"Best Revenge" - Chapter 2. Son
Jul. 29th, 2021 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11King of the Hill:
"Best Revenge"
by Phoebe Roberts
Summary: Hank comes to support Dale as Joseph recovers from a nasty motorcycle accident, and ends up revealing a secret he thought he’d never speak of.
Set several years down the line, when the kids are in their teens, and based off a certain famous King of the Hill green text.
Previous: Chapter 1. Blood
Chapter 2 - "Son"
Hank felt rooted to the spot. He tried to speak, but his throat had closed against any words. Dale stared at him a few moments longer, before at last turning to the basement fridge. He withdrew a chilled can of Alamo and put it in Hank’s hand.
The cold shook him out of it a little. He cracked it open and drank, not even caring that it had just been sitting next to a stiffened squirrel corpse. He swallowed slowly, taking several breaths, as Dale waited patiently for him to pull himself together.
“Dale…” he began at last. “I…”
“You okay?” Dale took another drag.
Hank struggled to find the words. “I didn’t think…” He swallowed again, and finally was able to meet Dale’s gaze. “You knew?”
His friend snorted, not entirely without amusement. “You guys must think I’m a rube.”
Hank stared into the hole in the top of his beer. “How long have you known?”
Dale smirked. “You kidding? A boy that don’t look a thing like me, but brown as a berry and with the exact same jawline as the local ladies’ man?” He cackled darkly. “I figured it out before he was ten years old.”
Ten whole years to notice his own son’s skin tone; that taste of the Dale he knew was enough to shake Hank back to himself. “Well… that makes a lot of sense, I guess.”
“Damn skippy it does. So, what did you all figure? That I was so dumb I just didn’t notice?”
That was exactly what Hank figured, but he wasn’t going to tell Dale that. “I guess we all just thought… if you weren’t bothering over it… you probably didn’t know about it.” A thought occurred to him, and he looked up. “And… then there was all the stuff you said. ‘Aliens made Joseph,’ ‘How did Joseph get so athletic?’”
Dale cackled. “Aw, yeah. You should have seen your faces.”
Again, Hank couldn’t say it wasn’t like Dale to get off on that. But even so, it seemed like an awful long way to go just to screw with folks for a laugh. Kind of like swallowing a live grenade just to blow folks up at your dinner table. “What about Nancy? Weren’t you… upset?”
It was sometimes hard to tell behind his mirrored lenses, but Dale looked Hank dead in the eye. Crookedly he grinned. “About the good-looking, virile Native fellow putting it to my wife? There’s guys in my gun club who’d pay money for that.”
Hank choked on the beer and blushed beet red. “For Christ’s sake, Dale!”
The other man snickered. “Nah, not my kink. Damn shame though, according to some corners of the Internet. Look it up some time if you don’t believe me.” Hank would not be doing that— though he wouldn’t put it past Boomhauer to know, if verification was ever needed.
“Besides,” Dale went on. “Nancy’s always been out of my league. Uptown girl, beauty queen, going on the TV news every night— hell, I’m just lucky to have her at all.”
Lucky was not the word Hank would use for it. “Enough to just… let it go on?”
“What, and end up like Bill?” Dale barked a mirthless laugh. “I watched that show for ten years now. No interest in becoming the headliner.”
“Well,” Hank murmured, taking that in. “Lenore may have been a piece of work… but Bill is pretty lonely without her.”
“Besides, Hank. I love her. And she loves me. Why do you think she never left?”
That pulled Hank up short; it was an obvious truth that had never occurred to him. He’d blurted it out in a moment of desperation when he feared Dale was close to the truth, but honestly, he hadn’t really thought about it like that. After all, Nancy had had another man, her looks, her own money; she was out of Dale’s league. If she didn’t love him, she’d have had no reason to stay.
But just one thing remained, and to Hank, it was the trickiest nut to crack of all of it. “And…” he said after a long pause. “What about Joseph?”
That was the big one. Maybe Hank could understand forgiving a wife he loved— even for an affair that lasted fourteen years. But raising the child of that affair? Living every day with the reminder of what Nancy had done? And devoting everything he had, everything he was to it? How in the world could Dale— petty, cowardly, self-interested Dale —ever be a big enough man to do that?
