"Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond."
-Ernest Hemingway
Dawson pulled the phone from his ear, hitting the off button viciously and scowling at Cole who plodded his way across the lot towards the truck. "Where the hell have you been? I thought you were waiting at the gate."
Cole shrugged and moved to the passengers door. "In the alley with a baseball-bat." he winked, "Good game, by the way." Dawson rolled his eyes and let his frown fall away, climbing in behind the wheel.
"My house?" Cole asked picking at a wayward thread come loose from his sleeve.
"No. You're staying with me tonight." Dawson said as they pulled out of the lot. "And we're going to bed when we get home. No riff-raff."
Cole crossed his arms and propped his knees on the dash. "But do I at least get a bedtime story first?"
Dawson withheld and grin and shook his head. "Don't be a brat. I promise it's for a good reason."
"Right, the mysterious plans for the mysterious Halloween weekend." He turned on the radio and settled on a bluegrass station. "So what're we doing?"
"Not telling. You'll see. Don't worry, it'll be awesome." his lips pulled over his teeth in a wide grin.
"Okay, now I'm scared."
They fell into an easy silence and by the time they pulled onto Dawsons street Coles eyes were drooped and his head was resting against the window. The warbling of the music having lulled him to sleep.
"C'mon. Upstairs." Dawson opened Coles door and carefully pulled the other out, leading him into the quiet house and up the stairs. With a practiced ability he put Cole to bed, and a half-hour later fell unconscious beside him.
*
Dawsons alarm went off at four-thirty, but outside it looked like it could've been midnight. Morning-light wouldn't creep through the windows for another two hours, and he hoped to be on the road by then. He moved his arm gently from under the Coles head and sat up, stretching his back. The game had left him a little sore, but it'd been worth it.
He looked down at the sleeping boy, who was still deep in dreamland. Getting him up would be an undertaking so early, so he decided to put it off as long as he could. He got the things he'd need together, everything they'd both need for an overnight stay. Only the necessities though - he'd never been one to over-pack.
He piled everything by the door and pulled on his boots. It was nearly five and he looked warily at Cole who'd yet to even stir. Dawson moved to the window and opened it as wide as it would go, cringing a little at the cold air that ghosted into the room. He picked up their things and headed downstairs, flipping only the lights he needed as he made his way through the kitchen and out to his truck, throwing everything into the trunk. He placed his bed-pillow against the passenger door and started the vehicle with a strained rumble, turning the heat on high. The temperature was barely kissing fifty degrees and though it didn't bother Dawson as much, he knew Cole would lock up like a ninety-year-old.
Satisfied, with only Cole left to transfer, he made his way back inside. He grabbed some snacks for the drive and brewed enough coffee for one go-canister.
The overhead kitchen light blinked on. "Smells good." his father mumble heading for the bit of coffee left in the carafe. His patch-work plaid robe was tied and he wore thick white shin-socks. "Headed off?" he smiled as he fished out his #1 Dad mug from the cupboard.
