The whole 'take a year off and work and be independent' thing had seemed like a good idea. An awesome, cooler than cool, stellar idea. One that had pretty much gone supernova in his face. Or something. Something like John Sheppard, Sr. outflanking him in a maneuver that would have made any general proud.

"Sure thing," Sheppard, Sr. had said. "Which part of town are you moving to?"

Dude.

No more McMansion in the 'burbs. No more fully-stocked fridge. No more Magic Thursdays when the house sparkled and his dirty clothes went away and came back April-fresh and neatly folded into his dresser drawers - when his bathroom stopped smelling like a locker room and started smelling...of all things...clean. No more pool, no more hot tub, no more Hi-Def, no more air hockey table. He fucking loved that air hockey table.

But bull-headedness ran in the family, so he started packing. He about fell over when his grandfather texted him an hour later: CALL ME. WANT 2 TALK 2 U.

First, John rolled his eyes at Grandpa George, the perpetual teenager, but then he slouched out to the garden shed to call.

It seemed that Grandpa had been waiting about forty years to be able to fuck his son over for quitting college on him - not once, but twice - before finally getting a degree. Grandpa was willing to spot John rent and basic utilities, but John would have to work for everything else. John was totally stoked that bull-headedness wasn't the only thing that ran in the family. Apparently, evil did, too.

John ran into Jeni in the kitchen on Thursday morning. "Hey," she said from her spot at the table, her hands wrapped around a huge mug of coffee, her eyes still half-closed.

John just couldn't manage to think of her as "Mom" or even as his stepmom, and she was cool about it. They both knew that if John's dad had jumped the gun on the cradle-robbing by couple of years, they could have actually been in high school at the same time. Of course, there'd be no way in hell Jeni would have managed to get herself sent to military school like John had. The haircuts alone had completely traumatized him. Thankfully, the summer had been good to him - his hair had grown out into a spiky mess guaranteed to piss his dad off, and the dark color looked awesome with his tan.

"Hey." John popped the top on a Mountain Dew and slumped into the chair across from her.

"Movin' out, huh?" she said.

John took a desultory sip from his can. "Looks like."

She nodded. "Did Grandpa George call you?"

John grinned. "He texted me."

Jeni grinned back. "He's a menace. Did he offer you his guest house?"

"Noooooo," John said slowly, not sure if he was being pumped for info.

Jeni smiled. "I'm on your side, John. I think your dad's being a tool."

John mulled that over a bit, drinking more soda to buy a little time. "Grandpa's helping me out with a place," he finally said.

"Good," Jeni said. She looked down into her coffee. "When're you going?"

John shrugged. "This weekend, I guess."

Jeni reached across the table and touched the back of John's wrist until he looked up.

"Seriously," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Wait 'til Monday and we'll sneak your bedroom furniture out with you."

John fucking loved his bed. It was probably less manly than he wanted to seem, but he still fucking loved his bed. It was awesome - a queen-sized Sterns & Foster with a six-inch pillow top. He had hotel-quality sheets, six pillows and a real down comforter. He'd dreamed about it when he was off at school, cramped up on a narrow twin bed with cheap sheets and a scratchy wool blanket he wouldn't have put on a donkey. If he had a donkey.

His bed was his castle - his fortress of solitude. He'd had his first real jerkoff in that bed - his first (incredibly embarrassing) wet dream. He'd gotten to second base with Lisa Gordon on that bed. He was incredibly relieved that the bed was going with him. He'd be much more able to be an independent man kind of guy with the knowledge that his awesome bed would be waiting for him at the end of the day. He'd be a total badass.

The bed took up most of the space in his new place - a kinda-crappy studio apartment on the second floor of a kinda-crappy building on a kinda-crappy street that was less than a mile from some really crappy streets.

The bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk from his old bedroom filled the place up - he had to put his TV on the pass-through bar in his tiny galley kitchen. It was awesome.

Grandpa George had come by to see him (and pay the movers). He dropped a receipt for a year of John's rent and $300 on the foot of the bed. John put the money with the $500 from Jeni, the $250 from his birthday savings account and the $92 he'd liberated from his dad's desk drawer over the previous three days. It made a tidy little nest egg. He'd take it down to the bank in the morning - the branch up the street right next to TreePeach Center.

John ordered pizza to celebrate his emancipation. He ate it in bed.