But Dale only smiled, toying with his cigarette. “You mean, my boy? My beautiful, strong, healthy boy who’s got the whole world ahead of him? And he is my boy— I named him, I raised him, I loved him his whole life. And he loves me— loves me, Hank. I’m the only daddy that boy has ever known. His kids will love me, and his grandkids. He’ll pass that name I gave him on to them. Who the hell is John Redcorn, compared to all that? Just some weird neighbor creep who he feels sorry for.”
Hank stared, awestruck. “Is that why you could just let it go?”
“Let it go?” Dale laughed. “I took the man’s son from him. Name a vengeance better than that, Hank. Name it.”
Hank turned that over in his brain as Dale took a slug of his beer. He wasn’t used to finding Dale’s logic so reasonable, let alone… compelling. But this was the place Dale’s life had taken him; no one could deny he’d made the best of it. And given what best there was— a wife and son he loved, and who loved him this much —that was pretty damn good.
“Fair enough,” Hank murmured, taking another sip. He swirled the remaining liquid in the can. “Do you think you’ll ever tell them? Either of them?”
“Nah,” Dale said. “Nancy’ll feel better that way. And I don’t want Joseph worrying about me.”
“Are you afraid? If he ever learns the truth?”
“He knows the truth, Hank. He’s my boy, and I love him.”
Hank opened his mouth and closed it— again, there was no refuting Dale’s logic. For once in his paranoid, conspiratorial life, the man made perfect sense.
There was only one thing left to say. “You’re a good dad, Dale.”
His buddy nodded. “And you’re a good friend, Hank. You all are.”
Hank eyed him, scanning him for hints of sarcasm, but there was only sincerity in Dale’s face.
“You had a thousand chances to throw it at me. When I was acting like an ass. Or a pain. Or a pain in the ass. But you never did. Because you didn’t want to hurt me.”
He popped the cigarette into his mouth, so he’d have a free hand to lay on Hank’s shoulder. “Thanks for that.”
Hank nodded, too overwhelmed to know what to say. But he found he didn’t need to say anything more, it seemed. He only stood there with his old friend, sipping quietly from their beers in Dale’s weird basement.
“Yep,” he murmured finally.
“Yep,” Dale agreed.
The End
"Best Revenge"
by Phoebe Roberts
Summary: Hank comes to support Dale as Joseph recovers from a nasty motorcycle accident, and ends up revealing a secret he thought he’d never speak of.
Set several years down the line, when the kids are in their teens, and based off a certain famous King of the Hill green text.
Previous: Chapter 1. Blood
Chapter 2 - "Son"
Hank felt rooted to the spot. He tried to speak, but his throat had closed against any words. Dale stared at him a few moments longer, before at last turning to the basement fridge. He withdrew a chilled can of Alamo and put it in Hank’s hand.
The cold shook him out of it a little. He cracked it open and drank, not even caring that it had just been sitting next to a stiffened squirrel corpse. He swallowed slowly, taking several breaths, as Dale waited patiently for him to pull himself together.
“Dale…” he began at last. “I…”
“You okay?” Dale took another drag.
Hank struggled to find the words. “I didn’t think…” He swallowed again, and finally was able to meet Dale’s gaze. “You knew?”
His friend snorted, not entirely without amusement. “You guys must think I’m a rube.”
Hank stared into the hole in the top of his beer. “How long have you known?”
Dale smirked. “You kidding? A boy that don’t look a thing like me, but brown as a berry and with the exact same jawline as the local ladies’ man?” He cackled darkly. “I figured it out before he was ten years old.”
Ten whole years to notice his own son’s skin tone; that taste of the Dale he knew was enough to shake Hank back to himself. “Well… that makes a lot of sense, I guess.”
“Damn skippy it does. So, what did you all figure? That I was so dumb I just didn’t notice?”
That was exactly what Hank figured, but he wasn’t going to tell Dale that. “I guess we all just thought… if you weren’t bothering over it… you probably didn’t know about it.” A thought occurred to him, and he looked up. “And… then there was all the stuff you said. ‘Aliens made Joseph,’ ‘How did Joseph get so athletic?’”
Dale cackled. “Aw, yeah. You should have seen your faces.”
