[color=lightgray][center][i][b]Introducing Francis "Demo" Dawson, Molotov and TNT's adoptive father[/b][/i][/center][right][sub]Timestamp: During Recipe for Disaster[/sub]
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[img]https://i.imgur.com/0L5iUu4.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220725/e1f04ce1a5d2e611199ad1042dcb22fd.png[/img]
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[indent][indent]Francis Dawson, while leaned back against his kitchen counter with a large cup of coffee in his hand, stared across the space before him and through the open door of his oldest son’s bedroom. Said son was halfway to the floor, most of his body hanging off the bed, and the only thing keeping him from meeting the ground was the fact that his best friend had collapsed into the bed with him when they got home and effectively trapped Ollie’s left limbs beneath all his dead weight. He worried about both his boys, but while recently Chase had been on a steady rise with a few fall offs it was like Oliver had stopped trying completely, on a constant spiraling race to drink himself out of a liver before he reached his mid-twenties. And much like it had been since almost the moment they had met, Callum was on a slow slide down with him. Francis sipped at his coffee and thought about the fact that his own choices when he was young ruined the life of one child and was dragging another few down with him for good measure. Callum’s relationship with Dolce was being threatened because of their latest antics, and the ex-serpent couldn’t help but blame himself for it all, despite knowing he was just as much a victim of circumstance as the rest of them. Every part of this town was cursed in its own way, every person being slowly dragged down by their own demons and delusions. 

He was supposed to be a responsible adult for these kids and he let them turn into alcoholics before they even legally could be. At least Brandi and Jackson Branson have the excuse of being out of town on jobs a shitton, which had left much of Callum’s childhood in the hands of those they trusted such as the Bookers, the Britesons and Kraeters, and the Dawsons themselves. Sometimes, when the world feels so heavy on his shoulders, he wonders about just how devastatingly crushing the weight had to be for all their kids and he feels aged well beyond his thirty seven years.

Oliver finally plummeting to the floor temporarily brought him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the scene to see that Callum had rolled over in his sleep, leaving his friend’s now freed limbs to follow him to the floor. The noise had caused the lighter blonde to wake up as well, so Francis took this time to set his mug down and pull two of the glass mason jars that they used as cups down from the cabinets. Filling them up with water from the tap, he opened the cabinet to the left of the sink and pulled out the box of alka seltzer tablets. He dropped one in each glass and waited for the two sleeping beauties to stumble into the kitchen, going back to his coffee and checking his phone for the time and any messages from his sober son. 

Chase, TNT, whatever you wanted to call him, wasn’t so much someone he failed and was trying to do right by as he was someone who had been failed by everyone else before him and little Conan had been brought into the Dawson family. Francis and Fiona had brought the Warren brothers into their home at the behest of Oliver, who had seen something in the two boys that told the other child they needed the same safety and security he was getting. The two adults had agreed, and soon they had a full house for the first time since buying the damn thing- aside from Coldhands bringing Jade over every now and then, of course, but there had never been anything constant. They were aware that they were in over their heads before they even started, but Edenridge didn’t exactly have an active network of foster or adoptive parents, especially not ones willing to try their damndest at raising severely scarred and discarded children. Hell, the first couple of months were just finding out about and then avoiding or slowly dismantling most of the triggers the Warren boys had, and after that came the bonding and the teaching of their old trade. 

It wasn’t meant to be training to become Serpents, it was just something that the two adults knew how to do and how to teach. Fire and Demolitions to the Dawson parents was the same as showing your kids how to bake or how to fix a car- which, well, as a mechanic Francis also taught his kids shit about cars, but the point remains. It was during these times that Fiona took to calling their kids [i]Sparky[/i] while Francis started referring to them as his [i]Little Firecrackers[/i], and the two of them believed that that was probably the first time either Warren boy had heard a proper term of endearment, judging by their nonplussed reactions as Oliver smiled bright as a sunny day beside them. It had been such a good year together, and Francis remembers how happy he had been as he held his wife while their sons worked with duds and diagrams to figure out proper wiring; how warm he’d felt as he’d kissed her in the light of the fire the first time their kids threw a molotov cocktail, safe in a zone of Phil’s junkyard that he’d specifically created for the Serpents, his wife laughing against his lips as her niece sat on a scrapped out car hood and yelled backhanded encouragements; how scared and confused he was as he caught her when her coughing got so bad she couldn’t catch her breath and her legs gave out. It had been the day she was trying to give them a present: personalized and engraved zippo lighters to celebrate how much they’d learned and all the time they spent together. They had all been at her hospital bedside when she took her last breath, all the family that Fiona loved, and Francis had had to restrain and carry out an exploding Chase while Oliver grabbed Conan by one hand and Charlie Taylor with the other and followed after with Jade finishing the chain, tears streaming down all their faces. He didn’t even want to think about how he would have handled that without his soul brother, Fiona’s blood brother, there as well. Charlie Taylor was and still is Francis' best friend and brother, and his and Jade's continued presence in their lives after the loss of Fiona kept Francis from hitting rock bottom and failing his children even more.

