Chemical Warfare (Cecilia Alcott X Reader) [ Relentelezz41 and ItzGazza colab ]

Prologue

Relly - Gaz and I have talked about this concept and joked on it for on and off a while. I want to say over a year but not sure. There was a few ideas, but this one hit home. And to do an I.S. story with Gaz, with the protag an Irishman!? Come on. Had to do. 

Gaz -  Predicament, family barrier from his inspiration, then the issue of it all settled in there at the end. Slang produced the tone, and made me feel I was there in that debacle

Together, we present, Chemical Warfare. 

~~~~~

Sometimes there is a time in a person's life where they ask themselves, what is next? The next course of action they take. Although, there are many of those times where it hits them before they can seriously ask themselves. In every culture there is a teenaged boy and the parents debate and judge when he is a man. Or rather, man enough. As well as live up to standards. Many cases it involves a boy adopting and fully embracing his father's talents, mindset, skills, and goals.

Sadly for this family a few towns away from the capital of Dublin, there was a dysfunctional family with a stalemate on what to do. Patrick and Colleen (Last) already had their older son Angus move out of the house on his own path and to be his own man. With the couple both hitting the age of 40 they put pressure on their younger son (First) to lead the plumbing business his father co-owned with his business partner.

Even though (First) could turn a wrench and problem solve pipes, his knowledge and passion was computer programming. Something his parents were not with the times. They thought the world was still paper pushing, trades, and tradition for better or for worse. At age 20 Angus was at an apartment one town over and would go drinking with his father twice a week. Usually during the weekends Patrick would get so drunk that (First) would be forced to take the emergency calls. Sometimes to the point where he would still wake up intoxicated and unable to function.

Everything changed one weekend for the (Last) family as at quarter past midnight there was a knock at the door. (First) being the only one up was startled. Who in their out right mind is banging on the front door at that time of night? Very early Saturday morning, but still stands. For safety reasons, (First) grabbed the dagger that was located under the first step of the staircase and slowly opened the door. Only to see his father in a typical drunken stupor.

"Where's the leak, Lass? McSwiggan Plumbing." Said Patrick with a stumble.

(First) shook his head and put the dagger back. "Sweet Mary there, Father. No need to knock on yer own house." He shook his head and just watched him walk inside.

"Think we have time? Are you still in a thirst there, Angus?" His father chuckled.

"Wrong brother. And you had enough. Probably already went to the club."

"Would we now?" Patrick belched and walked through the door. "Fellas. Pour me."

"Father. Ya daft wanker. This ain't the pub." (First) shook his head. "What you need is your bed."

"I'm a married man."

"Yes. Now get your drunken keister upstairs." Retorted the son once more.

"Alright boyo." Patrick let out another belch and grabbed onto the railing of the stairs. His son pushing him lightly as his father took two steps and stopped completely. Nearly stumbling and talking gibberish.

(First) was pushing his father on his rear and lower back forcing him to budge. "Oi. Come on darn it." Turning around and using his legs to try and move him. But no good. Then turning back and telling himself that it would be a struggle and he was just going to head back to his room and head back to bed. It wasn't the first time his father Patrick came home in a stupid, drunken manner, and it sure wasn't going to be the last.