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Grayson was normally very good at waiting for things. He could wait days, weeks, months even for something that he knew was worth it, and generally, he didn't complain. What was the point in complaining, or for that matter, worrying, when he knew all things would come in their own time? This was logic that he generally relied on, and it hadn't really let him down in the past.

Lately, life had been a bit of a whirlwind, however. All that had happened felt so fast to him, but that could have been because he was the type of person who took three times longer than anyone else to accomplish a task. His own rampant insecurities aside, he was just more comfortable being a passive party in just about anything; it was why he'd been glad Jude had insisted on coming over rather than Grayson going to meet him.

He'd been glad until around three PM, anyhow. By four, he was a little nervous. By five, he assumed Jude had realized the error of his ways and was glad he hadn't mentioned to anyone aside from his Dad that Jude would be coming by. He'd been pacing from the kitchen to the living room steadily since then, all but wearing a track in the carpet as he struggled to find something to do.

Considering he was someone who generally lazed around, it was red flag. Arthur, however, hadn't said much. He was sitting on the sofa, one leg propped over the top of the other, casually reading the newspaper. He was a peculiar breed of man who tended to put it off until the end of the night, for no real reason except he "Didn't like to ruin the day with the news." It also provided a handy shield on the off moments where his son glanced over, searching for something to distract himself with, and failed.

As it approached six, Grayson threw himself onto the reclining chair, running his palms down his thighs. It seemed ridiculous now that he'd gone through his entire wardrobe trying to find something that was suitably casual but still nice enough to warrant a "first date" sort of encounter. He'd settled for a pair of skinny jeans and graphic tee, topped by a zip up jacket with sleeves that ended midway down his arm. He'd debated with jewelry, decided on a simple braided bracelet, and determined he was good.

Now, his heels propped up against the foot rest, he felt extremely... stupid.

It was a nice mask for everything else that was churning inside of him, so he focused on feeling like a fool with just about everything that he had.

"Grayson?"

"Yes?" He looked up, fingered the hem of his jacket. Then his bracelet.

Arthur folded his newspaper, leaned forward on his knees. What he would have said, however, Grayson didn't know. There was a loud backfire, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Arthur glanced out the window, an eyebrow slowly raised, and asked, "Would that be Jude, then?"

Grayson looked at the clock on the wall, swallowed. He'd checked the window every time a car went by, and even though he already felt like an idiot, he got up and did it again. This time, though, it was Jude.

He felt like a thirteen year-old girl going to a dance for the first time.

He was being absolutely ridiculous.

"Yes, looks like." He licked his lips, turned around with wide eyes. "Should I--?"

"Why don't you go upstairs and..." Arthur waved a hand, dismissing him. "I don't know, pace up there." But his tone was amused and fond while he watched Grayson take the stairs two at a time.

Their doorbell was broken (and Arthur was no handyman, so it wasn't getting fixed anytime soon) but he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt when there was a knock. Poised and friendly, he opened the door, gesturing for Jude to come in as he said, "Good evening, Jude."

The scratches on his face weren't exactly promising, but Arthur wasn't the type to judge. He merely smiled, closed the door behind Jude, and said easily, "It's nothing to worry about. By coming this late, you actually caught me at home and Grayson awake, which is a feat in and of itself."

He crossed to the kitchen, getting a glass for himself and filling it with water. As he did so, he asked, "Would you like anything to drink?"

All in all, Arthur would treat this... whatever it was, like he would any other friend of Grayson's coming to visit. He would be polite and friendly, hopefully get to know him a little, and then send them on their way.

In truth, he'd never thought he would be having an interview with a young man concerning his intentions toward one of his children, but he supposed that was because he had two sons. For a well-adjusted homosexual male, he really was a little narrow-minded sometimes.

Arthur came back in with his glass of water, but instead of being affronted by Jude's casual posture, he smirked a little. There was a confidence to Jude that he liked, and apparently, so did Grayson. There were a lot of stereotypes about fathers being overprotective, and to an extent, he was. When it came to dating, however, he tended to let his children do as they pleased as long as it wasn't illegal or harmful. Considering he had seen no evidence to indicate Grayson would be performing illegal or harmful activities with Jude, he was really more than fine with it.

That, and Grayson was eighteen years old. To his knowledge, he'd never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Arthur considered it about time, considering his own track record before he'd met Van.

"I'm not really particular. Grayson will tell you when he's ready to go, I would think." Arthur lifted a shoulder, sipped his water, and then made a vague sweeping gesture. "He's eighteen, Jude. He's capable of making his own decisions, wise and poor, and I'm more than capable of allowing it. I'll just ask the standard of you: don't drink and drive, don't hurt one another, come home alive."

He arched his eyebrows, hearing footsteps upstairs. "And between you and me, I'm glad Grayson is actually going out." His voice was deep and rich, and his laugh was the same. Not mean, though perhaps a little exasperated. "So, you have my blessing, if you need it. Just get my son out of the house."