[color=a23019]“Pop, you ok?”[/color]

Francis looked down a little into the concerned eyes of his awake and freshly showered son, the younger man in his personal space but not touching him yet. The mechanic realized he had zoned out completely while staring at Chase’s profile picture in his phone, his coffee had gone cold in his other hand and the boys had already grabbed the jars of fizzing water he’d left for them on the counter. He set everything on the counter and opened his arms for the blonde, enveloping him in a bear hug and resting his chin atop his son’s head as soon as he’d stepped into the embrace. They still had time before they had to head out.

[color=de5f1f]“I’m alright Ollie, I was just thinkin’ about y’all and got lost in thought,”[/color] He said when they parted and Oliver went to sit at the table to sip at his drink. [color=de5f1f]“Cal in the shower?”[/color]

[color=a23019]“Yeah, I got first dibs since he dropped me outta my own bed,”[/color] Ollie grinned, as if he’d won something important. It was the little things in life, he supposed. [color=a23019]“He should be out soon, you were zonin’ for a while.”[/color]

[color=de5f1f]“Right…”[/color] He replied, thinking of their guest’s situation. [color=de5f1f]“And are he and Dolce gonna be able to keep their cool? This is about Chase right now, and gettin’ to know someone he’s [i]chosen[/i], this is important,”[/color] he stressed, watching his son shift in his seat. [color=de5f1f]"Jade's already MIA so far, I was plannin' on checkin' up on her after all this if she still doesn't reply to any of our texts."[/color]

[color=a23019]“Jade's fallen off before, but a month is a pretty long time, even for her,"[/color] the blonde agreed, feeling worry for his cousin, who'd been ghosting damn near everyone since the confrontation at Carlisle house. [color=a23019]"And I dunno, Dutch was really pissed at him about us bein’ at the Doc’s place last night,”[/color] Ollie grumbled, looking up to his father. [color=a23019]“But they know they’re supposed to behave.”[/color]

[color=de5f1f]“That’s a vague order,”[/color] He grumbled back, sipping at his cold coffee with a determination to finish it. [color=de5f1f]“I guess we’ll handle it like we always do.”[/color]

[color=a23019]“Right,”[/color] Oliver agreed with a sigh, dropping his head into his arms where they rested on the table. [color=a23019]“Christ Pop, I’m tired.”[/color] Francis knew his son well enough to know the young man wasn’t talking about physical exhaustion, and not for the time he wished he could give the blonde a new life to thrive in. To give both his remaining sons that chance. No more deaths, no more traumas, no more losing themselves piece by crumbling piece.

[color=de5f1f]“Me too, Ollie, me too.”[/color]

[color=45ddfb]“Y’all havin’ a heart ta heart in here?”[/color] Callum asked as he entered the kitchen, clad in the clothes he’d been keeping in one of Olivers drawers for years and rubbing the water out of his hair with Oliver’s towel. He perked up at the sight of Francis’ coffee. [color=45ddfb]“Got any left?”[/color]

Francis looked from his mug to the excited blonde before him and sighed before turning around to pop the cup in the microwave for a minute. Callum dropped into the seat next to Oliver while they waited for the microwave to beep. When it did, Francis took the mug out and poured the once more steaming coffee into his dented thermos. As he walked by the two boys, he let the thermos lightly thump against a distracted Callum’s head, prompting the debt collector to grab the thermos and rub at the sore spot while Oliver laughed next to him.

[color=de5f1f]“Take this ya little brat,”[/color] Francis said, grabbing the keys to his [url=https://bringatrailer.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/1985_dodge_w350_power_ram_royal_se_prospector_15714225131059dIMG_20191004_150018.jpg]1985 Dodge Ram Prospector[/url] and heading to the front door. [color=de5f1f]“And take it on the road, we gotta get to the picnic at Lyon’s.”[/color]

[color=45ddfb]“Yessir.”[/color] Callum called, standing up and pulling Oliver with him. Together, they all made their way out to the truck and got on the road. The roughhousing between the two started almost immediately, and Francis had just knocked their heads together to get them to stop when his phone dings with a new message. 

[color=a23019]“It’s from Prof,”[/color] Oliver said after reaching across Callum and grabbing his father’s phone. He quoted out the message to his father as the older man continued to drive, [color=a23019]“[i]’Prep didn’t go as planned, may need to 86 the picnic and find somewhere else. Wings everywhere. TNT close to exploding.’[/i]..Yeesh, we haven’t even gotten there yet,”[/color] he commented as his father pressed further on the gas, their backs sinking into the torn leather with the sudden force. Unlike his brother’s sudden decrease in speed when he hit the breaks this morning, Oliver felt none of the sudden panic at Francis’ rapid acceleration. The only worry in his chest at the moment was for that of his brother. And, well… [color=a23019]“Has this Tiffany girl seen him go off yet?”[/color]

[color=de5f1f]“Probably not,”[/color] Francis answered distractedly, now focused on getting to his emotionally fragile son. Well, the other one. [color=de5f1f]“We’ll cross that bridge later. Text him back that we’re a couple minutes out.”[/color]

[color=de5f1f][i]Hold on Little Firecracker, I’m comin’.[/i][/color]
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