Lydia.” Lydia had never given him a reason not to trust her. She always told him where she was going and what she was doing and she was incredibly up front about the things she did with her friends. She liked to run things by him afterwards because she respected him; and this was his way of showing her he respected her too. If Lydia said the weed wasn’t hers, Peter would believe her until she gave him a reason not to. He was still worried, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Can I sit down?”
“Sure,” Lydia said, looking relieved. She sat on her bed and then Peter took a seat beside her and immediately she leaned against him. “Dad, sometimes people my age are so stupid.”
“Are you worried about this friend, Lydia?” he asked, really hoping it wasn’t Kismet.
“Yeah,” she said softly. Then, as if reading his mind, she added, “it’s not Kismet. She just...she’s had a hard time and she thinks that shit is going to make her cooler. She asked me if I wanted to smoke after school and I said no and when she tried to badger me into it, I just took the stuff and ran. And then I didn’t know what to do with it...”
“Well we can’t keep it around here,” Peter said gently. “It’s illegal and there are kids around who might get into it. I’ll take care of it, okay?” When Lydia gave him a funny look, he kissed her hair and promised, “I do not intend to smoke it, if that’s what you’re giving me that look for...”
“Just making sure,” Lydia said, smirking slightly. “I wish I could help this girl.”
“You already did, though she might be a little angry with you tomorrow. And you know if you feel like she needs more help than she’s getting, there are people in my employ who do things like that.”
Lydia nodded and then she turned to him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Well...thank you for not doing drugs,” Peter said, incredibly relieved. “And just so the record is straight here, I wasn’t going through your things. There was a spider on your bag and it sort of...ended up on the other side of the room.”
At that, Lydia cackled. “Oh, Dad! You’re ridiculous.”
“I am, I am,” Peter laughed as well. “I would never go through your things, Lydia. I trust you, which is why I was so shocked. I was mostly worried you were giving me a reason to stop trusting you.”
“Not today,” Lydia said softly. “And I was shocked you had gone through my things. I mean...you don’t seem the type. You might accidentally come upon a tampon.”
“Augh!” Peter squealed, going red. He still didn’t handle talking about girl-things with his daughters.
“Or a pad,” Lydia added, grinning wickedly.
“Uh huh, uh huh, yes, all of that,” Peter said, flapping his hands about.
“Or a condom,” Lydia finished.
Peter choked on his own spit while Lydia cackled and it was several, heart-stopping minutes before she informed him she was joking and he remembered how to breathe again.
The spiders of his nightmares were what caused him to overreact when he happened to see them around the house. Sometimes he screamed and called his thirteen-year-old daughter, Anna to come dispose of them. Other times he was less fortunate and he had actually picked up something with a spider on it. Those were the times when he tended to throw the spider-infested object across the room and then jump about until he had built up the courage to investigate whether or not Anna was required to dispose of the offending arachnid.
Today it was Lydia’s backpack which had a spider on it she had probably carried in from outside. She had been home an hour or so, just shorter than he had been home himself, and the backpack was on the floor. He had picked it up to hang it on the hooks by the front door when the spider crawled over the pack, as if to say hello. Peter squealed and he flung the bag across the entryway where it smashed against the other wall, spilling it’s contents over the tiling. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh spidery fuck,” Peter hissed, jumping from one foot to the other before he could convince himself to go check on the bag.
There was no spider to be found in the mess (it would resurface later in Anna’s room, and she would set it on a tree outside, sending it safely on its way after its rude ride) and Peter was left feeling guilty he had tossed Lydia’s things across the room. “Augh, mess.” Peter set about picking up the mess, making sure he hadn’t broken anything valuable. The only thing Lydia seemed to have in her backpack, however, were books and papers, which Peter dutifully cleaned up.
It was when Peter lifted Lydia’s history book off of the floor that he caught sight of the little baggy which was full of a substance Peter very much recognised. During his battle with cancer, he had been prescribed marijuana to help with the pain he experienced and the use of it had lessened his symptoms by incredible amounts. And now it appeared Lydia had marijuana in her school bag.
Peter’s heart nearly stopped. Marijuana wasn’t a drug Peter had problems with, not really. It wasn’t heroin, which Lydia's mother had been addicted to. It wasn't man-made like meth or cocaine. What it was, was an addictive substance, no matter now much less addictive it was than anything else, and Lydia was the child of two addicts. Lydia’s mother, Katherine, had been a junkie who had tried and failed to rid herself of her heroin habit, and Peter was an alcoholic. Lydia was not someone who should be messing with any substances even if they were mostly harmless. It could lead to anything, especially if she was hiding it. That was the big issue here. Peter always told his children he would support them in anything and any mistakes they made didn’t matter, he would still love them. He wanted them to be upfront with him about things like this. Peter had to confront his daughter. He had noticed she had been going through some changes lately, but this he had never expected.
