How Green Becomes Wood

Considering he was simply living his life, Dark was in his usual goth attire. Since it was November, he had on his black woolen trench coat which reached down to his knees, but after entering the store he had unbuttoned it, revealing both his impressively gothic suit and his coat's red satin lining which flashed as he walked. He was not wearing gloves, so his hand tattoos were fully on display and he wore a number of rings, including one with a skull and another with a coffin. Even the buttons on his chain-adorned waistcoat had depictions of pentacles on them.

When Mr. Sutton walked up to him, he was holding a pomegranate in the palm of his hand and showing it to Ivy, telling her in Arabic that this is the fruit of the underworld. Then he turned and looked down at Mr. Sutton and simply answered, "I did, yes. For eleven years."
 
"Yes, yes, I thought I recognized you, though you look a bit different outside of school, like most teachers," he said jovially, his eyes taking in all of Dark, including the tattoos. "I doubt you remember me, but I'm Mr. Sutton. We met once three years ago at the school's open house, and, as it happens, I believe my daughter is dating your son." He smiled and held out a hand.
 
"You must forgive me, I met so many parents at those sorts of events," He spoke Mr. Sutton's hand, having no memory of him in the slightest. The knowledge this was Emma's father, though, nearly caused him to do a double-take, not that it would be visible, "It would seem he is. Emma looks very much like you. Alec is quite fond of her."
 
"She is quite fond of him, as well," he said, the tiniest bit of an odd tone making it into his voice, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. He smiled at Ivy. "And this must be your...?" He trailed off, allowing Dark to finish the sentence rather than make an incorrect guess. He was fairly confident it was Dark's daughter, named after some plant, as Emma had told them, but he could be absolutely certain.

Mrs. Sutton wandered over with her cart and looked between Mr. Sutton and Dark expectantly.

"This is my wife," Mr. Sutton said on cue. "Abigail, this is Mr. Dark. Mr. Dark, Abigail Sutton. Oh, and I'm Joseph Sutton."
 
"Hello, Mrs. Sutton, it is good to meet you," Dark said, extending his hand to her, "and this is my daughter, Ivy-Qadira." There was more he was meant to say in a situation like this, but he was fighting for his life attempting to think it up, "My wife will be disappointed she was not here to meet you as well."
 
Mrs. Sutton's smile was one hundred percent professional as she smiled at Dark, absolutely nothing personal getting out from behind the wall behind her eyes. "Mr. Dark," she greeted him, shaking his hand. "Lovely to meet you and your daughter. She is very sweet-looking." She made the obligatory cooing at Ivy. "Was she adopted like your sons?"

"Dear, I am not sure that is a proper thing to ask," Mr. Sutton said with a smile.

"I don't see why not. It is such a beautiful thing, adoption, and nothing to be ashamed of," Mrs. Sutton said calmly. "My nephew adopted three children, remember? From Haiti." She paused and frowned. "Or was it Nigeria? Anyway, it is such an amazing thing to open your heart like that to children, especially teenagers."
 
Considering how physically alike he felt he and his daughter were, that seemed an odd question to ask. He could only assume she saw the ways in which Ivy took after her mother. Appearing unphased, he answered, "I am very proud to be an adoptive father to my boys, but Ivy-Qadira is biological." And Haiti and Nigeria seemed difficult to confuse for each other.
 
"How beautiful!" Mrs. Sutton said with a bright smile. "Emma mentioned that your wife works in a rather prestigious position in the museum, but that you were... between jobs at the moment? Looking after the children for now?"

"How very Mr. Mom!" Mr. Sutton joked with a chuckle. "It must be nice to be able to spend so much time with them and to be able to move at a far more relaxed pace."
 
"I am not between jobs, I am a stay-at-home father." Dark said solidly, "I am not sure how relaxed it is. She is fifteen months old and her favourite game is attempting to cause trouble and create messes."
 
"Ah, yes, they get so rambunctious at that age," Mr. Sutton said with a nod, the vague response of someone who hadn't been around much to witness the various stages. "I'm actually a flight attendant right now, have been for a few years now, and Abigail is a real estate agent. She's the best in her company, and working her way up to being the best in the county!"

"Dear, no need to be so dramatic," Mrs. Sutton chuckled, but there was a pleased look in her eyes as she lightly touched the pearls on her neck. "I took the job because the house was so empty after Emma moved up to High school, and it has been nice to have a little fun money."
 
"Those are both very important and impressive careers," Dark said, resisting the urge to make a comment about how both he and Mr. Sutton were in traditionally feminine jobs. "Are your flights regional, national, or international? I can hardly imagine a quiet, empty house these days."
 
"Primarily regional with the occasional national one," Mr. Sutton replied. "It is not quite as glamorous as it seems, especially as there are not many male flight attendants, meaning I get to face all the beligerent passengers. Lucky me! But I do get to see quite a bit of the country, which is a nice bit of compensation."

"We should be on our way," Mrs. Sutton said, checking her slim watch. "I have a showing in an hour. Mr. Dark, we really must have you over one of these days."

"Indeed!" Mr. Sutton agreed. "If our children stay serious about each other, it'd be good to develop those connections and learn more about each other," he glanced up and down Dark again, "don't you think?"
 
