Dad's on the phone, with a request

Still unsure how to handle James, you head to the staff canteen for a light lunch of tuna salad drizzled in olive oil. You've got things to do, preparing some lab work you have planned for the afternoon, so you sit alone, eating with one hand while the other types away on your open laptop.

You smile to yourself when you check your emails and see Yasmina is going to be able to come in for her tests after all. She's a little flaky, through no fault of her own, but you can make much more progress on your research into New Female genetics and physiology when you have one of your own to take samples from. It's frustrating, but experimenting on yourself apparently threatens your objectivity as a researcher, so you've had to rely on the rare few of your kind who are willing to sign up to be poked and prodded for a small fee.

Then your mobile starts ringing. You slip it out of your pocket, and your grin widens when you see it's your Father calling. It's been a while since you last spoke. You hurriedly lift the phone to your ear and accept the call.

"Hi, Dad." You say cheerfully.

"Hey, sweetie." He replies, still calling you that after all these years. "How's the research going?"

"Very well, thank you." You answer. "I think I'm getting closer to understanding just how the virus affects the germ cell line. It's integrated itself into so many genes that I'm beginning to believe the autosomal effects are far more extensive than anyone has theorized so far."

"I wish I understood half of that." He chuckles, and you laugh too. You were just teasing him with the jargon. Your Dad's always been so very supportive of your interest in the sciences, even though as a contractor from a small Midwest town with just a middle-school diploma to his name, he doesn't understand very much of it. One of your most cherished memories is finding him slumped over asleep on top of a printed copy of your Ph.D. thesis, having made a heroic effort to read every line. When you graduated with a distinction, he cried so much you had to discretely usher him out the hall and calm him down. "Listen, sweetie, before I ask you this, I don't want you to feel pressured." He continues. "If you're at all busy, or just can't handle him at the moment, tell me and I'll figure something else out."

"What is it, Dad?" You ask, frowning a little.

"It's Nick." You can hear the sigh in his voice as he mentions your much younger brother, nineteen-year-old Nicholas Black. After you were born as a genetic aberration, it took a long time for your Mother to decide she did in fact want another child. Then she promptly changed her mind again and abandoned you all right after he was born. "He's decided he wants to go for college after all."

"Really?" You raise your eyebrow. "What happened to the band?" Last time you spoke, Nick was convinced he and his grungy friends were going to be the next big thing.

"They broke up, something about a girl." Your Dad replies, managing to sound both tired and exasperated at the same time. "Now he wants to tour some colleges, see what suits him best. He's saved up enough money to pay his own way, so I figured I should give him the chance at least. Yours is first on the list."

"Does he have the grades?" You ask. Your younger brother is many things, but studious is not one of them.

"By the skin of his teeth." Dad answers. You smile to yourself, pleasantly surprised. Well well, maybe you've been underestimating Nick all along. Not that he makes it difficult to do so. "I know you're still living in that small apartment, but he wanted me to ask you if he could crash there for a few days, just while he sees what he thinks. There's an Open Day he wants to attend apparently."

Just like that, any credit your brother's earned with you for his surprising academic merits slips away. You know exactly why he's pressured your long-suffering Dad to be the messenger for this request. He thinks you're much more likely to accept if it's coming from the Man who raised you both, mostly alone. It makes your blood boil to think of all the times Nick has taken advantage of your Dad's patience over the years. Sure, it must have been hard for your younger brother, raised by a busy single Father while you at least had your cheating bitch of a Mother around until you were eleven, but that doesn't excuse the way he thinks he can just drift through life relying on the charity of others.

All you can hope for is that this sudden interest in his own education represents him turning over a new leaf. You had maturity **** on you in so many ways, while he's been indulged and spoiled. The worst part is that you know you're the one most at fault. With your Father working long hours to support the family, you spent a lot of your teenage years looking after Nick. He was such an adorable boy then, so sweet and thoughtful, you just couldn't stop yourself from doting over him. When he grew older and started acting out, you let him get away with **** just because he batted his big, green eyes at you. Now the consequences have come back to bite your Dad. Your brother just doesn't seem to understand the need to grow up and get his act together.

"Listen Dad." You reply. "I'll have to speak to Nick before I decide. I can spare the room, but I'll need to lay down the law before I'm letting him crash with me again. If he thinks he can follow some simple ground rules and not trash my apartment this time, I might just let him stay. Who knows, maybe I can even pull a few strings and help him with his application." There it is again, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself. You just can't hold back that lingering temptation to indulge your brother, no matter how many times you tell yourself he's not that sweet child you used to carry around the house on your shoulders anymore. Fuck, if he does come to stay you're going to have to be extra careful, take a hardline with any misbehavior right from the start.

"Thanks, sweetie." Dad sounds relieved. "I'd love to chat more, but the boys and I are going fishing. Just don't be worried if you decide you can't host Nick, okay? I'm sure he can find somewhere else to crash, or he'll just have to skip your college. I'll call again this weekend and we can chat more then."

"Speak to you then." You smile, looking forward to it already. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, sweetie." He replies. Then he hangs up and you set your phone down with a sigh. Well, it's all up to Nick now. You'll give your younger brother a call tomorrow and make him explain himself to you directly, telling you just why he thinks you should open your apartment to him after what he pulled the last time. You promise yourself you won't be easy to persuade this time. He's going to have to have a real plan for what he wants to accomplish here, as well as a perfect willingness to follow your house rules, including cleaning up after himself. You grin again at the thought of the surly nineteen-year-old Nick washing dishes in your kitchen sink, wearing a bright pink apron while you sit back with your feet up and snap orders at him. Maybe this time you'll actually be able to knock him into shape.