Again, Hank couldn’t say it wasn’t like Dale to get off on that. But even so, it seemed like an awful long way to go just to screw with folks for a laugh. Kind of like swallowing a live grenade just to blow folks up at your dinner table. “What about Nancy? Weren’t you… upset?”
It was sometimes hard to tell behind his mirrored lenses, but Dale looked Hank dead in the eye. Crookedly he grinned. “About the good-looking, virile Native fellow putting it to my wife? There’s guys in my gun club who’d pay money for that.”
Hank choked on the beer and blushed beet red. “For Christ’s sake, Dale!”
The other man snickered. “Nah, not my kink. Damn shame though, according to some corners of the Internet. Look it up some time if you don’t believe me.” Hank would not be doing that— though he wouldn’t put it past Boomhauer to know, if verification was ever needed.
“Besides,” Dale went on. “Nancy’s always been out of my league. Uptown girl, beauty queen, going on the TV news every night— hell, I’m just lucky to have her at all.”
Lucky was not the word Hank would use for it. “Enough to just… let it go on?”
“What, and end up like Bill?” Dale barked a mirthless laugh. “I watched that show for ten years now. No interest in becoming the headliner.”
“Well,” Hank murmured, taking that in. “Lenore may have been a piece of work… but Bill is pretty lonely without her.”
“Besides, Hank. I love her. And she loves me. Why do you think she never left?”
That pulled Hank up short; it was an obvious truth that had never occurred to him. He’d blurted it out in a moment of desperation when he feared Dale was close to the truth, but honestly, he hadn’t really thought about it like that. After all, Nancy had had another man, her looks, her own money; she was out of Dale’s league. If she didn’t love him, she’d have had no reason to stay.
But just one thing remained, and to Hank, it was the trickiest nut to crack of all of it. “And…” he said after a long pause. “What about Joseph?”
That was the big one. Maybe Hank could understand forgiving a wife he loved— even for an affair that lasted fourteen years. But raising the child of that affair? Living every day with the reminder of what Nancy had done? And devoting everything he had, everything he was to it? How in the world could Dale— petty, cowardly, self-interested Dale —ever be a big enough man to do that?
But Dale only smiled, toying with his cigarette. “You mean, my boy? My beautiful, strong, healthy boy who’s got the whole world ahead of him? And he is my boy— I named him, I raised him, I loved him his whole life. And he loves me— loves me, Hank. I’m the only daddy that boy has ever known. His kids will love me, and his grandkids. He’ll pass that name I gave him on to them. Who the hell is John Redcorn, compared to all that? Just some weird neighbor creep who he feels sorry for.”
Hank stared, awestruck. “Is that why you could just let it go?”
“Let it go?” Dale laughed. “I took the man’s son from him. Name a vengeance better than that, Hank. Name it.”
Hank turned that over in his brain as Dale took a slug of his beer. He wasn’t used to finding Dale’s logic so reasonable, let alone… compelling. But this was the place Dale’s life had taken him; no one could deny he’d made the best of it. And given what best there was— a wife and son he loved, and who loved him this much —that was pretty damn good.
“Fair enough,” Hank murmured, taking another sip. He swirled the remaining liquid in the can. “Do you think you’ll ever tell them? Either of them?”
“Nah,” Dale said. “Nancy’ll feel better that way. And I don’t want Joseph worrying about me.”
“Are you afraid? If he ever learns the truth?”
“He knows the truth, Hank. He’s my boy, and I love him.”
Hank opened his mouth and closed it— again, there was no refuting Dale’s logic. For once in his paranoid, conspiratorial life, the man made perfect sense.
There was only one thing left to say. “You’re a good dad, Dale.”
His buddy nodded. “And you’re a good friend, Hank. You all are.”
Hank eyed him, scanning him for hints of sarcasm, but there was only sincerity in Dale’s face.
“You had a thousand chances to throw it at me. When I was acting like an ass. Or a pain. Or a pain in the ass. But you never did. Because you didn’t want to hurt me.”
He popped the cigarette into his mouth, so he’d have a free hand to lay on Hank’s shoulder. “Thanks for that.”
Hank nodded, too overwhelmed to know what to say. But he found he didn’t need to say anything more, it seemed. He only stood there with his old friend, sipping quietly from their beers in Dale’s weird basement.
“Yep,” he murmured finally.
“Yep,” Dale agreed.
The End
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