And he grinned again, hearing the footsteps stop abruptly, knowing Grayson was upstairs scowling as he listened to the conversation.

Tristan opened his door at just that moment, his expression going decidedly sour as he heard Jude bellow up the stairs. He turned, giving the bluenette an acid look, and demanded, "Are you queering it up in my house again?"

Jude was spared his manly obligation of giving Tristan a noogie by Grayson, who was walking to the head of the stairs at that moment and shoved his brother back into his room. It wasn't an entirely playful shove, either; Tristan definitely went toppling back in, and probably hit something, if the Ouch, dammit was any indication. Grayson didn't spare him a second glance, and instead, rested one hand on his hip and gave Jude an arch look down the stairs.

There were a lot of ways he could have reacted to that. A blush, which probably would have happened yesterday. Temper, which would have been days before. Today, he was too pleased by the fact that Jude had actually showed up to work up the energy for either. Instead, he said smoothly, "You haven't even seen what I'm wearing, honey." as he descended the stairs.

In the true spirit of a pseudo-siblingship that neither had intended, Tristan manfully struggled to get out of the headlock, swearing all the while. At Jude's dire promise he let out a particularly vile one, prompting Arthur's voice to carry up the stairs with a mild Tristan Alexander Graves. For his part, Grayson was torn between being amused and exasperated and decided to settle for pleased that Tristan and Jude seemed to be able to reasonably tolerate one another.

All in all, it could have been worse. If Tristan hated Jude, for example, he would just ignore him.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, he exchanged a mildly embarrassing look with his father. Arthur looked entirely too amused, hand on his hip in a pose that Grayson was fairly sure he'd inherited directly.

"I like him."

Grayson's lips turned down, and though he was pleased, he felt obligated to be a little embarrassed. "I do too, mostly."

Arthur laughed, patting Grayson on the shoulder and turning back to the kitchen. "You're lucky Van isn't here. I'm sure he would have embarrassed you much more."

Thinking about that, Grayson had to agree. His Pop would have probably said something like, Grayson is upstairs. For the love of God, take him out and keep him out. My son could use some adventure in his life.

Yes, he was actually quite pleased Jude had officially met Arthur before Van.

Tristan went back to playing his video game with a decidedly irritated air, and Grayson was in the process of putting his boots on when Jude joined them. Arthur nodded and made himself scarce, reminding Grayson to be quiet if he came in late. He didn't think it was very fair to have everyone in the house picking on him, and he was reminded that this was the reason he'd never actually brought his first boyfriend home. That, and his first boyfriend had been much too old for him at the time, and not interested in anything remotely serious.

Well. He had no idea if Jude was interested in anything remotely serious either, but he had already decided to simply enjoy that he had been given. Miraculously given to him, and in Grayson's mind, against all odds given to him, but given none the less.

Straightening, he nodded, slipping one hand into his pocket as he used the other to open his door. He eyed Jude's truck, asking suspiciously, "How's your truck?"

Normally, Grayson would not have decided. He tended to just walk wherever his feet took him when he did venture out, and stay at home when he didn't. These were not, however, the most normal of circumstances, though maybe if Jude had arrived somewhere around three he would have still not picked a place. He'd had a good three hours to ponder it, however, while waiting for the arrival of his newly acquired boyfriend, and he'd managed to come up with something.

It wasn't much. Despite what Barnaby might have thought, Grayson was not generally the idea man. But, at least he had some direction.

"I think so. There's a stand by the park that sells pretty good hot dogs and hamburgers." Hey, he was a man, and it was dinner time. He was hungry. "It's usually open to about seven or so, and there are places around there to do things."

There was an arcade, but he wasn't sure how late that was open. There was also the big ice skating rink not too far, but he didn't know how to skate, so that was out. And, when all else failed, there was taking a walk around the park, though he wasn't all that keen on being out all night and turning their first date into a youma hunt.

After a pause, he admitted, "I haven't really thought beyond food. I figured we could find something to do."

Yes, underneath it all, Grayson was still a man.

Grayson didn't exactly have a lot of experience with the entire dating scene, either. He'd certainly never taken someone home to meet his parents, so he was at a bit of a loss himself. Still, as he climbed into the cab of Jude's truck and debated the necessity of saying a small prayer, he couldn't help but be a little amused. They were both out of their element, which made him feel easier about the situation in general.

And then Jude mentioned his father, blundered his way through an explanation, and ended up horrifying him. No one liked to think about their parents behaving amorously toward anyone, really, but he was pretty sure it was universally horrifying to imagine your father with your boyfriend. In any manner.

And oh my God, he was having a hard time unthinking the idea of it.

"I know what you mean," he said finally, eyes a little bit wide. Best not to encourage that particular train of thought by dwelling on the subject. "And yes, he likes you."

He placed his hands on his knees, then tapped a rhythm out on them. It was really the only outward indication that he was nervous. "And, I don't really know. I've only 'dated' once officially, and it wasn't exactly normal. I think we'll be basically the same as we ever were, Jude."

He waited a beat. "Just with less punching."