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He smiled happily, raising a hand to Archaeus' chest and scooting closer to him. "I guess I'll meet him too, then. Since he brought you out, he's just as important to your being here as your author. Kinda like your mother." He snickered, then reached out for the paper to open it back to the article.
"It says he's going to be giving lectures at the Smithsonian in D.C. all month. I can book a flight later this week, we can go see my dad this weekend." Byron kept his eyes on the photo of his father, the familiar messy hair, freckles, and glasses staring back at him. He didn't really look all that much like his father, especially now with his hair dyed and eyes fixed. but he could see their matching noses and ears, and that little turn up in the corner of his mouth that they shared when they were on to something big. Could he really handle seeing this face look at him with disgust? "At least you never have to meet my mother," the teen mumbled.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since I was ten." Byron folded the paper and set it down, fingers picking at a stray thread on Archaeus' pants. "Dad never let me talk to her after we left. She's never tried to contact me or anything, so I don't think much of it." He shrugged again, then tilted so that he was laying his head in Archaeus' lap, legs stretched out to the side and eyes staring at the wall behind the television.
"I'm sorry. I can't believe I'm complaining about my parents when yours are a fat homophobe and a silvertongue who sees you as a sin. You must think I'm so whiny."

Byron lifted a hand to touch Archaeus' cheek, smiling softly up at him. "How is it that you became so perfect after realizing that you weren't?" He chuckled a little, fingers gently tracing the character's jaw. "Are your false memories still bothering you?" he asked.

He smiled, raising a hand to place on the back of Archaeus' neck and moving him down while he was leaning just enough for a sweet kiss. He pulled away after a moment, then licked his lips and looked over his boyfriend's face. "Have you finished with your research yet?" he asked quietly, lust developing in his blue eyes. He could hardly hold himself back nowadays, but tried very hard to do so until Archaeus was ready.
Of course, it was killing him, but love made him strong and all that bull-hockey.

~~~

A week later, Byron stood in the parlor of his father's large temporary abode, arms crossed and bag leaning on his leg. He wasn't really talking to Archaeus after their brief conversation about sex that ended with Byron sleeping on the couch and taking all the blankets and cushions with him. He stared forward as the maid went to call on Byron's father and bring him towards the two teens. He tapped his foot, sending a look towards Archaeus. "We can still bolt," he muttered, glancing behind them at the doors.

"Pancakes won't make this better," he muttered, although he had to admit that he'd begun to really enjoy eating Archaeus' pancakes. At least he had a talent that wasn't completely fabricated now. He wished he could be completely fabricated. Then he wouldn't have to be dealing with this horrible feeling in his stomach. Sh-t.
After taking his sweet time, Jonathon finally entered the room, glasses perched on his nose and shirt dirty with ink and actual dirt, it looked like. his hair was messy and unkempt, and he was already starting to get wrinkles on his suntanned face. Still, one look at his lopsided grin and anyone could tell that he and the blue-haired male beside Archaeus were closely related. "Byron!" he greeted, tugging the reluctant teen into a tight hug. "I didn't know you were coming to visit! You should've warned me, I woulda cleaned myself up a bit." He pulled away, glancing downwards to see that he'd accidentally gotten some of the stuff on his shirt onto Byron's. "Crap, sorry. That looks expensive."
Byron grimaced at the new stains, attempting a smile. "It's fine. I bought it with your money, anyway." He coughed into his fist, gesturing over his shoulder to Archaeus. "This is Archaeus, by the way. Archaeus, this is Dr. Jonathon Simmons, my father."
"Call me Jon," he said, holding out his hand for Archaeus to shake.

Jonathon laughed, shaking his son's friend's hand firmly. "Oh, I doubt that. Byron doesn't really like talking too much about his nerdy dad. I'm embarrassing, I'm afraid. Right, kiddo?" He asked, turning his eyes to his son who stood off to the side with a maid, patting hopelessly at his now-stained shirt in a struggle to clean it.
He looked up, raising an eyebrow, and shrugged. "Well, Dad, you did just ruin my expensive new shirt and managed to make it look like a squid was trying to get to second base with me." He pointed out before returning his attention to the stain.
He waved a hand. "I'll buy you another one. Now then, you two must be famished! Follow me, I was just having tea and biscuits in the sun room. They're the almond ones you like, Byron."
The teen blushed as his father remembered something about him, hating himself for a moment before reluctantly following the tanned archaeologist.