Peter strode up the steps, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. When he knocked on Lydia’s door, he hardly waited for an answer and he was inside his daughter’s bedroom right as she said, “Come in!”
Fifteen-year-old Lydia was seated on her bed, texting away. She was probably talking to Kismet, who only lived next door. She was Lydia’s best friend and they texted almost constantly. “Uh...hi, Dad?” she said, looking up at him when he barged in.
“I need you to explain this to me, young lady,” Peter said, holding up the bag of marijuana before he shoved it into his pocket. “I found it in your school bag. Why do you have weed in your school bag, Lydia?” Peter crossed his arms and he felt a little ridiculous acting like the angry and imposing father figure since it wasn’t really him at all. But he was angry and worried and he needed Lydia to know he wasn’t joking around here. This was a big deal.
“You went in my school bag?!” Lydia shrieked and she threw her mobile onto her bed so she could concentrate fully on Peter. She crossed her own arms and glared at him and there they were, facing off. Lydia was so much like Peter and had anyone else witnessed the standoff, they probably would have been slightly weirded out by the both of them.
“We’ll get to that, but it isn’t really the issue here-“
“It’s the issue for me,” Lydia shot back, her eyebrows raised.
“Lydia Ashley!”
Lydia sighed loudly and theatrically. “My god, Dad. Do you really think I would have anything like that in my bag? It’s not mine!”
“It’s not yours!?” Peter asked, incensed. “It was in your school bag!”
“I know! Dad, I’m not stupid! Stop saying 'school bag'! I’m not going to put that shit into my body! I don’t want to end up like Mum. Or, you know, you.”
Peter cringed slightly at that, though she had a point and that was why he worried. “Lydia, you’ll have to pardon me for having a hard time believing you.”
“Well that’s not my fault!” Lydia shouted. “It’s still not mine!”
“Okay,” Peter raised his hands in surrender. “Who does the weed belong to then?”
“I can’t tell you,” Lydia said with a groan. “But- Look, it was a friend’s and I took it off her because she’s an idiot who is going to get into trouble and I didn’t want her to go get fucked up. Okay? Are you happy? You have to believe me, Dad. I can’t tell you who’s it is because it’s not my thing to tell, but it’s not mine. Do you believe me?”
Peter considered it for a few moments and then he said what set him apart from a lot of parents. He said, “yes. I believe you, Lydia.” Lydia had never given him a reason not to trust her. She always told him where she was going and what she was doing and she was incredibly up front about the things she did with her friends. She liked to run things by him afterwards because she respected him; and this was his way of showing her he respected her too. If Lydia said the weed wasn’t hers, Peter would believe her until she gave him a reason not to. He was still worried, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Can I sit down?”
“Sure,” Lydia said, looking relieved. She sat on her bed and then Peter took a seat beside her and immediately she leaned against him. “Dad, sometimes people my age are so stupid.”
“Are you worried about this friend, Lydia?” he asked, really hoping it wasn’t Kismet.
“Yeah,” she said softly. Then, as if reading his mind, she added, “it’s not Kismet. She just...she’s had a hard time and she thinks that shit is going to make her cooler. She asked me if I wanted to smoke after school and I said no and when she tried to badger me into it, I just took the stuff and ran. And then I didn’t know what to do with it...”
“Well we can’t keep it around here,” Peter said gently. “It’s illegal and there are kids around who might get into it. I’ll take care of it, okay?” When Lydia gave him a funny look, he kissed her hair and promised, “I do not intend to smoke it, if that’s what you’re giving me that look for...”
“Just making sure,” Lydia said, smirking slightly. “I wish I could help this girl.”
“You already did, though she might be a little angry with you tomorrow. And you know if you feel like she needs more help than she’s getting, there are people in my employ who do things like that.”
Lydia nodded and then she turned to him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Well...thank you for not doing drugs,” Peter said, incredibly relieved. “And just so the record is straight here, I wasn’t going through your things. There was a spider on your bag and it sort of...ended up on the other side of the room.”
At that, Lydia cackled. “Oh, Dad! You’re ridiculous.”
“I am, I am,” Peter laughed as well. “I would never go through your things, Lydia. I trust you, which is why I was so shocked. I was mostly worried you were giving me a reason to stop trusting you.”
“Not today,” Lydia said softly. “And I was shocked you had gone through my things. I mean...you don’t seem the type. You might accidentally come upon a tampon.”
“Augh!” Peter squealed, going red. He still didn’t handle talking about girl-things with his daughters.
“Or a pad,” Lydia added, grinning wickedly.
“Uh huh, uh huh, yes, all of that,” Peter said, flapping his hands about.
“Or a condom,” Lydia finished.
Peter choked on his own spit while Lydia cackled and it was several, heart-stopping minutes before she informed him she was joking and he remembered how to breathe again.
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