"I understand, I need to finish my shopping so I can get her home in time for her nap. But it was good to officially meet you. But I agree, if our children remain serious with each other, we should speak more. My wife would be pleased to know you."

"Baba!" Ivy cooed, reaching upwards, deciding she had grown impatient with this conversation.

"In a moment, tifla."
 
"Have a good afternoon, Mr. Dark. We'll be in touch," Mrs. Sutton said with a smile. She started away.

"Goodbye, Ivy!" Mr. Sutton told her with a wave. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Dark. Have a good day."

The pair walked away, drawing closer together as they walked in the way people do when they are trying to talk to each other quietly.
 
Dark shook his head, looked back to Ivy, and spoke to her in Arabic. He used the same tone as when he was speaking to her about pomegranates, but now the nature of what he was telling her had changed somewhat.

After finishing his shopping, he got in the car and drove home, looking forward to talking to his wife about this.
 
The next day, Emma came to join Alec and Xander at their table. She plunked her tray down, sat, and said without further preamble, "My folks met your dad."

Alec paused right before taking a bite of his sandwich. "Uh. Okay."

"In the grocery store," Emma stated. "They said he looked like he was dressed up for a Halloween party."

"Okay?" Alec repeated.

"It's January," Emma stated. "In the grocery store. My parents were so confused! I know your house is all Gothic and spooky, but I didn't think they carried it out of the house."

Alec shrugged. "It's his freedom of expression. It's what both my parents love. It brings them joy."

Emma frowned. "That may be so, and maybe it works for some people, but now my parents are very worried about the kind of crowd your parents, and more specifically you, are into. They are concerned that maybe you are into some things that aren't safe."

Alec huffed and set down his sandwich. He was hungry! "Well, Emma, considering my parents and your parents are not the ones dating each other, I don't think it matters. My dad is a complete atheist, not a Satanist or whatever else you might label him as. He just likes the look."

Xander scooted back a bit and sipped his drink, watching them.

"Atheist is alright," Emma said thoughtfully. "I'll be sure to tell them. That will be good for them to hear. It'll ease the outfit shock."

Alec stared at her. "Would you date me if I was dressed like that?"

"You don't, so the point is moot."

"Would you?"

"No, because your book cover would be wrong. That's not you at all."

"Book cover?" Alec repeated. "Haven't you heard-"

"I will be cross with you I'd you say something about not judging books by their covers, because we do that, literally and figuratively, every day," Emma said shortly.

Alec closed his mouth.

Emma sighed and brushed her hair back. "You're so cranky today. I didn't come to argue with you or criticize your parents' life choices and styles. They are grown-ups. They can do what they want. I wanted to let you know that my parents are worried. They see gothic, emo, whatever looks, and they worry about the bad stereotypes. You know, drugs and sacrificing chickens and whatever. Having met them and gotten to see past the book cover, I can see that's not their type. You certainly aren't. But they are parents. Parents worry. You understand?"

Alec heaved a sigh. "Yes, I understand," he agreed dully.

"Good," Emma said with a sharp nod. "It's not a terrible thing. It just means you will have to prove to them that you aren't into the things they are worried about."

"How do I do that?" Alec asked, bewildered.

Emma hummed. "Actually, I think you're pretty good. Especially now that you toned down your own colorful look, you just look like a colorful person, like an artist. Artists can have bad stereotypes, too, but now you look like a responsible artist!"

"Oh. That's good, then," Alec agreed faintly.

"Very good," Emma said with a happy smile. "Your parents are a bit exaggerated in their personalities, but they seem like very nice people. As long as they are willing to calm it down a little when they meet my parents, then everything will be fine!"

"What if your parents upped their game instead?" Xander suggested.

Emma frowned at him. "You are not a part of this conversation, and that's a silly idea. It's like suggesting someone who has no spice tolerance should add more spice to a dish they are sharing with someone with a lot of spice tolerance."

"Or maybe they shouldn't share a dish?" Xander suggested.

Emma deliberately turned away from him. "Anyway, next week, I want you to come to my house for dinner," she told Alec. "You'll need to be on your best behavior because my dad is actually going to be in town still, which never happens, okay? And you'll have to be prepared for their questions and assumptions."

Alec nodded. "Okay. Now it makes sense why you were talking to me about my parents' stuff."

Emma patted his hand. "Don't worry. You are really special to me. I just want you to be the best you you can be! We just have to get you past my mother. Now, I'm sure you're hungry, so you eat, and I'll see you later. I have to go talk to Sarah about the chess club."

"Okay," Alec nodded.

Emma left, carrying her tray, leaving Alec with his sandwich.

Xander raised a brow at Alec. "Dude."

Alec scowled at him. "Shut up and let me eat."
 
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Sloan came up to the table, catching only the utmost end of their conversation, when Emma was telling Alec she just wanted him to be the best he could be. She looked at the twins' expressions for a moment before sitting down and taking out her lunch, "Everything good?"
 
Alec chomped vigorously on his sandwich, really not wanting to talk about his dating problems. And he was hungry despite how upset he was currently feeling, which was an entirely weird and new sensation for him.

"Depends on who you ask," Xander drawled. "I'd suggest not asking, though. For your own sanity."
 
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